#my female friend comes home to me every now and again

[hocuspocusbabyy]

A ring of bright light: Chapter 1. ‘It’s happening again.’

Eloise Bridgerton x Female OC.

Description: Eloise Bridgeton is to marry Lord Brennan this upcoming season, following a residency at her familiar home Aubery House. Their betrothal is to be announced in two months. If all goes to plan…

Warnings: None?

Word count: 1k (just an opener don’t panic loves.)

Next Chapter

Eloise tightened her gloved hands on the balcony wall, partially to resist the temptation to leap ahead and greet those who waited on the other side and partially to wake herself from the nightmare to come.

Winter air cools against her skin, the long gown doing little against the harsh country noir exterior that was Aubrey House at night. Buried deeply into the evergreen stitch of her corset, her heartbeat ragged against the confinement. If birds were not built for cages, surely the same logic would be applied to herself? Bare feet making a swift sloshing sound aggravating the gravel below, debris digging into the pads of flesh deeper than any weapon she had known before.

The gardens seemed alive with light as every inch of ground bubbled with people and for a fleeting moment, as more carriages approached the castle. A warmth raised within her chest as undeniable anxiety, familiarity. Turning her back to the on coming guests, the small of her back pressed deadly against the barrier. Shadows filtered through the historic windows, as the dust licked walls still seemed to cling onto the fleeting light of Friday as though an old friend they had yet to have finished talking to. A shaking breath escaped the mouth, caught in a brief moment of admiration towards the dripping sun - for out of all the fires she had seen this hideously biblical form was one she had grown fond of; or rather the flashes of red from within its last moments as through snippets of the passing day mere memories now. Only the future night was imminent.

She was running unusually late, she could tell by the main entrance to the building growing peacefully desolate; as the other inhibitors congregated within the ballroom. Her eyes squeezed shut, desperately clinging to those final moments of silence.

“You’re not considering jumping are you?” A voice asked the approaching footsteps drew closer, heart edging to her throat.

“What would that help? Death has no use for me yet, although I do wish he would.”

“What makes you so sure death is a man?” The voice asked again, their body finding rest beside Eloise.

“Surely only a man could be so cruel, as to hover such a fate in my peripherals.”

“I see.” The voice hummed as though mulling the conversation, “And clearly you see so much with your eyes practically melted closed.” Eloise’s laughter was a welcome sight to her visitor, the brunette's eyes finally opening as her head found rest against the woman’s shoulder. Her mother – Violet. A buoyant woman; complimented heavily by her Angelically crow-like features - coils of ash tamed in a formal updo so different to the style had grown accustomed to as she usually pottered away her hours within the castle greenhouse. Fingers never without the soil beneath them, a relationship with a ghastly old nail brush that lay upon the kitchen sink heavily established. She'd always lecture upon the importance of soil, on how each particle of the earth somehow held its own story and origins - for soil had seen more love, more pain than any human. As she'd place lumps of the material within their hands "Rub it in then the memories never leave you".

It was reminiscent of her father, of his death. Violet hadn’t allowed anyone to tend to the lilacs since.

“Is everyone here?” Eloise asked after a moment, basking in the comfort of her material figure.

“All the ducks are in rows my dear, now they await a leader.”

“You’re their leader.” mumbled the familiar scent of gardenia flowing past her, upon the open air.

“Now for long my little swan.” Violet sighed, a perfectly delicate hand raising to card its way through the princess’ hair.

“Is he here?”

“Your suitor? Yes dear unfortunately for you he has shown” The queen laughed hoping to lighten her daughters mood.

"We have a nasty habit involving men in this family" her mother would often say whilst winking at her father Edmund across the room. He had passed on almost ten years ago; he'd been the best hug giver and secret magician, never failing to pull a coin from an awaiting child's ear. A sometimes overbearingly traditional yet progressive man, his head still surprisingly full of hair till the day of his early demise. Collins is seemingly thinning already.

His passing had wrecked the family. His wife, all the more scornful and ironically loving; the clone of her mothers, and the replica of herself - Lady Violet was no elementary being, her voice like bathwater, every syllable effortless and wise. She played the piano as though it were second nature to breathe air; embraced few but loved many under the guise of something to be feared. Eloise’s most loved and favoured person in the entire world… unless you asked Benedict.

Then there was Eloise, Lou and 'Flower' on the not too rare occasion, for as her mother was prone to say and the people continued, was the "one of the most precious examples of life to ever grow within these gardens.” with her uncontrollable ripples of dark hair, ill radiance and sea filled eyes, the procurement of two fine specimens to create the most poorly formed swan the world was ever to behold.

“I wish he were here.” Eloise mumbled gently, Violet’s lips falling to kiss the crown of her head.

“I know my dear, as do I.”

Father had died in these very Gardens during her seventh year. Leaving behind Anthony as the elder brother to ascend the house.

“Come now. Best to hit the ground running, keeping your guests waiting is a terrible introduction.” Violet stated, stepping towards the balcony doors.

The set of grand doors that almost shook with vigour with the level of presence behind it, the noise and voice of many locked behind it. Eloise came to her mother’s side – she could not run from this, this was her home.

The doors were opened with one swift movement of the awaiting footmen, revealing a ballroom, many familiar inhibitors of the neighbouring families huddled around in festivities, laughing. Drinks not far from hand, and children in clear scheming mode begging their respective guardians to stay up late; while others could be seen playing games in each corner, the low light shining on each face – new and old.

“Introducing The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton and Miss Eloise Bridgerton.”

[rosycheekies]

My Female Friend Comes Home to Me Every Now and Again by Arai Sumiko

[catboymitosis]

My Female Friend Comes Home to Me Every Now and Again

[tonycries]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - G.S.

Synopsis. He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, wild west! AU, cowboy! Satoru, mayor’s daughter! Reader, Satoru is SO DOWN BAD, angst, kinda slowburn, friends-to-lovers, bartender! Nanami, cunnilingus, oral sex (female + male receiving), unprotected sex, gun violence, pet names (m’lady, my love, + others), tumbleweed bandits, reader and Satoru are both going through stuff, Gege cameo, swearing, author’s daddy issues come out.

Word count. 12.1k (I’m scared)

A/N. You know how hard it was to make this all cowboy-y. Anyway that’s off the bucket list.

Art by @_3aem on X.

“So, you itchin’ for a beating from me or yer’ wife?”

Glowering down at the drunk old pervert as he waddled away in fear, you sigh as you dust down your heavy skirts. Typical. The sun beats down on your face as you look up at that familiar faded banner.

Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon

The only bar in your little town of Rustcliffe, and by default the only one around for miles. You hated this place - not the saloon, no, the handsome bartender there was always a sweetheart. But at some point, the comfort of your quaint old town had become too comfortable.

But that’s a story for another time. Right now, you were here to drag your father back home - per usual. 

Rolling your eyes at the cacophony of drunken voices carrying from inside, you step through the dust-bitten swinging doors. 

What hits you first is the stench of cheap alcohol, and then the inebriated camaraderie of the men around you. In the dim lighting of the saloon, you squeeze through the crowded tables and make your way to the bar. 

Not a hair out of place, as usual, Nanami lights up when he spots you. “Well, it’s been a while. Here for the mayor again?” he speaks over the boisterous laughs around you. 

You flash him a smile, “Yeah, you know my father. Fraternizin’ with the voters and all that.” you wave off your father’s excuse to come down here. 

“Certainly takes his job very seriously.” Nanami chuckles, “You’ll find him over by the window, in the back.” he points. 

Tipping your head in thanks, you walk the treacherous track to take your animated father home. When you come in view of his table, you find that he wasn’t alone. Damn, it was always harder to convince him to go when with other people.

You know your father has spotted you by his lively laugh and gleeful shouts, “Ah, my daughter! My beautiful daughter! Whatcha doin’ here? Come come! There’s someone I wan’ introduce you to.” 

A smile slips out unintentionally at his almost-endearing pride. You mentally prepare yourself to say some awkward hellos to some of your father’s old drinking buddies before dragging him home. 

Upon reaching your father, he immediately pulls you into a drunken embrace, wrapping his slightly rocky arm around your shoulders. “This is the daughter I was telling ya about! Prettiest girl in town! Hell, maybe even the country, knowin’ ma girl.” he prattles. 

In his jovial state, he abruptly turns to face whoever he was drinking with, unsteady on his two feet. Probably another old geezer, you assume not taking your eyes off your father until you could make sure he won’t collapse on the bar floor for the third time this month.

Finally, you look up. 

Your eyes meet blue. 

Blue, blue summer skies. 

To Satoru, you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you menacingly threatening that creep outside through the window, every word the mayor said went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the other. Too entranced. 

And when he introduced you as his daughter? Shit, it might just be fate.

“C’mon now boy! Cat got yer’ tongue? What happened to that sharp mouth of yours?”

The booming voice of your father snaps Satoru out of his captivation. Damn, he must’ve been staring for too long. 

Mentally praying you weren’t spooked by his speechlessness, he finally speaks, voice slightly shaky at your presence, “Ah- Good day m’lady. Apologies for my impoliteness, the name’s Satoru Gojo.” he tips his crisp white hat. Gently grasping your hand in his, he places a delicate kiss, looking up at you as he awaits your response.

You gaze, slightly awe-struck, at his ethereally beautiful white locks and the impish grin from where he held your hand. His lips were so soft.

“Oh!” you startle at the clap of your father’s hand on your shoulder. Shit, you were definitely staring too long.  Rushing to introduce yourself, you quickly interject a “Nice to meet you, Satoru” before your father starts leading the conversation once more.

“Satoru here is a traveler, arrived jus’ today! Told him people like us could never, I mean imagine, right?” he slurs. 

Your ears perk up at this piece of information, “Oh? Are you really a traveler, Satoru? How admirable.” you gush, previous bashfulness forgotten. Was that…a blush spreading across his face? Couldn’t be - your town's whiskey was known to give people rosy cheeks on occasion.

“Thank you, m’lady. It’s nothing special really, jus’ staying here a while.” he barely gets the words out before you father bellows a tangent - “Don’ be shy, boy! How wondrous traveling is, kids these days could use some toughening up!”

Both of you rush to catch your father as he sways with a passion seen only during election rallies. It takes the two of you to steady the man. As he continues babbling half-lucidly, you cock your head sweetly at Satoru, “Help me take him outside?” 

Satoru thinks his knees might give out then and there.

The air is chilly by the time the three of you step outside, sun making its way below the horizon. Despite your father’s protests that he can ride home on his own, he knocks out as soon as Satoru gracefully mounts him on his horse. Carefully saddling behind him, you try to make sure your father doesn’t fall off of Satoru’s beautiful white Quarter horse.

“You really don’t have to escort us home, Satoru. My ol’ man wouldn’t even feel it if he fell, I swear.” you insist as Satoru holds onto the reins from the ground, feeling bad for bothering him.

“It’s no trouble. After all, Gege seems to like him very much, hm?” Satoru remarks as he turns to his stallion, who attempts to bite him in response, “Can’t say the same for myself.”

“Hmm, how can I be sure yer’ not a serial killer?” you tease, reveling in the sharp laugh it draws from him.

“You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me, m’lady.” he hums, eyes sparkling with mirth. There’s a lull in the conversation as Satoru pulls on the reins to start walking you down the road, the rhythmic clip-clop! of the horse filling the still air.

“So you travel?”

“This is a nice town.”

Both of you speak at once, anxious to fill the silence, only to sputter self-consciously.

“You can-”

“No no, it’s only customary for a lady to go first.” he hums, looking up at you. 

“Tell me stories of your travels.” you breathe out, eager for any crumb of escape from your little town. 

As you made your way home to the sprawling family ranch, the night adorned itself with twinkling stars that matched the mischievous glint in Satoru’s eyes as he told you bizarre tales from his life on the road. 

“IN MY DEFENSE, it was dark an’ that tumbleweed was shaped suspiciously like a lowly bandit. Hey- don’t laugh- it was a very heated standoff!” Satoru exclaims animatedly as you cackle. 

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Even bandits woulda run away from your clownery.” delighted at the way the moonlight illuminates the blush that tinges his ears. 

Making a fool of himself, Satoru’s stories have you laughing until your cheeks hurt, wishing you could experience them too. You almost forget about your father’s deafening snores and the bite of the wind. 

But Satoru does not. Brows furrowing as he catches your slight shiver, he mentally berates himself for forgetting his manners. How dare he let a lady suffer the cold while he still had his fuckin’ coat! What a sorry excuse for a cowboy, this is worse than that time he accidentally lassoed a rattlesnake.

Hastily shrugging his coat off, he passes it to you with a sheepish smile on his face. 

Face heating up against the cold draft, you breathe in the smell of pine, amber, and something so Satoru. Clearly not as affected as you are, Satoru launches back into his stories.

If Satoru thought his knees were going to give out before then he knows they’re about to now. He aims to keep his eyes steadfast on the road as he recalls his endeavors, because he’s aware that even one glance at you all wrapped up in his coat wouldn’t be too good for him.

Making out the warm lights in the distance, his heart falls as he realizes his time with you is drawing to an end. You seem to share similar sentiments, as you sigh silently.

Once again, a silence falls upon you two (well, three if your slumbering father counted) - but this time, it was serene. You could almost drift to sleep if it wasn’t for your mother’s frantic calls for you from the front porch. 

“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried! I didn’t think it would be so late out!” she frets as Satoru helps you get down from his horse. Hands on your waist searing into your skin. 

Clearly awoken due to the commotion, your dad stumbles his way down and towards your red brick villa. 

“Ah, honey! I’m home…somehow…you know, I met the most interesting fella Something-toru. A wanderer, real interesting.” turning comically to Satoru, he exclaims in delight “Something-toru! How didya get ‘ere?” 

Stifling his laughs, Satoru backs away, claiming he had to leave before your father roped him into more rounds of drinks. Which clearly didn’t work because your mother approaches him, “Stay, Satoru, stay! Can’t have you sleepin’ underneath some tree when you escorted our darling daughter all the way out here.”

Any refusals are immediately blocked out by your very inebriated father yelling out in agreement, claiming he wanted to listen to more of Satoru’s “funny lil’ stories”. Your parents head inside - well, more like your mother heads inside with your father in tow - having taken his speechlessness for agreement.

As you follow, you turn to Satoru, a strange part of you gleeful at the fact you won’t have to part with him for now. “We’ve got an extra room, and it’s got yer’ name on it. The stablehand will stall Gege, c’mon, it’ll be a lot better than the ground.” you grin.

“Hey! The ground can be very comfortable.” Satoru declares defensively, yet follows you inside anyway.

It’s only rushed goodbyes and promises to talk tomorrow morning as the housemaids fuss around Satoru. “Goodnight m’lady.” he’d winked as your head housekeeper clutched her pearls at his dirty boots on her recently polished hardwood floors.

That night, as you lay in your childhood bed, you realize that you still have Satoru’s coat on. Whether from his coat or something else entirely that you did not want to explore, you felt so warm inside.

---

Morning dawns with the symphony of the Western meadowlark that nudges you gently awake - usually. Today, it’s abruptly shattered as the door bursts open and someone barges into your room. Judging by the thud of hefty boots, you knew very well who it was. 

“Rise n’ shine, m’lady!” Satoru’s voice - way too cheerful for six in the morning - chirps out. 

It’s been a few days since Satoru has been staying with you. Now more a friend than a guest, you expect he’s come to wake you up for a morning ride with Gege, watching the sun rise as you exchange silly banter. But it’s so early…

“What do you want, Something-toru.” you grumble out from in-between your comfy covers. You secretly delight at his whines of “How dare you not remember my name, I even told you about the rattlesnake lasso!” 

The warmth of your bed and the melody of Satoru’s voice has you sluggishly falling back asleep - that’s before he promptly sits on your bed. The force of it bouncing you both, making you sit up with a laugh.

Satoru was on your bed.

Satoru was on your bed. Shit, after what your father told him this morning, he wouldn’t blame you if you kicked him out with a punch to his pretty nose right this second. Mentally slapping himself a million times over, he hurriedly gets out the reason he was sent in to wake you up in the first place, “Ah- Um, the mayor is meeting with…someone important, wanted you to come down and meet him. Well, if tha’s all then I’ll be going, Gege won’t brush himself, sadly.”

And before you could get another word out, he’s swiftly out the door. 

Satoru was on your bed. Your cheeks slightly heat up as you realize you didn’t mind?

His words ring in your ears as you get ready for the day - if it was someone important, then you might as well dress to impress. Impress someone else too. Shaking off these strange thoughts from your mind, you make your way downstairs, nose wrinkling at the smell of tobacco that greets you.

You’ve always hated the stench of the overpriced tobacco your father brings out to impress guests. “There she is! My daughter!” your father smiles, beckoning you over. “There’s someone who’s here to see you.” 

Grimacing at the cloud of smoke, you take a seat on the plush sofa beside your father. He gestures at the man seated in front of him, “This here is Naoya.”

Despite his sharply handsome features, you shift uncomfortably at the way he watches you like a predator appraising his prey, eyes following your every movement. Apparently approving of what he saw, his lips curl into a smirk, “Your future husband.” he says saccharinely sweet.

What the fuck?

“Father?” you panickedly turn to him for answers, voice strained at your attempt to keep it even. But your father merely guffaws out a laugh, “Well well, nothing confirmed just yet. But you know with the way things are going with the re-election, might as well get to know a suitor and...” his voice trails off as he takes another puff of his cigar. 

“My apologies sir, I refuse.” you drone out, looking straight at Naoya. You don’t miss the way his smirk grows leeringly as he mutters “You don’t have too much of a say in this matter, sweetcheeks.”  The audacity.

Apparently your father doesn’t hear, a more grave expression taking over his face, “Now I’ve talked with Naoya, you’re of marriageable age. And as young as I feel, I won’t be around forever. You need someone to take care of you, dear. We’ve talked about this.” 

Tears prick at your eyes as you abruptly stand up, disturbing the smoke around you. “I can take care of myself.” you spit out venomously, storming your way to the heavy front door in an attempt to run away from this situation.

In the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, Naoya watches in amusement as you stomp out of the room. Hilarious, the feisty ones were always the best. 

Over the mayor’s ramble of apologies, he grins “No don’t worry about that. She’ll be mine either way.”

The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as you slam it shut, echoing your frustration. The brisk air is a temporary relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.

“Talked about this” your ass. Every conversation - if you can even call them that - was a heated warning about being married off before you end up a spinster. You couldn’t care less about ending up alone if it didn’t mean living life with a man that talked to you like that.

Your thoughts block out the crunch of the gravel beneath your boots as your feet subconsciously lead you to the stables, where you used to play hide-and-seek as a kid. More recently, though, it has become an escape from conversations like these. 

Approaching its familiar wooden doors, you catch a glimpse of Satoru, back turned and meticulously grooming Gege.

Sensing your presence, he turns with an easy smile that quickly fades as he notices the deep furrow of your brows. “Hey there, m’lady. Everything alrigh’?” cerulean eyes flit across your face worriedly.

“Oh yeah, everything’s great. Just got introduced to my absolute asshat of a future husband.” as if Satoru’s concerned expression makes something in you snap, the words tumble out along with your tears.

“I don’t even- The way he looked at me- Can you even believe?”

Satoru was about to rip apart whoever this load of horse manure was that made tears streak down your pretty face. Throwing his brush down - which Gege didn’t quite appreciate - he quickly envelopes you in his arms, letting you muffle your sobs.

“Hey hey. It’ll be alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, m’lady.” he consoles. 

Eventually, as your cries die down, you look up to see the rising sun casting a soft glow on Satoru’s features, illuminating the sincerity in his gaze.

The determined glint in his eyes emboldens you, “Yer’ right, I will not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Naoya. I’m not anyone’s property.”

A subtle warmth is present in Satoru’s gaze as he utters, “Tha’s my girl.” before reeling back and backtracking immediately, “Ah! I mean- good for you m’lady. Naoya ain’t the one. Anyway, tell me about this ‘asshat’.”

You raise a brow teasingly at his rapid change of demeanor, before plopping down on the hay, launching into your first impression of Naoya and why the rumors downtown of him making babies cry were probably true. 

The sun shines high in the sky as you lay there in peaceful silence, only to be broken by the doubt weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m scared.” you admit.

Satoru turns from his place beside you from the hay, “It’s alright, you got Gege and myself beside you. If Naoya ain’t the one then he ain’t the one.” 

Your eyes meet his twinkling gaze, “Yeah, he’s not the one.”

The air grows charged with something unspoken as the silence stretches out. Satoru can feel the tips of his ears burning at your words - stop it Satoru, she didn’t mean anything by it. As always, he retreats into humor to break the crackling silence. 

“I’d help you hide the body, y’know. Then you can have a shotgun wedding with whoever you want to share your days with.”

“Oh yeah? What if he turns out just like that asshat?” you challenge. 

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always run away with me. Fightin’ tumbleweeds together.” Satoru makes light of the situation, in an attempt to etch that beautiful smile on your face once more. It works, as you throw your head back and laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” you get out in-between giggles. 

If someone looked at you like Satoru did, you probably wouldn’t mind marrying them. A voice whispers in the back of your mind, sending your brows furrowing once again.

Meanwhile, Satoru finally had a name for your future not-husband - Naoya.

Urgently getting up and removing the hay stuck to your clothes once you hear your housemaids calling for you, you leave Satoru with a grateful smile that had him swooning out loud immediately after the stable door shut - to the very visible judgment of Gege.

It felt like a knife in his chest when the mayor tittered secretly to him about your future husband this morning, thoughts of you getting married plaguing his mind all morning. Well, if you were happy then it’s fine, isn’t it? 

He was halfway through imagining you in a beautiful dress of white when you’d arrived with a cloudy expression covering your gorgeous features. If Satoru had thought hearing about your fiancé was like being stabbed, then the despair on your face made him feel like he was completely cleaved in half. 

You deserve someone that deserves you. Probably not him. Certainly not Naoya.

Walking back to the house to fetch his riding gloves, he’s lost in the thoughts of standing off against a faceless man calling himself your husband when he bumps into somebody.

“My apolog- Asshat?” Satoru blurts out at the man testily raising a brow at him.

“Excuse you, barn boy?” he fumes, at the nickname that slips by. Ah, he’s done it now. Lips tweaking into a forced smile, Satoru grits out, “Ah, apologies, sir. Cowboy tendencies.”

The air is tense as Naoya mutters, “Keep those to yourself.” He moves to walk past Satoru, before stopping close enough to utter words meant for only him to hear, “And stay away from my future bride. I saw the hay on her skirt, yer’ insane to think you’d have a chance, barn boy. Go back to wanderin’ around.”

Satoru stands rooted to the spot as Naoya walks off, too many emotions he can’t name whirling inside him. That morning, he stalks off for his longest ride since arriving at Rustcliffe - not coming back with Gege until well after midnight. 

---

To Satoru, long rides always mean interesting dreams. Right now he was in a tap-dancing competition against a one-eyed alligator who looked suspiciously like your father. It’s a shame - he was winning too - that the competition is suddenly crashed by an angel calling for him. 

“Satoru…Satoru!” 

An angel that sounded like…you?

“Satoru if you don’t wake up I’m feedin’ your boots to Gege.”

His eyes shoot open, yet his sleep-addled brain still struggles to process you standing over his bed, soft hands shaking his bare shoulders lightly. “Angel?” he rasps out. 

You huff out a laugh, “No, I’m here to drag you to hell - or close enough at least.”

Face burning at already making a fool of himself before noon, he sits up in bed, blanket sliding off to reveal his toned upper-half.

Shit, it should be illegal to casually have a body like that. 

Trying your best to avert your eyes from the dips and curves of his sculpted body, you continue, “My father’s holdin’ Rustcliffe’s annual Harvest Hoedown in a few weeks, the whole town’s gonna be there. You made it just in time for some dancing lessons.”

“What makes you think I need dancing lessons?” Satoru raises a brow playfully. You take a brief moment to admire the way his sleep-tousled hair curtains his alluring eyes, before replying in an ominous tone, “I need dancing lessons.”

Wow, you really did need dancing lessons, Satoru notes as he stifles a laugh when you step on the poor instructor’s foot for the fifth time this afternoon. 

Locked in the stuffy studio, he recalls the way your father demanded that you not step one foot outside until you mastered the upbeat waltz for the hoedown - putting Satoru in charge of making sure you don’t slip away. “It’s stupid really, he’s never had a problem with me sitting out before. All because that asshat will be there…” you’d muttered hotly on the way.

Ah yes, that asshat. Sleep weighs heavily on Satoru’s eyes from riding all night long, yet his words still ring painfully in his ears. Who did he even think he was to have a chance with you? 

Well, it’s alright, Satoru will be out of this town in a few months, and you’ll marry some man of your choice that could give you everything you could ever want.

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his overthinking tirade is the abrupt pause of the music and the heavy sigh the dance instructor lets out - clearly having taken a break for his own sake rather than yours. You shuffle sheepishly across the polished floor to where Satoru stands, “Was it worse than you thought?” you grimace.

“Well, you always do find a way to surprise me, m’lady” he teases, chuckling at your dramatic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the instructor rushing outside for a smoke. Hopefully not because of your dancing…

You scoff in defense as Satoru’s cackles grow louder - having thought the same thing. “Well, I’m sure the great Something-toru is much better on his feet.”

Instead of retorting, he steps one heavy boot onto the waxy dance floor, holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“But, there’s no music?” you raise a brow, yet you place your hand in his much larger ones. Soft, his hands were surprisingly soft. And so warm.

“Did I mention I was a great singer too?” he grins, a small dimple at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer. 

Shit, it was way too hot to be cooped up in a dance studio. Or maybe it was just Satoru’s hand around your waist, making your skin burn through your heavy skirts. They flow around you as he glides you gently across the floor. 

You train your eyes steadily on your feet - partly out of necessity, and partly out of fear of meeting Satoru’s intense gaze.

The only sounds filling the small studio were the squeaks of your boots and Satoru’s soft humming of a nonexistent tune. It was beautiful, his voice. It reminded you of calm summer days. 

“Ah- sorry!” you panic as you step on his toe, only for him to pause his melody and huff out a laugh.

“Step on them as much as you want, m’boots are thick.”

You’re sure he meant this only to bate your embarrassment, but something about his words and the warm endearment in his gaze have your cheeks heating up. You focus on your steps in silence as he guides you patiently, tenderly.

Pride grows in your chest as you start stepping on his boots every six steps instead of two. Satoru seems to have noticed too, “Hey! You’ve improved, m’lady.” he whispers, as if afraid to break the stillness in that humid room as you two continue your silent dance. 

Loud clapping from the doorway makes you two jump apart, shattering the serene bubble you’ve found refuge in. “Brilliant! I thought I’d come across my first hopeless case, yet you’ve worked absolute wonders Mr. Satoru!”

Your escape is quick, you urgently drag Satoru out the door before he can be forcibly recruited as a dance teacher. 

You heave out a sigh of relief at your freedom from the treacherous clutches of the dance studio. Merciless sunlight stinging your face, you begin to make your way through the dusty hustle and bustle of Rustcliffe in the afternoon. 

Now, all you had to do was avoid bumping into your father for the rest of the day and you should be fine!

Speed-walking by Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, you’re confused when you’re faced with a few more drunken stares than usual. Surely your new skirt can’t be that flattering?

With a jolt, you realize you’re still grasping Satoru’s warm hand in his. Dropping it as if it burned, your cheeks heat up at the mirth on his features. “Not that I’m complainin,” he grins, “but warn a guy next time you manhandle him. S’not good for the heart, m’lady.”

Rolling your eyes at his joke, you begin pointing out the things to see as you walk the familiar old roads of Rustcliffe, detailing the town gossip.

It really was not good for his heart, Satoru was sure he’ll drop dead very soon one of these days because of you. 

He couldn’t rip his eyes off of you as you animatedly talked about granny Wei wrestling Mrs. Davidson for her secret brownie recipe. 

Shit, he was really getting in too deep.

Night falls fast, a deep shade of blue. 

Saying your goodbyes to Nanami at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon - at a time you knew your father wouldn’t be around - your heart swells as Satoru excitedly rambles about “Good ol’ Nanamin! What a chip off the old block, we became fast friends y’know?”

You didn’t expect your mission to avoid your father to turn into an impromptu Rustcliffe tour. But watching Satoru’s face light up as you told him silly little stories of your childhood, you wouldn’t have changed it one bit. 

Sent off with a cheery “Come back soon deary!”, you’re exhausted by the time you say all your goodbyes to the people of the town.

“You’re loved, y’know?” Satoru speaks up out of nowhere as you steady yourself behind him on the saddle. 

“Hm?” you ask, fatigued from spending the day walking around town. A large hand caresses your cheek to rest your head against his back, tightening your arms around his waist.

Lightly snapping the reins, he repeats, “You’re loved.” 

You drift on his words gently to sleep, the clip-clop! of the horse matching the deafening beat of your heart against your ribcage. If only you could be like this forever.

SLAM! 

You wake up with a start, only to find yourself…hovering? Surely there must be a valid explanation - you really didn’t feel like doing an exorcism right now.

It takes a while of your nonsense to realize you’re being carried by strong arms supporting your back and legs. 

“S-Satoru?” you ask blearily. 

“Shhh, forgive me, m’lady. Didn’t think that damn door would be so loud.” he responds, bed creaking under his weight as he softly sets you down. 

Smiling down at your incoherent mumbles, he whispers softly “It’s alrigh’, you can rest now. Goodnight m’lady.”

Struggling to rip his gaze from your gracefully sleep-addled one, it’s only the thought of someone in the house catching him in this position that makes him stand up. 

A hand - uncharacteristically swift - grasps his wrist, stopping his tip-toeing to the door. “Satoru…” your groggy call of his name sends shivers down his spine. Hesitatingly following the gentle pull of your hand, he kneels beside your bed.

“Yes, m’lady?” he breathes.

