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angry-geese · 11 months

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Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything.

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7.

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer.

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it.

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room.

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost.

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say.

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two?

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path.

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!”

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn.

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself.

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying.

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her.

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says.

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable.

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring.

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter.

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him.

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say.

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised.

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet.

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck.

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this.

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable.

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away.

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in.

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself.

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway.

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do.

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments.

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well.

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in.

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt.

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee.

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee.

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger.

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all.

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.

#jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #ive kinda forgotten how to tag stuff tbh

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red-writes · 11 months

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warnings//possessive ex-boyfriend gojo, pussy inspection.

The moment you heard the knock on your apartment door, you knew it was him. You looked through the small peephole in the door and you could see him staring directly back into it and you sighed. Ignoring him would either force the police to be called and your concerned neighbors to peek their heads out and whisper about you so instead you unlocked the door without much fuss.

He whistled as he entered, “Wow this place still looks as shitty as it did since I left” his eyes roaming around your apartment.

You roll your eyes and slam your door shut, “Why the fuck are you here gojo?”

He holds his hands up in a defensive manner, “Whoa whoa sugar, what's got you so agitated? On your period?” he says with a smug smirk and you can feel the anger simmering in your gut.

“Why are you in my apartment?” you say again, not giving into the purposeful taunt.

He shrugs, walking into your kitchen area and opening your fridge. As he rummaged through your stuff you rubbed your temples in frustration. The headache you medicated fifteen minuets ago hadn't planned on going away anytime soon and the man drinking your favorite soda was only making it worse.

“What? I can’t come see my favorite person” he says slyly.

“No. so can you leave please?”

He shuts your fridge and the slam makes you jolt. “I’ll cut to the chase, yeah? I saw your instagram story”

“Yeah. and?” you ask and the tall man walks over to you and his eyes are raking up and down your form and you can't help but want to cover up, his eyes are way too piercing.

“Saw that date you went on with that fucking loser” he takes a step closer to you and this time your bodies are pressed against each other. You try and shove him away, pushing at his chest and yet he doesn't budge.

“Gojo I can do what I want we’re not-”

“Satoru” he says, “Call me Satoru baby, you don't want me to get mad, right?” he says as he caresses your chin.

“S..Satoru..he’s just a friend”

“Oh yeah?” he says, his hand on your face slithers down your chest, brushing past your chest until his hand cups your cunt. Your chest tightens.

“Not giving my pussy away to anyone else, are you?”

You shake your head and he hums, “Not sure, turn around and bend over”

You can feel your legs shake as you turn around, your bend over and hold onto to the couch. You spread your legs and he forces down your shorts and panties.

“cute fuckin’ pussy” he mumbles and he crouches down to eye-level with your cunt and uses one of his thumbs to spread your pussy open, he hums and your heart beats nervously in your chest.

He hums some more and anxiety fills your gut, he uses fingers to completely spread it open and he delights in in watching your hole twitch and flutter in anticipation.

“Been fucking some other guy?”

“No Satoru” you say with a quick shake of your head.

“Don't lie to me, I can tell this cunt’s been fucked with from a mile away” he says and you swallow as heat burns in your cheeks.

“No just- I’ve been..I ended up buying a dildo” you say in a huff of embarrassment.

“Playing with my pussy without my permission? Huh?” he leans in and his nose nudges your clit as he inhales deeply, “’s fine, long as no other man has his cock in my cunt I won’t mind” he pulls away and you feel a pang of disappointment in your chest as nothing more happens, he lifts your panties and your sleeper shorts up your legs and pats your butt.

“Alright, I'll be off then, yeah?” he unlocks your door and he lets himself out. The throbbing in your cunt doesn't seem to subside and you curse under your breath.

God. you hate gojo satoru.

#red writes— ੈ♡˳#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #its not even rlly smut #Tw suggestive #I love this scenario #pussy inspection

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hellcat8908 · 17 days

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Broken Road Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader

Warning: Angst, Violence, Fluff, Language

Ghost was about to interrupt your conversation with Soap when your words had him stopping dead in his tracks. "Who could love anyone so broken, Johnny?" You ask rhetorically. Ghost quickly turns and leaves before either of you can see him. "He's been through enough. He deserves someone better than me." You tell him. "He's crazy about you, but the grumpy bastard won't admit it. I think you're perfect for each other, lass." He says. You're not convinced. "Just keep spending time with him, you'll see." Soap says.

Later that night in the mess hall, you take a seat with Soap and Gaz. "Where's Ghost?" You ask after realizing he isn't joining. "Eating in his dorm, said something about paperwork." Gaz answers as you all finish eating. You saved your brownie knowing their one of Ghosts favorites. You made your way towards his dorm, gently knocking. Moments later, it cracks open, hiding most of Ghost, "What?" He asks, sounding annoyed. "Gaz said you were doing paperwork, so I brought you a brownie. I know how much you hate paperwork." You say, stopping yourself before you can ramble.

"Si, come back to bed." A female voice calls. Your face falls as realization hits you. "This was stupid. Sorry for interrupting." You mumble before turning and walking away. You hear Ghost shut the door, and your heart shatters. Halfway back to your dorm, you can't keep your composure as you bump into Soap. He takes you to his dorm, which is closer. "Tell me what happened, lass." He says as he hands you a box of tissues. Once your tears have slowed, you're finally able to tell Soap.

"He's with a girl. I went to take him the brownie, and she told him to come back to bed." You say as the tears return full force. "I'm going to kill him!" Soap says angrily. "Don't. Just let it go." You say between sobs. He wraps his arms around you. "Fine, I won't kill him. I'll just kick his ass extra hard during training tomorrow." Soap says, making you smile. Soap has become like a brother to you since you joined the task force. He comforted you for the next hour before you decided to go back to your own dorm.

The next morning, the hurt had been replaced with anger, and you hardened your heart against Ghost. You got dressed in your training joggers and one of Soap's shirts he had left behind that you'd normally use as a sleep shirt. You threw your hair up in a ponytail before making your way towards the training area. You started making small talk with some of the recruits when an incessant giggling caught your attention, followed by the female voice from last night. She was recounting her escapades with Ghost. The anger inside you simmering towards a boil.

Thankfully, Soap came along to distract you. "Are you trying to get me in trouble?" He teases as he steps beside you. "You don't like it?" You tease. "I didn't think you'd wear it outside your dorm, but I approve of your tactic." He says with a laugh. "I woke up and chose violence." You say with a laugh of your own. "We'll if you wanted to piss him off, it's working." Soap says, seeing Ghost glare at you in another man's shirt. "It's the least I could do." You say before hearing an angry Ghost get started with training.

Towards the end, Ghost paired everyone up for hand to hand combat training. Of course, he paired you with the recuit he spent the night with. He and Soap went over the moves and instructions before walking around and observing, offering criticism and corrections. "Could you be more pathetic?" She asks, catching you off guard. "Excuse you?!" You grit your teeth as the anger starts building. "I brought you a brownie. I know how much you hate paperwork." She says in a mocking tone.

"Why would he want someone like you when he could have a real woman like me." She sneers. "I'm surprised he fucked you, with how much he hates paperwork, he'll be filling out a lot of it when he has to get tested for STDs. Who knows what nastiness your cunt is breeding." You say with a smirk before continuing, "haven't you fucked your way through at least half the task force? Sweetie you're nothing but a barracks bunny playing dress up." Her face sours as she tries to punch you. Within seconds a fight has broken out between the two of you. You land a punch to her nose breaking it as blood pours down her face.

Moments later, you're pulled off of her by Soap as Ghost grabs ahold of the other recruit who is holding her nose. "Take her to medical." He instructs Soap before staring at you. You cross your arms over your chest and glare back at him. "Everyone clear out!" Ghost orders placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you, "not you." You roll your eyes and wait for the others to leave. Once the last recruit leaves and the door shuts, Ghost turns his full attention to you. "I should have you transferred for that little stunt." He shouts. "Do it! I was going to ask for a transfer anyway! With you're support I'll be gone by the end of the week." You smirk.

"Why were you going to ask for a transfer?" Ghost says surpringly quiet. "It doesn't matter." You answer, still angry. "Yes, it does." Ghost replies. "No, it doesn't! You don't even care." You say with venom lacing your voice, "you never cared." You see anger on Ghost's face, "You don't get to tell me I don't care! Not after your little conversation with Soap yesterday after training. Your eyes widen in panic. "That's right, I heard enough to get the hint." He says angrily. "Ghost, I didn't mean...." You start, but he cuts you off, "Save it. I'll talk to Price about your transfer. Better start packing." He says before turning and storming out.

You made it back to your dorm and locked it before curling up on the bed and burying yourself under the blankets. You lay there numbly, wondering how it all fell apart. A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, but you ignore it. Soon, the knocking becomes louder. "I know you're in there, I brought you food." Soap says through the door. He knocks again, "Come on, y/n. Please let me in." He says, almost breaking your resolve. You hear the tray being sat on the floor, "foods out here if you want it. I even snagged you an extra cookie." He tries one last time before walking away.

You open the door once you're sure he's gone and grab the two cookies before locking your door again. You crawl back in bed and stare at the wall. You start thinking about how you'll miss Soap, Gaz, and Price once you're transferred. Your mind turns to Ghost, and your heart aches. You try to push him from your mind, but he keeps coming back until you eventually fall asleep. Tossing and turning as you relive yesterday and todays events.

Meanwhile, Soap tracks down Ghost cleaning up the training room. "Hey, asshole!" Soap says before punching Ghost in the face. "What the fuck, Soap!" Ghost shouts as he recovers. "You tell me, what happened between you and y/n?!" Ghost rolls his eyes. "Leave it alone, Soap." Soap tenses, "No, tell me what happened!" Ghost shoves him, "You know what happened! She said it herself, I'm too broken for anyone to love!" Ghost says angrily. "You idiot! She was talking about herself! She thinks you deserve better than her and that you've been through enough!"

"Fuck!" Ghost says as he realizes how badly he fucked up. "She's got it backwards though, she deserves better than you, especially after that shit you pulled!" Soap says. "I should beat the shit out of you for managing to destroy her in less than 24 hours." Soap threatens. "I have to fix this." Ghost says. "What makes you think you can fix this?!" Soap asks. "I don't know but I have to try!" Ghost states. "If you're not committed to her 100% then you need to let her go. She's been through enough without you adding to it." Soap says.

Unable to stay asleep, you took the tray back to the mess hall after scraping the food into the trash. Once you returned the tray, you made your way towards Price's office. You saw the light under the door so you knew he was in there. After knocking, he called for you to enter. He motioned for you to take a seat. "As per your email, I've put out feelers, and you have your choice between Kortac and Shadows." Price says, not bothering with small talk. "Shadows are out because I don't trust Graves. Kortac would be great." You're cut off by the door slamming open and Ghost storming in.

"You can't transfer y/n!" He shouts. "WE were just discussing that matter, She's decided to transfer to Kortac." Price says. Ghost acknowledges you for the first time since barging in, "You're not transferring!" He shouts. "Lower your voice, Ghost." Price warns. "We have unfinished business." Ghost says, keeping his attention on you. "No, we don't. You made that clear after training. How is what's her name anyway?" You say sarcastically before turning back to price and asking, "When can I leave?" Price shuffles your transfer papers on the desk, "about 2-3 days, as soon as paperwork is in order." "Thank you, sir." You say before leaving his office only to have Ghost on your heels.

"You're not transferring!" He says as he runs ahead of you to block your door. "I'd better start packing." You say, throwing his own words back in his face. "You're not packing because you're not leaving, not until you hear me out." He says. "There's nothing to hear you out about. You made everything clear as to how you feel." You say as your lip starts to quiver. You hate that he is having this effect on you. You see the pain flash across his face. "I know you hate me right now, and I know I've ruined everything, but I want to make it right. I love you." He says the last part so quietly you almost don't hear it.

You almost break at how vulnerable Ghost looks in front of you. He still stands taller than you but seems smaller somehow. You resist the urge to comfort him when you know he doesn't deserve it, especially from you. "Please, just let me try to fix the damage I've caused between us." He practically pleads. "Ghost, give me time." You say softly. He gives you a nod and reluctantly moves from in front of your door. He watches the door close behind you, hoping you'll give him a chance.

Once you're inside, you lay in bed, feeling more confused than before. You toss and turn all night, not being able to sleep as your mind keeps drifting back to Ghost telling you he loves you. Once morning comes, you skip breakfast. You don't want to get out of bed. The knock you've been expecting finally comes. "It's open." You call hearing your door open, and a tray sat on your desk before hearing the door close. "I'm not hungry, Soap." You say, not moving to look at him. You're only met with silence. "If you think giving me the silent treatment will make me move, you're wrong." You say.

