#so maybe I should just go to the beach here….maybe I will See One

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 79

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Wednesday, April 13; 1:30 PM - Batlle House

The sun is shining. The weather has been wonderfully beautiful since we arrived here. It's pleasant. My only regret is that half of our time here has already passed. We've made the most of it, especially with hiking. I've never walked so much in just a few days. Lucy loves it, and I must admit, I’ve started to enjoy it too. From where we are, we have a lot of nature around, so I show her everything we can see.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Lucy asks me after putting the last plate in the dishwasher.

We just finished eating. I sent my grandfather to take his nap. He never wants to admit it, but he gives more than he should. He doesn't seem to understand that he's getting old. I'm glad we're here. We've been able to help him with a lot of things.

“Well, I was thinking you could take care of the car this afternoon.”

“Are you sure? You might get really bored.”

“Oh no. I'll play assistant, and I wouldn’t miss a chance to watch you,” I giggle.

She smiles, nodding her head. She kept her promise to my grandfather by checking under the hood on the first day. According to her, some sensors needed to be replaced if he wanted the car to last. Of course, my grandfather agreed and gave us money to get the parts that same day. However, the parts had to be ordered, and they arrived this morning, so we might as well take care of it right away.

“OK, let’s do that then.”

“And maybe after that, we can…”

She turns her head while washing her hands. I swallow hard.

“I think I’m ready.”

She smiles at my words. She turns fully after grabbing a towel to dry her hands.

“OK. We’ll go see him afterward. And if you want, we can spend the evening at the beach again tonight. The full moon will be at its peak, so we shouldn't miss that, right?”

I smile back and go to embrace her. Yes, it was time for me to go see him. Lucy kisses my forehead. She understood well that I wasn’t the most comfortable at first, but now that we’ve spent some days here, I feel more at ease. Her presence has been really reassuring.

“Well, I’m going to find some clothes before we head out,” she announces, kissing my forehead.

“Can I come with you?”

“Yes, of course.”

We head upstairs to my room. I sit on the bed while Lucy rummages through her things. I watch her intently as she changes in front of me. That tease has been toying with me for days. We kiss a lot before sleeping, or to put it another way, we heat things up, only for nothing to happen. I must admit, this little game is starting to get very frustrating. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted someone this much.

“Everything alright, babe?” she teases gently.

“No. You’re such a tease.”

“Oh, really? A tease?” she giggles.

“Yes.”

“And you’re the one saying that?”

“What do you mean by that?”

She narrows her eyes playfully as she approaches me. I lean back on my elbows as she hovers over me.

“I mean it’s harder for me to hold back than you think.”

I give in to her lips when she kisses me. The moment is short-lived as she pulls away. I groan in frustration.

“Babe!”

“Stop complaining,” she laughs. “We’ve got things to do today. Plus, your grandfather is sleeping in the next room.”

“All the more reason to—”

“Do nothing,” she finishes my sentence. “I’m heading down. Do what you want until then.”

She leaves first, and of course, I follow with a sulky look. She’s opened the car hood in the driveway to start the repairs while I watch, sitting on the grass. Buzz is with us. He’s been following us everywhere. Lucy loved bringing him along on our hikes.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious about the idea of getting a dog?”

“Well yes, why? We both seem to love them.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“Oh, you’re not mad about that, are you? They say a dog is man’s best friend.”

“And do you believe that?”

“Well, yeah. I grew up with a dog, so obviously.”

“Really? What was his name?”

“Hercules.”

“Hercules?” I chuckle.

“Hey, don’t mock it. He was very loyal.”

“No, but Hercules, really?”

I burst out laughing, lying on the ground.

“Are you done?” Lucy scolds me.

Her serious demeanor can’t last when she sees me laughing. A smile stretches across her lips, and she drops the parts she was holding. She wipes her hands on a rag. My girlfriend is such a badass. Why do I feel like she doesn’t even realize it?

“Really, it’s not cool. I loved him.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect that. Seriously, Hercules... But it’s cute in its own way.”

“Right,” she laughs. “Don’t make fun of me.”

I smile like an idiot. I feel so happy. It’s strange being away from school, but at the same time, I love this life—just being us. I calm down when I see she’s no longer paying attention to me. She leans back against the car just as a voice calls out.

“Ona...?”

I frown. I sit up before turning around. I hesitate for a moment before recognizing the person in front of me, who seems to have recognized me right away.

“Hey,” I greet awkwardly.

“Ona Batlle. I can’t believe it! I never thought I’d see you again.”

I awkwardly get up to greet Nick, my childhood friend. We must have been so small when we met. We literally grew up together before I moved away.

“Hey!”

I giggle as he lifts me up when I thought we were just going to exchange a hug. We look each other up and down. After all, the last time we saw each other, we must have been twelve. Our parents divorced at the same time, and he left to live with his mother, just like I did. He’s grown. He’s even taller than me now, and let’s just say he’s become very handsome. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s an athlete now. He loved football back then. I recognize his short brown hair and his green eyes.

“Wow,” he laughs. “I can’t believe you’re here. And… seeing you like this… you’ve become a beautiful woman. It’s incredible.”

I laugh nervously at his admiration, playfully hitting his shoulder. It’s a bit awkward. We always had a strong bond between us. We went through some of the same struggles. I always loved being adventurous with him. A throat clearing brings me back to reality. We turn to my girlfriend, who’s watching us with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, uh. Nick, this is Lucy, my girlfriend. Lucy, this is Nick, a childhood friend.”

He seems taken aback, but his surprise quickly turns into a smile.

“Girlfriend, huh?” he repeats. “A lot has changed, I see... But honestly, I’m not even surprised.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? Why does everyone keep saying that?”

He laughs heartily, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh come on, you were quite the tomboy back then. You hated hanging out with girls your age. You were always tagging along with me and my group of friends.”

“I wasn’t tagging along! You’re the one who always took me with you!” I reply quickly with a little laugh.

I calm down as I feel Lucy’s arms wrap around me. I lean into her, smiling at Nick.

“What are you doing here? I thought you moved away with your mom?”

“Yeah… That was before she passed away from cancer.”

“Nick...”

“No, don’t say anything,” he smiles sadly. “It must be just as hard as losing your father... your grandfather told me everything when I got back.”

I nod. Unlike me, Nick got to leave with the right parent. He was happy to be able to leave the family home.

- When did you come back?

- Two years ago. It was strange at first. I had to find my footing again, and you weren’t there…

We look at each other for a few seconds, and he seems uncomfortable. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say at the moment.

- But anyway, everything's fine now. I’m an athlete at university, I have a girlfriend, and I try to stay busy when I’m not doing anything. Did you know your grandfather can’t be stopped once you start helping him? I’d be careful if I were you, he warns my girlfriend, who giggles.

- Thanks for the warning.

- And you? Are you staying long?

- No, just this week, actually.

- That’s all? So, what about you? Here I am talking about myself, and I haven’t even let you speak. I already know you’ve managed to snag a beautiful woman, so that’s something. Do you live together?

I glance at Lucy, who looks much more relaxed than before. I smile and run my fingers across her cheek when I notice a black smudge.

- Sort of, yeah. In Manchester.

- Manchester? he laughs. Seriously? I thought you hated the cold?

- She still does.

- Stop, you’re exaggerating, I giggle. I’ve gotten used to it.

- And what about your mom?

- She still lives in Barcelona, with Marcus and Joan, my little brother. And she’s getting married next month.

- Wow, all that. I didn’t expect so much. A wedding? And a little brother, really?

- Yeah, well, half-brother technically. He’s going to turn seven.

- Wow. It’s been years. Almost as long as we haven’t spoken.

- Almost, yeah…

We exchange a small smile. I know it’s strange for both of us. Honestly, Nick is someone special to me. He holds my first kiss, which we shared when we each moved away. We were close, undeniably, and it feels a bit strange seeing him again now. Lucy takes the opportunity to slip her arm around my shoulders. I suppress a smile. I know she can’t help herself—it’s crazy. She’s really jealous of anyone.

- Are you still here this weekend? It’s just, I’m throwing a party on Friday night, you know, and I’d love for you to come.

- Uh... I would’ve loved to—

- Oh no, not that line again, he replies, rolling his eyes. Some things never change, it seems.

I laugh, nodding.

- Sorry. We won’t be able to make it.

- When are you leaving?

- Saturday afternoon. We’re heading to Porto to see Lucy’s parents.

- Oh, so you’re Portuguese too? And seeing your parents? Your relationship seems solid.

- It is, I say with a small smile.

- I’m happy for you.

- And you, with your girlfriend?

- It’s not as serious. I mean, it’s been a year now, but we’re not thinking about moving in together or anything like that. We’re taking our time.

- I see. Still commitment issues, huh?

- A bit, yeah. Looks like you’ve managed to get over that, he says, gesturing toward us.

- Let’s just say... you have to find the right person.

- Yeah, he chuckles. I’ll try to remember that. So... we won’t see each other this weekend?

- No, I’m sorry, I say with a small smile.

- A lot has changed, huh?

I nod softly. I can tell he’s changed too. He’s no longer the carefree kid I used to get into trouble with.

- Yeah. It was really great to see you again, though.

- Me too. Maybe we could... I don’t know, exchange numbers? I mean, if Lucy doesn’t mind. It’s just, I think it would be nice to talk to someone who understands me from time to time.

- I don’t mind, she says. It’s not like she can cheat on me between two country.

I smile and accept the kiss Lucy gives me before she lets go. She understands he’s not a threat. At least, I hope so. She goes back to what she was doing while I exchange numbers with Nick.

- Well... I hope it won’t be another eight years before we see each other again.

- We’ll try to avoid that, I say with a small smile. See you soon, and take care of yourself.

- Yeah... You too.

We share one last hug before I sit back down on the grass. Buzz immediately settles between my legs. He hovered around Nick a lot. He must be familiar to him. Still, my grandfather never mentioned him to me. It’s strange.

- So... Nick, huh? Lucy begins. How many more of those do you have up your sleeve?

- What? I giggle.

- I thought it was just Mapi and Feli before me.

I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.

- Careful what you say, baby. You know you’re a terrible liar, and I’m no fool. Do you really want me to lose trust in you over this?

I close my mouth. I hate it when she catches me off guard like that. She turns away, arms crossed. OK, so she’s really serious. I was about to tell a little lie, but I didn’t think it would matter this much.

- Nick was like... I don’t know... my big brother...?

She raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t look convinced. OK... She knows there’s more. And honestly, who wouldn’t? I know there’s a kind of connection with him. We went through a lot together, like our parents’ fights. There was even one day when we ran away... Well, we hid out at my grandparents’ store and went home that night because we were hungry, but still, it was with him. We have memories together, like no one else.

- He was my first kiss...

- First kiss, huh...

My honesty earns a big sigh. I quickly try to recover.

- Don’t make a big deal out of it, please. It wasn’t that great, if you want to know the truth.

- Of course, she says dramatically. You expect me to believe that, given the man he’s become?

She turns back to her tasks, grumpy. I love her jealousy so much. I get up, forcing Buzz to move from his comfy spot between my legs. I apologize with a gentle pat on his head before moving toward my girlfriend. I wrap my arms around her body, which tenses at the contact.

- Come on, baby... Don’t sulk over this. I swear you kiss way better than he does, better than anyone, actually. At least you don’t have acne or braces.

My remark earns a small amused sigh. That’s already a good reaction. I kiss her exposed neck, which makes her straighten up.

- Sorry... she begins, turning around. It’s just that...

She avoids my gaze. I don’t like seeing her so... fragile. I run my hand through her hair.

- I don’t like it.

- You don’t like what? That there were people before you?

- No, she sighs, running her hand through her hair. I know there were others, that’s normal. I don’t know. I just feel vulnerable when you see people who meant something to you. It’s like I feel... like I’m nothing.

- Wow, I chuckle. Are you out of your mind?

I gently make her lift her head. She really does seem vulnerable right now.

- Don’t think that, baby. You’re my everything. How can you even think otherwise?

She sighs, shrugging.

- Will you... will you always love me, even after you really know who I am?

I raise an eyebrow. She seems so worried.

- What do you mean?

- I mean, the girl who left Portugal isn’t the one you see standing in front of you. Well... she is, but not entirely. I’m sure my parents are going to remind you of the clichés I used to be.

Oooh... So, she’s worried about going home. I smile at the realization. It’s really too cute. I thought I was the only one feeling this way, but she hides it well.

- What exactly are you hiding from me?

- We all have a past, Ona...

2

- Hey, are you done? I’m not the kind of person who’s going to push you away for some random reason, OK? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Is this what you’re always scared of when you get in your moods?

She stays silent for a moment before relaxing.

- Yeah, a bit. I feel like I don’t deserve you. Like my old self doesn’t deserve you.

- Don’t talk down about yourself like that. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, and I mean it. I don’t care who you used to be. The only one that matters is the person standing in front of me right now.

She takes a deep breath and nods. I gently stroke her cheek and kiss her tenderly, pressing a bit harder to show her all my passion. I can’t help but smile when she reacts with a soft moan. Naturally, she flips me over to take control.

- You really can’t stand it when I’m in charge, can you? I tease with a laugh.

- Not particularly, she whispers.

- Is that also because of your past? I tease her again.

Instead of answering, she kisses me roughly once more. For some reason, I have a feeling I hit the nail on the head. But I don’t say anything, letting her take the lead. It feels too good to interrupt.

- So, Nick...

I burst into laughter, wrapping my arms around her neck. She’s unbelievable, seriously.

- I was 10, Luce. He didn’t even matter, not even a little.

- Like a big brother, she murmurs.

- Yes, exactly. Like a big brother, I confirm with a small smile.

- Why did you turn down the party? We both know we could’ve gone.

- Why? Well, simply because I want to spend as much time as possible with my girlfriend, you see. That’s why we’re here, after all.

- OK, she whispers. Fine, I’m going to finish fixing up this old bike, and then we can go for a walk in town.

- Hallelujah!

Wednesday, April 13th; 6:00 PM - Cemetery

Here we are. I’m scared. The moment I’ve been dreading is finally happening. I even feel myself trembling in Lucy’s steady hand. I delayed this as much as possible, dragging us all over town this afternoon. But it’s time to go now.

- Do you want me to wait here? Lucy offers.

- No. I need you with me.

- Alright, she whispers.

I don’t move. I’m taking my time to gather the courage. I appreciate Lucy’s patience too. It takes a good ten minutes before I finally lead us inside. I’ve only been here once, but I could find his grave with my eyes closed. Row eleven, grave six. The path is short. We’re there before I’ve even had time to mentally prepare. We stand in silence, but Lucy’s presence reassures me. I’m surprised to see his grave so well-kept. There are even flowers on it. Maybe Grandpa... or Leila. I asked him about her, and he said she still visits town from time to time. I haven’t had the courage to reach out to her. Too many memories would resurface. Yet, I have so many questions for her. Lost in these thoughts, I bend down to place my white rose. Lucy waits a moment before doing the same. She insisted on getting one too, right after we did the shopping for tonight. She didn’t know him, but her gesture touches me deeply. I wait for her to stand back up before nestling into her arms. I take a deep breath as Lucy rubs my back. Her presence is vital to me. It’s hard being here, facing his photo, knowing he’s really six feet under. It’s different from mourning him in Miami. This feels real.

- He would’ve been proud of you, you know?

- I hope so, I murmur. He would’ve adored you.

- Really?

I smile softly. I’m glad I brought her here. She’s trying to take my mind off things, and it’s working.

- Yeah... He accepted everyone in my life as long as they made me happy.

She nods in understanding.

- Did he know about...

- My sexuality? Yeah. For some reason, he figured it out right away. Well... I did talk a lot about Mapi with a dreamy smile on my face.

- And... how did it go?

- I didn’t even have to tell him. We were at the dinner table one night when I came back here. After I rambled on about the things Mapi and I had done, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Sweetie, is she your girlfriend? Because, you know, I wouldn’t mind if she is.”

I mimic his line, making Lucy laugh. I smile too. I really have nothing to complain about in that area. He accepted me, completely. All he cared about was that I was happy. The only thing that truly mattered to him was that I remembered the importance of family and loved ones. I get that now. That’s why he left me so many promises to keep—like with Mom and Joan...

- He was the only man I knew with such a big heart. So yes... he would’ve adored you, especially knowing how you saved me.

- I think it would’ve been mutual, she whispers.

We stay like that for a while. Normally, I would’ve poured out my heart, but with Lucy here, I don’t. We just enjoy the quiet. Eventually, the night starts to fall, signaling we’ve been here for at least an hour. Lucy really has extraordinary patience.

- Let’s go, I murmur.

- Are you sure? We can stay longer.

- No, it’s alright, I assure you. Thank you for coming with me.

- OK... she breathes. Let’s go then.

I’ll probably come back on my own another time. Lucy loves her morning walks on the beach, so I’ll take advantage of that. Hand in hand, we head back home. We set up a little camp on the beach earlier. We wanted to prepare for tonight with a campfire. We bought barbecue supplies and even marshmallows. It’s shaping up to be a great evening. As we arrive, Buzz runs up to greet us. Lucy says she’ll handle the fire while I gather some blankets. It’s getting chilly, and the last thing we need is to catch a cold...

5

- "Oh no. I'll leave you two alone tonight," my grandfather declines. "The neighbor invited me to dinner anyway."  

- "Really? Nick's dad?" I asked. "I saw him this afternoon, by the way. Why didn’t you tell me he was back?"  

- "Oh, I didn’t want to worry you with that. Did he tell you about his mother?"  

- "Yes," I sighed. "How are things between him and his father?"  

In fact, I had thought a lot about it this afternoon. His father was an alcoholic, which was the main reason his mother filed for divorce. Since he kept the house, I knew he’d gotten sober and even remarried, but I doubt his forced return brought any joy, knowing Nick.  

- "Nick is a good boy," he replied. "He’s struggling with the situation, but he channels his anger in a positive way. He’s rarely home. Actually, he often comes here to help me fix a few things. Or he takes Buzz for a walk."  

- "Yeah, he told me."  

I chuckled, remembering what he had added. Honestly, I think he’s happy to spend time here. It’s like a kind of refuge. I also understand why Buzz loves him so much too.  

- "Will he be with you tonight?" I asked.  

- "No. I think he’s going to his girlfriend’s."  

- "Okay..." I murmured. "Too bad."  

I would have invited him with us if I had known. I think Lucy wouldn’t have minded.  

- "Well, I’m heading out then. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?"  

- "Oh, no no. I really meant it when I said you two should enjoy yourselves together."  

- "You’re not a bother if that’s what worries you."  

- "Ona, sweetheart. It’s fine, I promise. Look, I’ve already got the wine to bring to the neighbor’s."  

- "Okay, I won’t insist anymore. You know where to find us if you need anything."  

- "Yes, yes," he laughed.  

I left to join my girlfriend and... Buzz. That dog has completely forgotten about me in favor of my girlfriend. He adores her. Well, she does take him running every morning. He must feel alive again in just a week. Though, not as much after what I just learned.  

- "He didn’t want to come?" my girlfriend asked when she saw me alone.  

- "No. Mister got himself invited by the neighbor," I joked.  

- "Oh. Well, that’s good. At least now you know he still has a social life."  

- "True... when you put it like that," I giggled.  

I spread a blanket on the ground. Lucy set up some kind of tent, or something you could call one. It’s more like a tarp, really, but it’s pretty cool. It shields us from the wind later at night. I smiled as she was already turning sausages over the fire. It’s simply perfect. Plus, the sun was finally setting, giving us a stunning sunset. I really feel like I’m on vacation.  

- "I brought you a sweater if you want," I told her, showing the clothing in my hand.  

- "Thanks."  

She quickly slipped it on over her t-shirt. I didn’t want to grab anything more, even though she was in shorts and flip-flops. She admitted to me that she loved feeling the sand under her feet. As for me, I stole one of her sweatshirts and a pair of bermuda shorts. They’re a bit big, but I feel so comfortable in her clothes. They smell so much like her, it’s delightful.  

- "Come sit," I said, patting the spot next to me after sitting down myself.  

- "Two minutes. Let me finish here first. Hey, check the cooler and get us something to drink."  

I smiled and nodded. To be honest, we bought a bottle of champagne. Who knows why. In any case, I happily popped the cork and poured us two glasses. Meanwhile, Lucy had prepared two plates for us. The evening went on. We talked, we laughed, never losing sight of the waves and the setting sun in front of us. Our legs constantly touched. We rubbed, we caressed each other, until the blanket ended up over our shoulders after we got rid of the plates and empty glasses. If time could stop, I would let it.  

- "Do you... do you think you know everything Feli did to me?"  

My question broke the peaceful silence. I was completely slumped on Lucy, who was supporting both our weights. She didn’t answer right away. The truth is, I need to know. Mapi was right in a way. I can’t hide it from her forever.  

- "I think so, yes," she murmured.  

I turned around at her words to straddle her. I needed to look into her eyes if I was going to tell her. Her hands instinctively rested on my thighs. It’s been a long time since I’ve pulled away from her touch, and it feels good. I feel like I’m coming back to life, able to accept any kind of contact.  

- "You don’t have to tell me, Ona... I’ve understood. You wouldn’t have been so broken otherwise."  

I nodded as a few tears welled up in my eyes. I had never dared to say it out loud. Saying it would mean acknowledging it. Yet here, with her, I just feel at peace.  

- "I-I want her to pay. F-for her violence, her acts, and those r-rapes too. Y-you’re absolutely right. S-she doesn’t deserve to get away with it."  

Lucy nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. With her other hand, she stroked my back, sending shivers down my spine. But my decision was made. I want to take her to court. I’m ready to do it now. I know it’s the last thing I need to do to close this chapter of my life.  

- "It’s going to be hard, you know that, right?"  

I nodded. I felt shaky because I knew many wounds would reopen, but I knew it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t deserve to get away unscathed.  

- "I-I can do it, with you."  

I looked at her pleadingly, but her small smile said it all. She had been waiting for this, for me to free myself from my past. It had been a long time since she wanted to reopen the case my mother had prepared for me back then.  

- "We’ll do it together, I promise you, my love."  

Gently, she laid me down on my back, coming to rest over me. She kissed me tenderly before whispering:  

- "You are the strongest woman I know. I’m so proud of you."  

I let myself be carried away by her soft lips. Everything had changed so much in just a few seconds. Everything became sensual. I clung desperately to her neck as her hand roamed freely over my body. I caught my breath when she started playing with the hem of my bermuda shorts.  

- "Are you kidding?" I whispered, amused.  

I was dying to, after such an emotional moment, but we were out in nature. It wasn’t reasonable.  

- "What? Don’t you like adventure?" she teased between kisses on my neck. "You know I wouldn’t do it in the house."  

- "Someone could see us," I replied, without actually stopping her hand from sliding down.  

The temptation was just too strong.  

- "There’s the tarp," she murmured, still kissing my neck.  

I gasped when she reached my... soaked heart. Yes, that’s the right word.  

- "Dare tell me you don’t want this," she whispered. "Just be discreet this time."  

- "Oh, you’re talking about me?" I managed to say, shivering at her first caresses. "Let’s see who can control themselves better."  

I followed my words by unbuttoning her shorts. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling this night is going to be long... A long night filled with love under a starry sky

[focsle]

Ugh I need 2 go back to New England for a spell…..I need to look at a Proper Ocean. I don’t like the ocean near me. There’s No Rocks, only beach. I hate a beach. Especially when there are other people there.

