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shreddedparchment · 14 days

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The Garden Gate

Pairing: Medieval!Loki x Reader Word Count: 6,514

Warnings: smut, mentions of infidelity, language, bodily fluids, jealousy, Loki in a poofy shirt

A/N: Well, I haven't done this in a while. I had to go look for an old post to see how I used to do these openings. LUL Anywho, y'all can thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this one. She sent me a picture and then I asked her for three characters and three scenarios and this one is the one that spoke to me the most. I did put my own spin on it but that's just me. Anywho, I'm not sure how many of my old readers will read this but I hope y'all like it. Anything y'all have to say about it is also greatly appreciated. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs!!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Your family’s fall from grace had been nothing short of spectacular.

It had started first with the crumbling of respect from the men and heads of other houses. The gentry had taken offense to the shame of your father and eldest brother’s retreat at the battle for Carmine Valley, so named for the blush of trees that peppered the expanse of lush green and the strange but beautiful red waters of the central lake.

Had Lord Odinson’s own knights not been flanking from the western ridges, the valley would have fallen into the hands of the northern enemy forces. A great loss seeing as the valley was the largest producer of grain and vegetables in the kingdom.

The fallout had been catastrophic. Both your father and brother had been sent to the wild woods to the southernmost parts of the kingdom to work off their shame and languish in the dangerous labor camps where men were said to be torn into shreds by beasts as large as a carriage.

Even though you loved them very much, you couldn’t help the anger within your veins at their betrayal to not only the kingdom, but to your very family. The abandonment that their retreat meant. They knew what doing so would do to you, your mother, and younger brother.

If it were not for the King’s good nature, you’d have no doubt found yourself working in some brothel alongside your mother leaving your younger brother, at the tender age of seven, exposed to the worst parts of society.

The seediest brothels were not above selling children, you knew. No matter that the King had signed a death warrant for anyone known to sell or buy said company. It was the worst of sins and it breaks your heart to know that one man’s generosity saved all three of you from that life when he could have very well condemned it.

Knowing this–knowing how bad it could have been–doesn’t change the fact that your life now is still torture. Torture of a different kind, but torture all the same.

The King’s kindness came in the form of service. While your family was stripped of all titles and wealth, you’d also lost your beloved.

That is the true source of agony in your chest as you struggle with the bucket of waste water you’re holding, trying desperately not to slosh it around too hard. The last thing you want to do is to go to bed smelling of someone else’s bodily fluids.

The thick wool of your simple navy dress and the apron you keep tied over it are both great for absorbing disgusting materials. Already in need of a wash, the white ruffle along the neckline is frayed and yellowing despite the gown being only a few months old.

Edging along the courtyard wall, you try not to rush. The exhaustion in your body begs for sleep. Even months later the labor of working in the castle as a servant to former peers has not grown easier.

Wincing as the rough rope of the bucket burns the center of your palms, you almost sigh but instead freeze at the sight before you.

You’d know his silhouette anywhere.

The light is low here, a small lamp just beyond the open garden gate illuminates them from behind and hides their expressions but you don’t need to see to understand.

Her lips are parted, head pressed back against the door, hand braced against the warm brown and ornately carved wood. Her legs are parted a little too wide, a subtle motion of his left arm and the bunch of fabric around his forearm tell you enough of what you’ve stumbled upon.

You’re embarrassed and try to fade back into the darkness of the small courtyard behind you.

His shoulder length hair, black as a raven’s feather, is disheveled. You notice her hand gripping it tightly as his arm pumps.

A wispy, sultry moan slips through her parted lips and you stumble, gasping your own bit of surprise as you try not to spill the bucket’s contents.

A small splash, luckily away from you but the shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric tells you that you’ve been noticed.

You look up, Lord Loki stands facing you, hands fisted as she hides behind him quickly adjusting her skirts.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lord Loki says, disdain in his voice.

Everyone here hates you. You already know this. Your father’s sins are your own. Nothing can change that.

“Finally where you belong,” the girl says and you recognize the voice with a small shock of pain in your chest. “You smell like piss.”

Lord Loki chuckles and you shrink just a little. More embarrassed by your own situation than catching them in the act. In fact, you’re disgusted by both of them, not only because of their audacity to do this at all, but because the woman whose fingers Lord Loki were just in is also your once beloved’s fiance.

Your former confidant. Lady Amora Antress. You’d once considered her your closest friend. Now here she stands, betrothed to one brother while fucking the other. The venom she spits at you is also unappreciated and painful to hear.

How long had she hated you before your downfall? How long had she waited before pursuing Thor?

“Aren’t you going to reply to her ladyship, servant?” Lord Loki asks, gleeful mirth in his voice as he takes a step towards you.

You bow your head even more, holding the bucket in your hands as still as you can while your hands struggle with the burn of the rope.

Amora scoff, “Pathetic. Leave her be, Loki. She’s where she deserves to be. She’s not worth the breath in our lungs.”

You don’t mean to cry. The utter betrayal of your once friend hurts more even than the loss of your once future husband.

“Are you crying?” Amora laughs, moving around Lord Loki, her shoes clicking against the brick of the courtyard. She stops in front of you, arms crossed over her ample bosom, still exposed more than it should be from what she and Lord Loki were just about to do. “You’re pathetic. The least you could do is be invisible while you serve.”

You say nothing, fist tightening around the rope. Pain shifts into rage at the cruelty in her words.

The wind blows and you can smell the scent of their near copulation. Luckily, it’s driven away by the vines of jasmine that creep along the tops of the brick wall.

She doesn’t deserve Thor. But you know that he never deserved you either. The rate at which he moved on…

Almost as if she’s sensing your thoughts, she takes a step closer and drops her voice to a whisper. You know Lord Loki will still be able to hear.

“Poor little flower, so careless and trusting.” She smiles. “You know it was so easy to seduce Thor. Even before your disgrace of a father betrayed his kingdom, Thor came to my bed often. Such a chaste little thing you were. You had no idea that every night after he whispered sweet promises in your ear of a happy future, he was burying his cock deep in my cunt, whispering how glorious I felt around him. Promising that even after you married, he would slip away and fuck me because no cunt could be as good as mine.”

Whore. Your heart shattered. Finally your eyes met hers.

She took a slight step back at whatever she saw in them. The hatred coursing through you set your teeth on edge. You wanted so much to rip her hair from its roots. If you could gouge her eyes out with your fingers without the consequence of a beheading, you would.

Perhaps she could see that promise of death in your eyes.

She scoffed, a reaction to whatever fear she felt in that moment.

“Now, now, ladies.” Lord Loki chastised, “Let’s keep things civil.”

“Civility? From a servant?” Amora looked at him then back at you, her hateful smirk twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

No…this is her true face. Her long blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes might make her superficially beautiful, but you can see the true ugliness in her now.

“Trash knows no civility.” She spits.

Done with this encounter you make to move around her to finish your duties. You need rest. Body and now soul exhausted, the sanctuary of your quarters beckons like a beacon.

She steps in your way, smiling cruelly as she does.

You make to move around her again. She blocks you once more.

Body shaking with rage, you don’t bother stopping this time as she steps in front of you. Instead you let yourself fall against her, your bucket sloshing loudly as you angle the wide opening towards her.

The smell of piss and shit slices through the scent of sex and jasmine.

Amora screams, stepping back quickly until she bumps into Lord Loki who quickly pushes her away from himself, a wrinkle of disgust on his handsome face.

The green damask pattern of her silk gown grows slowly darker as the piss soaks into the fabric. A dark brown stain sets in towards the bottom.

“You probably should have moved out of my way, my lady.” The casual tone of your voice, the respect you can now fake like a professional grifter sounds so real that your taunt sounds like an apology.

“You bitch!” Amora growls.

Lord Loki catches her by the arm before she can move towards you.

“Perhaps, Lady Antress, you may want to go and change? If what you say is true and my brother will seek you out, I doubt very much he’d desire your company if you smell like shit and piss. No matter how delicious your cunt may be.” Lord Loki’s smirk gives away his delight at Amora’s distress.

Almost as soon as he’s grabbed her, he drops his hand and angles himself away from her slowly to avoid being soiled as well.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you curtsy, a perfect bow. “It was an accident.”

Amora glares at you then looks at Lord Loki who has taken to pressing the fingers of his right hand against his nose to shield from the smell, affixing her with a look of amused disgust.

Amora huffs, “Fuck you.” Then turns and stomps past you across the courtyard and disappears into the castle.

“That was nicely done,” Lord Loki says once you’re alone.

You give him a quick curtsy and move towards the gate to toss the remaining waste where it belongs in the river just past the far end of the large hedged garden.

Ignoring the sound of his following footsteps against the gravel and footstones, you wander through the fragrant rows of flowers.

“If anyone had been watching, no one would have doubted your sincerity with that apology.” He declares, hastening his footsteps to catch up with you, settling in to your right as he matches your pace. “I’m impressed. You never gave me the impression that you even knew how to lie let alone be deceptive.”

Grinding your teeth, you attempt to ignore him. You don’t engage.

He reaches out to grab your arm but you stop and twist away from him, disgust on your face as you stare at his left hand pointedly.

For a moment he looks confused and then laughs once in realization and takes his hand back.

“You won’t tell my brother, will you? About my…meeting with Lady Antress?” Lord Loki doesn’t sound like he actually cares.

You know that he and Thor never truly got along once they were of age. As children they had been inseparable. You’d followed them around and they’d welcomed you into their company as a playmate despite your gender.

Not until you also were of age did you realize that your parents and their parents had seen your friendship as an indicator of good fortune for a future marriage.

As the elder brother, Thor had been chosen. Your heart, having been devoted to Thor even as a girl, had been so full. Eagerly you’d thrown yourself into the arrangement of your marriage. Only now did you begin to realize that perhaps your heart had been the only one truly invested in the promises that Thor had made.

Agony cuts you again, tearing your heart apart a little more as the feeling of stupidity makes your eyes prick with tears again.

“Did you truly not know that Thor and Amora were fucking?” Lord Loki asks, voice devoid of anything but genuine curiosity.

A tear slips down along your cheek as you turn and resume your walk. Lord Loki follows.

“You wound me.” He says, voice low. “Were we not also friends before?”

Scoffing, you readjust the bucket and wince at the pain of the rope as you feel your skin break. You drop it, Lord Loki stepping back quickly but nothing splashes out this time. Most of the contents were currently soaking through Amara’s gown.

You lift your hand up, staring at the peel of skin and the slick of the pink muscle beneath as red begins to pool along the edges of the tear.

Just another wound. It’ll seal and heal and scar, joining the others on your once smooth hands.

The bite of pain gives you a reason to let your tears fall. You don’t hold them back as you sob quietly, uncaring of the audience to your humiliation.

“He’s an asshole,” Lord Loki states, stepping up in front of you. “Always has been. Arrogant, proud, and foolhardy. Thinks with his cock more than his brain.”

Again, you scoff. The irony of Lord Loki, whom you just caught fingering your former best friend in the garden, telling you that Thor thinks first with his cock does not escape you.

Lord Loki clears his throat, embarrassed?

“If I’d been your betrothed,” Lord Loki continues. “I’d have worshiped the ground you walk on.”

“You’re a liar, and just as susceptible to Amara’s games as he apparently is. Does it make you feel happy to sleep with your brother’s fiance? Does it give you pleasure to betray him?” You spit at him, angry at yourself, at Thor, at Amara, at your father and brother.

You’re just so angry. You’re always angry now. Even when you’re sad, you’re angry.

“Are you really worried about my betrayal against him when Amara just exposed him for the hypocrite he is?” Lord Loki demands, a little affronted by your ire.

Biting down hard on your lip, you squeeze around the wound on your hand.

“You’re all hypocrites. All of you deserve each other.” You realize and reach down to take the bucket again but are stopped by Lord Loki’s hand as it takes hold of the bucket for you.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead moves towards the gate at the end of the garden.

Quickly, you hurry after him, eager to take the bucket from him before anyone might look out onto the grounds and see him interfering with your duties. The punishment you’d receive would be painful.

“My Lord, please,” you finally beg, unable to really catch up with his long legged stride. “I’ll be punished if they find out.”

Lord Loki says nothing but strides out through the gate into the wooded expanse behind the garden.

Expertly, probably from the many hunts he’s gone on around the castle, he winds through the trees towards the rushing river whose roar you begin to hear.

“My Lord,” you hurry after him, nearly catching up but then he turns and disappears behind a tree only to emerge before another one. “Please,” you beg.

Taking a quick glance behind you towards the castle and its countless illuminated windows, you don’t see anyone watching but panic has begun to take hold.

He shifts and turns, stomping over the wild grass, the occasional crack of twig or fallen branch as he steps onto it, eaten by the rush of the water now louder.

You’re almost running now to keep up with him and still you lose sight of him when he turns around a particularly large tree. You stop beside it, scanning the area for him desperately.

The dungeons are so damp this time of year. You don’t want to get locked up if you can help it. Illness is something you don’t have much experience with and with your body weak and unhealthy now compared to the grace and flush of perfection you’d been with money and a constantly full belly, you might succumb to any serious illness.

You don’t want to die, despite the hardships you face.

With no sign of him, you move towards the section of river you always go to empty your buckets.

Minutes later you break through the treeline and spot Lord Loki crouched by the water, damp bucket set beside him now empty and rinsed.

Breathing heavily, you try to catch your breath and press your hand against your thundering heart, forgetting for a moment about the wound there and hiss.

Lord Loki rises, turning to look at you with a furrowed brow as he shakes the water from his hands and dries them on his dark emerald jerkin. He pulls down the puffed sleeves of his black shirt, fastening them around his wrists again but only finishes one before he’s holding his hand out for you.

“Come,” he orders. Not a request.

You don’t move, holding your wounded hand still as you watch him, pale skin nearly glowing in the light of the moon.

“Come here,” he orders again and this time you move towards him only a step. He steps towards you once, his hand held up again with more emphasis. “Shall I say please? Am I wrong? Were we not also friends?”

He smirks, amused by your hesitation for some reason.

Asshole. How dare he throw the past in your face. It’s coercion to remind you of your bond as children.

Unwilling to let him get the satisfaction of seeing you be defiant, you close the distance between you.

He takes your hand, holding it up close so that he can see it clearly. The moon is bright enough that he can and he pulls you towards the river’s edge. Squatting down again, he pulls you down with him.

You kneel, inching towards the edge as he pulls your hand into the water.

A hiss escapes your lips as the water coats the wound, tugging at the bit of skin still holding on until it tears free.

He holds it under the water for a minute then brings it back up to examine, pulling your arm so that you shift to face him and he does the same, kneeling before you.

“It’ll scar,” he realizes, but notes the other small scars that now cover your palm underneath the base of each finger.

You watch him as he traces each scar with his thumb, the golden emerald ring on his finger cool to the touch after being submerged in the cold river water for a bit. It feels nice against the heated skin of your palms. The friction of the rope burning them both.

“I remember when your hands were soft,” he notes.

Self conscious, you make to yank your hand from his grip but he tightens it and meets your eyes in silent order not to try that again.

Holding your gaze, he brings your palm up towards his mouth. Heart hammering against your chest, you try again to yank it from him but his lips close around the wound.

A strange tumble of knots in your stomach work their way up into your chest and constrict your heart.

More strange than that, a shift between your legs has your face and neck burning. Ears so hot that the breeze of the late spring air feels cold in comparison.

“Stop that,” you tell him, voice weak from shock at both his actions and your body’s reaction to it.

He does. Pulling your hand away from his mouth to look the wound over.

“The bleeding stopped,” he states, then reaches for your apron.

The tearing of fabric sends our heart seizing but more arousal pools between your legs. Embarrassed, you look away from him as he wraps your hand tightly. He must have dealt with many small injuries on his hunts because he ties the wrap around your palm securely and nothing save for cutting the fabric away will undo it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and deep. Almost dark in the way it slithers across your skin in a sultry embrace.

“No.” You answer honestly. “And it’s probably only because I caught you and you didn’t get to stick it in Amara.”

He releases your hand as you pull against his grip but he reaches forward to place his hand on your cheek. His left hand.

You almost pull away but remember him drying his hands on his vest. He’d deliberately washed both hands. Why?

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I would have worshiped the ground you walk on. I still can, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m a servant,” you spit, turning to look at him with anger and betrayal. “Anything you do to me will be forced merely by the fact that I cannot deny you anything you might want.”

Lord Loki frowns.

“You think so badly of me?” He wonders, hurt in his green eyes.

Your mind flashes back to your childhood. You, Thor, and Lord Loki running to the stables of his estate. You fall. Both Thor and Lord Loki stop but it’s Lord Loki that rushes back to you, helping you up and dusting you off as you cry loudly.

Thor rushes away, laughing in his eagerness to mount his horse.

More memories of your childhood assault you with images of Lord Loki and his kindness. Frequent acts of compassion and what you might have once considered friendly love. Thor’s are fewer and mostly contained to the days after your betrothal had been agreed upon.

“You will never be a servant to me,” Lord Loki assures you.

“It is what I am,” you counter. “You cannot simply ignore it.”

Lord Loki sighs, “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

He lets his hand glide down along the side of your neck, over your shoulder, down along your arm, and then he settles it along the side of your waist, the shape stiff thanks to the corset underneath.

It’s almost unbearable that he’s here, in your shame of servitude. His touch is confusing. You almost ask him why it feels so strange but instead focus on what’s most important.

“Is it true?” you ask, voice wary and quiet.

“Is what true?” There are so many things you could mean, you realize.

Part of you almost doesn’t want to know. So you hesitate.

Something softens in Lord Loki’s eyes as if he suddenly knows what you’re going to ask.

“Were…did Thor and Amara…?” You shake your head, trying not to let the pain show.

“Yes,” he answers, voice firm. He wants you to know that it’s true. No hesitation in his answer. “A few times even with you nearby. You almost caught them a handful of times. Were you only a few moments earlier or later.”

Head falling, you can’t help the tears that spring forth. So much of your past had been a lie. The strength of your house. The friendships you held dear. Your betrothed hadn’t truly loved you. If he had, he would not have betrayed you.

“My brother paints a pretty picture. Despite what he wants others to think he is changeable. He is impatient. Clearly that was his undoing with you. He is rash and prideful. He doesn’t think about what he does before he does it and because he would be insulted by it, would it not be sweet revenge to dangle what he wanted most in the open for all to see?” His words are slow and sure.

The last bit of his speech is careful and calculated. You can hear the manipulation in his words even though he tries not to let you. You’ve known him too long. Lord Loki also changed when you were betrothed to Thor. A shift of his usual kindness had taken place and the sneering Lord had been born. Intent on his own machinations to pry forth the dreary truths of his life.

He’d never been cold and harsh but he became so after your engagement. Thor had called him a snake and even then you could see it. The skill with which Lord Loki had developed his manipulating tactics and the precision with which he enabled them are known to you.

So you know what he’s saying even if he won’t say it clearly.

He takes hold of your chin and slowly lifts your head until he can see your eyes. There’s a strange eagerness in his own greens as he tries to read you. There’s a question there, an uncertain probing as his hand at your waist grows tighter, wrapping around to rest on your back, arching your body towards him.

That strange feeling between your legs surges. It’s Amara’s sneering face that breaks down your defenses. It’s the pride in her words as she’d bragged about being with Thor while you were still betrothed to him that shatters your will.

You do want to get revenge. You want Thor to know that you don’t care anymore. That he means as little to you now as you did to him then.

And what better way to show him that than with the one person he’d hate it happening with the most?

He might overlook some random stablehand. He might ignore some merchant’s son, even if he were above your station.

With Lord Loki…the bite would be as harsh as the sting of Amara’s venom was to you.

“Loki…” you whisper and he surges forward.

His lips are over yours, moving and massaging as you at first merely take his kiss.

He hates it. He pulls back and tilts his head the other way, kissing you more enthusiastically, trying to draw some type of reaction from you.

It’s taking you longer to submit than you thought it would take.

He pulls back one final time and tilts his head back again before this time pressing his lips against your own slowly. He doesn’t move then but instead waits, puckering against yours as he tugs you towards him instead of shoving himself onto you.

Strong lithe arms wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your knees and against his chest. He holds you so close, so tight. It isn’t rough or demanding but needy. As if he can’t get you close enough to his own body and he can only draw you closer and closer in the hopes that it’ll fill something in him that needs filling.

You place your hands on his shoulder as you tilt your head back with his kiss.

Finally, you find the strength in your body and pucker your own lips and return this gentle kiss.

Shock flashes in his eyes as he opens them to look at you. You watch the confusion bloom in them but then shut your own and give in.

Loki’s lips part and envelop yours. It shocks you the way it sends those knots back into your stomach. In response you do the same, enveloping his lips with your own.

Loki’s hands splay out against your back and he groans as he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue slides against the crease of your lip in question.

In answer, you open for him and welcome his searching tongue with your own. The taste of him, the scent of him, it overwhelms and you gasp as you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel his hands drift around to your front, his right sliding up along your bodice until he can cup your breast, a groan slipping through his lips as he breaks your kiss and traces wet open kisses along your jaw, neck, and shoulder.

“Loki…” you gasp without ever having given your mouth permission to speak.

He bites your neck when you say his name. You moan and he licks the spot to soothe it.

“Loki…” You whisper again.

He’s driven mad by it and before your mind can understand what is happening, he’s laying over you, hands moving wildly underneath your back, running along your sides, fumbling around until he finds where your dress is fastened and he pulls at the ties.

“Should I stop?” He asks, breathless and looking as if he would like nothing more than to keep going.

“No.”

“Mm,” he moans and kisses you again, tongue claiming your mouth as his own.

You can feel him tearing away your apron and then your dress. Too eager to pull it off you completely, he merely shoves it down so that he lays spread out along your waist.

He looks down at you, the corset you wear hiding very little of your breasts. He kisses them each in turn, the soft fleshy bits that pool up above your undergarment.

You shudder at the touch of his lips.

“Has anyone kissed you here before?” He wonders. You’re not sure if he wants an answer or not but you shake your head anyway.

As he nuzzles the soft flesh, his hands work on the corset, pulling at strings blindly until it gives way and he pulls it off of you exposing you completely.

The cool air of the night perks your nipples more than his touch already has and he takes both breasts in his hands, pushing them together as he stares to the point of embarrassment.

Before you can cover yourself, he takes one into his mouth, suckling softly to draw soft moans from your open mouth.

He sees it, your gaping mouth, and seals it with his own, his tongue nearly in a frenzy as he devours your whimpers.

Cool air hits your suddenly exposed legs. You gasp sharply as he thrusts suddenly and the hard press of his cock rubs against you, shielded only by the fabric of his pants.

“Shall I stop?” He asks again, hands running down along your torso where he takes each breast in hand, massaging them slowly before rolling each of your nipples in slow deliberate circles.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s almost torture when he removes his hands from your overheated body. But you enjoy the sight as he removes his jerkin, followed shortly by his shirt. His body is sculpted but tight, not bulky. Lithe limbs hard and eager as he reaches down beneath your skirts in search of what he desires.

He hisses when his fingers touch you, soaking wet, and you reach down to hold his wrist not to stop but simply to hold on.

The thought crosses your mind that he’s already had someone else like this tonight and it almost makes you pull away. You’re so close to stopping but he sees the thought in your eyes and leans over you, removing his hand he leans over you, pressing his chest against yours and silencing your thoughts with a slow kiss.

It burns through you, the meaning clear.

“Shall I only touch you from now on, darling?” he whispers, kissing your chin then suckling along your throat.

He’ll leave marks…

“Tell me and I will only touch you.” He promises.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep, Loki.” You chastise him, mood nearly breaking again at the memory of the endless promises Thor had made you.

“I will never break a promise to you. Tell me to refrain and I will. I meant what I said,” he kisses his way up to your ear, licking the shell of it before hot breath sends your skin prickling. “I will worship the ground you walk on if you will only let me.”

He thrusts again. You shut your eyes, gasping at the cock straining for freedom.

“H-How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, unintentionally letting him see how desperate you are to do so.

He kisses you again, genuine and hungry for it.

“Give me a week and I shall truly prove it. Trust me until then and you shall see the depths of my willingness and devotion.”

He thrusts again and maybe you’re a fool for allowing yourself to consider this when he’s got you right where he wants you, but you nod.

“Only touch me,” you order him.

He smirks. He reaches down between your legs again and with one finger slowly strokes from the bottom of your cunt to the top, the lurid sounds of your wetness poignant despite the rushing river beside you.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

One finger. He uses only one finger and the pressure is intense. Sensations you’ve never felt before awaken every nerve ending in your body. His thumb presses against your clit and you nearly sit up with the shock of pleasure that rushes through you.

He adds a second finger, moving slowly as he pumps them in and out.

“Shall I stop, darling?”

“Never stop,” you gasp, still gripping his wrist.

Another smirk on that handsome face, his green eyes dazzling you as he shifts back to his knees.

He licks his lips as he pulls a tie free at the front of his trousers and slowly pushes them lower and lower until he can kick free of them completely.

The length of him is breathtaking. He reaches down and strokes his cock, slowly running his thumb along the shiny pink head before he scoots closer, your skirt blocking him from view.

He rubs himself against you, slicking himself with your own arousal.

There he waits, watching you as you brace your hands on the soft grass beneath you but open your legs wider.

Your eyes meet and both of you know that there will be no coming back from this choice. Nothing either of you do will ever erase this line you’ve nearly crossed completely.

He pushes in slowly, leaning over you as he gets deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely. Chest to chest. Face to face. He grunts deep, face twitching as he settles within you.

It’s so much pressure it’s painful. The feeling of him is so foreign. You’re not sure whether it feels good or not.

“Fuck,” he whispers and tenses then shudders. You feel a wave of heat within you, followed by the sensation of slow moving drippage. “You feel…”

He seems lost for words. Do you feel terrible?

He pulls his hips back just a bit and pushes back in.

You whimper, pushing against his chest to look down where your bodies connect.

“Loki,” you fret.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “Be calm my sweet. I will ease you into this.”

Each thrust into you, his pelvis pushes against your clit and each time you moan, wishing he’d do that more. The feeling of him is filling, strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

As your body relaxes a bit more, Loki’s thrusts grow faster. You smile unintentionally as he presses against your clit more often.

“You like that?” he wonders, stopping as he pushes all the way in and then rolls his hips against you.

Your responding moan gives him confirmation and he settles himself over you fully.

As he thrusts he presses harder against you, lingering for a moment before doing it again and again. The slap of his skin against yours grows louder and he finds a rhythm that has you both breathless and moaning.

“Loki,” you plead, feeling the build up of tension within your body.

“Come for me, darlin,” he kisses you, subduing your voice as he pumps into you.

You’re unsure for certain what he means but your body seems to listen. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he continues to thrust into you. The sweat of his body glistens in the moonlight. The soft silk of his hair tickles your skin as he arches up slightly so that he can take your breast into his mouth again as he keeps pumping into you.

You feel it…so close.

“Loki,” you whimper, wanting to reach the end of this tightrope.

He growls once and brings his hand down between your connected bodies. His thumb presses against your clit firmly. He presses and presses, rolling it in small circles with such precise pressure.

Your body explodes into endless fuzzy light. You arch into him, trembling as his thumb continues to draw pleasure from you in spasms as he keeps moving his cock in and out.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts and thrusts one final time his whole body tight in its release as that same sensation of heat fills you again.

Both of you seem to have stars in your eyes as he collapses on top of you, kissing you slowly with his eyes wide open to watch the expression of pure bliss on your face.

“I think-” Loki says, pulling back as he slowly helps to pull your dress up a bit to cover your exposed breasts. He kisses each one before he does so. “-it goes without saying that I would appreciate it if I was the only one allowed to touch you.”

You’re floating, swathed in golden light, unable to process anything he’s saying because of the pure escape from and yet complete connection to your body Loki’s cock just gave you.

You hear him chuckle. He pinches your cheek, drawing your attention back to him.

“Agreed?”

“What?” You gasp breathlessly.

“No one may touch but me. And I will touch no one but you.” He declares. “Is that understood?”

The authority in his voice draws your legs wide as that throbbing from before is renewed.

Loki’s face twitches at the movement.

“Show me again,” you plead.

“Tell me no one else will touch you,” he orders.

“No one else will touch me,” you agree.

“If you betray me,” you begin.

Loki’s eyes soften. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I promised you that I would worship the ground you walk on.”

He kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your mouth against his.

“One week, my darling. I’ll prove to you my devotion.” He promises.

The sincerity in his voice has your legs spreading again and he hisses as you shift. Inside you, you feel him harden.

“Show me…” you beg.

“You’re going to be insatiable.” He realizes.

And revenge against Thor aside, you realize that being with Loki might be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to make you mine?” Loki wonders, stroking your cheek.

“How long?” You wonder, reaching up to take hold of his hand.

“I’ll show you.”

There will be NO tags.

#loki x reader #medieval!loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki x reader fanfic #loki x reader fic #marvel fanfiction

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lesamis · 2 months

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1810s dashboard but it's niche drama

💛 heartofanna Following

imagine cancelling someone for saying war is bad

🧵 sharethewoe Follow

#didn't expect better from w*rdsworth but some people i rly thought i could count on…… #anyway we will live to see this empire fall. can't stop history lol (via @heartofanna)

speaking as someone who was press ganged at the age of 17 to serve in his majesty's royal navy i couldn't be more grateful for your poem. young men like me are cannon fodder and you spoke for so many of us. fuck napoleon but fuck parliament even more.

