eunbitchh - Tumblr blog

eunbitchh · 11 days

Text

Inked By Fate - TWO

↬ pairing/s: park seonghwa x fem!reader, choi san x fem!reader ↬ genre: soulmate!au, racers!ateez, rivalry, angst, romance, fluff, pining ↬warning/s: lots of profanities, illegal racing ↬wc: 3.6k ↬a/n: early update (this is where the fun starts)! bcos i might be busy next week hehet. this wasn't proof-read so i'm sorry for the errors if there are. i would also love to hear your thoughts abt the story so far, thanxx!

*reblogs and feedbacks are much appreciated!

・・・・・★

Waking up to the smell of cooked eggs and bacons, you quickly sat up on your bed, brows furrowed.

Is your sense of smell fooling around with you?

Someone's definitely cooking in the kitchen. But who could it be?

Oh no.

What if it's an intruder - making itself at home knowing that you were dead asleep?

If the person sees my tattoos, will that be enough to scare them?

With that thought in mind, you went out of the comfort of your bed and slipped into your fuzzy slippers, praying that whoever was inside your apartment was someone your own size, who you can actually fight, or you'll be dead meat.

On your way, you took the baseball bat that was placed just in front of your room's door. But when you see who was moving inside the kitchen whilst humming to a song, you halt in your steps. It was a guy.

Should I hit him now? or should I wait when he turns around so I could hit him right in the face?

With your hand still raised together with the baseball bat in the air, the person turns around, nearly dropping the plate of newly cooked baconstrips when he flinches.

"Motherfucker, you scared me!"

"Yeosang?!" You exclaimed in disbelief. You stared him up and down. Oh, so that's why you didn't recognize his back like you always would, he's got his hair dyed again - this time it's light ash blonde.

"Yesss, it's me! Now, if you could just...lower that bat down...please?" Yeosang asks gently, not wanting to anger you further because of his sudden appearance inside your humble abode.

"Oh, right. Sorry." You smiled sheepishly. You put back the bat to its original place, then came back to the kitchen to join the latter for breakfast.

He didn't burn the kitchen this time. Wow, Jia must've rubbed off her cooking skills on him.

You wait for Yeosang to fill your plate with food, before you straighten up on your seat, arms-crossed.

"Now, why are you here dear brother?"

Yeosang looks up from his plate, raising his perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. "What? I can't visit my own sister now?"

You scoffed at this. "Sure. But just so you know, this is so out of the blue, Kang Yeosang. If I remember clearly, I haven't seen your face for like what? Two years? So why now?" This time, it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, suspicious at his sudden actions.

Yeosang continues munching on his food first, before he places down his fork, sighing. "Okay, okay. You got me!"

With a triumphant smile, you leaned on the table, your elbow rested on top as you propped your chin on your palm.

"Jia told you, didn't she?" You muse, looking at him dead in the eye, which sooner turned into a staring battle between the two of you.

Of course, Yeosang lost.

"Ugh, she told me not to tell you this though. But you're a smart bitch so I guess it's not my fault." He shrugs, but you know yourself that your brother's going to have a scolding from his girlfriend later.

Yes, Jia is Yeosang's girlfriend. What a small world right?

"Well, thank you dipshit." You fire back, grinning, but he just rolled his eyes at you. And then he turns serious.

"Also, to answer your question, yes, Jia told me." He says, eyes now looking solemn. "But seriously? Eight tattoos in a week? What is your soulmate? A masochist?" Yeosang huffs, to which you just glared at.

"Yeo, my soulmate doesn't know." You said sharply. Wanting to prove a point to him.

"Sure, they don't. But that doesn't change the fact that you're always in pain because of that piece of shit."

"Yeo, tone down your language!" You hiss.

"Fine!" He exclaims.

Soon the table was filled with a tense silence, neither of you chose to look at each other, blood boiling because of different reasons.

You know that Yeosang is just protective of you, his only sister, his only family left. But it doesn't mean he can go around and curse your soulmate like that, your soulmate is still your other half.

"Alright, I'm sorry Y/N." Yeosang breaks the silence first. Your brother isn't really one who is fond of doing apologies first, given his high-walled ego. So you just nod.

"Look at me, though." Yeosang pleads, and without looking, you know he's already sporting that pouty face of his.

Imagining him looking silly, far from his usual cold and cocky facade, you break into a smile.

"Now, that's what I like." You heard him say and when you looked at him he was already smiling at you.

"Okay, so as I was saying, Jia told me about your sufferings, and it pains her to always see you like that, so..."

"So?" You repeat, raising one of your brows.

"She asked me to convince you to take a break from the flower shop first."

"Break? You know I can't do that, Yeo." You pout, just imagining how boring your life will be if you'll just spend the rest of the following days inside your apartment, probably just repeating the same routine. Wake up, eat, sleep, and repeat.

Working in the flower shop was the only thing that you looked forward to, and now you're asked to take a break?

Was it because you accidentally forgot to wear a shirt that was long enough to cover your tattoos? Did it scare a customer and they end up telling Jia about it?

Before you knew it, you were already overthinking, luckily though, Yeosang was quick to notice it and eventually snapped you out of it.

"Y/N, Jia has the purest intentions, believe me. You didn't do anything wrong, okay? We just want what's best for you." Yeosang reassures you, stroking your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, nodding your head.

"Alright, I'll take a break..."

"Good. Then you better be ready tomorrow because I'm picking you up." He states, making you move away from him to look at him in the face.

"And where exactly are you taking me?"

"Weren't you curious about where I work? I'm bringing you there tomorrow." Yeosang smirks.

You don't know why, but you feel like this will be a bad idea, but at the same time, you were kind of excited?

"Yeosang?" You say, uneasiness slowly creeping into your system.

"Relax, it's nothing that illegal-well, who am I kidding? Of course it's illegal - anyway, I assure you it'll be fun!" He chuckles, relishing in the idea of finally bringing you to see his world.

But say what - did he just say illegal?!

"Kang Yeosang I swear-"

"Oh trust me, you'll love it dear sister."

・・・・・★

"You work at a club?" You turn to your brother who's behind the steering wheel of his red chevrolet camaro.

Yeosang merely shakes his head, then the car slows down, his side of the window rolls down, and the next thing you knew, he was talking to a buff guy, who seems like a bouncer to you.

You see the buff guy throw you a look before he tells you to reach out your hand.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Just reach out your hand, Y/N." Yeosang tells you, and you do oblige, because the guy outside the window is scaring the shit out of you already.

The guy straps a leather band on your wrist, and just like that, he was out of your sight, and the camaro was rolling back on its wheels.

Although confused, your mouth opens in awe when you realize you weren't headed for the luxurious club. Instead, a passageway opens just at the side and Yeosang has led the car through it.

So now you're like inside of a tunnel, a tunnel that felt endless as Yeosang drove. But then you see it.

The lights.

And then you hear noises.

And that's when you see the big silver ass of a sign.

KQ-STRIP

"Y-Yeosang?" You mutter, your eyes never leaving the sign.

"Hmm?"

"Where are we?"

You hear your brother chuckle before you look at him, only to see him wearing that devious of a smirk on his face.

"Welcome to the world of underground racing, sister."

・・・・・★

When Yeosang said his job is illegal, you totally didn't expect to find yourself standing inside the walls of an underground racing facility.

Seriously? Illegal speed racing?? This is what he does for a living? Can you even consider it as a job, when it's more of like a dangerous hobby?

Still, you know your brother gets paid tons for this shit, seeing how the place looks so unrealistically expensive, so you're just gonna shut your mouth like the good sister you are.

"Does Jia know?" Is the first thing you asked him when the two of you walked further into the venue where you could already see the racing track and the expensive looking cars all scattered around.

"Of course she does. You know that I could never lie to that woman."

"You've got a point there." You say and then you let your eyes wander around.

The place was filled with people, either walking inside the area, or up in the bleachers. Some were even holding huge placards with what you presume were the racers' names. The place was humongous, lots of varying lights brightened up the race track.

Are you perhaps...dreaming?

Because there's no way something like this exists? And you only knew of it like, now??

Where on earth was Yeosang wandering that made him able to discover this place?

"If you've got questions, go ask now." Yeosang tells you.

You have lots of questions in mind, but you don't know what or how to start. This information for just one night is too overwhelming, it almost made you speechless.

"Have the authorities found out about this place? Or like, did you get arrested once?"

You admit this place might be considered close to utopia for some, but you can't also deny the fact that this, whatever this shit your brother is doing is illegal. Not to mention, the potential harm it can cause to everyone involved with it. To think he managed to bring you here...in his world...should you be scared?

Yeosang did say he wanted you to take a break and that he wanted what's best for you. So is this the solution to that? When this whole thing is close to giving you anxiety? That any minute now, a police might barge into the place and then-

"Kang Y/N!" Yeosang spoke with so much power in his voice that it was enough to bring you back to reality.

"You're doing it again, you're overthinking." He says, gently this time.

Yeosang moves closer, gripping his hands on both sides of your shoulders, looking you in the eye. "I promise you, you need not worry. I wouldn't bring my precious sister here if I knew it wasn't safe enough for her."

"Endangering you is the last thing I would ever do." Yeosang tells you, and it was enough of a reassurance.

Right, when has Yeosang ever broken your trust? Never. Though the two of you fight like cats and dogs every single damn time. But yes, you trust him.

"Plus, not to brag, but our higher officials have never ever slipped even once. The reason why KQ-STRIP has been underground for almost a decade." At that he's back to his cocky self, and you had every urge to roll your eyes at him, but you don't.

At a distance, you hear screeching tire noises, and then three cars; green, blue, and orange come into view, pulling up beside your brother's red camaro.

"Ah, speaking of them devils. They're here." Yeosang clasps his hands. You turn to him, puzzled, but he just loops his arm with yours and drags you with him to the three newly arrived vibrant looking cars.

At that moment, the three drivers went out, and you had to suck in a breath. The first one was tall with black hair, he had soft facial features but he screamed manly, nonetheless.

Meanwhile, the owner of the green car had light brown hair, slicked back, and had dark glasses on. Just like the first, he was tall.

Lastly, the owner of the blue car steps out, and unlike the two towers, he was smaller, even a tad smaller than your brother.

Despite his height though, he displayed the same cockiness as Yeosang and had platinum blonde hair, with some fringes dropping to his forehead.

They were gorgeous alright.

As if Yeosang knew what you were thinking, he nudged you ever so lightly.

"They're my friends, and no you're not hitting on any of them."

"I wasn't planning to." You grit your teeth. They're gorgeous, yes, you give them that. But you're loyal to your soulmate alright?

"Well, well, who do we have here?" The short one says, examining you up and down.

Tonight you wore a black leather jacket just like your brother and the rest of these guys. Yeosang told you it's a part of the dress code.

"Hongjoong hyung, this is my sister, Kang Y/N."

"Sister you say? She's pretty!" The one with the black hair exclaims, then he sends you a warm smile, enough to make your insides all fluttery.

"And hot!" The one with the glasses adds, whistling. Of course, you had to look away to hide the blush on your cheeks. "Well, thank you." You say quietly.

"Mingi, I didn't bring her here for you to hit on." Yeosang glares at the taller man.

"Alright, alright. Geez, I was just merely giving her a compliment." Mingi defends himself, and when he catches you looking at him, he sends you a wink.

And now, the other tall male was hitting him, telling him to tone down his flirty antics.

Then you hear someone cough.

"I'm sorry about them, they can be pretty handful sometimes. Anyway, I'm Kim Hongjoong." The blonde introduces himself, and offers his gloved hand in front of you.

You were about to accept his hand when another hand came into sight, pushing the former away.

"And I'm Yunho, Jeong Yunho!" He says, catching you off guard.

"It's nice to meet you, Yunho." You say, chuckling, as you shook his hand.

"The disrespect." Hongjoong mutters at the side, but then he turns to your brother.

"Why bring her this time, Sang?" He questions.

"Dunno. Just thought this would be a perfect place for her to have her break and distract her for the time being. Plus, she would be able to see her handsome brother at work." Yeosang says, winking at you.

"Ooh, ooh! Does that mean you'll bring her the following nights too?" Mingi chirps in, looking expectantly at your brother.

"Well, I guess? If she ends up liking it here. Then why not?" Yeosang shrugs.

Then as if something in you shifted, your focus wasn't on their conversation anymore, your system feeling like it's burning with anticipation and excitement...?

Because just at that moment, three other cars entered the scene, all black in color.

And when the first car door opens, revealing a tall man, clad in all black from head to toe, your breath hitches and you can't find it in you to look away. Even when his eyes met yours for a brief second and then turned his back.

You tug your brother's sleeve, whispering, "Yeosang...who is that?"

"Oh. That's...that's Park Seonghwa. And he's someone you shouldn't go near to Y/N."

・・・・・★

"Why?"

"Because he's the King, the King of the tracks. And he shouldn't be messed with." Yeosang supplies, and then Yunho suddenly appears behind you two, saying, "But you can mess with his two friends, they're nice and funny! On a second thought- no, they could break your heart if you get too attached with them."

"Also Inferno is our rival, therefore they're not a friend, but a foe." It was Hongjoong who spoke this time.

Inferno?

"What do you mean by Infer-" Before you could even finish your sentence, Yeosang cuts you off, grabbing a hold of your wrist. "That's enough info for the night, so why don't we just go and-"

"Elysium, my friends!" A voice cuts through the air, halting you and your brother in your tracks.

"Piece of shit." Yeosang grumbles under his breath, and the two of you turn around only to see three males clad in black approaching you and Yeosang's friend group.

The way they carried themselves screams confidence with a slight arrogance in their steps.

The guy in the middle was smiling and the other on his left was smirking, his gaze falling on your figure, while the one on the right- the tall man you saw earlier- Park Seonghwa - was wearing a blank face, stray strands of his midnight black hair fell on the other side of his face.

Then your wrist begins to itch. When you look at it, it's exactly on your soulmate mark.

"Oh, and who is this?" The same high-pitched voice speaks, and you look up to see the three of them looking at you while Yeosang was glaring at them, his hand still gripping your other wrist tightly.

"None of your damn business." Yeosang says through gritted teeth, making the latter laugh.

"You're so funny Kang. I haven't even done anything, yet." He says much to his amusement on seeing your brother steaming in anger.

"What's your business, Inferno?" Hongjoong speaks up this time, his voice calm and collected, as well as his face, so unlike your brother who's close to bursting.

You know Yeosang is protective, but not this protective. Then that just means that Inferno guys are really bad, bad.

"What's her name? Is she Yeosang's sister?" The same guy speaks, shamelessly checking you up and down. He's really talking like you're not here, huh? How rude. You're starting to not like him already.

So you speak up.

"That's right, I am. Got any problem with that?" You raise an eyebrow at him as you step forward, crossing your arms.

"Ooh, feisty." You hear Mingi say from the side, but Yunho was quick to shush him.

The guy in front of you laughs, and that's when you notice that his hair's colored half black and then blonde underneath at the back. What a bold choice of color, and it seems like his personality is too.

"You're just like your brother. But oh gosh, where are my manners? My name is Jung Wooyoung, and you are?" Wooyoung offers his hand in front of you, like a gentleman.

"I'm Kang Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you Y/N-ie." He says, catching you off guard. So you're on a nickname basis now? This guy is surely something.

Then he turns to the others behind him and introduces them.

"This guy here is-"

"I'm Choi San." The guy with the black hair and striking green streaks steps forward and kisses the back of your hand.

You hear Yeosang gasp. "Oh you did not jus-" Hongjoong and the others calmed him down, holding him in place, while Choi San merely smirks. Then he goes back to his place.

Wooyoung laughs again, then turns to the almost stone-cold like person on his other side.

His face was void of any emotions.

And you don't like it.

"This is our Seonghwa-hyung." Wooyoung introduces him. The said male just looks at you for a brief second, nodding his head in acknowledgement and says nothing.

While the others showed interest in you, he didn't. And it sparked up an unknown flame inside of you.

You're suddenly irritated.

So you turn your back and walk away.

"Hey, wait up!" Yeosang says, trying to catch up with you.

His friends followed suit. Mingi, questioning you first. "Why'd you walk away, angel?"

You don't answer him though. Instead, you ask, "When's the race starting Yeo? I'm about to get bored just walking around here." And talking to some jerk, who doesn't give a fuck about your existence.

Why are you so pressed anyway? Why are you so worked up over Seonghwa not giving you even the slightest interest?

Also what a perfect timing for your wrist to itch - the cherry on top, to your flaming annoyance.

"How about you three, including Mingi, go find seats, while me and Yunho go get ready for tonight's match?" Hongjoong proposes. And so the five of you separate.

・・・・・★

The race was already starting, one of the competitors being; Hongjoong and Yunho from Elysium; which you just found out to be the name of Yeosang's gang, and Wooyoung and Seonghwa from Inferno.

You like cars, you're okay with watching races, but tonight, you just can't help but keep sending glares on the innocent race track, plus your wrist was still itching for who knows what reason.

So you decided to excuse yourself and told Yeosang that you'll go to the comfort room, and thank god you were good with directions cause you immediately found it.

After doing your business and washing your hands, you head out, only to squeak when you find a familiar male leaning by the doorway.

"San?" You say, unsure, because he had his head hung low. But when he looks up, it indeed is him.

"Oh, I see, you're finished." Unlike his smirk earlier, he's sporting a dimpled smile.

"Yes…? But what are you doing here?" You ask, looking at him and then at the sign on top of you that clearly says 'female'.

"Waiting for you of course. What else?"

Okay? He's very straightforward.

"But why?"

He removes himself from the wall and faces you, both of his hands placed inside of his pockets.

He leans in up to a point where it was almost uncomfortable, but surprisingly it wasn't uncomfortable for you in the slightest. In fact you even close your eyes.

Then he speaks, his breath hovering over your lips, his fingers brushing away some of the fringes from your face.

"If I asked you to go on a late night drive with me, would you go?"

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring back in his dark brown eyes, so deep that it made you weak.

And when your knees gave up on you, San was quick to hold you by the waist and steady you.

After a few seconds, you mutter in a soft voice, "Yes, I'd go with you."

・・・・・★

taglist: @rockstarsanie @purple-bell @huachengsbestie01 @ellelabelle @annacroft23114 @sallymurda @http-gyu

↬ IBF MASTERLIST ↬ ATEEZ MASTERLIST

#san

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eunbitchh · 11 days

Text

Okay, but what about shy & inexperienced!Jeongin who doesn't know just how strong his fingers are or how fast he's actually about to make you cum?