You surge forward, sleep hazing the practical side of your mind. Acting on pure instinct, your soft lips meet his. 

Satoru freezes in surprise as a beat passes. One. Two.

He stays in the same position when you flop back onto your pillow, soft snores filling the otherwise pin-drop silence. His lips burn as he brings up a hand to touch them in disbelief, stifling an euphoric laugh.

You startle awake in the middle of the night, after some questionable dream about Satoru carrying you to the bed and you kissing him.  

Imagine. Ha! 

Settling back into where you were carefully tucked into bed, you snuggle the warm coat at your side. 

Wait. Shit.

---

If either of you remembered what happened that night, neither of you mentioned it. 

Oftentimes, you questioned whether it was a dream. The only thing keeping you from fully believing so being the intensity in Satoru’s stare whenever his eyes briefly flickered to your lips and the hasty retreats whenever it seemed like you would bring up the topic. 

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

In fear of messing up the comfortable camaraderie you two had, you continued this magnetic dance of normalcy. But honestly could you really consider it “normal” if each gaze was charged with something neither of you could describe?

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

You could only imagine the worst.

Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.  Well, probably a bit below heaven, because - ideally - there you’d be his wife and Gege would actually like him. 

It’s alright, even if just for a sleep-hazed second, he was yours. And he didn’t want to hear you apologize for it.

Still riding the euphoria of that brief kiss, he goes about life as usual, sure that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels.

---

“WELCOME ALL TO RUSTCLIFFE ANNUAL HARVEST HOEDOWN! WE GOT HARVEST, WE GOT HORSES, WE GOT SOME HOE- Oh- what? yes, dear that was on my script…” your father’s voice bellows across town from the loudspeaker. 

You breathe in the warm, candy-scented air, fairy lights illuminating the colorful stalls selling everything from candied apples to binoculars (“Spy On Your Neighbors Without Worry!”). 

Place ringing with the bustle and chatter of the town, you think it feels like something out of a picture book.

A warm smile finds its way onto your face, you’ve loved the Harvest Hoedown since you were a kid. Here, you can forget the longing for something more, the rows at home about your looming engagement, and most of all - you can almost forget Satoru.

Ever since that kiss, you’ve found it hard to face him. Sure, the banter and half-joking schemes to murder Naoya are the same. But your heart clenches every time he looks at you with a tender melancholy, losing the words to apologize for taking advantage of his kindness.

“Come come! It’s startin’!” you hear gleefully from your left. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re pulled into a circle of bodies dancing to an upbeat tune. 

Laughter bubbling out of you as you lose yourself in the song, you turn to your right and see…your dance instructor, who is very visibly (and audibly) praying for his feet. Dramatic. You’ve learned a lot recently with Satoru’s help.

Oh, there he is again. For someone that leaves place so swiftly, he sure is set on living permanently in your mind.

Hidden amongst the audience, Satoru cackles at the distress on Mr. Dance Instructor’s face. Little did he know, with a bit of Satoru’s magic you’ve improved - stepping on his toes only once every fifteen steps! 

He was so proud of his girl.

Ah, except you’re not. You’re so much more. And he’s reminded of that every time you averted your eyes from his during dance lessons, the proximity of your bodies doing nothing for how out of reach you felt to him. 

He rips his gaze from you, walking away from the growing crowd. Where was that damn drinks table again?

It’s past twelve as the townsfolk start pairing up for the hoedown couples dancing. You’ve usually sat this one out, not one for the complicated steps nor the intimacy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy your parents waltzing in their own world. How nice it must be. Your supposed asshat of a dance partner was over by the drinks talking with some men, barely looking your way.

Guess the dance lessons were for nothing. Frustrated and slightly tipsy, you move to make your way off the dance floor. 

Suddenly, a large hand blocks your view of the exit. Who the- 

Satoru.

Ears tinged a pretty red, and eyes slightly dazed, he hiccups over the rich music “Would you- dance with me, m’lady?”

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way his face flushed your favorite delicate pink - but you slide your hand into his warm one, “I’d be honored to, Satoru.” 

A strong arm pulling you flush against his body, faces only inches apart. His hot breath fans you as Satoru murmurs, “Looked s’beautiful tonight. Best dancer in town I’d say.”

“Only cuz’ of you, Satoru.” you chuckle at his genuine tone as he steers you across the dance floor. Feet in perfect sync, the waltz fades into the background as you look into his tired eyes. 

“Nah, tha’s all you, m’lady. I’m nothing much.” he grins morosely. 

Your brows furrow at his words, clearly something was wrong. And this wasn’t the place to talk about it. “Come with me.” you utter, pulling him along with you to a place you knew he’d love. 

Little ol’ Rustcliffe wasn’t called that for nothing. 

The air is tense, the chatter of crickets fill the silence between you two as you guide him to your haven, hand still tightly in his. It’s a steep walk uphill from the outskirts of town, a place you’d stumbled upon during one dashing attempt to escape from this town as a tween.

“Finally here.” you exhale as you reach your destination, fireflies lighting the way. 

“Hah- If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to murder-” Satoru’s voice dies in his throat as he drinks in the view before him. 

The twinkling lights of the entire town of Rustcliffe reflect in his eyes like constellations. Townsfolk barely discernible from this distance, yet the soft jovial music carried over. It was beautiful. 

Satoru looks at you in awe as you lay down on the ground and point upwards, “Tha’s not all, cowboy.”

Quickly getting on the ground beside you - albeit at a safe distance - his mouth gapes wider at the perfect carpet of stars above him. A celestial version of what he saw below. He turns his head to see you bathed in the moonlight. This place was beautiful.

“Satoru, are we okay?‘ you voice out in concern. He’s taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. You cut off his scramble to make a joke, “I’m serious. Please talk to me.”

He can never win against you.

Heaving out a sigh, “Maybe. Who knows. But whatever it is, please don’t apologize for that kiss, let me have it.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, “Let you have it? Satoru, why wouldn’t you have it?” 

“M’lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re like fireworks. Captivating and fierce. That kiss was a mistake, and soon enough you’ll find a rich, handsome-”

“I only want you.”

“I’m leaving soon.” he retorts. 

“I only want you.” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I’m leaving m’lady.” he argues.

“No- Satoru-”

“And I’m childish. I’m insecure. I’ll never be able to provide for you the way you deserve.” he plows on, emotion cracking his voice.

“Satoru, I love you.” you breathe out. 

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, the silence was deafening. “What was that?” he turns, voice quiet with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, cowboy, but you’re like blue summer skies. And I just so happen to love blue summer skies.” you huff out, finally understanding the reason for his behavior these past few weeks. 

“I don’t expect a huge mansion, or some enormous ranch, or even a cowboy that knows the difference between a lasso and a rattlesnake. I just don’t want anyone else, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And…you’re sure? Really sure?”

“Yes.”

Silence punctures your conversation once more, broken only by a loud cackle. You turn in disbelief at his change in demeanor, “All cheered up now, Satoru?”

“Why would you have feelings for me? Was it the tumbleweed story that did it for you?” he gets out through laughs. It was contagious, and soon enough you yourself joined him, clutching your stomach.

In the thoughtful silence that follows, you find yourself inching closer to him until your faces are mere centimeters apart. “Blue summer skies and fireworks don’t go too well together.” he breathes. 

“We’ll make something work out, remember?” you hum. 

Your first kiss with Satoru was a sleep-addled mistake. 

The second was when his lips capture yours as if they were the source of life itself. 

Rolling on top of you, he’s careful to not rest his full weight as his lips don’t leave you, tongue caressing yours. Satoru tastes sweet - like hard candy and your father’s bottle of Baileys. Pulling away a hair's breadth, he whispers against your lips, “Let me be yours?”

“You probably say this to all the girls, hm?” you tease him, as revenge for making you wait so long. He softly bites your lips in retaliation, relishing in your drawn-out whine. “Yes, fine. If only you’ll let me be yours.”

Clearly approving of your answer, he continues his dance with your lips. Barely parting to breathe, as if it hurt to leave you.

And it did. A low groan sounds from the back of his throat as Satoru kisses you with the desperation from these past few weeks. His hands stayed firmly cupping your face, as if scared to move elsewhere. Yours, however, was wandering the expanse of his back, and it was driving him insane. 

“M’lady…” he breathes out at the feeling of your legs wrapping around his hips, a warning. 

You knew where this was going and you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything so bad. “Satoru, I need you.” you mutter, words punctuated by pecks to his swollen lips. 

Maybe that’s the trigger that sets him off. It’s not long before Satoru is kissing you again. Pinning down your arms with one hand, he rolls his hips into yours. You gasp as you feel the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers. 

He was so big.

Your pussy drips with anticipation and fear of what was about to come. 

Satoru thinks he might be getting whiplash, how was it that an hour ago he was moping in his loneliness and now he’s got you underneath him? Silently thanking whoever was up there, he wanders a hand down your body. Fingers trailing teasingly above where you wanted him the most.

“Tell me what you want, m’lady.” he rasps. Now Satoru is sure he’s getting whiplash when you grind your hips up into his hand, whining “Need you- on me.”

Skirts hastily pushed up, Satoru shuffles so his face is right hovering right above your pulsing core. In the cool moonlight, he can see the way you get wetter at each hot breath on your cunt. “Please Satoru.” 

You were not good for his heart. Surging forward so he’s nose-deep in your pussy, Satoru’s tongue flattens against your swollen folds. His eyes roll to the back of his at your taste. You tasted better than the candy at the hoedown.

Your desperate whines for more send blood rushing to his cock, twitching achingly against his trousers. Leisurely dipping between your folds, he watches with blown-out eyes as you grind your hips deeper into his face, keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. Using him.

Shit, if this was your reaction to him teasing you…

Your whimpers of pleasure and lewd squelches of your cunt  fill the night air as he plunges his tongue inside your clenching hole, fucking you at a merciless rhythm. His brows furrow as his tongue dips in and out relentlessly. He sinfully loves the burn of his scalp as you pull his hair to angle him just right. 

Thumb harshly circling your clit, Satoru thinks he loses a bit of his sanity at every moan of his name that leaves your pretty mouth. “You taste s’good. So perfect for me, m’lady.” his voice sends vibrations to your pussy that have you feeling your heartbeat banging in two places.

“Hngh- Satoru, don’ stop!” you mewl as his nose catches on your clit, clamping down on his tongue. He continues his movements, breathing you in so sinfully. Air was overrated - Satoru Gojo, famously daring traveler and devilishly handsome, dies here between your legs. He wouldn’t even mind.

“Cum in my mouth, m’lady. Please.” he begs, voice muffled by your dripping cunt. He locks eyes with your fucked out ones as he pulls you by the thighs impossibly closer to him. He never wanted to part.

The stimulation of his voice in addition to his fingers and tongue becomes too much. “Satoru! Hah-  M’ gonna cum-”

Tears spring to your eyes as you cum all around Satoru’s tongue. He doesn’t let up his harsh abuse of your pulsing pussy, groaning as he laps up your juices - your slick pooling at the corner of his mouth. 

He was so greedy for you. Shit, this is so much better than he’s imagined every night he’s fucked his fist in that lonely room.

As both of you attempt to catch your breaths, the chattering song of crickets and distant music from the Harvest Hoedown fill the air once more. Satoru looks at you with a devious glint in his eyes that has your cunt twitching once more. 

You’d felt his rock-hard length. And you wanted it now.

“Satoru. let me feel you in my mouth, please.” you murmur. Kneeling before him, you look up at him with eager eyes. At his slow nod, you give an experimental squeeze to the large imprint of his cock, thighs rubbing together at Satoru’s drawn-out hiss. 

“Oh, m’lady. You drive me insane.” he groans. 

Cursing the heavy trousers that cowboys wear, you fumble it down his legs. Muscles, creamy thighs come into your view, making your mouth water. 

In the dim lighting, you see the precum drip down Satoru’s flushed cock. The prominent vein down his side glistens prominently. Shit, he’d never fit in your mouth let alone your cunt. But you wanted it so bad.

Satoru’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base. 

It was filthy, it was debauched. You absolutely loved it.

Satoru lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, m’lady. You’re just hah- too good.”

Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as you speak about something that has been on your mind for a while now, “Satoru, don’t you think we’re past formalities now?”

“Well, I could call you my goddess?” he smiles. “Or my angel? Or-” Satoru chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth - partly because you needed him to shut up, and partly because you cunt ached with need.

“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper - nose meeting the snowy white hair on his pelvis.

Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your pussy drips once more at how desperate Satoru was.

His mouth drops open in a silent gasp as you move to take his tight balls into your mouth. You admire the dazed look in his darkened eyes. “Oh god- I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum in your mouth, m’lady.” he murmurs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continue your ruthless pace.

As soon as your lips are around his cock once more, Satoru comes fast and hard with a gravelly moan. Hot spurts of his seed dribble down the corner of your mouth as you take it all in. 

Ah, this wasn’t what you had planned when you brought him here - but you sure weren’t complaining.

Satoru just about passes out when you stick out your tongue to show you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he gave, cock twitching once more. He needed you in a way that would make a hooker blush. 

Finding his voice, “As much as I’d love to ravish you right here, m’lady, I think you deserve somethin’ a bit more comfortable.” He swats at a mosquito attacking him as you grin devilishly.

---

Gege has never flown across the dry ground of Rustcliffe faster. 

Wind in your hair and Satoru’s arms warmly around your middle, you feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your back - matching your own. You admire his moonlit profile, the light casting an otherworldly glow over his cloud-like hair. You could probably go anywhere if it was by his side. 

You’ve never been happier to see that familiar ol’ ranch.

Navigating your sprawling villa, you find, is close to impossible with a relentless Satoru pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. 

“Satoru…we gotta make it to the bed.” you giggle, drunk off of him rather than the liquor from before. He sighs impatiently, before promptly lifting you off of your feet. His hat and hip holster falling to god-know-where as he runs up the stairs to your bedroom with you in his arms.

The thud of heavy boot echoes throughout the empty house - your parents still at the Harvest Hoedown. It reminds you of the night you first kissed him. As he slams your door shut and pushes you against it, however, you never in your wildest dreams would have thought that it’ll lead to this.

Tongue tangling with Satoru’s, feet still not reaching the ground. You don’t think you’ll make it out of this alive. Nor will Satoru.

Satoru is definitely not making it out alive.

He’s barely stepped a foot into your bedroom before he’s got his hands all over you - groping and teasing every inch of your body he can find. Your legs wrapped around him, he holds you in the air, hands roughly squeezing your ass.

His lips don’t leave yours, tasting himself on your tongue - even as he bunches your skirts around your hips. Exhaling in relief as his hands meet your bare lips, he holds a finger to your pulsing core.

You whimper at the feeling, still sensitive from before. He drinks in your mewls of pain and pleasure, lips curling into a smug smile. “Still sensitive, m’lady? You poor thing. How will you take my cock if yer’ like this?” 

Your groan of impatience turns into a panicked whine as Satoru moves towards the bed, “Maybe we should tuck you in bed for now? Continue this tomorrow?” 

Reading the challenge in his eyes, you immediately free yourself from his hold. His confused gaze soon turns into a surprised one as you push him roughly onto the bed, straddling him after.

“You always do surprise me.” he laughs out between the magnetic kisses you leave on his lips. Buttons fling across the room as you rip his shirt in impatience - fingers too dripping in lust to work through them. You’re sure if the same could be done to your heavy prairie skirt, then it would’ve suffered a similar fate.

You run your hands along his sculpted body greedily, as you’d wanted to since the first time you saw him shirtless. He hisses at the friction and the impatience at wanting to do the same to you, fingers fumbling with your complicated clasps.

After much frustration and curses on whoever invented corsets, you’re finally exposed in front of Satoru.

Shit, he really should call you his goddess. Because in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he thinks he’s in heaven as you sit atop him, bare and needy for him. Fuck Naoya. Fuck any faceless suitable husband. Eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-bitten, you’re like this because of him. 

Grinding his now-bare hips against yours, a low groan rips from his throat at the feeling of your swollen folds spreading against his aching cock. Your dripping slick mixes with his as he continues rutting into you. 

“Ah! Enough teasin’, Satoru- Want you inside me.” you whimper sinfully. 

Your words make Satoru snap. Wordlessly, he sheaths himself inside you with a sigh of relief. Moans leave his throat unrestrained as he bullies his cock deeper and deeper inside your hot cunt. “Fuck. S’tight, your pretty pussy is suckin’ me in so good m’lady.” he hisses out, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Satoru could feel himself losing more and more of his sanity every time your plushy walls clenched down on him as he pulled out to fuck up into with harsh thrusts. It was so animalistic, the way your perfect cunt couldn’t bear to part with him. 

Your slick drips down his length and onto his heavy balls each time he rams into you at a merciless cadence. Soft yelps of his name leave your lips every time his tip kisses your cervix. 

Ah, this time he was actually going to pass out. Your pretty whines, your dripping cunt, the way your tits jiggled so enticingly at each thrust - it was all too much. 

Angling you slightly with his bruising grip on your hips, Satoru smiles with satisfaction at that one spot that makes you convulse on his cock. Abs burning at the pace, he hits it over and over. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder, moans of his name leaving you against your will. 

You were sure to be absolutely covered in marks tomorrow. 

But that was a problem for later you. Right now, all you could focus on was grinding your hips down to meet Satoru’s thrusts, eager for him to hit that spot even harder. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the painfully good stretch of your snug cunt. So full. 

“K-keep going, Satoru. Don’ stop, please.” Your rickety bed creaks in protest at each relentless thrust, overpowered only by the stinging smacks of his balls against your ass. 

It was so filthy. So debauched. And you absolutely loved it.

As Satoru’s hands sneak down to draw rough circles on your clit, you feel yourself getting closer and closer towards cumming. Leaning down to capture his lips with yours once more, you whisper against his mouth, “Satoru, I’m- Hngh-” 

He connects his sweaty forehead with yours, “Mm. me too. Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up. You want that, m’lady?”

Just the thought of being so full of Satoru sends you over the edge. You cum with a lewd moan of his name, cunt clenching so impossibly tight around his cock. 

“Ah! Shit.” Satoru grits out at the way your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly. Your whimpers as you gush around him sounds like music to his ears. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums. A part of his soul parting with him that night. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, strained whispers of your name leaving his mouth as if a prayer. As if you were his goddess. 

A feral part of him keeps bucking his hips into you, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper - claiming you as his.

You do the same in your own way - biting down on Satoru’s exposed neck. Hard. His strong arms wrap around you to keep you from moving away, letting you use him as you please. 

Cum drips down your legs, staining your blanket. 

As your highs finally bate, you blink out the haze from your eyes. Looking up at Satoru from where you were snuggled into the crook of his neck, admiring the innocent blush adorning his face and his glossy, bruised lips. Both of you so overstimulated and euphoric.

“Got any travel stories like this?” you chuckle out, half-delirious and exhausted from what just transpired in this room. 

“Not at all.” Satoru breathes out, pulling you closer to him, closing his hazy eyes to the sex-filled air. 

That night, squeezed into your warm single bed, Satoru tells you stories of before his travels. You’re unsure if your parents are home yet, and right now with Satoru in your arms - you don’t care.

You listen as he rambles about growing up in the quaint town of Summer Pass. How he was raised with beautiful parents, a wonderful life. Yet, since the passing of his best friend, he’d taken up what the two had been dreaming of since they were children - wandering the world. 

“I’m afraid, if I stay too long then it always ends up hurtin’.” he whispers into the still night. Caressing his hair, you pull him into your warm embrace. Your heart weighs heavy as the back of your mind pangs with the realization that Satoru will still leave despite this.

Both of you fall asleep reminiscing talks of your childhoods. In your exhausted state, maybe you misheard - but you could’ve sworn by the “I love you, m’lady.” Satoru whispered against your lips right before you closed your eyes. 

Limbs intertwined till you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts, you have the most peaceful sleep in a long time.

You’re unsure when Satoru snuck out of your room. The only evidence of last night being the washcloth on your bedside table that he’d tenderly cleaned you up with, and a singular button from his shirt at the foot of your bed. 

Cheeks heating once you catch sight of it, you make your way down to breakfast in your most well-covered dress. 

What you certainly didn’t expect was to be interrogated by your mother. “So…” she begins. ”When did you come home, darling? We didn’t see you at the hoedown after midnight.”

Ah, suddenly these scrambled eggs just did not want to go down your throat. “Jus’...went to see somethin’ interesting.” you respond, eyes meeting with Satoru’s amused ones across the table as he subtly plays footsies with you underneath.

---

Sneaking around with a secret cowboy boyfriend doesn’t just happen in books, you realize. It’s a lot easier since Naoya is around a lot more often than usual. The only thing he might be good for may be keeping your parents entertained…

Since then, Satoru, you conclude, really does not like L-words: namely, Love and Leaving.

Despite his breathless confession that night, Satoru hasn’t said anything more about his feelings towards you - nor when he’ll be leaving. 

It’s okay, you have time. You console yourself, as you lay in bed with him after he’d snuck into your room as per usual, pulling his warm presence closer to yours. But Satoru’s inevitable departure looms closer and closer like a dark cloud above your head. 

It’s only two months after that night, when you’ve retreated from another engagement conversation you shut down, that Satoru brings it up. Hands intertwined and watching the sunset on top of your father’s barn, he utters in an uncharacteristically grave tone “I planned to leave next week, m’lady.” 

Your heart pricks at his words. You knew this was coming. 

Clenching your fists in self-assurance, your words tumble out.

“Let me come with you.”

“Let me stay with you.”

The nostalgic lullaby of the world around you is deafening as you and Satoru reel back in synchronized surprise. 

“You- stay?”

“Wait- huh?”

Brow raised, you gesture at him to continue. “I just- I thought maybe I could stay here. Build a life with you, if you’d like, m’lady.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru - who smiles brightest when talking of his tales of travel - was offering to settle down?

“W-what? Satoru, why would you? You love traveling.” you sputter out in disbelief. His smile grows, as does the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve found something I love a lot more.” he murmurs, with a playful bite to the crook of your neck.

You crack a smile at his sincerity, though you shake your head in disagreement. “You should be out there explorin’ the world, Satoru. And…I want to be right by your side.”

“I thought you loved this place?”

“I do.” you sigh. “But I feel so trapped.”

Resting your head on Satoru’s shoulders, you admit how dear Rustcliffe is to you - although oftentimes you try to deny it - and how you want to leave just as much. 

The stars wink at you two mischievously by the time you’re done, a twinkle that matches the look in Satoru’s eyes as he announces, “So~ We run away together in a blaze of glory. End scene, credits roll, Gege win’s best actor.”

“Exactly. Although I prefer the term unannounced relocation.” you hum, relishing in his bark of laughter. “Now, c’mon, cowboy. We gotta get up early for that damn election rally tomorrow.”

Heading back home as inconspicuous as possible is always tedious. In addition to praying away your swollen lips, you head in innocently at different times. 

Hurriedly greeting your housekeeper, you attempt to make a swift escape to your room. Only to be blocked by…Naoya?

“We meet again, sweetcheeks.” he smiles, stepping closer towards you. Determined to stand your ground, you stare menacingly up at him. “Hello, my apologies for being so unavailable to meet these days. Business, y’know.” your voice steady.

“Ah, yes. I know.” he hums dangerously. Looming closer to your face, you smell the tobacco on his breath as he mutters, “It’s no matter, your father and I have gone through with our conversations. You and I will announce our engagement tomorrow at your father’s rally. That is final.”

“I’ve talked with you about this, I’ve screamed at you about this. I will not marry you no matter what my father nor anyone else says.” you grit out through clenched teeth. 

“Why? Got anyone in mind? Think it’ll be anyone else your father approves of?” he raises a brow, delicately raising the neckline of where your dress had dripped down - where Satoru had nipped before.

He knows.

“Not at all.” you smile sweetly. Not waiting for a response, you run upstairs. Seems like running away in a blaze of glory might have to hurry up.

Twisting and turning the entire night, you don’t get a wink of sleep, mind a whirlwind of how you’d get Satoru and run away before the announcement.

It was terrifying.

---

Parading around town in an itchy engagement dress under the boiling sun on your father’s collection of purebred Italian horses (+ Gege) wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend an ideal morning. But it wasn’t the worst.

You snuck glances at Satoru riding in front of you, looking devastatingly handsome as ever. 

Naoya had been terrifyingly quiet all morning. You could feel his penetrating stare on you, scrutinizing every movement and every conversation. He rides beside you - your soon-to-be husband.

As the procession ends at your father’s podium, where he proudly takes a stand. As he plows on with an inspirational speech that has the audience in cheers, your mind runs a mile a minute as you slip away from the stage. Even in your gauzy white dress, it’s easy to get lost in the animated crowds of Rustcliffe - which you and Satoru use to your advantage.

This was happening. You were going to finally leave. 

Heart clenching at the sight of your jovial parents onstage, you take a long look before turning away. It’s okay, it’s alright. This is something you’ve been wanting for years. 

Brain whirring at the letters you’d send them on your travels, you miss the harsh gaze following you. 

“Satoru!” you gasp at the blur of white and black that embraces you as soon as you step foot into Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon. The bar, empty for the first time in years since your father’s last rally, was your hastily chosen place of refuge.

Nanami, who wasn’t initially too keen on being involved, had sympathized once he saw the look on your face. “Alright, but if anyone asks - you two were never here. Not too good for business, y’know.” he’d stated, permitting you two to do whatever you please. 

Although, it probably was worth noting that he’d almost taken it back once Satoru tackled him into a hug with a joyful squeal of “Nanamiiiin~!”

“C’mon now. I’ve got our bags saddled on Gege. We’ll leave immediately.” Satoru voices, snapping you out of your reminiscing. Rushing to give Nanami a farewell hug, your heart lurches as he whispers “Goodbye. Promise you’ll write.” 

This was really happening.

Nodding in promise, you finally turn to the open door and step into the dusty sunlight. Satoru leads you to where Gege is impatiently waiting for your quick getaway. You could almost laugh at the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins. 

You were going to get out.

You grip onto Satoru’s shoulder for support as he circles his arms around you to lift you onto the seat, slightly shaking at the intoxicating adrenaline. 

You were finally going to be free. 

“Leavin’ so soon, sweetcheeks?” a chilling voice slices through the air. One that you know way too well. Your heart stops, as does Satoru’s hands in midair - before he sets you down slowly.

Body moving against your will, you turn to the deceivingly sweet voice behind you. Naoya.

A cold sweat breaks out across Satoru’s forehead. 

He stares down Naoya’s hand hovering over the holster at his hip. “I knew there was something off about you, barn boy. You think I’d be outmatched by someone like you?” he hisses, resentment poisoning every word.

Satoru does what he does arguably the best, “Oh c’mon asshat, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re just going on a little adventure.” he smirks.

“Don’t I know of these adventures.” Naoya spits out. 

Agonizingly slow, Naoya draws his gun. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the three of you stand frozen, searing sun casting eerie shadows across the desolate road. 

BANG!

Naoya’s first shot tears through the deafening silence. Narrowly missing the bullet, Gege whinnies in fear before running off to safety. Satoru skillfully maneuvers you two into the shadowy alleyway beside Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon.

In the blink of an eye, he presses you close to the dust-bitten wall as he pulls out his gun. “Stay here.” he gasps out.  

With lightning speed, Satoru retaliates - firing back-to-back shots at Naoya with a speed and precision that has him scrambling for cover behind a barrel. 

The gunfire echoes throughout the quiet town, these familiar streets becoming a battleground. Despite both parties shooting from their impromptu covers, neither are invincible. 

A stray bullet harshly grazes his arm, blood painting the ground a deep crimson. Fuck, this really burned like a motherfucker. But he was still alive - he still had to protect you. 

The standoff intensifies, stray bullets flying off in every direction. They splinter holes through the rustic shop banners. You could only be thankful that the town was at the rally, confident you’d never forgive yourself if anyone died on this road today.

Satoru fires off shots with uncanny accuracy, years of defending himself on the road coming in handy. Yet, he was losing blood. So much blood. He realizes with a jolt that his vision was slowly blurring. 

Breaths labored and slumping forward against the wall, he aims one last shot at Naoya. Fuck. Shit. Dear lord, if you’re up there, please don’t let my love die here. 

A finger pulls the trigger. The bullet flies through the air as if in slow-motion. 

It hits metal.

Naoya’s gun flies through the air, clattering onto the sun-scorched ground as he is finally disarmed. The beginnings of a grin curl Satoru’s lips before he heaves out a heavy sigh. Eyes closing and body collapsing forward, the last thing ringing in his ears being your harrowed scream.

“No no no no. Satoru please.” sobs wreck your throat as your hands frantically check for Satoru’s pulse. In your panicked state of mind, you barely register the crunch of gravel nearing towards you two. 

“Shit. The fuck is it that you even want?” that dreaded voice sounds ominously in your ears. “To travel? I can fuckin’ take you places.” 

Sagging on the saloon wall for support, Naoya clutches his bleeding side as he observes the two of you. In an instant, you’re in front of Satoru’s body protectively, hand steady on his discarded gun pointed right at Naoya’s head. 

“Leave, before I shoot your brains out..” you threaten, voice deceptively steady.

“I thought I could be the one to break you - the mayor’s wildchild daughter. But why the fuck do you put yourself through this?” he continues, voice strained with anger. 

“Because he is the one I want. I refuse your proposal, and I am not sorry for it. Now leave.” 

You were standing up now, the cool metal of the barrel pressed firmly to his forehead. Finger hovering above the trigger.

“I believe the lady said to leave.” Nanami’s voice startles you both. His normally stoic face was etched with anger. 

Despite his injuries, Naoya manages to glare at Nanami. But, realizing the odds are against him, he backs away, but not before venomously promising “This ain’t over, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves a bloody trail as he limps out of sight.

“Told you this wasn’t good for business.” Nanami sighs at the chaos. With Nanami’s help, you carry Satoru inside - body moving on instinct as your mind races to process everything that happened. 

