#i have read and heard them all and they always boil down to this fucking bullshit

[hotmess-exe]

"MY life has gotten marginally better or been unaffected under the current administration, so give the Democrats YOUR vote"

that's what y'all sound like. fuckin entitled. or do none of y'all actually believe in one person, one vote lol

just say that other people's problems, well-being, stability, and dignity is secondary to your fucking comfort under the status quo.

if things are "better under Biden" for you to such an extent that you feel entitled to other people's fucking votes, I got news for ya — you were probably fine under Trump too 🙃

#all i hear is #give me your vote #GIVE me your vote — and im not talking about from politicians #your ass is so excited to vote for a warmonger and a genocidal liar #which every us president has been to some degree bc that's the real face of america #ok then you and YOUR vote can vote for biden #bitching about leftists abstaining to vote blue this election is just y'all crying over the consequences #of demanding support from the demographics you clearly DO NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT #while loudly proclaiming and proving that you do not give a fuck about them lmao #mess #clown brigade #fuck biden #make a real argument please lmao #i have read and heard them all and they always boil down to this fucking bullshit #y'all pretend there's no nuance to ppl not voting this cycle but pretend theres nuance to #vote blue no matter who #lmao ok #i aint even old yet and im too old for this shit

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Keeping up with the Bhangs

This is a one shot from the little series. Read it if you would like it’s on my master list :))

Warning: Angst

Pairing: Bangchan x reader

Summary: Being a mum is hard when you have to constantly play good cop, bad cop.

**

"Chan?" She called for her husband. "Chan come look at what your daughter did!" Y/n called again. The sight infront of her was painful. Her little girl was stood in the middle of the room looking so innocent but she had created a huge train wreck around her. She couldn’t believe it.

She tried to keep her cool, she really did but she couldn’t. She heard the quiet footsteps making their way up towards their daughters room. Her anger was being tested and she felt like she was about to blow.

"What is it Y/n? I have a really important-" he paused when he looked up from his phone as he stared at the sight in front of him. "What the hell?" He let out a gasp.

The room was a mess. There was paint everywhere and crayons all over the wall. The collections of toys chan had gotten Soo-min where spread all over the place and her clothers (Soo-min) was covered in dirt, paint and crayons as she stood there looking innocent with the crayon in her hand. 

"Chan look what your daughter did!" Y/n raised her voice a little causing Soo-min to jump. She took little steps quickly to hide behind her father who was now standing fully in the room. It had been obvious she was scolded before this because her little hands were shaking and her lips were quivering.

Chans eyes soften as he loosened the tie that wrapped around his neck and unbuttoned his shirt. He was determined to keep his wife calm and fix whatever was going on. If he had time of course.

"Hey, Y/n calm down. Don’t stress out baby. Its okay," He picked up his little girl with one hand trying to remove the paint of her face. Her eyes on the verge of tears as she pouted. "We can just get the cleaners to clean it-"

Chan being calm about the whole situation pissed of Y/n to the fullest because why was he so put together? Why was he such a good calm dad.

"Chan! you dont get it! this is not okay, she constantly disobeys, this is a huge mess! i left her for only a few minutes!" Y/n groaned frustrated as she threw the cups she had collected from the ground into a basket. 

"Y/n, its fine. She's a baby-" the glare Y/n gave him instantly made him shut up and look at his little girl that was basically holding onto his shirt for dear life. 

"M' sorry," Soo-min chocked on her sobs as tears started to spill and she Sniffed. She didn’t understand why her mum was being so scary. She only wanted to draw to make her happy cause she knew how sad she had been.

Chans heart melted at her little pout.

"Its okay mama, no need to cry. Daddy's got you," Chan wiped the tears from her cheeks and grabbed the crayon and paint brush from her tiny little hands. "Y/n look what you've done, now she's crying."

"Chan you cant honestly think this is okay-" Y/n was buffled. Chan didn't think this was okay, did he?

"she's a kid! kids make mistakes, she's still learning. You don't scold her, you teach her," His voice was now loud aswell. He was getting frustrated. He didnt want his children growing up in a toxic enviroment where they get yelled at or abused. That was his worst nightmare. 

“Then fine! You raise them if ur such a good teacher,”

“I don’t have time for this Y/n I have a big meeting coming-“

“Of course you fucking do, why don’t you just move into your office and abandon your kids and pregnant wife!”

Her blood was boiling. It was like she was getting everything off her chest and she needed it.

“Y/n that’s enough. Your acting like a child in front of her!” Chan growled. “You can’t even control this situation without calling and crying for me,” his chest was moving up and down as he was huffing. Trying so hard to control himself but he was stressed and tired and it was like she wanted to pick a fight every chance she got.

"Chan! why do you always have to be good cop. Why cant you see this is wrong? Stop being a bad parent and-'

"Bad parent?" He scoffs and looked up at her buffled, "I'm the bad parent? just cause you were abused when you were younger doesn't mean you have to put your trauma on my children..." His eyes go wide. He didn't mean it. He was just angry. He didn't mean any of it. 

The tension in the air wise thick. The shocked gasp that left her mouth was painful. Her head started to spin. Her eyes turning red as her body started to overheat. The emotions she felt were overwhelming. A panic attack was coming on. Her eyes landed on her daughter, the little girl was covering her ears trying to cover her face in her fathers chest. Was she a monster?

"Papa? no fighting," The little girl squealed as she still continued to cover her ears. This made Y/n's heart break. was it true? was she becoming her toxic mother. 

 "It's okay mama," He comforted her shivering body, "I-Im going to get her changed so i can go back to my meeting. I'll tell the maids to come clean up," he so badly wanted to hold his wife and apologize but with the way she stood in one place he knew he couldn't have the conversation, well not right now. 

The door closed behind him as her little girls sniffles slowly faded in the distance. Y/n was in shock. Her brain was taking long to react. Her hands were cold and all of a sudden she couldnt hear anything around her.

Was she the problem? Was she being hard on the kids? she never yelled at any of them unless they did something horrible, she never intended for the father of her kids to call her toxic. To embarrass her like that.

It was too much, she was done playing tough guy. she was tired of the constant fight of depression. She was tired of her husband degrading her as she stayed home while he was out all night partying doing God knows what. 

She wanted her life back. she wanted to be fun again. She didnt want to be tired all the time. She was tired of being pregnant.

Her face felt wet. Her hands automatically covering her eyes. Heart wrenching sobs leaving her body as she placed a hand on her belly. The doubt of being a mother was creeping back up. The sudden urge to run away and dissapear haunted her conscious. Truth is she was tired of the fake smiles and the big parties and important business people.

Yes, she loved the big house her husband built for them, she loved the grand cars and the golden credit cards but she wanted to feel again. She wanted to be loved again. By her husband. She wanted to be a teenager again, falling in love and being young and free.

She laid on the called floor. Her arms supporting the heavy bump she was carrying. The tiled sending shivers down her spine. The tears still spilling from her eyes until eventually she grew tired and fell asleep.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz drabbles #skz stay #stray kids drabbles #bangchan angst #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #bangchan #stray kids angst #stray kids as boyfriend material #straykids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #straykids

[toruro]

— ✧ bark (like a dog)

a part of new rules ... a svt performance unit x mafia au series !

description. kwon soonyoung is hot. he's fucking smoking, but also painfully out of your reach—being your father's main hitman assistant means that, by the books, he's pretty much off limits. but then again, when did silly stuff like rules ever stop you?

genre. smut (18+), brief angst, mafia au

warnings/tags: PLEASE READ! mentions of murder & death bc hoshi is a hitman, descriptions of blood, reader is daughter of mafia boss, mean dom hoshi, gun play (unloaded), or4l (m receiving), jealousy, sp4nking, breath control, praise kink, blindfolds, th1gh r1iding, pet names (princess, angel, good girl), consent is SEXY

w/c: 7.3k

a/n: thank u @gyuswhore for proofreading hehe ... anyways this is like smut w a hint of plot. sorry not sorry my head's been so full of him

You don’t get nervous.

Not when you overhear your father talking about some risky new plans and not when you go out and know there’s a target on your back.

Not when you snuck out your apartment tonight without your bodyguard to just pop into the galleria that you heard some of your father’s men talking about. Which, by the way, you totally didn’t do because one of them mentioned Kwon Soonyoung being there. Yeah. Totally not.

You weren’t nervous when you waltz into the galleria, in some pretty dress pants and a cute black t-shirt that may or may not have been showing a lot more skin than your father likes. The night was going great, honestly. Fantastic, even.

Until your eyes landed on the very reason you even decided to come here. Kwon Soonyoung.

Again, you don’t get nervous. It’s simply not in your DNA.

So why does having this man next to you make your vision bleary and heart heavy?

“Did you like it?” you murmur, toeing at the grass beneath you with bare feet. You’re at your father’s house now. Soonyoung caught sight of you after you caught sight of him laughing with another woman, which totally shouldn’t have bothered you but you felt green boil in your stomach anyways.

And you watched her lead him into some other hallway with a man and then Soonyoung was gone. He was doing whatever he does, you know? You don’t want to pry into his work, but seeing as he’s your father’s favorite man, it’s kind of hard to avoid the truth.

Soonyoung was definitely just doing his job. Talked to the woman, peppered a few kisses on her cheek to butter her up, got her to introduce to a man who was maybe probably definitely his target, and then he walked out again, fixing his coat over his shoulders as he returned alone. He took you home after that.

You squirm just at the thought. Nightly zephyrs pinch at your skin as you stand in the backyard, but as you feel Soonyoung’s gaze burn into the back of your head, your body warms nonetheless.

Even turned away from him, you can practically feel the way his eyebrow cocks up. “Like what?”

You scoff and roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see you. Oh well, he probably knows anyway. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not sure I do, angel,” he replies without hesitation. Your mind races at the nickname, not because you think it’s a term of endearment, but because you’re almost sure that he’s mocking you. Angel. Fuck, everyone knows you’re anything but a damn angel, and you’d be an idiot to think Soonyoung meant anything other than to belittle you right now.

“Sure,” you mutter dryly, running one hand down your face, before turning around to face him. Kwon Soonyoung is hot, as always, with his dark messy hair falling right over his eyebrows, one of which has a little slit carved into the edge, his plump lips and sharp eyes that watch you carefully.

Even under the dim light of the night sky, he seems to glow beneath the moon.

“Are you going to be all pouty like this for the rest of the night?” When you don’t respond, he huffs loudly. You don’t want him to be annoyed with you, but you cross your arms over your chest and press your feet into the soil stubbornly anyways. “Am I going to have to call Taehyun to drive you home?”

“What, you don’t want to bother doing that yourself?” you snap. Fuck, you don’t even know why you said that. It isn’t Soonyoung’s job to take care of you in any way. Sure he indirectly does that by heeding your father’s order—by killing off any threats when they pop up, but nowhere in his title’s description does it say he needs to take you home, to coddle you, to watch over you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks, and you want to fucking strangle him because if it wasn’t painfully obvious, then to make it clear once more, yeah you want him to take you home. You want him to pull you to his car and press a hand on your thigh and then creep it up your legs until your squirming under his touch and—

You need to stop getting ahead of yourself. Your relationship is—god, you want to say it’s professional, but you can’t even call it that. You and Kwon Soonyoung, your relationship is somehow both less and more than professional.

It’s so intimate—he’s your father’s most loyal worker, he’d go to any lengths to keep your family, to keep you, safe. And yet, even after you’ve seen the blood on his clothes and the imprint of his gun in his pants, he’s a stranger.

Not because you don’t know his favorite color, or because he doesn’t know what kind of food you like, but because even as a million thoughts run through your head, you’re pretty sure he can’t figure out a single one of them.

Finally, you speak up, reverting the topic without answering his question. “Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” Your voice is smaller this time.

“Are you trying to play a guessing game with me?”

Your glare hardens on him. “Fuck you,” you spit out, and Soonyoung puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. “The galleria—did you have fun? Did you like it?”

“Well angel, I hate to break it to you but I was just doing my job. Not that you would know, since you’ve never had to work a damn day in your life, but I don’t necessarily love my job. So if that’s what you want to know, then I guess you have your answer.”

“And with her? Did you—”

“What are you talking about?” he cuts you off harshly, and you’re slightly taken aback by the way his voice booms louder.

“Didn’t know kissing pretty women was a part of your job,” you murmur gruffly before finally making your way to the door that leads back into the house.

“Where’re you going?”

“I also didn’t know that keeping track of where I’m going was a part of your job.”

“You’re not making any damn sense right now, I hope you know that.”

Slipping on some socks, you go on, “Is listening to me a part of your job too? If not, I suggest you just leave me alone and—”

“God, what the hell are you goin’ on about, with all this job shit? Since when did you care about what I do to get a job done?”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” you conclude, going to open the door before Soonyoung’s hand stops you.

“Stop being a brat,” he hisses, causing you to press your lips together tightly.

“I am not being a brat,” you scoff, ripping your arm away from him. “If anything, you’re the attention seeker who—”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, attention seeker?”

“Well you were basically throwing yourself at that woman and—” Your breath hitches when you realize what you’ve just said, and you slap a hand over your mouth as you look down.

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, but it’s not as disappointed as you except … if anything, he sounds … sorry. “What do you want from me? You know it’s my job.”

You scoff, shoving your head in your hands out of humiliation. “I think you know exactly what I want from you,” you mutter. Now you’re not really sure what you’re expecting from Soonyoung but it’s definitely not his strong hand on your wrists, forcing you to look up at him.

“Do you want me to take you home or not?”

You look at him, mortified at the bluntness of his suggestion.

“I—what?”

“Look, you’re not very discreet and—”

“Oh my god, stop talking. I need to go and—”

Soonyoung grabs your face. It’s gentle, but his touch is firm and his eyes don’t break away from yours for a moment. His fingers press into the plush of your cheeks, and there’s a both nerve-wracking and alluring aura to it.

“Let’s take you home, or I tell your father where you were last night. How you left your cozy little apartment without your dear Mr. Choi who, if I recall, is supposed to accompany you wherever you go.”

You gape at him—there is no way he’s threatening you right now. You blink once, and then twice, and Soonyoung’s gaze remains unwavering.

Fuck.

Which is how you find yourself seated patiently on Soonyoung’s couch, thighs pressed together and hands on your knees cutely as you watch him fill up a glass of water. You wonder if he can hear the beating of your heart.

If he can, he doesn’t comment on it, instead breaking the silence when he walks over to you, “I hope you know what you’re signing yourself up for.”

You grin immediately. “Some fun, of course,” you reply, mentally marveling at your own wit.

Soonyoung fucking laughs at you. His eyes are peering down at you carefully as he juts the glass of water to you, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that you should just take the damn glass and drink.

His gaze doesn’t waver when you bring the glass up to your lips, slowly but surely downing all its contents and letting the cool water attempt to put out the flames that burn in your stomach. “Good job,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head when you place the glass on his coffee table, the simple but impactful words sending shivers down your spine.