Sorry, but I either see him as a headstrong, cocky dom or a soft, shy, people-pleasing pleasure top. And today, he's soft, shy and super eager to please.

Things were getting heated and fast, quickly jumping from a peck on his lips to you grinding down on the bump in his jeans just to feel something. You'd been dating for months and never gone further than dry humping, which he doesn't last long in anyway.

And you were beyond explanation feral with hormones, wanna feel you, Innie, please. You were whimpering like you've never done before, not with him at least, and you were about to rip his pants off if he didn't do it himself.

For once, catching you by surprise, his hands wandered further than just your torso, and you almost mewled when they brushed down to the elastic of your shorts, "C-can I take these off?" He asked so gently, so scared to fuck things up.

"Mhm, yes, yes please," You nodded feverently, helping him remove your shorts, your shirt somehow getting lost too, whoops.

"Oh woah, wow uh-uhm, y-you're fucking naked right now," He stammers, getting frozen in fear when he sees your absolutely naked form sprawled out on his bed.

"Yeah, and you aren't so, take it off, take it all off," You're eager, your chest heaving and your body tense. You wish you could be more gentle with him, but there's a heat coiling in your belly threatening to burst through your throat if you don't satisfy it.

After removing his clothes and nearly tipping over from being distracted by your fingers already toying with your own nipples, he climbs back onto his bed to kiss you.

"W-will you show me? Or tell me? I don't know what to do," His voice is barely a whisper, genuine concern laced in his tone and you cup his face to kiss him. Forcefully settling your hormones until you can at least breathe like a human again. You nod once you break apart gently taking one of his hands as he settles down next to you, laying on his side to face you.

"J-just take, just hold my uhm, just do this," You try taking his fingers to play with your nipples, but you opt for literally showing him with your own fingers instead, and he nods once as you watch his long, pretty fingers finally tugging at one of your nipples.

"Shit, yeah just like that," You shut your eyes, your hypersensitivity causing every little touch from him to make you gush.

You're about to get lost in how good to feels to have someone else playing with your sensitive little buds for once, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. But the bed dips and before you can react, soft, warm, hesitant silkiness wraps around your perked nipple.

Lust licks at your spine when you look down and find him looking up at you already, looking deliriously beautiful with his lips wrapped around your nipple as if it's his lifeline, pretty fox eyes sparkling with wonder.

" 'm I doing mkay?" He whispers, hips gently rutting into the harsh fabric of the mattress a little too eagerly, and you nod with a mhm, really good along with a lazy smile in confirmation, he really is doing so good for you.

"C-can you touch me, please?" You whisper breathlessly, your folds slipping past each other at the whole idea of him doing all this just for you, being so willing to learn just because you need him that badly.

His lips detach from your nipple, red and puffy from their sucking. He swallows thickly, looking up at you for just one more sign that you're certain, just one more boost of confidence, "You can do this, I know you can," You comb your fingers through his air and smile at him and he begins to slide down your form.

Your legs spread till your knees touch the bed while his eyes level down to your glistening heat, a shaky curse falling from his lips when he sees you spread open absolutely beautifully, he wonders why he waited this long to see such a breathtaking sight.

"Now jus-just drop your tongue out of your mouth for me Innie, just drag your to- oh my god," As you give instructions for Jeongin to go down on you, he takes his own bold little step of faith and dives in anyway. His actions are eager, messy and very much obviously unstructured, but the way he messily laps at your clit has you weak in your knees.

His tongue moves at the speed of light, flicking at your little bundle of nerves so quickly it has you seeing stars, and you can feel yourself building already.

"F-fingers, u-use your fingers too please," You mewl, your hands already gripping the sheets beneath you and your knees fighting to stay open. For someone who's going down on a girl for the first time, he sure is good at it.

He shuffles until his hand is able to come in between his chest and the bed, and much to your absolute disbelief, two fingers slip inside of you easily. "Fuck, t-that was quick," You moan, thrashing already.

"Curl your fingers up for m- oh fuck, yes, yes right there," You cry out as your legs begin to quiver in anticipation, your hips refusing to do anything but buck up into his mouth as you chase the high.

You begin to ride his face, bucking into him and bumping his nose with your clit while his fingers fuck you even faster. The harshness and the strength of his fingers rubbing the sweet, numbing pleasure right out of your soul with each thrust against your spot.

" 'm fucking close already," You gasp, looking down at him to warm him, but the sight of him just makes you want to cum even harder. His hair shriveled and messy, nose and chin shiny with your slickness, his eyes trembling with excitement and confidence at the sight he's able to make of you.

You feel the band in your belly threatening to snap in half, and it's when he adds a third finger that you topple off the edge. Messily grabbing at anything you can find, your moans caught in your throat, your body bursting into shudders and shakes as he makes you cum the quickest you've ever experienced.

He moans into your clit, a tired, satisfied mewl and when you look down after coming back from your high, he's laying his head on the inside of your thigh, breathing deeply with his eyes screwed shut.

"I just came all over the sheets."

taglist ☄ @skzfelixlove @queenofadarkworld @felixowned @mamieishere @hyunlixwife @myluvonfire @betterthingstodowithmytine @marieiei @the-life-of-stella @silentreadersthings @ninimmie @y00sc1r @oddinary-nightmare @hanniessleepyeyes @purplenimsicle @violeto2000 @hxnnielk @ririlinoriri @han-to-my-minho @skz4-ever @fandems @iijinglezii @raaaaaaahhhh @shltsnglggles @innie-on-top @mrsminho @idkluvutellme @anyhow-everything @hello-stranger24 @aaasia111

#yang jeongin

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eunbitchh · 11 days

Text

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long?

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever.

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane.

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice.

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency.

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons.

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver.

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever.

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal.

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault.

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less.

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here.

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying.

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go.

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again.

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far.

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it.

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust.

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later.

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him.

The girl he waited for.

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out.

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for.

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option.

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you?

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan.

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

#mike schmidt

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eunbitchh · 11 days

Note

HELLLLOOO sinful sunday (monday) is back?! ok with javi p - javi having his way with you infront of a mirror when y'all are newlyweds and the seeing your rings in the mirror together turns him on (idk does that make sense?)

married man

pairing || husband!Javier Peña x f!Reader

word count || 1k (oops)

summary || the sight of you with his ring on your finger, so proud to be his little wife, does something to Javier.

content || SMUT, unprotected p in v, ring kink (is that a... thing??), wife kink, mirror sex, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, praise, unbeta'd

a/n || this got... out of hand. this was only supposed to be a few hundred words, yet here we are. i swear you're gonna give me a heart attack with these asks one of these days, cassidy. love u for it tho

sinful sunday | Javier Masterlist | Main masterlist

Four days have passed since Javier swept you away to a little tropical paradise. Four days since his shaking hands slipped that ring onto your finger. Four days since he made you his wife.

It still doesn’t feel real to him.

Javier watches you at the little bar on the beach. You’re waiting for the next round of drinks, a whiskey for him and something sweet and fruity for you. The woman next to you couldn’t help but compliment how beautiful you look - he can’t blame her, either. You’re simply radiant, especially in the glow of the sunset over the water. The smile on your face as you chat with her blows him away, as always. It’s the first thing he noticed about you all those years ago. That sweet smile as you held your hand out and introduced yourself has stuck with him every waking moment.

A small movement catches his eye - your thumb carefully rubbing the set of rings on your left hand. It sends an unexpected thrill up his spine. Javier shifts in his seat, his jeans suddenly together than before. The woman asks you about the rings and you happily tell her that you’re just married the love of your life a few days ago. You point him out to her and he tries his best to give a polite smile, despite the way his cock aches against his zipper. Her eyebrows raise as she returns her gaze to you, clearly admiring.

The conversation ends on a note of what a beautiful couple you make. Javier couldn’t agree more.

He doesn’t know how he manages to let you finish your drink. All he wants to do is whisk you back to your little bungalow of wedded bliss, but he bides his time. He can’t help but keep his hands on you, though - his hand squeezing your thigh, his lips brushing against your cheek, his fingertips tracing your wedding band.

The moment he has you alone, Javier strips you out of that pretty little dress and drags you into the bed. The sound of your playful laugh only makes him even more ravenous. His hands wrap around your thighs and force them open, his knees hitting the hardwood floor so hard that they’ll bruise. The taste of your cunt blooms across his tongue, all salt and woman. Your hands dig into his hair, wrenching his curls in your fingers and pressing him closer.

He eats you out like a man starved, all messy tongue and slicked fingers. He watches you take them, your cunt fluttering around his fingers. The sight of your slick drenching his wedding band ignites something inside him, something possessive and greedy that he just can’t rein back. His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot over and over, his tongue swirling around your clit until your back arches and your thighs tighten around his head.

He doesn’t care. If he suffocated right here, he would die a happy man.

Javier doesn’t bother giving you time to recover. He manhandles you to the edge of the bed and onto your knees. The huge mirror on the wall gives him the perfect view as he sinks into you in one easy stroke. The pace he sets is devastating. He pulls almost all the way out before burying himself to the hilt all over again, his fingers digging into your hips. Every thrust forces the sweetest sounds from your mouth. Your fingers twist in the sheets and you hide your face in the soft fabric. Javier can’t have that.

His bicep curls around your throat and he pulls you up, his chest pressed against your back. Careful not to restrict your breathing, he supports your body with his other arm wrapped around your waist. His pace doesn’t falter. His eyes never leave the sight of you in the mirror. Your head falls back onto his shoulder and he can hear those precious cries, sung right into his ear. Your hands find purchase on his forearm, little red lines following the rake of your nails. The light glints off of your wedding ring, the diamond refracting shimmers on your fingers.

It damn near sends him over the edge.

“My pretty little wife,” He grunts, pressing a sloppy kiss to your temple. “Takin’ it so good for me, aren’t you? That’s it… that’s my good girl.”

The praise ignites something in you. He can see it in your eyes. You work your hips back against him, meeting every thrust with a greediness that has fire singing in his blood. Goosebumps follow his touch as his hand skirts down your belly. You whimper his name as his fingers brush your clit. Every swipe of his fingertips makes you jerk and shudder against him. It doesn’t matter how much you squirm. He isn’t letting you out of this until you’re so fucked out you can’t remember your own name.

You can barely choke out a warning that you’re close, but he doesn’t need it. He can tell. He knows your body better than his own. Every quiver, every hitched breath, every sharp moan tells him he’s almost got you there. He fucks you through the crashing wave of euphoria, reveling in the wet gush that coats his thighs. He buries himself deep, his hips flush against your ass as he fills you with his cum.

Javier holds you there for a moment. He can feel the rapid flutter of your heart where his arm is pressed to your throat. You cling to him as your breathing evens out.

“I love you, Mrs. Peña.” He murmurs in your ear.

You huff out a laugh, a teasing lilt in your voice. “I love you too, Mr. Peña”

#javier peña

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eunbitchh · 11 days

Text

The Slip Up, Part One

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Virgin Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: Two years you had worked with Javier Peña, and it had been two years since your attraction to him started. What happens when at a work party you accidentally slip your secret to the man himself?

Warnings: 18+ SMUT mdni, no use of Y/N, age gap (25/40), plot, Javier and reader are friends and work together, smoking, alcohol consumption, reader has long hair and wears makeup, cheeky confessions, pet names, virgin!reader, innocent reader, Javier is a ladies man (obvs), kissing, F!oral, fingering, kinda public shenanigans?

Well well well what have we got here?? I’m so excited to share with you my first ever fic of the Javier Peña. I haven’t wrote about Javier before so please be easy on me 😰 (And it definitely won’t be the last 👀) This is going to be a two parter as it was getting so long 😭 Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍🫶🏼 Part Two

Taglist: @millercontracting @harriedandharassed @mumma-moonchild @chyannealaniz

Also a little shoutout to @schnarfer 🤍 for helping me with my tiny little breakdown I had whist writing this 🤣 so appreciative of you 🫶🏼

You’ve been working for the DEA in Bogotá, Colombia coming up close to two years, and you had known Javier Peña, your colleague for the same amount of time, working with and for him as his former secretary. You would answer his calls that he’d regularly miss, wether he was out or in the office, too preoccupied with gathering and processing important evidence for cases. You’d file any major documents that he’d lay on your desk and assign meetings to fit into his already busy schedule.

You were the one who’d keep his feet firmly on the ground when the office would stir and shake. You were the one who’d alleviate that pressure off his shoulders. You were the one who’d stop him from crumbling when things got too tough.

Working for the DEA was a huge part of your life, and right now, with the underling issues and risks it had to be. It was a demanding place to work and the office held a lot of tension; the buzzing of printers, the constant ringing of telephones, people rummaging and rushing around one another. The office held immense pressure and big responsibility, with everyone involved performing their duty with focus and determination.

But behind all the stress came the reward, the pride. You knew that people wanted justice for anything they’d set their mind and body to. To help make the world a better place, a place where people shouldn’t worry.

And if you hadn’t excepted the offer two years ago, you wouldn’t of had the experience of working in this sort of environment, and you wouldn’t have met the man who would eventually change everything for you.

Wether it was for good or bad, you hadn’t quite figured that out just yet.

🖤🖤 Two Years Ago 🖤🖤

Anxiety. That was the first emotion you detected when the words fell from your bosses lips. You were apprehensive and too anxious, being offered an open secretary position at the US Embassy in Bogotá. Having to move across the country and live for however long you needed to in Columbia. A place you’d never been to before, a place that wouldn’t have taken your interest in if it wasn’t for the job. And to go fly out there, all on your own.

Your hometown was all you had ever known; walking past the same streets, chatting to the same people and indulging in the same conversations. Your life had become this ongoing routine. It was repetitive, and deep down you knew things had to change.

You had been keen to move out of the US for a while, and your family and friends had come to notice it too. From an early age you were independent, eager to live a life where there would be no set backs, a life you could be proud of, where you worked hard to get where you wanted to be.

So no longer than two weeks later, you said your last goodbyes to the people who you loved and cared for the most, with your suitcase packed full and your passport ready in hand, all set to bring on the new life that was waiting for you.

Walking into the Webb County Sheriffs Office for the first time was nerve racking. You could hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears, a deafening sound, sweaty palms imprinting your visible anxiousness on the entrance door when you walked into the main office, seeing so many unknown faces. People who you’d soon be close and accompanied with and being surrounded by a workplace that was so foreign to you. You can feel the pressure, the twisting of your stomach as you hold tightly to your bag that hangs across your shoulder, nameless eyes and limbs ceasing to a standstill as people watch you walk passed.

And in just a moments time, you’re about to be introduced to your brand new co-worker.

Who in fact, took you completely by surprise.

He was a lot younger than you thought he’d be, you were guessing late thirties maybe early forties. He seemed charming and his stance was very open and welcoming. You noticed that had the softest brown eyes, his skin tanned in colour and a moustache and strong nose that fitted his facial structure.

Your breath hitches when you eye his figure; his shoulders broad and covered in a black leather jacket with a white buttoned up shirt underneath, and washed out blue jeans that were incredibly snug on his thighs and waist area.

Wait, what were you doing? Had you just checked out your work colleague?

“Javier Peña. I’d like you to meet your new secretary.”

You give him a warm smile and gently introduce yourself, praying your nervousness and instant attraction to him were unseen as you kindly shake his open and outstretched hand. You grasp him with a firm grip, a grip filled with confidence, and the tingle that’s left behind when he pulls back travels across and up your arm and down your spine. His touch feels homely, hands large that enveloped your own.

His tone breaks the silence between you both with words that mean to comfort. “It’s nice to meet you darlin. And welcome to Bogotá.”

“Thank you sir,” you muster up. “I’m excited to be working alongside you.”

Javier smiles widely at you. A smile that makes your stomach churn, your cheeks blush a crimson red.

“I’ll leave you both to it. Anything you need Javi just let her know. She’ll be outside there and ready for you.”

Javier nods at the receptionist, giving her a thank you as she walks out of his office, closing the door on her way out and leaving you alone.

“Please. Sit down,” Javier says, pointing to the chair opposite his own. “I just wanna start off by going through a few things with you. Just to get you up to date with what’s going on around here. Get you used to everything.”

“Thank you sir,” you repeat, settling yourself on the chair and resting your bag alongside it.

Javier looks at you with a teasing expression. “Okay, first things first. You don’t have to call me sir darlin. Please, just call me Javi.”

From your minor introduction you immediately felt something you couldn’t quite put your finger on with Javier. Something remote and unexplored, and you didn’t know if it excited or scared you. How your brain had turned into mush, your throat swallowing all self-possession and thighs subconsciously clenching together.

And even after two years you still felt it, and it was something that Javier would never come to be acquainted with. Well, that’s what you think.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Being Javier’s secretary for as long as you had you’d come to know him very well. He probably didn’t know it himself, being a man who was persistent and overly busy, you saw everything he got up to when he was here at the Embassy. You’d taken you time to watch him, to observe and understand parts of him and his personality, and that was both inside and outside of work.

Javier was good-hearted. He was bounteous and made you feel part of the team straight from the beginning. He was a hard worker and the two of you had gotten close from all the shared time with one another. Being around each other for lengthy periods of time you had become good friends.

But with Javiers overall kindness he was also flirtatious, smooth in personality and someone you’d call a ladies man. Everyone knew Javier had made his way around certain woman in the department. Wether the woman were new to the job or had been in the embassy a while, or even if he had only known them thirty minutes when you’d go out together for a few drinks after work. You knew he paid women generously to get secretive information out of them to help with his cases, and obviously because he wanted a quick and easy fuck. This had become a pattern and was Javiers strategy, and he had been like this way before you had even started.

A girl like you could never change him, could you?

He would arrive at work late sometimes; A lipstick mark on yesterdays collar, a purplish bruise appearing on the crevice on his neck, that indistinct linger of cheap women’s perfume clinging tightly to his shirt. Possibly vanilla scented? No, it definitely smells fruity this time. But whatever it is it makes your head spin, it’s overpowering and it makes bile fill up your throat, threatening to spew over.

You’d happen to notice it all, and you couldn’t help yourself, already held down deep by him. All of him.

What made it worse was he was never like this with you. Not amorous and never flirty, never using his charm to add you to his list of women he’d fucked in the department, only asking if you wanted to join him for a drink to extend the night when you both wouldn’t need to worry about work the next day. He’d always have you questioning yourself; Why wasn’t he like that with you? What was it about you that he maybe didn’t like? Why had he fucked most women and leave you with wondering thoughts? Yeah you technically ‘worked‘ for him but he wasn’t a boss in the department. And his role hadn’t definitely stopped him from trying it on with women who were higher in rank than him.