The empty bar now serves as an improvised hospital. Laying Satoru down on a table that acts as a makeshift bed, propping his feet up in a desperate attempt to recirculate his blood. You desperately tear the intricate of your engagement dress into bandages, hurriedly wrapping it around his injured arm.

The atmosphere is taut, air once thick with the stench of alcohol now reeking of blood and the dusty antiseptic Nanami had brought to you from the very back of his shelves. The methodic ticking of the bar clock sounds like gunshots to your ears.

His reassuring presence is probably what keeps you sane as you stare unmovingly at your hands, stained a dark red from the blood seeping through Satoru’s clothes. 

You must have been sitting there for hours. Maybe even days. Or it might have even been just a few minutes.

All you know is a flash of blue, and you’re surging forward, heart racing. “Satoru?! Satoru! Please say something.” you cry out, tears streaming down your face once more. Nanami quietly makes his exit to the back, leaving the two lovers to their privacy.

“Satoru.” you breathe out, relief flooding your body and a smile forcing its way onto your face as Satoru’s half-lidded eyes meet your worried ones. 

“M’lady.” he whispers weakly. His uninjured arm shakily cups your cheek, and you lean into his warm touch. “I would never have forgiven myself if I left you alone, m’lady.” he rasps, eyes boring into yours. “Couldn’t have fought off the tumbleweeds yourself.”

You let out a watery laugh. There he is, the man you love.

“I love you, Satoru.” you speak in a hushed tone, as if anything louder will throw you back into your nightmare. His smile grows, blue summer eyes flooding with silent tears. 

“I love you, too. So, so much. Wherever you go s’ where I belong, my love.” he utters words meant for you - and only you. 

Your heart swells at the indescribable emotion on his face. “Then, rest well. We have to make our getaway in a blaze of glory, remember?” 

It wasn’t a blaze of glory, more like a teary trail of apologies and thanks as you embrace Nanami farewell - for the second time today. He hugs Satoru too, but only begrudgingly after he bemoans about being on the brink of death any second now. 

You step outside once more, hands shaky at what awaits you. 

In the distance, you hear a frantic call of your name. You turn, only to have your parents barreling emotionally into you. 

Word seems to have spread around town about what had happened, and your parents were first to come to you - your father running off midspeech. 

Through your hurried stream of tears and recollections of what happened, you managed to bawl out “I-I’m so-”

Words which are quickly hushed by your equally emotional parents. “Please don’ apologize.” your mother soothes.

“If anything, I should. I’m so sorry for tryin’ to coop you up here, my dear. I was a scared, insolent man. S’hard to not see you as my little girl, I hope you can forgive me, my darling.” your father sighs shakily. He looks a lot older than you remember him.

Grabbing both your parents into a tight embrace, you whisper out the words “I love you, and I promise to write.” 

With a final hug goodbye from your parents - to both you and Satoru, you take a seat in front of him on the now-calm Gege. 

“Ready m’lady?” you send a teasing glance at Satoru, who positively swoons overdramatically.

“Oh yes, Mr. Brave n’ Handsome cowboy.” he responds in a theatrically high falsetto. “Travelin’ the world won’t be all sunshines and rainbows, y’know? If you want a way out now then jus’ say the word.” he warns in his normal voice.

“Trynna get rid of me already, cowboy?” you raise a brow playfully. He wraps his arms securely around your waist. “Just sayin’, wouldn’t want you to regret a single thing.” he murmurs softly.

“I won’t. As long as we win against those tumbleweeds, right?”

Huffing out a laugh, “Can’t promise ya that, my love. You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me.”

The snap of reins. A last look at your waving parents, and your little town of Rustcliffe. You ride into the horizon with your white dress billowing behind you - on what you and Satoru would later consider blazing glory. 

---

“Didya hear about the mayor’s daughter? Last I heard, she was kidnapped by a rogue cowboy a couple years back, snatched her straight off her feet on her wedding day!”

“Hogwash! I heard she went quite willingly - the boy was quite a looker, you see. Stabbed her fiancé in his sleep before riding off into the sunset!”

Nanami stifles a laugh at the scandalized gasps echoing around the table as the old drunkards run the gossip mill. 

In a subtle motion, he discreetly tucks away a photograph, its back adorned with enthusiastic handwriting and a…hoofprint? 

Taj Mahal sprawling in the backdrop, two identical heads of white hair grin mischievously in the photo. 

Yet, yours takes center stage.

A/N. Did this in two days, anything is possible kids (I need to lie down). Reblogs are so so so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ozzgin]

Santa baby are you really there?!

*hears a voice in my backyard*

FUCK SKIN WALKER

- you make Yan skinwalker i’ll do anything to get a skin walker to love me … yes I am 100% mentally stable

I'm not sure if you had something horror-esque in mind, because my immediate idea was Reader accidentally getting cursed and continuing her life completely unaware with a ""dog"" everyone is freaked out by, but she finds it cute. So more like dark comedy vibes. You be the judge. :D

Disclaimer: I have changed the name to Shapeshifter as to not delve into potentially offensive takes on native folklore. Thank you for informing my European ass.

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Shapeshifter]

On your last hiking trip, you've stumbled upon a helpless, lost dog. Or rather, it stalked you down to your cabin and spent the night in front of your window. You didn't have the heart to abandon the poor soul and so you brought it home with you. Strange things have been happening ever since and no one knows how to tell you that the monstrous coyote-like creature might be to blame. You're oblivious to everything.

Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, reader is cursed and proud

It wasn't your intention to return home with a new pet. Some might say it was written in the stars, this fateful encounter of yours. You had finished packing your supplies for a day-long hike, vehemently refusing to join your group of friends that would be guided around by a native. They’d warned you many areas of the mountainous forest were supposedly cursed or haunted, so you just scribbled the limits on your makeshift map and promised to stay on the main trails. After all, this was your chance to commune with nature. As the sun begun to set, you wondered if going by yourself was indeed a smart idea, given your lack of spatial awareness and difficulty to navigate maps. You flipped the piece of paper several times, deep in contemplation. Could it be that you’ve reached the forbidden lands? You quickly surveyed the area: based on the stuffed rag dolls hanging from old branches, and the animal skulls arranged in patterns among patches of burnt grass, it was very much a possibility. Perhaps the improvised slab that said “Stay away” in dripping crimson letters should’ve been enough of a warning, but you assumed they’d just been creative with trail markers.

You didn’t have the time to panic. Just as you were furrowing your eyebrows in a final attempt to decipher the map (at the time upside-down), your ears picked up a faint shuffle of leaves. Further away stood a dog, its glossy eyes fixated on your form. A lost puppy? It seemed to be on the larger side, but then again some breeds grow rather fast. You lowered yourself and patted your knees, whispering diminutives in an effort to call the animal over. It remained in place, staring quietly. Alright, then. You focused on finding your way back instead. Every now and then you'd turn back and see the dog, motionlessly eyeing you at a constant distance. Oh, dear. Was it lost? Frightening affair.

Back at the cabin you told the others about your discovery, with a hint of worry in your voice. You hoped the little pup had found proper shelter. You'd expected a similar reaction coming from your friends, but one of them suggested: "What if it was some shapeshifting monster? There's many legends and stories from the area." Everyone laughed and you joined hesitantly, mildly annoyed by the lack of empathy. That night you barely slept, twisting and turning under the heavy feeling of being watched. You woke up tired and nervous, dragging your feet towards the window for some fresh air. That's when you saw the same forest creature, fully awake and tall in its glory, positioned before your room. This was no coincidence. You had been plagued by the guilt of abandoning a vulnerable quadruped and you weren't about to continue as a passive observer. You strode out without a word and lifted the large dog with a huff, carrying it back in to figure out the transport logistics.

Thus started the unexpected companionship. To you, it's a lovely tale of two lost souls finding one another. Most people seem to disagree. Can you blame them? The rescued puppy you often speak of is, in the eyes of everyone else, a monstrous beast by all definitions. It resembles a coyote more than a dog, but even this description is too gentle. The fur is always raised threateningly and the protruding clusters of fangs remind one of the anatomical anomalies displayed in museums. The eyes, oh, the worst of all perhaps, bottomless depths that pull you in until you run out of air. The creature stares with the all-knowing gaze of a human. "Don't be rude", you snap at whoever dares to point these details out. "It must be a mixed breed or something."

Their persistence is truly ridiculous. You've even had guests run out in panic, claiming the dog stood on its back legs and whispered in a language unknown. Or that its shadow would morph into a grotesque man with claws and crooked antlers. Or that they've found it hunched over your sleeping form, its spine twisted outwards with jagged peaks breaking through the wild fur. Rubbish, all of it.

Strange things have been happening, no doubt, but your adopted fur-child has no blame to carry. You've been trying to distract yourself, going on dates and occasionally bringing potential suitors over. They all vanish overnight, nonchalantly leaving an empty, ruffled bed for you to wake up to. "Am I just unlucky?" You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse fur of your dog. It lowers itself under your touch, visibly enjoying the affection. For a split second, it glances out the window. By the time you come out of your depressed slump, the birds should've finished feeding on the remains. He made sure to tear and grind everything fine enough to not leave any marks behind.

That's how curses work, after all. He didn't expect, however, that you'd be utterly unaware of it. He has to give you the credit, not many people become stalked by an ancient curse and continue their life in blissful ignorance. Even more, for them to just casually pick up the haunting entity and bring it inside their home willingly...You're, uh, certainly a special one. Hence the change of plans. He was supposed to torment you into an early grave, but he's grown rather attached to your bizarre antics. And you do provide some damn good chin scratches. He's therefore satisfied with causing anguish and destruction to anything and anyone in your immediate vicinity instead. Since you've been complaining about the resulting isolation...

You wake up with a gasp, wiping your drenched forehead and checking the sheets. The dog is curled next to you, although its head is now tilted in your direction. "O-oh. It might be the loneliness talking...but I had the strangest dream." How troubling and embarrassing. Your beloved pet had turned into a deformed, monstrous man instead, pinning you down and hungrily grazing your skin with his sharp teeth. Your fearful protests eventually turned into shameless moans, your frail body at the mercy of the mysterious beast. It unfolded so vividly that your core feels sore. You stretch a sheepish hand towards your pet and abruptly stop halfway, noticing the marks diffused into your wrist, like violet smudges of watercolor. What the hell did you do last night?

The dog buries its head under the sheets and nuzzles its snout into your soft flesh. Heh. How many more disappearing guests will be needed for you to figure out your situation? He does find your obliviousness terribly amusing, as well as your willingness to clutch onto him despite his unsightly appearance. He was feeling particularly cheeky and thought of giving you a little scare, only to be once again taken aback by your neediness. He has to wonder who exactly is trapped in this situation, because your reactions to everything he does are frighteningly tempting. Maybe tonight he'll finally let you know, just as you're about to come undone beneath his heaving body. Something like, hmmm. "By the way, love, this isn't a dream." He could even add a little "woof" to tease you more.

[roosterforme]

Stateside | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley made a mistake last summer when he left for his deployment without ever asking you out, and then he thought about you a lot when he was gone. He was stateside again for less than a day when the other guys coerced him to help with a fundraiser at the Hard Deck. A friendly wager with the squad might not be the only thing he wins by the end of the night.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drinking, swears

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger Written for Pick Your Poison

Bradley had barely been stateside for twenty four hours when he woke up in his bed at noon to an array of texts arriving all at once. Five months on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with nothing much going for him left him surprisingly exhausted. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends, he just needed a full day to himself to readjust. 

He groaned and rolled over after glancing at his phone and seeing the words Hard Deck in a message from Jake. He closed his eyes again after tossing his phone aside, but about ten seconds later, he cracked them open again. If there was one thing he had consistently thought about over the course of those five months, it was you. Your bright smile, your perfect laugh, your navy blue tee shirts that said The Hard Deck across the front.

When he reached for his phone and checked the message from Jake, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this could be an excuse to see you again sooner rather than later.

Hangman: Hey, we need you to come to the Hard Deck tonight. It's the annual charity event, and Bob can't make it. We're short a bartender. And don't try to bitch out of this, Phoenix told me you're home.

Bradley covered his face with his hand and thought long and hard about this. The real bartenders would be there to help which meant there was a chance you'd be one of them. If he volunteered for this, then maybe he'd find himself in close quarters with you for a few hours instead of the other Naval officers he'd been stuck with for months on end. Just the idea of accidentally bumping into you while pouring a beer had him texting Jake back.

Yeah, I'll be there.

Even though he was still pretty tired later in the afternoon, Bradley took a shower and then spent some extra time on his hair before dressing in his lucky shirt. That five month deployment was the reason he didn't ask you out during the summer, and now he was nervous to see you again. He had good intel from Penny that you'd been single the last time he saw you in August, but what if you had a boyfriend now? Or worse, what if you didn't even acknowledge him when you saw him?

He groaned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. Hours, possibly even days... that's how much time he'd had you on his mind while he was away. And for what? A crush on a girl who was probably too young for him? A cute bartender at the Navy hangout who definitely got asked out nightly? Shit. He was a lost cause. 

And now he was going to be late if he didn't leave right away. He grabbed his keys, and headed out to his Bronco which he had missed dearly. So if nothing else, he'd get to cruise around later after the event. But on the ride to the bar, all he could imagine was how you'd look in the passenger seat, smiling at him at every stoplight and singing along to the radio. 

"Fuck," he grunted as he parked next to Jake's truck before heading inside. He let his heart fill with hope as he strolled in to find Penny, Jake, Javy and Reuben behind the bar with two bartenders. But neither of them were you.

"Rooster!" Reuben cheered, and soon he was being clapped on the back and high fived by the guys he hadn't seen in months. It was nice, but he couldn't help but think that his smile would have been more genuine if you were here.

Jake smirked. "So glad you left your perch and joined us."

Bradley laughed as he gave Penny a hug. "Come on, man, I literally just got home."

Penny smiled up at him. "Thanks for filling in. It'll be great." Bradley really wanted to ask her about you, but then Penny patted him on the cheek before turning to reach under the bar top. "This will be a breeze for you guys," she said, handing matching shirts to the four of them. "Just a basic bar menu tonight. No super fancy cocktails. Just beer, wine, some pre-made sangria, and a few different kinds of shots."

Bradley started to unbutton his lucky shirt before pulling the new one on in its place. He smoothed his hand along the front of the blue shirt that said THE HARD DECK FIGHTS CANCER, and he noticed the two bartenders glancing at him. They were both cute but decidedly not what he had been hoping for tonight. 

"Hey," he asked them with a nod. They smiled in response, so he decided to just go ahead and ask them about you.

"She quit a few weeks ago," the first one told him. "After she graduated from law school."

"She moved, too," said the second one. "Left San Diego."

Shit. He was too late after all, nodding in response to them as he pressed his lips together in a firm line. He'd never been any good at this kind of thing, which was why he always fell into casual relationships. What should he have done? Asked you out, gone on a handful of dates and then tried to persuade you to wait five months for him? Just for him to get deployed over and over again? That wouldn't have been fair to you.

But he didn't feel like it was fair to him either, because right now he was having a hard time even remembering exactly how pretty you were and the precise tone of your laughter. Probably for the best. At least he only needed to do this event for a few hours before he could leave and go for a long drive. He swallowed down his disappointment and turned toward the guys who were in the middle of conversation. 

"How about a side wager?" Javy asked, tossing a bottle of vodka up into the air and catching it over and over again. "You know, for the charity?"

"What did you have in mind?" Bradley asked as Penny went to peek outside. "Because I doubt Penny will let us strip for charity again after last year. The two of you scuffed up the bar top," Bradley added, gesturing at Jake as well.

They both started laughing like idiots before Jake said, "Nah, let's give Penny a break this year and just tally up our tips at the end of the night. Whoever donates the least amount of tip money to the charity is the loser."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Javy said as he ate the orange slices and cherries that were meant to garnish the drinks. "What's the punishment for losing?"

Reuben smirked and said, "Loser has to report to the tarmac on Monday in his underwear. Instant push ups from Mav."

"Deal," Jake said.

"Absolutely," Javy agreed.

Three pairs of eyes settled on Bradley, and he slowly said, "Okay." If he strolled out of the locker room in just his underwear and boots on his first day back from a long deployment when he was supposed to sit down with the admirals and Maverick and have a debrief, he'd probably earn a greater punishment than just a few push ups. But it was for the charity, so he'd do it.

But he soon learned he'd made a mistake after Penny called out, "Let's get started," and propped the doors open. The first person through the door was Reuben's wife, followed by Javy's fiancee and Jake's girlfriend. And all of her sorority sisters. 

"Shit," Bradley grunted. "Did you make me come here just so I would lose?"

Javy was handing out pint glasses that they could use as tip cups as he smirked, and Bradley was wondering if there was any way he could actually stuff his discreetly with cash from his own wallet.

"You'll be just fine," Jake drawled as the jukebox came blaring to life. But even the music was mocking him as Slow Ride started to play, and Bradley had people in front of him expecting him to make them drinks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jake's girlfriend open her purse and start stuffing Jake's tip cup full. "I feel like that's considered cheating," Bradley told her, and she rolled her eyes and smirked before tucking five dollars into his cup as well.

"Don't tip Bradshaw, Sweets," Jake complained. "We made him come here as a buffer!"

"I knew it was a setup!" Bradley groaned as he listened to someone ask him for some wine and some beer. That was easy enough. He knew how to do that. Or at least he thought he did, but then one of the bartenders who had volunteered for the night told him he poured too much wine into the glass.

Then a woman asked him for a green tea shot, and he stared at her blankly. He leaned closer to Javy and asked, "What the hell is in a green tea shot?" 

"I don't know," he replied as he poured two pints at the same time. "But you better figure it out, because your tip cup is still practically empty."

"Shit." He was scrambling to flag down the young bartenders again when he froze. He only caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but he knew it was you simply by the way you moved and the color of your hair. And then you sat down in the only empty stool left at the bar and smiled at him, your voice drawing his eyes up to your perfect face. 

"Rooster. You're back."

The little thoughts and fantasies he'd indulged in while deployed had nothing on the real thing, and he knew he was blushing as you smiled and waited for him to respond. But it had been months since he'd been this close to you, and now he was really beating himself up for not trying to make you his sooner. Because if you were his, he could do all the things he wanted to do right now. Like kiss you.

"Rooster," you repeated with hesitation in your eyes, your voice softer, nearly drowned out by the jukebox. 

"They said you quit," he blurted out as he leaned on the bartop, curious as to why you were here tonight. "And that you moved."

Your eyes went a little wider as you nodded, your smile still soft. "I did. You asked about me?"

"Can you make me a green tea shot or not?"

Bradley begrudgingly switched his focus to the woman next to you and sighed. He was about to tell her he didn't even know what that was, or that maybe she should fuck off so he could talk to you, but then you reached out and ran your fingers along the back of his hand. 

Your touch was brief but intentional, and all of the irritation seemed to ease out of his body as his gaze snapped back to yours. "Yeah," you told the other woman as your finger grazed his knuckle one more time. "He can make you a green tea shot."

"I don't even know what's in it," he told you, with a helpless smile, trying to fight the urge to reach for your hand. 

You kind of shrugged as you said, "I do. I'll talk you through it."

Bradley's smile grew which left you giggling as he said, "I'm kind of helpless back here. Nothing like you."

"Well, you can learn from the best," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his wrist before pointing to the many liquor bottles behind him. "Irish whiskey and peach schnapps," you told him, leaning on the bar now, so close that he just couldn't bring himself to turn away from you. 

"Okay," he said, memorizing the exact color of your eyes. "Thanks for doing this."

You bit your lip and smiled up at him, and when Bradley moved just slightly closer, he thought he heard you whimper. Your eyes were full of emotion that reflected his own as you said, "Focus, Rooster. Irish whiskey and peach schnapps."

He nodded once and then finally moved away from you as he scanned the bottles and grabbed the two you told him. "Good," you said, pointing to the mini fridge and saying, "now get the sweet and sour mix. It's in a pink jug. Yeah, you got it. Now you need a half ounce of each."

Bradley listened to you explain how to use the shaker while he gave you another helpless look. "I'm just a simple beer or bourbon drinker," he said as he strained the drink that his customer had been waiting several minutes for into a shot glass.

You laughed and said, "I know you are, and it's kind of endearing that you don't know what you're doing. Now top it off with a splash of Sprite." 

Bradley grabbed the soda gun, pressed the little green button and then looked up at you again. "This is endearing?" he asked, finally sliding the shot to the annoyed woman who unenthusiastically put a dollar in his tip cup and turned away.

"Very," you promised him. "And now I want you to make me a kamikaze shot."

He gave you a bland look, but his heart was pounding. "Are you joking right now?"

Bradley was hyper focused on your lips as you said, "Not at all. You can handle it. It's vodka, triple sec and lime juice. I prefer Finlandia. Impress me, and I'll leave you a nice big tip for the charity."

Then he groaned. He had forgotten about the wager and the other patrons looking for drinks and just all of it. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks, but I'll probably still end up in my underwear at work on Monday morning." 

When he pushed away from the bar again, your eyes dipped down to his jeans before snapping back up. "Underwear?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he reached for the type of vodka you liked best. You told him how much to use, and he dumped it in a shaker. "The guys coerced me into volunteering tonight. I literally just got home from deployment, but here I am... their scapegoat," he said, arms held out at his sides. "They threw out a side bet based on tip money, and next thing I know, all of their wives and girlfriends show up with a bunch of cash."

While he shook your kamikaze shot, he watched you turn first to your right and then to your left, eyeing up the overflowing tip cups in front of Reuben, Javy and Jake. Your lips parted, and you gaped at Bradley, but your eyes looked a little devious now. "You know, all of this makes a lot of sense since the guys made me come tonight."

Bradley carefully poured out your shot and asked, "What do you mean they made you come?" He realized his voice sounded annoyed, but how did they all have your phone number anyway? He'd been standing here thinking about asking you for it, but they were apparently already texting you. 

You accepted the shot and took a small sip to taste it. "They kept messaging me earlier today, saying I absolutely needed to be here tonight. They said it was important I made it to the charity event." Then you tipped your head back, and Bradley was treated to the soft looking expanse of your neck as you swallowed down the rest of the shot he made. When you were done, you set the glass down and licked your lips as you dug some money out of your pocket. "That was delicious."

While you loaded his cup with all the cash in your pocket, Bradley tried to ask you where you lived now. If the guys were bugging you earlier today, you couldn't be that far. But before he could get a word out, you pushed yourself up so you were kneeling on the bar right in front of him, and he looked up at you as you grinned down at him. 

"Don't worry, Rooster," you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. "I got you." Then Bradley was reaching for your hips. He didn't fucking care if the place was packed, he was ready to haul you off to the back hallway and ask you if he could kiss your pretty lips. You beamed at him as his hands met your body, but you just cupped your fingers around your mouth and shouted over the music, "Come get your drinks from Rooster! He knows how to make everything! But kamikazes are his specialty! And he's hot!"

His eyes went wide as you slipped out of his grasp and back onto your stool while an influx of mostly women queued up in front of him. "What did you do?" he asked, trying to mentally process an order for a cosmopolitan while stumbling over you calling him hot.

"I'm helping you not embarrass yourself at work. Keep the vodka out. Grab the Cointreau and a martini glass. We're about to show the guys what's up."

Bradley struggled through drink after drink as quickly as he could, but you never gave up on him. Occasionally you'd slide things out of his way or point out where he could find something he needed, and at some point you grabbed a second pint glass for his overflowing tip money. And all the while, he stole as many glances at you as he could while he worked. 

When Penny eventually walked behind him, patted him on the shoulder and said there was less than an hour left of the event, she also shared a smile with you. But there was no hope. The other guys were already working on their third tip cups each. "I don't think I can make up the deficit," he groaned, pulling up the hem of his shirt and wiping his brow with it. 

"Oh, that's a great idea," you mused, leaning across the bar and pulling his shirt up higher. "Take it off."

He stared at you as you tugged on the fabric. "Take it off?"

You nodded, the moevent exaggerated as you said, "Absolutely. Take your shirt off." As he looked around awkwardly before pulling his shirt over his head, you cupped your hands around your mouth once again and said, "He has six pack abs!"

Now the guys were glaring at him. "So do I!" Reuben complained.

"Don't you dare take your shirt off!" his wife told him, pointing at him in warning. 

Bradley knew his cheeks were flushed, and all he really wanted to do was talk to you and hopefully kiss you. And he really wanted to do all of that with his shirt on, because he felt a bit like a stripper now as you reached for a third tip cup. The cash was filling it up quickly, and he smirked as he thought about Reuben, Jake or Javy in their underwear instead of him. And it was all for a charity after all. 

"Make him use the shaker!" you urged a woman who looked like she was in her seventies and holding a crisp fifty dollar bill. "Make him flex."

Bradley groaned your name which sent you into a fit of laughter, your second empty shot glass still in front of you. "This isn't right," he complained half heartedly as he shook the older woman's Mai Tai with flexed abs and biceps. 

"It is so right," you told him, and he appreciated that you were scoping out the other guys' tip cups instead of looking at him right now. "Keep going. It's going to be so close." And then that fifty ended up in Bradley's cup when he handed over the cocktail, and you said, "Or maybe not!"

"Last call for the fundraiser!" Penny shouted over the crowd, and Bradley almost sighed in relief when the last few people ordered beers and a glass of wine. And then it was all over, and he had a huge amount of cash in front of him along with you. But he didn't care about the tips as much as he did getting to finally talk to you. The fundraiser was technically over, and you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

When he took a breath to suggest you and he go for a walk, he felt a hand on his bare back. It was one of the young bartenders who was helping out, and she said, "I can count up your tips for you," with a smile.

"Nope," you said, reaching for his cups yourself and shooting her a glare. "I'll do his. You go help Coyote." You didn't move again until her hand slipped off of his back and she walked away, and then you looked at Bradley and asked, "What are you going to do for me if you win?"

He watched as you quickly sorted the bills into efficient piles as he pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the bar. It had quieted down significantly, and now Penny was taking a few drink orders while everyone else seemed to move to the tables. He felt like he had a moment of privacy with you as he said, "I guess that depends. Apparently you moved away, Sweetheart."

"I did," you confirmed with a smirk as you counted up his twenties. 

"But you came back tonight."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you moved to the pile of tens. "I'm not too far away. I took a full time job and moved to Del Mar. The guys told me I needed to be here tonight for a special surprise. They said something I had been missing was returning. So I came down."

Bradley's fingers flexed on the edge of the bartop. "They did?"

You looked a little vulnerable as you stacked the bills in one pile and said, "Eight hundred and seventy one dollars." 

He nodded once and pushed the money aside without really looking at it. "You'd been missing something, Sweetheart?" he pressed gently, heart pounding in his chest. 

You bit your lip as your eyes drifted closed when he rubbed his thumb across your cheek. "I guess I must have asked the guys one time too many if they knew when you'd be back from your deployment."

"Oh," he rasped as you looked at him again. "You missed me?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to ask you out, but then you were just gone. And they told me you were deployed, and I thought I really missed my chance. And I didn't even know if you were single or not, so I-"

Bradley had heard enough, so he kissed you. Just a soft press of his lips to yours, but you practically crawled onto the bar to get closer to him. And it was better than he spent the last five months imagining it might be. He could taste the vodka and lime on your tongue as it met his. Your fingers gently combed through his hair again, and he moaned, "I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Your laughter was soft and sweet as your nose brushed against his, and then he jerked back a few inches as Reuben shouted. "Yo, Rooster! There's time for that later, man! How much tip money did you make?"

"Eight hundred and seventy one," you replied as your fingers trailed down his scarred cheek to rub his mustache before you pecked him on the lips. The three guys groaned in unison, and Bradley watched your face light up in a beautiful smile. 

"This is not why we told you that you had to come tonight!" Jake whined, pointing at you and pouting. "You were supposed to distract him, not help him win! He was just supposed to turn into a bumbling mess and admit he has feelings for you!"

You turned away from Jake, and you asked Bradley, "So, do you have feelings for me?"

He huffed out a laugh before he hopped up to sit on the bar, swung his long legs over to the other side and hopped down again. You jumped from your stool and into his arms when he said, "I thought about you the whole time I was away, Sweetheart. I wanted to ask you out in the summer, but I didn't think it was right to hope you'd wait almost half a year for me to be stateside. For us to be together again."

"Bradley," you moaned. His hands found your hips just like earlier, and this time he pulled you snug against him while your fingers teased through his hair. "If a guy is worth waiting for, then I'd wait forever."

He kissed you again, tasting and nipping the lips that he'd dreamed about. Inhaling all of your sweetness that his mind didn't do justice to when he'd been away. Feeling your smile against his lips for the first time.

"Let me ask you again," you said, pausing between kisses. "Since I clearly helped you win the bet, what are you going to do for me?"

"Anything you want," he said immediately as you started to push him toward the door with a grin. 

"How about we go for a long drive? And we can talk about how the next time you're deployed, your girlfriend will be waiting patiently for you to return?"

Bradley scooped you up, sending you into a fit of laughter as he carried you directly to his Bronco.

------------------------

Bradley was exhausted on Monday to the point where the travel mug of coffee you sent him with did nothing to keep him from yawning out on the tarmac at 8:00. But every yawn ended with him smiling as he thought about how perfect the weekend had been. In the very early hours of Sunday morning, you'd agreed to be his girlfriend. And now he was waiting for the cherry on top of it all.

He didn't have to wait long as he stood between Reuben and Javy, the three of them looking nearly identical in their matching flight suits and boots, standing at attention in front of Maverick. Then Jake came strolling out, and Bradley instantly started laughing. 

Maverick turned, took one look at Hangman in his boxer shorts and combat boots and said, "I don't even want to know what's going on here, I just want five hundred push ups."

Jake's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his face as everyone else tried their best to hold in their laughter. Bradley took his phone out as discreetly as he could and snapped a picture of Jake panicking on the tarmac before he dropped down onto the ground and started on his punishment. 