More silence. "Suit yourself." You say before ignoring him. After several moments you turn over to discover your alone. Confused you pull out your phone and text Soap.

Y/n: Are you training early?

Soap: No, did you want to?

Y/n: No. I was wondering why you dropped off breakfast and left.

Soap: I didn't drop off breakfast.

Y/n: Well someone left me breakfast.

Soap: 💀

You look at the tray and see it's loaded with sweets and a glass of milk. You can't help your small smile that maybe Ghost did bring you breakfast. You ate a few of the sweets along with drinking the milk before deciding to save the rest for later. You change into a pair of shorts and johnny's shirt again and make your way towards the training room. "Ghost!" You shout as you burst through the doors. "I challege you to a sparring match, you win I go out with you. I win you, let me transfer to Kortac!" You say confidently as he turns his attention towards you. "Deal!" He says with a smirk.

"Are you sure about this?" Soap asks. "Never been more sure." You say confidently. "You two going to spend all morning talking or what?" You step onto the mat, "someone is eager to lose." You tease. "Not on your life." He says. The two of you start circling, waiting to make your move. Ghost moves first with a strike you easily block and counter. "You always were impatient." You taunt as you nake your move. He grabs you and flips you to the mat. "You're always reckless." He says as his pins you. You stuggle for a few minutes before you flip him over pin him. You hold on tightly as he resists. Once he breaks free, he creates some space.

"You're not scared, are you?" You ask, feigning innocence. "It's you who should be scared. I can't wait to take you out." He says wolfishly. "You haven't won yet." You remind him. "Oh, but I have." He says watching you. You let his words have their desired effect as you charge him and knock him to the mat. You strike his side and chest as he blocks his face. He lays there and lets you take out all your anger on him until you're crying. He wraps his arms around you and holds you against him. "That's it. Let it out." He says softly while stroking your hair. "I hate you for sleeping with her." You manage to say. "I hate me too, love.

"Hate me as much as you need to because I deserve it, but please let me love you, and maybe you'll fall back in love with me." He says as he rests his head on top of yours. Your fist holds his shirt tighter as you soak it with your tears. He carefully stands with you before carrying you to his dorm. He sits on his bed with you in his lap. "Take these." He says, handing you two pills and a glass of water. You take them without hesitation. "They'll help with your headache." He says softly. "But I don't have one." You argue. "Not yet, but you will from all your emotions.

He lays down with you curled up against him as he refuses to let you go. "Get some rest." He says as he pulls the blanket over both of you. "You had better have cleaned your bedding." You threaten as your eyes get heavy. "Brand new bedding, love. I burnt the old." He says. "Good boy." You mumble half asleep. "Sweet dreams, love." He says before kissing your forehead. "Sweet dreams." You whisper quietly. He holds you as he strokes your back til your breath evens out, signaling you're asleep. "I promise to right every wrong, love." He whispers before falling asleep beside you.

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #task force 141 #call of duty #ghost x reader

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 months

Text

All We Have Is Each Other

CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

Takes place during Jax’s second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)

Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jax’s drink.

She’s always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether he’ll drink it before he realizes there’s something in it. If she doesn’t mix it well enough, he’ll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she can’t take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one.

Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing he’ll look sweeter once he’s fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he can’t quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him.

Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her.

But... she can’t keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks aren’t to scare him, they’re just to make… to make things easier. And she doesn’t always do it! She doesn’t always drug him, but it’s enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesn’t… trust easily.

That’s okay.

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did.

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better.

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax.

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it.

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head.

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble.

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing.

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own.

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn��t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband.

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to.

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there.

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed.

She doesn’t always roll well.

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back.

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch.

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them.

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue.

No, wait.

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word.

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse.

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.”

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.”

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump.

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke.

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply.

She can't help herself.

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear.

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath.

“Savvie,” he whispers.

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips.

Her blood.

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?”

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.”

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her.

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step.

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch.

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion.

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall.

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.”

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie.

@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you

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absurdthirst · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 2023: October 4th

Day 4: Overstimulation, Oviposition/Egglaying, Human Urinal

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Alien creatures, bites, mentions of weight gain, changing bodies, sex, unprotected sex, eggs, egg fertilization, egg transfer.

|| Kinktober List || 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.

China changed you. You can feel it in your body, simmering under the surface even as you deny it. Sweating and cramping when you think that no one is paying attention to you. The nasty wound from one of those creatures, the Tao Tei, slowly healing and fevered as it seeps and oozes.

“She eats too much.” The grumble from across the fire is barely even heard, too busy stuffing your face with the contents of the generous plate you had dished up for yourself just as soon as the food was hot and partially cooked. Unable to wait until it was completely done before you start scarfing it down.

“She is eating a lot.” William watches with a sense of bewilderment as he tears a hunk of bread in two and tosses a bite into his mouth.

Pero Tovar sneers and narrows his eyes as you greedily gulp down your meal. “She’s getting fat.”

“Fuck you.” That captures your attention and you look up at the Spaniard, glaring at him even as you shovel another spoon of food into your mouth. “See if I let you fuck me again.”

It was true that your stomach was starting to poke out. Your armor and clothes are starting to tighten on your frame and making dismounting the horse a pain in the ass.

Tovar scowls even harder, shoving William when he starts laughing at the obvious cut down. “Pendejo.” He hisses, hating how you just banned him from your bedroll. “I worry.” He grunts at you. “The food will not last if you keep eating like this.”

You can’t explain why you need so much food. Why the pangs in your stomach are only satisfied when you eat to the point where you are gorging yourself. Feeling as if you are starving if you don’t.

It’s later when Tovar shuffles up to you. The horses bedded down and William is already curled up and snoring in his own blankets next to the fire. You hiss as you pull away the rag from the bite the creature had given you. It was lucky that it hadn’t killed you, freezing right as it started to bite down. Only causing a flesh wound that was slowly starting to close up.

“It looks better.” He grunts, kneeling next to your leg and his hands cradle your calf. “Not as ugly.”

You roll your eyes and resist pulling your leg away from him. Wanting to snap that he should go off and tug his cock if he wants some pleasure because there is none to be had in your bed tonight.

The thing with Tovar was simple. You fucked because he was a rough and decent lover. He wanted a warm cunt to fill and you wanted the weight of a man on top of you. It had started while you were at the wall and continued on as you make your way back west.

The only reason that you don’t is because your appetite for more than just food has increased. Always wet and eager to take his cock, you feel like whore at a brothel, unable to think of anything else but the next time he fills you up. You had even rubbed your clit while riding your horse you had been so desperate for relief.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You ask. “Or am I too fat for you now?”

Pero snorts and shakes his head. “Too fat to fight, not fuck.” He smirks, making you reach out and pinch him. “Ow!” He hisses, jerking back from your fingers.

You slap away his hands from your body and drag him close for a kiss. Since starting to fuck you, he had kept his beard trimmed. Noticing how you liked it shorn. Eagerly reaching down and palming his rapidly hardening cock through his breeches. “Then fuck me, you asshole.”

Pero hisses when you squeeze him, twitching under your rough touch and pushes you back on your blankets. “You are always demanding my cock now.” He’s not complaining, just like he wasn’t complaining about the belly that is expanding under your leathers. If he were the type of man who lived that kind of life, he would imagine you even rounder. Keeping his home and riding his cock every night. Plump from giving him babies to raise into strong sons. But he’s not that kind of man.

When you both are bare, Tovar sinks into your wet cunt without any loving words or soft touches. Need is what is driving you and your moan fills his ears. Wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper, clenching around him as your stomach cramps.

The pains have been consistent, but you thought it was the hunger, now you aren’t so sure. Not painful, but they are squeezing your insides. Making your entire body contract.

Not that Pero either notices or minds. His groans are filthy as he starts to frantically rut into you. Fucking you like he’s not fucked a cunt in years rather than less than a day.

“More, Pero, more.” You beg, nails digging into his back as he rocks into you and your own body responds by squeezing his cock like a vice.

“Mierda.” Pero hisses, feeling like you’re going to squeeze his cock off as he fucks you. Every time you clench down it gets harder. Not that he minds. It’s the tightest fucking cunt he’s ever had and he loves fucking you.

The pressure builds, like an ache in your stomach and every harsh thrust makes the belly that you’ve developed shake. The softness of your stomach becomes a rock under the skin.

Your eyes roll back and you beg for more, needing him to fill you up. To bathe your womb in his seed as your stomach cramps up again. Feeling like some of the pains you have during your monthly, but more intense.

For his part, Pero doesn’t stop. Continues to fuck into like you begged him too. Enjoying the tightness that seemingly gets tighter every few seconds. “Fuck.”

You cry out, not caring that you might wake William. Nothing matters but for Pero to cum, for you to have him deep inside you as he fills you. Your fingernails score down his back hard enough to make Pero hiss, hips bucking out of rhythm and it throws you over the edge.

Clenching down, your cunt spasms and the pressure of something being released from your womb makes your eyes widen with a loud gasp. Pero can feel it too, his own expression startled right before he gives out a strangled grunt and pushes deep.

There’s something inside you. Something being pushed back as Pero cums. Wave after wave of his seed making whatever has just pushed out of your womb move in your cunt with his cock.

“What the hell is happening?” He demands tightly, his jaw tightening and his face contorting in surprise and perhaps a bit of pain as you cling to him, not letting him pull away from your cunt. Legs wrapped around him and locking him deep inside your body.

Rationally, you don’t know. Instinctively, you know that Pero needs to stay inside you while he rides out his high. Moaning his name as the egg that has been growing inside your body is transferred to the male of your species. Pushing inside him to hold and grow until it is ready to emerge.

Pero doesn’t realize it yet, but he is going to be a father. The egg is your child. You had changed in China, and now that is going to give way to a new breed of humans.

#pedro pascal #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #absurdthirst kinktober #pero tovar #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar the great wall #tovar x reader #tovar x you #tovar smut #tovar the great wall #tovar x f!reader

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elvensorceress · 3 months

Text

Sunday sentences

tagged by my beloveds @eddiebabygirldiaz @wildlife4life @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @wh0re-behavi0r no pressure tagging @hippolotamus @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @theotherbuckley @ronordmann @bekkachaos @buddierights @messyhairdiaz @fiona-fififi @thekristen999 @giddyupbuck @gayedmundodiaz 💕 have some Unless finale (which btw is over 29K so far 🫣)

Eddie leans against the fridge and watches Buck put the last few cans and jars away. He clearly has a system and there is no interrupting Buck’s organizational systems. So, Eddie merely gazes at him, unable to keep the smile from spreading over his face. Buck is ridiculously silly and adorable, and he’s home. This is their home together.

They have a life and a home and a son together. And they belong to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know how long it might take before those facts don’t make him choked up and dangerously close to happy tears. But a few hours is not long enough. He’s not sure a few lifetimes will be long enough.

“Thanks so much for coordinating with me and letting us keep up with everything.” Buck puts away the last can of green chilies and runs a box of cereal to the cupboards near the fridge, and then folds and stacks all the empty grocery bags. “No, no I really appreciate it and I know he does, too. He was worried he wouldn’t get to be in class with his friends anymore and he’s been working so hard. So— so thank you. Yeah, you too. I’ll keep in touch and he’ll see you this Monday. Yeah— yeah. Awesome. Have a good one.” He ends the call, sets his phone down with a loud thunk, and spins one more time until he’s facing Eddie with a beaming smile. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Yeah, several lifetimes of this won’t be enough. Eddie’s face heats and he has to match that bright smile, and just stare at his beautiful, ridiculous, magical, amazing partner. “Hi, love.”

Buck giddily bounces over to him, wraps Eddie in his arms, and kisses him to make up for all the very long minutes apart. It wasn’t even two hours, but it was far too long. “I missed you,” Buck even says while kissing Eddie’s cheek and jaw and the corner of his mouth, like everywhere wouldn’t be enough.

Eddie laughs as he holds on tightly with an arm around Buck’s waist.

Until Buck stops the kissing and leans away. “What you think it’s funny? That I missed you already? You don’t believe me?”

The exact opposite actually. “No, it’s not funny. Yes, I believe you.” Eddie pulls him back in and kisses him again, long and wet and full of overflowing joy. “I missed you, too. So much. Too much. I don’t like not doing chores and errands together. It was a stupid plan.”