You couldn’t help but feel envious for the woman he’d talk to; the woman who’d sit in the passenger seat of his jeep as he drove off, the desks he’d perched his full weight one as he’d compliment their nails, their hair and clothes. The way he’d brush a loose strand of hair behind their ears. You’d hear what they’d say behind closed doors. How incredible he was in bed, how he was the best fuck they’d ever had. How sweet and gently he could be or rougher if intended.

You wanted him. Indefinitely more than he’d ever want you. And it hurts you more than the last.

You knew his coffee order, and how if it had too much cream he wouldn’t even take a sip. You knew that on thursdays he wore that pink button up shirt that you secretly adored on him so much. You knew he’d get little line across his forehead when he was stressed, how he’d pick at his bottom lip and fiddle with the curls on the nape of his neck when he couldn’t quite figure something out.

Sometimes you’d even wonder if it was love that you felt for him. No, it couldn’t be. How could you be in love with a man who wouldn’t love you. Who wouldn’t look at you the way you looked at him. Whose hands you wouldn’t ever feel glide across your naked skin. Who’s lips which you’d never have faintly brush along your own, his voice singing delicate praises in your ear, telling you that he did like you back, and that he finally wanted something. Something with you.

No man had made you feel this way. That’s why you knew your feelings were different than anything you’d ever experienced. Javier had shown you kindness when life was tough and days were new and scary. You appreciated him completely, and simply knowing him was an experience in itself.

At 25 you’d never known what it was like to be with someone so intimately, what it would be like to have someone sexually. Someone so bare. You wanted to of course, but life and work and Javier had got in the way. So for now, you’d just reel in your own imagination, picturing yourself in a moment of intimacy, and how every time you did, Javier was the man who was giving it to you. Experiencing it with you for the first time.

You own fingers would pull an orgasm from you so easy when Javier was the only man on your mind. Racing you to that peak where your back would arch off creased bedding, thighs clamping and shivering, your breath cutting off and replaced with only his name.

Javier Javier Javier.

You felt stupid. You knew you were giving yourself false hope and waisted time. It had been two years and so far your feelings were still kept closed and hidden, too afraid of the rejection you knew would come soon after.

Because you were well aware that Javier would never be like that. Javier wasn’t a man who settled down with someone and added feelings to an already hectic life. Javier was someone who ran away from emotions the second they crept up on him, to cut people off when they got too close.

So you just watched. Taking a moment to yourself to admire him. He’s currently sat at his desk with piles of paper and files stacking higher and higher. His fingertips rub the tenderness of his temples as puffs of thick heavy smoke cover the air while he smokes his third cigarette of the day. Steve’s sat opposite him, the both of them deep in conversation, with Steve pointing to the pinboard that displays evidence and connections to possible outcomes.

You cherish these moments, watching him secretly from afar. Those soft hazel eyes furrowed in concentration, his plush lips wrapped around the cigarettes tip. You can hear his laugh when his mouth perks upwards, and every so often he’d lick his thumb, revealing that subtle glimpse of his tongue, the calloused digit shiny from his saliva as he turns the file pages over. Turning them over and over and over. Thinking what it would be like to feel his tongue on your—

“You coming to the work party tomorrow?” Melissa asks casually.

Your body jumps in your chair as she breaks you out of your trance, plopping herself on the corner of your desk with a hand flat on the wood to keep herself secure, legs crossed as she peers down at you.

“Oh don’t mind me,” she adds, wiping her finger across your bottom lip, “just gonna remove that drool pooling from your mouth.”

You groan at her teasing and pull your head away, “really Melissa? I wasn’t even staring so don’t start.”

Melissa was the only woman, well as you know of, who knew about you infatuation and crush on Javier. After you’d confessed it to her on a very drunken night at a bar one weekend, stomach full and head wavy from an overly sweetened gin and tonic. You remember how she looked at you with widened eyes and revelation. The one thing she never did from your confession was judge you, which you were appreciative for. She knew of Javis tendencies, and she had said very honestly that you shouldn’t go near him, that he was only going to break your heart if you delved into your feelings too much, and even though it hurt you. You knew she was right.

But then she wanted you to enjoy yourself, she wanted you to get yourself out there, to be more open. What could possibly go wrong with a feelings free hookup.

“So?” she waits, “you gonna come?”

“I don’t know Melissa,” you reply back.

She gives you a sly smirk, “well I think you should come. Go on, enjoy yourself for once. You can wear that dress we brought at the mall last week.”

You mind goes back to that day. How Melissa had pushed and pushed and practically begged you to buy this dress, until moments later, you left the store with a bag in hand and a damaged purse.

She leans her weight down so her face is close to yours, “Javi’s gonna be there.”

You’re fiddling with your pen, twirling it around your fingers and thinking. Of course Javier was going to be there, he’d never miss an opportunity to drink at the job. And if he was going, you were.

“Fine,” you ultimately give in. “I’ll be there.”

“Atta girl.” Melissa praises. “I’ll see you tomorrow hun.” She gives you a wink before walking back to her desk, leaving you with tomorrows public gathering pondering through your mind.

🖤🖤 The Next Day 🖤🖤

Today was a day free from work life and you had spent the majority of your time locked away in your apartment, gathering yourself and getting things prepped and ready for the works party that was only a couple hours away; you started off by having a deep cleansing shower, then blow drying your hair and styling it in soft bouncy curls that rested against your back, then adding a light layer of makeup and finishing off with some perfume and your outfit of choice. A long black tight fitting dress with black stiletto heels.

You look at yourself in the mirror, head tilting to the side, glancing at your attire as you patiently wait for your taxi to arrive. The material you wore accentuated you curves and brought out the colour in your skin. You stare at your back in the reflection and your eyes are met with bare skin, the fabric low cut and finishing just at your lower back.

The dress was beautiful, and you wonder if a certain someone tonight might think the same way.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You arrive back at work a hour later, the sound of your heels clacks across marble flooring as you walk through the entrance of the Embassy and down the hall. The vibration of music is loud and the chatter of people gets closer and closer, your anxiety about what the evening will entail already settling in.

You can see people drinking, how they’re laughing and bickering to one another. Your co-workers are dressed in formal attire, there’s woman in dresses and men in blazers, and there are people everywhere. They’re everywhere you turn, and there’s some faces you’ve never seen before. Probably parters or dates that have been invited as plus ones.

You stand there with that same well known anxiousness. It continues to pour out and you’re desperate for someone to come save you, to pull you into the swing of things and make you feel not so abandoned. So lost in the familiarity of it all.

Melissa’s across the room and her eyes brighten up when she sees you, skipping and scooting around the crowds of people to get to you, giving you a quick smile and a peck on the cheek.

“Knew that dress was a good idea. You look fucking ravenous hun.”

That apprehension you felt ceases and you actually laugh, trying to hide the radiance that flutters across your features from her remark.

“And you don’t look too bad yourself,” you say, eyes observing her own outfit.

“I know,” she teases and gives you a wink, her hands bringing you further into the room and handing you an alcoholic drink. Well needed.

You and Melissa chat to one another for a while. You’re both a few glasses into the night and the conversation between you goes smoothly, talking about life outside work and everything general. Melissa goes silent for moment and her eyes clock to the side of your shoulder so quickly you don’t immediately catch on, but whatever she saw has her grinning back at you.

Her lips pull up and ghost near your ear, voice vamped over the speakers. “I think someone’s liking this dress a little bit more than me.”

A faltering expression falls over your face and your own eyes avert and follow her stare, twisting your head around until you lock eyes with the person in question.

And of course, it had to be Javier Peña.

He’s already looking right at you. His shoulder perched on the wall over and across the room from where you’re standing. He was accompanied by the new receptionist. Of course. Who had started a couple weeks back. His legs were crossed over and he had a cigarette settled in his one hand and a beer bottle held firmly in the other.

Javier would usually be quick with it, with his tendencies. Winning her over with his slick charm and confidence. But this time he was ignoring anything she had to say, his eyes occupied with something more to his liking.

You.

You match his open attraction and give him that same look back because, why the fuck not? Your gaze following his face and peering down lower at his body.

He looked incredible; he wore a smart white button up shirt that was rolled halfway up his arms, showing his gorgeous golden brown tanned skin. He had tucked his shirt into dark navy jeans and paired them with a black belt, matching it with his typical black leather jacket perched over his one shoulder.

Javier had been eyeing you up for a while, and right now he doesn’t seem to want to keep his desirability for you hidden. His stare is fully distinct and you yourself can’t look away. It makes your body feel giddy, your skin hot as you dig your fingers into your palms. The girl he’s talking to is clearly getting aggravated as she knocks his shoulder, regaining his attention on her once again.

You pull your focus back onto Melissa and she tells you that she’s grabbing another drink and that she’ll be back soon. You give her a small nod, watching her walk away.

What was that moment you and Javier just shared together? You couldn’t be overthinking, could you? You know that intimate look from Javier anywhere, but seeing it on you, targeting you makes every hair on your body stand up.

A voice beside you breaks you out of your withering conscience, and you swiftly turn your head to the interruption.

“How’s your night going so far sweetheart?” Steve questions, his voice strident and raised so he could be heard above the music and gossip.

You show him a tender smile. “Yeah it’s going okay,” you simply reply back, “it’s fine. You enjoying yourself?”

“Going alright,” he says, washing down his words with the remains of his warm and flat beer, lifting the bottle up to his lips and eyeing the busy crowd.

“What y’doing stood over here all on your lonesome?” Steve adds.

You don’t reply. Fuck you must look so sad and lonely if Steve’s come over here to ask you how you are. You look down at your champagne glass, bubbles spreading across the surface before finishing off the rest of the orangey zest flavour in one full swig. Your face winces.

“Was talking to Melissa just a bit ago,” you reply back. “Said she’s just grabbing another drink.”

Unconscious to you, your attention is averted back to Javiers, eyes glazing and clouded over from the intense stare. Steven narrows his eyes and follows your observation, until he leans down to you, his tone low and soft. “Why don’t you get your ass over there and talk to him.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shoulder stiffening in interrogation, “talk to who?”

He looks at you dumbfounded, pointing with his pinky finger into the opposite direction, trying not to make his motions too obvious. “Javi,” he simply says, like it’s a completely clear conclusion. “Come on. Don’t tell me your little crush on him wasn’t noticeable.”

Well shit.

“W-what do you mean?” You stutter, a tense chuckle mixing in with your intonation. “No I don’t. We’re just friends Steve. Why would you think—”

“Sweetheart. You don’t think I see the way you look at him. You ain’t very good at hiding it. It’s written all over your face.”

Your chest feels tight, needle like thorns prickling at your throat and cheeks swelling. You’re panicking from the inside out. If Steve knew, how many others did? Fuck what about Javi?

There’s no point in hiding it from Steve now, so instead of arguing you accept defeat, asking him the question you don’t even know you want the answer to.

“Does Javier know?”

Steve’s eyes dart down at you, “I think we both know Peña’s not the best at seeing things like that. So, I’m afraid that’s a definite no.”

Does his statement give you that sense of relief? Do you feel your heart race decrease to a normal pace knowing that even through Steve knew, nothing would change on Javiers end.

Steve saw the way you looked at his partner, to your unascertained eye. He’d see how your stance would stall whenever he was near, how your gaze would linger on him for far too long, how you’d become a nervous wreck when he’d complement you. And how every time, devastation would rush over you when he’d walk out the bar, with a woman hugged under his shoulder. A women he barely knew. A women who’s name would be forgotten the next morning he woke.

Steve was a good man, and he was good to you, being there for you just like Javier had been. But unlike Javier, Steve was capable of attempting to fix people emotions, so when his arm wraps snug over your shoulder, you know that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

“You think you’ll ever say anything to him?” Steve inquires, “maybe tell him how you’re feeling?”

You stare at Javier again but only briefly this time. Seeing how he’s back to giving the girl next to him his full attention, and that motion right there, is why you will never say anything.

“No. I don’t think so Steve. I think we can both see how’s he’s pretty occupied right now.”

Steve let’s out a huff, yeah you were right. Typical Peña. Steve tugs at your arm. “Alright then. Come with me. Don’t want you sulking the whole night. We’re gonna have a few drinks.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You’d definitely had a few drinks. Eyelids heavy, body swaying to the song playing and you can feel the alcohol run through you. It’s relaxing, it’s stress free as it heats you up, unravelling the nerves that clutched tightly to your skin since you first walked through the doors, and ever since Javier had looked at you the way that he did.

You actually began to feel…good. Great. Energised. And it was just what you needed to get Javier out of your thoughts, to think about something else entirely, to end your night on a positive.

Steve talks to you about how him and Connie are getting on. He mentions how life is outside work, how his family is back home and the enthusiasm in his voice makes your chest pull, but this time in a happy way. It’s nice to see how well he’s doing, watching how his face lights up when he says that him and Connie have officially settled down.

He talks about how certain cases are going, that him and Javi are getting closer to something big. You don’t mention anything about him bringing Javier into the conversation, because you know how passionate and devoted Steve is to his job, how much effort he puts into his time here.

With all the good Steve gives you, your time together is about to end.

“Uh honey. He’s coming over.” Steve says abruptly, adverting his gaze so his eyes look down as he fiddles with the head of his beer bottle. Steve’s easily able to communicate back to you with just his stance, and it’s not long until someone else joins in on your conversation.

“Nice to see you enjoying yourself,” Javier says to you.

You give him a confident smile as your stare falls down to his lips. You can see the ends of his moustache are slightly wet from the alcohol he’s been drinking. Fuck what are you doing? Your eyes quickly look away as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I am,” you comment truthfully. “Thank you Javi.”

His eyes follow down your body. Now that he’s close to you he can fully admire your dress in all its glory. “And this dress…”, he proclaims, looking up at you again with a smirk, “you do look really beautiful tonight hermosa.”

It’s right there, those words, virtually hanging right on the tip of your tongue. ‘And it’s all for you Javi, it’s always been for you’ you want to say. But instead, you reply back with another thank you Javi.

Javier opens his mouth to talk to Steve, but Steve’s already once step ahead, “I’m gonna go and grab another beer,” he buts, “don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

Steve’s off before you can react, his body disappearing into the flurry of people. Leaving you and Javier alone. Great.

“It’s nice to see you let loose cariño,” Javier says, “always working too hard for me aren’t you. I like seeing you like this. Enjoying yourself.”

Javiers cockiness always finds a way to shine through, his dark brown eyes sparkling whimsically.

“Well I have to Javi,” you retort, sarcasm hidden behind your words. “It’s my job to work hard.”

“Yeah I know I know,” he teases. “Still. You’re too good to me.”

You subconsciously clench your thighs together, his words having a massive effect on you, palms flattening out the creases in your dress that rested across your stomach.

“So…,” Javier continues, “come on your own tonight cariño?”

“I did indeed,” you say, and the words leave your lips more bluntly as you would have intended, pairing it with an over exaggerated smile.

His eyebrows furrow together as his hand falls into his front pocket, “you had any boyfriends while you’ve been here?”

You’ve endeavoured around conversations like this with Javier before, wether it was late at night when you’d both stay late in the office, or after hours, and every single time you’d shrug off anything to do with your romantic life.

Because there was no romantic life.

“I hope that ain’t coming across as rude darlin. I just never see you with anyone when we’re all out. Give me an update with how you’re settling in.”

You brush aside the hesitation in your voice, showing Javier that his question hadn’t bothered you. “Not really Javi. I mean, there’s been moments with some guys but work takes up a lot of my time. And I’m not really interested in anyone at the moment.”

Big. Fat. Lie.

Javier’s stance shifts, watching you swallow that dishonesty, his eyes glistening and lips curling up, shooting you that too familiar look. “There is someone. Isn’t there?”

“No Javi,” you’re quick to protest. “There isn’t I promise. Just give it up please—”

Javiers quick to nudge in. “I knew it! Is it someone in the office? Go on, who’s the lucky fella?”

You laugh at him awkwardly, “Javi stop it. It’s…it’s nothing serious so just drop it.”

He’s chuckles back at you, adoring the way you always fluster and get agitated when he questions anything about you. Quietness falls between the two of you for a moment, and your body jumps forward when his hand rests on your lower back, touching your bare skin, softly stroking you with his thumb.

“Why are you like that?” He asks, and you can hear how genuine he’s trying to be, the care flowing from each syllable.

Your brains working on multiple tasks; Javiers just asked you a question but how the fuck are you supposed to answer with his hands on you. With nothing in the way. Skin to skin.

“W-why am I like what?” That’s what he said, wasn’t it?

“Always so jumpy around me. Cariño we’ve known each other long enough that you should feel comfortable when you’re around me.”

He’s right, where had your confidence gone? You can still feel the alcohol lingering and buzzing through your system, buts it’s unhelpful. It must be Javier himself, his presence. You turn your body to him, huffing of your honesty, “you…you just make me nervous sometimes Javi.”

“Come on,” he sounds shocked, “what do I do that makes you so nervous.”

“I don’t really know why. You just do.” You know why. “Why are you asking me this anyway.”

He shrugs, “wanna know why so we can get past it. Can’t keep having you on edge around me can we. So go on, enlighten me,” he challenges.

Well maybe it’s because I like you Javier. That every single time I look at you I wish you’d look at me the same way. And even though I’ll never have you, it doesn’t stop me from wanting you as badly as I do right now.

He’s looking at you like you’ve told him something so unforgiving, his body frozen and his eyes widened in a state of surprise. You’re suddenly confused, and why is he looking at you like that? You haven’t even said anything—

“Fuck,” you spurt out, “did I—shit did I just said that out loud.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah you did.”

A cold wave of dread washed over your body and you pray that the ground would just swallow you whole. You want to run away and never look at his face again. You’re embarrassed, you’re dumb. And so fucking stupid. Your confessions just fallen so easily from your lips that you haven’t even registered it.

Javi’s voice is weak, “Cariño. I…listen. You—,”

You palm meets his chest, stopping anything else that was threatening to spew over the two of you. “Don’t say anything Javier. Just…I’ve had a lot to drink okay so… please ignore anything I’ve just said. I don’t. None of it was true so don’t worry.”

Javier tries to carry on this mess that’s unraveling, but you’re too overcome with emotion you turn yourself away from him.

“I’m gonna head off,” you say, foggy eyes looking at the clock on the wall, “my taxis probably outside waiting for me.”