86 notes

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

stable forgiving virtuous flourishing in my lane definitely not buying poison moisturized unbothered never been better

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

me when i lie

179302 notes

🏛 mynoseisfine Follow

Settling this once and for all. What does the public actually think about the Parthenon marbles debate:

🦉 realminerva Follow

lol i know it’s you lord elgin

🦉 realminerva Follow

like we joke and all but fully aside from the fact that removing the sculptures from greek soil was vulturine and opportunistic etc, it’s really just the tip of a frankly gigantic mountain of imperialist bullshit. let’s not pretend we haven’t been brutally killing hundreds who resisted oppression in india, LITERALLY BOMBED A NEUTRAL EUROPEAN CAPITAL, and embarrassed ourselves in the charge against napoleon for years now. pathetic ass empire & evil as hell to boot. @mynoseisfine the greeks who carved your marbles millennia ago would kick your tory ass so hard

3661 notes

🎀 emmawoodhousestan Follow

how do i still keep seeing thomas chatterton's final post being reblogged, wtf is wrong with you freaks??? he was seventeen it was tragic and horrible and happened ages ago. he was a kid just let him rest

294 notes

🍎 masque-off Following

callout post for @castleyeah @lordsidmouth @officialcoe @parliamentofficial: they oppress, murder and famish the british working people & also suck majorly

⛪ castleyeah Follow

sour cuz you’re unfit to have custody of your own kids huh

🍎 masque-off Following

proud to be the dad of a newborn who could already rend your pudding spine asunder with a mere glance

187 notes

🦆 mallardturner Following

finished this today 😊

44 notes

😎 chadeharold Follow

why is it always “you’re risking your life and legacy & will get yourself killed before the age of five and twenty” and never how was swimming the hellespont the hellespont looked fun was it fun

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

ohhh my god you swam the hellespont five years ago?? wooow should we tell everyone?? should we throw a party?? should we invite famous hero of greek myth leander who swam the hellespont

😎 chadeharold Follow

@loved-joanna look we never had any beef & don’t have to start this now. it’s cool that you’re sticking up for my ex, you guys were friends first, but just know that i’ve always trusted your opinion on my work & genuinely respect and admire you & would still be up for a collab whenever.

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

yea sure why don’t your lips collab with my ass

😎 chadeharold Follow

on it boss

1009 notes

#literally call me. down if you are

🍂 endymion Follow

sorry is it me or is the assassin who stabbed german bootleg wordsworth kinda…… 🥵

💄 biprincesscharlotte Mutuals

JOHN KEATS????????

2427 notes

#i'm p sure this is the author of lamia thirstposting on main??? help

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

romanticism this romanticism that why don’t you romanticise universal suffrage and rights for labouring people

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

anyone else in jail for seditious libel

🏹 axelaidtotheroot Mutuals

lmao i'm one of the “anyone else”s and i know you’re enjoying family visits and apparently some kind of cushy armchair situation, plus tons of books. try being in here as a spencean dude they won’t even let me learn how to write. worst of all some evangelical came by yesterday just to proselytize & put me “on the right path” fml

8341 notes

🗻 mounttambora Follow

y'all i don't feel so good :/

59 notes

#if you use dark mode...........rip i guess #this was the most fun i've had writing anything in so long. also. if you see the timeline not check out no you don't #(wedderburn was only imprisoned in the 1820s i think & the lamia volume was also published in 1820)#(also up to you whether he's responding to henry or leigh hunt. it's the 1810s everyone's in jail esp if they're a hunt)#romanticism #and just to be sure.#long post

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topherwrites · 1 month

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FIC RECS: TOP GUN: MAVERICK - 2!

Okay, so there was shit I forgot in my year in review rec list. I posted it and a minimum of about 10 other fics immediately came to mind. so, part 2! I also didn't put many WIPs on the first one, but I think currently in progress fics should get some love too. I'll be marking them with an asterisk.

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! Happy reading!

P.S. If I missed anyone, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

(P.S.S. reblog the fics you like, it makes writers happy.)

part 1, if you missed it.

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

JAKE SERESIN

Parking Lots and Matcha Lattes by @withahappyrefrain

In an attempt to get coffee, you meet a grade A asshole whose head you want to rip off. Meanwhile, Jake Seresin is pretty certain he just met his future wife in the parking lot of a coffee shop. AKA Jake Seresin likes mean women, pass it on.

The Hangman Special by @hangmanssunnies

On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.

*she is both hellfire and holy water by @chemistryread

you should take it as a compliment, that I'm talking to everyone here but you.

Birds Away by @wombtotombx

You’d known Jake since you were kids, bonding over the shared experience of being military brats overseas. You were the perfect pair - he was reckless, you followed the rules; he didn’t care what others thought, you were a people-pleaser. You both became the best of the best in your field - he through sheer talent and skill, you from demonstrated grit and determination. For over two decades, everyone around you - parents, friends, even teachers - had assumed you’d both end up together, despite the fact that somehow, you never did. The Navy always had its way of keeping you two apart. Whatever possibilities there might have been, it was just never in the cards. Until you got to Fallon.

*The Backup by @ereardon

No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits?

Take Care of Business by @honkytonk-hangman

The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

When Jake Met Polly by @/honkytonk-hangman

Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

How It's Done (Oneshot Version) by @/honkytonk-hangman

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven by @sehnsuchts-trunken

Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he’s actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father’s new best friend, Jake Seresin.

BRADLEY BRADSHAW

*fever pitch by @greenorangevioletgrass

Arsenal and USMNT captain Bradley Bradshaw attends the mononymous music sensation Y/N's concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream. Little did he know that they soon embark on an epic love story fit for pop royalty...

This Love Came Back to Me by @beyondthesefourwalls

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

I Like Your Cinema by @sometimesanalice

Bradley wasn’t sure why you wanted to see the movie again, especially when neither one of you had particularly liked it the first time you’d seen it together. But when you’re tugging down his zipper, things start to make a lot more sense.

‘cause no one breaks my heart like you by @heartsofminds

“Last times always make him uneasy. He thinks that he should be used to it by now from his track record of being abandoned (willfully or “out of their control” situations alike). None of this should hurt him as deeply anymore.” or Bradley Bradshaw is terrified of commitment and he decides to stop being selfish (even though it’s hard to see).

the periphery by @youvebeenlivingfictional

You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

*Hotter Than Texas by @tongue-like-a-razor

Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin’s baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley’s dream girl worst nightmare.

*flight risk by @ofstoriesandstardust

In which you and Rooster got married while at UVA for the military benefits. What started out as a mutually beneficial deal between friends years ago turns into a point of interest for Maverick, causing Rooster to have to haul you out to Fightertown to get him to shut up. While Maverick’s fussing over a marriage he didn’t know existed, Rooster’s focused on getting the ball rolling on divorce papers because really, the Navy does not need to be calling some poor girl from his college that he’s died in a horrendous accident. It’s proving to be more difficult than he expected, especially when Hangman and Phoenix take it upon themselves to encourage a friendship to become more.

How You Play the Game by @roosterforme

Bradley always loved October because of the World Series. He never expected a mix-up with the ticket he won to bring something as spectacular as you into his life. But time is fleeting, and now baseball is the last thing on his mind.

*The Intern by @/roosterforme

You barely have a minute to yourself after graduating at the top of your Ivy League class before your father insists you find an internship. Your days of lounging by the pool and partying are numbered as he has an endless parade of his colleagues visiting the house. But one of them is familiar to you in a way that warms your skin just like the San Diego sun. And it turns out, Bradley Bradshaw may just have the answers to all your problems. And those answers might be waiting for you on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea.

there was something 'bout you by @bussyslayer333

bradley bradshaw didn’t fall in love, especially not with uptight girls in his english lit class and especially not the ones being forced into tutoring him.

*Ultraviolence by @babyonboard

You and Bradley loved each other, and Jake was just your old friend from high school who you tried to pay no mind to. At least that's how it used to be.

All Too Well by @bradleyfuckingbradshaw

You’re at dinner with your boyfriend and some of his colleagues at a restaurant he chose when you look over the menu and realize there’s no vegetarian option, but he’s too busy with his friends to realize that. Bradley isn’t.

October 3rd Promptober by @familyvideostevie

you go to a tailgate with your friend bradley.

If You Met Me First by @tip-top-cloud-surfer

Rooster confessed to Echo that he was in love with her before the mission. One minor problem: she has a boyfriend.

Home for the Holidays by @mothdruid

Bradley might have lied about having a girlfriend. His best friend, you, decide to help him out and go home for the holidays with him. As the trip unfolds, so does your and Bradley’s feelings for one another.

BOB FLOYD

*I bet this would look beautiful on film by @coridotmp3

Honey desperately needs a photographer, and Bob desperately needs a break.

Robert from Next Door by @attapullman

You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

If Only the Neighbors Knew by @/attapullman

A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

*Golden Hour by @/ereardon

Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Ruin the Friendship by @withahappyrefrain

The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he’s learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He’s determined to fix that.

International Bob Floyd Fucks Month Masterlist

a january writing event hosted by @/attapullman

Bob from Stats by @/attapullman

College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

#jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #bob floyd #tgm fanfiction #fic rec #fic rec list #queue

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musings-of-a-rose · 3 months

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Weighted Blanket

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 860+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Chatting about what a great weighted blanket this man would make and so I dedicate this to @laurfilijames. This was not beta read.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

Today had been the day from hell. You knew it would be, especially since you’d been out for several days being sick. Morning meetings ran long, everyone scrambling to prepare to open, and then the patients? Don’t even get me started.

When I finally get into my car at the end of the day, I turn on the ac and rest my head against the headrest taking several deep breaths, just listening to the vents pumping cool air into my hot car. I just have to make it home. A shower is waiting for me and Will should be home today.

Will.

My amazing boyfriend of a year and a half. Will had to go away for work for a few days and was finally coming home. I know a few days isn’t that long but it killed him to leave me when I was sick. And to be honest, I hated not having him there, sick or not.

His truck is in the parking lot when I pull in and I smile knowing he’s upstairs. I hurry to our apartment and push my key in the lock, quickly shedding my shoes and tossing my bag down on the little side table before heading towards the kitchen, where sounds and a delicious, heavenly smell were emanating from. I lean against the door frame, just taking in the sight of him. Will, standing at the stove with his back to me, casually making my favorite food, his hair still wet from a shower, navy blue shirt stretched thin over his broad back and thick arms, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He clicks off the burner and divvy’s the food onto 2 plates before turning, his face lighting up when he sees me.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was work?” When I don’t answer right away, he let’s out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

I nod, pushing off the door frame. “Nothing I didn’t anticipate. Still sucked though.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving. But first I need to shower. I feel so gross.”

Will sets the plates down and takes a few large steps towards me. He moves for a hug and damn do I want one, but I’m gross. People actually spit up on me today. So I sigh, stepping back and Will puts his hands up, freezing in place.

“Must have been really bad.”

“You don’t even want to know.”

He winks and blows a kiss at me, turning back to finish up dinner. The shower was glorious, the hot water and bubbles relaxing me somewhat, and washing away all of the gross from my skin and hair. I don’t linger, my stomach grumbling as I pull on some pajamas and head straight for the kitchen table, where Will had just set down drinks for us. Before I sit, he pulls me to him, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hands cradling my face.

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I really missed you too, Will.” He starts to deepen the kiss, but is interrupted by the loudest grumble yet from my traitor of a stomach. He laughs, placing a hand on my tummy.

“Let’s get some food in you.”

—----

Dinner was delicious, as usual when Will cooks. It’s not just that he follows the recipe to a t, but he has his own personal flair to it. Will’s cooking can make any sour mood turn sweet. Or maybe that’s just me.

After our bellies are full, we sit on the couch and I curl my body against his, feeling his large arm wrap around me, the warmth from him seeping into my bones. He kisses the top of my head and rests his own there, both of us content to just be with the other. But my day was hard and before long, I feel my eyelids drooping. Will must have noticed because I swear I blinked and somehow ended up in bed, Will pulling the blankets up around me before crawling in next to me. He tries to pull me to him, but it’s not what I need. He crooks his finger under my chin, lifting my head to look at him through sleepy eyes.

“Do you need Will blanket?” I nod, my eyes barely open.

Will helps me lay down on my back, making sure my pillow is adjusted before he drapes half his body over mine, linking one of his muscular legs with mine as he tucks himself over me. His arm drapes over my body, rubbing small circles into my opposite arm. I turn my head and realize my nose is in the perfect spot to nuzzle into his hair, so I do it, inhaling the scent of him. The weight of him on me settles my nerves, the last bit of overstimulation and wired emotions leeching from my body the longer I feel his breathing, his body pressing into mine.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

It’s so tender and loving, full of care and I think about how much I love this man as he gently lulls me to sleep.

In the morning, he has different plans for me and I’m so glad I got the rest I needed.

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

#will miller x reader #will miller x you #will miller x f!reader #will miller x female reader #will miller #william miller #willilam ironhead miller #will ironhead miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fan fic #triple frontier ff #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam character fanfic #charlie hunnam character fanfiction #charlie hunnam character ff #charlie hunnam characters

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fleurrreads · 3 months

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☆ the bet max verstappen x reader

a/n: when seeing this picture my mind immediately went to max betting that he’d win this race even tho the conditions were absolutely shit and he started way down on the grid in the worst possible position. enjoy while we wait for the season to start ♡ this is also my first f1 fic so be nice lmao

“no way. there’s absolutely no way you’re winning this race. i’d bet good money on this.” you’re sitting in max’s garage. the rain has started to drizzle and you swear you saw lightning off in the distance. you’re so sure that with the current circumstances, he couldn’t win.

there’s a glint of mischief in max’s eyes as he smirks at you, “what use is more money to me. if i win this race, you have to go on a date with me. if i don’t win, i’ll give you whatever you want.” he grabs his balaclava, putting it over his face, followed by his helmet.

you should’ve probably been weary going into this bet with him, from how confident he was that he would win. but you weren’t even taking it as an option that he’d win. lewis had pole, with charles short on his heels. there was no way in hell he would be able to get past them. so with that thought you shake his hand, “deal.” max’s eyes crinkle as he smiles.

the little laugh he gave you as he left for the track should’ve been a warning for what was to come.

he won. of course he did. he’s the only person who could start the race at p15 and end it the winner. max’s smile from the podium said a thousand words. the croud’s loud cheering seemed to make him smile brighter. you see him look around the crowd, trying to find your eyes in the ocean of navy clothes. as soon as he did, his smile turned into a knowing smirk that you wouldn’t admit made your heart flutter. damn heart palpitations. you should really check that out.

you guess you have a date now?

reblogs and comments are much appreciated ! ♡

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen x y/n #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #max verstappen imagine

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bellaireland1981 · 10 months

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Special Delivery for the Birthday Boy

Summary: You enlist Phoenix’s help to surprise your husband on his birthday. You’d been living on opposite coasts since he’d been called back to Top Gun and you were ready to reunite with him just in time to celebrate his birthday. An added bonus is you also get to surprise the rest of the Daggers who have no clue that Bradley is married.

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairings: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of birthday sex but no actual smut, mentions of pregnancy.

A/N: I do not own TGM characters, I DO NOT give permission to anyone to repost, copy or translate my work to any other platform or website. Don’t steal my work... it’s not cool. AS always thank you to @waywardodysseys and @beyondthesefourwalls for letting me bounce ideas off them and encouraging me!! Reblogs and comments always appreciated!

Masterlist

Side note: Meant to get this posted yesterday but wanted to redo a few things on it...still not 100% sure I love how it turned out but...here you go!

YOU: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY! I LOVE YOU! I’ll be in interviews all day but I’ll FaceTime you tonight. Fly Safe! 💋

HUBBY: Thank you, Dove. I miss you so much 🙁 Wish you were here. Love you 💗

“Are you sure he doesn’t know I’m coming?” You asked, putting your suitcase into the back and climbing into the passenger seat. “Thanks again for coming to get me!”

“Y/N, I promise, he’s absolutely clueless.” Phoenix assured you, smiling. “He’s been moping around all day because he can’t get a hold of you. And you’re welcome! I can’t wait to see his face!”

“I can’t wait to see his face either… I miss that face.” You said, leaning back in the seat. “I’ll be so happy when we’re living on the same damn coast again.”

“When will that be?” She asked, merging into the traffic leaving the San Diego International Airport. “Rooster mentioned you had some loose ends to tie up out East.”

“That’s part of his birthday present.” You said beaming, “I actually just accepted a teaching position for the fall. I had an interview over Zoom yesterday. Bradley thinks I’m in interviews all day today.”

“Y/N that’s awesome!” Phoenix exclaimed, “He’ll be so damn excited.”

“I’m excited.” You laughed, “I’ve had enough of being across the country from my husband. Especially after the last mission. How are things really going with him and Maverick?”

“Honestly?” She said, “Much better than when we got back to Top Gun. They’ve talked and are actively trying. It’s been really good for Rooster.”

“Good.” You replied, “I’ve been trying to get him to reach out for a few years. He just wasn’t ready. I’m glad he got this chance. It’ll be interesting to meet the man.”

“He’s a good guy.” She said, “Bob and I are the only ones that know about you, by the way.”

“I figured.” You laughed. “I’m kind of looking forward to that bombshell being dropped too. From everything I’ve heard about everyone, the reactions should be priceless. I’m especially looking forward to Hangman’s reaction.”

“Oh, this will be absolutely priceless.” Phoenix laughed, “For as much shit as he gives Rooster for never hitting on women at the Hard Deck and not having any game… he’s going to have to eat his words. He’ll most likely hit on you though if he meets you before knowing you’re married to Rooster.”

“Are things better between them though?” You asked, “I know Hangman wasn’t Bradley’s favorite person… and they’ve butted heads in the past. When it counted though, that man came through for my husband and it’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”

“They’ve formed a tentative friendship.” She said, “It’s new… but there is a strong mutual respect between them. They’ve flown better together in training since the mission…have become a pretty damn good team actually.”

“It makes me feel better knowing he’s got the best pilots in the Navy flying with him.” You said, “I always felt safer when I knew he was deployed with you.”

“Just because you know I’ll keep his ass out of trouble.” She laughed. “I get it though. You have to trust your wingman. This last mission showed us that we can really all trust one another to come through for each other.”

She pulled into the driveway of her apartment complex parking her car and the two of you got out. You grabbed your suitcase from the back and followed her up to her apartment.

“Ok I just need like a half hour to shower and get ready!” You said, “Then I’ll be ready to go!”

“Take your time.” She laughed, “I’ll grab a towel for you. While you shower, I’ll text the group. Jake is actually in charge of getting Bradley to the Hard Deck for birthday drinks.”

You opened your suitcase, pulling out a sundress you’d left on top for easy access. It was one of Bradley’s favorites on you so you made sure to pack it. You grabbed the strapless bra and matching lace panties you’d bought to wear with the dress and headed to the shower. You tied your hair up so it wouldn’t get wet and quickly jumped into the shower.

True to your word, thirty minutes later you were dressed and ready to go. You’d left your hair down, opted for light makeup and only wore a necklace Bradley had given you for your anniversary (a Dove pendant on a dainty silver chain). You slipped your feet into wedge sandals and grabbed your purse and the small gift bag with Bradley’s other birthday present in it and headed out to the living room where Phoenix was waiting.

“Ready!” You said, excited to finally be headed out to see your husband.

“Jake said he’s having a hard time getting Rooster to go to the bar. He asked him after work and he said he was just going to go home.” Phoenix said. “I can drop you off at the Hard Deck then go to the house and drag his ass out. He’ll listen to me.”

“Hold on.” You said, “He’s probably waiting for me to FaceTime him and doesn't want to miss that call… SHIT! He’ll recognize your apartment…. Ok…. no problem.. I’ve got this.”

You brought your husband’s name up on your phone, hitting the call button.

“Baby you said FaceTime.” Bradley complained, answering the phone on the second ring. “Where’s your beautiful face?”

“I know, Sweetie,” You replied, sighing, “I promise I’ll FaceTime you later tonight. I messed up the time difference and I got a call from another school to interview with. I just really want to find a job out there so I can get to you. How about you go get a birthday drink with Nix and then by the time you get home I’ll be free and we can FaceTime.”

“It’s OK, Dove.” He said, “Good luck in the interview, Baby. They’ll all want you and you’ll have your pick of jobs. I just miss you so damn much. I want to be able to come home to you at night. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You said, your heart breaking at how sad he sounded, even knowing you were about to make him so happy. “I’ll be home there with you before you even know it and you’ll be coming home to me every single night. Promise you’ll go get a drink with your friends? Celebrate your birthday?”

“I promise.” He said, “I’ll talk to you later, Baby. Good Luck.”

“Thank you, Sweetie.” You replied, “I love you so so much.”

“Love you too.” He replied.

After hanging up you had Phoenix text the group chat again to let everyone know that drinks were happening at the Hard Deck in thirty minutes for Bradshaw’s birthday. Then she texted Bradley and let him know she wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer.

PHOENIX: Bradshaw, your ass better be at the Hard Deck in 30 minutes or I’ll be at your house to drag your ass out myself. 😡

ROOSTER: My wife already texted you? Lol 😂 I’m changing out of my flight suit now. Be there in 30.

“Alright, he’s changing now!” Phoenix said, smiling, “Let’s get you to your husband!”

You pulled your suitcase back down to her car, throwing it into the back again to be transferred to your husband’s Bronco once you were at the Hard Deck. Knowing you were going to be seeing him in 30 minutes caused excitement to flood your system. You’d been married for three years, together for five and gone through much longer deployments and separations that the one you’d just been through, but never before had he flown such a dangerous mission where it had been pretty much assumed someone wasn’t coming home.

“Not long now!” Phoenix said, smiling over at you, knowing where your head was going. “An added bonus to this new assignment is the deployments won’t be as often or as long. We will actually be getting to do more instructing of the new classes of Top Gun students in between missions. You won’t have to worry about long separations anymore.”

“I’ve done ok as long as I didn’t let myself think about it too much.” You said, “The minute I let myself think about how close he came to not coming home… I lose it.”

“You’ll feel much better once you see him and have him back in your arms.” She promised, “I know he’ll feel better once he’s got you in his arms too.”

“You’re right.” You said. “Just need him in my arms.”

She pulled into the parking lot of the bar a short time later and you made your way inside.

“Looks like everyone except Rooster is here.” Phoenix said, spotting everyone in their regular corner of the bar when they walked in. “Let’s go grab drinks from the bar and kill time until he gets here. I want him to be the one to introduce you.”

You followed her to the bar, sitting in one of the free seats.

“Hey, Phoenix.” Penny said, coming over, “What can I get for you two?”

“Hey, Penny.” She replied, “I’ll take a beer, Y/N?”

“Just a Ginger Ale or Sprite if you have it?” You asked, smiling. “I’m going to be DD tonight for my husband.”

“One of these aviators belong to you?” Penny asked, grabbing the beer for Phoenix and filling a glass with ice and pouring the amber soda for you.

“He’s not here yet.” You replied, smiling. “But yeah, I have to take claim for an aviator.”

“Penny, do you know if Mav is coming tonight?” Phoenix asked, winking at you. “Figured he might pop in for Rooster’s birthday.”

“I think he said he’s stopping in.” She replied, “I’m so glad those two are finally talking!”

“You and me both!” Phoenix replied, taking a drink of her beer.

“Phoenix, why are you sitting over here keeping your beautiful friend here from joining us?” A smooth voice sounded behind you both. You turned and smirked, knowing exactly who was standing behind you.

“Bagman, you’re not allowed to harass my friend.” Phoenix said, rolling her eyes. “She is definitely not your type.”

“I’m Hangman.” He said, flashing a megawatt smile, complete with dimples. You were sure that smile landed him plenty of ladies. You had to bite back a laugh when you glanced over at Phoenix who was rolling her eyes. “Or Jake, whichever you prefer.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Hangman.” You replied, glancing behind him as the door opened and a very familiar mustached aviator walked in wearing one of his million Hawaiian shirts. Thankfully he hadn’t seen you yet so you still had the element of surprise. “Phoenix is right though, you’re not my type. I only give my heart to 6 '1”, brown eyed,curly haired, aviators with mustaches and a penchant for Hawaiian shirts.”

“Oddly specific…” He said, confused, but turning to see where your eyes had landed. You hopped off the seat and moved past him, straight into Bradley’s line of sight.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw!” You called, catching his attention. His head shot up, his eyes locking in on you immediately, a shocked smile stretching across his face. “Surprise, Baby! Happy Birthday!”

“Dove!” He exclaimed, finally snapping out of his shock. He closed the distance between you two quickly, meeting him in the middle, and scooped you up into his arms. Your legs wrapped around him so he was holding you koala style, your lips locking against his own in a passionate kiss, neither of you caring that you were standing in the middle of a crowded bar. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so damn much, Y/N. I can’t believe you’re really here!”

“Forgive me for not FaceTiming now?” You asked, laughing “I was at Phoenix’s apartment when I called.”

“You’re a little minx.” He laughed. “I forgive you baby.”

“Bradshaw!” Jake said, “Care you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Give me a minute, Hangman.” Bradley replied, setting you down, but not letting you go. “I haven’t seen my wife in a couple of months. Let me say ‘hello’.”

“WIFE?” Jake exclaimed, “Phoenix, you know about this?”

“Yup.” She smirked, leading Jake away from you and Bradley. “Give them a minute. They’ll join us shortly.”

You were still wrapped in Bradley’s arms and you finally felt like you were home.

“I can’t believe you’re really here, Dove.” He said, resting his forehead against your own. “You look so beautiful, Baby.”

“I’m really here, my love.” You promised, kissing him softly. “It’s so good to see your face and kiss you and to be in your arms. I love you so much. From now on, I will go where you go whenever humanly possible.”

“I love you too, Beautiful.” He replied, “I’m hoping this will be our permanent home base. How close are we to being a one coast family?”

“Actually, how likely is it that you can get leave to help me pack up our Virginia house?” You asked.

“Pretty likely.” He smiled, “Do you have a timeline?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” You said, “I accepted a job out here for the fall, officially resigned at the district in Virginia Beach and cleared out my classroom two days ago.”

“FUCK YES!” He exclaimed, picking you up and swinging you around, “I’ll put in for leave tomorrow. As soon as it’s granted we’ll book a flight back and pack it all up and list the house.”

“Bradshaws!” Jake yelled, “Join the party!”

“We’re being paged.” You laughed, “Come on, Baby. Introduce me to your friends.”

You and Bradley walked over to the corner where everyone had congregated and introductions were made.

“Everyone, this is my wife Y/N.” Bradley said, happy to finally get to introduce you to everyone, “Baby, this is the squad. You’ve met Hangman. That’s Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and you already know Bob.”

“Hey Y/N” Bob said, coming over to hug you, “It’s good to see you again!”

“Hi, Bob!” You replied smiling, hugging him back, “It’s so good to see you too!” Then looking at the rest of the group you smiled and said, “It’s so nice to finally meet you all. Bradley’s told me all about you guys.”

“Wait a damn minute!” Jake said, turning to glare and Bradley, “Phoenix and Bob BOTH knew you had a wife? What the HELL, Rooster? I saved your life and I don’t get to be in the cool kids club knowing you have a WIFE? I thought we were friends, man.”

“Jake…”Bradley said, unsure what to say, “Come on man, it’s not like that…we are friends…”

You look over at Jake who’s doing all that he can to not smile, enjoying the fact that Bradley has no idea what to say.

“Baby, he’s playing you.” You told your husband, winking at Jake. “Jake, stop bullying my husband. It’s his birthday. Play nicely and you come over for home cooked meals.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied, smiling, “Sorry, Rooster. Couldn’t resist. Congrats on the beautiful wife. She’s a firecracker. Definitely keep her.”

“I plan on it, Hangman.” Bradley said, shaking his head at the blonde aviator.

The night continues with the group playing pool, swapping stories, drinking and you filling them in on how you and Bradley met and ended up married. Eventually, Phoenix made her way to the Jukebox and pulled the plug, silencing the music, causing your husband to chuckle. There was a mixed reaction from the bar to the music being cut. Some booed, upset that whatever had been playing was cut off mid song, the rest cheered, clearly knowing something was about to happen.

“That’s my cue, Baby.” Bradley said, tapping your leg to signal he needed up. You stood up to let him get off the chair, but before you could sit back down, he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him to an upright piano.

“They clearly know your party trick.” You teased, “Come on birthday boy, serenade your fans.” Bradley sat down on the bench, pulling you down next to him. His fingers moved over the keys, playing a random melody before launching into the familiar intro chords to Great Balls of Fire. You knew he could play a million other songs, but this one in particular held the most meaning to him as it was the one his dad had played and sang when he was little before he died.

You could tell Bradley had done this before here because everyone crowded around and were singing along with him while he played. You joined in, belting out the song alongside your husband. KISS ME BABY.. (you leaned in to kiss him quickly) OOOOO THAT FEELS GOOD, HOLD ME BABY….. WELL, I’LL STILL HOLD YOU LIKE A LOVER SHOULD….. YOU’RE FINE…. SO KIND… I GOT TO TELL THIS WORLD THAT YOU’RE MINE MINE MINE MINE!

When the song finished the bar erupted into loud cheers and chants yelling “ROOSTER”. You loved seeing your husband in his element like this. You quickly took advantage of being in front of the piano and scooted your husbands fingers off the keys, replacing them with your own and started to play Happy Birthday. You were happy when everyone around you immediately joined in and soon the entire bar was signing to your husband.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy BIRTHDAY dear ROOSTER, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”

“Make a wish, Baby”! You said, turning towards him.

