#but then she smokes three packs in the next three hours and it's back to its original state

[fishareglorious]

#ryoshu #limbus company #fish doodles #i wanna study her under a microscope and know wtf is with her #tags from my wip: #also do you think whenever dante turns back the clock it also turns back the state of her lungs into something that's somewhat decent #but then she smokes three packs in the next three hours and it's back to its original state #lcb shitpost

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - five.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 9k (as you will see, a lot of stuff happens)

synopsis: When the mission goes south and you end up in the hands of the enemy, Ghost finds himself alone and angry, reflecting on what your presence actually means to him.

warnings: violence, graphic descriptions of torture, occasional swearing, mentions of smoking, hurt/comfort, slight happy-ending, Ghost being angry and tortured by his inner demons, military inaccuracies

notes: So this is it - the finale of a series that was initially meant to be a one shot consisting of several random fluff-filled scenes. I am actually quite satisfied with how the story turned out, although I have to warn you that this chapter is longer than usual because it consists of several pure narrative parts (background descriptions and such).

If you need therapy after reading this, just dm me the bills and I'll work something out :)

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

five.

To say Ghost was angry would have been an understatement. He was fuming, his heavy breathing being the only sound that filled the now-silent room. Even after half an hour had passed, the burning feeling in his chest did not fade away, serving instead as a reminder of his helplessness. He was angry at Laswell for pairing you up with the younger sniper team. He was furious with Price for his decision to not go after you the moment your radio stopped working...

But in the end, he was livid with himself for not being there to protect you in the first place.

He couldn’t shake the guilt that ate him from inside like a parasite, and as the seconds turned into minutes which would be bound to turn into hours, he felt the weight of his inaction suffocating him like he was the one under torture. Clenching his jaw, he began to stomp around the living room of the safe house. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife and, as he felt the concerned looks of the others on him, Ghost couldn’t help but replay the events of the past 36 hours in his mind.

He felt he had failed you when it mattered most, but he was determined to set things straight and bring you back unharmed.

Or at least alive and breathing.

--- 28 hours earlier

The sky was painted in golden hues by the time you left the briefing room, the morning air being a cold, yet comforting sensation that welcomed you when you got out of the main base building. Your mind was reeling with a plethora of classified intelligence and even more questions, but at least your adrenaline levels were high enough to chase any remnants of sleep away.

It had been almost a day since you left your apartment, but you weren't in a rush to go back. You would have to pack for the next mission anyway, and the given approximation of "an undefined amount of time" was an additional reason to delay the task. Instead, you went to the only place where you knew you'd find Ghost at this hour: the unofficial smoking spot of the base, named after the lack of security cameras in the area.

And there he was, perched on a plastic chair that made him look comically big and threatened to barely hold his weight. His mask was raised to his nose, highlighting a prominent jawline, peppered with faint scars and a hint of blonde stubble. Involuntarily, your eyes focused on his plump lips and the way they were wrapped around the cigarette, its burning tip glowing orange with each drag he took. His eyes were focused on a random point on the ground, but you knew he had heard you coming- his body had unconsciously shifted towards you, his legs adopting an open stance, almost as if to greet you.

"Thought you said you'd quit", you teased him in a soft tone, dragging a chair and sitting next to him. You opened your mouth to add something but were taken aback when you saw his lips curl up in a gentle smile, accompanied by a weak laugh.

There was no humour in it, but that did not stop you from relishing in the rare sight of Ghost's grin, your eyes once again focusing on the faint scar that rested on his lower lip. You didn't know the story behind it, nobody but Price did, yet that didn't stop you, Soap and Gaz to come up with scenarios of your own, one less likely than another.

"You're staring!", he remarked in a gravelly tone, blowing out a huff of smoke.

You knew it was wrong, but you secretly enjoyed second-hand smoking when he was around. He was too stubborn to let you try one of his cigarettes, always arguing about the negative impact on your health, but it was not like he could forbid you from keeping him company. The traces of smoke in his scent were an integral part of him and sometimes you just couldn't get enough of it, your lungs always begging for more.

"I'm not!", you eventually countered, taking a deep breath in. "And you did not answer the question!"

"It wasn't a question!", he argued back with a serious expression, his lips now forming a straight line.

"You know what I mean!"

You also knew that the banter you two had going on was meant to keep him away from the edge that would send Simon away and bring back Ghost. You'd already seen glimpses of him back in the briefing room when Laswell brought you up to date on the details of the mission. Just as you were witnessing Simon now, smoking half a pack of cigarettes in a desperate attempt to keep the deadly persona of the 141 Lieutenant away for as long as possible.

"Can I try one?", you went on with the distraction, already knowing his answer.

"No." - his answer was definitive, his clipped tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Huffing in annoyance, you crossed your arms over your chest and furrowed your brow, slightly scrunching your nose. He did not seem to be fazed by your childish outburst and instead, inhaled deeply, cheeks hollowing as he drew in the smoke. The exhale came shortly after, grey tendrils of smoke escaping his parted lips before he decided to speak again:

"Wanna hear something funny?"

You were already aware of Ghost's penchant for what he called "dad jokes", but what actually were just really bad puns, although, with him, they often had the tendency to turn out darker than expected. That was why you had to carefully pick your answer because you did not want to have Ghost on the bad side before going into mission - either because you refused to listen to a pun, or because of your reaction to it.

"I'm really not sure…", you shook your head, struggling to avoid eye contact.

As expected, he went on regardless of your answer.

"What do you call cigarettes you find in a thrift shop?"

A faint smirk was profiling on his lips again as he was clearly waiting for your reaction before delivering the pun.

"Go on, tell me", you eventually nudged him, rolling your eyes in fake pretence.

"Second hand smokes."

You struggled to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread on your face, but eventually, you ended up looking to the ground and shaking your head in defeat. Another low chuckle was heard from Simon, yet when you looked back at him, the cigarette butt was already in the ashtray and his balaclava was back on. You let out a deep sigh, your lips forming a pout, but you accepted his extended hand, allowing him to lift you from the chair.

"Come on, I'll drive you home. Price said the plane leaves at 1300 hours which leaves us with… exactly 6 hours and 45 minutes to get our things in order."

"Can't wait for it!", you let out an ironic huff, a shiver going down your spine upon hearing a hushed laugh in reply.

You and Ghost were in a good place. You could only hope this would last.

---

"Sergeant L/N, these are Privates Reynolds and Jones! They will be accompanying you on this mission as a sniper, respectively a spotter!"

From the instant you set eyes on him, you knew Captain Price had chosen the tarmac to make the introduction with a firm reason in mind. Perhaps it was the thunderous roar of the engines or the massive air currents caused by the propellers of the military aircraft you were about to board, but you could tell the atmosphere was intimidating enough for the two young men that they could only hold your gaze for so long before nodding their heads in acknowledgement.

"This is Sergeant L/N and she is going to be your mentor and leader for the duration of this mission", Price went on, his tone mercilessly cold.

The previous night he'd been a friendly face, "the dad of the group", as you drunkenly mentioned him in the toast, but that day he was the Captain of one of the most lethal Task forces there had been. And with that position came no room for mistakes or second thoughts.

"You will listen to her, no matter the situation. She tells you to shoot, you shoot. She tells you to hide, you hide. Hell, she tells you to come out and surrender, you do just that if you want to come home in one piece and not in a body bag!"

And he had a tendency to be slightly dramatic sometimes. Yet it was well-intended: you could only remember the "pep-talk" he'd given you before your first mission, after having placed you in the care of one of the most deadly operators you've ever seen, also known to others as "the big boy with a skull face"; that mission had gone sideways minutes after it had begun and you ended up saving yourself and the Lieutenant twice just by being high on energizers and adrenaline.

You and Ghost did not talk about that.

"Good to meet you, boys!", you shook their hands with a firm grip before nodding them into the direction of the aircraft. "You should go and buckle up. I'll be joining you soon!"

"Yes ma'am!", they answered in unison, shooting each other a cryptic look before heading in the direction of the plane.

You and Price caught that, but before being able to talk about it, you were interrupted by the big boy with the skull face himself:

"Those are the boys Y/N's supposed to be babysitting?"

Ghost was not one to mince words, even on a good day. Perhaps, at one point in the past, he had simply decided that hiding behind a wall of well-chosen words was not worth it, or he simply preferred to make himself understood from the beginning. And when opposing something, as he was at that moment, he did not bother to hide it:

"You're lucky they're not in your care!", you decided to steer the conversation in another direction. "I don't know where Laswell found them, but I bet at least one's dad has stars on his shoulders!"

Neither you, nor Ghost liked Price's lingering silence, but you didn't show it. You trusted Kate well enough to know she would have ensured they posed no real threat to your safety and the mission's success before having them join you on the field.

What actually bothered you was that it all happened on such short notice. You barely had time to bounce back from the previous assignment before having to start a new, high-risk, high-stakes one. You were aware of your limits and confident enough that you could pull this one off - but having to look after another two people you met a couple of hours before going into the field? Sure, you knew your limits, but did they know theirs?

"Stop it! Get it out of your mind, now!"

Ghost's deep Manchester accent pulled you out of your head and back into the present moment. You shot him what was meant to be a reassuring look, unaware that you actually looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It took you a moment to realise Price had left, leaving you two alone on the tarmac.

"They do anything you don't like, they act fishy - you report directly to me!"

He took a step forward, the tac vests you'd fastened on your bodies almost making contact. You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the tremor that coursed through you and raised your eyes to take a better look at the skull plate, firmly attached to his black balaclava by messy stitches.

Just like Price, he was quick to bounce back into being the Lieutenant of Task Force 141. You were used to seeing him in full combat gear considering the big count of missions you went together into, but you couldn't help but furrow your brow at the sight of an additional Ka-Bar knife strapped in a detachable holster on his belt. And at the two fragmentation grenades attached to the same belt. But after all, he and Soap would drop out of the plane before you hit the landing zone - he would need all the additional equipment and ammunition he could get.

"Are you ready to go into the hornet's nest?", you tried to tease him in an attempt to mask the audible gulp you had to take as the adrenaline started to kick in.

"You'll have reduced it to half before I even take out my knife!", he hummed as an answer, a soft warmth glowing in his chocolate eyes.

You opened your mouth to talk back, but you were interrupted by the loud beeping that signalled you to board the aircraft. You knew you had to go, you had a tight schedule to follow after all, but neither of you seemed to want to be the first to leave.

"I'll meet you at the safehouse?"

This time you couldn't look him in the eye, pining your gaze to the ground as your voice trembled, a soft vibration that got lost in the brutal cacophony of sounds. A surprised sound left your lips when his tac vest came back into your sight, two gloved fingers resting on your chin and lifting it until your eyes made contact with his.

"I'll be there."

You maintained eye contact as his hand fumbled for something on his vest. His glance was soft and tender, just as reassuring as his words and the gloved fingers that still lingered above your helmet strap.

"And I'll want that back."

You shot him a quizzical look before feeling an unfamiliar weight in the pocket of your tac vest. Your eyes shot down to the place, catching a glimpse of his skeleton glove before setting on the crumpled, half-smoked pack of cigarettes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"That's an order, Sergeant!", he barked out before heading towards the aircraft. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and follow him, left hand resting over the smokes.

"Roger that, sir!"

--- 2 hours earlier

"Watcher 1 to Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

Laswell's voice could be heard through the radio, partially interrupting your watch. With mechanic moves, you pressed the communication button and brought the microphone closer to your chapped lips:

"Watcher 1, this is Bravo 4-7, solid copy! Go on for traffic."

"Interrogative, have you got eyes on the target?"

Shifting a bit under the dessert camouflage net, you peered down the scope of the rifle to check the gates of the compound. Two men with hunting dogs seemed to be on foot patrol, automatic guns swaying at their hips.

"Affirmative. Do you want me to take them down?"

It had been more than 20 hours since you got into position, yet all you were ordered to do was to keep watch and stand for future orders. Since it was not the first mission of this kind, you had expected that yet you could see the Privates getting jumpy and distracted, the two of them idly chatting between their own shared camo net.

"Negative, we expect the smugglers to arrive shortly after they switch patrols- we plan to infiltrate so hold your fire!"

"Copy, Watcher 1! Bravo 4-7 out!"

Taking one last look at the current patrol, you switched the communications on the channel you used to communicate with the two Privates. During your first mission, Ghost wasn't exactly the most talkative partner and not being able to entirely understand his intentions almost got you killed. After you got to know him better, you knew that he had been testing you and that he was always ready to step in if things went more south than expected, but nonetheless, you decided to do things differently with the two soon-to-be operators:

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You turned your eyes to the left, a frown on your face as you saw the camo net slightly shift as the radio began to crackle.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1. Uhm… solid copy?"

"This is Bravo 0-7. Why the hell are you talking to your supervisor on the main channel?"

You couldn't help but giggle at Ghost's rough voice and you rolled your eyes at his antics. He was surely having the time of his life after having found a way to pick on the two men.

"Sorry sir… uhm, we were answering to Bravo 4-7-1 and…"

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, switch to channel 4 and we'll continue our private chat there."

The quiet air was filled with even more crackling static and occasional mutters coming from who was probably Reynolds. Still keeping your eyes locked on the gates of the complex, you let out a sigh as you pressed the communication button again before Ghost could intervene:

"Bravo 4-7-1, use the red dial that is next to the communication button. All Bravos, sorry for the disturbance - though we could all use a small break!"

"You've got it, Bambi! How are you holding up there?"

You smiled hearing Kyle's reassuring tone, briefly accompanied by what must have been Price's laugh. Ghost and Soap would infiltrate the building from one side, while the Captain and Gaz would break in from the other- and you would keep watch and annihilate any unexpected threat, coming from the outside.

"It's all good, Gaz, all good. Just sitting my ass here and waiting for the moment I get to save yours!"

"Have you seen this ass though? Definitely worth killing for!"

Naturally, Soap couldn't help but intervene, his cocky reply being laced with a hint of playful arrogance. You opened your mouth to give him a well-chosen answer, but Ghost beat you to it. He was in full-combat mode, his stern voice being more than enough to make you bounce back into the harsh reality of the mission.

"Keep talking, MacTavish, and there'll be no rear-end left of you by the time the job is done! Party's over, get your asses back into the game!"

"Roger!"

But you still laughed after you made sure your radio was off, shaking your head in disbelief. Even when pent up on combat stress and adrenaline, you knew Ghost's pun was intentional. Involuntarily, your hand brushed over the crumpled pack of smokes, fishing it out of the pocket and bringing it closer to your face. Closing your eyes, you inhaled slowly, a deep sigh leaving your mouth. Even after a bumpy plane ride and 20 hours spent on a stakeout, Simon's scent was lingering, a silent sign of his presence.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1, how copy?", Private John's voice could be heard through the radio, a tense silence settling in after his words. You had an inkling that they still had second thoughts on whether they were on the right channel or not.

"Solid copy, Private." You eventually decided to end their inner torment and reply, a grin forming at the corner of your lips when you heard a collective sigh from the two.

"Ma'am, we're sorry about before…"

"Mistakes happen- let that be your biggest and last one", you were prompt to cut them short, remembering how Ghost had tried to instil discipline through clipped, yet complete orders. "Now, Reynolds, tell me what you two are looking at!"

"Yes, ma'am! We're looking at two solid iron gates which are openly guarded by two mobile patrols, each one consisting of an armed man and a hunting dog. They haven't rotated in the past 5 hours, I think, so they are probably expecting to be changed soon-"

"Which also means that they might have got bored and should not be as attentive to their surroundings as-"

"Wrong, Private Johns, you are dead. Lesson number one on the battlefield, never underestimate your enemy!", you barked through the headset in a manner that would make Ghost proud. "You always need to uphold the enemy to the highest standard, not rely on their mistakes to succeed. Mistakes are occasional, but underestimating them is what will get you killed!"

The prolonged silence on their part was not a good sign and, for a moment, you wondered whether you'd been too harsh on them. But they must have known what they were signing up for temporarily joining the Task Force, so you sighed in defeat and pressed the communication button once more:

"I want you to move to the next ridge and keep watch from there. I expect detailed reports every 15 minutes from now on. Any questions?"

"No ma'am. Bravo 4-7-1 out."

"Bravo 4-7 out."

---

You started to realise something was wrong when another hour passed and the patrols were not switched, but instead doubled, with no signs of smugglers in sight. So far the main channel had been quiet and you divided your attention between the Privates' reports and being on the lookout for any signs that you've been compromised.

Your left hand was unconsciously fiddling with the cigarette pack, while your right one was adjusting the scope to focus on the road leading to the complex. Your breath hitched upon seeing a Humvee heading towards the gates and you fumbled for the communication button of the radio, bringing the mic closer to your mouth.

The sudden explosion of static coming from the radio had you almost ripping off the headset from your ears, a cold shiver running down your spine the moment you realised it.

Your radio was not working.

"All Bravos, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You could feel your heartbeat increasing at an alarming rate when no answer came and you turned to look at the place where Privates Reynolds and Johns should have been, keeping watch on the complex. Your heart dropped further in your chest when you realised the ridge was empty and there had been more than 15 minutes since their last report- still that didn't justify why they'd left their position without telling you. Were Price's orders not clear enough? Sure, your radio may have broken somehow, but they should have come and checked in with you in person as they must have been trained.

You let out a string of curses under your breath, the realisation of the imminent danger you were currently in hitting you like a bullet train. You must have been compromised, the same way the scouts Laswell mentioned had been - and your radio was not working because someone must have been using a signal jammer in the area. And judging by the absence of the two Privates, the order to retreat had already been given.

You needed to get out of there.

With rapid, but calculated movements, you disassembled the sniper and began to pack it into a camo warbag. You were slowly rolling up the camouflage net when multiple gunshots were fired on the road you had been watching. Your eyes widened in disbelief when you saw what must have been the convoy supposed to transport the weapons Laswell talked about, coming under heavy fire. There had been someone else who had known about the transport, and who must have done everything they could to get their hands on it.

And taking into consideration what they had done to the Special Forces scouts, you could easily rule out the saying that stated that the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So when you heard men hollering in what seemed to be Russian in your vicinity, you ripped out your dog tags and all the badges that identified you as a British Special Forces operator and buried them into a shallow mound, carefully placing one of Ghost's cigarettes on top of it. As the shouts grew closed, you took in a deep breath and your left hand gripped around the hilt of the extra Ka-Bar knife you kept in your boot.

With a small sigh of resignation, you accepted the fact that you couldn't outrun them without the high risk of getting killed. While the ridge you were stationed on was a good point of observation, it provided no proper cover outside of the camouflage net you've already packed and it only left you with the choice you've been trained to make and despised the most.

Surrender yourself and hope somebody will come to save you.

-- present time

"Why didn't she listen to the orders to retrea-.."

One of the Privates whose nametag read Johns tried to speak up, but his words faltered as the deadly gazes of the remaining Task Force 141 operators were set on him. And at that moment they resembled a pack of hound dogs, eager to be released on a hunt.

"Listen here, boy", Soap began in an unusually calm tone, although his tensed-up form spoke otherwise. "You and your friend here- you better pack up and make sure you board Laswell's ride, as soon as she touches ground here." His words were cold and calculated, his voice getting harsher as he went on. "See, right now we are all focused on getting back our comrade- to put it plainly, we do not have the time to deal with you leaving her behind deep in enemy territory."

He paused for better effect.

"But Lord save you once we find her because nothing will hold us back and we. Will. Be. Coming. For. You."

"That's enough, MacTavish!", Laswell curtly said as she entered the safe house. She was dressed plainly, if not for the bulletproof vest she'd donned and the usual stack of manilla folders she was usually carrying around had been replaced by a laptop she placed in front of Price and opened. "I take full responsibility for what happened to Miss L/N. As for now, she is declared as MIA."

"What do you mean, happened? I don't care what you're going to say, but I am sure as hell going to get her out of wherever she is!", Ghost couldn't contain his growl, his fingers turning white from his hard grip on the chair.

If any of his teammates noticed the sudden shift in his demeanour when Laswell declared you as missing in action, they had the common sense to keep their thoughts to themselves. All of them were stressed, angry and tired, but there was one more feeling that was bubbling in Ghost's chest, something that he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he'd been buried alive in a dead man's casket.

Simon Riley was scared. He was scared he wouldn't be able to get you in time, that he would fail to protect you when you needed it the most. He couldn't control the frantic way his heart hammered in his chest when his brain fabricated scenarios in which you were alone, cold and petrified, and it took him a great deal of what was left of his self-control not to throw caution out the window and run to find you.

Ghost was scared for you, but what terrified him the most was the thought of having to live in a world without you.

On the outside, he seemed still as a statue, his trained blank look not betraying the internal conflict that was raging inside. He saw Laswell's lips move and the laptop screen that was placed in front of him, but the lights were too bright and the colours, too saturated. He was supposed to watch a video, a drone footage, as his military-trained mind registered, but the voices in his head became too loud to ignore and the temperature in the room was too high for his liking. His breaths quickened and he felt the mask sticking to his face, suffocating him, as if he was in the coffin again, in the dark, and alone with a rotting corpse. Only it was not the body of the person who'd betrayed him, but your sleeping silhouette, gently resting your head on his chest and sighing every once in a while.

The footage from the drone zoomed in on a familiar figure who was encircled by armed men from all directions. The scene of you being taken as a hostage played in front of Ghost's eyes, but his mind did not register it as his sole focus was on your slumbering figure, the warmth of your body against his playing a big role in persuading Simon that you were actually there, with him, safe and sound.

Yet you weren't, and when he tried to brush a strand of hair away from your face he was met with the rough and cold surface of a skull plate, his fingers instantly jerking away in repulsion. A wave of nausea had him shot up from his chair and stumble to the bathroom, shaky hands fumbling with the thick mask before he could empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt as if he'd been dunked in a barrel of cold water. His mind was no longer muddled with what-ifs and second-guesses, but had a clear purpose in sight: one that would keep him going until the end of the earth just to see it done. His hands no longer trembled as he pulled the black balaclava on his face and headed back to the main room, paying no mind to Soap's concerned gaze.

His eyes were cold and determined as he laid his hands on the first assault rifle within reach, methodically assembling it and stuffing as many ammunition magazines as he could into the pockets of his tactical vest. His hands itched for a cigarette, but the urge only strengthened his resolve: he would find you, even if it meant it was the last thing he did.

---

You didn't even have the energy to flinch when the fist collided with your face, sending your head rolling backwards. The world was reduced to a blurry mess, blue stars dancing before your eyes. Out of instinct, you lolled your head to the side and spit on the ground, in an attempt to diminish the metallic tang of blood in your mouth. You could still feel the unpleasant stinging that overwhelmed the left half of your face where you'd been hit with the back of a gun but tried to ignore the blood that was trickling across your cheek, all too aware of the jagged line that started near the temple and stopped short of the jawline. The bastards knew how to do their job and they weren't ones to shy away from using you as a means to an end- the future facial scar they'd given you serving as solid proof for that.

"He asked you a question, filth!"

An angry conversation was taking place right in front of you, but you were too busy trying to alleviate the pain, to focus on your captors. Sometimes, familiar words would reach your ears: american, military, information; but it was clear that they were struggling to find a way to make you talk. The questions were always the same ones, similar to what you've been prepared for in interrogation training- who were you, who were you working for, what are the Americans planning? Why has everything had always something to do with the Americans?

And just as you'd been taught in interrogation training, your answers were short and clipped- revealing little to no information at that time. You were still in the phase where they saw you as an asset, a potential source of information, taking into consideration the fact that they didn't kill you on the spot, and it was up to you to dictate the rhythm of their game. Speak too fast and too soon, they will get everything they need and kill you. Say nothing for too much time, they will see you as a dead-end and kill you.

You were currently walking the tightrope, trying to keep the balance between the increasing pain you found yourself in and the amount and importance of the information you were giving them. All you had to do was to make sure you stayed alive long enough for your teammates to find you. You knew they would take care of the rest.

"We shall try a different question then, kotyonok…" You shot your captor a cold look full of spite, not sure what disgusted you more: the mocking nickname he gave you or the pressure his fingers applied on your face, so different from the calloused, yet gentle touch of Ghost. "You wouldn't tell us your name- at least give us your codename and we might get Boris here to clean up your cheek. I know you wouldn't like that cut to scar…"

Your hands were numb from the tight grip they used to tie you to the metal chair, but you could still feel them shake when a knife, your Ka-Bar knife, was pressed against your cheek. You bit your lip so hard it drew blood in an attempt to stifle the tears that were pooling in your eyes, and you couldn't help but whimper when the blade was lightly traced against your skin before being sheathed, a heartless laugh following the gesture soon after.

You closed your head and let your head hang low, the rhythmic drip of your blood being the only sound that filled the room for a while. You could only hope you would make it through the next hours and your teammates wouldn't have to be greeted by your still-warm body.

---

Ghost was quick to follow the sound of Gaz's voice, his steps leading him to what proved to be quite a strategic place to observe the complex. A brief look at his compass confirmed the coordinates registered along with the drone footage, and even if more than 4 hours had passed since you'd been captured, his eyes were frantically searching for any signs that might lead him to you.

"I found something! She must have been camped here, there are still traces in the ground from where she pinned the camo net!"

"There was something in the footage…", Gaz started to mutter to himself, starting to hit heaps of dirt at random. "She was crouched over the earth like.. she was trying to bury something, I think?"

Not bothering to reply, Ghost's eyes began to systematically scan the area. At first glance, it all seemed the same, the desert soil not providing much diversity in terms of landscape. But you had to leave a mark behind, something subtle, yet noticeable at the same time, something that you could find only if you knew what you were looking for…

"That's bloody good work, Gaz!"

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening at the sudden praise coming from his usually cold-demeanoured Lieutenant. For a couple of seconds, he was too distracted to notice that Ghost had kneeled on the ground, his gloved hands digging through a heap of dirt, a white cigarette carefully placed away from the mound. By the time Price and Soap joined them, he managed to unearth your dog tags and Special Forces badges and put them on display:

"She knew she would be taken in… and that revealing her identity at a later point would buy her time…"

"That's basic interrogation training, Sergeant!", Ghost barked at Soap in an unusually aggressive way that made the Scot frown in his direction.

He opened his mouth to talk back, yet no words came out when he noticed your dog tags wrapped around Ghost's hand and the obsessive way he seemed to fiddle with them. Subtly sharing a knowing look with Price, who just raised his eyebrows in a silent suggestion to let it slide, Soap turned around and started scanning the perimeter for any sign that might point to your current whereabouts. Your sudden disappearance had a big impact on all of them, yet it seemed that it affected Ghost the most, his recent mood swings being strong proof of it.

"Bloody bastards… they smoked my cigarettes…"

Simon stomped the cigarette butts under his boot, turning his head to Price, but the Captain was already meters away, fishing another cigarette butt from the ground. Nodding his head in Ghost's direction, he brought the radio closer to his mouth and pressed the communication button:

"Kate, I think we have a lead. Well, at least a path of …smoked stubs?"

Yet before Price could give the order to spread out and start looking for more tracks, Simon already went ahead of others, pulling the automatic gun from his shoulder. Under all the layers comprising of the tactical vest and the rest of the military-issued gear, his heart was thundering in his chest. Second thoughts were already forming inside his tired mind: they really got you, they stole your cigarettes, the pack he gave you for safekeeping and that was supposed to be your lucky charm- somehow, he had thought that having a physical piece of him would keep you out of harm's way.

He could only hope he found you in time before the damage you'd sustained would become irreversible.

---

"I don't think you understand how this is working, milaya…"

He was so close to you, that you could feel his rancid breath on your face, a faint familiar smell lodging in your nostrils. Your head was throbbing, and you decided you were hallucinating- Russians didn't smoke the British cigarette brand Ghost did. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, subconsciously wishing for the masked Lieutenant to find you faster.

"So far we had a monologue…- but I still think you have potential."

Out of reflex, you flinched when someone gripped your shoulders, but the pain your mind was preparing for did not come. Instead, you were untied from the chair and violently shoved forward. Your hands were still tied behind your back and you ended up falling face first on the hard concrete, letting out a pathetic moan that raised a few laughs from your captors.

As you lay there, disoriented and struggling to regain composure, you felt a pair of arms hooking your shoulders, pulling you upright and dragging you out of the room. You were too exhausted to put up a fight, the pain dangerously dulling your senses, but that didn't stop you from thrashing around in your captor's grip and throwing curses at him. To your dismay, he didn't seem fazed by it, his grip never faltering as he hauled you through a deserted corridor, seemingly underground, judging by the lack of natural light. You maintained your aggressive facade, yet your eyes were carefully studying your surroundings, taking in every little detail that might prove crucial, should you be able to escape.

Before you realised it, you were thrown into a dark room, yet this time you were able to cushion the fall and land on your knees. Wincing at the brutal impact, you squinted in an attempt to make out your surroundings and any potential escape routes.

"See, little one, everyone has a breaking point.."

The harsh voice of your captor broke through the silence, followed, as if on cue, by the lights being turned on. The sudden brightness had you close your eyes in discomfort, your wrists starting to turn red and raw from your relentless efforts to free yourself from the tight ropes. You could feel blood trickling through the small abrasions where the rope had cut into your skin.

"It seems plain violence is not yours. Not even cresting your pretty little face… I will tell you a secret, you might not live long to keep it anyway, but that is the breaking point of many- ladies and men both."

As he went on with what you decided was a well-rehearsed discourse, he started walking in circles around the room, almost like a predator circling its prey. The intimidation technique was not foreign to you, yet you did your best to morph your face into a scared and hesitant expression, giving him what he wanted to see: a person who was on the verge of breaking, someone who should be kept alive for a little more.

"So I thought to myself- the doll does not work alone. Maybe we should bring one of her friends here and see who gives in first."

If you weren't busy maintaining the terrified mask, you might have laughed at his weak attempt to extract information about your teammates. He was trying so hard to be menacing, yet he didn't know that you had been trained by the Ghost himself, who had drilled all possible interrogation scenarios into your mind. You made a mental note to thank him if you ever got out of there.

"But then I remembered we had a special room we haven't been able to test yet."

His voice grew closer and closer. Keeping your eyes glued to the ground, you focused on the blood that was dripping from your face, staining the concrete floor crimson. When he exhaled in your direction, you could clearly feel the smoke of Ghost's cigarettes wafting towards you, your hands clenching in fists at the audacity he possessed. You opened your mouth for the first time, if only to give him a piece of your mind, yet you barely had time to register him roughly grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and violently dragging you to the middle of the room.

"And if this doesn't break you… do not worry, we will find something else!"

You could barely make sense of his words, his unveiled threat, before your head was forcefully shoved into what you made out to be a basin. Piercing-cold water enveloped you from all sides, and panic surged through every fiber of your being when you realised that there was a firm grip on the back of your head, preventing you from pulling out. Your throat burned with each passing second, and your vision gradually darkened as you struggled to stay conscious, your body going limp on the edge of the bathtub.

"After all, we have all the time in the world. No one will find us here… not when we are right under their noses."

---

It took them one hour under the scorching sun, but the members of Task Force 141 had managed to discover the Russians' hideout. Following the cigarette butts eventually led them to a camouflage net, one which Ghost almost ripped away when he recognized it as yours, and they ended up staring at the entrance of what was supposed to be an underground bunker. The few guards that were lingering around didn't know what hit them, a blood-splattered skull plate being the last thing they'd seen before collapsing to the ground.

As he carefully threaded through the dimly lit corridor, Ghost's demons had never been so loud. On the one hand, his feet were urging him to bolt, to sprint through every room and hallway and find you as quickly as he could, but on the other hand, he was still part of a team with whom he shared a common purpose. Ditching them would be highly dangerous and irresponsible and it would help no one in the end.

Yet all common sense jumped out of the window when the silence was shattered by a high-pitched scream followed by a loud string of curses, both in English and Russian. Simon barely waited for Price's curt order to go before he bolted in the direction of the commotion, swiftly incapacitating any man who was foolish enough to get in this way.

At that moment, he didn't even need the mask to become one with the Ghost- the primal need to protect you overtook his senses, the chaotic surroundings fading into the background as the singular purpose took hold of him. When the automatic gun ran out of ammunition he simply threw it away and lunged for the rifle strapped on his back. When he ran out of throwing knives, he openly jumped on anyone who got in his way. He did not hold back, being quick to send his opponents staggering backwards and crashing into walls or doors. His objective was clear - to create a diversion, a way to distract attention from you and put an end to the torment you must have been going through.

He didn't even bother to check if the door was unlocked before kicking it to the ground, unaware of the splinters that lodged themselves into his gear. When he registered the lower half of your limp body, beaten and bruised, he saw red. Dropping his rifle to the ground, he let out a feral growl as he launched himself at the man standing in the middle of the room, who was staring at him wide-eyed, fumbling with the safety of the gun he was holding. Blow after blow rained upon him, each strike being filled with a mix of madness and rage that Ghost had struggled to contain within himself throughout the day. The Russian, unable to defend himself from Ghost's fury, was crouched in a fetal position, whimpering and sobbing, just like you did hours ago, yet Simon's assault did not seem to falter. He was determined to make him feel at least a fraction of what you've been put through.

Until he realised that there was no other movement in the room, that you hadn't crept up to him and assured him you were fine like he secretly hoped you would. He was almost scared to look in the direction of your still-limp body, his blood running cold at the sight of you leaning against the edge of a water basin, your head still submerged in the water.

Simon had often fantasized about what kissing you for the first time would be like. It was a small comfort he liked to indulge in whenever he would try to go to bed and sleep wouldn't find him. Where would you be, how would your lips feel when pressed against his? Would it be gentle, or wild and passionate? What would you say to him afterwards? Would you regret or do it again in the following moments?

He definitely did not expect your first intimate contact to be on the cold, hard floor of the torture room, with your lifeless body hanging limp in his arms. He ripped his gloves away from his hands, searching for your pulse with trembling fingers and the relief he felt upon feeling an irregular, yet faint heartbeat, had him peel the mask from his face and discard it on the floor. Without wasting a second, he tilted your head back gently and sealed his chapped lips against yours, trying his best to breathe life into your still body. Your skin was cold against his fingers and he could almost feel his heart stop beating when he realised your condition was not improving.

Ghost was not a religious man, yet he started to recite the only prayer his mother ever taught him when he pressed his hands against your chest and started the compressions. Hot tears started rolling down his cheeks as he counted the compressions, lips trembling as he kept chanting your name again and again, urging you to open your eyes and wake up.

A choked sob left his mouth when you gasped and started coughing, your body twitching against your will. He was quick to roll you onto your side, gently patting your back in an attempt to help you expel the water lodged in your throat. His vision was still clouded from the tears, but that did not stop him from cradling your shaking figure in his arms, resting his head atop yours. He could feel your erratic breathing and your heartwrenching sobs, but all he could do was hug you tighter and try to reassure you, even though his voice was breaking:

'It's alright. They won't be hurting you again… I'll keep you safe!"

You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you were convinced you had been so deprived of oxygen that you started hallucinating. Somehow, you were absolutely convinced it was Ghost who was holding you tight in his arms, your cheek being squished against a tactical vest that could only be his, judging by its specific scent. Yet the sight of a head of dirty blonde hair made you scrunch your forehead in confusion. Why was he not wearing his mask? Your eyesight was still too blurred to make out the features of the person who was holding you, but you could trace the contours of his face in your sleep, even though you could count on your fingers the number of times you had seen them before.

Breathing heavily, you lifted a shaky hand towards his face, scared that if you moved too suddenly, the spell would break and you would be once again pulled out of the basin and asked the generic set of questions you've been asked for the past half an hour. But when your fingers made contact with Simon's cheek, softly threading through his stubble and tracing the deep scar that almost split his lip in two, you let out a breath of relief, a warm wave of comfort washing over you. Your tired mind took note of the foreign voices that were mixed with Simon's reassuring whispers: there was someone repeatedly asking whether you were okay, someone talking over the radio and someone asking for med-evac. Yet the sudden commotion only made you nuzzle your head against Ghost's chest, letting out a sigh of relief as you finally allowed your eyes to shut closed, the constant thought of finally being safe serving as a temporary balm to your wounds.

The base's hospital was no different in any of those regards, yet Simon had spent the last days inside its four walls, camped out on the armchair Price had arranged to be brought into your salon the moment you'd been transferred from the municipal hospital.

---

For someone who had spent a good part of his life in hospitals, Ghost hated them. He couldn't stand the pungent smell of chemicals or the hushed conversations that took place in the brightly lit corridors. The constant beeping of the monitoring devices would drive him insane and he detested the cheap food.

Ghost hated hospitals, but he hated being away from you even more.

So he had resorted to spending the last three days acting both as a makeshift nurse and a guard dog for any of the curious passers-by who would try and peek at the operator who had been captured by the enemy and survived torture. Soap, Gaz or Price would usually join him outside working hours, trying to make small talk or urging him to eat the take-out they bought him, but he would only leave your side for bathroom breaks and showers.

He spent the rest of the time next to your sleeping figure, lying still in the armchair and keeping his eyes glued to you. Every once in a while, he would zone out and find himself counting how many times your chest went up and down, totally unaware of the heart-rate monitor that was placed right next to him.

For the time being, Simon was grateful you'd been filled up with painkillers and still sleeping. He couldn't wait for you to wake up, but he wasn't mentally prepared for it: it wouldn't be like before when you fell asleep on him and woke up feeling slightly ashamed, but refreshed, a soft smile lighting up your face. This time, you would wake up to a body full of bruises and a new scar marking your face- and he had no idea what he could say to help you get through it.