You place your empty wine glass on a table closest to you and move towards the entrance door. You can hear Javier call out your name but you can’t stop your feet as you try not to trip over yourself, the alcohol in your system not helping your situation. You don’t even look back, too afraid that if you look into Javier’s eyes, that look of rejection will have your life crumbling to a stop.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s been exactly one week since you’d woken up with that raging headache, body aching and stomached weakened from acidic liquid, that sickening feeling gradually pooling up your throat, ready to spill over. How much did you drink? Surely it wasn’t a lot? The morning after the party you were grateful that your shift was later in the day, because the second you woke up, you felt like shit. It wasn’t until you pulled your body out of bed to swallow a whole glass of water with some aspirin, and forcing a few slices of toast down with it that last night’s happening would creep back into your memory.

And holy fucking shit.

It had to be a dream. A dream that you could erase and never be reminded of again. There was no way in hell you had confessed how you truly felt about Javier to the man himself. That after two long years, your secret had finally come climbing to the surface.

It hurt, and what made things worse was that you knew it going to come out eventually. But in a hazily and drunken confrontation was the last way you pictured it going. Javier was your friend, you worked for him and you had stepped way over the line. You had ruined that strictly professional relationship, that friendship between you both and now you had to work along side him. To see him everyday.

Yeah, you were well and truly fucked.

And that’s why you avoid Javier as much as possible, which for you was going to be a difficult task, as you were his god damn secretary. If he was coming your way you’re going the opposite direction soon after. You hadn’t gotten him his usual coffee you’d get on the way to work for him alongside your own. You hadn’t been out with work colleagues for a drink, knowing indefinitely that he’d be tagging along. If you had received new information, you’d tell Steve, not him. The minute the clock ticks at five, you wouldn’t stay back like you would usually do, you’d head for the door and straight home. You know this embarrassment will come around sooner or later, but if you can avoid it for now, fuck you’re going to do your best to.

You can tell Javier wants to talk to you. You know he wants to go back to that conversation that you left so abruptly. But right you just can’t. You can’t go back to knowing that his dismissal is waiting around the corner, yourself feeling ashamed of your petty and drunken words.

You make your way into the filing room and start by sorting out new documents that had been placed on your desk early this morning. You rip off the post it note that hanged loosely on the top of the pile, the neon note saying ‘please section in order’ ogling back at you. You can make out that writing anywhere. Everywhere you turn he’s always one step ahead, inhabiting all aspects of work life.

Your memory takes you back to the hours you’d spend in here with him, just enjoying the quiet and serenity and simply just…each other.

“I come in here when I need a minute,” Javier says, placing a file in it’s designated spot, “just to get away from it sometimes. Just to be on my own. You know, when shit in this place gets too much.”

You’d treasure that day. Just you and him, having him all to yourself while the world was running wild and crazy around your heads, having him talk about things and stuff he wouldn’t usually talk about, and just being so open with you. Only you.

You brush the memory off, back to regaining attention on the task in hand, with eyes averted down when suddenly the door opens and softly closes behind you. The sound so discreet and barely above a whisper.

Without warning, a sense of heat radiates on your back, a delicate warmth and you turn yourself around, a startled yelp leaving your now parted lips, hands forcefully clutching onto your heavily banging chest.

The face you’re met with breaks your heart.

Javier looked tired, his face was flushed and parts of his hair were hanging out of place, like he’d ran his fingers through it, frustrated. His eyes could paint a thousand pictures, the brown in them becoming lost, unrecognisable, looking at you with an apologetic expression.

Your voice quavers, “fucking hell Javi. Don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared the shit out of me.”

He always finds a way to make you jump and a tight smile pulls on his face from your reaction, a smile that you can see holds more than amusement.

“Sorry darlin,” he apologises, “didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You nod at him in forgiveness, twisting your body around so you’re now facing away from him. Again.

“Anything y’need in here Javi? Thought it was your day off today.”

You can’t bear to look over your shoulder, you can already feel your eyes welling up, how pathetic. The salty tears threatening to pour down your cheeks, leaving a mark of pity on your skin, the wavering sound in your voice prominently giving you away.

“I am off,” he says, “just needed to pop in and collect a few things.”

You hum at his words, don’t you dare give yourself away. You move stacks and files of paper around to keep yourself occupied, anything to stop your emotions getting the better of you.

Javier doesn’t leave. “I came here looking for you too actually,” he adds. “Wanted to have a chat.”

Fuck, here it comes.

By the way you haven’t replied and the way the room is surrounded by silence, Javier carries on. “I know you’ve been avoiding me darlin. And about the other night last week I—“

“Please Javier,” you intervene. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Well I wanna,” he states, “we can’t keep going on like this, it’s awkward and uncomfortable and I don’t like it.”

And all because of you. You’ve made it awkward. You’ve made it uncomfortable.

He lightly rests his hand on your upper back, “cariño—“

“What d’you want me to say Javi?” You interrupt him, turning back around so you’re both parallel, “you want me to say that everything I said was true? Huh? Is that what you want? Well it was true. And yes, I’m fucking embarrassed about it.”

He shuffles himself away, unexpected from your hurried outburst, “let me speak. Please.”

How have you become so breathless? You can feel your nails digging into your palms, leaving marks and indents in your skin. A remembrance. Your chest is pounding and hands shaking with adrenaline.

Javier huffs out a sigh, “why didn’t… fuck why didn’t you say anything? I may of looked or acted surprised and it’s because I was. I had no fucking idea and that’s the honest truth. I never expected…”

Gathering enough courage in yourself, you look up at him, praying that he’ll carry on with whatever he’s about to say, to rip this two year old bandaid right off and give you air to breath, to put an end to your ongoing misery.

Instead, he cups your face in his palm, fingers dancing across your jaw. Javier’s never touched you like this, and the warmth you instantly feel sparks all over your skin.

He follows your gaze with a guilt-ridden stare. “Hermosa,” he utters quietly. “Why didn’t you say anything.”

Your lips part in delay, ready to explain yourself. “I-I couldn’t handle the rejection Javi. And we work together it’s so inappropriate, and well…you’re you and I’m me. I’ve liked you for a while and I just knew if I said anything that you’d say no.”

His eyes look deeper into you, like he’s thinking or perhaps, contemplating.

“It’s not a case of no cariño. This isn’t how I do things. Shit—I ain’t a good man. You’re too good for me and I can’t mess things up with you.”

You bow your head at him in understanding, head falling further into his palm. Wait, what does he mean by his first statement?

“You wouldn’t have said no?”

Javier pauses as his feet move closer, his body towering above you. He’s visibly much taller than you and the courage you have to muster up to look up at him is formidable.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” he states.

“But the other women,” you look across to the door, “you’re always…you’ve never been like that with me.”

There it is. That admission. Having confessed how you’d noticed how Javier acted with other women, and how after so long you’d wanted it to be you.

“I know. But you’re not those other women querida. You never were.”

The both of you stay silent, gazing at each other, inhaling in one another’s air, chests so near that if you move an inch closer, just ever so slightly…your body would be pushed up and touching his.

His thumb moves from your cheek and across your face, landing on your bottom lip. Your mouth parts in surprise, your heavy breath coating his finger that starts to slowly rub side to side.

His eyes drop down to your lips, his eyelids becoming hooded, lustful.

“And after all this time, I thought you were just shy.”

You whimper at his words, and Javier can sense the tension drifting away, his comment and touch becoming affective. Having dreamt of his digits against your skin and face, his fingertips gliding over the plushness of your mouth. It’s close, so so close that you could take it into your mouth, to taste him, to swirl your tongue around him and suck.

“But instead it was the complete opposite…,” his tone lower in octave, “wasn’t it hermosa.”

You can’t speak, voice lost and unforgivable as he gives you a subtle glimpse of divulged seduction.

“Tell me querida,” he whispers in a soft command, “is that what you want? You want me all to yourself?”

With thighs clenched together you give in, a rising pressure felt yearning in your core. “Fuck Javi…” you whine, “yes. Yes I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He leans his face down, his mouth now level with yours and pulls your face just a smidge with his thumb and index finger on your chin, until finally his mouth touches yours. Yourself instantly embracing him.

You’ve kissed a few men, and that had been a long time ago. They had been rushed, forceful holds and overall disappointing, but you knew the second Javiers lips landed on top of yours, that it would never be like those other times.

He starts off with gentle pecks, each one lasting longer than the previous, and only when Javier senses no hesitation on your behalf, he pulls your mouth in deeper, his tongue licking across your lips as an invitation, and you grant him access so willingly.

His arm wraps around your frame, hugging your waist as his other hand grips the shelf behind you, pushing your back flushed and up against it while still keeping your lips glued to his.

His tongue maps out the inside of your mouth. He taste like cigarettes and minty toothpaste, and the taste is overwhelmingly addictive. Like your own personal drug. You want more. You begin to copy his actions until the both of your tongues are dancing with one another, a small but noticeable moan swimming down his throat.

Javier draws back and kisses the skin on your jaw and the dip of your neck, his voice mumbled. “Christ querida you taste so fuckin’ sweet. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that.”

You peer up at him with lustful eyes, fingers tugging on his shirt to keep yourself upright. “Me too Javi. I want—”

You don’t particularly know what you’re asking for. You know you want to continue kissing him, but if that throbbing that you feel in between your legs isn’t released, you think you’ll pass out.

“What is it cariño?” He asks, “you want me to show you what I’ve wanted to give you after all this time?”

In response you clash his lips back down onto yours and Javier sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. His one hand threads though your hair and the others at the seam of your skirt, fingers ruffling the tight material up your hips, and only until your own tries to stop his motions.

You’re panting, fighting against the lifting of your skirt, trying to keep it down and in place. “Fuck Javier wait. Jus’—just stop for a second.“

Which his does, stopping his greedy movements immediately, pulling both his mouth and hands away. His lips are swollen and hold a reddish hue, shining with the mixture of saliva, and the image only makes your situation worse.

“You okay? What is it? You don’t want—“

“No,” you’re active to protest. “Wait not no as in— yes I do. I’ve wanted this. I want this. It’s just…well, I’ve never actually…”

His eyebrows raise, “you’ve never?”

Please don’t make me say it, you think. Please don’t make me say it. Can he see how his questions made the hairs on your arms prick up? Can he recognise that innocence shine in your pupils?

And by the way his eyes widen, he may of just got it.

“Like at all?”

Your eyes shut in embarrassment, cheeks hot and humid as your stand small and hopeless in front of him. You inch your skirt that was creased on your thighs lower, wishing your clothes would hide the inexperience and bashfulness. Javier, the man’s who’s known around the embassy as being a womaniser, who’s fucked more woman than he can count on both hands, is stood over you. A woman, who has no knowledge about intimacy.

What could be more embarrassing than that.

“Hey,” Javiers speaks. “Cariño, look at me.”

Your eyes flood when you stare back, his features covered in empathy and compassion. “You know that’s okay, don’t you,” he says truthfully. “No need to feel embarrassed by it. We all gotta start somewhere.”

“I know Javi, “you agree, “but I’m 25 and I should have—.”

“Shhh,” Javier interrupts, “none of that hermosa.”

His voice is calm, reassuring and earnest. Mind analysing your own words. “Do you want it to be me?” He interjects, “is that what you’re trying to say?”

You nod your head at him, yes. God yes.

Javier tucks a loose strand of hair over your ear, “we don’t have to do anything right now. Not if you don’t want to.”

You’re quick to assure him. “I-I do Javi. I really do. I want it to be you. It’s just, I’m not really…I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Visible to you, that sets a fire in Javier. He likes your purity, your innocence, and you can see by the way his pupils dilate to black, hiding that chocolatey brown that would usually flourish through them.

“So say it,” Javier directs, “what is it you want right now. You’re in charge cariño. We’ll go at your pace.”

And again, you don’t really know. “I want anything.”

Javiers grin is pure sin. “Anything?” He interrogates. “Well what would you say if I wanted to get down on my knees right now and eat that pretty pussy of yours. Would you like that hermosa?”

Holy. Shit.

Your back arches in anticipation, your cunt clenching from his filthy mouth and suggestion. “Fuck Javi. Yes please. Yes I want that.”

Javier kisses you again with fever, trailing his marks down your covered body until his knees hit the carpet floor, shuffling your pencil skirt up so it rests comfortably on your hips, his face now level with your clothed core, shielded by your tights and panties.

“Mmm so pretty querida. Tell me, has anyone ever kissed you here?”

You lick you lips, hands resting on top his shoulders, whimpering out a simple no. No one’s ever touched me or kissed me there.

Javiers quick to soothe. “You just relax for me cariño. If anything I do doesn’t feel good or pleasant you let me know. This is for you, okay?”

You bow your head at him as he drags the last remains of material off, the fabric now pooling at your feet. This is the first time a man’s seen you so openly, and you can feel a tingle when the breeze hits your swollen clit. You know you’re already wet, very wet. Your neglected folds covered in your arousal and evident and right in front of him, glistening and eager, ready for whatever he wants to give you.

Javier can see how your panties are completely ruined, bringing them up to inspect before popping them in his back pocket. “This may be your first time doing this cariño. But fuck your pussy’s so ready for it. You’re so fucking wet for me.”

Javi brings his middle finger up to your wet folds and your knees instantly buckle underneath you, your hands reaching out to the shelves at the sides to keep you up.

“H-holy fuck. Javi—”

Javier hoists your one leg over his shoulder, hands gripping the flesh of your bare thigh to hold you steady.

He pulls on your hood, your clit pulsing and he pokes his tongue out, flicking the muscle on your needy bundle of nerves, giving you soft and delicate stokes as he gets you used to the new sensation.

“You still with me baby?” Javier checks in, “feeling alright?”

“Yes Javi just—please don’t stop. Fuck it feels so good.”

Javier contradicts, “I ain’t planning on stopping querida. Not until I feel this pussy come on my tongue.”

He gets back to it, moving his licks lower and lower into your folds, his nose catching your clit with each pull of his mouth, and the gesture has your fingers gripping into his hair and pulling at the base, causing Javier to hiss against your cunt.

It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. You knew that it would feel good but this good? It’s feels fucking amazing. His tongues so warm, finding his way around your sensitivity, changing his motion when a certain spot has you whining out for him.

“Oh my god, Javi—,” you moan loudly.

“Shhh,” he mumbles, “gonna have to be quiet hermosa, don’t want anyone hearing or catching us do we?”

Through all the kissed and the touches and everything else, you had blatantly forgot that the door was open, and anyone could walk in. “Fuck Javier wait, someone could walk—“

“Already sorted that out doll,” he interrupts, “locked the door after I got in here.” This fucker.

You relax after his words, knowing nobody is going to walk in, to disrupt your inappropriate affair. But somehow you do like that excitement, that feeling of being caught, of being seen.

For someone’s who never done this before, the moment that ounce of pleasure flows through your body you do like to show it. The way you moan out for him, how you’re so confidently whimpering and pleading him.

Javier starts to get hungry with it, lapping at your folds and clit with eager flicks and sucks and kisses as he brings his index finger up and teases your entrance, before slowly easing it into you.

Your walls clench around his finger tightly. You weren’t new to masturbation and had used your own to get yourself off, but Javiers finger was already becoming a slight stretch compared to yours.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “Just breathe for me cariño. Need to open you up. Make sure you’re ready for when it’s time to take my cock.”

“Fuck o-okay. Just… go slow,” you whine, bringing your hand up to cover your open mouth with the back of your hand, muffling your vocal and desperate moans.

He slowly eases his finger in and out, just like you asked, and then switches to curving his digit in an upwards motion, hitting that spot inside that’s so euphoric and you whine into the air.

“You just can’t keep quiet can you.” And he fucking loves it. “Pussy feels too good you have to tell the whole office, don’t you hermosa.”

“I can’t—fuck I’m sorry Javi. It feels…god you feel amazing.”

At a slow pace he inserts another finger, his tongue mapping fixed circles on your bundle of nerves while he pushes in, the pleasure he’s giving you overcoming the stretch his fingers are pulling from you.

You look down at him. His hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, his eyes fluttering closed and concentrated. You can feel his lips vibrate when he moans into your cunt, and it turns you on beyond belief that he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

You can feel it; your core starts to tingle, your lip quivers as Javiers name falls seamlessly from it, oh fuck Javi. yes Javi I’m so close. please don’t stop Javi. He pulls his mouth even closer to your cunt, swirling your hips to help hit your orgasm that’s threatening to spill over.

Javier barely removes his mouth from you, “that’s it querida. Tan buena chica. I can feel you’re close. Go on, let go for me.”

“Oh my god, Javi—”

His words tip you over the edge, your pussy let’s go and your orgasm ripples through you, your walls clenching down hard on his fingers as he continues his movements, your release dripping and drooling down his fingers and knuckles as he continues to play and flick your pulsating clit, making sure you experience every single part of it.

Once Javi knows that you’ve come down from your high, he removes his mouth and digits from your sensitive cunt, pulling himself up so he’s stood in front of you.

You look at him, his moustache and chin are covered in your orgasm as well as his fingers. He brings them up to his face and plops them into his mouth, keeping his eyes locked on yours as you watch him clean the remains of your taste off of them.

“You taste fucking sweet hermosa. If I knew this is what you were hiding from me, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

Your mouth finds his lips again, and it shocks him. You can just taste yourself as you kiss your way into his mouth, and you can feel your pussy become needy again. Wanting his cock inside you.

With a shaky hand you cup his bulge, and fuck he’s so hard. He feels thick and his jeans become even tighter and restrained. You squeeze his length and he moans into your mouth.

Oh how the tables have turned.

You pull at his belt loops, fiddling with the buckle until Javier is quick to put a stop to your wondering hands.

You pout at him and he lets out a chuckle. “I ain’t gonna take your virginity in the filing room baby.”

No of course he isn’t. Even though you desperately want him to.

“When Javier? I don’t want to wait any longer.” You skin your fingertips over his crotch, “really really want you inside me.”

“Fuck querida,” Javier says, wrapping his hand around your wrist, “so needy now aren’t you. You want my cock inside you that bad? Want me to fill you up?”

“Mmm,” is all you can say, rubbing your bare pussy on his jeans.

“And I’ll give it to you baby,” he promises, “but not right now. Let me do this right, okay? Let me take my time with you.”

You smile at him. You’re not disappointed, because how could you be? Impatient? Definitely. Now you’ve become exposed to the newness of your shared sexual desires, you want it all. You want to learn everything. And you know it’ll come, but right now as he said, he wants to take his time with you.

And right now, you have all the time in the world.