"Everyone else to your jets," Mav barked, and Bradley didn't stick around to hear him say it again. Instead he texted you the photo of Jake along with a short message.

Couldn't have pulled it off without your help, Sweetheart.

------------------------

The way I would die of this man just casually started calling me his Sweetheart. I love that he swept the guys to win the bet! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

[bangaveragewhitewine]

baby, do you want to come home with me?

Eddie Munson x Reader

Giving in to the tension feels good

Word count: 702

Contents: Making out. Pre-smut and getting handsy in a bathroom. Female reader (one use of 'her'). Title from Wet Dream, by Wet Leg.

Author’s note: This has been sitting half-finished in my docs named 'untilted eddie make out' for well over a month. It's barely read-over or edited, but here you go, Eddie girls. Come get your man!

His breath is hot against your lips, tinged with smoke and hops. That smokey scent blends with spicy aftershave and the earthy fug of green. Every molecule of you feels aflame, sparked by the slide of his tongue against yours and the gentle command he leads with. He is addictive and you need another taste. 

After weeks of tension building, attraction growing stronger each time you saw each other instead of waning, you both gave in tonight. And oh are you glad you did. 

Eddie smiles when your mouths meet again; another deep kiss to make you melt between him and the scuffed brick wall at your back. He holds you tighter, closer, and presses up against you to make sure you don’t trickle away into a puddle or twirl off back to the dance floor with your ‘come get me’ eyes. He wants you a little longer and fancies his chances of getting to take you home tonight. 

He need not worry; the only place you're going is to find a cab, then home to your place or to his. The music is less loud here, but the base rumbles between your twisted-together bodies.

You can feel him, thick and hard and warm against you through double layers of denim - his and hers. There is buttery leather and surprisingly soft curls beneath your fingers, the sharp line of his flexed jaw and the cool hardware on his jacket. He makes you feel greedy for wanting all of it, all of him, the soft and the hard parts (but especially the hard part tonight). 

He makes this little noise when you tug his hair and his jaw falls slack when your nails catch on his scalp just right. You make a note of that for later as he licks into your mouth again, making you keen for him as he pairs that slow deep slide with the firm press of his thigh between your legs that feels so good. Your hips take up a slow roll, encouraged and steadied by his hand at the top of your ass and the perfect press of your jeans right there.

You’re not sure where he begins or where you end anymore, with blurred edges and winding limbs even when you break for breath briefly. A hammering fist on the door is just about enough to halt your kisses - but only after a couple of tries on the handle and an unsuccessful first knock. 

“Hello?!! Come on, man, I need to piss!” 

“Hold the fuck on.” 

Eddie’s voice is rough, a sharp pissed-off bark that echoes around the bar bathroom as you hide your warm face against his chest and give in to a dose of the giggles.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, soft just for you. 

His smile is stained with your lipstick, and you do your best to swipe the worst of it away with your thumb as you float back down to earth. He does a little to fix the smear below your lip, tender from kissing and the nip of Eddie’s sharp teeth. 

“I think they’re going to know…” you murmur, resisting the urge to take one more taste for yourself.

There will be no hiding it from whoever is banging on the door, whoever is queued up behind them with their full bladders and baggies of coke. It was not like either of you were subtle enough to fool your friends, even before you both disappeared together tonight. Not with your matching stained mouths, or Eddie’s tighter-now jeans. Not when you leave together tonight and arrive for breakfast together in the morning.

“Is that so bad?” 

You give in to that need for one more kiss, slow and sweet unlike the last one. It says enough to answer his question. 

Loud music and the sound of your own heart beating hard are not quite enough to drown out the complaints and wolf-whistles as you leave the locked bathroom together. Eddie leads again with confidence, bolstered by your lipstick on his face and your hand in his back pocket. Neither of you miss how the table of your friends raise their bottles and glasses as you pass them, a few bills exchanged for bets placed as you go find that cab and decide ‘your place or mine?’ 

Thank you for reading 🖤 Reblogs, likes & comments are loved and cherished

[rustedhearts]

just friends (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you and steve have been just friends for years now. but how long can you convince everyone you're 'just friends' before it becomes a lie? or steve harrington is your super hot roommate and everyone thinks it's stupid you guys aren't dating yet.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the library

tags: roommate!steve, kinda shitty boyfriend!eddie, pining, fluff, angst, casual dominance from our casual dominance king steve, honestly going to try so hard not to make this a series but you know me.

a/n: i've wanted to write roommate!steve for so ages. you can thank a much-needed new girl binge and my tendency to take my frustration out on my mop for this.

The bass-heavy bump of music came at Steve full force before he even stepped out of the elevator. He paused, staring down the door of your shared apartment knowing that the sight that would welcome him would not be pretty.

In the kitchen, you were hunched over the handle of a mop, furiously dragging it over a sliver of tile. Teeth gritted together, face flushed and damp with sweat, hair disheveled and pulled away from your face, a pair of cotton shorts and an old t-shirt rolled up to the shoulders—you were a mess.

You were sad.

"Uh-oh." Steve stepped into the room, calling over the booming music. "What happened?"

You jumped a little, accustomed to the quiet of the apartment on Saturday nights. Steve almost always spent weekend nights at the bar down the street hitting on girls too sweet for him. You usually had until at least 11:30 to do whatever you wanted before some random girl came scampering in, clinging to Steve and giggling as they fumbled to his room.

But he was home early. And no matter how long you'd lived together, or how well he knew you, you still hated being seen like this.

So, you never took your eyes off the mop, scrubbing away a sauce stain on the tile.

"Nothing." You shrugged, flicking wisps of hair out of your eyes.

Steve watched you whirl around to drag the mop toward the bucket again. You stabbed it into the soapy water with a vengeance, nose scrunching with every slosh and splash. Steve leaned against the doorway and quirked a brow.

"Yeah? You're playing your sad music, though."

Your sad music consisted of a handful of hard rock records that most people would consider music for a dive bar—but you only ever played it when you were staving off tears. The louder you played it, the more upset you were.

Steve knew you a little too well.

This comment went ignored as you slapped the mop back on the floor and continued an angered scrubbing. Steve sighed, scratching at his temple. Most of the time, it was best to leave you alone. Sometimes, you needed to talk it out. It took a little coaxing—a pizza and a cold glass of Coke with a straw usually did the trick—but eventually, you'd spill.

And Steve would fix it.

Calm you down, help you figure it out, offer some advice. He gave pretty good advice for someone still struggling to get his own shit figured out.

Steve could tell from the way the song went unsung, the way you huffed every time the mop head flipped, the way you started stomping your foot when you found a stale French fry under the stove—you needed him to step in.

Pushing off the wall, Steve crossed the room and placed his hand over yours on the mop handle.

"Hey. Hey, come on."

You struggled at first, scowling at him as you tugged on the handle. "Stop it."

He sighed again. He was always sighing at you like a disappointed teacher.

"Hey." A little firmer this time, accompanied by a sharp snatch of the handle from your grasp into his. When you dropped your hands and obliged, the furrow of his brow relaxed. "Thank you. Now, why don't you go take a shower. The house is clean enough."

You frowned, wiping at the sweat on your head. "I just—"

Steve pressed his hand flat into the small of your back, steering you toward the door. "Seriously, honey, it's fine. You do stink, though."

That made your lip twitch—a semblance of a smile—with an amused little huff. You took a step toward the door, slippered feet scuffing. You looked over your shoulder toward Steve standing where you left him, still holding the mop.

He waved you off. "Go on. Take a nap, too.”

You nodded, flashing a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, Steve."

He watched you shuffle away, shoulders slumped and eyes down as you went. He propped the mop against the kitchen counter and shook his head at the mess of cleaning supplies on the table.

When he heard the bathroom door clamp shut and the hiss of the shower head turn on, Steve rushed the front door again.

He opened it a smidge, enough to fit his head in and smile sweetly at the girl waiting in the hall picking at her nails. She perked up, stepping toward the door eagerly.

"Hey," Steve cooed, voice dripping with honey. "I'm so sorry, my roommate got sick all over. I think s-he needs to go to the doctor, so...would you mind if we raincheck?"

The girl—Sarah, as he would recall later on—broke into a concerned pout, clasping her hands over her chest. "Oh my god, that's terrible! You're so sweet taking care of him."

Steve chuckled, a breezy smile on his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for understanding."

She tipped her head, adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder. "Of course. Call me when he's feeling better?"

Steve nodded, knowing the phone number in his back pocket would dissolve in the washer in a week, and he had no intention of ever calling her to begin with.

"Yeah, for sure. Night."

"Goodnight."

He waited until the elevator dinged, watching the doors close on her grinning face, before pulling back into the apartment and locking the door. He blew a sigh out of his cheeks, head shaking as he headed toward the hall.

The shower had stopped, and he could hear the soft, wet patters of your feet behind the door when he leaned against the wall beside it. He knocked two knuckles gently into the wood.

"Honey?" he called. "Need anything? Wanna order a pizza?"

He waited, adjusting the hem of his shirt to spread out a wrinkle in the fabric. He knew what the answer would be, but he couldn't always be so obvious. He had to pretend that he didn't know you like the back of his hand, because everyone started telling him how weird it was.

"You've lived with this girl for two years and haven't boned? You're either gay or dumb as a box of fuckin' rocks," is what Max told him when they met for lunch a few months ago.

Everyone said the same thing. His sister, who teased him at birthday parties and summer barbecues that you were always his date for. Sabrina did everything in her power to push the two of you closer together at family events, ensuring your seats were always paired and your activities were always coupled up.

"You look at her like a dog with a bone," she teased last Fourth of July.

But Steve only shook his head, glancing your way where you were helping his mother decorate cupcakes. You were dating some guy in IT at the time. Total fucking nerd. He made you pay for most of the dates.

"Nah...we're just friends. She's got a boyfriend."

We're just friends was probably Steve's most popular sentence in the English language since the day he met you. A pair of college graduates who had no clue what the hell they were supposed to do with their lives, roommate-matched by the apartment complex and so content with each other that you just kept renewing the lease.

When you finally replied to his question, your voice came like a small, pipping whisper behind the door. "Yeah...but with mushrooms this time?"

This time, as if you didn't order a mushroom and sausage pizza every time. Steve smiled, pushing off the wall.

"Okay—"

"And—"

"And sausage, I know. I'll call 'em."

"Okay."

While Steve called the pizza place a few blocks over, you clutched a towel to your chest and padded to your room. You pulled on the softest items you owned and sat on the end of your bed. A long day of cleaning certainly tired you out, but that wasn't what ailed you.

It was the fight with your boyfriend last night at the bar, when he yelled at you for laughing at Steve's jokes even though you always did. He thought you were too close, too "chummy" to be just friends.

Unbeknownst to Steve, we're just friends was one of your most common phrases, too. You should've had it engraved on your forehead at this point.

"Hey." Two knuckles on your door this time before it skittered open. Steve popped his head in and grinned at you. "Wearin' my favorite sweatpants? Must be feelin' better."

You glanced down at the black sweatpants on your legs, snickering softly. Steve thought they hugged your ass perfectly, and loved the way they flared at the calves. The logo right on your left ass cheek was especially beautiful.

When you opted to leave that soft noise as your reply, Steve stepped into the room. He flopped beside you on the bed, springs squeaking shrilly.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

You shook your head down at your lap, rubbing at your eye. You hated crying, and so far today you'd been doing well swallowing them down. Steve had only seen you cry once, and you avoided him for three days after.

Something about vulnerability made you cower.

"Okay...wanna watch a movie?"

You sighed, shifting a little away from him. Steve clocked it with a brow-furrowed frown.

"Steve...you don't have to make me feel better. I'm fine."

His lips parted to reply—most likely in protest—but the door chittered on its hinges once more with the small butted head of your tuxedo cat, Ted.

Steve immediately stood and scooped Ted up, turning to bring him to the bed. He scratched under his chin and brought forth a low humming purr immediately.

Not even cats could resist that pretty boy charm.

"Well, I reckon this lil guy will do a better job of cheerin' you up," Steve cooed, plopping Ted beside you.

A quiet giggle slipped from your mouth as you reached to swoop his tail. "Reckon?"

Steve shrugged, a sheepish grin on his mouth. "Just came out. I turn Southern in a crisis, darlin'."

He was just trying to make you laugh now, and he couldn't help but mirror the sound when it proved effective. Though, it also proved temporary. You soon settled on your side, tugging Ted to your chest with a fading smile.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, gathering a chunk of it at the top to pull. A stress tick. You tried not to feel guilty for causing it.

"Well...alright." Steve shuffled backward toward the door. "Pizza in fifteen."

You nodded into the pillow. "Okay. Thanks."

Steve lingered a beat too long, eyeing your balled up form on the bed before slipping into the hall. You'd been sad plenty times over the years: breakups, let-downs, missed jobs.

But the guy you were dating now...you really seemed to like him. He was over all the time, practically living here at one point. Steve didn't really understand what you saw in the guy—Eddie. Steve scoffed to himself, head shaking. Stupid name.

You met Eddie at the auto shop where he worked. He gave you a discount on your oil change, and his tire talk was so smooth that you went on a date two days later. Six months later, and things still seemed to be going smoothly despite the pair of you having very little in common.

Usually, you dated harmless little nerdy guys. Steve actually laughed in the face of a five foot eight finance bro who threatened to "hurt him real bad" if he got in the way of your relationship. You dumped him that night, and the pair of you still laugh about it to this day.

But Eddie was...different. Sleeves of dark ink and a chainlink on his belt. A handful of chunky silver rings and another one in his nose. He always clinked in with a nod Steve's way and a hand on your ass, and it seemed that every time he kissed you in front of Steve, he looked him right in the eye while he did it.

Steve didn't like how small you made yourself around Eddie, and he didn't like how much Eddie seemed to enjoy it.

For everyone's sake, he hoped it wasn't Eddie that made you sad. For once, he wasn't sure he'd win that fight.

✶ ✶

There were many things about your behavior that night that concerned Steve.

Number 1: You only ate three pieces of pizza, and he got one small mushroom-sausage with extra cheese just for you.

Number 2: You didn't let Ted in when he scratched at your door, and Steve had to bring him to his own room for bed.

But worst of all.

Number 3: You didn't say goodnight.

So, Steve went to bed with Ted curled at his feet and a lump in his throat. Whatever you were upset about was bad, he could just tell; and everything in him was itching to make it better. He had this terrible, stupid ache to make life easy for you, and it never really went away.

He opened all your jars, refilled all your water bottles, made sure your phone was charged when he saw the little red bar. He bought more of your favorite snacks when he saw them running low, picked up things that "felt like you" when he saw them at the store. You had an abundance of miscellaneous yellow items sitting on your windowsill because you told him it was your favorite color two years ago.

In Steve's eyes, everything yellow in the world belonged to you.

Steve stirred in a half sleep for hours, kicking at his covers and offering murmured apologies to a miffed Ted who meowed at him. His concerns, however, came to a head when the sound of muffled shouting startled him completely awake.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and tapped the screen, rubbing his eyes clear to read the 1:15. He wondered which couple in the building was fighting this late. His bet was on Jax and Monica in 1F who were always on the outs.

"You think I'm a fuckin' idiot? I see the way he looks at you!"

But that was Eddie's voice.

"I don't understand where this is coming from."

And that was yours.

Steve shot up, fumbling for his glasses in their case somewhere in his nightstand drawer. He shoved them over his eyes, swinging his legs over the bed.

"I'm tired of competing with your fucking roommate."

"You don't—you aren't! Eddie, please, you know we're just friends."

"Spare me. You're a shitty liar. Hey! C'mere, I'm not done talkin'."

Oh, hell no. Pants abandoned, Steve swung his door open with banging force and rushed into the hall.

He found the pair of you in the entryway, Eddie's hand around your arm and your cheeks soaked with tears. You still had your pajamas on, and those little yellow slippers Steve bought for you last Christmas.

Both heads turned when Steve hurried into the room, tailed by a confused Ted butting at his leg.

Eddie huffed, motioning toward Steve. "Oh, great, of course you're here."

Steve braced his hands on his hips, glaring at the raven-haired man. "I live here, dick-wad. Remove your hand."

Eddie ignored him, still wringing your arm out. You cast your eyes away from Steve, ashamed by the state he found you in.

"You live up my girlfriend's ass, Harrington. And I'm kinda tired of you being there all the fucking time."

"Remove. Your. Hand."

"Stop," you sniffled, wiping the tears from your cheeks though it wouldn't do much to hide the pink rims of your eyes. "Eddie, he's my friend."

"If he's gonna be your friend, then we're done."

You gaped up at him, more hot tears bubbling over and stinging your eyes. "W-what? Eddie, that's—"

Eddie shrugged, smug and uncaring. "You heard me."

Steve's eyes moved your way, and he could only stomach the absolute heartbreak on your face for a split second before he was stepping forward.

"Alright," he barked, and then he was shoving the arm Eddie was holding you with. "Let her go, Aerosmith, and get the fuck out."

Eddie let you go, but spun sharply to face Steve. You weren't sure whose glare was more frightening.

Eddie stepped until he was toe-to-toe with your roommate. "You like fuckin' another man's girl? You like my sloppy seconds, you pussy bit—"

Steve might not have been much of a fighter, certainly didn't fare well with a man who lifted cars for a living—but he certainly excelled at being discrete.

Which is how he got a right hook in before Eddie could fight back. Which is also how Eddie ended up on the ground, and unable to stand again for a few moments.

"Jesus, Steve," you scolded, peering down at your boyfriend with wide eyes. “You knocked him out!”

Steve cleared his throat, ignoring the buzzing pain in his knuckles as he swept them through his hair and motioned toward Eddie.

“Hm? Nah, honey, he’s just…he’s takin’ a nap.”

Though still numbed by shock and worry, you couldn’t help the amused snort that rippled through you. Steve’s lip quirked, and he glanced at Eddie when he groaned on the floor.

“Um, well…let’s get you up, bud. Yeah, you’re okay, c’mon.” Steve began talking to Eddie like a child, cooing as he helped him to his feet by the arm.

And maybe he wasn’t nice about walking him to the elevator, watching him crumble to the floor as the doors closed. Maybe the shiner swelling on Eddie’s cheek filled Steve with incredulous joy.

But he swallowed all of it down when he returned to the apartment and found you standing right where he left you. If you were ashamed of your tears this time, it didn’t show. You grew inconsolable, and Steve had no other thought in mind that didn’t involve picking you up and taking you back to bed.

So he did just that, letting you soak his bare chest with tears as he went. When he sat you on the bed, he tipped your head up by the chin and wiped your cheeks.

“He’s not comin’ back tonight, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Sniffling, you let him dry your tears and pull strands of hair from the sticky residue. “He thinks we were cheating. I t-tried to tell him…that we’re just friends.”

You deflated with a hiccuped sigh, and Steve’s smile was full of pity and pain. He rubbed his thumbs into your cheeks, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah. Just friends, honey.”

Your eyes fluttered with exhaustion, and Steve swallowed thickly. He pinched the edge of your pillow to pull it down, and gently coaxed you down by the shoulders. He pulled the covers up to your chin and plucked Ted from the ground to join you on the bed.

“He ain’t worth your tears, honey. Get some sleep.”

Sniffling again, you nodded quietly. Steve flashed another smile, and stepped back toward the door. As he reached for the light switch, he glanced over his shoulder to find your eyes again.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered.

He shut the light off so you wouldn’t see the way he closed his eyes, like it pained him to hear you with another cry in your throat.

“Goodnight, honey.”

Steve sat awake until 6 a.m waiting for Eddie to come to his senses and return for vengeance. But he never came. In some way, Steve knew that would hurt you even more.

So in the morning when you woke, he greeted you with a handful of sunshine yellow daffodils and your favorite coffee. A soft kiss on the head and a scratch at Ted’s chin on his way out.

“Gonna meet up with a friend today. Call me if you need me, ‘kay?”

He went home with the first girl he met at the bar that day just to get you out of his head, and lied about it when he came home.

Just friends. Yeah, right.

[absurdthirst]

Rewarded & Rescued {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.2k

Warnings: Human trafficking, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of rape, threats of suicide, mentions of Stockholm syndrome, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, biting, protected sex, unprotected sex, angst

Comments: Undercover working for Escobar, Javier is given a horrible gift. A woman, an American. Kidnapped from a club and presented to him as a reward. Unable to let you know who he is, all he can do is reassure you that he won't hurt you. Until you work out that he's not quite what he seems.

A/N: Despite being an American, there are no physical descriptions of the reader. Conversations are in Spanish until indicated they are in English.

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.

“Gomez.” Javier looks up from his spot across the room when Herdanez comes into the room. It’s hard to react when his undercover name is called out but he forces himself to look up when he hears it. 

“¿Sí?” He asks, stubbing out his smoke in the ashtray. 

“Boss will see you now.” He says and Javier stands up and makes his way into the office. Escobar stands up and Javier pushes down his hatred of the man as he greets him as fondly as he can manage. 

“Hermano. You’ve been doing a great job. Blackie said he’s impressed and I want to reward your hard work.” He snaps his fingers and the doors open, a woman stumbling in as she is manhandled by Blackie. He refrains from clenching his jaw. He knows what this is. The reward. “She’s yours. To do whatever you want with. And she’s American.” He grins wickedly, handing Peña your passport and your purse. “She can’t go anywhere without this. Take her and keep up the good work.” He says and Javier clenches his jaw, unsure of how to feel but he knows how to react. There’s only one way. He grins and reaches out to shake the boss’s hand. 

“Thank you. She’s perfect.” He says with a smirk and your eyes widen, realizing that you aren’t gonna be rescued by this man.

It had been so stupid to go to that club. Even more stupid than it had been to even come to Colombia. You had risked it, you and the three other girls you had been with. Thinking that nothing would happen to you because you were Americans. Knowing Spanish and speaking fluently didn’t help when you were drugged and kidnapped by a fucking drug cartel. A notorious one at that. Everyone knows about Pablo Escobar. You had joked about buying some coke from him when you were safe in your hometown, planning this trip. Meeting him had been less than joyous though, your friends' fates possibly even worse than your own. They had talked about sharing the others with Escobar’s sicarios, letting all the men fuck them. It seems like you have the privilege of just being raped by one man, instead of numerous ones. “Please.” You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks and your jaw hurts where the one they call Blackie had punched you. “I just want to go home.” You beg. “I just want to go home.”

Javier wants to shoot every fucker in there for making a woman plead for their life, for their innocence, but he can’t. He has to pretend like he’s as evil as the rest of them. “You aren’t going home.” He says in English. “She’s going home with me.” He chuckles, speaking in Spanish again, “I’m going to fuck her so hard she splits in two. Can’t wait to see her pretty eyes water when I shove my cock down her throat.” He says wickedly, smirking at the other men. “She’s gonna be screaming out.” He chuckles. 

“Are you gonna fuck her ass? It’s cute.” Blackie winks at your horrified face and Javier shrugs, “haven’t decided. Gonna see how she does taking my cock in her pussy. I’m thick so she’s gonna struggle.”

You feel sick to your stomach. So much so that you gag. The only thing keeping you from vomiting is the fact that you are starving, not being fed since waking up in a tiny room after being taken from the club. “Please.” You begin in Spanish and then switch back to English. “Please? I can pay- my parents, they will- what do you want? Please, don’t- don’t do this.” It’s futile, but you have to try, unwilling to become someone’s sex slave.

“Your begging won’t get you anywhere. Nor will your money. Come on chica. I want to get you home.” Javier says in English as he grabs your arm from Blackie. He drags you against him and you struggle. “Don’t struggle. Unless you want me to put a fucking bullet in your brain.” He hisses in warning as he drags you out of the room to Escobar and Blackie grinning and clapping their hands in approval.

“No. No, no, no, no.” You try to fight him, to pull away even with the threat of death. It would be better than your future. You would rather be dead than to endure whatever this disgusting man would have in store for you. The fact that he’s actually attractive doesn’t even register, unable to believe anyone so vile could be remotely good looking. Your wrist hurts from how tight he is gripping it and you feel like your shoulder is going to wrench from the socket as hard as you are pulling back against him. Fruitlessly fighting the inevitable as he drags you out to a four door jeep. “No! Help! Someone please!” You scream, even though there is no one around, obviously planned that way.

He growls at you, “no one is gonna hear your cries here, sweetheart. Just shut the fuck up.” He demands, needing you to be quiet so he can get you up to his apartment and tell you he’s not gonna touch you. He slams the door after shoving you in the back seat and he gets on quickly, locking the doors before he starts the car. You press up against the wall of the car, shaking,  and Javier wants to tell you it’s okay but he can’t. He can’t help you right now. “Stop whimpering. Makes it worse.” He tells you honestly, “be brave.”

Biting your lip, you try to do as he says, sure that these men take pleasure in hearing women cry. Your tears still stream down your face, wondering if he will kill you quickly, crying for your friends. Closing your eyes, you try not to sob.

Javi quickly navigates the traffic and parks in the garage, coming around after killing the engine to open your door and he grabs your arm, “come on.” He hisses, practically dragging you into the elevator. When you press up against the wall, he pushes the button for his floor and you shake. When the doors open, you remain pressed against the wall and he shakes his head, grabbing you to swing you over his shoulder, carrying you down the hall to his apartment.

It’s almost impossible to keep from kicking and hitting at him, but you keep yourself limp, making him work to carry you. Trying to see what the apartment numbers are and looking back at the elevator so you can run away the first chance you get. The man you’ve been given to is wearing a gun, tucked into the back of his jeans and you bite your lip, wanting to reach it when you get the chance.

He knows where your mind is at. “Don’t bother. It’s not loaded.” He lies, “bullets are in my pocket.” He walks faster and deposits you at the door as he quickly fumbles with his keys, pushing the door open to push you inside within seconds. The lock clicks as he shuts the door and you stumble back, eyes wide and you’re shaking.

“Don’t touch me!” You spit, getting angry. He might overpower you, but you are going to fight him tooth and nail. Make it difficult for him. “I’ll- I’ll kill you.” You stumble back and look around the living room wildly for anything to use as a weapon.

Javier can't help it. He chuckles, shaking his head. "You won't because I ain't gonna touch you, sweetheart." He can't tell you why but he can tell you that he won't harm you. "I - it's a long story but I had to make a show of it back there. I am not - not-" He emphasizes, "that kind of man. I won't touch you. You stay here with me until I can get you out. I can't risk it yet. Gotta make them think that I have violated you to impress them."

Shaking your head, you scoff, not believing him for a minute. He just wants you to let down your guard, to make it easier for him. He steps forward and you leap back, bumping into the coffee table and knocking a letter opener onto the floor with a loud clatter. Looking down, your eyes widen and you drop down to your knees to grab it as he rushes forward. “Stay back!” You scream, holding the sharp tip to your own neck. “One more step and you’ll have to fuck my dead body before it gets too cold!”

“Jesus Christ“ Javier groans, and shakes his head, unable to believe how dramatic you are being. To threaten to take your own life. When he just told you, he wasn’t going to touch you. He guesses he has to make you believe him by his actions, “there is no need for that, sweetheart. I promise you that I’m not going to touch you. I swear on my dead mama‘s grave and I like my women to be willing. I don’t like a fucking struggle. I want a woman to shake in pleasure, not in fear.“

“Then let me go.” You demand, frowning at him. He doesn’t seem angry you are threatening to kill yourself, just annoyed by wasting his time. “I can’t.” He huffs, making you snort. 

“Of course you can’t. Why would you want to give up your gift? Doesn’t matter that I’m a fucking human being! You can’t own me, you don’t own me!” You start to yell again. “I have been threatened with rape, torture, I’ve been beaten and slapped around, my friends are probably raped and murdered too, all because I came to this fucking place and went to a club! Now I want to go home!”

Javier winces, knowing that your friends have definitely suffered a terrible fate at the hands of the sicarios but he won’t let that happen to you. “Listen to me.” He insists, “I can’t let you go because then they’ll know and I - shit - I can’t explain it to you but you got to believe me. Just believe me. I won’t touch you. I’ll make sure you’re fed and safe but you can’t leave.”

You don’t believe him, but it will do nothing more than piss him off to continue to argue with the man. He could just decide to shoot you, so you slowly drop the letter opener from your throat but you don’t let it go. Not fighting him will be as good as it gets.

Javier wants to roll his eyes if you think that you can take him down with a letter opener. “Do you want anything to eat? I doubt those fuckers fed you. I’m not much of a cook but I can do eggs and toast.”

You stare at him for a second. Wondering why, if he’s not like those other men, is he with them. When he just continues to stare at you, you nod slightly. “I- I don’t know what day it is.” You tell him. “I was at the club on Saturday night.”

“It’s Wednesday. They kept you in a room with your friends yesterday because you wouldn’t submit and they needed to make you suffer. Weaken you. It’s what they do. Fuck with your mind, then your body. Let’s get you something to eat and to drink. You gotta be starving.”

You shouldn’t take anything from him. Not when you know that he could just be toying with you, but you are ravenous. You bite your lip and nod once, looking around the apartment once again. Looking for any clue of what kind of man you had been given to.

He nods, making his way into the kitchen. He knows he’s taking a risk having you here and you could easily try to run or try to kill him but he has to take the risk. The bigger risk would be his cover being blown. He doesn’t entirely know if you’re a plant in his home to give information back to Escobar. He trusts no one and he can’t risk anything but he wouldn’t touch you. He could never cross that line. He opens the fridge and grabs the eggs and bread, grabbing the bottles of water to give you, certain that you’ll want something sealed until you can trust him.

It’s comforting that he’s given you something sealed but you discreetly turn the water bottle upside down and squeeze it to make sure there’s not a needle hole in the plastic. When it holds, you eagerly turn it upright and quickly break the seal. Gulping down the water in desperate gulps as you think it might be the best water you’ve ever tasted because you are so thirsty.