Making the risky decision to test your luck once more, you bat your lashes and bring your arms closer together in front of you so that your tits bunch up, giving Soonyoung a perfect view from above. “So? When’s the fun gonna start?”

Something in his eyes darkens, but you choose to ignore it as Soonyoung slips his dark work coat off, letting it fall behind him on the coffee table. What follows is a heavy thud and clank and your stomach churns at the thought of what caused such a sound.

“Listen,” Soonyoung says, his voice firm but not as demeaning as before. “I need to know where your head is at.” he pauses.

You pout and then raise a challenging brow. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Soonyoung chuckles, and reaches back for his coat, rummaging through the inner pockets for a moment as your blood runs cold in realization. He unsheathes a heavy black gun from the dark fabric, holding it close to his dress shirt as he smooths a finger over the barrel.

You try to move your fingers but they’re frozen in place as he watches the look on your face contort into some odd look of awe.

“Let me rephrase that,” Soonyoung murmurs. “I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

The air is stuck in your throat and your lungs squeeze and writhe for some semblance of sanity, but the way his thick fingers caress the heavy metal of the gun has your vision going blurry. He’s tracing over all the dips, the curves, the crevices, and you can only imagine what it’ll feel like if you had the cool, heavy, pistol pressed against your skin while Soonyoung’s fingers are all over you.

Your eyes are clouded, and he stills for a moment, subtly sliding the gun past his side and hiding it behind his back with one hand, using the other to grab your chin and tilt your head so you’re craning your neck to look up at him.

“So be honest with me right now.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he’s asking for. You don’t have to think about your answer, not one bit, and that’s because through everything, you trust Soonyoung. You trust him with your life, and you trust him with more.

“I’m willing to do whatever you want,” you tell him almost immediately. There’s no hesitation, no apprehension—Soonyoung knows when he looks you in the eye and he swears he feels his heart grow ten times in his chest when your pupils dilate.

Slowly, he brings his hand from his back to the front, the grip of the gun pressing back against his lower abdomen as he squeezes your cheeks together with his other hand. Your lips bunch together in a pucker and he pinches the bottom lip for a moment, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the drool that slides down his chin.

“That’s a pretty bold statement, princess,” he finally says, a sharp clicking sound resonating through the room when he shifts the gun in his hand.

“I can take it,” you insist through squished lips, looking up at Soonyoung with some kind of determination that boils his blood with pure passion.

“You’re confident …” he mutters, holding the gun close to your cheek, pressing the cold metal against your warm skin. You can’t be sure if action helps you cool down or only heats you up anymore, but a wanton whimper escapes your lips and suddenly you have your answer.

Soonyoung watches how you swallow at the contact, fingers quivering by your side and he lets his hand relax for a second, holding the gun by his side. “It’s unloaded.”

“I-I wouldn’t care either way,” you mumble, slightly annoyed that Soonyoung dropped his hand. “I trust you.”

Soonyoung smiles, letting go of your cheeks and instead gripping the back of your neck, running his thumb up and down your collarbone. “It’s okay to be scared, angel. Two taps to stop,” he tells you, pointing at his wrist.

You roll your eyes tentatively, unsure if it’s the right move. When Soonyoung quickly presses the muzzle against your lips, you deduct that rolling your eyes was, in fact, the best thing you could have done.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he mutters, feigning discontent as he tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his work pants when you part your mouth and let the gun sink further into your mouth.

The taste of metal on your tongue is unfamiliar, and frankly the hardness of the gun is quite uncomfortable but when you press your tongue against the base of the barrel, and swirl it over the sides, you imagine it’s Soonyoung’s cock in your mouth instead.

He’s steadying you with his hand pressed at your neck, holding the gun at an angle above you without moving it. The sight of you sucking and struggling, drool dripping down your chin and skin flushing—he’s in heaven he swears.

Cute eyes looking up at him with such desperation, pleading with him silently because you can’t speak—not with the way his gun is stuffed between your pretty lips. “Fuck, how does it feel princess?” he groans at just the image alone.

You’re silent, because of course, how could you say a thing. The only sounds that bounce off the walls are the filthy slurping of your tongue and the hollowing of your cheeks, tears peeking from your waterline as Soonyoung presses the gun further down your mouth, the now slick barrel sliding easily past your teeth.

Your jaw aches and you gag as you adjust to the feeling, but the reality of it all starts to hit you, and it’s dizzying. Soonyoung—fuck, he’s here in front of you with his gun shoved down your throat and you’re looking up at him like he has all the answers to the universe and more.

And more is exactly what you want, and Soonyoung can tell because even as squeaks erupt from your throat and your fingers tremble when they fly up and grip at his thigh, you don’t pull away and you don’t tap out.

It’s worrying for a moment, because here you are with tears streaming down your cheeks but he can hear your silent pleas of don’t stop, please, please, please, don’t stop, and he feels he might go insane at the thought that you’re just as deranged as him.

“So pretty,” he praises, and you press your lips down and whine at the way the words have your cunt throbbing. Slowly, Soonyoung starts to pull the gun out of your mouth, your jaw going slack at the feeling of your tongue being free, but your face is on fire and you just need to do more.

You continue to lap against the gun, swirling it over the circular muzzle when he’s just about pulled it out all the way, not breaking eye contact with Soonyoung for even a moment. It’s addicting, the way he watches you—bottom lip lodged between his own teeth and jaw clenched tight as he imagines it’s his cock inside your mouth instead.

“God fuck, you’re insane,” he says when you kiss the side of the barrel one last time before he carefully places the pistol behind him. For the first time tonight (and ever, for that matter), Soonyoung kisses you. He grabs your warm face and leans down to smash his lips against your swollen, tired mouth.

You’re fatigued already, he can tell, and takes this as his chance to press his tongue against yours and explore the very mouth that sucked against his gun just moments earlier. He can still taste the metal on your tongue, letting your lips melt together as one for just a moment before pulling away.

He can tell there’s a complaint threatening to leave your lips, but he makes sure it shrivels when he shoots you a knowing look. “You deserve a reward, don’t you think? Did s’good for me …”

You nod eagerly, and Soonyoung is thoroughly surprised by how quickly you’ve bounced back, trailing his fingers down from your face to your waist, pulling you up to stand on your feet. Your legs are wobbly and for a moment, you stumble forward but Soonyoung catches you, his arm steadily belted around your hips.

“Already done?” he asks, but it’s more of a tease than anything. Still, you take it as a challenge and shake your head as he leads you to his bedroom. It’s dimly lit, only the moon through the window and its reflection against a mirror leading you the way to his bed as he hops on, laying back as you stand by the foot of the bed.

He raises a brow. “What are you waiting for? Strip.”

“W-what?”

Soonyoung is still fully clothed, legs spread slightly as he hikes one knee up and watches you expectantly. “Princess,” he coos, “I said strip.”

You shudder at the request when it finally sinks in, and you quickly follow by pushing your pants down and pulling your shirt off your head, leaving you completely topless, your lower half donned with nothing but a set of black satin panties.

Soonyoung swears his heart stops at the sight, and just as you’re about to push them down, he holds his hand out. “Leave them on, come here.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice this time, and you crawl onto the foot of the bed before making your way in between his legs, only stopping when Soonyoung places his heavy hands on your shoulders and smoothes them down your bare arms.

You sigh contently at the contact, instinctively shooting one hand between your legs to rub at the growing ache. You hardly make it though, Soonyoung’s hand shooting out and stopping your wrist halfway. “Thought you wanted a reward? Getting ahead of yourself, huh …”

You shake your head vehemently. “N-no—I jus’—need something, need you, Soonyoung,” you confess, leaning forward in hopes that he’ll meet you halfway for a kiss.

He doesn’t, opting to watch you amusedly as you squirm on all fours in front of him. “Show me how much you need me,” Soonyoung rasps out, helping you settle over yourself over his thigh before placing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the headboard casually.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you place your hands on his chest for hardly a second before he swats them away. “W-what?”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” he asks, and he’s definitely mocking you with his tone. “And keep your hands to yourself—you only get to touch me if you can prove to me you want this.”

“I want it, Soonyoung, so bad! So, so, so bad, you don’t understand!” you whine, bouncing yourself up and down to punctuate your word but gasps leaving your lips at the friction it leaves behind.

“Yeah well,” he sighs, adjusting his body so he’s laying even further back down. “Make me understand. Make yourself cum.” Your plush lips part, agape at his proposition. Why he can’t just fuck you into the sheets right here and right now is beyond you, but Soonyoung’s eyes light like a flame and you aren’t sure if you want to add fuel to the fire or put out.

Tentatively, you rut your core against the hard muscle of his thigh, the friction of his dark dress pants shooting pleasure through your flimsy panties. You have half a mind to rip the damn fabric off, but the rubbing of cloth that bunches around your clit is more pleasurable than anything.

“See,” Soonyoung murmurs, as you repeat the motion of rocking yours forward and back in a slow rhythm. “Pretty angel does know how to work for something. Let’s see if you can keep it up,” he hums, and you glower down at him.

“I-I know how to work,” you huff, grinding down extra hard as a means to prove your point, but your argument falls flat when you whimper, hands falling forward on his chest as your body lurches forward. Soonyoung’s own firm grip lands on your wrists, yanking them off of him.

“Do you, now?” he scoffs. “Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions,” he says under his breath, and instead of glaring, your eyebrows furrow as you hold your arms close to your chest, massaging your tits yourself to keep your hands occupied.

“‘m sorry Soonyoungie,” you say softly, losing the attitude that held your head up and replacing it with a wave of compliance as you cling onto the friction against your cunt, desperate to not let your far-away orgasm to ebb away.

“Soonyoungie, huh?” he mutters, watching the way your tits bounce when you work your body in a harsher up and down motion, letting the soiled fabric of your panties to stain his own pants. “Cute name, but you’re gonna have to work a bit harder,” he comments, and he’s true to his word because Soonyoung does think it’s cute. He thinks you’re cute, and hot, and pretty, and the only person he wants to stick his dick into, but fuck, if he doesn’t want to make you beg, make you sob for it …

Fervently, you start to find a pace that’s steadily increasing, thighs burning and twitching at every brush of your sopping pussy over him. You’re wet—so wet—and you know Soonyoung can feel it through his pants. How he’s so still and composed is beyond you, and while you try to think about what’s running through his mind, your brain goes empty the second you feel one of his hands on your hips.

“So spoiled,” he chides, and you want to shake your head and protest, ‘cause no! You’re not spoiled! But you know damn well that’d be a lie, and as you feel Soonyoung flex his muscle beneath you and use his hand to help swivel your hips, it’s only confirmed.

“Hnggff—S-Soony—”

“S’okay,” he groans, when the knee that’s wedged between his legs brushes against his crotch that holds his undeniably hard cock. You both shudder at the feeling—Soonyoung because of the small but relieving stimulation, and you because of the anticipation of feeling him inside of you. “Go on, baby, can tell you’re close. Fuck yourself like this—I know you can do it.”

“Hurts,” you sigh softly as your legs begin to tremble and give into the fatigue. “Soonie, I can’t, I—” you cut yourself off with your own high pitched moan when he hikes his leg up a little higher, causing you ro shift forward and arch your back so that your clit was pressed perfectly against his thigh. “God, fuck.”

“What do you mean you can’t, angel?” he coos in that both infuriating and pulsing tone of his. “You’re doin’ it for me right now …”

“I—I …” the words dry right on your throat when your orgasm crashes into you, the ghost of Soonyoung’s name on your tongue as you fall forward. You know he told you no touching, no holding, none of that, but fuck, even he can’t be mad when you press your face into his chest with low mewls bubbling up in your throat.

Securing an arm around your waist, he bounces his thigh upwards to push you through your fall, squeezing out every last bit of pleasure you’ll allow him until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation but too exhausted to pull away.

“‘m tired,” you whine through broken gasps, as you pull away and look up blankly at the ceiling. Soonyoung watches the way your tits shift with every inhale and exhale, and before he knows it he’s fumbling at the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down so his dripping cock can finally breathe.

The sound of his length slapping against his firm abdomen has you blinking into reality quicker than you can think, and you glance at Soonyoung who sits in front of you. His cock is standing up, pulsing tall and proud, adorning a pretty, angry tip that smears precum over his defined abs.

“Too tired?” he piques, but with the way that drool dribbles at the corner of your lips, he knows he already has an answer. Grinning when you shake your head vigorously, he shifts himself so his bare legs hang over the edge of the bed, his hands placed behind him as he leans back. “Get on the ground.”

Two hours ago, you would have shut down the proposition immediately. Getting on the ground for a man? Completely out of your scope. Unfathomable, honestly.

But Soonyoung’s voice is so … it’s—he isn’t proposing, or suggesting, or asking, no … Soonyoung is demanding and you’d be damned to let him think you’re anything less than obedient. Quickly, you push yourself up and crawl over to where he’s sitting before slipping off the bed and slotting yourself between his legs.

As you sit back on your heels, the wetness of your core slides down your thighs and as your legs press together, the arousal smears against your supple skin, undoubtedly making a mess. It feels so dirty and lewd but as Soonyoung watches you with dark eyes, you feel like the most beautiful person on the planet.

Gentler than you were expecting, he uses one hand to hold your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Angel got a smart mouth, huh,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself as he runs a thumb over your lips, starting from the top then circling down to the bottom. He scoops up some of the drool that you hadn’t wiped away and then pushes it all back into your mouth from the corner of your lips. “You think you can put it to good use?”

“‘course I can,” you say a bit more proudly than Soonyoung enjoys. You’re cute, yeah—fuck yeah—but you look up at him like it’s some sort of challenge and he just needs to remind you of who’s really in charge.

And so he holds you by the crown of your head, guiding your mouth close to his cock which dons a dribble of precum. You stick your tongue out at the sight, eyes wide in anticipation as he uses his other hand to guide your own fingers to your thigh. “Same thing,” he tells you, “two taps and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” you agree, verbally this time with a nod before pushing your tongue back out in hopes that he’ll speed it all out because fuck, you haven’t ever wanted to feel a cock in your mouth this badly. But who can blame you? It’s so long and thick and—god, it’s so heavy when he taps that tip against your tongue.

You open your mouth wider, anticipating him to push it down further like he did with the gun, but you should’ve known better. Should’ve known that Soonyoung likes toying around with you.

Soonyoung lets you lap precum off his shiny tip, swirling over the slit for just a second before he’s lifting his cock and then slapping it back down on your tongue this time. The contact is light, but the thickness of it all and the ache in your core has you pleading for more.

When a desperate whimper rips through your throat, Soonyoung grins. And so he does it again. And again. And again. Slapping his cock on your tongue until he can’t handle it anymore, cock throbbing at just the thought of you sucking against him like you did his pistol, and slides his length into your mouth without warning.

“Fuck,” he moans, and you vaguely wonder if there could be anything that sounds more melodic. You press your tongue against the length, hardening the tip and tracing it over the curves, the veins—anything and everything you can feel—as if you were trying to memorize him bit by bit.