Buck holds him closer, more securely, and giggles as he kisses back. “It was your plan.”

“Yeah, well. Again, it was stupid. I hate it. Tell me it’s stupid next time I suggest something terrible like that.” He takes hold of Buck’s thick upper arms and spins them so he can press Buck into the corner and atone for this egregious offense. He scatters kisses and soft nips along Buck’s jaw and down his neck and breathes in the inherent sweetness of Buck’s warmth until there’s nothing in his own head but dizzy dreamy warm luscious joy.

Buck whimpers and nearly melts all the way to the floor. Eddie holds him up though. He needs to shower him with affection. They’ve been without for more than a hundred and thirteen minutes, and he can’t be without anymore.

He nuzzles against the slope of Buck’s neck and shoulder and presses long, open-mouthed kisses to his warm skin. Buck’s hand comes up to slide through Eddie’s hair and cradle his head, so gentle and loving it makes thrumming, simmering heat coast over Eddie’s cold skin. He wasn’t cold before. But being touched by Buck is so much like summer sun and lit fireplaces and heating pads and hot baths and laundry fresh out of the dryer. It makes Eddie realize he’s been lonely and frozen for so long.

But he’s not anymore.

Buck tips his head back, offering more of his throat, and Eddie has to taste. He has to lick and feel heartbeat under his tongue. It leaves wet trails when he slides over sweet, musky, salty skin and he has to suck patches of light pink nearly red marks into skin because saliva is just not enough to sufficiently claim or possess and show belonging.

Eddie wants more skin. He wants to feel Buck soft and warm against him. He wants Buck hot and sticky and sweaty and all over him.

Except there’s a young, disgruntled voice from the doorway, “Oh, you’re doing this again. You know if I were at a friend’s house, you could do whatever you want and I wouldn’t have to be disturbed over here about what’s going on in our kitchen.”

Buck attempts to stand up more on his own, but Eddie doesn’t let him go. Just in case. Just because. But he does turn enough to look over at Chris. “I thought you wanted alone time in your room. Do you need something, bud?”

Chris raises an eyebrow at him and now looks too much like Shannon and Eddie has no hope of surviving ever. “Yes. You said you were going to talk about it. Me going to a friend’s house. This doesn’t look like talking about it.”

Eddie lets out a barely patient huff and looks to Buck. “What do you think?”

Buck’s eyes widen like he wasn’t expecting this at all. “What do I think? I mean—” He gives Eddie a look, subtly glances down between them where they are pressed together, and his cheeks turn pink. And— okay. Eddie can see how this is a very unnecessary question. At least as far as Buck’s point of view. He was already bringing up the idea of date night for them.

A first date.

A first date that isn’t really a first date but is still new, different, exciting. The start of the rest of their lives? Or something like that but less embarrassingly sappy. Potentially with a house all to themselves to come home to.

#buddie #fic: unless you ask me to #jenwyn wip #buddie wip #seven sentence sunday #911 #if you see typos no you didn’t 🫣

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villainessprefect · 1 year

Text

title: Beauty is in the Eye of the Eel - [Floyd]

summary: ‘Beautiful’ had been your first word uttered when seeing the twins’ true form. You thought it had gone unheard but perhaps it didn't.

ship: Floyd x gn!reader

word count: 994

note: just a reminder that both can be read separately/the fics are not connected!

Read on AO3 || Jade’s part

Floyd hardly bothers himself with the smaller things in life. Hearing you call his true form 'beautiful' meant nothing to him. Not at first, anyway. The only thing on his mind at the time was wanting to squeeze you and your friends with his entire body. Because that was all that mattered.

But now, that one little word is coming back to haunt him. As if it's trying to get revenge for ignoring it for so long. It's stupid, really. He doesn't care about being called pretty or not. It's just annoying that it lingers in his mind because it came from you.

And he wants to hear you say it again.

The eel huffs and pouts. This odd feeling nags at him and he hates it. Rather than letting his temper simmer into a fiery rage, he decides to search for you. Floyd is intent on dragging that word out from you. And if you don't remember what you said those few months ago, he would make you remember.

"Shrimpy~!" His nickname rings out within the hallway as he spots your figure amongst the sea of students. A pathway is suddenly formed as he makes his way toward you. Long strides were taken so that the eel can capture his prey.

"Floyd?!" You squeak out his name as his steps sound like they're turning into a mad dash. You're given a clear view of him as he makes his approach. While you think to run, it's foolish. He's too fast and there is nowhere to hide. But the option is cast aside when you notice something different about him. His smile isn’t as wide as it normally would be- could he be in a bad mood? Usually, you could tell, but today it was a little harder to do so.

"Shrimpy," he whines out, arms slithering around your shoulders as he plops his head over yours. His hold is tight, yet not enough to suffocate you. "We gotta talk."

You know your place whenever he captures you. There is no choice no matter what mood he’s in.

"Alright, about what?"

"Hmm..." He hums, gaze drifting around the hallway. "Don't wana talk out here." And with that, he frees you from his grasp only to take your hand and drag you elsewhere.

You let out a yelp in surprise. Holding back a sigh, you resign to your fate. It’s something you’ve adjusted to. You were the one he could go to and wouldn’t fight back. Sometimes, you would with such weak protests, and other times you could make some fun deals with him. Regardless, it was always a win in his book as long as he could spend time with you.

"Floyd? Where are we going?"

You've gone through the mirror and into his dorm. The lounge is brimming with life and you think that maybe he's brought you over under the guise of getting you to work with him. Or use you as an excuse not to work. But when you keep walking, he ignores the tables and students and goes past the usual scene, then you begin to worry.

Floyd never gives you an answer. He leads you into a room that's further than you've ever been, one secluded from others. It's here that he finally frees your hand and he steps aside to let you take in the sight.

Half of the room seems to be submerged in water, mimicking a tank at an aquarium. It's spacious and held behind a layer of glass. It makes you feel as if you're walking on the ocean floor. Which, surprisingly, you have done before so you know the feeling. Except for this time, you're allowed to peer into the water and enjoy the calming sight.

Mesmerized, you don't notice the ladder in the corner of the room nor the eel climbing it. Only when he makes a splash into the tank do you come to your senses. Especially since the water had trickled onto you.

"Floyd?" You call out for him as you attempt to wipe off the water that touched your skin. You take a step towards the tank. He's in there, you know it, but where? The tank seems to be deeper than you initially thought. You place a hand against the glass, another follows as you peer into the depths of the ocean.

A familiar shadow appears and you try to find the caster. No matter where you look, all you can see is blue. Nothing else. You're about to give up and dive in when-

"Shrimpy!"

"Ah!"

Out of seemingly nowhere, Floyd appears. Pale hands with dark claws bang against the glass. The eel has his mouth open, smiling and showing off his teeth that now look sharper. Then there's the fact his legs are gone and replaced with a long, gorgeous tail. His skin color has lost its human color and reverted to its original green and white hues.

"Your face is priceless," Floyd laughs.

He watched you go from surprised to gawking in under a second. The change was so fast that he found it funny.

"Wh-What are you doing in there? Like that?"

"I wanted to see that look on your face again." He answers. He lowers his hand to meet yours, the stupid glass separating them. "Thought you liked looking at me when I'm like this."

Your cheeks turn red like Goldfish, but the color looks better on you. You struggle to get a response out and when no words come through, you simply look elsewhere. For a moment. You can't help but look back and have your eyes linger on such a beautiful creature.

And Floyd loves it.

Even if he didn't get you to say it, your eyes speak for you. The way they glisten and admire every bit of his body. All of your attention belongs to him. And he's intent on keeping it this way. After all, you’re his beautiful Shrimpy.

#twisted wonderland #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech x reader #gn reader #twst x reader #twst #floyd leech x you #octavinelle

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folkloresthings · 9 months

Note

hello lovely!! can i request NORTHANGER ABBEY with carlos and exes to lovers? thank you 💌

ugh yes??? second chance romance my fave

SECOND CHANCE. ❨ carlos sainz x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: slight sexual buildup but no smut

when people asked you what happened between carlos sainz and yourself, you never really had an answer. it had been a strange breakup, one that built and built over months, and then broke in the space of one night. you had wanted different things. you were ready to settle down, get a house, commit to starting a family. but carlos was at the peak of his career — his main focus was on racing. you needed more than he could give.

the actual fight had been a catastrophe. him shouting, you crying, doors slammed. the cool down consisted of him on his knees, grabbing at your legs on the couch, trying to reason. but you knew you couldn’t stay, it was pointless. so you left. you packed your bags and left the next morning. three years, all for nothing.

it had been just over a year since that terrible day, and you hadn’t heard from carlos once. you kept up with his races, still fully supporting him. you didn’t hate each other — and it only made things so much harder.

“come on, you deserve a break!” your best friend insisted, clicking button after button and booking your trip before you could even argue.

monaco. you hadn’t been back since you left carlos, and the prospect scared you. but you braved the memories, distracting yourself with your girlfriends and anything you could. you spent your days on the beach, your nights in clubs and cocktail bars. for some reason, amongst it all, you’d forgotten carlos still lived here.

nipping out one afternoon to pay a visit to your old favourite bakery, your mind was clear. a coffee and your favourite pastry in hand, you were actually happy. enjoying yourself. until you bumped into a figure that smelled an awful lot like your ex—boyfriend.

“mierda, sorry—” he grabbed your forearms, steadying you both. freezing, his eyes meet yours and he falls silent. you can’t stop staring at him, not really believing that he was real. actually there, close enough to touch, for the first time in a year.

“hi.” it leaves you in one breath. carlos smiles, glancing between you and the bakery.

“back for an apple pastry?” he teases and you turn sheepish, cheeks burning. “i didn’t know you were in town.”

“just for a vacation,” you tell him, only realising then that he’s still got a hold of you, chests practically pressed together. you clear your throat, stepping back. you had pictured this moment so many times, what you would say, and now it was done. the moment gone and you wished you could go back and do it a little better.

carlos nods, taking all of you in. you looked… amazing. your skin was glowing, thanks to a few days in the sun. you were still as beautiful as the day he met you. you were even prettier in real life, rather than the images that plagued carlos’ mind every night.

“how long are you here for?” he asks, and your brows raise. you knew where this was going, but you didn’t have the power to stop it.

“until monday.” three more days. “why?”

“no, no reason. maybe we could… catch up? i’ll make you dinner. your favourite pasta,” he offers, blinking down at you with those big brown eyes, and how can you say no?

he’s got a new apartment now, and you’re glad, because you’re not sure you could face the home you shared together. you knock twice before he lets you in, taking your coat and pouring your favourite wine. the pasta he always used to make for you simmers on the stove, the smells taking you back to your date nights together.

“it’s as good as ever,” you tell him after your first bite, nostalgia filling your taste buds. carlos smiles proudly. he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since you stepped through the door, your cheeks constantly tinted pink.

still, the conversation was flowing like no time had passed, like nothing had happened between you. you’d been together for three whole years, it was easy to fall back into that routine again. a glass of wine or so later, you were curled up on the couch, telling him about everything that happened at christmas — the first christmas he hadn’t been to since you first got together.

somewhere between your mother’s roast potato meltdown and your grandfather’s six glasses of whiskey, his hand had found it’s way to your thigh, warm and big. your breath hitched, eyes warning as they dart to his.

“carlos…” you whisper, feeling yourself slip the closer he gets.

“mi alma,” he counters, his other hand grazing across your brow, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“we shouldn’t. we can’t,” you insist, but you sound less convincing than you intend. his hot breath ghosts over your lips, his taste so close.

“tell me to stop, and i will,” carlos meets your eyes, wide and pleading. he needs you, he’s needed you for twelve months. “one word and i’m done.”

your lips open, ready to speak, but nothing comes out. you can’t say no, because you don’t want to. any logic is gone from your mind, flooded with a love that never really went away.

in a moment, carlos presses his lips to yours. both of you fall into each other, fall into what you know so well. hands grasping at your clothes, teeth clashing and tongues hot, trying to get impossibly close. it was dizzying. carlos had always been a good kisser, but a starved man savoured his first meal like it was heaven sent.

his hands dipped lower, slipping under your top and to the warm skin underneath. palming at your chest, teasing but desperate, lips dipping to suck at the supple flesh of your throat. he pulls whines from you like an expert, your fingers grasping at the mess of brown locks upon his head. it’s longer now, you like it.

“wait, wait,” you mutter, pushing him back by the chest. so many thoughts running through your head, but it goes blank when he looks at you. pupils blown wide, hair messy, lips wet and swollen. he’s angelic, a sculpture on display in the finest of museums.

carlos finds the hesitation in your eyes and sighs. “i know.”