Javier watches you down the water as he puts the pans on the stove to begin cooking. The eggs start to cook and he turns to look at you, to really look at you. You’re gorgeous. No need to deny that to himself but he knows you’re angry and sad. Rightly so. He is for you. That this fuckers are doing this to other women and getting away with it. That’s why he’s doing this. Because of Helena, because of the lives that are destroyed directly or indirectly by Escobar.

You feel better just by drinking the water, but your stomach is still panging with hunger. The smell of the food making you moan quietly, unconsciously stepping towards the kitchen and the man inside it. “Are you- I can have some food?” You ask quietly. “Without doing things?”

Javier wants to growl out his frustration at you being worried that he wants something in exchange for food. The basic need. It’s insulting. He turns to look at you incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding? I- I just told you I didn’t want anything and this is food. You need food. Like I said, I like my women to give me all encompassing consent and I want them to be fully enjoying themselves. A struggle isn’t a turn on for me. It’s disgusting.” He says honestly, his face straight to convey the seriousness of his statement until he turns back to stir the scrambled eggs.

For a moment, you feel guilty. He seems genuinely disgusted by the idea of demanding favors from you, but he had accepted you as some sort of bonus from his boss. You swallow harshly and toy with the letter opener that’s still in your other hand. “Can I have more water? My- my mouth is still dry.”

“Sure. There’s plenty in the fridge. Go get one.” He says, wanting to give you some autonomy in a situation that makes you feel trapped. He watches you hesitate before you walk over to the fridge and he starts to butter the bread and puts it on the pan to toast.

You grab another water and look through the contents of the fridge. There’s not much, obviously he doesn’t eat here often and you wonder why he’s bothering to cook for you. More importantly, why aren’t you trying to get out of the apartment? You’re tired, hungry and he’s holding your passport. That’s why. You move over to a barstool at the counter and plop down, overwhelmed by everything.

He glances over his shoulder at you as he plates up the food, turning off the stove and he carries the plates over to the counter, setting them down in front of you and he turns back to clean up. “Eat.” He orders you with a point before he turns back to clean up.

It’s probably the gruffest nice thing that anyone has ever done for you, and you want to resist, but you’re starving. Falling on the simple breakfast with an enthusiasm that surprises you.

Javi notices how hungry you are and he pushes the other plate towards you. “Have that. You’re hungry. I already ate today.” He says as he washes up the pans, allowing you to have your meal in peace. He wants you to relax a little, realize he isn’t going to hurt you.

You shouldn’t accept it, but you’re too hungry to push it away. Devouring your eggs and toast before pushing the empty plate away and starting on the next. You might make yourself sick, but right now, you don’t even care.

He’s pleased that you are eating. You clearly need it after those bastards starved you. “I’m sure you want a shower too. I have a shirt you can borrow and some boxers - they’re new…I don’t really wear them.” He confesses, “I’ll see about getting you some clothes tomorrow.” He says, knowing he’s gonna need some help from one of the girls to get the right stuff. All he knows about clothes is ripping them off and he doesn’t want to do that to you.

You freeze for a moment, sure that the offer is just a ploy to leave you naked and vulnerable. His stance is unsure when he turns back to you, as if he’s embarrassed by the idea of not having clothes for you and that makes you relax. “I- I won’t-“ you pause, not sure of what you will say. “Thank you.”

Javier nods, “you need clothes and toiletries. Make a list of what you need and your sizes and I’ll get it sorted.” He promises as he scrubs the pan while you finish eating. He’s not sure how he’s going to get you out of the country without Escobar knowing. He will have to think about it later when you’re settled and not trying to stab yourself or him with a letter opener.

You can’t believe this man is willing to buy you clothes. Frowning slightly as you swallow the last bite of eggs. “Why do you work for a man like that?” You ask. “If you aren’t like him? How can you stand what he does to people?”

“It’s complicated.” Javier tells you as he wipes the counter down before he turns back to look at you. “I can’t tell you why. It would put you in even more danger. I know you can’t but all I can ask is that you trust me.” He pleads, needing you to believe that he’s here to be a good man, not like them.

You have no choice but to believe that he isn’t like those other men. It’s not like you can do much if he is, regardless. Your eyes are on his and you nod, realizing that he looks haunted. His dark eyes are trying to tell you something, but you don’t know what. “The American newspapers say the DEA will catch Escobar any day now.” You tell him. “You might want to stop working for him if you want to avoid jail or being killed.”

Javier can’t help but snort, “sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll keep that in mind.” Unable to tell you that he’s DEA. He can’t tell you anything, just in case you are a plant from Escobar. Your reactions tell him you aren’t but he can never be too sure.

You can only pray that you are still alive by the time that Escobar is taken down. You scrape the plate clean and sigh softly. Your stomach doesn’t hurt any more but you’re emotional and honestly exhausted. Yawning catches you off guard and you try to hide it from the man.

Javier notices and bites his lip, watching you for a second. “You wanna shower before you go to bed?” He asks, “I have a guest room. It’s all yours.” He adds when you narrow your eyes at him. He guides you to the bedroom and shows you the shower. “I’ll get you some clean clothes.” He offers, knowing you’ll want some alone time.

You’re alone and it should be the time that you are running to the window to see if you can escape or signal someone, but you’re too tired. Beaten down already and just wanting to shower and sleep. He’s bringing you clothes so you can’t lock the door, but you do lock the door to the bathroom before you strip your clothes off. The letter opener on the edge of the tub.

He grabs some clothes for you, setting them on the bed, and he wonders what’s going through your mind. You must be terrified. He wants to grab his gun and kill every fucker who does this to a woman. Make them pay. He can’t, not yet. He has to take this operation down from the inside out. He rubs his cheek while you shower, grabbing his pack of cigarettes to quickly light one. It’s gonna be hard to keep himself from thinking about how gorgeous you are. You are a beautiful woman and he can never tell you. You’d immediately be on alert and not trust him.

You feel better now that you’ve showered. Clean. You had scrubbed your skin so hard it practically squeaks and you are glad to trade the club dress that was stained and torn for the comfortable t-shirt and boxers that were waiting on the bed when you had peeked out the door to find no one in the room.

Javier snubs out his smoke and picks up the phone, dialing in on a classified number and giving his code name for access. “Peña. How’s it going?” His partner Steve asks. 

“Christ, they gave me a girl. To do whatever I want with.” He tells Steve who groans down the phone. 

“What are you gonna do with her? Fuck her?” Steve asks and Javi growls, “fuck no. She - she’s American. I have her passport. I need to figure out how to get her on a plane without Escobar knowing what I’ve done.” Javi explains.

Steve hums down the phone, “let me sort that out. You can’t risk having some girl in your apartment. Jesus, never thought I’d say that.” Steve snorts, “leave it with me.” He says before the line goes dead and Javier sighs.

Back in the bedroom, you are too exhausted to come back out, but you don’t completely trust the man who’s apartment you are in. Sliding a chair under the doorknob would be too obvious, so you put the letter opener under your pillow when you collapse onto the bed, ready to sleep. Hopefully, this will all be a bad dream and you will wake up from it soon.

Javier takes a sip of the whiskey, staring at the papers on the kitchen table while you sleep. He’s trying to figure out where the illegal money goes and who the money man is. If he can figure that out, he can track them down and bring them in. Escobar has had the government in his pocket for too long and they need undeniable evidence to make anyone take notice and question the cartel leader.

You sleep for hours. The sun is gone and the room is dark when you wake up. Making you think that maybe you had dreamed it all when you feel the letter opener under the pillow. Screaming when you realize you really are in this nightmare and not waking up safe and at home.

Javier rushes into the bedroom, eyes wide and gun in hand as he wonders if somehow someone from the cartel has realized who he is and has decided to take you both out. When he sees you sitting up, he glances around the room with his gun drawn. “What the fuck?” He shouts, heart pounding.

Eyes wide. You gulp. “S-sorry.” You bite your lip and raise your hands, leaving the letter opener under the pillow. “Bad dream.” You explain quietly. “I-I had a bad dream.”

He lowers the gun, feeling guilty for you having bad dreams. He shakes his head and shoves the gun into the back of his pants. “Jesus. Scared the shit out of me.” He confesses, placing his hand on his racing heart. “You want something to drink?” He asks, knowing you might not but he needs something to take the edge off.

You tilt your head, confused at the way this man just offers you casual hospitality like you aren’t his property. Nodding slowly, you have to admit that it would be good to relax a bit. “I- thank you.” You mumble. “For not shooting me.”

Javier snorts, “yeah well, I don’t usually hesitate before shooting.” He confesses, “but I wouldn’t shoot you.” He promises as he walks into the living room and over to the bar cart. “I have whiskey and…vodka.” He says, knowing that whiskey is the only thing he drinks so he has vodka for any of his female company that comes over to give him intel.

“I drink what you drink.” You decide, figuring it would be safer to have the same thing he is. He was less likely to drug your drink that way. You scramble after him, wearing the clothes he had brought you and in your haste, you had forgotten the letter opener.

Javier nods, grabbing two glasses and he pours out a heavy measure of whiskey into each glass. He knows you need it and he definitely fucking does. He hands you the glass after letting you watch him pour and he takes a sip to assure you it’s safe. “I’m sorry you’re here. In this shit situation with me.”

“I don’t understand.” You take a sip of your whiskey after he does. “You don’t act like Escobar, joking about what he would do with me if he wasn’t giving me to you. Yet, you had done something vile enough to rate getting a real live sex toy.” You snort. “A fresh cunt as Pablo said.”

Javier turns to look you in the eye, “don’t be mistaken. I’m not a good man. I’ve done a lot of shit. Bad shit. But that- touching a woman without her consent? That is too fucking far. I’ll kill bad men but I won’t kill women or children. I need to prove myself to Escobar but not by violating an innocent woman. I meant what I said…I like my women willing and consensual.”

You contemplate what he says, watching him closely and realize that he really is handsome. His chiseled jaw compliments his sharp nose and is softened by the mustache that is straight from the 70’s. “You must have been a Bandit fan.” You tell him suddenly, thinking about the American movie.

Javier chuckles, “I did love watching Burt Reynolds but I tried the 80s and didn’t like the clothes of the music. Didn’t fit me so I turned back to my old closet and I’ve never looked back since.” He smirks, “most women say it suits me.” He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.

It does suit him and he knows it. You settle in the chair opposite him a little more. “So you aren’t going to hurt me, but you can’t let me go? Right?” You bite your lip. “Tell me, what are you going to do with me?”

Javier sighs, setting his glass down. “You’re gonna stay here until I can figure out how to get you home.” He reveals, “it’s too dangerous to let you go. They’ll find out I let you go and then it’s my ass on the line. Give me time to figure it out and then I’ll get you home.”

“Why?” You frown, looking down into the last drops of your whiskey and then back up at him. “You don’t know me, I’m nothing to you.” It’s harsh, but it’s also reality. He shouldn’t care about you at all but he’s going to risk himself for you?

“You represent the many women who have been abused or killed at the hands of Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. You won’t be one of the many who have suffered at their hands. You’ll go home and tell the world about this tragedy and tell them that Pablo Escobar needs to be taken down.” He says, measuring your reaction.

You stare at him in shock for a moment, unable to believe that he just said that about his boss. Biting your lip, your eyes water emotionally and you nod. “I’ll scream it every chance I get if I survive this.” You know there’s a good chance you won’t live. “He’s- he’s a monster. One who pretends to be noble.” You snort and shake your head. “I’m so fucking stupid. My friends and I- we joked about meeting Escobar on this trip. Buying some coke from him. I’ve never fucking done coke, but I was so cute, thinking that I could meet a drug kingpin.” You shudder and look back down at your drink. “Wish I had fucking missed my flight. Never come here.”

Javier reaches out to touch your hand before he pulls it back. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be safe with me. You shouldn’t have come to Colombia. You should’ve stayed at home. You and your friends shouldn’t have come but you’ll get home.” He promises, “I’ll get you home.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper quietly. “This is all my fault. It was my idea to come.” You confess. “My friends- they-“ you shake your head, unable to even voice the horrible things that you imagine they are going through. “It’s my fault.”

Javier doesn’t try to placate you with words when you know you’ve fucked up. He doesn’t want to upset you even more but he doesn’t comfort you. “Like I said, you will go home. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’ll believe you.” You snort, tossing back the rest of the whiskey and holding out the glass for another. “If I don’t, I’ll drive myself crazy.”

Javier nods in understanding as he grabs the glass and refills it. “You can’t leave here, you understand? If you leave, you die. I can’t protect you outside of this apartment.” He says as he hands you back the glass.

“I won’t leave.” You promise, shaking your head. “If you are actually not going to hurt me and keep me safe, I will do whatever you want me to. I just want to go home.”

“I’ll get you home.” Javi promises, his dark eyes meeting yours as he swears he will do whatever it takes to get you home. “Just do what I tell you and you’ll get home.” He swears, downing the rest of his drink. 

**** 

It’s been a few days that you’ve been in his apartment and Javier has left to check in with the sicarios, having to lie and tell them the disgusting things they’d expect him to do to you. They laugh and he pretends to go along with it, making out like he’s done those vile things to you. When he returns to his apartment, he unlocks the door to find you walking around in the fucking shorts he bought you from the list you gave him. He feels disgusting for finding you attractive but you are. You’re gorgeous and he finds himself thinking about you but he would never cross a line, you trust him and he wouldn’t break that trust.

You turn towards the door and watch him walk in, smiling at the sight of him. “Hey.” You greet him and hurry over the bar cart. You have learned that he loves to have whiskey, especially when he’s dealing with the Escobar or his cronies. Pouring him a drink, you hold it out to him. “I started dinner. It should be done soon.”

“That smells good.” He tells you, groaning at the scent wafting from the kitchen. You’ve taken to cooking dinner and for a man who usually survives on booze and cigarettes, it’s a welcome change in his apartment. “What’s cooking?” He asks as he takes the drink from your hand. God, you’re fucking beautiful and can cook. Any man’s dream but he can’t kiss you. Even if he wants to. It’s hard for him to distance himself when he’s so used to physical contact. He hasn’t brought back any of his contacts to the apartment.

“You had some meat in the freezer so it’s like a birria, but I didn’t have tomatoes.” You shrug slightly as he lifts the lid on the pot. “Hopefully it’s good. Although maybe I need to give you a shopping list.”

“Smells fucking delicious.” He groans, “you’re a good cook.” He says and turns back after setting the lid back on the pot. “You’re - you’re too good to me considering the situation.” He murmurs, sliding his eyes across the room guiltily, knowing that his contacts at the embassy are working on how to get you out of the country without anyone knowing.

“You could be a lot worse to me.” You acknowledge. “You could have given me back. I’m grateful that you have kept your word and kept me safe.”

Javier nods, reaching out to gently touch your upper arm. “I am working on getting you out. It’s not gonna be easy but I’m working on it.” He tells you, lowering his hand when he reminds himself that you probably don’t fully trust him even if he’s given you no reason to doubt him.

“I- I appreciate it.” You murmur quietly, looking down at the rice you are cooking. It’s been harder to ignore how attractive he is since you’ve settled in and realized that you are safe. “I really do. So while I can, I’m going to take care of you.”

Javier is surprised and he shakes his head, a little pleased that you feel comfortable with him. “You don’t have to but I appreciate it.” He tells you softly, “now…you want something to drink and then I’ll show you the new clothes I got you.” He says, knowing you need more clothes, he had gotten the girls who work for Escobar to help him get some things.

“You bought me more clothes?” Your eyes widen. “All I do is stay in your apartment. What you had gotten for me was fine.” You promise. You aren’t ungrateful, but he’s not going to take you anywhere, so as long as you’re covered, you’re fine. In fact, you have grown comfortable walking around his apartment in shorts and one of his t-shirts.

“I just wanted you to have some choices.” He shrugs, a little flustered. He must admit that he loves seeing you in his shirts but he can’t admit that to you. You’d think he’s a creep. “I spoke to someone today who is working on getting you a fake passport to get you into the airport and on the plane so Escobar isn’t flagged that you’re leaving.”

“Do you think that could actually happen?” Your eyes are wide and hopeful. “That’s amazing!” You bite your lip so you don’t cry, noticing that tears make him uncomfortable.

“I’m working on it, beautiful.” He promises, “I’m not that bad to live with, I hope, that you want to go because of me.” He teases softly and he winks at you. You have slotted into his life seamlessly and he isn’t sure how to feel about it.

You laugh and bite your lip again, this time to keep from saying that he is great. For a man who obviously has done horrible things, he’s actually pretty fantastic. He is kind, respectable, and intelligent. You’ve spent hours reading the books in his apartment. “No, not because of you. I think that you might be my guardian angel.”

Javier sighs and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. I- I’ve done bad things in my life. I’m not a good man but like I said, I would never hurt a woman. My mama would slap me across the head if she were alive.” He says, ducking his head and he bites his lip, “when’s dinner gonna be ready? I’ll set the table.”

You shake your head and push him away from the stove playfully. “Go shower.” You insist. “You stink.” He doesn’t, but you want to take care of him. He should relax and get clean. “Shoo.”

He chuckles and nods, making his way out of the kitchen to shower and clean up. He never imagined he’d enjoy this kind of life. The one where he comes home to a home cooked meal and a woman that makes his heart flutter - not that he’d ever tell you that. He can’t get involved with you. You don’t actually know him or who he is. He needs to get you home and safe and he needs to take down Escobar.

Setting the table is so domestic. Like all of this. The table setting is for two, since he insists you eat as well and it’s shameful but you imagine he’s your boyfriend that you are cooking for. That you are together and he will kiss you before you eat. The rice is done and you smirk when you hear the shower start up, knowing that he will feel better after getting clean.

Javier showers and he can’t help his cock hardening at the thought of you walking around in his shirt wearing those short shorts. Fuck, he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t touch himself at the thought of you. He wants it. It’s hard not to when you look at him with those eyes. “Shit.” He hisses in English, reaching down to grip his hard cock, knowing this won’t go away until he deals with it. He slowly pumps, imagining you spread out on his kitchen table instead of your delicious food.

You fix yourself a drink too, aware that he doesn’t mind and sip it while you chop the few vegetables he had to make a salad. The man needs some proper food. And not from a restaurant like he had been doing. It feels good to do this, and you can see he appreciates it. Loving how he groans when he eats, you touched yourself last night imagining those groans were his sex noises.

He pants as he jerks himself off, the hot water running down his back as he imagined those little whimpers you make sometimes are from his mouth on your pussy. He wants to hear how you moan, see how you cum. You are as intoxicating as the whiskey you serve him and fuck if he doesn't want to drown in you.

The timer on the stove goes off and you smirk when you open the lid again. It’s smelling delicious and will be perfect the rice and the tortillas. His shower is taking longer than normal, so you don’t dish it up just yet, wanting it to be steaming hot when he sits down to eat

He groans when he cums, painting the shower tiles with his seed as he clenches his eyes shut and thinks about you. How fucking perfect you are. He pants as he rests his forehead on the cool tile as he slowly works his cock until he lets go and washes off the wall. He will do whatever it takes to get you home. You deserve to be safe and with your family. After turning off the shower and drying off, he dresses and makes his way back into the kitchen. "Smell better?" He asks teasingly.

You grin and lean in to sniff him when there’s the sound of gunfire, seemingly right outside the window. “Get down!” He screams in perfect English as he grabs your arm and pushes you down, under the table and sprints across the room to his gun.

His heart pounds as he grabs his gun and presses against the wall beside the window. The gun shots become more distant and he chances a peek out the window. Seeing a young kid running away. It’s something that happens with the young teenagers fighting in their own gangs. He pants as he lowers his gun, tense but glad to know you’re not in danger. You’re under the table so he sets the gun on the side and kneels down to see you. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks you, again in perfect English, forgetting to keep up speaking in his mother tongue around you.

English. His English is perfect, not even a hint of an accent. He's an American. Your eyes widen in horror and you jerk back when he reaches for you. “You’re an American!” You screech, pushing out from under the table and moving to the other side, keeping the table between you. “You motherfucker, you’ve been lying to me! What is this? Some kind of trick? You’re planning on trafficking me?”

Javier curses softly under his breath at his fuck up. “No! No! I- shit. I can’t tell you. I can’t but you have to trust me. I’m American and I’m- I’m one of the good guys.” He winces at how bad that sounds but it’s true. “You gotta just trust me, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you home.”

“Stay back.” You shake your head and your heart drops. “I- I don’t believe you. I’ve been here for days and you’ve just pretended that you aren’t American! How can I trust anything you say?”

“You have to.” He says harshly, “I’m the only way you’re going to get out of this country. I’m your only hope. So you better trust me or you will be stuck here forever.” He half threatens, needing you to understand the gravity of the situation.

Your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. “You’re an asshole.” You decide, not hungry anymore and you turn around and march towards the second bedroom he had given you to use.

Javier sighs, feeling all the progress goes down the drain as you slam the door and he leans against the counter, looking down at the food you cooked. He washes up and puts the food in the fridge, sighing your name as he wonders what to do now. He needs you to trust him for this to work. He decides to call Steve and see how things are going with the passport situation.

You don’t come out of the bedroom until you hear him leave the apartment again. Sighing as you come out to find that he had cleaned up the kitchen and put everything away. The clothes he had bought are neatly stacked on the counter.

Javier sits in the bar, smoking his cigarette, and the woman walks past. His eyes trail along her figure but he finds the usual fire he feels absent. Usually he’d be chasing her but now, all he can think about is you. He met with Steve in an abandoned parking lot, discussing the details and timeline on the passport for you. Steve narrowed his eyes at him, asking if he liked you, to which Javi vehemently shook his head. Now, he’s giving you space and he knows he has to go home soon to check on you.

Biting your lip, you look at the closed door that is leading to his bedroom. You haven’t been in there before, but now you want to see what this man is like. Walking over to it, you push the door opened and step inside.

Javier downs the rest of his drink and the woman stands at the bar making eyes at him. He smirks at her and winks but walks straight past her to head home. He hasn’t slept with anyone since you arrived because he didn’t want anyone to see you and he has to keep up appearances that you’re his sex toy. It’s been a while for a man who uses sex to process his emotions. He heads out the door and makes his way home, eager to see you and make amends.

You find his room to be really tidy for a man. His bed is neatly made and his dirty clothes are in a basket. All in all, the room is devoid of anything personal. Which makes you wonder even more about him. About why he is working with Escobar.

Javier comes down the hall of the building and quickly unlocks the door. You clearly don’t hear him because he finds you in his room, the door open, and he can’t help but confront you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Trying to find out who you are.” You don’t even try to lie, you don’t need to. Closing the beside drawer, you stand up straight. “What I’ve found, is that you are either the most unsentimental man on the planet, or you are here - working for Escobar - for a reason.

He appreciates you not lying to him and he knows he hasn’t told you anything. Maybe now is the time to tell you. “Come have a drink with me and I’ll tell you who I am.” He says, jerking his chin towards the door and he makes his way out into the living room and over to the bar cart.

He’s not yelling at you, or demanding you get out of his room and it puts you at ease more than anything else. Following him quietly and sitting down on the couch while he pours you both drinks.

Javier hands you the drink before he comes over to sit next to you on the sofa. He’s torn on telling you but he also thinks you deserve to know the truth now. He trusts you. He knows you aren’t working for Escobar otherwise his door would’ve been pushed down by now and a bullet in his chest. “I, uh, I don’t work for Escobar. Well, I do but…I’m actually a DEA agent and I am undercover working to take down Escobar and his cartel.” He reveals, deciding to cut straight to the truth.

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops open. What you had expected, you don’t know, but it wasn’t that he was a DEA agent. “I- are you for real?” You demand. “A fucking DEA agent? You must have been laughing at me when I said that the agency was close to catching Escobar?”

Javier shakes his head, “I wish we were closer. I wasn’t - I wasn’t original assigned to do this but I have to take him down. That’s why- it’s why I had to pretend that I was gonna abuse you. That’s what they expect of me and if I didn’t do that, I would’ve been found out.” He says with a sigh, taking a sip of his drink.

You stare down at your drink and sigh. “So the DEA knows Escobar is kidnapping women and trafficking them?” You ask quietly. “Good. Motherfucker needs to pay for what he did to me, to my friends.”

Javier nods, “he’s gonna pay. For all of it. He’s gonna be taken down and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make sure he pays for what he’s done.” Javier promises, “I’m just - I’m sorry you’ve gotten tangled up in this. That you’re stuck here with me.” He finishes with a murmur.

“Out of everyone Escobar could have given me to, I’m glad it’s you.” You admit quietly. “I could have been really screwed.” You snort at your pun. “Literally.” It’s better to joke about it now, to break the tension. Even if there’s nothing funny about what could have happened. “So now you don’t have to pretend with me anymore.”

Javier nods, "I am glad I don't have to pretend anymore, sweetheart. I - my pa would kill me for lying to a beautiful woman." He chuckles softly, looking down at his glass, sloshing the liquid.

Your brow raises at the words he uses. “You think I’m beautiful?” You ask in surprise. “I- I didn’t think that you- you never- I-“ you break off and just shrug.

He sighs and shakes his head, "I didn't want you to think that I wanted to save you because I wanted you to - you know. That was what I saved you from. You're gorgeous and I - I gotta tell you, sweetheart, I ain't got the best reputation around town. I, uh, a lot of sicarios spend their time in the brothels and...so do I."

“Do you beat the women?” You ask seriously. “Abuse them? You once told me that you like your women willing and eager to fall into bed with you. Is that true?”

He shakes his head immediately, "no. Shit. No. I don't - I pay them well. They give me intel and I, uh, I make sure they enjoy the time they spend with me. I haven't been since you got here." He confesses, biting his lip.

“Because of me….” You bite your lip and you can’t help how that makes you feel. Almost proud that he’s not been with anyone else. “Is that because you don’t want them to know you aren’t touching me?”

“Partly. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I didn't want to make you feel awkward and I didn't want to leave you alone for too long. And...and because none of them interest me since you've arrived."He admits, his dark eyes flicking up to yours as he worries about your reaction.

“Do I interest you?” You ask softly, afraid that you’re reading too much into this and wait for him to tell you no. The nod is so subtle, you almost miss it, but it’s there. He wants you. You look down at your drink and set it down on the coffee table. “I’m going to go into your bedroom.” You announce as you stand up, “come in two minutes from now.”

His eyes widen slightly and he swallows down the rest of his whiskey when you disappear into his bedroom. He rubs his hands on his jeans, Adam's apple bobbing with nerves. He is used to paying a woman for sex. You are different. You want him, actually want him, and he holds your life in his hands. He wants to keep you safe from everything...including him. Yet he can't deny what he wants. He wants you. Standing up, he waits another thirty seconds before he makes his way into his bedroom.

Inside his bedroom, you strip down to nothing. Aware that he could reject you or end up being a far different lover than what you’ve imagined but you have to take the risk. You want to feel alive for the first time since this entire ordeal started and ironically, you’ll achieve that by fucking the man you had been given to. Except you are in charge of your body, and you want him to touch you. You kneel down on the bed and look at the door when it opens.

Javier inhales deeply when he sees you naked and kneeling on his bed. Christ, you're gorgeous. He slowly walks over to the bed, his cock twitching in his jeans, and he reaches out to gently grip your chin, making you look at him. "Tell me what you want, hermosa." He orders softly, wanting to hear you say it before he goes any further.

It’s so strange to hear his voice in English after hearing it for days in Spanish. You bite your lip and turn your head to kiss his palm. “I’ve imagined you touching me. Making me cum.” You admit when you nuzzle back into his hand. “I want you to tell me your real first name so I can cry that out when I cum.”

He nods, pleased that you want him to make you cum. It’s what he’s imagined since you arrived. “Javier. My name is Javier but you can call me Javi.” He tells you, caressing your cheek until his hand slides down to your neck. He squeezes it gently and slides it lower until he’s cupping your breast. “Eres hermosa.” He murmurs, “I’ve thought about you in my bed.” He confesses, “thought about making you cry out my real name.” He squeezes your breast before he pinches your nipple.

You gasp out in pleasure at the sudden, brief burst of painful bliss. It’s just the right amount of roughness that you would enjoy anytime but especially right now. “J-Javi.” You whimper, already struggling to keep your eyes open so you can watch him touch you. “Do what you imagined to me.” You beg softly

He groans softly, letting go of your breast to cup your cheek again and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Pushing you back on the bed as he shifts to hover over you. Managing to kick his shoes off as he straddles your naked body, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

There’s something intoxicating about his clothed body grinding against yours. Enjoying the rough feel of his jeans against your thighs and core when he presses a leg between yours. His shirt is hanging down and you capture it, starting to unbutton it to feel his hot skin underneath your fingers as you kiss.

He’s already drunk on you. Groaning into your mouth as you fumble to undo his shirt and his hand slides down to squeeze your tit again. Unable to stop himself, he pulls away from your mouth, kisses down your neck, and takes your nipple into his mouth.

"Ohhhh fuck." you toss your head back against the pillows and whine at the sensation of his hot mouth against your nipple. HIs tongue running over it again and his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. "That's- so good." you pant out, running your fingers through his hair and tugging on it lightly.

He groans into your skin, switching over to your other breast, and his tongue soothes the flesh after he bites down. Your moans and gasps have him throbbing in his pants and he shifts to continue kissing down your body, his tongue dipping into your belly button before he shifts to spread your thighs with his shoulders. Breathing you in, he gets a good look at your dripping wet cunt.

"Are you- you do that?" You ask breathlessly, lifting your head and looking down at him in shock. It was rare to find a man willing to even get close to a cunt with his face, but he seems almost eager. "You don't have to- I know that I'm wet enough."

Javier looks up at your confused expression and he snorts, “baby. I love pussy. I love burying my face in a pussy. I wanna bury my face in this pussy.” He says and surges forward to slide his tongue through your folds, groaning as your tangy taste hits his taste buds.

You whine, toes curling up and digging into the sheets underneath you. "Oh fuck!" you cry out, unable to believe that this man has his tongue sliding through your folds with an eagerness that would have you believing the women he paid were actually paying him. "Oh fuck, Javi."