Soonyoung basks in it, the image of you stuffed with his cock in your mouth, lips puffy but eyes somehow begging for more. He loves it, he tells himself in his head. Such a spoiled girl, but then again, his spoiled girl.

“Ready?” he asks, stiffening his hold on your hair and giving you a knowing look. Meekly, you nod with his cock still spreading your lips, and with nothing more than a nod, Soonyoung pushes you down his full length, nose pressed against his pelvis as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

And it hurts so good—your jaw is sore and you’re on the verge of gagging because he’s so big but something about the way your lungs burn and throat tightens has your mind set on not stopping.

Soonyoung is watching you intently when he finally lets go, pulling you off of his length and allowing you a moment to breathe. He wonders how far is too far with you, but when you just pant heavily, looking up at him with your tongue stuck out once more, inching closer to him, he figures he’s still got a long way to go.

So Soonyoung does it again; softly murmurs, “Take a deep breath,” and then yanks your head down until all you can feel is his cock bullying its way through your lips, your hollowed out cheeks, your throat. His loud moans egg you on, and you nearly start to tremble at the way you start to feel light-headed. He holds you down for longer this time, and this time, tears are gushing down your face but no, you won’t relent.

Its enthralling for the both of you, and it doesn’t stop. Soonyoung starts a pattern. Push down, hold, release, repeat. Push down, hold, release, repeat. And he does it until he feels his cock twitch in your warm mouth and has to almost push you back to hold off from cumming.

He just can’t do it, not yet. Not until he’s felt you flush against his skin, bodies intertwined as he fucks into you.

So when he pulls you off this time, you know it’s the last (for now, at least). You breathe steadily, in through your nose and out through your mouth as you recuperate, staring at the floor. Gingerly, Soonyoung hooks his hands under your arms and pulls you up so you’re sitting next to him on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly when he catches the clouded look on your face. When you slowly look at him and nod with a dazed smile, Soonyoung just knows he’s in love. You look so happy, so eager to submit and he loves the way you trust him, loves the way you know he’s going to treasure you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your puffy lips as he stands up and walks over in front of the bed where his dresser is.

You frown at the idea of him being away from you. “Need it no-o-ow, Soonie,” you drawl out, standing up and making your way to Soonyoung, reaching out to place your palm against the hard muscle of his back. You run your hand over him, and for a few moments, he lets you.

You can feel the twitch of each hard earned, firm muscle as he moves around through his desk space, and you silently wonder what it’ll feel like to dig your nails into his back in another heated moment. Fuck, you’re so down bad.

“You’re so greedy,” Soonyoung mutters, finally turning around to grab your wrists. On one side, you feel something cool and soft press against your skin, and glancing down, you recognize it as the feeling of black satin against your arm. “I told you to sit down, didn’t I?”

You frown, but oblige anyways, shuffling over to the middle of the bed, sitting down neatly on your knees as Soonyoung stands in front of you by the edge. He’s holding the ribbon in both hands now, the silk taut as he holds it up to your head.

“You okay with this?” he asks, pressing the silk right up against your eyes that have since fluttered shut, but he doesn’t quite tie it just yet. You inhale deeply for a second and then nod. “Words princess. I need words.”

“Yes,” you comply. “I’m okay.”

As soon as you’ve given him the green light, he’s bringing the two ends of the silk behind your head and tying it into a tight knot. “Is it comfortable?” he asks sincerely, waving a hand in front of your face. “D’you see that?”

“Uhh, yes and no,” you respond, slightly confused and still getting used to not being able to see anything.

“Good,” he says to himself, and you feel the mattress dip, causing you to lose a bit of your balance, jutting your hands out to grab onto anything. Immediately, you feel Soonyoung’s hands on you, and your muscles lose their tension. “Relax. I’m right here.”

Those seem to be just the words you need to hear, because you’re sitting back down, sitting a bit more comfortably this time as you feel Soonyoung shift around on the mattress. This is Soonyoung, this is Soonyoung, you remind yourself, and he’ll always keep you safe.

“C’mere,” his thick voice breaks through your thoughts, and you flail around for a moment trying to trace his voice. There’s a hand on your shoulder soon, guiding you toward the direction of the headboard and you tentatively crawl over, yelling out in surprise when you quickly feel two hands wrap under your thighs and lift you up.

Your shock is soon replaced with a burning desire when Soonyoung finally places you on his lap, and you can feel his rock hard length pressing against your inner leg as you settle over his thighs. All you can hear for a moment is your sharp breaths, but then there’s a hard smack against your ass.

“Go on angel … you know what you want to do—what’re you waiting for?”

You want to curse Soonyoung right now, because how the hell d’he know? But then again, you don’t really care because here he is, egging you on.

So gingerly, you lift your hips over him and shuffle forward so that your stomach is pressed against his chest. You feel one of his hands find purchase on your waist while the other reaches between the dripping mess that starts to splay between your cores and positions his cock against your soaked folds.

And then he’s presses rough kisses into your neck and sliding his tongue over your collarbone, murmuring, “Go on princess, go on,” and you can fucking hear the own want in his strained voice. Soonyoung is just as far gone as you, but you don’t have the liberty to linger on that fact for more than a moment before your cunt takes hold of all your senses and you instinctively sink down on him.

The moan Soonyoung let’s out is deep, gruff, guttural, and has your walls instinctively clenching around him and your hazed frenzy. “Good girl,” he grunts as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Your head swings around for a few moments as your eyes well up with tears from the initial stretch, but soon Soonyoung’s soft words of praise are pulling you down to reality and reminding you that he’s right here, that this is happening, whispering sweet and filthy nothings into your ear as you adjust to having him inside you.

“See,” he croons, stroking your chin with his thumb as you slowly grind down on him, both of you letting out soft gasps at the feeling. “Being so good for me, princess,” he hums, and you can’t even see the expression on his face but you know he’s not finished. “Wonder what the boss is gonna think of this,” he chuckles under his breath.

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders at his words, hugging his head close as you anticipate what he’s about to say next, trying your best to keep your soft mewls to yourself. It’s hard—really hard—because Soonyoung is big and he’s jutting his hips upwards sharply but sporadically, making it impossible to tell when he’s going to be punching moans straight out of your lungs.

“So good. Being so good for me, but so bad for everyone else,” he whispers into your neck as you start to bounce your hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Fuck,” you moan, both from the way he’s battering your inside, reaching so deep you don’t even know how he’s fit.

And Soonyoung doesn’t stop there, at least not with his words. “Sneaking out—” He snaps up harshly, his fat tip pressing against spots inside your cunt that have you writhing into him. “—Lying to your dad—” He continues to punctuate himself with more rough, emphasizing thrusts. “—Going out unattended—Breaking the rules—” He grunts out especially loudly at the last one, burying his head into your beck from the pleasure that radiates you both. “But you won’t do that to me, right princess? G’na be my good girl, right?”

“A-always,” you stutter out through strangled gasps for air as your body lurches around from the deep pounding of his hips. You’re so close—fuck it, you’re nearly there, and you pulse around him, digging your face into his hair from above as you try your best to swivel your hips but then, it all comes to a halt.

“Wha—what?!” you nearly shriek when he grips your hips so tightly that you both still, and suddenly the knot that’s been tying so carefully at the base of your stomach is unraveling and not in the way that you’d like. Your orgasm ebbs away into some far distance that you can’t reach, especially not in the frantic state you’re in after having lost just what might have been the best high of your life. “Why would you do that?”

Soonyoung watches your pained expression from below with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, quirking an eyebrow at your accusing questions. He presses a hand down on your stomach when you try to buck upwards for some—any—sort of relief. “You already came once. You didn’t think you’d get the second that easily, did you?”

Any snarky remark you’d be able to come up with withers away and all you’re left with is a big fat frown. “I—” you stutter in short breaths before huffing out, “I was s’close.”

“I know princess. But you can be good, right? Good for me?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with the back of his hand before tugging at the silk, letting the blindfold fall from your eyes and land on his abdomen. Your eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Soonyoung can only describe as cute, and from beneath you, he brings his palm down on your ass harshly, the sound of the smack resonating through his room.

As you blink your eyes into comfort, adjusting to the dim light, Soonyoung lifts his hip, causing his length to shift deeper inside of you, and you lurch forward at the sensation of him kissing your cervix.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes pressed closed tightly as he steadies your hips with his hands and in one swift movement, flips you both over so your back is to the mattress and he hovers on top of you.

You’re overwhelmed with it all—being deprived of your vision for so long and now you get to take it all in—the beads of sweat rolling down Soonyoung’s pretty peaks and valleys of abs, his dark hair splayed all over the face, flush cheeks and furrowed eyebrows as he focuses his vision on where his cock meets your cunt—fuck.

“You wanna cum?” he grunts in your ear, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eye as he draws his hips back, slamming back into your sloppy cunt. Then he brings his lips right by the shell of your ear and in a hoarse, mangled whisper, he demands, “Beg for it.”

And beg you do.

You wrap your legs around Soonyoung’s waist and dig crescent moons into his shoulders, draw pretty red lines into his back and you sob into the sheets, into his shoulder. And your walls hug him in again and again and let him whisper filthy words into your ears until you can’t even comprehend the depraved images he’s drawing into your head.

Ecstasy courses through your veins and your body knows nothing other than the enigma that is Kwon Soonyoung who pushes you so far, until you’re breaking beneath him—a wailing mess as you tell him how good it all feels, how his fat cock batters your cunt so well that you can do nothing other than choke out sweet ‘thank you’s and hoarse, ‘please’s.

And he makes you work for it, just like he promised, urging you to beg just a little more, swiveling his thrusts so that each stroke hits all your sweet spots, finally giving in when he mutters into your neck, “Let go princess, let go.”

And when you finally feel every string that’s been so meticulously woven together, teetering at the edge of breaking for ages, you let it all snap. Crying into his skin as you let him fuck you into an orgasm, hitting you harder than you could even imagine as every muscle goes limp and all you know is Kwon Soonyoung is here next to you, and he here to stay, because after a few more pumps his hot cum is filling you to the brim and more.

Soonyoung kisses you like he could swallow you whole. Like he could bathe in nothing but your arms and be the happiest man alive.

It’s the realization that hits you when he collapses over you, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you as your mouths connect in a maniac passion. More. It’s always more with Soonyoiung. He’ll protect you and more. He’ll hold you and more.Stroking the curve of your hips gently, you know—he’s going to love you and more.

a/n. first part of new rules is done, three more to go! chan will most likely be next, so stay tuned hehe! i hope u all enjoyed :3

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @whippedforjihoon @xiaoting999  @hipsdofangirl @valenhui @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @seokchannieworld @yunjinified @dnylwoo @nishloves @woozarts @etherealyoungk (strikethrough could not be tagged) join here!

#soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader #seventeen soonyoung #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung smut #hoshi #hoshi scenarios #hoshi imagines #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #seventeen smut #📝 writing

[wordstome]

kingdom come - i

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with

3.5k words

tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new

[NEXT]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.

p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.

Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.

You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.

You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.

A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.

The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.

They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.

As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.

You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.

You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.

The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.

Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.

To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.

Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.

This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.

You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?

Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.

You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.

Well. Parent.

But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.

Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.

It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.

And yet…people are happy.

The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.

You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.

And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.

You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.

To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.

Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.

You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.

“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.

He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.

When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.

You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.

He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.

After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.

You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.

Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.

You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?

Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.

Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.

Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.

Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.

"You shouldn't be here."

You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.

Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.

"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."

You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.

"This is quite a long way to wander."

Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.

"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"

"Mmm. You make a fair point."

Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."

"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."

"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"

Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.

"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.

You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?

"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"

You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."

"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.

"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.

He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."

You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."

And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.

Fuck. You forgot about this part.

You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.

You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.

"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.

"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.

"Well. Tonight won't be your first."

"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.

"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.

You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.

It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"

"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"

"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.

"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.

"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.

"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?

You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.

"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."

You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.

The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.

It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.

It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.

Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.

You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.

You plunge the dagger downwards.

In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"

You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!

You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.

"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."

"No." Yeah, you kind of had.

"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.

"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.

"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.

"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."

"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.

"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.

That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!

"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.

"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."

"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.

"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"

"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."

His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."

Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!

I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.

Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.

As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.

I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr

#alright lads place your bets now what do you think happened to his first wife #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 5

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

I changed slightly what I already had written after reading someone’s comment on the previous part 🤭 I always love reading what you think, sometimes it even sparks an idea or two… 🥰

Word count: 3,213

Y/N walked excitedly through the Shelby Company headquarters. She was granted with the permission to open the Shelby Institute, it was incredible how much Tommy’s contacts helped her speed up the process. Now she’d need to interview and recruit teachers, cleaning personnel, a couple of secretaries and enroll the children for the upcoming school year.

But as she got closer, Tommy’s shouting became clearer.

“Don’t fucking try to trick me, Lizzie.” He warned.

Then Y/N flinched when Lizzie raised her voice. “What’s your fucking problem then? If I sleep with Angel, his father or his cousin it’s none of your business!”

“Of course it’s my business!” He exploded. Anger raising at the thought the Changrettas getting sensitive information from his secretary, Lizzie had a big mouth when she wanted to. In more ways than one. “How much is Changretta paying you?”

“So you can choose who I sleep with,” Lizzie spat, “but you are covering Y/N’s pregnancy and treating her as if she was a Shelby!”

She was now able to understand all the secrecy around Tommy’s confident, why suddenly everyone wanted to make sure she was alright, why she was around more frequently. The thought of Y/N fulfilling all the dreams that belonged to her, made Lizzie go mad.

What was happening with the Changretta family? Y/N wondered as she overheard the heated exchange coming from Tommy’s office. The last thing she knew about them was when Danny Whizzbang was falsely killed in front of the Italians. But that was a few years back.

“I know her parents kicked her out.” Y/N heard Lizzie again. “What? You thought I wouldn’t find out? So now you’re pretending to be the perfect little family?”

That’s why Scott disappeared overnight. Lizzie wondered for how long they’ve been fooling everyone.

“Since when do I have to give you explanations, ey? You’re not answering me! What have you told Angel about us?” His hands shook her shoulders abruptly.

“Oh please! Don’t give yourself that much importance, the last thing we do is talk about you. And you don’t have the right to question my decisions, when you’re supporting Y/N and her bastard.”

That last statement was enough for Y/N to feel her blood boiling.

“Repeat that in my face. I dare you.” She opened the door with such force that it slammed against the wall behind. Lizzie paled.

Tommy recognized that look, he barely had time to react and intercepted Y/N midway.

“Y/N calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Y/N shouted, if it wasn’t for Tommy she would’ve already slapped Lizzie. “I’m tired of this, everybody thinks they can call my child bastard just because I’m not married.” She had to bite her tongue to stop her from telling a truth or two to Lizzie. She rarely got angry but once she did, there was no going back.

“Lizzie get out, I don’t want to see you.” Tommy barked as he tried to help Y/N to sit down. Then he realized they had an audience outside his office. “What are y’all doing there?! Go back to work!”