Tysm for reading!🤍

🦋 Tan buena chica - such a good girl 🦋

#javier peña

346 notes · View notes

eunbitchh · 11 days

Text

twinkle [frankie morales x f!reader]

summary: when his daughter starts preschool, frankie needs a little help with after school care. enter you--and much to his dismay, frankie cannot stop thinking about you. ratings/warnings: E [smut, so much yearning, me making stuff about nannying and childcare, POV switch toward the end, frankie is kind of a perv but in a respectful way, PIV, male masturbation, frankie pussy eating king, subby Frankie, bossy reader, praise kink, kind of a housewife kink, I truly don’t know what got into me with some of this] wc: 8.3k [i maybe got carried away] a/n: please go to @ezrasbirdie-updates to be notified of updates! shout out to my love @mothandpidgeon for betaing! so this is @haylzcyon's christmas present, and i may or may not have used that as an excuse to make frankie look sweaty and pretty and wild in front of the christmas tree. also i always wanted to do frankie fucks the babysitter, so. happy holidays, babes! dividers by @saradika-graphics.

masterlist | frankie morales masterlist

Time moves faster since Francesca arrived, squalling and twisting her way from her mother as Frankie looked on in terrified fascination. Since her birth, he’s barely had a second to breathe. He thinks he wouldn’t mind the world moving so fast if the price of it was anything but her getting older at exponential speeds.

It feels like yesterday she was in diapers, and now she walks and talks and has her own opinions. Wherever she got this big brain of hers hadn’t come from him, of that he was sure. Now she’s old enough to notice; to be affected by his shitty moods or arguments with her mother or even when he’s late to pick her up.

This year, though, there’s you.

You are a complication he couldn’t have foreseen in his wildest fucking dreams, but you’re here, and he’s tried his best for months not to let his feelings affect you or Franny.

None of it’s your fault, of course; you’ve done nothing but be professional and caring and kind toward his daughter, and it makes this distant asshole act of his even more difficult.

And goddamn, the holidays do not help.

It’s his own goddamn fault he hired someone he was attracted to the second you came into his life. He’s tortured himself with this crush for months now; this totally inappropriate crush that haunts his every waking moment, despite his best attempts at distancing himself.

Frankie had been reluctant to get a nanny. Nannies were for wealthy families with four kids and vacation homes, not single fathers in two bedroom apartments and a preschooler.

It was easier when she was in daycare—he could drop her off there in the morning and pick her up at six, but preschool threw the whole damn thing off. Preschool ends at noon, and he couldn’t leave work every day to go get her. He didn’t want to ask Franny’s mother for help, too afraid she might use that as some kind of evidence that he wasn’t stable enough for 50/50 custody.

He didn’t think she’d be that vindictive, but it was a possibility. So he’d sucked it up and asked around, taking your number from Franny’s very enthusiastic preschool teacher who said you’d worked for a number of families in her classes.

He was, of course, fucked the moment you’d walked into that coffee shop around the corner from his building, smiling brightly as you sat down and stuck your hand out to introduce yourself. You’d worn a suit, clearly tailored to your form, and handed him what he was sure was an impressive resume from a leather portfolio. He’s more than ashamed to say that he’d barely glanced at it, hiring you just a few minutes later.

“Parents usually want to run a background check first,” you’d said, a little alarmed.

“Oh, uh—it’s okay. Franny’s teacher told me how highly recommended you are by all the parents from her class. The ones you worked for,” he’d said, tongue twisting over every word, but praying he’d covered his blunder. “And I need someone soon.”

“If you insist, Mr. Morales,” you’d said. “But I should meet her first.”

With that, he’d completely agreed.

He tried to stay as cool and calm and professional as you were, giving himself a stern talking to in his truck on the way home from work, and it took him all of three fucking days to cave.

You greeted him at the door on your third day, and he wondered if that was a normal part of having a nanny. It felt wrong, being ushered into his own home, but he’d liked seeing you there looking so soft and comfortable with Franny.

“Pick up went great, she knew exactly where to go. Miss Nicole and I are friends, obviously, so she’d have gotten her to me anyway. We ate all our veggies at lunch—”

He liked the way you said “we” instead of “she,” but he’d be damned if he could explain why.

In the middle of your report, you swooped down to pick Franny up and away from her puzzle to hand her off to Frankie, whose arrival she was wholly uninterested in. It wasn’t the first time you’d done it—you said it made for a good transition; a signal to her that the day was over and it was Daddy’s time with her now.

Frankie’d been working on his impulse control over the last few years, but all that progress seemed to fly out of the window the moment the v-neck of your t-shirt gaped just enough to see a lacy black bra. He bit the tip of his tongue just to keep himself from groaning.

“Daddy!” Franny admonished, reaching for him from your arms. “You not listening!”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m a little tired. What’d I miss?”

You shrugged, and he kept his eyes firmly on your face. “She’s got some sniffles,” you said. “I didn’t wanna give her anything for it without you here, but I thought you might wanna keep an eye on it.”

He nodded, taking in the rest of what you had to say as you gathered your things to go home. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to start dinner, but I can certainly do that going forward,” you’d said, and his mouth had gone dry as he imagined you in his kitchen cooking for him.

For Franny, he had to remind himself.

“I…sure, I mean, you can—uh, I don’t usually plan ahead?” He stuttered, too focused on not choking on his own spit.

“No problem. I’m happy to do meal plans for you two,” you said. Does he pay you enough to do meal plans? “Just let me know.”

You were on your way out the door when he found his voice.

“Did you have, um—how was your day?” He asked. You stopped and turned back, a shy smile on your lips.

“It was really good, Mr. Morales. Franny’s a good kid. Thank you for asking,” you said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watched you walk out, eyes glued the sway of your hips.

During your second week, a heat wave hit. Franny was miserable stuck inside, all the excessive heat warnings making it too dangerous to play at the park after lunch. Even the balcony wasn’t shaded enough, and you had to bring her inside after twenty minutes.

“She’s been a handful,” you told him that Friday. “But that’s hardly her fault. She’s just restless.”

He could tell you were tired, though, and he worried you’d decide not to come back in two weeks when Franny came back from her mom’s.

It was so hot outside it crept into the apartment despite the central air, and your shirt clung to you, damp with sweat.

He wanted to do something for you.

“Do you like ice cream?” He asked, taking off his cap and running his fingers through his damp hair as he watched you microwave Franny’s dinner.

“Sure. Why?”

“I thought—if you’re not busy—after she eats, maybe we could get ice cream?”

You crossed your arms and grinned at him. “Is this some kind of bribe?”

“Not a bribe,” he said. “I…just want to take you for ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” Franny’s voice came from the living room, and you laughed.

“What you think, mija?” Frankie asked. “We all get some ice cream after you have your dinner?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“Guess that settles it,” you giggled. “Come eat your dinner, Franny.”

“Er—you don’t have plans, right? No boyfriend I’m keeping you from?” Frankie asked, settling her into her booster seat.

“Not these days. My social calendar is pretty dry lately. Ice cream sounds good. I won’t even charge you for my time,” you grinned, and Frankie’s heart thudded in his chest.

No boyfriend.

The ice cream shop was just around the corner, right next to the coffee place he’d interviewed you, but he almost regretted walking there in the goddamn heat. The air conditioner was on full blast, and he had to force himself to look away from your now-stiff nipples.

Franny chattered about something he couldn’t pay attention to and you entertained her in between slurps of your ice cream cone. The outside heat infiltrated the small shop every time the door opened, despite the frigid air conditioning, and the vanilla ice cream slid between your fingers.

Frankie watched your tongue dance across your knuckles, not wanting to waste your treat. He couldn’t help but imagine what else you might lick up so enthusiastically, regardless of how fucking wrong it was.

All you were doing was eating. He shouldn’t have been so fucking turned on by something so mundane. Not here in public, not by the woman who cares for his daughter.

The ice cream kept melting, messy and sticky and dripping down your fist, and he gritted his teeth, nodding every now and then to the words coming from your gorgeous, hot mouth.

Deep breaths, in and out, it’s fine, just eat your ice cream—

Something crunched in his fist, and he looked down to see his stretched-white knuckles covered in chocolate ice cream, his grip so tight he’d crushed the cone. Franny laughed, and you laughed, and he laughed, too, praying his scarlet cheeks weren’t too noticeable as you grabbed napkins and cleaned the mess before he could even react.

He loved that, though, the way you take charge; how you know exactly what to do.

“Hold still,” you ordered. He obeyed, watching you throw the crushed cone away and wiping his hand down with a wet wipe from your bag. You dried him off with a napkin, running your fingers over his skin to make sure you got everything.

“Thank you,” he murmured and you smiled, squeezing his hand and lingering there for a second longer than he expected. Electricity jolted through his body at your caress, and on the way back, he racked his brain for reasons for you to stay.

He found none, of course, other than the real reason—to make you come as many times as you’ll let him—so he let you go home.

Later that night, when Franny was asleep and he found a second of peace in the shower, he braced the tile wall with his forearm and wrapped his hand around his aching cock, pumping himself as he thought of you and the ice cream dripping down your knuckles and your stiff nipples and the way your soft hands felt on his. He let himself imagine your taste, what you’d sound like as he devoured you, what your hot, wet pussy would feel like on his face, around his cock—anywhere, he wasn’t picky.

He hadn’t wanted anyone like this in years. Not that he hadn’t had flings or attempts at relationships since he and his ex split, but his desire wasn’t like this. Frankie closed his eyes and imagined what your tits looked like under your shirt, if you knew he could see how cold you were. He choked back a loud groan at the thought of you wearing some thin little bra on purpose, just to fuck with him, just to see if he’d get on his knees for you.

Frankie squeezed the base of his cock, desperate to draw this little fantasy out a bit longer, but his body betrayed him. He came too quickly, breathing hard and murmuring your name as his spend spattered against the tile. As he pushed himself off the wall, the guilt washed over him while he watched his come circle the shower drain.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Two weeks later, he’d told himself he was over it. Franny was with her mom, so he hadn’t seen you, and it was just a fluke—you were beautiful and new, and he just got overexcited. It wouldn’t be a problem now that he’d gotten over his little crush.

Sure, the first week consisted of him jerking off all over his apartment when he looked too long at something you touched or sat on, or when he scrolled your socials for a while, or thought about you, but that didn’t mean anything. Guys jerk off a lot anyway.

The second week he slowed down, only touching himself once while he listened to a voicemail you left about needing to leave a few minutes early one day next week. And then again after he called you to let you know that was fine.

He was starting to wonder if he could run out of come. He hadn’t masturbated this much since he first discovered he could do it.

On the Monday you returned, he was much too tired from work to be nervous about seeing you again on the way home. It wasn’t until he pushed open his front door to find you in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot, barefoot in a pair of leggings with Franny on your hip, that he remembered how fucking out of his mind you made him. His mouth watered.

You turned around at the sound of the front door, setting Franny down so she could run to him. He greeted the both of you, your bright smile disarming him as he scooped Franny up.

All that progress he told himself he made on his stupid, ridiculous crush evaporated

“Hi, Mr. Morales,” you said, tapping the side of some spice jar into the pot.

“Frankie,” he said, against his better judgment. “Just Frankie is fine.”

“Frankie,” you said, testing the word in your mouth. “I like that name, you know.”

“Thank you,” he said, fighting the strong urge to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss the back of your neck.

You declined his invitation to stay and eat the dinner you’d made.

“I have a date,” you explained, and something ugly clawed at the inside of his chest. He ignored it because you were allowed to have dates, and he couldn’t say a fucking word about that.

Franny calls him out the moment you leave.

“You love herrrrr,” she said from her booster seat, artfully arranging the broccoli on her plate. He stared at her, dumbfounded.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, little miss?” He asked. She looks up at him, exasperated, as though it’s a hassle to repeat herself.

“She’s pretty, so she’s the princess,” she said. “And you supposed to love the princess.”

Frankie laughs, always impressed with the perception of his three-and-a-half-year-old. “All right,” he says. “Eat your broccoli, mija, it’s almost bath time.”

She was not as excited about that.

“Do you need me Monday?” You asked him Friday evening. “It’s Labor Day, so—”

“Oh! I guess it is, isn’t it?” Frankie laughed, suddenly pleased about his three-day weekend, as if he hadn’t known about it before. That quickly turned to concern for you, though, because that certainly meant your pay would be short, and Frankie knew all too well what that was like. “Technically, no. Do you have plans?”

“No,” you sighed. “Just hoping I can pick up a shift at my other job.”

“You have another job?” He asked, but it seemed silly as soon as he said it.

“Well, of course,” she grinned. “You pay well, Frankie, but there’s two whole weeks I gotta supplement.”

“What’s your other job?” He asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You winked, and God, were you flirting with him?

You were flirting with him.

“What if, uh—we’re going to the lake with some of my friends. What if you come with us and watch after Franny, and I’ll pay you double for hazard pay.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What’s the hazard pay for?” You asked.

“Putting up with my idiot friends,” he said, and you laughed. He really loved making you laugh.

You chewed your lip, thinking it over as you put your shoes on. He told himself it would be a big help to have someone to help with Franny, and ignored the fact that she had three overprotective uncles with plenty of experience reining her in.

In the end you agreed, and he was mostly successful at keeping himself from seeming too excited about having you with him at the lake where he could, maybe, get to know you a little better.

And it all went well. It went beautifully. The guys loved you, he learned where you went to school, where you grew up, how you got into nannying, what your second job was.

He learned that he was your favorite client, and you weren’t just flattering him. He wasn’t as stuffy as the others, you told him, which was nice. He made you feel less anxious.

His chest warmed at that—he wanted you to feel comfortable.

But then there was the fucking sunscreen.

He forgot all about it, of course, but you let them use yours. You slathered yourself in it on the way there, some fancy organic SPF 100 shit that smells fucking heavenly, adding a second coat to Franny halfway there and asking him, so politely, to put it on your back when the three of you arrived.

Your skin was so soft—he felt like such a fucking creep as he lingered over the base of your neck, stroking you with his thumb and squeezing your shoulder when he’d finished. You were so beautiful that day—you always were, of course, but in the sun, splashing around the lake with his friends and his baby, it felt right.

Like you were supposed to be there; like you should have been there all along.

He dropped you off that evening and you kissed his cheek, and he grinned like an idiot all the way home. He tried to tell himself he was imagining things, but what if he wasn’t?

What if you liked him?

For the rest of the week his truck smelled like that sunscreen. He’d get to work, completely unable to concentrate and tucking a boner into his waistband, contemplating asking you where you’d bought it just so he could get some and jack off with it.

He was losing it over you.

This was bad. It was bad.

He saw how much Franny loved you and how much you loved Franny, and he had to figure something out. What if he made you uncomfortable enough that you left? Even if you were friendly, even a little flirty, what if he crossed a line? A month and a half in, he couldn’t lose you.

That Friday, when he got home and found you making Franny eat carrots—she’d never eaten carrots before—he made himself put a stop to it before he did something completely stupid.

“Frankie!” You called from the little breakfast table. “Did you have a good day at work?”

“Yeah, uh, can we talk? Over here?” He motioned to a further corner of the living room, away from Franny’s ears.

“Everything okay?” You asked, stretching your arms over your head. He almost lost his way then.

“Fine, fine. Look, uh, I think—” He cleared his throat. Why was he so fucking nervous? He’d killed people; how was giving the babysitter instructions so difficult? “I was thinking, we maybe should go back to some less informal interaction. I’d like for you to call me Mr. Morales from now on, please, and we should probably not be so…casual.”

Hurt ghosted over your features, confusion following them for the briefest second. Your posture changed; you stood straighter, your arms down by your sides as you pulled your shirt to cover yourself more.

He wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh! Sure,” you said, swallowing harshly.

“It’s nothing—”

“Personal. I understand. No problem at all, Mr. Morales,” you said, looking away from him as you gathered your bags. “I should probably get going then. I’ll see you Monday, sir. Bye, Franny!”

You scurried out of the door like you couldn’t leave fast enough, and he stood there as Franny chomped on her carrots, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

This wall he’d put up is the best thing for his daughter, though, and you’d taken it in stride. He counts himself lucky—thinking with his dick could’ve led to him hiring someone much less professional. But not you. Your recommendations hadn’t been so glowing for no reason.

You always look nervous when he comes home now, though, like you’re waiting for him to find something to be upset about. It weighs on him sometimes—you’d told him he made you feel comfortable, less anxious, and he’d pulled the proverbial rug out from under you just a few days later.

But it’s right. Overall, it’s the right thing to do.

It doesn’t mean he’s over you, though, and this current situation he’s found himself in might be the death of him. Or your job. Maybe both.

The logistics of equal custody can get a little tricky around the holidays. Franny’s with her mom this year for Christmas, and Frankie’s leaving early to visit with some family. His flight leaves at six in the morning, and his ex couldn’t get the day off.

It was like a word problem on a standardized test, and he’d been bad at those in school.

You’d come up with the solution on your own—you’ll just stay the night and through the next day until her mother gets off work, and that way he gets to spend as much time with Franny as he can before she leaves for a week longer than usual.

It makes sense.

He’s behaved himself for months now, but here you are in his apartment, having a mini-Christmas with Franny. You’d pulled him aside when you arrived, looking more nervous than he’d ever seen you—he thought you were about to tell him you were quitting after this.

“I just wanted to check and make sure before I give it to her, but I got Franny a present. It’s nothing big or noisy, I promise,” you assure him. “But would that be okay, Mr. Morales? I didn’t wanna cross any lines.”

You take better care of his kid than he does, and he’s made you feel like you can’t even get her a Christmas present. He wonders if that was the norm in the other families you worked for, the ones you’d told him that day at the lake that it was nice to have a break from.

“Of course it’s fine,” he says softly. “She’ll love that. Thank you.”

You give him a sort of lop-sided smile as you open your bag and pull out a neatly wrapped box with a big silver bow on top.

Franny squeals over her early present—a pink camera with a unicorn on the front, small enough for her little hands to hold and simple enough for her to figure out how to use within a few minutes. She runs around the apartment for a long while until Frankie tells her it’s time for dinner. At the table, she takes several pictures of her macaroni and cheese, of him, of you making silly faces.

He didn’t even know Franny liked taking pictures so much.

“How’d you know she wanted that?” He asks later as you empty the dishwasher.

“Oh, she’s always stealing my phone and using the camera. I keep finding pictures of Barbie dolls and tea parties. I thought she might want one of her own,” you say. “And I won’t panic about my missing phone, like, five times a day.”

“That little thief,” he says, and you laugh.

“She’s just curious. Much better than my last charge, who flushed my phone down the toilet twice.”

Frankie’s mouth falls open, aghast. “On purpose?”

“On purpose,” you smile. “Franny’s been a breeze.”

Frankie leans against the kitchen island, and when you turn around you’re dangerously close to him. He should move, he thinks, get away from you, but the lights from the Christmas tree are dancing in your eyes.