He grins against your wet flesh, his fingers grabbing your thighs to push them back so he can push his tongue deep inside of you. The way you cry out has him grinding into the mattress and he’s glad he has his jeans on still.

Javi doesn’t just lick you to show that he will eat pussy, he licks you like it’s his only purpose. Thoroughly taking you apart one sharp flick of his tongue at a time, with his nose pressed against your mound and his hot breath puffing against your cunt.

Javier groans, loving your breathlessly whimpers and cries of his name, cries of nothing as you react to his tongue. He’s determined to hear you cum, to fall apart on his tongue. He wants to hear your pleasure. He closes his eyes for a second until you tug on his hair and he hisses into your pussy, dark eyes opening to meet yours.

“You like that?” You get your answer when you tug on his hair again and he groans into your folds again. Making you smirk slightly as you loosen your grip. “Make me cum.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard, and he needs you to fall apart beneath his tongue. His fingers press into your thighs as he spreads you further open for him.

Your thighs fall open for him. Willing to let him get as deep as he wishes if he continues to touch you like this. One hand buries itself back into his longer hair and the other grips the sheets tight. “Javi- oh- oh Jaaaaaavvviiiii!” You squeal when the next suck makes you fall over the edge and you shake in pleasure.

He works you through it, loving the way your thighs shake and you squeal his name. It almost makes him cum. He laps at your essence, loving the tangy taste as he eagerly drinks up every drop while he works you through your pleasure until you’re pushing his head away when it becomes too much for you.

“Oh fuck.” Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath but you want him to kiss you. Tugging gently on his hair and his shoulder, you urge him to crawl up your body. “Kiss me, fuck, I need you to kiss me.”

He can’t deny you anything. He crawls up your body, groaning your name as he wastes no time pressing his lips to yours. His tongue pushes into your mouth as he settles between your thighs again, grinding into you.

Your fingers slide down to the belt around his waist. Needing to strip him down and feel him. Unbuckling the clasp and flicking open the button. “Shit…” you hiss, reaching down and discovering he doesn’t wear underwear.

Javier grunts when you reach in to pull his cock out. He’s hard for you, aching really after jerking off so many times in the shower to thoughts of you. “Fuck baby. You feel too damn good. You want me to fuck you?” He asks gruffly, his cock twitching in your tight grip.

“Fuck, Javi, you- yessssss.” You moan. Your cunt clenches every time he twitches and he’s thick enough that you will feel him after you’re done. “I want you to fuck me. Take your pants off and slide inside me.”

He nods, shifting off of the bed to push his pants down. He kicks them aside and his cock bounces as he walks over to the nightstand to get a condom out. He wants to make sure you’re protected, even from him. He rips it open and rolls it down his cock, shifting to kneel on the bed. “You sure you want me inside if you?” He asks, wanting to make sure you fully consent.

You spread your legs wider, nodding. “Fuck yes.” You moan. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.” You aren’t above begging at this point. You’ve cum, but you really want to see what he looks like when he falls apart.

He nods, shuffling closer between your thighs and he grips his cock, swiping it through your folds. He groans at the heat of you as he notches himself at your entrance and his eyes meet yours as he pushes inside of you. Slow, not wanting to hurt you. He shifts to press his weight onto his forearms as he hovers over you.

Your mouth drops open as he slowly fills you. Enjoying the slight pinch and the fullness he gives you. “Oh fuck, Javi.” You moan, eyes fluttering close and you slide your hand up his shoulder to pull him down for a kiss. “Move.”

He doesn’t disobey you. He kisses you as he starts to move, slowly pulling out of you and he pulls back to watch your face as he pushes back into you. “Want you to enjoy this. Every second. You tell me what you need.” He demands, rocking inside of you, a slow pace at first to let you get used to him.

“Want to feel you for days.” You whimper, wrapping your legs around him. “Fuck me hard. Like you would one of the other women you fuck.”

He shakes his head, “you’re not like the other women. You deserve more. You are more.” He says softly, his dark eyes sincere as he looks at you with something close to love but it’s not. Not yet. He starts to move again, rocking into you.

You don’t argue, you can’t when he’s moving inside you. Sensual with just a bit of roughness, it’s perfect. Making you moan every time his hips hit yours.

He loves hearing you moan. He leans down to kiss along your neck, his hips grinding against yours. He’s not as rough as he could be, not wanting to be the man the other sicarios thought he’d be with you. He wants to be soft and sensual. “Hermosa.” He murmurs against your neck, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

There is a tenderness to his kisses on your skin that makes your eyes water. This man is truly better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Your arms tighten around him and your cunt squeezes him tight. “So handsome. I can’t believe that those men think you are the same as them. You aren’t.”

He doesn’t respond, knowing he’s done bad things to take down bad men, but now isn’t the time to explain that. He continues kissing along your skin, down your chest until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth. His hips move to push deep inside of you, switching the angle slightly as he tries to find that spot inside of you.

“Oh fuck- there!” You gasp out when he hits deep inside you and make your eyes fly open in pleasure. His cock hits against it again and you moan. Your fingernails dig into his skin and you scratch lightly, not wanting to draw blood.

With a groan, he focuses on that spot and he loves the way your nails dig into his back. His cock twitches inside of you and he shifts his weight onto one arm so he can snake his hand between you. He rubs your clit with his thumb, eyes on you to see what you like.

“Oh fuck.” Your mouth drops open in a moan before you close your eyes and your body arches up to his touch. “So good, fuck, you’re so good.” You whine. “We- we should have been doing this from the beginning.”

Javier groans in agreement, “yes but I didn’t want - I wanted you to trust me.” He says, kissing your sternum, “only want you to trust me.” He murmurs, “and now I want you to cum for me.” He rubs your clit a little faster, needing to feel and hear you cum.

“Oh yes, yesssss.” You whimper, feeling your entire body start to tense for your coming orgasm. Knowing that it’s only going to be a few seconds before you come apart underneath him and your breath catches in your throat.

Javier groans as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him and he knows he’s already addicted to you. He fucking loves it. He loves making you feel this way. He rocks you through it until you relax beneath him then he pulls out. “Hands and knees, baby.” He orders, wanting to make you cum again.

You can't believe that he's not already cum. Most guys don't last longer than a few minutes and you've already cum. The fact that he's still going has you moaning even as he's guiding you onto your stomach and pulling you up to your knees. Looking over your shoulder, you grin. "Smack my ass." You order, wiggling it at him. "I did go through your room."

Javier chuckles, “you’re a naughty girl.” He rubs your ass cheek before his palm comes down on it, smacking you hard. You moan and his cock twitches. He grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance when you lean forward to wiggle your ass. He’s not gentle this time when he pushes into you with a groan.

"Oh fuck!" You choke out when your entire body lurches forward at the thrust of his cock. Punching deep and filling you completely with one harsh thrust. "More." You moan as soon as you can draw another breath. "Fuck me, Javi."

He doesn’t deny you. Grabbing your hips, his nostrils flaring as he starts to fuck you hard. His fingers digging into your skin as he grinds him cock deep inside of you. “Feel good?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re enjoying this.

"Godddddd yes." You moan when he pushes deep again. "So good." Your head drops down to hang between your shoulder blades and you move down to your elbows. Letting him get even deeper with ever thrust of his hips.

He caresses your back as you shift forward before he smacks your ass with both hands, squeezing the cheeks. His thumb pushes between your cheeks to press against the puckered hole, groaning at the way it flutters with each push inside of you. Christ, he’s fucking drunk on you. The way you feel around him.

"Oh my god." Your eyes flutter wide and then you relax into the sensation of him pushing against that other hole easily. If anyone would breach you there, you would let it be him. "Fuck, Javi, whatever you want, please, just don't stop."

Hearing you say that has him nearly cumming but he holds back, slowly down a little. He likes that you trust him so much. He bends over, letting his spit dribble down between your cheeks so he can press his thumb into your hips while his cock continues moving inside of you.

You whimper when his pace changes, slowing down and you feel. every throbbing vein in his cock scrubbing against your walls. "Oh fuck." You whine, trying to push your hips back, but he as you pinned with his body. "So good."

He loves hearing you moan like this. “You’re doing so well, hermosa. Want you to cum for me again. Want you to soak my cock again.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder as he leans over you. He’s slow but he wants you to feel all of him.

You grunt as he presses deeper. Feeling like he's pushed up into your throat at this angle. You choke out a moan and clench down around him. "I- just like that." You beg, loving how he's pushing deep.

He keeps the same pace and thrust, wanting to hear and feel you fall apart again. He groans softly when your walls clench around you he him as he pushes his thumb into your ass. “That’s it, baby girl. You gonna be good and cum for me?” He asks, voice raspy and deep with his own pleasure.

It shouldn’t affect you that bad. The way his voice dips down and his words twist in your stomach. “Yes.” You whine, tanging your fingers into the sheets. “Fuck, yes, I’m your good girl. I’m gonna cum.”

“Jesus.” He hisses at your words, his entire body vibrating with desire for you, and he pants as you grind back against him. “That’s it, hermosa. Thats it baby. Cum for me. Cum for me.” He pleads roughly and finally, you cry out. Your body shaking as you clamp down on his cock again and he thrusts into you, trying desperately to hold on but he pulls his thumb out and drags you up against his chest. His grunts in your ear as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you like a jackhammer as he gets closer to his own orgasm.

“Ja-Ja-Javiiiiiiiiiiii!” You squeal as he ramps up the pace, fucking into you roughly and you love it. Taking the harsh thrusts and knowing that the ache in your cunt will last beyond cleaning up. “Cum- cum in me.” You beg, even though you know he’s got a condom on. You still want to feel him fall over the edge. “Cum for me.”

He grunts, jaw clenched as his arm wraps around you and he squeezes your tit in his other hand. “Shit. Shit.” He pants as he thrusts fast and hard until he comes to a stop. A strangled groan escaping his lips as he pulses and fills the condom deep inside of you. His teeth sinking into your shoulder as he squeezes you close to his sweaty body.

The sharpness of his teeth make you clench around him again, milking his cock even more as you feel him ride out his high. “That’s it, baby.” You coo softly, turning your head and pressing your lips to his cheek.

He seeks out your lips, pressing his to yours and he slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands caressing your stomach down to your hips as you both take a second to enjoy your orgasms. He pecks your lips and lets go of you to reach down and grip the base of the condom before he slowly pulls out of you.

When he pulls out of you, your body melts into the bed. Slumping down and you huff out a chuckle as you try to catch your breath. “Holy shit.”

He quickly ties off the condom and leans down to kiss along your back as you recover. “Damn right.” He chuckles softly and shuffles off of the bed. He grabs his jeans and pulls them on before he walks into the bathroom to grab a wet rag to clean you up and then he tosses that onto the side when he settles down on the bed, leaning against the mattress. He reaches into the nightstand to grab his smokes and he wastes no time in lighting one.

You turn to look at him, stealing the cigarette and taking a drag. “Are you ready to go back to your real life?” You ask him seriously. You know that if he’s undercover, he has to be under a lot of pressure.

Javier sighs as he exhales the smoke. “I don’t even know what my real life is. All I know is that I need to take down Escobar. Nothing else matters except that. And I gotta get you home.” He adds, raising his eyebrows at you before he takes the cigarette back to take another drag.

“That’s comforting.” You snort, swinging your leg over his thighs and straddling him. “You will take him down.” You predict softly. “and until I go home, I’ll make sure this apartment is very….relaxing for you.” You promise with a grin, leaning down and kisses him right after he inhales the smoke.

He smirks and playfully nips your chin, shifting to snub out his smoke in the ashtray on the nightstand. “Yeah? Gonna make sure I have a nice warm pussy for when I’m coming home all cold and lonely?” He asks, his hands coming up to caress your waist.

“You fuck me like that?” You huff, grinding down on him. “You’re damned right. Freshly shaved and dripping for you.”

Javier clicks his tongue, “not bothered about the shaving. I’m a man of the 70s, baby. I ain’t afraid to get down and dirty.” He smirks and slides his hands lower to squeeze your ass. “You enjoy it?” He asks, licking his lower lip as he leans back to look at you, wanting an honest answer. He hasn’t paid you to moan for him. He wants to make sure you enjoyed it.

"Loved it." You admit easily, smirking down at him and cradling his face so you can kiss him again. It's fucking astonishing to find a man who is as good as he is under these circumstances. You should be terrified of him touching you, but you can't wait until he is wrecking you again. "Want to do it again. When you can."

Javier chuckles softly, caressing your skin. “I’m not eighteen anymore, baby. Gimme a while. Doesn’t mean I can’t get you off in the meantime.” He smirks and slides his hand lower until he’s cupping your pussy. You whimper and he rubs your clit, “God, you’re still so wet.” He murmurs, shifting to push two fingers inside of you.

“Oh fuck.” You whine, rocking onto his hand shamelessly. “You- you’re so fucking good at this.” You whimper, eyes sliding shut in pleasure. He’s not selfish and that makes you even wetter for him.

He smirks, loving the praise, and he curls his fingers deeper before pressing his thumb to your clit. “Take what you need baby. Ride my fingers.” He orders, loving the way your chest heaves and your eyes flutter shut.

This man is so sexy. You don’t know why he’s not been snatched up, because he’s also a good man despite what he says. You moan his name quietly and roll your hips down onto his hand eagerly. Wanting to obey him.

He watches you take what you want from him. Your hips grinding down on his digits and he curls them as you rock down. “That’s it baby. Take what you need. Wanna watch you cum again for me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes flicking between you and your pussy, his digits glistening when you lift up. “You’re so wet.” He murmurs again, a tinge of awe in his voice.

“You’re so sexy.” You hum, ducking your head down and nipping his jaw as you continue to rock in his hand. “Sexy, chivalrous, fuck, you turn me on with how fucking good to me you’ve been. And you’re an agent? Even sexier.”

His heart pounds at your compliments and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. His tongue slides against yours as you grind down onto his fingers and his thumb presses harder against your clit. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs against your lips, “gonna keep you safe.” He vows, “gonna make sure no one touches you except me.”

You whimper into his mouth when his tongue slides against yours once more. You believe him. If he says you will be safe, then he will protect you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pour yourself into the kiss, wanting to make this good for him too and he seems to really like kissing.

His groan is muffled by your tongue and he isn't in a rush to make you cum. His cock is interested but he's still not fully hard. His free hand finds your breast, squeezing it and pinching the nipple as you eagerly kiss him.

Shuddering, you press yourself into his hand harder, needing more. He's completely focused on you and you don’t think anyone has ever done that for you. You nibble on his lip when you pull back slightly and moan again when he curls his fingers up.

"That's it, hermosa. Can feel how close you are. Need you to fall apart for me. Can you do that? Can you cum?" He asks, murmuring against your chin as he pushes his fingers deep, slow, hard thrusts into your weeping cunt.

“Yes.” Your gasp of pleasure is one that is purely anticipatory. Knowing that you are about to cum again, your body tensing as you move closer. “Gonna cum for you.”

"That's it. That's it." He murmurs as seconds later, you clamp down on his fingers. "Good girl. Good fucking girl." He groans, loving the way you practically soak his hand and his jeans as you shake against him.

You collapse against his chest and pant as you try to catch your breath. Your body is still quaking and his fingers are still moving, although slower than they were before. Turning your head, you kiss along his neck lazily.

He withdraws his fingers after a few moments, his wet fingers squeezing your ass as he rocks you on his hardening cock while you kiss along his neck. "Fuck baby. Want me to fuck you again? Want you to ride me." He confesses when you pull back to look at him.

“I’ll ride you.” You nod, reaching down and palming his cock through his jeans. “You have another condom?” You ask breathlessly. “Want you to sit right here and relax while I make you feel good.”

He nods, reaching over to grab a condom from the nightstand and he hands it to you. "I'm yours to do what you want, hermosa." He promises, a groan escaping his lips when you pull him out of his jeans and squeeze him.

He’s gorgeously  uncut and you can’t help but slide down his body so you can take the head of his cock into your mouth. Wanting him to experience your mouth before you ride him. He moans and your tongue presses against the sensitive slit.

“Jesus Christ.” He hisses as you take him into your mouth. “Baby. God. I- fuck.” He groans when your eyes flick up to meet his. He’s a sucker for eye contact. It’s so sexy. You are so sexy. His cock twitches in your mouth and he swears he has to take a deep breath to control himself.

You want to make it good for him. Keeping your mouth soft and sensuous as you work him slightly deeper. Keeping your eyes on him since he seems to like that a lot. Your moan of approval when you taste the salty pre-cum reverberates around him and your hand starts to slowly pump the base of his cock while you bob your head.

"Fuck." He pants, reaching down to caress your cheek, "you're so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, "so fucking beautiful." He can't deny that you make him feel so much more than any other woman he's slept with in years. That scares him honestly.

You hum, sucking on him lightly and pulling off with a pop. “You want to cum down my throat, or do you want me to ride you?” You ask breathlessly. “Your choice baby.”

“Ride me.” He says, voice rough with desire as you slowly pump his cock. You nod and let go of his length. He shifts back against the headboard while you grab the condom and straddle his thighs.

Ripping the foil open, you pull out the rubber and pinch the tip while you roll it down his thick length. Making sure it’s secure, you pump him again while you shuffle forward and line your cunt up to sink down on him. Quickly taking him into your body with a loud moan of his real name.

He groans your name as you sink down onto him, his fingers finding your hips as you moan as he stretches you out. “God, baby girl. You feel so good.” He grunts, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits as you settle onto him.

“You feel good.” You pant out breathlessly. Enjoying the hot hands on your tits as he pinches your nipples again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Javi.” You whine, leaning back and letting your head fall back between your shoulders. “You’re so deep like this.”

He groans, his eyes flicking down to look at where he’s disappearing inside of you. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re so good. Look so good.” He says as you lean back and he slides his hand across your stomach until he’s pressing his thumb against your clit.

“Fuck, Javi.” You whimper, your cunt clenching around him when he starts to rub small circles in your bundle of nerves. “You know every trick in the book, don’t you?”

He chuckles darkly, “had a lot of practice. Lost my virginity when I was fourteen.” He confesses while rubbing your clit a little faster. “Also, wanna see you cum. Like seeing you cum. You’re so gorgeous.” He reveals, leaning in to gently kiss along your shoulder.

“Hard not to feel gorgeous when I have your attention.” You admit with a sigh, enjoying the slight tickle of his mustache. “You should have a dozen kids by now.”

He snorts, “I’m careful. Always keep it wrapped and I haven’t had any accidents. Haven’t had anyone come forward yet. Why? You volunteering?” He asks with a smirk.

You moan softly, clenching down even as you grin. “That would be a conversation to have, wouldn’t it? Asking how you go together and having to explain that you knocked up the woman a drug dealer gave you. But she wanted you to.”

“Hell of a story.” He agrees, “I definitely don’t think you should get pregnant right now. I would have to kill every fucker in this goddamn country to protect you.” He says with a hiss.

Your brow arches up in surprise, you had expected him to laugh off your comment. Instead you hum in agreement and lean in to kiss his lips. “Agreed. The condom stays on.” You squeeze him again and bounce a little harder on his cock.

He’s a little relieved but also a little disappointed. He doesn’t deny that the idea of seeing you pregnant is tempting but it’s irresponsible. Beyond imagination. He has to keep you safe and that includes all aspects of your physicality. He groans when you bounce harder again. “Christ, baby.” He murmurs, “so fucking good.”

You can barely push out a light chuckle, so breathless from how his cock is hitting inside you. Deep and thick, he presses against all the wonderful spots that make your body tense every time you slam back down on his lap.

“That’s it. You gonna make yourself cum on my cock like a good girl?” He asks, licking his thumb again to press it to your clit as your hands press against his chest for balance. “So beautiful riding my cock like a goddamn rodeo.” He pants, “seen less professional ones in Texas.” He jokes breathlessly

“Ohhhh fuck!” You moan, jerking slightly at the pressure. “Yeah? You’re a Texas boy?” You ask, wanting to know more about him.

"Born and raised. Laredo." He reveals and he groans, "fuck. I- I need you to cum for me again, sweetheart. You - you're so fucking tight." He hisses when your walls flutter around his cock.

You whine, nodding as your hands brace on his broad shoulders. Increasing your pace until you are practically galloping on him. Moaning out his name until that last roll of your hips and your entire body stiffens and you scream his name.

He groans when you clamp down on his cock, your body putting him in a vice grip that he struggles to move within but he shifts onto his knees, your legs around his waist as he thrusts up into you. "Fuck. I- I'm gonna cum." He warns, unable to withhold like he did last time when you're so fucking tight around him and you sucking him off before. "Mierda. I - fuckkkk." He hisses as he bites down on your shoulder

You moan softly when you feel him throbbing inside you. “Thank you.” You whisper, closing your eyes and holding him close. “Thank you for caring for me, protecting me, satisfying me.” You know that it’s crazy but you turn your head and kiss his neck. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Normally, Javier would be shit scared. He would've been running for the hills hearing those words but he can't run away from you. Especially when he feels the same way, it's terrifying. To have something - someone - to lose when he's fighting for his life in this undercover mission. One wrong move and he's dead. You're dead. It puts everything on the line but in this moment, he doesn't give a fuck. He pulls back from you to look you in the eye. "I feel the same. We shouldn't. So much at risk but fuck, I love you." He murmurs, voice rough with emotion.

You know that it’s probably the proximity, that once you leave, he will never think of you again, but you smile into his neck and sigh happily. Your fingers caressing his back gently. “Good.” You hum, basking in the moment and stealing every second of joy life will give you. “That’s good, baby.”

****

A few weeks go by and you're settled in a routine. You sleep in Javier's bed at night...well, try to sleep after he fucks you. Then you spend your days reading and waiting for Javier to return home. One day, he comes back and you greet him with a kiss but he doesn't seem enthusiastic. "What's wrong?" You ask and his dark eyes look sad as he holds up the passport in his hand. 

"Got your fake passport. You're booked on the first flight home in the morning." He says, swallowing harshly.

“Oh.” Your heart drops and you immediately have to look away from him, eyes watering. You don’t want to go, as crazy as that sounds. It’s dangerous and he’s undercover, so you can’t stay, but you don’t want to. “Well, I- I guess that tonight is our last night together.” You try to sound stoic but it falls flat. “You’ll be happy to not worry about me.”

Javier shakes his head, throwing the passport down on the table nearby and he grabs your waist to pull you into his chest. Burying his nose in your hair, he breathes you in. “Don’t want you to go. I want to stay here in this apartment with you and forget about the rest of the world but it’s dangerous here, hermosa. I can’t lose you and if something happened - fuck - no. You need to go. You need to be safe and I’m gonna try to take that bastard down.”

“You will take him down.” Javi has been opening up to you, finding it cathartic to have someone know that he’s not the monster that the men he is with are. Your arms hold him tight and you try not to cry. “You will, just like you kept me safe.”

He kisses your hair before he kisses your forehead. His nose nudges yours and he tilts your head up to press his lips to yours. He needs to know you’re safe. It’s more important than his love for you. He can love you from afar. He doesn’t want to love you from a grave site. He deepens the kiss, suddenly getting urgent with need for you as he pushes you up against the wall, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

You feel the change in the mood, from sad to desperate and you understand completely. If you are leaving, you want this time with him, you need it. The chances are that you will never see him again. Your hands move, desperately ripping open his button on the shirt he is wearing, scattering them across his apartment.

He groans into your mouth, practically devouring you, and he drags the dress you’re wearing up your body, reluctantly pulling back to pull it over your head and it’s soon on the floor. No words are spoken as he kisses your neck and cups your tits, glad you have taken to not wearing a bra in his apartment.

Your fingers push the stretched fabric of his shoulders and let it fall, attacking his belt next. He doesn’t wear underwear, so the second you can, you are wrapping your fingers around his cock and moaning when you find him already hard.

“Shit.” He hisses as you squeeze his cock and his fingers hook in your panties. He isn’t patient. He can’t wait to push them down so he’s ripping them from your body with a groan. “Fuck. Need you.” He rasps, grabbing your thighs to lift you up against the wall. “Put me in.” He orders, his cock throbbing in your grip.

You whimper his name, finding his need for you utterly intoxicating and you notch his cock against your entrance eagerly. Gasping when he doesn’t hesitate to bury himself to the hilt. No gentleness, just pure need.

He’s driven by desire, love, and desperation. He doesn’t want to lose you but he can’t be selfish. You deserve to feel safe and you need to go home. He can’t follow you and he can’t let everything he’s worked so hard for you down the drain. He groans your name and leans in to press his lips against yours as his body keeps you pressed against the wall until he starts to move his hips.

You whimper his name, clinging to him like he’s going to disappear if you let go. “I’m yours.” You promise raggedly against his lips. “All yours, make me yours.”

He loves the way you cling to him. He thrusts into you, desperate and sloppy but passionate. “Mine. Like I’m yours baby. Fuck. You’re mine.”

“Yes, yours all yours.” You pant, desperate for him to know it, to believe it. His hips slam into yours and drives you into the wall to make you moan at the roughness of it. “More, baby, I need more.”

Javi groans, his fingers digging into your thighs as he works you on his cock, lifting you up and down as he pushes you into the wall. “Fuck. Tell me what you need.” He demands, “rub your clit.”

“Just you.” You squeal breathlessly, reaching down and rubbing your clit. “Just need you. Just you baby, your cock is so good. So perfect inside me. I love you.”

“Oh fuck Javi, Javi, JAVIIIIIIIII!” You scream out in pleasure when your body locks up, core clenching down around him and soaking him with your cum. Shaking against the wall while he continues to pound into you and draw out your orgasm.

He swears his heart stops when you clamp down on his cock. “Fuck yes. That’s it baby. That’s fucking it.” He growls, loving the way you grip him and soak him and he pushes deep, “fuck. I- I gotta pull out.” He murmurs, remembering he didn’t put on a condom.

“Don’t.” You whimper, wanting to feel him just once. “I’m about to start my period.” You are, you aren’t lying to him. You should be completely safe for him to fill you up this once. “Want to feel you. Keep you with me.”

He doesn’t deny you. He groans as he thrusts hard, pushing deep inside of you a half dozen more times before he cums. He pants just before he bites down on your shoulder. “Fuck. I love you” is muffled into your skin.

Your eyes roll back and you whine at the feeling that is swimming around inside you. Enjoying the heat and wetness as he paints your walls with spurts of his hot cum. “Love you too.”

He kisses everywhere he can reach. Your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your chin, and finally your lips. “Te amo.” He chokes into your mouth, hating that he has to let you go. He’s terrified of you forgetting all about him. He loves you. He loves you more than he ever thought possible and he’s going to leave you.

“I love you too, Javi.” You can’t help but start to cry. They are silent tears, ones that just express how badly you want to stay with him. A far cry from the woman screaming to go home not so long ago. “I don’t want to eat. I just want to go to bed, baby.” You beg. “Take me to bed.”

He doesn’t pull out of you. Instead, he carries you into the bedroom and lays you down on the bed. He’s gentle, caressing your body and he pulls out of you as he shifts to lay between your thighs. He stares at the mess he made looking at your entrance, cum threatening to drip out, and he can’t help it. He surges forward to slide his tongue between your folds.

Shuddering, you moan his name while your fingers run through his hair. You’ve learned that Javi has no problem with doing what he wants and he obviously wants to touch you like this, unconcerned with his cum between your thighs. “Fuck. I love you. I don’t want to go.”

He pulls back for a moment to say “I don’t want you to go but you have to.” He dives back in a few moments later, his tongue ravenous and carving indistinct paths while he tries to memorize every tiny detail about you.

Your moans fill the room, soft and sweet. He’s taking his time, not rushed a bit as if you have all the time in the world rather than just tonight. He reaches up and twines his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he continues to take you apart with his tongue.

He wants to burn your moans into his memory, carve your taste into his tongue, he needs to remember every single detail about you before he lets you go to return to safety. He’s slow and methodical as he pulls you apart stroke by stroke, uncaring of the salty taste of his cum combined with your tangy juices that make him go crazy.

You’re there forever, legs spread while he feasts. Time seems to suspend into nothing and your breath catches and never recovers. Making every moment drag out as your body burns and twists on itself until your orgasm snaps through you, sharp and bright, cunt gushing all over his face when he presses his thick fingers deep into your walls.

Javier groans into your clit, loving how you are clamping down on his digits. "Fuck baby. That's it." He murmurs into your flesh as you shake above him. He works you through, his fingers squelching with your combined cum.

Panting, you try to close your legs, overstimulated and nearly sobbing from the pleasure. He kisses your thigh and grins up at you. “Want another?” He asks and you shake your head. “I just want you.”

He snakes up your body, kissing every inch of skin he passes, until he is pressing his lips to yours. "I love you, hermosa." He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours as he settles beside you and pulls you into his side.

“I love you too.” You sigh softly, your hand splayed over his heart and you kiss his chest. “I know you won’t be able to call me, but I’ll be thinking about you. Hoping you’re safe. Praying you are.” You know he can’t promise you anything, this is just a flash in the pan for him, and he will go back to his normal life after he catches Escobar. “You’ve saved my life, Javier.”

He sighs, “I did what was right. I have fucked up a lot on my life but I couldn’t let you be abused or worse. You were something special from the moment I saw you. I’m just - all I ask is that when you get home, you’re happy. Be happy.” He pleads softly, wanting to know that this hasn’t all be in vain.

You want to tell him that you won’t be happy unless you are with him, but you can’t. Not when it’s not what he wants to hear. “I will, Javi.” Reaching up, you caress his cheek. “I can be happy because of you, amor.”

Javi’s dark eyes meet yours and he swallows harshly, “good.” He murmurs and brushes his lips against yours. All he wants is for you to be safe and happy…even if that isn’t with him. 