Once he had her settled on the couch, he offered Y/N a glass of water.

“Don’t let her words sink in. It’s bullshit.” He tried, but Y/N was still altered.

“She from all of the people, dares to point her finger at me.” Y/N said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. “And just because I thought Scott was-” she trailed off.

“You’re much better without him, you know that right?” Tommy crouched down, to be at her level.

“Will this ever stop?” Y/N’s voice cracked by the end, emotions at its highest.

“I’ll shoot anyone who dares to say anything like that again.”

His hands tried to calm her trembling fingers. His words managed to earn a small smirk from her, Tommy’s words managed to make her feel better momentarily. But she couldn’t help but wonder for how long she’d be able to deal with comments like that. She’s need to create a shell around her, a thick skin as Ada had told her. Give zero fucks about others people’s opinions.

“It’s like I’ll have it tattooed in my forehead for the rest of my life.”

“What the hell happened?” John demanded to know.

“Get some men to follow Lizzie, she’s been seeing Angel Changretta and we don’t know what kind of information she’s been giving them.”

“Ah the brat!” John made an annoyance face and stormed off.

To try to calm the anger raising, Tommy poured himself a glass of whiskey, not wanting to snap at Y/N for the previous altercation with Lizzie.

The Italians had always give him and his people a bad blood, they thought they were better than anyone else. And in the long run, a relationship between his secretary and one of the Changrettas would bring him more problems than good. Lizzie knew way too much about the business, he couldn’t just fire her.

He needed to find a loose end, something to stop them, to show his power over the Italians. He needed a plan…

Love and sex are a dangerous thing, people get blinded by it and he could’ve a snitch under his nose, he needed to be more cautions with the people he hired and make it clear the unwritten rules and conditions to work for him.

“I should’ve told you sooner.” Y/N mumbled, feeling guilty.

“You knew?” The frown on his brow intensified.

“Not exactly, but one day she started making weird comments about a date and her love life and oh this incredible man…” Y/N shook her face. “I thought she was just bluffing.”

“Yeah you should’ve. But it doesn’t matter now…” he trailed off going for a glass of whiskey, it was still early but he felt like a lion in a cage.

Y/N noticed the way his mind was working, already anticipating to endless possible scenarios and outcomes. Then he paused to rest his arms against a chair and let his head hang loose. The straps of the holster tightened around his shoulders and back, his muscles flexed under the shirt.

“Are you jealous?”

Tommy’s head snapped at Y/N’s words. Taking him by surprise.

“As if you didn’t knew me, you from all of them.” Tommy scoffed, but his eyes softened. “Really? You think I’d be jealous for Lizzie?”

Y/N blushed embarrassed for asking something so intimate. It wasn’t her business.

“Forget I said anything.” She looked in the opposite direction.

“Look at me.” Tommy pleaded with a deep voice. “Lizzie… is not the type of woman that would make a man jealous.” How could he say it nicely? Lizzie was a whore, he didn’t judge her though… But he tried to be cautious with his words.

It took Y/N a moment to register what Tommy meant. But she got the hint wrong. “I get it… just like me, right?”

Mortified, Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders. “No, no that’s not what I was trying to say.” The last thing he wanted to was to hurt her.

“Sure.”

“Y/N…” Tommy whispered, using his forefinger to tilt her head up. “You’re different.”

“The only difference is that she gets paid.” Y/N shuddered, accepting her new reality.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He was too close for her to smell his aftershave and cologne.

His thumb caressing softly her chin.

Shaking her head, she took a step back, but the bold movement made her feel dizzy, her head started spinning.

“What is it?” He asked with worry. “Are you alright?”

Y/N let him guide her to the closest chair. “Yes, it’s just this dizziness, it will go away in a minute.”

But despite Y/N’s efforts to calm him down, Tommy got worrier by the minute.

“Do you need anything?” He eyed Y/N, trying to read her expressions.

“No, thanks.”

“Y/N tell me what I can do for you.” Tommy kneeled before her.

The way he showed her that he genuinely cared about her, melted her heart. Having Tommy’s support meant to her more than words could express.

“I swear I’m fine.”

“Are you feeling poorly?” Polly stepped into Tommy’s office.

“She got dizzy.” He answered for Y/N, looking at his aunt.

“I’ll make you some tea.” She announced before giving Y/N a gentle squeeze on her arm. “Keep her with her head up until it pases, then bring her to the house, I need to speak to you.”

Polly’s look didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy.

He knew those eyes and something was happening, and judging by the look in them it had to be serious.

“I just came to tell you that you can set now the date to open the Institution as soon as we get the personnel.” Y/N announced with her eyes still closed.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today.” The smile he gave her, was inevitable. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I don’t think you want to go through the interviews and stuff.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him.

“No.” Tommy answered bluntly.

“That’s what I thought.” She gave him a smile that made him notice something else in her features, something that she didn’t have before, or at least he haven’t noticed… until now.

“Okay so you can sign those papers for me so I can go and sort this out?”

Tommy took the folder and placed his signature on the papers without even reading it. “You’re not taking off my money right?” He joked, the light mood in his voice mirrored in his eyes.

“Absolutely how do you think I’ll feed this baby?” She kept the joke going, feeling a bit better.

“Let me know how this goes.” He saw Y/N take her belongings and the papers. “Y/N how about a party to raise funds for the project? The school needs funding.”

Y/N ran her hand on the door thinking about it.

“A… fancy party?”

Tommy nodded. “With waiters and champagne and shit.” He had access now to the elite members club, people with enough money in their accounts to end poverty but selfish enough to not give away a single coin.

“Could you organize it?” He asked hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, I can do that.” Excitement made her skin tingle, she had never been to a party like that, only once when Lady Winchester requested her to be by her side, but her place was to be back in the shadows, not as a guest.

“You’ll need a dress then. And some fancy shoes too.”

A dress! He had said a dress! She couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of it, she, a no body getting all dressed up to attend a rich people gathering while several weeks pregnant.

“You must not spare on anything, alright? I’ll give you a blank check so you can arrange all of it.” He explained proudly. His dreams finally materializing.

Y/N took in his success, all of the things he ever wanted, he never stopped, never complained. No, instead he focused on finding a way to do all that would take him to where he wanted to be.

His hard work and intelligence was admirable. He never relied on excuses. And despite what everyone might think of his imposing presence, he had a heart of gold and a genuine interest to help.

“Tommy?” Her soft voice pulled him out of his daydream. His blue eyes fixed on hers. “I’m so proud of you.”

She didn’t know how much her words meant to him. How he’d treasure and savor their taste… Y/N was the only person that saw him crying over his mother’s grave, she had been the one who helped him to be a part of the man he used to be when he got back from France, she heard him talk for hours of the horrors he had seen. And now she was helping him materialize his dreams, but in a very subtle way because she wasn’t impressed or interested in the luxury he could afford, she didn’t assume he’d give her everything, no, she wanted to work hard by herself to earn it. She wasn’t accepting anything more than what she thought was fair.

In a world where he could easily get confused and loose sight of what really matters, she was keeping him grounded.

“Do you want to have dinner in your office?” Y/N asked Tommy as she found him in the hall.

After looking at his clock, he guarded it safely again in his pocket, trying to keep his nerves at bay, he had a secret meeting with Churchill in a desert road, he wanted to share some more instructions about the upcoming deal with the Russians and not having total control over when and how things would happen was driving Tommy mad. This was a very delicate matter and the slightest mistake could get them all murdered in a heartbeat.

“No, actually I’ve to go.”

Touching her arm and giving her a gentle squeeze, Tommy asked her to be safe before walking outside. His vehicle roared as he exited the property and Y/N found herself eating alone in the huge dining table.

For her own safety it was better if Y/N didn’t get involved in this. Russians simply didn’t care about anyone, they were fucking mad. He had been actually considering asking Y/N to go somewhere else safe, but knowing her the way he did, she’d take it badly, as if he was trying to get rid of her.

Y/N glanced at the window, it was dark. But she knew it wasn’t her place to ask anything else. Where could he go at this time of the night? With who?

As much as her bond was so close to Tommy, she needed to realize they weren’t stitched or glued to each other and Tommy generally was extremely reserved about his private affairs.

Being alone made Y/N feel miserable and sad, her whole days were filled with lots of people at the Shelby Company Ltd, or the tea time with her grandma at the Garrison or the moments she shared with Tommy once they arrived at Arrow House. So now being by herself it felt so different…so lonely.

“Mary could you please prepare a tea for me?” Y/N asked politely after finishing her dinner.

“I only serve Mr. Shelby ma’am.” The maid added before walking away.

In a few words, she made very clear that Y/N’s presence wasn’t as welcomed as she thought. And her loyalty was reserved for her master, not his unwelcome guest. So without another word, Y/N picked up her dirty dishes and brought it downstairs.

“Miss Y/LN what are you doing?” Asked one of the maids as the chef wiped his hands with his apron.

“I’m going to wash these.” Y/N stated firmly, voice close to break after the humiliating moment she went through with Mary.

If things were as they should be, Y/N would be working under Mary’s supervision.

“Absolutely not, let me handle this.” Gently, the maid retrieved the items and gave the pregnant woman a look. “Can I help you with anything else? Some desert?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, thanks. Where’s the kettle?” She asked instead. This place was huge and there was a walk-in pantry and everything was organized meticulously.

“This is because of Mary right?” Y/N fixed her eyes on the young girl. “What did she do?” But then she placed her hand on her lips, as if trying to say she messed up. “Apologies I shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s fine… it’s not like I’m Mrs. Shelby.” She sighed and twisted nervously the bow at the front of her blouse. “She reminded me of my place in this house, that’s all.”

The young maid exploded. “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us, just because she’s in charge of everything.”

Y/N studied her features, noticing her reaction was genuine.

“She’s always criticizing the way I do my job, it’s never good enough. And Mr. Shelby doesn’t even care…”

“I know this isn’t my business.” The chef caught her attention. “But she had been complaining about you to every member of the staff, she doesn’t understands why she has to attend you and do things for you when you’re not married to Mr. Shelby.” Duncan explained as he cleaned the stove.

“Oh I’ve heard her plenty of times too, you should talk to Mr. Shelby.” The kind maid suggested.

But Y/N shook her head and thanked the woman for preparing a tea for her. “No, I’m not here to cause Tommy more trouble. And he needs Mary to take care of everything.”

All of this was because Mary had very inflexible thoughts about premarital sex, she was always murmuring “this offends the Lord… or Lord forgive them for that.” So with Y/N being pregnant and living with a man without being married, this was a sin. Y/N was a sinner and in her eyes, she didn’t deserve even a bloody cup of tea.

“Thanks for the tea and the company. I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t mind if you got to have some rest early, all the chores pending can be done in the morning.” Y/N gave them both a smile and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

The place was huge and she made sure to lock her door, a constant fear of some intruder breaking into the mansion made her feel uneasy. Tommy had a bunch of enemies after all, they wouldn’t care about harming her or her baby just to get to Tommy.

It was too late now to regret anything, it wouldn’t change the course of things. But sitting on the ottoman by the window, she let her mind wander to think of her baby, to imagine if would it be a girl or a boy?

She wondered how would it feel the kicks and her baby would like to hear her singing a lullaby to sleep. Polly already warned her that she’d buy a stroller and a crib for when the baby is born and her grandmother was already knitting some shoes and a blanket. Esme promised to give her a box full of clothes of all sizes so she could choose what to keep, each gesture kept touching her heart, to realize how generous they all were to her, never making her feel bad or unwelcome. She would make sure to let her baby know of all the love that surrounded them even before the birth.

Y/N knew that sometimes blood means nothing sadly, but life always brings a good group of people to replace the others.

But thankfully her baby would’ve lots of arms to cuddle on and a loving chosen family to rely on.

Part 6

Master list

Thank you so much for reading ! ✨🥰 I hope you like this part, as usual, your words is what keeps this going xx

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @lau219 @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog (can’t tag) @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactict3a @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ietss @abaker74 @natalie--rushman @elliaze @justrainandcoffee @teawonderfultea-blog1

#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x imagine #tommy shelby fan fic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fan fiction #cillian murphy characters

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Pairing: ReaderXEddieMunson

Request: i don't remember reading something like this before and i thought it might be nice. a smut where they suddenly start kissing rough during a big fight like in films/series? they might be fighting because of jealousy or something else and the fight is going really hard, (they don't hit each other) but maybe eddie is throwing things against the wall and breaking them and the reader is pushing him by the shoulders etc., with the intensity of the fight, something can be ignited and I thought it could be a really tough smut

Word Count: 3.3K

18+ Only

Smut, Rough sex, there is verbal fighting, name calling, and throwing of things but never violence at each other

“Are you fucking serious right now Eddie!?” 

Your chest heaved, blood boiling in your veins, making you feel as if you were incinerating from the inside out. Was he really going to stand there and accuse you of this when he did it all the goddamn time, assuring you it meant nothing?

“I saw you, sweetheart! You were practically in his goddamn lap!”

“I was not! Jesus Christ! I was sitting on the stool next to him. We were just talking. I haven’t seen him since high school so he was asking what I’ve been up to.”

Eddie snorted, his eyes rolling up into his head. “Yeah. I’m so sure Billy Hargrove was real interested in a conversation and not your tits that were practically in his face, begging to be touched.”

The rage that was building within you had you trembling. It slithered like an ugly disease down your arm and into your hand. You grabbed the ashtray from the end table and chucked it at him. He ducked just in time as it smacked into the wall with force behind him. 

“What the fuck!?” he yelled, those brown doe eyes now dark with fury. “What is wrong with you?”

“You! You’re what’s wrong with me! I sit there every fucking time you have a show and watch while girls hang all over you! You smile and laugh and tease them! You make them think they have a shot with you! You pose for pictures and sign their fucking tits! You sit there like a king on your fucking throne, soaking it all up, loving being the rock star that all the groupies want a shot with! And you’re always telling me it means nothing! I have to just accept it if I’m with you! But I have one goddamn conversation with a guy…”

“He’s not just a guy! He’s your fucking ex!”

“Yeah! He is! Ex being the word that matters here! I’m not with him. I’m with you! I chose you and I keep choosing you but you never fucking choose me!”

His mouth dropped open, sounds of disbelief and disgust spluttering from him. He folded his arms across his lean chest, rising up to full height, towering over you. You didn’t flinch. You weren’t scared of him. Eddie could be a jerk but he would never lay a hand on you. 

“I choose you! I could have any of those fucking girls I want! They want to come home with me! They’ve heard I can show them one hell of a time and they practically beg me to show them! But I don’t because I have you!”

“Oh! Well so sorry you’re saddled with me! That can easily be fixed you know!”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean, princess?”

“You can leave anytime you want if this isn’t making you happy anymore! Yeah! You know what? Maybe you should! Then you can actually live out your sad small town rock star fantasy! You can bring a different whore home every night and show her what a good time you are.” You paused, tilting your head, hands on your hips. “But what fucking home will you bring her back to when you don’t have me to foot the bills so you can run off pretending you’re Tony Lommi?”