Simon was not a man of words, so he decided to convey his feelings through actions and gestures. His moves were well-rehearsed as he emptied the glass of water he'd filled a couple of hours before and refilled it to the brim, placing it on a table next to your bed. His gloves had been long gone by the time he changed your blanket with a fresh and soft one that Soap had brought the last time he came in. After he ensured you were comfortably tucked in, Ghost busied himself with rearranging the flowers and the get-well-soon cards that had already been neatly arranged at the edge of your bed.

After there was nothing left for him to do, he eventually dragged the armchair close to your bedside, removing his mask with slow and weary movements. The dark circles that had formed under his eyes were a stark contrast against his pale complexion, and the stubble he'd neglected for the past few days threatened to turn into a full-grown beard. Yet that did not stop him from exposing his face in your presence, his tired mind arguing that perhaps the sight of him might pull you out of your head, at least temporarily.

A heavy sigh left his body as he laid his upper body on your bed, his head carefully resting on the top of your hand. Out of instinct, he nuzzled his cheek against the soft skin of your palm, relishing in the warmth of the contact, and draped one arm against your body, gently pulling you closer to him.

Minutes passed and his eyes gradually fluttered closed, his soft breaths slowly mingling with yours. He would never admit it out loud, but especially after the events of the last mission, the sole way he could fall asleep was in your proximity, only finding solace in the warm feeling of your touch. It may have taken him a while, but he eventually came to the realisation that it was in your arms that he felt safe, where the turmoil and chaos of the outside could temporarily be forgotten. And he was determined to keep it that way, no matter what it took.

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

more notes: do you guys would like a bonus part, say, an epilogue for this? I'm thinking of something like "the one where they finally get a bed" or something... let me know in the comments (or ask box if you'd like to remain anonymous)

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar, @iamaliceinwonderland, @allaboutirem0, @lilpothoscuttings, @01trickster10, @yyiikes, @joanne-uwu, @dorck26, @wawuwe, @karagd13-blog, @rindulacre, @claibornc

#cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost fluff #task force 141 #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost

[highvern]

Patterns I

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (21+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, penetrative sex

Length: ~10k

Note: woooohoooo part 1 done. let me know what you guys think! thank you @gyuswhore for being my beta and talking me down from a complete meltdown lmao

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“And if you look at this chart, you can see profit margins over the past three quarters have steadily increased…”

Mona drones on and on. You try to listen and nod along but there’s only so much enthusiasm that can be faked for a last minute afternoon meeting on a Friday. Maybe if she was saying anything with an ounce of meaning you’d pay attention. But the numbers she spout off on record profits only confirm what the company who hired your team already knows: if they give their employees more work for less pay, they’ll make more money.

The vibration of your phone wakes you up. Peering into your lap under the table, you see your roommate’s name flash across the screen.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: ruby’s tonight Y/N: Do I have a choice?

You don’t even lock your phone before she responds.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: nope!

“Y/N, do you mind sharing the latest reports?” 

Head jerking up, you meet Mona’s gaze across the room. She flashes a tight smile, clearly having caught your moment of distraction. Lucky for you, you could recite the reports in your sleep.

You smile and say all the right things; make all the right jokes. Just enough personality they feel special but not so much they feel like you’re a real human being outside of your job.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything.” Mona claps. “Edgar and I will be on call this weekend if anything comes up.”

Shuffling out with the rest of your coworkers, you beeline back to your desk. 

Mona breezes by, slamming the door to her office shut.

“Do you think Mona has eyes in the back of her head?” Edgar asks, peeking over the wall dividing your cubicles.

Without looking away from the email crowding your screen you quip, “No, but I hear she sleeps in a coffin.”

“Huh. I thought that was just the hottest office furniture tread for execs.”

You snort in response. 

Mona was a hard ass but she was good at her job. 

“Anyway, any plans this weekend?”

“Get drunk and watch Love Island.”

Edgar gasps, hand to his chest like a scandalized debutant. “You wild woman.”

The next two hours crawl by. Not even the usual side projects keep you entertained, giving you time to research the new art installation downtown Lisa mentioned visiting. 

Hopefully buying tickets as her early birthday present will get you off the hook for tonight.

In true Lisa fashion, a surprise gift means celebration. And the best place to celebrate is Ruby’s.

Smoke chokes the air, bodies upon bodies packed into the space of the dingy bar on a Friday night. The chill of the outside stops at the threshold of the door, sweltering heat greeting you and your friends as you join the crows eager to celebrate the weekend.

It’s almost too dark to see faces but Mingyu’s head of dark hair stands above the rest from his perch in the corner. Lisa’s hand finds yours, and your other hand find’s Amina as you shoulder towards the table he’s claimed for the night. The bass of whatever remix blaring through the DJ’s speakers thrums through the crush of drunk patrons like a frantic heartbeat, rattling your bones with each step deeper into the space.

The glossy surface of the table is already littered with cups and beer bottles. Mingyu cuts his conversation with Wonwoo short to greet your group, smiling over Lisa’s head already buried in his chest. Wonwoo's only acknowledgement is a short nod over the top of the bottle he lifts to his lips. 

A pair of not so sly eyes wander down your front, tracing across the deep v of your top, baring your sternum between the swell of your breasts. You burn under Wonwoo’s blatant gawking, breath stalled and face hot but none of your friends appear to notice the electricity crackling between you two, intoxicated brains filling with lewd ideas. 

Needing a reprieve, you slither to the bar in search of a drink. Slipping between the sweaty bodies as they part, Amina follows close behind. A few shots and a beer later, you stumble towards the dance floor with laughter on your lips and the bitter singe of alcohol on your tongue.

The crowd of strangers accepts you, swallowing you into the churning chaos immediately. A few familiar faces stand out in the crowd as you shift through the sway.

Looking over the shoulder of the random person in front of you, a mess of limbs better known as Lisa and Mingyu flashes into view; Soonyoung and Eva no better next to them. Over their embrace, you spot Amina dancing with a pretty stranger of her own, both of them with drunk smiles plastered on their faces. 

Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh. 

This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, and whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning heady touches.

It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.

You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care for who saw; a challenging gleam in your glassy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back, and the rest is history.

After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse. 

Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to corner you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specifics but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end. 

Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. One night, you let wandering hands catalog the planes hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. The next, you followed a trail of goosebumps across his neck with tongue and teeth. 

And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips, leaving very little to the imagination of what hid behind the zipper of his jeans. Or when he spun you around, hypnotizing you with his eyes while pawing your ass, dragging your core across his thigh wedged between your legs.

But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was. It never would be.

Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.

“Come home with me,” he whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.

The air in your chest thickens to a sludge. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.

Unable to turn in his tight grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. His chest plastered against your back heaves with a heavy breath as you continue to move against him. 

Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Come home with me.” 

It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.

If he wants to play, you’ll play too.

“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago. 

Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.

God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.

“Not convincing enough,” you chide.

The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, Wonwoo’s palm scorches against the zipper. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth. 

Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.” 

You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.

This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game anymore. 

He wants you.

You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.

The cold metal of the door bites into your skin, bowing your chest straight into Wonwoo’s as he crowds against you, arms caging you in on both sides. His lips are busy surveying the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping until he pauses at the hollow of your throat. His teeth raze against the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to lave against the marks he’s determined to leave. Wonwoo listens closely to the sounds leaving your throat, focusing his ministrations whenever an exceptionally satisfied purr slips out.

He takes a step forward at the feel of your hand pushing its way into his jacket, rewarding the tease of your fingers across his stomach with a suck against your jaw. The sharp pain of your nails across his scalp forces a quiet groan out his lips; something you file away for later. 

“Get us inside before your neighbors catch us with my hand down your pants,” you gasp, giving his hair a particularly harsh yank to pull him away from your breasts peeking out from the low cut of your top.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” he mumbles, diving back. 

But Wonwoo concedes, grabbing his keys from his pocket while remaining focused on leaving his mark on your sternum. 

Despite your request, you do everything but make it easier for him; thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside, cupping the straining bulge confined under the tight fabric. Wonwoo falters under your attention, pressing his hips into you until you're crushed between his body and the door. When Wonwoo finally fumbles the key into the lock, the door flies open under your combined weight.

Using the momentum, Wonwoo crowds you back to the wall just inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, returning where he left off without missing a beat. A hand tilts your chin back to give him more room, and you realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. Twisting the front of his shirt, you resolve to change that.

Pulling back, Wonwoo’s brows arching in confusion, mouth falling opening to complain at being interrupted again but snapping shut when you attempt to pull him forward. 

But a hair's breadth away Wonwoo stops.

“What do you want?”

You won’t beg. If anyone is cracking first it’ll be Wonwoo. Just like he did at the bar not too long ago. 

“If you won’t tell me then I can’t give it to you.” He moves forward, nose tracing along your throat, breath fanning across your neck. One of his arms moves to the space between your body and the wall, pulling until his thigh is bracketed by yours. The hard muscle is nothing short heaven against the seam of your jeans, invoking a traitorous whimper from your throat.

You manage a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth before he darts out of range. 

“Tell me and you can have it,”  Wonwoo says, cocking his head back, looking down his nose at you from behind the wire frames of his glasses; pupils blown. His eyes close and he leans forward again before continuing, “Tell me what you want, and you can have everything.”

His teeth trail across the shell of your ear on the last word and suddenly it's all too much. The rasp of his voice, the flex of his thigh, the layers of clothing separating your bodies. If you don’t get relief soon you’ll both implode.

“Kiss me.”

You feel Wonwoo’s satisfied smile a second before your lips meet, lighting the fuse for what's to come. There’s no gentleness in the connection, instead, months of insatiable need leads the way. Parting your lips, you suck his own between your teeth until it's swollen in retaliation. Wonwoo angles your head back with a gentle tug of your hair, immediately swallowing your gasp at his roughness. The hand wrapped around the middle of your back flexes, urging, no, begging you to grind against him. You oblige with embarrassing eagerness.

Your hand finds its way down Wonwoo’s front again, fingers firm and demanding. Tracing the zipper of his jeans up and down in time with your movement against his leg, the heel of your hand presses forward, causing his hips to cant up against the pressure. The motion is a mock of what he was doing in the crowded bar minutes ago. Just enough to rile him up and to piss him off until his hands drop and squeeze your ass so hard it hurts.

Refusing to let your mouths part, Wonwoo drags you down the hallway towards his room. It takes longer than it should, both of you stopping to force the other into the wall, bodies writhing against one another in search of friction and pleasure. At one point you consider letting him fuck you right their on the floor but he pushes through the door to his room just before you can unzip his pants.

Finally inside, Wonwoo herds you towards the bed in the corner. The back of your knees hit the side, bending as you land with a soft bounce. Wonwoo follows swiftly, settling himself on his elbows before diving back into your neck again. His hips slot into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing forward to search for the heat he knows is there. You greedily return the movement, hips curling up, savoring the drag of his hard cock. Wonwoo sucks another bruise onto your neck, high enough you’ll have to hide it in the morning but you're so drunk on the idea of what is going to happen next you can’t even feign outrage. 

The strap of your flimsy top falls down and Wonwoo moves to explore the new span of skin. His lips drag over the uncovered swell of your breast, sloppy kisses trailing over the silky skin. Cocking his head to the side, he sucks a nipple through the thin black fabric. Your hips buck, back arching at the new sensation. The angle of Wonwoo’s cock is just right, pulling moan after moan from your throat. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he can’t be bothered to snicker at how he turns you into an aching puddle of want.

Clothes come off in a blur. You watch his abs flex as he rips his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the dark thatch of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Soon, yours is gone too, lost on the floor. Wonwoo's eyes delight in the sight of you bare before him, with nipples puckered and breasts heavy with excitement. He ducks back down, mouthing at the sensitive bud, drowning in your breathy whines and whimpers. Using his hand, his calloused thumb massages the one his mouth had abandoned, pinching and flicking until you’re left raw and aching.

“Wonwoo,” you cry, hands ripping at the sheets when his teeth come out to play. 

He pulls back from your breasts, in a frenzy to remove your pants while his knees fall to the ground on the side of the bed. You arch up to help him rip the damning fabric away. An ember of fury sparks, furious with yourself for wearing jeans over the skimpy skirt Lisa had offered.

None the wiser, Wonwoo looks between your legs like he’s found an oasis in a desert. You realize too late they’re nothing impressive. Pale pink cotton; simple, practical. Just like your pants, since getting fucked tonight wasn’t even a remote possibility when you left your apartment. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t even seem to care. When you dare to look at his face, worried by the sudden pause in his actions, you find he’s not even blinking. His thumb finds your entrance through the fabric, shallowly dipping inside before moving back and massaging teasing circles over the damp spot.

Pride and ego long forgotten, you beg. “Wonwoo, please.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t give in. Focusing on the curve of your thigh, nose etching along the strained muscle while he continues teasing touches over your underwear. The wet of his tongue comes out when he reaches the hem of your underwear. So close to where you want him but not close enough.

“Please.”

The pathetic crack of your voice is rewarded with firmer fingers and his lips against the sticky crotch of your panties; the heat of his mouth right over your entrance as he laps at your release.

Another beg and he moves aside the thin strip of fabric, curling his tongue into your entrance before sucking at your swollen clit. 

The relief is short lived. Somehow, Wonwoo knows exactly how to touch and tease you, driving you up the wall only to pull you back down. One hand finds your knee, forcing it away when you try to crush his head between your thighs at the first prod of his long fingers inside you.

He slips another finger inside, his tongue continuing to swipe at your bundle of nerves, just as desperate to give you what you want as you are to receive it. Glancing down at him again, you find a scene worthy of being immortalized in a painting. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes pinched tight while he works to get you off. 

A pause to take a breath is all the reprieve you’re granted before Wonwoo dives back in, moaning under the sting of your nails on his scalp; encouraging you to hold him there and use him, to come for him. The symphony of your combined noises floods the room. The squelch of his fingers, rubbing up against the place that drives you mad. The wet noises of his mouth, your arousal mixing with his spit; his noises when you pull at his hair, vibrating against your cunt and pulling your spine into a harsh curve. 

You can’t help but watch him. Enamoured with how right he looks between your legs, skin slips together where his shoulders hold your legs up. Even the contrast of his hand on your knee fuels the fire.

He peers up at you when you call his name again. Eyes burning into your own. Like he can read your mind. Like he agrees this is the best place for him to be.

You hear yourself far away, chanting his name as you shatter into a million pieces. Clenching around Wonwoo’s fingers with a strength you didn't know you possessed, your hips ride them until your muscles lock and jerk. The smear of fluid across your thighs, slipping your ass and onto the bed is lewd. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t stop, working you through it like his own release is on the line. Licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until you finally manage to pull him away with a choked cry of his name. Even then, his hand continues pistoning into you as your mouths find one another hungrily. 

There's a sick satisfaction in your gut at the taste on his mouth. Your arousal coats his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is wet where it digs into your face as you suck his tongue.

Moving to his feet, Wonwoo bends over you, lips never straying from yours. He fails to crowd you down into the mattress like he intends. Freezing when your hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. His cock bobs, the nearly purple head leaking. If there was any doubt he didn’t find pleasure going down on you before, the evidence of his enjoyment sits hard and heavy in your palm. An exploratory squeeze has Wonwoo’s chin dropping to his chest, a sharp breath leaving his nose.

Sliding off the bed and to your knees, you peek up at him through your lashes, letting the tip rest against parted lips. When Wonwoo drags his head back up, looking down his nose, your tongue darts out to catch some of his pre-cum, receiving another groan in response. A thought that has you blushing rears its head. 

He’ll probably like it, you think.

You let one of her hands trail down while kissing across the velvety shaft his length. Wonwoo watches closely, eyes widening for a second when you find the apex of your thighs, dipping down to collect the lingering slickness. Once satisfied, you exchange your grip on his cock and quirk an eyebrow. Stroking him coyly.

You don’t look away from his eyes even though every instinct tells you to hide from the heat in his gaze. Your palm catches at the tip, thumb brushing his leaking slit. More evidence of his arousal trickles out and you lap it up quickly.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hisses. “Fuck, you’re so good.” 

One of Wonwoo’s hands finds your cheek, helping you find a comfortable pace. Settling the back of your head against the bed, drag him forward by his ass, content to let him use your mouth the way you used his. Wonwoo stumbles for a second at the sudden movement, hands finding the bed to prevent himself from collapsing. He peers down in question. 

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” you pant, quickly taking him back in, going as deep as possible without gagging.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo rasps, moving the hand on the side of your face to the back of your head. He pins you in place with his hips, giving a shallow, almost hesitant thrust as he discovers your limits.

You zone out when he finds a rhythm, hand at the base of his cock to keep him from bottoming out in your throat, the one cradling his balls dropping to trace the inside of his thigh. Eventually, Wonwoo lets himself go, savoring the pressure of your tongue when you lap against the tip as he pulls out. His abs twitch at the sight of drool leaking from the corners of your stuffed mouth, lips stretched and bruised around his cock. 

Opening your eyes, you look right at him; punching the air from his chest as you moan around his cock, the vibration forcing his head back, neck bared again as a bead of sweat settles in the hollow of his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Wonwoo commands, breaking the melody of whimpers and groans.

You disregard his command, content with focusing on untying him from his loose tether to sanity.

Not one to be ignored, Wonwoo pulls away on the next stroke. You follow, attempting to trail forward and suck him back down your throat but Wonwoo’s hand knots in your hair. He yanks your head back until his cock is just out of range. Looking up at him, you do nothing to hide the annoyance at such a sudden disruption.

“Touch. Yourself. ” he lets out tightly, enunciating each syllable. Equally annoyed but willing to make a point. 

“Wanna watch me?” you goad, smug as the tips of his ears redden. 

Instead of brushing it off, Wonwoo takes the bait.

“Yeah I do,” he says, one hand leaving your hair, guiding the tip of his cock across the seam of your lips, letting out a humorless laugh when your tongue reaches out to meet it on instinct. “Wanna watch while you suck my cock because you’re a good girl.” 

He lets you take the head, teeth grinding under the dig of your tongue into the slit. But any attempt to take more is punished with another tug of your hair. Until his hand circles your throat and he pulls you off completely. 

“Right, Y/N?”

The praise goes straight to your head, breath stunted. You barely nod before Wonwoo moves his hips forward again, slowly resuming their previous rhythm at the promise of seeing you put on a show. Two fingers slip in with ease, disappointment bubbling when the stretch doesn’t come anywhere close to his but you’ll play along for now if it means getting to feel his cum on your tongue.

Wet, messy noises echo in the room. You hollow your cheeks, hand acting as a bumper while letting his cock kiss the back of your throat. Wonwoo’s hips stutter when you swallow around him. The tension in his muscles doubles your effort, set on the satisfaction of making him cum from just your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Wonwoo hisses, pulling you off.

Wonwoo hauls you up into the bed, aggressively crowding you towards the pillows. The cool sheets sting against your back, but you focus on getting another fist around his cock. Wonwoo intercepts your plans before you can make it below his navel. He pins the offending appendage next to your head; grip loose enough you could break if you wanted, but the tease of his dominance turns you on even more and it's not long before he has both hands above your head, and a disapproving look on his face.

“If you don’t want me to come on your thigh, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself,” he states, leaning towards the bedside table, searching for a condom.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy,” you bite back. Planting your feet on the bed, your hips grind up into his. 

“Says the woman who begged for my cock,” Wonwoo grinds out, flattening his chest into yours, teasing with exactly what you asked for.

You're suddenly hit by how much stronger Wonwoo is than you. Able to have your entire body pinned like it’s nothing while working the condom on at the same time. You knew he worked out, broad shoulders and narrow waist giving him away; but having that strength used you sends a swirl of butterflies through your stomach.

Wonwoo resorts to ripping open the packet with his teeth, hips easing up to quickly roll it down his length. He rubs himself through your folds, collecting the wetness and repeatedly tapping himself to your clit. You’re about to flip him around and take matters into your own hands when he catches on your entrance and presses home in a slow thrust.

He slides deep. Deeper than Seungcheol, deeper than anyone you’ve ever been with. You barely get a chance to savor it before he’s moving, wasting no time before working up a pace meant to drive you both mad. 

“Shit,” you curse.

Wonwoo huffs into your neck, tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Soooo good.” 

Wonwoo lets go of your hands, tangling one the sheets, the other searching for the top of the metal headboard. The change in position folds you in half, giving him the leverage to fuck as deep as possible. Finding your hands free, one claws at his back, leaving bright red lines in its wake. The other grabs for his ass, squeezing the muscle there, helping him press forward. His balls clapping against the swell of your ass drives you closer to hysteria. 

Your second orgasm rushes forward, resting on his lips finding yours. The connection is bruising, all teeth and tongues. The hand on his ass falls to play with yourself and Wonwoo breaks away to watch.

“Like that, Y/N?” Wonwoo bites, whispering right into your ear. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

His words only add to the inferno. The need to come overwhelms you, demanding satisfaction to the point it hurts. But you need more. Needs something you can’t name and only Wonwoo can give. 

Frustration twists your features, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tense. Almost as if he senses your oncoming tantrum, Wonwoo drops more of his weight, pressing you into the mattress and filling you to the brink.

 “Be a good girl,” Wonwoo coos, hip punctuating each word while his teeth tug at your earlobe. “Come for me.”

His permission is the key. Bombs explode behind your eyelids, cascading colors against the black and white. Loud moans rush from your throat to fill his room, muscles locked, body convulsing with endorphins. You want to kiss him again, until you can’t breathe, until you stop needing oxygen and adapt to survive on the taste of his mouth. 

Wonwoo must feel the same, meeting you in a lazy kiss, too fucked out to put in more effort. He swallows every whimper, the syllables of his name while he fucks you through your high. The wetness smeared between your bodies echoes all the motions, his pistoning hips driving more and more from your worn cunt. 

His own high rushes for him at light speed. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours. You burn the last bit of energy you possess to open your eyes and find his. Wonwoo’s face is tight as a thin sheen of sweat covers his body. All you want now is to see him cum, give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. Reaching up, your lips brush his ear one last time.

“Wanna feel you come,” you sigh. “Please, Woo.”

The responding groan signals success. His hips stutter forward, a deep grunt bursts from his chest. If you weren’t exhausted, you’d demand to go again; to fuck him again and again just to see the twitch of his lips as he empties himself into you, the grind of his teeth, and shudder of his chest. But Wonwoo gives one more hard drive of his hips before collapsing, completely spent.

You don't know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as sweat dries, and your thighs becoming uncomfortably sticky. When Wonwoo moves to pull out, a surprising whine rips from your throat. 

“Shower?” he asks, husky voice breaking the lingering silence.

You finally crack an eye open at Wonwoo’s voice, and find him looking at you with soft eyes. Uh oh. Warning bells fire but you’re too tired to care. A shower sounds lovely.

Wonwoo hauls you up, leading you into his small bathroom. The water in the shower is already running, steam escaping the stall as he ushers you under. The scratches at his back contrast brightly against his pale skin, a few bite marks spattered across his chest. You know you look equally debauched but the lull of warm water calms any concerns. The silence is comfortable, thick as you move like zombies. Wonwoo passes his body wash without a word, moving to shampoo his hair. Swapping between the brutally frigid air and the comforting warm water under the shower head, you both race to finish up quickly. Once satisfied, Wonwoo shuts off the faucet and grabs the towels from the hook on the wall. He hands you one before stepping out to dry himself. A spare toothbrush waits on the counter when you exit the stall.

Wonwoo leaves first, heading back to his room to dress. It gives you the opportunity to look in the mirror for the first time. Your skin glows, both from the steam and Wonwoo’s attention. Across your throat, bruises cluster like a necklace, splotches of darkness maring the skin. Unfolding the towel, you find more littered across your breasts, and an impressive one on the inside of your thigh. 

After the shock fades, exhaustion creeps back in. It had to be far into the early hours of the morning. You hope Mingyu stayed with Lisa at your shared apartment. Having to face Wonwoo in the morning was enough horror, but if Mingyu heard anything then you would never be able to look him in the eye again despite having heard your roommate and him more times than you can count.

Returning to Wonwoo’s room, you see him already under the covers, spread out on his stomach with his face squashed into the pillow. On his desk sits a tshirt and a pair of old shorts. Hanging the towel up in his bathroom, you snag the shirt and pull it on.

Finding your pants, you fish out your phone and see the time: 3:47AM. A few missed calls from Amina, several dozen texts from the group chat, and one from Lisa that reads “You better not be where I think you are” clutter the screen. 

There's no point in arguing the accusation. She has your location, you know she checked it before she went to bed. And in the morning you’ll have to answer every inane question that pops into her head. But for now, you need to sleep.

Sliding open the group text, you send a quick “I'm alive, see u in the morning for brunch?” tossing your phone aside.

Your head hits the pillow and you’re out like a light.

The dream you’re lost in is lovely. A faceless figure bends you over a desk, your heated face pressed against the glossy wood. Naked as the day you were born, nothing protecting your nipples from rubbing against the cold surface, hardening until you hiss from sensitivity. Large warm palms massage your ass, hands pushing upwards, lightly parting the cheeks to give him more leverage to lick at your leaking hole. You can feel him moan, echoing your own sounds of pleasure as he indulges. One hand finds its way back to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him in place as you rise on tiptoes to move against his mouth. He feels familiar but it doesn’t matter who he is, more so what he plans to do. Just as a thumb swipes against your other hole, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips, it all comes crashing down.

You claw at the tendrils of pleasure slipping past to no avail. Harsh whispers outside your door pull you awake as they gain volume. It isn’t out of the ordinary to hear snippets of your roommates’ conversations as they pass down the hall towards their own rooms. Having the first room off the kitchen was the sacrifice you made to have a bigger closet and a better view. Usually though, Lisa and Amina had the decency to not have a full blowout so early, and on a weekend no less.

As the whispers crescendo into a one sided screaming match, you make out Lisa and Mingyu’s voices on the other side of the thin wood. 

“Mingyu if you don’t move out of my way there will be TWO BODIES TO CLEAN UP.” 

Lisa is pissed, using a tone of voice saved for rare occasions. Occasions you rarely witnessed Mingyu be on the receiving end of. Whatever he had done, he better pray Lisa forgives him. He also better pray you forgive him for working Lisa’s temper up so early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, voice thick with sleep, refusing to open your eyes against the light trickling in from the window above. Snuggling deeper in the soft covers, you try to force yourself back asleep, hoping to reunite with the anonymous dream man.

When did the window get above your bed? 

You shoot up, instantly regretting the decision. Splinters of pain shoot behind your left eye causing you to collapse back into the pillows to find reprieve. The grumble next to you sends your heart racing.

“I’m going to kill her,” a gravely male voice threatens.

Turning on your side, you brave the torturous sunlight to catch Wonwoo’s profile. His face is scrunched in annoyance, eyes shut as he too tries to get lost in the blankets. He drags the comforter over your heads, pulling you towards him to hide in the curve of your throat.

It all comes rushing back. Going home with him, your dirty deeds, the shared shower. You beg the powers that be to kill you when you remember how you begged with embarrassing ease.

Outside his door, Lisa bellows and forces the door open; sending it cracking against the wall with the force. 

The blanket rips down, uncovering who's hiding underneath. She only manages to pull it below your shoulder before you and Wonwoo realize what's happening and clutch at the fabric. Thank god you both are wearing clothes.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo’s voice is acidic as he looks to Mingyu over Lisa’s head. Mingyu at least has the decency to look apologetic as Lisa acts like an overly concerned mother who just found her daughter with a boy in her bed.

“See? Y/N is alive, we can leave now,” Mingyu tries in vain to placate his girlfriend. Lisa snatches her hand away from him when he attempts to pull her out of Wonwoo’s room.

Lisa’s eyes take in your tousled hair, the bruises at both your necks, the clothes littered on the floor haphazardly. She isn’t stupid, she knows exactly what has happened. Lisa also knows Wonwoo wouldn’t take advantage of you, but she is still protective nonetheless. The amused look spreading across her face nearly sends you out the window and to the cement several stories below.

“Oh my god, are you fifteen?” Her question is pointed at Wonwoo, catching the string of hickies marking your neck.

“How about you get the fuck out of my room?” Wonwoo bites, raising his voice. He burrows under your chin, dragging the blanket over his head once again.

“We’ll talk about this later!” Lisa calls as Mingyu finally drags her out the door, her voice is muffled by the slam of it shutting but you clearly hear her yell, “Brunch is in an hour!” 

Finally left alone, you mind races to prepare for the interrogation waiting for you. Wonwoo appears to be unaware of any such troubles. Cuddling down into the swell of your breasts, he’s already trailing back towards sleep. 

Despite yourself, the hand stuck under him rises up to gently trace shapes across the expanse of his back. The warm skin lulls you into a trance as the memories from the hours prior replay.

“Are you sure I can stay?” A deep yawn warps your voice. You’re  already halfway under the covers, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. If you have to stay awake any longer you’ll have a meltdown.

“Yes.” His face is still pushed into his pillow, voice distorted by the barrier and slurred with his sleep. “Now shut up and sleep.”

And you do just that. Shocking, given you’re a horrible bed partner; tossing and turning most of the night, waking frequently. Seungcheol experienced many grumpy mornings courtesy of your poor sleep hygiene after a sleepover. But in Wonwoo’s bed, your restlessness decides to take the night off, allowing you to sleep like a rock.

It can’t have been more than a couple hours before you awake again. Despite the short snooze, you’re more rested than you’ve been in months. Stretching with a yawn, you find what roused you awake. 

Somehow Wonwoo found you in his sleep, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, body firm against your back. He’s hot skin and hard muscle, the tent in his boxers sliding roughly across the naked skin of your thighs. Cursing yourself for forgoing the shorts he laid out, you try and twist away only for Wonwoo’s length to settle between the dip of your ass.

You freeze solid. Listening to the sound of his breathing stop then even out once again. Waiting to confirm he’s still asleep, you try moving away again only for his hips to press against you once you wiggle against him. Body acting on its own, your spine curls, sending your ass back into his crotch. 

And then Wonwoo’s arm around your waist flexes and he thrusts forward. 

Shit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, face buried somewhere between your shoulder blades, nose tracing your spine until he finds the bare skin of your neck to leave heated gossamer kisses.

There’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already fucked. Wonwoo face to face with your most intimate parts, and you the same. You begged him to cum inside you for Christ's sake. Giving another curl of your hips, you decide to meet his challenge.

“Can you?” you whisper into the darkness, eyes sliding close again as a tired breath leaves your nose. It's less of a goad, and more of a subtle beg for his attention.

Wonwoo drags the hand wrapped around your waist downward, wedging it between your thighs gently. You’re already wet from the brief movements against one another. He wastes no time, immediately framing your clit with two fingers, teasing friction to warm you up. The first twitch into his hand has his fingers dropping, pushing into your entrance as you parts your legs to make more room. His movements are sluggish but he placates your want the best he can.

One of your hands slides under the covers, moving behind your back to grab him. The unmistakable heat greets you through the fabric of his underwear. His breath stutters against your back, his chest pressed tightly against your back like a second skin. Wonwoo jerks forward through your fist, clothed tip prodding against the soft curve of your ass when you reach the base.

Continuing to move just like that, you both are more than content to get off like this, much too tired to put in any real effort. But when you push down his boxer just enough to feel the hot velvet skin of his tip against the dip of your spine, leaking from light touches, Wonwoo decides he wants more. Needs more. 

He pushes your hand away, directing himself between your legs, resting his tip at your entrance. With shallow thrusts forward, he lets himself catch on the ring of muscle just inside, barely parting your walls. The thought of him returning deep inside you, condom nowhere to be found, makes you drool. At some point Wonwoo’s hand finds your waist again, this time under the fabric of the flimsy t-shirt. The thick cotton bunches across your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples while his hand splays between and pulls you against him.

You have half a mind to let him fuck you like this, raw, half asleep, tucked under the covers in the silence of his room. The other half blares with sirens and red lights flashing DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! 

The louder part of your brain, the one that sounds suspiciously like when Amina scolded you for not using condoms with Seungcheol after getting an IUD, wins. 

It takes all the strength you possess  to break the trance Wonwoo has. His lips have taken to mouthing at the back of your neck, his nose tracing the notches of your spine while his tongue sends goosebumps blooming.

“Condom.” you finally manage to breathe out, voice pushing past the thick blanket of lust and fatigue.

The hand on your chest flies off, moving in the direction of the bedside table. Within seconds Wonwoo wraps himself in the latex and pushes inside.

The stretch is perfect, muscles already accommodating his languid thrusts inside you. His hips are tucked tightly along your ass, barely a sliver of space between your bodies. One of Wonwoo’s hands reaches back under your shirt to thumb your sore nipples, letting a heavy flesh rest in his palm. The arm propped under your head reaches out, Wonwoo’s fingers twisting in the pillow cases. The web of veins and muscles flex with each cant, almost ripping the fabric of the sheet apart when you clench around him. 

As if having a mind of its own, a hand trails up his neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling in short locks of hair. Wonwoo hitches his chin over your shoulder, leaning forward to moan right into your ear. Your other hand takes the abandoned post at your clit, determined to make yourself cum and pass back out in the next five minutes. 

Unlike the explosions earlier, your orgasm crawls up slowly, bubbling to the surface in a smooth simmer. Your thighs tighten, twitching as the pot boils over and melting you into Wonwoo’s chest. He follows you over the edge quickly, hips continuing their fluid rhythm until they stutter against your ass; shuddering breaths leaving his chest, a quiet groan of satisfaction punctuating his content. You can’t move even if your life depends on it, heaviness settling in your muscles like concrete.

You're already descending back into the realm of dreams when Wonwoo slips away.

Wonwoo’s soft snores jolt you back. You’re far too awake to try joining him. And you can’t just stay in his room forever. Glancing around the room, you devise an escape plan. Wonwoo’s position doesn’t lend any subtlety, any effort to move from under him requires you to lift his entire weight.

You sit still for another minute, contemplating the potential pros and cons if he is awake to see you run, away from the sanctuary of his room and into the reality sitting beyond the door. Precisely as you decide to deal with whatever teasing he’ll no doubt hurl your way, Wonwoo shifts, burrowing back into the pillow on his side to provide easy access. Waiting with bated breath, you’re relieved when the muscles of his back expand with a deep inhale as he settles in slumber once again.

Springing out of bed, you collect your phone and wrinkled clothes. The shocking level of cleanliness and organization the room possesses for a man his age aids your quest. However, your underwear appears to be a lost cause. With haste, you search under the bed, eyes scouring the area around his desk, even sneaking a quick glance back towards him to see if the missing garment is mixed with the pillows. All is fruitless as the bright pink garments have disappeared, gone without a trace.

After slipping on your pants with impressive speed, you're out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Body on autopilot, you tiptoe towards the front door.  

The cracked door of Mingyu’s room where Lisa is no doubt waiting to ambush lingers just ahead. You don’t dare to breathe as you breeze past and ruin her plans. The heavy metal of the front door groans at your pull, tensing as noise echoes in the hallway behind you. You’re swift, slipping between the crack in the door frame and into the stairwell before Lisa can even call out your name. By the time Lisa is able to pull the front door back open, you’re down the stairs and halfway through the lobby, beelining for the busy street outside.

Everyone on the street can tell you’re taking a walk of shame; their judgment burning into your skull with each step closer to home. The tale tell signs are clear as day: messy hair, t-shirt clearly belonging to someone else, eyes downcast as you move along the congested sidewalk of a Saturday morning. The only solace is the neck of Wonwoo's shirt covering a majority of the marks staining your skin. 

You don’t breathe until you round the block of your apartment. Thankfully the lobby is empty and so is the elevator as you ride up in stifling silence. Slipping through the crack of the sliding doors, you rush the remaining distance and finally find your way into sanctuary.

The door clicks shut, and the dull thud of your head meeting metal rings a second later; the cool melt against the sweat on your brow is a lovely reprieve.

The sound of a throat clearing down the hall less so.

Glaring over your shoulder, you find Amina leaning over the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Lisa clearly informed her of the morning's findings.

Her lips twitch with humor, choking out, “Have a good night?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, launching off the door and to your room. Sharp laughter meets your back.

Hiding away in the bathroom, you cloak yourself in steam and scrub away any remnants of the night. Starting with the piney smell of Wonwoo’s body wash. 

You run through the facts despite wanting nothing more than forgetting the entire ordeal. 

Fact: Wonwoo isn’t as horrible as Seungcheol made you believe.

Opinion: He’s still infuriating.

Fact: You slept with Wonwoo.

Opinion: It wasn’t half bad.

Fact: You won’t do it again.

Thirty minutes later, the hot water runs out and you’re forced back into reality.

She can’t look in the mirror, knowing exactly what you’ll see. The proof that can’t be scrubbed away, the proof that the you let Wonwoo fuck you silly, and that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. 

Some time later, hidden amongst the piles of blankets littering your bed, you mope. The hood of your sweatshirt tied tightly around your head leaving only your face visible. The TV hums with the drunk gibberish of the reality tv show cast as they laugh and cry over something innocuous.

A soft knock on the door breaks your focus, Amina appearing in the opening.

“Are you still coming to breakfast?” She asks.

“Don’t feel good.”

“Y/N,” Amina sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not that bad.”

You almost swallow your tongue. Of all your friends, Amina dislikes Wonwoo the most. She’s polite as she can be for Lisa and Mingyu’s sake, but everyone knows they get on as well as fire and water. 

“Who are you?” you question, eyes widening at the impersonator perched at your feet.

Amina cackles in response, and you can’t help but join. 

“You had fun, right?” Amina asks, waiting for your nod before continuing.“Okay, then who cares?”

“You don’t?” 

“No,” Amina sighs. “You’ve been…” 

She pauses, weighing her next words. “...down, since Seungcheol left. Maybe this is what you needed to get back out there.”