[toastsnaffler]

happy flat fuck friday I feel likr I've been run over by a steamroller <3

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

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Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[kethabali]

when you’re in a group of 3+ and 2 people decide it’s the perfect time to have a private conversation i fucking hate that shit it makes the third person feel so outcasted or no good reason save that shit for when you’re alone if it’s so fuckjng private

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Welcome to my Tuesday morning PSA about plastics!

So--I was walking along the Bolstadt beach approach sidewalk here in Long Beach, WA yesterday afternoon, and I started seeing these little orange pellets on the ground that looked a little bit like salmon roe (but probably weren't). So I picked one up, and it was most definitely rubber. I went around picking up every one I could find, and while I didn't keep exact count I probably amassed 50-60 of them. I took this picture before depositing them in the nearest trash can.

These are airsoft gun pellets, and you can buy them in big jars containing thousands of them. That means that someone who decided that the beach was a great place to shoot their airsoft guns could easily litter the place with countless little bits of plastic rubber in less than an hour. We already have a huge problem here with people leaving trash, including tiny bits of plastic, all over the beach (you should see the gigantic mess after 4th of July fireworks when thousands of people come in from out of town, blow things up, and then leave again without picking up after themselves.)

But these airsoft pellets have a particularly nasty side effect. You know how my first thought was "wow, those look kind of like salmon roe?" Well, we have a number of opportunistic omnivore birds like crows, ravens, and several species of gull that commonly scavenge on the beach, especially along the approaches because people often feed them there. If I can catch the resemblance of an orange airsoft pellet to a fish egg, then chances are there are wildlife that will assume they're edible.

Since birds don't chew their food, they probably won't notice that the taste or texture is wrong--it'll just go down the hatch. And since they can't digest the pellets, there's a good chance they might just build up in the bird's digestive system, especially if the bird eats a large number of them--say, fifty or sixty of them dropped on the ground along the same fifty foot stretch of sidewalk. The bird might die of starvation if there's not enough capacity for food in their stomach--or they might just die painfully of an impacted gut, and no way to get help for it. If the pellets end up washed into the ocean, you get the same issue with fish and other marine wildlife eating them, and then of course the pellets eventually breaking up into microplastic particles.

You can get biodegradable airsoft pellets; they appear to mainly be gray or white in color rather than bright screaming orange and green. But "biodegradable" doesn't mean "instantly dissolves the next time it rains." An Amazon listing for Aim Green biodegradable airsoft pellets advertise them as "Our biodegradable BBs are engineered to degrade only with long-term exposure to water and sun and will degrade 180 days after being used." That's half a year for them to be eaten by wildlife.

I don't know, y'all. That handful of carelessly dropped rubber pellets just encapsulates how much people don't factor in the rest of nature when making decisions, even on something that is purely for entertainment like an airsoft gun. We could have had a lot of the same technological advances we have today, but with much less environmental impact, if we had considered the long-term effects on both other people and other living beings, as well as our habitats. We could have found ways from the beginning to make these things in ways that benefited us but also mitigated any harm as much as possible. Instead we're now having to reverse-engineer things we've been using for decades, and sometimes--like the "biodegradable" airsoft pellets--they still have a significant negative impact.

But--at least there are people trying to do things better, thinking ahead instead of just on immediate profit. We're stuck in a heck of a mess here, figuratively and literally, and changing an entire system can't be done in a day. Maybe we can at least keep pushing for a cultural shift that emphasizes planning far into the future--if not the often-cited "seven generations ahead", then at least throughout the potential lifespan of a given product.

[vividxpages]

✩˚౨ৎ˚✩‧The Great War PART 1 ✩₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

PART 2 + PART 3

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 1700

summary: Jace and you are lovers, but stand on opposite sides of the war, not allowed to see each other anymore. But love always finds a way. (inspired by “The Great War” by Taylor Swift)

warnings: angst, reader is Alicents's daughter, the Greens being a bad family, hurt/comfort!, kissing

a/n: help, I'm obsessed with this boy and every song starts to sound like a possible fic idea for him!!!

𓆩♡𓆪

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War

Sometimes, you could only breathe above the clouds.

Up here on your dragon’s back, the trouble you left behind underneath you did not matter anymore. You thought of the castle that slowly poisoned you from the inside, the dark nights where you thought you were completely alone in the world with no comfort in reach but the memories you carried with yourself.

Once there had been laughter at the dinner table, the halls filled with the family you had not seen in months. Now, you only saw your brothers and your mother together in one room during council. You shuddered at the memory of today’s meeting, snuggling deeper into the saddle and closer to the dragon who kept you safe in the sky.

(“Maybe we should send our dear sister.” Your brother Aegon had proposed at some frustrating point of an endless council, taking a deep swig from the wine glass in front of him.

You had simply stared at him, silent. No one was really listening to you anyway and you were past the point of turning to your mother pleadingly. She was just as silent, always frowning, always doing nothing. “What do you mean, Aegon?”

“We can weaken them from the inside.” He had spoken to the others then, who at least looked so confused as you had felt. “Send them my little precious sister who a certain bastard son always had a weak spot for. I don’t see the problem if you kill him while you’re fuck-“

Your chair had screeched over the floor and fell down with a loud thud on the stone floor. You had clenched your hands into fists as you stood, fury in your eyes.

“Aegon, stop with such nonsense.” Alicent had said quietly, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. You fled.)

You welcomed the tears on your cheeks like an old friend, letting them cool your skin as you stirred your dragon through the sky, opting to just turn right and never come back to Westeros.

But oh, how your heart still clung to them.

The family up north in the realm, the family you had lost forever in the middle of his conflict.

Suddenly, you felt your dragon tense and directed your attention to the west, where a shape of a big shadow flickered through the clouds. Your mind began to race with what you’d do if Aemond had followed you, always being damned to bring you back when you had strayed too far away from Kings Landing.

But this shadow was not big enough to be Vhagar.

And those dark curls did not belong to your brother.

You gasped as your dragon let out a recognizing screech, lunging forwards through the clouds until you and the other rider could almost touch at how close your beasts were.

Time seemed to slow down as they flew past each other, teasingly snapping at each other’s necks with the joy of being reunited, but there was no doubt. As you raced through the skies, you looked into your Jace’s eyes.

You let out a broken gasp and quickly looked over your shoulder, but he and Vermax were already out of reach, descending down beneath the clouds. And suddenly, you knew where he was going. You spurned your dragon on, the wind cutting into your skin as you raced after them, faster and faster until you let your dragon spread its wings for a quick landing by the beach Jacaerys had chosen.

Only the silver moonlight illuminated the shore by the cliffs, void of any other soul who could witness the forbidden reunion between the two of you. If you had been in company, Jacaerys would’ve already been dead or held captive.

But you were alone, for the first time in months.

You slid down your dragon’s back, nearly blind by the need to reach him, to throw yourself into his arms like you had dreamed so often.

When you had seen each other for the last time, there had not been a war yet.

And Luke had been still alive.

(You had cried for hours when Aemond had returned, blood still drying on Vhagar’s massive teeth. You had begged your mother to write a letter, just a simple letter to Jace, but everything at court had still been too fragile to do anything but be in shock over what had happened up there. It had nearly driven you mad, to know that somewhere Jace was suffering the loss of his little brother and there was nothing you could do to comfort him.)

Now, he was right there in front of you, leaving Vermax behind him and running towards you on the wet sand by the water. You broke out into a sprint as well, a disbelieving laugh that was anything but amused leaving your tight throat as his features became more and more clear to you.

You crashed together like two waves.

The embrace was nearly violent as his arms slung themselves around you, lifting you up and pressing you into him. There was no strength in your bones anymore and if Jace wouldn’t have held you so tightly, you would’ve crashed onto the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

Only Jace was holding you together right now.

He was everything you had been missing in those terrible weeks. He smelled like sea and wind and smoke and your hands shook as you combed through his wet curls, your tear-streaked face securely hidden in his neck.

You never wanted to let go of him and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.

“Gods- my love…” He mumbled into your ear and you let out a choked sob as you held each other. It was like he could not decide where he wanted to touch you first. His hands drifted over you restlessly, up and down your spine, holding onto you as if you could disappear again at any moment.

“How did you find me?” You asked breathlessly, your bottom lip still trembling dangerously as you caressed his cheeks, needing to refamiliarize yourself with the feel of his skin on yours.

He swallowed thickly, unshed tears glistening in his beautiful years. “I remembered the route you liked to take when you needed to stop thinking. And it’s cloudy today. No one saw me coming. I’ve been waiting for a cloudy night like this for weeks-“

His voice broke and you pulled him closer again, shudders of pain and longing and relief to be with him going through you in an endless loop. How much had changed since the last time you had seen eye to eye: Your father had always said you’d make a good match back then and now Jace had one brother less and you were a captive in your own home.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as you both looked out on the ocean. “I- oh Jace, I tried to write, I wanted to send you a letter, but- I wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t help you and-“

“It’s okay.” He said, but it sounded lifeless, void. “It’s not your fault. I wished I could’ve been there for you too. I know how much you loved Luke.”

Gods, you wanted to cry and never stop again. Even now, Jace was trying to be strong for you, as he had always been.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.” He told you and cupped your cheek, looking deeply and longingly into your eyes. “I missed you every second we’ve been apart. Have you been treated well? Have Aegon and Aemond-“

“I love you too. I want to come with you.” You interrupted him fiery and he shuddered at the insane idea of it, the consequences unimaginable and likely deadly for one of you. “Please, please, let me come with you, I can’t stay a single day there, my mother is not the same anymore and- my brothers have been horrible with the things they want to do to Rhaenyra and you.”

He shushed you gently, drawing his arms tighter around you and swaying you back and forth. “I’ll find a way. I’m not letting you stay there alone for much longer, my love. It makes me sick to think about you being alone in Kings Landing, believe me, but…mother says it’s not safe, not yet-“

“I won’t cause your family any trouble, I promise-“

“It’s not us we’re fearing for.” He smiled sadly at you. “It’s you. I won’t summon your brother’s anger on you. I’d rather take it on myself, but- we need to be a little more patient, okay?”

You could see how much effort those words cost him and you had no doubt if it was his choice to make, he’d take you with him to Dragonstone and never look back. You watched his throat bump with tension, his jaw set, his lips pressed together tightly.

A sudden small smile danced over your face. “So you only came to me tonight because you wanted to see me?”

His eyes were dark with longing, with wanton he could not give in to, not tonight. “My love...I needed to see you.” His thumb lovingly brushed over your cheek, the pad of it briefly touching your lips.

There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you needed to tell him and hear from him, but in this short moment you were only a girl and he was a boy. Your boy.

 He met you right in the middle, delicately holding your face between his hands as your lips met, desperately kissing you as his taste exploded in your mouth once again. He kissed you drunk, enveloping all your senses until all you felt was him. His lips were dry and salty from the long flight over the clouds and along the coast, your runny noses sliding against each other, but it was perfect.

Your heart was mended with every little sigh into your mouth, his long lashes brushing over your cheeks, your hands tangling in his hair…

You thought that maybe, in another lifetime, the two of you could’ve been able to stop the war.

Another part of you knew that you always had been damned, cursed.

You blinked into the starless grey sky above you as Jace began to ravish your neck with wet kisses and you thought of the old saying passed on from generation to generation.

Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin.

On which side would yours land if you ever lost him?

On which would his land when it finally sank in that he could never have you?

[notafunkiller]

out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can���t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern.  “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You  watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

*

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You  take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pills?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pills, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

[mariclerc]

Dad duties | cl16

Summary: where you meet an adorable dad and his little girl at the beach. Warning: none, just dad!charles, a little emotional, instant crush and FLUFF, pure fluff.

a/n: Hii, a long time ago I was thinking about doing a story about what Charles would be like as a single dad... Something crazy, I know, but I hope you like it!! Let me know if you want a part two of this <3

Part 2 Part 3

Sun gleams off the turquoise water, gentle waves lap at the shore. You walk along the beach, toes sinking into the warm sand. Giggles suddenly catches your attention, you turn to see a little girl, barely a year old, with bright eyes and a head full of messy curls, crawling determinedly towards you. She reaches you, grabbing a handful of your sundress. You smile, kneeling down to her level.

“Hey there, little one. You seem a little bit lost.”

The girl babbles happily, reaching for your sunglasses. You chuckle and gently remove them, placing them on top of your head.

A shadow falls over you. You look up to see a tall, handsome man with kind greenish eyes and sun-streaked hair... He looks slightly flustered.

“Oh god, I'm so sorry, that's my little escape artist Ava, come here to Papa munchkin.” He smiles apologetically.

Ava squeals and reaches for him. He scoops her up effortlessly, her tiny giggles filling the air.

“Don't worry, she's adorable! How old is she?” you asked.

“One year old, going on a hundred!” He winces as Ava grabs a fistful of his hair. You can't help but laugh. “Ouch, sweetie that hurts!” He says and Ava giggles.

“Looks like she has you all wrapped around her little finger.”

“Definitely.” he chuckles.

He introduces himself as Charles, you tell him your name. To your surprise, the conversation flows easily, you learn he's a single dad, the love and devotion evident in his gaze as he talks about Ava. He opens up about his complicated relationship with his ex (Ava's mother), the challenges of dating as a single parent. You listen intently, impressed by his honesty and dedication to his daughter.

“You seem to be doing a great job, Charles. And that's impressive, you know, how hard you work and try to be the best every day for her.” you smile.

Ava snuggles closer to him, burying her face in his neck.

“I manage to do a good job... It's definitely a handful, but she's worth it all.” he smiles.

A comfortable silence settles between you. You steal a glance at him, then quickly look away, cheeks warming. You sense a similar flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

“Well, maybe I should let you get back to building sandcastles with your princess.” You say with a bit of haste.

“Actually, I was wondering... Would you maybe, I don't know, maybe... Want to grab some ice cream with us sometime? Ava loves company, and frankly, so do I.” He speaks hurriedly.

You feel a flutter in your chest. This unexpected encounter has taken a sweet turn. “I'd love to. Thanks!” you smile.

Ava lets out a delighted squeal, as if sensing the possibility of ice cream, You and Charles giggle at her reaction.

“Great! How about next Saturday? Same place? How does that sound?”

You nod. “Sounds perfect.”

He smiles, you can see how the corners of his eyes wrinkle, something very cute for you. “Perfect... Ehm, here! Write down your number and I'll write down mine.” He says as he takes out his cell phone to give it to you and you take yours out of your beach bag to hand it to him.

You wrote your number on his cell phone with the name of: "y/n the life-saver 🎀". When he finishes he gives you your cell phone back and you see that he has registered himself as: "Charles the handsome dad 😋" you can't help but laugh at the name.

“Well, then I'll write to you to keep in touch... Handsome dad.” You say with a giggle and he blushes.

Ava yawns, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

“I think someone's getting tired.” you giggle while looking at Ava.

“She probably is. Sand and sunshine can be exhausting for little ones.” He says and then smiles a little. “This was unexpected... But so nice.” he says quietly.

“Yeah, definitely nice!” you say meeting his warm gaze.

A blush creeps up Charles' neck as he finally pulls back slightly.

“See you next Saturday then, Y/N, it was nice to meet you!”

You smile. “It was also nice to meet you both!”

He nods, a goodbye lingering in his eyes. Charles walks away, cradling a sleepy Ava in his arms, you watch them go, a warm feeling spreading through you. This chance encounter has blossomed into something promising, and as you turn towards your car, a smile lingers on your lips. The beach seems a little brighter now, filled with the promise of sunshine, ice cream, and maybe, just maybe, something more.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It's a text message. You pull it out, expecting a message from a friend, but your heart skips a beat when you see the name displayed on the screen - Charles the handsome dad 😋.

Charles the handsome dad 😋: Ava just fell asleep. She kept asking for "y/n." Any chance you have a favorite ice cream flavor? Trying to win some brownie points for Saturday afternoon.

A laugh escapes your lips. He's charming, that's for sure. You quickly type a response.

y/n the life-saver 🎀: Chocolate chip cookie dough, always! And tell Ava I said goodnight. See you on Saturday cha!

You hit send and a warm feeling washes over you. This unexpected encounter has taken a delightful turn, and with a giddy anticipation for saturday's ice cream date, you turn back towards the ocean. The waves seem to whisper a promise of something exciting to come, and you can't wait to see where this newfound connection might lead.

***

The cheerful clinking of spoons against ice cream sundaes fills the air. You sit across from Charles at a brightly colored table, a giant chocolate chip cookie dough sundae melting in front of you. Ava, nestled comfortably in a high chair, digs into a kid-sized strawberry sundae with a look of pure bliss.

He chuckles “Looks like someone's enjoying their treat.”

Ava lets out a happy gurgle, a smear of red adorning her cheek. You laugh, you leaned towards her to wipe her cheek.

“She's definitely got a sweet tooth.” you say while wiping her cheek.

Charles takes a bite of his own sundae, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just like her dad. Thanks for the recommendation, this cookie dough ice cream it's fantastic!” he smiles.

“My pleasure, I'm glad you both like it.”

Ava reaches out, grabbing a stray piece of cookie dough from your sundae. You laugh, helping her bring it to her mouth.

“Careful, little one, that's a big bite!”

Charles watches the interaction between you and Ava, a smile playing on his lips.

“You seem to have a way with kids.” He says softly while looking at the two of you with adoration.

You shrug. “I guess so, I have a younger brother, so I've had my fair share of practice.”

The conversation flows easily between bites of ice cream, you learn more about Charles' life as a single dad, the challenges and rewards that come with it, he talks about his passion for racing, a twinkle in his eyes as he describes his dream of one day competing professionally. You share your own dreams and aspirations, surprised at how comfortable you feel opening up to him.

As Ava starts to get cranky, signaling the need for a nap, you suggest taking a walk along the nearby park. Charles readily agrees.

A comfortable silence settles between you. You both steal glances at each other, the unspoken attraction hanging heavy in the air. You reach the edge of the park, the familiar beach stretching before you.

“Looks like we're back where it all began.” you blush slightly.

“It does, doesn't it? Funny how things work out.” he smiles.

He stops walking, turning to face you. Ava lets out a whimper in her sleep, prompting Charles to gently bounce her in his arms.

“This was... so nice, I mean, this sweet afternoon and last week at the beach, it's very... Unexpected, but very good.” He says quietly with a smile on his face.

You meet his gaze, your heart fluttering in your chest.

You smiled. “I also liked it! Ava's such a sweetheart, and you seem like... a good guy, a really good and nice guy.”

He smiles back, a genuine warmth radiating from his eyes.

“I, uh... I was wondering if maybe, sometime next week, you'd like to have dinner? Just the two of us, after Ava's asleep?” He says with a bit of hesitation.

Your stomach does a nervous flip-flop, but a wide smile stretches across your face.

“I'd like that very much Charles.”

A wave of relief washes over Charles. He leans forward slightly, his eyes searching yours.

“Great... In that case, how about I give you a proper goodbye this time?” He says with a bit of flirtation in his voice.

Before you can respond, he leans in further, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is brief, sweet, and filled with unspoken promise.

Ava lets out a startled gurgle, breaking the spell. Charles pulls back with a laugh, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Looks like our little chaperone wants to get home.” he chuckles and blushes.

“Seems that way.” you giggled while blushing.

He walks you back to your car, Ava snuggled contentedly against his chest.

“Text me when you get home, so I know you made it safe. And maybe, just maybe, you can tell me what your favorite dinner is.” He says while blushing a little.

You laugh a little bit. “Don't worry, you'll be very well fed.”

He smiles, a hint of something deeper lingering in his gaze. You wave goodbye as he drives away with Ava, a warmth spreading through your chest. The unexpected encounter at the beach has blossomed into something exciting, and as you watch the sun disappear over the horizon, you can't wait to see where this new path might lead.

[fireya-x]

family dinner

AO3 Link (for the full tag list) || masterlist

John asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, to save himself from annoying questions from his family. Turns out, you're actually who he really wants.

[9k+ words]

cw: smut, piv sex, cowgirl, handjobs, come eating

Embossed golden script on cream white card paper - it was an invitation to his grandmothers' birthday party, alright. A subtle attempt at elegance from a woman who thought tea and a tin of biscuits solved most problems. John sighed.

He already knew the drill; his mother, every aunt and uncle, cousins and second cousins twice removed would be there, armed to the teeth with baby pictures and probing questions to make him wish he’d stayed in another country in some godforsaken warzone.

The phone ringing cut through John’s meager dinner of takeout curry, one of his favorites, when he was back in his flat for a short time leave. He picked it up and answered before checking, as he usually did, expecting it to be Laswell – but that voice wasn't Kate.

“Jonathan, my dear boy, did you receive the invitation?” His grandmother’s voice was a robust cackle for her age, a force of nature that kept her so fit at ninety.

“Just held it in my hands seconds ago, Nan.” 

“Ninety years young, can you believe it?”

“Never a dull moment,” he answered, picking at the takeaway container lid.

She laughed lightly, then cleared her throat. “Listen, dear. The caterer is extra fussy. Your opinion is special to me, you know that. It’s not like I get to plan this every day”

Here it comes.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m asking you what you want, John. I have everything else planned.” Of course she did. 

“It’s your birthday, Nan. I’ll eat anything,” he sighed. “Toffee pudding can’t be missing from any birthday, though.”

“Of course, that’s a must! Especially with you visiting! You’ve always loved it as a little boy. Now tell me, is your girl more a partial to fish or chicken?”

The fork clattered onto the styrofoam. John almost choked.

“You’ll be bringing someone, aren’t you?”

He should have said no. He should have clarified, for the thousandth time, that his occupation left no room for romantic walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. Maintaining relationships wasn’t something John did, especially when his job included more explosions than birthday candles on her birthday cake. And apparently, eliminating terrorists and global threats was not a suitable substitute for great-grandchildren.

But there was something in her voice. Hope? Excitement to finally see her grandson with a woman at his side? It was her 90th birthday, after all. Who knew how long John would have her still? Seeing him happy was the greatest gift he could give her, and he knew that.

John sighed. “Yes, I will bring someone.”

That she didn't squeal was unexpected, but he knew his mother was right there with her, listening to everything.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do? Try Tinder, maybe? How hard could it be to find a woman who’d go on a date with him? But John hated every single aspect of using his phone for anything other than texting and calling — and he gave up when the app asked him too many questions about himself.

That’s when he heard footsteps outside his apartment. He remembered that beautiful, chatty neighbor of his. You'd watched his flat and watered his plants a few times when he was deployed. You’d only met briefly, but given John’s sparsely decorated way of living, he wasn’t worried you would steal anything. But his grandmother's plants were something holy to him, and you kept them alive, and that made you a trustworthy person in his book.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit he'd stolen a glance at you here and there, always hidden in a hoodie or a way-too-big raincoat that obscured your figure, and something about it intrigued him.

Before his brain could even process what his feet were doing, he stumbled to the front door and opened it, revealing you, arms full of groceries, struggling to get the key into the door.

“Need help with that?” A low, grumbling voice startled you, and you almost dropped the bag full of fruits and veggies.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

John chuckled, then took the bag from you as if it was something he'd casually do all the time. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, putting the key in the lock. You took the bag from him and wanted to escape this awkward situation with your way-too-good-looking neighbor as fast as possible. But before you could close the door, he intervened.

“Hey, uh, I have a question.” John’s hand ran through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed his usual confidence.

“Yes?”

“I – I kinda promised my grandma that I’d bring a girlfriend to her 90th birthday party, and, well –”

“You don’t have one?” The question came out sounding more shocked than you intended. You were certain he had women lining up for him.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I don’t.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment, as if suddenly embarrassed by the admission. You tilted your head, looking at him expectantly.

“So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? What’s in it for me?”