****

Javier glances around the airport, worried that a sicario or two have followed him. Steve is in the terminal with another agent to make sure he has back up just in case. Your passport was accepted without question and won’t be flagged by one of the informants for Escobar who works at the airport. He bites his lip as he sets your suitcase down at the gate. Your eyes are already watery and he fights the instinct to just take you back home but he can’t. You have to go.

“This is it.” You bite your lip, aware that you shouldn’t cry but you can’t even help it. You’re doing good not bawling your eyes out. Glancing around the airport, no one seems to be watching you, but you look back at Javi. “Can I kiss you?” You plead softly. “One more time? Or is it not safe?” The last thing you want to do is to put him in danger, but you can’t imagine boarding this plane without kissing him goodbye.

Javier can’t deny you. Hell, he can’t deny himself. He reaches for you, grabbing your waist to drag you against him. His lips immediately find yours and he groans into your mouth as he pours every thing he’s felt for you into this last kiss. He doesn’t care if anyone is watching. He needs to do this, he needs you to know how he feels.

It’s a goodbye kiss. A kiss that is desperate and yearning and bittersweet. The saltiness of your tears mixes with the whiskey and nicotine from Javi’s tongue. You hold him close and kiss him back just as desperately until you are unable to think about anything but him.

He isn’t sure how long he kisses you, but soon the tannoy announces that your flight is about to board. He pulls back, pecking your lips, and he leans back to look at you, his hands caressing your waist. “It’s time to go, baby.” He says, letting go of you and your hands clench in the air as if to keep holding him. His heart is pounding in his chest but he has to let you go. “Be good. Be happy.” He demands softly, kissing your forehead as your row is called.

Walking away from Javier is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Looking back at him until you can’t see him anymore, you bite back a sob as you collapse into your seat. You’re free, but at what cost when you are separated from the man you love?

**** 

It’s been a year and Javier has no clue if you’ve moved on. Maybe you’ve found a new guy. You could be married. The thought makes his stomach twist but he’s here. He tracked you down using his contacts and he’s here to see if you still feel the same way. He does. The former Casanova of Bogotá has been celibate since you left, wanting to focus on taking down Escobar. He fucked up. Got involved with Los Pepes and got sent home before he could take down Escobar but he’s here and he doesn’t want to focus on his failure. He swallows harshly and takes a deep breath before he rings your doorbell.

You sigh as you hear the doorbell, looking over at the door and contemplating not answering but you can’t do that. Wiping your hands on the kitchen towel, you walk over to the door and flip the lock to open the door. Since you’ve been back, you’ve settled back into life with only a few hiccups. Memories of your time in Colombia are now bittersweet, the good far overshadowing the bad.

Javier shifts from one foot to the other as you open the door and he offers you a half smile. “Hola hermosa.” He says, fingers flexing as he prepares for your reaction.

Eyes wide, your mouth drops open in shock. You never expected to see Javier again. Not really. You had convinced yourself it was that Stock-ham, whatever, you had read about. That it was just a fling for him and that you had imagined yourself in love with him. One sentence, two words from the man, a year later would prove that was a lie. “Javi!”

He stares at you, heart pounding as he prepares himself for your reaction until you fling yourself forward and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. He groans into your mouth, loving how you feel in his arms, pulling you so close you can barely breathe.

You don’t care that it’s been a year. That you haven’t heard from him and that you’ve wondered if he’s been dead or alive this entire time. Scouring the news for any information about Escobar and the entire ordeal down in Colombia.

He kisses you over and over until finally he pulls back and looks at you with love in his eyes. “You been good?” He asks and you nod, still speechless that he’s found you. “I, uh, I got sent home. Fucked up and got involved with the wrong people but I’m here and I- I still love you.”

“I can’t believe you are here.” When you find your tongue, you’re reaching out. Touching him in disbelief and for one horrible moment, you are convinced it’s a dream. “I’ve missed you. So much. You really still love me? It wasn’t just….circumstance?”

Javier reaches for your wrist, kissing your pulse. "I still love you. I haven't - I haven't been with anyone since you left. I fought hard to get Escobar so I could come home and find you." He admits, "I love you. I still love you."

“Oh baby.” You whimper quietly, melting against him. “I love you too. I never stopped, I couldn’t stop. You- you are the love of my life and I’m grateful Escobar gave me to you.”

Javier cups your cheeks and nudges his nose against yours. “I’m here baby. I’m here and I ain’t leaving. I love you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he breathes you in. 

**** 

“Fuck Jav.” You moan as your hips rock up to meet his mouth. It’s early, the sky just changing colors with the rising sun, and Javi woke up eager to have you. He’s been at your home ever since he got back from Colombia. He took you to Texas to go to Danny’s wedding and to meet his Pa. He even got his mom’s ring from his dad but you don’t know that yet. His fingers curl deep inside of you as he sucks on your clit and the phone starts to ring. “Shit.” You hiss, trying to push his head away but he pulls back to growl “leave it.” 

You pant, “it might be - fuck - important. It’s early.” You tell him but he ignores you, focusing again on making you cum. The phone rings again, “Javi.” You whine, hand reaching for the receiver but he slaps it down with his free hand, silently telling you to leave it again. His fingers push deeper and he can tell you’re close. His digits curl just right and you clamp down, crying out his name just as the phone rings again. He works you through it as much as he can before he’s pulling his soaked fingers out of you and grabbing the phone from the cradle. “Why the fuck are you calling so early?” He growls down the phone without asking who it is. 

“Agent Peña.” The official voice makes him sit up. “Yeah?” He asks, voice raspy. 

“The Cali Cartel. It’s time. You’re reassigned back to Colombia. I’ll call later with your flight details.” The line goes dead and he stares at it, unable to respond or say anything at all.

“What-“ you sit up and frown as he stares at the phone. “Baby, who was that?” You ask, worried that something is wrong. You know they’ve captured Escobar, Javi had gotten the news from Steve, getting drunk that night and pulling you apart for hours as fucked through his emotions.

Javier swallows, setting the phone back down and he closes his eyes for a second, unable to look at you. “I’ve been reassigned. They want me back in Colombia to take down Cali.” He reveals, his heart aching.

You hear it in his tone, he wants to go. “Oh.” Pulling the sheet over your body, you sit up, watching him start to pull away from you. “Then you have to go.” You decide, pushing away your own heartache. “They are giving you a second chance, to do it right this time. You have to go.”

Javier is torn. He wants to do it right. Take down Cali the right way and redeem himself. Yet he also doesn’t want to lose you. “I- I don’t know.” He confesses, knowing you won’t wait for him again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Javi.” You cup his cheeks and press your lips to his. “You go to Colombia and you do what you need to do.” You tell him softly. “You want to go….so go.”

“I don’t want - I can’t leave you. I don’t want to be gone and come back to find you’ve moved on. I know we love each other but I can’t ask for you to wait for me again. I want…I want you to come with me.” He says, even though he knows the risks. He can protect you.

“W-What? Come- come with you?” You hadn’t even considered it a possibility. “The DEA would let you bring me? How?” You can’t imagine they would want to have some random civilian in the country and possibly in danger.

He nods, "Steve brought Connie. She - she was a civilian." He explains, "I don't want to lose you." He confesses, "Do you want to come with me?"

“Connie’s Steve’s wife.” You remind Javi softly. “Of course I want to come with you, but I don’t think the DEA will let you bring your girlfriend.” You admit. “You aren’t going to lose me.”

He swallows harshly, knowing you’re not wrong. “They might not let me bring my girlfriend but they’d let me bring my fiancée.” He says and you frown, “fiancée?” He sighs, opening the bedside table to grab the velvet box he had hidden in there. “I was going to take you to dinner on Friday. Make it romantic but - but I don’t want to wait.” He confesses and your eyes widen. He shifts to kneel at the edge of the bed in front of you. “You came into my life so unexpectedly and I- I don’t regret saving you from Escobar. You were the missing piece of me that I didn’t know was gone. You make me so damn happy and I know I’m bad with words but I love you with every fiber of my being. I’d do anything to keep you safe, to make you happy. Will you marry me?” He asks, opening the box.

“Jav- I-“ your throat closes as your eyes fill with tears, looking down at your love on his knee as he asks you to marry him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I will marry you.” Launching yourself forward, you crash into him, needing to kiss him once more to remind you that this isn’t a dream.

He kisses with a smile on his lips, pouring every ounce of love he feels for you into the kiss. He pulls back after a second to get the ring out of the box. He remembers proposing to Lori and he didn’t really feel much at the time, doing it out of obligation. Right now, he’s asking you to marry him because he loves you with all of him. He takes the ring out and takes your shaking hand, sliding the ring onto your left hand.

“It’s beautiful, amor.” You gasp, looking down at the ring in awe. It really is beautiful, but beyond that, it’s the realization that Javi wants to spend the rest of his life with you. “I love it and I love you.” You promise, leaning in to kiss him again. “My fiancé.”

**** 

Javier looks out across the ocean, the sun is about to set and he clears his throat as the breeze makes the linen shirt he’s wearing blow up slightly. “She’s here.” The officiant announces and Javier exhales shakily, turning away from the water to see an even more exquisite sight. 

God, you take his breath away. Walking towards him wearing a white sundress, he swears his heart is about to pound out of his chest. When you stand before him, he reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “You look gorgeous, baby.” He murmurs when he stands up straight but keeps your hand in his.

“I didn’t know you were such a romantic.” You admit, amazed by the beautiful, small wedding he had insisted on. It was gorgeously simple and yet the pinks and oranges streaking across the sky is something that could have never been replicated in a fancy church somewhere. “I love you so much.”

Javier smiles, “I love you too.” He takes your hands as you stand beside him and the officiant begins the ceremony. His stomach is twisting but not with nerves, it’s butterflies and excitement. Knowing that after this, you’ll be his wife. He never imagined he’d settle down but you changed that for him. He can’t imagine a day without you now. He squeezes your hands when you recite the vows and he proudly declares “I do” when asked if he wants to take you as his wife. The rest of the ceremony seems like a blur until the officiant says “you may now kiss the bride.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, your rings shining on your finger as the sun disappears beyond the horizon. “I love you.” He murmurs into your mouth before he kisses you again.

Smiling against his lips, you sigh softly. “I love you too.” You never expected to find the love of your life when you had been kidnapped and given to one of the world’s most famous drug dealers in the world’s sicarios. It could have turned out to be your worst nightmare, but it ended up being your dream come true.

[rosycheekies]

My Female Friend Comes Home to Me Every Now and Again by Arai Sumiko

[sturniolo-fall-enthusiast]

Beer Pong

Request: Hiii!! I'm obsessed with your writing, and I wanted to request something for Matt. Could you please write something where they're at a party, and one of his exes is there, and the reader thinks they're kinda close, so bcs of all the alcohol she drank she gets overwhelmed and leaves the party, not wanting to cause a scene? And then Matt is worried cause he can't find her, but then he finds her outside, sitting on a sidewalk all sad? And he comforts her and stuff? Thank you so much!!

"Why do we have to go?" Matt whines.

"It could be fun." Y/N insists as she finishes getting dressed for the party. "Come on. It's good to get out of the house every once in a while."

"Are you kidding me? There's people out there, babe." Matt groans.

"Social interaction is healthy." Y/N says.

"I have social interaction. I have friends, my parents, my brothers, Trevor." Matt lists, Y/N rolling her eyes at the mention of his dog.

"Hey. I love Trev, too, but he doesn't talk." Y/N says.

"Yes, he does. We just don't speak the same language." Matt says.

"Babe..." She gives him a look.

"I have you." Matt cutely grins, hoping it'll make her change her mind. "You're my favorite interaction of every day. We can stay home and talk all night long." He says, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to stand between his legs.

"Hmm." Y/N hums, a soft smile on her face as she strokes his cheeks. "I love you, too, Matty." She gently pecks him on the lips. Matt's hope rises, feeling like his plan worked. "Now get dressed." She lightly pats his cheeks, walking away from him.

Matt groans, flopping down onto the bed.

"Why can't you just go with Chris and Nick? I can stay here?" Matt suggests.

"Cause I like you more." Y/N shrugs.

"I would hope so." Matt remarks making her smile.

"Please, honey. Just this one party. I really wanna go out tonight, have some outside fun. The moment you're overwhelmed, we'll leave. I promise." Y/N says.

"I'm overwhelmed." Matt states.

"Matt... c'mon, Nate will even be there. You can hang out with him. Or me or your brothers, or even some other people you know." Y/N says. "I can meet high school friends."

"I'm not getting out of this, am I?" Matt pouts.

"Probably not." Y/N shakes her head.

Matt huffs, giving her puppy dog eyes, but she doesn't give in.

"Fine." Matt groans, sitting up.

"Yay!" Y/N kisses him on the head. "Get dressed. You can't wear that."

"Rude." Matt frowns.

"Love you!" She calls out on her way to the bathroom.

---

The four get to the party, Chris going off to find Nate while Nick goes to get a drink. Matt tightly grabs onto Y/N's hand, intertwining their fingers, following her like a lost dog. Y/N guides him through the crowded house, going to the drinks.

She grabs herself a drink and holds one out to Matt.

"Nah." He shakes his head, grabbing a bottle of water. "DD." He tells her. Y/N nods, putting the second drink back and opening hers.

"Come on. See if there's anyone you wanna talk to." Y/N encourages, leading him through the house.

"Matt!" They're stopped by a female voice, both turning to the blonde girl. "Hey." She smiles.

"Oh, hey." Matt kindly smiles. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah." The girl laughs. "Good to see you again."

"You, too." Matt awkwardly smiles. Y/N nudges his arm with hers, getting his attention. "Uh, Y/N, this-- this is Emma. Emma, this is Y/N, my girlfriend."

"Oh, nice to meet you." Emma politely smiles.

"You, too." Y/N gives her a small smile.

"Emma!" Somebody yells.

"Oh. I'll see you guys later." Emma smiles, making her way to the person who called for her.

"So, Emma... like, uh... like ex-girlfriend Emma?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah." Matt nods. "See? Another reason we shouldn't go to parties. Exes."

"Matt." Y/N lightly rolls her eyes. "C'mon. Let's go find one of your brothers or Nate."

---

They've been at the party for a few hours and Y/N has had much more to drink, the girl needing Matt's help so she doesn't stumble too much.

Matt is playing a game of beer pong with Chris, the two playing against Nick and Nate. Chris does the drinking no matter what so Matt's still sober to drive.

"You're going down." Nick says.

"Yeah, right." Matt scoffs.

"In your dreams." Chris retorts.

"Okay, okay. Less trash talk, more beer ponging." Y/N says, giggling as she takes another sip of her drink.

Y/N cheers as the younger two triplets win, giving her boyfriend a sweet kiss to the lips. They pull away when the boys start gagging and pretending to vomit, Nick throwing a ping pong ball at them.

"Dude!" Matt exclaims.

"Rematch. Rematch." Nate challenges.

"Yes!" Nick agrees.

"No, I'm done. I will remain victorious." Chris states. "I gotta go take a shit, anyway."

"Dude!" Nick rolls his eyes.

"Chris!" Matt groans.

"TMI!" Y/N calls out, chugging some of her drink.

Chris waves them off as he leaves.

"Y/N?" Nick asks.

"No. I have terrible coordination sober, drunk is much worse." She says.

"Which is why it should be you." Nate says.

"Nice try." Matt tells them.

"Mind if I play?" The four turn to Emma as she walks up.

"Yes!" Nick yells. "Yes! Let's go!"

"All right." Nate rubs his hands together as he gets ready for the next game.

"Yeah, sure." Matt nods. She stands next to him and Matt looks over at Y/N who gives him a small smile.

Y/N watches Emma make small talk with Matt, the two occasionally laughing at something. She's thankful when Nick finally finishes setting the game up.

"Here. You go first." Matt gives the ball to Emma.

"Okay." She mumbles. She throws the ball, getting it into one of the cups, earning groans from Nick and Nate.

"All right!" Matt grins, high fiving her as she grins.

Y/N watches the game continue, her mood dampening with each laugh and high five her boyfriend and his ex share.

The game is soon tied, nobody able to successfully sink a ball yet. Y/N watches as Emma whispers tips to Matt in his ear, nobody able to hear over the music.

Matt throws the ball, it landing in a cup.

"Yes!" Matt high fives the girl.

Y/N weakly smiles and starts to walk off while Nick chugs the beer.

"Wha-- hey, hey." Matt stops his girlfriend by lightly grabbing onto her arm. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just gonna go get another drink." Y/N says, giving him a smile she hopes he buys.

"Okay." Matt nods after a moment, frowning. "Be careful." She nods, giving him another small smile before making her way off.

Y/N bypasses the drink table, heading straight for the front door. She shuts it behind her, stumbling towards the end of the walkway and sitting down on the sidewalk. She wraps her arms around her legs, taking a deep breath. Despite her best efforts, the tears start to roll down her cheeks, the cool breeze not helping her feel any better.

---

After a few more rounds of beer pong, Matt notices Y/N still hasn't returned. He tries not to worry too much, knowing she probably got caught up in some sort of conversation or dancing to the music that blasts through the house.

After the game ends, Matt calls it quits, starting to search for his girlfriend. He goes to the kitchen first, but finds no sign of her. He makes his way to the living room, going over to Chris when he sees him.

"Hey." Matt yells over the music, tugging on Chris' arm, getting the younger's attention. "Have you seen Y/N?"

"No." Chris shakes his head.

Matt sighs, going to look around. He asks some people if they've seen her, always receiving a no. His anxiety continues to rise the longer he fails to find her, becoming afraid something happened to her. After checking everywhere upstairs and downstairs, he goes to the last resort, going outside.

Matt shuts the door behind him, breathing in the fresh air that doesn't smell like weed or alcohol. He glances over at a couple making out on the porch bench and grimaces a little.

Matt looks around, spotting the familiar figure sitting on the sidewalk. He jogs down the walkway and over to her.

"Hey." Matt greets.

Y/N winces at his voice, trying to subtly wipe her cheeks.

"Baby, you had me worried for a second. Are you okay?" Matt asks, touching her arm. He frowns at her cool skin and quickly sheds his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Sweetheart, you okay?"

"I'm fine." Y/N mumbles, sniffing.

Matt frowns as he sits next to her, observing her wet cheeks. Her mascara is still intact since she chose waterproof.

"Why are you crying?" Matt asks, gently wiping the tears off her cheeks.

"I'm not." She insists.

"Okay, why were you crying?" Matt asks.

"I wasn't." She mumbles.

"Y/N/N..." Matt gives her a look.

Y/N glances at him and sighs.

"Go ask Emma." She mumbles, looking down.

"What?" Matt's face scrunches up in confusion.

"You two seem pretty close. Wouldn't wanna get in the middle of that." Y/N huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, partly out of annoyance and partly to help with the cold.

"Clo-- Emma? Baby, it-- none of that meant anything." Matt says, tucking some hair behind her ear. "It was just beer pong."

"Yeah, but you-- you were high fiving her and she was whispering to you." Y/N sniffles. "You were having fun."

"I have a lot more fun with you." Matt says, rubbing her back. Y/N looks at him.

"Really?" She asks.

"Yes." He nods. "I only want you, sweetheart. She's in the past. I don't like her like that anymore. I love you and only you." Matt promises. "No more beer pong or any other games with exes we run into at parties, I pinky promise." He holds his pinky out.

Y/N weakly smiles, sniffling, and she links her pinky with his.

"Pinky promise." She mumbles, the two kissing their thumbs.

"I told you we shouldn't have come to this party." Matt comments.

"Matty." Y/N whines, giving him a look.

"All right, all right. Too soon." Matt raises his hand in surrender. "Maybe tomorrow." Y/N gives him a look. "Or never." He places a gentle kiss to her lips. "Can we go home now?"

Y/N immediately nods, giving him another kiss.

"Thank God." Matt lets out a large sigh of relief. "Let's get you in the car then I'll go get Chris and Nick. Nate will probably come too."

"And we can cuddle all night? Ooh, and ice cream?" Y/N asks as he helps her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Yep. Whatever you want." Matt promises, knowing she'll probably fall asleep before they even get home.

[melobin]

innocent 𐙚 anton lee

warnings. best friend!anton x female!reader, virgin!reader x experienced!anton, virginity loss, nipple sucking, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out method, quite light-hearted, eludes to a corruption kink.

wc. 4k

summary. anton comes home for the summer and the two of you find yourselves having a deep conversation.

part of my late 2k prompt event

2. “let me take care of you”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“how’s idol life?”

“tiring” anton shrugged as he responded to your question, hands resting on his stomach as he laid on your bed “i love what i do but sometimes i miss being back here” he turned his head to the side to look at where you sat on the bed next to him, back against the head board with with yours in his hair.

“at least you’re back for a few weeks” anton smiled softly at your reply, fingers pushing through the soft strands of his hair. his eyes were tired and he felt them begin to shut, yet he didn’t feel like sleeping yet. he found himself sitting up next to you instead.

“how have things been here? anything new? any boyfriends i need to beat up?” you laughed as your hands dropped to your lap.

“no one”

“and why not?” you shrugged at his question, paying no mind to how nosy your best friend was.

“i mean, the girls have been encouraging me to find someone over the summer but i don’t know how likely that’ll be”

“they want you to get into a relationship?”

“they want me to lose my virginity, tonnie”

“ah” the topic of your virginity wasn’t a sore one, the two of you just never discussed it “do you want to?” you shrugged again.

“yeah” you sighed for a moment, looking over at anton “but it’s okay it’ll happen one day”

“why do you want to lose it?”

“i just wanna know what it feels like, the girls are always talking about how good it is and how it feels so much better than when they do it themselves and i’m just curious i guess. there’s only so much a girl can do before she needs more” anton watched you carefully as you spoke, head tilting to the side as he thought.

“i get it, i was the same”

“how do you feel now you’re not a virgin?”

“the same, just hornier”

“oh that’s not good” his fingers found themselves tracing mindless patterns against the skin of your thigh “i don’t need more horniness”

“it gets that bad for you?” anton wasn’t sure why he was asking such questions, neither of you had ever delved into such a realm together before.

“yeah, sometimes i’m at it every night trying to get some sort of relief, most are filling with mediocre orgasms that barely make me feel anything”

“i didn’t realise you struggled so much” you laughed at his choice of words.

“i’ll be fine once i get some help”

“do you want some now?” anton was, well anton. he wasn’t bold, he was quiet, kept to himself, anton had absolutely never forwardly asked a girl if she wanted to sleep with him. until now, at least. he panicked for a moment, not knowing how you’d react to his sudden question.

“you want to take my virginity?”

“do you want me to?” silence filled the air as you looked at each other, his fingers paused their patterns as his hand flattered out on your thigh. it was in the moment that you realised just how close together you were, his hand on your skin sent heat to your core.

“yes”

“are you sure?”

“one hundred percent” anton nodded and squeezed your thigh. he moved himself, kneeling back so he could position you to lay on the bed, his fingers trailed along your thighs whilst he looked down at you.

“then let me take care of you, i’ll give you what you need, okay?” you nodded, eyes seemingly gazed over at the tension that had formed around the two of you.

anton could never have admitted his attraction to you out loud, part of him thought maybe he was being selfish by taking your innocence but the other part of him knew you wanted it too. anton could recall the first time he had a wet dream about you, how you bounced so prettily on his cock and cried out his name. he remembers how quickly he darted to the shower when he woke up and how even though he tried not to, he ended up with his hand flat against the tiled wall with his other tugging at his cock quickly, images of you flooding his mind as he came.

it was the start of a vicious cycle for anton, he felt like he’d just hit puberty by the way he was growing hard everytime he was around you, dreaming nightly about having your precious cunt wrapped around his cock whilst he drilled into you. sure, anton had girlfriends and one night stands and they usually took his mind off of things but once he saw you again he folded.

he wasn’t sure if having sex with you would make the dreams better or worse, but he guessed there was only one way to find out. one thing he knew though, was that you were even prettily in real life than in his dreams. your lips parted as you looked at his face, eyes focused on him as you let out a deep breath. beauty was subjective but anton believed anyone would’ve been blind to not see beauty in you.

focusing on the moment at hand, anton laughed lightly,l as he leaned over you, feeling one of your legs hook around his waist and your foot rub against the back of his thigh.

“what are you thinking about, tonnie?”

“how we ended up here” you frowned slightly as you looked at him.

“we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”

“no no i do i promise i do, there’s nothing i want more than this. i know no one will give you the experince the way i can, love” you smiled lightly at him, hand reaching up to hold his cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin as your other hand pressed against his clothed chest.

“i trust you more than anything, i want this” anton sighed as he leaned closer to you, lips barely touching yours as he tested the waters. he pushed them a little further against yours, kissing you softly. the kiss only lasted for a short moment, a peck that confirmed to the both of you that this is what you wanted.

it only took a second of your lips to be parted for him to lean in again, lips pressing softly against yours as he brought you into a slow kiss, it made you feel dizzy as it grew deeper. your hand fingers their way to the strands of hair he had sitting at the back of his neck, breathing getting heavier as he continued to kiss you.

this was one of the things you craved most, the intense making out that left your cunt throbbing for attention. you weren’t sure on how to portray your need to anton without whining, the whine slipped out once he broke the kiss. his cheeks were flushed as he looked at you, his knee slipping in between your legs and pressing against your core, you gasped at the feeling.

“how are you feeling?” his voice was soft as he asked, barely speaking above a whisper.

“i need you” you believed the whimper that fell from you as you spoke was pathetic, but anton thought it was the hottest thing you’d ever done.

“need?”

“so bad tonnie, please” he could never deny anything you asked for, especially this. one final, gentle kiss to your lips was all it took before he knelt up once again. his fingers pushed under your shirt, looking at your face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. “you can take it off, it’s okay” he nodded at your confirmation, fingers gently brushing against your skin as he pushed your shirt over your head and dropped it onto your bedroom floor.

he wasn’t expecting for you to be bare under your shirt, yet he was pleasantly surprised to find out you were. he couldn’t help but admire you, every skin was so soft as his fingers traced over it, nipples so hard as he thumb brushed against them. he took note of the way you squirmed as he brought his hand to cup your breast, your nipple being rubbed between his thumb and index finger before he leaned down.

as his hand squeezed one of your breasts, his other hand held the underneath of the other, pushing it up so he could wrap his lips around your nipple. he let his tongue glide over the hardening bud as he sucked lightly, letting your fingers lace them through his hair and pull gently as you whined at the unfamiliar feeling.

he savoured the feeling of your nipple on his tongue, already adoring the way your body reacted to him sucking on it. he released it from his lips before moving to the other one, this time his tongue poked out of his lips, flicking over the nub a few times before leaving open mouthed kisses against it. he felt his cock twitch in his pants when you moaned and pulled a little harsher on his hair.

he pressed a final kiss to your nipple before kissing along the valley between your pressed, lips parted leaving wet spots in his path as he made his was down your body. his fingers hooked over the the waist line of your trousers, catching your panties with it. he looked up at you for a moment, lips still attached to your skin as you nodded to him.

he hummed against your skin as he slowly pulled them off of you, head lifting as he dropped them to the floor, fingers curling around your inner thighs to part your legs for him. he groaned at the sight of you bare in front of him, opting to pull his own shirt over his head so you didn’t feel alone.

“you’re so pretty” he admired you from head to toe, your body made his heart flutter and the sight of your cunt glistening under the light left his cock fluttering too. he noticed the way your eyes lingered on his body, tracing every detail of his abs as he knelt before you. your fingers reached out to touch them, nails lightly raking against his skin before you looked at his face.

“so are you”

anton’s fingers trailed up your inner thighs before they reached your pussy, his thumbs pressed against your lips as he held them apart and looked at you. his mouth watered at the sight of your slick cunt.

“let me eat you out baby” you whined at the way he was looking at you and how he spoke to you, his words went right to your core.

“please” he moved back until he was laid on the bed, he looked up at you as his thumb brushed over your clit.

“have you ever been eaten out before?” you shook your head and whimpered, the situation growing intense and overwhelming you. there wasn’t a word you could think of to describe the way you felt toward anton in that moment, just primal need for him to touch you. anton found himself loving your answer, his mouth watering as he thought about tasting your untouched, innocent cunt.

he leaned forward, parting his lips and breathing over your slick folds before he placed a wide, open mouthed kiss over your pussy. he let his lips drag along your flesh before he done it again, being gentle as he kissed you. his hands hooked under your thighs so he could pull you closer to his face, tongue peaking out of his lips so he could press it against your slit, dragging it along your core before circling your clit with it.

he groaned as the taste of you filled his mouth, lips closing around your clit as he heard you whimper and felt your fingers grip at his hair. you were so sensitive, so sweet and whiny at every little touch. even with the small amount of stimulation anton had began to give you your hips were squirming under him, your shut as you took in the feeling of his tongue.

he was slow, not wanting to overwhelm you by going too fast. his tongue circled your clit, lips kissing over the top of it repeatedly, lips only wrapping around it and sucking on it when he thought you were ready. anton felt an intense spark run through his cock when you moaned a little louder at the feeling, the sound of you becoming breathless and moaning because of him made his cock leak.

he sucked a little harder on your clit, tongue flicking over it a little faster as he was determined to make you cum. somewhere during his actions, his middle finger found your sopping hole, the tip of it carefully circling it before he pushed it inside of you. you gasped as you felt it, his finger was longer than yours, thicker too. along side his tongue flicking over your clit, you felt as if your body was beginning to fall apart.

for a moment he released your clit, head lifting up to look at you as his finger curled inside of you. “how does it feel, baby?” you whimpered when you parted your lips, gimping as you felt another finger being pushed into you.

you were a stranger to fingering, yet it felt different having someone other than yourself do it to you, especially anton. “it’s good” your voice was weak, it was all anton needed to hear, the shaky, whiny undertone of your words had his heart melting. he smiled at you before ducking his head back down, two fingers curling inside of you as he wrapped his lips around your clit once more.

you couldn’t explain how you felt, there was an intense feeling running through your clit as anton sucked on it. you struggled to keep yourself quiet, couldn’t keep your eyes open nor could you stop your legs from shaking. the mix of his tongue with his fingers left you a wreck, unable to find a way to tell him that you were about to cum.