You start to object but fail to find any evidence against her claim. Seungcheol leaving turned your world upside down. You couldn’t hate him. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make things work. But there was nothing for you in Seattle, just like there was nothing for him in New York. Other than each other. Somehow it’s much harder when no one is to blame other than unchangeable circumstances.

Amina rubs your knee over the covers. “It’s not my business who you sleep with. Unless you bring him here and I hear you, then I reserve the right to kill you both.” 

“Trust me, it won’t be happening again.”

“Why?” Now it’s Amina’s turn to be shocked. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” You blurt, face heating at the sudden outburst. “It was just a one time thing. Get it out of the system.”

Amina hums. Silence falling between you.

“So… was he better than Seungcheol?” Amina asks like she doesn’t care either way but you know she’s curious. She heard enough times about the lack of chemistry between you and Seungcheol for to have a vested interest in your sex life.

Truthfully, he was. The best experience with Seungcheol paled in comparison next to your night with Wonwoo. 

Taking silence as an answer, Amina stands.

“Get dressed. Eva is already on the way here to pick us up.” 

She leaves with out another word.

Across town, Wonwoo contemplates the ramifications of murder. 

The morning after a night like his should have him walking around like the sun shined out of his ass. Instead, the most annoying person in the city chose to rain on his parade. That person is coincidentally his best friend's girlfriend.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa’s shouts this morning, he’s more than confident you would have agreed to a repeat of the nights events. Maybe even two or three if he was lucky.

But no, you sprinted from his bed the second he feigned sleep. Watching through barely cracked eyes, he almost broke his cover when you nearly fell head first into the door knob, hastily trying to pull your pants up and walk at the same time. 

Wonwoo let you go, no snide comments or crude remarks. He knew if he wanted you to return to his bed then the best way was to bite his tongue. Goading had worked the first time, now he’d have to let your curiosity get the better of you. You would come back sooner or later, and he'd be ready when it happened.

He’d given you a few minutes to find your way out, hoping you avoided Lisa and saved you both the embarrassment. The slam of the front door and lack of screaming informed him of your success. Wanting to make sure you were long gone before he exited his room, Wonwoo took his time brushing his teeth. Catching himself in the mirror, his reflection gave a self-satisfied smirk. The stain of your teeth and lips contrasted against his skin and his back stung along the raised red welts from your nails.

Flicking off the light, Wonwoo heads towards back to his room. Lisa will demand audience sooner or later and it's better if he rips the bandaid off now. In his peripheral, a swatch of pale pink fabric tucked underneath one of the legs of his dresser catches his attention. Ducking down, he puls at the stretch of cotton. Lifting them up to inspect the out of place garment, Wonwoo finds himself face to face with your panties. He huffs a laugh before crumbling them in his hand, and tossing them in the hamper on the way out of his room. 

Lisa waits for him at the dining table; commanding the head seat like a mob boss.

From her perch, she watches him with keen interest that makes his bowl of cereal taste like mush. Mingyu already excused himself to take a shower before Wonwoo sat down, attempting to avoid the ensuing blow out. 

Every question is answered with one word answers or dismissive grunts. Even Lisa’s attempts to bait him into unrelated arguments roll off. Lisa chisels away at any sign of weakness but Wonwoo refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It’s none of her business. Even if you’re her best friend.

Wonwoo counts his blessings when a call comes through her phone, the vibration on the table interrupting her attempt to burn a hole through his skull. Lisa rises to answer, pacing the kitchen while the feminine voice coming out the receiver chatters on. She ducks her head into Mingyu’s room, bidding him farewell. As she passes Wonwoo again on her way out, she gives him another furious look to let him know she isn’t done with their “conversation”. 

To rub salt in the wound, Wonwoo sends her off with an overly friendly smile and a wiggle of his fingers. He wipes down his face when the door slam shuts, shoulders dropping.  He knew hooking up with you might cause problems. He didn’t know they would become evident so quickly, but problems nonetheless. 

Worth it, he thinks 

The look on her face when she came for him made anything Lisa planned to throw his worth the price.

Wonwoo didn’t care what any of them had to say, you both were grown adults. He wanted to sleep with and you wanted to sleep with him. End of conversation. Anyone else’s opinion meant nothing.

And if things go the way he thinks they will, he’ll get to see you in his bed again.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #🫡 highvern

[potter-imagines]

Family Sleepover

Pairing: Choso Kamo x Reader

Prompt: A relaxing friday night for Choso and Y/n takes a turn when Choso's little brother, Yuji, has a nightmare leading to a family sleepover.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: modern Choso and reader, non sorcerer world setting, mentions of drinking and smoking, otherwise mainly fluff!

Notes: love love love choso, he doesn't get enough attention in writes so hopefully i'll have more choso x reader to come! <3 (gif credit to @fushiguro)

Rainfall smacked against the shingles on the roof while the weather outside only grew worse. A majority of souls dreaded nights filled with storming rain, although Y/n never truly understood why. Not only did the ‘disgusting’ weather provide her the perfect excuse to remain indoors, the cracks of lighting and the booming of thunder set a cozy mood as the rain poured down from the skies outside. The light from the flashing television brightened the darkened room to a glowing haze. Choso had his arm thrown over his girlfriend’s body and his back pressed up against the black headboard as Y/n curled herself into his side, her hands resting neatly on his chest. 

It was a typical Friday night for the couple after an exhausting week for the both of them. Choso had put in three grueling nights of overtime while Y/n had run herself thin juggling her final semester of college writing three separate ten page essays and studying for finals between her part time job. 

Instead of going out until the early hours of the morning bar hopping and clubbing like most couples their age, the two preferred the more intimate occasions of peaceful bliss wrapped in each other’s hold. Besides, babysitters weren’t cheap and between keeping up with rent, having enough food on the table, gas to get to work, bills and buying new clothes for a never ending growing boy, there wasn’t a surplus of funds left over to pay some high schooler to watch little Yuji every weekend night. 

Yuji was the youngest of Choso’s brothers, his only surviving family member in fact. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday his entire family perished in an electrical fire that tore through his childhood home. The cause was natural yet their deaths hardly felt so. His mother had passed away in the hospital a day after the fire, while his little brother was the only member she could manage to stumble out of the home with. Yuji was a few months old at the time, and if he hadn’t still been sleeping in the bassinet next to their parent’s bed, Choso was sure he would’ve perished as well. He had received a call only hours after the fire was put out, being miles away at university, he rushed to his hometown immediately to discover the life changing news. 

That tragic event was four years ago and ever since, Choso has been raising his youngest brother alone- well, they were alone, until through friends, Choso was introduced to Y/n. The couple met at nineteen and had been going strong since, much to his surprise. Choso struggled in the dating field prior to being a near ‘single dad’, and now that he had his kid brother to look after, he naturally assumed he’d never find a partner.

However Y/n proved herself different from any woman he’d ever met, and Yuji adored her. From the child's second birthday on, Y/n had been an essential part of their lives and she had no intentions of leaving, which she once again proved by blowing Choso’s mind and signing on to lease a small three bedroom home alongside him and Yuji. Three years later now and the couple were raising Yuji like a stable, healthy family, and Choso couldn’t be more grateful to have her in both of their lives. 

Typical wasn’t an adjective that fit like a puzzle in their dictionary but they still tried to act like a normal 23 year old couple, hence the half full wine glasses sat on either side of the bed and the tightly packed pre roll waiting patiently on Choso’s side. Sure, they had a crazy five year old to look after, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t allowed to indulge in a bit of fun themselves, right?

A mutual favorite horror film of the couples was playing in the background. Y/n laid peaceful alongside Choso and the two cuddled on one another underneath the heavy stack of blankets. H/c hair tickled his skin as Choso situated his chin on the crown of her skull. Screams streamed from the television as a helpless victim took their chance at running through the winding forest trying to escape the crazed killer. Y/n’s body jerked as the girl managed to trip over a perfectly placed tree root and went stumbling down a large, leaf filled hill. The actress cried in fright as the killer stood at the top of the embankment, staring down at her disheveled state. Choso stole a peep down at his girlfriend, a rare smile coating his lips as he noticed her fully clinging to his naked chest. Once the girl was murdered and the screen cut to a new scene, her body visibly relaxed as her hold loosened. 

Choso smirked at the action, his lips finding their way to the top of her head, placing a small kiss as his arms pulled her closer. He could feel her hands absentmindedly tracing patterns against his chest while her eyes were glued to the horror movie on the television. Every once in a while her frame would flinch against his as a new victim was slain and killed, making him laugh to himself at her jumpy nature. Not everyone found horror movies ‘relaxing’, so to say, but for the couple, it was their idea of an unwinding night. 

Y/n shakily picked the wine glass up from the nightstand and took a reasonable gulp on the red liquid, then placed the cup back on the coaster. Her eyes casually shifted to her boyfriend, a mischievous smile playing on her pink lips as she motioned towards the joint resting on his side. Choso understood her thinking, not needing the use of words, and he chuckled. The mood felt all too perfect and the claming drag of a blunt was the bow to tie their night together in a beautifully wrapped present. However, as the saying goes, if something seems too good to be true, chances are it isn’t true. 

Right as Choso went to reach for the bud sitting beside him, a loud, echoing shriek broke through the once mellow air causing both adults to spring in terror. Y/n gasped, sitting up immediately as she looked up to Choso who was already throwing the comforter off and his legs off the side of the bed to stand. 

“Shit…” He cursed. Another scream hit the air as Choso grabbed the nearest shirt he could find and threw it on. Watching as he hurriedly redressed, Y/n extended her hand to flick the bedside lamp on, a worried hint to her tired gaze. 

“Is that Yuuji?” Concern laced her words as Y/n watched her boyfriend throw a random shirt over his head. He nodded towards her, confirming her worry. 

“Mmh, one second, babe. I’ll be right back.” Choso shared a quick kiss with his girl before sliding out the bedroom door. Stepping into the hall he quietly flipped on the ceiling light and walked the few steps to his brother’s room. Yuji’s door was decorated in various drawings, stickers, and paintings the young boy had made, making it hard to miss. The door was closed shut, but that didn’t stop the sound of muffled sobs and shaky breathing from breaking through. Twisting the golden knob, Choso slowly creaked the door open as he peeked his head around the wooden frame.

From his spot in the doorway Choso could see a small lump under the covers that was shaking like a leaf in a storm, much like the raging thunderstorm occurring outside the home. Entering the room, he quietly made his way into the bedroom and sat his body on the edge of the bed, careful as to not startle his younger brother. Choso reached his hand out to rub along what appeared to be the child’s back as he whispered, 

“Hey, little man. Everything alright?”

The heavy blanket was ripped from the boy’s body at the sound of his savior’s voice as Yuji flung himself to his big brother’s arms, grasping at his shirt while his teary eyes leaked against the cotton. 

“Choso!” He cried out. An iron grip clutched at his skin, tiny hands searching for stability in his hold.

“I’m here, don’t worry. Why’re you crying?” Choso hugged his body close to his chest, his large hand running up and down Yuji’s back in an attempt to comfort him. The small boy buried his head in his shoulder as the broken sobs continued. 

“I-I had a-a bad dream a-and the thunder w-was so loud my… my whole room was shaking and… and I saw a monster was outside my window with big claws and sharp teeth- he was going to eat me!” Yuji shouted in fear. His voice trembled as he struggled to get his words free from his dry throat.

The image of a terrifying beast perched up on the branch staring at him through his window replayed on a loop in Yuji’s head, his brain creating a scarier image each time he recalled the monster. Tiny fists bundled the shirt between his fingers as Yuji clung to his older brother. Glancing down, Choso leaned back a pull so the boy was forced to look into his dark violet eyes. Despite his usual solemn look, Choso’s features were warmer- more comforting than Yuji had witnessed on the regular. A serious gaze crossed his stare as his thumb wiped a bundle of tears running down the child’s cheeks. 

“Well you know that would never happen. Do you remember what I told you about monsters?” He questioned. Yuji rubbed at his eyes, his head shaking ‘no’ in response. Swiping his thumb across the underside of his leaking eyes, Choso wiped his rampant tears away.

“They’re not real. They’re just in our heads, right?” His finger tapped against his small forehead. “Even if monsters were real, your big brother would never let it eat you, I can promise that.”

Yuji peered up at his brother, his curious wide eyes on full display, as if his big brother had all the answers to life. If Choso told him the grass was blue and the sky was green, he’d believe him. To Yuji, his brother could do no wrong. A twinkle met his large brown eyes as his head tilted to the side,

“You’d beat him up?” He asked hopefully. A crack of a grin broke across his face as Choso nodded in agreement. 

“Mmh.” Choso ruffled the pink of his hair, giving him a reassuring smile. Yuji cuddled himself against his chest once more, previous shaky breaths finally evening out to small hiccups. The redness to his plump cheeks were starting to fade leaving tiny blotches of hysteria in its wake. Those tears that seemed never ending like a rushing waterfall growing into quiet sniffles. 

A steady silence filled the room until Yuji pulled his head away from Choso’s now damp shirt. With nervous eyes he hesitantly looked down to his fidgeting hands. Rubbing his palm against his heated skin, Choso wordlessly urged his kid brother to speak up, knowing there was clearly something swimming around his mind. Reaching out for the plush brown bear, Yuji held it to his chest as he inhaled steadily. 

“Can… can I sleep in your bed, please big brother?” The flush of innocence to his tone was a gentle reminder to Choso that although his little brother was rather brave for his age, he was still only five years old and sometimes, extra reassurance was required. 

“Sure, kiddo.”

Yuji leapt towards Choso, his small arms encircling his brother’s neck as he let out a cheer of delight. Smiling to himself, Choso plucked the blue star blanket he knew the child struggled to sleep without and stood from the bed. Yuji’s head laid against his shoulder as the pair started walking towards the master bedroom. Choso flicked the hallway light off and turned the handle to his room, stepping into the darkness with his brother in his hold. 

The small lamp on her bedside was still lit as the two brothers entered the room, the sudden presence capturing Y/n’s attention. Choso didn’t fail to notice the smile that graced her beautiful features as she caught sight of the pink haired boy in his grasp, and the way her arms opened up on instinct. A gasp of excitement broke from Yuji’s chest as he met the eyes of his second favorite person in the world. 

“Y/n!” Yuji shouted. Shaking from Choso’s arms, he scrambled against the fluffy duvet as he crawled to Y/n. A large grin illuminated on his face as he fell into her welcoming embrace. “Big brother is letting me sleep in his bed- do you think we can snuggle?”

His strawberry scented hair tickled against her chin as Yuji buried himself further in her chest, cheeks still slightly damp from his crying from before now pressed to her skin. Y/n drew her nails up and down his spine, scratching his back as one comforting their young would do, then kissed the side of his head. 

“Of course, baby.” 

Choso reached out for Yuji from behind and lifted him, allowing Y/n room to pull the blanket down so he could sneak in beside her. Once Yuji was under the covers he yanked the dark material up and settled in below his chin, his arms falling above the blanket then effortlessly positioned himself on his side so his little body was nearly attached to Y/n’s. Yuji innocently cradled his face into the warmth of her chest. Y/n giggled at his forwardness and wrapped her hold around him, pulling Yuji closer and kissing his ruby cheek, to which the boy snuggled in closer. 

Choso couldn’t resist the chuckle that broke from his chest making the tattoo line across the bridge of his nose scrunch in amusement as he watched how easy his brother made himself at home in the bedroom he shared with his girlfriend. Yuji pranced in the room and fixed himself up in Choso’s bed next to his girlfriend like he owned the place- like he was the one paying rent. Tugging his shirt off, Choso threw the cotton to the side as he slipped into his side of the bed and shot Y/n an apologetic look. 

“I’m sorry, angel. Yuuji had a nightmare then was certain he saw a monster outside his window so he’s pretty shaken up.” 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for taking care of him, Cho. There’s plenty of room for all three of us up here.”

Choso’s eyes drifted to his nightstand, purple orbs landing on the sealed up backwoods as he mentally cursed himself, thank god Yuji hadn’t noticed it or Y/n was sure to chew his ass out. Looks like they’d have to save their smoke session for another night. Sliding open the bedside drawer, Choso swept the pre roll into the cupboard and shut it, tossing the blue lighter in alongside. The wine swayed in the glass from the movement, and he pushed it back a few inches so it was completely out of Yuji’s reach. 

Turning his attention back to the two Choso nudged his finger against the chubby texture of his little brother’s cheek. 

“But you’re coming in here to sleep, okay Yuuji? It’s bedtime, not playtime.” Yuji obediently bobbed his head in agreement, a twinkle of mischievousness sparking in his eyes. Choso knew that gleam all too well. Overall his kid brother was a relatively good listener, but there was always some catch, and when it came to bedtime, Yuji’s catch was his ability to ask a million and one questions before actually falling asleep. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek to keep from letting a laugh escape. Yuji was too sweet. Tapping his finger at Y/n’s arm, the small boy gestured towards the tv. 

“Can I watch a little of your movie to go to sleep?” His question was suppressed by his face being shoved into Y/n’s neck, but the words were clear enough. Y/n glanced at her boyfriend, an uncertain raise to her brows. Before he could decline his brother’s request, she shook her head softly. 

“Well… it’s sort of scary… maybe we should put something different on until you’re asleep.”

Instead of changing the channel, Choso opted for turning the volume down. It was a film he’d seen a thousand times over and he knew there wouldn’t be another scary scene for a good fifteen minutes, which opened the perfect window of sleep for Yuji. Unlike Choso who required a minimum of thirty minutes until sleep could greet him, Yuji could fall asleep at the drop of a pin, and based on the droopiness to his eyes, sleep didn’t seem too far off for him. 

“How ‘bout you try closing your eyes for sleep and we can have a fun movie day tomorrow, alright? Y/n and I are gonna go to bed soon, too.” Choso promised. The young boy tilted his head up towards his big brother, almost searching his features for any sign of lies, but Choso only stared back. Once he was sure his brother was telling the truth, Yuji nodded and forced himself to close his large eyes. 

Both adults watched the movie without a word, cautious to give Yuji a fair chance to fall asleep. Images passed on the screen of a seemingly happy family as they began moving into their new home. The children ran around outside the home, giggling and shouting with glee as the parents carried loads of boxes into the home. The scene hadn’t struck either Choso nor Y/n as one of importance as they both knew the ill awaited fate to meet the family, but through half lidded eyes, Yuji’s interest was quipped. The quietness lasted for no longer than a minute when Yuji moved his head, pink hair brushing against Y/n’s chin, and knocked at his brother’s shoulder. 

“Big brother…”

“Hm?” Choso replied. Yuji’s fixation was back on the television screen as he pointed his finger to the image. 

“Are you and Y/n gonna have babies?”

Both heads immediately snapped to the young boy, a gasp of shock sounding from Y/n at the sudden inquiry as her eyebrows shot up towards the sky. If someone was to take a picture of her face, she was sure she’d look like she’d witnessed a ghost. Choso’s mouth hung astoundment, the innocently worded question clearly hitting him like a smack across the face. 

“What?” 

Y/n quietly stared at her boyfriend for help, unsure what to say in response. Yuji on the other hand sat unwavered as he wiggled against her, trying his best to find the most comfortable position. Choso lifted the comforter of the blanket so Yuji had more access to cover his small body, then provided a brief shrug. Giving his girlfriend a look of uncertainty, Choso sighed at the oddly deep question. 

“Not for a while, little man. We’ve already got you to take care of so I think we’ll wait a bit.” Choso spoke softly.

“Oh… okay.” Disappointment flooded his tone. Seeing his face drop in such a sad manner made Choso feel a bit bad for letting him down. Of course the couple planned on having children, it was a topic they’d discussed more times than they could count, but it wasn’t necessarily a priority at the moment for either of them. Choso wanted Yuji in school, and Y/n to have her dream wedding to him before either of them seriously took action to have children of their own. In the meantime, they certainly enjoyed practicing the baby making process- but Yuji didn’t need to know about all that. 

Yet it seemed Yuji’s curiosity was not quite settled as he once again tapped Choso on the shoulder,

“Big brother?”

“Yeah?” He tiredly mumbled out. Y/n laughed at the exasperation in Choso’s voice. It was no secret, Yuji had hit that age where his questions and curiosity had no end. Every meal was filled with a game of 21 questions asking what was in the food, how was it made, where did the ingredients come from, why does it call for carrots and not chocolate, and so on. His mind had no limits, and most of the time, Choso was grateful for that, except for now when Yuji was meant to be asleep, not firing inquiries left and right. Stealing a glance to Y/n over his shoulder, Yuji turned back to his big brother, a shade of scarlet painting his skin. 

“Can I marry Y/n when I’m a big kid like you?” Large brown eyes bore up at Choso as Yuji hugged his teddy closer, a faint blush flushing his cheeks. Choso was aware of his little brother’s crush on his girlfriend, and honestly, he couldn’t blame the kid. Y/n was attentive, caring, selfless, kind hearted, and not to mention gorgeous, so he could see plain as day why Yuji had a crush on his girlfriend. Still, the question knocked him back a step in surprise. Tonight's line of thoughts racing around the child’s mind seemed larger than normal. 

“I’m sorry, little man but I was planning on marrying Y/n. I don’t think it’d be very fair if you stole her from me, do you?” His brows pulled together into a thin line at his brother’s new inquiry. First babies, now he wanted to marry Y/n? Choso was scared to hear what Yuji had up his sleeve to ask next. The child’s expression went glum once again, a heavy pout coating his pink lips. 

“No… I guess not… I just really like to snuggle with her…” He admitted. His confession brought a cheesy grin to Y/n’s face. Yuji had always been adorable to her but now she found him even more of a sweetheart. Arms still wrapped around him, Y/n pulled Yuji in further to give him a hug, which he happily accepted. 

“You can always snuggle with me, bubs, but I’ll bet when you’re a big kid like your brother, you’re gonna meet a pretty girl you’d rather cuddle with instead.” Y/n laughed slightly as she glanced down at the young boy. She found it irresistibly adorable Yuji had developed a crush on her, but she also knew it was sure to fade as he grew, nonetheless, it was one of the cutest things to her. Kissing his temple, Y/n gave him one last squeeze then loosened her grip as a loud huff tumbled from Yuji’s parted lips. 

“Not true! You’re the prettiest girl ever! I don’t want another girl- gross!” Yuji’s tongue fell from his mouth as he made an absurd gagging sound. In his mind, the idea of snuggling another girl was the most disgusting thing he’d ever heard- but snuggling his big brother’s girlfriend? Now that was a totally different story. Choso sent a flick to the side of Yuji’s head, snickering to himself as the boy yelped and grasped for the point of impact. 

“We’ll see if you change your mind, how ‘bout that?” Yuji shook his head ‘yes’, agreeing to his brother’s words. Y/n suppressed a giggle as she looked over to Choso, amused by his twinge of annoyance at what she found to be adorably harmless questions from Yuji.

While Choso quietly pondered over his brother’s words, the small boy seemed to be warming up to the idea of bedtime. Yuji’s big eyes were casually drooping lower and lower with every blink he took. 

“I think someone is sleepy…” Y/n’s tone was teasing as she poked the chub of Yuji’s cheek. His usual hyperactive nature was calmed down to a simmer, and Y/n could feel him sinking into her hold. Not much longer and she was sure he’d be out like a light. As if reading her mind the young boy let out a loud yawn.

“I’m just gonna close my eyes for a little bit.” Yuji seemed to be making the promise more to himself than anyone else. Choso nodded, feigning belief, his brown strands threatened to slip from the rubber tie holding his hair in two loose spiky ponytails as he moved his head. 

“Okay, kid. I believe you.” Choso smirked.

Twisting his body, Yuji pressed his back against Y/n’s chest. She wrapped her hold around his smaller frame, allowing his little arms to lay ontop of hers, then reached his other hand out to hold the edge of his brother’s pillow. Choso could feel his tiny legs folded, Yuji’s knee pressing against his side. The kid was never one for a normal sleeping position, Choso thought to himself. 

Nuzzling his head against the plush mattress, Yuji peaked his eyes open and gave his brother a soft smile. The hand clutching Y/n’s arm gave a squeeze as his sleepy voice mumbled,

“I love you, big brother… I love you, Y/n…” 

“I love you too, Yuji, sweet dreams.” Y/n leaned down to press a loving kiss to the boy’s forehead. Pulling away, she brought her hand up to stroke at his light pink strands. Choso smiled to himself at the sight, then reached his hand out to pinch at the excess of skin on his little brother’s cheek. 

“Love you, little man. Sleep tight.”

A stillness enveloped the room in a circle of quietness, the sound of Yuji’s faint breathing followed by light snores being the only steady sound. Choso waited a few minutes before reaching for the remote and turning the volume up slightly, their mutual resistance to having Yuji listening in now wiped clean. Although both had their outward attention focused on the movie playing, neither were mentally zeroed in on it. In fact, they were both thinking about the same thing, thinking about what Yuji had said; having kids, getting married, spending the rest of their lives together. 

Of course this was a common thought that roamed around in Choso’s head, he had just never realized he wasn’t the only one who thought about it. Cracking a smirk, Choso settled his arm around the middle pillow supporting Yuji and placed his hold on Y/n’s shoulders. His fingers unintentionally tickled her skin and her body subconsciously melted into his touch. Letting out a chuckle, Choso turned his head in her direction, 

“Can’t believe my kid brother is trying to steal my girl from me.” Y/n laughed at his remark, amused by the idea of Yuji wanting to marry her when he grows up. It was a sweet gesture in her eyes and made her feel grateful that he held such a high opinion on her. Of course, it was his elder brother Y/n planned to wed, the thought meant the absolute world to her. 

“I don’t know, babe, give it a few years and he just might do it.”

Choso lolled his head to the side, a look of idiocy gracing his features as he rolled his eyes. Grabbing her free hand he brought her fingers up to his face and pressed his lips against her ring finger. Although the finger was bare of jewelry at the moment, Choso was determined to change that fact soon. Without Y/n’s knowledge Choso had been saving a portion of his work checks on the side, saving for a sparkling diamond ring to adorned her hand.

Knowing his girlfriend, Y/n would accept a bread bag tie or a ring pop even. Money wasn’t something they were swimming in, and she loathed the rare occurrences Choso would splurge on her. However, Choso wanted her to have a diamond ring- no, he needed her to have one. After all she had helped him through, all the times she had been there for him and his brother, Choso wanted her to see how much he truly appreciated her, so no ordinary ring would do for him, it needed to be perfect. Laying her hand against his chest, Choso narrowed his gaze playfully. 

“You’re talking like I won’t have a ring on that pretty finger and you tied down to me by then.” Laughing at his statement Y/n simply shook her head at him. 

“I’m already tied down to you, Choso. You’re stuck with me forever.” Y/n teased, sticking her tongue out momentarily to tease him. She knew if he had asked her to marry him right then, she’d say yes, zero hesitation in her answer. It was no secret that she planned on spending the rest of her life by his side. 

“Good, ‘cause I wasn't planning on letting you go.”

Yuji stirred between them, faint groans of tiredness breaking from his lips as his body jerked in his sleep. Y/n retracted her hand from Choso’s body and soothingly ran her fingers up and down the child’s back, silently lulling him back to his peaceful sleep. Yuji cuddled further into her hold, a sigh of contentment escaping his parted lips. Choso watched the two, his heart fluttering as Y/n effortlessly brought comfort to his brother without even a word. 

Glancing up to her quiet boyfriend, Y/n sent him a sweet smile.

“Are you staying up for a while?”

“Yeah, I’m not too tired yet but I won’t be too late.” He nodded. It was no secret Choso had adopted a poor habit of staying awake until the sun rose, especially on the weekends. No matter how much effort Y/n devoted to breaking this habit, it lived on.

Propping herself on her elbow, and cautious for the child in between, Y/n reached across the space between the couple. Receiving the unspoken message loud and clear, Choso turned his face, allowing opportunity for their lips to touch as he kissed her sweetly. The exchange was short and loving, but Choso took every advantage of the moment as he relished in the feeling of his lover pressed against him. His lips greeted hers in a passionate embrace, despite their awkward positioning. A tiny hint of a smile cracked through her lips as Y/n pushed her lips against his, gentle yet determined to prove her love, which he effortlessly felt. Pulling apart, Y/n grinned up at him as she leaned back into her spot on the bed, snuggling up against her pillow. Blinking her e/c eyes up to him, a stroke of red flushed her s/c cheeks as she blushed. Y/n could spend the rest of her life kissing her lover and still would never grow old of the butterflies his lips released inside her soul. 

“Okay,” She whispered. “Turn the tv off at a good time, you had a long day.” Choso’s hand ran along the top of her head, petting at her hair with a gentle smile. His insides fuzzed at the sincerity to her words. The caring nature Y/n held always had him feeling so loved and looked out for, it truly meant the world to him. 

“Thanks, pretty girl. You’re always taking care of me… well, us.” He gazed down at his sleeping brother. Y/n leaned further into his loving strokes as she reached her arm gently across Yuji’s body to lay still against Choso’s chest. The action was simple, but the effectiveness was strong. A chorus of chills danced down his spine at her touch to his bare skin. There was no element of sexualizing to her touch, no hidden agenda, no further want but a safe place to rest.

“You say that as if two don’t take care of me as well. We all need each other.” Y/n argued. A comfortable silence greeted the pair as Choso basked in the comfort of her hand against his skin. The movie on the TV played on deaf ears while Y/n’s eyes slowly grew heavy in weight.

Reaching around his shoulder Choso grabbed the wine glass from the night stand, bringing the glass to his lips he sipped the red liquid, feeling his body relax at the taste. Red wine had always been a favorite of his, a taste Y/n had developed a liking to after multiple tries of her lover convincing her it was the superior choice. Many things had changed in her life after Choso and Yuji, such as red wine over white, nights in over nights out, and sharing the bed over sleeping alone. 

Choso set the glass down, opening his mouth to make a remark about how the chilled beverage was now warm and apologize once again for the bump in their night, when he was suddenly taken aback by the look on his lover's face- the love pouring from just one look. 

“About tonight-” A quick roll of the eyes and a motion of the hand caused Choso’s words to fall flat against his tongue. 

“Don’t. I wouldn’t choose anything over this.” Y/n smiled.

Careful for the boy laid between them, both leaned across the mattress, unable to resist the need to feel her once more, allowing their lips to meet in the middle. Choso’s hand curled around the side of her face, his thumb caressing the skin as his lips devoted all the passion and love his heart could express. His soft kiss brought a sense of home to Y/n, her hold clasping on the back of his neck, not allowing a chance to break. She swore she could feel her heart physically warming as his lips moved against hers, savoring every moment of his love. Every kiss they shared held a piece of their love, yet this one was received stronger. 

Pulling away, Y/n leaned her forehead against his, quickly pressing a final ‘goodnight’ kiss to the corner of his lips, causing a smile to rise. Even in the poorly lit room Y/n could see the red rush of blood to his cheeks. Leaning back she cozied herself underneath the heap of blankets, allowing Yuji to cling to her once more in his asleep state. Resting fully against her pillow, Y/n looked up to Choso one last time before allowing her heavy eyes to finally shut for the night. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” Choso whispered through the still air. 

It didn’t take long for her even breathing to be heard and he was certain she had fallen asleep alongside his brother. Silently slipping out his phone from his side Choso snapped a series of photos of the two snuggled against one another, a grin adorning his lips as he did so. Yeah, he thought, I’m putting a ring on that finger real soon.

#choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso kamo x reader #choso imagine #jjk imagine #jjk #jjk x reader #yuji itadori #yuji #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #choso #gojo #geto #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[eddiesghxst]

cigarettes, coffee, and club-hopping

alrighty, she's here and i hope she lives up to the expectations! this is part one of...idk how many yet, but enjoy!

based on this idea I had 80 years ago

————

part one | part two | part three | part four

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: ex-bf!rockstar!eddie x lawyer!reader

summary: you're a divorce attorney in Los Angeles and your newest client is filing against famous rockstar, Eddie Munson, who is also your ex-boyfriend

contains: exes to lovers trope, mention of a past relationship, slutty banter, smoking, mentions of alcohol, a hint of mean!eddie, public sex (restroom), a sprinkle of degradation, eddie likes to kiss your neck, fingering, eddie licking your c*m off his fingers (bye), and eddie being hot <3

word count: 5.8k

-masterlist-

Eddie hates waking up early. 

He’s never been a morning person— in all his twenty-eight years of living, Eddie has never seen the letters ‘AM’ and smiled. This is partially why Eddie failed his first-period class in high school for two — almost three — consecutive years in a row. This is also partly why Eddie was fired from nearly every job he landed after graduating. You would imagine that Eddie has learned his lesson after all this time. Not quite.

Eddie is nearly an hour late to his first divorce settlement conference. One would think that Eddie would, for once in his life, wake up at a reasonable time to take a shower, grab his usual morning energy drink, beat LA traffic, and get to his appointment on time— as a mature grown man would do. Still, Eddie failed even to set an alarm to wake him up.

“You’re forty minutes late already— traffic is gonna make it even worse, and you don’t have another day to reschedule this for the next two months, so I suggest you get up, Munson!”

Eddie watches through sleep-fogged eyes as Kelly, his assistant, throws his window curtains aside to let the morning sun seep into his room. There’s a pounding kick drum beating behind Eddie’s eyes, a result of Eddie falling into Jeff’s sinister persuasion to go out. He should stop listening to that asshole— he’s part of why Eddie married his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Eddie’s bones click and crack as he stretches, sits up, and lazily swings his legs over the side of his bed with a sleepy groan. He can hear the rustling sound of Kelly picking up laundry from his floor— something he’s told her multiple times not to do, but she does it anyway, so he’s given up on fighting her. He runs a hand over his face, a yawn wracking through his entire body before reaching over to his nightstand, feeling around for the box of cigarettes he knows he left the night before. 

“I tossed them out,” Eddie glances up at Kelly, who is now grabbing the last of his laundry on the floor and leaving his room. “Go freshen up and get dressed; we need to leave now.”

Eddie’s doctor advised him to start weaning himself off the cancer sticks; something about it fucking with his gums, and that’s on top of the risks he’s running with the vocal strain it’s put on his voice. Eddie knows he should take it seriously, but he needs a lick of nic before spending the next three to four hours bickering with his wife about what’s his and hers.

Eddie drags himself out of bed, shuffling across the cool tile of his bedroom floor. He sleepily rubs his bare stomach, flipping the light switch and groaning, annoyed at the sudden brightness. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face before walking into his closet and sifting through the random pants and jackets strewn across the floor. There’s gotta be some smokes in here somewhere. 

He finds a nearly empty pack of Marlboro reds and wastes no time sticking it between his lips, lighting it up with the lighter on his nightstand before getting dressed.

By the time Eddie steps into the law firm, his headache has intensified by about 80 beats per second, and he’s gone through the old pack of smokes. It feels as if the back of Eddie’s eyes have a heartbeat of their own, throbbing with every direction they turn. Eddie can hear his attorney giving him pointers for the conference, but if Eddie’s honest, he doesn’t plan on talking much, so he doesn’t pay close attention to what the man is saying.

When they enter the conference room, Eddie is seated across the table from his wife and offered a cup of coffee, to which Eddie gladly accepts to nurse his hangover. “You could at least take the glasses off.” A sweet voice that’s grown to grate every one of Eddie’s nerves whenever he hears it. He glares at his wife from across the table, and though nobody could see his eyes behind his glasses, everyone could sense the distaste behind his words, “Fuck off, Nezza.”

A strong hand is placed on Eddie’s shoulder, his attorney’s, stiffly squeezing the thick leather jacket. “How about we get started then? Before things get… rowdy.”

“Great idea.” 

Now that voice—- that voice, Eddie could hear at any second of the day, any time of the year, and know exactly who was conducting that sweet song. 

Eddie likes to believe that the universe works in mysterious ways and that things really do happen for a reason, but sometimes he swears whatever god is up there behind the clouds just likes to fuck with him for fun. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared Eddie for the sight he sees when he flits his gaze from Nezza to the woman sitting next to her.

For a moment, Eddie is taken back to a time he remembers in golden dream-like clouds of smoke—- the spring of ‘83 when he fell headfirst in love with the woman sitting next to his wife. And for that moment—- for that split fraction of a second, Eddie is happy to see you. 

It’s surprising; after all this time he spent resenting you and spitting out the sour taste you'd left in his mouth, Eddie imagined he would never be able even to see a picture of you and not want to slam his head against the nearest surface he could get his hands on.

However, that feeling only lasts about .012 milliseconds before Eddie’s entire being is filled with every emotion he’d suppressed towards you over the last nine years. Eddie looks at you and sees the girl he loved and the girl that broke his heart. His last memory of you is so vivid that it almost outshines all the good from your past relationship. Almost. Like a python wrapped around his neck, Eddie chokes on adoration and hatred all in one breath.

If Eddie said it didn’t piss him off to an ungodly level that he has a sliver of excitement to see you, he would be lying. You had always known the best ways to wriggle under his skin. 

This one takes the cake for the cruelest way so far.

————

Eddie looks the same.

Not much has changed on him throughout the years apart from expensive clothing, healthier-looking hair, and a little more muscle on his arms to fill out the black leather jacket clinging to his frame. He still has a knack for jewelry, you note from the priceless rings hugging nearly every slender finger of his and the chain resting against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt. He carries himself the same way, confidently with a smear of carefree and chaos. You couldn’t get a read on him when settled down in his seat across from Nezza, and the black sunglasses shielding his eyes didn’t help you decipher him any further. 