“Free fancy food?” He smiled crookedly, and you were done for. How could you say no to that smile? The same smile that had been haunting your thoughts ever since he’d given you his keys to his apartment? Your heart was pounding.

“It’s a date,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink it. The relief that flooded his eyes made something inside you flutter.

“Thank you, I owe you one. Six p.m. on Friday, alright?”

“What should I wear?”

John wasn’t prepared for that question. And he didn’t mean to check you out – but he did. His eyes wandered from your boots, over your hips, up to your breasts – where his gaze lingered a second too long— and then to your face.

“It’s a garden dinner. I’m sure you’ll look nice in anything,” he said, the words feeling ridiculously inadequate the moment they left his lips.

“Very helpful, thanks.” He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, but you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll figure it out. Have a nice evening.”

You retreated to your apartment, leaning back against the closed door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your heart was still pounding. Did John, your neighbor, ask you out? The same John who seemed so unapproachable, wrapped in that aura of intensity he always wore, who disappeared for weeks on end to go on “business trips” and returned with a deep shadow under those blue eyes? 

What did he even do when he disappeared? You'd never asked. Even when he'd given you his keys so you could look after his flat while he was gone, there was nothing that gave away what exactly he did or where he went.

The small conversations you’d shared had always been just that— small nothings, polite exchanges with your friendly neighbor. Still, those infrequent encounters always sent your stomach into a nervous frenzy. 

You rummaged through your closet, trying to find something that screamed “I'm a cool, collected woman who casually dates mysteriously handsome men ” without looking like you’d overdone it. A garden party could literally mean anything, especially since you knew nothing about his family. Were you supposed to pick a nice, flowing dress or stick with casual jeans and a shirt? You had no idea.

You stopped your mind from spiralling further. It wasn’t a real date. It was a fake date . 

What were you thinking, agreeing to this? You were doubting your own sanity — but then you remembered the crinkled corners of his eyes when he smiled, the warmth that radiated from him when he’d helped you with your groceries – saying “no” to him wasn’t even an option. There was something about him that drew you in, a gravitational pull you couldn’t resist, even if it meant playing pretend.

The sundress you wore – he couldn’t even pinpoint the colour, something soft and warm, summery, like the sky just before dusk – hugged your curves in all the right ways, the delicate straps showcasing the elegant line of your neck and collarbone. His gaze traced the gentle swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric, the way the skirt flowed over your hips, his mind already picturing how it would look bunched up around your waist when –

Fuck.

A wave of heat - he knew it so well, yet hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever - crashed over him, settled deep in his gut, tightening his muscles, making his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping you hadn’t noticed the way his pants suddenly felt about two sizes too small.

He’d usually never been one for flowery dresses and delicate gold jewellery like the earrings that decorated your ears. They clashed with the brutal reality of his world. But on you, it was devastating. You were an innocent, oblivious creature walking straight into his hardened, cynical world without even knowing it. And somehow, against all logic and years of self-preservation, he wanted to corrupt every part of you.

His gaze snapped to the flesh of your delicate thighs that left little to his imagination, those toned legs wrapped around his waist while he pulled you closer and –

Jesus fucking Christ, get a grip.

He forced himself to look away, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he’d pull a muscle.

This was his neighbour. You , who’d watered his plants, borrowed his toolbox, offered a smile whenever you met in the hallway. The one who’d agreed to this incredibly stupid idea. You were doing him a favour, for God’s sake.

“Ready?” He shoved the word out harsher than he’d intended, the sound completely alien to even his own ears. But before you could answer, he shut his door and ushered you towards the exit. He needed air. He’d preferred an ice bath, preferably yesterday.

You didn’t mind adapting to roles and play pretend at all, but as soon as you arrived at the estate, your confidence got humbled. The house was huge, and the driveway alone was already filled with floral arrangements and all sorts of birthday wishes – an enormous ninety made out of entirely blush pink roses and lavender decorated the front yard.

The garden party was in full swing already when you two arrived. The air buzzed with the sound of laughter and chatter, clinking glasses and the distant beat of a live band. John seemed oddly out of place in between the flowers and the brightly dressed guests, like a lone wolf who had been dragged to a tea party.

But as soon as you stepped further into the event, the warm air surrounding you, the scent of freshly cut grass and citrus, the smiling faces all around you, your anxiety about the whole thing lessened. 

“Don’t worry too much," John's arm brushed against yours as you navigated through the clusters of guests. He reached out to grab two drinks from a passing waiter’s tray. “The worst they could do is show you my childhood photos.”

He offered you a drink, and you took it from him, smiling. “Somehow, that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” You earned yourself a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest and did decidedly inappropriate things to your equilibrium.

When John took your free hand into his like it was the most normal thing in the world, you felt like this was going to be the easiest task. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget you were living a lie.

Until dinner.

The seating arrangements were strategically orchestrated, it seemed, to maximize family bonding - or torture, you hadn’t decided which. You found yourself sitting between John, radiating a mix of polite restraint and his usual natural intensity that set your pulse racing, and a woman with the same kind eyes as him.

“This is my mother, Eleanor,” John had introduced her earlier, her smile so warm and welcoming you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be playing a role. She seemed almost too impressed when you'd introduced yourself, as if she couldn't quite believe he was telling the truth about having a girlfriend. 

You'd prove them wrong, not for their sake, but for your own growing satisfaction at seeing John surprised.

You were no stranger to the barrage of questions about your single status and lack of a partner from your own family, so you knew how tiresome it could get. You braced yourself for a similar interrogation.

Across the table, John's grandma beamed at you with a delight that melted your heart. You understood then what this was all about for him — fulfilling his grandmother's wish to see him happy, settled.

On impulse, you reached out to grab John’s hand beside yours, your fingers threading through his, offering him a reassuring smile, pretending to bring out your best I-am-so-in-love look you could muster. 

He seemed taken aback, his entire body stiffening for a split second as if your touch were an electric shock. But then he recovered quickly, his fingers tightening around yours with a gentle pressure that sent goosebumps dancing up your arm. He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles that lingered a heartbeat too long.

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze fixated on the curve of his lips, the way his beard scraped against your skin. Your stomach did a somersault, your senses flooded with a rush of longing that was as unexpected as it was undeniably thrilling.

“So,” John's aunt leaned across the table, her voice a bit too loud, as if intended to break the spell you’d fallen under. “What do you do?”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented, your gaze reluctantly leaving John’s hand and focusing on the plate of food a server had just placed before you. Shepherd's pie. But not just any shepherd’s pie. This looked like a culinary masterpiece compared to the frozen meals you were used to eating all the time.

“I work in healthcare,” you answered, your mouth already watering at the sight of the culinary heaven before you. “I’m an ER nurse.”

“Oh, wow,” his grandma chirped from across the table, her eyes twinkling with genuine interest. Her comment, however, was quickly drowned out by his aunt's next, slightly more probing, question.

“I'm amazed you two met with such busy schedules. To be fair,” she added with a sly smile directed at John, “I'm shocked Jonathan managed to find someone at all with his occupation .”

Your fork, laden with a generous portion of creamy mashed potatoes and perfectly seasoned mince, froze halfway to your mouth. Your earlier questions about the nature of John’s job came rushing back. What exactly did he do? You knew he was often away for extended periods, you even kept his plants from dying a slow death from time to time, but his reasons had always been vague. “Business trips,” he’d called them, with a shrug and that infuriatingly handsome smile.

“Right,” you managed, forcing a light laugh as you carefully set your fork back down, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “We make it work. We talk a lot on the phone."

“You do?” His mother, ever the perceptive one, turned to John, her brows raised in what you could only describe as disbelief. “How come you always tell us you can’t contact us?”

John cleared his throat and his hand reached for his beer, his fingers wrapping around the cold glass. “Kate makes some exceptions,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the drink.

Kate? Your mind scrambled for context, your internal “John’s-Life” file coming up short. “Kate” let him make exceptions? Who was Kate, and more importantly, what kind of job required someone to ask permission to make personal phone calls? And why did you feel jealous - you had absolutely no business to feel this way. 

“Who’s Kate?” You asked, reaching for your champagne flute, unable to hide the accusatory edge creeping into your voice.

“My boss . Sort of.” The golden liquid got caught halfway in your throat. First name basis with his boss? His family knew his boss? So many questions came up, and you were slowly starting to panic. You were supposed to be a believable girlfriend, but you were scared the mask was slipping away by the second. 

“Oh, right, Kate. Sorry, darling. You know how my weeks have been lately. It's a wonder I can remember my own name half the time.”

“She must be happy for you, too,” his mother commented, delicately spearing a piece of fish with a precision that made you suspect years of etiquette training lay beneath her impeccably polite facade. “Finding someone special, I mean. Might even spare her some of your, shall we say, moods .” She glanced at John, her eyebrows arched as if she was sharing a private joke with the entire table, except you.

Moods? You’d always found John to be quiet, reserved, perhaps a tad intimidating at times, but never moody. 

You glanced at John, who was pointedly studying his plate, the faintest hint of a flush creeping up his neck. You wouldn't have thought the man capable of embarrassment. It made him seem unexpectedly human, and somehow even more attractive.

You were about to ask for clarification when Nan seized the conversational reins. “So, darlings,” she asked, her gaze moving back and forth between you and John, her smile widening expectantly, “How long have you two known each other?”

“I think six months?” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips.

At the exact same moment, John declared, “Almost a year now,” his voice deep and steady, completely contradicting your rushed estimation.

You froze. The silence that descended upon the table was deafening. 

“Has it already been that long?” you exclaimed quickly, forcing a bright smile and injecting as much wonder and mock surprise into your voice as you could muster. You prayed that your sudden rush of amnesia would be enough to distract them from the giant, elephant-sized hole you’d just blown in your story. You reached over to slightly squeeze his hand. “I suppose time flies when you’re in love.”

You snuck a peek at John, expecting to see panic, maybe even annoyance, but what you found in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He was watching you intensely. And that smile playing at the corner of his lips? It made something dangerous and delicious twist low in your belly.

“I believe that,” John’s grandma chimed in, her voice warm with the wisdom of nine decades lived. “You two are very lovely together.”

Eleanor nodded in agreement. “She’s good for you, Jonathan. Maybe having someone special to come home to will make those long missions away a little easier.”

"Speaking of which, how’s that new posting treating you, lad? Heard it’s a bit of a hot zone, eh?” John's uncle boomed across the table.

“It has its challenges,” John replied, taking a long sip of his beer as if to fortify himself for the inevitable round of inquiries. “But it’s good to be back in the field.”

You frowned. Field? Posting? What kind of job involved working in a “field”? And what exactly made it a “hot zone?” You felt more and more confused by the conversation, it was as if they spoke an entirely different language, a language riddled with code words and shared experiences you weren’t privy to.

“That I believe,” his uncle answered, also reaching for his beer as if to toast to a shared understanding. “Bet your rank will get you far, though.”

You felt John tense beside you, his hand tightening around yours, not letting go. His family's casual acceptance of his frequent — and apparently lengthy — disappearances made you increasingly curious. You knew by now he often travelled for work, but something about the way they spoke, the underlying thread of concern laced with pride, hinted at a world you were only just starting to glimpse.

“I imagine those long stretches apart must be difficult, darling,” John's aunt commented, her gaze fixed on you with a sympathy that only deepened your bewilderment. “But I’m sure you’re used to it by now, working in a hospital and all. Those long shifts must be a challenge, too.”

You smiled, still confused about what was going on—but you also saw an opportunity. It was time to take control of the narrative, to steer this conversation into a territory you could navigate — even if it meant bending the truth further than it had already been twisted.

“Speaking of long stretches,” you interjected, shooting John a look that was equal parts challenge and playful invitation. You’d gone from wanting to bolt to wanting to play this game, see how far you could push him, how convincingly you could both lie. “Remember that road trip we took last fall? The one where we got hopelessly lost in the Scottish Highlands and ended up sleeping in the car?”

As you spoke, you noticed that everyone else at the table had dived into their food, the initial round of introductions and polite inquiries fading into a comfortable murmur of conversation. Nan beamed at you both, her fork hovering over a generous slice of shepherd’s pie, her eyes twinkling with the quiet pleasure of seeing her grandson – even a pretend version of him – happy.

Beside you, John stiffened, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and what you could only interpret as wary amusement. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like velvet draped over steel. “Scotland. Beautiful, isn’t it, love?”

“Beautiful?” you countered, tilting your head and letting out a soft laugh that you were fairly certain sounded far more genuine than it should have. You couldn’t help but admire his quick thinking, the way he effortlessly picked up on your cue and played along. “Those winding Highland roads. They were more treacherous than romantic, if I’m being honest. I was certain you were going to drive us straight off a cliff at least a dozen times.”

His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth that made something deep inside you melt a little. “I assure you, love, my driving is impeccable. You were simply distracted.” His gaze lingered on your face for a beat too long.

A delicious warmth flooded your cheeks. “Distracted? I seem to recall you being the one with wandering eyes," you countered, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you met his gaze head-on. You weren’t sure if the heightened awareness you felt buzzing between you was a product of the lies you were weaving or something more.

“That’s because you are quite the sight to behold, love,” he said, his voice husky, the words brushing against your senses like a caress.

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to process his words, their unexpected sincerity throwing you off balance. Had he just complemented you?

“You are—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on your chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. You held your breath, waiting, as the air thrummed with a sudden, unexpected intimacy.

“Breathtaking.”

What was he doing? you thought, your heart pounding. Was he still playing the part, or was there something more simmering beneath the surface? And why did the possibility excite you?

The air thickened, the sound of his family’s conversation fading into the background as the world seemed to shrink, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh or lean across the table and kiss him senseless.

Just as you felt yourself leaning into that dangerous impulse, Eleanor cleared her throat delicately.

You both startled, like students caught whispering in the back of the classroom. John's cheeks, you noticed with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, were flushed a faint shade of pink. Even a man like John wasn't immune to a mother's watchful gaze.

“Those rolls are delicious, dear,” Eleanor commented, and turned to you, her tone light but her eyes sharp with amusement. “Why don't you have one?” 

You reached for a roll, suddenly starving, the earlier tension dissolving into a relieved chuckle as you caught John's eyes. He winked at you, a playful glint in his blue eyes. You winked back, feeling a warmth spread through you caused by the man sitting beside you, a man who, despite your best efforts to resist, was quickly becoming more than just a convenient prop in this game of play pretend.

You'd managed to escape the clutches of the dinner table without completely blowing your cover, even when, at some points, you weren’t so sure how nobody saw right through you. But then came the real challenge — mingling. The party had moved inside the house, and you were separated from John. 

You silently cursed yourself for agreeing to this whole fabricated scenario. What if you told completely different stories to his relatives? What if someone asked you about his work, for God’s sake?

Glasses of port in hand, John’s extended family seemed very determined to catch up on months’ worth of news in one evening. You did your best to smile politely at every occasion, your inner monologue continuously reminding you to simply not say anything stupid.

Suddenly, a very chipper and well-dressed woman intruded on your personal space, waving her phone in front of your face. “You must be John’s girl!” she exclaimed, and before you could even answer, she swiped through numerous photos. “Look at her – isn't she adorable!”

You leaned in, attempting to make eye contact with the child in the photos while subtly taking a step back, her perfume a bit overwhelming. “Absolutely adorable,” you agreed, putting on a wide grin, and the woman beamed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what children you and John will bring into this world. Aren’t they the greatest thing?”

Children? Your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to respond, to stammer out some vague response about “one step at a time”, but before you could even get a word out, the woman had moved on, already excitedly showing off her offspring to the next unsuspecting relative. 

Note to self: Avoid eye contact with anyone holding a baby photo, you thought, your internal panic rising. This whole “fake girlfriend” thing was rapidly becoming a high-stakes obstacle course, and you weren’t sure you were agile enough to navigate it without falling flat on your face.

You were trying to reach John, a plate of sticky toffee pudding on your plate, wanting to show off that you were going to try his favorite dessert – when a booming voice cut through the chatter, catching your attention. “There he is!” A tall, older man with curly hair approached John and shook his hand with a force that could crush granite. “That last mission you pulled off? Absolute textbook. A captain leading his own task force? The old man would be bloody proud.”

John’s posture stiffened ever so slightly. “Cheers, uncle,” he responded, raising his glass, his gaze darting towards you for the briefest of moments.

Mission? Captain? Task force?

The people around you, completely oblivious to your internal meltdown, continued chatting, casually dropping words like “deployment,” “classified,” “weapons,” and all other sorts of military jargon as if they were discussing the weather.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

All those late-night departures, when you heard heavy footsteps echo through your shared hallway; the vague explanations about “work trips” when you met him outside your apartment; those calls he received at odd hours, his voice tight, his tone clipped, echoing through your shared walls; those calls that always seemed to coincide with a breaking news report or some global crisis. John, your sweet, infuriatingly attractive, seemingly normal neighbor – was leading a deadly task force.

Not that it was any of your business what he did. He owed you nothing.

Then why did this feel like such a blow? That he didn’t tell you beforehand, throwing you into the midst of his family who were clearly all about that life, and leaving you in the dark, making a complete idiot of yourself?

You had been looking forward to trying the famous dessert all evening, but suddenly, your appetite completely vanished. The plate that you held suddenly felt as appealing as cold porridge.

“Everything alright, love?” John approached, noticing the shift in your mood.

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. “Peachy,” you replied. “Just, fascinating, hearing everyone’s stories.” You stabbed the pudding with your spoon, not sure where the feelings of anger came from.

You shoved the plate into his chest, forcing him to take it from you. “I just need some air.” You turned and made your way towards his Nan’s beautiful rose garden.

He’d lied to you.

Well, maybe not lied, exactly. Maybe it was the sudden awareness of the danger that shadowed his every move, who he really was, who he was compared to you.

You had every right to feel foolish, to even agree to such a stupid idea. But betrayal? You had no idea where it came from, it seemed like an overreach for a situation that had been, from the beginning, just a constructed lie.

Stepping out into the cool of the garden, you breathed a sigh of relief. The scent of flowers seemed to calm your racing mind a little, a welcome contrast to all the voices you just escaped. You found your way to a small bench underneath an old oak tree, sinking onto the cool wood, straightening your dress doing so.

You didn’t hear John approach, but then again, stealth was probably part of his many talents. You didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, stopping right next to you, an arm leaning on the backrest of the bench.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, frustrated by all these emotions you were feeling. “Well, the food is excellent, your grandma is adorable, and I haven’t witnessed any international incidents first-hand - yet. So that’s a win, I guess?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, a welcome contrast to the tension that had been knotting your stomach ever since you’d pieced together the things about his life. You’d grown accustomed to that sound, to the way it rumbled deep in his chest, unexpectedly gentle for a man who, apparently, spent his days navigating a world far removed from yours.

He shifted slightly, settling beside you on the bench. You felt the heat radiating off him in the cool air of the evening, an awareness that lingered even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Look,” he began, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, a gesture that was strangely endearing on a man who usually was so confident. “My life –” He gestured vaguely towards the party, the house. The unspoken explanation – “ my life is a full-blown, military-grade soap opera ” – hung in the air between you.

“You know,” you interrupted him, turning to face him. “A little heads-up about what you do would have been nice. Especially that it’s such an important thing in your family.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t fair to throw you into that without a warning. I guess because it’s so normal to me, I just completely forgot about it.”

“I’m a nurse, I don’t really specialize in disarming bombs or whatever it is your uncles like to do for fun.”

He laughed then, a full, hearty laugh, that made your heart flutter faster in your chest.

“It’s not funny.” You said, looking away. “And I know I have absolutely no right to feel – ” you struggled to find the right word. 

“To feel –?” he prompted, leaning a little closer.

“Disappointed,” you breathed. “It’s silly, I just felt like I was left out of inside jokes during dinner. I tried so hard to not let this lie slip, but it could have been so much easier if I had known.” You took a deep breath. “So, while I was keeping your plants alive," you added, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, "You were out there doing what exactly? Neutralizing threats? Saving the world? I missed that chapter in the ‘Good Neighbor Handbook.’”

You couldn’t help the edge that crept into your voice. At first, it had just been a fun little game, a chance to play dress-up and enjoy delicious food. But now, now it felt different. You were, suddenly, uncomfortably aware of just how much you didn’t know about the man sitting beside you. 

The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves overhead. John stared at you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You probably think I am a complete idiot,” you continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, a jumble of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. “I'm sorry, I'm being absolutely dramatic –”

The words died on your lips as his hands shot out, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a touch that was both possessive and unexpectedly tender. His gaze held yours captive, those blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. And then, without a word, without warning, his mouth crashed down on yours.

His lips were hard, demanding, hungry, devouring yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, unyielding dance. 

It was primal, raw, untamed. It was the kind of kiss that stripped away the pretence, obliterated the boundaries, and left you gasping for air, your mind reeling, your body aching for something you couldn’t name but craved with every fibre of your being.

Time seemed to stand still — the garden, the party, the lie — it all faded away. There was only the feel of his lips on yours, the light scrape of his beard against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves.

Eventually, he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours in the night air. His hands lingered, resting on your face, slightly tracing the lines of your jawline. His gaze was wild, eyes dark and burning into you with an intensity that made you want to melt into a puddle.

You stared back, your mind racing. This was the moment the lines blurred. There had been something there — you felt it. It was more than pretend, more than just playing a game. Desire. Interest. Even though you felt like you no longer knew this man at all, you wanted to get to know him all over again. Taste him, touch him — you blinked, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Would you prefer to leave?” John's hand, still warm from its possessive grip on your face, gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture both intimate and oddly reassuring.

You shook your head. “It’s your grandma's birthday. You can’t just leave because I feel uncomfortable.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of the party for one night,” he murmured, a quick smile flashing across his face. “I’m going to let her know you aren’t feeling too well. Alright?”

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your cheek, then, with a low rumble, he whispered in your ear, “Wait here.”

In front of both your apartment doors, the silence was an awkwardly long stretch. It felt like you were both trying to understand what had just happened, unsure where to begin.

“So, um,” he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you found strangely endearing. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded and smiled, “Of course. It was nice to get the dust off this dress again.”

He leaned towards you slowly, and your breath hitched. For one heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you again – would he? Was what happened in the garden just an impulsive decision?

But he hesitated, the moment frozen, and there was something indecisive happening between you. But you didn’t mean to push, neither did he.

He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Good night,” he said, his words careful, as if he were holding back from saying something else.

“Good night,” you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. The small hope that you'd taste him one more time evaporated.

You turned, your hand reaching for your door, keys almost to the lock, when strong hands grabbed you, spinning you around in a dizzying motion. Before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours again — silencing all those unspoken doubts and hesitations.

This was real. You felt it; your heart screamed it; the way his mouth was devouring yours, displaying a hunger and desire that shouted it from the rooftops.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on for dear life, as his tongue traced the seam of your lips with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You felt the rumble of his groan against your mouth as he backed you against your apartment door, his body moulding against yours as if he was starving for the feel of you. You were breathless, lost in the heat of his touch, the way his hands roamed your back and finally settled on the curve of your ass.

You realized then that you had always dreamed of kissing this man, silently, secretly, whenever his eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long right there in the hallway. You’d always dismissed those fantasies as wishful thinking, but clearly, he’d been wanting the same.

You heard a click as the lock on your door was turned, and you felt as his hand fumbled with the doorknob behind your back – all while his lips were still on yours, occasionally wandering to kiss your jaw and giving you an opportunity to breathe. He cursed under his breath, and before you even processed what was happening, he shouldered the door open and pushed both of you back into the darkness of your apartment.