“We’re really going to do this again?”

“Do what again?”

“Bitch about me not pitching in enough around here! You knew what I was when you decided to be with me. You told me you were good with me working part time so I could focus on my music.”

“That was three fucking years ago! How long are you going to keep it up!?”

“You used to support me! You used to believe in me!”

Tears welled up in your eyes, only fueling your anger more, because you didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. You didn’t want him to see how much his words had hit their mark, like an arrow hitting the bullseye. 

You had supported Eddie. You had supported him. You’d encouraged him to go for his dream but his dream was now killing both of you. You couldn’t take it. Night after night watching women throw themselves at him, watching him encourage it, eat it up, relish the attention. Working twelve hour shifts, dead on your feet, just to cover rent because Eddie couldn’t possibly take on more hours if he was going to get that new song finished.

“Yeah, I did, and you used to act like I mattered!” you spat. 

“You matter!”

“Do I? It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it! When’s the last time you spent any time with me that wasn’t in the fucking bed, Eddie? That’s all I’m good for anymore! You don’t want to watch a movie or go down to the lake like we used to! I’m nothing but a toy you bring out when you need to quench your urges and then you put me back on a fucking shelf!”

“Bullshit! I invited you to band practice last week and you said no!”

“Oh! Thanks so much for wanting me to be there! We both know you just want an audience! You want someone to worship you and tell you how amazing your music is. I’m your girlfriend Eddie! I’m not some fucking groupie who’s just there to fawn over you and spread my legs!”

“No? Well, you sure acted like one tonight with Hargrove!”

“Fuck you! Get the fuck out!”

“This is my apartment too!”

“The fuck it is! You don’t pay for shit and my name’s on the lease!”

“You seriously want me to leave?” he growled.

“Yes! I want you gone! I’m done! I’m not doing this shit anymore!”

“Oh! Oh! I see what this is. You gonna call your roid rage boy toy once I’m gone? What sweetheart? You saw that mullet again and just couldn’t help yourself? You going back to him?”

You should say it but you couldn’t help yourself. Not after week after week of questioning if Eddie wasn’t just giving all those girls attention. Not after nights staring at the clock, wondering if he was off with one of those groupies, temptation too much for him to handle. Not after the way he’d just assumed you’d be willing to do the same. Staring him down, you challenged, “And so what if I am?”

His arm shot out and you shrieked, flinching, your hands coming to either side of your head as a shield. The crash of broken glass shocked you to your core as he grabbed the nearest thing to him, the lamp, and threw it with all the force he had against the wall. 

You stared at him, silent, shocked as he glared down at you, chest heaving, each breath straining the fabric of the fitted shirt he’d started to wear ever since a groupie told him he should show off his body more. 

“You want to go to him! You’re gonna leave me for that piece of shit!” he raged, flinging magazines from the end table one by one, nowhere in your direction, just satisfying thunks against the wall that punctuated each word he spoke. “You think he’s gonna be better to you than me!” His hand snatched the little elephant that he’d bought you from the zoo, the tiny figure cracking as it made contact with the wall next. “You’re just gonna walk away!”

“You asshole!” you screamed, fists pummeling against his chest, shoving him backward. His hands wrapped around your wrists, holding you in place, keeping you from reaching him. 

“Stop it!” he yelled as you flailed like a feral animal to free yourself from his grip.

“I hate you!” you cried. “I fucking hate you!”

“Calm the fuck down!” he roared, pushing you back until he had you pinned against the wall, his weight pressing against you. “God, why do you have to be such a bitch!?”

“Probably because you’re such a dick!” you snap back, trying so hard to hold onto your anger but the awareness of his body, every inch of him now pressed against every inch of you, is making it harder to do. 

He rolls his hips, his erection pressing against your center, smirking when you gasp at the contact, “Yeah, but you like that dick, don’t you?”

“Go to hell,” you grind out through gritted teeth and when he drops his head to find your lips, you snap at him, going for the bite. He just chuckles, keeping hold of your wrists, bringing them to either side of your head against the wall. 

“You are such a pain in my ass.” He tries for the kiss and when you nip at him again, his lips latch onto your neck instead, sucking a bruise into your skin while he slots his thigh between yours. 

“You are…” 

But you never tell him what he is as he presses his thigh against your center, your traitorous hips rolling, seeking the friction he’s providing. His mouth moves over your neck, suckling the flesh in a semi-circular pattern until he reaches the other side. He’s marking you, a necklace for you to wear, to display that you’re taken, that you already belong to someone. Like a fucking dog in heat, he’s making sure that Billy Hargrove and any other unfortunate male who even glances your way knows you’re not available. 

You want to fight him. You want to be the badass bitch who pushes him off and walks away, stands your ground, but it just feels so goddamn good. His mouth on your skin, firm muscle grinding against you just where you need it, fingers pressing into your pulse points as he keeps you captive against the wall. 

“What was that, princess? I’m what?” he teases, fingers loosening their grip on your wrists, trailing over the sensitive flesh on the underside of your arms sending shivers racing up your spine. They brush over the outer curve of your breasts and your back arches, your body craving more, needing more but Eddie just steps back, holding his hands out in front of him. “There’s the door. If I’m such a dick, why don’t you head out right now and find your little boytoy?”

Your teeth grind together, that anger that you’d forgotten in the haze that was desire raging back, the two warring with each other, a battle that was about to lead to epic destruction. 

“You bastard…” you mutter, shoving him backward, his body moving barely an inch. “I despise every fucking thing about you.”

One eyebrow lifts, taunting, his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth, tracing over his bottom lip. Your eyes watch, a clenching between your thighs as that backstabbing bitch aches for what she knows that tongue can do. 

“I hate you…you’re…you’re…”

“Yes? I’m listening.” He cups his hand to his ear, egging you on, brown eyes dancing with amusement as how vexed he’s gotten you. 

A roar of frustration rips from your throat, your hands slamming into his chest, sending him almost toppling over the coffee table. His arms flail for a second before he drops to his ass, hard, just managing to keep himself sitting. He barely has time to look up at you before you’re climbing onto his lap, your fingers sliding roughly into his hair, grabbing a fistful, painfully pulling his head back, relishing the way he winces. 

“Fuck, princess. Careful with the hair.”

“Shut up,” you order, your tongue tracing down his neck, his wince quickly turning into a groan. You sink your teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder and he grunts, grabbing onto your hips, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. 

You rock against him, seeking the relief, the pressure building within you, winds of anger and lust meeting to create a tempest that was about to sweep you both away. Lips, teeth, and tongues clash in a war of biting, sucking, and scraping that has your thighs shaking, a coil tighter than you’ve ever felt before curling in your stomach, begging to spring free. 

Eddie’s hands grab onto your top, tearing it in half, the sound of the threads coming apart satisfying. He makes quick work of your bra and then his mouth descends, marking your flesh until you’re sure there won’t be an inch of you that isn’t bruised. Your hands find their way up his shirt, nails raking along his back when he clamps his teeth over your nipple, tugging at the tender peak, a pain that sends a rush of pleasure straight to where you keep rocking against him. 

“Fuck yes!” you cry, nails embedding into the skin of his shoulders, using him as leverage as you chase your own release against the bulge in his jeans. 

His hand clamps around your throat, pushing you back, away from what you want right at the moment you’re about to get it. The rage is back, awakened again by the audacity of this man to keep your orgasm from you. Your back drapes over his legs as he makes fresh marks over your stomach, his other hand slipping up your skirt. 

The soft Eddie, the one who glided calloused fingers over your trembling flesh, who teased you over top of your panties, who pressed tender kisses to your inner thighs, was nowhere to be found. Without warning, his thrust two of his thick fingers past the scrap of fabric and inside you, not giving one thought to if you were ready for him.

But you were. Holy shit, you were wetter than you’d ever been, inner thighs already sticky from the friction, the brutish way his mouth was marring your skin. You’d never been so turned on in your life and you didn’t know what that said about you and at this moment, with his fingers deep within your pussy, his heel grinding against your clit, his mouth suckling a fresh mark under your breast, you really didn’t care. 

“Not thinking about leaving now, are you, princess?” His hand came down, making contact with the side of your breast with a smack, your whole body jolting. 

You cried out, your hands dropping to the ground behind your head to keep you from spilling off his lap. Another finger pressed into you, stretching you, filling you and a sound you didn’t even recognize wrenched from your body as it clamped down around his fingers. His large palm grabbed your breast roughly, pulling at the overly sensitive skin, everything heightened in this moment, your entire body feeling like it flayed open, senses on max level. 

“Fuck!” you growled, your whole body quaking as it neared release and his palm lifted, fingers slipping out, leaving you feeling empty. 

“You don’t come until I tell you to.”

“What the fuck do you mean…”

But your words were cut off as he manhandled you, turning you over, your face pressed down into the carpet. Snatching off your underwear, he roughly palmed your thighs, spreading you wide until your entire front half was bent onto the floor. 

You heard the slide of his zipper. “You want this dick, don’t you?” he purred, leaning forward, his voice just over your shoulder. “Come on, princess. You want this dick, you gotta ask nicely. Say please.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. 

“Hmm…okay then…”

“You think I want that after so many groupies have had a turn on it,” you challenged, daring him to say it. To tell you that yeah, he’d been cheating on you for months. Letting you believe it was all just about keeping the fans happy so they’d keep coming back. “You think it’s so special? You can fucking keep it. I can find just as good elsewhere.”

You moved to get up and his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing you back down to the floor. 

“Nobody’s had a fucking turn but you,” he growled. “I’m a lot of things, sweetheart but a liar ain’t one of them. You are so goddamn stubborn, you know that? Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with you.”

“Then don’t!”

“Oh, I wish it were that simple. I’m fucking in love you, you idiot! You’re a pain in my ass and you drive me up the fucking wall but I love you and you love me and you fucking know it.” He slapped your ass, leaving a sting that had your pussy dripping all over again. “Now be a good girl and ask for my cock politely.”

Fuck. You hated how right he was. You hated how much you wanted him. You hated how hopelessly in love with him you were. You wished you had the strength to just get up and walk away but you didn’t. A throb between your thighs reminded you how much you needed this. Your body was going to make the decision for you. 

“Fuck me, Eddie,” you snarled.

“I’m sorry. What’s the magic word?”

“I hate you…I hate you so fucking much…”

“Nope. Sorry but that’s not it.”

“Please!” you screamed. “Please fuck me into this goddamn floor and let me come already!”

“That’s my good girl.”

His hips slammed forward, colliding against your own as he buried himself to the hilt within you. You groaned gutturally, your body a discrepancy of both relief and tension. He thrust into you at a brutal pace, your skin smacking together, loudly filling the small space. You had a fleeting thought about what the neighbors were hearing but it quickly dissipated as the only thing you could focus on was Eddie, stretching you, filling you, finally giving you what you needed. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you off the floor, pressing your back to his chest. Continuing to fill you, he gripped your neck, his other hand sliding over your stomach and in between your thighs. When he applied pressure to your clit, you keened, arching back against him. 

“This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” His teeth bit down into your shoulder. “You’re the only one that’s mine. You’re the only one I want. Do you understand that?”

You couldn’t answer. Your eyes rolled toward the heavens, muscles trembling violently. You had zero control. His grip around your throat tightened, a wheeze rising from your lungs as you attempted to suck in air that you couldn’t find. 

“I said, do you understand that?”

He slowly eased up pressure and you rasped out, “Yes. Yes. Yes…”

The word continued to fall from your lips, a mantra as the pressure that had been building within you finally reached its boiling point. You were standing at the precipice, looking at the drop…it was so damn close you could taste it. 

“Come for me now,” ordered Eddie. 

The band snapped, an explosion of sweltering heat racing along your skin, as your orgasm violently took over your body. Eddie kept his hand around your neck, not ceasing his unmerciful pounding, his flesh meeting yours with a ferocious collision every single time. His grip tightened as an animalistic roar assaulted your ears. 

Sweat slicked flesh slid against each other as the two of you collapsed into a heap on the floor. You lay next to him, panting, struggling to understand what the hell had just happened. How had you gone from being ready to kick him out to having the hottest sex of your life?

“I mean it. You’re the only one. I’ve never kissed or touched any of those girls. I’ve never even considered it,” he gasped. “Have you? Were you…considering Billy?”

“No…not really,” you managed, still unable to fully catch your breath.

“You love me?”

Your head turned, looking over at this idiot that somehow had such a hold on you. You couldn’t explain it but you also couldn’t deny it. Rolling your eyes, you shook your head.

“Yeah. I do. I love you even if you are a dick.”

“Good because I love you too, you pain in the ass.”

#eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie the banished #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie the freak munson #rough #rough smut #smut #request #smut requests #eddie munson stranger things #jealousy #toxic relationship #rough stuff

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace-1

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

Part 2

Your feet hurt, throbbing in your worn-out sneakers that you’ve owned since your first day at university. Your legs feel like jelly, and not in the good way, in the way where the back of your knees hurt, and the earth’s gravitational pull seems to be so much stronger. You feel like you’re being cooked like the way you’re preparing your sauce. Boiling, bubbling.  

The sweat gathers at the brim of your chef’s hat and the back of your neck. The head chef is screaming at you, again, like he always does. You swear that he gets some sick thrill out of yelling at one. Forcing you to do 15 tasks all at once, while telling you just how horribly you’re doing all of them. Not only that, but you feel like you must think for the other four cooks you work with. 

How you’re not used to it yet, you’re not sure. Maybe you’re not cut out for the industry, but you refuse to think of it. That would be your life’s dream down the drain. Not only that but, 20 000 euros down the drain. “Y/N, *il nous faut la sauce pour le jarret d'agneau!” Again, that damn head chef calls and you can feel your frustration burning in the back of your eyes. *We need the sauce for the lamb shank! 

“*J'apporte ta foutue sauce maintenant!” You can’t help but let your anger bubble out. You give the sauce for the cook preparing the lamb, ignoring the fiery glare of the head-chef. “**Je prends ma pause.” You say, throwing your hat and apron on my station, once again ignoring your boss’ threats. You throw the door open, sighing in relief at the fresh air. *I'm bringing your damn sauce now **I’m taking my break.  

You sigh, sitting on the dirty alleyway floor, leaning against the old brick wall. You pull out a pack of cigarettes, take one out, light it and take a deep pull. And as you sit, you can’t but groan as you read the invoice for your rent. You’d been so good on your bills, but then you got sick, again, then the bills started piling up.  

“Fucking hell...” You mutter, rubbing your temples in annoyance. You get a message from your mom, asking how you are and when you’re coming to visit. You avoid it, you can’t face her. Your family all believe you to be this fancy five-star-chef, making it big in the capital of France. You don’t have the guts to tell them of your failure. Or the fact that you’re sitting on a dirty floor, after being verbally abused all day.  