He smells like Marlboro reds and a sharp cologne; dark scented and intense, easy to tell he’s the one wearing the scent. It’s a different scent than you remember from him. He’s swapped the cheap four-cent bottle of Brut for a more decadent scent— a mix of tonka bean, musk, and patchouli with a dash of something feminine you can’t quite put your finger on. The scent matches him better than Brut could ever amount to, but you find yourself reminiscent of the past.

Eddie doesn’t look your way until you speak, and either Eddie has mastered his poker face over the years, or he doesn’t remember you.

Not even briefly does Eddie’s expression falter from the bored look plastered on his face. The sunglasses do no justice either, and you wish the universe would strike them off his face at this very moment. You had forgotten what his eyes looked like in real-time and desperately wanted to remember— take a mental picture and shove it in the corner of your brain filled with essential memories, all things that make you smile, cry, and scream.

There’s a moment where you feel pained by Eddie’s unwavering reaction to seeing you. That feeling is quickly replaced with relief, relief that Eddie has matured just as much as you’d hoped he had. When you found out your client would be filing against Eddie, your high school boyfriend, you had initially panicked and paced the living room floor of your tiny studio apartment, thinking of ways to back out of the case. However, after a hefty glass of wine, you managed to persuade yourself that Eddie most likely isn’t still hung up on something as silly as a high school relationship. It happened nearly a decade ago; surely, you’ve both moved on, right?

With this indication, you feel the tension in your shoulders ease a little, hopeful that this process will be seamless, seeing as both parties want nothing to do with each other and Eddie holds no hard feelings against you.

Once the conference begins, you don’t look away in time to avoid Eddie’s gaze as he removes the glasses, your eyes landing on those dark pools of brown that you used to dip into each night. Vibrant and so full of life, full of untold stories and sights you’d missed out on in the last decade, a story unfolds beneath the glimmer of his eyes under the lights. They feel like home at first, but as you continue holding his gaze, your home becomes clouded by lightning and wind, dark storm clouds with a promise of a downpour.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, you see nothing but the boy you left behind in the summer of ‘85.

————

Stomach growling and frustrated sighs indicate the need for a break at around 12:40 PM.

The conference had started on a good note, with seamless agreements between you, your client, and Eddie’s team. That was until your client decided to become rather difficult and demanding.

“We’ll pick up where we left off in ten minutes.”

The atmosphere in the room has become stuffy and tight over the hours, so you get up to stretch your legs on a short walk to the coffee cart in the hallway.

Your mind feels muddled, pushed to exhaustion from hours of reading documents and going back and forth with Eddie’s attorney. Nezza wants more than Eddie is willing to give, money-wise, property-wise, and everything else under the sun. You’re determined to get your client as much as possible, but it’s proving to be more of a struggle than expected; Eddie’s team is headstrong and unwilling to bend to your substantial advances. Oh, and Eddie’s been practically throwing daggers at you from across the table with each chance he can get.

As you stir in a sugar packet, you watch the dark brown liquid swirl in the foam cup. You fall into a short trance as you watch the tiny bubbles dance within your drink, but the sound of a throat clearing shatters the spell. You glance to your side where the person is standing and are surprised to be met with a leather-covered shoulder and dark brown curly hair. 

“Are you done with the sugar?” Eddie points towards your hand, and you blink, stuck as you stare at him for a moment. You know you should be professional, you’re an established attorney, and you’re in the middle of doing your job, but you’re also 100% fucking human, so— “I don’t know, are you done sending me death glares from across the table or do you wanna keep being an asshole?”

Eddie grabs the jar of sugar packets from your hand, “You wouldn’t have to put up with it if you just… quit the case.” Eddie shrugs as if his advice is a task as easy as folding towels. You take offense to his response, eyebrows pinching together as you watch him rip open a packet and sprinkle sugar into his cup, “I can’t just drop a case, Eddie.”

Eddie mockingly laughs, “Really? That’s weird; I mean, considering how you kind of just dropped everything and fled the fucking state, I’m sure you can drop a case just as easily, sweetheart.” 

His words hurt. As much as you wish he didn’t have that effect on you, it’s evident that he still does, considering how your neck heats up in anger. You don’t miss the pet name he slipped in; you hate that it makes your neck even warmer. “I didn’t flee the state; I went to fucking college— and how is that even my fault? I gave you the number to my dorm, and you never called.”

And Eddie remembers that letter you left him. He remembers it like the back of his hand. He memorized every sentence, including that stupid number you left for him. “Yes, I did. I called you after every show for months, and you never picked up!” 

You spent eight years in New York, and out of those eight years, you spent four of them staring at an ugly green phone on the wall of your dorm hallway, waiting for it to ring so you could pick it up and hear his voice again. You asked your roommate to listen for a call if she was up studying late or if you went out and she stayed in. Now, you wonder if she failed you on her part because you would’ve never, in a hundred years, missed Eddie’s call. Never.

Before you can respond to the information, you are being called back into the room to resume the conference—  you’d almost forgotten that’s what you were here for.

You and Eddie let the man know you’ll be right there and watch as he walks back into the room. When you turn to Eddie, his gaze is no longer on you as he tosses the small wooden stirring stick in the trash.

Eddie is silent for a moment before he looks at you and gives a forced, close-lipped smile, “It’s nice to know you’re still full of shit.”

And then he’s gone. Eddie leaves you there, stunned and offended by his words. Eddie Munson thinks you’re full of shit— as if you were the only one to blame for your falling out. You feel stupid for believing in a better-evolved version of the Eddie you’d known. You wish his words didn’t affect you, but the conversation has left a bitter taste on your tongue. You glance down at the cup of coffee in your hands, and your stomach churns. You no longer have an appetite for the drink.

————

Late-night club hopping has never been your preferred way of spending a Saturday night. There’s a different type of energy in LA’s club scene than there is in New York. It was easy to have a good time in New York; the clubs are all close to one another and stay open nearly all night. In Los Angeles, it’s been a slow rise to liking the nightlife— clubs are more scattered, and on top of that, you learned the hard way that it’s difficult to even get into clubs when you’re not Madonna-level status. That last problem isn’t so much an issue now that you’ve settled in and made a few connections around the city. 

Tonight you’re celebrating a friend from work's birthday. Penny was the first person you talked to at the law firm; she instantly made you feel at home and offered to buy you lunch at a cafe next door. The two of you have been joined at the hip ever since. 

You’re happy to celebrate Penny’s birthday and glad to be tagging along with her in this new chapter of her life, but what you’re bothered about is the fact that you chose to wear the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. You were under the impression that you would be eating dinner with Penny and a few of her friends, but somehow, dinner turned into a night-long clubbing adventure. 

Logically, you have no one to blame but yourself for wearing Steve Madden pumps, but if Penny had told you the night would be long, you definitely wouldn’t have worn these god-awful shoes.

You’re sitting on a bar stool waiting for your drink and thinking about what excuse you’ll give Penny to go home when suddenly, you feel someone walk up beside you, waving over the bartender. You glance at the person and immediately look away, preparing to run for it before they notice. 

Sadly, you’re not fast enough to escape his line of sight, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”

You turn to the man and take in the sight of him as you tilt your head. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around since I was… you know, minding my business until you came here.” You motion to where Eddie is standing, and he smirks, silently taking his drink when the bartender passes it to him.

“How’d you get in here anyways?” He asks. It’s not a bad question; sure, you’re a damn good attorney, but you’re of no celebrity status, and this club is one of the more difficult joints to get into. However, you still take offense to Eddie’s question.

Your eyes narrow slightly, debating whether you should continue entertaining Eddie or leave and find your friends. “If you’re going to continue to be an asshole, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me; I want nothing to do with you.” Eddie scoffs into the rim of his drink before taking a short sip. You roll your eyes, feeling like kids in elementary getting into petty fights. “What makes you think I want something to do with you?”

Eddie snickers over the rim of his glass, “The fact that you’re still sitting here says enough.” 

You scoff, looking away from him as you shift in your seat, attempting to make it seem like you want to get away from him, but it only scoots you closer to him, your arm brushing his elbow. You panic at the touch but act as if it was nothing. “If my feet didn’t feel like they were about to fall off, I would be miles away from you by now.” You grumble as you distract yourself by tugging down the hem of your dress. 

“I don't believe that.” 

You let out an exasperated breath, looking over at Eddie with an annoyed expression as you speak, “Not everyone is head over heels dying to be around you.” 

It might be the alcohol or Eddie’s sinister pheromones you’re breathing in paired with the sound of his ridiculously annoying laugh—- you’re not sure which it is, but you find yourself enjoying this back-and-forth banter. A big part of you is frustrated by Eddie’s insistent prodding at your nerves, but your other part is intrigued. Too stuck to grab your things, bid him goodnight, and leave.

You almost think you heard him wrong when he responds, “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing once I get you in the back.”

You blink, momentarily silent, as you glance at him to watch him calmly sip his drink. Not a single hint of regret or shock flashes across his face, and you almost think you imagined it until you see a ghost of a smirk brush the corner of his lips. “Excuse me?” And like a child, Eddie’s response is quick and irritating, “You’re excused.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m willingly going anywhere with you that’s not a fucking law firm or courtroom.” 

Eddie laughs, glancing at you and nodding once, “Sure.” You hate how smug he is, and you hate that he’s so fucking right, but you swear you won’t fold for whatever stupid game he’s playing. “Sure?”

You watch Eddie tip back his drink and finish what’s left, placing the empty glass on the bar countertop before lazily nudging it forward. You shift back with an annoyed grimace when he turns to you and leans an elbow against the bar. He points over your shoulder, and you catch yourself before you follow his lead, gaze stuck on his face as you prepare for whatever bullshit is about to leave his mouth.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom to take a piss. You can sit here and bitch about everything under the sun, or you can quit being a pussy and meet me there.”

And without further explanation or interaction, Eddie gets up and leaves. You turn and watch in shock as he walks off, watching his back until it’s washed away by the sea of people on the dance floor. You turn back to the bar and gaze at your drink. For a moment, you think this might be some elaborate scheme Eddie has to fuck you over. Complying with this proposition, Eddie has now opened, could very well lead to you losing your job, something you’re not very keen on doing.

You glance towards the direction Eddie had walked off in and groan, briefly shutting your eyes as temptation washes over you. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way you’re actually thinking about going into that restroom with Eddie.

You take a deep breath, clenching your teeth in thought before muttering a curse. You’re fucking yourself over with this one, but you do it anyways. You toss back the rest of your drink, wincing at the bitterness, before hopping off the barstool.

Your adrenaline is so high that you don’t even feel the ache in your feet as you cross the dance floor, maneuvering through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks toward the bright neon RESTROOMS sign.

From the corner of your eye, you see Penny standing at her rented-out section as she tosses back a shot with the girls you’d arrived with. You should turn around and join them, return to celebrating Penny’s birthday, and forget all about your interaction with Eddie. That’s what you should do, but you don’t. You continue walking towards the restrooms, mentally going back and forth with yourself until you reach the door and wrap your hand around the handle.

However, the door opens before you can fully prepare to open it, and the scent of hand soap and Eddie hits you in the face. Your wide eyes meet Eddie’s glinting gaze. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he snickers, “I’d say I’m surprised, but that’d be a lie.”

Your gaze is hot and heavy as you stare up at him. The sounds of the club you're in seem muffled as you spend your last seconds considering what you’re about to do. You should really turn around.

You tilt your head up, silently sizing Eddie and daring him, a tipping point where you both know there’s no going back now—- especially not when you mesh your lips against his and stumble into the restroom. You plan to blame this on the alcohol.

Eddie makes quick work of turning to press your back against the door, fumbling to lock the door as you grumble a breathless ‘Fuck you’ against his lips.

“I intend to, sweetheart.” 

You hate how stupid and witty the response is, but it makes your stomach twist in need, nonetheless. Eddie’s hands are roaming and squeezing you wherever he can reach, hiking up your dress enough to slink a few digits into the hand of your skimpy panties, snapping them against your waist and smirking when you push up against him. Eddie manages to speak in between haste kisses, “I’m gonna be honest; I didn’t think you’d give in this easily.”

Eddie is now ushering you towards the sink, softly snickering at the gasp that escapes you when the cold marble digs into your lower back. “Are you trying to say I’m easy?” 

You can’t hold back the moan that slips from you when Eddie’s hand slithers between your thighs to press a thumb against your clit. “Maybe… also just pointing out that you clearly missed me.”

You don’t answer him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as your hips rock back and forth against his touch. You smooth your hand down his chest and over his belt to grasp the heavy bulge between his thighs, humming when he moans, “Looks like you missed me more, Munson.”

You giggle when he grunts in annoyance, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties before shucking them down your legs and lifting the flimsy garment for you to see with a smirk, “Won’t be needing these anymore, will you?” 

You grimace in faux disgust as you watch him stuff the soaked material in his back pocket. “Gross,” you comment, although Eddie doesn’t answer, busying himself with pulling you off the counter, flipping you around to face the sink, and eyeing you through the neon-lighted mirror. “You’re a perv; you know that?” You add as Eddie wraps an arm around your front and hikes your dress to sink his hand between your thighs.

Your shaky fingers grasp Eddie’s wrist, hips squirming as he begins to rub your clit, dipping a finger lower to spread your sticky arousal. “If I were you, I would start being very nice to me.” His voice is low and gravely against your ear as you smile, gazing back into his darkened gaze through the glass reflection. You push back against him, and you both sigh in pleasure. “Just fuck me, Eddie.”

You gasp when he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt, slowly pushing it in and out of you to create a sinful twist in your tummy. You shake your head in protest, although your hips rock against his thrusts. “No, no, I don’t need it. I don’t need that. Just fuck me, please?” You repeat, voice teetering on the edge of a whine.

“God, you’re still a fucking brat. So used to getting what you want, hm?” Despite his comment, he doesn’t give you what you’d asked for. Instead, he slips in another finger, greedily squeezing at your chest with his other hand. Your thighs tremble as his fingertips delicately massage that sweet spot hidden between your wet walls, a shaky hand reaching up to grasp his hand as he fondles your breasts over your dress. “Not anymore, princess,” His voice is low and foggy with sex, purring against your ear with ease as he plays with you. “This time, you’ll earn it like a good slut. You’re going to have to ask me very nicely if you want it that bad.” “A-ah…Fuck you.”

Eddie laughs at your response, digging his face into your neck when you throw your head back, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume. He presses a kiss to the base of your neck, and you hate how it makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching around his hand, causing him to pause. “Keep them open.” He warns, ignoring your pathetic attempts at rutting against his hand.

When you don’t obey his instruction, Eddie brings his foot in between your pump-clad feet, knocking the toe of his shoe against both heels, causing your legs to part, shaky limbs failing you as you stumble in his hold. Eddie chuckles, nipping your jaw as he sinks another finger into your soaking heat. Your moan is loud and pitiful as you reach forward to grasp the sink counter for stability. “Oh my god—” “Jesus, you’re fucking tight. Barely taking three fingers.” Your moans are high-pitched as you rock your hips against Eddie, nails digging into the skin of his flexing wrist as he fucks you with his fingers. 

The sloshing sounds from between your legs are just loud enough to hear over the booming music of the club barely, and if Eddie’s fingers weren’t fucking you so well, you would’ve felt ashamed. You hardly notice Eddie’s free hand traveling to the low neck of your dress, tugging the material down to expose your chest. He groans at the sight, palming one of your tits as his mouth latches to the side of your neck. His fingers pinch and roll your nipples, his tongue warm and wet as he licks up your neck, humming at the taste of you and smiling when he feels you tremble against his body. “I can feel you squeezing me, princess; you gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your ear, humming when you hastily nod. “I don’t think so.” 

He slows the draw of his fingers, softly petting at your walls to give enough sensation to have your eyes rolling but not enough to tip over the edge. You frustratedly huff, “Eddie—” “Good sluts ask to come, you know that.”

Your stomach twists at his words, hips squirming in search of more, more, more. You have a lot of pride; you’ve been told it’s your strongest and worst quality before— but here in this dingy club restroom, with Eddie’s overwhelming presence surrounding you and the incessant need to cum gnawing at every cell in your body, you find your pride quickly dwindling like a flame under water. The time when you need your pride the most, it’s nowhere to be found. 

“Please, Eddie.” You whisper so quietly Eddie almost misses it. He smiles, “Since I know how hard that was for you, I’ll take it— but I won't be so kind next time, princess.” He pulls his fingers out of you and urges you to turn around and face him. 

He nudges you back to sit on the edge of the sink, stepping between your thighs and opening them wide enough to see your glistening cunt, sticky arousal winking up at him beneath the dim neon lighting. “N-next time?” You take in a sharp breath as he hitches your leg around his waist

He chuckles, glancing at your swollen lips as you gaze up at him trying to fight through the hazy fog of arousal. Eddie runs three fingers over your clit before sinking back into you, a low hum rattling from his chest when your shaky hands grasp his shirt, fingers curling and wrinkling the material, “Next time.”

Your words get lost on you when he begins fucking you again, eyes fluttering shut as your legs subconsciously tighten around his waist. You can feel his breath against your top lip, and you fight the urge to seek out his lips with yours. You push up into him, mumbling incoherent pleas into the air. You lick your lips, pussy clenching when the tip of your tongue catches Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie doesn’t wait for you to make a move this time, his free hand reaching up to grip your jaw, fingertips digging into your cheek as he pushes his lips against yours. You both moan into the kiss, your hips grinding into the thrusts of his fingers.

You keep kissing Eddie until you can’t, too overwhelmed by the pending promise of an orgasm. You slide away from Eddie’s lips and nuzzle into his neck, finding solace in the soft brush of his hair against your face, the distant but familiar scent of his shampoo invading your senses. “I’m gonna come.” You whisper, nails digging into his biceps as your thighs quiver.

Eddie keeps his hand working between your thighs, thanking the many hours he’s spent playing guitar for training his wrist to maintain endurance. His other hand dances up your heaving back, dipping beneath the curtain of your hair to grip the back of your neck, softly squeezing in encouragement. “Let go, baby. Let me feel it.”

You nearly sob when you finally tip over, body tensing before melting against Eddie’s body in shambles of incoherent words and shaking limbs. You can hear the sticky wet substance of your release squelching around his fingers; you can feel it smearing against your thighs and dripping onto the cool tiles of the floor, and you almost feel ashamed when Eddie points it out, “Fuckkk, you’ve been saving this for me, haven’t you?” You hardly register his words, but you nod, mewling as you nuzzle deeper against him, thighs twitching when you teeter on the edge of sensitivity.

“I… Enough, Eddie, please fuck me.” You’re practically begging, pulling away from his neck to blink up at him blearily, sex-drunk hands fumbling to reach out for him. Eddie kisses you and chuckles against your lips, fingers finally slowing down. He pulls away with a lewd hum, leaning back to watch as he removes his fingers from your cunt, dragging the drenched digits up to smear your arousal around your clit, grinning when your thighs twitch.

You try to catch your breath as you silently watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, sinking them into his mouth to sinfully lick your cum from his fingers. He glances at you with a smirk around his fingers, and you squirm in your spot. “You’re being a tease.”

He releases his fingers with a pop before stepping away, “Sorry to cut this short, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta run, and I’m sure your friends are worried about where you went.” You watch in disbelief as he glances in the mirror and fixes a few unruly hair pieces. He looks your way and drops his eye in a wink, “I’ll see you later, princess.”

You silently gape in shock, watching him turn around and stride toward the door. Eddie can feel your eyes throwing darts at him, and he doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he opens the door and steps out. 

You have to take a moment to wrap your head around it, but once you do, you wind up more annoyed with yourself for falling so quickly into Eddie’s trap. You clean yourself up and make yourself look presentable again before leaving the restroom to find your friends. 

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Penny exclaims once she sees you. She gasps when you get closer, and she sees your neck, leaning in to get a better look, causing you to slap a hand over the sore spot. “Oh, my god. Who?” “What?” “You were definitely screwing someone in the back! Who?”

You wince at her volume, quickly shushing her, “Nobody, Penny, this is old.” 

Penny rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly cut her off, “I have an early meeting tomorrow, Pen; I have to get going.” Penny frowns but understands either way, giving you a quick hug and bidding you goodbye for the night. You leave her with a final Happy Birthday and make your way out of the club, already yearning for the comfort of your bed.

Before getting a taxi, you find yourself walking into a nearby store and purchasing a CD of Corroded Coffin’s first album, letting the CD burn a hole through your hands on the ride home. When you get home, you fall asleep atop your sheets before you can listen to the record. 

You spend the rest of your night dreaming of hazy summers in Hawkins with a young curly-headed boy you knew once upon a time.

————

a/n: aH, i hope this was good, next part will be a bit more angsty so this part was for the sluts <3

————

teeny taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @sidthedollface2, @peachysink, @hereforshmut, @duncanhillscoffeecups

#FINALLY FINISHED IT !! #HOPE ITS GOOD ENJOYYYY #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #drabble #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au #stranger things #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #ex boyfriend!eddie munson

[kiwisbell]

Las Mañanas || Chapter 3 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, technical infidelity, reader still has a shitty husband, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, extreme grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, unprotected PIV (get used to this, these two are rabid), the L word turns javi on, stalking, anxiety, threats of violence, nightmares

word count: ~ 7k

chapter three: dreaming in technicolour

If Javier is grumpy when he can’t see her for a day, he’s miserable when she visits her mother in New York over Thanksgiving.

It's only a week, but he feels the loss in his home like she never lived here at all. Her clothes are gone because she packed them for the trip, and her toiletries are no longer next to his in the bathroom. He stays longer at work and makes excuses that he's close to something. He isn't—they never are. 

He’s memorised her arrival time and the gate where she’ll come home to him. He hates how cold the bed is when he wakes up. He feels like an ungrateful child, but he doesn't give a shit because he misses her, and he’s worried sick all the fucking time that something will go wrong. 

Murphy’s barely speaking to him by the time the week is halfway through; he's smart enough to know Javier’s wound up tight enough to blow at any second. They conduct raids and they burn through paperwork until their eyes cross, but Murphy doesn't tease him. 

Javier goes to the café. It's the sliver of routine he still possesses. He drinks the coffee and talks to Jorge, who he thinks may finally be warming up to him. He still gets called a cabrón three times in that half-hour period, but Jorge’s right; he is an asshole. 

“More coffee?” grunts the middle-aged man. His Spanish is coarse, like he's always angry, but Javier knows he treats her like she’s God’s gift to the world. He gets it. 

Javier checks his watch. He’s got time. “Please.”

“She's a good girl,” says Jorge, wiping down the table and pouring more coffee in the process. He’s surly and his brows are permanently horizontal over his dark eyes. “Visits her mother because she's been struggling after her father died. He was a good man, too.”

Javier frowns at his coffee cup. “How did he…”

“Cancer.” Jorge spits the word. “They couldn't have afforded the treatment even if they had caught it on time. I knew the bastard since high school. I was there when she was born.”

Javier suddenly feels repelled by the coffee in his mug. “She have any family besides her mom?”

Jorge’s eye twitching is all the answer he needs. “Wish I could go back and tell her never to come here.”

Javier snorts. “She’d never listen.”

To his surprise, Jorge lets out a laugh, rough and touched with years of smoking. “No, she wouldn't.”

~

She’s examining the ticket with her gate number like it might magically change before her eyes. When she's certain she’s memorised it, she rushes toward the right terminal, a smile growing on her pretty face. A man lowers the newspaper from his face and makes a call. 

“She's back, patrón.”

~

Javier is at the Bogotá airport an hour before her flight touches down. Buys an expensive coffee, lights a cigarette, and paces in front of her gate until he's certain a number of employees are eyeing him suspiciously. When he finally sees her, the ache in his chest eases up. 

"Javi!"

He's never heard someone so excited to see him in his life. She's already running at him, and he has to plant one foot behind him and spread his arms wide to catch her when she jumps. Tackles him like a rugby player, her ankles locking around his waist. She grabs his face and kisses it in fifty places. "Missed—you—so—much."

Feeling the weight of her against him, her softness and her warmth, Javier forgets how he ever relaxed before he knew her. If he even bothered to try. 

"Oh, baby," he says, heart clenching, taking off his sunglasses and placing them atop her head. "Honey… gotta let me breathe. Let me see you, c'mon."

He gives the back of her thigh a squeeze as he sets her on the floor. She grins up at him and he knows he's looking at the most beautiful thing in the world, right fucking in front of him. He reaches around her and grabs her waist, yanking her close. She gasps out her laugh. "So fucking beautiful," he whispers into her ear, kissing all the way from there to her mouth. He loves the way her knees buckle. "Missed you."

She slides her arms up around his neck. "You still need a haircut, viejo," she says fondly, scratching her nails along the nape of his neck. Javier leans into her touch. "You been taking care of yourself?"

He nods vehemently. "Bet your ass I have, baby."

She hums, looking not quite content. "And how late were you at the office last night?"

Javier pulls back for a moment. "Is that a new necklace?"

She just laughs and kisses him, deep. He wants to drown here. "Let's go home," she says.

Javier picks up her bags and eyes the long yellow sundress she's wearing, with a slit up the leg. It must be new. "That's a pretty dress, baby. It won't last the night."

She follows him with a bounce in her step as he moves around the truck, which is parked in the lot. He stuffs her bags in the car and grabs her hand, pulling her along. He's got plans for his girl tonight. He's not going to waste time.

He lights up another cigarette when he's in the car, already pulling her into his lap right from the driver's side. She yelps when she accidentally honks the horn with her ass on the way in, but then she just sinks right against him and throws her arms around his neck. She's so warm and inviting and all his, and it's no wonder he's been so fucking grumpy all week.

His hands are on her back, beneath her dress, lifting it as he goes. Her soft skin soothes his soul and stirs his cock. "Fucking beautiful," he says gruffly. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"So are you, amor," she whispers, cupping his face and kissing him real deep and slow. "So handsome, so strong. Missed you so much."

He nudges his nose against hers and says, "Keeping you awake all night, honey. Hope you aren't tired." She just smiles brightly at him.

"How was your week?" she chirps, sweet voice innocent as she kisses along his throat. She's teasing him, his little fucking fox, and it's a wonder he can even string words together when she begins to suck on his pulse.

"Mierda," he grunts, rocking up into her. Her breathy laugh heats up his blood. He blows out some smoke and flicks the cigarette out the window, just so he can return the favour, pulling her head back with a gentle hand in her hair and nipping at her jaw. She whimpers. "Two can play, cariño."

"Yeah?" She's breathing hard, her breasts pushing against his chest. He takes this as an opportunity to slide his hands around to her front and squeeze them under her dress. She sighs happily. "You missed my tits, didn't you, Javi?"

"Yeah, I did, honey," he mumbles, enjoying the jolt of her hips when he squeezes her again. "Missed all of you. Your body... Fuck, cielito."

“Someone could see.” Her breathy voice is so sexy it makes him dizzy with lust. And even though he doesn't want to give a shit about fucking her on his truck bench, risking someone seeing her naked, bare for him and only him, is wrong. Too many men have taken advantage of her body; Javier wants her to know how sacred it is to him. 

“Sí, sí,” he grunts, holding onto her hips. “Sé, bebita. I know. Tell me about your trip.”

She hums, leaning in and brushing her nose against his. He uses the proximity to kiss her again. “Mom’s doing better,” she tells him. “We talk about Papá and Nina, and it doesn't make her break down the way it used to. The big city keeps her distracted.”

Javier tucks her hair behind her ear. Hearing her talk so fondly about her family makes him miss his old man. Chucho will love her. “You two go shopping?”

She bites her lip and laces their fingers together. “We did. Got some lingerie, too. If you’re interested.”

She’s going to kill him. He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back against the headrest. “I’m fuckin’ interested, honey.”

She slides off his lap and sits next to him on the bench of the truck, her legs still resting atop his thighs, laying her head on his shoulder. “I really did miss you,” she says softly. “Felt like a teenage girl again, moping over sleeping alone and daydreaming about our next date.”

He kisses her knuckles. “I’ve been a real asshole without you.”

“You’re an asshole with me, Javi.” She squeezes his hand fondly. “Wouldn’t change you for anything.” Her lips find his ear and she gently bites the lobe, making his cock jump in his jeans. “Mi guapo gruñón.”

He holds her thigh as he drives them back to his place. They make small talk and she fills him in on her trip, and he’s fucking happy. 

He kisses her hand when he parks in the driveway and opens the passenger door for her, but she's staring across the street with a frown on her face, halfway out the truck. Javier whips around to see what she's looking at, but she seems to snap out of it and squeezes his arm. “Just thought I saw something.”

Javier cups the back of her head and kisses her. “Get inside,” he says into her mouth. “And take off your dress.”

~

The day the Palace of Justice burns, she’s in bed with him.

It’s a lazy morning, the kind where they’ve been awake for twenty minutes but neither of them wants to get up. Drifting in and out, they lie next to one another and talk when they feel like it. He has one arm around her, tracing shapes on her bare back, while she rests her cheek on his heart and listens to it beat. His other hand caresses her arm mindlessly as he tries to find a reason to leave his bed. There’s work, for both of them, but it doesn’t seem good enough. Not when they’re both comfortable, naked, and warm under the bedsheets, basking in the early morning sunshine.

When there’s a knock at his door, they both groan, and she buries her face in his chest before she elects to untangle herself from him and stand up. Though he gets a view of her bare ass while she walks around the bed to retrieve her clothes, Javier groans at the loss of her. He throws an elbow over his eyes as she goes to look through the peephole.

“Put some pants on,” she hisses at him. “It’s Connie.”

“Murphy?” He frowns, grudgingly getting up and pulling on his jeans, not giving enough of a shit to bother with underwear. 

“No, viejo, the other Connie.” She opens the door when he’s decent. “Hi, Connie, it’s good to see you.”

“I’m sorry to barge in,” says Murphy’s wife. Javier spots another woman beside her, a brunette wearing the same scrubs as Connie. Javier thinks he recognises her. “Can she come in?”

His girl is a real saint, because she’s ushering the other woman inside before Javier can even pull his shirt all the way over his head. “What’s going on?” she asks Connie, who hurriedly tells them she’ll explain later, only to rush upstairs to her apartment, presumably to call her husband. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to disturb you,” says the stranger. She sounds like she means it. His girl goes to make some tea in the kitchen, ever the server. Javier bites down on his comment that he feels pretty fucking disturbed.

He’s still frowning, but he finally feels the spark of recognition. “You’re the woman who works with Connie at the hospital. Elisa.”

She nods, accepting the cup of steaming tea. Javier pulls his girl close while the woman in scrubs nods her thanks. “I wasn’t lying before, Agent Peña. About being a guerrillera.”

Javier rubs his hand down his face and feels the familiar tug for a cigarette. There’s a fucking communist in his apartment. The poor woman will be persecuted wherever she goes, and if it’s as urgent as Connie’s made it seem, she’s got information the DEA could use. Which makes it even more dangerous for her. 

His girl understands the gravity right away. She’s helping Elisa to the sofa and rubbing the woman’s arm in soothing circles while she introduces herself and asks if she’d like anything to eat. Then, her eyes meet Javier’s, and she jerks her gaze subtly in the direction of the bedroom. We need to talk.

“Javi,” she says softly when he closes the door, ensuring their privacy.

“I know,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Big fucking problem.”

She’s fretting, pulling her lip between her teeth and hugging herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let her inside without asking you first. It’s not my—”

“It is your home, baby,” he says firmly, unfurling her arms from her own waist. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She’s in so much danger.” She shakes her head, staring at the door like she can see the woman through it. “We can keep her safe, right? I… I don’t want this to burn you, Javier. I couldn’t live with myself.”

“I’m not going to burn,” he mutters into her hair when he kisses the top of her head. “If she’s got information we can use, that means we finally have something. And that means we keep her safe. You know my code.”

She nods, brushing a knuckle over his chin. “You’re so good, Javi,” she tells him. There’s so much conviction in her voice he almost believes it himself. “If you promise me you’ll be safe, I can go to work without a hernia. You don’t have to mean it, but you should make it sound convincing.”

Javier kisses her deeply. “I’ll be safe,” he says. “I promise you I’ll be safe. You’ll come home and I’ll be right where you left me, cielito. I fucking promise.”

She smiles up at him. “Good.”

~

The television in the little café is emblazoned with live footage of the Palace of Justice siege. He watches her work around the gathering crowd, refilling pots of coffee and assuaging anxieties where she can. She's worried, too. He can tell by the crease in her brow. 

“Cabrón.” Luis snaps his fingers in his face. “Pay fucking attention. You're supposed to be watching her.”

“What do you think I’m doing, pendejo? Baking a fucking cake?” He smacks Luis in the chest. “It's not like watching her is hard. Don't you have a job to do?”

Luis returns to looking through his binoculars. From the roof, his vantage point is perfect. “Yeah, I got a fuckin’ job to do. It's called watching a hot woman serve coffee and getting so bored I might try sucking my own dick.”

He lifts his own binoculars. “If only she'd go back to her fucking apartment. That asshole never leaves her alone.”

“Because he's got a hard-on for her.” Luis snorts. “Isn't that why we’re here in the first place?”

“Just keep watching. If she goes back there—”

“Yeah, yeah. Christ, man, I’m not a moron; I know the drill,” grumbles Luis. “I’m fucking starving. You want lunch?”

He knows they'll be here a while. “Yeah. Why not.”

~

She wakes up to a crash.

It comes from the kitchen. She scrambles upward until her back hits the headboard. "Javier," she whispers, frantic. Her heart is pounding. "Javi, wake up."

He grumbles out a hmph, hand grasping to seek out her thigh in the darkness. He squeezes and says, "Vuelve a dormir, bebita (Go back to sleep)," not quite awake enough to form thoughts in English. She reaches down and begins to shake him when the sounds of footsteps come closer. There are people inside their home.

She keeps shaking, but he's intent on seeking her warmth, wrapping his arms around her waist and scrunching the material of her shift in his fingers. Why won't he wake up? "Fuck, Javier, wake up," she says, urgent, panicking. "Someone's in the house. Please—"

There's noise at their bedroom door. She freezes when it slowly creaks open, helpless, unable to move. Why can't she move? Why won't he wake up?

Three men, faces covered with black masks, have guns raised when they enter the room.

She's going to die.

Two of them take Javier, who finally awakes once his hands are no longer touching her. His eyes slowly come to life with terror when another man grabs her by the throat and presses a barrel to her temple. 

"NO!" Javier yells, struggling to no avail against the two men holding him on his knees. They've got a gun to his head, too, but he keeps thrashing around. He can't reach her, she's going to die, they'll both bleed alone and afraid in their own fucking home. She's still on the bed, grasping at the man's arm as it locks around her neck. "¡No ella! Not her!" cries Javier, his voice raspy with sleep and rage. "¡No ella! Hijo de puta, voy a matarte. ¡VOY A MATARTE! (Not her! You son of a bitch, I will kill you.)"

She keeps looking into his eyes, their livid horror, and whimpers, "Por favor... No lo lastimes (Don't hurt him). Por favor. Haré lo que sea (I'll do anything)."

"¿Qué tengo que hacer? (What should I do?)" says the man holding her to his friends. "¿Quién de ustedes debe morir primero? (Which one of you should die first?)"

The cold barrel on her temple digs harder, like he's trying to leave an imprint. She cries out, and Javier roars, struggling and writhing, knowing he can't help, knowing he's too late.

She just doesn't want him to watch her die.

"La puta debe mirar (the bitch should watch)," says another.

She cries harder. "NO! JAVIER!" she begs. "PLEASE, NO!"

A shot rings out, but she has closed her eyes. She waits to die. At least she'll join him. Her love. Her life. The man whispers in her ear before he presses the trigger.

“This is for Nicolás, bitch.”

~

When she awakes, she grabs for her throat, like she’s testing the flow of air to her lungs. Her hand migrates upward, from her jaw to her cheek to her forehead. She’s burning hot, sweat beading across her forehead. Next to her, Javier sleeps. Alive. 

This is the third dream she’s had in a week like this. Every time, she has to watch him die. 

~

She’s had the feeling for a week or so. Like someone is watching her. 

She doesn't tell Javier. He's worried enough about her as it is after the break-in. Even kissing good-bye before he leaves for work has become a dance of her pulling away and him pushing himself back into her. They've ended up in the storage room at the café a few times, kissing until she's breathless and she has to threaten him with no sex. When she does, he’ll pout like he always does and kiss her harder; then he’ll leave, and she’ll go about her day. 

When it happens, she usually sees a shadow. It appears in the corner of her eye, shaped vaguely like a dark blob or two, and when she whips her head around to look, it's gone. But the tingles that shoot down each knob of her spine are unmistakable. Someone is following her. 

She assumes Nicolás is trying to torment her. She doesn't put it past him to worm around his restraining order. If he knows she's with Javier, it’s only more ammunition for him; she'll never get divorced. Not when he can claim she's only trying to get away from him because she's having an affair. 

But Nicolás doesn’t know that she feels loved with Javier. She feels strong and beautiful and safe when she's wrapped up in him, and she knows she's in love. He’s it for her—the only man she ever wants to know this way. She knows all the freckles and little scars on his body, she knows how easy it is to talk with him like they’ve known each other forever, and she knows Nicolás would do anything to make sure his wife suffers for knowing another man. 

A stranger enters the café. He’s older, visibly older than Javier, with laugh lines and light hair that’s been combed over a few too many times. It’s obvious he’s balding, but he walks with enough charisma that she presumes most people decide not to tease him for it. His eyes are dark, but they’re bright, like a shark’s. He sits down in Javier’s seat at the counter. 

“Buenos dias,” he says. “Café, por favor.”

“Of course.” She gives him a bright smile and goes to work. The man’s eyes follow her as she follows routine, but she’s got the sense not to let him know she’s aware of his voyeuristic gaze. “It’s a hot one out there, ¿no?”