“what are we doing?” you groan, head falling against his shoulder. his thumb rubs at your back, comforting you coming as second nature. “i can’t just — fuck you and pretend like it never happened. i’ve been trying to get over you for a year now, and this just sets everything back.”

“did you?” he asks, unsure if he wants to know the answer. “get over me?”

“no,” you sigh, answering a little too quickly. “i don’t know if i ever will.”

carlos softens, more so if possible, hands smoothing all over you. “i love you. i always have, i always will. i’ll do whatever it takes, just — can we try again?”

you look at him, his pleading eyes and tight grip. he does love you, you’ve know that in your gut for a while now. he’d loved you so hard when you were together, with everything that he was. just because you broke up doesn’t mean that disappears.

“carlos, we want different things…” you begin into the same argument you had a year ago, and he cuts you off with another kiss.

“i don’t care. i’ll compromise, i’ll do whatever you want. we can get married tomorrow, if it’s what you want,” he professes, cupping your cheeks. you stare at him in shock, his profession of love coming crashing down.

“we’re not getting married tomorrow,” you laugh breathlessly, taking his hands in yours. “but… we can try again tomorrow, start over.”

hope fills him, a bright smile painting his face as he kisses you, again and again. maybe not tomorrow, but he knew he was going to marry you someday. sooner, rather than later.

“i love you so much, carlos.”

“i love you even more, cariño.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #carlos sainz instagram edit #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz

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amyispxnk · 6 months

Text

Just Stay

Summary: Every time, staying was so easy. It was natural. Then you couldn't.

A/N: there's a bit of confusing writing in some places - it's 2am and I've been writing this for almost 2 hours straight, spare me. I hope you guys like this because it genuinely took so much effort. Pls show some love.

A/N #2: after letting this simmer for a bit im feeling like i hate it and it's really stupid and umm yeah so yeah! I physically cringe every time I remember this exists

Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: alcohol, drug mention, brief very light smut, pet names, language, smoking cigarettes, translated Spanish that may well be incorrect (let me know if there are any mistakes please), violence and death, guns, fluff, angst, unwanted attraction from a guy (nothing like SA but it’s just kinda uncomfy and he kisses her but she didn’t want him to NOT JAVI)

Used a prompt from @luvmake “things said between kisses”

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

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You groaned as you shut the door to your apartment behind you, tossing your keys on the table by the door and shrugging your jacket off, walking over to your fridge to find something to take your mind off things.

Work was stressful, but of course it was. You were a DEA agent working to take down Pablo fucking Escobar. Of course it was stressful.

The only thing that lessened the burden was your partner, Javier Peña. It was a rocky start for the two of you, him being very closed-off and already having a reputation which made you not want to get involved with him at all. But you got to know him after a while and here you were 2 years later, being able to call yourself his friend.

You groaned again when you realised you had absolutely no alcohol in your fridge or anywhere in your living space. Then your mind went back to him, Javier did live next door.. and when does Javier not have alcohol on him?

After listening out for the all-too-familiar sound of skin slapping against skin and not hearing anything (you didn't want a repeat of the last time you showed up unannounced) you figured it was safe to go over.

You made sure the door was locked behind you - you can never be too safe, even when you're going next door for just five minutes - you quickly padded over to his apartment, knocking on the door.

When he opened it, he was shirtless. Of course he was, it's Javi. You clenched your teeth together as you fought to not look at his chest and spoke.

"I'm out of alcohol." You stated, at which he raised an eyebrow.

"What do you want me to do about it?" He questioned as if he had no clue what you were getting at.

"Let me have some of yours."

He stayed unmoving.

"Pleeeeeeease, Javier." You pouted, clasping your hands together dramatically before he chuckled softly and opened the door further to let you in.

Once he'd closed it behind you, you looked around. Sure you'd been to his apartment before, but you always liked to analyse things. Maybe it was from being an agent, but you had always had this little trait.

You noticed a movie was playing on the TV as you walked into his kitchen, not being able to tell what it actually was since it was paused at an awkward frame.

"You watching a sex movie, Javier?" You teased, leaning back to look at him as you shut the cabinet.

"Yeah, totally." He said, rolling his eyes before sitting down on the couch.

You held the whiskey bottle in your hands as you stood there for a moment. He didn't tell you to leave at any point, so maybe he wouldn't mind if you just..

You fell down onto the couch beside him, crossing your legs beneath you and bringing the glass of whiskey to your lips.

He still didn't say anything, just glanced at you quickly before shrugging to himself and continuing to watch the movie.

2 hours later, this is a long fucking movie, the ending credits rolled and you might've fallen asleep. It wasn't your fault he had such terrible movie taste that might've also been in complicated Spanish that your fuzzy, whiskey-filled brain didn't want to translate.

The third time he'd said your name you bolted upright.

"Who's it? What happened? Javier? Javier!" You spoke quickly, realising where you were and what you were doing when you looked back at him.

"'s just me. Calm down. Maybe we'll take some of this away." He murmured, picking up the whiskey bottle and taking it with your glass back to the kitchen.

When he came back, you had already drifted off again and he sighed before shaking you awake.

"Stop fucking waking me up." You murmured, cosying back up on the couch for the third time.

"You can't sleep over, missus."

"Why, got a special lady coming over?" You teased with a wiggle of your eyebrows.

"Dios Mio, you're insufferable." He muttered under his breath. "Just stay then, okay? I don't even care."

"Thank you Javiiii." You grinned at him as he walked away to his room.

"You're welcome querida.” He answered before shutting the door and crumpling on his sheets. That was the longest you two had been that close to each other and your touch was doing a lot of things to him that he didn’t want to admit.

His brows furrowed as he sighed, turning the lamp off and willing himself to sleep.

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Your nails dug into his skin so hard you probably drew blood before he stilled inside of you, spilling into the condom with a final thrust.

He stayed there for a moment and appreciated your figure, eyes squeezed shut and your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest rising with your heavy breaths and your arms having moved from his to being thrown above your head, hair all over the place on your face.

The oversensitivity started getting to both of you and he reluctantly pulled out, disposing of the condom before bringing a cloth over to you and cleaning you up gently before doing the same for himself and getting rid of that too.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress and lit a cigarette, puffing out the smoke before turning back to face you.

You were propped up on your forearms with a lazy smile on your face, totally fucked-out. It had taken so long for you two to take the plunge, but now you had finally done it and it was incredible, you were insatiable, always coming back for more. He definitely lived up to that reputation.

You reached for the cigarette and he gave it to you. After taking a long drag, you flopped back down onto his bed and handed it back to him.

“I don’t really wanna get up, y’know.” You said slowly after a few seconds of silent smoking. You had never done a sleep-over with him - after you started fucking - and thought that you might be crossing a line with the implication of doing so in your words.

He debated your words in his mind. He didn’t like getting attached, he didn’t let the informants stay over, and they didn’t really care. It was their job.

But you were different. He knew you, worked with you, and you had fucked enough times for there to be someting more brewing between the two of you.

He stubbed out the cigarette and lay down beside you, brushing some hair out of your face before pulling the blanket back on top of you both and turning around.

“Just stay, then.”

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You were pressed up against a wall, panting heavily as you quickly reloaded your gun and dared a look around the corner. Shouts and gunfire filled your ears, your head pounded and your eyes stung.

You ran from the corner down the hallway and into a room, killing another one of the men. It was noone important, and it was getting fucking annoying by this point. How many people had to die, how many did you have to kill until you would just get an actual lead? A few years ago, this would’ve killed you inside. You were weaker mentally and probably would’ve resigned, not wanting to steal the lives of so many for such futile results.

You walked outside of the house and leaned back against the wall, eyebrows knitted together as you tipped your head back and exhaled deeply. Everyone who was in that building 20 minutes ago was either dead or had slipped away. The person you were looking for had slipped away.

“Todos en la sala principal, ¡date prisa! (everyone in the main room, hurry up!)" Your leader’s voice sounded from inside and you pushed yourself off of the wall, turning the corner and immediately falling to the floor as a gunshot rang through the air.

Fuck, fuck, fucking shit.

Clearly, you had missed one of them and his dumb plan was to pick all of you off by himself instead of just running away and thanking God for letting him escape.

You fired a shot at your attacker, getting him in the arm and causing him to cry out in pain before shooting again and watching his lifeless body hit the path.

You dropped your gun as you shuffled over behind a crate and your eyes pressed together as the pain started to get to you. After looking down and assessing the wound, you confirmed it was nothing fatal having entered and exited just your calf. You pushed yourself up from the floor as someone else rushed down the alleyway, making you scramble for your gun again until you realised who it was.

“Shit! It’s just me! What happened?” Javier shouted to you as he came to a halt in front of you, crouching down and checking the wound.

“Some guy was still here, I was coming back in and then he shot me.” You pointed in the general direction of where you remembered his body now lay. “Over there.”

He nodded before quickly pulling you up on your feet, then noticing how your knees buckled when you tried to stand straight on your own.

He gave you his arm and you held onto him as you walked back to the rest of the group, returning to the office shortly after where they patched you up and told you that you weren’t allowed on the field for a week to make sure you didn’t put too much strain on the muscle and injure it more severely.

You were getting your coat from your office when he knocked on your door, poking his head in.

“You leaving?” He asked as he stepped inside, taking his hands out of the pockets in his leather jacket.

“Yeah. Finished everything before 3 in the morning for once.” You joked, earning a small laugh from him.

“I just happen to be leaving too. Want me to uh- bring you back?”

He knew you didn’t have a car, arguing that the apartment block was only a 30 minute walk away so why waste the money if you barely left the town, and it worried him enough without your being injured.

To be honest, you were on edge recently. Things had been getting more dangerous, more gruesome, more exhausting. You were getting more sloppy too, having more close calls than you would’ve liked to, having less time to take care of yourself. So, his invitation was more than welcome.

“Sure, yeah.” You accepted and stood up, walking over to him and taking the hand he offered you. Probably for stability, you thought, but you wouldn’t mind just holding hands with him anyway. Fuck, you felt like a stupid kid with a crush. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted by love either.

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You made it home and smiled as your cat ran up to you, rubbing her head against your legs and purring. You crouched down - with a little more difficulty than normal, obviously - and scratched behind her ears affectionately before getting back up with Javier’s help and taking your shoes and coat off. He was about to walk in with his shoes on before you quickly stopped him and tutted disapprovingly.

“I don’t like how you Americans wear shoes inside the house. Off.” You scolded, before walking over to the living room slowly.

He shook his head with a smile before taking his shoes off and following behind you, leaning back against the wall as he waited for you to do something.

“They said I gotta clean the dressing, or change it, or something. I dunno. Gave me a little instruction thingie. So- I’m gonna go do that..” You trailed off at the end.

“You want me to stay?” He questioned as he crossed his arms in front of him, t-shirt stretching deliciously over his arms, making your mind replay the memories of him doing very lewd things with them to you and dampening a spot in your panties just at the thought of it. Probably wasn’t a good idea to fuck with a gunshot wound that was barely 12 hours old though; you quickly blinked a few times to get your thoughts back in order and wet your lips before nodding at him. Yes, you did want him to stay. He offered such a sense of security and protection for you even before the stakes got higher, before Pablo’s men started literally bombing places, killing everyone and anyone, and before you got shot. You needed him, and you were realising that it wasn’t just in a sexual way anymore. It scared you and you almost took the non-verbal yes back until he walked up to you and pulled you out of your thoughts again, looking down at you and staring for a moment, as if arguing with himself in his mind. One side finally won when he bent down and kissed you on the forehead gently, pulling back and murmuring an okay to you before you spoke up again.

“Just stay, make yourself comfy. You can take my bed if you want-” He stopped you before you could finish.

“I’m not taking your bed, querida. Either I’ll join you in it or you can just stay there alone. I don’t mind the couch or anything.” He suggested.

“You can join me in it.” You told him before making your way to the bathroom to sort out your wound, thinking about the entire day.

Another unsuccessful raid, then you got shot, now Javi’s staying in your apartment for the night and it wasn’t because you had sex.

Yeah, it was scary.

And it was scary for him too when you clung to him in the night in your sleep, scary when his hand instinctively reached out to stroke your hair soothingly, scary when he almost leaned forward and kissed you before he could stop himself.

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You had to have been in this damn office for the past 3 days straight, working on report after report and chasing lead after lead. People were enjoying the holiday season as it neared vacation time for schools, Christmas ads and music were starting to play and the streets were decorated with so much red and green it made you sick.