You clear your throat. “Should we make some cookies? Franny was asking earlier.”

Frankie clicks his tongue, looking at the refrigerator. “I don’t know if I even have cookie dough.”

“I can make cookie dough,” you say, standing on your toes to rifle through the cabinets. “Bet you have everything in here.” He takes you in like this, greedy for you as your ass jiggles every time you jump a little to grab something else you need. A sliver of skin shows between your jeans and top, and his hands twitch as he tries to keep himself from curling a finger through your belt loop and pulling you against him.

“Butter, sugar, flour, baking soda, salt, hmmm…oh! An egg. Are these eggs good?” You ask over your shoulder, and he pulls his gaze from your ass.

“Should be,” he says, the back of his neck burning like he’d been caught ogling you. “Made eggs this morning.”

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Franny sidles up next to him, peering at you with interest. “What you doing, Daddy?” She asks.

“We’re making some cookies,” he says. “You want some?”

“Yes, please!” She says, snapping another picture and toddling off to the living room to take pictures of the TV screen.

You pull out a mixing bowl and a cookie sheet, setting them gently on the little island. “Hand me the measuring cups,” you order, and he does without a second thought.

“And the flour?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says.

He watches you work, waiting for any instructions you might give. It all feels so natural, slipping into this rhythm with you, and his cock stirs every time you nod at him with approval. You’re more relaxed than you’ve ever been around him.

Everything you do turns him on, and it’s a fucking nightmare he doens’t want to wake up from. By the time you get the cookies in the oven, you’re covered in flour and the kitchen’s a mess again. He catches you before you start cleaning up, insisting you go take a shower and let him do it.

“It’s the least I can do,” he says.

“Thanks, Fran—um, Mr. Morales,” you say, and his heart thuds at the slip up. You slip away before he can change his mind again and tell you to disregard what he’d said before, call him Frankie, or Frank, or Francisco, call him whatever the fuck you want to call him.

He almost chokes when you walk out in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, a fluffy robe thrown over your shoulders. He takes a deep breath, his attention now on making sure Franny doesn’t try to eat every cookie on the plate.

They’re amazing—obviously they are, because you made them, and everything you do is amazing, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without telling you that maybe he doesn’t just have a crush, maybe he isn’t just a pervert, maybe he just really, really, really fucking likes you.

But it won’t be tonight, so he needs to relax.

He gets Franny to bed by eight, miraculously, and when he comes back to the living room it’s just the two of you. It’s almost never the two of you, and he can’t tell if he’s just imagining it or if the air in the room’s gotten thicker.

You’re wrapped in that fluffy robe, legs tucked under you as you scroll your phone, so comfortable on his couch, in his home—goddammit, he wants you in his home all the time. How can you make him hard just sitting there, just existing?

“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” he says, and you nod, not looking up. “You’re welcome to watch whatever you want.”

“Okay, Mr. Morales,” you say.

He is a weak, weak man.

“You can—look, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think the Mr. Morales thing is necessary anymore. Just…call me Frankie.”

You smile softly. “Not gonna change your mind again?” You ask, and he can hear the uncertainty in your voice. “I don’t mind…I’m used to strict boundaries. It’s okay.”

“I won’t change my mind,” he says, and you nod. You don’t call him Frankie, but you don’t argue with him, either.

He’s proud to say that he doesn’t jerk off in the shower, not with you right on the other side of the wall, no matter how insistent his cock is.

Frankie digs out the one pair of pajama pants he owns and a white t-shirt, foregoing his usual tank top and boxers, tucking his dick under his waistband and hoping you don’t notice anything.

“Great British Bake Off?” He asks, nodding toward the tv as he sits on the other side of the worn leather couch. You’re stretched out over the other cushions, a blanket covering your bare legs. He wonders what you’d do if he pulled it off of you and crawled between your legs.

He doesn’t.

“Mmhmm. Old episode, though,” you say, getting up to hand him the remote. “I’ll just—”

“You going to bed already?” He asks.

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna be all in your space, you know?”

But he really, really wants you to be all in his space.

“We could watch a movie. If you want.”

You smile.

Frankie tosses and turns on the couch—this’ll be hell on his back in the morning, but he’d wanted you to be comfortable. And it’s not just the position keeping him in discomfort—he’s so fucking horny he thinks he might die.

He rolls over on his stomach, smushing his cheek into the pillow and sighing. He tries not to think of you asleep in his bed, all vulnerable and soft. He tries not to think of your tits spilling from that tank top, of the shorts riding up your thighs and exposing your pussy. He tries not to think of you having a dirty dream, whimpering in his bed and rubbing your thighs together, hips moving on their own and searching out friction in your sleep.

Fuck.

It takes him a moment to realize he’s doing that—moving his hips in search of friction, pressing down into the worn leather couch. It feels…good.

Frankie picks his head up, peeking around the room to make sure all the doors are closed. He turns the volume up on the tv to cancel out any noise and grinds his hips down.

His fist clenches around the pillow under his head as he presses up and down, back and forth, his foreskin doing most of the work. He should stop this, but he doesn’t know how he’ll get to sleep without some relief. He pulls his pants down and shirt up, trapping his cock between the soft leather and his belly. You were sitting right where he’s rubbing, and he can almost smell your soap. Precome pours from him as a hard shudder runs through his body, biting on the pillow to keep himself quiet.

It feels so good, so wrong—he shouldn't be doing this out here where you could walk right out and catch him. It would be humiliating, wouldn’t it, if you found him like this, fucking against the couch that smells like you?

But that only spurs him on, sweat accumulating on his temple as he rocks back and forth, grunting as quietly as he can. He keeps his eyes open, scanning the room, wishing now that you’d find him like this. He can almost hear that quiet giggle of yours as he humps faster, his eyes finally closing as he feels himself nearing his peak.

How wet would your pretty little cunt get, watching him humiliate himself for you? Would you like that? Would you spank him, ride his cock, put your fingers inside of him—what would you do?

His eyes fly open at a sudden noise, and there you are, standing still, your mouth slack and eyes wide open.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You can’t sleep.

Of course you can’t sleep, not in Frankie’s bed, even with the sheets smelling like fresh laundry. The scent of him is still embedded into the mattress, baked into the fibers of his pillow. You try not to think about what he does in here when he’s alone, or even when he’s not—how many people have felt the scratch of his patchy beard between their thighs; his thick, calloused fingers roaming their bodies? How many people have fallen apart around his cock? Was he rough? Was he soft? Did he talk them through their orgasm?

Did he let them talk him through his?

You’re not sure which would be better, but you’ll take whatever he’s willing to give.

Not that he’s willing to give you anything.

This was stupid, falling in love with a client. It complicates everything, makes it so much harder to be objective. And it’s not permanent—one day they won’t need you anymore. Leaving a kid is always hard, but this one? This one’ll hurt if you don’t get it under control.

Sometimes you think there might be something there, but it’s always a fleeting glance here or there, a touch that lingers a little too long. He’d made it very clear months ago he wanted a professional relationship only, and that was totally fine. He didn’t want anything else.

Right?

You toss and turn a little longer, the TV on the other side of the wall a bit too loud for comfort. Surely he’d fallen asleep by now.

The door opens without a quiet creak, and your eyes adjust to the relative brightness of the living room. The tree lights are still on, twinkling like little stars. Movement from the other side of the room catches your attention, and it takes a moment to work out what’s happening on the other side of the room.

Frankie’s all lit up by the tree lights bouncing off his warm olive skin, but it’s his hips you're mesmerized by. His eyes are closed, a thin sheen of sweat glimmering from his exertion as he grinds himself against the couch—the exact spot you’d been sitting in earlier—panting quietly, allowing himself a weak whine every few seconds.

Holy shit.

It briefly occurs to you that you should turn around, afford him this private moment he might desperately need before a stressful trip, but how private is he being, really? How’s this your fault?

You could’ve come out at any time, but here he is. In the middle of the living room, doing…that. Wetness pools between your legs, as if you weren’t already aroused enough, wrapped in his sheets and fighting with yourself about stealing one of his shirts.

He looks so beautiful in those lights. His mouth hangs open, hushed groans starting to pour out with each new thrust of his hips. A particularly bright flash comes from the TV screen and you catch a glimpse of his cock trapped under his belly, and you’ve never wanted to be a couch so badly in your life.

Frankie Morales has a huge dick.

You knew it.

When his eyes finally open, he blinks a few times, and everything moves in slow motion—his eyes go wide and panicked as he stills, pushing himself up to stop the cant of his hips, but his cock doesn’t seem to care what’s happening.

In fact, his cock seems to like it an awful lot.

He tries to cover himself but seizes up before his hands make it to his waistband; instead he gasps, crouching over and grabbing the back of the couch; he squeezes the cushion with one hand as his eyes close again and lets out soft, needy grunts. Your eyes slide back down to his throbbing cock, unable to look away from the ropes of thick, pearlescent come splattering onto the couch, his hips thrusting into nothing.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, and you have never, ever seen anything hotter in your life. The sound of it landing rings in your ears; you can barely hear his apologies. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You hover in the hallway for a moment, trying to decide if you should go to him or disappear, but he’s looking at you with his big eyes, his chest still heaving with effort.

“It’s okay, Frankie,” you say, taking a chance. “I’m not upset.”

He frantically stuffs himself back into his pants, pausing as he takes in what you’ve said.

“You’re not?” He asks through ragged breaths, looking around for something to clean up his mess.

“No,” you murmur, grabbing the remote on your way to him and turning off the TV. “Not at all. I…liked it.”

Frankie doesn’t move as you settle in front of him, doesn’t recoil at your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and tugging up. He raises his arms up and lets you pull it over his head.

“You made a mess,” you whisper, and he nods, transfixed as you use his shirt to clean it up.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking up at you through long lashes and groaning as you run your fingers through his sweaty hair. “You liked it?”

Frankie puts his hands on your hips, a shaky finger curling into your waistband and tugging. With the TV off, the lights glitter in his eyes, and the little halos bouncing off his glistening chest are angelic and sinful at once.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Sit back.” He listens, no questions, and you straddle him, both knees planted firmly against his outer thighs. “What were you thinking about, baby?”

He sighs, squeezing your hips as you explore the breadth of his chest all the way down the swell of his belly.

“You,” he admits. “Always you. I think about you all the fucking time, I’m so sorry, I know it’s not—”

“Shh,” you soothe. “It’s all right, Frankie. I think about you, too. All the time.”

He runs his hands over your waist, hovering at the hem of your shirt and searching your eyes for permission. You nod, and he slides his hands up your shirt, thumbing at the sides of your breasts. You rock gently against him, waiting for his answer.

“You don’t think I’m a…pervert or something?” He asks.

“I didn't say that, did I? I think you were being a bad, bad boy out here. Thinking about me, fucking yourself where I could walk right in here,” you chastise, and he shudders underneath you.

“I’m so—”

“Why don’t you apologize properly, hm?” You purr. “We can get comfortable in your room. If you’d like.”

He nods eagerly, but before you climb off, he wraps his big hand around the back of your neck and presses a kiss against your lips, pulling a soft squeak from you. You melt against him, almost forgetting you’re in charge, but his lips are so soft and needy you haven’t lost any control.

How long has he wanted to do this?

Why hadn’t he done it before?

“Frankie,” you murmur against his lips, and he pulls back, letting you guide him to the bedroom.

You lean against the pillows, his eyes darkening as you spread your legs. He makes himself at home between them, pulling off your tank top and stripping your shorts in two quick motions.

“You were bad,” you murmur again, and you don’t just mean earlier.

“How can I fix it, bebita?�� He asks, eyes softening, and you think he gets the message.

“You wanna make me come?” You ask, and he nods eagerly, pressing himself against you. He’s already stiff again.

“I’ll give you anything. Please,” he begs.

“You can eat my pussy to apologize,” you order and he whines, crashing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss. He trails down your chest, licking and sucking little marks until he gets to your cunt, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You thread your fingers through his hair and tug; he shudders and buries his face in your cunt, teasing your clit with his tongue.

“Fuck, I knew you’d taste good, I knew you’d taste so fucking good,” he growls. “Open your legs a little more for me, please, baby, lemme see you.”

He inhales, nudging your clit with his nose and circling your hole with his tongue. “Smell so fucking good, too, goddamn. Knew this little pussy would be so—fucking—good—”

Frankie Morales is relentless with his tongue, grunting like an animal as he takes his time to figure out what feels good and moaning in satisfaction when he finds something you like.

Pressing firmly with the flat of his tongue, he licks long, languid circles as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs. It feels like heaven, like you’ve needed this your whole life, and you clench around nothing as your orgasm nears.

He notices.

“You want my fingers, bebita?”

“Please,” you sob, forgetting you’re supposed to be in charge. All you can think about is his soft, wet tongue and the way his hair feels between your fingers. He slides one thick finger inside of you, hooking it upward and curling, brushing against something that makes your toes curl. Your hips thrust up so high he has to lay his forearm across your belly to hold you still.

“Think you can take another one, baby, gonna give you one more,” he says, and you have to bite your fist to keep from crying out as he pushes the second finger in. He strokes you insistently, fingers working in tandem with his persistent tongue and your whole body tremors as you inch closer and closer.

“Frankie,” you whimper. “Frankie, Frankie, Frankie, please—”

“That’s it, just let it happen, come on, don’t fight it, baby, come for me, come f—” You fall apart around his fingers, mouth open as you gush so hard you push his fingers out of you, and he lets out a long, guttural moan, praising you with soft murmurs. “Oh fuck, fuck yeah, so good, baby, did so fucking good, look at all that you gave me—”

You throw your arm over your face, sobbing quietly as it just keeps going, your legs shaking and twitching as he rubs your outer thighs. “Fuck, Frankie, Frankie, feels so good, feels so good,” is all you can manage.

You lift your arm to find him looking up at you, eyes glazed over and his face dripping with you and he’s so, so beautiful. You don’t think he knows how beautiful he is, and you wonder if anyone’s ever told him that.

He crawls up your body to meet you, kissing you fiercely, still hungry for you. “Am I forgiven?” He asks. You smile and slide your thumb over his bottom lip.

“No,” you murmur, and his sweet, eager face falls with disappointment. Your reach down and wrap your fingers around his cock, closing your eyes to savor the way it pulses in your hand. “You still need to fuck me, don’t you? Because I still need your cock, Frankie.”

“R-really?” He asks.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you say, giving him an out. “But I would really love you to fuck me with that big, pretty cock.”

“Yeah. Yes, ma’am, please, let me—”

He clamors for his bedside drawer, fishing out a condom.

Responsible. You like that.

He rolls it down that pretty cock of his and starts to line himself up with you, but you have something else in mind.

“Wanna ride you,” you say, switching positions with him. His eyes rove over your body as you swing your legs over his thighs, and he scoots up to a sitting position against the pillows.

“Wanna kiss you,” he says, groaning as you sink onto him. “Think about this all the time.”

You breathe as you adjust to his size, the slight stretch disappearing quickly as you start to move. You wish you could feel his cock without the barrier, wish he could come inside of you and watch it leak out of your spent pussy, but the way he’s looking at you, worshipful and earnest, more than makes up for it. He pulls you to him, all teeth and tongue and need as he pants into your mouth.

“Shit,” he says. “Shit, I don’t know—don’t know how long I’ll last. You feel so fucking good. Wanted this for so long.”

You moan at his confession, your pussy clenching around him and pulling another groan from him. “You gonna come that fast, baby? When you just came? My pussy feels that good?” It’s too easy to tease him. He wraps his arms around you, like can’t get close enough to you, and whimpers and holy fucking shit, you love that noise.

So you keep talking.

“It’s okay, Frankie. I won’t be mad. You’ll still be a good boy for me if you come fast, you can’t help it if it feels good, right?”

He shakes his head, grunting something that sounds like “no” as he starts to thrust up into you. He slots his arms under yours, his fingers anchoring over your shoulders from behind, and all you can do is hold on. Not exactly riding him, but this is really fucking good, too.

“Fuck me like you need to, baby. Wish you could come inside me, Frankie. Wish you could make a mess inside me, I’d make you clean it up, lick it out of—”

“Wanna come in you, wanna come in you so bad,” he says. “Wanna keep you, wanna—fuck—wanna make you my little woman, want you to boss me around, please, baby, fuck, I’m gonna come—”

Frankie lets out a long, quiet groan, shuddering like he had in the living room, and you whisper encouragement in his ear.

“Sorry,” he moans. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” you murmur, not entirely sure what he’s sorry about. He doesn’t let you move from him, your foreheads pressed together, lips molded as he comes back to Earth.

“Hey,” you murmur. “You okay?”

“I’m…oh, fuck,” he says, kissing you all over your face. “I’m amazing.” He kisses your nose. “You’re amazing.”

“Yeah?”

After he takes some time to breathe, you’re able to move from his lap, his softening cock slipping from you. You could’ve kept him in there all night, you think.

He ties off the condom and throws it away, throwing on boxers and says he’s going to check and make sure Franny’s still asleep.

You make your way into his bathroom to clean up, putting your clothes back on and dreading whatever post-orgasm clarity conversation was about to happen. His mumbled apologies seemed like a bad sign, and your stomach churns.

He’d also said nice stuff, things you know better than to take seriously if men were in the heat of the moment, but you don’t think you’d mind bossing him around if he let you. As you open the door, you take a deep breath and find him sitting on the bed with a glass of water on the nightstand.

Dammit, he’s so pretty.

“Hey,” he says softly. “We should probably talk—”

“Look, I get it,” you cut him off, trying to get ahead of him. “I’m still fine to stay here through the day tomorrow. I can give you some good referrals to other sitters—”

“What do you mean?” He asks, frowning. “Why would I need that? Are…you’re quitting?”

“No, I mean—I thought you’d want to remove any complications,” you explain.

“You’re not a complication,” he says, holding his hand out. You look at it warily, taking it with suspicion. “I wanted to tell you I’m rescheduling my flight so I don’t have to leave tomorrow.”

“Really?” You ask, and he nods, handing you the glass of water.

“You thought I was gonna fire you? After…that? Right before Christmas?” He asks.

“I’ve heard plenty of stories, Frankie,” you murmur, taking a drink of water.

“I wanted to spend time with you. I want to take you on a date, if you’ll let me.”

“I’d love that,” you say, the constriction in your chest dissipating with his sweet smile. “I just…”

“What?” He asks, cupping your cheek. “You can tell me.”

“You don’t like me,” you say.

“What?”