It’s her usual script. Most regulars don’t deviate from it even when they’re heard it a hundred times, or when it’s not so hot out. They indulge her, like it’s an inside joke. This man just slides the coffee cup toward him and watches her while he takes his first sip. 

“A friend recommended me,” he tells her, after she’s been holding his stare for uncomfortably long. “He was right; good coffee.”

She manages to keep her smile painted on as she continues with her usual lines. “Then I’ll make sure you pay full price.”

When he sets down the cup, it doesn’t make a louder noise than those mugs usually do. But the breeze outside has stilled; the crowd walking by has lulled; even the idle chatter in the café quiets down; and the noise makes her jump. The man’s smile looks like a sneer. Maybe that’s how he got those lines around his eyes. 

“Nicolás wants his money,” he says. 

She stiffens. “It’s a shame Nicolás can’t come here and ask for money himself. It’s almost like he can’t be near me.”

She knows taunting is a terrible idea. But he’s awfully brazen, coming into her place of work and demanding money on behalf of his snivelling boss. “Nicolás wants his money, bitch.”

A henchman and a broken record. They don’t come as smart as they used to.

“How much is he paying you?” she asks. “He’s clearly got enough money to keep you cheerfully employed. I don’t see why he needs mine.”

The man stands up and walks around the counter until he’s out of view of the other customers. She knows what’s about to come. She’s dealt with this exact sort of threat before. “Because if you don’t give him what he wants, he’s going to break your goddamn restraining order and take the money himself.” 

From his waistband emerges a pistol, its barrel pointed straight at her stomach. “Nicolás can’t take a bitch’s money if she’s dead. Do you really think they won’t trace it back to him?” She keeps her expression neutral for the sake of not causing a scene. “The jilted husband, angry enough to take revenge.”

“You think I’m going to shoot you?” he says with a scoff. “No, guapa, I’m going to shoot your man-whore DEA boyfriend. Something tells me that will convince you.” Something on her face must change, her expression shifting to mirror the spark of panic sending tremors through her body, because he laughs. Good-natured, like they’re friends swapping jokes. The gun disappears back into his waistband. “And you just told me it will.”

She’s frozen to the spot as he walks out, leaving the full mug behind. “Thanks for the coffee.”

~

She must look like she’s seen a ghost, because Javier is on her in a second when she gets home. He’s shirtless, his jeans low on his hips. Cigarette dangling from his lips, he assesses her with that deep frown of his. “You’re shaking, cielito.”

“Cold,” she says, though it comes out as a faint squeak.

“It’s eighty degrees outside.” Javier ducks his head so he can find her gaze and traps her with his dark eyes. “Did something happen?”

She can’t stand keeping her worries secret for a second longer, not when it’s now his life she’s endangering. “I think you’re in trouble, Javi.” The guilt makes her want to double over and retch. “It’s my fault. I’m… God, I’m sorry. It's all my fault.”

“Hey.” He crushes the cigarette and pulls her in, his chin resting on top of her head. “Baby, I’m okay. I’m safe.”

She clutches his chest, her nails digging into his pecs as she shudders, overwhelmed by the reality that he’s here with her. 

“I love you,” she tells him. Something true and real that she can hold onto.

For a moment, he doesn’t say a word, and she doesn’t mind. It’s real for her; that’s all she knows. “I love you,” she says, pulling back just to look in his eyes. “You’re the only way for me to go, Javier. It’s you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. It’s you, tesoro.”

When he kisses her, it takes eons. He steps close, their breaths mingling, his nose brushing hers. His fingers trace the dips in her back with such care, featherlight, that she shivers. Even when he touches his mouth to hers, it’s so gentle she could melt, and his lips taste like smoke, like the apple pie they shared this morning. He nudges her mouth open with his and her lips part willingly, letting him take control, tasting her tongue the way he wants. She sighs happily into his mouth when his hand pushes at her back, tugging her closer, his other hand cradling her face. It’s sweet, slow, aching—and when it’s over, he smiles. A real grin, his eyes crinkling and his teeth showing.

“I love you,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. “Fuckin’ love you so much, baby. Don’t fucking deserve you.”

She stands on her toes and slots her mouth back over his. It’s an assured kiss. “Bullshit,” she says, cupping his face with her hands. “You are everything I want.”

Javier’s grip on her waist tightens. “Whatever happened, mi cielo… We’ll fix it. We’ve done it before. We’ll fuckin’ do it again.” He walks them to the bedroom and kicks the door shut behind him. She’s up against the wall, in the dark, wrapping her arms up around his neck. “Not letting you go.”

Tears blur her vision, but it’s dark anyway. “You better not.”

He slips her sweater over her head and teases his fingers under the waistband of her skirt as he kisses her again. She lets the tears fall when he slips his hand lower and traces a line up her slit with his middle finger, shivering in his grasp. “Muy hermosa,” he muses, his voice a rasp in her ear. She has to hold onto his shoulder when he dips his finger inside her and bites her earlobe. 

He’s taking his time, making her feel everything. The scratch of his jeans against her thighs when he finally pulls her skirt down and sinks to his knees with it, kissing and sucking every inch of her legs until he reaches her ankles. The prickle of his moustache upon her sensitive flesh. The soothing kisses he gives to the bruises already there from the nights she begged him to mark her. He’s not marking her tonight. He’s taking it so slow she might die, her heartbeat kicking at her ribs, soft whines leaving her mouth. 

“Javi…”

He doesn’t say anything, but a hum leaves his mouth when his lips reach her inner thigh and he sees her wetness, all for him. “Javi, please,” she sighs, writhing badly enough to make him grip her thigh and pull it over his shoulder like he’s a fucking saddle. 

“Tell me you love me,” he says, his middle and ring fingers finding her pussy again, sinking in deep enough to brush up against a delicious, explosive spot. “Say it.”

“I… oh, fuck, I…” She bites her lip and releases it, her eyes opening to find him looking up at her in the darkness, eyes like black holes she’s already falling into. “I love you,” she whispers, her fingers scratching down the back of his head. 

He presses his face into her core and licks slowly, achingly slowly, up her centre. She pushes out a huff, hips rocking, and he squeezes her thigh, telling her he’ll make her feel good, just be patient. It’s overwhelming, keeping her eyes locked on his, watching him lick into her and taste her arousal while she fights to keep her head from tipping back against the wall. His nose brushes her clit and she makes such a pathetic noise it must make him feel bad for her. He groans into her cunt and wraps his lips around her clit. 

It feels so good she can barely see. Her head gives in, falling back as he closes his eyes and grips her thighs tighter, alternating between sucking and licking her clit, the noises of his slurps and grunts fucking obscene as he works her up so much she thinks she might pass out. Her hand grabs onto his hair for support but he doesn’t seem to mind. Her thighs tense and moans spill from her mouth shamelessly, and he knows she’s close because he lets her grind into his face as he pulls her clit back into his mouth. 

“I love you, I love you,” she gasps, the coil snapping, her bones melting as Javier holds her up, leaving her clit and lapping around it so he doesn’t overstimulate her. He squeezes her thigh with each pulse of her cunt and makes sure she can still stand before he rises. 

“Te amo,” he says, gripping her chin in his hand and kissing her breathless. “Te amo, mi cielo.”

She walks him backward until he falls into a sitting position at the end of the bed. She crawls onto it and straddles him, pushing her breasts into his chest as she kisses him, bites at him, and finally leans back to stare into his eyes, black in the dark. His hands find her hips and he nods. He knows exactly what she wants. 

“Up,” she whispers. He lifts his hips off the bed and she shucks down his jeans, climbing off him so she can take the rest of their clothes off. He’s reaching out to squeeze her breasts before she can get back onto his lap, and it makes her laugh. “Más despacio, vaquero (slow down).”

“So beautiful,” he grumbles. “Ride me, baby. Take what you want.”

She takes his cock, hard and leaking against his stomach, in her hand and slides it through her wetness before she finds her entrance and sinks down, as slowly as he teased her. He hisses, hips jerking, but she leans in and sucks on the skin beneath his earlobe. “Behave,” she says, giddy with control, especially when he gasps and groans, twitching inside her. 

Her clit is rubbing against the hairs at the base of his cock before she starts to move. Holding onto his shoulders for support, she lifts herself up and twists her hips before bringing them back down. His jaw is clenched so tight she doesn’t think he’s capable of opening his mouth, but she wants to draw it out of him. She repeats the trick a few more times, kissing him all the while, letting him relax into her, lips parting so she can taste her arousal on his tongue. 

She grinds and bounces on his cock, letting herself feel the depth of him, while he helps her move, one hand snaking around to her ass as the other makes a tangled mess of her hair. He yanks her head back and licks up the column of throat; it feels so good she cries out and stills on his cock for a moment before she can regain her composure. Even letting her ride, take control, Javier fucks like he’s the god of it. 

When she comes, she doesn’t expect it. It snaps through her like a firecracker, and she gasps, unable to make a sound let alone speak as she shudders against him and clamps down hard on his cock at the same time her teeth bite down on his shoulder. They’re both sweaty, slipping against one another, panting and heaving. He’s gasping for breath too, holding onto her as he keeps her grinding up and down, working her through her orgasm. Her nose pushes into his cheek, nipping at his jaw while she feels the tremors pass. 

He isn’t finished. When he can tell he’s squeezed every drop of her orgasm out of her, he flips them around and yanks her down so her hips are hanging off the bed. Then, he begins to fuck her. Hard. 

The sweetness is gone. She’s going numb with pleasure as he slides in and out of her slick cunt, her eyes rolling back into her head and small squeals leaving her mouth. He’s got an iron grip on her hips as he slams into her. “Mírame,” he grunts, reaching forward and grasping her jaw, tilting it so she has to look him in the eyes. “Muy bien, bebita. Dámelo. Dámelo, cielito. Shit, baby. So fucking good.”

He slides his hand down her throat, over her sternum, all the way down over her navel until he finds her clit and rubs slow circles over it. It’s so hard to keep looking at him, but she manages, letting her second orgasm crash down upon her at the same time he thrusts deep and grinds.

She almost slips off the bed when she finds her voice to cry out, gushing around him. His name leaves her mouth over and over again, her hands blindly grasping for something to hold onto. He lifts one leg onto the bed and drapes himself over her, still grinding deep enough that she sees stars, and he drops his head into the crook of her neck, teeth bared against her jaw when he spills his cum inside of her. 

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Fucking shit, honey.”

She giggles, high on three orgasms. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

His eyes find hers in the dark. “I mean it,” he says, his voice a rasp. “I love you.”

She slides her fingers through his damp hair and wills herself not to cry. Everything is good here. Everything is right. They’ll figure it out together; they'll be okay. “I know.”

~

Javier’s on a mission. He doesn’t give a fuck who gets in his way; he’s fairly certain he’s willing to kill whoever tries.

For a moment, he’s even willing to kill Steve Murphy when he walks through the door to the evidence room and whispers, “Javi, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m breeding racehorses, Murphy. What does it look like?” He doesn’t look up from the file box, sifting through it like he’s digging for gold. In a way, he is. “Cabrón,” he adds under his breath.

“I mean”—Murphy stalks over and slams his hand down on the pile of manila folders—“these aren’t narco files. Meaning you aren’t authorised to look through ‘em.” He narrows his eyes at Javier. “She’s in trouble again, isn’t she.”

It isn’t a question, but Javier nods. He’s been fuming since she told him about the stranger in her café; he had come waltzing in only minutes after Javier left and plopped down right in his seat, meaning he’s been watching them. Watching her. She’s been flighty, distracted, but now Javier knows why. She’s being harassed, manipulated, and threatened by the man who claimed to love her. He’s not going to fucking let it slide. 

She’s terrified for his life, having nightmares where she’s forced to watch him die. And she still wakes up in the morning and chooses to love him. Him. He’s caused her pain and put her in danger, but she still claims he’s worth it. He may be an asshole, but he’s a man who likes to take action. And he’s going to prove to the woman he loves that she can trust him to fix this.

“He thinks she's his,” says Javier, tucking his cigarette between his teeth when he finds two more folders and shoves them under his arm. “He doesn't love her, but that doesn't matter to bastards like him. He wants to control her.”

“And you do love her.” Murphy stares a hole through Javier’s head. “Goddamn, you do. Shit, Javi. I mean, good for you; I like the girl a lot, and God knows my wife does too, but if she’s saying this fucker’s threatening your life, maybe you should listen to her.”

“I am listening to her.” Javier finds the last file in the box on Nicolás Reyes and stuffs them all in his bag. “I don’t want to end up in the bottom of a river, Steve. I just want to get this guy away from her. Permanently.”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “What do you think all this shit’s gonna get you, huh? Besides fired?”

Javier shrugs the bag onto his shoulder. “I gotta know this guy’s deal. If he’s a real threat, I’ll have reason to bring him to the police and get him put away.”

Murphy grabs his collar and shakes him a little. “If you don’t get fucking killed first. Jesus, Javi, you have to be smart about this.”

“If I don’t do something about it, no one will,” says Javier. “The fact he’s got files locked up in here means there’s something I can use. We know men like this, Steve. They have so much power they can’t be touched. I’m done. I’m not letting him hurt her.”

Murphy looks down at the ground between them. “Javi…”

“I’m walking out of here with these files, man,” he says. “If you don’t let me, you’ll have bigger fucking problems than your job. And you can be damn well sure your wife will never forgive you.”

Murphy steps aside and shakes his head. “What files?”

~

“I think—fuck, baby—you should move in. For—Christ—for good.”

She cries out when he grinds deep inside her, and he takes her wrists in one hand, pushing them above her head. Her hair is splayed over the pillows, a vision of a goddess as he pushes into her again and again, her glistening skin golden with morning sunlight. She pants, chest heaving. “Only if… ohhhh, Javi… if you’ll have me.”

“I’m taking you right now,” he says, hips stuttering when she laughs breathlessly and clenches around his cock. 

“Javi,” she whines, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, her ankles locked around his waist. “Te amo, te amo, te amo. Eres tan bueno conmigo (You’re so good to me).”

He watches her ramble, the way she does when she’s close, transfixed by the freefall of praise and love from her mouth even as his own mind goes fuzzy with lust, engulfed by the feel of her body. Just because he can, he lowers himself on top of her, deepening the angle, and kisses her, licking into her mouth. “Fucking”—he thrusts hard and deep, enjoying the way her legs tighten around him to hold on—“love you. Mi amor. Mi cielo.”

Her eyes meet his and he lets go of her wrists so she can grab a handful of his hair as she reaches her orgasm. She moans, long and low, eyes rolling back in her head and pussy choking the fucking life out of his dick. He drops his head and bites down on her shoulder, keeping his thrusts shallow as he comes, spilling inside her in pulses. She sighs, content, letting him collapse on top of her and stroking his damp hair. Before her, he’d roll over and smoke when he was done. Before her, he didn’t know the peace of the afterglow. 

“I meant it,” he mumbles, tracing her nipple with his finger. “Move in with me, baby.”

“Are you sure?” she says softly. “I know you like your space, Javi. Do you really want me in your bed every night?”

“You’re already in my bed every night,” he points out. “I feel better knowing you’re safe with me here. I sleep better.” He tilts his head upward and gently bites her jaw. “Don’t want space.”

She hums, tapping his cheek with a finger like she’s pondering it. “Do I get the bathroom first in the morning?”

“You will have”—he kisses her cheek—“everything you want. No es fácil vivir conmigo, cielito, pero seré bueno contigo (I’m not easy to live with, but I’ll be good to you).”

“I already have everything I want,” she says earnestly. “But I need you to make a promise with me.”

He nods eagerly, ready to do anything she says even as he teases her nipple with his teeth. “Hmm.”

“We stay awake,” she says. “If you're going to be home late, I’m going to stay awake for you, and we’ll eat together. If I’m late, stay awake until I’m home.”

He thinks it's more than fair. He doesn't want to get like those couples who grumble at one another for being late, missing dinner, and go to sleep alone and angry. Like this, they'll go to bed together no matter what, no feelings hurt. She understands his life, the way it gets to him sometimes, how hopeless it can be. 

He's not going to fuck this up. He loves her. He loves every single cell and atom and heartbeat that makes her. He’s going to be good to her. 

“Yeah, baby,” he says. “I promise.”

~

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#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña fic #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

[hier--soir]

under the night | three

summary: what's dinner between two friends? + joel makes great parsnips pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, smut, oral [f recieving], protected sex, age gap [20ish years], disappearance, angst word count: 8k part two | series masterlist | main masterlist

Fungus.

“That’s not fucking funny, man,” Ellie stared at you, as you tried, and failed, to contain the grin spreading across your face.

You held your hands in the air in faux sheepishness, smirking. “Well,” you said triumphantly. “It’s worth 10 points, and it’s on a double word score square, so 20! Fungus is a winner, I say.” You grabbed the pencil and scribbled your score down, staring victoriously at the scrabble board on the platform between you.

Joel’s front porch was cramped as it was, just enough space for two chairs facing outward; but Ellie had determinedly wedged a small stool between the chairs for you to play on. Scrabble had been her idea, after she came across the old box at a friend’s house a few days prior. It had taken a few trial runs for her to fully get the hang of the rules, and on game four, she was really beginning to enjoy herself. Sitting out in the cool afternoon air three quarters of the way through winter, you were relieved you’d worn a thick beanie. It was crisp out, and after 2-hours of playing, the board had an icy layer of condensation settled on it.

“Sorry, kid,” you winked. “Gotta find a way to use that shit to my advantage somehow.” You took a long sip of your steaming coffee, leaning back in your chair to watch Ellie begin her turn. The girl was taking a painstaking amount of time trying to figure out the correct spelling of her next word, when she grew distracted from noticing Tommy wandering down the street with the newbie by his side. He gave the two of you a wave and sidled up to the bottom step of the porch.

“Kiddos,” he grinned fondly. You huffed lightly at the moniker, considering you were in your thirties yet being grouped in with a teenager. “Y’all met Lincoln yet?”

The man behind Tommy was short and slim, with a shaved head and an easy-going smile that never seemed to leave his face.

“I’m Ellie,” she said, eyes trained on her letters.

You introduced yourself with a polite nod, giving him your undivided attention to make up for Ellie’s lack-there-of.

“Mighty fine to meet you both." His voice was low and hoarse, in a way that sounded like he used to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, and now it surely hurt him to speak.

Tommy butted in quickly. “He came all the way here from Canada, so I thought I’d be hasty with introducing him to some friendly faces.”

“Ooh Canada,” Ellie gave a poor attempt at enthusiasm, and you tried not to laugh at how clearly the girl wanted to end the conversation and play her next word.

Tommy gave her an ungrateful eyeroll, and asked, “Joel in?”

As if by clockwork, the front door of the house opened and the man in question peered out curiously. When he spotted Tommy, he emerged fully, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Tommy grinned, reaching out to grip his brother’s hand quickly. Joel made eye contact with you ever so briefly and offered a small smile, before looking back to his brother.

“Doing a newbie tour?” he queried.

“Y’met Lincoln yet?” Ellie asked, to which he gave a quick nod.

“Please, call me Linc,” the man told them all, his gaze resting on your face for a second longer than the others’. “All my friends do.” You couldn’t tell if you’d imagined it, but you swore you heard a low scoff come from Joel.

“So you came all this way by yourself?” Ellie asked him, finally putting down her letters and giving the group her full attention. Her voice seemed to shine with a sort of curious respect.

Lincoln nodded, his face drooping somewhat. “Been alone for a long time now. My girls, they died a long time ago, in those first few months. By myself ever since.” You noticed Ellie shot a quick wary glance in Joel’s direction, who had turned his face away from the conversation to stare out into his neighbour’s front yard. Weird. “I try not to dwell on things though!” Lincoln said, that cheery smile returning.

You didn't offer up any kind of response, as you mulled over his words. His story wasn't so different from most of the people you knew, but you allowed a short moment of empathy for the stranger. You couldn't imagine the loss that would come from losing a child.

“Well,” Tommy broke the silence. “Let’s continue this tour.”

“I’ll head out with you, I gotta stop by and see Maria,” Joel started down the porch steps, and you tried not to stare at his back as he walked away from the house.

It had been almost two weeks since the night you and Joel had almost kissed, and since then the pair of you had never been alone. It wasn’t purposeful, at least on your part. But you were acutely aware that he would only appear in your presence when he knew there was going to be other people present.

When you thought back on that night, your heart would swell remembering the soft way he spoke to you; the care in his eyes. But it was directly followed by the memory of how you rejected his kiss. Your chest ached with longing at the thought of getting a do over.

The cycle of avoidance ended at last when he noticed you walking the streets by yourself one afternoon.

“Hey there,” he murmured, falling into step beside you. “Where you headed?”

“Just wandering around,” you replied slowly, staring at him in something akin to shock.

“Care for some company?”

“Well, who’d you have in mind?” you teased in an attempt to act casual, ignoring the quick thrum of your heart.

“This grumpy old Texan,” he chuckled. “He doesn’t get out much, but he’s great once you get to know him, I swear.”

You turned your head to grin at him. “Sounds like a riot, I’ll take him.”

The pair of you roamed aimlessly around town for an hour, talking and catching up. Your stomach filled with warmth; you had missed speaking to him. Missed the way your name sounded coming from his mouth.   

“Y’know,” Joel began after a batch of silence. You had almost reached your house, and it seemed the walk was coming to a natural end. “I was wondering if you’d come to the house for dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” you said in surprise, stopping and staring at him. He ground to a halt a few steps ahead of you, and turned awkwardly. "You're asking me to dinner?"

"I am."

"Was this Ellie's idea?"

Joel rubbed his hands together in front of him. “No, uh,” he paused thoughtfully, not quite meeting your eye. “The kid's out tonight. It would… it would just be you and I.”

“I see,” you said, trying to read his expression.

“I understand if-“

"You've been avoiding me." His eyebrows twitched into a frown, and he licked the corner of his lip.

"Not on purpose," he said.

"You've been accidentally avoiding me?" you asked, knowing the wrinkle between your eyebrows was no doubt identical to his.

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me," he finally admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I felt like a fuckin' ass the other night. I overstepped-"

"Joel," you tried to interrupt but he shook his head, continuing.

"No, you needed support, and it wasn't the time or place for that shit, I shouldn't have.... I shouldn't have."

Your heart beat wildly as he spoke. Arms wrapping around yourself to protect from the cool wind, you nodded slowly.

"I appreciate that."

The pair of you were silent for a beat, just watching each other. Joel's eyes seemed to roam over your entire face, and then downward. He stared fondly at your frame wrapped up in his old black jacket, and then said, "Let me cook us dinner."

“That sounds lovely. I’ll be there, Joel.”

His eyes lit up softly, and sweet crow’s feet appeared beside them as he smiled at you.

“It’s just dinner,” you mumbled to yourself in frustration, willing your feet to move. Your legs were locked as you stood on the road, staring at Joel’s front door. “It’s dinner, you love dinner.”

Taking a deep breath, you propelled yourself forward and rapped your knuckles sharply against the door. Your skin was hot underneath the layers of clothes you wore.

When it swung open, relief washed over you like cold water, and you were delighted to see Joel standing there. Damp hair slicked back, with a clean bottle green shirt hugging his body. Most times you saw him he'd be dressed in the same old clothes, with dirt and grime smeared across his skin from long days of work. The difference was stark, and it made your throat feel tight. So fucking handsome.

He said your name simply, staring you down.

“Joel,” you imitated his tone, holding back a laugh at the odd greeting. “Hope you remembered inviting me over.”

He rolled his eyes, and you swore you saw a faint flush rise in his cheeks. Clearly, he’d been expecting you; that much could be told by his appearance, and by how clean the house was when you stepped inside.

The cushions on the couch were fluffed and placed neatly, rather than haphazardly like normal. It even looked like he’d dusted the bookshelves. 

“Something smells delicious,” you inhaled deeply, turning to see him wringing his hands nervously. He nodded his head towards the kitchen, encouraging you to follow him.

“It’s almost done, just needs some finishing touches.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Rabbit.”

You enjoyed the smells of roasting meat as he worked in the kitchen. He piled the food onto two plates with careful precision, before picking them up and leading you to the table. With a swell in your chest, you saw that he’d already set two places with cutlery and glassware. Seeing this side of him, this domesticity, was almost unnerving. It was like a trapdoor had been opened, and he’d ushered you inside quickly, exposing a secret, soft, part of his personality. You felt privileged to have it bared to you.

“This looks lovely, Joel, thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he replied brusquely.

“Well, I will anyway,” you retorted. “This looks better than anything I could ever cook.” You dug in eagerly, and an involuntary moan slipped past your lips as the flavour of the rabbit hit your tastebuds for the first time.

While you ate, you took the time to notice more details of his home. It wasn’t very cluttered, but small sentimental items were placed around. It felt so intimate to be there. You’d been in the house before, but it had always been brief. A pause in the kitchen while Ellie grabbed her bag from the bungalow, or a quick rifle through the pantry for a tea bag before you returned to the porch. Being able to sit, and take it all in, felt so good.

You discussed his patrols, your work at the stables. He asked if you'd made anymore friends, and smiled when you told him Ellie was your favourite person in Jackson. The conversation was light, and non-committal. Where you both avoided chit chat with everyone else in town, it seemed to be all you could do for that first hour in each other’s company.

And amidst it all, the silent tension between you seemed to have spiked again. All your shy, private interactions around Jackson for the past few months. All the smiles, and hushed laughs, and eyerolls. All the times you’d shamefully admired his looks, his strong hands. The almost kiss and the conversation from earlier danced around your mind while he spoke to you. Was tonight the night it all came to a head?

“So,” he said. “How was the rest of your day? After your walk, I mean.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “To be honest, I was just waiting around the house before I could come over here.”

“You could’ve come earlier,” he said.

“And crash your spring-cleaning session?” you scoffed teasingly. “I couldn’t possibly.”

That flush returned to his cheeks, and he took a quick sip from his glass of water. “No shame in keeping a clean house.”

“No shame at all,” you murmured with a smirk, knowing damn well you and Cal’s house looked like a pair of wild animals lived in it. Clothes strewn haphazardly around; dirty mugs littered across the kitchen counter.

You ate in silence for a while after that. The food was incredible. A medley of herbs and spices speckled the tender meat, and he'd glazed parsnips in honey and thyme. They were sweet and sticky and reminded you of something your mom made when you were a kid. You savoured every single bite.

Unable to help it, your eyes fell closed and you hummed happily, sinking back into the chair. Cutlery clinking against a plate made you look up, and you found Joel with an empty plate, watching you with a fond expression.

“What?” you reddened, placing your knife and fork carefully onto your now sparkling clean plate.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “It’s nice to… to see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Joel seemed to struggle for the words, scratching his beard absentmindedly. “… happy. It’s nice to see you smilin’.” His eyes flicked ever-so-slightly down, and you knew he was looking at the scar on your cheek.

“Oh,” you whispered, mouth slightly ajar with surprise. You went to say something, anything, but he interrupted quickly, chair scraping against the hardwood floors as he stood up.

“Are you finished?” He took your plate before you could answer, and stalked into the kitchen.

As you rose to follow him you flinched at the sound of metal clattering against the ground. Joel was crouched in the kitchen, picking up a knife from the floor. He grunted with the effort, knees cracking sharply as he straightened up.

“I feel like such an old man sometimes,” he grumbled, tossing the cutlery into the sink.

You sidled up beside him and rested your palms against the counter, gazing at the side of his expressionless face. 

“Well, how about I wash, and you dry. Sound good old man?” you winked, using his own words against him. He cracked a half smile and looked over to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “Sounds good.”

You worked in a comfortable quiet, cleaning the dishes and tidying up his kitchen. For a minute, you began to worry that maybe the two of you had finally run out of mindless topics to entertain yourselves with. Your stomach twisted faintly at the thought of the night coming to an end so quickly.

But in the instant that the kitchen was restored to its natural order, Joel squashed down that feeling.

“Stay for a whiskey?” he offered, and you revelled in what you thought was hope in his tone. Your mind flashed back to that night weeks before, when you’d been desperate for him not to leave your home. You could stay a bit longer if you want to.

“How about a wine?” you smiled bashfully.

“Let’s see what I got.”

He disappeared up the stairs and returned a few minutes later holding a dusty bottle of red wine up in the air. You let out a low whistle, nodding in approval. Joel removed the cork with ease, and soon enough you were reclining beside each other on his couch, enjoying the deep fermented berry flavours of the wine. He’d started a small fire in the hearth, and it crackled quietly, offsetting the awkward tension permeating between you. You could feel sweat dampening your palms, but you pushed down the feelings of nervousness, hoping he wasn’t noticing the effect this prolonged alone time with him was having on you.

“I can’t remember the last time I drank good wine,” you sighed wistfully, licking your lips greedily. You heard him clear his throat, and caught him staring at your mouth with dark eyes.

“Been a while for me too,” he admitted, eyes lifting to meet your gaze. “Stick with liquor most of the time. But this… this is definitely nice.”

You hummed happily into your glass.

“You know,” he started. “What you were saying earlier, about just waiting around before coming over here… you could have, you know?”

“Could have what?”

“You could’ve come over,” he cleared his throat. “This place is… you’re always… you’re welcome here.”

“Well, that’s sweet and all, but I wouldn’t want to impose on you or Ellie.”

“Ellie adores you,” he stated firmly.

Your mouth moved without your permission, forming the words too quickly for your brain to register. “And you?”

He frowned slightly, “And me?”

“I’m welcome here because Ellie adores me…” you trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the gap. Half a glass of wine, and it seemed you were more forward than you’d ever been with him. But the game of cat and mouse was getting old, and you figured maybe this was your chance to gain some clarity on the situation.

Dinner and wine between…two friends? What was this?

“I think you…” his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, before turning to face you front on. “I think you’re lovely.”

His big brown eyes shined with earnest, gazing endlessly into your own.

“What does that mean?” you pushed further, grip on your wine glass tightening. You couldn’t read his face. Those eyes seemed to darken, and he took a deep breath.

“It means you’re always welcome here.” He was talking in circles, and he seemed to realise it too, shutting his eyes and grimacing. “I’m no good at this,” he admitted with a humourless chuckle. “What I’m trying to say is that I like it... when you’re around. I like being near you.”

You could tell from how tight he gripped his glass, that it wasn’t an easy admission for him to make. Yet his voice was laced with sincerity.

He continued softly, “I don’t… talk to people, the way I talk to you. I didn’t think it was something I could do anymore. But it feels so… easy, with you. Easy to just be around you. It don’t make sense to me.”

You could see the weight of Joel’s honesty; how it manifested in his hunched shoulders. He was scared to say these things.

“I like being near you too,” you reciprocated, body instinctively shifting toward him. You were perched precariously, with your chest tilted forward, all your weight balancing on your right hand that gripped the sofa cushion in between you. “I was worried I made you think otherwise.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, eyes darting wildly across your face before his gaze settled solidly on your mouth. Intuitively, your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. “I like being near you,” he repeated slowly. “And… I gotta say, I’m nervous as hell to try my luck at kissin’ you again.”

Heat flared inside your stomach, and that was all you needed to push forward and press your lips against his.

Joel’s lips always looked chapped, but they were soft, and pushed eagerly against your own. For a moment, that was all it was. Your lips pressed gently against each other's, soft breaths rushing from your nose. He pulled back, and stared at you with a contemplative expression. Smiling shyly, your hand landed on his knee and squeezed it gently.

And then he placed his hand on your cheek, tilting your head ever so slightly to the side, and kissed you again.

You sighed as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, before eagerly pushing into your mouth. The taste of red wine and parsnips invaded your mouth, and you reached up to place a hand on the side of his neck. His thumb stroked your cheekbone softly, fingers drifting into the hair behind your ear, cradling your face. You could feel his pulse racing under the skin, and gasped wetly into the kiss as his free hand landed on your waist. Devastated to break the moment, you pulled back for a breath of air, scraping your teeth across his bottom lip, and nipping it gently.

Joel grunted, gripping your waist and pulling you across the couch so you were above him, hovering over his lap. While you took deep breaths, he pressed sweet kisses along your cheek, down your chin, and to the skin of your neck. He was insatiable, not taking his mouth off you for a second.

You trailed your hands through his dark hair, smiling at the soft groan that he let out in response to the sensation. You did it once, twice more, wanting to hear the noise again, but suddenly he pulled off from your skin. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he ran his fingers lightly along your clothed hips while staring up at you. His eyes were heavy with longing, lips wet from your kisses, and you were certain it was the most attractive he'd ever looked.

“What are we doing here?” Joel asked quietly, licking his lower lip. A laugh sprinkled from your mouth, and he joined in, the sounds mixing beautifully in the air. He was chuckling, but his eyes shone with uncertainty, searching yours for clarity. 

“What do you mean, Joel?”

“I mean, what are we doing?” he echoed. It clicked. The last time you'd been this close you had trusted Joel, told him about your past. And here he was, giving you an out. He was saying, you’re the boss, you tell me what happens next. You could feel your pulse thrum between your thighs.

“What you say goes,” he said softly, reaching up to trace his fingers over the scar on your cheekbone.

“I want you,” your voice cracked on the third word, and if your cheeks weren’t already red from the excitement of the kiss, you would’ve blushed at how needy it sounded. But your tone was sure, and Joel nodded once, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

He pulled you closer so your chests were flush against one another, and you rested your forehead against his. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you saying those words.”

You shook your head at him in mock exasperation, but really, you just didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead of speaking, you kissed him again. You looped your arms lazily around his neck and pushed your tongue into his mouth, stealing the breath from his lungs. He made you feel desperate.

Joel’s hands drifted from your waist down your back, resting carefully just above the waist band of your pants. You reached back and took his hand, pushing it down to rest lower. Quickly, he slid both of his hands into your back pockets, gripping your ass through your pants.

You whimpered into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily. He removed the space between your lower halves, pulling you down so you rubbed against him. The feeling of him, firm beneath the zipper of his jeans, sent a jolt through your system. He ground up against you, breathing heavily against your lips, eyes open and watching your reactions. For a moment you felt a wave of shyness rush through your system. For years, no one had seen this side of you. The vulnerability was intense, and you tucked your face against his neck. Joel gripped your chin and pushed your face back into his line of sight, shaking his head.

“Let me see you,” he breathed. “I don’t wanna miss a single thing.”

Holding eye contact, he dragged his fingers across your belt, and started undoing the leather strap. Your hand stopped over his.

“Not here,” you said. “Upstairs.” He gripped the back of your thighs and stood up from the couch in a swift movement, walking you up the stairs. You peppered kisses along his neck, swiping your tongue along the pulsing artery under his tanned skin.

Once he reached the landing, he used his back to nudge the bedroom door open, and you couldn’t help but pull back to look at your surroundings. You tapped his shoulder absentmindedly, and he lowered you gently to your feet. As if Joel no longer existed, you let youe eyes roam across the room, hungrily taking in all the details of his most private space.

Passing by a walk-in closet, you trailed your fingertips overtop his bedside table, landing on a pair of glasses folded up beside a book. You lifted it carefully.

“An Idiot’s Guide to Space,” you read aloud, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

He was leaning against the wall, one hand propped on his hip, with a leg jutted out in front of him. His chest rose and fell quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. Irresistible, but not as irresistible as going through his things.

Sheepishly, he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Ellie loves space,” Joel told you. “Helps if I can understand a little of what she’s talkin’ ‘bout.” 

“You really love that kid, huh?”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes were soft, staring at the book when you placed it back down.

A large window covered the wall opposite his bed, with a chest of drawers beneath it. You spotted two picture frames sitting on it and wandered towards them. But before you got too close, Joel’s arms had wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

His lips tickled your earlobe, his hot breath making goosebumps raise along your neck. “I want you,” he repeated your words from earlier.

You spun in his grip and pushed him into a seated position on the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt. With the skin of his torso revealed to you, you gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head. Joel’s lips were on your chest, kissing along your collarbones, along the tops of your breasts, as his hands fiddled with your bra strap.

After a few seconds of struggling he sighed in frustration and looked up at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” You grinned, and undid the strap yourself, throwing the bra somewhere behind you.

A heavy exhale fell from him, and he trailed his fingers over your pebbled nipples. The cold air in the room did you no favours, but Joel seemed exhilarated, pinching one between his fingers, and leaning in to flick his tongue over the other. You squeezed his shoulder and gasped at the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at your bud. As he licked and sucked, his hands drifted down to finish undoing your belt. He tugged and pushed your trousers down your legs, and your underwear went with them. Within a second, you were completely naked in front of him. Joel pulled back and let his dark eyes run over your body.

“I want you on the bed.”

You settled yourself in the middle of it, head tucked into his soft pillows and stared up at him in anticipation.

Under his intense gaze, your skin felt hot. Like whispers of a flame were tickling along your body; heat rising everywhere his eyes roamed. Joel kneeled on the mattress in front of you, and his large hands gripped your knees, pulling them apart. The urge to lean down and cover yourself was strong. But then he reached out and traced his fingers along your torso, from your collarbone, past your belly button, to the dark hair above where you wanted him most.

“My god,” he whispered in what seemed like disbelief. “You’re a dream.”

He pressed teasing kisses down your stomach, along the inside of your thighs, dragging his tongue tantalisingly, making goosebumps ripple out across your flesh. Puffed breaths were whispering along your skin everywhere except where you needed his mouth to be, and you were aching. You clenched around nothing, and let out a pitiful whimper when he finally exhaled over your wet heat.

Suddenly, his tongue licked a solid stripe all the way along your throbbing core, and you cried out. Finally.