The clock on the wall glared at you from across the room as you squinted at it, trying to read it as your eyes drooped like they had been doing for the past hour.

You finally deciphered it and realised it was 2:45AM. Okay, you’d been here for just over a day, but still.

Javier was also still in the building, you heard him walking around and he’d even come in to check on you - bother you - a few times, the latest one being just half an hour ago.

Now he was knocking on your door again and didn’t wait for you to reply before walking inside.

“Got some unfortunate news.” He said, the smirk on his face saying otherwise.

“What.” You demanded, head falling back on your chair as you prepared for literally anything to come out of this man’s mouth.

“We’re snowed in.”

“We’re what.” Your eyes widened. You were this close to finishing your work for the day, night, 2 days, whatever it was, and here he was telling you that you couldn’t actually leave.

“Yeah.” He sighed, coming to sit on your desk, fiddling with the little objects and pens littered around it. “It’s fucking crazy. We never get snow like this here. And because of that, there’s no way to get rid of it when there’s an obscene amount of it.”

You groaned as your head moved from the chair to face plant on the table with a huff of annoyance, him laughing at your state before his expression softened when he realised how tired you looked, then remembered that you were here when he arrived 9 hours ago and you were still here, and you were probably there before he came.

“You can go to sleep, y’know.”

“I have too much work left, Javi. If I leave it then it’ll just get piled up and I’ll have to stay here for-” You paused to work out the amount of hours you’d been in this office. “For 25 hours, again.”

His eyebrows shot up at the number. “25 hours? Jesus Christ, hermosa, please go to sleep. I’ll do the work for you, okay?” He offered, watching as your eyes already started to close.

“Seriously? Thank you.” You yawned. “Where would I sleep though? I can probably find a shovel or something around here and head home, they wouldn’t be that unprepared…”

“No, just stay. There’s a couch in the breakroom. I’ll go find you a blanket or something. ‘S fucking cold.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You smiled, getting up and trudging out of the room and down the hallway to the room and slumping down on the couch.

He came back 5 minutes later with a blanket and laid you down before gently draping it over you.

“Here. You all good?”

“Yeah, thank you, you’re my favourite babysitter Javi.” You joked with a lazy smile, watching his eyes crinkle as he grinned back at you. He had a really nice smile, you mused internally, watching it grow when you realised you’d said that out loud.

“Thanks.” He smirked, before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. That’s as close as you two got to kissing each other and you wouldn’t go any further for now.

“Don’t let me sleep for too long, okay?” You told him before your eyes drooped shut and you lay down completely.

“Te amo. (I love you)" You mumbled, half-awake, before blacking out completely as exhaustion overtook you.

Well shit.

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“Listen, I just think you’ve been too stressed lately, Javs. Gotta loosen up a little, no?” He could hear your grin through the phone. You chewed on the end of your pencil, thankful that he couldn’t see your face right now because the nervousness was evident on it and you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear it anyway.

“Don’t have time to loosen up, queirda.” He countered, the sound of his pen scribbling something furiously onto the paper echoing through the phone. Working again.

“You sure about that? I thought you’ve been loosening up with me quite a bit.” You smirked, making him roll his eyes again.

“Fine. I’ll come to your stupid party thing.”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever.”

You hung up the phone before looking for an outfit to wear, settling on a tight black dress that came to your mid-thighs, a cropped denim jacket and some black heels. The party was tomorrow but you liked to have it planned for sure, trying on the outfit and scrolling through makeup looks for half an hour until you got tired, showering then falling asleep.

The party came around and you looked good. If you hadn’t thought it yourself, the other people there made it evident enough - your friends had given you an appreciative whistle and a rush of compliments as you walked over to them, you felt a few stares on you as you walked, and Javier made his appreciation of the outfit known to you as well.

“Don’t you look good.” He said as his eyes roved over your features, lingering on your tits for a moment longer before they came back up to your eyes again.

“You like the outfit or you want to take it off me?” You teased, hugging him before walking with him to get drinks and then going back to your friends.

When he noticed that there was not just one friend who might not even come as you told him on the phone as a way to get him to accompany you, his smirk turned into a scowl and he glared at you.

“Don’t be pissed, Javi! I just wanted you to loosen. Up.” You nudged his shoulder and introduced him to your friends.

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After a drink or two, he had loosened up a little, until someone who had had more than a drink or two came over to your group and whistled at you. You turned to face him and.. He definitely wasn’t unattractive. But he wasn’t as attractive as the guy who you came here with.

Javier had just gone to get more drinks and the timing was so bad it was funny. The guy was trying to chat you up and you considered it for a second. You and Javi weren’t anything official, just friends with sometimes benefits really, and you weren’t seeing anyone else of course, so what harm could be done with a little flirting? You were just entertaining this guy for a bit, you weren’t actually going to do anything.

Apparently this guy thought you wanted to do something more though, getting closer and closer to you and even trying to kiss you once - you quickly turned around and pretended your phone buzzed, reaching inside your bag for it and praying he wouldn’t try that again.

The world just seemed to hate you though, because Javi was a few feet away when he did try that again, and you didn’t react quickly enough this time.

His lips slammed against yours, and that’s when you saw him watching you, completely rooted to the floor. Then he turned away, storming out and slamming the door to the bar shut behind him. You pushed the guy off of you so quickly he almost fell over and ran after Javier, chasing him as best you could in the heels whilst calling out to him.

“Javi! Javi, wait!” You shouted as you cupped your hands around your mouth, cursing when he didn’t stop.

“Javier, fucking wait!” The use of his full name got his attention for a second, and he was about to start walking away again when your hand gripped his forearm tightly.

“What is your problem?” You gritted. “You seriously made me chase after you in these fucking heels!” You exclaimed as you gestured to the ridiculously uncomfortable shoes.

His jaw was clenched as he looked down to them, then back up at you.

“I don’t get you. You lied to make me come here so I could loosen up a little, and I thought maybe you actually wanted to hang out with me as well. I thought that was a part of it. But then you- you’re kissing another guy? You’ve never even kissed me, and how long have we known each other? How many times have we fucked? How much have I done for you, and how much have you done for me, but the closest we’ve come to anything like that was a kiss on the fucking forehead?” He seethed, aggressive gaze burning straight through you.

He wanted to tell you he loved you. Don’t you know how much I fucking love you? Can you not see it? I know you feel it too. You said it yourself.

He hadn’t told you about what you said that day it snowed yet.

“Javi..” You began after a minute. “I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me. I didn’t want him to.” You admitted, and suddenly his mind cleared. Maybe it was because he had one too many drinks, but he jumped to conclusions. He got too protective of you and you weren’t even his.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He murmured.

There was a moment of silence until you spoke up again in a smaller voice. He’d never seen you look so timid in your life.

“You want to kiss me?” You asked, recalling what he’d said before.

“I- yeah.” He sighed, looking down. No use trying to avoid it now.

You tilted his face upwards before cupping his cheek, leaning in, and kissing him. His eyes widened slightly before he reciprocated it eagerly, one hand curling around your waist and pulling you closer as the other rested on the back of your neck, suffocating you with the kisses and his body. You’d seen so much of each other before and this was the final thing left for you to do. Now you had finally gone and done it.

When you broke from the kiss, you were both panting as his forehead rested against yours.

“Do that again, please.” You said as a grin creeped onto your face, making him let out a low chuckle before obliging your request.

That night, you didn’t have to ask him to stay. He just did.

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You had never been so angry in your entire life, you reckoned. You paced around the room, running a hand through your hair before stopping to look at him again.

"Los Pepes? Really, Javier? Really?!" You said in a raised voice. Of course he had gotten involved with Los Pepes. And now he was getting fired for it.

You had started dating only a few months ago and it was actually going pretty well. He was a really good partner, always did his best to communicate, bought you things, treated you well, had a really big cock.. And you loved him, you really did.

But this was really bad.

"It's not my fucking fault! They helped enough, didn't they?"

"They're brutal murderers!" You shouted before turning away again. "I fucking knew it. I knew there was something wrong. You've been all skittish lately, Los Pepes have been coming up so much in our reports.. I just never thought you'd do something like that." You sighed, looking up from the floor to meet his gaze and feeling your eyes well up with tears as it came crashing down on you that he was going to leave.

"I'm sorry, querida, I can't-" -stay.

"Did you even think about me when you did all this shit? Did you think about us? I thought I was actually important to you, but clearly not." You scoffed bitterly.

"Baby you are important to me-" He began, reaching for your hand.

You batted it away before immediately taking it back and squeezing his hand tight before you felt the tears fall.

"Then why did you do it? We would've- we would've gotten them eventually! It would have just taken a little longer, but this wouldn't have happened! Javier, I can't-" Your entire body shuddered as you sobbed in front of him, and it was like somebody was stabbing him in the heart, twisting the knife around before pulling it out along with his heart with which he loved you so much.

"Please. Please, just stay. We can figure something out. I'll fix it, you can't leave me. I can't do it. Javier." You pleaded, sniffling as you grasped his hand tightly. You didn't want to let go. Of him. Of this. You had liked him for so long and it finally came together and he pulled this shit and now it was all over.

"I can't."

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Thank you so much for reading. Wow that was long. I hope you liked it, and I hope it made sense and it was as good as it was in my head. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open. 💞

#javier peña #javier peña angst #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #amyispxnk fics

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airybcbyy · 1 year

Text

🌹Come Fly with Me🌹

Keigo Takami x GN! reader

Cw! teeth rotting fluff , use of 'birdie' as a pet name/ kinda implied that more happens later ;)) (not edited or proofread at all)

synopsis! Keigo never thought he'd be the man to settle down, but here he was dancing to Frank Sinatra in the kitchen with the love of his life.

Keigo Takami doesn't believe he deserves love, but when he gets home and sees you cooking dinner in the kitchen he just wants to be close to with you.

You hadn't heard him over the music that was playing; keigo recognized it well. It was the playlist you swore would be playing when the two of you got married. “ one day ” he'd tell you, and as impatient a person that you were; you grew to be okay with that answer. You were happy just living the domestic life you had with keigo.

He came up behind you,grabbing your waist as you let out a loud as hell scream. You looked back at the pro hero,"Jesus! Kei! You can't do that to me!" And to keigo; you looked gorgeous right now. Hair in its natural state, not styled or anything- you were in an oversized hoodie and some grey sweats. God he could fall in love with you all over again.

“ sorry, birdie...didn't wanna interrupt you. You looked so..."he thought about the word to describe you before finally understanding just how to describe you. "...ethereal."he laughed as he looked at you.

You just gave him a kiss on the cheek before skipping one of the songs you'd grown to hate on the playlist. Suddenly, Keigo's favorite song started playing. ‘Come Fly with Me’ by Frank Sinatra. Keigo smiled as he pulled you away from the stove,pulling you towards his chest,"may I have this dance?"he got closer to your ear, kissing your temple.

You could only let out a small laugh,"the food, kei..." “Don't worry about that...just dance with me.” you knew that it wasn't going to matter, it was on a low simmer anyways but you were still nervous that you would ruin dinner.

Keigo took your waist in his hand,swaying back and forth with you in his grasp. The slow tune of the song was something that calmed him and you...you were something that riled him up. He sighed shakily as he leaned down,kissing your neck.

Frank Sinatra was one of the most romantic singers; everyone knew this.

He was getting riled up, especially when he felt your hands go up to his wings; caressing them without a second thought. “you're killing me birdie..." The man was pent up. Not being able to see you because of work, dealing with the LOV, and the stress he'd had about keeping you happy.

You were a simple being though; you appreciated him just talking to you. You'd be on your hands and knees for him even if he just gave you a smile. That's just the effect keigo takami had on people.

“you're gonna have to wait, my love."you whispered to him,kissing him as you swayed slowly with him, accidentally stepping on his feet. You were a clumsy person, anyone could see,but it was what made keigo love you even more than the average person could.

Dinner was your first priority, especially because you didn't want to set off the smoke alarms in your shared apartment like you had last week due to the same reason; keigo being needy. Pleasing Keigo was your second favorite thing to do, besides cuddle him, but sadly you'd have to wait on that for now.

“birdie c'mon...”the taller man smiled down at you as he leaned over and turned off the stove top, leaving you quite surprised. “kei- it's getting late! we have to eat-" but the impatient bird brain cut you off by grabbing your waist and basically dragging you to your shared bedroom,running into the walls a few times.

You let out a small whine as the kiss continued,thinking about the food that was going to go to waste as you felt his lips press to yours, seeming like keigo couldn't get close enough.