“All my wishes have come true.” He replied, leaning in to kiss you.

“Hey Rooster,” Phoenix said, gently, not wanting to interrupt the moment. “Mav’s at the bar.”

“Ready to meet my Godfather?” He asked you.

“Definitely ready.” You replied. “Then I’ve got the rest of your birthday present.”

“Baby!” He exclaimed, “You’re here, you’re MOVING here, YOU are my present.”

“Ok, well, there’s more.” You shrugged laughing. “Introduce me to Mav.”

Bradley took your hand and led you to the bar where Mav was sitting sipping a beer. He looked up as you both approached and smiled, standing up.

“Happy Birthday, Kid.” Mav said, hugging Bradley tightly.

“Thanks, Mav.” He replied, hugging him back. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

You stepped closer, smiling softly. You were nervous to meet the man that meant so much to Bradley and who had been like a father to him growing up before everything had exploded. You wanted to help your husband to build that relationship back up, knowing how important it was to have family. Your own parents adored Bradley and had immediately welcomed him into the family when you’d brought him home the first time.

“This is my wife, Y/N.” He said, his arm around your waist, “Baby, this Mav. He helped my mom raise me after my dad died.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Mav said, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s great to finally meet you too.” You replied, smiling, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“For the record, Y/N’s been trying to get me to reach out for a couple of years now.” Bradley admitted. “I’m just bullheaded.”

“At least he admits it.” You laughed. “We’d love to have you over for dinner though, Mav. I’d really love to get to know you.”

“I would love that, Y/N.” He replied, “I’d love to get to know the one making my Godson so happy.”

“He’s easy to love.” You said, looking over your shoulder at your husband. “He makes me pretty damn happy too.”

“I think I’m going to steal my wife now and take her home.” Bradley said, “She just flew in today and is still on East Coast time.”

“Sounds good.” Mav said, “Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Kid. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” He replied, smiling, “See you tomorrow.”

After saying goodbye to the rest of the squad, you were finally able to escape out to the Bronco. Phoenix had already transferred your suitcase while you were inside.

“Do you need me to drive?” You asked, you hadn’t kept track of your husband’s drinks tonight.

“Nope. I’m good.” He said, smiling, opening the passenger door for you,“Only had 2 beers earlier, nothing since. Hop in, Dove.”

You leaned back in the seat, enjoying the air coming in from the open windows as Bradley drove you both home. He had found an apartment not far from base that did short term leases when he’d come back to San Diego for the mission. Now that you knew it would be permanent the two of you could start to look for a house together. You made a mental note to start looking at listings tomorrow while he was at work.

The apartment wasn’t too far from The Hard Deck either, so before long, Bradley was pulling the Bronco into the parking space and shutting it off. He came around to open your door for you before pulling your suitcase from the back of the Bronco.

“Ready to see our temporary home in person?” He asked

“More than ready.” You said, “Especially the bed… I really wanna see the bed.”

“I can’t wait to get you into bed either, Baby.” He smirked, “Birthday sex is the best.”

“Lead the way, Stud.” You winked, “I still have another birthday surprise for you.”

“Is it under your dress?” He asked, taking your hand and leading you to the front door, unlocking it and ushering you inside.

“It is…” You replied, “But I need something from my suitcase first.” You unzipped the suitcase and pulled out the small gift bag inside before handing it to Bradley. “Happy Birthday, Baby.”

He smiled, reaching to take the bag, leaning down to kiss you as he did, “Thank you, Dove.”

He opened the bag, taking out the tissue paper, and pulling out two onesies. Holding them up, you could see the moment it registered in his head what he was looking at. His eyes filled with tears as he read each one.

“Future Aviator, just like my Daddy,” He read, before holding up the other one to read, “Daddy’s Wingman”

He looked up at you, “Baby, you’re….we’re…really?” He was too choked up to get the words out. You smiled, tears of your own spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“Yes” You whispered, unable to get your own voice to work. He carefully set the onesies in the bag and pulled you into his arms, your own going around his neck. His lips connected with yours in a deep kiss, desperate to convey all of his love and feelings to you in that moment.

“We’re having a baby.” He whispered, when you’d both pulled back to breathe. “How far along?”

“I just hit 11 weeks.” You said, then reached for your purse to pull out the sonogram photo you had safely tucked inside, “And actually… let’s go sit on the couch and I’ll show you the sonogram…”

He took your hand leading you to the couch, sitting down with you tucked into his side. You handed him the envelope with the copies of the sonogram from the doctor. He carefully opened it up, pulling them out to look.

“Dove…” He said, shock once again covering his face “Are you serious right now?”

“Surprise!” You chuckled, “Turns out you're top 1% in more than just flying, Baby.”

“We’re having twins.” He smiled, looking at the sonogram, “I’m gonna be a daddy.”

“You’re gonna be the best daddy.” You confirmed, “Happy Birthday, Bradley.”

“This has been the best birthday ever, Dove.” He replied, leaning over to kiss you. “Thank you for making all of my wishes come true.”

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun fanfiction #Miles Teller

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talkfastromance4 · 10 months

Text

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face--Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

author's note: thank you for your patience! As promised, this one is longer! and again, the dress in the photo is just so you can see what it looks like.

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 8.6k

warnings: a brief interaction with police, break-in

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

It’s a few weeks before the Navy ball and you’re at the flower shop putting together an arrangement for Betty. She’s at a rehab center after her surgery and so far she’s doing really well so you’re hoping she’ll be out soon enough. Jake has also been gone for a quick mission, he told you about it just before the fundraiser he helps sponsor at the pier.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the pier so you put on a pretty sundress that Jake couldn’t take his eyes off of. You definitely didn’t expect him to show up in his service khakis but when you saw the fundraiser was for foster children and their home you understood why because the kids hung onto him and asked him so many questions about flying the ‘big airplanes’.

The raised funds were to help add onto the house they live in and to hopefully build a new jungle gym. Some of the children were selling tickets and ran the booths with other adult volunteers. Jake stayed by your side the whole time introducing you to everyone while also speaking very highly of your flower shop which made your cheeks warm.

You snip some of the stems of the gladiolas you are working on smiling at the memory of that day and one little girl who kept running up to Jake–she had to be at least eight years old–showing him all the prizes she won.

As the sun was setting, the kids were leaving and that little girl came up one last time. You found out her name was Zara when Jake greeted her by squatting on the ground. She whispered something in his ear, he nodded then turned to you.

“Zara wants to give you something,” he smiled.

“Me?” you brightened and knelt down to her height. She hands you a plush flower with a smiley face in the center.

“Mister Jake says you make flowers.”

“He’s right, I do. Thank you so much, I love it,” you smiled at her. “And I know the perfect place to put it, right in my display case.”

Zara giggled then ran off towards the other kids at the bus and the director of the house they live in, a big smile on her face and you could have sworn she perked her chest up just the slightest.

“Thank you so much for today, Lieutenant. Your donation will definitely help us in building a new jungle gym.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Dawes. Let me know if you need help with anything else. You’re doing an amazing job.”

She was clearly flustered then headed back to the kids. Jake faced you with his hand held out but you shook your head.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t charm people so easily like that.”

“Do I charm you?” he cocked his head to the side, his hand still extended. He wiggled his fingers clearly wanting you to hold his hand.

“I plead the fifth,” you sniffed but took his hand anyway.

“So,” Serena hops on the counter next to you, pulling you from your recollection of memory. “Where’s your boy toy? Haven’t seen him since he brought us breakfast a week ago.”

“He’s not my boytoy, but he should be home tonight. He had a mission to do.”

“Okay, boyfriend then.”

“He’s not that either,” you sigh tweaking the flowers a bit.

“Then what is he?”

You’re not sure what to say so you shrug.

“He takes you out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He helps you with Betty,” she starts to tick off fingers, “he buys you and your employees breakfast, drives you around…if it looks like a boyfriend and quacks like a boyfriend–”

“That’s not how the saying goes,” you giggle then turn serious. “It’s not like that. It’s…complicated.”

“What’s complicated about it? You like him, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out ‘cause he’s down bad for you.”

You turn away with your arrangement to box it up and to also hide your smile at her comment. The door opens with the bell jingling above it and Reynolds comes in with a basket of your favorite snacks and sweet treats, a sign that Jake is on his way home.

“Lieutenant Seresin is on his way back from base but wanted you to have these to keep at the shop. I have to pick him up…will you be all right getting home?” Reynolds asks.

“I can take her Reynolds,” Serena says peering into the basket.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely.

“If you need anything, give me or him a call. I’ll see you Monday Miss y/n. Miss Serena,” he smiles then leaves the shop.

“Jake’s a duck and Reynolds is a duckling,” Serena states taking a pear from the basket and taking a big bite.

Jake sent you a text that he’d be leaving base the same time you’d be leaving the flower shop and asked if you’d like to go to brunch the following morning. After locking up with Serena, she drove you home and the whole way there you have this weird feeling in your stomach.

When you get out of her car you hear a loud crash from inside your house and you freeze. There’s more scuffling and you scurry back inside already calling Jake.

“y/n? What’s going on?” Serena asks in alarm.

“Hey Sugar, I wasn’t expecting a–”

“Jake, someone’s in my house,” you whisper frantically. Serena gasps then pulls out her phone to call the police.

“Where are you? Are you inside?” Jake asks.

“No, I’m still in Serena’s car. She’s calling the police.” You’re surprised at how calm your voice sounds when inside your heart is about to burst out of your chest.

“Drive away from your house, I’m on my way. Stay in the car, y/n I’ll be there soon.”

You gulp when the line goes dead, he rarely calls you by your first name. Serena drives a block away but still in view of your home and you’re freaking out because what if whose inside comes out and runs towards her car? What if they have a weapon?

“It’s fine, the police are on their way,” Serena soothes, “I’m on with dispatch. Someone is five blocks away on another call and they’re coming here now.”

Two squad cars show up without their lights and get out of the car. You watch them walk right inside, your multiple locks were clearly busted. It’s like a lifetime goes by and then you see Jake’s truck turn the corner. Without thinking, you escape Serena’s car ignoring her hissing your name and run towards him.

He slams on his brakes, puts it in park then jumps out as soon as he opens the door catching you just as you leap into his arms.

“y/n, I told you to stay in Serena’s car,” he reprimands but hugs you tightly against him. One hand holds the back of your neck. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m scared,” you whisper shaking your head.

“It’s all right, I’m here and it looks like the cops are too. Have they come out and talked to you yet?”

“No, they’re still inside,” Serena says behind you.

“You can go home if you’d like, Serena,” Jake says, he continues rubbing the back of your neck.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay with Jake here,” you turn your head to look at her over his bicep. “Thanks for driving me.”

“You call me as soon as you’re done talking with them, okay?” she holds out her arms and you give her a tight hug.

“I will. Drive home safe, text me when you’re there.”

“Bye Jake, thanks for coming,” she says.

“Bye Serena,” he waves.

She gets back in her car then pulls away slowly. You fold your arms over your chest, feeling a breakdown coming but you can’t do that yet. Jake takes you in his arms again and you close your eyes focusing on his arms around you, his breath blowing on your hair and his heartbeat. It centers you and calms down your breathing, but sadly, your heart is still racing in fear.

The police finally came out to say the perp got out the back door and the coast was clear to head inside. They followed you around jotting down things that were missing; your small flat screen was taken, some clothes and the record player you saved up for was also gone. Your records were still there but some were smashed on the ground and your kitchen was a mess.

“They were probably looking for diamonds or other expensive jewelry,” one of the officers said. “People tend to hide them in their flour.”

“I don’t have any kind of jewelry expensive enough to be stolen,” you shake your head then gasp and run to your bedroom.

“y/n! Wait for us!” Jake calls after you and you look through your clothes again. The dress from Madam Floquet is gone.

“Oh no!” you groan and start to toss hangers with clothes on them behind you. It has to be here, it just has to be.

“Sugar, what’re you–hey, slow down!” Jake’s arms wrap around you, fingers latching around your wrists like a vice until you stop your frantic pillaging. “What are you looking for?”

“My dress! The one you got me, it’s gone! They took that too!”

The clothes in your hand fall to the floor and you bury your face in your hands, Jake’s arms circling around you even tighter.

“No, they didn’t,” he says softly in your ear, “I had Reynolds bring it to my house just for safekeeping.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it wasn’t stolen. Was there anything else missing from your room?”

“I don’t think so,” you whisper.

“Miss, could you write down your statement?”

Jake sat with you at the kitchen table while you wrote down the incident with a shaky hand. When the officers left, you stared around your small house now in a disarray and your door hanging from its hinges. Thinking of other possibilities that could have happened if you were here sent a shiver down your spine but makes you come to a decision.

You look at Jake, his green eyes alert even with the dark circles under his eyes again. Why does it seem like he never sleeps? Before you could catch it, a tear rolled down your cheek.

“What?” he asks, swiping it away with his thumb.

“Okay… I’ll move in with you.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure. This…was an eye opener. What if it happens again while I’m sleeping? You’re right, it’s not safe here but I can’t afford anywhere else. And you are closer to where Betty is.”

“Thank you,” he sighs taking both of your hands in his. “I’m so sorry this happened, Sugar. I’ll get you a new record player–the same one. And don’t worry about packing or anything like that, I’ll take care of everything.”

He brings your hands up, kissing the knuckles, and for the first time since meeting him, you fully trust that he will take care of everything.

And he did. Within twenty minutes after the break-in, he had movers at your place and they began packing up all your belongings. You watched and listened while he instructed where certain things would go in his house. Reynolds was also there to help but he mainly stayed by you to keep you company while Jake orchestrated the moving process.

When all was said and done, he leaned against your broken door frame watching you as you walked through your now empty house. This was your first big purchase as an adult, as a way of freedom of living on your own. You chose the color of the walls, the decorations in the bathroom and now it’s empty, barren.

Jake held out his hand as you circled back. Seeing his hand outstretched felt like a new beginning, a second chance and you were finally ready to accept his help so you took his hand and followed him out into the night. Although, it was nearing five o’clock in the morning.

Although you’ve been here before, he gave you another tour and you saw more Texas decor throughout the house. There were pictures of his family everywhere, he had two sisters who were married and a niece and nephew.

“I’d tell you about them but you look like you’re about to pass out on me, Sugar. Let’s get you to bed.”

You followed him up the stairs and into your room. The fake tree you remembered from last time had twinkly lights that were lit up and you saw your belongings from your old room in here.

“I made sure your clothes were placed in the closet and the dressers, you can rearrange them however you’d like. If you need anything at all, my room is at the very end of the hall.”

“Okay. Thank you, Jake, for everything,” you tell him.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep.”

The first official night after the break-in was hard. You tossed and turned because you felt like a stranger in his house and bed even though you’d slept in it before. Eventually, you did fall asleep and that was the first time you dreamt of Jake.

It was like a dream within a dream, it felt so familiar like it had happened before. Can you have deja vu in a dream?

In the dream, you were at a wedding with Serena sitting next to you and a song came on. Jake appeared in front of you wearing a dark gray suit.

“Did you request this?” dream you smiled at him as he held out his hand.

“Maybe,” he grinned then pulled you against him. You danced to the song feeling complete and whole and just right in his arms.

Then you woke up wondering what song you could have been dancing to that was deemed special for you and him? He left sweet notes for you in the morning before work with a fresh pot of coffee and a muffin that Rhea would make for you who you found out was his housekeeper. She’s a lovely woman in her mid-fifties and talked about Jake like he was her own son.

He still hasn’t talked about his family yet but maybe he’s waiting for you to ask on your own.

Since you moved in with him, he made sure he was done with work so he could pick you up from the flower shop and you could both see Betty together. With Jake being out of state again for a few days, Reynolds has taken up his position of driving you around again.

This is the first time you’re seeing Betty without Jake and you decide to open up to her about Jake and what your situation with him really is about. So you told her about him paying for her medical bills, moving in with him, the break-in. You didn’t tell her these things in the first place because you didn’t want to upset her in her condition but she took it in stride, she’s a very resilient woman.

“Well, Dolly, it seems like he really has feelings for you.”

“But why have me sign paperwork and pay for everything? I have such a hard time understanding.”

“Maybe he grew up seeing love like that. Does he come from a rich family?”

“I don’t know, I just found out he has two sisters and a niece and nephew. We’ve never really talked about his family yet.”

“All you can do is ask. It also might be a way to protect his own heart, and I know you keep yours locked and guarded in a high tower.”

“You really think he has feelings for me?”

“Honey, I haven’t seen anyone look at you the way he does since your grandpa looked at me.”

“Really?” You’re blown away because your grandpa looked at your grandma like she created the universe. “Tell me how you two met again.”

She explains how she first saw John at an ice cream shoppe with her mother. He was the handsomest man she ever saw in her life and she went back to that ice cream shoppe day after day until he finally bought her a cherry cola. They then went to the drive-in a lot, other diners and was told his family had lots of money.

That part wasn’t true but Betty didn’t care, they loved each other like crazy and were married within eight months of first meeting.

“Give Jake a chance, Dolly.”

“But what about–”

“Stop thinking and go with what you feel. Don’t think, do what your heart tells you. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

“When does he come home?”

“Tonight I think,” you sigh looking at your Apple watch. It was a ‘Welcome Home’ gift from him that was placed on your nightstand a few days after you moved in. You appreciated the discreet way he gave it and it did come in handy while you were at the shop working.

“And when is the Navy ball?”

“This Saturday. I’m so nervous, grandma. What if I make a fool of myself in front of his squad?”

“I’m sure you won’t, and I’m sure Jake will be by your side the whole time.”

She dozes off after that. You kiss her cheek and then go home. You hear splashing as you get out of the car in the driveway and you notice Jake’s truck is parked in the middle garage. Your heart leaps knowing he’s home.

“Have a good night, Reynolds,” you smile to him with the window rolled down. He winks then pulls out of the driveway and you head inside.

It’s dark in the house except for the underlights of the cabinets in the kitchen. The back door is slid open and you hear more splashing. You find Jake doing laps in the pool, his body aglow in the aquamarine lights. You watch him glide under the water fluidly for two laps, coming up halfway each time to catch a breath then descending into the water again.

You kick off your shoes, stepping carefully to one end of the pool while he’s at the other and wait until he comes to the halfway mark for air.

“Welcome home,” you call as soon as his head pops up. His eyes open and he smiles widely at you.

He swims to you quickly then stops in front of your legs that you’re lightly kicking in the water. He grabs hold of your moving ankles rubbing the inside of them with his thumbs.

“You’ve no idea how much I like hearing you say that, Sugar,” he pants, catching his breath from the swim.

“Feels like home when you’re here. When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago,” his fingers tickle up and down your calves now. It gives you goosebumps. “Were you with Betty?”

“Mhm.”

The tickling of his fingers feels nice and it’s taking all your concentration to focus on your breathing.

“How is she?”

“Good. Still in pain and tired. She says hello.”

“I’ll come with you when you go see her again.”

“She’ll like that. How come you’re swimming?”

“It helps clear my head,” he lowers his head into the water and blows bubbles. “You can join me if you want. Birthday suits are highly recommended.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah?” you laugh then scratch your nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying. Do you want a pedicure?”

“Are you offering?”

“To pay, yes,” he nods, then tickles your toes.

“Jake! That tickles!” you shriek, jerking your legs but he keeps tickling. The quick movements of your legs makes water splash on your shorts and shirt then you’re both laughing.

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he chortles. He stops tickling but keeps his grip on your ankles, his thumbs returning to the soft circles between your feet and along the arch.

He cocks his head to the side gazing up at you. Whenever he cocks his head that means trouble.

“Do you make those sounds just when you’re being tickled or from…other activities?”

“Other activities?” it’s your turn to cock your head.

“Nevermind, Sugar,” he shakes his head, lips quivering into a smirk. Then he rests his chin on your knee. “You’re just tempting me, that’s all.”

“Tempting you? How? I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s the worst part. You don’t even realize…I can only imagine what it’d be like if you were actively trying to tempt me. I’m already a goner.”

He’s staring at you with those hypnotic green eyes, he rolls his head so his cheek is pressed to your kneecap. His breath is warm on your skin and his hands continue to dance up and down your legs, going higher and slower each time.

“I know what you mean.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could even think to stop. You clap your hand over your lips hoping he didn’t hear it but of course he did because now he’s smirking.

“Yeah? Are you saying I tempt you, Sugar?”

“I’m saying…I…” you suck in a gasp when he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. His eyes still laser focused on you as he did so. “I-I understand what you mean.”

“That’s all?” he moves to your left knee, kissing you there as well. “Is this okay?”

His hands are on your calves and he pulls your legs apart a bit. You nod at his question. So with his lips still pressed to your knee, he gives small kisses around the circumference. They feel like little fish kisses, small pulses of his lips on your skin. He does the same thing to your right knee then he’s pulling himself out from the water to his full height.

Water droplets cascade down his body, your eyes follow one that rolls down his cheek and jawline onto his neck then over his chest and toned stomach before disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. You gulp, this is the first time you’ve seen him shirtless and what a sight it is. He’s standing between your opened legs and you feel his hip bones, your toes grazing against his calves under the water. This is the closest skin on skin contact you’ve had with him ever.

“Give me the word, Sugar,” his voice pulls your gaze back up to his eyes. He steps closer, crowding your space with his arms. His fingers slide up your thighs then rests his palms on the concrete beside you. “And I’m all yours.”

His pelvis is pressed against yours now, you can feel the coolness of the pool water but also the warmth radiating from his body and your head is spinning. Being this close to him is making your clothes wet and you clench your thighs.

“I…”

“Remember what I said at our first dinner together? How I said I could have pleasured you in your pretty flower shop?”

All you can do is nod because of course you remember it.

“Good. I gotta get out now, though. I’m all pruny, see?” he holds his hand up between you, his fingertips grazing the side of your breast as he does so.

You don’t even have time to look down and see because he’s backing away. A braver version of you would yank him back between your legs and kiss him, asking–no–begging him to show you exactly what he meant about pleasuring you. But you’re not at that brave version yet so you watch him walk through the water and use the steps to get out.

You have a nice few of his back muscles flexing as he runs his fingers through his wet hair. Your stomach flutters and you’re wondering how he could be so damn attractive. Jake pads across the concrete until he’s in front of you, his hand held out. You take it, feeling the water run down your arm as he helps you stand up.

“Want to watch a movie and order takeout?”

Will you be home for dinner tonight?” Jake asks Friday morning while you’re gathering your coffee and muffin. He’s sitting at the island with his tablet reading the news.

“Probably not. I’ve still got a bunch to do for this wedding tomorrow,” you sigh. Rhea hands you our lunch bag. “Thanks Rhea.”

“I added another muffin for dessert,” she smiles then picks up her cleaning supplies and heads into the dining room.

“You’ve been coming home late every night, last night I didn’t hear you until almost one a.m….” he frowns and crosses his arms.

“Yeah, it’s a big order. Me and Serena are working around the clock with Dom and Brynne helping out when they can. They’ve been working on a funeral arrangement.”

“Do you have to set it up for the wedding tomorrow?”

“Nope, they’ll take care of it. They know I’ve got the Navy ball with you tomorrow,” you smile then try to stifle a yawn but it escapes. You feel even more tired when the yawn finishes.

He stands up from his side of the island moving in front of you, bending a little to peer at your face more closely. His palms cup your cheeks as his thumbs brush under your eyes.

“How much sleep have you gotten?”

“I dunno,” you shrug and try to suppress another yawn. “Maybe five hours?”

“Five hours all week?”

“No, five hours last night. My mind kept me up on what I all needed to finish today.”

“You need your sleep, Sugar,” his fingers thread in your hair massaging the base of your neck. You let out a contented sigh.

“I’ll get it when the wedding’s done and Betty’s out of rehab. I told her we’d see her tomorrow before the ball, she wants to see my dress.”

“I’ll make sure we head there first before we go to the party,” he smiles and continues massaging your neck. “I set up a mani pedi for you tomorrow at eleven. Would you like me to call someone to do hair and makeup for you or would you like to do that yourself?”

“You have a hair and makeup person?” you tease but you’re feeling so relaxed with his neck massage.

“Yes, I do,” he smiles.

“Sure, that could be fun. Then I know I won’t look like a clown.”

“You never look like a clown. Promise me you’ll take an hour lunch today?”

“I’ll try.”

“You drive me crazy,” he sighs and removes his fingers from your neck.

“You do give good massages,” you turn your neck from side to side.

“That wasn’t even the full experience, darlin’. Have a good day at work.”

At midnight, you heard rumbling outside and then seconds later rain was downpouring on the windows. You sigh as you mark down on your clipboard a final count of the centerpieces in the fridge. You sent Reynolds home hours ago telling him you’d catch the bus promising you wouldn’t be too late. You broke that promise but you wanted to make sure the wedding arrangements were perfect because it was a shotgun wedding and the couple was desperate.

They insisted on paying double for the short notice and thankfully their request wasn’t anything too crazy. Lots of roses and lilies with pearls added throughout. Serena called it at eleven and you let Brynne and Dom go home early since they’ll be up early to set up for the wedding.

Being alone in the shop was your favorite because then you could crank your music up to as loud as you wanted without disturbing anyone.

Your watch started to vibrate and when you looked to see who was calling, an instant smile appeared because it was Jake.

“You’re up late,” you answer when you pick up your phone.

“Because you’re not home. Are you almost done?”

“Almost, just have to finish cleaning things up and I’ll be home. But it started raining and I don’t want to walk in the rain to the bus stop…”

“No need for the bus stop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you open the door? I’m getting soaked.”

Your mouth opens in confusion and you look to the front door where sure enough, Jake is standing there getting drenched by the onslaught of rain. You run to the front of the shop and unlock the door, Jake rushes in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Reynolds told me you sent him home and when I saw the forecast I didn’t want you walking in the rain at midnight. Especially after what happened at your house. And,” he holds up a wet to-go bag. “I brought you dinner.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to–I mean, thank you,” you smile taking the wet bag from him. “I have some towels in the back, I’ll go get them so you can dry off. Alexa, turn the volume down to three.”

You set the bag on your desk then open the door to the bathroom where you have fluffy towels. You wash your hands so much throughout the day you want to have a soft way to dry them off.

When you walk back out, Jake has lifted his hoodie off and because of the rain, it caused his t-shirt to cling to it. You got another great peek at his tanned and toned stomach, a happy trail disappearing into his jeans.

Pull yourself together, you scolded yourself.

“Here you go,” you hold out the towels to him. He uses it for his hair immediately, scrubbing at it fiercely. His hair is sticking up in all directions when he’s finished and you giggle.

“You finish cleaning up and I’ll put the spread out,” he says.

“Okay, the bag is on my desk in the back. There’s a mini fridge with soda and water.”

“I actually brought some wine. Thought you might like it after your busy week.”

“Wine sounds wonderful,” you smile.

He sidles past you behind the counter, your chests bumping and he pauses.

“Hi, by the way,” he says, green eyes glittering. He has a boyish grin and it makes him even cuter.

“Hi,” you giggle. “I have a comb in the bathroom if you’d like to fix your hair.”

“You don’t like my crazy hairstyle? I was thinking of wearing it like this tomorrow.”

“You’d turn heads for sure, but I like it like this.” You reach up to comb your fingers in his hair, pulling it down over his forehead. With his hair being wet it makes it more manageable to move it how you want it to. “There.”

“Thank you.”

His voice is sweet and his eyes are soft staring down at you. You’re caught in his green eyes, anticipating some kind of moment happening but then a loud crack of thunder jolts the moment away. He clears his throat then moves back into your office.

You’re humming along to Dean Martin as he sings From the Bottom of My Heart while you finish cleaning up. You sweep away fallen petals and thorns then start to dance a little with the broom when Frank Sinatra’s That’s Life starts to play. This is Betty’s playlist you play for her whenever she’s in the shop and when you spin around you slam into Jake’s body.

“Oh!”

“I’m a better partner than a broom.”

He takes the broom out of your hand bringing you into his arms in one quick sweep. His hand is warm on your lower back and then you’re dancing, following his footwork easily.

“What about the food?”

“The food can wait, let’s dance for a moment. Practice for tomorrow,” he smiles.

You dance around the small front of your shop, Dean Martin transitioning into Roberta Flack’s The First Time Ever I saw Your Face plays and you can’t help thinking what a magical moment this is.

Moments like this don’t happen to you; dancing with a handsome man while it’s raining outside to old music? You must be dreaming.

“I like this playlist,” he comments, spinning the two of you.

“It’s for Betty. This was my grandpa and her song. They would dance all the time and I always loved to watch them.”

“Did they ever dance in the shop like this?”

“All the time,” you smile, “there’s a picture of them dancing on my desk.”

“Sounds like they had a great love.”

“They did.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you had any great loves?”

“I thought I did but…it didn’t work out.”

“How come?”

“He found someone else, someone better.”

“I highly doubt that, there’s no one better than you.”

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head.

“I’m not. You’re the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever known. You work your ass off with no recognition even though you deserve it and you always exude this…lightness. Like you have a shine of happiness radiating from you.”

You duck your head and stare at his dog tags hanging over his shirt.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Look down or away whenever I compliment you. One day I’m going to have you see yourself the way I see you.”

You don’t know what to say to that so you continue to stare at his dog tags, your eyes tracing the letters of his name.

“y/n.”

“Hmm?” you force yourself to shift your eyes up to look at him and he’s so close.

So close that you can see little freckles on his nose and speckles of yellow in his green eyes.