The familiar space of your home was suddenly transformed, and John's touch was the compass guiding you. He didn't release you, keeping you close to his body as if you might slip away. With a smooth movement, he shoved the door shut, tossing your keys somewhere onto the floor.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up flush against him, the gasp that escaped your lips quickly swallowed by his next kiss. He carried you, your legs wrapped around his waist, until he reached your couch, where he gently laid you down, his body hovering over yours, his eyes devouring you, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.

The sofa dipped as he planted his knees left and right next to your legs, and he leaned to hover over you. You were both breathing hard, the only sound in the silent room. The only light illuminating you was the sliver of moonlight spilling through the window above.

“Is this still pretend?” you managed to whisper, your voice a shaky breath.

His eyes locked onto yours, the slight smirk on his face sending a thrill to your core. His hands moved to your hips, deliberately grinding them against his groin. You gasped as you felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against you, hyperaware of the thin fabric separating your most intimate parts.

“Fuck, no,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. He moved his hips again, his hands slowly but intentionally pushing up your dress.

Your skin felt like it was on fire; your head was spinning. 

One of his hands moved up to the line of your dress, and with a rumble in his throat, he pulled the fabric aside, exposing the swell of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His pupils dilated, his eyes dark and intense, as he stared at you like a starving man presented with a banquet. You'd never been so incredibly turned on, no man had ever made you feel this way— John’s simple gesture of delicately tracing the skin around your nipples made you moan so loudly you immediately threw a hand over your mouth, slightly embarrassed.

“No, let me hear it all. You sing so beautifully, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand gently moving yours away, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness.

"John,” you breathed, your voice a shaky sigh.

“This bloody dress,” he groaned. “Wanted to rip it off you the second I saw you standing at my door.” His voice was raw, unfiltered – gone was the nice, gentle neighbor; this was the Captain coming through, the darker, more commanding side of him that should have scared you, but only served to intensify the desire swirling inside you. You wanted to know all about the man he left behind as soon as he stepped into this building.

“Every fuckin' time I saw you in the hallway, those quick hellos were never enough,” he confessed, one hand tightening on your hip, the other slowly trailing down your skin beneath the hem of your dress. His touch was agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that made you lose your mind. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words were so honest, it caught you off guard completely. It must have shown on your face right then, because he smiled in return. “Never thought I’d stand a chance," he admitted. "You always seemed out of reach.”

You frowned. “Out of reach?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Figured I’d never stand a chance against the queue of blokes lining up at your door.”

“John, what? A queue, for me?” You laughed, your disbelief genuine, gesturing towards yourself.

He sighed, sitting up, his fingers playing with the lace trim of your panties as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re beautiful, and tonight, I learned it’s inside and out. You're you, and that's fuckin’ wonderful."

You shook your head in disbelief. His words made your entire body tremble.  He wasn’t just looking at your body; he was seeing you. And it felt extraordinary.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored your own. “I kept thinking about what you were hiding underneath those baggy clothes,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper, his fingers slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He felt you shy away from him a little, a smirk on his face stole your breath, as he pushed your legs apart with his calloused hands. “Like I said, so beautiful.” He whispered, his voice so rough with what you could only describe as lust. It made you shiver.

“You know,” you whispered, “The funny thing is, I thought exactly the same.”

“What do you mean?” You watched as he slowly ran a hand along your thighs. A ragged breath escaped your lungs, and you struggled to continue speaking.

“You’re incredible – there’s no way you didn’t have someone to –”

“To what?” he asked, suddenly stopping his movements, his gaze intense. “Willing to take a chance on a bloke who doesn’t know a thing about flowers or romantic dinners? Who spends more time on planes than in his own flat? Whose idea of a good time involves dodging bullets and disarming explosives?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head.

He was being so completely honest with you, so vulnerable, it sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was seeing you – the real you, hidden beneath the baggy clothes and carefully constructed walls – and for the first time that night, you were truly seeing him . John, who looked like he could bench-press a small car, who radiated an aura of danger as naturally as he breathed. 

He wasn’t some playboy who brought women home every other night, like you’d assumed. He could have any woman he wanted – and yet, here he was, his gaze tracing every inch of your naked body.

He liked you. He’d thought about you.

It felt surreal.

“Best decision I’ve made in a long time,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Asking you, I mean. Thinking I could never have you, and now –”

You held your breath, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “Now what?” you whispered.

“You’re mine.” He growled, and before your brain could even process what happened, his mouth was on your clit, kissing and sucking like he finally got to taste that delicious meal he was promised. 

“Oh god–!” you moaned, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. He moaned, and the vibration of it against your skin made your legs twitch uncontrollably.

John’s touch was relentless, his tongue swirling against your most sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You arched against him, your hips bucking involuntarily, craving more of the delicious friction that was driving you to the edge of madness.

He seemed to sense your desperation, the way your body was begging for something more. He pulled back, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you. His hand replaced his tongue, fingers gently caressing your sensitive clit. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“John,” you breathed, you were speaking without any control over it.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice thick with lust, his hand never ceasing its tormenting, exquisite torture against your aching core.

“I – I need –” You couldn't form the words. Your mind was blank, and your body was trembling with need that eclipsed all rational thought.

He seemed to understand, his gaze softening, a knowing smile curving his lips. He rose slightly, his hands moving towards the belt buckle, groaning as he released himself from the confines of his trousers.

He stepped out of his pants, the sound of fabric hitting the floor echoing in the sudden silence. His shirt followed shortly after, and you were captivated. His body was hard, sculpted muscle, his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxers, proof of the desire you'd awakened within him.

You watched, mesmerized, as he slowly peeled off his boxers, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached down, fisting himself, and your breath hitched at the sight.

“Still think you’re not attractive to me, love? Look what you’re doing to me,” he let his thumb slowly run over the head of his length, spreading the drop of pre-come that formed there, and he must have known it was teasing you, driving you mad. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth to speak, to voice the desire that was burning through you with the force of a supernova, but the words caught in your throat. All you could manage was a whimper as your fingers were digging into the cushions, hips arching upwards, instinctively seeking out friction you craved.

You felt like if you couldn't have him, you might die.

“Uh-uh.” His hand reached forward to grab the soft flesh of your tits, one after the other, and his thumb brushed a teasing circle around your nipples, the pressure increasing just enough to make you gasp. "I said, tell me what you want.”

“You,” you confessed, the words torn from your very soul. “For God's sake, I fucking need you.”

John's gaze intensified, his eyes dark, and the corner of his mouth twitched, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He loomed over you like a predator about to claim his prey. With a growl, he leaned down, pressing his mouth on yours, and you could feel his erection pressing between your folds.

One of his hands shot out, cupping the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you captive. 

“You’re going to get everything you need, love,” he breathed, and followed by his promise, he entered you in a deliberately slow movement, almost torturous. He moaned, so raw and primal, it made you clench around him, and your entire body ignited as he filled you completely. His size, his heat, the intensity of the sensation – it sent your senses into overdrive, causing you to dig your nails into his back.

“Ohhh fuck,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper, lost in a world of sensation he'd created with his touch.

He paused, holding himself perfectly still within you, savoring the feel of your body clenching around him and the soft moans escaping your lips.

You whimpered, arching your hips up instinctively, desperate for more, aching for him to erase every thought, every doubt, every worry, with the overwhelming pleasure that throbbed between you.

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then he moved. Slowly at first, deliberately drawing out the sensation, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust a slow, agonizingly delicious torture that had you clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails leaving trails of fire on his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice tight with need as he buried himself deeper. “You're so fucking tight – so fucking wet.”

But even in the haze of pleasure, a primal instinct took over. He needed more. He rolled you both over, shifting his weight so that you were straddling his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your core aligned perfectly with his arousal. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he reached for the hem of your dress, his fingers working quickly, impatiently, to free you from the loosely hanging fabric.

“Now,” his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, his thumbs stroking the sensitive flesh. “Ride me, love.”

You looked down at him, at the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes, the way his chest heaved with each ragged breath, and a surge of confidence, of pure, unadulterated lust, washed over you. You began to move, supporting your weight against him by running your hands through the light fur that dusted his chest. 

His hands dug deeper into your skin as you increased the pace, moving faster, harder, riding his cock wildly, completely lost in the pleasure.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure through you. He watched you, his gaze never leaving your face, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as if he were hanging onto your every move.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice thick with approval. “Like that, love. Ride me hard.”

His words were a primal command, a challenge that sent a thrill through you, making you even bolder, even more daring. You leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip, drawing a groan from him that resonated deep in your core.

He tasted of salt and desire, the scent of his arousal filling your senses, making you wild. His hands were guiding your movements, matching your intensity, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge of release.

With each thrust, you felt the coil of pleasure tighten inside you, building towards a crescendo that threatened to shatter you both. You moved faster, harder, your body driven by an instinct as old as time itself. His touch was a brand, marking you as his, and the possessive hunger in his eyes as you rode him, almost send you over the edge alone.

He was groaning now, his words a jumble of incoherent pleas and praises, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggled to maintain control. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs and arms bunching beneath your touch, and you knew the storm was about to break.

“Don’t stop,” his voice was raw with need, his gaze burning into you as if he wanted to sear this moment into his soul. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you shatter."

And with one final, earth-shattering thrust, you did.

A shudder ripped through you, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole your breath away. Your walls clenched around him, a thousand tiny sparks of sensation exploding behind your eyelids. Your name tumbled from his lips, a breathless groan, as he held you tighter. You cried out, the sound swallowed by his eager mouth as he captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, leaving you trembling, weak, utterly undone.

After you came down from your high, you watched him intently as he was also struggling on the edge of release. Driven by need and desire, you slowly let his cock slip out of you. He made a sound that sounded animalistic, a groan, low and deep in his chest, an expression of frustration. Your hand moved instantly, your fingers finding his length, circling him, stroking him with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Your fingertips traced a feather-light path up the underside of his shaft, lingering at the sensitive ridge just below the head before gliding back down to the base, your thumb brushing teasingly against the swollen vein that pulsed with his arousal.

His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closed, a ragged breath escaping his lips as you continued to tease him, your touch the only cure for his aching need. You watched him, mesmerized by the play of muscle beneath your hand, the raw power he embodied even at that moment of vulnerability.

“I can't –” His fingers dug into the cushions, his body tensing as if fighting against the tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

You smiled. The power thrumming between you was intoxicating, addictive. “Can’t what, John?” you whispered, leaning in, your lips trailing a teasing path along the hard planes of his stomach. “Can’t hold back anymore?”

His answer was a strangled groan. His body went rigid, and the wave of pleasure that followed was written all over his face. His hand shot out, not to stop you, but to grip your wrist. His fingers tightened around it, his control started slipping, shattering, as his release washed over him.

You whispered small praises, and watched, fascinated, as his release spurted over your hand in hot, pulsing bursts. His hips were stuttering, his cock, hard, thick in your grasp, throbbed, and the remnants of his release felt warm against your skin. He was completely at your mercy.

You’d never felt this bold, this empowered, this reckless. Before you could overthink it, you raised your hand to your mouth and licked his come off of your fingers.

Your wish to taste him, it couldn’t get any more him than this. Salt, sweat, and something so uniquely his. It made your walls clench around nothing, sending a new wave of excitement through you.

John’s gaze snapped to yours, his eyes wide, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring in their depths as he watched you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and reached out, his hand resting on your neck, his thumb slowly stroking along your pulse. “You’re something else, you know that, love?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. The sudden awareness of your actions, the intimacy of the moment, sent a wave of shyness washing over you. “I, uh,” you trailed off, averting your gaze, unable to meet the intensity burning in his eyes. Your cheeks burned, and you wanted to hide.

John’s hand shifted, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Don't shy away from me now, sweetheart,” he murmured and softly ran his thumbs over your lips. “Not after that.”

“That was –” You struggled to find the words, your thoughts were a mess. “I've never –”

“Never?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, the scent of him filling your senses, making you dizzy.

“Never been that bold,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to his lips, their fullness suddenly a source of endless fascination. “Or wanted someone so intensely.”

A dark smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with triumph and something that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Good,” he growled, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Because you're mine now, love. And I'm not about to let you forget it.”

And then, before you could protest – not that you had any intention of doing so – his lips crashed down on yours. It wasn’t gentle. This kiss was a possession, a claiming, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. His hand shot out to grab your neck, holding you close to him.

This really wasn't pretend anymore.

[erwinsvow]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

summary: how you and rafe got started <3

author's note: if i could stop losing my brain cells over rafe cameron for a minute that would be great but i can't so here it is <3 this is mostly cute but in the shea cinematic universe this establishes the beginning of what can only be a hopelessly codependent relationship <3 more parts to come! also none of this would be written without the surge of inspo i get from reading every single one of @princessbrunette's posts but in particular this one, this one, and this<3 one!

now spinning: one of the girls by the weeknd & jennie

Rafe’s always thought you were cute. 

Cute, he’d think to himself in passing, on a hot summer day when he was getting ready to take beers from the fridge and go find the boys at the country club. He didn’t need to steal anything, the waitress at the club always gave him whatever drink he asked for, but he just felt like taking them from the house today. 

You were dawdling around the house with a bored Sarah, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Sarah was texting on her phone, likely engaging in a virtual fight with Topper. He’d feel bad, but the two of them did it to themselves. You were at the counter with Wheezie, leaning on your elbows while the two of you discussed something. He didn’t really care, until he met your eyes for a second. 

Cute. The way you met his eyes and then looked away, face heating up. You were in a bikini and a coverup, probably waiting for his sister before spending the day on the beach or at the pool. The cover up was white and see through, covering everything to the point where no one could see anything but the faint yellow of your bikini underneath.

Leaning on the counter, when you looked away, he got a glimpse into the top of your dress. He could make out little yellow flowers on the material of your bikini and the outline of your tits squeezed against each other. 

He grabbed a beer and opened it with his back tooth, spitting the cap out on the counter next to Wheezie’s book.

“Ew, Rafe, get your spit molecules away from my book.”

“Who reads in the summer anyways? You should be glad for my spit if it makes you stop.”

“It’s my summer reading, Rafe, not everyone can just skip their assignments and get away with it.”

“Please, what have I skipped?”

You and Wheezie turn to look at each other and start laughing. He cracks a smile too, unexpectedly.

“Actually, it’s a great book. You’re missing out, Rafe,” you say, with a smile gracing your face, and he realizes he’s never actually heard the sound of your voice. You’ve maybe said hi to him twice, and both times Sarah had dragged you away within seconds. You even sound cute. His name on your tongue sounds even cuter.

“Really? Maybe I need to give it a try.” You laugh again, meeting his eyes this time. 

“You can’t have my copy, I already put my annotations in this one-“

“Stop yapping, Wheeze. I’m not gonna take yours.”

“Actually you have a copy in the library upstairs. I borrowed it last summer.”

“Really, kid? Wanna come find it with me?”

Your face heats up so much you turn away. He smiles then, and he smiles again when you follow him up to the library.

“This one is fantastic too, it’s about this young girl in England-” your voice continues to describe the plot of the book in your hand. You shelve it and then your eyes immediately land on another, another classic, another favorite. You ramble off the description but Rafe’s hardly paying attention.

He’s trying to recall when you had become so cute, so pretty. He thinks he’s never noticed you after you walk away with Sarah, or when he walks away from you two lounging on pool chairs, your nose in a book like always.

This is different. When had you become so irresistible?

Your pretty hair falls down your back. It sticks to your neck when the two of you are outside in the sun, in the heat. He has an urge to lick the sweat off just to see how you’d blush and feel how you’d squirm. Your eyes are warm and bright, but you’re still too shy to meet his blue ones, even when it’s just the two of you.

And it has been. Just the two of you, recently, almost all of the time. Sarah’s always off with her stupid friends and Wheeze is at home doing her summer work. 

The two of you travel to every ice cream parlor in the eight in the next few weeks. Conversation comes easily, even though you have nothing in common. He hasn’t picked up a bag from his dealer since he started talking to you, he realizes. Hasn’t felt the need to get high.

You’ve never even smoked weed, much less snorted coke. You’ll drink at a party with Sarah, but not too much, and you always end up being the sober friend holding back the vomiting girl’s hair. At the bonfire that he invites you to, your eyes keep darting around, seeing if anyone needs your help. 

Rafe moves so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view.

“Hey, kid,” he says quietly, leaning in. You’re boxed in, with Rafe and only Rafe on your mind. The clean, attractive scent of his cologne. The way it lingers on his clothes, like the button up you’re wearing over your pink dress.

He picks up the red cup in your hand and places it on the log beside you, balancing his beer next to it. His hands are cold from the bottle but you don’t mind much. He takes your wrists first, holding them in place, and then slides down so your hands are touching. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You were looking down at the hands, where the two of you were connected, but his voice makes you look up. He’s looking at you, and you want to hide your face. Your fingers twitch beneath Rafe’s grip. He holds on even tighter. “Don’t look away, princess. We gotta work on that, huh?”

You feel your face heating up at the nickname. You wish you were home so you could scream into your pillow.

“Sorry, sorry,” you scramble, trying to look up but you can’t find the strength or the will.

You’re embarrassed. Of course you are—this is Rafe, and you’re just you. Rafe is the one you’ve had a crush on since you knew what crushes were, and you are still the awkward little thing you were the first time you met him. 

His gaze burning holes through you makes you want to run and hide. Because this is Rafe, and right now you’re one of his girls. The ones Sarah’s complained about the whole time she’s known you—they get too attached, act all clingy, and then are replaced before long. 

You hear Rafe’s quiet laughter. You’re still boxed in, feeling hot and clammy even though he’d given you his button up not thirty minutes ago because you felt cold. 

“What’re you saying sorry for?” You look up quickly, and then look back down. Then Rafe’s hands leave yours, and he holds up your chin until you’re looking right into his eyes. “Hmm?”

You feel like puking. 

“I-I just, well I just-”

“You just what?”

“I don’t think I can be, um, be one of your flingy, uh fling-type girls. So, you know, maybe all of this isn’t a good idea.”

“Fling-type girls?” he questions. He’s holding back a laugh, which makes you irrationally upset. You shove hard against his chest to free yourself from the cage of his arms. 

“Yes, your fling-type girls. You have a new girl on your arm every week, and everyone knows it, and I refuse to be one of them, because it’s just embarrassing and dehumanizing,” he watches you ramble on. He smiles, but you don’t notice. “And frankly, I deserve better than that.”

“Are you done?” You glare back at him.

“Yes, and not because you said that. I was done anyway.”

“Good.” Your face drops for a second, thinking you overstepped and totally overreached regarding his intentions, but then Rafe surprises you—he leans in and kisses you. 

You weren’t expecting a playground peck, but the way he’s kissing you completely surpasses any and all expectations (and fantasies) you’d dreamt up. His grip on your hips is hard, and his tongue is almost down your throat. It’s messy, and wet, and when he pulls away, there’s strings of spit connecting you to each other. 

You should wipe your mouth before anyone sees, but you don’t. Your heart is racing, and you can barely speak, much less move. 

“If I wanted you to be one of my girls, I wouldn’t have spent the last three weeks listening to you blab about books and buying you ice cream. You’re gonna be my only girl, and that’s that, okay?”

You nod dumbly—words and motions still not quite back yet. You feel flushed. People’s eyes are on you both.

“Now, do you wanna head out and go get a cone?” You nod again. “Good girl. And watch your mouth.”

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 || (kinda)dark!javier peña x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || he's your dad's best friend, he's a narc, he's the guy you've been calling 'tio' most of your life... so he's not the guy you want to run into when you're out partying a little too hard.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 6.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || dubcon smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, reader is under the influence and under duress), age gap (not specified but it's big lol but they are of course both adults), dad's best friend trope, pseudo incest (reader calls javi tio/uncle but they are not related), drug use, jealousy, unprotected sex, orgasm control, rough/aggressive sex, we're talking complete total and permanent gut rearrangement, crying during sex (from overstimulation not like, being sad), hair pulling, 'sir' kink (briefly), creampie, basically just a kinky filthy mess idk what else to say

The bass was so loud you could feel it in every part of you— like your own heartbeat, but everywhere. The throbbing music, the heat, the sweat; it was an overwhelming experience, even before you took the pill… but now, it was transcendent.

Everything was lit up in electric colors, neon pink and green blending together into some impossible color you couldn’t describe; the dancers around you had their arms raised in the air, jumping and swaying with the music, and it reminded you of the waves in the Caribbean Sea— you know, the ones you never had time to go see even though you lived just a few miles from the beach.

Frankly, you didn’t have time for this either: you should be studying for midterms, but the stress of college was becoming overwhelming and you were reaching a breaking point.

Or, maybe you already had, considering this was your coping method. It wasn’t your usual approach, but you hadn’t needed anything this drastic before. Maybe it was because you weren’t just escaping from the stress of school, but from the tension at home with your parents.

Perhaps what was most frustrating about that situation was that you were pretty sure they didn’t even realize how badly they were driving you insane… especially your dad. He didn’t see any problem with the fact that he tried to control every aspect of your life, regardless of your age. You could appreciate them not wanting you to do anything dangerous or harmful— you could even understand the whole ‘my house, my rules’ thing to an extent— but it went too goddamn far every day. You couldn’t go anywhere else without being questioned, yet you couldn’t exist at home without being criticized.

That was why you were here, and here, you weren’t being critiqued or belittled or micromanaged— actually, you were very… well-received, to put it lightly. You’d caught more than a few glances this evening, and now you were getting more than that: they were dancing with you, pressing against you… touching you.

It should’ve felt wrong, but you’d been craving approval of any kind, and the lascivious looks up and down from the guy in the indigo silk shirt felt like a compliment when you had a couple drinks in you.

A hand covered in gold rings groped your ass, and you hummed through a wide smile. He spoke into your ear, but even so close you couldn’t hear anything— it didn’t matter, anyways; you nodded, dazed. You figured the pill was enhancing, if not creating, whatever connection you felt with this stranger, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care how risky it was to go home with him, either, you just needed to feel tonight.

The voice in your ear mumbled something about how sexy you are, and you were about to melt into the arms of whoever it was— but then you heard another voice, just behind you. This voice was familiar; this voice spoke your name, and you turned around sharply.

"Tio!" you gasped as Javier glared down at you; you'd never felt so small in your life. He could do that so easily, but usually by giving you a big bear hug or calling you niña; this was a less pleasant method. “I— what are you—?”

“Work,” he answered shortly, yelling just to be heard. “You shouldn’t be here.”

No, you shouldn’t be anywhere that Javi was working, but you especially shouldn’t be here— a nightclub, known for wild hook-ups and party drugs. Dancing with guys. Wearing a dress you picked out specifically because you liked the way it showed off your… everything.

“What would your daddy think if he saw you like this?” he growled, grabbing you by the arm, and you whimpered but gave in to him— no point arguing, or denying anything, now.

He dragged you through the club, out the back where you could talk without the music drowning everything out. It was still loud until the metal door shut on its own behind you— and even still, you could hear the thumping of the bass, catch a few notes of the melody here and there, but you weren’t really focused on that with Javi giving you the glare of a lifetime.

“Never thought you were that kinda girl,” he frowned.

“I swear, I don’t usually do this, I just… I…”

“You what?” he snapped.

“Sorry, I…” you trailed off again. “Kinda out of it right now, and you’re so… that light’s really bright…” you complained as you squinted at the streetlight behind him.

He grabbed your face suddenly, forcing you to look up at him; you couldn’t believe how he could basically hold your entire face— and control your entire body— with one hand. He used his thumb and pointer finger to hold one of your eyes open wider; you winced and tried to move away, but he managed to get a decent enough look anyways.

“Are you fucking high?” he realized with a snarl.