“You don’t like me! You did, and then—and then you didn’t anymore, back in September. And you were apologizing when we—”

“I was being an idiot. I wanted to do what was best for Franny and I thought if I came onto you it would fuck everything up,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck and gives you a sheepish grin. “And I was apologizing because I came so fast. You just felt so good.”

“Oh,” you say, letting this information wash over you with another swig of water.

“Oh?” He asks, his eyes all big and round and worried and sweet and how can a grown man be so cute?

“It’s a good ‘oh’. I’m glad I know. I like you, Frankie. I always have.”

“I like you, too.”

You fall asleep tangled in his arms, talking late into the night, and in the morning you wake up to the noise of a camera shuttering and several bright flashes.

“Why you both in here?” Franny asks, clicking away like a miniature paparazzo. Your mouth opens and closes with all the grace of a land-dwelling bass fish, and blessedly, Frankie wakes up before you can answer.

“Come here, mija, let me see that,” he says, and Franny climbs in bed with the two of you, presenting her camera to Frankie for inspection and successfully distracting her as you slip out to put your robe back and start breakfast.

They come out of his room a few minutes later, and Frankie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the back of your neck.

“Merry Christmas,” he says.

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“Close enough,” he says.

#frankie morales

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eunbitchh · 11 days

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Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x fem!reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, Age gap, Slight authority/seniority kink (He's her boss), Slight Sir kink, Oral sex (f and m receiving), piv sex, probably more I'm forgetting about but oh well 🤷‍♀️

Summary: You make a small slip-up and Jack offers to help brush you up on your manners.

A/N: Hello lovely readers! Please keep in mind that even though I have written multiple works at this point, this one is the first one I ever published. As I begin to post some of my more recent fics, you should be able to see a difference in quality overall. I did, however, go back and make edits to this one so that it is better than it would have been if I had posted it in its original state. I hope you enjoy it, and please keep an eye out for the more recent fics I will be posting within the next week or so!

***

The sun is bright in your eyes as you attempt to blink them open for the first time this morning. You can feel the warm rays sneaking through the curtains to crawl over your blanketed form. The birds are singing a sweet song right outside your window, their song slowly stirring you awake. You sigh in contentment at the peaceful scene you woke up to.

It’s definitely one of those mornings where it will be impossible to drag yourself away from your cozy bed. Once you are able to pry your eyes open all the way, you sit up and pull the curtain back a little to admire the landscape of the small ranch you work on.

Being able to wake up and come home to the beautiful view presented by the window beside your bed has quickly become one of your favorite things about this job. Part of your payment is living in the small one-bedroom house stationed on top of one of the few hills on the ranch.

It's not much, but you love the cozy feeling the house gives off. It's absolutely perfect for you and you have made sure to let your boss know how appreciative you are of it. Within the six months that you have lived on the property, you have only talked to the boss a handful of times, and each time he asks you if you are still comfortable living in the cottage.

Even though he told you that you can make any adjustments you want, he still likes to check that it is to your standard. You always tell him that you are perfectly content, and he always makes a point to remind you that you are welcome to move into one of the many rooms of his large ranch house if you ever change your mind.

You have learned that Mr. Daniels is very generous. He seems to genuinely care about the well-being of his employees. Despite his array of offers though, you always choose to stay in the small cottage. You know that he worries about you being secluded, but in reality, you are still in view of the main house. You trust that if anything were to happen, he or another ranch hand would be there in an instant to assist you.

It's true what you tell him; you are perfectly content with the small house, but you have to be honest with yourself. You know that you are turning him down for other reasons as well — annoying reasons that you wish would cease to exist.

About two months in, you made the realization that you are nursing a crush on your boss. By that time though, you had already settled in. You had figured—hoped—the attraction would be a phase. By now, you’ve realized it most certainly was not. In your defense, a few weeks after the realization, it seemed like the crush had passed, faded into nothing more than a tiny tug in your chest when you thought about him. That is until you had to meet up with him for a monthly check-in at least.

You had scolded yourself and tried to ignore the bubbling feeling in your stomach as he talked to you in that syrupy southern drawl you have come to crave. You had a sinking suspicion that you didn't do a very good job of concealing the way you felt. The way the cowboy had smirked at you every now and again during the, in your opinion, much-too-long interaction suggested that he knew exactly what kind of thoughts you had brewing.

If you didn’t know any better, you would dare say that the asshole might enjoy making your face flush bright as a tomato. Sure, the man may be about twenty years your senior, but you can't deny the tension that has begun to build since then.

He seems to have made a game of getting you flustered during meetings, and you have quickly accepted the challenge of keeping your cool as he does so. Unfortunately for you, he usually wins.

You groan as you remember that you need to prepare yourself for the meeting taking place today. You sit up and let your feet dangle off the side of the bed as you stretch your arms into the air, attempting to ease your sore muscles.

Letting your hands back down to rest on your lap, you glance at the clock. It reads 10:41.

Shit

Suddenly awake, you jump out of bed and scramble over to your closet, frantically laying out a work outfit. You are supposed to be meeting Mr. Daniels at 11:00. You had set an alarm to wake you up at 9:30 so you would have time to eat breakfast and tidy up around the cottage before you had to leave. Of course, today would be the day the clock wouldn’t go off.

It takes about five minutes to get to the main house from here, maybe two that if you run, but even then it would still be cutting it close. If there is anything you hate, it's making a bad impression, and being late is one of the best ways to do that.

You know that Mr. Daniels probably won't mind, but you still don't want to be an inconvenience. You are the only female worker on the ranch, and even though Jack always lets you know how much he appreciates your hard work, you still want to stay on top of your responsibilities. You know deep down that you have nothing to prove, but some of the guys can be pretty rude with their unnecessarily sexist comments.

They just love to follow you around and breathe down your fucking neck. Their favorite antic has got to be making you feel like you aren’t capable of picking up bigger loads. “Can I get that for you, Princess?” they ask with stupid smirks, already knowing your answer. You have learned that the best way to deal with that is to give them a smile and kindly assure them that you got it. It’s no fun for them when you don’t feed into it, after all.

Even so, Mr. Daniels is usually pretty quick about shutting “jokes'' about you down, but you can't help but feel like he might see some truth to them. He doesn’t of course - in fact, he constantly tells you that you are one of the best hands he has ever had working for him.

You always soak up any praise he gives you, even though you feel like a giddy schoolgirl sometimes. You swear that man’s comments will ultimately be the death of you.

You check the clock again as you finish tying your hair back and set your hat on your head.

10:54. Perfect.

After you brush your teeth, that should give you enough time to walk down to the house just in time for the meeting to start.

***

Somehow, it ended up being 10:57 by the time you were walking out the door. As you step outside, you can see Mr. Daniels standing outside his house, glancing at his wrist. You furrow your brows as you realize that the rest of the ranch hands are nowhere to be seen. There's no way the meeting is just between the two of you, right? You couldn’t have missed a detail that detrimental… right?

Shaking your head, you start to sprint toward where your boss is standing. The guys will probably be there by the time you reach the house… hopefully. You’re not sure if you can handle Jack Daniels on your own today. It takes you about two and a half minutes for you to get to him, and—much to your chagrin—there’s not another worker in sight.

You inhale deeply as you approach him - you can already feel the butterflies in your stomach with every step you take. He looks exceptionally good today, donned in his signature black stetson. Once you are close, you plaster a smile on your face and pray silently that you made it on time.

“Hello Mr. Daniels,” you say sweetly.

“Good morning sugar,” he says before flashing you a toothy grin. You try to ignore the names he has for you most of the time, though you secretly love the almost nonchalant affection behind them.

You feel your face flush and try to turn your head towards the ground in an attempt to hide it, but you know he saw when you notice his eyes narrow slightly out of the corner of your own. The look sends heat straight into your lower abdomen and you swallow as you look up to meet his gaze again.

“Did nobody else show up?” you ask him, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckles quietly at your question and you suddenly wish your ears would stop working. “No darlin’, I figured we could have a one-on-one meeting this time around—if that's ok with you of course?”

“Oh, um, yea of course, that's just fine Mr. Daniels.” Liar, your brain spits at you.

***

Fortunately for your dignity, the meeting was pretty normal for the most part. Mr. Daniels asked you if you were still comfortable in your cottage, to which you—as always—replied that you love having your own place.

He told you of the tasks he wants you to perform throughout the next couple of weeks and of your expected schedule. He also pointedly reminded you to call him Jack, which you ignored and continued to refer to him in a formal fashion. You didn't need any more personal ties to this man.

After everything that needed to be said was conversed, you both said goodbye and began to part ways.

You let out a deep breath, silently congratulating yourself for not slipping up as you turn your back to your boss. Maybe everything will be fine.

“Oh, and honeybee?” You hear Mr. Daniels' question come from behind you and tense back up immediately. There was something about the way he said it, almost like it was coming through a smirk, that made your eyes grow wide.

You spin back around to find the cowboy standing in place with his back to you.

“Yes, Mr. Daniels?” Your voice comes out squeakier than you expect and you grimace at the sound.

“You were a minute late today, hon.”

Shit. You let your eyes flutter shut and attempt to gulp down your anxiety as he continues. Of course the bastard would point something like that out, he’s well aware of how big you are on that kind of thing.

“Now don’t worry, you ain’t in trouble, darlin’,” he says much too confidently for your liking, “but just so we can assure it won’t happen again, maybe you should swing by the house tonight so we can brush you up on your manners.”

Unable to speak, you stare at your boss’s now descending form with an open jaw. Did you hear that right?

The asshole must know that you are still rooted to the spot he left you in because he cranes his neck to say “You’re free to go for now doll, i’ll see ya at 8:00,” he says before sending you a wink and turning back around.

You quickly close your jaw and turn on your heel towards the barn. Your heart is racing much too quickly in your chest as you approach your first task of the day.

***

Getting through the day was absolutely agonizing. You love your job and find most of the tasks you have to do decently easy, but the conversation from this morning has been running through your mind non-stop.

Brush up on your manners...

You wanted to hate him for his blunt suggestion, but you realized about halfway through the day what he actually meant by it. At least, what you hope he actually meant by it. You have been pushing your excitement down all day and it has evidently been landing between your legs.

At this point, as you trek back to your house to freshen up, you can feel your core throb with every agonizing step. This man has had you on edge all day and you are frustrated to no end.

Brush up on your manners...

You'll show him. You'll show him just how sweet you can be… Or maybe you won't…

The thought of being defiant sends a wave of excitement over your entire body. What would he do then? Would he decide to punish you for your bad behavior?

You'll have to decide how you will act on the way to his house. You put on a wicked grin as you begin to rustle through your closet for some presentable clothes. What Jack didn’t realize is that he accidentally put the ball right into your court.

You almost can't believe this is actually happening. As you sit down to put some mascara and lipstick on, you pinch yourself to make sure this isn't all a dream.

As you slip on your flowy sundress and boots, you are sure you will open your eyes any minute now. As you lock the door to your cottage, you expect to be waking up in your bed.

***

It really sinks in that what you are doing is real as you raise your fist to knock gently on your boss’s front door. Your nerves feel like they are on fire and you almost decide to turn around and forget all about it. Before you have the chance to change your mind, however, the door in front of you is being swung open to reveal the devilishly sexy grin hidden behind it.

“Hello again, sugar,” he says after you stand there for a second, “I was hoping you would take me up on my offer.”

You try to speak but find your voice caught in your throat, so you just nod and try to send him what you hope is a feasible smile. Without another word, he smiles back and moves to the side to gesture you into the house.

Once inside, you decide to test your voice again. “Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Daniels,” you say as he shuts the door behind you, formal as ever.

“Well of course honey,” he says in a tone much too cocky for your liking, “and look at you, already puttin’ those manners to use.”

You flush a dark shade of crimson when you find yourself at a lack of words once again. Fortunately, Jack takes that as his cue again and moves in closer, backing you into the wall behind you. You don't stop him as he steps into your personal bubble and reaches a hand toward your face.

He smirks as he feels you shudder when his large hand finds your cheek. You bite your lip to stop the sound that threatens to escape. His palm feels so warm against you, and you feel so tiny in comparison as you look up into his dark eyes.

You see the mischievous twinkle in his eye as he grasps your chin more firmly to bring your face up to his just slightly. You sneak a quick glance at his plush lips that are now mere inches from your own. It would be so easy to just lean in a bit and-

“Now, sugar,” Mr. Daniels says, interrupting your thoughts, “for the purposes of tonight, you can call me sir. Understand?”

Your eyes widen slightly at his command and you try to nod your head as much as you can with his hand still gripping your chin. Yup, you were definitely right in your earlier assumption. Your knees feel weak, threatening to give out. The sensation distracts you for a moment and when you come back into focus you find Jack looking at you expectantly.

“Let's try that again, doll,” he says as he digs his fingers into your chin ever so slightly. You swallow as you watch him tilt his chin up to look down at you. His mouth drops open into a thin smirk as he raises his eyebrows. You feel your legs buckle underneath you again and you would probably fall if not for his hand propping you up.

“Understand?” he repeats, clearly wanting a verbal response. Likely wanting your consent so he can be sure you’re of with the way things are going. You would be damned if you weren’t.

“I-” you stop when he gives your chin a warning squeeze, it isn’t hard, but it’s enough to give you the hint

“Yes sir,” you manage to get the words out. They were high-pitched and shaky, but you were surprised you were able to speak at all.

Your eyes close slowly as he lowers his head back down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, rewarding you for catching on.

“Good girl,” you shudder and bite back a moan at his gentle praise.

Your eyes land on his lips as you open them again. You stare for a little longer than you probably should before you meet his gaze again. You can't help it, they just look so warm and inviting. You picture them enveloping your own.

When he sees you look away from his lips, he loosens his grip once more and leans in close enough to nudge his face next to yours, almost as if he were going to nibble your ear.

“Would if be okay if I kissed you, baby?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. A shiver racks through your spine at his words combined with the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You start to nod before you remember what he wants you to do. You want to scold yourself for giving in so easily, but you block that thought out as you feel him start to pull back. Your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest as you stare into his deep chocolate eyes. You hate him for making you say it, but you do it anyway.

“Yes sir,” your voice is just as quiet as his, if not more.

He closes the distance before you even realize you spoke the desperate words out loud. You close your eyes and slot your lips against his. It feels like absolute euphoria as you melt into the heated kiss. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, but automatically you decide it is the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You moan as his tongue slips past your lips, giving you a taste of what you can only describe as Jack. His lips are the perfect combination of soft and chapped and you can't help but give in completely to him. If given the option, you would stand here and kiss this man until the day you die.

You sigh as you feel his hand release your jaw and make its way down your body to rest on your hip. Shortly after, you feel his fingers run through your hair to grasp the base of your skull, pulling you deeper into the passionate kiss. Your own hands begin to cling onto his clothes, wanting to be as close as possible to him.

Suddenly, he pulls away, his palms stationed firmly on your hips and on teh back of your neck. You look into his eyes and you can see the hunger lingering in his stare. His pupils are blown with desire and you can feel the way they must mirror your own.

“Let me taste you?” He asks you, desperation clear in his voice as he nearly begs.

You nod feverishly in your lust-drunken state, not entirely sure what he just asked. All you know is that with the admiration this man is looking at you with, you would be a fool to deny him anything he asked for.

You can see the way he shifts, clearly wanting to get to whatever you had just consented to. He stops though, smirking as he seemingly remembers something.

“Try again sugar,” he tells you. You immediately know what he wants.

“Y-yes sir,” you say quickly, not sure how the words came out that fast. As soon as you say it, Jack begins to move again. You sober quickly as you watch the fierce man in front of you sink to his knees, letting his large hands run down your sides as he does so. Once settled, he looks up into your wide eyes and wets his lips. His eyes look heavenly as he beams at you with adoration.

You snap back to reality and feel the blood rush up to your cheeks as you finally realize what he had asked you. Still drunk on his kiss, you had answered him before you gave yourself a chance to think about it.

“Want to see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, darlin’.”

Before you get the chance to respond, he leans forward to press a kiss over your clothed mound. He darts his tongue out to flick your clit, somehow knowing exactly where it is.

You involuntarily buck your hips to his face as your hands fly to rest on his broad shoulders. It's a new sensation—a welcome one for sure—but new nonetheless. You aren’t inexperienced, but you haven’t had many lovers, and none of them had ever been generous enough to go down on you.

“Oh f-fuck!” The expletive flies from your mouth as he repeats the action. He pulls back and you watch him grin against your thigh before pressing a sof kiss to the fabric covering it.

You feel your dress being bunched up in one of his fists, but he doesn't raise it yet. Figuring he probably wants your permission, you look down at him and give him a shaky nod.

When he sees the confirmation, he sends you another smirk that shoots straight down to your cunt. You bite your lip as you feel your dress rise up past your panties.

It's been a while since you had any sexual encounter, and you feel exposed until you see the pure lust in Jack's eyes; how could you ever feel uncomfortable under a gaze like that?

“Fuck darlin,” he says, eyeing your lacy black panties. “You put these on just for me?”

“Y-yes sir,” you say. He seems satisfied with your response as he extends the hand that's not holding your dress up to run a finger through the wet patch between your legs.

“Oh sugar, you been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” He asks you when he feels the wetness beginning to pool through the lace fabric.

“Yes sir,” you tell him truthfully. “All day.” You figure you have no shame left, might as well just tell it as it is. Though you are trying to sound confident, your voice sounds soft even in your ears.

You can tell by the way Jack's eyes glow when you admit your thoughts that he finds your nervousness arousing.

“Alright sugar, I'll tell you what,” he says as his thumb absently traces circles on your thigh. “I think you have been such a good girl for me so far…” To your embarrassment, you whimper at his praise.

“I want you to use my real name when I have you screaming for me.”

When you don't say anything, he looks up to meet your flushed face. Your mouth is dropped open slightly at his casual suggestion and your face feels like it's on fire.

He gives you no more warning as he smirks and hooks your panties to the side before shoving a finger into your dripping hole in one swift motion. You squeeze your eyes shut and relish in the feeling of having something filling you up. You immediately want more, and you tell him as much.

He chuckles darkly at your desperation as he begins to pump his finger in and out at a painfully slow pace.

“Remember your manners, doll,” he reminds you. You groan in frustration but comply with his request.

“Shit, please Jack, please give me more.” Your words sound rushed as they spill from your kiss-swollen lips. yup, all dignity out the window.

He approves your request by dipping another finger into your wet heat, but he does nothing about the speed in which he moves his hand. Despite the pace, you can feel the tension in your abdomen begin to build up embarrassingly quickly as he rubs against that spongy place you can never reach.