“Fuck,” he groaned, inhaling deeply. His tongue was strong, shifting between swiping back and forth across your pulsing clit, and gently prodding into your entrance. Joel pulled one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, and held his palm against the other one, pinning it to the bed. His fingers dug into your skin, and the pressure only added to the sensation of his mouth on you.

“Joel,” you breathed heavily. He moaned into you in response, rubbing small circles over your clit with his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, eyes rolling back as you rocked your hips up against his face.  “Fuck.” His hand moved from your thigh up to your chest, pinching and playing with your nipples as he fucked you with his mouth. Joel was ravenous and unrelenting, and after living so long without being touched by another person, you felt yourself close to orgasm within minutes.

“Give it to me,” he begged. “Cum for me, baby.”

After a few more seconds of his tongue dragging gloriously over you, you let out a deep moan and shuddered into the sheets, thighs tightening impossibly around his head. Your fingers raked through his hair, holding his face into you as you rode out your high. Somewhere through the pounding in your ears, you could hear Joel moaning with you, and feel the vibrations running through your core. When you finally came down, your thighs relaxed over his shoulders, but he wasn’t done. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit, cleaning you up. He pulled your aching bud between his lips, and gave it a soft suck. The sight of his face pressed into your dark curls made you feel like you were going to cum all over again.

“Joel,” you gasped, grabbing his hair to tug his face away from you. He looked up, slack jawed, with a deep frown across his forehead. His mouth and beard were shining with your slick, and your stomach tightened at what a vision he was.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I need to feel you,” you implored, and the frown disappeared. He leaned in and pressed one final sloppy kiss against your clit, before sitting back on his heels. You sat up hastily, helping him undo his belt, and then watched with heavy eyes as he stood up and removed his final articles of clothing.

His cock slapped up against his stomach, and you couldn’t help the way you hungrily stared at it. It didn’t surprise you that he was big. Something about the way he carried himself; so confident, so sure of himself. He was thick, and long, and your mouth salivated when you noticed precum leaking from the ruddy tip. You watched as he got back onto the bed, trailing his fingers down the length of it before gripping it at the base, and sighing in relief.

You flicked your eyes back up to his, exhilarated to see how intensely he was staring back at you. “I want to taste you,” you breathed, but he shook his head, bicep tensing as he lazily stroked his cock. “Please.”

“Trust me,” he grunted, eyebrows furrowed. “I hate myself for saying no, but you’ve got me so on edge already, darlin’. Had to stop myself from finishin’ with your thighs wrapped around my head.”

Your core throbbed painfully and you pushed forward, kissing him firmly. The taste of your own cum on your tongue made you moan softly; licking the tang off his lips, and swallowing it down.

You pulled away and slowly lowered down until your head hit the pillows. Joel stared down at you with parted lips and shook his head slowly.

“What?”

“Nothin',” he murmured, still shaking his head. “So beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned your face into the pillows. He hovered over you and pressed wet kisses along your exposed neck, his teeth nipping harshly at the juncture where it met your shoulder. You hissed at the pain, but sighed softly in forgiveness when he lapped his tongue soothingly over the spot. You watched Joel pull a condom from his bedside table, leaning back to rip open the packet, and slide the latex down onto himself.

With his cock in his fist, he pushed his tip between your folds, and you exhaled in unison at the feeling. After dragging his head along you a few times, he finally nudged his tip against your entrance. Your head was pressed back into the pillows, eyes shut and mouth wet from his kisses. You were blissed out already, but fluttered your eyes open slowly at the feeling of his fingers running over your left eyebrow.

“You with me?” he murmured, the soft look in his eyes almost too much for you to handle.

You hummed, turning your head slightly to press a kiss against his palm.

“Gotta relax for me,” he urged softly, tracing his fingers down gently over your collarbones, wanting to feel every bit skin that had been revealed to him.

You eased your tense muscles as much as you could, taking a deep breath before letting it rush out of you slowly. And with your exhale, he slipped inside you with one smooth motion. You gasped at the feeling, mouth hanging open in an 'O' shape at the sharp sting.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you groaned, relaxing your furrowed eyebrows. “It’s just been so long.”

The pain was already shifting into a faint, dull ache, melding beautifully with the pleasure of being so full. He readjusted his legs, and the movement caused his tip to prod gently into the deepest part of you, and you cried out.

“Fuck,” he gasped, moving to pull back, but you gripped his shoulders tightly to keep him in place.

“Feels good,” you gasped, licking her lips. “You’re so big, filling me up so well.” He swallowed back a pitiful moan.

Joel was thick and heavy inside you, and he knew better than to move too quickly. He let you adjust to him for a few more moments, enjoying watching the way your nose scrunched up and your chest heaved with harsh breaths. You were wet and hot around him, and he felt like a teenager losing his virginity again after his few years of celibacy. But he was determined to give you his all.

“God, please move,” you finally groaned, reaching up to play with your nipples out of desperation.

Without any more encouragement, he pulled back slowly, until just the tip remained inside, before pushing himself forward into your heat. You moaned in unison, your hands travelling down to his biceps. He started a steady rhythm, his eyes floating down to stare hungrily at the way your chest bounced with the force of his movements. Joel leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, circling it with his tongue and groaning as you pulsed around him. Your fingers pulled his hair painfully tight, and the feeling made the muscles in his stomach tingle. 

He was so deep inside, and yet you ground your hips up towards him, wanting to feel him even further. It had his hips stuttering against yours, and he let out a low vibrating groan. Joel’s hands gripped against your hip bones and pressed you down into the bed, seemingly holding you away from him.

“Baby,” he ground out, and it was more of a warning than anything else.

“You can’t do that,” he panted. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doin’ that.”

You smirked lazily up at him and pushed your hips up against his weight again, meeting him stroke for stroke. There was no pain anymore, just a heavenly feeling of fullness, and you were desperate for him to let lose. “Maybe I don’t want you to last.”

“God, woman,” he scowled. “You’ll be the death of me, I know it.”

He pulled out and then thrust back into you with enough force to knock the breath out of you, and you bit your lip to hold in the high-pitched moan trying to escape.

“Let me hear you,” he ordered. “I want to hear you cum for me again, just give me one more, and then I’m yours.”

You let go of your bottom lip, letting whines and sighs fall easily from your mouth. The fire in Joel’s chest roared, loving the way you allowed the tables to turn, and obeyed him so quickly. It was so out of your character to be submissive to anyone. The thought that he had as much of an effect on you as you had on him made his cock throb painfully.

The feeling was so overwhelming you could barely keep your eyes open. He was fast, and strong, but you weren’t afraid, you were activated. Your abdomen was tight with the pleasure, and he pounded into you relentlessly. Suddenly, his cock was pressing into that spot again, and you let out an urgent exhale of his name.

“There?” he growled, angling his hips to hit it again, and again, and again. You moaned desperately, spreading your thighs wider to give him more access.

You’d forgotten every word except for Joel’s name, and you said it over and over. He had reconnected you to something so deep, so animalistic inside of you. Desire was something that hadn’t properly crossed your mind in years, only for brief moments when you rubbed one out quickly in rare moments alone. Not for a long time had you felt wanted – nor had you wanted someone the way you did with him. 

Without warning, his fingers met your clit and began rubbing messy circles on it while he snapped his hips. It was all too much, and you cried out harshly as the tightening in your abdomen grew. 

Your mouth was on his neck, and all you could taste was Joel’s salty skin when you finally came. Your body wracked with convulsions, the muscles in your stomach spasming intensely as he fucked you through your high.

His thrusts grew sloppy, and his face looked pained, sweat rolling down his biceps. He shifted so his elbows were in the pillows beside your head, and his forehead knocked against yours with every shift of his hips. One of his hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head, holding you in position while he pressed a sloppy kiss to your open mouth. Your orgasm was prolonged as he pounded against the spongy spot inside of you, and you were twitching, close to becoming over sensitive.

“God,” he moaned into your mouth. “You’re squeezing me so tight.” 

You mewled weakly at his words, purposefully clenching around him in response. 

It didn’t take long for Joel to follow you off the edge, mouth ajar as deep groans spilled from his lips. His face dropped into your shoulder, and you sighed at the feeling of him spilling inside you. He said your name softly, delicately, into your ear, his voice more gravelly than normal from exertion. For a moment, with sticky skin pressed together, and eyes closed in exhaustion, your heavy breaths were the only audible thing in the room.

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open to look around, and admired the way the moonlight shone through the window and hit his bare back. You trailed your fingers down his spine, enjoying the way goosebumps rippled across his flesh and he shivered.

“You ticklin’ me?”

You laughed into his hair. “Just enjoying all this skin.”

He hummed thoughtfully, lifting an arm to trail his hand along your side in reciprocation. “I’m enjoyin’ it too.”

He pushed up onto his elbows and slowly pulled himself out of you. Your breath hitched at the sensation, the pain from earlier returning ever so slightly now that the heat of the moment had dissipated. 

“You good?” he asked softly, falling back onto his heels.

“I’m great,” you smiled, watching him pull the condom off carefully and duck into the bathroom to dispose of it.

He padded softly back into the room a few moments later with a cloth in his hands, and used it to gently wipe down your skin. You flinched at the feeling of the warm cloth between your thighs, and he apologised in a hushed tone, working quickly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, staring at him fondly. In that quiet moment, you took the opportunity to admire him properly. His body was thick and strong, all muscles underneath scarred, tanned skin. He had large strong thighs and biceps, but his stomach was soft, and you liked that.

“What’re you lookin’ at stud?” he raised an eyebrow and you smirked cheekily.

“Admiring you is all.”

He shook his head, disappearing off to the bathroom again. You tugged the covers up over yourself and laid there alone for a moment, head clear of thoughts, and sleep so close on the horizon.

“You’re staying?” you heard him, and looked over to see him standing in the doorway.

Your eyebrow jutted up questioningly. “Joel Miller, if you think I’m walking home after all that, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

He let out a quick laugh, and pushed himself under the covers beside you. His hand slid from your thigh up your body before resting gently over your ribcage, thumb stroking along the underside of your breast.

“Good,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Don’t want you to go.”

You woke with a sharp inhale, eyes flicking around the room slowly. Still in the chokehold of a deep sleep, you yawned into your elbow and sat up slowly. The night before came rushing back to you, and you turned to see Joel sleeping soundly beside you. He slept on his front, with one arm tucked underneath his head, and face squished up into the pillow. Lips puffed out, deep breaths inhaling and exhaling through them. You stared at him for a few moments, admiring how peaceful he looked in his slumber.

He let out a sudden harsh breath, and an incoherent murmur escaped his mouth.

“What are you dreaming about?” you whispered. Reaching out, you let your fingertips whisper along the skin of his back, down his spine as far as you were allowed, to where the blanket covered him. You traced a line over a particularly bad scar on his back, and cringed to picture how he’d gotten it.

“Was dreamin’ bout you,” he said suddenly. “Until you woke me up.”

You gasped, sitting up straighter.

“Christ, I thought you were asleep.”

Joel smiled, eyes still closed.

“And what was I doing in this dream of yours, Miller?”

His tongue slipped out to wet his lips, before settling back into a lazy grin. Slowly, Joel’s bleary eyes opened to look up at you. “Was a continuous replay of last night. I wish you hadn’t woken me up, actually. Was quite enjoyin’ myself.” His voice was husky from sleep, and it sent a jolt of heat through your stomach.

“Oh, is that so?” you jokingly huffed, pushing the blankets off your body. “In that case, I’ll get out of your hair and let you sleep.” But before you could get off the mattress, his arms snaked around you, slamming you back into his chest.

“Not so fast, soldier,” Joel mumbled sleepily, pressing gentle kisses onto the skin behind your ear and tugging the duvet up over your heads.

The stairs creaked loudly as you walked down them, an hour later. Your clothes felt stale on your body; stiff after being discarded on the cool hardwood floors overnight. Your skin was cold, begging you to climb back into the bed where Joel still laid naked, tucked up under the covers.

You were halfway to the front door when Ellie’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Fucking finally.”

You turned quickly, trying hard to display an expression of stoic nonchalance. She was splayed across the couch with her legs kicked up onto the arm rest, grinning over a copy of Savage Starlight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”

“Sure, sure,” she chuckled, lifting the comic up to hide her face behind it. “I may be a kid, but I know what it means to sneak out of someone’s house at 8 in the morn-“

“I’m not sneaking out,” you interrupted coolly, your face flaming at the insinuation. Ellie lowered the comic just enough for her eyes to be visible, and raised one eyebrow at you.

“I see.”

“Shut up,” is all you could get out, and threw yourself out the front door, Ellie’s loud laughter following you onto the street. 

It was a particularly chilly morning, and you gripped your black jacket around yourself tightly. You’d promised Maria the day before to stop by for a tea, and although you longed to be at home for a moment before work, you headed quickly to Tommy and Maria’s.

Knocking once on the front door, you let yourself in, calling out a quick “hello!” so as not to alarm anyone.

“In the kitchen!” Maria’s voice shouted back, and you rubbed your red hands together for warmth, traipsing through the house. When you reached the kitchen, you were surprised to see Maria wasn’t alone. A young woman sat at the dining table, gripping a steaming mug and staring at the table. Her face was red and blotchy. You lingered awkwardly in the doorway, glancing at Maria for direction.

“It’s okay, have you met Rose?” Maria ushered you in.

“No,” you replied slowly.

“You work at the stables,” Rose perked up suddenly, her stare firmly stuck on you.

“Yes,” you replied dumbly. Your mind was blank as you stared at the stranger, wondering who she was and how she knew anything about you.

“Have you seen Milena?” you asked desperately.

Your hackles lowered slowly, and you glanced at Maria curiously before shaking your head no. Milena worked at the stables with you. She was one of the women who taught you the ropes, and helped you get familiar with grooming the horses.

The tension in the room was thick, and you looked away quickly when Rose sniffled, and reached up to wipe a tear from her eye. I shouldn’t be here.

“She’s m-missing,” Rose stuttered out wetly. Maria walked up behind her and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Rose found a note that Milena left for her,” Maria explained softly. “She’s been gone for a day now.”

“She didn’t write that note,” Rose raised her voice. Your heart raced in your chest. You stared at Maria’s face, and tried to gage how you should be reacting to the information. Sweat slicked your palms when you noticed the warily anxious expression the woman wore.  “I swear she didn’t, she wouldn’t write that shit. She wouldn’t leave me here alone. Not after,” she paused as a sob wracked through her body. “Not after everything we went through to g-get here.”

“She left Jackson?” you asked. “Did she say where she was going?” Milena hadn’t mentioned anything around the stables about planning to leave the settlement. And Milena was chatty. You had often shied away from her when you shared a shift, because of how much Milena tried to pry into your personal life.

Rose didn’t respond, dropping her face into her hands, shoulders wracking with sobs. The display of emotion set you on edge. You felt like an intruder on such an intense moment for Rose and took a step backward into the doorway.

“I’m going to go,” you murmured when Maria made eye contact with you. She nodded in understanding, leaning down to whisper in Rose’s ear. You spun on your heel and walked quickly toward the front door.

“Please believe me, Maria,” you could hear Rose saying. “To just leave without saying goodbye? Milena would never do that.”

You let the door fall shut behind you. 

part four | series masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #my writing #under the night

[absurdthirst]

Cracking the Case {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Flirting, mentions of crime scene photos, misuse of handcuffs, bondage, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Staying late with your boss, Detective Tim Rockford, turns into some sexy times at his desk, making him crack the case while he's buried inside you.

A/N: Did we write a fic about a damn Merge Mansion commercial? Yes we did. Do we have any regrets? Not a damn one! 🤡🤡🤡 Based off how sexy that damn stupid game commercial is and this NSFW GIF.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He’s been at his desk all day, gun holster still on his shoulders and you bite your lip, eying the cups lined up on his desk. “Tim.” You say and he barely tears his eyes away from the photos he’s been studying on his desk. “Tim.” You repeat, knowing he will be there all night if left to his own devices. 

“Yes?” He asks, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the photo of the fatal wound to look into your concerned eyes. 

“You need to eat.” You huff, knowing you could use something too but your boss has spent three days studying the evidence, sleeping in the office and maybe managing to drag himself back to his apartment for a quick shower. “I’ll get you something.” You stand up, making your way out of the police department to head down to the 24 hour diner you frequent when his case keeps you both tethered to work.

Tossing his pen down, Tim rocks back in his chair and sighs, closing his eyes as he presses the pads of his fingers to them. Staring at the crime scene photos for so long that he feels like they are blurring together. He’s missing something, he can feel it. It’s right in front of him but he just seem can’t find it. It’s times like these that he longs for the days where a bottle of bourbon is in the bottom cabinet of his desk drawer and a pack of Marlboro Reds sit right next to his hand. He’s given that up, trying to be the ‘new image’ of the police force but it’s damn hard when you’re trying to solve a case like this. The chair creaks as he rocks back, finally aware of the growling in his stomach that you’ve insisted on taking care of for him. He’d be lost without you.

You return with the food, a burger and fries for Tim, knowing he will be annoyed if you get him something healthier and you just want him to eat something and not just chain smoke until the light bulb goes off. He’s got his face in his hands and you set the take out bag down. “Betty says hello.” You tease, knowing he is aware of the older waitress having a crush on the ‘hunky police detective’. “She even threw in a slice of apple pie for you.”

Tim snorts and shakes his head, reaching for the bag. “Someday soon I’m gonna have to go back in there and flirt with her a bit.” He tells you, knowing that the woman is probably ten years too old for him, but he shoots you a grin. “Keep the pie slices rollin’.” The mouthwatering scent of the hot burger makes him groan as he opens the styrofoam contain and he looks at you. “You not get anything for yourself? Or you plannin’ on going home?” He wouldn’t blame you if you did leave, it’s far past the hours that you were expected to answer the phones, the Desk Sergeant already taking over for the night. You aren’t a police officer, but as the department’s secretary, you were a damn vital part of keeping this place running.

He takes a bite of the burger and you hold up your own bag, “figured I’d get something to eat before I head home. Keep you company before you retreat into your mind again.” You tease and sit down on the other side of his desk, gathering up the photos and keeping them in order so he can concentrate on his food. “I know you want to solve this case but punishing yourself by not eating and sleeping won’t get you any closer to solving this.” You warn him, having watched him and the others try to be superhuman and it always leads to mistakes. “You should go home, eat, shower, get laid. Will help you take your mind off of the case and you’ll come in with a fresh perspective.”

Tim scoffs as he picks up a fry and bites into it. “Gotta go out to get laid unless I call up some of the working girls.” He jokes. “And the captain would have my ass if I got busted by vice like Johnson did a few months ago.” Tim was a bachelor, probably always would be one after his fiancée jilted him a few months before the wedding years ago. Claiming that he worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her. It was probably true, so he hadn’t really tried after that, figuring it just wasn’t in the cards for him.

“You could easily go out and get laid. You’re a handsome guy. Smart, funny. Just flash the handcuffs and say you know how to use them.” You home and bite into your own sandwich, watching him chew with satisfaction that he’s eating. “Too bad you’re always in this damn office. You’d be popular at the bar down the street from me. Lot of girls like a cop with handcuffs.”

His brow arches up at your comment, wondering briefly if you were one of those girls before he tries to push the thought away. You are off limits. Plenty of detectives had tried it with you only to be shot down and he enjoys the rapport you have, not willing to risk it. “Lots of girls, huh?” He asks, taking another bite of his burger. “Too bad I’m chained to my desk.”

You chuckle, “some women would like that.” You joke and continue eating. The silence is comforting, both of you enjoying a hard earned meal after a long day of trying to solve this case. You watch him as he eats, mustache getting a little wild after concentrating on this case and his hair all over the place yet he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His dark eyes meet yours and you smile, setting your sandwich down. “You know…I’m one of those girls…who like a man with handcuffs.”

Tim’s brow shoots up and for a moment he’s speechless. Clearing his throat for a moment and nearly choking on his own spit. “I- you are?” His cock twitches in his pants as he imagines putting his cuffs on you. Bending you over and pressing you up against this desk as you moan softly.

You bite your lip, enjoying the clueless look on his face like you haven’t been subtly flirting with him for God knows how long. The lines on his forehead become more pronounced and you decide to take the risk. You can’t keep imagining him between your thighs every night while you rub your clit. This is either going to be the best or worst decision of your life. You push your sandwich aside and stand up, walking around the desk until you’re beside him, and you look into those dark eyes, wide with shock, while you slowly pull your skirt up and over your hips to expose your panties. “Yes. I am.” You say softly, voice taking on a seductive lilt.

“Shit.” The way his eyes shift between your exposed panties and your face would be comical if he wasn’t trying to make sure you aren’t teasing him. His mouth runs dry and Tim quickly stands, abandoning his meal to press close to you. “Are you- fuck, are you sure?” He demands, needing to hear you say the words.

You chuckle nervously, reaching up tentatively to wrap your arms around his neck so you can press closer to him. “Yes baby. I am sure. I want you to fuck me. Always have. Since the day I started working here.” You confess, keeping your eyes on his.

Tim hisses, unable to believe this is happening and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Blindly striking out behind you at his desk to clear a space for you to sit while he frantically slides his tongue into your mouth. Needy and desperate for you, it’s been so long since he’s touched a woman and he’s often thought of you with his hand around his cock in the shower.

You moan into his mouth, pulling him even closer as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass. You can feel the pent up need inside of him, similar to your own, and you whimper into his mouth while his tongue slides against yours. “Fuck Tim.” You pant, tilting your head when he kisses down your neck and presses you up against his desk so you can feel his hardening cock.

“Yeah?” He groans against your flesh and sucks at your pulse. His hands sliding down your thighs, squeezing them and then he presses two fingers against your clothed clit. “You want me to use my cuffs on you?” He asks as he rubs the damp fabric. “Or just turn you around and fuck you?”

“Oh God. Cuffs. Please use the cuffs.” You beg, having imagined it too many times. “Please baby. I- I just need you to touch me.” You reach down to squeeze him through his dress pants, wanting to make him moan.

His hands reluctantly pull away, fumbling behind his back to pull his cuffs out of the small pouch he has on his belt. Grabbing your wrist to slap the cold steel around it as he pushes your arm behind your back. “Jesus Christ baby, you drive me insane.” He groans, eager to give you what you want.

You gasp at the cold metal encircling your wrists and you love the way he bends you over his desk once you are cuffed up. “Tim.” You whine when he grinds against you, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Please baby. I need you to fuck me.” You beg, aching for him after so long of wondering what it would be like.

Chuckling, Tim kisses you again, “I’m going to baby, I promise.” His fingers find the edge of your panties and he starts to strip them down your thighs. Dropping them at your feet on top of your heels. “Step out of them and turn around. Spread your legs.” He orders roughly.

You struggle but manage to kick the panties off of your shoes, letting them land wherever, and you spin around, spreading your legs for the handsome detective. “Fuck me. Please.” You aren’t above begging, wanting your dreams to come true.

There’s so much he would do to you if he wasn’t in his office. Surrounded by the case details and photos, sure that someone could walk in. That makes it even thrilling, even though the lights are off outside and most everyone else has gone home. He reaches out and slaps your ass as he unbuckles his belt with one hand. “Fuck, your gagging for it, aren’t you? Bet you're soaking wet, eager for my cock.”

God, hearing him speak like that, husky and deep, has you dripping. “Ye-yes Detective. I- I want your cock. Please. I need you.” You pant, not above begging at this point. You feel his cock push against your ass cheek and you gasp, unable to believe how big he feels. “Fuck, Tim.” You whine, grinding back against him, fingers flexing behind your back.

He decides that he’s not going to spit in his hand, wanting it to sting a bit as he stretches you out. Needing a good fuck to smooth his rough edges and maybe help him focus on the case. Taking his cock in hand, he nudges along your slit, feeling how wet you are. “Dirty fucking girl, you’re soaked.” He groans. “Let’s see how well you take my cock.” He nestles the head against your entrance and snaps his hips forward, pinning you to the desk as he drives his cock deep.

You collapse forward, head coming down to rest near the take out bag and your mouth falls open into a moan as he pushes deep inside of you. He’s thick, stretching you out, and your nails dig into your palms, unable to believe how good he feels already. “Oh fuck.” You choke, eyes squeezed shut as his hands grip your hips.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, it’s like a switch has been flipped. Clenching his jaw, Tim draws his hips back to start a frantic, devastating pace. Nearly immediately breathless from how hard he is pounding into you, groaning and grunting as he feels your soaked walls clench around him.

“Shit! Shit!” You cry out, breath knocked out of you from his harsh pace, making you moan his name, and you can’t do anything but let him fuck you, use your body for his own pleasure. “Baby. Oh fuck, Tim. Yes. Yes!” You moan.

“Quiet.” He hisses, not slowing down. “Can-can’t let everyone hear how- how much of a dirty girl you are.” He groans, closing his eyes and enjoying the squelch of your cunt as he drills into you. Slippery and hot, perfect for him. “Fuck, baby. It’s- it’s like heaven.” He groans, opening his eyes and his gaze falls on the strewn photos on his desk.

You don’t know he’s eying the photos on his desk as he pounds into you. You love how his hands come to grip your handcuffed wrists, using you as leverage to push harder and deeper. “So good.” You whimper, “so fucking good, sir.” You are used to addressing him as sir or detective and that slips into your dirty little fantasies.

“Shit.” Tim’s eyes widen and his pace stutters for a moment and the pieces click together. “That’s it.” He groans, gripping your hips tighter and pushing into you faster as he realizes he’s just solved the case. “Fuck that’s it!”

You don’t realize he’s just solved the case, you think he’s close to cumming and you’re a little disappointed that you aren’t going to cum but it’s still been nice to have him inside of you. “I’m on birth control. You can cum inside of me.” You sigh, closing your eyes and waiting for the warmth of his seed to fill you up.

Tim growls, flattening himself against your back and slides his hand around your hip to find your clit. “Fucking hell,” he moans into your ear. “Gonna- fuck, gonna fill you up. So fucking perfect.” He pants. “Helped me solve the case, fucking solved it buried in your cunt.” He presses two fingers to your clit and rubs frantically, wanting you to cum on his cock.

Your eyes open in shock and you grin, glad he’s solved the case. “Gl-glad I could help.” You chuckle breathlessly before you moan when his fingers rub your clit. Hard and fast as he pushes deep inside of you. “Oh fuck.” You pant, loving the way he kisses along your neck. “Shit. Tim. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You whine, walls fluttering around his cock and he pushes towards your orgasm. You cry out a few thrusts later, clamping down on his length and soaking him as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

He feels it. The hot, wet gush of your cunt right before you tighten so much that he moans. The grip on his cock almost makes him unable to move as he grinds deep. He’s right behind you, poised on the edge and burying his cock deep, moaning your name as he fills you with hot spurts of his seed. Painting your walls as he chants your name breathlessly.

You pant, relaxing on his desk as your body buzzes with the aftermath of your orgasm. You feel giddy and you smile against the surface of his desk as he leans over you, catching his breath. “I was not expecting that to happen today.” You chuckle, knees wobbly and you’re grateful you’re on his desk.

Tim huffs in agreement, pulling out of you gently so he can watch your cunt flutter and try to push out his cum. “Didn’t expect to solve the case while fucking you.” He jokes, caressing your hip before he grabs the photos that had caught his eye.

“Glad I could help. You wanna finish your dinner and then you can call it in?” You suggest, looking over your shoulder at him. He nods and you watch him eye the photo that has helped him solve the case. “Could you uncuff me first, babe?” You joke, wiggling your fingers.

“Right. Shit.” Tim hisses, immediately dropping the photos and pulling up his pants that have dropped to mid thigh so he can pull his keys out. “Sorry.” He huffs, quickly unlocking the cuffs and taking them off of you, gently massaging your wrists for a second before he lets go of you and steps to the side.

You groan softly as you stand up straight, grabbing the napkins from the diner to clean yourself up before his cum drips onto the floor. Once you’re cleaned up as much as possible, you shove the napkins into the empty take out bag and find your panties to put them on, adjusting your skirt. “Glad you solved the case.” You kiss his cheek and shift to step away from his desk.

Tim stares at the pictures in amazement, unable to believe that he had missed this. It’s so obvious now. He shoves a hand through his hair and mumbles, “thanks,” as he thinks about the way to present this to the DA. You shuffle off to the side and it jars him out of his thinking. “Hey-“ he clears his throat. “You wanna get a drink?” He asks, suddenly awkward even if he had just railed you over his desk. “I mean, like a date?”

You offer him a soft smile, stepping closer so you can kiss his cheek. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You say and step back. “Go solve the case and be the best detective on the force and then we can go get that drink.” You promise, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

Tim smiles at you, nodding quickly. “Give me ten minutes and then we’ll talk about what we can do in the interrogation room over a drink.” He winks and quickly buttons up his pants so he can grab the phone to call the DA and get an arrest warrant issued. He managed to solve the case after all, all thanks to you. Maybe he needed to fuck you during every case from now on, just to make sure justice is served.

#pedro pascal #merge mansion #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford smut #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford imagine #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford fanfic #tim rockford merge mansion #did we write a fic based on a game commercial? yes we did #no shame #detective tim rockford can slap cuffs on me anytime

[audreyscahier]

Off the Record (Pedro Pascal x OFC)

Word count: 4,560 words

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Content warnings: Daddy kink (not ddlg; she just calls him daddy a lot), oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, (slightly) rough sex, sweet sex, Big Dick Pedro, Soft Dom Pedro, alcohol, lingerie, a little bit of slapping, dirty talk, a hint of sugar daddy vibes

Summary: Rae is an entertainment reporter who has developed a playfully flirtatious professional relationship with Pedro over the years. Totally professional. Until he invites her to hang out in his hotel room one night after an event—strictly off the record.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and written just for fun. If RPF makes you uncomfortable, please do not continue with this post.



The convention is so crowded that it feels like an act of fate when Rae steps out for some fresh air and happens upon Pedro, alone behind one of the side buildings. He’s smoking a cigarette and he gives her a playful, guilty grimace when he spots her, gesturing with a flick of ash.

“You caught me,” he says.

“You’re such a bad boy,” she teases.

He laughs.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks. He’s looking her up and down and she sees his eyes linger on her bare legs before drifting their way up the rest of her body. The attention makes her stand a little straighter.

She’s used to California weather. This is a rare travel assignment and she hadn’t packed well for the climate.

“Fucking freezing. But that’s the cost of beauty,” she adds loftily, like she’s done it on purpose.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Well, it’s paying off,” he says. “You look gorgeous.”

She gives him an appreciative smile. “It’s too bad you didn’t put any effort in; we could’ve looked good together.”

It’s a joke. He’s wearing a cozy, well-fitted cashmere sweater and designer trousers, with a one-inch heeled suede boot. His dark hair is styled at the perfect in-between point of messy and coiffed, with well-defined curls that you could still run your fingers through.

Not that she’s fighting back the urge to touch him. That would be unprofessional.

He’s playing along with the joke, narrowing his eyes at her and shaking his head, ruefully. “You’re always fucking showing me up.”

Her phone vibrates and she glances at it. It’s a text from her producer, giving her a 15-minute warning for their next interview.

“Three more hours,” she sighs. “And then I’m going to go back to the Fairmont and climb under all the covers and stuff myself with room service.”

“I’m at the Fairmont, too,” he tells her. “Don’t order the crab cakes—they’re dry.”

“You should invite me over to hang out,” she says. “I can help you raid the minibar on Disney’s dime.”

He takes a drag on his cigarette and blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from her, considering it. “What’s your poison?”

“That depends,” she muses. “If you want me to stay good, I like vodka. Tequila? My clothes come right off.”

He barks out a laugh, slowly shaking his head. “Well, I’m in…” He digs in his pocket, pulling out a slim wallet and rifling for his hotel key card to find the room number. “Room 512, if you want to stop by. We can call down for salt and limes.”

It makes her heart beat a little faster, that he’s taken this past harmless flirtation and turned it into… This was an invitation, wasn’t it? Rae schools her expression, trying to remain playfully aloof.

“Maybe I’ll see you later, then,” she says, and gives him a wink as she turns to go back inside.

He opens the door on her second knock. The room is nicer than hers—it’s a king suite with a huge tub that she spots through the open bathroom door as she steps inside—and he hasn’t been in town long enough to make it very messy. The lighting is muted, just a couple of table lamps on in the corners and a golden sheen from the setting sun filtering through his open curtains. He’s kept on the nice sweater, but changed his trousers for a pair of dark, comfy-looking sweatpants, and abandoned the shoes in favor of bare feet.

Rae slips off her flats by the door, making herself at home.

“I thought you might stand me up,” he observes.

“Of course not,” she says. “It’s not like I can afford to break into my own minibar. I needed to get to yours.”

Pedro clicks his tongue, mock-hurt. “You’re using me. You know, Meryl Streep warned me about this. She said the more famous you get, the less you know who you can trust.”

He’s joking around, she knows, playing off of her comment and name-dropping the most absurd famous person he’s acquainted with just to make her laugh. But the sentiment still makes her feel a little sad, and it probably comes out too earnest when she tells him, “You can trust me.”

He looks at her and gives her a quiet smile. “Yeah, I know.”

There’s a plate of lime wedges and a shaker of salt already sitting on the counter with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. She raises an eyebrow, delighted he’s chosen her favorite vice.

“I warned you about the tequila,” she reminds him.

He makes a face, dismissive. “You don’t scare me.”

She waggles her eyebrows, like, maybe you should be scared, but he just shakes his head, amused, and pours them each a generous shot.

“Salud,” he says, clinking his glass to hers.

They don’t go overboard. A 7:00 AM wake-up in this time zone will be 4:00 AM as far as her west coast-attuned body is concerned, and she likes her job too much to sabotage it by getting seriously drunk the night before a long work day. But with two or three shots apiece, they make it through a few of the tiny, overpriced bottles, and they each have a pleasant, relaxed buzz going.

Pedro makes for good company. Off the press line and away from any cameras, inhibitions lowered by the tequila, his sense of humor comes out a little dirtier. Every time one of his jokes lands, sending her into a fit of laughter, he grins, looking pleased with himself. Not for the first time, she finds herself thinking that it’s almost maddening how charming and charismatic he is.

“You know,” Rae tells him, “A lot of fangirls out there would pay good money to take a shot with you. I’ll never be able to tell anyone about this because they’d rip me apart out of jealousy.”

“Oh please,” he teases. “Don’t pretend like you’re not right there with them, getting all hot over the Mandalorian every week.”

Her jaw drops, but she swiftly recovers. “Actually, I belong to the camp that believes Din Djarin is a virgin. I don’t think he’s probably even that good in bed.”

He’s offended. He goes from a lazy sprawl to sitting upright, just like that. “Excuse me?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a take on this? It’d be an amazing scoop if I could get a quote from you.”

“Hey,” he says warningly. “This evening is strictly off the record.”

“Of course,” she agrees. He holds up his hand, pinky extended, and she scoots closer on the couch and hooks her pinky around his, promising. “So?”

“Din Djarin is not a virgin,” he says decisively. His tone says he thinks the mere concept is ridiculous.

“Well, who has he had sex with?” she challenges him.

He counts off on his fingers. “He fucked that twi’lek girl with the knives—”

“Xi’an,” she supplies.

“Of course you remember her name,” he laughs, but not unkindly. They both know she’s nerdier about Star Wars lore than he is. He ticks off the next finger. “He fucked Omera. He obviously fucked Cobb Vanth, if you can’t see that you’re blind.”

He has to raise his voice to be heard over her laughter. He’s holding back his amusement, too.

“I can’t believe you’re questioning Mando’s sex life when you’re the one calling him a daddy all the time.”

“Uh uh,” she corrects him. “I think you’re a daddy.”

Over the course of the conversation she’d continued to unconsciously slide closer to him, and now as he watches her in amused contemplation, they suddenly feel very close. The realization of it, in the silence following her overtly flirtatious statement, makes her smile fall and her pulse pick up. She looks down, taking a breath, and when she glances up he’s still looking at her face. His voice has turned husky when he speaks again.

“Can I kiss you?”

She bites her lip, trying to stay cool, and nods. He leans in closer, lightly gripping her chin under his thumb.

“Yes?” he checks.

“Yes,” she says breathlessly.

His lips are soft, and dry, and a little tangy from the salt and lime they’ve both been consuming. He slips his tongue lightly over her bottom lip, adding a little glide to the kiss. She follows his lead, melting into him and feeling flushed. He’s cupping her face, and the firm press of his hand on her cheek is simultaneously grounding and makes her feel like she’s caught up in a dream.

“Can I—” she starts. She curls her fingers, closing around nothing. His eyes are dark, watching her patiently. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” he murmurs. He takes her hand in his and guides it to rest on his upper thigh, close enough the permission is clear—not so close that he’s making her move too fast.

He kisses her again, and she closes her eyes and lets herself follow her instincts. Her fingers inch higher on his lap until she feels his bulge, stiffening under the soft fabric. She runs her fingers along him and his breath hitches. She squeezes, lightly, and he grunts, shifting his hips up into her touch.

“Can I—” she starts again. He cuts her off, answering against her skin as he works his mouth down the length of her neck, telling her, “Yes,” before she can finish the question. “Yes.”

So she makes her way to the edge of the couch and sinks onto her knees on the floor, pushing his legs open to settle between them. He’s looking down at her there, looking turned on, looking like he likes what he sees—but when she reaches for him he stops her, grabbing her wrists in one hand.

“Wait,” he says. His voice is lust-rough. With his other hand, he picks at the fabric of her top. “Take these off first.”

She bites her lip, feeling a rush of arousal pulse through her to pool between her legs. She misses his grip when he lets go of her wrists, but she stands obediently and strips off her clothes, until she’s down to just her underwear. Pedro’s mouth falls open, taking her in. Focusing in on the matching bra and panties.