“I— just one pill,” you whimpered.

“What was it?”

“I… I don’t know for sure…”

“Jesus,” he sneered, dropping your face and crossing his arms. He looked away from you, shaking his head, then put his hands on his hips in that disapproving way he did so well. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I just never get to do anything fun— don’t you need to be wild sometimes, do something a little misguided?”

“A little misguided— taking drugs from strangers, from men, letting them… touch you like that…” he shuddered as he said the last part.

You gulped, looking down at the ground. You were kind of hoping he hadn’t seen that, somehow…

Grabbing you by the arm again, he all but threw you in his truck; shrinking in the seat, feeling quite shy despite how you’d been acting just a few minutes ago, you watched him walk around the back in the mirror so he could get in the driver’s side.

There was silence as he started the truck and put an arm around your seat to back out of the alley, silence as he started to drive, silence as you went back and forth between looking over at him sheepishly and staring down at your hands in your lap.

But when you looked out the window at the passing scenery, you narrowed your eyes. "You're…not taking me home?" you realized.

"And give your dad a fuckin' heart attack, you coming home at this hour— dressed like that?"

Your heart sank with guilt.

"No, I'll figure out what to do with you later,” he decided. “I'm guessing you snuck out?"

"I… told him I was staying with a friend…"

"Then he must not be expecting you until morning. You can stay at my place."

"Thank you, Tio, I swear I don't usually do this, thank you so much—"

"Hey. I didn't say I wasn't gonna tell him the truth when I bring you back tomorrow."

You swallowed, glancing out the window as your eyes stung.

~

He sighed as he shut the door, and you sheepishly crossed one arm over your stomach to hold your elbow.

Last time you were in his apartment, it was for some dinner… thing… anyways, your parents were there, as were a bunch of other people they worked with, and you were sure the whole thing would be incredibly fucking boring. It was, for a while, until Javi broke away from the others to talk to you— and he made you laugh, he spared you all the dumb questions about how college was going and talked to you about real stuff: music, dreams, life. You always felt like you could talk to him about the things you could never talk to your parents about…

But you didn’t want to talk to him about this. Especially not when he put his hands on his hips and gave you that stern glare.

“What the hell did you think you were doin’ in a place like that—?” he began but you interrupted with a sigh.

“I’m sorry— I just needed a- a release! You know?” you tried to justify.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before he glanced away from you; you, meanwhile, looked down with shame. You never expected to feel so guilty for this— if anything, part of you had fantasized about your dad finding out just so you could tell him off in the argument, explain to him that it was his overbearing nature that drove you to something so risque. Of course, now that the likelihood of that argument actually occurring had skyrocketed, it didn’t sound so appealing. “Your dad’s gonna have a cow,” Javi warned you.

“I know! I know,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands for a second. “But I’m an adult! I should be able to do what I want!”

He scoffed a bit, and you frowned defensively. He obviously resented those times you referred to yourself as an adult— even if he couldn’t deny it, he always acted like it didn’t really count. You weren’t a ‘real adult’ yet in his eyes, still being in college and a bit starry-eyed according to some, and that always bothered you. It’s not that you thought you really had it all figured it out at this age, it’s just that you wanted more respect and more acknowledgement of your efforts.

The look on Javi’s face made you pretty confident you wouldn’t be getting much of that tonight. "Just don't tell him, okay? Please, Tio…"

"I won't tell your old man what you're up to," he promised, and you sighed. "But you need to."

"I— I can't," you whimpered, "he'll lose his shit! You know how protective he is…"

"Clearly he's got a good reason!" Javi snapped, and you spun around— you couldn't look at him now, not after he saw you like that.

"He's gonna kill me," you whimpered, defeated.

He stepped up behind you, wrapping one arm over your chest and holding your shoulder. “S’gonna be okay, sweetie…” he mumbled to you. “He’s not gonna kill you— he loves you."

"But he thinks I'm still a little kid," you explained with a pout.

"He can't help that," Javi laughed softly, kissing the side of your head. "You're grown up now, but you're still his little girl…"

You smiled a bit. "You really think I'm grown up?" you asked weakly.

"Yeah," he assured, "not sure how it happened, but you are— still young, of course."

You laughed a bit, relaxing in his embrace, soothed by the familiar smell of his aftershave and his strong hand rubbing your shoulder. Without either of you saying anything, the air somehow shifted… perhaps because of the way he moved his head, and you could tell that he was looking down at you. Perhaps because he let out a long sigh through his nose that fanned over the top of your head.

His voice was as low as a whisper when he spoke again. "Can't believe how grown up you look dressed like that…"

The fingers of his free hand traced over your thigh, even starting to move inwards, and out of both nervousness and ticklishness you clamped your legs together.

"Aww, don't be shy now," he pouted. "You'll be a whore for all those guys but you're playing innocent with me? Don't even try it, baby, I know what you want…"

You sighed out a long, shaky breath as you relaxed your legs so he could reach between them. It didn't really feel real, especially when you shut your eyes— then it could be anyone touching you.

"I know what this sweet little body needs," he continued, almost whispering as he spoke in your ear, making it impossible to forget it was Javi behind you. "Those little boys can't take care of you… need a real man to treat you right."

"Tio," you gasped as one finger just barely brushed over your panties, "d-don't—"

"Don't what, sweetie?"

"Don't… touch me like that," you breathed. "It's wrong…"

"But you like it so much," he noticed with a smile right beside your ear. "You like the way Uncle Javi is touching you— you like all this attention from your Tio, huh?"

Too afraid to respond to that, you shut your eyes tight as you felt him rub you through your panties more firmly, pulling up the bottom of your dress enough to expose the white cotton covering you.

“Still a good girl underneath your slutty outfit,” he smirked.

“What— what are you do—?” you began to breathe out, until he ran the blunt edge of his fingernail over the seam of your lips through the fabric— when he traced over your clit, your whole body jolted.

“Oh, babygirl,” he cooed, “you know what I’m doing. Say it.”

“You’re… touching me…” you panted out, rocking your hips as he began to rub slow circles against your panties— each with more pressure than the last.

“Where?” he prompted, his voice rough and echoing against the curve of your neck, which he began to kiss passionately a moment later just to make it that much harder for you to speak.

“My… fuck, my pussy!” you managed to get out, and he groaned with pride as his teeth brushed against your pulse.

He suddenly let you go and spun you around, pressing you to the wall and then pressing himself to you in turn. The hard bulge against your hip made your walls throb, but his face made your heart drop— you couldn’t forget it was him, and it felt so fucked up knowing he had just done that to you. You opened your mouth to tell him this couldn’t happen, that it had already gone too far, that you needed to somehow forget this ever happened.

But no words came out; they couldn’t, when he delicately lifted your chin so you had to stare right at the darkness in his eyes.

He moved closer, closer, until instinct forced your hands to jump up to his chest— god his chest, it was so firm and tanned and you swore you could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt— and stopped him from kissing you. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

What kind of dumbass question was that?! What’s the matter? Your Tio Javi, your dad’s best friend since forever, the guy who bought you your first bike and taught you how to whistle— that guy, calling you a whore and kissing your neck and touching you down there?! God, you knew you were messed up over this because you were mentally referring to your equipment as down there, like you were a little kid again.

But by god, you were not a little kid. Clearly, he knew that better than you thought he did. But you couldn’t believe this was really happening— it felt like a dream, but too terribly real.

What’s the matter, he asks, like you couldn’t spend all night listing everything wrong about this. You only gave him one reason aloud, though: “My dad will kill me.”

He smirked, a short laugh coming more out of his nose than his mouth. “Only if he finds out,” he replied. “Are you gonna tell on me, niña?”

Though very little, you shook your head.

“Are you gonna tell him that I brought you here and touched you like that?” he continued, voice lower and rougher, fingers dancing over your hip again. “Are you gonna tell your daddy how you got on your knees for me, let me fuck you like a whore, creamed on my cock over… and over…”

You shuddered as he left the softest trail of kisses up your neck.

“...and screamed my name until you lost your voice?”

"Fuck," you sighed, melting into his arms as he held you at your waist— his hands were so big that you felt especially delicate when he held you. "Javi, we… we shouldn't…"

"But you want to so bad, sweetie," he noticed with a fake pout. "You're a half-second from begging me to teach you how grown-ups fuck, I can tell."

Your thighs clenched together and he smirked.

"Just kiss me," he encouraged softly, lifting your chin with his fingers. "Just kiss me, baby, and I'll show you. I'll give you whatever you want."

You hesitated, looking up at his warm brown eyes, admiring his face and lingering over his lips… they did look perfectly kissable…

Shutting your eyes, you leaned forward and kissed him; instantly, he turned it from an innocent peck to a hungry gnashing of lips and teeth, his tongue dominating your mouth and muffling your moans.

His hands ran all over you and he started to guide you to walk with him— he turned you both and walked backwards down the hallway, dragging you until you toppled into his bed together.

"Lay back, baby," he instructed as he climbed over you, "your Tio's gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetie… gonna fuck you like you need, I promise."

He sat up, almost making you want to chase for more of that kiss, but he reached up under your dress and pulled your soaked panties down your legs.

"Oh my god, look at this cute little pussy," he purred, spreading your lips apart and tracing up the seam of your cunt to find your bud. He traced it gently with his thumb— even the softest, slowest circles over it made you shiver and whine. "Sensitive, too. Poor baby, need me that bad?"

He crouched down lower, and you whimpered with anticipation. "Javi…" you mumbled nervously.

Before he even put his mouth on you, he leaned in close and took a deep breath through his nose. "Smells fuckin' perfect," he grunted, and you moaned just because he said that. "Can't wait to taste you, niña, been waiting too long…"

You wanted to ask if he'd been waiting longer than just tonight, but you were distracted by the wet, sloppy kiss he gave you, right on your aching clit. Instantly your back arched and your mouth fell open into a silent scream.

He was painfully, infuriatingly good at this— like second nature, he just looked up at you and watched while his tongue traced your clit exactly how you needed. You could just tell he did this all the time, that he had made his fair share of women scream and sob and beg with that tongue; you writhed and whimpered, shutting your eyes tight so you wouldn't have to see him looking up at you anymore.

He devoured you with wide, hungry licks, his mouth overwhelming you and his nose poking at the apex of your mound. You could feel his long sigh fan over your sensitive skin when he kept his mouth wide open, lapping at you desperately; you’d never seen him this… lacking in composure. This animalistic. It made you feel hot all over.

Maybe the only thing more embarrassing than how quickly you barrelled towards your peak was how easily he recognized it.

"Wanna come, baby?"

He only broke away from you just long enough to groan it out, and then he was right back to making you squirm and sob. "Yes, fuck, please!"

"Beg," he ordered, muffled by your clit in his mouth, eating away at you mercilessly.

"Fuck, Javi— please make me come with your— with your tongue, I— I've never come from that before, fuck it feels really good… please…"

He hummed around you, suckling harder at your throbbing bud.

"Oh— f-fuck, I wanna— please," you choked, "I'm so close…"

You felt him smile, and then you felt him do this thing with his tongue that made your thighs quiver around his head.

"Please, can I?" you whimpered.

He pulled away, but you could still feel his breath fanning over you and it made your walls tense up. "I like you asking for permission," he praised, "do it again."

"Please let me come," you groaned, arching your back when he latched onto you again. "I'm so close, just don't stop, please don't fucking stop—"

He didn't, which you took as permission— not that it really mattered since it was inevitable now with or without his blessing— and you shut your eyes tight as the electric feeling danced all over your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you only caught one more glimpse of him staring up at you with a scalding heat in his eyes.

Instantly it became too much, the sensations his tongue delivered to your clit painfully forcing your whole body to spasm. Gasping, you grabbed at his hair and sputtered out: “Stop, stopstopstop—”

He broke away and dropped your hips back down onto the bed, his smile glistening with your come. An instant later he sat up to start opening his belt, that grin turning suddenly into a snarl. You looked up at him with wide eyes, still trying to catch your breath, dizzy even as you just laid there watching him lick your wetness off his lips. “Need to fuck you,” he said, simple as that.

You still couldn’t really believe this was happening; the effects of the pill were mostly faded, but this felt like some bizarre dream anyways. Seeing him like this was just beyond surreal.

“Flip over— hands and knees,” he instructed firmly while he unbuttoned his jeans. You wanted to remind him that this was insanely wrong, that you thought of him like family and thought he saw you the same way— but then you remembered that what you’d done tonight was wrong too, and that he was your only hope of getting away with it and avoiding being locked in your room for the rest of your life.

"Shouldn't you… shouldn't we use a condom?" you suggested softly, and he smirked a little.

"We don't need that," he assured.

Doing as you were told, though it took some effort on shaky legs, you stared down at Javi’s bed under you— you’d seen it before, even slept in it before (though when that happened, he always took the couch), but it felt incredibly different now.

Speaking of things that felt incredibly different: getting fucked by your tio. He held your hips and pushed his cock into you, and you whimpered loudly as the stretch challenged you right from the start. You heard a soft moan from behind you, a needier sound than you expected from him, but it was drowned out quickly by your own cry as he buried himself in you completely. “Mm,” he hummed, fingers digging deeper into the plush of your ass as he stayed still for just a moment. “That’s good…”

Shivering, even though you were hot enough to sweat, you hid your face with a quiet whine right as he started to thrust— with a lot less patience than you expected.

"You're not embarrassed, are you?" he wondered, petting the back of your head as if trying to coax you out of the pillows. "Actin' all shy… what have you got to be shy about? Getting fucked on all fours like a slut, the fuck you acting innocent for now?"

"Please just slow down—" you gasped, reaching back behind yourself to try to grab his thigh.

"Hell fucking no, this is what you wanted," he groaned.

Whining, tears stung your eyes and you just tried to hold onto the bunches of his sheets in your fists.

"Wanted me for a while, didn't you? Dressing up all sexy when I came over for dinner, showing off how much you've grown… didn't even wear a bra, I could see your tits getting hard, wondered if it was because you were turned on. Turned on by your Tio…"

You weren't blind, you knew Javier was attractive, and you knew he did well with women— but you honest to God never thought about him like that. He was just your Tio Javi.

And now he was pushing you down between your shoulder blades to shove your face into the bed. Whimpering, you gave in, but the angle forced his cock even deeper and made you arch your back up with a yelp. "Shh shh, no baby, need to take it all," he scolded you softly as he pushed your back down. "Need to keep that ass up for me— show Tio that ass, good girl…"

It was hard to stay like this when it meant letting his cock hit way too deep— it hurt, and you sobbed with every thrust. "Please, s'too much, I need a break—"

"A break? We just started," he laughed. "You can get a break after I come, but you're gonna be in this bed all night showin' me why I should keep your secret."

"God, you're just so deep," you whined, "it hurts…"

"Yeah, but it feels good too, doesn't it?"

Even though you somehow felt guilty, you nodded.

"Yeah," he encouraged again, "you like getting fucked like this, baby. Never had your whole pussy used? Never had a cock this deep?"

So deep that it shot up your spine and made the back of your eyes burn? No, you'd never felt this before; you sobbed with pleasure, already totally overwhelmed.

He grunted as he increased his pace, already picking up speed each time his hips collided with yours; the bed was creaking a bit, too.

"Fuck," you gasped, toes curling. His cock’s fat head was pressing into something so painfully deep inside you, and just as much as it made you want to beg him to give you a little mercy, it made you feel like screaming for more and praying this could never end.

You heard him grunt as he fucked you even faster; he must have heard you sniffling, in turn, tears falling from your eyes near-silently as the pleasure overwhelmed your body. "What are you crying for? Never had a big dick like this, huh?" he chuckled. "Then just say so."

"I never… I-I've never had a… a dick this big before…"

"Mm," he hummed with approval, grabbing a handful of your ass and tilting his head so he could get a better view of his cock plunging into your hole. "Never been stretched out like this? That's too bad, I can tell you fuckin' needed it. Went out tonight cause you needed some dick, huh? Well you got more than you bargained for, honey, it's too much for this little pussy isn't it?"

"Yes!" you sobbed.

"Can't take all this?"

"Yes, Tio, please—"

"Don't tell me to slow down again," he warned. “I know what you need, sweetie.”

He grabbed you by your hair and forced your head back. "Ow!" you yelped instinctively. "Fuck, Javi!"

"Act like a slut and you're gonna get fucked like one," he reminded you, a frustrated sigh falling from his mouth. His pace quickened once more, thrusts coming faster until the sound of his hips and thighs smacking against your ass filled the room.

"I'm sorry," you choked, "I'm sorry, okay?"

"For what?"

"D-doing drugs," you listed, "going to clubs— acting like a s-slut…"

"Fuck," he grunted, "it's okay, baby, I'm gonna— god— gonna make it all better… gonna teach you how to be my good girl, okay?”

You whimpered as you nodded. “Please…”

Another tug on your hair made you whine and arch your back, letting yourself go a bit more limp in his grip as each thrust rocked your body. “First,” he began, “you need some discipline.”

The hand on your hip let go to give you a sudden spank on your ass; you yelped and jolted, the pain somehow only adding to your pleasure a second after the initial sting had faded.

“Your daddy never gave you enough of that— discipline,” Javi chuckled, “I warned him he was gonna spoil you. Guess I was right, look at you now?”

He smacked your ass again, hard enough that you cried loudly— probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. That thought made your face burn with embarrassment. Anyone who shared a wall with Javi had probably heard his bed partners before, heard women screaming his name— why did that thought make you feel sick and sad and empty?

Of course, you were anything but empty, you were full to the brim and it felt like he might split you in half each time he pressed his hips to yours. “Once you get some discipline,” he continued, “you need to start doin’ what you’re told.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you choked out. You almost screamed when the hand that had been holding your hip slipped down to search between your legs; he grunted a bit as he roughly found your clit and rubbed it in fast circles.

“Then you need to learn some manners,” he continued, “like sayin’ thank you when I touch this pretty pussy for you.”

“Thank you,” you blurted out, your voice hoarse and wobbly— even weaker than you felt. Your hips were instinctively trying to buck away, running from the amount of raw sensation forced upon you, but you were trapped by the strength of his arm.

All at once it all changed: he slowed his pace, though he went just as deep if not deeper with each movement; he leaned down and pressed his chest to your bare and sweaty back, putting his lips against your ear; he kept touching your clit, but the circles were slower, smoother… sweeter. “S’that better, sweetie?” he whispered roughly. “Is that how you need it?”

Biting your quivering lip, you nodded; you fought another wave of tears that burned at the back of your eyes, but you were less embarrassed to cry now than you thought you would be. You’d cried in front of Javi before, plenty of times— skinned knees, dumb boyfriends, failed tests, he’d been around for plenty of that. Obviously, this was much more vulnerable than anything that had come before, and yet it felt bizarrely natural… he pulled out this side of you so easily, a side you didn’t even know existed.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed at you gently, kissing the curve of your jaw, and you finally stopped trying to stop yourself from shaking (it wasn’t working anyways). “So good for me…”

Everything was so blurry now, you barely even noticed him guiding you to lay down and roll over: you just noticed him pulling out, and pouted a little as if you actually thought he might just stop completely for no reason.

Noticing your displeasure, he smirked proudly. "Just wanna see that pretty face, sweetie," he soothed. But when he pushed back in, the new position made everything feel new— and, somehow, even more perfect.

"Fuck, Javi, s'really deep…" you mumbled, though it was deep in a different way than before— not as painful, yet even more mind-numbing.

"Uh huh?" he taunted. "Never had somebody fuck you right, baby?”

You shook your head. You had no idea it could be like this— you thought it was normal not to come, for the guy to jackhammer for a few minutes and leave. You didn't even know you could make noises like this…

"Say it again," he encouraged with a moan, watching your face intently.

"It's really… really deep…" you breathed, legs shaking as he held your hips down and tried to get even deeper; he started to grind up against you to force every last millimeter inside, roughly rubbing his pubic bone on your sore clit.

You squealed, barely able to take all this sensation, and he flared his nostrils. "What's really deep?"

"Your cock," you clarified.

"Whose cock?" he taunted.

"Yours, Javi, fuck! Stop asking me questions when I can barely fucking think!" you whined, and he laughed as he returned to his original motions.

“Just one more,” he promised. “Gonna come for me, niña?”

“Yes, yes,” you admitted through a choked sob.

He leaned down, blanketing his body over yours. "Call me Tio when I make you come," he whispered his demand in your ear, and you shuddered.

Each thrust was faster than the last, harder too, and you sobbed as heavy pulses of pleasure took control of your body. "I'm so close, I'm so fucking close," you panted, unable to speak above a whisper.

"I know, I know," he soothed, kissing your face with more tenderness than you expected or felt you deserved.

"I— please—"

"Shh, you're doing so good…"

It all collapsed at once. "I'm— fuck, I'm coming! Tio, I'm coming!"

He growled and latched his lips onto your neck, fucking you through it; your pussy pulsed in an erratic pattern, a new slickness coating him and running down your thighs. You would've been self-conscious about staining his bed if you had any room in your brain for it— but you couldn't think about anything, you even forgot to breathe for a couple seconds. "Good girl," he groaned, "coming nice and hard for me. Good fucking girl."

Suddenly, your arms wrapped around his shoulders— his broad, heavy shoulders, barely damp with sweat— and your shaking fingers dug into his skin. You hugged him tightly, maybe to keep yourself grounded as convulsions rocked through you, maybe for a little comfort through such an excruciatingly ecstatic sort of feeling.

When it all seemed to gather right in your gut, it finally slowed down and you went all but limp under him— though your arms stayed draped over his neck.

"Fuck, Javi," you moaned lowly, his thrusts faster and less even as he looked down at you with an exhausted smile of his own.

"Fuck, I wanted to make you come again," he admitted, "but I can't last much longer— you're too fuckin' tight, baby, little pussy's too fuckin' good, gonna make me come…"

"Please," you whined, partially out of submission and acceptance of your desire to make him come, partially out of excitement for a chance to breathe after he finished.

"Gonna come inside you," he warned suddenly, and you gasped.

"Wait, pull out," you pleaded, a small bit of your sanity coming back as the height of your pleasure had passed, "come on my face o-or something…"

He grinned when you said that, and you sort of regretted it. "That's cute," he decided, "but I wanna fill this pussy— see you nice and stuffed with my come— and I know you want that too, baby…"

You whined, hating how right he was, but you panted as you tried not to let the pleasure completely override your logical reasoning. "But I'm not— I don't—"

"I'll get you a pill in the morning," he promised, his voice rough and needy as he fucked you even faster— he hissed in his breaths through his teeth, almost snarling at you. "Fuck, I'm so close— tell me who owns this pussy now, princess."

"Yours, Javi, it's yours," you sobbed, hating how true that really was. "Yours to fill— you can come inside me, Tio, nobody's ever…"

You didn't even finish the thought, and he moaned as his grip on your hip tightened. He seemed pleased by the fact that you'd never been creampied before, even more excited to empty himself into you. "Beg," he ordered.

"I— I want you to come," you blurted out, not really sure what you were doing and struggling to put a thought together anyways. "Please, I want… want it inside—"

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he rushed, and a moment later he stopped as deep as he could go, letting you feel every pulse as he filled you.

You gasped, almost wanting to squirm away out of instinct and try to stop him from filling you, but he held you down and kept you helpless.

"God, yes," he moaned in a breath, grunting as he started to grind his hips on yours to get himself that slightest fraction of an inch deeper.

He let his weight relax onto you and though it made it tricky to breathe, you just accepted it, finally shutting your exhausted eyes.