When you were little, you imagined being a princess in a big castle. With lots of gowns and jewels and shoes. You’d use your mom’s old dresses and put on a show. Whenever you’d get hand-me-downs or the new outfit once a year you’d put on a whole show. When people would ask what you want to be when you grow up, you’d always say a model.  

When you got older, late teenage years, you, of course, had to think of something more realistic. And with chef-ing having the easiest job to find and the easiest degree to get, you chose it. Now, you regret it more than anything. Your dreams have been sucked dry and aspirations have little left. At home, you spend your time scrolling through the vogue Instagram, dreaming of the day that someone can do all this adulting for you.  

Out of nowhere, a loud scream is heard. You snap your head up to the direction it came from, after watching the newest runway from Versace. Suddenly a man come barrelling down the alleyway. He keeps glancing over his shoulder in panic and almost fear. His skin is a golden tan colour, and his beautiful dark hair flies as he speeds down the alleyway. He looks ready to to climb into a nearby dumpster before he spots you.  

He seems beyond relieved to see you. And then another scream is heard, and his expression becomes one of alarm. “J'ai besoin...uh...help?” His French is sloppy and mixed with English. But his accent is not one of an American. You cross your arms and lift your brow. “Aide?” You translate his words for him. He nods, glancing to the alleyway entrance again. “Si, si-” very much not French. “Now. Uh...” Then another scream and his urgency grows. “I speak English.” 

This news gives him a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Dios.” He mutters and then his relief turns again to imperativeness. “You to hide me. Now. I can’t tell you why. But you need to hide me. Now. Uh-please.” His dark brown eyes seem frantic, and his accent sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never met someone with this accent, in your whole 23 years of life and something about this intrigues you.

“And why should I, for all I know you could’ve just killed someone!” You reply, standing up and stomping your cigarette out. And yet your firm stand buckles when he gives these big brown eyes, which are filled with fear. “I’ll pay.” Your expression changes almost instantly. At this point you’re ready to do just about anything to get the insurance off your back.  

“Yeah? You like that, cosa bonita? How much, pretty girl?” Then he pulls out his wallet and takes out a stack of hundred-euro bills. “You name the price, doll face. Here, two hundred? But please be quick with your decision.” Never before have you had this opportunity to make money this quickly. And you need to money now more than ever. How can you say no? What’s the harm? If he was a criminal, he would’ve hurt you by now, right? You don’t mutter a word.  

Not to mention the way he uses the pet names don’t seem gross. He’s charismatic, so much so that you hope he doesn’t see the blush creeping up your ears. Not only that but his smile seems almost comforting. Like you could trust him with your drink in a busy club. How far are you willing to go to pay your bills? You grab his warm hand, with the money in, and shove the both of you through the back door.  

“*Je suis malade. Je prends le reste de la journée.” You call out, shoving your chef’s jacket and the rest of your work attire into your bag, all with the man still trailing behind you. “I do like it when a pretty girl like you speaks French. I must thank you, not many girls would usually do something like this.” Suddenly his worried nature turns into a more welcoming, flirty one. *I'm sick. I'm taking the rest of the day off. 

It’s rare that you’re called pretty by an utter stranger. Frozen in place as you stare up at the handsome stow-away. “Where is he?” It’s the same girlish voice as before, the slightly above standard’s restaurant doors slam open. “I must say though, my French isn’t very good. I’m sure you noticed. But I do hope you were telling your manager that we are leaving, no?” He asks and this time blush creeps from your cheeks all the way to your ears.  

“Uh- yes- something like that. Come, we’ll hide in the worker’s bathroom.” You stammer your way through your sentence. Though you regret it the moment you close the bathroom stall. It’s small and barely above regulations, this place is cheap on their worker rights. His chest is pressed up right against yours. His body is so warm, like a nice fire in a winter cabin.  

You know if you were cuddle with him in the cold snowy months, you wouldn’t even need a heater or warm socks. Wait, why are you thinking this? You’ve just met the man! Now you’re already thinking of burrowing yourself closer to him. His big hands stabilize themselves on your waist, trying not to topple over you. And you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, hoping the handsome man won’t notice.  

At the same time, you wish your hair isn’t tied up, so that you could hide behind that piercing gaze. Especially now that your bodies are pressed against each other in the small bathroom stall. Your hands grow clammy, and you can feel that his eyes are trying to catch yours. Trying to see more of your face and you’re merely hoping the earth would swallow you whole. Feeling inferior to be admired by a man with such heat.   

“I knew coming to France would be fun, but I didn’t expect being so close to such a pretty girl.” He seems entirely too big for the little stall and now you wish they had aircons that the American’s talk about. You too are forced to also steady yourself on his big, hard chest. Those dark unruly brows furrow. “Why are you so quiet now? Earlier you were quite happy to talk, no?” 

Now you’re really blushing. “I assume when you someone like you, pays someone like me, you expect them to keep quiet.” You say avoiding his gaze, this seems to aggravate him. He takes you by the chin and forces you to look at him. His gaze softens when you look up at him through your lashes. But your legs feel like jelly when staring into those chocolate brown eyes.  

“Someone like you? Someone like me? You should watch what you say.” Those dark golden eyes seem to stare right through your insecurities. “Why is that?” His words cause a spark in your mind, you’ve always been jealous of the rich ones. Not only that but the way they look down on you. This causes a smirk on his face, “So the mouse does speak?” You scoff at his words and start staring him down.  

“The mouse does speak, and she’d love to ask why on earth she’s hiding with you in a bathroom stall?” His jaw snaps at your words and this time he looks away. “If I tell you, you might just be another person I need to hide from.” This time it’s your turn to laugh. “Tell me now, or I’m throwing you to the wolves.” He snaps down to look you in the eyes again. “You wouldn’t dare.” You smirk, “Watch me.”  

His hand snaps up and then falls to his side again. Your heart is racing, it’s unlike you to be so daring or disobedient. But something about him makes you feel bold and confident. “Alright, niñita, tell me do you know about the Tifosi?” He asks, mixing his language in between and you can’t help but want to beg to know what he’s calling you 

You shake your head no. “Alright, what about Formula 1?” Again, you shake my head no. He sighs and rubs his head. “Let’s just say I have a few loco, um, crazy fans.” You laugh, full on head back laughing. “Really? You paid me two-hundred euros to hide with you in a bathroom because you have some passionate fans.” Your eyes are twinkling with delight.  

“No, no, no, niñita, you don’t understand. They had scissors! They wanted a piece of my hair!” This causes a flash of fears in his eyes, and he subconsciously rakes his fingers through his luxurious dark hair. You shrug and lift your hand, wiping a strand from his forehead. “I can see why.” It goes quiet then and the both of you can’t help but notice the screaming has died down.  

“Well, if you’d ever like to know more about someone like me-” He sends you a wink and then grabs your phone from your back pocket. He shows you the lock screen and you roll your eyes but give in and open the phone. He puts in his number, adding a chili next to his name. ‘Carlos Sainz 🌶️’  

 You frown, “What’s the chili stand for?” Once more, he winks. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. And here-” he pulls out his wallet and hands you another hundred, “-for the trouble.” You blush again and shake your head. You hesitate, eyeing the money, biting the inside of your cheek, churning over if you should take it or not.  

It’s been the first time that you’ve laughed in weeks. Not to mention the previous money already helps so much. “Tan testarudo que ya lo puedo ver. Está bien, me gusta un poco de coraje en mi chica.” He scoffs and shoves the bill in the back pocket of your jeans. “I think they’re gone now, I’ve got to go, I’m sure my manager is looking for me.” He says after his rant in the language I don’t understand.  

He unlocks the bathroom stall door, and clatters out, yet somehow makes it look so hot. You escort him out of the restaurant and find yourself staring at him on the sidewalk of Paris. You can’t but remember, when he looks at you like he’s ready to devour you, that this is the city of love. Again, he steps up close, feeling his hot breath on your forehead. He’s six inches taller than you, he’s looming.  

As if thirty minutes ago are happening again. He’s quiet and contemplative. His sweet, cocky attitude turns dark suddenly. His warm, rough hands gently caress your cheek. “I’m only in Paris for one more week, before I’m off to the Netherlands. If you don’t message me, I’ll make sure to see you again.” He looks so serious, so much so that your stomach turns slightly.  

“Wouldn’t that be going a bit fast? Seeing me at my work a week after we met?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes turn slightly darker and yet he smirks. “I like a fast pace.” As if he’s a villain in a bond movie, a bright black SUV pulls up next to him. “Don’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be better for the both of us. I don’t want the world to know about you just yet.”  

His wink sends shivers down your spine. He then takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. “I will see you again, muñequita.” He then slides into the back of the SUV; his gaze makes your core warm. And when he rides away you can’t help but lean against a close-by streetlamp. Your legs feel like Jello.  

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #scuderia ferrari #sugar daddy!Carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #carlos sainz smut

[certainduckanchor]

PITIFUL part 1

pairings: gojo x reader

genre: angst

Disclaimer: Read at your own risk.

Gojo hate the fact that he's married already. He don't want to be tied with someone at the age of 28. He has so many plans for himself. He wants to be free. But here you are acting so sweet, kind, and timid in front of him, which is he hates the most. Why would you ever agree to be married to him? Is it because he came from prestigious clan? You want his money?

He don't even know you, where you from, or even your name, he don't give a damn. It was his parents and elders idea, practically thinking that it would be best if the strongest sorcerer get married and has heirs.

" why are you here? " he asked you look irritated. Everyday he always asked you that question. Thinking why are you living together.

" because im you wife." you said softly. You heard him took a deep breath. You didn't bother to look at him because you know he hates you. Every single thing about you hates him, well you can't blame. The strongest sorcerer suddenly get married to someone like you. Someone who is far from his status.

" wife my ass! Are you really that stupid and pathetic?" he mocked. Trying to make you mad.

Everyday is like this since you two got married. It was so sudden that no one knew. It was a simple wedding celebration just you and Gojo's clan.

He also made it clear that no one should know that you're married together. Even in school, he specifically told you to stay away from him and you agree. You respect his decision, after all your life is meaningless anyway. You don't want to burden him.

" call me what you want, Satoru. But I don't need to answer you." you simply said not bothering to look at him.

He grabbed your arm which made you look at him. He looks dangerous. He's blue eyes is piercing through your body. It made you shiver.

" what do you want woman?! My money? My body? You want heirs?! Tell me and I'll fuck you right here and now!"

" let me go." you whispered. You don't want to start a fight with him.

" what did you say?!"

" let me go Satoru..." you warned.

" what if I don't? What can you do? You're nothing but a weak woman, pathetic, stupid, bit--"

You slapped him so hard. His eyes widened in disbelief, what you did boils him.

" I-i'm sorry, I-i didn't mea--" you tried to touch his face.

" how fucking dare you!" he grabbed your arm. You cried in pain. It's like he'll break your arm.

" S-satoru please.. l-let me go. It hurts. Please! Please! Just let me go. I'll do anything you want!" your begging. You tried to calm him down. Suddenly he stop, grinning at you. This is what he likes, he likes you to beg for him. He wants you to realized that marrying him is a wrong decision.

" get out of this house. I don't want to see your face." you nod and he leaves. If this is what he wants, I'll give it to him.

You packed your things. Wondering where you will stay the night. Hotel? it's expensive. You dont have much money, even if Gojo is your husband you never touch what's his. So you're only living in your salary. You decided to stay the night in your dorm.

Just a little. You just have to endure everything in this life.

- ff -

" yn-sama. you're late. " the maid bowed at you. She gives you a robe.

You look at the door infront of you. You thought you will finally escape from them after marrying the person they trully want but you can't. You're so sick of them, but whenever Gojo sees you you can't help but feel bad for him. You really don't want this to happened - to ruin his life.

You entered the hell, this was hell from you ever since you're young.

" yn we've been waiting for you." it was your mother. You bowed to them.

" I'm sorry.. there was something i nee--"

" i don't give a damn. So how's your married life with the strongest sorcerer?" she asked.

Every month, every last friday of the month. You were told to report from them about what it's like to live with the strongest sorcerer.

" it was great mother. he's so powerful and a kind person." you lied, still bowing to them. You feel sick, every month you have to make an excuse just to please them.

" that's good to hear. how about heirs? are you pregnant now?" your father asked.

This is their plan, to get you married from the strongest sorcerer, have his money and give birth to him. It was all their selfish desire.

" no father.. Satoru is so busy being a sorcerer and clan leader." you bite your lower lip.

" what?! you're married for 5 months already still no child?" he looks at you angry. Cursing you because for him it's your fault. You mother who was sitting beside him looks angry too.

" why don't you seduce him! Use your fucking mind! We want heirs now!" he shouts at you.

You silently clenched your fist. You're tired from this. Tired from your life. Tired from everything. You just want to die.

" I'll do my best next time father." you whispered.

" you better be or else you know what will happen to you!"

Suddenly the door opened, it was the maids. You know the drill what will happen next. They will beat the shit out of you at the basement.

You let them drag you, you didn't bother to squirm. Hoping this will be the last, hoping you will not survive from this. No one will really cares if you died here, even your husband who dispise you the most.

They lock you up for 2 hours. Whipping and beating your body. You didn't make a sound nor cried. You felt numb, growing up from these beatings made you strong enough not to cry.

After beating the shit out of you. You just dress like nothing happened. Still wondering why you didn't died today. You were used to this.

Is this the purpose of my life? I just wanted to be happy. But why is this happening? Why do I have to endure everything? Is it too much to ask?

When you arrive at your dorm. You locked yourself crying. Everything hurts. You're tired from everything. Maybe it's better if you killed yourself now. That's it. You'll end this suffering.

You stared at the mirror. Smiling at your reflection. Reminiscing your childhood trauma until Gojo Satoru entered your useless life. Gojo was right. Who wants to gets married to a woman like me? A woman who looks stupid and pathetic. A woman who's weaker than him. I'm just a bug in his life, a woman who ruined his life.

You drive yourself to your shared apartment. Satoru was there, for sure. Today you will end ties with him. You're finally giving him the freedom he deserves.

When you arrived at your apartment, you heard a moan coming from your bedroom. Not a surprise anymore.

" Satoru..." you called. His eyes widened and he immediately cover his body together with the woman he's fucking.

" what the hell! why are you here?" he angrily said.

" I'm sorry.. " you started. " Sorry for ruining your life. Sorry because I agreed to marry you. You're right, I'm just a pathetic and stupid woman. I don't hate you actually. Thank you and sorry for everything. "

He was stunned. This is so sudden. The woman in your bed looks confuse too.

" I'm cutting everything we had. Don't worry I'm still keeping your secrets. I wish you a happy life. You deserve so much. " you smiled for the last time. You bowed at him leaving him in the bedroom stunned. He can't believe you did that.

You genuinely smiled to him. Gojo Satoru swears that this is the first time you smiled at him.

You went back to your dorm happily.

Later that night..