“cum when you’re ready baby” you whimpered hearing him talk against your cunt, his fingers speeding up their movements inside of you as he drove you to your orgasm, wanting nothing more than to feel you spilling onto his tongue and giving you your first ever orgasm from someone else.

the feeling of your orgasm hitting you was like nothing you’d felt before, you weren’t sure how to react as it ran through you. moans left you instinctively, anyone name slipping out without you realising as you came on his fingers and tongue. letting him drag out every last drop of your orgasm until you could give him anything more.

anton’s lips were slick when he lifted his head from your cunt, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your hole before looking down at you. he admired the way you were breathing heavily, how your eyes looked tired and how you struggled to keep them open as you attempted to regain your breathing. there was a subtle smile on your lips as your eyes opened, anton returned your smile as his hands soothingly rubbed your thighs.

“do you want to continue?” his question was simple but he needed to know, not wanting to give you too much all at once.

“please”

“i don’t have any condoms”

“i don’t either” you started, looking down at the bulge that had formed in his pants before looking back at his face “but i trust you, plus you can pull out right? i can get the morning after pill tomorrow just to be precautious” anton looked at you, fingers creeping up your skin before lacing with yours.

“it’s completely your choice baby” he lifted your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing then softly against the back of it “i’m okay with whatever you want to do”

“then please tonnie, i need you” he nodded before kissing the back of your hand again, letting go of it as he stood up to remove his sweats and briefs. you never knew what to expect when seeing antons cock, the size being unknown to you until he revealed it. the thickness of his cock intimidated you slightly, it looked heavy as it weighed itself down, the tip red and slick, leaking slightly.

you watched as anton knelt up between your legs, his hand wrapping around his cock as he laid it against your stomach. your eyes stayed glued to it, fingers itching to wrap around it so you could feel it in your hand.

“go on, it’s okay” it overwhelmed you how easily anton could read what you were thinking. you let your hand fall to your stomach before you reached down to wrap it around his cock, it did feel heavy in your hand. anton groaned as he felt your soft skin glide against him, your hand feeling gentler than his ever had as it ran along his cock.

“is it going to fit?” your question was genuine and innocent, slight concern lacing your tone as you looked up at his face. anton almost hated the way his cock throbbed at the sound of it.

“it will” he nodded before continuing “but you don’t have to take all of me angel. i’ll be gentle with you and you can decide how much you want to take. if it’s too much we can stop okay? all you have to do is tell me”

“i love you tonnie” anton has heard you say that multiple times in the past but it felt different in this moment, your voice appeared more vulnerable as looked down at you. his hand reached for your face, thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you softly.

“i love you too baby” his face stayed near yours, hand moving to lace his fingers through yours and press them down against the mattress near your head, letting you dig your nails into the back of his hand as he replaced your hand that was wrapped around his cock with his own.

“are you ready, love?” you gulped at his question, eyes watching his. he looked at you with a gentle gaze, never taking his eyes off of yours.

“i’m ready tonnie” he watched you for a moment, tip of his cock pressing against your soaked clit. your lips parted at the feeling, breathing growing a little deeper as he dragged it down your slit.

he was focused on you when he pressed the head of his cock against your inviting hole, he felt you clench before he properly pushed it in. his thumb rubbed against the back of your hand, lips pressing against your temple.

“you can relax baby, it’s okay” you took a deep breath as you tried to let your body relax, allowing yourself to sink into the sheets under you. anton paid mind to the way you gasped when the head of his cock shifted inside of you, pressing slightly deeper as his girth stretched you out.

you opened your mouth, wanting to tell him how big he felt but all you could do was whimper. it didn’t hurt the way you’d first believed it would, but the stretch was overwhelming. it wasn’t painful but there was an ache in your cunt that you couldn’t shift, the only way the ache hurt was because you were aching for something more, but you weren’t sure what that something more was.

“is it too much?” anton wasn’t all the way inside of you, the parts of himself he did give you were slowly being dragged in and out of you. letting you adjust to the way you were taking him. you shook your head at his question, gulping before trying to respond.

“i want more” you sounded broken when asking for more, anton groaned a little louder as he shifted more of himself inside of you, watching your face carefully as he slowly pushed the rest of his cock into your welcoming heat.

anton felt overwhelmed but he didn’t want to show it. you were wrapped tightly around his cock, your slick making it hot inside. he wanted to make you feel good, wanted you to feel safe and comfortable under him whilst you took his cock but you just felt so good, too good, it took a lot in him to not go dizzy because of it.

he kept himself still once his cock was seated completely inside of you, looking at you as you clenched around him. your eyes opened gently as you looked back at him, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide, he looked like a mess. a pretty one, at least, but a mess. you wondered just how much he was suffering from this.

anton’s free hand laced through your free one, both of your hands now intertwined as he pulled his hips back before pushing them forward again. it was a smooth, slow motion. his cock filled you up incredibly well. the ache you felt in your core was beginning to fade, having every inch of him inside of you only increased the pleasure you felt inside of you, rather than an ache.

“it’s so good tonnie” your voice broke mid sentence, eyes not being able to stay open as he fucked you slowly, stretching out your cunt with each soft thrust forward. whine-like moans fell from your lips as you took him, anton found himself groaning during it too.

“you feel so fucking good baby” anton moaned as he spoke back to you, his forehead pressing against yours as he basked in the way you felt around him, finding himself quickly becoming obsessed with how perfectly your cunt molded around him.

within a few moments one of his hands let go of yours, soon enough you felt his thumb press against your clit, small circles being rubbed against the slick, swollen numb as he continued to fuck you slowly.

“wanna make you cum” he told you, head lifting from yours so he could look down at you, thumb speeding up as his thrusts stayed the same “want you to cum around my cock, baby” you nodded and whined a little louder at his words, already feeling your body heat up a little more as he continued pleasing you.

“i don’t think im gonna last long tonnie” you whined through your words, back arching up, chest pressing against his as his cock slipped a little deeper inside of you, head seemingly finding a spot inside of you that had moan after moan slipping from your lips.

“it’s okay baby you can let go whenever you’re ready” he treated you so well, cared for you as if you were going to break apart at any second, you were fragile under his touch. all he wanted to do was make you cum around his cock and bring you to heaven.

bringing you to your second orgasm brought anton joy, but also left him tilting toward the edge. he let you fall apart under him, feeling your legs shake and your fingers dig into his hand and back as he fucked you through it. only pulling out once he knew you were done. anton quickly found himself kneeling up over your body, hand jerking off his cock as he released himself over your skin.

looking down at you, anton couldn’t help but admire the way his cum covered the skin of your stomach and how tired your pretty face was. he kissed you again, lips barely touching yours as he let you relax under him. it took him a few moments to get the courage to stand up and leave you, almost rushing to find a towel to help you clean up, gently dragging it along your flesh to help you before letting it fall onto the floor. caving the moment he heard you whine for him to come back to you.

once he did, his fingers raked through your hair as you laid against his chest, arms wrapped around his body tightly as if he was going to disappear within seconds. he could feel your body growing heavy against his, breathing steadying out as you allowed your exhaustion to take over your body.

anton wasn’t sure how the following day would play out for the two of you and how this would affect your friendship, he could only pray that any change that was incoming would be good.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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[rqgnarok]

standing ovation - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 2321

warnings: mentions of jamie’s dad and DV, spoilers for ted lasso’s mom city. reader uses female pronouns. 

summary: reader sneaks into training grounds after richmond’s win against man city. seeing her is just what jamie needs. 

author’s note at the end!

There’s something in the air.

Jamie’s pretty sure Will sprayed some lavender shit all over the locker room again but that’s not quite what he means– he’s said goodbye to every single one of his teammates and all the coaches– and the locker room is now his and his alone. He locks away his dad’s ghost by locking up his phone, the simple message doing wonders to finish lifting that weight off his shoulders.

He wasn’t at the game. Or maybe he was, Jamie realizes now that it doesn’t really matter. A part of him will never stop looking over his shoulder whenever he visits his hometown for his dickwad of a father, but the older, bigger part of him knows Coach was right– his motivation doesn’t come from hating his dad anymore and it doesn’t have to. His forgiveness is for himself, for the little boy that had to build a mask to save himself from his dad, and for the man he is today because of him– and because of his mum, Keeley, Roy, Ted, his teammates–

The standing ovation at the end was more of a benediction than he’d like to admit. Everything about his hometown made him feel prickly; like he was a virus the town was doing its best to reject, and other than his quick visit to his mom Jamie expected the whole thing to be a disaster. The kids on the street, the people on social media, the rude assholes in the bleachers– Jamie thought that was all he was gonna get. Blind, thoughtless hatred despite Jamie trying his best.

He remembers Roy getting a standing ovation on his last game, while Jamie was still wearing Man City blue. He’d been appalled, unable to discern the possibility of someone hating you so much they respected you. All he’d ever gotten– from his dad, rival teams, his own team– had been everything except respect.

But they’d clapped for him. They thought him deserving of something precious and somehow it feels like permission. He can play for himself. He can come home without his dad’s ghost belittling him for not turning out the way he expected him to. 

Even Manchester hasn’t been home in a long time. Sure, his mom and Simon are there, but Richmond has his family, too– his friends, his teammates, his–

“Excuse me, I’m looking for my boyfriend. 5’9 not quite 6 foot, sexy as hell, the most fantastic football player to ever walk on Earth?”

Jamie’s lips involuntarily twist up as he glances at the door. (Y/N)’s a sight wearing her Richmond TARTT jersey, looking disheveled and flushed like the rest of the city probably is right now after their win tonight. 

Jamie doesn’t give a shit about the rest of the city, though. At least not right now. He cares about his girl sneaking in (with Keeley and Roy’s permission and advice, probably) to see him, normal sleep schedule be damned. 

He laughs, loud and unrestrained joy lighting up his features as he hobbles towards his girlfriend, letting himself be enveloped in a crush-tight embrace.

“Did ya watch it?” he wonders, forgoing his usual shy demeanor whenever (Y/N) praises him and just allowing his excitement to overflow, arms going around (Y/N)’s waist and hoisting her off the ground.

“Did I watch it, he asks,” (Y/N) scoff is downplayed by her big grin and the way she wraps her arms around Jamie’s neck as he spins her around, fucked up ankle be damned. “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of you, Jamie, oh, my God–”

She’s kissing him deeply, unable to contain her excitement. 

“You’re so fucking brilliant,” she whispers against his mouth, her hands at the nape of his neck making him shiver into her embrace, unable to get enough. “Oh, Jamie, that assist– the entire play for Colin’s goal? Your goal–”

“It was for you,” he tells as he drops her off, cupping her face in his hands and cheeks hurting with how wide he’s smiling. “I couldn’t celebrate but it was for you. For you and me mum, you were with me on the pitch the whole time–”

He stumbles a little as he drops her on the ground and (Y/N) tenses in his arms. She looks him over, suddenly worried. “Oh, shit. Your ankle, dumbass, are you okay? Fuck, did I–”

“Angel,” the nickname has her melting almost immediately just like he thought it would, a five-word weapon he’s never gotten tired of wielding. (Y/N) pouts at him, still concerned, and Jamie can’t have that, he kisses the expression off her face immediately. It should be illegal for her to be sad, no, sir. “‘s not even a sprain. It was probably the panic of bein’ in the same place as me dad, to be honest.”

Something steely flashes through her eyes, there and gone in a second, at the mention of Jamie’s dad. (Y/N)’s never been anything other than kind about it, but Jamie doesn’t doubt she’d beat the old fart up if she were given the chance. 

The thought only makes him smile.

“Did you? See him?” she wonders cautiously. She’s touching him again after her moment of hesitation over his injury, hands doing soothing motions up and down his sides. Jamie fights off a shiver.

“Nah,” he says simply as if the thought of crossing paths with him didn’t have him toeing the line of a panic attack the entire three days they were in Manchester. “I don’t know if he was there, and if he was, I didn’t see him. I don’t think I care anymore. It’s for the best, really.”

(Y/N)’s expression brightens, though they both know they’re not done talking about it. Jamie wishes it could be as easy as turning off his phone and forgetting about his dad, but his skin already itches a little with the idea of getting a text back from him. He’s also no doubt that (Y/N) will hold him throughout it all. 

“I did see me mum.”

“How is my favorite Tartt?” she teases.

“Happy,” Jamie says softly, always the most important thing to consider when it comes to his mother. Ever since he was a toddler and he gained acknowledgment of his dad’s actions; after an especially gruesome argument that ended with his dad breaking a few photo frames and plates, stumbling his way out of the apartment, and slamming the door shut, Jamie would climb on his mom’s lap and wipe her tears as best he could with his tiny clumsy baby fingers. “Yeah, she was real happy. And for me, too. Even before the match, she was happy to see me, happy to… jus’ happy.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” she threads her fingers through Jamie’s hair to keep it off his face, his headband lost somewhere in his lockers or amongst the rest of the dirty laundry. He’ll have to tell Will to watch out for it, he’s a little attached to it after the night he’s had. 

Jamie’s usually not the one to believe in lucky garments or charms but– well. He feels pretty lucky right now; that (Y/N) saw some worth in him when they met and makes the choice to love him and come home to him, day after day, whatever the outcome may be. 

(Y/N) looks at him adoringly like she knows what he’s thinking. “Did’ya get your wings back, then?”

Jamie grasps her hand in his and turns to kiss the inside of her wrist, only slipping a little bit of tongue. “Nah. They was never gone. All I needed was a little help to see.”

He frowns before (Y/N) can answer. “I was gonna say something stupid like ‘you’re me wings’ but that’s disgusting and I hate it. I would never say something like that. ‘m not Roy.”

(Y/N)’s laugh is surprised and comes deep from her belly. “Are you telling me Roy Kent’s a secret romantic?”

“Big old softie, that tosser,” he rolls his eyes. “He snuck you in for me, didn’t he? That’s all you need to know about–”

(Y/N) shuts him up with a kiss just because she can, and they’re both smiling too hard for it to be a proper one. 

She says “He likes you. He’s proud of you. We’re all so proud of you,” while peppering kisses all over his face, landing on his cheeks, nose, temple, jaw, and corner of his mouth. “You’re so, so good, Jamie, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he says, because there’s not gonna be a single time in which she tells him that and he doesn’t reciprocate. “Mum said that, too. And Keeley and Roy. And Coach, too, I guess, in his own way. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” (Y/N) pouts and beats herself up over it for the thousandth time. Jamie presses a kiss to the space between her eyes for the thousandth time in response. “I should’ve been there, I should’ve told my boss to go to hell–” 

“You’re here,” he tells her, shaking her a little by the shoulders and looking her over like he can’t quite believe it. That she’s here in the locker room, in his life, loving him like he’s always desperately wished for but never thought he’d deserve. “What was I gonna do, put my dumb ankle into ice and sit alone in the dark?”

“‘m sure Roy and Keeley would be here drinking champagne with you if I wasn’t here.”

“And what could we be doing that is keeping them away right now?” he raises his brows, sneaking a hand down her back lower, lower, lower–

(Y/N) slaps his chest, though a gleam in her eye tells him she’s not saying no to anything. “You’re…” she drifts off.

He smirks cockily. “Unbelievable?”

(Y/N) shakes her head imperceptively. “Nah. I always knew you could do it. But you’re breathtaking, I’ll give you that. As if your ego needs it.”

Jamie’s mouth softens into a smile, soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) frowns a little at the sudden shift in conversation. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve been a dick these past couple of weeks–”

He had. (Y/N) won’t let him admit it but he wasn’t lying when he told Roy he wasn’t doing well. Not eating, not sleeping, waving off (Y/N)’s concern with a little too cold shoulder. It made him feel a little too much like his dad, and that thought only dragged him further down.

It had been (Y/N) who suggested Jamie pay a visit to his mom while in town for the game, and when he’d mentioned this to her she’d smiled knowingly, ran a hand through his hair, and made him promise an introduction soon. 

“You were anxious,” she corrects him with a shake of the head, won’t let him speak ill of himself when all he did was have a normal, human reaction to a very triggering situation. “And I’ve been worried about you but you don’t have to apologize, Jamie. Not to me, not in a million years.”

“Alright,” he says, soft and charmed. He soothes his thumb over her knuckles, featherlight. He looks down at their intertwined hands for a beat or two, gently swinging them back and forth. “Then can I apologize for shutting you out? I know you were only trying to help. I’ll do better next time at letting you know what I need.”

“And I’ll do better at listening,” she assures him with an indulgent smile, using her free hand to trace the Richmond crest of his shirt. “Look at us, communicating and shit.”

Jamie scrunches his nose in faux disgust. “Gross,” he says, but even the facade is too much to keep up when (Y/N) nudges his nose with hers. His lips tilt upwards against his best intentions, drunk on her presence and something inside his chest brimming with unstirred delight. 

(Y/N) exhales against his mouth. She hasn’t been more than a few inches away from him since she came down to meet him, always touching him.  

“What do you wanna do, huh?” she asks him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Anything you want. We can go get some takeout from that burger place you like or maybe something fancier? We can go home and get some ice on that ankle–”

“It’s nothin’–”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” by that, she means when the team doctor gives him the all clear and he isn’t limping slightly with every step he takes. It’ll take a while but Jamie can take it, especially if any downtime comes with them spending the days together. She makes a questioning hum. “But we can do that tomorrow, then. Tonight, whatever you want. You’ve earned it.”

And Jamie does feel like a winner. Not only because of the three points they managed to steal from Man City but because he gets to come home to this. He gets to leave his dad behind in Manchester and his mom in safe hands, he gets to accomplish his dream for himself and the people that love him instead of trying to prove someone who hurt him wrong. 

He gets to live for himself. Coach Lasso was right, him forgiving his father was the kindest thing he could do for himself. 

“I want this,” he murmurs against her temple, breathing in the smell of her perfume and taking in the warmth of her body against his. “I got all I need right here.”

(Y/N) smiles and crowds even closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

A beat. Then–

“So that’s a no for a quickie in the locker room, then?”

(Y/N)’s laugh tastes like a standing ovation.

_________

precious little jamiebaby i hope i did you justice ily

i was ready to make an angsty peace about him but mom city left me craving to give him a moment of peace so ta-da! thank you so much for reading and letting me know what you think!

a reminder that commissions and asks are open!

<3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 63 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The arrival of the fourth member of the royal family means that Noah gets to meet his little sister. He has a lot to teach her, and he's planning on starting today.

Warnings: fluff, new baby, hospital, age gap (18+)

Length: 1200 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Several months later....

You were exhausted, and everything still hurt a little bit. The best word to describe the night of sleep you just had was restless. There were nurses in and out of your room all night long, and the harsh fluorescent lights were enough to wake you up at odd times and make you wish you were at home. You could hear the faint sound of babies crying as your husband, who had curled his large body up and spent the night in the arm chair, leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"I'll go pick up Noah and bring him back to meet his sister. You want me to get you some coffee?" he whispered, letting the baby doze in the bassinet next to your bed.

"Please," you told him, tipping your head back so he could kiss you. His lips were always perfect, but there was a reverence in his touch today that left you a little breathless. 

His fingers brushed your cheek and trailed down your neck before he stood tall and paused to look at your daughter who was the most precious, tiny thing you had ever seen. Bradley's smile grew and grew as he leaned a little closer to her and adjusted the pink pacifier in her mouth. "I'll be back with your brother," he told her, and then with one more kiss pressed to your forehead, he made his way out of the room to get Noah from Penny's house.

You sighed and stretched out in the bed, letting your gaze skim the placard that was affixed to the bassinet.

Noelle Bradshaw

Born: April 22nd

Length: 19 inches

Weight: 6 pounds, 14 ounces

"I love you." Your whisper was soft, but you watched her squirm a little bit in response. Part of you wanted her to wake up again so you could hold her, but you knew that she was probably as tired as you were. The Christmas theme of her name would always make you and Bradley smile, and you fell in love with it as soon as he first mentioned it to you. The theme for her nursery was purple watercolor flowers, but you made sure there was a pretty green pine tree painted on the back of her door. 

You felt yourself starting to doze while you waited for your boys to come back, and just as you heard Noelle start to stir, the door opened slowly. "Mommy!" Noah called out, running right past the bassinet and his sister with a gift bag in his hand. He climbed up onto the bed near your feet as Bradley shut the door behind him with a coffee cup in his hand. 

"Be careful, Bub. Mommy is really tired," he said softly, but you already had Noah snuggled up at your side, and he was pulling a mug from inside the bag.

"Me and Daddy got you this for your coffee, but you can still use the other ones at home, too."

"Thank you, sweet Noah," you told him, kissing his head as you read the purple mug which said Noah and Noelle's Mommy. "It's perfect. Are you ready to meet her?"

"Of course," he said with a casual shrug, but when Bradley scooped up the wriggling newborn, Noah's eyes lit up. "She's so little."

You watched as Bradley held her close, his nose bumping her much smaller one playfully as he whispered her name. She really was so little. Even the pink cap on her head was dwarfed by his hand as he cradled her and kept her safe. You sipped your French vanilla coffee and ruffled Noah's hair as Bradley said, "Little Duchess Noelle," while he knelt next to the bed with her in his arms. "Meet your big brother, Prince Noah." 

Your son was so gentle as he reached for his sister, it made you gasp as tears filled your eyes. He'd been waiting months, asking about her every day, and now his tiny best friend was here. You watched as she pulled her hand free from her swaddle and reached out to him.

"Hi," Noah whispered, and sure enough her little fingers wrapped around his thumb, and he watched in wonder as she yawned. "Hi, Noelle."

"I think she loves you the most," Bradley said with a grin in your direction. "I'm just a peasant, obsessed with my royal family."

You shook your head before you leaned closer to him. "You're a Daddy in shining armor."

He kissed you while he laughed and held his daughter in one strong arm. He laced his fingers with yours and asked Noah, "Are you going to teach her everything you know?"

"Everything," he said, poking at her arm as she smiled at him.

"Like what?" you asked, taking another sip of your coffee.

Noah thought it through for a few seconds before he said, "Like how Daddy's not really allowed to cook anything. And what kind of snacks are the best."

Bradley groaned as you giggled. "Those are some important life lessons," you agreed. "What else?"

"Well I'll have to teach her how to feed Skittles and where all the stuff is at home."

"Yeah, Bub. You've got a lot of work ahead of you. Think you can handle it?" 

Noah was nodding as Noelle reached for his cheek while she yawned again. "Can we all go home soon?" he asked. "I really do have a lot to show her."

You and Bradley had to hold back your laughter, but you managed to say, "Hopefully we can all go home later today. But until we do, I packed you some coloring books to work on. Want to do one with Daddy while I feed Noelle?"

The four of you all ended up in the hospital bed together for a few hours. Noah worked his way through most of his books, and Noelle fell asleep again. Bradley got you anything you needed, and when it was finally time to go home, he was in full dad-mode. You watched the way he got both kids and then you situated in the Bronco. He double checked to make sure everyone was buckled in before he pulled away.

"I'll take care of everything for the next few days," he whispered as he reached for your hand. "You can rest and feed Noelle, and I'll take care of everything else."

"And then we can take care of everything together," you promised.

----------------------------

The end!

This family of four has been so much fun to write about! Thank you for joining me on this long journey! Thanks for sharing your thoughts and ideas along the way. Who knows...maybe we will see them again! Big thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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[ferrstappen]

the first one l Charles Leclerc imagine

a/n: so, I just KNOW Charles is a girl dad. I know three is his sweet spot, but idk if the boy would be the middle child or the youngest. what do you think? also, I'm working on requests and the collection pls trust me, but I'm a law student trying to hold my life together and not having a nervous breakdown every day &lt;3

this first piece of dad!Charles is from this request &lt;3

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader.

genre: dad!Charles, fluff.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, not proofread bc I don't have time for that shit.

summary: Charles tries to prepare to be the best dad for his daughter, even if she's just two days old.

It wasn't fun being heavily pregnant.

Yes, the illusion and excitement of a baby coming to complete your family was an emotion neither you nor Charles had the proper words to explain. Friends and even strangers affirmed it was going to be the most magical moment of your life, that you wouldn't even be able to imagine life before your daughter.

But that wasn't relevant now, it was the furthest thing on your mind, sleep being the only thing remotely important at the moment, and it didn't seem to come as a faint light was coming from the opposite side of the bed.

Charles was shirtless, probably cold while slightly propped on some pillows, reading something on his Kindle, a small frown noticeable between his brows. He clearly was very concentrated on whatever he was reading, the only thing that made his attention shift was the light groan you let out. Of course Charles' instantly put his attention on you, the muscles on his neck showing with the fast movement.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He asked you, his eyes fixed on your figure, very carefully placing his hand on your swollen belly.

"No, I'm not okay because I can't sleep and I have to sleep since your daughter is sucking every bit of energy and space left on my body, and to make matters worse, the light of your kindle makes it impossible to sleep," You said with a pettish tone, but Charles wasn't fazed, after almost nine months he was used to the mood swings. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm being such a bitch I'm sorry," and before you could stop, tears started streaming down your face, and that gained a reaction from Charles.

"No no no no, chérie. It's okay, it's just the hormones, it's fine," He carefully rubbed your swollen belly, feeling how the baby moved relentlessly. "Why do you move when mama is trying to sleep, mignonne?" Charles asked his unborn daughter, knowing with certainty she was listening to him.

"Because she's your daughter, why else?" You answered and he laughed, playfully rolling his eyes. "What are you reading in there, anyways?" This time you placed your hand on his hair, knowing Charles loved the little touches of affection.

He sheepishly smiled, "It's this book I found about pregnancy and the first weeks of the baby," he answered with a quiet tone, likely waiting for you to mock him.

Instead, fresh tears started streaming down your face, again. Sending Charles into a panic, again. "No no no no, chérie!"

✨✨✨✨

The apartment looked like a mess, the baby had arrived just two days earlier and didn't have time to even think about cleaning the extremely spacious penthouse overlooking the ocean, only focused on the little lilac bundle sleeping on her crib.

Since you left the hospital in the morning, where you asked for privacy and to not have any visitors, friends were constantly texting if now was a good time to visit you and the adorable newborn. You could've sworn every person in Monaco had made their way inside your family home.

First it was Carmen and George, with Alex and Lily, with a gorgeous bouquet of lilies for you, and carrying a large Zara kids bag with multiple cashmere onesies and clothes that would probably last a couple of weeks since, as Charles read on his book, babies grow up "very fast". Charles got a pat on the back.

Then followed Fred, with a huge basquet for both you and Charles, courtesy of the entire Ferrari team, and lots of small Ferrari merchandise.

Fred wasn't even out the door when Carlos and Isa quietly made their way inside, now with a bouquet of pink roses and a gorgeous and timeless Louis Vuitton baby blanket. Again, Charles received a pat on the back from Carlos as you carefully placed your daughter on Isa’s arms.

Charles had the biggest dark circles you’d ever seen under his eyes, and you probably looked worse, dealing with the recovery of your own body after giving birth. Right when you thought you could take a nap, Max, Lando, Kelly and Penelope arrived.

Of course they tried to make a statement, with multiple balloons, Gucci and Burberry bags for the baby. Of course Max was a natural holding her, cautiously kneeling for Penelope to see her. Lando nervously laughed and the only thing he was able to say was "she's so tiny", telling you he'd hold her when she was a little bigger.

It was almost 3 PM when Charles forced you to lay down, reminding you of the stages of healing after giving birth as he read in the book. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, waking up every ten minutes because, apparently, mother instincts didn't take very long to kick in. That's why you immediately woke up when you heard low voices, quickly recognizing the voices of your in-laws. Carefully getting up and trying to look presentable, you walked towards the nursery.

No one noticed you, both Arthur and Lorenzo enthralled by their niece while Pascale held her, whispering sweet nothings in French as her granddaughter placed her tiny hand around Pascale's thumb.

Then, Charles demeanor changed.

You could see it as soon as Pascale placed the baby in Arthur's arms. His back tensed and he stood straighter, instantly moving closer towards his younger brother.

"Arthur, you have to hold her head," Charles told off his brother, carefully placing Arthur's hand on the baby's head.

He still was standing closely and worried, hand on his chin while staring at his brother. "No, Arthur don't move your arm like that," Again, he fixed his brother's arm. "No, Arthur fix your stance, you need to hold her still," His breathing was getting faster and then he couldn't take it anymore.

Arthur was perfectly holding her, but Charles simply couldn't bare with the fact of his brother making a microscopic wrong move and something happening to his daughter, his mignonne, é carina.

"No, give her to me, you're doing everything wrong." Charles carefully took his daughter off Arthur's arms.

Ignoring Arthur's shocked face and Pascale's amused expression, everyone noticed how the baby nuzzled in her papa's arms, instantly yawning and moving her hands as if she was trying to reach him; Charles instantly relaxed, feeling her against his chest and knowing she was okay because she was with him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I think he's kind of overprotective," You said entering the room. Pascale immediately approached you, asking how you were feeling and how much pain you were in.

"Poor her, honestly. She's doomed to have Charles as her shadow forever, she won't be able to go to school or anything!" Lorenzo chimed in, making everyone laugh, except for Charles of course.

"You haven't told us her name! We've been calling her mini (Y/N)," Arthur asked, admiring his niece from afar.

The only reason Charles lifted his gaze was to find your eyes, which you took as the cue to take your place next to your family, resting your head on Charles' shoulder.

"Josephine. We are still thinking about the second, we're seeing if Jules fits," You announced, Charles giving a bright smile to his family.

"I'm thinking of Josephine Sofia Jules Gia Leclerc," Charles said. Everyone in the room looked at each other with curiosity.

"She is not having four names, Charles!" The answer came quickly from you, the tone revealing this wasn't the first time it was discussed.

"Okay then, three?"

Josephine, that's what's clear.