“Do you…” he swallows hard. “Do you want to–”

“Do I want to…what?” you ask slowly. His eyes are hypnotic and this is the moment where a kiss is supposed to happen.

Will it?

“Do you want to–” thunder cracks and you both jump –”um, do you want to go eat now?”

“Oh, uhh, yeah. I could eat.”

You stop dancing, grab the broom and move back to your office. You eat the takeout and ask him questions about what to expect at the ball. Even though a kiss didn’t happen, it was still a very good night.

It wasn’t until you were laying in your bed that you realized why he didn’t kiss you. He said the ball was in your court, you were in charge, and he was waiting for you to say the words.

Or, a little voice in your head whispers, is he waiting for you to sign the papers?

You woke up at eleven Saturday morning and found a note from Jake stating that Reynolds is waiting for you when you’re ready to get coffee and take you to your nail appointment. Next to the note was a peach begonia in a small vase with a couple inches of water. Another small note lays under the vase and read ‘found this on the floor in your shop. It made me think of you.--Jake’

You quickly got dressed in comfy clothes and found Reynolds waiting for you in the kitchen. You’re completely relaxed while your nails are getting done, the hand and foot massage really felt wonderful especially after being so busy on your feet at work.

When you get back to the house, a woman with red and orange hair plaited in a French braid is waiting in the kitchen. Tattoos are scattered on her arms in a random way but they look good in their placements and she has a septum piercing.

“You must be y/n. I’m Inez and I’ll be doing your hair and makeup!” she smiles.

When you get closer you see she has purple contacts in and she’s easily the coolest person you’ve ever met.

She gushes about your nails then has you sit down in her chair.

“Don’t worry about Jake taking a peek, I banned him for a few hours until it’s time to go. This is so exciting, I’ve never met any of his girlfriends before. And I like you, you have a good vibe about you.”

Your cheeks warm at the mention of being called his girlfriend but you don’t correct her. You don’t think she needs to know this is all part of an arrangement. You listen with intrigue as she fixes your hair in an elegant style about the many celebrities she’s met in her job. Who her favorites were and who she’d rather not work with again.

She wouldn’t let you look at yourself in the mirror until you had your dress on so she helped you put it on. As Inez did the buttons you suddenly got very nervous about going to the ball.

“How’re you feeling, toots?” she asks doing some adjustments to your hair.

“Nervous. What if I don’t fit in?”

“You look like a bombshell, and who needs to fit in? He’s bringing you for a reason which is big for him, he usually goes stag to work events.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Never had the right person to bring,” she smiles. “Okay, I’m ready to have you look at yourself.”

She takes you into your closet and you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. Inez made your eyes look somehow fierce and delicate at the same time and your hair! You’ve never felt this good about how you look before.

“Wow,” you breathe and turn around to see the back of the dress, the diamonds cascading like frozen water.

There’s a knock at your door and Inez goes to answer it. Reynolds appears behind you in the mirror, a big smile on his face.

“You look incredible, Miss y/n,” he says.

“Thank you,” you smooth out the front of your dress. “Is it time to go?”

“Almost. Jake is downstairs waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”

“I think she’s ready,” Inez gives you an encouraging smile.

You follow her out of your room, Reynolds’ trailing behind, and the butterflies are back in your stomach because Jake is going to see you now. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you descend the stairs, eyes on your feet so you don’t miss a step and take a tumble. When you’re finally on a flat surface, you look up and your breath is taken away.

He’s wearing his Navy dress blues and this is the first time you’ve seen him in something other than his khakis. His wings glimmer in the light and he’s clean shaven with his hair styled perfectly. He’s so very handsome.

“Sugar…as I live and breathe,” he drawls, his voice like honey. “You’re breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you reply shyly.

“I have something for you,” he says then reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a Tiffany blue box.

You’ve never seen one in real life and now he’s placing one in your palm. With shaking fingers, you undo the white satin bow and lift off the lid. There’s another small blue box and when you pop it open you see earrings in the shape of leaves with small diamonds embedded.

“I thought earrings would be best since a necklace would be hard to wear with the neckline,” he says.

“Jake, these are…wow. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you shake your head.

“I have,” he smiles at you. “Would you like to try them on?”

You nod and he holds the box in his palm so you can remove the earrings from the cushion. They’re cold on your lobes and feel a bit heavier than what you’d normally wear but they fit nicely.

“How do they look?” you ask him.

“Stunning,” he smiles. “Come look.”

He moves you in front of the mirror in the hall and they really complete the look of your dress.

“I love them, thank you so much,” you tell him.

“Are we ready to go?” Reynolds asks.

“Here’s your clutch, it has your phone and ID,” Inez hands it to you. “Have a great time! I want to hear all about it over lunch next week, okay?”

Jake guides you outside to Reynolds’ car with his fingers brushing the small of your back. He helps you in the seat being careful not to sit or place his foot on the slit of your dress. Which, now that you’re sitting, has fallen away from your thigh and you’re a little more exposed. Not too much but just enough to be promiscuous.

True to his word, you visit Betty before going to the ball and when she sees you she starts to cry. Tears prick in your own but you don’t want to ruin your makeup so you blink them away as best you can. She wishes you both to have a wonderful time and can’t wait to hear all about it when you visit again.

Nerves settled in your stomach on the drive to the venue but Jake took your hand, easily guiding you to the entrance. You saw all sorts of good looking people waiting outside, both in uniform and not and you wondered if it was a prerequisite to have good looks in order to join the Navy.

Some greeted Jake as he walked by, using his callsign or just his last name. Some of them were lingering their stares on you and you touched your face in case you had something on it.

It wasn’t until you were waiting to get inside to the main hall that you asked Jake why people were staring.

“They’re staring at you,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful person here.”

“Jake, there’s tons of beautiful people here, including you.”

“But you’re a new type of beautiful, everyone knows everyone here already. They’re jealous you’re here with me, that’s all.”

He pinched your cheek affectionately.

The ball is literally being held in a ballroom and it’s a beautiful space with a grand marble staircase. Circular tables are set up at the bottom of the stairs where waiters and waitresses are walking around with trays of champagne and appetizers. This is a very fancy party.

You chat and mingle with people along the way to your table, Jake making you feel included every time. He pulls out your chair before you sit down and you read over the menu in its looped script. There’s seven courses, each one sounding better than the last.

“Hey Bagman!”

There’s a commotion to your left and two people are standing behind Jake. One is a woman in a beautiful red gown and the other is a man with glasses. He’s in Navy dress blues too.

“Is this Bradshaw’s date?” the woman asks, indicating to you.

“Bradshaw can dream. No, she’s my date. This is y/n,” Jake smiles when he says your name. ‘y/n, this here is Phoenix and Bob.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply politely.

“You can call me Natasha. Sorry, another one of our friends has been bragging about how hot his date is so I just assumed. We’ve heard a lot about you, sorry you got stuck with Bagman as your date.”

“I thought you were called Hangman,” you look at him quizzically.

“I am. Phoenix has her own nickname for me,” he side eyes her and she just smiles.

“I bet Rooster’s date doesn’t even exist,” Bob says. You note his southern accent and wonder if he’s from Texas like Jake.

“You’re probably right, Bobby. He can’t land any woman with that atrocity on his top lip. Is Coyote here yet?”

“Almost. I bet he and the missus got stuck in traffic,” Natasha/Phoenix laughs.

“We’re gonna grab some drinks,” Bob says, “you two want anything?”

“Moscato for her and whisky for me,” Jake says.

“Be right back,” Bob smiles.

“Are they together?” you ask Jake when they’re out of earshot.

“Nat and Bob? No, Sugar, they’re just co-pilots.”

“Oh.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, placing his hand over yours on the table. His eyes show slight concern.

“I’m okay, still nervous to meet all your friends.”

“They’re harmless. They talk a big talk but don’t mean anything by it. They’re going to love you.”

He lifts your hand in his so he can kiss the back of it, his lashes fluttering.

As the night goes on you meet more of his friends, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and Rooster. You met some of his commanding officers, Hondo and Maverick included, who gave you warm hugs, amongst others that you tried to remember. It was a lot of people but they were very friendly and had plenty of jabs towards Jake. He took them in stride but it made you wonder if their jabs did sting him a little bit.

Dinner was full of conversation, questions mainly pointed at you and about your flower shop. Then Rooster remembered you were the florist for Maverick and Penny’s wedding. Drinks were flowing so you assumed his next question was due to the alcohol being consumed.

“How much did Hangman pay you to be his date? He’s never brought a girl to one of these before,” Rooster jokes.

“Rooster,” Jake’s jaw ticks. He rests his hand on yours under the table, threading your fingers together. “Don’t.”

“What? I know there’s dating services if you need a date. Like if you don’t want to show up to your exes wedding alone, or a family reunion. No way she’d come here willingly with you.”

“Clearly you didn’t pay yours enough because she’s not here with you, is she now?” Jake arched an eyebrow, his tone steely.

You’ve never seen him like this before but the table laughs quietly. This must be routine for Jake and Rooster.

“She’s sick,” Rooster insists, then shifts his eyes to you. “How much did he pay you to be—“”

“Bradshaw! That’s enough,” Jake’s voice is severe and the table goes quiet.

“All right, all right,” Rooster rolls his eyes and leans back against his chair. “I’m only teasing.”

You remained quiet during the whole exchange. Did his friends know this wasn’t really real? What has he told his friends about you? Do they know this is fake, that you’re fake?

“Let’s go dance, Sugar.”

Jake stands up and you follow him with your hands joined together. You follow him to the dancefloor and he takes you in his arms. You can feel him shaking slightly in anger.

“I’m sorry about Rooster. We’ve always had a tense relationship and sometimes it goes too far. None of them know. I promise,” his eyes are serious but you see sadness there too.

“Why do you let them talk to you like that?”

“I’ve said way worse to them, trust me. It’s how we are, always has been,” he shrugs.

“Do they think you’re not good enough to date or something?”

“They’ve known me for a long time and have seen me when I was at my worst.”

“We’ll, I don’t like it,” you squeeze his shoulder. “They make you sound like a bad guy and you’re not.”

“I used to be. They’ve seen I changed but old habits die hard.”

“Hm,” you grunt.

He smiles at your distaste then spins you away from him. He catches you in his arms then dips you which makes you smile and laugh. You see his friends staring at you upside down before Jake pulls you back up.

“They’re seeing how you bring out a different side of me.”

“Are you showing off?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs then winks.

He dips you again and you fall into him laughing, this time people around you clapped at the move. The song changed to The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face and you stare at him in shock. You had an odd sense of deja vu then remembered your dream and you gasped.

“What is it?” he asks, gliding along the floor.

“Um,” you move your hand up behind his neck, fingers clinging to the short strands of his hair. “Nothing, just…did you ask them to play this song?”

“I might’ve suggested the DJ play this after I dipped you twice,” he nods. He tightens his hold on your lower back, his hand is warm on your bare skin. Then you feel the gentle circle of his fingertip on your skin and it only prompts you closer to him.

“Why?” you’re whispering now, your faces are close.

“Because the lyrics fit well with how I feel about you. I see the sun rise in your eyes everytime I look at you.”

You want to hide your face at his sweet words but you remember what he said at the pool and fight your inhibitions. So instead, you bite your lip. Jake brings his hand that’s holding yours in between you so he can tug your lip from your teeth.

“What are you thinking?” he asks softly, thumb still rubbing over your lower lip.

“I…I’m thinking I want…” you search his eyes as if the words you’re trying to say are there. Then you heard the lyrics of Robert Flack and it gives you the courage to ask, “Kiss me, Jake?”

He smiles softly, and when he moves his head down you close your eyes. You feel his soft breath first then his lips touch yours so delicately it instantly has you craving more but he kisses you slowly. You’re not sure how your feet are still moving with him but your lips are doing a new dance and when his tongue slips inside you sigh. You bring both hands into his hair while he grabs your waist.

You press yourself against him, loving how his lips feel. You feel it all the way down to your toes, nevermind you’re in a crowded room of people watching you. Kissing Jake is thrilling and new but also feels like home. You feel like you could fly.

You faintly hear a throat clearing but you keep kissing him, smiling a little as he nibbles on your lip. Then the throat clearing is a bit louder.

“Beat it, Phoenix,” Jake murmurs and continues kissing you.

“y/n’s phone is blowing up and I think it’s an emergency,” Phoenix says.

That causes you both to tear away, his eyes mirror the worry in yours and you’re running to the table. It’s missed calls from the rehab center Betty is at. It starts to ring again but you’re frozen.

“Let me,” Jake takes the phone from you easily. “Hello? She’s here with me, she was scared to answer the phone, what’s going on?”

You watch his face for any sign of your worst fear coming true but as he listens to whoever is on the phone, his face relaxes. He gathers your clutch and his phone from the table.

“Do we need to take her? Okay, we’ll be there shortly,” he hangs up then cups your cheeks in his hands.

“What–what–” your voice is shaking.

“An ambulance is taking Betty to the emergency room,” he says very slowly, his eyes steady on yours but you pull away in a panic. His hands are strong on your cheeks and you remain in between them. “Listen to me, Sugar. They found blood in her stool and that’s why they’re transporting her. The hospital will be able to help her faster. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You cling onto his wrists.

“Do you want to go home and change or go right there?”

“Right there,” you continue to whisper.

“I’ve got you, all right?” He kisses your forehead then grabs your hand. “Let’s go.”

You rush out of the ballroom with him, leaving the precious life-altering kiss on the dancefloor and head toward another life-altering moment.

#jake seresin x reader #an arrangement #an arrangement series #jake seresin #hangman #hangman writing #hangman fluff #hangman x reader #jake seresin fluff #top gun writing #top gun fic #top gun maverick writing

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lanaslovelyletters · 3 months

Note

Please nsfw head cannons for Coriolanus

Young Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smutty headcanons<3

Author’s note: Thank you for this cause I think we ALL needed this.

Coryo will definitely always be a sucker for keeping your heels on as he rails you against the kitchen island.

He is definitely a headboard gripper. He will even break it sometimes if he comes home after a stressful day.

He loves stretching your mouth as you moan incoherent and illegible slew of words.

He enjoys tasting you on his fingers.

He obviously loves bending you over any surface.

He loves commanding you around and having you let him spit in your mouth.

He has a little thing for being called “sir”.

He loves referring to you as a “good girl” or “good slut” whenever he’s in a great mood.

He loves it when you moan his name for all of Panem to hear.

He can’t get enough of pulling your hair whilst grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you repeatedly is something.

He definitely LOVES choking you.

He is head over heels for you scratching his back as he pounds into you.

He thinks about you every second of the day, waiting to come home and put you to good use.

He loves having you ride his thigh, but on his accord.

He revels in how good your skin tastes and how malleable it is.

He has the biggest need to bite you anywhere he can.

He loves whispering small praises in your ear.

He also loves degrading you whenever he’s stressed.

He LOVES mocking you.

He loves overstimulating you and seeing how far he can go with you.

Hi bbys, Lana here<3

Please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed this.

If you’d like to get on my taglist, please either dm me, tell me in asks, or comment on my posts.

Please don’t be shy and send a request. You might get picked!

Will post my navi, taglist, and masterlist soon.

#the hunger games #hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #corio snow #smut #headcanon #smutty fanfiction #fyp

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koorminii · 2 years

Text

COLLEGESLUTS.COM — IDEA 686 | HHJ

Part one of the CSC series. You can find this series’ masterpost here. This can be read as a stand-alone, but you may have questions that will be answered in future installations. Keep in mind this is the intro.

There are three things you hate more than anything: 1. Your english Lit. professor, 2. Frat parties, and last but most definitely not least, 3. CollegeSluts.com and their founders. There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything: 1. College, 2. Back alley blowjobs, and 3. The frustrating desire to fuck you silly.

PAIRING: hyunjin x f!reader

GENRE: enemies to lovers; smut; crack; angst; college au

WC: 17k…. fear me! (also broke my record!!)

WARNINGS: reader is going through it and will continue to go through it. there’s no development for them at all in this installment i apologize (😭) reader calls skz sex-crazed demons, she’s very confused but not irrational, there’s not many warnings besides for the smut— profanity, alcohol consumption, mentions of alcoholism, annoying characters, insanely inexperienced reader, bet making, one-sided hatred, hyunjin wants to figure you out & thank god for that otherwise this series wouldn’t exist, sexual tension bottled up as hate bc yn is stupid. virgin/corruption kink, loss of virginity, overstimulation, dirty talking, unprotected sex…, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, teasing, breast play, and i think that’s it…

A/N: hi angels, i finished this in three days somehow and even though i didn’t plan on this being my post for 400, we hit it recently so this is it! and it’s fitting since a lot of people are waiting for this series <3 I hope you enjoy the first installment, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, my ask box, or in a reblog! & lmk if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic or my permanent one which is linked below! i hate writing the introduction to a fic and if you feel like this entire one-shot is pointless i promise it’s not 😭 there’s a lot of drama to come soon but i had to establish some things first!

i managed to make a playlist for this series! please enjoy 👩🏾‍💻

mlist; taglist; navi; | ⇦ previous | next ⇨

There are three things you hate more than anything.

Your english lit. professor

Frat parties

last, but most definitely not least, collegesluts. com and it’s founders.

It’s the literal bane of your existence, the reason why it’s so hard for you to sleep at night, and the one thing that makes your skin itch even more than the fuzzy sweaters your grandma knits every winter season.

Maybe if the creator of the site wasn’t such a douchebag, and maybe if the site users weren’t even worse, you wouldn’t abhor it as much as you did. But that’s a lot of maybes— ones that create a reality much different than your own and don’t make you feel much better.

You were first introduced to the hellsite in your second year of college— only made a year before. After you found out, age twenty hanging high over your head and no longer a fresh face in the school system, you’d tried and failed to get it shut down. Multiple times.

Happy, carefree people, would just ignore its existence— get on with their life, allow people to be college sluts in peace, but you couldn’t do that. Only you saw it for what it was, right? A sex site for college-goers to ruin their lives before it even started. Everyone else was too blissed out, a hand shoved in their pants every night as they watched their classmates fuck each other without fail. Only you could really see—

“Hello, can you hear!?”

Your eyebrows furrow at the voice behind you and your shoulders tighten when a finger pokes harshly at your skin.

“What?” You groan, rubbing the section of your arm that was unjustly abused. “Can you just be nice like a normal person?”

“Well, you’re an asshole so why would I be nice to you?”

“Fuck off Seungmin. What do you want?”

The only thing that betrays the fact that he heard you at all is the laugh that echoes behind you. Your chest tightens in response, and you fold your arms over your chest.

Kim Seungmin. A close fourth on your list of things you hate more than anything else. He was one of the users on the-site-that-must-not-be-named. A platinum member actually, a fact that always made your skin burn even in the coldest of weather. He was even friends with the site creators, and you wouldn’t doubt he had a hand in making it completely. He’d never been shy in supporting his use of the site, because nowadays regular cam sites were somehow uncool. He even had shirts with the college sluts logo in big, bold, letters. He was a part of one of the things you couldn’t stand. A big part of it even, but you ignored all that so you could call him your best— and one of your only— friends.

Kim Seungmin is first on the things you love, and that automatically removes him from the list of things you hate. When an arm slings itself across your shoulders you barely react, simply steering you both in the direction of your first class. It’s too early to deal with your best friend, and especially his toothy remarks and sarcasm, but you don’t say so and simply allow him to talk your ear off while you concern yourself with more important things.

Things like Hwang Hyunjin and Christopher Bang. The admins of College Sluts and the cause of the twitch in your brow. Sometimes the amount of hatred you felt for the two amazed you. To others, they were college boys— hotter than most, smart, talented, promiscuous. They had a good personality, a future, and were people a lot of other people got along with (and their other friends but you won’t get into that lest you pop a vessel).

To you, it’s agree to disagree. In short, they’ve got everyone totally fooled. Only sex-crazed low lifes actually managed to create a porn site. It’s one thing to think of it, sprawled around their dorm rooms knocked off their ass and barely sober, but it’s another thing to actually do it— work hard on it, execute such ideas— it’s completely baffling to you. How can no one see how perverted that is? You don’t even know what to call it, but the fire that erupts in your gut is enough to tell you that it’s bad.

There’s a bunch of girls and guys crowding around them, laughing and hugging and touching. Touching as if they were in the privacy of their home and not outside where others could see. It makes your chest heat up, and makes weird maggots swallow up your stomach, leaving a tingly feeling in its wake. You hate it. They’re demons. Sex-crazed demons.

“God, I’m starting to think you’re like anti-sex or something.”

You grunt.

“Literally we’re just walking by and you look like you’re contemplating murder.”

You hum.

“Jesus,” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head before waving over at his friends. More like his sinner acquaintances. Don’t get it wrong, you’re not overly religious or particularly shameful— despite how you might seem— but it’s something about that entire group (Seungmin sometimes included) that makes you feel like breaking something. Choking something? Crying? Screaming? You’re not sure anymore.

When you catch Hyunjin’s eye he smirks and you frown. Just the sight of him is enough to make your head hurt and your knees weak. At least, that makes sense to you. The rest of the student body? Not so much.

You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and tear your gaze away from him. Your building isn’t much farther and if you squint really hard you can pretend you don’t see Hyunjin approaching from the corner of your eye. It’s a hot day and when he sidles up to you, shoulders almost touching, it gets much hotter.

“Hey,” he greets, slapping palms with Seungmin and holding one down low for you. Your hand hesitates, almost greeting him in return before you slap his arm and send a glare his way.

“Bye,” you grit, turning your head away from him and grabbing at Seungmin’s arm. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Loosen up!” He calls, his long legs easily catching up to your fast pace. “I just wanted to say hi to my favorite girl.”

Your breath stutters the tiniest bit but you ignore it, not bothering to grant that remark an answer. Hyunjin is flirty. Too flirty. Stupid flirty. The kind of flirty that gets girls like you all riled up even when you’re supposed to be hating him, even when you’re supposed to curse the very ground he walks on, and it just makes the dreadful maggots in your system start up their annoying fluttering.

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, even when your grip on his arm tightens at a painful rate. You will your heart to stop beating so damn hard and for your entire body to stop reacting so easily to him. You don’t even know him so why does he hold so much influence over you? Someone like him? Someone who spends their time and their intelligence on a haphazard college porn site? No. No way.

“What do you want, Hyunjin?”

The devil with the long brown hair, and soft cheeks, and cute dimples takes the chance to lean close to your ear, making sure you hear whatever it is he has to say.

“Don’t be too mad at me, bug. I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous today.” Hyunjin pats your cheek, smiling before he leans away, turning back the way he came.

“See you later.”

And that’s that. The sex demon comes to set your cheeks ablaze and leaves once he’s done, letting you deal with your muddled feelings on your own. Once you start walking again, ignoring the stare boring into your cheeks and the confusing pounding of your heart, there’s only three words on your mind.

Fuck Hwang Hyunjin.

There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything:

1. College

2. Back alley blowjobs

3. The frustratingly clear desire he has to fuck you silly.

Hyunjin isn’t sure when he realized it exactly. He doesn’t even know why he reacts to you so strongly. If you were anyone else he probably wouldn’t give you a second glance. He’s sure of it. Maybe it’s the desire to want something you can’t have, or the fact that you aren’t groveling at his feet.

It’s not like Hyunjin has any idea of why exactly you’re so hellbent on hating his guts, nor does he really care all that much. So you don’t like College Sluts, that’s your right as is anyone else’s, but it’s not like he’s shoving the damn shit in your face. He minds his business, manages his porn site, and does it all with a smile on his face. You, though? It’s a miracle he’s seen you smile once. And that was when he wasn’t paying attention and knocked into someone carrying a full tray of food.

Chan laughs at him all the time and so does Minho, wondering if he has some weird kink for wanting people who clearly don’t want him back, but more and more he’s thinking that isn’t the case. He’s always been bold, always been a bit flirty even when he wasn’t trying, and he knows he’s easy on the eyes. It’s not a secret, but your reaction to him isn’t one of disdain or clear attraction, but rather confusion, and that confuses him.

He flips the mic in his hands, switching between cradling it and flinging it every which way. The speakers of the karaoke system effectively drag him from his thoughts as the music gets louder and Jisung spins Felix around on their makeshift stage. Whoops and hollers echo from around them, the rest of their friends cheering at the performance in front of them. Hyunjin can’t bring himself to laugh even as a smile threatens to take hold of his features.

“Yo, what’s up with you?” Jisung plops down beside him, slinging an arm around Hyunjin's shoulders as puffs of breath leave his lips. “You’ve been sitting here brooding. What’s going on?”

“I don’t brood,” Hyunjin argues, though he maneuvers his body so he can tell Jisung exactly what has him brooding. “It’s just— I’m still thinking about Y/n.”

“Bro.”

“It doesn’t seem weird to you?”

“Weird that she’s just not interested? This is a new low, Hyunjin. Not everyone is gonna be attracted to you—”

“I know, but that’s not what I’m saying. Doesn’t her whole attitude towards us seem a bit excessive? All over a website.”

“It’s not your typical website.”

“Sung, it’s probably one of the safest porn sites out there because of how exclusive it is. No one but students here can get on it.”

“Does she know that?”

“That’s my point,” Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his hair before starting again. “If she doesn’t even know the full details of the site, how can she possibly hate it? Hate us?”

Jisung pauses, looking back towards the stage. It’s true that all eight of them have thought about this at least once. They know there’s people who hate the website, who steer clear of it in all instances, but none who have made petitions and gone to the superintendent requesting an audience about it. No one who’s actively been so hateful to them specifically, refusing to look in their direction unless it’s to send a glare their way.

“Maybe there's another reason?” Jisung offers, sending Hyunjin a sideways glance. “I mean, maybe she just hates porn.”

Hyunjin snorts at that. How can anyone hate porn?

“You’re laughing but I’m dead serious. Has she ever even had a partner?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“You think about her 24/7. I wouldn't be surprised if you knew what she ate for breakfast.”

“Not fucking funny.”

Jisung barks out a laugh, falling over into Hyunjin’s space. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over it soon.”

Hyunjin isn’t so sure but he nods anyway, allowing Jisung to go back to the stage for the next song. Hyunjin knocks back his drink, throat constricting barely at the bitter taste. He doesn’t care. He really doesn’t, but there’s something weird about your behavior and he’s more than determined to figure it out. Maybe he needs to just mind his business but fuck that, he thinks, no one is gonna hate him for no reason. Maybe he’s a little too riled up at that, maybe Jisung is right and this is a new low. Maybe he just really can’t deal with rejection well. Maybe.

Minho’s screeching into the mic does it’s hardest to ruin Hyunjin’s night, but the way the rest of his friends tackle him and attempt to steal the mic just makes him laugh, leaving a warm feeling in his chest. This is all he needs— his friends and a good drink to put a smile on his face. And the college porn site he worked very hard on, of course.

The group only gets through a few more songs before they decide to leave, deciding to ignore the fact that some of them have classes in six hours or that they’ll be nursing a bad headache for the entirety of it. Hyunjin is one of them. He laughs along with his friends as they walk, and he watches them from where he stands in the back.

Jisung has his phone out and is making a concerned face, typing furiously on the device. Either they’re having technical issues or his girlfriend is getting on his ass once again. Minho has an arm slung around his shoulders, laughing at whatever it is he’s typing and whoever it is that’s typing back. Next to them Felix and Jeongin have joined hands and Felix swings them back and forth, giggling as he does. Jeongin pretends he doesn’t like it, like usual, but Hyunjin notices the hint of a smile on his face. He always notices.

Chan and Changbin are quiet on either side of him, walking in the tranquil quiet that’s always rare for their group. It feels incomplete— Hyunjin wishes Seungmin could’ve come. He doesn’t know how the boy manages to be friends with the creators of the CSC and also be friends with its #1 hater. Maybe he’s selling secrets, telling you everything about the site, all its loopholes and glitches. Maybe he’s working against them now, coming up with a plan to shut them down once and for all, though Hyunjin doesn’t know if that’s possible.

Right after those thoughts trickle into his mind, he thinks about Seungmin wearing the handmade “merch” for the site, and doesn’t entertain them any longer. It would be ridiculous— even for him— to think that someone who repped college sluts like it was their brand would ever work even harder to tear it away.

The knot in his throat that’s been squeezing at his airways since earlier that night relaxes just a little. He’s never actually said this to anyone, but just as much as he thinks about why you hate him, he thinks about whether Seungmin will hate him too; about if he’ll lose a friend due to reasons he’s not even sure of. As much as he thinks about why you hate him so badly, he thinks about why he doesn’t hate you right back. He wonders why he— instead of wanting nothing to do with you— wants to know everything about you. Why he wants to understand you when you’ve made no effort to understand him, or worse, made up your own mind about who he is without even attempting to entertain the idea that maybe you’re wrong.

Hyunjin has lived his whole life suffering from other people's ideas of him, from their expectations that they held with no prior consultation with him, from the perfect picture of him in their minds that didn’t correlate with the real Hyunjin. He’s had his fair share of wondering, thinking, wanting. And it’s disappointing to see how even after all this time, since childhood, nothing has changed. He’s always wanted what he’s not allowed to have, but it’s not for lack of trying.

They don’t arrive at their frat house quick enough. As soon as the door opens into the building Hyunjin feels like falling asleep on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’s also not sure what last happened on that couch. Between spilled drinks and sex that was too rushed to even make it to a bedroom he’d rather take his chances on an actual bed. Chan doesn’t bother to turn the lights on when he comes in, and the seven of them shuffle around each other, spilling into the living room or into the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks as if they didn’t just come back from eating.