Kissing you, touching you, being with you was as close to heaven as Keigo could get, and he'd take it over those pearly gates any day,"don't worry, I'll make it up to you.”he whispered against your lips as he pulled away for a breath of air.

and with that you slipped into the arms of keigo takami, the man who could treat you like a god when he really wanted to-

frank sinatra still droning on in the kitchen.

slay? ANYWAY. this is my first time writing for hawks so I hope y'all like it!

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 4 months

Text

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter 7: Tempest

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: Descriptions of r*pe and SA of a minor(reader) (past, it's brief and non-gratituous), a whole lot of gaslighting, angst, Parental abuse, Coersion, drinking, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, heartbreak, stepcest(in bold, this is *again* heavy on the issues around this), Manipulation/gaslighting, traumatic childhood, parental neglect, angst, grief, regret, depression, Strained parent-adult child relationship. Let us know if we missed anything! Word Count: 8.1k (It's a long one!) [Read on AO3] Thank you once again Hemmy (@angelofsmalldeath-codeine) for the hard work in getting this written with me! No tag list for this one, it's a sensitive one.

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Dread forms in the pit of your stomach as you descend the stairs, your fingertips tremble on the banister railing. You linger by the basement door, a pang of yearning constricting your chest as you long for something you shouldn’t.

Then you hear it.

“What is taking her so long? She hasn’t run off again, has she?”

You can hear the contempt dripping from Nancy’s tone, but you haven’t let that bother you for years. No, what bothers you is the way your father laughs along, like it’s all some hilarious joke he’s in on.

“Always was one to run out when things didn’t go her way,” it’s like a slap to the face, hearing him belittle you, make light of all those times you ran out. As if he was there, as if he’d seen first-hand why you’d fled from the one place you were supposed to feel safe.

You step into the kitchen without a word, Nancy and your father are sat on the near side of the breakfast counter, their backs to you as they continue to titter like school children. Dave’s head snaps up, face almost unreadable. But you know that look in his eyes, the slow simmer beneath those deep, amber-flecked irises.

Dave is livid.

You shrug and smile at him, but you know that’s not enough assurance for him, not really. He knows you’re hurting, and you know it kills him that he can’t help. Not for the first time, you’re realising that the only time you’ve felt safe, respected, and truly at home since returning to Texas, was with Dave.

It kills you to know you can’t just fall into his arms and seek the comfort you have been missing these last four weeks. You almost wish you had stayed, that you could have pushed down your feelings and let things play out as they had.

He can’t even bring himself to smile at you or do anything but glare into the mid-distance once he’s done a precursory check to make sure you’re ok. You watch as his hands remain pressed flat on the countertop, his beer untouched as the condensation beads on the neck. Your glass of rosé has been replaced with a beer and you try not to smirk as you take your seat.

“Oh sweetheart,” your mother’s tone is saccharine, and you have to stop yourself from gagging, “We were just worrying about you, everything ok?”

“I heard,” you say, voice level as you take a purposeful sip from your bottle, “Thanks for the drink.”

You know it’s a little too risky, but you smile sweetly at Dave as you speak. You can see a vein in his neck bulge as he forces a smile.

“Anders – your dad – made a comment that he thought you hated rosé,” Dave shrugs and raises his beer in toast to the other man, “We had some of that import lager you like so I grabbed one for you.”

Your dad grins sheepishly between the three of you as Nancy fiddles with the stem of her wine glass. You can see the storm brewing behind her eyes. Unlike Dave, she doesn’t have a very good poker face. There’s an uncomfortable silence as you look between your mother, father, and Dave. Nancy keeps looking at you, like she’s trying to find the courage to say something.

“So, kiddo, what’s new with you? You manage to find a job yet?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a remote job for tech support at the start-up Ash works at.”

You lie, but it’s what Ash suggested you use as cover now she knows about your real job. She has enough sway she could probably even get you a fake employee ID if needed, but you’re not that worried.

“Oh, honey, thank goodness, maybe you can start paying rent now!”

Nancy laughs at her own comment in a way that makes you roll your eyes. She really still thinks she’s just so funny. It makes your stomach turn.

“Actually,” you start, “I’m going to be staying with Ash until I get my own place.”

You almost made your announcement, let it slip that you’re already moving out. But something about the way Nancy keeps stealing looks at you makes you hesitate.

“Oh, honey,” she starts, “I was kidding, don’t be so dramatic, you should come home.”

“No, I’ve made up my mind. I need to keep my stuff here until I get my own place, if that’s ok?”

You make a point not to address Dave directly, you want your mother to feel like she has the power here. You also know it would arouse suspicion about you and Dave if you did.

“Always so dramatic, what was it that even made you leave in the first place? Was it him?”

Nancy points at Dave, ignoring your request and you feel heat prickle under your skin. Blood rushes to your cheeks as you try to recover from the whiplash that the turn in conversation has taken.

“Jesus, Mom,” you hiss, “This again? Why can’t you let it go? Dave did nothing to make me feel uncomfortable. He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Then why did you leave here crying your eyes out, running off in a stranger’s car?”

You go to answer, immediately giving in to the rise Nancy has so nicely set up. But you pause, something about her wording catches your interest.

“How do you know how I left?”

You look at Dave, accusation in your gaze. You want to believe he wouldn’t have said anything about the state of your departure. You’d made a point to plan corroboration only hours ago. Before anyone else can say a thing, an egg timer goes off and you near jump out of your skin. Dave’s body twitches as he stops himself from grabbing your hand.

“That’s the roast. Dave, be a dear and serve up.”

“I’ll help,” Anders jumps up, giving Dave a sympathetic look as he goes.

You shake your head in disbelief at both of your parents’ actions. Your father for being so whipped even now, and Nancy for ordering Dave around like a servant in his own home. Dave doesn’t move, and you can feel the tension between he and your mother. Something is being left unsaid, the silence is deafening and to your surprise, Nancy breaks first.

“Never mind, I’ll do it, like I do everything else in this house.”

She huffs as she wobbles off her stool to help a confused looking Anders serve up the roast. You take another sip of your beer, letting the malty liquid coat your tongue.

“You ok?”

Dave’s voice is low as he gives you a sideways look, his brow is knitted with concern as he speaks.

“No,” you whisper, fiddling with the bottle between your fingertips as you try not to lose your shit.

“If you want to leave, I’ll cover for you, I’ll bear the brunt of whatever this mood of hers is.”

You hesitate, the idea sounding more than appealing right now but you know you need to see this through. This isn’t the end of this hellish set-up, and it won’t end here if you just leave now. You need to see this through.

“I do, but I can’t, this isn’t something I can run from. Not this time.”

Dave says nothing more as your father comes over with the first few plates of sides. By the time everything is served you’re pretty hungry. You pile your plate up, focusing on the food so that you can ignore the three sets of eyes that are trained on you.

You try and eat, chewing your food thoroughly before swallowing. But there’s so much unease rattling through your body that you can’t find the joy in it. Your father is eating away happily, seemingly oblivious to the tension bouncing between your mom and you. Dave eats slowly, if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was enjoying his meal. His beer remains untouched, as he continues to observe silently.

Your question hangs unanswered in the air, and it turns your stomach to know something is being left unsaid.

“So, how did you know?”

You ask again, finding your voice as you abandon the food on your plate. You can’t keep doing this. You want to get whatever this ambush was about over and done with so you can just go back to Ash’s. But most of all, you just want to go home, but you don’t know where that is right now. Images of Dave wrapping himself around you in your bed upstairs come to mind, but you push them away. You have more pressing matters to deal with.

“It doesn’t matter, drop it,” Nancy snaps as she drains her glass of wine before angrily spearing a stem of broccoli on her fork.

“It does matter,” you say as you throw your cutlery down with a clatter, “I deserve an explanation. Mom, tell me how you knew.”

“Stop being so childish, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Nancy deflects again as she looks anywhere but you. You go to say something, but Dave’s voice startles you.

“Nancy, are you going to tell her, or do I have to? Or are you going to keep ignoring her questions, like she’s a child?”

“Tell me what?” You challenge the pair of them, looking between them as your father sits in stunned silence, abandoning his food as well. You almost smile at his discomfort. Whatever he thought he was brought in to help your mother with, this wasn’t it.

“We aren’t talking about that right now,” Nancy spits as she fills another glass of wine, “We’re supposed to be here talking about you,” she points her finger at you, gesturing with her wine glass as it’s gripped in her clutches, “You and your problem.”

“My problem?”

“Yes, the fact that you’re whoring yourself out online, like a fucking… prostitute!”

“What are you talking about?” You respond with venom lacing your tone, your eyes narrowed as you try and keep your cool. There’s no way she could know.

“This!” She cries as she walks over to a paper bag on the far counter. You hadn’t noticed it before, but you already have some idea of what will be in there. You wait for her to pull out your paraphernalia and wave it in your face. To your surprise she up-ends the bag onto the island. The masks and the vibrator don’t shock you, but the multiple sets of lingerie and garter belts do.

“You went through my underwear drawer?”

You feel physically sick as you watch your belongings sit on top of plates of sides. The scene is mortifying as you scramble away from the table. Your skin crawls as you feel the tendrils of violation slithering under your skin.

“How dare you?”

“So, you’re denying it?” Nancy scoffs as she sits with her arms crossed, a picture of misplaced triumph.

“Of course, I am. Where did you even get that idea from? Some sex toys and some lingerie?”

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” Nancy spits as she straightens in her chair, her eyes wild as she seethes at your challenge, “The slutty bedding, the blackout curtains, the fucking camera pointed at your bed. There’s no other explanation for it.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m just kinky? That I might I like it when my sexual partners do more than rut into me for five minutes and roll over? I would have thought you’d be far more open minded considering that you enjoyed enough freedom to explore your own sexuality over the years. Why does your mind go straight to sex work? As for my bedding, I thought you wanted me to feel comfortable here. Just because I can’t stand the bland suburban vibe you chose for this house, doesn’t make it slutty.” You scoff, your back up as you feel the need to defend yourself, “For someone who’s made a living off prenup settlements, alimony and husbands’ credit cards, you are incredibly judgmental of sex work. That’s the correct term for it these days, by the way.”

You pause to take a breath as you shake your head, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of your nose as you refocus your train of thought. Nancy goes to speak, and you hold up your other hand to silence her.

“I wasn’t finished,” you snap before continuing, “What gave you the right to enter my room, search my things, and steal from me? Even if I was a sex worker – which I’m not – that wouldn’t give you any right to do any of that. And how dare you try and slut shame me? What do you stand to gain by humiliating me like this? Dumping my underwear and toys in front of Dad, and your husband no less? What is your angle here?”

You can see Dave’s façade beginning to crack, his hands are fists balled on the table as his resolve begins to slip. Your father is sullen, eyes downturned as he avoids your gaze. His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t seem to be listening anymore.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Nancy starts up again but is cut off before she can continue.

“Enough.”

Dave snaps as he stands, his chair scraping loudly on the tiled floor, his shoulders tense as he glowers down at Nancy.

“Don’t you dare tell me enough,” Nancy yells at Dave.

“First the PI, now this? It’s abhorrent, Nancy. How can you disrespect your adult daughter’s privacy so flagrantly?”

“A PI? Are you serious right now?” You scoff, “When you’re the one spending so many weekends alone with Danielle?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nancy snaps but you just laugh.

“Cut the crap, Nancy,” you say her name without thinking and it’s like a switch is flipped. Your mother’s eyes go wide, and she drops her glass, as if you’d physically hit her. It clatters on the countertop, spilling the sickly pink alcohol across the surface.

“Just as I suspected, you’ve seduced him, haven’t you? Turned him against me by sucking his dick just like you did with Kyle.”

White noise fills your ears as you walk backwards, needing to put physical distance between you and your mother. You feel your knees weaken; you clutch the countertop behind you in desperation to stop yourself from falling. Your mouth goes slack as you try and ground yourself, but you’re left adrift as the accusation rocks you.

“I was fourteen.”

The statement falls from your lips like a lead weight, striking the tiled floors with a clatter as it bounces around the open space. Your words echo around the room as you feel the world swaying around you.

“Nancy, what are you talking about?”

To your surprise it’s your father who speaks up and you see the look of horror on his face.

“This doesn’t concern you, Anders,” she spits but he’s still shaking his head in disbelief. Dave turns to look at you, his jaw tight as he tries to keep his cool. But you see it, the desperate sorrow mingled with fury at your admission.