You were probably more than half of the way to sleep when he brought you back to reality by carefully rolling off of you; you winced as he pulled out, first from the soreness and then from the gush of sticky heat you felt coming out a moment later…

Javi stayed on his side, propped up on one bent elbow, and looked down at what you could only assume was a completely gaping pussy— and all his come leaking out.

He swiped two fingers through the mess he'd made, letting them linger on your throbbing clit until your hips jolted away; smiling, he brought the fingers to his lips and tasted his own come from your hole. "Fuck, Javi," you sighed, taken aback by the erotic, sudden gesture.

"You wanna taste too, princess?" he smirked, moving his fingers back to your pussy— but this time he didn't just scoop up what was leaking out. No, he suddenly slid two fingers into your incredibly sore cunt, making you wince from the sting and watching your face carefully with a sigh.

When he pulled his fingers out, after twisting them around inside you for a moment, they were coated in both of you. His free hand held your chin and tilted your mouth how he wanted it, guiding you to take both his fingers onto your tongue.

"Lick it off— good girl, like that…"

His praise made your exhausted walls clench just one more time.

"Taste how good we are together, baby?" he cooed. "You did so good for me… I haven't come like that in a long time."

I haven't come like that ever, you wanted to reply, but your mouth was full. When his fingers were cleaned off, he laid down beside you and wrapped you up in his arms. The strangeness of it hit you again: you, him, naked in bed… you still couldn't quite believe it was real.

"How much sleep do you need before you can go again?"

You widened your eyes and looked at him, amazed to see that he clearly wasn't joking. "Again? Javi, I'm gonna be sore for weeks already—"

"You're young, you can bounce right back," he promised, "I bet in a couple hours your pussy's gonna be even tighter than it was when we started."

You bit your lip. "I guess I can— I mean, maybe one more time, if you let me sleep a little first…"

He smiled and kissed your head, making you sigh and hide your face in his neck. He smelled the same, that's what was so weird— he smelled like he always had, the same aftershave as you remembered from all those years ago, and now you were naked and sore and used. "Okay, sweetie, get some sleep," he offered. "I'll wake you up when I'm ready to give you another load— I bet you're gonna like the way I wake you up, too."

As he chuckled lowly, kissing your neck right by your ear, you shut your eyes and tried to ignore how bizarre this was so you could rest.

His fingers gently tickled your thigh, tracing random shapes that left goosebumps behind, and whispered praises in your ear to lull you to sleep. "That's my good girl," his low, gentle voice blended in with the growing darkness of slumber.

Even mostly asleep and exhausted like you'd never been before, you got the sense that being his good girl was on ordeal that lasted more than just one night. In fact, you hoped it did.

[capslocked]

HONNE, TATAMAE & THE OTHER ONE

male reader x shin yuna

9k words

Yuna shuffles into your office with the same sneaky smile, the same easy slouch, and she settles into one of the chairs across the table. There is, apparently, more to talk about.

It's a matter of image, of perception, is what she believes. 

You know every good lie starts with the truth.

So you swallow. You pause. Some other part of you understands Yuna can't ignore who she really is, and you’re not sure you can either.

-

Look - Shin Yuna is the kind of woman that turns heads, even with the best of intentions. A long, lithe silhouette; an easy, rosy sort of youthfulness clinging to the swell of her cheekbones, the curve of her waist. Take a dress that's cut to show a little thigh, or a hairstyle pushed back on one side - earrings, or heels, or just the subtle swipe of red over her lip - it doesn't take much for men (or anyone else) to figure that out. A girl who, more times than not, really ought to have a boy's hand planted on her ass, in possession.

So the opportunity to capture such a form perfected - all toned and graceful and flush for curves, her legs never seeming to end, the slithering fit of the dresses - these were the things they wanted. Package it, put a logo on it - better yet, a ribbon or a bow - and ship it straight to the consumer.

Somebody everyone wants, somebody no one can ever have.

“So,” Yuna asks from the other side of your desk, lips slanting halfway coy. “Are you going to treat me like an adult?"

Her fingers play idly with the hem of her skirt, and she lets a long, slender leg slowly slide out from beneath her.

“In what way,” you answer, half paying attention.

"The photos." She doesn't have the slightest qualms about lifting it higher. The soft creak of leather, and a deepening smile. "Am I not allowed to be a little racy?"

"That's certainly... one way of looking at it."

You glance away from where her stockings wrap around the soft curve of her thighs to flip back through the photos in your lap, one after the other, each a little different from the last. The beach, the sun, a flimsy white slip of a bikini top that hides exactly nothing, her muscles wet and glistening and perfect. Beyond suggestive, it's considerably inappropriate.

But then to a lot of people, Yuna is a lot of things. 

She’s more clever than anyone gives her credit for. And she’s fucking gorgeous, sure. That’s definitely not up for debate, but god is she young - she's barely twenty. And here’s some rather uninteresting food for thought: you couldn't even technically take her for a drink without faking an ID or breaking some law or another, like a real one. So go ahead, chew that down. Girls her age are typically studying, or working a retail job and getting wasted on the weekends. And they aren't typically making six, seven figures turning their head to the camera and asking how much more skin?

You have some thoughts.

Prudently, you’re her publicist, and it’s your job to make sure that the public gets a good look at her and sees exactly what you want them to see. It's unfair. She wields sex like a weapon. She's got the face, the body; it's an easy sell, commodified and commercialized down to the finest detail, the softest curve, the slightest arch of her brow. The idea's to not let anyone look too long, should they catch something you haven't approved yet, or the fact that she's quite possibly a real person with a real life and real feelings, which could easily fuck up her brand, so unfortunately, that's a bit of a no-go.

Sign of the times maybe, no ethical consumption under another something, yadda yadda - it's a shitty business, really, and the whole thing usually leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

(And just to be upfront, as an important disclosure: you are fucking her brains out on the side, which is a different kind of ethical dilemma, with a different kind of flavor to it. 

You’re supposed to be something of a role model - and she’s gone and fucked up bad by falling for you. From her perspective, it probably makes sense. Girl gets boy, bespoke song, credits roll and it's fine. No sin to atone, no 'after'. 

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It’s metastasizing into something you’re not even going to attempt to put into words. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, you know that. And you know the girl has daddy issues, but then you've never had a problem whatsoever playing into it. The possessiveness, the control - she gets off on it. You're pretty sure that she'd do just about anything if you asked her, and you'll admit that the thought alone makes your stomach stir, your mouth run dry.)

Yuna taps her knuckles on the wood of your desk. “What’s the verdict?” 

"Well, professionally," you say, caveat in hand, and you give the photos one last flip through. "I'd say they're fine.”

"Oh?" Yuna cocks her head to the side. Her long, blonde hair curtains over her shoulder, and the smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth is almost wicked. She leans forward, chin propped on a palm, and you see that her expression is bright, glittering with interest. "And unprofessionally?"

Sure. It's a fair question.

Though she's wearing her stage face, the one that looks all big eyes and doe lashes, a hint of a pout on her plush bottom lip, and she's staring at you expectantly, the way she might look at a man she's just asked for the time.

You've seen her look a million other ways. You've seen her with her knees spread, her cheeks flushed, on all fours, straddling your lap, face pressed into the sliding glass door of your shower, her eyes screwed shut as she chokes out your name. And god, doesn’t she look good in all of them.

Your fingers tap against the photos.

“Unprofessionally," you tell her, and the smile on your face is tight - unknowable. "I think they’re a little… gaudy."

Yuna frowns, and it's just a flash before her expression is carefully blank again, the stage face back in full swing. She's been doing this since she was a teenager, so the mask is impeccable, but you know her, and you know that she's thinking: about the photo shoot, the way the photographer was looking at her, and the way you had looked at her later, too.

She knows what you've seen. She's wondering if that's why.

"Really," she asks, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Really," you confirm with a small sigh, though you're still smiling. It's a small, private sort of smile, like you're remembering a joke. You don't miss the way she glances down at your mouth either. "Let me be clear, you have a shot at real success. I mean, you have a chance at a career. A real, sustainable career.”

She's sitting there with her legs crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and when she's silent for a moment too long, the way her eyes narrow just a smidge, her head tipped slightly, you realize how it sounds. Patronizing.

"Look," you amend. You're not the best at apologies, but you try. "I just mean - I think that you could be doing something that you actually enjoy."

"Who says I don't enjoy this," she says, and there's a bite in her tone, a challenge. She's leaning back in her seat now, arms crossed.

"What, taking your clothes off for the camera?" You laugh, a quick bark. Isn’t that a cruel question, and you can see it in the way her eyes flash. "You could do a lot more than that, I'm just saying."

"Right," she says, and she doesn't blink, doesn't even move. Her gaze is fixed, unwavering. "Because I'm not pretty enough."

You open your mouth. Close it.

It's not a question. It's a statement.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Do you know what makes me different from the IT-girl-of-the-month? The Jang Wonyoungs, the Bae Irenes, the Kim Jisoos of the world?" Yuna cuts in.

"Yuna, this isn't-"

"You should know. " She laughs. "It's your job, knowing things, isn't it?"

The silence stretches thin between you. She's not wrong. There’s the quintessential beauty, the timeless classic, the fantasy-wrapped-up-as-a-daydream - oh, it's all sexual, but the product there is palatable (read: marketable). An idea the general public wants to take home to their mother, not take to bed. A beauty so docile and innocent, you feel guilty harboring those untoward thoughts it makes you have.

Yuna is somewhere possibly, someway probably the opposite. You’ve sold her as such, as fantasy in sheep's clothing. She's neither afraid to put the images to words, nor speak her desires aloud. It's her own brand of sensuality, and it's what the public wants - has always truly wanted, since the dawn of man and of popstars fucking their publicists - what the public wants but turns itself in knots just to pretend they don't. The only way it’ll end up in anyones’ parents' home is under the guise that it will be smuggled upstairs and held down into the springs of a mattress. Hand over her mouth, or maybe around her throat, just so she'll shut up.

She's not a nice girl, or the girl-next-door, a bride-in-a-box, but you'd known that before. The line between fact and fiction is fine indeed.

"You're different," you tell her, finally.

"When I first came in here, you had no qualms, no issue to raise, and now all of a sudden, everything is too much," she says, and she's not smiling, her tone flat. "If it was a problem from the jump, you would've said so."

“I just think a little subtlety would be a nice change of pace. It could go a long way, I mean, I could show you the data- "

"So you're going soft on me, is that it?"

You blink, and the realization hits.

"Just where was this noble version of you when we first started out? You had no problem then, remember? Put a sixteen-year-old in front of a camera, in this industry, and all of a sudden-"

"Don't."

“And suddenly it's all 'oh no, that's a little too much, we need to dial it back'." She sighs, a single sharp burst. "Why is that? Is it because you think that now you own me? I fuck you, swallow your cum and call you daddy, and now these are your decisions? Is that it?"

She’s standing now, her chair shoved back so fast it nearly clatters to the floor. There's a storm on her face, almost a rage. This now become a familiar story. The one where the girl's too pretty for her own good. Too much, too soon.

"I'm not a child," she tells you, her tone measured, a sharp contrast to the fire in her eyes. "I know what I want. I know how to get it. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm different. You're right."

She's different, but the girl's clever, too. And she's stubborn. It's a dangerous combination.

You breathe slow. "Then why don’t you act like it."

“If they’re going to call me a slut,” she hisses, and she's walking forward. Her palms land on your desk, hard, and you glance down at her clenched fists, at her neatly kept nails, "you know, after we leak them all those steamy photos online-"

Your mind clicks. You reach to slam the cover of the photo book shut. She's caught your hand, though, in hers, holding it firmly to the desk.

Yuna glances at the photos over again, at the tight fit of the swimwear, or how the ties slip in an invisible breeze. And she's biting her lip, trying not to smile, you can tell. "You know it might be worth it for once," she says, slipping a finger between the buttons of her shirt.

There's a long, tense moment, and before you can register it, Yuna has rounded your desk; she’s closing the distance, fast. 

And she’s lowering her eyes. Putting her lips on yours.

It knocks the wind from your sail, for just the instant. You're speechless.

Because her fingers. Her mouth. Her hair. Yuna's everywhere, and she's warm. It's utterly selfish, you understand: you want her to be yours. You want her to be yours and no one else's.

She’s realizing she might be.

You feel her grabbing for more of you. Wanting. She tilts her head, her breath hot, and you kiss her back, her mouth slick against your own, and the kiss is a fast, deliberate kind of messy. Your teeth catch her bottom lip, and her tongue slips past yours, licking into your mouth, her hands clutching at the collar of your shirt. It's not like it is when you're fucking, which is slow and hot, and she's on her back, legs around your waist, her nails biting into your skin, or when she's bent over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air and her back arched, her breathless moans a chorus of yes, yes, please. This kiss is more battle, more heat, less gentle and less finesse. It's the kind of kiss that's just short of an argument.

"You're an asshole," she breathes into your mouth, and it's not a compliment.

You smile against her.

"So are you," you murmur, and her lips are parted, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breath coming quick and hot.

"Then maybe you should just fuck me," she says. She's not asking. “Yeah.” You press your words right into her neck, her collarbone. “Maybe I should.”

Your hands are on her hips faster than you can realize what it is they’re doing, palms pressing into her, and then you're walking her backwards, shuffling a few steps until the small of her back collides with the edge of your desk, and you're lifting her up onto the surface, the photographs falling to the floor, scattering.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do this here," she murmurs, pulling away for just a moment, her mouth swollen and wet, her eyes dark. She knows exactly what it does to you: the goading, the taunting - the looks of faux-innocence later over a bare shoulder, her ass in the air. How it can get you to fuck her within an inch of her life. What it’ll get her, the return on investment.

"And I thought we agreed to longer skirts."

Her thighs are smooth, silky, and they part, the lace of her underwear stark against her skin. You slide a hand beneath the elastic band, sinking down, and down, until she inhales sharply.

"The fuck do you end up doing going up the stairs?" you add, and your fingers are tracing the swell of her hip, and you can feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She bites her lip. You sink down to press a kiss to her thigh, and then the other.

"Nothing," she tells you, and her eyes are wide. "I guess it all just hangs out."

She simply smirks right back into you, throws her arms over your shoulders. You’re snared, caught - she’ll always be able to fuck what she wants right out of you.

"Jesus, Yuna." Your hand curls around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, and her shoulders roll back.

You push her down, and she's sprawled across the desk, legs stretching wide, her head tilted back and her chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you. That turns you on? Being a brat?"

She sucks air past her teeth, and you can measure each rise and fall of her chest. The lace under her hips is soaked, her pussy swollen and pink. Like if she doesn’t get your hot, open mouth on her clit this instant, you’re both going to have a problem.

You slip two fingers into her instead, and Yuna keens.

"I know it does," you say, and your voice comes out lower, drier than you expect. She's hot, so wet around you, her pussy fluttering. "It fucking turns me on, too."

"Please," and “god,” is what all you receive back in half whispers, while her legs are spread, her heels now really dug into the square of your back, and she's got a fistful of your hair like she owns it. Her voice is high, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t be such a fucking tease."

You're not going to make it easy. She's not going to make this quick.

"What, and you aren’t?"

You curl your fingers inside her, and the noise that leaves her is positively obscene. She's grinding against your palm, her hips bucking, and her lips are parted, her eyelashes dark and thick, fanning her cheeks. She's panting, her thighs trembling.

"No," she breathes. If she’s shaking her head, you can’t tell. "I'm exactly what you tell them I am."

Your hand stills, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the pressure inside her is gone. Her eyes snap open, her mouth twisted.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Put them back."

You're already sinking down to your knees, and you've got her skirt shoved up, the lace panties pulled aside, her hips canted, her pussy glistening. The stockings can stay, fuck, the heels, too. She's so fucking hot, her legs spread apart and her lips red. Her palm shoved into her brow, and her breath just barely more than a ragged huff of air. You can feel her body wound tight and ready, her eyes on the ceiling.

You put your tongue against her, flat and slow. Inaccurate, indiscriminate, licking up her wet cunt. And her whole body arches off the desk, a cry leaving her mouth with her head thrown back. Her thighs are shaking, and her heel presses into your shoulder, and god, she tastes incredible.

"Please." It comes like music, really, a song of desperation. You can hear it. She's singing it for you now. "Oh god, please, fuck-"

So you do her one better. You put your whole mouth over her, and she fucking shivers. You don’t even try to ease into it - you're devouring, ravishing her, working your lips and tongue all over her pussy, lapping the length of her in broad, hot strokes, and she's almost shrieking, her body going taut. You suck on her lips, pressing your tongue into her clit, and when you pull off her, your hand takes over the place where your tongue can't quite reach, her wetness slick around your fingers. Yuna's close - you can see that she is, you can hear that she is, and it's her gasp that lets you know.

"I'm -" she says, her voice reaching higher, her nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders, the wood of your desk. The sound she makes is wretched and beautiful. "God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming - fuck!"

The licking, the lapping, the fucking fingering. You can feel her slicked cunt pulse and throb in a satisfied, anticipatory kind of way. Even if she wasn’t audibly wet around your knuckles, you’d read Yuna like a map.

Your thumb taps across her clit, once - twice, thrice, and it’s just that.

She arches off your desk, thighs trembling as your tongue works her over, This hard, hungry kiss, and she tastes as sweet as she looks - as filthy as she acts, too. Her pussy is slick, her hips rolling, her body trembling, and she's making soft, little ah, ah, ah, sounds into the wet seal of your mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet, because she knows as well as you, everyone in the damn office does, probably - it's one thing to play at being a slut. A complete other to really fuck like one.

Your finger slips in and out of her pussy, and then another. They fill her up. The knuckles bending and pushing deeper. Yuna's fucking ruined - your desk is ruined.

But then there you are, complicit, and perhaps a little evil: licking and licking and licking right into her, making her grip twist in your hair and her thighs clench around your face. You can feel it in how her breathing is coming fast, faster, her whole body growing taut, and it was never going to take long, you figure, the way her hips were rolling the moment you got your hands on her. You can tell. She's close, and she's so pretty, all flushed and writhing, her skirt hiked up, her ass perched on the edge of your desk, and when her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her throat, you pull yourself up to watch her, the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, and she's shaking.

"Look at me,” you tell her, a kiss trailing unsatisfyingly into the crease of her thigh, your voice running coarse.

She does, her gaze glassy, and the sound that leaves her mouth is a sob. That’s all it really takes.

“Show me. What face you make when you cum on my fingers sweetheart, show me what a slut you actually are-"

You can watch it all in real time, the panting, the heaving. The sculpted lines of her pretty face screw up, real tight, and she lets out another moan, breathier this time, her mouth hanging open. She does it again when you press down. And Yuna fucking shakes, her hands balled, white-knuckling, and the desk rattling beneath her.

It's all a matter of slight degradation, you’ve learned, the barest humiliation. Like the paradoxical freedom she knows she can find in a hand clenched tight around her throat or her hair pulled and twisted into a fist or the sharp sting of a smack across her ass. Her pretty face. She likes a little something that burns. Something sinewy, visceral, raw: you call her a whore, a filthy fucking cumslut and it makes her body curl like she has hot metal pressing into her skin. Makes her breathless, like she wants you to own her.

Sometimes it's better than being fucked.

(Sometimes.)

Because just look at her: she’s in the middle of coming apart, mouth fallen slack, brow furrowed - and she gets real quiet when she cums, the absolute opposite of the journey she’d taken to get there, all those loud little, uh-uh-ah, fucking please god, her moans, her whimpers - her orgasm ripping right through the middle of her, the hourglass of her entire body stiffening on borrowed time as it washes across her features.

You let out a loud sigh, something she can moor herself to that isn’t your fingers, the desk, or your hair at the roots. Yuna can be every bit as uncomplicated as she can be complex, but god, you love her most like this: an unrehearsed, beautiful mess.

"Baby," you tell her, because it's easier to just call her that, and because you don't know how else to end the statement, because you know if you ask, she'll let you - hell, she'll beg for more, and that’s got your brain feeling rather mushily incoherent at present.

"Daddy," she responds - because of course she fucking does; she’s gasping, and her cheeks are still so pink, her body sated, and your heart leaps into your throat. 

It's a problem; you've been trying to work it out for a good few months now, and by this, you mean the little moment you have right after you're done, where your eyes meet, and you smile at her. A problem, too, her lips. A problem, because she kisses you, soft, and slow, and easy. A problem, because her heart's probably already yours.

If anyone were to ask, you would have said there's no greater pleasure than knowing a girl that's almost died to take your cock, but maybe that's the point: it's just supposed to feel a bit better if you're a little head over heels, a little stupid about it too.

"I'm going to use this perfect pussy now," you warn her - just simple formality - because you're already rolling her down onto her back, your cock hard and aching against your trousers.

You've got your hands on her stockings, tugging them down to her ankles, the lace of her panties around her thighs, the neat garter of her garter belt wrapped around her hips, her cunt bare beneath it. You unzip, too slow. You tug yourself out.

“I’ll be good,” she says to you, a promise.

“Yeah,” you return to her, “I know.”

And you slip your cock into her cunt, just barely - maybe an inch, maybe more - and you hear a little noise leave her throat, low. Broken. 

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and god, you just can't help it, it's easy; you sink deeper, nice, slow, everything smooth inside her, until another broken sort of gasp spills off her lips. 

And then another: "oh my fucking god."

You snap your hips back in, bottoming out this time in the wet heat of her perfect cunt, and she just fucking collapses. Yuna looks like an absolute dream in this state of half-dress, half-distress: black suede around the ankles, stilettos, with just the perfect heel. There are worse things, you can imagine, and she looks perfect sprawled out against your notes and portfolios, all this hot, aching want. As gorgeous as she is fucked. You tear into her stockings, a little. You’ll tear more. 

You already know you're going to hell. Or at least that’s where you should already be, but you hips crash into hers again, fucking her legs wider apart, spreading her open across your desk for you, getting her slick all over the photos, her career - it’s all so perfectly unfair.

"You have no idea, the things I want to do to you right now," you breathe, your tone hushed, and you're talking again, like you often do. There goes your mouth - but your hips drag back, and then again, her pussy clenching, vice tight and impossibly wet.

It's a long, torturous, lazy sort of a pull, that draws these pretty thin moans from the very center of her.

And the way that feels, your cock buried deep in her cunt: better than good - heaven, if you care enough about labels for it, or the names of things. You haven’t any real way to tell; the gates haven't opened or anything, so all you're working from here is an educated guess. From the fact that Yuna’s eyes have slid closed, her lips parted, and her whole body starting now to tremble gently with it.

"Jesus, this perfect, tight pussy grips me so good, god - such a good girl, always so fucking wet for me," and your mouth is pressed to the arch of her ear, whispering every last thing you know will make her cum again, like a dream.

And she is, she does.

She's twisting up to grip at your hips, her head falling to one side. When you drag your cock through her cunt, slowly, you watch her lips purse and the way the flush moves all the way down the column of her neck, past her collarbone, her shirt half undone and her tits heaving against the white, sheer fabric. You fuck her for a little, and then you roll your hips slow, so slow. 

Until your pace is fucking punishing, deep, and so hard. You can’t help it.

Because it's unbelievable - she's so perfect, so tight around you. Fit snug like a glove, like she was made to take your cock, to whimper and mewl at your mercy. Her lips part further and she keens, her brows twisting in similar disbelief as you pound your length into her. The heat pooled in your belly, the way she looks under your desk: fuck, she's so beautiful like this, properly fucked. 

You'd let her ruin you for life - it's that simple.

"Yuna, you - fuck," you barely say, and you sound more than slightly stunned, so she’s filling in the gaps, elaborating in the spaces you cannot - that she loves it, that you’re so good for her, and so is that, and that, and that - the way it hits, right there, keep fucking her just like that, because right there, right there, right there, right there - the way she props herself up on her elbows to tell you, "you're fucking me so deep, oh my god - yes, oh my god, fuck."