Hyunjin knows he’s been distant all night but he can’t be bothered to care as he sends a quick good night his friends’ way and makes his way upstairs. The house holds eight other boys besides them and he’s surprised none of them are downstairs or hanging around even at the late hour. Though, Hyunjin reasons, most of them have girlfriends and the few others that don’t are seniors and probably pull all-nighters in the library or some shit.

Hyunjin doesn’t want to think about that. The year only started back up again a few months ago, he doesn’t need to be thinking about work anymore than he already does. He makes a good living even without a real job, so he’s taking shit day by day. It’s not like anyone else is much different. Most of his seniors are cramming because they were so carefree. Hyunjin doesn’t think about the implications of that either.

The softness of his bed is long overdue and his body sinks into the plush bedding. He strips off his shirt and pants, not bothering to make his way to a shower or put pajamas on or do anything really. He has five hours before he needs to wake back up and this is nothing if not a power nap that won’t help him get through any lectures the next day. Or, later that day rather.

Hyunjin doesn’t concern himself with that though, because there’s only one thing that’s on his mind when he falls asleep and when he wakes up, and that’s what he’s going to say to you tomorrow morning in the first class of the day.

The first thing you manage to think of when you wake up is how best you’re going to ignore Hyunjin today. You’ve been brainstorming, wondering which response will humble him the best, maybe make him speechless for long enough that you can get away. If only those getaways could last forever, you sigh, pulling a fitted tee over your head. It’s low-cut, makes your cleavage pop just a little bit more, and you add a necklace for that exact reason.

You’re not the sex-crazed demon that the CSC most definitely are, but you do like a little attention every now and again even if you don’t get that much action. Or any, really, and you’re just fine with that. It’s one of the reasons why you don’t like the CSC. There’s no reason to sexify everything, and that’s exactly what they do. People can get by just fine without it.

Just fine? Seungmin would probably jab, but he’s not here right now and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You are just fine, but the mention of the-site-that-must-not-be-named just fills your stomach with stones and ignites your nerves like nothing else does. To you, that’s more than enough proof that it’s the CSC’s fault— not yours.

Anyway, today is the day you have to see Hyunjin bright and early, which always manages to set your day off to a bad start. No one should have to deal with him at this time of day, or any time of day, and you pity the ones that do. Seeing Chan isn’t rare, but he doesn’t talk to you like Hyunjin does. He stares every now and again, gives you a lazy smirk, and is generally sexy as much as it pains you to admit it, but he doesn’t bother you. Though you know he probably talks about you. His stares are too knowing, way too insightful even when you don’t really know each other.

The rest of the boys you’ve talked to on a few occasions. They aren’t as insufferable, but they are associated with Hyunjin and Chan and are, in fact, involved in the upkeep of the-site-that-must-not-be-named. To you, that’s more than enough reason to at the least dislike them. You don’t hold soft spots for any of them, except maybe Felix who seems way too sweet to be a sex demon, but then again, it’s always the nice ones.

Besides, it doesn’t matter what they say to you or don’t say, or if they look at you or not, or if they even know you exist. It really doesn’t matter. You shake the thoughts from your head vigorously, ashamed at the fact that you spent the first hour of your morning on them. It’s unbecoming of you. It’s good to remind yourself not to actively concern yourself with any of them, and simply fight for the site’s demolition like you’ve been doing.

Seungmin says you have no life, but Seungmin also wears T-shirts with cartoonish, glittery pink boobs and the site’s name in glittery cursive letters. You don’t think Seungmin should have an opinion.

The last time you attempted to do anything about the site was roughly two months ago, a month after school started back. You took your time to settle in, fall into a routine, and get your work and classes in order before resuming your mission. It was arduous, brainstorming and juggling school work, but it was your responsibility since no one else would work hard enough.

A quick shuffle through any of your things would tell people you were a perfectionist— articulate in your placement of items and the way you did things. Even taking the time to plan certain outings to a T, determined to make sure everything goes well. It’s not a secret how obsessive you get over things and how uncomfortable or incomplete you feel when things don’t go your way, when you have to follow someone else’s idea of how things should work. It’s the reason why most people don’t get along with you because to them you’re too controlling, too compulsive and dominating.

When you were a child that fact had bothered you. It was confusing— that was just your nature, and you wouldn’t have survived your childhood without it based on the way your parents lived. When kids would shun you, treat you like something sticky at the bottom of their shoe, it hurt your young heart. You felt apologetic simply for acting the way you always felt like you should act, for doing the things that left you satisfied after. Now, in college, no one demands classmates to get along, no one can shun you in the cafeteria and force you to eat in the library. If they don’t like you it’s fine with you, frankly it doesn’t matter. You have one goal and one goal only, and once that’s over with you can move on.

When you step out of your dorm the sun is blinding, shining down with unforgiving rays of light. All you can do is squint, tilt your head down a little and wish you had a hat. The walk to the Art’s building is long, but feels longer with how warm it is. The heat shimmies its way under your clothes and into your skin, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

The scenery on the walk there is always breathtaking though, the pavement that makes up the pathway to the building is closed in by blades of grass that have been cut and trimmed to perfection. Rocks make up the border between them— large smooth stones that vary in size but are more or less the same oval shape. There’s an entire garden full of all types of flowers, Gardenias, Lilies, Irises, Tulips, and even some you can’t name. At the entrance of the building there are bright lights that illuminate at least 25 feet in front of it at night, and wide hedges that have been designed to look like swans, their necks curved in a way that if they were moved next to each other they’d be forming a heart. White flowers grow inside the hedges serving to make the entire scene look more beautiful, and as much as you hate walking there, the view is unmatched.

The Art building has always been your safe haven, Art in general being your home away from home. It took a long time for you to feel comfortable studying it— always caught up in the what if. What if you can’t make a living from it? What if you end up not liking it as you grow older? What if it’s not a sustainable career? Questions that still plague you often, and stop you from putting as much of your heart in it as you’d wish. These classes are somewhat self-indulgent. A way for you to escape from the hectic mess that is your life, away from the stress of work, from the anxiety of what comes next, and from the infuriating instances that continue without your control— away from the things you can’t control so you can run to things you can. So imagine your horror when you found out Hwang Hyunjin was in the same class as you. At the same time. Doing the same thing.

It felt like your escape wasn’t yours anymore, and that the stress from your day followed you everywhere you went. It wasn’t enough for Hyunjin to pester you often— he had to be everywhere you were too.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, setting your shoulders and regain the poise you take pride in– carrying yourself with the confidence you wish you had. It doesn’t take long for you to make your way to the entrance of the building, as you walk, having been kissed by the scorching light of the sun and brushed against by dewy blades of grass. It feels surreal and staggering to be outside alone so early in the morning, yet peaceful, for you know that it will be long before you get this chance again.

“Bug!”

Oh no. no no no. You walk faster, hoping to make it inside before Hyunjin can catch up to you. Hyunjin is never this early. He either comes right on time or late to the frustration of your teachers and peers although no one would ever say it to his face. You can hear his feet against the pavement louder and louder as he comes closer to you, catching up just when you take the first step up the stairs to the entrance.

“You didn’t hear me, bug?”

“Stop calling me bug.”

“Sorry, bug,” Hyunjin laughs, putting a heavy arm over your shoulders and bringing you closer.

You roll your eyes so hard it feels like they’re gonna stick. Maybe they should so you don’t ever have to see Hyunjin again. Maybe he’d think you look scary like that, your eyes rolled up forever. Maybe then he’d leave you alone.

Hyunjin is annoying. He always acts like you’re his friend, but you know it’s fake because why would he want to be friends with you, someone who hates everything he works hard on and hates him as well to an extent. It seems overly fake and forced to you, so you don’t ever entertain it. The last thing you need is to fall for it and then be made out to look like an idiot when he eventually embarrasses you.

“It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early, pretty.”

“It’s always too early to be dealing with you,” You groan, wrenching his arm away from where it laid over your shoulders. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Hyunjin asks, seemingly unaffected by your attitude towards him. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised up to his chin in a shrug. “I like talking to you.”

You snort, looking up at him with eyebrows raised, “You like talking to me, the one person— possibly in this world— who absolutely hates you, and barely spares you the time of day?” You ask, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’m sure this is the longest we’ve ever had a conversation, but nice try.” You squeeze his cheeks, hard, and when he swats your hand away you can’t help the giggle that you let out. If his cheeks felt like dough under your fingers you’re choosing to ignore that, wiping a hand on your jeans with way more intensity than needed.

“But see,” Hyunjin starts again, “We’re having a conversation right now and neither of us wanna choke each other.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m barely resisting the urge to punt your head like a baseball.”

It’s silent for a moment before you both burst out into a fit of giggles. Hyunjin braces himself against his knees as he laughs, his hair falling over his face as he does, and you’re not much better— staggering where you stand to laugh with him. It only takes a few seconds for you both to calm down, and slowly the reality of what happened catches up to you.

“Do you even punt baseballs?” Hyunjin snorts, and you just laugh harder.

“I don’t know, Hyunjin, if you haven’t noticed I’m at the arts building not sports.” You wheeze, fighting through another laugh. “Now I’m just imagining your head flying over the gardens.”

Hyunjin lets out another chuckle but shivers a bit at the thought. He waits for you to calm down, your giggles turning into small huffs. A hint of a smile still remains on your cheeks, and the sun shines down so strongly on your features it feels like he’s seeing an angel— like divinity right in front of his eyes. When you straighten up, he can see every movement. The way you position your bag upright, the way a bit of your gums poke out from your lips. Your lips, soft, glossy, and look the most perfect in a smile. He can see the way your eyebrows lose the tension from your laughing fit, the way the crinkle of your eyes lessen as your face relaxes. He can see everything, so he can also see when your lips fall back into a firm line, when your eyebrows go back to that angry stance they always hold when you’re around him. The way your shoulders stiffen, and the grip on your bag tightens. He can see everything, and he reminds himself the only time you laugh is when he’s the butt of the joke.

“I’m going to class,” You murmur, walking the rest of the way up the stairs and into the building without looking back or waiting for him to respond. Though Hyunjin wonders what he would’ve even said.

I’ll come with you.

We can sit together.

No, you both can’t do anything together, and more and more Hyunjin wonders why he even wants to.

“You were laughing with Hwang Hyunjin? The sex demon??” Your friend hisses from next to you, stringing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Yes, me, Jieun.” You huff. “I can barely believe it either. What did he do to me? I hate him, I can’t show weakness by laughing around him.”

“Honey,” Jieun laughs, leaning towards you, “You can laugh. Honestly the fact that you ran away after is hilarious.”

“I didn’t run away.”

“You ran away.”

“I didn’t run.”

Jieun settles on you with a heavy stare, face slack, and you roll your eyes. “Fine, I walked away.”

“I don’t know how either of you take each other seriously.”

“I don’t take him seriously.”

“Yeah you do, babe. You refuse to laugh around him. That’s very serious.”

You snort.

“And the fact that he gives you the time of day when this is the dumbest feud possible… I just don’t understand it.”

“It’s not dumb.” You sputter, smoothing your hand over the glossy wooden desk of the classroom. “It’s…” You trail off, staring into the large windows at the side of the room. You cock your head and lean forward, jaw slack when the sex demon himself waves outside. “Oh what a stalker.” You growl, throwing up the middle finger in his direction. “He’s got his little posse following him too.”

When Jieun makes to wave back you smack the back of her head and groan when she gives you an affronted look.

“What was that for?” Jieun exclaims, bringing a hand up to rub against the back of her head.

“Don’t fraternize with the enemy,” You hiss, folding your arms over your chest and staring back at your professor.

“Are you gonna explain the feud—”

“No.”

In your opinion, class doesn’t end quickly enough. You split with Jieun at the entrance, the both of you going in opposite directions, and attempt to reorder your frazzled mind. So you laughed. A lot of people laugh at people they hate. Plus, he laughed too— so why should you be overthinking it? You’ve laughed before, in situations you weren’t supposed to, and this is no different. Now you just need to make sure it never happens again. You nod to yourself as you walk, pulling out your phone to make sure Seungmin is already at the meeting spot.

The sun is still just as ruthless as it was earlier, but a light breeze grazes your skin and rustles the trees along the sidewalk and in the field in front of you. There’s a bunch of picnic tables, some occupied and some of them not. There’s groups of friends sitting under trees, some couples, some of them alone; reading or completing assignments in the nice weather. You spot Seungmin a few tables down, a brown sweater over a collared shirt and cute glasses perched upon his nose.

You take your time walking to the table, letting your skin soak in the warmth and tranquil peace of nature. When Seungmin spots you he shuffles over, giving you some space to sit next to him and you do, mumbling a small hey before knocking your head against the table.

“You’re going to a party with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Seungmin… Hi, how are you? How was your day? No, I’m not.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Well, unless you’re going to drag me, no I’m not.”

“I just might,” Seungmin sighs, “Why are you so difficult?”

“Difficult? You’re the one being difficult. I don’t want to go and you’re telling me it’s not a choice.”

“Because it’s not.”

You let out a groan, a long torturous one that has people turning their head to a straight faced Seungmin and you who’s head is still knocked against the table. When people think it’s stopped it starts all over again, a guttural groan filled with displeasure and frustration that loosens your chest when it’s done.

“Are you done?”

“Leave me alone.”

“It’s on Saturday. I can pick you up.” Seungmin says instead of arguing.

“Today’s Thursday.” You whine, just stopping yourself from letting out another groan— one that wouldn’t ever stop for as long as you have to deal with Kim Seungmin and his annoying, snarky, bossy self.

“…. I’m aware.” Seungmin says, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s making a face like and so what?

“I can’t stand you, I hope you know that. No type of warning, no preparation… I don’t party. I need at least two weeks to mentally prepare myself and another two weeks to get an outfit.”

“Damn.” Seungmin says, but he rubs a hand against your back, lightly pushing you to lift your head from the table. “Listen, I’ll help you. And it’s being thrown by people I know so you don’t have to worry. I don’t think many people throw college parties a month in advance but I’ll keep that in mind.”

All you can do is nod, waiting patiently as Seungmin finishes whatever assignment he’s working on. You’ve already completed the ones you have, the pro of not having much else to do and being on top of things always. Everyday you both meet up here, either at a table or under one of the trees and talk. Read, finish assignments, or even eat snacks. There have been some times where you meet there and then go somewhere else together, rarely off campus but it happens, and you get something to eat or go on a mini adventure. It’s the highlight of your day and you’re sure it is for Seungmin too, but you’d never admit that to each other. You don’t have to, though, because you’re both always on the same wavelength especially when it counts the most.

Though now he’s given you something else to worry about, that being this sudden party. It’s no doubt being held by a frat house, and you have an inkling which house it is. You haven’t asked, trying not to pop the bubble of secureness that surrounds you. You can go to a party being held by the CSC. You can, and you will, and if it isn’t being held by them then that’s even better. You try to convince yourself you really don’t care at all, but the thought remains. Can you really enjoy yourself at a party being held by them? You don’t know why it bothers you so much or why you feel so uncomfortable having a good time around them, but you just keep repeating the same thing to yourself over and over. It doesn’t matter.

“Jieun told me what happened this morning.”

“Of course she did.” You sigh, staring ahead at the group of squirrels running up a tree. The people under it startle when leaves start to fall over their heads. “We just left each other, how did she find the time to text you all that?”

“She called me,” Seungmin cackles, braces on full display as he scribbles furiously into his notebook. “Every story I hear about you and Hyunjin is against my will.”

“Every interaction between me and Hyunjin is against my will,” You counter, shifting so that you face him. “What did she say?”

“That you laughed with him and it embarrassed you. That you’re confused about your feelings towards him.”

“So are you two my therapists now? I’m not confused. I don’t like the things he does— I don’t like his carefree attitude, how he has no problem talking to me like we’re friends. I don’t like- No, I hate the fact that so many people fucking praise him because he created some crude porn site.”

Your heart rate picks up, your hand gripping at your jeans as a poor attempt to conceal your growing frustration. “I don’t like the fact that no one else sees what’s wrong with it. We shouldn’t have a fucking porn site for college students? I don’t think we should know what we all look like under our clothes and I’m tired of everyone acting like I'm the crazy one. He’s the perverted one, the weird one. Who the fuck thinks of something like that? It’s not just him, it’s all of them.”

Seungmin ponders your words, the grip on his pen tightening ever so slightly. “Hyunjin is a good guy. All of them are, and if that’s how you feel then why do you talk to me? I use the site, I'm their friend, I’ve helped them out when making it. Aren’t I weird and perverted too?”

You sigh, “Seungmin…”

“Help me understand. Because if you can stand to be around me, then why can’t you be around them? Or try.”

“It isn’t the same and you know it. It’s easy to ignore it when it’s you. That’s them. They are the CSC to me. A reminder of everything I hate, what I want to get rid of.”

“But why the hell does it matter? People want to use the site and that’s why they do. No one is fucking forcing it.”

“You guys just don’t understand it. None of you do. It’s like you’re blinded by it or something.”

“We’re grown adults, Y/N,” Seungmin growls, “We don’t need you to be a guardian fucking angel.”

“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, just because all you fucking care about is sex or some college sluts, like can you actually be that shallow?”

“Why is it so hard for you to see reason? Do you see how angry you’re getting at me for asking a simple question? You asked me what Jieun said and I told you.” Seungmin spits, shutting his book with a slam.

“Stop asking me about that site. Stop making me seem like some confused hateful person just because you’re too dense to understand where I’m coming from. I’m not confused, I know exactly how I feel. I try not to bring it up because you like the damn thing so much, and you can’t seem to hold the same courtesy for me.” You stand from the seat, settling a dark glare at Seungmin’s angered form.

“Fuck your friends, fuck that site. Stop talking about me like I need guidance.”

You’re not irrational. You’re not. You have every right to be angry. Seungmin is your friend. Jieun is your friend. They’re supposed to be there for you, not gang up on you. You feel alone, so alone in everything you fight for, in everything you aim to conquer— as if the things you stand for don’t matter. It reminds you of middle school all over again, of high school— having people look at you like you were something from another planet. Someone people had always failed to understand. It’s lonely. You’re not irrational.

You didn’t blow up. You’re not angry. You’re frustrated, yes, but you don’t blow up. You don’t get mad. You aren’t irrational. Anyone else in your position would feel the same, right? Anyone else would be upset because it feels like your friends always take the side of the people you despise more than anyone else. Why aren’t they on your side? Why don’t they believe you? Why don’t they understand? It makes you feel stupid. It makes you feel like you have no right to feel the way you do. It’s lonely.

You’ve never been irrational. You’ve always had a good grip on your feelings. Always. And when it feels like the grip loosens it’s always the cause of something relating to the CSC. It’s proof that it’s what the root of your problems is. It’s proof that the CSC needs to be gone so you can finally go back to normal. So you don’t feel like the odd one out. So you don’t have to feel so upset. Because you’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way. You don’t get mad. You’re not angry. You don’t blow up.

You control everything, you control your actions, your emotions, and you make sure to hold control over your environment— of how things play out for every second of your life. This feels like it’s running out of control. That the CSC brings havoc in your life no matter what— even when you try to ignore it, it comes running back to fuck you over even further. You’re not irrational. You’re not confused. You don’t get mad. You don’t. You don’t blow up. You control everything.

The sun hides right when you need it. You pretend tears don’t blur your vision, you pretend that the suddenly gloomy environment doesn’t affect you the way it does. You pretend that the once comforting breeze doesn’t feel sharp against your exposed skin. You pretend because when things run out of control that’s all you can do. Pretend you’ve got it handled, pretend that you still have a grip on things, pretend that you understand. You’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way.

You never argue with Seungmin. Playful bickering from time to time or you two being rude to each other but always playfully. You’ve never cursed at him so maliciously, spoken to him like he was someone random, as if he wasn’t your best friend. You’ve never done those things— but you do when the CSC is involved. You never get pissed at Jieun, even when she’s annoying, even when she acts like the only thing important in life is the new boy she’s talking to— You don’t get mad. You’re not mad now, but you’re something. Something fiery, and everything always goes back to the CSC. You’re not irrational. You’re just the only one who understands.

Right when you see the blurry form of your dorm building it gets blocked by a large body and you slam right into its chest. You can barely see in front of you and you know your face is screwed up into the worst form imaginable, tears falling with no control. Without your control.

“Sorry, excuse me,” You laugh wetly, sidestepping whoever is blocking your way and running up the steps to your dorm. The sooner you fall into your bed and cry this out, the sooner you can forget about it. The sooner you can apologize and move past this weird limbo of feelings. It feels like purgatory, stuck in the in between, not sure which direction you’ll end up going in. It’s full of unsureness, of frustration. It feels like a loss of control. It angers you, makes you feel like nothing is going right.

But you don’t get angry. You’re not irrational. You don’t get mad. You pretend, because that’s all you can do.

Hyunjin is confused.

The last thing he expected to see this morning was you laughing, but now, he realizes the last thing he ever expected to see was you crying. Eyes glossy with tears, a nose rubbed raw, face screwed up into something pitiful.

Hyunjin doesn’t know a lot of things. He doesn’t expect a lot of things, but most of all he doesn’t know how to continue after seeing it. He doesn’t expect to care so much, not after the way you’ve regarded him. After the way you’ve both regarded each other. He doesn’t know why he can’t walk away and say nothing when he knows he should. If he brings it up you’ll get defensive, be embarrassed, be angry. He shouldn’t say anything.

He keeps walking, frowning slightly at the gloomy clouds. It was so sunny less than an hour ago. Things change so quickly, it doesn’t make any sense. He thinks back to earlier that morning, the light that shone on your face with every laugh you let out. He thinks back to just a few seconds ago. How dark shadows fell over your face as tears ran down your cheeks.

The walk is more automatic than anything else. He doesn’t take the time to stare at the scenery, he doesn’t look at the people around him. He barely sees the ground in front of him as he walks, his mind not registering what’s right in front of his face. He’s too caught up in you. Like usual, wondering why you do the things you do, why you feel the way you feel, wanting to understand. What did he do? What can he do to make you feel better? How can he make you hate him any less? He wants to understand, he wants to listen, to talk to you, to be near you. It confuses him.

His phone vibrates, pulling him from his thoughts. It’s chan, texting about the party on Saturday, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He’s so tired, tired of running around for parties, tired of attending to the site, tired of waking up early for classes. He just wants a second to sit down and relax, to not worry about you ruining the one thing he’s worked hard for, to not worry about what class he’s flunking, about what party he’s expected to attend, to not worry about why you were crying in the middle of the afternoon. He just wants a moment to collect his thoughts and free his mind.

HJ: I got it

BC: alr cool, put it in the cabinet with the lock, you know how Hyunjoon gets

HJ: Fuck, is it that bad?

BC: he’s an alcoholic bud, it’s that bad.

Hyunjin laughs a little, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He wonders if Seungmin told you about the party yet and grimaces, wondering if that’s the reason why you were crying. If it is, he’s not sure who needs to get a grip. You, for hating him so bad, or him for continuing to try and get you not to. It takes a lot of effort for him to continue the power walk back to the frat, but he arrives sooner than later, stuffing the bag of drinks inside the cabinet and locking it shut. He thinks it’s a bit ridiculous that they have to lock the alcohol up as if they have small kids running around, and also wonders the effectiveness when Hyunjoon lives in a frat house and is an adult who can buy his own alcohol.

It’s Thursday afternoon but he finds that he’s not as excited for a party as he should be. Usually, he’d be bouncing on his heels, counting down the hours for it to start, and realizing he’s so caught up in everything else going around he doesn’t feel that normal excitement that he so often does. He makes sure to fix that, shaking the unnecessary thoughts from his head, pushing responsibilities to later. He has a party to prepare for and he's gonna act like it.

The rest of the boys don’t get back till later— they’d given Hyunjin the responsibility of buying cups and drinks and shitty snacks while they went off somewhere else. Hyunjin can’t keep track of what they do especially if he’s not joining, so he focuses on doing what he’s supposed to in order to make this the best party of the year so far. His frat has always held the record of best parties— has always held their winnings in high regard as well, and he’ll be damned if he gets the cold shoulder if he’s the reason the party isn’t as good as it should be. Most of all, he’s thinking about what he’s gonna do during it.

Hyunjin is not shy on having sex— never has been, never will be, and more often than not he’s having it. Sure, that may be expected since he made a literal porn site, but Jisung also had a hand in it and he has a girlfriend. Felix doesn’t have one-night stands often, nor does Seungmin. It’s different for all of them.

He knows there’s a few girls that have been actively trying to get in his pants, knows that he’s been trying to get into theirs, but he can only hope he can focus on them for long enough to do so without thinking about you. If you come, he knows that there’s no chance he’ll think of anything else, and he’ll probably spend the entire night just getting you to laugh again. To get you to explain to him why. why why why. It’s confusing, but he pretends it doesn’t matter.

Thursday comes and goes too quickly, and Friday does as well. The day isn’t over yet, it’s only the afternoon, but the implications of that make you anxious. Make your nerves ignite far more than they should.

Seungmin didn’t answer your calls for the rest of that Thursday. Didn’t read or respond to a single text until you decided to leave him alone. Jieun called, but you didn’t answer. You think the way you felt towards her is the way Seungmin felt towards you. Maybe something worse, so you gave him space and took some for yourself, a moment to really think about what made you react the way you did. You don’t think you’re in the wrong, you still don’t think you could’ve reacted any other way and you’re not sure what that says about you.

You take another bite of your sandwich as you walk down the street from the Art store, your phone cradled in your other hand and a drink poking out from the opening in your bag. It’s hard to mentally prepare for things that you don’t know anything about. You don’t know where the party is, who’s hosting it, how long you’re expected to stay. Thought that’s if you’re even still going. You want to take Seungmin’s silence as an answer that no, you aren’t, but you also don’t want to assume that and then he shows up at your door and you’re not ready.

You don’t want to go, not at all, but if it made Seungmin happy then you would. If he didn’t come to pick you up you briefly entertained finding your own way to the party and cornering him, forcing him to hear your apology before leaving and soaking your pillow with tears. But you don’t know where the party is. You also briefly entertained the idea of calling Jieun and asking her, but you’re not interested in the lecture that would come from that. You still don’t appreciate her words about you to Seungmin and the implication of them. Seungmin is your friend, you can tell him what happened all by yourself. You don't need Jieun to play messenger.

You swallow the last of your lunch and throw the wrapper in the nearest trash can. You want to start a new painting, one that can unleash the frustrations of your life as it is right now, and you can only do that by getting some new supplies. You save up constantly for this exact reason— for the ability to buy whatever your heart desires whenever it desires it. You dip your toes into whatever interests you, and all concepts of Art satisfies you more than anything. Writing whatever you desire, taking pictures of the things you find beautiful, painting whatever you want— it gives you the control that fuels you more than anything else.

The art shop by your university is quaint, always quiet and never very full, yet always filled with high quality supplies and fully stocked. You’ve made friends with the old lady who owns it and her daughter, constantly going there just to buy something in order to catch up with them on whatever has happened since your last visit. They’re like the mother and sister you never had, people who feel more like family than your own. It’s partly for that reason that you’ve made the trek there, hoping to get some advice for the things you’ve been feeling before going to the party that’s undoubtedly being held by the one group of people you despise.

The bells above the door jingle when you step in, and you let the smell of paint, chalk, crayons, pens, and faint air freshener soothe you. It’s just as cluttered as it’s always been— stacks upon stacks of sketchbooks and canvases on one side situated next to the easels and small desks. The paints have a section of their own, oil, watercolor, acrylic, matte, and more— on the opposite side there’s pens and crayons, colored pencils, oil pastels, and sharpeners of all shapes and sizes.

The walls are covered in paint as if before bringing in all the items they’d had fun splattering the walls in color. It’s messy, unruly, cluttered, and barely organized— so it doesn’t make sense to you why it comforts you so much. When you see a small form hobble out from behind a stack of books a smile forms unbiddenly on your face, and the small old lady smiles back.

“I missed you, dear,” She scolds, wrapping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit.”

“I know, I’ve just been busy Ms. Yang. I missed you.” You sigh, rubbing your nose in the soft fabric of her sweater. She smells like paint and flowers— she smells like home.

“Sam will be here soon, she’d love to see you.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I need to talk to her too.”

“I can tell, child. You look stressed.” She sighs, shuffling behind the counter and sitting on one of the other seats behind it. “Get what you’re looking for,” She says waving a hand dismissively towards you.” I won’t make you explain it twice.”

You huff lightheartedly, making your way over to the canvases and picking one of medium proportions. You’re still not sure what it is you want to paint, but you know whatever you’re feeling is strong enough that you grab Oil paint, needing something rich and vibrant and something sharper to contrast the muddled and cloudy image of your mind.

It’s before long that you settle on a brand you normally buy, and the set of bells signal someone’s arrival into the shop. You turn your head, expecting to see Sam and her long curly hair, beautiful in its volume and her tawny brown skin, but instead you’re greeted with the sight of straight brown hair, swept behind the ears of a tall man, a mole under his eye and the reason for all your problems. You don’t know why you react the way you do, but with your items cradled in your hand you sprint behind a large stack of sketchbooks and hold your breath, staring with wide eyes at the cans of paint at your feet.