“Kyle left you because I threatened him with the police. I didn’t let him do anything to me, that would imply I had a choice.”

Your voice isn’t your own as you hiss at your mother, never have you spoken back to her so freely. But you can’t do this, not anymore. You can’t be here.

You start to move without thinking, your body shaking as you head to the door. You vaguely register people calling after you, but you can’t stop. You’re opening the door by the time someone catches up to you, a firm arm on your elbow. You turn, and something deep within you hopes it’s Dave but you’re met with the pinched features of your father.

“Please don’t leave,” he pleads but you shake your head violently, lurching away from his grasp as you stumble onto the porch. The cold wind hits you as you realise you’ve left you purse and your coat inside.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

You look at the man before you up and down with derision, it seems obvious now how alone you’ve always been. Not once have you been able to rely on him, nor Nancy, when things got tough. It’s like you’ve finally taken off a blindfold, exposing you to the sad reality that you’ve survived on you own for most of your life without either of their help.

“I’m your father, please, let me help you.”

“Are you? It hasn’t felt much like it in recent years.”

He stammers and there’s something in his expression that makes you take pause. You can’t fucking believe it, but maybe you can. This whole evening has been full of fucked up truth speaking and skeletons tumbling from your familial closet. What’s one more bombshell to add to the list?

“Are you?”

You ask again as you glare at him, Nancy appears at his back, and you see the twist of shame in your mother’s face.

“Perfect,” you laugh, hysterical and unhinged as you fail to keep your cool, “You don’t even know do you?”

“Please, sweetheart, come back inside,” he pleads but you shake your head, despite the cold, it’s only an hour’s walk back to Ash’s place.

“No.”

You turn on your heel and stomp down the steps, speed-walking down the driveway until you hit the sidewalk. You go to check your phone, but you realise you’d left it in your coat. You curse but keep on going. There’s no way you’re going back.

~*~

Dave can’t remember the last time he felt so furious. He thinks he might crack a tooth if he continues clenching his jaw so hard. He sits at his desk as he downloads a copy of the CCTV footage onto a second USB drive, ready to give to you.

The first USB drive sits on the desk, ready to be put in a hidden compartment in his car door. He can hear Nancy and Anders bickering upstairs. He taps his foot irritably as he watches the progress bar, he needs to check in with you, but this comes first.

Evidence gathering always comes first.

The progress bar turns green as the job completes. He ejects the drive and secures it in a plain envelope, your name scrawled across the front. He needs to go back upstairs and face Nancy and Anders, but he can’t, he’s too pent up. Too angry.

In this state, he might do something he’ll regret.

He locks the door to his room and slides across the deadbolt before he practically rips off his dress shirt. He strips off before tossing everything into the hamper at the corner of the room.

He turns on the faucet and steps into the cold stream, not waiting for the water to get to temperature. He jolts as the frigid sheets of water cascade over him, a pained hiss escaping his clenched teeth.

He’s shivering by the time the water finally warms up, his anger quelled, he realises he’d forgotten to do something. He scrubs himself clean before striding out to grab his phone. The other line answers on the third ring. Dave doesn’t even bother waiting for a response before he starts talking.

“Is that you sat in the blue sedan three houses down?”

“You know me too well, boss,” Resnik chuckles down the line and Dave shakes his head. He’s not in the mood for Resnik’s bullshit. He balances the phone between his shoulder and jaw as he pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from his drawers.

“You see her leave?”

“Affirmative.”

“Think you can tail her for me? On foot?”

“Christ, really?”

“Yes or no, Resnik.”

“Fine. I’m on it, do I need my camera?” Resnik curses as Dave hears him jostling the phone, “Shit she’s on the other line already, she’s relentless.”

“Ignore her, make up an excuse, I don’t care. You’re not tailing either of us professionally, Nancy be damned. I need tonight off the books.”

“Got it, you breaking protocol to tap that a-?”

Dave ends the call, anger already simmering too hot under his skin as he forces his feet into some sneakers. For all of his uses, Resnik is his least favourite member of the team, and moments like this remind him why. But right now, your safety is more important than chewing out his subordinate.

He pockets his phone and the envelope with your USB in it before unlocking the door and heading upstairs. He runs a hand through his hair as he jogs up the steps, already bracing himself for the inevitable tirade that awaits him. He peeks out into the hallway to see Nancy and Anders have moved to the living room. Still bickering furiously. He smirks at the sight and leans against the doorframe, clearing his throat to get their attention.

“What do you want?” Nancy snaps.

“I want you,” Dave snarls as he points at Anders, “to get the fuck out of my house. Now.”

Anders physically shrinks back and Dave smirks, what a pathetic man.

“It’s my house too!” Nancy argues but Dave simply shakes his head.

“You might live here, Nancy, but it’s my name on the deed,” he counters, relishing the way her lips purse into a tight line as she knows she can’t argue there, “Regardless, if he’s not gone by the time I get back, I will physically remove him.”

“Asshole,” Nancy grumbles under her breath, clearly hoping Dave wouldn’t hear her.

“And you?” Dave fixes his gaze firmly on Nancy now, making her squirm, “I can’t even look at you right now. What you did tonight was beyond obscene, it was grotesque. I honestly don’t recognise you as the woman I married. What I saw tonight, aimed at your own daughter no less, was humiliating. I need to clear my head, I’m going out for a run, it might be a good idea for you to go and stay with Danielle for a few days.”

“Bullshit,” Nancy storms towards Dave, and this time Dave sees the blow coming, he catches her wrist mid-swing and holds it there. She struggles against his grip and her eyes go wide as she realises just how strong Dave is.

“What’s bullshit?” Dave challenges, holding her gaze as he cocks his eyebrow, daring her to accuse him once more.

“Going for a run? What a crock of shit. You’re going to go and fuck her, aren’t you? I’m not blind, Dave. The moment I can prove you’re taking advantage of her, it’s over for you. I’ll take you for all you’re worth. I will ruin you.”

“You can’t stop yourself, can you? You really can’t see how utterly debasing and disgusting these allegations are? Especially for her?” Dave shakes his head as he lets her go, turning on his heel and heading to the door. By some mercy Nancy doesn’t follow, but she continues to scream at him about the prenup, he pays it no mind.

He passes the coat rack on the way out and notices your coat and purse. He takes one last look over his shoulder, Nancy is nowhere to be seen, and he snatches them up before heading out the door. Then he feels it, your coat is strangely heavy, something is weighing it down. He continues walking down to the sidewalk as he fishes through your pocket.

He’s just out of sight of the house when he pulls out your phone. His blood runs cold as he realises just how vulnerable you are right now. He breaks into a sprint as he heads to the parked car that he keeps on standby a few streets over. He fumbles with the keys as his blood rushes loudly in his ears, the moment he’s inside the car he dials Resnik’s number again.

~*~

It’s fucking cold.

You curse yourself as you walk down the side of the road. You also curse the bullshit inconsistency of sidewalks in Austin as you have to cross the street once again just to keep off the road. Back in New York you’d be in thicker clothes and have ample sidewalk to walk down.

But here you are, in Texas, in the Winter. With no coat, no phone, no purse.

Stupid.

You curse to yourself as you flinch when a truck hurtles past you enough to sway you with the turbulence it creates. This isn’t even funny anymore, but you can’t turn back now. You’re only a few blocks away from Ash’s apartment and you’d only be putting yourself in more danger if you did go back.

You reach a crosswalk when you feel it. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as you go to cross. It’s an instinctual gnaw at the back of your mind as you see a flicker of movement in a yard across the street.

Four.

You count to yourself mentally, four times that you’d felt like this since you left Nancy’s. The idea of a PI tailing you fresh in your mind as you decide your next move. A gust of wind makes you cry out as it pierces your skin, your teeth chattering as you shiver violently. You cross, trying not to focus on the chain link fence that sways ahead of you. It could just be the wind, or your mind playing tricks on you.

Hyper-vigilance is something you learned long ago. You don’t remember a time when you weren’t checking over your shoulder in public. But this is different, this is something more sinister.

You slow your pace down as you pass the yard where you thought you saw movement. You scan out of your peripheral vision but there’s nothing there. Just an empty yard, grass muted and grey in the winter chill, not even a bush to hide in.

You sigh, trying to roll the tension out of your shoulders as you move on, you’re less than ten minutes’ walk away now. You watch as a black coupe pulls up a street over, parking up, engine off. But no-one exits the car. You would have missed it if it weren’t for how jumped up you are right now.

You know it’s stupid, you’re probably just imagining this as well. But you have to check on your hunch. You cross back over onto the other side of the street, trying to keep casual as your eyes lock on the vehicle up ahead.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you reach the passenger side window. You take a deep breath and knock on it before bending low to look inside the car. Your eyes go wide as you see the driver.

It’s Dave.

He reels back, recoiling from your gaze and you almost smile at the sight of the unflappable Dave York being startled.

“Can I get in?”

You ask as you gesture to the door handle. You hear the click of the electronic lock opening and pull the door open. You groan as you slump into the passenger seat, the heaters are on full, and you immediately feel your body warming through.

“I can explain-,” Dave starts but you wave your hand at him dismissively.

“I’m too cold,” you grumble as you close your eyes, “And hungry, and pissed off to talk right now. Can we go somewhere to eat and talk there?”

“Sure.”

And once again Dave doesn’t press, even though he must be flustered you’d caught him, doing what? Stalking you? No, this was an act of compassion. You crack your eyes open and look into the back seat to see your purse resting atop your coat. Dave to the rescue yet again. You should be annoyed, irritated that he’s bailing you out of yet another shitty situation. But all you can feel is gratitude.

You ride in silence for a little while, letting the warmth seep back into your bones as you curl and uncurl your toes. By the time the car comes to a halt you’re feeling a little more human. You flutter your eyes open to see the neon sign of a diner flashing at you.

“Does this fit the bill?” Dave asks as he kills the engine.

“Perfect.” You groan as you haul yourself out of the car, leaving your coat and purse behind. You know your phone is going to be filled with messages and missed calls, and you don’t want to face that right now.

You stride through the glass door and find a booth in the center of the diner. Dave hurries after you, anxious to keep up as he slides into the red and white pleather seat opposite you. The diner is loud and filled with the sound of cutlery scraping on plates and the buzz of multiple conversations echoing around the small space.

Dave looks wrecked, his hair is dishevelled, sticking out at all angles as he clenches his hands together on the table. His dark eyes flick around the diner as if searching for danger and you feel a pang of shame in your chest.

“Hey,” you say softly as you reach forward for his hands, “Are you alright?”

Dave blinks a few times, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“Me?” He scoffs, “You’re asking me if I’m ok? You’re the one that just got ambushed by Nancy and your father, calling you nothing short of a prostitute.”

Dave’s words sting but you can’t deny his candour.

“You’ve got a PI up your ass and a vindictive asshole of a wife,” you shrug as you see the waitress coming over, “I think we’ve both got it pretty rough.”

“What can I get y’all this evening?”

The interruption of the waitress is welcomed as you quickly order something off the menu. Dave gets the same and tells her to keep the coffee coming. You feel Dave’s ankle brush against yours and you don’t flinch away. You expect him to, but his eyes meet yours and there’s comfort there. You anchor yourself, and you expect it’s the same for him.

“So, how’d you find me?”

“Luck, a bit of intuition,” he shrugs, “There’s really only one route into central Austin without hitting the highway. Had to circle through a few neighbourhoods but you’re not exactly hard to spot, underdressed and on foot this time of night.”

You shrug, you had kept to the same road the whole time, crossing for sidewalk safety aside. But you’re not satisfied yet.

“How’d you know Ash lived in central Austin?” You question him further, seeing if you can poke holes in his story. You’re still not wholly convinced he’s telling you everything.

“You’re thorough. You must be formidable in court,” Dave says with a wide smile that makes his cheeks dimple. Do you detect a glimmer of pride in that smile? You feel heat rise to your cheeks at the thought. You’re so unused to genuine praise it catches you off guard, but you try not to let it distract you.

“Besides, you got home within an hour from leaving the club on your birthday, there’s no way you got an Uber out of the city and to her place in that time on a Friday night. It was the logical place for me to head towards.”

You nod slowly, your curiosity almost sated.

“Last one about finding me,” you say with a smirk as Dave raises an eyebrow at you playfully, “Why’d you come after me? Was it just to give me my things?”

“No, I wanted to make sure you were ok, that was a lot to go through in one evening. None of that should’ve happened. I’m so sorry it did.” He says as his smile falters, “And thinking about you walking an hour back into Austin on your own – at night – left me feeling,” he pauses, trying to find the right word, “Uneasy.”