One of your hands leaves his shoulder to tangle in his hair. You whimper at the friction you have been craving all day and try to grind down on his digits in an attempt to reach that sweet spot deep inside you again.

You want to scream when he quickly extracts his fingers.

“Now darlin’, you gotta be patient if you want me to reward you.” He sends you a flashy smirk as he teases your entrance with the pad of his middle finger, applying just enough pressure to make it seem like he’s going to breach you again, but he never does. You shiver at the feeling. Bastard.

“Yes sir, I'll be good,” you promise him eagerly.

“Know you will be, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he mutters mostly to himself as his fingers split you open once again. He sets a faster pace this time, and you can feel the coil in your belly getting ready to snap. You feel his mouth envelope your throbbing clit through your panties and you let out a whiny moan.

“I- fuck Jack, im close,” you breathe out in pure ecstasy. At your unworded request, he adds a third digit and begins to pump his fingers at a near-brutal pace. You can feel a sheen of sweat beginning to cover your body. Just a few strokes away now…

He takes his mouth away but continues his attack with his fingers. He tilts his head up to watch your teary-eyed expression, your mouth slightly agape. He chuckles quietly at how fast he was able to find the spots that make you squirm for him.

“Now doll, here's where we work on that timing,” he starts. You barely register what he says through your haze, but you get the gist of it and furrow your brows. When he sees your confusion, he fills you in.

“You want to come, honey?” he asks you nonchalantly.

“Oh, yes sir,” you squeak as you feel a tear run down your cheek; you’re so close, you don’t want him to deny you again. “Yes, yes, please let me come.” your eyes flutter closed from the pure pleasure he is bringing you with just his hand.

“Okay, sweetheart, that's what I thought.” you’re not sure if you like the playfulness in his tone.

“I'm going to do a countdown for you,” he starts. “When I reach ‘one’, you can come.” Your eyes fly open faster than they had closed.

“Jack,” you try not to sound whiny as you protest. “Jack, I-I don't know if I can—I don't know if I can do that!” The grin that spreads onto his face is absolutely wicked—he has you right where he wants you.

“Well hon, you're just gonna have to, ain’t ya?” he tells you. “I'll have no choice but to punish you if you come too soon or too late.” Your eyes grow wide but you can't deny the curiosity that breaches your mind at what his idea of “punishment” might be.

“I believe you can do it darlin’,” he encourages you before you have the chance to protest. You know he would stop if you asked him, but that would be the only way out—and he would be stopping completely. You are so close, like Jack said—you can do this.

You swallow and nod down at him, signaling your agreement. By now, he has slowed down his pace drastically, and you would do anything to have his fingers abusing your cunt again.

“Okay, let's start then,” he says through his toothy grin. “I'm gonna to go from five.” Seeing you nod again, he brings his mouth back to work at your still-covered clit.

“Five.” You keen sharply as he mouths at your clit, prodding the bundle of nerves with his skilled tongue.

“Four.” you aren't sure if you are going to have enough control to make it to one. It feels almost painful knowing that you have to wait for permission.

“Three.” “There you go hon, so close now.”

“Two.” your breathing picks up and you can't help but let the high pitched moans barrel out as you focus on holding your release. You want to beg for his permission, but you know your best bet is to wait it out.

“One.”

Jack sucks hard on your clit as you scream his name. Your vision goes white and you suddenly feel like you’re floating. The intense orgasm seems to last forever, you’ve never felt anything so blissful in your life.

“There you go sugar,” you hear Jack's giddy voice coming from a faraway place. “Scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Other than the shudders that wrack your body, you are barely aware of anything else around you. It feels like you are suspended in another dimension. You can feel your juices running down your thighs and hear Jack happily slurping them up, muttering gentle praise into your sex.

“Did so good for me honey bee,” he tells you, “Right on time’.”

It seems like an hour has passed by the time you are finally able to open your eyes and look down at the man on his knees before you. It takes you a second to notice, but once your vision comes back all the way, you can see droplets of wetness make their way down Jack's face to drip off of his nose and chin.

Holy Shit…

Your eyes widen in time with your jaw as you begin to piece together what happened. You keep your gaze on Jack while you figure it out. He looks almost as blissed out as you do with his hooded eyes and his mustache covered in your slick.

“Oh my god Jack,” you say, feeling your face turn red. “I didn't…”

The smirk on his face widens and he opens his mouth to shove his fingers inside. He closes his mouth as he suckles on them and then pulls the digits out with a wet pop.

“Oh yes you did honey,” he says after he opens his eyes to meet yours. “And you taste just as divine as you looked while you squirted all over my hand.”

“Now let Jack finish cleanin’ you up sugar.” With that, he dips his head back down to lap at your sensitive folds. You buck your hips when you feel him graze your over-sensitive clit,

“Let's get these the rest of the way off, sweet thing,” he chuckles darkly as he slides his finger back and forth across the band of your ruined panties.

Not knowing what to say, you nod and step back for him. You start to bend down to take your shoes off before you slide your panties down, but you’re stopped as you feel him lightly tap the outside of your thigh.

Meeting your curious expression, he shakes his head slightly and shifts to one knee before tapping the one he had popped up, gesturing for you to place your foot there.

You want to swoon over him for how much of a gentleman he can be even though he was just knuckle-deep in your cunt. You shoot him a bashful smile as you comply with his silent request and gently place your foot on his raised leg.

He returns the smile before sliding your shoe off and caresses your calf while he sets it off to the side. He motions for you to switch legs and you watch as he repeats the motion with that one as well.

Once you have both feet planted back on the ground, Jack reaches up to hook his fingers into the sides of your waistband. He slowly slides the now soaked garment down your bare legs, being careful not to leave any residue on your skin.

Once they are discarded next to your shoes, he stands back up to his full height. He gently slides both of his hands onto your face and brings you in to lock you in a bruising kiss.

“What do you say, doll?” He asks you once he pulls back. You smile at him, proud of yourself for knowing exactly what he wants.

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him bashfully. He beams at your quick learning and moves one of his hands to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “My pleasure, honey.”

It's your turn to smirk up at him as you begin to descend onto your knees. He looks down at you with a look somewhere between amusement and confusion as you settle into a comfortable position.

“Aw sugar,” he tells you, running his fingers through your hair. “You don't have to do that.”

You put up at him in a mocking manner and stop your hands halfway to his belt buckle. “Please sir, I want to,” you tell him. You watch as his brows narrow slightly and his eyes grow darker.

“What exactly do you want, honey bee?” he asks you, though the bastard knows exactly what you mean. You decide to play along with his game anyway.

“I want to make you feel good, sir,” you say, looking up at him through your thick eyelashes. “Will you let me?”

He continues smoothing your hair down as he slowly nods at you, giving you permission. You hear his breath catch in his throat as your hands find his buckle.

You bite your lip as you anxiously fumble with the heavy thing. Once unclasped, you unzip his pants and tug them down just enough to see the large bulge in his boxers. He smirks as he notices your eyes widen at the size of it.

“You can do it, honey,” he rests his free hand back on your cheek as he assures you. You lean into his touch and gently take his thumb into your mouth, suckling lightly. His skin tastes heavenly and you hum in anticipation of how good his cock must be.

Maintaining eye contact, you reach out and give him a small squeeze through his boxers. He groans at the touch and you smirk as you reach into his waistband and tug his hardened dick out.

You give him a couple of jerks and watch the way his face twists with pleasure before you look down. He chuckles when he hears you gasp as your gaze trails downwards.

Holy shit.

He's fucking huge. Sure he's got length, but his girth is what has your eyes growing wide. You swallow as you look back into his eyes.

“Like what you see?” He asks, amusement clear in his voice. You roll your eyes as you give him another short tug. You let your thumb run over his tip, spreading precum over the head.

You smirk as he shudders above you. You lean forward to dart your tongue out over his slit, tasting the saltiness of it. He lets out a strained groan at the contact. “Like what you feel?” You ask him innocently. You look up to meet his now blazing stare.

“Now doll,” he pauses as he rubs your cheek. “That's one dangerous game you just started,” he says slowly. You swallow at his menacing tone.

“And I hope you are prepared to play it.”

With that, he grasps your chin, making your mouth fall open as he brings your face toward his heavy cock. He watches your expression to make sure you don't want to stop before he guides his stiff length into your mouth.

He wastes no time as he shoves himself all the way down your throat, not giving you the chance to take him slowly. Your nose nuzzles into the dark curls at the base of his cock as you try not to choke.

He doesn't move yet, allowing you to get used to the feeling. You try not to gag as you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. You close them, letting the liquid stream down your cheeks as you swallow, trying to adjust yourself.

“Ah fu-“ Jack stutters as he feels your throat convulse around his length. “There you go s-sugar, just like that.”

You bathe in the way the blissed-out way Jack's eyelids start to droop and his mouth falls open the tiniest bit as you start to move your head back and forth. A strangled groan spills from his lips when you move back and circle your tongue around his tip before sliding back down to the base.

You feel him set his hand on your head, not pushing or pulling you in any way, just resting it there. There's a glint in your eyes as you look up at him and put your hand on top of his, pushing lightly.

Jack's eyes widen as he realizes what you are insinuating, but you can see the desire behind his expression.

“Shit- I-“ he fumbles over his words, "you sure sweetheart? I ain’t gonna be gentle.” You nod up at him as much as you can and push his hand in encouragement again.

“Alright darlin’,” he stares down at you with adoration, “tap my thigh if you need me to slow down.”

You can tell he has been trying to hold himself back, and you feel your wetness start to drip down your thighs as his face relaxes. He takes over your movements as he presses on the back of your head experimentally.

You give him complete control and submit to his request, putting your tongue out flat as he pushes you down his thick length. You moan out in pleasure at the thought of him having complete control and his cock twitches at the sound.

His actions start slow, but gradually build up as he begins to chase his high. He whispers praise to you in between moans as he fucks your mouth.

As you watch him, you think that the expression he makes when he is consumed with pleasure might be the best thing you have ever seen—better than the view from your cottage window. You hum around him, sending vibrations through his whole body.

“Oh, fuck!” You can feel yourself growing wetter the more Jack struggles to keep his composure. “S-Shit sugar, I'm gonna need t’ stop if you want me to be able to take care of you right.”

You whimper at the thought of his cock slamming in and out of your pussy and you feel more slick dripping down your legs. You squeeze your thighs shut, trying to get some friction to relieve the ache on your throbbing clit.

Knowing he's close, Jack pulls you off of him with a growl. He grins as he hears you whine at the loss.

“Now darlin’,” he starts. “There will be plenty of chances to do that again, for now though,” you watch as his eyes somehow grow darker still. “I want to feel that tight cunt around my cock.”

You can't stop the moan that escapes from your lips upon hearing his dirty words. You must be dripping onto the floor at this point, but you don't care. All you care about right now is Jack staying true to his word.

Hearing your desperate moan ignites something feral in him, and before you even realize what he was doing, you are slung over his shoulder, ass in the air, as he strides into his bedroom.

He flings you on the bed as soon as he enters the threshold and immediately goes to work pulling off his boots. You sit there stunned as he starts fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his perfectly tanned skin.

He glances up at you through his haze to see your shocked expression, and you watch as a lopsided smirk overtakes his features.

“You gonna strip or what, honey?” He asks you in a teasing tone as he continues undressing.

You roll your eyes and grin as you feel your blood rushing to your cheeks. As he looks back down to concentrate on the last few buttons on his shirt and you take that as a cue to tug your dress off.

Left in only your bra, you take that off too as Jack is tugging off his pants. Donned in only his boxers, he looks back at you and you watch his eyes rake over your naked form.

His smile falters and you think for a second that you did something wrong.

“You are so damn beautiful darlin’,” he says, easing your worried thoughts. You smile

sheepishly as he starts to walk towards the bed.

He leans over the side, wedging one of his knees between your own as he leaves a trail of delicate kisses up the column of your throat. You tilt your head up to allow his access and shiver as he brushes along your pulse point.

“Jack,” you say in a whiny tone, not really sure what you're asking him for. He seems to know better than you do though, because he lifts his lips up to yours as he slides a hand down between your bodies.

You moan into his mouth as he uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit. The kiss turns sloppy and you bring your arms up to circle around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He moves the fingers from your clit to tease at your sopping cunt. He slides them in one at a time and you keen underneath him, making his cock twitch in his boxers. His erection is almost painful now, but he wants to get you ready for him before he gives in to his urges.

You feel yourself climbing closer to the edge as Jack adds a third finger and begins to work at your swollen bud with his thumb. He can feel you writhing below him and he smiles into your mouth, proud of the way your body reacts to his touch.

“Jack, im gonna-“ You don’t get to finish the warning as you feel him flick his thumb over your clit, pushing you over the edge. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as you mewl into Jack's lips.

Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself clench around Jack's fingers, causing a guttural groan to escape from him. He pumps his fingers in and out, easing you through your high.

As you still, you lay your head down fully on the mattress and look into Jack's eyes. You feel like a schoolgirl as you smile lopsidedly at him, giving you an eager grin in return.

“You ready, darlin’?” he asks. You take a deep breath and nod at him. He leans down to plant small kisses on your forehead and on the tip of your nose as he pushes himself off of the bed to shed his boxers.

You scootch back a little, giving him more room as he climbs back up. Your stomach flips as you look into his eyes, feeling one of his hands come up to rest next to your head.

He dips down for another kiss and you feel the head of his cock find its way to your entrance. You suck in a breath as he begins to slowly push himself into your dripping heat.

“Oh- fuck baby girl,” he groans as he pushes deeper. You feel the hand near your head clench the sheets beside you as he sheaths himself to the hilt. His size takes your breath away and you are grateful when he pauses to let you adjust.

The stretch pinches, making you scrunch your eyes shut. When you open them again, you find Jack looking at you, concern written on his face.

He furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head, silently asking if you are okay to continue. You know that he would stop in a heartbeat if you wanted to, and the thought immediately makes you more comfortable.

It warms your heart to think about how much of a gentleman Jack really is underneath that tough exterior, and how lucky you are to be able to experience this side of him.

“Start moving,” you tell him after the pain begins to dull. You watch his features relax as he pulls back out halfway before gliding back in. You appreciate how gentle he's being, at least until you can get used to the feeling of being stuffed so full.

“Your wish is my command, sweet pea,” he tells you, sending you a wink. The pain from earlier quickly turns to pleasure as Jack continues his gentle movements. You moan loudly as he hits something devastating inside you, spurring him on.

“Ah- fuck, Jack!” You scream his name as he begins to speed his movements up. You can feel every vein and ridge sliding on the walls of your soaked cunt. Already, tension begins building in your belly as he starts to ruthlessly pump his cock in and out of you.

The room is filled with both of your moans combined with the lewd squelching noises coming from where your bodies connect. It sounds like pure ecstasy. You can hear Jack's breath growing heavier with each thrust.

You decide as he lets out a whine that there is nothing sweeter than the sounds Jack Daniels makes when he's buried deep inside of you. His noises fuel you and you can hear your moans growing breathier as he pulls you closer to the edge.

You watch a bead of sweat slip down the side of Jack's forehead as he draws back until only the head of his cock is breaking you open. Before you get the chance to figure out what he's doing, he slams himself back into you.

You try to scream but find that all the breath had been knocked out of you with the force of his thrust. Tears of pleasure brim your eyes as he repeats his action, faster this time.

Your arms slip under his own and you claw at his back as you get closer to release. You let out a moan as Jack grabs your thigh and throws one of your legs over his waist, allowing him to hit depths you didn't even think possible.

“Such a -fuck- such a sweet damn pussy d-darlin’,” Jack praises. You almost come right then and there.

“S-so good, Jack,” you say through a whimper as he continues his brutal pace. “Fuck!” You scream when he slams into a sweet spot.

“M’ gon- gonna come, Jack,'' you tell him. He smirks and snakes a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. There's no way you're going to last between the new position and the assult on your sensitive bud.

“Go ahead darlin’,” He tells you as he lowers his head to slot his lips between your own, locking you into a messy kiss. “Let go for me.”

That's all it takes for you to fall apart underneath him. Your eyes roll back and you feel your legs turn to jello as you come on Jack's cock. He continues to whisper sweet praise into your ear as he works you through your climax.

You feel his movements grow sloppy and uncoordinated as you come down from your high.

“S-Shit, honey,” Jack gasps, “not gonna last.”

He gives about another half dozen thrusts before he's asking you “Where?”.

You don't answer him, and instead lift your other leg to wrap around his waist, bringing him into you. You whimper at the thought of filling you up and it pushes him over the edge. He stills and you feel the gush of warm seed spread throughout your cunt.

The moan he lets out is absolutely feral as he releases inside of you, making your toes curl. You squeeze around him, milking rope after rope of cum from his cock. You stare into each other’s eyes as you bring your arms up around his neck to pull him down to you again.

You bring your lips against his, closing your eyes as you both share the gentlest and most intimate kiss of the night. He lowers his body to lay on top of yours, being careful not to put all of his weight on you as he pulls away from the kiss to position his head next to your ear.

“Fuckin’ perfect darlin’,” he says gently. “Thank you.”

You smile at the ceiling as you wrap your arms tight around him, holding him close. You both lay there for a few minutes as your bodies begin to relax, you slotting your fingers through his hair, and him whispering sweet praises into your ear.

He leans up to brush his lips against yours one more time before grunting and pulling out of you. You grimace first at the loss and then at the feeling of your combined release leaking out of your worn cunt. Your attention is dragged away from the feeling when you hear Jack flick the bathroom light on.

He is only gone for a second before he returns with a warm cloth, using it to swipe along your folds, cleaning you up. You wince as the fabric runs along your sensitive clit. “Sorry, darlin’,” he chuckles a quiet apology. You squint at him but when you make eye contact you can't help but giggle too.

Smiling, Jack gets back up to dispose of the cloth before he comes back to bed and lays down beside you, pulling you into him so you can set one of your legs over his and place your head on his chest. You hum in delight as he starts to pepper feather light kisses into your hair.

“Not so bad for an old man,” you tease him. You feel him smile against your hair as he breathes in your sweet scent.

“Hey now,” he says in the same teasing tone, “it's starting to sound like you didn't learn anything from your lesson.”

You laugh as you roll yourself over to straddle his hips.

“Well,” you say as you look into his hooded eyes, “I've always said I learn my lessons better the second time around.” He smirks at you and grabs your hips, bearing you down to his already half-hard cock and you whimper quietly.

“That can be arranged, sugar,” he tells you as he scoots back against the headboard. “This time we’ll see how well you can follow instructions.”

#agent whiskey #jack daniels

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