What the fuck is Hwang Hyunjin doing at your shop? This is your safe place— your safe haven. A part of you curses the ground he walks on, hopes that the store is too messy and cluttered for his liking, prays that he proves he’s as shallow as the company he keeps and that he leaves and doesn’t come back. Another part of you hates yourself for being so ridiculous. For letting your personal feelings about him delve so far that you’d think something like that. Sam and Mrs.Yang deserve the business, deserve the money, deserve the customers. You shouldn’t hope for anything different— but it still amazes you how he never fails to intrude on the things you hold dear. To intrude on the things you want to keep to yourself.

You don’t move from the spot you’re in. It could’ve been ten minutes, an hour, even, or maybe it was only thirty seconds, but you only peek out when you hear Sam’s voice ring through the shop. You survey the room, stepping out from your hiding spot when you confirm that Hyunjin is nowhere to be found. Though, you don’t think you could’ve hid regardless by the way Sam calls your name.

“Hi, Sammy,” You smile, coming up to pull her into a hug. She grips you tightly, her kinky hair tickling your cheek and her clothes smelling faintly of vanilla and roses. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, hun,” Sam smiles, albeit a little sadly as she looks over your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Hey, don’t leave a poor old lady out,” Mrs. Yang huffs, “Come over here and tell us both about it.”

Without even saying anything they’ve already cheered you up, your steps feeling lighter as you make your way behind the counter and sit on one of the three seats. You sit between them both, their eyes set patiently but concerningly on you.

“I don’t know, really,” You start, and then, you tell them. About your argument with Seungmin, about how lonely it is feeling like you’re the only one feeling this way, about how much the site angers you— how it makes you feel. You tell them about Hyunjin, about how he doesn’t stop bothering you no matter how much you make it obvious you don’t want his company. How much that frustrates you, as well, and about how the lack of control over the entire situation, and over the CSC’s place in your life makes you uncomfortable, and about how the CSC itself makes you feel things you’ve never felt before and how much that scares you. You can barely describe the way it does, and who else can you blame besides its creators.

When you’re done it feels like you’ve vented a lifelong event, it makes a heavy weight lift itself off your shoulders and the heavy silence that remains doesn’t feel like judging, but rather them trying to understand— soaking up the meaning of every word you said in an attempt to place themselves in your shoes.

“I think,” Sam starts, “That your cluelessness about your feelings towards the site in general turns into anger, and the fact that the boy,”

“Hyunjin”, You offer.

“Yes, I think his attempts at speaking to you only worsen it somehow, like you’re being cornered by this weird feeling that you don’t understand and it makes you even angrier.”

“You said your friend is a part of it?” Mrs.Yang interjects, a wrinkly hand kneading your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You murmur, “He’s good friends with the group and he loves the website.”

“That probably doesn’t help then,” She continues, “If you’re surrounded by people who know what they like or enjoy something you don’t like or don’t understand, of course you’re going to feel angry. You feel like the odd one out.”

“I think more than anything you need to figure out if it’s really anger you’re feeling, and if the only reason why you hate this website is not because of its purpose but because of your lack of control over it.” Sam finishes.

“I can’t say I agree with it either,” Mrs.Yang grunts, “It’s not something I think college students need to be worrying about. Things like that stick with you, but it’s their choice to indulge in it, Y/n, you can’t control that.”

You sigh. You guess so, but you still feel like you need to get rid of it. You’ve been slacking, not paying attention to it as much as you should because of all the chaos it’s creating. It’s been a while since you’ve done a petition or made a list of ideas as an attempt to shut it down, but for now it seems like enough to just hate it. They can’t change your mind. Not Seungmin, not Sam, not Jieun, not Mrs.Yang, not Chan or Changbin or Minho— not any of them, and especially not Hyunjin. You just want to be hateful in peace and you don’t know why you don’t seem to be allowed to do that.

You leave the shop feeling lighter, but also like you didn’t actually get any good advice. Sure they validated your feelings, but that’s it. You’ve been trying to figure out your feelings. You know why you’re frustrated, and even though it felt good to be validated it also felt like a waste. You hold the bag of art supplies closer to you as you walk. The sun is setting, painting the sky reds, and oranges, and purples— and you think maybe you’ll paint that. To represent the end of the turmoil that surrounds you, as something hopeful.

You relish in the soft slope of your shoulders, in the relaxation you so rarely feel nowadays, and walk briskly to your dorm so you can fall into your bed and try to forget about the fact that there’s a party you’re supposed to be at tomorrow.

And as if the thought brought it on, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out quicker than you’d ever admit and a relieved smile pulls on your lips when you see it’s from Seungmin.

pup: be ready by 9

you: ok!!!!!

you: i miss you

There’s no more responses but you don’t let that dampen your mood. He still wants you to go with him and that says enough. You do feel terrible about the way you acted— the way you’ve been acting— but you know it’s justified. You’re not irrational. Not at all.

If you collapse at the foot of your bed, art supplies sitting on the floor by your feet, and a paper by your head titled #686, no one has to know.

This Saturday has not been a day of relaxation for you. You didn’t have any plans, though instead of enjoying the peace you so rarely received, the day consisted of you running around your room with a frazzled energy following behind like a ghost. At first you contemplated showing up in a sweater and jeans; no makeup, no jewelry, just you and a lazy fit— but realized that would only bring you even more stares than if you dressed as slutily as possible.

It’s with a black leather mini skirt and a black, lacy, low cut long sleeve tucked inside that you finally allow yourself to relax. You’re probably dressed way too flashily for a college party, but you can’t entertain any thoughts like that or you’ll spend the next three hours obsessing over it— and that’s three hours that you don’t have. Knee length boots stare at you from the door and it’s with a sigh that you walk to the door and put them on.

There’s more reasons to be nervous than just the party, between the inevitable walk with Seungmin to the encounter you’re most definitely going to have with the CSC and all of its users, you’re out of your element. There’s not enough deep breaths to make you calm down, there’s no method available to help clear your mind. Your heart races much more than should be healthy. It feels like hell, even, and all you can do is let this plethora of nerves run its course.

When your phone buzzes with Seungmin’s ‘I’m outside’ text, it almost feels like your heart stops. Fuck, Seungmin’s gonna ask who you’re all dressed up for, gonna ask why you’re so nervous. Why are you all dressed up? Why are you even going? It’s too much, too much of not knowing, not understanding, not feeling right. What will it take to get you to feel right? Like in freshman year when your biggest worry was whether or not you were passing your classes, now it feels like that's a lifetime ago. Like you’ve encountered way too much to even consider anything like that— not that you need to worry about it anyway. It was supposed to be a carefree year for you. You’re always on top of your responsibilities, always prepared, and nothing ever changed that until you went on that site for the first and last time.

You stop, relax your shoulders, take a deep breath that’s otherwise pointless, and step out the door. You curse the day you ever went on that website. It’s why everything is all messed up now, but you rid those thoughts from your mind. You’re determined to have fun tonight no matter what, and no matter who’s there.

Seungmin waits at the door, A button-down hanging off his shoulders and jeans. His hair is combed back and he’s ditched the glasses.

“Hey.” It comes out meeker than you’d like, a little too timid for what your relationship with Seungmin is.

“Hey,” he smiles, the braces you love so much on full display. Your best friend is beautiful, and it’s with a pang to your chest, it’s with seeing him now— so welcoming and so normal with you— that a small part of you realizes maybe you have been being irrational. Maybe you have been acting too strongly, but then you remind yourself that you’ve never been irrational. Never.

“So I’m guessing we’re going to the CSC’s dorm?”

“You’ll fit right in,” Seungmin laughs, starting to walk. You struggle to catch up to him; it’s been so long since you last wore heels that it’s hard to get used to. You don’t grace his comment with an answer, simply relishing in the soft nightly breeze and the shine of the moon. The stars glitter from above you, light years away yet so visible. So sure of their stance in life. You don’t think stars blow up at their best friends, or feel confused, or feel lonely.

You arrive at the party all too soon. From a block away you could see people drunk, staggering in the same direction, and from down the street you could hear the bass of the music, but the warning signs weren’t nearly enough to prepare you for the actual sight of it. It’s like the typical house parties you’d see on TV, but louder and more nerve-wracking. People hang out in front, the music loud enough for them to enjoy even from outside the building. Lights flash from behind the window, an array of purples, greens, reds, and blues. You can see people's shadows from behind the curtains over the front windows, and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

“Oh god,” You mumble, taking a few shaky steps inside. You can't do this. You’re gonna freak out and embarrass yourself. You can almost feel the anxiety seeping from your pores, and the word no repeats over and over in your head like a mantra.

No no no no no.

You can’t do this, but you do it anyway. Stepping inside the party is a feat in itself, and you can’t tell if your hands are shaking from the strong bass of the music or because of pure anxiety. The music knocks into your body so strongly that your knees buckle, barely able to hold you upright. At any moment you feel like you might collapse.

You can’t do it but you do it anyway, taking one step and then another, and when the door closes behind you, you resist the urge to turn back and run away. The party is full of people— so full that it’s impossible to walk anywhere without bumping into someone, and despite your best efforts you do get stares. Whether it’s because of what you’re wearing or if it’s because it’s you at a party being held by the CSC… you’re not entirely sure. You don’t think it makes a difference. You try to ignore it, act unbothered, and it must work because after a while they look away, murmuring something or the other about what you’re doing there.

Seungmin drags you away from the door and to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets like it’s his home. You take in the somewhat chill vibe of the kitchen compared to everywhere else. It’s not nearly as full, but there are couples at opposite ends acting as if it isn’t a place where food is kept.

You take a few deep breaths, reassure yourself that you can do this, and even if you can’t you’ll do it anyway. Seungmin doesn’t say anything, just pours you something sweet and fruity in a red cup and hands it over with a raise of his eyebrows. You drink it way too quickly and you know you’re gonna regret it later, but you need the effect it’ll bring. The faux calmness that’ll help you get through the night. Though with how full the party is you think that you won’t be able to see the hosts anytime soon if at all, and that’s enough to bring your heart to a stuttering stop before it resumes its beating in a much more slow paced manner. You’re still not calm, but you’re doing your best.

“Try to relax,” Seungmin chides, his gaze heavy where it bores into you. “Everything will be just fine.”

You nod, taking a more calculated sip of your drink this time. You let the music relax you instead of startle you— focusing on the beats and the melody— on the lyrics, instead of the volume and how it makes your body tremble. You can do this.

When you finally feel like you’re able to relax, Seungmin parts from you, saying there’s some people he has to see. You’re an adult, so you can handle being alone for a few minutes. Eventually, though, the few minutes turn into something longer. You wonder if maybe Seungmin is still upset with you— you didn’t speak much about it on the walk like you thought you would. Honestly, it was mostly silence, and you didn’t think much of it before but you are now. You hold your drink close to your chest, dubbing it your life line for the night.

You last all of thirty minutes before you feel like you’re getting too hot— the building only gets even more stuffy as more people arrive, all of you packaged like a can of sardines. You take the fleeting burst of confidence to leave the kitchen and go to the backyard, hoping that it’ll be a bit more peaceful (as peaceful as possible considering the music blasting), and allow the fresh air to graze your skin like a soft blanket. You sit down on one of the benches in the backyard, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. What will it take to feel at peace? Maybe there’s nothing you can do. And it’s with these thoughts that you do exactly what you shouldn’t do at a party, wallowing in self pity and confusion. You’re so caught up in these thoughts that you don’t notice when someone else joins you.

“Hey, bug.”

Your head whips up faster than what’s comfortable, and you barely hide the wince that struggles to leave your lips. Hyunjin speaks again before you can respond.

“Don’t leave, alright. Please?” He asks, sitting down beside you and smoothing his hands over his pants. “Can we talk?”

“About?”

“About us? About you? I’m tired of running in circles and I want to know why you hate me— the CSC so much.”

You’re silent for a moment, contemplating, thinking. You should get up, leave the backyard and this party altogether. You should ignore whatever it is Hyunjin has to say because he’s the reason for all this, right? Why is he always pretending he doesn’t know; acting like he wants to get to know you? Acting like it really matters how you feel. Everyone wants to understand, everyone wants to know why, but you don’t even know— but you’ll never admit it outright. You’ll never say the one thing that’s been your driven principle for the past year is something you’re unsure about. All you know is that it’s bad, that it’s made you feel ways that were foreign to you, and in order to regain control you need to get rid of it. No matter how anyone else feels about it, no matter who gets upset with you along the way. You need to do it.

Your voice is soft, but not meek. For once, you’re gonna get this entire experience off your chest. “When I first went on the site in the beginning of freshman year I was curious,” You start, glancing at Hyunjin and feeling the tightness in your chest return when you realize he’s already looking at you. “At first, I was curious, and then I was confused. I clicked on a few videos— I scrolled for a while— and I started to get this weird feeling. The more I watched the videos, the more I scrolled through pictures and posts, the feeling got stronger.”

You feel so stupid, but you continue. If Hyunjin makes fun of you he’s just proving your assumptions correct. “I’d never felt that way before and honestly, it kinda scared me, and it was annoying that I didn’t understand it. I didn’t do anything after that. I ignored how fast my heart was beating, how my body was reacting, and never went on that site again. Slowly, that confusion turned into anger— it’s not normal. The way I felt wasn’t normal, and that’s why I think that site needs to get shut down.”

“Bug…” Hyunjin laughs a little and you want to be offended, but you can tell it’s more shock than amusement. “Bug have you ever had sex? Or.. touched yourself at all?”

Your mouth opens and closes comically, but Hyunjin is patient, waiting and watching carefully for you to speak. “Is that what’s important?” You finally say, your eyebrows furrowed and you’re ready to defend yourself if need be. “No, I haven’t.”

“God, bug this is…” Hyunjin squints at you, “I think you were aroused.”

You splutter, feeling your heart rate spike in embarrassment. “What!? No. No.”

“That weird feeling? That heat in your gut,” Hyunjin says, and to punctuate he lays a large, warm, hand over your stomach. “You were horny.” This time, Hyunjin’s laugh is one of amusement, but you're too distracted by how big his hand is, splayed over your stomach and so warm it feels like it’s burning through your clothes.

“Hyunjin, the feeling— no, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Bug, if you’ve never ever been aroused before somehow, of course it felt weird. Holy shit.”

You don’t say anything, but Hyunjin continues before you can get a grip on your thoughts.

“I can’t believe this is the reason why you’ve hated us for so long, I honestly can’t believe it.”

“Hyunjin… that feeling wasn’t pleasurable. Control is pleasurable. I didn’t have a grip on anything that day and barely regained it on the days following. You can’t convince me that getting rid of the CSC won’t bring back a sense of normalcy. You can’t, and even if you’re right, I think that morally, the site is still wrong, and I’m not going to stop trying to shut it down.”

“There’s so much about the CSC you don’t know about, and there’s so much more to pleasure than control.” Hyunjin sighs, clearly more at ease now that he realizes you’re just confused. You don’t know, really, why you hate them. That’s clear. You’re stubborn though, he can tell, and even if this idea he has works— he’s not sure you’ll stop until you get what you want.

Earlier that day the CSC received an email from the dean, threatening that they’ll start looking into all that their site entails because of how often you keep badgering them about it. It’s starting to create a murmur between staff, and they’re growing increasingly frustrated. All that means to Hyunjin is you’re finally breaking through their resolve, running them down enough for them to consider shutting it down or supervising more intensely. Hyunjin can’t have that. None of them can. When Hyunjin approached you tonight he expected to have to beg— to have to plead with you to stop meddling. The site is bigger than you know, more important than some college stupidity. It rakes in a lot of cash, and he can’t have such petty reasoning stop that flow.

Hyunjin’s voice is husky as he continues and his words send an undeniable shiver down your spine “I can show you that the site, and sex by association aren’t bad at all. Mentally, you’re confused and physically, you’re pent up. We can’t have that can we, pretty girl?”

“No, we can’t.”

Wait. What? Yes, we can. Yes you can. You’ve been doing just fine right? You don’t need Hyunjin’s help. He’s not gonna change your mind because your mind doesn’t need changing.

“You can try to shut us down, but at the same time let us help you.”

“Us?” You murmur, attempting to understand what exactly is happening.

“All of us, the CSC can help you figure out what you’re feeling, right? We can help you decide what to do.”

“…You can help me?”

Hyunjin hums, removing his hand from your waist and trailing his finger along the skin just above the hem of your shirt. His fingers dip over your cleavage, tug at your necklace, up and up until your chin is in his hand, and he turns you to face him as his lips brush your cheek. “I want to see who will succeed first, so let me show you that there’s more to pleasure than control.”

He can help you. Out of all the people who ask you why, who say they want to understand but don’t try, he’s the one who’s offering a solution. As annoying as he’s always been to you, as much as he’s always embodied something you hate— the person who’s embedded such foreign feelings in your mind— he wants to help you. He wants to try, and he’s not telling you to stop your goal either. He’s not telling you it’s stupid, he’s not getting angry. He doesn’t make you feel irrational. You’re not irrational. You have a goal and it’s one you’re gonna complete, but… it doesn’t hurt to try, right? And if you succeed, if you shut them down and Hyunjin fails— if the CSC fails you’ll win. You’ll win and prove that you were right all along.

“Go easy on me.”

“Of course, bug.”

You keep your eyes downcast in embarrassment as Hyunjin whispers against your skin, his fingers gently turning your chin up and over to the point of focus. His lips. Pouty, sinfully crimson, curving upwards so surely, like they themselves know their effect on people. They look so soft, so wet. You want to feel them, and it’s as if Hyunjin’s read your mind because his lips are on yours before you can even blink.

“You just kissed me,” Your voice is airy, breathless, and usually you’d be embarrassed.

“Can I do it again?”

There’s a simmering, boiling tension both of you have been ignoring but you’ve lost the will to care about hating Hyunjin or Chan or the CSC. Momentarily, you’ve lost the will to feel much at all but a burning desire to take away any negative emotion you feel. You’re sick of it, sick of feeling confused. Last night you’d dealt with it by crying your eyes out, before that you’d dealt with it by having a screaming match with your best friend, and now you’re ready to look for something to fix it. This just might be the best way to start.

“Not outside.” You whisper, your hands clutching the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt with such an intensity you’re afraid it’ll rip off then and there.

The trip inside and upstairs is a blur. You’re sure if anyone saw you they stared, wondering what you two were doing together, wondering what you were going upstairs for. It’s a blur, nothing is clear but what you’re going to do at this moment, and with Hwang Hyunjin of all people. Of what you’re going to do in the future, with the CSC of all people, what you’re gonna do to them— what you’re gonna allow them to do to you— that’s the only thing on the forefront of your mind. Not about who’s watching, not about who wants to know. It’s about you. You’re the one in control, you’re the one who gets to decide. You’re the one who needs to know.

Warm. You feel warm all over, pressed against Hyunjin with his thighs spreading yours open, warm in his tight embrace. Your hands are clutching at his clothes, at his arms— It’s so hot, yet somehow the constant cool air of the room makes you shiver.

“W-what do I do?”

Hyunjin chuckles, his voice the softest you’ve ever heard it. “You don’t have to do anything, pretty. Let me handle it.”

Letting Hyunjin handle anything doesn’t sound like a very good idea to you in any instance, but in this case you let him. You’re otherwise clueless in this area and frankly, if you want his help you’re going to have to accept it when it’s given. His mouth lands back on yours, a certain kind of desire running through the kiss. His hands are all over you. Trying to grab at every inch he can, and you try your best to kiss him back with equal intensity— to move your lips against his with the same fervor.

Your heart kicks up an irritating notch when Hyunjin slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold. And if Hyunjin had imagined this during late nights, cock shamelessly fisted in his hand as he dreamt of you pushing your panties to the side for him to enter your tight hole, no one has to know.

“Look at me, pretty,” Hyunjin growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with a foreign intensity. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a small burst of confidence, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for another kiss. It’s a little awkward with your inexperience, all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. His lips feel like heaven and you want them everywhere, want to kiss him forever. You want to sink his soft groans into your skin, keep the taste of him on your tongue for the rest of your days as he licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into blissful dizziness.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," Hyunjin teases, pressing your thighs farther apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again. "I don’t think you really hate me, bug.”

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your skirt, slipping under the hem and holding the fabric tightly. God, you feel so bare. Like Hyunjin is looking at you from the inside out. When he pulls your skirt down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, his warmth. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Hyunjin lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold. You’re so sensitive. So, so sensitive.

His hands grip your waist tightly and his lips trail upwards, the bridge of his nose pushing your shirt up until it’s so high your breasts threaten to fall, smothering Hyunjin’s face underneath them. You shiver at the thought, those sinful lips pressing kisses against the skin of your breasts; what would it feel like? Would it feel like this? This feeling that you’re still so unfamiliar with?

"Pretty girls deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Hyunjin starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. You didn’t know you could make sounds like that. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Did you come to impress someone tonight?” Hyunjin murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Hyunjin’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the bedding at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

“You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.

“Yes.”

It’s breathless. It’s not you. It’s not the person who wanted nothing to do with Hyunjin only a day ago, but you want answers. You want clarity. And right now, you want this.

Hyunjin wastes no time after your confirmation, his fingers slipping under your panties and ghosting over your skin. He lets out a harsh breath at the feeling where you’re otherwise silent, trusting that he knows what to do. When a rush of cool air blows over you though, your legs close instinctively, and Hyunjin hums, “Stay with me, bug.”

“I’m here,” You respond, slowly spreading your legs back wide and allowing him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off ur ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to cradle your cheek you lean into the warmth. It’s okay. You’re okay.

Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you for the first time.

A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect Hyunjin— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to help you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.

The man before you reaches his other hand towards the hem of your top to pinch the edge of it between an index finger and thumb, and pulls the cloth away from your skin.

His eyes bore into yours: “This okay?”

“Fuck, the more you ask me the more nervous I get.”

“Okay, okay. I don’t wanna make you nervous.”

“Just… be nice to me, Hyunjin. Okay?”

Hyunjin smiles, and you exhale, relaxing into Hyunjin’s sheets and letting his musky cologne consume your senses as his touch roams everywhere else.

And then finally— yet all too quickly— the shirt is tugged away from your breasts and they fall freely as Hyunjin eagerly leans closer. His nose presses against one of your hardened nipples, and you watch his pupils dilate quicker than you thought was possible. He’s barely holding back the urge to fuck you dumb, and the finger that still thrusts slowly into your cunt stutters in its movements.

Look at you. His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly let his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it— looking all innocent— being all innocent but acting like you’re not. Like you’re so sure. You’re confused, god, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Hyunjin’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at your through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dipped his head down, holding your breast in his large hand and rubbing over your nipples with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. Your hands automatically perched themselves on his shoulders, and he grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moan, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slight. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

He groans, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He wanted to do this right— show you all that pleasure could be. He moved his mouth from your nipple to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Oh- oh Hyunjin help me, please,” You pleaded, his shoulders too far to grip onto; your hands instead finding his hair, running your fingers through and pulling when he nosed at your clit, groaning heartily when your wetness clinged to his skin.

It’s with a lick to your clit that you wail, your thighs threatening to close, and they would have if Hyunjin’s hands hadn’t reached out to force them down, pushing further and sticking his face into your arousal with more fervor, licking and sucking with such vigor that it felt as if he was trying to devour you. Your thighs trembled with every movement of his tongue, poking and prodding at every inch of your cunt, his nose dug against your clit and for a moment it felt like you were seeing stars. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth letting out uncontrollable moans.

You didn’t think it’d feel this good. But, you remind yourself, control feels better. You can’t let him change that— he won’t change that.

The obscene sounds that came from his actions should’ve embarrassed you, but nothing like that came to mind. Hyunjin was relentless, and you couldn’t even think of anything more than the feeling of his hair between your fingers and his tongue slurping at your cunt.

You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.

Besides control, of course. And you assume, the eradication of the CSC would, also.

Suddenly, your stomach tenses, your body locking up, and you quickly cream all over his tongue, shaky moans slipping through your pretty lips. Your thighs shook from the aftershock, trying to come down from this feeling. Afterwards, Hyunjin’s actions felt too harsh. He didn’t change pace at all, but it felt like your body was going to arch its way into oblivion. Unable to ignore the sensitivity of your body any longer, you pushed against his head until he stopped, attempting to catch your breath.

“You okay?”

You hum, begging the beating of your heart to soften, though as soon as it finally did you looked back at Hyunjin and saw his pants sliding down his legs. His toned, muscular legs, and it started its harsh beating once again. That wasn’t it? Of course, that’s wasn’t it, but fuck. You don’t know if you can handle anything more.

The headboard of his bed knocks against the wall as he climbs back up on the bed, moving his body closer this time and instead of only his chest hovering over you, this time his legs cage you in, one on either side, as your heart pounds itself into oblivion.

One hand supported his weight on the pillow by your head while the other was preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stared down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groaned. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever Hyunjin would come bother you. It intensifies when Hyunjin wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging the bedding from under you and you yelp.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your twitching folds, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you.

“Relax,” Hyunjin murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Stay with me.”

You do your best, forcing your body to relax, as he sinks deeper and deeper still. Hyunjin grunts softly when you clench down on him, and he sighs as you blink dazedly up at him.

Pretty eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Hyunjin watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his sweat slicken forehead, and he sinks back into your slick walls with another languid roll of his hips.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Hyunjin’s chest expands with a shaky breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your virgin cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper than his playful one. Tonight you’re seeing a whole new side of him— a new persona. This isn’t the annoying Hwang Hyunjin who bothers you and calls you ‘bug’, this is the Hwang Hyunjin everyone else knows. The one you hadn’t met yet.

“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the sheets.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Hyunjin moans—every twitch and squeeze of your pussy leaving him breathless. “Come on, baby,” He pleads, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and Hyunjin’s groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all Hyunjin. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And again, you feel that strange feeling before tensing up, your body convulsing and arching up as Hyunjin’s thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the mattress and Hyunjin’s weight cases you in.

You feel boneless, lethargic with your movement. You feel when Hyunjin gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwater back on. You hear it when he sighs, something light and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. You can’t do much more than sigh, but it seems like enough for him— like that was the exact answer he was looking for. You succumb to blissful sleep right before the door shuts behind Hyunjin.

“Hear me out,” Hyunjin sighs, a lazy smile on his features even still. You’re no joke even if you might not know it yet. “I think it could really work.”

“You want us to convince Y/n to what? Leave us alone or..?” Jeongin says, leaning against the table in the kitchen.

The party has long been over, there’s a mess everywhere but it’s empty except for the eight boys and you knocked out in Hyunjin’s bed. Jisung sits sprawled on the couch, head twisted ever so slightly to betray that he’s listening to the conversation, Jeongin leans against the table and Chan has his arms folded where he leans against the wall serving as the entrance between the kitchen and the living room.

Minho downs a bottle of water by the sink, and Changbin leans against the fridge, leveling Hyunjin with an intense look. Felix and Seungmin sit on the couch opposite Jisung where they have a full view of everything and everyone.

“She barely even knows what porn is, so I said I could convince her the site isn’t that bad— and is something she could grow to like, if not love.” Hyunjin explains, his eyebrows raising in wait for the retaliation that’s sure to come.

“Why should we?” Minho asks, with a swallow, “If she doesn’t like it, honestly what does it matter.” Heads nod in agreement.

“Listen, they’re starting to consider whatever the fuck she’s selling them at those little meetings, and I got an email about investigation if this keeps up. If we fail to change her mind, we can at least distract her enough for the heat to lessen a little.”

Chan nods, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” He shrugs, looking over at everyone in the kitchen. “We change her mind, then we got one less problem to deal with.”

“And if we don't?” Changbin asks, tilting his head at both Hyunjin and Chan. “And if this is just a waste of time?”

“It isn’t,” Hyunjin assures, “Trust me.”

The rest of them don’t argue, but Hyunjin feels Seungmin’s gaze boring into him from the couch, feels his questions burning at the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out, so he leaves before they can succeed.

“We can talk about it more later, but I think it’ll work. It’s a good deed, and I know how much you guys love those.” Some scoffs and laughs fill the room, but Hyunjin is already halfway up the stairs, a plan forming in his mind and a pleasant smile growing on his face.

a note from iris: this chapter was late because of that long ass smut scene so i hope it was enjoyable and that this wasn’t 17k worth of a snoozefest 😭 i’m sorry it’s late!! so sorry but it’s still friday even if it’s 11 pm <3<3 not beta read not nothin so pls.. spare me.. and i hope you liked it !!!

not-so-mini taglist (there’s so many of y’all !!???): @chrisbahng @seonghwatoothless @bubblelixie @199719932000 @imsuchasimp00 @hyu-hl @oddinaryfelix @raspbinniecreme @fa3body @kittykatkrissa @andreaswrld @hattorihaechan @lachinitaaaaa @j-0ne25 @bangchanbabygirlx @ni-sh @green-orangeade @sincerely-skz @exclusivej3ss @elizalabs3 @lili-kims-blog @curiousgworge @midsoulz @sawadabegum @reighlee-greaves @lotus-dly @blcar @impossiblewritingrebel @yourhwngness @idek-at-this-point-lol @multihoe-net @hyun-bun @hwan-g @ughbehavior @rindomo @awesomelycoolworld @springdeity @todolyn @meowminhosblog @hyunelixies @emotionalwreckkk-blog @seungschacco @avyskai @cvfechan @jeyelleohe @vvsmydiamonds127 @chriscentric @simpforpunzngl @be-a-spacequeen @svintsandghosts @myjisung @hanjiesgf

*** if your tag didn’t work make sure your blog is visible! if i somehow missed you when tagging i offer a sincere apology <3

#hyunjin scenarios #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x female reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #skz x reader

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wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

Anniversary

summary: With your toddler at his abuelo’s for the night, it means Javier and you have the house to yourselves, and you can be as loud as you want.

rating: E (18+!! This is fluff and smut. Established relationship, pregnant sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (m), breeding kink, lactation kink mention, squirting, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, body worship (Javier loves your pregnant body), Javier being the best partner, Javier being so in love, Javier being a good dad, so much fluff, feelings)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 7.3k+

a/n: Can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse (it’s canon). To celebrate Learning to Live turning one and Pedro’s birthday, here’s a Javier and Cielito future fic and a glimpse into what their lives look like. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing! I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The lighting is dim in the restaurant to set the mood, a candle lit on each table for some lovely ambiance. They sat you at a table instead of a booth, Javier across from you, holding the one-page menu in both hands low on the tabletop, his eyebrows creased as he read it over.