They found your body in your dorm, lifeless, full of scars, bruise and wounds. The sound of their cries echoes through the hallway of Jujutsu High. Their beloved teacher yn is gone.

No proofreading.

P.S. thank youuu @kawaiivillainess98 for suggesting a title ❤️

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #anime and manga #gojo angst #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x wife

[selfloverrrrrr]

The College Incident

Warning: dark content, smut, heavy smut, nipple play, noncon, teasing, jealousy, yandere

Part-2

Masterlist

( All characters are aged up/ 18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read those warnings carefully........if you don't like my stories block me not report.....

I was a second year student. My college life was going well. I mean what else you need for a good college life? My studies were going well, I have good friends. What else I need.

In college I have two female friends. Shoko and Mei Mei. They were like my bestfriends. I shared everything with them and they shared everything with me. I loved them so much. We were BFF. But they weren't my only friends. Gojo and Geto was also my friends. They were also my close friends.

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were the most famous boys in our college. They were very well-known in our college for their charms. All girls were ready to throw their body to them. But they didn't give a fuck. Those girls were jealous of us three girls because Gojo and Geto were close friends of us.

But the thing noone knew was Gojo Satoru has a crush on me. Oh no... that's not a crush that's obsession. He was obsessed with me. Always stalking me, following me everywhere, staring at me at college. But he never let anyone notice that.

We all lived in the college hostel. The hostel was huge. That has five floors. Geto and Mei Mei's room were in the first floor. Mine and gojo's one was on the third floor and Shoko's one was on the fourth floor.

One day at college me, Shoko and Mei Mei were gossiping together. We were telling each other who was our crush and our dirtiest fantasy about them. But what we didn't notice that Gojo was listening us. Geto didn't came college that day. "Aww... that was hot" shoko said to Mei Mei. Mei Mei laughed. " And you y/n ?... You are just listening us tell us about yours one.." Mei Mei said with a smirk. "M-me?" I asked. " Yes you~" Shoko said. "Okey....but promise me that you won't tell anyone." I said. " We promise" they said together.

"okey... it's..." I said " it's?" Both of them spoke together. " G-Geto" I replied with a blush. " Ooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" they teased me. " S-stop doing that" I replied. " Stop? You didn't tell us about your dirtiest fantasy about him" shoko said with a smirk. I blushed so hard. " Come on... tell us...we did too" Mei Mei said. " It's BDSM..." I said and looked away. They started teasing me.

And there was Gojo behind us. Who's blood was boiling in rage. He broke his pencil in his hand from the anger. ' Suguru,huh? You want him? What a shame!... And what did you just say about your fantasy? BDSM, huh? I'm gonna show you what BDSM actually is.... hope you can handle it~' Gojo thought to himself with a smirk.

The classes end I was packing my thighs in my bag when Utahime called me. " Hey...y/n?" She said. " Yeah?" I replied. " I was asking can I get your note book please?... I have to write down yesterday's notes...." She said. " Yeah sure...but geto has my note book... I'm gonna take it from him today... I'll give you tomorrow." I replied her. " Ohhh okeyyyy... thank you " she said and walked away. When I turned to the door I saw Shoko and Mei Mei smirking at me. " Can you guys please stop!!!" I scremed with blushing.

Gojo heard my and Utahime's conversation. ' that's the chance ' he thought to himself and ran out of the campus before us. He went to geto's room and knocked on the door. Geto opened the door. " Oh Satoru... Supp?" Geto said. " Nothing much just....do you have y/n's note book?" Gojo asked. " Yeah I do" Geto replied. " Can you give me it?... I'm gonna give it to her." Gojo said. "Yes " Geto replied and gave my note book to Gojo. " Thank you... and if y/n came here please do tell her to take it from me." Gojo said. " Sure" Geto replied and both of them went to their own rooms.

I returned to our hostel. " Hey guys you go.... I have to take my note book from Get-" I told Shoko and Mei Mei when they interrupt me " yeah sure..." They said smirking and went to their own rooms. I went to geto's room and knocked on the door. Geto opened the door. " Hey.." I said "heyyy!" He replied. " Umm... I was just... Can you give me my note book please?" I asked. " Oh... Satoru took that and he told me to tell you to take that from him" he said with a smile. " Gojo.. ohkey then" I replied. We both said bye to each other and went to our room.

I went to gojo's room and knocked on the door but the door was already open. I opened the door and called for him "Gojo?". No reply. I went inside. It was normal. We have went in each other's room many times. It wasn't awkward. I went inside and called for him again " Gojoooo???" " Yes???" He replied from the bathroom. " It's me...y/n. I'm here to take my note book..." I said. " Oh yes... I'm coming... Shut the door and wait in my bedroom I'm coming... just a minute!!!" He screamed from the bathroom. " Okey!!" I replied and went to look the door.

When I went back to gojo's room I saw Gojo standing there naked. Not fully...his lower portion was wrapped with towel. I looked away " c-can I...get m-my note book?" I asked. " Would you have looked away if it was Suguru?" Gojo said making me confused. "W-what" I said and looked at him and saw he was standing close to me. " I said.... WOULD YOU HAVE LOOKED AWAY IF IT WAS SUGURU?" he repeated stepping closer to me. " G-Gojo I don't know what you're talking abou-" I started stepping backwards but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. " Oh you know very well~" he said with a smirk.

He threw me on his bed. Fear grabbed me by my neck. Gojo started crawling towards me. " G-Gojo stop" I said " would you have said this if it was Suguru?" He replied. I tried to get off from the bed but he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me. " Would you have done this if it was Suguru?" He said. " Gojo please stop" I begged but he crashed his lips on mine. Kissing me roughly. Making me breathless.

He started undressing me. I tried to stop him but my strength was nothing for him. He almost took off my clothes. I was just left in my panties. Gojo started licking my nipple. His was so teasing. I moaned. He continued his teasing licking and sucking on my nipple. With his one hand he grabbed my other boob and squeezed it roughly. I scremed so loudly.

When he was done playing with my nipples and boobs he got up and started taking off my panties. " Gojo please...." I begged again. "Shhh... You're dripping, darling~" he said with his smirk. He bring his face close to my pussy and licked it. "Ummmmmmm..... heaven~" he whispered to himself.

He took off his towel. His huge length was out now. My eyes widened at his length. It was too long and too thick. He grabbed his dick stroked it two or three times then line it with my entrence. I began to panic. " Gojo Gojo Gojo.... please no .... Gojo please no... I'm begging you!!!" I begged him. " WOULD YOU HAVE SAID THIS IF IT WAS SUGURU??????" he screamed and tears started falling from my eyes.

Gojo pushed his whole length in one slide and I scremed with pain. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was screming loudly. His huge dick was giving me too much pain. He started giving me hickeys on my neck and chest. His thursting getting faster and harder. My whole body was shaking. He was moaning too. The way his dick was touching my g-spot make my back arch. It didn't take much time and I came. As I came that smirk again played on his lips.

I felt his dick started throbbing inside me. I didn't have the power to speak. It was too much for me. When my warm walls clenched around him he moaned loudly. In a few minutes he came inside me. He slowly pull out and threw him beside me. I was already fainted. He bring his face closer to mine and whispered....

" you already fainted?... Wasn't you the one who was talking about BDSM?... What a shame.... Now let's see how you can get Suguru.... I'LL MAKE SURE THAT YOU WOULD NEVER THINK ABOUT DOING ANYTHING WITH SUGURU~"

Part-2

Masterlist

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #smut #yandere gojo #yandere gojo smut #gojo noncon #tw noncon #dark content #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #Gojo

[drewharrisonwriter]

On the Mend - Ch 1: Not Today

No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Read this on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

Word count: 829

A/N: (EDIT 09/17/2023) Okay so I heard ya'll! LMAO and decided to turn this into a mini-series. Not sure exactly how things will play out for these two, but I've written a part 2 and decided to call this mini-series On the Mend. LOL hope you like it. This is a one-shot for now, not sure if and how to continue this. I just got this idea recently and wanted to write it.

The merciless sun bore down as she parked her car. The Austin summer had been relentless, and today, it seemed as if even the universe was conspiring against her. 

It had been a thoroughly miserable day. Work had been a disaster; she'd spent hours redoing half of a project her co-worker had botched because she was still hungover from the previous night. 

The Texas summer heat, relentless and unforgiving, only added to her misery. As if fate had a personal grudge against her, she realized she'd left her house keys on her office desk when she was already halfway home. 

She sighed in defeat and turned her car around to retrieve them. All of this was compounded by her lingering morning sickness, a term she found deceptive as it had resurfaced with a vengeance upon entering her third trimester. She had naively believed she had bid it farewell for good when she'd crossed into the second trimester.

"Whoever called it morning sickness should be shot for lying," she grumbled, attempting to quell the rising nausea that threatened to surface.

Dressed in biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt she kept in her car for emergencies, she got out and beelined to the frozen aisle for a popsicle stick and savored the brief respite offered by the melting ice cold treat.

She sighed in relief and grabbed a pushcart. Her only mission in the store was to grab some Oreos, pickles, and frozen pizza to satisfy her cravings that were so intense, she literally cried in the car on her way over. 

As she rounded a corner in the store, she was suddenly face to face with the last person she wanted to see: Joel Miller. 

Great. She thought to herself. Couldn't have been on a better day. 

Ah, Joel fucking Miller.

The man who had once been the love of her life.

The same man who had taken her on the most memorable first date she'd ever experienced, and had filled the past five years of her life with the kind of joy she'd never known before.

But this was also the man who made it clear to her months ago, after five whole years of being together and living together for three, that he has no plans of marrying her and having a family with her. 

She and Joel were arguing at the time when he said it. 

--

In the midst of their emotional clash, she couldn't help but speak her mind, her frustration boiling over. 

"Joel," she began, her voice trembling with pent-up feelings, "if you get mad at every damn little thing, what's going to happen if we were married? That's not the life I want, and it's not the husband I need."

Joel's eyes flashed with anger as he retorted, "Of course it’s not! And who told you I was going to marry you?" His words cut like a knife, and she felt her heart shatter into pieces. 

"We never talked about it, what put the idea into your head?" he continued, his tone harsh and unyielding. 

Her jaw went slack in shock, as tears welled up in her eyes as she choked back her emotions. 

"But I thought we--," she whispered, her voice barely audible, she couldn't even continue her thoughts when Joel cut her off.

"No." He barked. "You knew from the start that Sarah is my priority. Always was and always will be. I'm not going through the whole marriage thing again." And have our hearts broken all over again when you realize that we're not what you want, he wanted to add. But instead he allowed the silence to linger. 

Silent tears slipped from her eyes but she did not respond. 

Instead she stood up and went into the closet and started packing. So be it, she told herself as she zipped the last of her bags before going into the bathroom to hastily shove her toiletries into another bag. 

She stopped when she pulled one of the lower drawers open. The positive pregnancy test sticks under her box of tampons glared at her, and for a brief moment she contemplated telling Joel. But when she heard the front door slam shut, she pulled herself together and shoved the sticks in the bag as well. 

--

That was seven months ago and she hasn't seen nor heard from Joel since. 

Their eyes met for a moment before his gaze fell upon her very round baby bump. Acting on instinct, she hastily placed her handbag in the shopping cart, a futile attempt to hide it from him, though it didn't do much given the fact that she looked like she had tucked an entire watermelon under her shirt.

She grimaced, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she locked eyes with him once more, she began walking backwards, her eyes not leaving him and before he could say anything, she had rounded the corner and all he heard was, “Nope. Not today!”

Next Chapter 👉🏻

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal edit #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal x pregnant!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedrito #pedrohub #pedropascaledit #now i understand the hype #Joel Miller #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fic #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us

[creatchie8]

Matching Set

Summary: It was easy to hide away from telling people your truth, until you met a certain man on a Sunday night at the bar you worked at.

Pairing: Bob Floyd/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! (18+), explicit smut, oral sex, p in v sex

Word Count: 21,000

10:38 PM, Sunday

“You know…” You said as you squeezed the dish sponge under the hot water at the double stainless steel sink, “You really treated your guy friend like total shit back there.” 

You half jokingly laughed to Penny as you two finished up tonight's dishes. Baked mac and cheese. Incredibly tasty buy oh so cemented to the glassware you were slaving away at. 

Penny chuckled at your comment as she expertly dried some deep blue drinking glasses with a lemon yellow rag, “He should have paid attention to my rules. It's not my fault he can't read.” She grinned devilishly and you just rolled your eyes. 

You had heard your aunt talk a few times about Maverick, how he was sweet but at the same time an ignorant fuck. But truthfully, that is all you could get out of her. She chalked it up every time to an old flame, but you suspected that it was always still dimly lit within her by the faint fondness that lingered in her eyes. 

Even when she would say the ‘ignorant fuck’ part she often smiled as if she was enjoying a sweet moment. 

The final bit of cheesy crust dissolved within the now seemingly boiling water and you were free. Humming as you handed the glassware off to Penny to dry and then tossing your sponge next to the soap dispenser. The dish cloth was rough as you dried your hands with it, then handing it to Penny to dry hers off next. 

Nights like this were nice. 

Not that you didn't like it when sweet Amelia hung around you two instead of scurrying off to get out of chores, but being alone to talk about ‘grown up stuff’ was refreshing. The creamy yellow kitchen light flickered slightly as the two of you settled back down at the table again. 

You were really blessed to live in a nice house like this, especially with people who loved you.

Penny propped her head up on her palm as she looked at you, “You seemed to get along really well with that girl back there.” she smiled. 

Your fingers were busy picking at a knob in the wood grain, “Phoenix? Oh yeah. I don't even know what got into me.” You reminisced about the night, “She just ordered a beer and then we started talking. She's really funny.” You leaned back in the wooden chair and laughed, “She’s here on some top secret mission. Even when she got tipsy she still wouldn't tell me what it was about.” 

Every so often a woman in uniform will come and hang at The Hard Deck. It is always refreshing when they do, especially when they are as sweet as Phoenix is. She came in with a few people trailing behind her, all of them comfortably chatting. You noticed that Phoenix seemed to lead them, not in a commanding way, but in a trustworthy way that really intrigued you. 

Maybe her trustworthy aura and warm smile is what got you talking to her so quickly, because soon after she ordered a beer you two exchanged a greeting and some more conversation that led to her asking if you worked tomorrow night, then inviting you to hang out with her and her friends when you could get a chance.  

“You know what I say about slacking on the job, hun.” Penny tsked and shook her head. 

You knew she didn't mean it. Deep down she was happy that you were socializing. 

Especially when you haven't found a friend to hang around since you got here, and you have been here since when? A freshman in university, and now you are twenty-two with your aunt and a fourteen year old girl as your two best friends. You cringed at the thought. 

Both of your heads perked up at the sound of laughs coming from said teenager’s room.

Still cringing, you heaved yourself up and out of the chair, the legs squeaking against the floor as you pushed it back into the table. “I better head off to bed. Don't let Amelia bully you into letting her stay up later.” you smirked and left the kitchen, but not before you heard Penny snort, “What? But I wanna be a fun mom!” she whined sarcastically and got up herself. 