“You brought this for a work trip?” he asks, sounding awed.

Maybe she hadn’t done such a bad job of packing her suitcase, after all.

“I just… like lingerie. I like to wear it under my regular clothes,” she tells him. “It makes me feel sexy.”

She does a slow turn, letting him see the cheeky cut of her panties.

He looks a little dazed. “It’s very sexy.”

His gaze follows her breasts, perched filling out the lacy, balconette cups of her bra, as she kneels before him again. This time he doesn’t stop her when she reaches forward, brushing her hands over his growing bulge as she grasps his waistband and tugs it down to unveil him to her.

She was certain it would be big, but the sight of his cock still makes her mouth drop open and her eyes widen as she takes it in. Her hands look small, touching him, wrapping around his length. She feels that rush again, pussy going wet and her mouth watering for him. She licks her lips, purses them tight, and leans in to slide her mouth open around the tip of his cock.

He swears.

She sinks her hot mouth onto him, sucking him off and savoring it, her saliva mixing with the mild salt-tang spurts of his pre-come spilling onto her tongue. She slides her hands down to the base of his cock where she can’t reach her mouth, slicking him up and working over his length in firm strokes.

Rae pulls back for a moment, wanting to watch his face while she jerks him off. She has one hand wrapped around his shaft and she reaches the other down to massage over his balls. His eyes are heavy-lidded, watching her, and his breath is unsteady, hips twitching like he wants to thrust hard into her heat. He grabs the back of her head with one large hand, tugging her forward just gently, telling her without words that he wants her mouth back on him. When she doesn’t take him in immediately, he taps his cock lightly against her cheek, nudging at the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes flutter closed. “You can be rough with me,” she tells him. “I like it.”

“You like it?” he repeats. There’s a pause, as she meets his hot gaze and silently nods. “Then take it.”

Pedro’s grip is tight on the back of her neck as he forces his cock past the seam of her lips. He fills her mouth, hitting against her throat, and she moans, focusing on avoiding him with her teeth and distracted by the way her clit throbs from the rough treatment. Her body is rocking, legs pressed tight together, head bobbing on his dick, all her senses overwhelmed by the taste and smell and sound of him—by his soft stomach where she’s braced one hand, tucked under his shirt, and the ache in her jaw and her vision blurring with unshed tears from taking him too far and starting to choke.

He pulls her off, to let her get her breath back, and squeezes his fingers around the base of his dick, steadying himself as she runs the back of her hand over her wet mouth, wiping away the drool that’s gone running down her chin.

“Come here,” he says, gentle again. He pulls her into his lap, straddling his legs, and kisses her softly at the corners of her mouth, soothing over her swollen lips.

He runs his thumbs delicately along the tops of her bra cups, feeling the lace bordering her soft skin, then smooths his hands down her sides to her hips. He looks up, watching her face as he slides one hand over the thin fabric of her panties, but his controlled expression changes as much as hers does when he touches her and feels the arousal soaking through.

“You got that wet for me?” he rasps. “From sucking my cock?”

She nods slowly, feeling exposed and shivery under his gaze, turned on even more by hearing those words in his deep voice.

“I told you I liked it,” she whispers.

His jaw clenches. He slips his fingers under the fabric, teasing over her skin, feeling along her folds—watching her gasp when he finds her clit. Then he pinches it, hard enough to make her cry out and buck her hips in his lap, and her breath comes out unsteady when he lets go.

“Rae,” he says. “Go get in my bed.”

The command sends a wave of calm through her system. She takes a deep breath. “Yes, daddy,” she murmurs, and climbs carefully off of his lap.

In the bedroom, she follows his instruction, stripping off her lingerie and tossing it aside before climbing onto the plush bed. She leans back on her elbows, legs demurely crossed at the ankles, and watches him pull his sweater over his head, revealing his softly toned body and broad shoulders. Then he shoves the sweatpants off his hips, stepping out of them where they pool at his feet, and her gaze is drawn back to his cock, bobbing enticingly between his legs. Her eyes glaze over, hypnotized with want.

He kneels onto the bed, reaching to uncross her ankles and make space between her legs. His eyes rake over her, drinking her in, absently biting his bottom lip as he lingers on her pussy. Then he makes his way up, straddling her thigh, one knee by her hip and the other just below her cunt, not quite close enough for her to grind against his leg like she thinks she might like to try. He kneels over her like that, leaning forward to brace one hand next to her shoulder, and caresses her face with the other, running his fingers lightly over her cheekbone. She melts under him, meeting his dark eyes, taking in his handsome face and his lush lips and thinking maybe he’ll kiss her again.

Pedro slaps her face, just hard enough to send a jolt through her, making her gasp. Her eyes snap back to his, pulse racing.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, voice gone husky.

“I—I want your cock,” she moans.

“Tell me,” he says. “Say it again.”

“Please,” she begs, “I want your big fucking fat cock, daddy.”

He laughs, a low, dirty chuckle. “Where do you want it, baby?”

Her face is flushed; her whole body is on fire, all hot and needy for him. “In my pussy.”

“Yeah?” He rubs his hand over her mound, warm on the smooth-shaven skin, then feels down into her slick folds where she’s soaking wet. “Your pretty little pussy? You think she can take it?”

“Yes,” she whines. He pushes three thick fingers inside her, making her cry out and tilt her hips up, greedy for it. His knees are spread wide to balance himself and hold her legs pushed open with his own. When she writhes under him he sets his weight down harder, pinning her.

With his free hand, he slaps her tit. The sting makes her yelp and her cunt clenches tight around his fingers. He twists and pulls them free, then thrusts inside her again, working in and out until she feels like she can’t form a full thought, head all empty but for the sound of her moans and his hot, heavy breath, and the fast, dirty squelching sound her pussy makes as he fucks her hard.

When he pulls his hand away she can see her slick coating his fingers, shining wet in the dim lamplight. He falls forward so that he’s hovering directly over her and feeds his fingers into her mouth, making her taste her own arousal. Her eyes flutter closed as she sucks them clean.

“Dirty girl,” he murmurs. He pulls his fingers gently out and lowers his face to hers instead, giving her a deep kiss to chase the taste of her with his tongue.

He grinds his hard cock into her hip and eventually pulls out of the kiss, murmuring against her mouth, “I have to grab a condom.” He brushes his thumb over her mouth as he pulls away, tender. “You still good?”

“Mmm,” she breathes. “So good.”

He rifles in his travel bag, unzipping a small pouch and retrieving a condom packet. When he returns to the bed, he runs his hand along her thigh and then slaps her flank. “Get on your knees.”

She rolls over, pushing up onto her knees, and braces her forearms on the bed, arching her back. It feels primal, presenting her cunt like this for him to take, and behind her he growls with want.

She feels the head of his cock press blunt and thick at her entrance, and he starts working his length into her in shallow, prodding thrusts, a little deeper each time. He starts slow—he has to, she’s so fucking tight around him, and it’s only because she’s so turned on that the stretch isn’t too much to take. Gradually, he pushes his cock into her hot, slick center, and it leaves her gasping for air, like he’s fucking all the way up into her lungs.

“Christ,” he groans. His voice has gone impossibly deeper. “You feel so fucking good, baby. How does that feel?”

She tries to speak and it comes out a strangled moan, incomprehensible.

He withdraws a little, fighting against the grip of her pussy trying to keep him inside. His hands are strong on her hips, holding her in place.

“Tell me,” he commands. He thrusts in again as she opens her mouth, and she cries out.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how this cock feels in your sweet—little—pussy—” He emphasizes each word with a deep thrust. She feels lightheaded from it, but it’s like it breaks something inside her and her tongue finally works again, babbling needy words at him.

“It’s so good, fuck, it feels so good, daddy,” she moans. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—” The friction is easier now, with her body opening up to take him, and he’s moving faster. She’s gripping desperately into the bedsheets above her head, moving with the push-pull rhythm of his sex, and she’s starting to feel almost high from it, a little spaced out on the sensation of his dick driving into her.

He leans forward, draping hot over her back, and it shifts the angle of his thrusts, so that he’s suddenly hitting a spot that makes her see stars.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit—” He probably can’t make out the words; her voice is muffled in the sheets. Her body is trembling, on that pre-orgasmic high, pure pleasure running through her with every stroke of his huge dick. She wishes she could stay suspended like this forever, in this luxurious bed being fucked by this perfect cock, balancing right on the cusp of ecstasy.

When she comes, she collapses flat onto her belly, shattered, and he follows her down, pinning her to the bed and continuing to fuck her just as hard. She cries out, the sounds of her orgasm tearing out of her throat and ringing in her ears as her pussy pulses and flutters around him. Finally, he slows and pulls out of her, and the sudden emptiness feels too big, like he’s left her hollowed out in the tender space of her cunt. He turns her over, onto her back, and braces over her, eyes focused on her face when he slides his dick back inside and fills her in again. She whimpers, needy and overwhelmed, feeling every long, slow inch of his cock dragging through her.

He kisses her, languid tongue matching his steady thrusts. It’s intimate in a way Rae’s not sure she’s earned the right to be with him. But it doesn’t surprise her, learning he’s sweet like this. He’s always looked at her like he wants the eye contact, like he wants to be close, like he thrives on connection. She’s always seen him act kindly to everyone in the room, and it only follows that when you’re the only one in the room with him, he’d devote himself to you and take his time.

She wants to make him feel good. To see him lose control and let go. She squeezes her cunt around him, experimentally, and he breaks their kiss to exhale a gasping breath, rhythm faltering.

“Fuck,” he breathes, mouth on her chin. “Do that again.”

She clenches again, running her hands down his body, teasing at him with her long nails and feeling him tremble. “You feel so good, daddy,” she whispers. “Your cock is so big, I don’t—fuck!” she exclaims, when his pace picks up and he rams into her, harder. “I don’t know how you even fucking fit inside me, your big—fuck—fucking cock—shit—”

He’s panting, making ragged, desperate sounds, pushing up into her like he can bury himself even deeper. Teeth sharp, biting at her jaw. She’s not even thinking about the words spilling out of her, just lets every filthy thought slip free, riling him up. “Fuck me, daddy, fuck—you’re fucking splitting me in half—I want you to come inside me—fill me up—I want it, I want it, I want it—”

He groans, hiding his face in her neck, stiffening and releasing inside of her. She wishes, insanely, that he had fucked her bareback so she could feel it coating her pussy, dripping out after. She would have let him if he wanted to, she thinks, and it’s a terrible thing to realize about herself.

It doesn’t stop her from holding him in place before he can pull out, keeping him deep inside her cunt, and rubbing at her swollen clit until she comes on his dick one last time, savoring the orgasm and the rumbling sound of his groans in her ears.

He doesn’t try to kick her out after—in fact, he orders a slice of caramel cheesecake from the room service menu and asks if Rae wants something, too—but in the end, she reluctantly says that she should go.

“I have to be up early to interview that kid from the new Marvel movie,” she sighs.

Pedro laughs, unsympathetic. “Oh, your life is so hard.”

“Yeah, harder now,” she complains. “I’m gonna be walking funny on the press line tomorrow.”

He bites back a laugh, but then furrows his brow in concern. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She hums, giving her nude, exhausted body an experimental stretch. “That was the biggest dick I’ve ever taken,” she tells him. “And… it was the best.”

He relaxes again, looking like he’s not trying very hard to hide a satisfied smirk.

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything.”

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head dismissively, “Way too late for that, sweetheart.”

When she sees him again they’re back in LA, at a premiere for his new indie film. He greets her with a familiar, professional smile, but she can see the change in how he looks at her now, the new, interested sparkle in his eyes and how he lingers on her longer. He gives her a tight hug goodbye, murmuring, “Bye, baby,” too quiet for the mic to pick up, and she slips a folded note into his hand as she pulls away.

I had to buy a bigger toy—you’ve ruined me. Asshole.

She hears his dirty, delighted cackle and she fights to school her face, tamping down the light, giddy feeling in her chest as she turns her focus to the next guest on the press line.

She’s not sure how he got her home address. It probably wasn’t that hard, she supposes, to have his agent contact her company and sweet talk it out of them with the promise of exclusive promo material, or something of that kind. It’s probably not worth questioning how one of the biggest rising stars on the planet can get something he wants. In any event, she’s grateful he did, because she might have received this package in the middle of the office, otherwise, and that would have been more than a little embarrassing.

He’s got her size right. She wonders if he’d snuck a peek at the tags before she put her underwear back on—if he was already planning this even then. The thought of it makes her feel—something. She’s not sure what it makes her feel. She’s walking a tightrope between a dangerous mistake and total euphoria and it’s all she can do to keep her balance, because she can’t risk taking a misstep.

The set is from a luxury brand so expensive she would never buy it for herself. It’s an ethereal blend of ribbon and tulle, the thong nothing more than a scrap of beautiful fabric, and she knows it will have cost him several hundred dollars.

There’s a gift note, sitting on top of the tissue paper-wrapped goods.

A ‘sorry for ruining you’ gift. So you can feel sexy at the season 3 premiere. Show me after, if you want.

-P

Her stomach swoops, as she tries not to fall.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal rpf

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

That handsome boy from the sky pt 3 (caugth with Neteyam AU)

Part three of the series in which Spider and and Teyam escape RDA, only to come to Awa’atlu and find out that, surprisingly, Spider is considered uniquely attractive by reef Na’vi standards. (Part two and three in the pinned post)

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Neteyam stared in horror at the sleeping form in front of him, hair all around him and two broken brushes lying next to the pallet. He gulped.

Spider combed out his dreads, and there were dark circles around his eyes which suggested that he’d been at it all night instead of asking for help.

Yawning, he slowly rose. “Oh…hey bro. ‘Sup…”

“Dude, have you been combing out your nest til’ sunrise??”

“Yeah…figured I’d re-twist the locs. Haven’t done that in a while.” He yawned again, stretching.

“Okay, I’ll help you—”

“Not now!” The boy stopped him, standing. “I can’t handle sitting still for another 12 hours, we can do it tomorrow. Can you pass me your hairband? The big one?

Neteyam stared at him, and then at the village through the exit of their marui. If Spider was about to go and work all day with that hairstyle…

“No way. We have to re-twist now.” The Na’vi repeated urgently, but sadly, Spider caught onto the reason, rolling his eyes.

“ ‘Tey, everyone in this village have curly hair, I’m not special.” He smirked, opting to find Teyam’s band himself.

“Yeah but it’s you we’re talking about big bro. You really gonna beat the kids off with a stick all day?”

Socorro tied the band around his hair, forcing the curls out of his face and checking his exo-pack battery. He’s been in Awa’atlu for almost a month, and was confident he could handle the attention. “You’re exaggerating.”

.

Fwasim loved going on crystal hunts at sunrise. The pink lighting of the sky reflected so beautifully off of them when she dug them out of the sand, but this faithful morning she had found a different kind of gem.

There was Spider Socorro, or Sully, as his family called him, a cute new boy in her village, following some young adults into the fishing grounds with a net…

A gorgeous mane swaying in the wind behind him. Deep golden at the roots, and pale blonde at the ends.

He looked more alien than ever, but not negatively. She had never witnessed anything like it before and gawked at him in pure aw, dropping her basket.

The teen noticed her and waved, smiling and brushing a spiralling strand behind his ear, and Fwasim was sure her heart had just exploded. She barely mustered enough strength to wave back, before leaping back to the village as soon as he was out of earshot, squealing and giggling.

She had to tell EVERYONE.

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“Why did I let him go why did I let him go..” Jake heard, already returning from his morning hunt with the other adults of the clan. “Hey there, what’s going on?”

Nrteyam stopped pacing, but bounced his foot against the floor, and pointed at the clumps of hair lying near Spider’s pallet. Jake’s eyes widened.

“…Damnit I told him to wait!”

Teyam scoffed, crossing his arms. “We might as well move out at this point. I can hear Fwasim talking about this all the way from here, she’s the biggest gossiper on the block and is friends with like, everyone!”

Toruk Makto felt helpless, as he often did these days and slumped against the wall, his catch dropping to the floor. The suitor situation was about to get so much worse and he was not prepared for it.

.

The long hair was all over the place, reminding Spider once more why he wore dreads. This hairdo was way too high maintenance for a guy who was all about exploring, swinging through the forest and squatting in the mud while looking for cool plants. He wasn’t the proper big brother like Neteyam, more so like the lazy one that lived in a shack outside their parent’s tent and smoked mushrooms, except he couldn’t do the latter two because of the air problems and more recently, Jake’s paranoid suspicion that one of the kids just might grab him and run while he sleeps. The blonde couldn’t help but wheeze at the ridiculousness of that statement, as if he was somehow that insanely irresistible.

But he wasn’t. He was Spider Socorro the outcast, and as much as he liked the attention, he was sure that it would soon disappear. He was just a novelty after all, wasn’t he? Surely the Metkayina teens were not even interested anymore. Surely today would be normal.

And yet, for whatever Eywa damned reason, when he rose out of the water, pulling his curls back, he was met with gasps and awes from the kids who were chilling at the beach or preparing to go into the sea themselves.

They wasted no time circling him with wagging tails. “Spider! You’re so beautiful!” One girl fawned, helping the boy untangle a lock from his arm.

“Like a sun lily in the twilight~”

“Why’d you even have dreads? This is so much cooler!“ A young man complemented. “You’re a spitting image of a Metkayina!”

“Bet even Aonung doesn’t have hair as shiny as his!”

Spider blushed deep red. “Guys stop. I look basically the same as you, I’m not like, special” he smiled awkwardly, backing away.

“Do you want to braid them? We could help!” Two girls smiled, batting their eyelashes at him.

“Aw that’d be awesome! You’ll look great with a bun! And we could add some jewellery too! Like fangs or something! ” Some guys perked up, their ears slightly pinned in abashment.

“We could braid you a kuru too…” Another boy proposed, shyly averting his eyes. Spider recognised him as the same kid who gifted him a new bow a couple weeks back.

Socorro was close to short-circuiting, trying to keep a grin off his face. The Metkayina teens had never been this forward before, but maybe he should have expected that. Hair is crucial in all Na’vi cultures, but he never had anyone braid them for him. The closest he ever got to it was the Sullys siblings helping him re-twist his dreads, but maybe keeping his hair free wasn’t that bad of an idea—

In the corner of his vision, the blonde noticed Aonung. He was standing with his crew of suck-ups and stared at him in I’ll-concealed surprise. His tail then began wagging in the same playful-curious manner as the other Na’vi.

Suddenly, the kid felt vomit crawl up his throat. “Sorry guys! This was just for one day, I’ll go re-twist them now!” He said as cheerfully as he could, going away to the disappointed awes of the teens, shuddering. He was more than okay with the other kids finding him cute, but AONUNG? The asshole son of the chief?? Spider would rather throw his mask into the deep blue ocean, or Aonung himself for that matter, than find him at his home’s doorstep.

He marched into the marui, facing a confused Neytiri and Kiri. “Um…are you guys busy right now…?..”

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Yes, I did it, I wrote the prompt 😭 just to be clear tho, this is NOT a ship-series. I don’t really ship anyone in the movie so there won’t be an Aonung x Spider story-line.

#avatar spider #spider socorro #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar #spider avatar #avatar headcanons #atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow fluff #atwow spider #spider atwow #avatar neteyam #neteyam avatar #neteyam sully #atwow neteyam #neteyam #neteyam atwow #atwow jake #na’vi oc #avatar the way of water #miles spider soccoro #miles socorro #spider soccoro

[fishareglorious]

First limbus wip will finish this tomorrow gn

#limbus company #i am terrified for the state of ryoshu's lungs those things must be fighting for their lives #also do you think whenever dante turns back the clock it also turns back the state of her lungs into something that's somewhat decent #but then she smokes three packs in the next three hours and it's back to its original state #i need sleep but i also need answers #future fish doodles

[rollingsins]

all hers part vii

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary:  Tara hasn’t fucked you in days. When you make a scene in front of her friends, you get what’s coming to you. 

warnings: (+18) smut. strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, possessive!tara with some aftercare. ghostface!tara

word count: 2.9k

a/n: for all my horny babes out there who wanted some rough gf!tara sex. thanks for all your asks and comments, let me know what you want to see next!!

You’re bored. Tara’s friends are boring. 

It’s the fifth night this week they’ve been over. 

It made sense, you guess. Since Amber’s murder they’d been a little clingier than usual. They’d lost one of their own, it checked out they would want to grieve as a pack. 

But five nights in a row. You were losing your sanity. 

Wes brought the video games, Mindy the alcohol, Chad the weed. Liv brought herself.

They’d park up in Tara’s living room, stay until two or three in the morning. 

They’d completely interrupted you and Tara’s perfect routine; gone were the sleepy nights on the couch curled up into each other. Gone were Tara’s romantic meals, the bubble baths, making out in front of the fireplace. Instead, you sat on a couch wedged between Chad and Liv, competing with an Xbox for your girlfriend’s attention. The worst part was, Tara didn’t seem to mind. 

“Mario kart?” Chad suggests. It’s late, almost eleven.

You’d kind of hoped they'd get bored and go home, especially since the last of the weed had been smoked and Mindy had forgotten to buy beer. 

Desperately you willed Tara to tell them to go. 

“Sure.” She says instead. Reaches over you to grab one of the controllers, “Hope you’re ready to get your ass whipped.” 

You sink back into the couch. 

Perfect. 

The weed made Tara mellow a little. She got sleepy and by the time the two of you went to bed she was definitely too tired for sex. It made you a little antsy. Usually Tara couldn’t get enough of you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to fuck every night. You haven’t had sex with her in over a week and it’s killing you. 

You feel on edge. Press your hand to the small of Tara’s back, just wanting to touch her. Usually, she was all over you. Not tonight. She’s too captivated by Wes’ stupid video game. Both hands gripping the controller tight. You hate this. She’s made you jealous of an inanimate object. 

“You suck at this.” Chad tells her as he laps her. 

You rub Tara’s back. Slip your hand under her shirt, absent-mindedly. You miss her. The warmth of her skin. She retracts herself slightly, turning to shoot you a look. 

“Baby.” Tara says, frowning, “I’m trying to win.” 

Hurt swells in your chest. She’s competitive, you know that. Still, the rejection makes your heart clench painfully. You withdraw your hand. 

“I’m going to shower.” You mumble, more to yourself than anyone else. 

She hums in response. Her eyes don’t leave the television.

The shower doesn’t help. Your body feels tight. You close your eyes, try to relax. Drift your hand down, touch yourself. You rub circles on your clit, picture Tara. Her smile, her lips. Imagine her on top of you, her weight. The tiny noises she makes as she fucks you. It almost works. You bring yourself to the edge. Furrow your brow. 

Sigh. It isn’t enough. You don’t want the thought of her, you want the real thing. 

You finish up, dry yourself off. Maybe you’ll just go to bed. The idea of going back downstairs and watching Tara play video games for another two hours sounds like hell. You slip into a tank top, don’t bother with a bra. Slip on a pair of tiny, black panties. Catch the look of yourself in the mirror. You look hot. Fuckable. You bite your lip, tingle running through you. All you want is for Tara to come upstairs and press you into the mattress. 

You might know how to get it. 

They’re still playing when you walk downstairs. Your stomach flips, knowing exactly what’s about to go down. She’s going to be furious with you. If anything’s going to get her away from that stupid video game this is it. 

You feel the entire room freeze as you walk back into it. Chad and Wes stare. Even Liv looks up from her phone. No one’s looking at the screen anymore. Tara looks up at you. Blinks once. Then twice. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asks. There isn’t too much heat in her voice, not yet. Almost pure disbelief. 

You shrug. Hop down on the couch next to her. “Just getting ready for bed. Who’s winning?”

The television blares. The controllers abandoned. Wes scratches his head, looks away from you, blush rising on his cheeks. Like a moth to a flame, Chad’s eyes flicker down to your chest. But you’re not watching them. Your eyes are on your girlfriend. 

She’s livid. You can almost seem the steam coming out of her ears as she stares at you. She’s shuffling out of her own jacket, trying to wrap it around your shoulders. Your top is see-through, your panties barely cover you. You know you’re putting on a show. You’re past caring. You want these people out. If you have to get naked to do so, so be it. 

“Put this on.” Tara orders. She tries to pull the jacket around your shoulders. You shuffle away from her, defiant.

“No. I’m not cold.” 

Her brown eyes blaze. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under. Wes stands. Awkwardly runs his hands through his bleach blonde hair. 

“We should go.” He suggests. 

“Maybe we should stay.” Chad suggests, an eyebrow raised. Liv whacks him. 

“Or go.” He declares standing up, a little hasty, “Bye Tara. Good luck, YN.” 

They filter out one by one. 

Tara doesn’t take her eyes off you. You can feel the tension radiating off her. Quiet fury, the scariest kind. You’ve never pushed her like this before, your stomach thrums with the thought of what she might do. Bend you over the couch, maybe? Throw you on the floor, or spread you out on the dining room table? You feel yourself get hot at the thought. 

When the front door clicks shut, all hell breaks loose. She stands, the controllers clatter to the floor. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara hisses, “Parading yourself in front of all my friends dressed like that.” 

“I was hoping one of them would fuck me.” You say. “Since you have no interest in doing it yourself, apparently.” 

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. Her eyes darken. You don’t care, you’re angry too. Frustrated. You miss her. You just want her to claim you. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” You say. “I wanted one of them to fuck me. Maybe Chad. He’s kind of cute. Hell, Wes too, why not? Maybe they’d take turns. You can play your stupid little video-game and watch.” 

That does it. Her eyes flash. She swallows, hard. Clenches her jaw. 

“Get upstairs.” She says, voice low, dangerous. “Now.” 

You don’t have to be told twice. You practically leap off the couch. She’s following, heavy foreboding footsteps behind you. By the time you get to the bedroom, your heart is racing. She slams the door behind her, tears off her jeans. You watch as she reaches into the top drawer of the bedside cabinet. 

You don’t bother to undress. Making her angry is turning you on. She hasn’t fucked you in days. Your body craves it, craves her. You want her to remember what’s hers. You want to see how far you can take it. She pulls off the rest of her clothes, tightens the strap-on around her waist. Your mouth waters at the sight. 

“Take off your clothes.” She orders as she tightens the strap around her waist. 

“No.”

She looks up at you. You don’t often defy her when she’s like this. You were like putty in her hand most nights. It’s almost fun to watch the look in her eyes as you challenge her. 

“Take off your clothes.” She tries once more. 

“Make me.” 

She blinks back at you. Your stomach flips as you watch her. She steps towards you, hands rough as she grabs at the base of your tiny tank top, ripping it clean off. 

“Come here.” 

She tugs you to her, rough. A flurry of movement as she settles herself onto the edge of the bed, her hands tight around your waist. Then she’s pulling you onto her lap. 

“No.” She says as you try to wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her, “Face down. Now.” 

She pushes your head down, hard. Lays you flat across her lap, ass up. 

Her hands are soft, softer than they should be as they brush the fabric of your panties. 

“Don’t you ever do that again.” She says. She’s serious, stern. “Don’t you ever show yourself off like that.” 

Then she smacks your backside. Hard. 

You gasp. 

The sting sends a rush through your body. She hits you again. 

“Is this what you wanted?” She growls. Hits your ass once more. “You wanted to be over my lap like this? You wanted to be punished?” 

“Yes.” You gasp out. Arousal pulses through you. 

She tugs your panties down your legs and smacks you again. The sound of her palm hitting your bare skin echoes through the room. 

Your cheeks flush red. 

“You’re mine. I’m the only person who gets to see you like that. I’m the only person that gets to fuck you. Say it.” 

You bite your tongue. She smacks you so hard you whimper. 

“Say it.” 

“You’re the only one who gets to fuck me.” You say. 

“And?”

“I’m yours.” 

She continues her assault. Lands smack after smack to your reddening skin. By the time she’s done you’re gasping, pussy dripping wet, ass beet red.

You almost moan the moment you feel her relax, hands smoothing over the red skin. Her other hand is in your hair, stroking, almost soft before she grabs a fistful and tugs your head back.  

“Get on your back and spread your legs. Now.” 

You clamber off her. Do as you’re told this time. She’s spanked the defiance out of you. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping down your thighs, you need to her fuck you. More than you’ve ever need it before. 

Your body pulses as you spread your legs wide for her.

She’s on you in an instant. Tugging your hips to her, settling between her legs. She doesn’t bother with foreplay. No doubt she can see how pathetically turned on you are. You feel the dildo at your entrance, then she’s sinking into you for the first time in days. You almost orgasm right there on the spot. You moan, grab for her, trying to pull her down. You want to kiss her. She slaps your hands away, grabs them and holds them high above your head.

In your euphoria, you’d briefly forgotten how angry she was. 

“You told me you wanted to get fucked, so I’m going to fuck you.” She growls. Her eyes are black, the way they got only when she was like this. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. I’m going to fuck you so hard the neighbors will hear you scream.” 

She drives her hips into you, hard. You cry out; it sends shockwaves through your entire body. She slams into you once more, her thrusts deep, hard. Merciless. She doesn’t let up. Doesn’t allow you time to get used to the length of her cock as she pounds it into you. You don’t care, you like the burn. This is all you’d wanted. Tara, your Tara, wild over you, possessive, rough. Taking what’s hers. 

And then she’s fucking you so hard you can barely form a coherent thought. 

Her hands snake tight around your throat, choking you just hard enough you start to get light-headed. She’s grunting, the force of her entire weight behind her thrusts builds you so quickly to the edge. 

“Fuck.” You gasp. 

The mattress squeaks, debauched sounds of her skin slapping into yours as she pounds into you. 

“Fuck.” She’s gasping too. She removes her hands from your throat and grips your hips so hard her fingers turn white. 

“Who do you belong to?” She’s asking, but you can barely hear her over the blood pounding in your ears. The feeling of her cock rocketing up into you, splitting you open has encompassed every sense you have. 

Her fingers grab your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. 

“Who do you belong to?”

“You. I belong to you.” You gasp out. She grabs your hips, speeds up her pace. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You.” 

“That’s right.” She growls. Her hands are back around your neck, squeezing. “You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. These are mine.” 

She grabs your breasts, flicks your nipples with her fingers. Her hips don’t stop moving. You can’t take much more, you feel your stomach coiling. 

“Every part of you belongs to me. Don’t you ever show yourself off again. To anyone. Do you understand me?” 

You’re nodding wildly. Half-lidded eyes. At that she seems satisfied. She reaches down between your bodies and circles your clit. 

You cum. Hard. White light flashes behind your eyelids, every part of your body feels like it’s on fire. Your pussy throbs around her. The low cry you let out sounds almost inhuman. 

She doesn’t relent. Pounds you through your orgasm. Her thrusts are angry, hard. Unforgiving. You tremble beneath her, heart almost beating out of your chest. She thrusts into you once more, then she’s sliding out of you, propping herself on her knees. 

“Turn over.” She growls. 

Your pussy aches, the orgasm almost too much. You feel light-headed, sensitive. You grip at her forearm. 

“Baby-“ 

“I’m not done with you. Turn over.” 

You don’t dare disobey her. Your pussy throbs, your ass stings from the force of her hands. You clamber onto your hands and knees. She’s lining herself up again, sinking into you without any warning. You grunt as she pushes you face down into the mattress, her cock sinking all the way inside. 

She pushes your head down into the mattress. 

You feel each thrust. Your body is starting to feel it now, the way she’s been manhandling you. She lands another smack to your bright red cheeks and you almost cry out from the pain. But then she tilts her hips in such a way that you’re gasping her name out into the pillow. 

You can feel another orgasm building. 

She’s grunting. Her hands are around your thighs, tilting her hips so she can get as deep as possible. She hits the right spot once, then twice, then you’re moaning loudly into the pillow as your orgasm overtakes you. You feel her hips jerk, nails digging into your skin as she cums too. 

You’re quivering when she pulls out. You barely feel her slip out of the strap-on and nestle down beside you. Your heartbeat is in your ears. Your entire body aches. 

You shake as you feel her hands on your back, trying to pull you into her. 

“Come here.” Tara says. She tugs you into her chest and wraps you in her arms. She presses a long kiss to your forehead. You shiver. 

“Good girl.” She says. The anger is gone. She strokes a protective hand over your back. “Are you okay?”

You nod into her chest. Angry red hand marks bloom on your hips, your ass cheeks still red from when she’d put you over her knee.  Your pussy aches, but in a good kind of way. The kind it always did when she made you hers like this. 

Her hands skim over your bare skin, rubbing, apologetic. She presses another kiss to the top of your head. 

“You need to never do that again.” She warns, circling a protective arm around you. “I’m serious, baby. You know what it does to me.” 

You do know. You know she’s killed people for just talking about wanting you. You’d put all of her friends in danger tonight. More than than, you’d awakened that part of her she was trying so desperately to shelve for you. You press a kiss to her chest, trying to steady her beating heart. 

“I know.” You murmur, “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to pay attention to me.” 

It sounds so childish when you say it like that. 

She looks at you for a long moment. 

“I’m sorry, baby-girl.” She says, “I’ve been neglecting you.” 

For the first time all night, she leans down and kisses you softly.

“You’re my whole world. You know that.” She says, strokes her finger over your cheek. You look up into her eyes. The black is gone, replaced by her soft brown irises.

“I know.” You say. Bury your face into her chest. This was all you wanted. Just you and her, the way it should be.

“I’m sorry too.” You murmur into her skin. “I don’t want Wes or Chad, I don’t even know why I said that. I’d rather die than be with someone that isn’t you.” 

She likes that. You can tell by the way she curls her hand into the base of your neck, protectively. You yawn, a little sleepy. 

“School’s going to be hell tomorrow.” You say, remembering the show you’d put on. 

“We’re not going to school tomorrow.” Tara says. She rubs a lazy hand down your bare back, “We’re going to sleep in, and then I’m going to make you pancakes.” She presses a heavy kiss to the top of your head. “And then I’m going to make you cum for every day I didn’t last week.” 

That does sound appealing. Your stomach flips. You press your lips to her chest. 

“Love you.” You mumble into her skin. 

“Love you too.”

Next part

#ghostface!tara #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #mine #fanfiction #ah #scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x fem reader

[octuscle]

Business trip (Day three)

It was a night of wild dreams. Liam fucked me harder than I'd ever been fucked before. At least when I was sober. I still don't know what happened the day before yesterday on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. Liam got up at 05:00 and drove to the wholesale market. Apparently he had planned for me to spend the night at his place. My suit from the day before hung neatly in his room. Next to it was my laptop bag. Was all this shit with the kitchen slave and submissive boot servant a crazy dream? It didn't matter at all. I have a whole lost day at the office to make up for. I shower, get ready and head to the client. The door is locked. My phone rings. It's Liam. "Good morning, Mack! Did you sleep well?" I ask, what the fuck, I have to get to work. "But not like this, Mack. There's a long hair clipper in the bathroom. And a wet razor. The door won't unlock until you're shiny bald." I want to protest for a second. I think about calling the police. But I reply, "Sure thing, boss!" And go into the bathroom. Half an hour later, I look at myself in the mirror. Everything as usual, right down to my eyebrows. I run my hand over my head, which is as smooth as a baby's bottom. Shit, I've soaked my underpants with precum again. I get a message from Liam. "Good boi!" And the door lock buzzes open.

When I set up my laptop at the customer's, I find a packet of tobacco, cigarette filters and cigarette paper in my laptop bag. And a Zippo. I am a professional. I don't get distracted when I'm working. I love my job. But I can't wait for my lunch break. Normally I would have sat down in a café somewhere and had lunch. Now I grab a sandwich from the supermarket and sit on a park bench. And practise rolling cigarettes. I watch tutorials on YouTube. The first results are pathetic. But the fifth cigarette I roll and smoke before I get back to my desk is already quite respectable. I take two more cigarette breaks in the afternoon. Shit, why didn't I start smoking earlier?

When I arrive at the hotel in the evening, my room card no longer works. Damn, of course, I actually wanted to leave on Thursday. I go down to reception. The lady is very friendly, but explains that housekeeping had to pack up my things this morning because the room was occupied again. Unfortunately, I couldn't be reached on my cell phone. I ask her to call me again. She says it goes straight to voicemail. I look at my cell phone in amazement. Liam sends a message. "I've forgotten. You have a new number. I have your old SIM card." Shit, this has gone too far!

I ask the lady at reception if she has another room. She is sorry. There's a fair in town at the weekend. They are already overbooked and have a waiting list. Message from Liam: "Sorry, mate! I have a visitor today. But you can sleep in the back room of the snack bar tonight." I ask if I can pack my suitcase somewhere quiet and make a few phone calls. The lady says that one of the small meeting rooms is free. She even helps me with my suitcase, the two plastic bags and my laptop bag. I sit down at the meeting table and start by emptying my suitcase and plastic bag. My things are all there. And I'm used to packing my suitcase. Everything is neatly stowed away after a few minutes. But there were still a few things in the plastic bags that I hadn't noticed yesterday morning. Two monstrous dildos. Three jockstraps that were no longer fresh. A fat silver chain. And a hip bag. In addition to condoms, it also contained poppers, tobacco, cigarette paper and small plastic bags with dried flowers…. I put the chain on. It feels cool and chavvy. I check my mailbox remotely. Fortunately, hardly any calls, nothing important, most of them sent me an e-mail afterwards anyway. I change the voicemail text to say that I can't be reached by phone at the moment for technical reasons and to ask for an e-mail. Okay, whatever Liam is up to, at least he can't do me any more harm. And now maybe I should take him up on his kind offer of the back room. But first I really need a fag. I'm standing outside the hotel with my belongings, rolling a cigarette pretty routinely, when the next message from Liam arrives. "Mack, the place is full. Your shift starts in an hour."