He’s wearing the navy blue suit because he knows it’s your favorite, with no tie and a crisp white shirt beneath his open jacket. The first few buttons are left undone, so you can see some of his chest and the column of his throat, it working as he swallows, mesmerized by how his Adam’s apple bobs. You’re thinking about how it looks with a sheen of sweat coating it, always paired with a nice flush that moves down onto his chest, and the way perspiration catches in the tantalizing trail of hair below his belly button, leading to his hard—

“I can feel you undressing me with your eyes, Cielito,” he rasps, glancing up with a knowing smirk under his perfectly trimmed mustache.

You feel zero shame at getting caught.

“A suit with no tie and buttons undone?” you ask. “It’s like you’re waving a big sign that says, ‘I’m down to fuck,’ and I’m just admiring the goods before I decide to buy.”

One hand goes to his mouth, his thumb swiping along his bottom lip, your attention drawn to it, arousal swirling in your belly.

“Yeah?” he asks. “You gonna buy?”

“Maybe.”

His hands go to his shirt, deftly opening one more button.

“How about now?” he asks.

“Javier!” you gasp dramatically, clutching imaginary pearls over your chest. “The townspeople will be scandalized by such indecency! They’ll think you a man of loose morals!”

One of his eyebrows arches.

“You done?”

Grinning, you reply, “Yes, and also definitely yes to us fucking as soon as we get home.” You wag your eyebrows.

He looks proud of himself, crookedly smiling.

“Knew this outfit would get you,” he says.

“Because you exploited my weaknesses.”

“And you just happened to decide to wear that tight fucking dress I love with no ulterior motives?”

“We exploit each other's weaknesses. It’s honestly quite romantic.”

“It is.” He nods. “You know what you’re gonna get? I’m assuming the pasta?”

“Yep. I don’t know why you stared at the menu for so long; you’re just gonna get the steak.”

“To rile you up.” He shrugs, setting his menu down on the table.

God, he knows you so well.

“I love you so fucking much it’s dumb,” you say.

He smiles, a tender look on his face.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“Javi?”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“Is it always going to be like this?”

His eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“Just being so disgustingly in love and horny for each other. I know we’re still in the honeymoon phase, where everything is good and easy, and every day I love you more and more, but will this feeling fade?” you ask with a frown.

“Cielito, we’re at this fancy fucking restaurant celebrating being married for four years…” he says slowly. “You’re gonna have our second kid in less than two months. We’re way past the honeymoon phase, baby—this is just how it is.” He smiles fondly. “I can tell you without a doubt that this feeling is never gonna fucking fade because what we have is real, and I love you more than anything.” He reaches over to grab your hand, his thumb rubbing over the diamond ring on your finger. “You’re the best wife and the most amazing mother to our son and daughter on the way, and I’m so fucking lucky that you chose to be with me all those years ago. I love you, Cielito, and I’ll never stop loving you.”

Tears are in your eyes, your throat feeling tight as your lip trembles.

“Javier, you know I cry easy. How dare you be so romantic!”

He raises your hand, leaning forward to kiss your knuckles and the ring.

“I’m sorry for making you emotional,” he says, setting it back down.

You can’t help yourself, starting to weep, the tears rolling down your cheeks, thankful you aren’t wearing makeup. Your skin is far too sensitive to get all dolled up, and add in the fact that if you tried, you’d probably end up crying it off; there’s no point.

“You’re not sorry, and I love you so much,” you sob. “You’re such a good dad and husband, and I feel like I won the lottery with you. Oh my god, I love you.”

Concern is on his face.

“Oh, baby, I love you, too,” he says in a calming tone. “Need a hug?”

“No, I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing your napkin to wipe at your wet face. “I feel like I’m crying more this pregnancy.” You look at him. “Cried about the quesadillas you’d made the other night ‘cause they were so good and your mom’s recipe. Cried when I saw a mamma duck and her ducklings on my way to work.”

Javi nods his head.

“You cried when we watched Star Wars,” he adds.

“The ewoks are so cute!”

“They are. I’m still not sure why you cried while listening to ABBA…”

“It’s ABBA, babe, and ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ is just that good.”

He smiles.

“Right,” he says. “It was stupid of me to even wonder.”

The server arrives at the table, her eyes getting slightly bigger because she can tell you’ve clearly been crying.

“Thank you for your patience,” she says with a Texas twang. “Do y’all need a minute..?”

“Oh, no, we’re ready to order,” you reply. “Excuse the tears—pregnancy hormones are a bitch.”

The woman nods her head in understanding.

“Oh, darlin’, say no more. I get it. What can I get y’all?” She looks between you both.

Javi orders for you both, and once you are alone again, easy conversation flows between you.

The baby must’ve woken up, feeling her moving all about her tiny space, thinking she might be practicing kickboxing with the way she’s kicking so much. You jump from pain when she hits something low in your hip, making a face.

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

Your hand is rubbing over your swollen belly, trying to calm the baby down.��

“Your child is using my insides as a punching bag.”

“She’s my child when she’s being a dick, but ours when she’s cute?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“You heard me–owe!” you yelp, thinking you got punched in a kidney.

Javi is out of his seat instantly, coming around the table to crouch beside you, resting his big hand over yours as he gets his face close to the side of your protruding tummy.

“Cálmate, mi bebita (Calm down, my baby girl),” he says in a soothing voice. “Porta te bien para tu mamá, por favor (Behave for your mom, please).” He switches to English, “You’re getting so big, mi princesa. I know you’re running out of room, but you gotta watch where you’re hitting. Aim for tu mamá’s belly button.” He presses down with your hand over the front of your stomach, feeling a kick to your palm.

“Oh my god, she hit my hand.”

Javi chuckles, kissing your belly over your dress.

“That’s my girl,” he says, sounding proud. “Aim toward here, so you’re not hurting your mom.”

It always surprises you how Javi can get the baby to calm down just by talking to them. It had been the same with your first, your husband speaking to your tummy and the kid mellowing out, which is happening now, the movements slowing as she relaxes inside you, his voice lulling her.

“We love you so much,” he continues. “Can you be good for us while we celebrate? Your brother is with tu abuelo (your grandfather) tonight, and I’ve got plans for your mom when we get home, so I’m sorry if her screaming my name scares you. I promise she’s okay.”

“Javier!”

He laughs, kissing your belly again.

He looks up at you.

“Has she calmed down?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer. “You’re the fucking baby whisperer, I swear to god.” You’re resting your hand on your bump.

He chuckles, kissing over your dress one more time before groaning as he rises up.

His hand lightly grasps under your chin to tilt your head up as he leans down to kiss you tenderly.

“I’m happy to help,” he murmurs onto your lips.

“I’m counting on it.”

He nips at your bottom lip, and it makes you moan.

“I meant what I said about tonight.”

“I can’t wait.”

You really can’t with how you are throbbing between your legs, tempted to skip dinner and just go home, but it is your anniversary, and you are starving, ordering the safest option on the menu that wouldn’t give you heartburn.

He kisses you one last time on the lips, then to the tip of your nose, pulling back to look you in the eyes with a soft look on his face.

“Happy anniversary, Cielito,” he says. “I love you.”

“Happy anniversary, Javi. I love you, too.”

He returns to his seat, and you talk until the food arrives, both of you quiet while eating. You share a dessert; before you know it, the bill is paid, and it’s time to leave. Javi is there to help you up, grabbing your purse hanging on your chair, and making sure you have no issues as you get out of your seat.

Getting outside, he’s shrugging off his suit jacket to put it over your shoulders, one of his arms wrapping around your waist, his other hand still carrying your bag as you make your way to his truck.

Pregnancy is crazy.

The first trimester was exhausting, morning sickness hell, where Javi was an MVP and did more than his fair share to care for your toddler and keep the house running while making you rest since you were growing a baby and still working your full-time job.

Then you entered the second trimester, and the morning sickness disappeared, being replaced with ridiculous horniness—it was insane how fucking horny you were all the time, pouncing on your husband any chance you got, much to his delight. It was the same moving into the third trimester, but now your stomach is getting huge, and you can’t move as well as before, needing Javi’s help to put on your shoes and socks in the morning. Sex has to be more strategic to make sure you aren’t uncomfortable, and your husband is more than willing to adapt, finding yourself being bent over the washer or the couch, him investing in a wedge pillow to support your belly when he was fucking you in bed. Honestly, you are beyond blessed to have such an amazing partner who can keep up and hadn’t tapped out the first weekend you had alone together after the horniness kicked in—you’d fucked nonstop, and afterward, Javi stocked up on sports drinks, and protein snacks to keep beside the bed.

He’s perfect.

There are some days when you’re too tired, or everything hurts, and all you can do is suffer—thankfully, those days are few and far between.

Javi’s dad is a godsend who babysits any chance he gets, giving you guys at least one date night a week and occasionally a whole weekend to yourselves. This is a night that you have alone, not needing to pick up your son until the following day, who will be excited to tell you all about his adventures with his abuelo—he loves when Chucho wheels him around in his wagon to help feed the animals at the ranch. There’s a framed photo of him in the red wagon with a bucket almost the same size as him, holding a long carrot up to Daphne, one of the two grown cows you and Javi jokingly called your bovine children, Velma, the other one, standing next to her.

Excited is an understatement for how you feel about getting home because even though you and Javi still have sex when your toddler is home and asleep in his own room, you always have to be quiet; things were a bit more subdued, but tonight the two of you can actually fuck, and be as loud as you want.

You sit next to him on the bench seat in his truck, as close as you can get without being in his lap, unable to keep yourself from pawing at your husband while he drives. Your belly keeps you from blowing him, and your mouth waters at the thought, getting your hand in his pants to make yourself feel better.

He’s fully hard by the time he’s parking in the garage at your house.

He helps you get out of the truck and up the couple of steps into the house. Once there are no more obstacles, Javi is on you, his mouth fusing to yours in a hungry kiss while his hands roam all over your body—grabbing handfuls of your ass, rubbing over your swollen stomach, and along your spine under his jacket as he safely guides you to the bedroom.

Your need for him is unreal by the time your giant bed is within reach, but there is one slight problem.

Breaking the kiss, you’re panting, about to speak, Javi beating you to it with a smile on his kiss-swollen lips as he asks, “You gotta pee?”

“Yes! I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, baby.” He kisses you quickly, giving your ass a smack when he pulls back. “Get in there.”

“I love you!” you reply, turning on your heel and tossing his jacket onto the bed, waddling as quickly as you can to the en suite.

“I love you, too!” Javi calls to your back.

After emptying your bladder and thoroughly washing your hands, it’s go time, your body thrumming in anticipation.

The bedroom lights are dim as you make your way into it, finding your husband completely naked and standing beside the bed, chugging a bright red sports drink. The sight stops you in your tracks, pulling your lip between your teeth as you watch his throat work, wanting to lick up the column and nibble on his jaw.

“You ready?” His voice makes you jolt, so caught up in your thirsting over him you haven’t realized he finished drinking.

His eyes are dark when they meet yours, his lips glistening in the low light from spit and his drink.

Smiling, you answer, “Oh, yeah.” You point at the empty bottle in his hand. “Are you pregaming?” you ask.

He moves to set it on the bedside table.

“Gotta make sure I’m hydrated,” he replies, his attention solely on you, long strides having him in your space in seconds. His hands land on your hips, rubbing over the stretchy fabric of your dress, locking his gaze on yours. “I know you’re gonna keep me up all night.” Leaning in, he nudges his nose against your own. “Thank fuck you don’t work tomorrow.”

Your arms go around his neck, pushing your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, feeling the thick, soft strands.

“I know how we are,” you purr. “A big night—our anniversary, the house to ourselves, your wife so horny she’s had to change her underwear multiple times today. There’s not gonna be a lot of sleeping.”

“Mmm,” he hums, smiling, “I better take care of my wife then.” His big palms move down to squeeze your ass while his mouth presses into yours in a searing kiss, moaning when his tongue pushes between your lips to tangle with your own.

Arousal burns brightly in your belly, feeling your cunt throb and slick drip down your thighs. You want him with every fiber of your being—need to taste him, touch him, smell him, you need him, all of him, and you think you might explode if you don’t get his dick in your mouth as soon as possible.

He’s kissing your jaw, nipping at your chin.

“Wanna suck you off,” you pant.

“Whatever you want, Cielito,” he rasps, sucking on your pulse point.

You know he means it, too. With being pregnant, Javi always lets you be in control of these situations—you’re the one that calls the shots, and he makes it happen because only you know how you’re feeling and what you’re up for with your body changing day by day. Some days one position feels good, and the next, it doesn’t. Sometimes you can’t stand your breasts being touched, or everything hurts. There are too many variables, and Javi cares enough that all he wants is for you to be comfortable and actually enjoy yourself.

His hands go to the bottom of your dress, pulling it up and off your arms to be tossed on the floor.

“Tits?” he asks, resting a palm on your bare stomach and the other moving to your back, unclasping your bra with ease.

“Good to go,” you reply. “Just leaking.”

He nods in understanding, and then he’s moving, his mouth on yours, kissing you hard while he pulls off your bra to let it drop to the floor, his hands moving up the sides of your belly to palm your breasts. His fingers pluck at your wet nipples, making you moan at the jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core. Kissing a trail down your neck and over your chest, ducking low to lick at one stiff peak, the warmth of his tongue making your toes curl. He’s groaning at your taste, moving to the other side to lave at the hard bud, licking them both clean.

Looking up at you through his lashes, there’s hardly any brown left, his voice lower and raspier as he says, “I hope you make too much milk again—fucking loved having to help.”

“I sure the fuck hope not,” you reply. “They hurt and were so swollen. I’d like to produce a normal amount of milk this time around; thank you very much.”

He sighs forlornly, frowning.

“Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want you going through that again.” Looking a little hopeful, he continues, “But if there’s too much for the baby or you get a blocked duct—”

“Yes, Javi,” you cut him off in exasperation, cupping his cheeks with your hands. “You’re the man to call. Mr-Accidentally-Discovered-He-Has-A-Lactation-Kink-When-His-Wife-Forgot-Her-Pump-And-We-Were-Out-Of-Town-And-Away-From-Our-Baby.”

“Hey,” he pinches your hip. “It’s better I liked it than found it disgusting.”

“That’s a good point. Thank god you’re kinky.” You smirk with a wiggle of your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” His focus goes back to your breasts, his hands groping them. “Fuck, I love when you’re pregnant.”

“The bigger boobs?”

“The bigger tits.” He crouches down, running your fingers through his hair as he rubs over your swollen stomach. “You carrying my baby.” Leaning in, he presses kisses all over the bump. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says into your skin. “I love how your body looks.” His fingers get under the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, him helping you step out of them.

“I’m huge—I can’t see my feet,” you reply.

“You’re sexy,” he corrects, standing with a groan. His eyes are on yours, grabbing your hand to press it to his dick, feeling him all hard and throbbing. “This is all you and how much I fucking love your pregnant body.”

Your fingers wrap around his length, his mouth falling open as you slowly stroke him.

It’s taking everything in you not to drop to your knees and start sucking him off, but you want to rile him up a bit.

“Yeah?” you purr. “You like knowing you fucked a baby into me?” His eyes close, groaning loudly as his cock twitches in your grasp, making you smile—oh, you got him. “You like me pregnant with your child? You wish you could keep me pregnant, Javi? Just keep knocking me up and having your babies—you want to breed me, baby?”

“Fuuuuuck.” The word is a drawn-out moan. His dick is weeping precum, your strokes getting slicker. He looks at you, seeing his throat bob as he swallows. “You’re playing fucking dirty.”

Grinning, you reply, “Me? Play dirty? Never. Exploiting your weaknesses? Always.”

His hands come up to caress your face as he crushes his lips to yours, kissing the breath right from your lungs. He wastes no time to get his tongue in your mouth, swallowing your moans as it slides along your own.

You feel a little dazed when his mouth leaves yours.

“You still wanna suck my dick?” he asks.

Opening your eyes, you answer, “Yes, please.”

“Knees or bed?”

“Knees.”

“You got it, Cielito.” He smiles, kissing you quickly before grabbing your hand and walking you toward the bed.

There’s an assortment of pillows at the end of the king-size bed, most normal, but one was specifically for sex—the wedge pillow was a lifesaver.

He grabs one of the regular fluffy ones, setting it on the floor and helping you kneel on it, thankful to have the cushion.

He’s standing in front of you, and you grab the backs of his thighs to make him come closer, Javi chuckling.

“You hungry for my dick, baby?” he asks.

His groin is at level with your face, reaching to take him in hand, feeling him hot and hard in your palm as you start stroking him. Looking up at him, you smile.

“We both know I’m always hungry for your dick—can’t get enough of it.”

“I know,” he says, crookedly smiling. “You gonna put it in your mouth?”

“Someone’s impatient tonight.”

“Someone wants to fuck your pussy.”

“You’re the only man on earth who’d turn down a sloppy blow job.”

He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“'cause I’ve been inside you. Nothing compares.”

“That’s oddly romantic.”

“I love you a-whole-fucking-lot. Please, suck my dick, baby.”

“Impatient.”

You love teasing him and getting him all worked up.

“Horny,” he corrects. “You said all that fuckin’ shit, and now I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

“Sorry,” you say, not sounding apologetic at all.

His eyes narrow.

“You’re a dirty fucking liar.”

You give him a cheeky smile.

“You got me,” you giggle, and before he can say anything else, you’re licking up his shaft from root to tip, swirling your tongue around the head to get all of the sensitive spots.

His head falls back, groaning, you gathering spit on your tongue and letting it fall onto his dick before following it with your mouth, moaning as his thick girth slides inside to hit the back of your throat. It feels so good, bobbing your head, taking him as far as you can without swallowing around him.

His hands are on your head, rough sounds falling from his lips.

Coming off of him with a wet pop, you use your hand to wetly jerk him, keeping his cock out of the way, while your other hand cups his balls, lightly tugging to make Javi’s breath stutter. Looking up through your eyelashes, seeing him watching with his jaw slack.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” he pants.

You suck one into your mouth, gently massaging it with your tongue, getting it all nice and wet, and letting it pop out to give the other the same treatment.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he groans, watching you make a show of licking all over his sack, leaving it shiny with spit when you move back up to take his dick into your mouth again.

You keep your eyes on his while your head moves up and down, feeling him heavy on your tongue, then licking from his base up to the head, suckling on him while fondling his balls, and moaning as you do so, having the time of your life.

“You’re so fucking beautiful sucking my dick,” he husks. “My beautiful, pregnant wife, fuck, I’m lucky.”

That flush you love is moving from his chest up along his neck, already staining his cheeks—a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead and over his pecks, seeing drops starting to shine in the trail of hair below his belly button.

Javi looks gorgeous with his eyes glazed over, lips parted, his hands resting on the back of your head while watching in awe, clearly enjoying what you’re doing with the way his taste is getting stronger, his cock steadily leaking on your tongue.

He sounds wrecked when he says, “Fuck, Cielito, I fucking love you.”

It’s wet between your legs, the insides of your thighs coated in slick, feeling yourself throbbing, so turned on by what you’re doing.

What you love most about sucking your husband’s dick is getting to make him feel so good.

Obviously, he loves penetrative sex, which is undoubtedly his favorite, but with that, the focus was on you both. With oral, you get to focus solely on him, and pamper him, if you will. Let him relax and just enjoy himself, make him feel loved, and show that even after being married, having a kid, with another on the way, you’re still just as wildly horny for him as you were when you first started dating—even more so after getting to see him as a husband and becoming a father.

Javier Peña is a certified DILF, the elite of the elite, and dear god, is it so fucking sexy, to the point that you can’t keep your hands off of him.

It’s sloppy. There’s no finesse with how you’re bobbing your head, his hard cock sliding in and out with ease. Your hands move to grab onto the globes of his ass, squeezing the flesh while his eyes are on yours as you enthusiastically suck him off.

The muscles in his abdomen are tensing, his breathing getting harder, and it doesn’t surprise you when he’s saying, “Shit, shit, fuck, you’re gonna make me come—wanna come inside your pussy.” He gently pulls you off of him, a line of saliva and precum connecting you to him, your chin wet, spit having fallen onto your chest and breasts, his cock shining in the low light.

His hand goes to grasp your chin, rubbing his thumb over your wet bottom lip, looking at each other. You suck it into your mouth, digging your fingers into his asscheeks.

“Baby,” he gasps.

It leaves your mouth with a ‘pop,’ you smiling.

“You wanna fuck me, Javi?” you ask in a sultry tone.

Nodding his head, his voice is rough when he answers, “Yes.”

“Help me up.” You hold up your hands to him, a soft smile on his face as he helps pull you up, your palm going to your belly.

He’s suddenly touching the swell of your stomach, asking, “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Must’ve worn herself out. She’s been really active today. Thought she was learning karate with how she was punching and kicking.”

He frowns.

“You should’ve said something,” he replies. “I would’ve helped calm her down.”

You wave away his words.

“It’s good for her to get some exercise, and as long as she’s not hitting my organs, it’s fine. Plus, it was father-son yard work day, and you guys were having so much fun.”

Javi has a carrier to strap your toddler to his back, using it when he mowed the lawn while you were tending to your small garden. He had to set up the sprinkler to water the grass, your son begging to play in it, and so you’d sat on the back porch drinking lemonade and watching them in their swimming trunks, having the best time playing in the spray.

Smiling fondly, he says, “Yeah. We need to make a trip to the city so I can go to Toys ‘R Us. I wanna get him a toy lawnmower and see if they’ve got anything else he’d like.”

“Your dad will have to babysit him.”

“Why? He should be there.”

“Because you’ll end up buying the entire store, Javier. You are fucking weak to those big brown eyes of his. One look, and you fold faster than a beach chair in a hurricane. We will go bankrupt if we take our tiny child to a giant toy store.”

He frowns, sighing.

“Fuck, you’re right. I can’t say no.”

You cup his cheek.

“I know it’s hard. You just have to build up your immunity to the Peña puppy dog eyes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“That why I can’t get away with shit anymore? You’re immune?”

“I had to build up my defenses. If I didn’t, we would probably be on baby number four by now with the way you get baby fever, and we wouldn’t know what sleep is. One of us needs to have self-control.”

“I’m not seeing how being on our fourth kid is a bad thing…”

You snort.

“You’re not the one who has to grow a human inside of you, and I’m exhausted at just the thought of four kids under five. I’m happy we’re at one and a half. Now, I’ll be back—” you pat his cheek. “—I gotta pee again.”

He smiles, replying, “Of course.” He nods, giving you a quick kiss before you make your way to the bathroom.

Both of you are used to the pauses when getting down and dirty. They are necessary when it feels like you have to relieve your bladder every five minutes.

When you return, you’re feeling much better, your hands clean, and Javi is crowding you to kiss you fervently, his hands moving all over your body—palming your breasts, grabbing your ass, feeling your stomach. He’s walking you toward the bed, anticipation swelling inside you, digging your fingers into the backs of his shoulders, wanting him so badly you’re aching needily between your legs.

Standing at the edge of the bed, your husband’s mouth comes off of yours to ask, “What sounds good? Want me to eat you out? Or do you want dick?”

Sparks skitter down your spine, having to think quickly because his mouth does feel really good, but the thought of him inside you has you clenching hard around nothing.

“Dick,” you answer.

Smirking, he asks, “How do you want it?”

There aren’t many choices, and you’re too tired to be on top.

“Spooning sounds nice.”

He kisses you, then moves to set up pillows at the head of the bed. He helps you get up onto it to lay on your left side with your head on a pillow, making sure you’re comfortable by grabbing the wedge to put it beneath your belly to prop it up and keep your back and hips from hurting, allowing you to relax.

Soon he’s moving in behind you, the line of his body flush to yours, ghosting his fingers up your thigh and along your side, leaning his head close to whisper in your ear.

“Comfortable?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

He grabs your top leg to move it up onto his in order to open you up, sliding his hand between your thighs, moaning when he pushes his fingers through your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says.

His digits circle your perky little clit, making you gasp at the shocks of arousal igniting in your center.

He presses his lips close to your ear, feeling his hot breaths.

“Another thing I like about you pregnant,” he rasps. “Is you’re always ready to fucking go.” He pushes two fingers inside of you, loving the slight stretch, him feeling how soaked you are. “I fucking love eating your pussy or using my fingers—” He languidly pumps them. “—to get you off before we fuck. You know I love foreplay. But the times when all I can think about is getting my dick inside of you, it’s nice that you’re good to go.”

“You’ve got pussy on demand.”

He huffs out an amused breath.

“I do. You’ve got dick on demand.”

You wiggle your ass against his hardness.

“I do, and as you’ve said, I’m ready to fucking go, so please put it in me.”

“Who’s impatient now?” He sounds amused, his hand leaving you.

“Horny,” you correct. “Put it in, Javier.”

He chuckles, placing a kiss on your neck, then your shoulder.

“What my wife wants, she gets,” he says, feeling him moving behind you.

“Your wife wants your dick.”

The thick head of his cock presses to your entrance.

“You can have it,” he says as he pushes in.

Your eyes roll back in your head, moaning loudly, him filling you inch by glorious inch, stretching you open, sliding in with one smooth thrust—loving how full you feel when he bottoms out. Your fingers are clawing at the bed, him pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in, doing it over and over, groaning behind you.

His hand is on your belly, and you grab it, lacing your fingers over the swell, Javi slowly fucking into you, slickly sliding in and out.

You’re so sensitive that the familiar heat is already growing in the base of your spine, knowing you aren’t going to last. That was a somewhat nice side effect of pregnancy: the sensitivity and ease of getting off from penetration alone. It had been a shock the first time it’d happened with your first pregnancy, coming in less than five minutes.

“You feel so fucking good, hermosa,” Javi husks. “Gonna fuck you full of me. You want that? Want me to fuck you full of my come? Want me to fuck another baby in you?”

“Javi,” you moan, your cunt clenching around him, a wave of slick dripping out and soaking his cock. “You already knocked me up.”

His hips speed up, pounding into you hard enough to make your ass jiggle.

“I did,” he says. “And I wanna do it again.”

His words have you feeling hot, ramping you up, getting closer and closer, feeling the build inside of you.

You’re pressing back against him, your noises getting louder.

“You like it,” he continues, kissing your shoulder. “You like carrying my children.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Love having your babies.”

“I’ll give you another.”

Your brain is fuzzy with pleasure at the thought of him getting you pregnant again, your pussy starting to spasm.

“However many you want,” he adds. “We can fill every fucking room in this big ass house. Fuck, we can buy a bigger one.”

It’s too much, everything he’s saying and how he’s fucking you causing you to crest, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you come with a shout of his name. Your body clenches up so tight that his pace slows to a grind, feeling every vein and ridge along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck,” he groans, “My good fucking girl.”

Euphoria is spreading through your system, feeling so fucking good, breathing hard.

A sharp jab of pain erupts in your abdomen, making you hiss out, “Owe!” Followed by another and another. “Fuck, that hurts,” you whine.

Javi is pulling out of you immediately, making you gasp from the sudden loss.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his head coming up to look at the side of your face.

“No. Your child is pissed off,” you say through your teeth, your ribs starting to get sore.

“Shit.” His hand unclasps from yours, Javi sitting up and leaning over your body, rubbing over your big belly. There’s a grumpy look on his face, “Bebita, te pedí que te portadas bien para tu mamá (Baby girl, I asked you to be good for your mom),” he gently scolds. “Lo siento que te despertamos pero no significa que tú puedes dañarla (I’m sorry we woke you up but it doesn’t mean you can hurt her).”

“It’s okay, Javi,” you sigh, the baby already starting to calm down.

His eyes meet yours, a deep frown on his lips.

“I don’t want you in pain.” He looks back at your stomach, his palm still moving along your skin. “And my daughter is going to be on her best behavior for the rest of the night.”

You huff out a breath.

“Dream on, babe. She’s your daughter.”

“She is my daughter.” He smiles. “And she’ll listen to her Papá when I ask really fucking nicely for her to please let me fuck her mom without interruption.”

“Javier!”

“She doesn’t understand me.”

“Still.”

He sighs.

“Te queremos, bebita (I love you, baby girl). Cálmate (Calm down). Todo está bien, te lo prometo (Everything is okay, I promise).” He glances at you. “Is it better?” he asks.

“Pretty sure you could make millions if you offered this as a service, just calming people’s babies. We’d be rich.”

He chuckles.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yep. She’s as cool as a cucumber.”

“Thank god—I’m not done with you.” The bed jostles as he moves, Javi grabbing your hips from behind. “I need you to get up on your hands and knees, baby,” he says, helping you move into position. He stuffs a couple of pillows under your stomach for support, you leaning down to rest on your forearms and widening your legs apart.

Quickly, he’s behind you, grabbing handfuls of your ass.

“Is this okay? Are you comfortable? Need more pillows?” he asks.