By the time Yuna shudders through another orgasm, a silent ghost of a wail leaving her pretty frozen mouth, her lashes are batting against her cheeks, and she's biting her lip, so hard you're certain she's going to break the skin, her back strung like a bow. It's the look on her face, that soft sort of reverence, and how her lips are swollen and spit-slick, the pretty hollow of her throat. Your thrusts become faster, shorter - your own moan thick in your throat, your jaw hanging slack.

“Here,” you say, and she’s just putty between your fingers, on your cock.

You’re flipping her around, onto a different angle. You know she likes it, the way her tits are pressed against your desk, and it's hot the way her ass tilts right into your hips, arched. Proffering. "Be good for me, and spread yourself open."

She's already so meek when she complies. "Anything, sir. Stretch me out; I want you to make me yours."

God, she's practically purring when she talks like this. She knows exactly what that fucking does to you. Knows that when her eyes draw back, big and watery and full, you're a goner - if your cock wasn't deep in her pussy, fucking her open and raw, the view would nearly be enough. And all of this, the pretense, the pantomime, she knows how to bend the line of your body to her own, because when she turns, and presses her red mouth to the crest of her shoulder, you are hers.

You could probably cum, right now, deep down into the molten hot of her cunt: if your hips keep up their ruthless pace, if her ass was sticking up the slightest bit more - the sound that would come from her.

"Take that perfect cock - and fuck my pussy up," Yuna mewls, her voice saccharine and slurring, a touch whiny. She rolls her hips. Your cock grinds, still, though it stutters now - shallow and quick.

"All this pussy, for daddy's cock," and you're sure that the entire office can hear her now, the moans that escape from her mouth - but you can't even find it in you to care. You're caught, all of her a net you've willingly been ensnared by, and here you figure that's the slightest bit appropriate; you're so fucked, and it's funny, too. Funny enough to laugh about, later. "Nobody fucks this tight little pussy the way you do, sir."

It's a smile she hears in your voice when you say, "is that right? Go on then, let’s hear all the things you'd have me do to your slutty little cunt."

The line's crossed again, in some indecipherable direction. Where, again, exactly, does it matter? There are lines and lines, and none of them quite mark the beginning, the end, the periphery. This time you don't pull back; you dig deep, and it makes Yuna cry out like you’re killing her. Which, in a way - you already have.

So your hips stutter forward again, once more, and you lean into the slant, so fucking deep it's practically impaled. There’s nothing quite like holding this girl’s hips and pounding her from behind. Her pussy alone is fucking incredible. And the sound her ass makes against the flat of your stomach, the crease of your thighs - it's unimaginable, the way Yuna makes these little squeaks of a noise, like half-broken moans, when you fuck deep, deep, deeper into her. The way her arms splay wide and search frantic across your desk. And as you grab her slim, dainty wrist, pin it back and pull her tight - fixing her upright until you have her head lolling back against your chest - you simply fucking pound away.

Fucking all these little curses and sounds of appreciation out of her throat. Your cock forcing out each syllable, "yes," and "fuck," and "god, oh my fucking god - I cannot believe," now on repeat, how her tone grows tighter. How she moans - a lot, like something's being worked loose.

"Uh-uh," and you're holding her steady now, with one broad, strong hand at the back of her neck. "Keep telling me, and maybe I'll let you cum."

Your free hand finds purchase in her hair. Yuna's groan coming out pathetic and wanting, her mouth half open. You wrap her silky golden locks around your fist, her hair thread neatly through your fingers, and then give the slightest of yanks.

Christ, her pussy just fucking soaks onto you. Greedy. Needy.

"Shit," and Yuna gasps when she can, where she's allowed to.

"Oh, is my little girl into getting her hair pulled?" and you can see the signs of affirmation: the muscles inside her flexing, grasping you as you roll in, a small, soft nod, and the way she sighs your name, like a prayer on her lips.

Listen, she can barely speak, the way you're fucking her apart. Yuna's body is wound like a bow, like string and taught wire. Bent into the side of the desk and open for you, her pussy pulsing tight around you with every stroke.

"Sir, I'll do - whatever you need, just - just - let me have your cum, please -" and there, she's begging now, and her voice is tinny, breaking, breathless and airless.

Then it’s her fucking hair. You pull so much on it harder this time, with another measured thrust inside her, your body flush against her ass. Fingerprints searing down onto where her hips flare and taper, impossibly narrow.

You’re probably hurting her. You’re probably ruining her for anyone else - nothing will ever satiate her more than the way she sobs as your fingers twist tighter through her hair. Around her fucking miracle of a waist. It's an obscene sound that echoes down to your cock, as deep, hot and fucking filthy as her cries when she cums for the third, fourth?

"Just," Yuna barely makes, her eyelids heavy, her gaze flitting somewhere behind her. "Just look at you, fucking me so hard, filling up my tight little pussy, making me take everything your cock has to give. God, you love wrecking my perfect little hole, don't you?"

No, or yes, or probably. You’ll figure out the details later.

"God, I love it when you get real messy, when I get you like this-" your words run seamlessly into the searing heat between your bodies, like punctuation, like the end of days -

"Use me." She doesn't just say it. "Take me, and cum in me, wherever you want. Daddy, you can have my mouth, or, or, you can - you can finish inside me."

And god, you could, you really could: just the timbre of her voice does things to you, the way that it curls around the words daddy, and sir, and you're fucking me so goddamn good. She's saying them now, her whimpers breaking into outright moans and all: shit, please, please - you're gonna make me cum - oh - oh fuck! And when she's wound that tight, a quivering, sopping mess of a girl, you put your fingers against her clit, circling and pressing in tempo to the thrust of your cock.

The cruel metronome that makes. Hell, it fucking sends her.

She’s begging you to finish inside her. It's fucked up - and she knows it. She wraps her heels around the square of your back, and the tension rises, and rises, the coiled spring tight and waiting - just a push away, so you slam into her once, then twice more, the push of a hand splayed between her tits and your fingers digging into the muscle of her thigh. She wants you to cum in her pussy, fill her right up; she tells you that, again, that she wants it, and her voice is raspy, high. That she wants you now, as if she didn't before, and how does this compare, because she needs it now.

You hold out for just a little. You’re holding your breath. Just a little, just until Yuna’s eyelashes flutter open over her shoulder and she says your name, so sweetly, and says, "please, just, inside."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

So here, barely able to think at all, you end up doing the unthinkable - thinking all the while of pumping her right to the finish and draining your balls straight into the deepest reach of her cunt, how fucking tempting it may be - you muster an ounce of good judgment still adrift in a sea of lust. Your throbbing cock draws out of that wet, inviting heat and into your fist, and watch how that makes her begin to unspool: the way she tries to press her knees shut. She's sobbing for it, pleading, her lashes dark with tears. "No, no, fuck me, please, I'm begging you. Please, I'm going to be so good - god, please -"

You tug her back, look her in the eye, and let out a loud, shaky exhale. "Knees, princess."

She's too wracked with need to do anything other than comply. Her jaw drops. “But-”

"Mouth," you cut in, sharp enough that her gaze lifts, and you're right there - on the precipice, so close, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to run across the swell of her bottom lip.

Watching her knees fold into the carpet, her stockings down loose around her thighs, her underwear hanging off an ankle. The rise and fall of her chest like rolling waves, and you can see her hands fisting on her knees, and her face: you watch the emotion flash over, like water on glass, and a moment is all it takes. She leans her face forward to your hand, as you wind her hair into your fist, her lips parted and her gaze lowered. She's obedient, taking the weight of your cock with her pretty pink mouth like the fucked-up-little-fantasy that she is, opening so nice and wide.

Her eyes flit up to yours, her mascara-ringed lashes fanned against the pink of her cheeks.

"My face," she tells you, or something close to it, "fuck my face. Go ahead, use it - cum all over me."

Your cock slides halfway home, her cheeks hollowing, and when it presses to the back of her throat, she gags. You curse and tip your head back, the wood of your desk digging into the flesh of your palm.

"What did you say," you half groan out. "Baby," you add, just for good measure, just to play along, "c'mon."

The tip of Yuna's tongue sweeps and swirls just beneath your cockhead, and she moans her answer around your length, lapping at a leak of precum. "I said," she's repeating now, her cheek brushing across your shaft, and you shudder. "Fuck, what I said was I want you to cum all over my face."

Jesus.

You bury your cock into her mouth once, twice. Let it sit there. Let her really struggle for it, the angle just a tad awkward from above. Let her lips stretch wide, and her shoulders shake a little - tears start to gather, pricking her eyes, her lipstick a mess, the way your cock fits, plugging up her throat so full. You hold her like that for just a second, a little less - until Yuna's moaning, the vibration low in her mouth, and her eyes flutter open, closed.

"Fuck," you spit out, and "perfect," and your voice is shot, your whole face warm, and you're going to cum on her - everywhere on her. Yuna, who’s been staring up at you in wide-eyed submission, gives you a little nod, like she means it.

Like she’s earned it.

And maybe she has: it only takes one last look to seal it - her hand curled around your cock, her cheek matted with her own spit and lipstick, the bright smudge of her own cum from the point of her chin to the cleft of her cupid's bow, and her eyes are locked on yours, eager and hot. Maybe she hasn't - and maybe you should make her beg, fuck her mouth some more - it's almost cruel, how she looks. A perfectly pretty picture, poised and pliant and waiting, and she's right there, beneath you, and fuck - this is so wrong, and you'll ruin her, you'll mark her up like this. She'll be painted like a work of art.

Your pulse thickens. Stands right up in your veins.

Then, your control, snapping: her pretty lashes flutter, her mouth gone slack, her jaw still tilted up like she expects a gift, an offering, her palm wrapped so nice and snug around the base of your cock, her expression dazed, and so easy, and perfect, so eager. You tilt your hips just a fraction further, and she fucking swallows, her tongue tracing the underside where you throb harder, heavier - her body lilting up as you press in so deep.

“God,” you breathe in, out. It hits hard. It hits fast. “Yuna-”

A tensing of your stomach coils up through like smoke, and your grip tightens on the edge of your desk, the other in her hair, a helpless, desperate thrusting, and there - it's a wonderful, brilliant sort of explosion, like light, the white-hot burn of a fever breaking. You cum all over her face and into her hair, spilling out streaks of hot, filthy white onto her sculpted features and the sweet line of her throat, and god, there's so much, she's taking it so easily, all her breathing hot and heavy and loud.

Her skin alabaster and porcelain; cotton and canvas; she lets you fucking paint her, all messy and ruined.

In fact she’s even smiling like she’s holding in a laugh, all gooey-soft with satisfaction, and you're jerking your cock slow through her slender fingers, even after there's nothing else left to give and every inch of her face is marked - the way she wears your cum like new skin. You feel the shockwave tear your nerves open, and then the calm, right on its heels, spreading out from your core to your fingertips, out through the roots of your hair.

"Ah," you exhale, a tight gasp. Yuna takes the entirety of you into her mouth, sucking down your length - harder - as she swallows back a final, sticky load, her own hair sweat-slick to her face.

Just look at the damage: that’s a story not even you’d be able to spin. There's cum on her nose, dribbling past her cheek. On her jaw and on her cheek. Filthy white streaked all over her parted lips, her neck. Down her shoulder blades, and soiling her hair, and leaking down past her collarbones.

(Christ, was this better or worse? You can't even tell. Every version of her that's been served on a plate for you has seen fit to make you sweat.)

When the dust begins to settle, you’re left panting and spent. Yuna, the collateral on this fine, whiny, disaster of a deal. A collection of photos, and some thoughts and ideas, that now sit disheveled on the ground. There's a scathing voice inside your head that's demanding to be heard, reminding you all-too-casually that this is not any way to manage a client. She could snap her fingers, call out to that sycophant at the top floor, and your career would be over - she could do anything she should ever desire.

You know, on a baser level, this, and worse: the duality of the thought. Her tight cunt on your desk, you on your knees; the sharp gasp you can steal from the top of her throat, perhaps when she feels the gentle pressure of teeth around one rosy nipple. The pinch of your thumb and index finger around the other. Her nails down your back in ten angry lines, and the throb in her throat, while you slide the whole width of a hand, rough, over the flesh of her ass.

Maybe the desk, like everything else, can just join the pile on the floor.

"Yuna," you say, the vowels pitching like a sigh.

Her palms find the sharp crease in your pants and slide upward. She's gazing up at you, bright, her face sticky with you.

"You can't send me out like this," she tells you, matter-of-factly, letting a smile cross the lines of her lips - or a smirk. A wordless extension of the previous sentence - of a few.

You pull out and away from her: a white and gray dotted tie hanging loose, unknotted; a button still fastened somewhere mid-center, your trousers pulled off and loose down just below your knees, the fly gaping open. She's in a similar state, the cups of her bra slipping loose, her mouth flushed, lips swollen and red, the outline of how she’d let you use her in a smeary, runny stain across her cheek.

"Maybe let your manager know," you tell her, pulling your belt in place, and you think you catch her eye rolling. "That you're going to be late."

Yuna doesn't hesitate.

"Tell her yourself," she responds, "I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear I'm not actually dead - just having gotten fucked stupid on my PR person's cock."

"I might forget to include a couple details."

"You shouldn’t." Her eyebrows jump. And she's chewing, lazily, on the full curve of her lower lip, her teeth glinting like razors. "Here, before you throw all this to the sharks -"

So, so very dramatic, and with this: her thumbnail pressed beneath your chin. It draws your gaze up - up, and down: from the splay of her legs and the gleam of wetness between them, a brief rest along the arcs of her chest - the room's a total fucking wreck. Your necktie, her skirt, her blouse, her pantyhose. The papers and books all spread, bent, broken, the stack knocked clean onto its side. The skirt's probably still pulled too far up her hips for decency, her breasts shoved up to her neck and the collarbone, and then there's her face - her chin streaked with cum. Yuna smiles then, the corner of her mouth pulled upward.

She might kiss you if you'd let her.

Cum on her lips be damned, she's beautiful like that, like she isn't even trying. And in fact, she never really had to - this girl, she'd do it alone. The idea that someone could be as universally loved as she, is enough, a marvel even, but here she is in front of you, every atom and curve a siren, a study in perfection and composition. Like she’s not just all your mistakes laid out to bear.

"Take a second to take a proper look, hm? Get all the memories in, while they're fresh."

"Because?"

"You can remember I'm only the person you say I am, for you."

"Oh, of course," and the laugh that leaves your throat sounds dry, cracked open. The band of her skirt stretches, snaps back, so neatly that it leaves a pale line on her flesh. And now there are your hands, fitting around her hipbones, a sigh: a short, sudden motion, tugging her up. Yuna gasps: something surprised, delighted. She's all grins and teeth, all clean, bright incisors. 

"Mine," you're breathing, the flat of her stomach underneath the fingers you've placed upon it. "This is mine - you. Yours - you're all mine."

It’s possessive, but, you’re not all incorrect.

"Yeah," she more than agrees. 

There's a ribbon-taut quality in the way it leaves her mouth, the tension in her body coiled up through to the bones. She makes it sound like the beginning of a promise, the beginning of something much larger.

And by the way." She’s still buttoning her shirt. Putting herself together. You’ve seen the triage, the damage control. This is the Yuna you get. 

So, she needs the second - a respite to lick a stray stripe of slick and cum off her wrist - blotting her cheeks with a ball of wet tissue, until all that's left is the smeared lipstick, her stockings splayed around the floor. The pattern you've worn, where your fingerprints would've shown, gets covered up under her skirt and her coat, wrapped up in a scarf.

The smug satisfaction in her tone pulls your focus, just in time, her hair's falling in waves down her shoulders - perfect, but not flawless: there's a creased line, a hint of her throat, just beneath the collar. There's a slight wisp out of place. The buttons aren't arranged all the way from her collar to her sternum.

"I'm going to go with that photoset, with the white top, in the sand - gonna post 'em online and generate some buzz. You even said it yourself: they're fine. " She pauses, pushing away a strand of hair. "Professionally, of course."

"Professionalism." You smile. "Of course."

She walks out carrying the stilettos: pumps in either hand.

"Always. Catch you soon," she promises, and you do catch a last flash of her expression, lips parted, the lower curving into a satisfied smile, right as she flicks the lock on the door open and your office goes back to quiet.

For a split second, it's unbearable: the silence.

And you think again.

She can have anything, get any boy, girl, whoever, any designer, photographer, make-up artist in the world; there's something so unmistakably intoxicating about the fact that the thing she's decided she wants, is you.

[nathaslosthershit]

“Notice me” “Beg for it" (LN4)

Summary: After what feels like centuries of back and forth flirting, Lando and his Mclaren teammate have tired people out with their inaction to do something about their very obvious crushes. Aka the 5 times they confused fans with their interactions + the one time they made everything clear (SMAU)

Part of my summer event! Warnings: Zak Brown, Reader sort of takes Oscar’s place? Also the timeline on this is weird sorry

mclaren

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris, and others

mclaren Proud to announce our official driver lineup for the next season as yourusername joins the McLaren family🧡! Can’t wait to see her and Lando in action next season👊🎊

username1 oh I am about to be unbearable once we get more content with these two

username2 i have no one i can tell about this

mclaren guess how we felt having to keep it a secret!

zbrownceo welcome to the family yourusername!

yourusername happy to be here!!!

yourusername Thank god the news is finally out, you all don’t know how hard it was to not scream it from the rooftops once I signed my contract

landonorris Wouldn’t want anyone else as a teammate 👊

yourusername I would

landonorris wasn’t what you were saying earlier

landonorris “oh Lando, what a dream come true to drive alongside you, I’ll be such a good teammate you’ll forget all about Carlos-whats-his-face and the other old guy”

danielricciardo why am I catching strays?

yourusername you’re saying I haven’t made a pretty good impression? Maybe I should have stayed at Alpine…

landonorris definitely not saying that, please don't leave

username3 the vibe between these two is off-

yourusername

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and others

yourusername P3! My highest yet 👊! What a blast this year has been so far and we have still got a couple races to go! While I could talk about how thrilled I am with my first podium in F1, it wouldn’t be right to not mention my teammate’s spectacular race, earning him his first F1 win. So happy I could be on the podium right next to you, Lando, to celebrate your first (of many) wins! 🎉

username1 they sure do put every other duo to shame with how much they support each other

username2 Lando’s win was amazing but my god I would rather talk about her overtakes

landonorris always the best supporter 👊

f1gossip

liked by 15,158 others

f1gossip Spotted: landonorris and yourusername seem to be spending quite a lot of time together on their summer break! While most teammates like to take this time to get away from the people they work with every day, these two seem to do the opposite, getting quite comfy with each other while on a eurotrip together.

username1 they can’t do this to me oh my god

username2 completely unprofessional in my opinion! They are coworkers they should not be vacationing together, especially since they are wearing revealing outfits at the beach. Disgusting how much this sport has changed

username3 you will live i swear its not that big a deal

username4 usually id argue against getting into drivers' business but it does seem inappropriate to be going to the beach and having dinner alone with your teammate…

username5 dont know who i am more jealous of tbh

username6 im sorry do you people not want them to get along?

yourusername

liked by zbrownceo, carlossainz, and others

yourusername team meetings and court (mclaren) ordered teammate bonding

username1 lando norris make it less obvious how in love with your teammate you are challenge (impossible)

zbrownceo I don’t think we ordered any bonding, you guys are close enough already. Maybe I will file a restraining order between you two so you guys stop distracting one another?

landonorris sorry boss 😞

yourusername boo you are no fun old man

zbrownceo want to rethink that last comment yourusername?

yourusername we promise we won’t distract each other as much, Mr. ZakBrownCEO

landonorris notice me

yourusername beg for it

carlossainz you both may be happy now but just wait until he replaces you with a fancy new teammate and forgets all about you

yourusername stop being a diva

landonorris

liked by 53,836 others

landonorris Going into today I wasn't expecting the technical failure that would cause us to have to retire the car. Because it wasn’t an easy day for me by any means, id much rather take the time to congratulate my favorite person on her first Formula 1 win. Seeing you grow from your rookie season till now has been such a wonderful thing to witness. Its even better to be by your side while you do it. No one is more deserving of this win. Congrats on your first (of many) wins :) 

username1 he is so in love i am sick

username2 who do they think they are fooling

usernamer3 so sorry to see you dnf 😢but glad to see you are in bright spirits

yourusername Lando 😭 such an incredible day and an even better celebration afterwords. Thanks for being by my side all this time, I couldn’t have done it without you

landonorris we both know damn well you would be just as successful, maybe even more considering how much of a distraction I am for you 😉

yourusername the only thing distracting about you is your stupid face and annoying personality

landonorris I guess you are just spewing out a bunch of lies today huh?

username4 they are already hot rich drivers why do they get to be in love too? 

username5 fr leave some happiness for the rest of us

yourusername

liked by 97,839 others

yourusername yes, we know you all knew this but let us have this moment please

username1 oh my god what a shock 🙄

username2 how will we ever get over this news🙄

username3 how could they have deceived us for so long

username4 nah i can’t even pretend like this is breaking news.

yourusername I knew it was a rumor but I wasn’t expecting everyone to know 😀

landonorris I always thought we were kind of discreet about it…

username5 are you kidding? It would be less obvious if you guys held up signs that said “we are in love”

[bunnybubae]

☔This and more

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: One Shot - Established Relationship - Slice of Life - Fluff - Smutty Smut 

Summary: Your weekend at the beach seems to be completely ruined, but luckily, your boyfriend Jeon Jungkook is ready to change everything. 

Warnings: A delicious lunch and a drink at home, they call each other bubi and baby, Bf&Gf shenanigans,✨surprises✨, overall a tooth rotting piece of fluff served with a side of hot steamy smut *wink wink*, the end ❤️

Smut Warnings: Lots of steamy kisses, teasing, love bites, actual bites, dirty talking, worshiping, fingering, oral (F receiving), brief blowjob, rough sex, unprotected sex (she takes the pill), cum on breasts, love making 💓, creampie

Wc: 5.6k 

A/N:  Hiii!🫣I know I should be working on the Red Light series, I promise it's wip and will come to life sooner or later, but I miss my boyfriend who's traveling for work and the weather is shit over here... I had this idea in my docs and I just felt inspired to finally write it. I hope you like it! 🥺 - Joy 🐰

The sun is scorching and the sky is always clear. People wear light clothes and have fun outside. This is summer, right?

Wrong.

Not this weekend at least, since the weather forecast predicted heavy rain until Sunday.

This weekend, in which you had plans with your boyfriend and your friends to spend it at the beach, with tents, lots of food and beach games. Everything ruined, since the first thunder that rumbled.

You wouldn't have been so upset about it if it weren't for the fact that work has been a living hell lately and that you really were looking forward to this outdoor weekend. Even if it was only for a few days, you really wanted to regenerate and disconnect from everything work related.

The sky is so gray, almost black, like your mood right now.

It's Saturday morning and usually, you and Jungkook leave shortly after breakfast to go grocery shopping, when, presumably, there are less people and it is easier to find what you need for the week. As if the bad weather wasn't badding enough, something seems to have hurt your boyfriend, who reluctantly told you that he can't come with you.

You sigh deeply, it couldn't go worse, you think, but maybe it's just your bad mood's fault for these thoughts.

You worry about Jungkook as you look for a spot in the supermarket parking lot. You text him once you find one, asking if he needs medicine or anything else for his stomachache, but he reassures you shortly after, replying that some lactic ferments will do the job.