“Thank you,” you say, meeting his gaze with warmth as you itch to reach out and touch him, “I really appreciate you doing that.”

“Of course, I’d do anything for you.”

His words surprise you and you swallow around a lump forming in your throat as you try to get back to the matter at hand.

“Right,” you nod as a mug of black coffee appears at your elbow, you thank the server and continue, “What the fuck is going on with you and Nancy? No bullshit this time, what’s your angle?”

Dave looks at you with a wry smile on his lips, his eyes wide as he tilts his head at you.

“Right down to it,” Dave responds with a sigh, “What do you want to know?” Dave asks and you’re caught off guard for a moment at his willingness to open up to you. He’s been a closed book so far, only giving you glimpses of his true feelings. Suddenly you feel a little nervous, like you’re stepping over a line.

“Why are you still with her?”

The question sounds petulant, even to your own ears, but it’s honest and you need to know.

“It’s complicated,” Dave says but puts his hand up before you can protest, you’re already ready to leave at those two words, your ankle moving away from his, “So, let me explain. It’s a lot.”

“Ok,” you concede as you lean back in the booth, “Start talking.”

“I don’t know how much Nancy told you,” Dave shifts in his seat, his voice low, “But you know I’m in the CIA right?”

“Yeah, some kind of pencil pusher ‘analyst’,” you say, making air quotes with your fingers as you speak, “The kind of nondescript role that means you’re actually knee deep in classified shit?”

Dave blinks for a moment, his brows raise as he tries to work out if you’re fucking with him.

“Dave, I was an attorney in New York for five years,” you roll your eyes, “You think I don’t know that every agency has a standard cover title?”

Dave lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as you swear you hear him laugh.

“Ok, fine, let's cut the shit,” Dave meets your gaze as he rests his chin on his clasped hands, elbows firm on the table, “I deal with some seriously dangerous people, and sometimes, no matter how careful we are, there are calls for retribution.”

You sober a little as you let the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Around the time I found out what kind of person Nancy is, one of those threats bore down hard on me and my team,” Dave takes a second, scanning the busy diner with a practiced caution. “And the threat hasn’t cooled off enough since for me to leave her. Nancy is collateral if we split.”

“You’re staying to keep her out of danger?”

Dave nods as the server comes over with your food. You thank her and she promises to come back and refill your coffee soon. You sit there for a while, eating slowly, chewing every bite as you steal glances at Dave.

“Am I a target?”

The question hangs in the air as you meet Dave’s gaze.

“We don’t think so, no.”

Your head snaps up from your meal and you’re almost offended as you stare Dave down.

“You’re not my daughter, and until very recently you lived in New York with little to no contact with your mother.”

“So what?” you add, “I’m not important enough to be profiled?”

“There’s been no evidence that you’ve been targeted,” Dave shrugs and there’s something unspoken there that makes your heart flutter.

“So, all that aside,” you probe further, “You know the prenup is bullshit, right? Like, invalid from the beginning?”

“Of course, I do,” Dave shrugs but a soft blush creeps up his neck as you call him out so hard, “You wrote it up for a New York client so it’s invalid in Texas. Conveniently, you’re not licensed to practise here. Plus, you have a conflict of interest seeing as Nancy is your mother, I wasn’t there at the signing or drawing up of the document, the list goes on.”

“But you’ve stayed to protect her?”

“Two-for-two,” Dave says with little emotion as he takes a long gulp of his coffee.

“This is all so fucked,” you groan as you push your plate to the side, “So you’re hoping she keeps fucking Danielle, and doesn’t serve you papers until after this threat passes?”

“Something like that,” Dave grunts and you feel for him. None of this is healthy.

“His name is Bryce, by the way. The man she’s sleeping with.”

You fumble for a moment, trying to keep up with the conversation. But you recognise the name, it’s someone your mother has complained about before.

“Bryce Hall? The president of the HOA?”

“The very same,” Dave affirms as he smirks at you, surprised you know him.

“Nancy used to text bitchy messages about him when she first moved in,” you explain, “She hated having to clear the sidewalk of leaves or something.

“Sounds about right,” Dave nods contemplatively, “Anything else you want to know?”

“Do you regret it?” You ask, keeping Dave’s gaze as you prepare for the worst, for him to tell you that you were a mistake.

“Regret marrying your mom? Of course I do-,” but you cut him off, shaking your head as your feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“No, do you regret what happened between us?”

“No,” Dave covers one of your hands in his own, his fingertips circling around your wrist, “But I need to know something before this conversation goes any further.”

You feel heat flood your body at sensation of his broad hand covering yours.

“Anything,” you nod.

“What happened with Kyle?”

You tense up under his touch and Dave starts to pull away, but you stop him. You thread your fingers through his as you pull him back to you. You need him right now, his grounding presence. He’s warm and it makes your heart clench to feel his skin on yours.

“So, Nancy wasn’t very good at staying sober, even when I was young,” you say, letting out a small sigh as you squeeze Dave’s hand, “It meant that her boyfriends were often left unsupervised with me.”

It’s Dave’s turn to squeeze your hand and you look up to see the rage in his eyes as his nostrils flare.

“Yeah, he wasn’t the only one to touch me,” you fidget in your seat a little, casting a look around the diner, as if to make sure no-one is listening.

“If this is too hard for you, you don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry I asked.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I want to tell you, even if it’s hard.”

Dave rubs his thumb gently over your skin and you smile at the gentle encouragement.

“One night, Nancy was passed out on the sofa, it can’t have been later than eight,” you swallow, your guts twisting as your heart rate increases, you can feel the sweat beading on your brow, “I was reading in my room. Sprawled out in my pjs, music up, then Kyle came in.”

You pause as the server comes and takes your plates, filling your coffee before asking if you need anything else, you both decline. It’s a welcome break as you clear your throat, brushing tears from your eyes with your free hand.

“He started by just sitting on the bed, touching my leg, asking me what I was reading. It ended up with me pressed against the mattress, his hand smothering my face as he-,”

You can’t finish your sentence as you break down, the memory burned into your skin as you feel Dave pull away. You weep as your anxiety tells you that he’s left, your broken sob story too much for him to deal with. You’ve driven another person away with your drama, with your sad little life.

“I’m here.”

Dave’s voice is soft in your ear as he slides into the booth next to you. You look up to see him with his arms open, facing you. You don’t hesitate to throw yourself into his embrace, your fists balling in the fabric of his hoodie as you sob into his chest. His arms wrap around you gently, cradling your shoulders as he rests his chin on the crown of your head.

“He raped me Dave, I was a child and he fucking raped me.”

“I know, I know,” he says softly as he holds you close, “None of that was your fault, not a moment of it, you know that right?”

“I know, but after what Nancy said at dinner, I just can’t stop thinking I should have done more.”

“Nancy is a coward and a liar,” Dave growls, “You were a child, you should never have been put in that situation.”

“I hate her,” you cry as you fist your hands tighter in his hoodie, your face buried in his chest.

“I know,” he murmurs into your hair, and you hear the tightness in his voice. You know he’s keeping his own emotions under wraps here. But you know why he’s asked about this. You know where his mind is going.

“You’re nothing like them, like Kyle,” you say, almost to yourself as you ground yourself in the scent of Dave’s body wash, his shampoo. He smells like home.

“You don’t have to say that, you don’t have to do that.”

“I mean it,” you push back, your eyes bleary as you look up into Dave’s sad eyes. “I threatened him with the police at age fourteen, I have hard evidence against you.”

Dave’s jaw ticks to the side at the reminder but he nods slowly.

“I’m not a fourteen-year-old anymore, David,” you say, your voice firm as you hold his gaze, “I know how to say no, I know my own mind.”

“I know but-,”

“No, I know that you’re trying to protect me, again,” you shake your head pushing back from him as you straighten up, “But I need you to know that no matter what happens, I will never regret what we had.”

Dave nods his hands still on your shoulders as he looks you up and down.

“I am sorry that happened to you,” he says softly.

“This isn’t on you, Dave. You shouldn’t feel responsible for what happened.”

“I just don’t want to fail you, be another person who has let you down when you needed them most.”

“Dave, you’re here,” you say as you realise how close you are, “You’ve already done more than anyone else since I moved back.”

He’s silent now, his hands dropping from your shoulders as he nods curtly. He shuffles away from you on the seat, and you feel the hollow sting of rejection in your chest. Despite everything that happened tonight, you still need him. You know you’re pent up and vulnerable, but like always, it isn’t just about sex, or lust, or desire with Dave.

It’s love.

And finally admitting it to yourself only makes the hole in your chest expand. But you blink away the tears as you turn to see Dave looking just as pained as you feel.

“I should get you back to Ash’s place, I’ll need you to give me the address,” he says as he stands, throwing a handful of bills on the table.

“Yeah,” you nod, not trusting yourself to say anything more. You follow him out towards the black coupe. You lean over to grab your coat and purse, already dreading the state of your notifications. But you place them by your feet, not wanting to face the noise yet. You give Dave the address of Ash’s apartment block and let the sat nav fill the silence between you.

“Dave?” You break the silence and his eyes flick to you in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah?”

“I felt like I was being followed tonight, like there was someone with me from the moment I left the house,” you take a shaky breath, knowing how paranoid you sound, “Do you think it was the PI?”

“Probably,” he answers after a second, his tone flat, “He’s been sniffing around me for just over a month.”

“Shit, that’s around when Nancy hit you right?”

“Correct,” he nods as he pulls up at a set of lights, looking at you briefly with a sad smile, “That’s how she knew about your leaving with Ash.”

“I see,” you nod as it all fits together, “How long have you known?”

“From the moment she charged the first consultation on our joint credit card.”

You pause for a moment and your lips quirk up into an incredulous smirk.

“She didn’t seriously use your credit card to pay for a PI to follow you?”

“You can’t make this shit up, can you?” He chuckles and you throw your head back as you let yourself laugh at her lack of foresight.

“So, I guess kissing you goodnight is out of the question?” You say as Dave pulls up outside the apartment block.

“I don’t think-,” Dave starts as he puts his hands up to protest but you cut him off.

“I’m kidding Dave,” you say with a smile as you lean back on the headrest.

“Funny,” he says with a dry laugh as he shakes his head. You can’t think of a reason to linger so you gather your things and unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Goodnight, Dave,”

“Goodnight,” he says your name softly as you exit the car. You don’t turn back as you ascend the stairs, you know it will hurt too much if you see him watching you go. You’ve put yourself through enough emotional torture tonight, you might just break if you look back.

You fish your phone and keys out of your pockets but pause as you feel the crinkle of paper. You pull out a small envelope with your name on it and the following message.

Don’t play me until you’re alone.

~*~

Dave waits until he sees the front door close behind you before he relaxes in his seat. He sits there for a moment, collecting himself as he feels the anguish burning under his skin. He just wants to make it all go away, all of your grief, all of your hurt. He wants you safe, happy.

He loves you.

He’s pushed down that inappropriate word for weeks. Put his feelings down to lust, excitement, hell even the thrill of the taboo. But nothing about tonight was exciting, there wasn’t an ounce of lust in his body as he heard your mother debase and degrade you. There was no thrill in hearing how you were raped at fourteen and blamed for it. Nor in fully realising all the neglect Nancy and your dad put you through.

All he feels is a deep, festering hatred for your mother, and a desire to never let anyone hurt you like that again.

He picks up his phone and dials Resnik’s number.

“Hey, Boss, Nancy hasn’t stopped calling all night. I tried to make up some shit about having food poisoning, but she’s persistent.”

“Get back to my house, I’m going for a run for real this time, give her the photos she so desperately wants.”

“But, boss, I’m a couple of blocks away!” Resnik whines down the phone and Dave smirks to himself.

“Better start running Resnik, you’ve got twenty minutes. Don’t forget your camera!”

Dave hangs up before Resnik can complain, laughing at his subordinate from deep in his chest. He’s already heading back out of the city at pace. Needling Resnik like this felt like an adequate consequence to his lecherous comments earlier.

All he can hope is that Nancy’s off grovelling to Bryce when he gets back, because he has work to do. If he’s to be sure to come out of this unscathed, his story needs to be airtight. He needs to treat this like any other job, any other profile. There can’t be a single discrepancy or loose end.

He needs to talk to you about making sure your copies of your joint stream are stored offline to protect you both. He needs to get his team on scrubbing any screen recordings of that stream floating around the porn sites.

After tonight he knows Nancy will be on a war path. But he’s ready, and Nancy will never know what hit her.

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