Looking over your shoulder, you smile.

“I’m comfy,” you answer. “‘Speak, friend, and enter.’”

His face pinches.

“Did you just quote fucking Lord of the Rings?”

“Yeah, and you can’t give me shit about it because you made us watch both movies the day they came out, you fucking nerd.”

“Wanted to beat the crowds.” He shrugs.

Your eyes narrow.

“Right. Put your dick in me.”

One of his hands grabs his hard cock, sliding it through the sticky moisture of your cunt and notching it at your sopping opening.

He has an amused look on his face as he stares down at what he’s doing.

“Mellon,” he says, and before you can respond, he’s sinking in and stealing your breath, your mouth falling open.

He goes deeper and deeper, your pussy contracting around him like you’re trying to suck him in and keep him there for all of eternity.

“You’re so deep,” you moan, resting your head between your arms on the bed.

His hips finally meet the flesh of your ass, his fingers gripping your waist.

“Is it too much?” he asks, his voice strained.

“No, feels good.”

He starts slow, and it warms your heart because you know he’s making sure that there isn’t any pain, and there isn’t—it feels so fucking good the way his thick cock carves out space in your inner depths.

He starts picking up pace, your breasts slightly bouncing, him working you up, feeling the threads of your orgasm making itself known and curling in your gut.

You’re panting, every nerve in your body alight in pleasure, electricity humming under your skin.

Adjusting his angle has him rubbing against something heavenly that has you gasping out fuck.

“There it fucking is,” Javi grunts, focusing on the spot, snapping his hips faster, harder, every thought leaving your brain except for how amazing he was making you feel. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

The strong, steady thrusts have you drooling, the muscles in your belly tightening. His hands squeeze your asscheeks while he pistons in and out of you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.

Your thighs are quivering, so close you can taste your end, chanting Javi’s name, getting louder and louder.

“Scream my name, Cielito, let the whole fucking town know how good I fuck you,” he says through gritted teeth, hearing the wet squelch of your pussy taking him.

It feels like something big is building inside you, your body trembling, Javi’s name becoming incoherent sobs from your lips. There’s a chance you’re going to explode, the pleasure growing, expanding, it taking over all of your senses.

“I know you’re close, baby,” he grunts. “Let me fucking have it, and I’ll give you my come—fuck you full of it. Fill you to the goddamn brim.”

Everything winds up tighter and tighter, feeling like you want to pull him in as deep as possible but also push him out from how intense it feels.

His hand moves to your front, massaging the ripe berry of your clit.

“Fuck!” you scream, shattering around him, coming so hard it pushes Javi out with a wet gush, splattering onto the bedspread.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he moans. “That’s my good fucking girl, drenching me.” One of his hands rubs comfortingly along your spine. “Shit, that’s good—so fucking sexy, Cielito, almost makin’ me come.”

You’re shaking uncontrollably, the pleasure overwhelming you, your brain mush, head empty, zero thoughts.

He only gives you a second before sheathing himself back inside you, fucking hard and fast, drawing out your high. He’s close, his hands on your hips in a death grip, grunting in exertion as he rails.

“I fucking love you,” he pants. “Love you so fucking much.” Moans are stuttering from your throat, feeling like your orgasm just keeps going. “The best fucking wife,” he says. “The best mother to my kids. Fuck, I love you.”

He blankets over your back, his mouth at your ear, hearing his harsh breaths, him rutting into you to chase his own high, the wet sounds obscene between your legs.

Shoving his face in your neck, he pushes his dick in as deep as possible, raggedly moaning, “Te amo.” His head moves, sinking his teeth in your shoulder as he comes, a rumbling groan bubbling from his chest, feeling the hot spurts of his come filling you, rolling his hips to fuck it as far inside of you as he can get.

He needs a moment to catch his breath, not putting any weight on you. He pulls out, flopping down on the bed beside you, bringing you with him to cuddle on your left side, curling around your back, rubbing your tummy with his broad palm.

“Happy anniversary, Cielito,” he whispers, kissing the skin of your shoulder.

“Happy anniversary, Javi,” you croak.

“Feelin’ okay?” he asks.

“Feel fucking fantastic,” you answer, smiling dreamily.

The baby starts moving.

Javi’s hand stops.

“She hit me,” he says in awe, pushing down a little.

“I think that’s her foot, babe,” you reply.

“She kicked me. Again.”

“Better you than my organs.”

He chuckles, excitedly getting up with a groan. You’re thankful you guys have such a huge bed, your husband easily moving to your other side, laying with his head next to your belly, his legs hanging off the mattress.

He moves his other hand to the same spot, feeling her kicking away, him now able to kiss over where she was lying inside you.

“Such strong kicks, preciosa,” he cooed. “You gonna be a soccer player like your Papá?”

“Javi, you hated playing soccer.”

“She could like it. Be better than me. Isn’t that right, bebita?” The baby kicked his hand hard. “See, mi amor? She agrees.”

“Right…”

“Your mom has her doubts,” he says to your belly. “But I know you’re gonna do great things ‘cause you’re mi bendición (my blessing), and I love you so fucking much.”

Your eyes start to burn, sliding your fingers into his hair to play with it while listening as Javi keeps talking to her—guessing what she’ll be like or what she’ll enjoy, if she’ll be anything like her brother, or either of you two. It’s soft and sweet, and you’re so fucking happy that the tears started falling, thankful to have this man as your partner and the father of your children.

“I love you, Javi,” you whisper.

His head tilts up, smiling at you.

“I love you, too, Cielito. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

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Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession

#pedro pascal #Javier Peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña/reader #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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navybrat817 · 5 months

Note

Navy. We got to cuddle with our florist. Are we also going to cuddle with our tattoo artist? 🥺

Of course, nonnie.

Traditions and Innovation

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to kiss you under the mistletoe, but it doesn't happen in the traditional sense.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Kissing, humor, tension, teasing, inner monologue, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

Previous Part of AU: Rules and Chaos

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I'm only capable of ficlets lately, but enjoy some Hottie and Sugar. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics and Bucky edit by the amazing @nixakimbo .Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“My poor, shivering Sugar. Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up in no time,” Bucky said as he curled a hand around your hip, feeling him smile when he brushed a kiss against your temple. “It’s a tough job, but I’ll do it.”

An icy breeze crept into your bones through your coat when you rushed over to the tattoo parlor minutes ago, earning a sympathetic gaze from Jake when you walked through the door. It was one of the coldest days you could remember and you couldn’t get rid of the chill until Bucky offered to cuddle with you on the couch in the break room. You weren’t about to turn down his generous offer.

Especially since the guys made the room bright and cozy for the holidays with twinkling lights.

“Yeah, I really had to twist your arm to snuggle with me,” you teased, your heart thudding as you tilted your head back and let his lips skim along the column of your neck. It was almost criminal how soft his kisses were. “And I have no doubt in your abilities, Hottie.”

The man was built like a furnace, his firm body seeping warmth into yours as he held you in his embrace. Heat continued to pulse through your veins as he chuckled low and deep. “If you ever doubt my abilities in anything, I won’t hesitate to tie you to my bed and prove you wrong,” he promised, his voice even lower as it slipped into something more intimate.

You shivered for an entirely different reason now, threading your fingers through his hair and gripping them before his mouth could reach your chest. It earned you a throaty groan in response, one that nearly had you crawling in his lap. Somehow you managed to stop yourself.

“We can’t get too carried away,” you said, as much as you wanted to. You had to get back to your shop and he had a client coming in for a touch-up shortly. “Don’t give me that look,” you half begged, trying to ignore how your insides clenched when he lifted his head and gave you a glimpse of his darkened eyes.

How could you ever feel cold under that heated stare?

“But I want some sugar, Sugar,” he purred, one hand coming up to gently grasp your chin. Warm breath ghosted across your lips as he leaned in. “Just a little taste.”

Oh, how I want him to properly taste me. Make me see stars. Make me cry his name.

It was almost chaste in the beginning, his lips gently brushing against yours before he pulled back and leaned back in. Your lips parted first, silently begging for him to deepen the kiss. He still had his hand on your chin as he took his time, as if he truly wanted to taste what your mouth had to offer.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” he murmured when he pulled back, his gaze dropping to your lips as you caught your breath. That look alone made your toes curl. “I should put mistletoe everywhere just to find more excuses to kiss you.”

“That would be a first for me,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“What would be a first?”

“Being kissed under mistletoe. I’ve never done that,” you admitted with heated cheeks though there was no need to feel embarrassed.

Bucky pulled back a bit further as his eyebrows shot up, taking some of the warmth with him. “No one has kissed you under mistletoe? How is that possible?”

“I guess I haven’t had the opportunity,” you answered carefully.

A lump formed in your throat when he continued to stare and you weren’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because he treated you as if the sun, moon, and stars hung in the sky because of you. Not everyone saw you as anything special the way he did.

No one ever loved or cared enough about you before to try.

He slowly shook his head as if he refused to believe you. “Well, I’m fixing that right now,” he said more to himself than you before he gently put his hands over your ears. “Jensen!”

You smiled at his muffled shout before he put his arms back around you. His voice carried when he wanted it to. “Yeah?” Jake yelled back before he rushed to the break room and stuck his head in through the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Do we have any mistletoe around here?” Bucky asked.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” You whispered.

“Finding mistletoe before you go back to the shop. And, no, I’m not letting you leave until we find some,” he whispered back, waiting for Jake to give him an answer.

“I don’t think we do. Steve mentioned buying some,” he said, fiddling with his glasses before his eyes widened. “Wait! I think Hal has something that should work.”

“Of fucking course, he does,” your boyfriend mumbled affectionately as Jake went to get him.

“You really don’t have to do anything, Bucky,” you told him, turning his face back toward you. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he wanted to. He was a romantic at heart and you secretly enjoyed that he wanted to find some. “I appreciate it, but we don’t need something hanging over our heads for us to kiss.”

“I know we don’t, but maybe I want to give you that opportunity to have that kind of kiss,” he said. Your mouth went dry at his heart stopping smile. “If you’ll indulge me.”

You felt the weight of his tender gaze as you smiled, your eyes burning slightly from unshed tears. Thinking back on dating jerks like Richard, you were thankful for the experience because it showed you how guys should treat you and that you wouldn’t settle for less than what you deserved. It began with loving yourself.

“There’s no one else I’d rather kiss,” you said, resting your hand on his chest before Hal strolled into the room.

“Well, well, well,” he smiled, bringing attention to his hair as he ran a hand through it. As if he didn't turn enough heads on a normal day, he decided to dye his hair red and half green for the holiday season. “I heard you were looking for some mistletoe.”

“Yeah, you have any?” Bucky asked impatiently.

Hal chuckled and lifted his shirt slightly, giving you both a quick flash of his abs. “As a matter of fact…”

“Oh, my god,” you giggled, covering your mouth as Hal gestured to his belt. The hand painted buckle had mistletoe painted on it with “KISS ME” written underneath. “That’s…”

You stole a glance at Bucky and you swore you saw his left eye twitch. He likely had a sweet plan in his mind and got this instead. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s mistletoe. Just like you asked for. I mean, it’s a form of mistletoe. I have a date tonight with Angel,” Hal explained, pointing at it again. You wanted to wish him good luck with his date, but you couldn’t stop giggling. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here, get on your knees, and start kissing. Or should I go over there?”

There was no mistaking your boyfriend’s eye twitch this time as your laughter died down. “I’m not kissing my girlfriend by your crotch. I’d sooner choke you with that belt.”

Hal seemed to consider it before he quickly shook his head. “Nah. I tried the choking thing once. Not really for me,” he said, smirking mischievously as he looked between the two of you. “But if she’s into that-”

Well...

You grabbed Bucky’s arm before he could launch himself at his employee and friend, who held his hands up in surrender. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you take the belt off and hold it over our heads,” You suggested, hoping to appease your boyfriend as Hal unbuckled his belt with a shrug and removed it from the loops. “It still counts.”

“Not exactly traditional,” Bucky muttered under his breath before you brushed a finger along his chiseled jaw.

“We’ll call this innovative,” you said with a sweet and sincere smile. One you knew he couldn't resist.

“Innovative, huh?” Bucky asked, pulling you close as Hal waltzed over with an amused smile and dangled the belt above your heads.

“Yes,” you smiled as he framed your face. “So kiss me, please.”

Bucky held your cheeks with such care that it sent your heart soaring. This kiss was softer than before, yet full of promise and hunger, deep and thorough. He stole the breath from your lungs until you were left dizzy and wanting more.

It was the kind of kiss that warmed you up all over, like a flame no one could ever put out.

He pulled away first, slowly, but he seemed just as affected as you felt since he let out a shuddering breath and didn't let you go. “Fuck,” he whispered, bringing a smile to your face.

You had to close your eyes again to center yourself, still smiling. “Yeah. Fuck,” you whispered back before Hal cleared his throat.

“I really do adore you two lovebirds,” he began, stepping back to put his belt back on as you opened your eyes. Bucky didn't bother to look his way, only gazing at you. “But before you round the next base, Andy’s still talking about replacing the couch from the last time.”

He'll change his tune if he ever fools around in here with Sunny.

“Thank you, Hal,” you said, bringing a hand to Bucky’s cheek before he could grumble. Your touch was enough to soften his demeanor. “And thank you for my mistletoe kiss. I'll never forget it.”

Just like your first date that didn't go as planned, it made it all the more special.

Bucky smiled before he helped you both get to your feet. You had to get back to work. “I'm glad you liked it, but I’m getting us some actual mistletoe later and putting it all over our apartments. Bedrooms included.”

“Is that innovative?”

“Yeah, it is,” he smiled, sneaking in one more tender kiss before you had to go.

As long as Bucky would be the one to kiss you, he could put up mistletoe wherever he wanted.

These two. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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exquisiteserotonin · 2 months

Text

Ternion

Word count: 3.3K

Pairing: Young Mr. Ben SNL(as a TA, Grad Assistant)xFemale ReaderxProfessor Jonathan Levy Scenes From a Marriage

Rating: E! For explicit (18+ only, MDNI)

Warnings: Threesome, Power Imbalance, Brat Taming, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), somewhat degrading actions

Summary: Your friend and fellow graduate assistant Ben asks you to come over to his place for help with another task that your overbearing advising professor, Jonathan Levy, has dumped on the both of you.

A/N: I don’t typically subscribe to the whole professor student thing, but this was begging to be written and I hope this means I am out of my funk and my damn season of writer’s block is over. I hope you enjoy and as always reblog, comment, engage! I would love to hear from you!

And to my sluts thank you as always for giving me your magic! @magpiepillsjunior @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @for-a-longlongtime

Ternion

Ternion: a group of three, a triad; a section of a paper of book containing three double leaves or twelve pages

Your eyes were beginning to glaze over as you stared at your laptop screen. It was another long afternoon of compiling participant demographics and data from your advising professor’s study in your closet of an office. You closed your laptop a little harder than you should have as you began to pack up for the day. The parking lot behind your building was nearly empty, most students having left for the day. As you drove home, you had visions of cozying up on the couch with your blanket, drinking an adult beverage, and binge watching your favorite tv show.

You were only a few miles from your house, when the infotainment screen in your car flashed with a familiar contact: Ben, your office mate and fellow graduate assistant. Deliberation coursed through the pads of your fingertips and against your better judgment you answered.

“Hey Ben, what’s up?”

“Hey,” his voice echoed with a hesitancy, “Professor Levy asked me a for a favor and I—“

“Are you serious, Ben?” You groaned in exasperation. “This is such bullshit. ”

“I know, I know—I hate to ask but would you come over and help me out?”

Say no. Say no. Say no, your brain said on repeat. Desperation wafted from his hushed voice in a way that immediately unlocked your kindness. You just knew he was pouting, running his hands through his chocolate brown hair while somehow making his already big eyes even bigger, like glassy orbs of whiskey on ice: against your silent protests that he NOT be so easy to say yes to. But aside from that he was also the kind of colleague who’d help you out in a pinch…and too damn attractive for his own good. It certainly made having him as your office mate interesting and frustrating at times.

You gripped the steering wheel before announcing your decision.

“Well, I was legitimately on my way home,” you replied with a deliberately loud sigh. “But yeah, sure.”

It was a bitch move, you knew, but you needed your displeasure to be known. A small part of you felt bad about being so vocal with your frustration. It wasn’t Ben’s fault, but he needed to know the inconvenience of it all. You would not be at your professor’s beck and call. Especially on a goddamn Friday night.

“Just give me some time to head over,” you huffed and added, “I can’t be over there in a snap like Professor Levy would want.

“Hey now,” Ben spoke in a firm whisper that somehow still held a hint of kindness despite your bite, “don’t shoot the messenger.”

You turned the car around and headed to Ben’s house. You found parking on the street and walked up the stairs to the door of his small Brownstone. You pushed the doorbell and found yourself brushing your hands through your waves and cautiously smelling yourself.

Passable. You thought to yourself.

Then he answered the door, emerging in a snug navy blue v-neck and loose gray sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips. A hint of skin teased you between the hem of his shirt and the elastic of his pants. They held onto his hips for dear life with nothing but the insurance of a haphazardly tied drawstring. You nearly whimpered at the sight of him.

What a fucking tease. Get a hold yourself, woman.

You breezed through his door without a word, trying to quell your craving and channel it to the frustration you felt with your advising professor. This was his fault anyway.

“Um…hello to you, too,” he greeted.

Your hands were placed firmly on your hips when you turned back to face him. One of his brows was cocked at you, already waiting for another snarky response. You couldn’t help but pout back at him. He knew you too well.

“Just like him to not give you a weekend off,” you huffed.

“You don‘t even know what I‘m going to ask you,” his voice was low and sterner than you had ever heard before. “I‘m starting to think you like a little fight.“

The way his eyes bore into you was so deep, it was nearly a glare. He held his chin up in the slightest way, arrogant enough that it demanded your attention to his strong neck. It wasn’t long before you felt tiny sparks of electricity traveling over every inch of skin of your body. It didn’t help that he stood with his hips pushed forward in the most arrogant and un-Ben-like way.

“Wow, if only you could give a little bit of that attitude back to Professor Levy,” you said with some bite and unconstrained breathiness.

Conveying the facade of confidence was important. Especially in situations like this.

Ben stepped forward, his shirt and sweatpants clinging against his body in exactly the right way.

“You’re only proving me right,” he purred, now only inches from you.

Do not moan. Do not moan. Do not moan.

“Just give her what we know she needs, Ben,” you heard a polished voice command from the shadows of another room.

A different kind of heat crept over your face and neck after hearing the familiar voice.

What were the chances?

You looked towards the shadows to see Professor Levy swaggering towards you. He pushed forward a few steps, placing his hands in his trousers pockets before leaning against the wall to watch you. His eyes were low and piercing and he licked his lips that rested beneath his salt and pepper beard.

“Of course he’s here,” it came out as the repressed moan you were fighting against.

Professor Levy nodded towards Ben in acknowledgment of some kind of unspoken agreement. Faster than you could think or speak, Ben pulled your body tightly against his, grinding against you as he pressed his lips to yours in a hungry and greedy kiss.

You didn’t expect for Ben’s lips to feel as soft as they did. They were even softer when he parted yours with a firm lick of his tongue. The heat rose within you as his large hands wrapped around your waist, finding your skin beneath your shirt as he pressed your bodies even closer together. With every move he demanded you feel every twitch of his cock for you.

“W—wait!” You gasped, pushing him from you.

Your eyes moved from Ben to Professor Levy, a strange mix of unbridled desire and anxiousness stirring in the lowest part of your stomach. Ben’s thick fingers managed to keep a possessive grip on your hips that you didn’t brush away, despite the way your brain was spinning in want of answers.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You demanded of both of them.

The two men shared another knowing look that stoked the flame of your frustration. Professor Levy raised an eyebrow before removing his glasses and wiping them on a cloth he pulled from his shirt pocket. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him as he strutted towards you, his fingers weaving through the gunmetal ringlets of his hair. You rolled your eyes with disdain for his insufferable ways of working, but found yourself burning from your center with intrigue at what those fingers might be able to work on you.

“Always with the snark,” your professor directed the words towards Ben who responded with a shrug and a smirk.

“You will not talk about me like I’m not in the room,” you paused, turning to him and holding your eyes directly to his, “Jonathan.”

He one more large stride forward until he, too, was inches from you.

“I think you mean professor,” he commanded, continuing to advance on you until you backed into Ben.

A moan escaped you as Ben stood like a wall behind you. With your chest heaving up and down, Professor Levy brushed a strand of hair from your face with his long, lithe fingers. Yet they didn‘t stop there. The heat continued to rise from the three of you as the professor‘s hand journeyed down the curve of your body until they met Ben‘s at your hip. They shared a look of longing before turning that desire towards you. And in the strangest turn of events, the professor’s lips were on yours with his tongue paying adoration to your pouty lower lip.

Unable to contain the desire that trembled within, you let out a long, loud whimper as Professor Levy gently trapped your lower lip with his teeth. You already thought the feeling of Ben’s throbbing cock at your lower back was enough to drive you mad, but somehow you knew you were going to be pushed to your limit the moment Professor Levy took your hand to his pants until he pushed your palm to feel him twitch with desire for you.

The part of your brain that held your common sense screamed at you, demanding you not give him the satisfaction. But every other part of it, along with every part of your body, beckoned you to give in. The feeling of Ben’s massive hand moving to the front of your waist was followed by his thick fingers inching towards the front of your jeans. You couldn’t help but pant as you felt his hot breath brush the back of your neck.

“You can’t tell me that this isn’t better than the fight you put up,” Ben’s voice came to your ear in a low growl.

He wasn’t wrong. But ever true to yourself, you bit your lip and replied with a little extra spice, “I think that remains to be seen.”

Your words made Ben snap his hips forward against you with a gravelly moan. Within Professor Levy’s mahogany eyes you could see from his heavy-lidded stare the desire the two men held for each other while searching for their reason to include you.

Professor Levy lifted your chin with a push of two strong fingers, silently ordering you to look squarely into his bespectacled eyes before he spoke, “You definitely need to be taught a lesson.”

You found yourself following him to Ben’s large leather couch, with Ben close behind you, his fingers intertwined in yours. Professor Levy took his place first like a king warming his throne. He smirked as he taunted you by unbuttoning his shirt. He manipulated each button with skillful fingers until he slipped it off and let it fall to the living room floor. He spread his legs wide as he sat, smoothing his hands over the soft fabric of pants that covered his strong thighs.

Ben nibbled playfully at your neck and then your ear with desperate and needy breaths. His warm hands slowly slid beneath your shirt, moving upwards until he massaged your breasts with paws massive enough that they made them feel small. Before you could even think your shirt was gone followed by your bra.

Professor Levy beckoned you to him as he rubbed his thighs, “Come sit here…now.”

This time, you submitted without a fight, feeling the way your skin nearly melted into his as you let your back rest against his chest. His beard tickled the skin of your ear as he licked at the bottom of it. His supple fingertips reached under your arms until they found the altar of your nipples. You rolled back against him as he tortuously began to caress, flick, and pinch them even slower and more skillfully than he had with the buttons of his shirt.

“Ben,” your professor called to your colleague, friend…inevitable lover, “come here.”

You dragged your nails along the waist of his low slung sweatpants while he lifted his shirt over his head. You kept your fingers just above his waistband while he leaned over the couch towards you and your professor. It was mesmerizing to watch how these two beautiful men looked at each other with such intimacy and longing as you lay between them. Your professor took a hand from your nipples and brought it possessively to the back of Ben’s neck, pulling his face to his before licking his bottom lip and pressing onto his mouth for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“Fuck.”

There were no other words you had that could possibly convey the carnal state of desire you had fallen into. Hungrily, you pulled at the drawstrings of Ben’s sweatpants before reaching your hand to the waistband. In a lightning fast move, your professor pulled it away, squeezing your fingers between his.

“Tsk, tsk, not without my express permission,” Professor Levy scolded in a low, buttery whisper.

Slowly, Ben positioned himself at your legs, his hands caressing your waist until he began rubbing your professor’s thighs with you. Professor Levy grabbed Ben’s hand and squeezed it before lowering his eyes to him.

He spoke with unwavering confidence coating every word as he gave Ben a command that sent shivers spiraling outward from your wet center.

“Taste her.”

The wanton darkness that overcame Ben’s eyes and the smirk that curled the corner of his upper lip coaxed your heart and your pussy to throb even more than you anticipated. Your professor’s demand spurred Ben to pull off your jeans and underwear even faster than you could put any thoughts together. You sat naked between the two men in so many more ways than you’d imagined you ever would be. Through your dizzying thoughts, Ben placed a firm grip on your legs pressing them a part.

Any words you thought you could form in your head only came out in quick, pulsing gasps. An unbridled heat spread all over your body as you felt Ben’s broad fingers handle your outer lips until they began to line themselves up at your slit.

“Jonathan, she’s so fucking wet,” his voice was hushed and his breath was so hot against your pussy.

Professor Levy’s response came out in a guttural moan that met your body by way of hands continuing to work on your nipples. The theme of surprise continued as your professor and Ben played off one another in ways that only happened when two people knew each other beyond words. Ben’s nose pressed into your mound as he licked a slow, deep stripe up your center.

“Oh my god,” You cried, finding your professor’s hand with a desperate grasp as Ben began working on your pussy with slow, luxurious and hungry swirls until he moved into a varied and unexpected pace that had you shaking, writhing, and bucking against his every move. Each time his tongue worked on you, he pushed you to the very edge of ecstasy over and over and over again.

He moved his worship to your clit and pressed his face and tongue deeper into you, eliciting a cry from you that filled the room, “Jesus, Ben, fuck oh my—Professor!!”

You pressed one hand through Ben’s waves and gripped Professor Levy’s thigh while riding your high.

“Ben, tell me what she tastes like.”

He lifted his face from your center, lips and chin dripping with your spend.

“Like heaven.”

Ben looked up at you, his eyes glassy with passion and also shining with the gleam of a man hungry for more. The sight of him caused you to whimper. You had never studied his face this way before even though you shared a small space together almost daily. The broad bridge of his nose sloped downward and he breathed you in with a playful smirk before adorning your outer lips with a delicate kiss. You thread your fingers through the disheveled locks of his hair, smiling back at him until your lips opened once more as he teased you with more caresses of his fingers.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Professor Levy growled into your ear.

Your brain was spinning, your body shaking in anticipation of what was to come next. Professor Levy reached an arm over your body, maneuvering his hand towards your neck and without missing a beat, Ben pressed his mouth onto you again sucking at your lips before he dipped his tongue into you again. He continued to venerate every fold with abandon, moaning with each taste he had of you like it were the best meal he’d ever had. You didn’t think it could get any better, especially with the pressure of your professor’s hand at your neck matching the intensity of each manipulation of Ben’s tongue.

And then…

One…two of his broad fingers reached into you, curling into your tight wet pussy while his tongue paid particular devotion to your clit.

“Ah, oh my god, fuck!” You came crying, writhing, and losing any more words the tighter your professor’s grip became.

Ben’s voice vibrated against you with a low, carnal laugh as you felt the slick sensation spill from your center onto the leather beneath you. He then pressed his hands lightly at your lower belly, causing you to shudder with even more aftershocks from your orgasm. You worked through catching your breath and looked down at him. The face he greeted you with as you caressed his wavy locks was that of a bold and satisfied man who knew he could do that to you again.

Ben rose up from the floor and leaned forward until his face was close to yours. You relaxed and leaned your head back against your professor’s as he eased his hold at your neck. In an unexpected moment of tenderness, Professor Levy threaded his fingers between yours.

Ben’s eyes shined as he looked toward you and then your professor. The simultaneously tender and sensual intimacy they shared was amplified in this quiet moment. It felt so private that you were almost embarrassed by having witnessed it.

“Wanna have a taste?” Ben asked as he pressed his thumb still damp from you to Professor Levy’s bottom lip.

Your professor took it, sucking at the tip savoring the taste of you on Ben’s skin. Heavy-lidded with lust, Professor Levy let go of Ben’s thumb and then licked his lips.

“Mmm, sweet,” he murmured with a seductive and low rumble coming from the back of his throat.

Ben stood up and lifted his chin with a proud smirk. He walked to what you assumed was his bedroom and then turned around to lean against the doorway. The way he leaned his elbow above him and his other hand resting at his hip demanded you pay attention to his defined torso. The waistband of his sweatpants sat so low that your eyes had no choice but to travel down the peppering of brown hair that led to the thick treasure you were becoming so desperate for.

A light squeeze of your thighs by your professor was your signal to stand. He walked around you and used his eyes to study every curve of your body. A light touch of his fingers beneath your chin had you breathing hard again as his gaze now demanded that you give him your own. The breath from his mouth danced upon your lips. Yet instead of taking you in for a kiss, he turned from you with his hands in his pockets. You stood naked before both men watching you, waiting for you, bodies reaching for you from a doorway to a room and to a deed that you could never really come back from.

And the decision was clear. There was no way in hell you could turn back now.

You stepped forward. The old, hardwood floors creaked beneath your feet.

“Wait,” Professor Levy called out.

You closed your eyes with a sharp intake of breath and you stopped as he had demanded. Your breath quivered as you waited for what they had in store for you.

He shared another look with Ben, his eyes lowering and the brown of them becoming devilish and dark.

“Get on your knees and crawl.”

#juice collective #friends of the juice collective #pedro pascal character fanfiction #oscar isaac character fanfiction #mr. ben x reader #mr. ben snl #pedro pascal fandom #jonathan levy #scenes from a marriage #smut writing

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