You continue to stare at his response on the screen thoughtfully, maybe last night's fried chicken was too spicy?

Anyway, the temperature has dropped a lot because of the weather. You put on one of Jungkook's sweatshirts and get ready by putting the hood on before going out to reach the supermarket.

You spend about a couple of hours inside, looking for everything you had on your list.

As you’re about to reach the checkout, with a full cart and the only desire to go home, your phone rings.

It’s a text from Jungkook.

Bubi ❤️: “Bubi could you please buy some fresh mint and lemons while u'r out?”

You check his request a second time, not too sure you understand.

You stop in your tracks, frowning as you type a response.

You: “What do you need them for?”

You watch the chat and his name as it appears and disappears shortly after, waiting for his response, which comes a few moments later.

Bubi❤️: “I read somewhere that making tea with mint and lemon helps calm a stomach ache and I wanna try.”

You're not too convinced but It makes sense, if you think about it.

You reply that you'll get mint and lemons and that you'll go to the pharmacy before you head back home.

It’s almost lunchtime when you park the car in front of the apartment complex where you live.

The rain shows no signs of ceasing, continuing to pound on the windshield of the car. 

When you’re about to get out to grab the groceries from the trunk, you see your boyfriend come out of the front door of the building and reach to your car door with a little jog.

He’s holding an open umbrella in his hand and when he opens the car door to let you out, he smiles widely.

“What are you doing out here?!”

“Let’s carry everything to the elevator together,”

And with that, he leaves a tender kiss on your forehead, a little damp from the rain.

You had forgotten your umbrella at home, despite his warnings. Too caught up in the greyness of your mood, evidently.

Once you have emptied your trunk and reached the elevator with the grocery bags in hand, you sigh loudly. A little tired from the weight of the bags and a little guilty for your state of mind.

He's always so helping and sweet and you have been quite intractable since yesterday. You feel the need to apologize to him.

Jungkook looks at you in silence, a slight smile on his lips as he plays with the piercing of his lip with his tongue.

"I'm sorry, bubi..." You break the silence, taking him by surprise.

"Mh? For what?"

You watch him as you explain why you really needed this weekend away to rest and relax a bit.

Jungkook nods, listening to you until your elevator ride stops at your floor.

"I know baby, don't worry."

The elevator's doors slide open.

It seems he wants to say something else, but he picks up the bags instead and starts to walk towards the front door of your apartment.

You follow him with the bags in your hand, feeling a little lighter and determined not to ruin this weekend any further.

Jungkook opens the door, gets rid of his shoes in the blink of an eye, leaving them near the shoe rack before running towards the kitchen. You don't understand what's gotten into him all of a sudden and when you enter, you put the bags down next to you to take off your shoes and tidy up his too.

When Jungkook returns a few moments later, he picks up your discarded bags too and rushes into the kitchen with them.

"What are you doing?"

You know very well that your boyfriend has these energetic outbursts from time to time, like the good golden retriever boyfriend he is.

He doesn't answer, instead you see him come back towards you, slightly out of breath.

“Ook, so,” He begins, catching his breath.

“I know this weekend at the beach meant a lot to you, especially after spending the last 3 months working non-stop,” 

His hands find yours and squeeze gently as he guides you through the small hallway of your entryway.

“And I know how much you need this, so,” He pauses, making you stop your tracks right in front of him as well.

“I’m sorry I made you go grocery shopping alone with this weather.”

He moves aside, allowing you to see what he was trying to hide behind his back.

The couch has been moved against the wall, the big carpet is adorned with countless children's toys, the classic ones for digging or making shapes in the sand and you notice an inflatable ball and some beach towels hidden under a beach umbrella.

The living room didn't seem that big, yet everything seems to fit in effortlessly. 

You don't know what to say exactly, you observe everything with wide eyes and open mouth as Jungkook continues his speech.

"I know it's not the same thing, but-" You don't even give him time to finish the sentence, that your lips crash against his, your hands holding his face still as you kiss his mouth softly.

Initially surprised, Jungkook gives in in a split second, wrapping his arms around your small figure.

You let him hold you as a few tears threaten to escape your eyes.

You part from his lips just for a moment. 

"So you didn't have diarrhea," And with that, you both burst into laughter in each other's arms as a small tear rolls down your face for the gratitude.

You are truly touched by the effort he put into it, by the love that hides such a gesture.

The laughter stops and your eyes lock. Jungkook caresses your cheek, wiping away that small, solitary tear.

"Thank you, babe..." Your tone is sweet and full of love and gratitude for him.

"This and more for you,"

He grabs one of your hands that are still holding his face and brings it to his lips, he kisses your knuckles with such delicacy before he moves away from you.

"Anyway, you don't look like you're dressed for the beach, why don't you go change while I sort out the groceries?"

You look down at yourself and giggle, even though it's not that hot, the idea of ​​indulging in this little indoor beach is thrilling, you nod, telling him he's right, then you turn around, heading to your bedroom.

"No! Wait!"

Jungkook suddenly exclaims, making you stop in your tracks.

"I moved the bag you had packed to the bathroom, so you can change right there!"

"Oh okay, I'll take the chance to take a quick shower, then."

You reach the bathroom, getting ready to shower before you could finally wear your new bikini.

During your shower you can't help but smile at the idea that you're about to spend some time at the beach, without the beach, and the sun, and the sea. It's amusing. 

Once cleaned and smelling nice, you put on your lilac bikini and its matching beach dress, fix your hair a bit and go back to the living room.

You don't remember seeing the TV on when you came in, but the sound of the waves envelopes you immediately. 

On the TV, a high definition video of the waves lapping the beach repeats over and over and it's yet another detail that makes you smile. Jungkook has really thought of everything.

He's not in the living room, though.

You walk towards the kitchen, smelling something nice as you near the door.  When you enter, you find your shirtless sexy boyfriend in front of the stove as he cooks something. 

"Damn, that smells good," The kitchen is filled with the smell of fresh fish and lemon, it's so mouth-watering.

"That's what you needed the lemon for!"

You giggle as you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his hips and leaving a light kiss on his shoulder as you watch his movements.

"I just watched a tutorial, I hope it turns out good."

He moves in your arms, turning around so he can observe your figure.

He hums delighted by what he sees.

The swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly and the beach dress semi-transparent fabric allows Jungkook to admire and go wild in his mind, with that see-through effect that makes him crazy.

You know exactly what's going through his mind right now. You can read it in his expression.

Despite the many years of relationship with him, the passion and attraction between you has always been strong, never faltering.

Jungkook has always worshiped your body in every possible way. 

And his carnal gaze, which gently caresses your curves, is proof of that.

It's unbelievable how one single look from him is enough to make you feel like the most beautiful thing in this world.

“You like it?”

You ask innocently, spinning around so he can look at beautiful ass as well.

He hums in agreement, “It’ll look great on the floor later.”

And it’s not the phrase that makes your legs feel weak, but the tone of his voice. Warm and provocative, just the way you like it.

He steals a kiss that’s way too innocent to justify the burning sensation in your belly, before turning his attention back to the stove.

“You should cook shirtless more often,” 

You try to speak, trying to sound unaffected, while your hands nonchalantly caress his pecs from behind, going down to his abs.

He chuckles softly, perfectly knowing what you're up to.

You love every single detail of his body. You swear you know by heart every groove and bump and yet the intensity of your yearning surprises you every time.

You sigh, trapping your lip between your teeth, unable to stop your hands from free roaming on his soft skin.

He is so addicting.

"Y/N.." Your name leaves his lips accompanied by a deep breath.

Your hands have the same effect that his skin has on you.

"What?"

You ask, not missing the contractions of his muscles under your touch when your hands tease his belly, just above the waistband of his swimsuit.

Jungkook turns off the stove and pushes the food away.

Then he turns around, and his face is now a few inches from yours.

In one quick and agile movement, he picks you up, letting your legs circle his bare waist. 

A deep breath escapes your mouth as his chest touches yours and a second later you're sitting on the countertop, its coldness briefly soothing your heat.

"You can't do that while I'm cooking,"

He lets out, then he urgently dives forward, peppering the thin skin of your neck with languid kisses..

You almost moan at the touch. 

"Why not,"

You ask, hoping your voice doesn't sound too desperate right now.

"Cause I'd have to fuck you hard and quick, right here on this countertop,"

You tilt your head backwards, allowing him to do as he pleases with your neck.

"And,"

He pauses, licking a long, slow stripe, from your collarbone to the skin below your earlobe.

"Even tho I know how much you love to be fucked like that,"

He softly kisses your jawline, then whispers right to your ear and your insides turn into boiling lava.

"I want to take my time with you, I want to taste you and savor every drop of your juice when I make you come."

His hands are nowhere on your body, you're only trapped between his arms that keep his weight slightly lean on you. And yet, your skin feels so hot, like his voice and words are washing the last bit of sanity away, leaving goosebumps all over you.

You gulp, unable to speak as you try to calm your breathing.

You love this man, you think you never stopped crushing over him, you're a total mess right now, by only his words and kisses on the neck.

"Fuck baby.."

You manage to say, even though your voice sounds strained.

"Be patient, yeah?"

And just like that, the magic is over.

He frees you, leaving your body hot and bothered just like that.

You whine a little, a sound that makes him chuckle darkly, probably proud of the effect he still has on you. 

You're a tad bit annoyed, you're not gonna lie, but the excitement for what's to come prevails.

After having lunch with some delicious lemony fish, you and Jungkook decide to enjoy some relaxation lying on the beach towels placed on the floor in front of the TV. The mint cocktails you made earlier rest next to you, while some music plays casually from your phone.

You have to admit that the whole vibe is working very well, you don't even miss the sand and the smell of saltiness in the air. Everything feels just right, with the man you love by your side.

The apartment isn't that big, but everything Jungkook has prepared for the theme seems to fit perfectly, without being too bulky.

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, while sipping your drink every now and then.

You notice that there is enough space between the towels and the television, so you decide to grab the Nintendo Switch from its dock, and place it in front of you.

"Wanna play?"

Jungkook, who seems far too relaxed on his towel, is drawn in by your playful tone, he smiles nodding before grabbing a pair of joycons.

"What do you wanna play?"

You think for a moment, as you scroll through the games you have, undecided between Just Dance, volleyball, which might be the most suitable for the beach mood, or WarioWare, which as stupid as it is, never fails to make you laugh.

"We could play some volleyball to begin with, what do you say?"

"I'm down,"

You make some space and strap your joy con, just to be sure you don't crash anything while playing.

The games go smoothly and match after match and sip after sip of your drinks, you grow dizzier. 

By the time you start playing Wario Ware, you both are a laughing mess, seeing your boyfriend copy those funny poses is the highlight of the day.

Your cheeks are hurting from the laugh and you don't even know what time it is while the rain keeps pouring outside.

The sound of sporadic thunder is a soft reminder that what is going on outside, doesn't bother you at all. 

Especially now, embraced in your boyfriend's arms, skin to skin, as the center of your living room becomes the center of your world.

He kisses you, ever so gently, as his mouth moves with yours in a dance they know oh so well.

You bet his lips shared some secrets with yours as when you part from each other for a moment, you both smile fondly. As if no words are needed.

The way he's looking at you makes you feel so lucky.

You feel so precious when he touches you, so cherished.

His hands are so tender and attentive, he outlines your sides, pushing his body to yours as if it was possible to feel you even closer.

The game is long forgotten as you share another kiss, less innocent than the previous one.

Your hands bravely caress his shoulders and nape before intertwining with some soft locks.

Some music is still playing from your phone, thrown somewhere on the carpet when suddenly, As Long As You Love Me by Justin Bieber starts playing. 

A pretty old song, but you remember you saved the acoustic version a long time ago, when you two weren't even a thing.

It couldn't be more apt for this moment in time, you think.

Your smile breaks the kiss and even though you feel your head a little heavy from the alcohol, you start singing.

He watches you fondly, swinging with you in his arms to the rhythm as he begins to sing the song with you.

His voice is heaven, you always told him that and he likes to sing for you. Although the shower or the car are his favorite stages most of the time.

You keep singing your heart out, pouring all your love in the lyrics as your gaze gets lost in his.

You've always been the sensitive type, especially in this kind of situation.

Your boyfriend seems as affected as you, though.

His gaze is glimmering and his embrace is tighter than before.

The song slowly but surely comes toward its end when Jungkook softly leans forward, whispering the last phrase right on your lips.

Your heart feels like it's about to burst in your chest and a moment later you're kissing him, like your life depends on it.

He lets you kiss him, lets you taste his tongue and maybe it's the alcohol, maybe the whole vibe, but you end up sprawled on the beach towels, kissing each other's brains out.

The beach umbrella, placed open on the ground for obvious reasons, offers some sort of shield from the artificial light of the lamp. The light filters through the colored material, leaving a soft hue of colors on your bodies.

You don't know where your beach dress has been thrown, the only thing in your mind right now, is your boyfriend's kisses.

He prints wet kisses all over your body and you feel like you're burning.

You breathe heavily, concentrating on the sensations of his lips on your abdomen.

"So fucking pretty,"

He states, seemingly out of breath. You shiver in pleasure as your heart skips a beat.

His hands reach your bikini bottom and you almost moan shamelessly as he asks,

"Are you already wet for me, baby?"

Then he pushes your bikini aside, not waiting for your answers, wanting to find out himself.

"Fuck, yes"

It's the only phrase that leaves your gaping mouth as he swipes his fingers between your legs.

You can feel the stickiness of your bikini and his breath right in front of your core.

"Want me to make you even wetter?

A soft yes leaves your lips, barely audible.

"Speak up, baby,"

It's a lewd scene, your legs are wide open in front of him and Jungkook is palming himself with his free hand. His swimming trunks are an uncomfortable obstacle but it's something he'll deal with later.

His attention is only focused on you right now.

"Kook-"

You moan as his wet fingers circle your clit.

"I want your tongue," you confess "Make me come on your tongue,"

You breathe out as your hands move over your tits, sliding under the fabric of your bikini top.

"Fuck, I love when you talk to me like that,"

He groans, and a moment later, he is giving in, licking your folds, sucking your clit, just as you like it. He knows it's going to make you a moaning mess before him.

He wasn't lying before, he is taking his sweet time savoring you, fucking you slowly with his tongue, then circling your clit and sucking on it every now and then.

When your body reacts at the waves of pleasure his motions are providing, he laughs darkly, the vibration of it a sweet addition to your pleasure.

Your body trembles, your orgasm building up at every french kiss he gives your pussy and you think you're going insane.

Your moans are louder, turning to sweet little whine when you know you're about to reach your high.

"I'm close, fuck, don't stop,"

As if he needed you to tell him not to stop.

Jungkook is quick to react, pushing with ease his middle and ring finger inside you.

The new stimulation makes you cry out in pleasure and he is so turned on by your sounds, he thinks he might bust in his swimming suit just with that.

"Love this pussy,"

He says, voice deep and steady.

"Can't wait to fuck you just right,"

And just like that, the built up tension in your belly snaps and a strong orgasm washes over you.

His hands, his words, the picture of his pretty cock slamming into your pussy, sends you over the edge. 

You let out a moan that sounds like his name and your hands move from your tits to brush his hair. 

You're still trembling from your orgasm when you open your eyes, not sure when you closed them and all you see is your boyfriend, hair disheveled, sucking on his wet fingers like a lollipop. 

His dark gaze meets your dazed eyes and he smiles, way too innocently considering the lustful motions of his tongue.

"God," you blurt out,  trying to regain a stable breathing, "Why are you still wearing that?"

You point at his bottom half, moving a second later to help him freed himself from the useless piece of clothing.  

His dick springs free, hungry and leaking some precum.

You hum, licking your lips as if you were a starved woman, ready to devour her meal. 

When you grab the base of his thick member and move to lick it, Jungkook surprisingly blocks your hand gently.

You frown, looking up mid motion, puzzled.

"I won't be able to hold back much longer if you suck me,"

His voice is almost apologetic and you tenderly smile, finding his confession hot and endearing at the same time.

"Just a little?"

You put up your best pleading eyes, softly adding, "Please?"

Jungkook's eyes roll back as he bites his lip and a deep breath leaves through his nostrils.

You know he likes when you beg for it.

While you scream in pleasure or with big innocent eyes, he just loves when you ask nicely, like a good girl.

He can't resist you.

He could never resist those pretty eyes of yours.

He shifts in his place, allowing you to get on your knees before grabbing your chin, ever so gently.

"Be a good girl then and open wide."

You smile in content, doing just as he asked, opening your mouth as wide as you can and sticking out your tongue.

When you look up at him, Jungkook slowly puts his fingers inside your mouth, and your faint taste still lingers in them. 

You suck and lick on them for a second, then when he pulls them out, he smears your saliva along his sensitive dick. 

His breaths are heavy and when he slams it a couple of times on your tongue he groans.

That's when he loses it a little. 

He grabs your jaw, helping you tilt your head at the right angle, then pushes the tip inside. 

You do your best by swirling your tongue around the salty tip, closing your lips around it just enough for him to feel a little pressure.

By the time you pop your lips open, he pushes a little more in, enough to stuff your mouth.

You instinctively bob your head, trying to get more of him inside and when a moan escapes his throat, you know he will stop you soon.

You take the opportunity to tease him a little, grabbing at his butt and fondling the soft skin of it as he sloppily thrusts.

Jungkook's sounds are animalistic, his thrusts are steady but right before he pulls out completely, he gives one last thrust that almost hits the back of your throat.

You gasp for air as he gently pushes you back down on the beach towel.

He swiftly takes your bikini away, both the bottom and the top, and latches his plumb lips to one of your breasts.

The coldness of his piercing mixed with his hot breath is a nice contrast for your perked up nipples.

You hiss when he bites the sensitive nub, but he quickly eases the pain away by kissing and lapping at the abused skin.

"Kook-"

A broken moan leaves your throat when he bites you again, this time on the delicate meat of your breast. It's softer than before, but you feel hyper responsive right now. 

"Can I come here?"

He whispers, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your chest.

You giggle, feeling a little ticklish when his fingers travel down your sides.

"Why are you asking?" you pull him closer till his cock is leaning between your folds.

The contact sends shivers down to your core and you buck your hips almost automatically.

"You know I love it, Kook"

He just needed to hear you say that aloud, that's clear when pushes up a little, aligning the tip of his member with your entrance. 

"You love it, huh? Thought you loved it more inside you tho,"

He pushes in, inch by inch as he finishes his phrase.

You gasp at the sweet stretch, feeling breathless as he bottoms up.

"I love it down my throat too,"

That makes him go feral. 

It's all you're able to say before he props up on his elbow, one hand behind your shoulder, the other clasped around your hip to keep you there as he fucks you at a ruthless pace.

You're fucking on the floor, on a beach towel, shielded by a beach umbrella with Wario Ware long forgotten on the tv and some music shuffling from your phone, meanwhile outside it's pouring and thundering since this morning.

It might seem a messy situation, but everything feels at his place.. Nothing is missing here.

Every thrust elicits soft moans from you. He promptly kisses you, and as you make out you wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him closer and closer.

That allows him to jack hammer into you with measured force. 

The squelching sounds are filling the room, followed by his throaty moans and yours.

You're about to come once again, the pressure on your stomach well fed by the way his cock is hitting on the right spot inside you.

"Kook," you cry out, "I'm about to-"

"Me too baby," he pecks your lips before he adds, "Let me feel you come all over my cock,"

His hips slap against yours impossibly fast, just as fast as your orgasm approaches.

Your body stiffens and after a few seconds there it is, the sweet release, the white pleasure that washes over you.

You cry out his name repeatedly, till your cry subside to a moan and you feel his thrusts getting sloppier and erratic.

"Fuck, yes, I'm coming too,"

And he pulls out quickly, kneeling between your trembling legs before he pumps his fist around his drenched dick a few times before hot spurts of his cum lands on your body.

He moans shamelessly and you love when he gets all vocal, it turns you on even though you feel totally devastated right now.

He covers your breasts in sticky white and some of it lands on your chin too.

You don't mind, not when he looks so blissed and fucked out.

When he empties his load completely, he watches you, admiring his masterpiece and offering you a hand.

He chuckles breathlessly and pecks your lips as he pulls you up.

"Let's take a shower, shall we?"

You nod, not sure if you're able to speak right. 

You make sure to turn off the tv and the music on your phone before you head straight to the bathroom.

Jungkook offers to wash you up first and you let him do it.

It's obviously not the first time you shower together, but it doesn't happen that often either.

You wash up each other, giggling and chatting like he was not balls deep inside you just moments ago.

By the time you finish your shower and dry up, it's dinner time.

You enjoy your evening eating the food you thoroughly prepared beforehand right on the floor, because yes, Jungkook refused to put away the beach towels saying that "Our beach experience is not over yet". 

Even though you shake your head in defeat, you chuckle, amused by his determination.

The evening went by in total relaxation, you're curled up on your boyfriend's side as another episode of Demon's Slayer flashes on the tv screen. The air is chilly right now and you feel the fatigue of the day get the better of you. 

"Wanna go to bed after this episode?"

He asks, noticing your breathing is getting heavier.

You fell asleep a couple of times for a few minutes, trying to keep track of what you're watching when you woke up, but it's kind of frustrating.

You hum in agreement, stretching your back a little.

When the episode comes to its end, Jungkook stands up from the ground and leaves the living room. You walk up to the window, curious to see the state of the world outside.

Perhaps you hoped to see a clear sky, but unfortunately you were disappointed.

It's still raining, though it's not pouring like this afternoon. Droplets of water are slamming on the glass in a soft lullaby.

It's soothing somehow and you take a moment to take in the different effect the rainy weather has on you right now, compared to this morning.

Strong arms circle your waist and a soft peck on your head draws your attention away from the window. 

"There's another surprise for you,"

He whispers right in your ear before you turn around to look into his eyes.

Your arms find their place around his neck and you look at him, intrigued.

"Another one?"

He grins at your curiosity, pulling you towards the bedroom just a moment later.

When you enter the room, you're welcomed by his favorite galaxy lamp while it projects purple and blue hue up on the roof. 

Small green dots serve as little stars, scattered all around as they are slow dancing and a camping tent about the size of the bed is placed on top of it.

You're shocked, unable to speak as emotions get stuck in your throat, you inspect the room with teary eyes, touched by all his effort to make this weekend just perfect.

"Do you like it?"

He tentatively asks, watching your reaction by the frame of the door.

When you turn around you quickly reach out to him, hugging him so tight you think you might break his spine.

You softly sob on his chest as he returns the hug, kissing the top of your head affectionately and when you finally look up at him with a wide smile, Jungkook breaks in the softest laugh you have ever heard from him.

"It's perfect," you state, "You are perfect,"

Jungkook's gaze fills with all the love he has for you, a gaze that doesn't need words and after he dried away your salty tears, you kiss him passionately. 

Nothing could ever compare to this moment, to this little piece of heaven he created for just the two of you, under a starry sky that belongs to you and him and no one else.

You poured all your love on every inch of his body, tasted his soft skin and marked it as yours.

He did the same to you, making sure your body was worshiped as it deserves.

That night, you made love like nothing existed outside of your camping tent, it was only you and him, becoming one as your soft moans mingled in the room.

It was gentle, like the time was no longer flowing until slowly but surely, you reached your high together, hugging each other as he came inside you.

You felt full of him, in every sense possible as he softly kissed your forehead and you whispered the sweetest I love you in the air.

You cuddled to sleep, refusing to leave your tent to go wash up and when the morning after you woke up between your boyfriend's arms, you knew another beautiful day on a sandless beach awaited.

Another day with the love of your life, in your little perfect world.