The room behind the snack bar is a bit of a hole. But I have a locker where I can hang my stuff. There's a cot that's even already made up. And my things are on it. White jeans, white fine-rib undershirt, jockstrap, long soccer socks. All old and worn. But clean. Plus high rubber boots and yesterday's heavy rubber apron. The long rubber gloves. No hairnet. You look in the mirror and rub your bald head, which is no longer quite so smooth. Hehehe, you really don't need a hairnet anymore. You really look like a chav with that chain. The jockstrap absorbs the first drop of precum. It'll have more to swallow in the course of the evening.

The snack bar is indeed packed. Many guests are hooting and clapping when I come into the dining room at around 8:30 pm to clear the dirty dishes. More than one person slaps my ass or grabs my crotch under my apron. An astonishing number of the guests are wearing leather jeans. Most are wearing T-shirts or tank tops, some are bare-chested. No wonder, it's warm outside and hot in here. I quickly work up a sweat. I have to take off my undershirt and necklace, I just get too warm. But at least I'm getting on well with the dishwasher now and I've got the scullery pretty well under control.

"Hey Mack," I hear Liam yell. "The toilet's blocked. Clean it up!" Damn, dishwasher was already an imposition. But toilet cleaner is a step up. The toilet is a disaster. The floor is a puddle of piss and the urinal is completely filthy. But the toilet bowl takes the cake. Hey, where can you shit all over it? It stinks like hell. But somehow… It turns you on. You know where the bucket and cleaning cloth are by now. I start by mopping the floor so I can kneel down to clean the toilet. And then i stick my arm deep into the toilet to clear the blockage. I'm covered in shit. Without thinking, I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my forearm. Behind me, there is howling. Four or five guys are standing in the doorway wanking. I don't want to wipe that shit away too. So I let them cum in my open face. More and more guys join them. I kneel in a growing mess. Full of cum. Pissed all over. Smeared with shit. Meanwhile, dirty dishes are piling up again in the dining room. Liam shouts at me that I'm not employed as a urinal but as a dishwasher and toilet cleaner. Little by little, the dining room empties. Around 11:30 pm, the last guest has left. With Liam in his arms. It takes me until 02:00 a.m. to get everything cleaned up and me, too, to be clean.

I roll my first cigarette in hours. I stand outside the snack bar. And wank at the thought of the hot evening.

#male tf #forced tf #submission #white to blue collar tf

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: undone - the sweater song—weezer

masterlist! | commissions | carrd

• Rooming with Troy and Abed had been one of the easiest decisions of your life. Two years of friendship and student debt loans really did a lot to convince a person

• You were a little worried about the actual process of moving, considering what happened last time the study group got together to move, but it ended up going pretty smooth. Jeff didn't even try to pretend he was sick this time, something that Britta sarcastically applauded him for. And Shirley held back from judging you about your lack of Christian memorabilia. She instead resorted to clutching her cross necklace tighter than the time she found out Britta smoked pot

• In between lugging boxes and bedframes around, Annie reassured you over and over that she was totally fine with you taking up the apartment vacancy instead of her. She was honestly looking forward to her new place just off the cusp of campus grounds. Said it would be easier to get in for a midnight study session. Whatever that meant

• You just nodded slowly and excused yourself to pack in a different corner

• Troy and Abed on the other hand were absolutely stoked throughout the move. So much so, that they put most of their shenanigans on pause to get the move over faster. Most of them.

• "Abed, untie Troy from the chair. I need to put that in the back of my car. You can do that when we get to your place."

• "Ten more minutes?"

• "No, guys."

• "Aw man."

• The next few hours ran as smooth as they could with eight people trying to walk up two flights of stairs. Eventually, everything got unloaded into the living room, and excuses were made as why people had to leave. Some more elegantly than others

• "Yeah, as much as I'd love to stay and watch you three nerds discuss which Batman poster goes where—" Jeff hummed as he typed away on his phone, "—I've got places to be and women to charm."

• "What he said!"

• "Pierce, I don't think there's a single lady out there that would touch you with a ten foot pole." You deadpanned

• "Ertha Kitt did. And she did more than just touch me—"

• "Okay. Out."

• Troy and Abed surprised you that night with a new pair of pajamas to match their own, and an impromtu Inspector Spacetime marathon

•Both of them beamed when you came out into the living room later wearing it. A part of you figured they were just happy that you were cool with your blanket fort, though

• You ended up sitting criss crossed on top of an unpacked box while they took to their knockoff la-z-boys

• "Do you guys think we should actually unpack things before starting the next episode?" You asked at some point late into the night, glancing at the blinking analog clock on the TV stand

• "No." Abed answered you without even looking up from the end credits

• "Yeah me neither." You grinned. "I want to see if Reggie kills any blorgons this time."

• All in all, becoming their third best friend and tennant was one of the best decisions any of you had made—even if it did take you a month to convince Troy and Abed to let you take partial room in the dreamatorium

#community #community x reader #community x you #community x y/n #troy barnes #abed nadir #abed x troy #troy x abed #troy x reader #troy x you #troy x y/n #abed x reader #abed x you #abed x y/n #jeff winger #britta perry #shirley bennett #pierce hawthorne #annie edison #x reader #headcanons

[munsonssub]

Well shit- Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

Prompt: you mistake joe for friend of a friend on a night out. Luckily it leads to a meet-cute

A/n: okay this is the first fic I have written in 7 years! Plus it’s my first ever reader insert so I apologize if it sucks but THERES LIKE NO JOE FICS SO I HAD TO WRITE MY OWN. Also I wrote this on my phone so idk how to edit italics to post if someone could help me. I also don’t know how to add a read more on mobile either so that’s fun. Help me pls

My husband proof read it so if there’s mistakes blame him.

Warnings: smoking, drinking, idk if there’s anything else.

Word count: 1,975. (Whoops)

A normal Saturday night. That’s what your friends promised you when they showed up at your flat three hours ago with two bottles of wine and a glint in their eyes. You should’ve known, should’ve picked up on the fact they showed up ready to go out. Maybe it was blind optimism, thinking they wouldn’t force you out of your cocoon of misery.

Listen, you know they want what’s best for you, with things at work piling up and your stupid now ex boyfriend always texting you, you know you need this. One night off, one night of freedom, one night to say fuck you and just party. But fuck man you just wanted to be back on your couch, watching shitty reality tv, probably snacking on too many sweets to be healthy. Instead you are sitting at a new bar that your friend swore up and down would be chill vibes.

Liar.

People were everywhere. You had lost half of the group when you got here, Already a bottle and a half of wine in.

So here you are, waiting to grab a couple shots while your friend Chloe stands beside you flirting with anyone who will give her a moment because the best drinks are free drinks. Which she isn’t wrong, but you’d just gotten out of a four year relationship, flirting is a foreign language now and you weren’t about to embarrass yourself like that.

When the bartender finally came over to you, you quickly ordered four shots, if you were here to have fun you were having fun, quickly sliding your cash to the bartender you nudged Chloe so she’d take her two shots while you took yours. Honestly you wouldn’t hate this so much if it was just you and her and the friends she showed up at your house with, but as you were getting in your cab to come to the bar she informed you that they were meeting up with other people there. It was quick when you met up barely getting glances of some of the people, as you struggled to light a cigarette. It was fine though as long as Chloe was with you, you knew you could make it through the night.

Finally letting the burning of the alcohol subside you grab Chloe’s hand to go to the dance floor, the next hour passes in a flash of bodies and drinks. Stumbling, very gracefully, you yelled to your other friend, Shelly, that you were going outside, needing a smoke and a break from the music. Pushing through the bodies you made your way to the door, mumbling apologies as you went.

Finally you could breathe once you were outside, mind numb and limps tired you started searching for your smoke pack, you know you put it in your pocket after the one you had when you arrived. Quietly mumbling to yourself you finally gripped it your back pocket. Pulling it out you let out a breath of relaxation only to groan when you flipped the top and realized it was empty.

“Mother fucker, I knew I was forgetting something. Stupid wine.” You sighed leaning against the wall.

Then you saw him. Standing a couple metres away, smoking a cigarette, you recognized the outfit, white button up with loose light wash jeans. You swear he was with your group, or at least a part of the half you met up with. So with the energy you could muster you pushed yourself off the wall, wrapping your arms around yourself and silently hyping yourself up.

Not fully paying attention to what he was taking about you wandered over. you patted his shoulder like a friend who hasn’t seen him in a while would. Smiling as he cut his sentence short, turning to look at you, smoke half way up to his mouth, big brown eyes staring at you as you smiled back.

“Hello good sir,” You mock bow, slightly stumbling towards the wall.

Fuck I swear I’m smoother than this. You thought to yourself.

You look back up at him and smile again as he subtly checks you out, probably wondering why a random drunk girl had wandered up to him.

“So funny thing. Chloe and Shelly made me come out tonight because work is fucked and max non stop texting me is fucked so they decided that I needed to come out and have a good time but my smart self forgot to get smokes before,” you flash him the empty pack with a pout. “And I was wondering because you know them apparently if I could steal a smoke off you.” You ramble, barely noticing his empty hand coming to steady you at your waist as you looked back up at him.

He had a smirk and for a second you wondered if he was apart of the group because you swear you would’ve remembered him, with his beautiful eyes, curly hair, and slight facial hair. Must’ve been one of the guys at the back.

“Uh yeah yeah, sure love, here yah go.” He handed you the lit half smoked cigarette for you to take a drag off of.

Jumping with excitement to finally have a sweet hit of nicotine you grabbed it from his fingers, your warm skin slightly rubbing against his cold fingers. You mock bowed again then took a long drag before blowing it up between the three of you.

“Fuck I’m so rude, I’m Y/N, Chloe didn’t introduce us. Not surprised that girl knows everyone.” You slurred, sticking your hand out for him and his friend to shake.

A moment of realization hit him and his friend, looking at each other as you took another drag before offering it back to him.

You thought they were someone else.

“Nice to meet you love, I’m Jamie and this is Joseph,” his friend gestured to himself then to the man at your side.

Joseph.

You quickly looked over his friend as Joseph grabbed the smoke from your hands. Longish blonde hair, sharp features, beautiful blue eyes. Damn you gotta give Chloe more credit, she sure knows how to get pretty people to be her friends.

“How’s your night been going?” Joseph asks you, turning more towards you as you lean on the wall, his hand slowly leaving your waist. Quickly grabbing his cigarette pack and offering you a full one as you fish for your lighter in your other pocket. Thanking him you took it and quickly lit it up, taking a full pull before exhaling.

“You’re a fucking lifesaver,” you flick the smoke. “It’s going, my feet hurt, and I have done enough shots to probably kill a small horse, but hey, at least I still remember my name. But you Joseph I’m curious about, how’s your night?”

“Could say the same, though I’m nowhere near as drunk as I want to be, this sap here,” he pointed to Jamie, you followed his hand looking at the sole ring on his finger before looking at Jamie. “Wanted to call his girlfriend to check in on her.”

“Oh that’s so cute, fuck I wish my boyfriend did that. All he did was cheat on me during night outs,” You rambled, not noticing how the two men slightly winced at the harshness of your voice, taking a puff and continuing. “Anyways, that’s why I’m out tonight because fuck that guy, you guys wanna do a shot with me?” You spoke quickly before losing your confidence.

“I would, but speaking of my girlfriend she’s almost here to get me but you can steal this man for the night I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Jamie winks at you. You giggle slightly, turning more towards Joseph and putting your hand on his chest.

“What do ya say josi? Wanna do a shot? Join me on my level?” You flirt, well you hope you’re flirting, if Chloe knows these guys you know they are used to good flirting.

Joseph laughs to himself, rubbing his thumb on his lip before dropping his cigarette and squishing it out.

“Finish that up and I’m all yours.” He winked at you while pointing at your now half a cigarette.

“Hell yeah, hope you are ready to party.” You drunkenly finish the smoke as Joseph says goodbye to Jamie.

Waving at Jamie as he walks down the street to meet his girlfriend, Joseph pushes himself off the wall to stand in front of you. You giggle slightly before dropping your cigarette and stamping out as he did before. Wiggling your eyebrows you stand to your full height, still a few inches shorter than him.

“You ready for the night of your life?”

“Do you worst darling.” He sticks his hand out for you to start leading him inside.

Another hour passes, filled with Joseph catching up with shots as you tried to keep your buzz at the same level. You had filled the time with talking and getting to know him, he told you about his week that was full of work, never really telling you what he did for work though. You told him about you too, about your job that honestly at this you point you just wanted to quit just so you didn’t have to see your bosses face anymore. Giggling and smiling at each other as you slowly inched closer around the table you were sitting at as you talked. Honestly you were a little peeved Chloe kept this man hidden for so long with how well you were getting along.

Suddenly you felt a weight on your back and the smell of Chloe’s sweet perfume.

“Y/N! There you are. Shelly said you went for a smoke and then you never came back! I thought you died!” She slurred into your ear, hanging off you.

“I’m good clo, met one of your friends outside.” You gestured to Joseph, who looked a little panicked as he sipped on the water bottle he grabbed for the both of you.

Chloe looked over at him, sizing him up for second before turning to you.

“Y/N babe, I don’t know who this is,” Chloe giggled. “though you do have the same style as our friend Scott.” She directed at him.

Joseph paled as you shook your head stopping for a second.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck OH FUCK

That’s why he looked familiar, Chloe’s friend Scott, Scott who wore almost the exact same outfit. Scott who you had only met once. Your eyes widened before you full on started laughing.

“Oh my god. I am so stupid,” you got up and leaned over Joseph, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hand came to sit at where they crossed. Leaning down you kissed the side of his head. “You are such a sweetheart, letting me have a cigarette when you don’t even know me.”

“Oh thank god I thought you were going to be mad, I’m sorry love. Didn’t know how to tell you I didn’t know your friend here when you told me about her dragging you out.” He breathlessly said into your ear and you leaned on him. You looked a Chloe and gave her a quick look of ‘get out of here ma’am’ before leaning back up and patting Joseph’s shoulder.

“Well charmer, we can either pretend this didn’t happen, or we can go back out for a smoke and see where the night takes us.” You say to him as he turns in his chair.

“How about this. We go for a smoke,” he hands you his pack as he stands. “And, I take you out on a date next week to apologize for not telling you I don’t know you.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal josi.”

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #Joseph Quinn x you #eddie munson #eddie Munson x reader

[champangekisses]

Afterglow | R.C. & J.M.

Part One

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: swearing, banter, arguing, anger, suggestive, flirting

Summary: Reader’s first day back in the OBX after a year away is one to remember.

A/n: Part one to my first fic. I’m as excited as I am nervous to post this, I hope you enjoy!

All I could hear was the shouting, the constant rustle in the trees, the dogs barking uncontrollably. The flashlights shone through the trees and bushes as the sheriff and fellow deputies tried to desperately catch up to us. The fear set in, the rush of adrenaline still persistent in my body. I started to go numb as the limbs of the trees and bushes consistently smacked me all over. Then finally it happened, right before my eyes—my greatest fear became my living nightmare.

One Month Earlier

“Y/n! Make sure you pack yourself something nice to wear, remember no white!” My mom yelled up to remind me for the one hundredth time from the base of the stairs. I left the OBX a year ago, moved out to the middle of nowhere with my mom and her new husband and started a completely new life with them. Today, I finally get to go home, but unfortunately only for a week.

The Thornton’s eldest daughter is getting married off to some kid who graduated from law school, nothing special other than the groom comes from a wealthy family, and that's all that really matters out there. Keeping the rich - rich. My mom was always obsessed with the idea of me having a lifestyle almost identical to hers but I never was one for the shinier things in life, I just wanted to smoke pot and surf.

I had a plan though, she had always promised me that we would return off of one condition. “You will never see those worthless kids ever again.” Her words replayed in my head like the unmistakable tune of the piano keys I kept tapping ever so faintly as I waited by her bedroom entry, only to retain her opinion of the attire I had picked for the dreadful day to come.

“Y/n? Do you need something?” I quickly zoned back in, collecting all of the vindictive thoughts and stuffing them in a folder labeled drafts. I turned quickly to face her, she was in the middle of packing almost every nonessential item in her bathroom.

I gradually made my way to her bedside, settling down while staring at the ardent red dress in the palm of my hands. “What do you think about this one?” I spoke excitedly, masking the deceitful thoughts I was creating effortlessly in my head.

“I love it! The red dress has always been my favorite.” Her eyes glimmered at the thought of seeing me finally fit in with the kooks or as my step dad would say, the well educated kids. I gave a gentle smile to her before proceeding back through her reimposed bedroom doorway, gliding my fingers ever so delicately over the keys of the piano once more before continuing back up the staircase.

The trip there was awful and boring, outside of the plane windows you saw nothing but the many shades of green, luckily we were there within the matter of a couple hours. We took the latest flight that ultimately landed us at Charleston around eight in the evening. Exhaustedly as I am, I took it into my best interest to sleep during the next three and a half hours of our drive to the Outer Banks.

My body started lightly being pulled in one direction, then the other with every winding turn the old road took. With my eyes closed and slowly waking up, I started imagining the scenery of the old famous hang out at John B's. It was like dreaming in slow motion, watching as the sun kissed the water while we overcame the dying urge for a good time with uncontrollable laughter. Before my imagination concluded the car slowed, turning unhurriedly through massive gates that sat imperishable at the end of the elongated driveway.

Pulling up to the front doors of the old Tanneyhill Estate, I glanced into a dining room window staring at the distinctive profile of well-known Rafe Cameron. Our arrival made the inevitable distraction from the conversation at the dinner table which caused him to turn, concentrating on the moving vehicle on the other side of the very same window. The car stopped and I regained focus, grabbing my hand bag from the floorboard of the SUV before undoing my seatbelt.

Glancing down at my phone to check the time, I rested my hand on the door handle. Before I could put the energy into finally pulling it towards me, Ward swiftly swings the car door open—smiling almost as if he has never seen such a wonderful sight in his life. While demanding he help my stepdad with an argumentative tone, he reaches out for my hand and mildly holds it to help me out of the car.

I mumble a soft thanks before glancing to the front doors, locking eyes with the golden boy. Meanwhile behind me, Ward was continuing to the next car door, assisting with any need my parents had. Rafe never broke eye contact, even when he shifted his posture to lean against the framework, crossing his ankles while his hands stayed in his pockets. His smirk turned into a devilish grin that wreaked nothing but chaos. He sent chills that vibrated my bones, and even once received was not sufficient enough for the goosebumps coming to life on my neck.

I stared at the walkway in front of me, with each step the pit in my stomach grew. I could feel his eyes on me like the force of rain during a downpour. The closer we were, the weight of his stare grew even more burdensome. I felt so compliant around him, so timid. I finally reached the top of the stairs, I swung my arm out to grab the handle but Rafe had already beaten me to it. My hand gently landed on his, my anxiety quickly rising as I ripped mine back to me. His daunting smile let out a faint chuckle that only I could hear.

“If I don't get the door for you, I'm sure I'll hear about it later from my dad.” His tone was so taunting, as if he wanted me to react. I continued through the entry room, following the long narrow hallway to the backside of the home. Sarah was sitting on the love seat that was shared by her younger sister Wheezy. She wasted no time swiftly moving her head to look at the shadowed figure stepping into the light of her living room. Sarah immediately shot up, pushing everything from her lap directly on top of her sister. I prepared my body for the impact of Sarah’s as she pulled me in. We stayed continuously hugging for what felt like forever—neither of us comprehending quite yet that we were in reality. Ward hurried with the luggage, trying to push us in and assign us our rooms. We wasted no time getting ready for bed, I was anxious for what my tomorrow would bring.

I ended up sleeping in for far too long though, waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs way past the time I should be. Shooting myself up off the floor, I scurried into the bathroom across the hall. I shut the door quickly and immediately started the shower water. The only problem was that I forgot the clothes I needed to change into, so I wrapped a towel around me as my hair stayed drenched. Cracking the door open, I checked the hallway making sure nobody was able to witness the embarrassment I was about to endure. I darted across the hall, running through the entry of the bedroom I assumed was mine. I slammed the door a little too hard before turning around to look for my nonexistent clothes on the floor. Rafe, laying down on his bed, props himself up using his forearm and elbow.

“Since when did we share a room?” I jump by the sudden question asked towards me, not prepared to potentially be interrogated. I almost lose my towel in the process while Rafe begins to chuckle at my distress.

“Excuse me?” I questioned as I felt my face starting to warm as his stare intensed.

“You’re excused.” He replied with a smirk as his tone quickly became playful, I started to become flustered before popping off on him.

“You disrespectful brat! All of our interactions have ended with me being uncomfortable. You couldn’t even open the door for me out of courtesy when we first arrived! Now I'm here, sitting in a towel and you won’t even get up and help save me from this embarrassment! You’re such a jackass.” My voice started to raise as the fire within me started to spread.

Rafe shot up out of the bed as if he was being demanded to by a drill sergeant. His mood switched, intimidating was an understatement. He approached me with the same devilish smile he once had just last night, his hand reached out to hold my jaw—gentle yet firm. My breathing stopped, I couldn’t even say a word to him. Rafe brought his mouth to my ear, the closer he got the more submissive I became.

“Do you really want me to leave?” His voice made my skin crawl, my heart started pounding and my breathing came back but in manual.

“Get off of me, you mutt.” I smacked his hand away from my face which caused him to laugh before his tone shifted once again and he turned away from me.

“Get out.” He demanded. I felt even more embarrassed, I glanced at my feet noticing that I still wasn't dressed yet and it was going on late morning. I started to make my way to the door as Rafe seated himself on his bedside, I grabbed the handle and swung open his door. Walking out as if I meant to, I attempted to keep my confidence. I knew all too well that he watched me leave, my mom’s words played in my head as I proceeded down the hall once more. A dog will always remain a dog.

I finished getting dressed before making my way to the kitchen, my mom already had a cup of coffee waiting for me.

“What happened to you? I heard you get out of the shower and then it took you quite some time to get ready.” My face began to burn, Rafe’s words replicating a broken record in my head. My eyes wide open looking down at my feet with the mug full of coffee to my mouth, I sipped at it before placing it back down onto the island where she was sitting.

“I had some trouble with putting my outfit together.” I replied, hoping that was enough to get her off of my back. I couldn’t exactly tell her what happened or she would take it as a connection and mentally start wedding planning.

“Y/n! Come over here!” Sarah yelled from the back patio. My mom shaking her head in approval, I went on my way from the previous conversation and walked into an even more enlightened one. Sarah approached me with a growing smile while pulling what looked to be Topper away from Rafe whom he was actively having a conversation with. Rafe from afar glanced over at them approaching me before sitting down on patio furniture and gluing his face to his phone.

“Y/n, I wanted you to be reintroduced to my now boyfriend, Topper.” Sarah announced as I smiled, knowing that eventually they would connect. Topper has always had something special for Sarah, it was only a matter of time before she noticed.

I stepped aside from the conversation, staring off into the distance, watching the waves ever so lightly wash against the dock and the sailboats glide effortlessly against the water. I missed this, but I missed my friends more than anything. I stood there, with my mug in my hand and the coffee sitting dormant inside soon growing cold. Dreaming of the moment I see them, the Pogues.

Then, as my imagination settled, a figure started walking towards the house from the dock. Taking all of my attention away from my long forgotten wishes, they looked worn from a long day's work. When they grew closer to the back patio we shot each other a curious glance, our eyes locked which then became intense within seconds. I lost my grip, everything going numb before the mug shattered beneath me.

John B.

My lifelong best friend, walking through the yard of my now greatest enemy. Not one soul wasted time to come to my side, except for Rafe. He kept a glare on John B. as he continued down the pathway, you could see in his dark malevolent eyes that he was not welcomed here by him. Meanwhile, Ward ran to us from around the house while my mom and Rose came from the back doors.

“Y/n are you okay!? What happened!?” My mom grabbed my wrists and pulled me to her for a reply.

“N-nothing mom, I'm fine. Please.” I pushed away from her, running inside as Ward cleaned the pieces of porcelain. I went straight to the bathroom, not even sparing a moment to close the door. I turned on the cold water from the sink, staring motionless at the unrecognizable girl in the mirror while my eyes started to burn as the tears formed. I cupped the freezing water before bending over to splash it on my face, hiding any evidence of my emotion.

“I can’t believe I'm asking this but, are you okay?” With both hands gripping the bathroom counter I turned my head sharply to the door, Rafe stared at me with one eyebrow slightly raised while keeping one hand on the doorframe for support as he stood. I gave an angry chuckle before I collected myself.

“Yes, I'm fine. You can go now.” I seethed, Rafe rolled his eyes before making his way back down the hallway, mumbling the entire time before he stepped outside and back to tending to his dad’s needs. I wouldn’t go back outside, solely to prevent myself from becoming even more embarrassed by the scene I left behind. I went into the kitchen, watching my mom and Rose laugh over something that I had absolutely no interest in hearing about. Rose kindly handed me a glass of water before asking if I was okay. I felt myself turn pink, before I could even thank her and reassure her Sarah ran in from outside.

“Y/n! If you’re up for it, Topper wants to take us out for a ride in his new boat?” I turned to my mom waiting for her approval before running away from this nightmare. She sent me a soft smile before returning to her gossip session. I followed Sarah back out to the patio, ignoring the urge to apologize a hundred times for the mess I had created.

The boat wasn’t much to brag about, I don’t even remember the name of it honestly. I did enjoy the scenery though, and being able to let the water hug my fingers as we cruised back toward the dock. As we pulled up to tie off Rafe just couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer

“So Y/n, why did you freak out like that back there at the house?” He questioned with an upward curve forming at the corner of his mouth. It made Sarah and Topper turn their heads to give me their full attention, and I couldn’t help but to glare at Rafe. This made him smile, his sunglasses hiding his eyes that had probably nothing but pure enthusiasm as he taunted me.

“So Rafe, why did you come check on me when I ran inside?” I teased, his smile soon fading while Sarah and Topper turned their heads back forward, hiding the smiles they held from the total humiliation they had just witnessed. Rafe had nothing to say but I felt accomplished knowing I officially put the pretty boy in his place, reminding him that two can play his game.

Once Topper tied the boat off we all hopped out. Rafe was of course the first one while I was last, which I didn’t mind because I wouldn’t want the help out. We all walked back to the house together until I realized I had forgotten my sandals, I turned around not even sparing a second to tell anybody. I hopped back into the boat and within seconds had found them, once I stepped out a familiar voice chimed in my ears.

“Hey there, stranger.”

My heart skipped a beat as I instinctively turned my head to look on the second level of the yacht that sat beside me. We made eye contact before I cracked a smile.

“I'll be damned; John B. Routledge.” I replied, he already had a glowing smile on his face, the same one as when we first met in school.

“Why don’t you come down here so we can be on the same level?” I tried to convince him, but luckily for me he had the same idea. John B hurried down, grabbing onto the side of the boat for him to throw himself over. While running to me to trap me in a hug, the strongest one I've been in so far. He pulled away from me but not letting go just yet.

“Y/n, you have to come to the bonfire tomorrow night. Everybody will be there and I know Kie, Pope and JJ would love to see you.” He encouraged me as I froze, not knowing how to explain that my parents absolutely despised him and the Pogues.

“I’m sure we will see each other. I know Topper and Sarah have been talking about going while we were out today.” I replied warily. John B had a concerned look on his face that had a splash of frustration before popping the one question I wished he hadn’t.

“So, you’re hanging out with the Kooks now?” I pushed him away from me.

“It's not as easy as you think it is to go back to how I once was; I have strict rules to follow and if I want to stay here for as long as I intend to do so, I have to play along.” I retorted as he stared at me wide-eyed. I knew he was confused and probably a little hurt by my reaction but that was the easiest way to tell him. I was suffocating myself staying in that home but I had another six days to try to prove to my parents that we should come back.

“I’m sorry John B., but my parents told me the only way I could come back is if I stay away from you. But -” I bit my lip, staring off into the horizon as the sun started to trinkle its way down to the water. John B grew impatient while I questioned myself to tell him my plan.

“But what Y/n?” He whined, making me snap out of my trance.

“But—if they just think I am a Kook, then they should get convinced quickly. Making it easier to hang out with you, since you know…they won’t be keeping a close eye on me.” John B sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as he kept a stare down at the boards of the dock.

“I mean, I don’t think we have any other choice.” He replied looking back up to me, a soft smile formed once more on his face.

“Look at it this way; we finally got the Pogues back.” I smiled in response, it felt refreshing talking to John B. His voice reminded me of the soft waves as they caress the sand on the shore, the crackle of a fire that's burning at night to devour the darkness around you.

“I will see you tomorrow John.'' I smiled as I turned away from him.

“Don’t keep me waiting Y/L/N.” he replied as I started my way back to the house, blushing with a smile as I continued down the dock.

John B. was my best friend. I would be lying if I said he wasn't cute, but my eyes were on somebody else—precisely from a year ago. I stepped in through the doors that welcomed me back into the kitchen. Ward had taken Rose and my parents out for a nice dinner on the water for a warm welcome home. Sarah, Topper and Wheezy got dressed in time for the remaining two hours to be filled with laughter in the pool out back. I rounded the corner into the hallway before I was stopped by none other than Rafe, he was leaning against the wall with a look of disappointment growing on his face.

“So what was that all about?” He questioned, I stood there making awkward eye contact. Was he watching me?

“Hello?” Rafe poked once more, I furrowed my eyebrows before sending him an attitude.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” I pushed myself past him as he turned to watch me leave.

“It could be mine or it could be your parents’.” He barked back to me. I stopped walking as he slowly progressed towards me. I stood in fear of what my parents would do if they ever knew. I could feel his presence behind me, the goosebumps rising on my back and arms like a mountain range protruding through my skin. I turned around, finally gaining the courage to face him.

“Excuse me?” The anger spilling through my teeth.

“You heard me.” Rafe shot back at me, as if he planned out exactly what I would say to him. He lived for this, the mess he creates in my head and the endless ways he taunts me just to get me to react. He was a soulless, mediocre bastard of a person. The devil was such an understatement at this point, I only wanted to hit him but I wouldn't hear the end of it from my parents.

“Leave them at the cut, Y/n. You’re on figure eight now. You need to start acting like it.” I scoffed at him before ditching the conversation by walking away and into the guest bedroom I was staying in. Rafe followed, but stayed at the door.

“Don’t think that I don’t know how bad you want to come home, if I was you I would hang with us.” He suggested, I sit on the bedside before looking over to Rafe, one eyebrow raised before laughing at him.

“You really think I want to be friends with you? Sarah is the only kook I actually enjoy being around, but you? You are a plague that walks the earth, you only want to cause harm and enjoy watching as everything falls apart. I would never want to be associated with you, ever.” I felt my rage start to rummage through me as Rafe rolled his eyes before shutting the door, mumbling some more as he made his way back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

I put myself to bed, anxious that Rafe now has something to control me with, but how did he know that I wanted to come home? I’ve only told Sarah, and I know she wouldn’t ever tell Rafe anything, so was he eavesdropping? I brushed it off ultimately, it doesn’t matter how he found out. What matters now is that he knows.

After my cup of coffee with my mom the next morning, I wasn’t too excited to be having to go to the bonfire with the Kooks, but I don’t really have a choice right now. I tagged along with Sarah for the afternoon while Topper and Rafe did. I don’t know, Topper and Rafe things?

“So Y/n, what made you change your mind about the bonfire? When Topper and I brought it up, you seemed super uninterested.” Sarah didn’t hold back her question as she was incredibly suspicious. It caught me off guard so I took a minute to think about my response.

“Honestly, I just needed to get out and enjoy myself since I'm not promised more than this week.” I lied while the pit in my stomach grew. What if I don't stay? What if I go back? I couldn’t stand the thought of it, but I had to prepare myself for the worst. Sarah didn’t seem too convinced with my answer, giving me a raised eyebrow with a smirk following really gave it away.

“Okay, well we need outfits for tonight. Almost everybody in the OBX will be there, sometimes school aged visitors show up too if they’re looking to get away from their family.” Sarah continued on about the bonfire, while I searched through the never ending clothes racks. We finally finished our shopping spree and made it back in enough time to get ready for the fire. I was a tad anxious not knowing if I looked good in what I picked. Honestly though, every woman out here has the same fashion sense unless you're a visitor. As Sarah was finishing up I gradually made my way to the kitchen, lazily pouring myself a glass of water before becoming interrupted with an unwanted guest. Leaning against the counter’s edge closest to me, Rafe rested his chin in the palm of one of his hands while sneakily trying to reach under the cabinet for his father’s whiskey with the other.

“Can I help you?” I mucked up the courage to speak while avoiding any eye contact, back facing the glare I knew he was giving me.

“Your shorts, pull them down some.” He spoke as if he was agitated, I immediately felt the rage take over my body once more as if I was becoming a wildfire that couldn’t be put out.

“How dare you comment on my shorts! You don't own me nor my body nor my mind, and I will never and I mean absolutely never do a single thing you tell me to do!” I screamed at Rafe in a tone as if I was scolding a troubled teen, but he wasted no time to crack a smile before chuckling a bit, switching positions so his back can rest on the wall behind him and tucking his hands back into his front pockets before closing his eyes and pulling his head down towards the floor beneath him.

“I never said to take them off, but when your shorts are riding so high that it looks as if your ass is suffocating it just looks…I don't know, it's funny.” He replied with a soft attitude, the embarrassment raced across my face as if it was in a marathon going for first place. Swiftly yet unsuspiciously, I grabbed the bottom of one side of my shorts as I tightened the grip I had on the glass with my other, tugging the god forsaken things down as much as I could. Rafe had a steady grin while keeping his eyes closed, knowing only too well what I was doing. I gulped down the cold water before flipping the glass upside down in the kitchen sink, then without a second thought started my way back to Sarah’s room. Leaving Rafe with his new found bottle of whiskey, and the satisfied smirk he continued to hold onto that only made the night jealous with how dark its intentions were.

I quickly stepped into Sarah’s room, shutting the door with my back before elegantly sliding down until my bottom touched the freshly installed carpet. I shut my eyes before exhaling the breath I held in for what felt like eternity.

God, I hate him.

My mind was full of anger while my body said otherwise, I couldn’t ignore the fact I desired him. Everything he does, he knows it’s working as if he needs me to want him. As if he wants me to need him.

“How does this look?” Sarah’s voice intruded my thoughts. Luckily, she didn’t seem concerned for my growing silence moments after following the slight blush spreading across my cheeks.

“I think you look great. Are you finally ready?” I quickly spoke, before jumping to my feet with a mask of excitement that only hid pure anxiety. We made our way down the spiral staircase, following Sarah’s lead as we made it to the last step. My fingers effortlessly slid down the white handrail as every imperfection of the wood protruded from the thick sealant, so well that I was forced to acknowledge the splinter left behind from it. I winced at the pain as Sarah bolted to Topper, jumping into a hug which resulted in the air being filled with laughter.

I realized a little too late that I should’ve brought a jacket to the bonfire. The ocean left little kisses on my cheeks as the breeze picked up, which carried the slightest bit of mist from the crashing waves in the distance.

“Y/n?” Topper spoke out softly, my concentration returning to him as I snapped out of the trance that the water had on me.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I asked, ignoring the worrisome look on his face as he continued.

“Why exactly do you wear that ring all the time? You’re not like, engaged are you?” You shared a quick chuckle with the blond as you mindlessly played with the tiny band with your thumb, examining the delicate piece of silver that carried a microscopic engraved heart. Your mother requested it to be on there, she said it would add character or something like that.

“Oh, this little thing? It’s a purity ring, gifted to me by my parents for my birthday last year.” I answered, glancing back up to Topper who was taking another swig of his beer before lowering the bottle with a soft sigh and pink cheeks.

“Oh, interesting. Uh, do you see Sarah anywhere? She said she was grabbing herself another drink but she never came back.” He asked as the air thickened with tension, his eyes frantically scanning the faces of the individuals in front of us.

“I just want to make sure she’s o…” I turned to face him, curious yet concerned about what had made him lose his train of thought. His eyes darkened while his knuckles turned white from gripping the now empty bottle in his hand, I couldn’t get a word out before he made his way forcefully through the hoard of people in between us and his target.

I scan the crowd ahead of him before my eyes land on Sarah talking to John B. My heart started racing as I prepared myself for the conflict about to happen. Looking at my surroundings frantically, I feel a hand snake around my waist.

“Now, how has the Kook life been treating you?” A familiar voice spoke out while leaning towards my ear, the music so loud it was almost impossible to think.

My heart fluttered as every butterfly made its way to my stomach as I turned to face him, JJ’s smile matching mine as we sat in silence for what felt like eternity. I would leave this Kook life within a blink of an eye if it meant I could stay here in this moment with him forever, and surely by the looks of it, he felt the same. I glanced down at my beer, a soft pink grew on my cheeks but luckily the dim light of the fire hid my embarrassment quite extensively.

“Terrible.” I whispered, looking back into his eyes with only inches of separation between us. His breath reeked of bourbon and cigarettes while his eyes searched mine, as if trying to find the life they once emitted. Sadness soon filled the space between us as the memories washed over him and I. We stood in complete silence as if we were waiting for the other to speak, sharing the suffocating tension we had created. I stepped towards him, never breaking the gaze we held as I wrapped one arm around his neck and closed the space between us with a hug.

“I just want to come home J.” I whimpered in his ear while trying my best not to shed a tear, especially not at a party full of Kooks.

“Then come home, baby.” JJ hummed before hugging me tightly. Before I could process what I had just done, a scream echoed through the area and I remembered.

Topper.

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