The door to your bedroom was cracked slightly open like how you left it this afternoon before you went to work at The Hard Deck. It was smaller compared to the other two rooms, but that is because before you came here it used to be an office. 

Penny had insisted multiple times that Amelia did not need her huge room, that it would go to much better use if you had it. But honestly, you loved the reclusiveness of your room. It was tucked away at the end of the hall next to the downstairs bathroom.

An optimal spot to claim the bathroom first on busy school mornings. 

Thank god you didn’t live with your little brother anymore. It was like he had a sixth sense when you would attempt to go to the bathroom, always running out of wherever he was hiding at breakneck speed to push you out of the way (he grew about a foot and a half at eleven and has had a mischievous personality since four) and locked the door. 

You flipped on the light switch and flopped into bed, still smelling like stale beer and cheap military man cologne. You should take a shower, like, now. Groaning as you kicked off your shoes, you sat up and looked with heavy lids around the decorated room. Much more homey than all your other usually shared rooms growing up. 

The bedtime checklist formed in your head as you sat there in heavy silence. With the window cracked a bit you could hear the waves crashing outside, deep blue and full of memories from your time in California. 

Tonight was fun. You weren't going to doubt the laughs you had with Phoenix and her other teammates she introduced you to, even if you did only stay behind the bar and serve them alcohol and bar food. 

The Hard Deck catered to all things military, and with that comes two main reactions to a young woman like you serving alcohol. Being completely ignored or basically being immediately proposed to by the single (and sometimes taken) men. You had gotten used to it at this point. 

How to act (sweet), how to dress (revealing, but leaving much up to the imagination), just to get a little something extra added to the tip jar (Navy men are bad tippers so it wasn't much more). 

Sighing as you got up and strode over to your closet and picked out the first comfortable thing you found. Along you brought a shower cap and body lotion to the bathroom. You saw somewhere online that your hair would get healthier if you didnt wash it super often, and that you should be refreshing it with dry shampoo. 

It worked for thousands of other people, so why not you? 

In the bathroom you undressed and cranked the shower handle until you were sure it was set at a hot temperature. It was always a gamble with the downstairs bathroom. 

While you waited you leaned against the white wood vanity and looked at your reflection. Sometimes, you hate looking in the mirror. Maybe it wasn't the mirror, but instead your appearance you hated. Scars littered your body, nothing major but nicks that reminded you of a past life. Feeling angry and miserable, desperately searching for something to satisfy your craving. 

Shaking your head, you rubbed your eyes and stopped touching the larger scar on your left hip, jerking your hand away like it burned you. 

God, you looked ridiculous with that shower cap on. No matter how far you slid it down or up your forehead it still looked laughable. Finally, you accepted defeat and shrugged, stepping into the now hot water. 

Like most people, the shower is a safe space. No one was going to barge in on you asking if you could help them write their book report or ask if you could pick up a shift because one of the servers caught mono. 

At least, it hasn't happened yet. 

As you washed your body you mentally went over the names of people Phoenix briefly introduced to you at a distance from where she sat at the bar. 

Fanboy had a really nice smile, almost boyish and cheeky. Payback is friends with him, and has a great booming laugh. 

When Phoenix tried to introduce Hangman and his buddy Coyote, your nose wrinkled in disgust, causing her to laugh at you, taking they had already introduced themselves to you.  

Unfortunately, Hangman especially had. Flirting with you shamelessly to a point where you dropped your sweet customer service voice and instead replaced it with a stern snap of, “Get off of my counter and out of my face.” Hangman scoffed and pushed himself off where he was leaning over the bar and sauntered over to the pool table to join Coyote. 

Phoenix rolled her eyes in disgust as you told the story and shook her head in disbelief, “He’s a fucking shit head for sure. I won't doubt he’ll get us all killed ” she grumbled before she took a long swig of her drink. 

She introduced her WSO last, whose callsign was Bob. Even now in the steamy shower you still think it is an odd callsign. It is simple and easy to say for sure, which is better than a complicated one you guess. 

Bob’s glasses were the first thing that caught your attention, as not many who flew the aircraft needed glasses. 

You already knew Goose’s kid, Rooster, who had always been nice to you. Well, more than nice to you. You had known him since you had been born, his family close to yours especially after his dad’s passing. He was always like a big brother to you, one who teased you but also made an effort to check in on you when you were struggling.

At this point you were just wasting water and decided to get out. The mirrors were steamy before you wiped them down with a light blue fluffy towel that came from the shelf beside the shower. After you dried yourself thoroughly, you ripped the shower cap off and tossed it onto the counter along with your things. 

Even though you hated going to bed sticky, you vowed to always put lotion on after showers because of how dried out your skin got due to the hot temperature of the water. 

It's a win lose situation.

Bob had gotten to the bar a little after Hangman and Coyote, but before it had gotten terribly busy. Never did you see him come in, and now that you think about it, you never saw him leave either. But he sure caught your attention. 

You were thinking no one was at the bar so you crouched down next to the ice maker with the metal scoop in your hand, ready to do some major damage to the giant chunks that didn't separate. 

The metal against the ice had this incredibly satisfying crunching noise, like little shards of glass. 

You tossed the scoop with a clang into the ice maker after you had thoroughly finished the massacre and turned around, wiping your wet hands on your jean capris. Looking up from your hands you jolted in surprise as there was a man standing directly on the other side of the bar looking at you intently. 

“Oh my god! I'm so sorry,” you breathed, “I didn't even see you come in. What can I get you?” Your hand goes to your chest in an attempt to calm your beating heart.

The man looks startled too, then immediately apologetic, “I’m sorry ma’am, I haven't been here for long.” He visibly gulped, then proceeded to open and close his mouth a few times before saying, “Peanuts?” You blinked at him and his cheeks immediately flush a bright red, “Oh uh.. Nevermind.” He says quickly and goes to turn around.

“Wait! Like, peanuts to eat?” You ask and he nods, the corners of his mouth quirking up the slightest bit. “I have peanuts with the shells still on, it's messy though.” You explain as you raise one eyebrow slightly and he nods again.

 “That is alright with me, ma’am. Thank you.” He says as he pushes his silver glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

He was slimmer than most of the meat heads who usually frequented the bar. In fact, you had never seen him here before. His Naval uniform was pressed neatly, especially around the collar where you could see his white undershirt peeking above the top buttons. You look at his name plate and see the last name ‘Floyd’. 

Okay, nothing to write home about, you thought as you turned to the back of the bar and opened one of the bottom wood cabinets that kept the commercial cardboard box with the peanuts. Grabbing one of the matching cups, you note the other things within the space that are unbelievably messy. 

You'll have to clean it up later.

He’s kept his gaze on you this entire time. Normally they don't have the patience to wait a minute or two so you have to chase them down to hand them what they ordered. This pulls a huff and a smile from you. His dirty blond hair is neatly combed over to the side, and not in a greasy way. In a freshly showered way. 

He is clean shaven and smells good. 

Handing over the full cup, you ask him if he needs anything else. He shakes his head no, smiling at you. “Have a good night, ma’am.” His crooked smile was handsome, and his southern accent was intriguing.

When Bradley showed up after everyone, it brought a huge smile to your face. He was searching the crowds till he saw you and made a beeline to where you stood behind the counter. Of course out of his pressed khakis and in a Hawaiian button up.  

“So, are you willing to tell me more about this top secret mission?” You tease, playfully pushing at his broad shoulder. Bradley swatted away your hand, shaking his head. You never knew his dad but gosh, from all the old photos you had seen, Bradley was shaping up to be his exact replica. 

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, “I take it you already tried to pry it out of some poor unsuspecting soldier?” He asked and you solemnly nodded, putting on a show. It made your heart ache that he had eventually grown away from your family, especially after his mother had passed. When you heard the news it was like your heart had sunk through your chest and to the floor. 

“Yeah… Phoenix over there is much too smart for my mind tricks.” Your comment made Bradley laugh, glancing over to his new teammates by the pool table. Then, you exchanged a few pleasantries before you served him his alcohol of choice and sent him on his merry way. 

Though, the certain man you were looking for had his body hidden behind one of the larger support beams. You knew he was there by the way he shifted his body and eventually took Phoenix's pool stick. Fanboy and him seemed to click instantly, when the game wasn't grabbing his attention, Bob leaned towards the shorter man and conversed intently with him. 

At the piano, you admired him more. The goofy way he swung his head to the music, how easily his body interacted with Phoenix's when she tried to get him to dance more, you were captivated by the truly human movement of him.  

Shaking your head brought you back to reality. Bob was a strange one. Once your skin is freshly moisturized and ready to get into clean sheets, you proceed to gather your things. A sudden knock at the bathroom door startled you, halting your movements so you could stare at the closed door. 

“Hun? Can I ask a favor of you?”

A trapped sigh left your lips at the sound of your aunt’s voice. 

“Of course, what is it?” You ask through the door, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Tomorrow, when you go running, could you please take the trash can out to the street? I have to take Amelia to school early and knowing how difficult it will be to get her out of bed I will probably forget.” She laughed, and you snorted, knowing that Penny is not exaggerating how grouchy her daughter is in the morning.

“Totally, good luck with her.” You respond, earning another laugh from Penny. The floor creaks a few seconds later and that is your signal to continue like normal. 

After cleaning up the bathroom before heading to bed, you think about what the next night will bring in the darkness of your room. 

Penny would let you play a game of pool or two with Phoenix, especially because she seemed to be your first real friend in years. 

If it's not too busy of course. 

__________________

6:03 AM, Monday

Waking up after a very late night was rough. Even more rough when you’re waking up at six o'clock in the morning. 

Why do you do this to yourself? 

You're not proving anything to anyone when you wake up at ungodly hours of the morning just to go on a run. But you just do. Running on Mondays and Wednesdays had become a routine ever since you took that Anatomy and Physiology class your sophomore year. You noticed after a while that it hurt less and made you eventually feel better. 

So if you stopped now you would lose your streak and have the possibility of making you feel like shit the rest of your life. 

Maybe you were just overthinking it now.

Morning runs were just better in a way. You tried running at night when it got cooler, but even with two pepper sprays, you were still paranoid of all the things that would possibly happen to you. The sunrise was also too beautiful to miss, you looked forward to seeing it every time. You had to remind yourself that although it is gorgeous, you do not need to take up all your photo space on your phone with millions of pictures of the ombre sunrise. 

Once all of your running gear was on, you snugly put in your earbuds and locked the door behind you. The trash can was a little difficult to drag to the side of the road, same with the recycling. The driveway was slanted upwards going towards the main road, as the house was on a little bit of a slant. Moving to California was the best idea you've ever had in your entire life. The soft sand, the crisp sea, everything just looked perfect when you ran alone. 

It was like the downstairs bathroom. No one to ask you what outfit looks good for a school dance, no one to ask to help fill out the accounting books for The Hard Deck.

Amelia was still asleep and Penny had absolutely no desire to run, so it was just you. 

Soon, your nose started to drip due to the cool air around you and you wiped it on your light sport jacket sleeve as you jogged.

Teenage you would be in shock how you turned out. 

You were the textbook definition of a wild child. Sneaking out to meet boys older than you, skipping school for weeks at a time. You basically became an addict in tenth grade, and all you wanted to do was leave home. The people you surrounded yourself with did not help in the slightest. You all fed off each other and encouraged one another to continue down a self destructive lifestyle. 

If your folks hadn’t checked you into rehab, you would be dead by now, and that is ultimately what younger you wanted, was to be dead.

For the longest time you resented your parents for it. Resented them for helping you get better, and for a while you refused to even look at them when they came and saw you, even ignoring your brother who at the time was probably too young to understand why his big sister had gone away. 

The hate in your heart was too great at the time to realize that they only wanted to help you. 

You checked your watch, which was a pre-graduation gift from Penny. To be honest, you're not much of a watch wearer, but you'd wear it for her. Slowing down to a stop, you looked at the rising sun from the gritty sidewalk as you put your hands on your hips. 

It was the barrier between the start of the sand and the residential neighborhood road. 

Your lungs burned, which was a side effect from the vigorous exercise and the constant state of burning California always seemed to be in, especially at this time of year. Turning on the news was a bore now. Nothing new except for fires, fires, fires. 

But, the ocean was absolutely stunning, as it always is. Stunning in the way it shimmered like a billion little fireflies, the way it smelled (salty, like iodine), and felt (cool humidity kissing your skin). Without realizing it, you found yourself walking across the sand and down to the shore. 

Stopping before the wet earth, you took off your running shoes and socks to hold them in your left hand. 

It was freezing on your feet, but that is exactly what you needed. It shocked you back to reality, back to the ache in your heart you always have had. The water was up to your knees now and you stopped, staring into the horizon. 

Bright, glimmering, water constantly warping the reflection. 

How did you go from the life of the party to this sad, depressing woman? Sure, you weren't getting blackout drunk every night and being reckless, but now all your days consist of the same three things.

School. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

Senior year will do that to you, but it won't last forever, Penny always tells you in her motherly voice. You just have to get through this semester then next, then you'll be free to get a job other than The Hard Deck, and maybe, just maybe find a place. 

But you never know in a state like California, where the prices are always rising. 

You were always tense too. Like a rubber band constantly at its max. Did masturbation count as sex? If not, you were totally a born again virgin. University did not have a good dating pool, because all but two of your classes were online so you were never there. 

The Hard Deck was an extremely shallow dating pool, despite all of the flirtatious men throwing themselves at you. But, they would fuck anything with a pulse. 

Bob flicks into your mind, and the sudden thought of him startles you. He has really nice hands, you noticed how neat his nails were when you handed him his cup of peanuts. 

A few times he lingered near the bar, patiently waiting for you to get to him, never irritated by the long line of people in front of him. When he smiled at you, it was infectious. Never in your life had you been so eager to serve people to get to a specific customer. He had asked for Dr. Pepper with a few pumps of nonalcoholic raspberry syrup, so you pulled out your soda gun and a glass, making light conversation about the projected weather for the rest of the week. 

A lull happened in the conversation while you were measuring out the syrup, the both of you completely focused on the drink. 

“Your bracelets are very nice.” Bob said suddenly, catching you off guard.

“Oh, thanks!” You smiled and grabbed a clean bar spoon, “All Walmart I’m afraid, nothing designer here.” You laughed and gestured to your wrist where the metal chains hung. He laughed too, causing a warm feeling to bloom in your chest. 

The veins in his forearms snaked up to his biceps and under his sleeves. Bob was handsome in a classical way. Like he would be a lord in some period drama tv show. 

You definitely were not staring intently at the muscles in his arms when he was playing pool. Totally not fixed on the way his shoulders pulled at the fabric and made it stretch over them when he leaned down to take a shot. 

When he blushed, it didn’t just stop at his cheeks. It trails down his neck and probably down his chest. 

Your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, you have to stop thinking about this right now. Bob and you didn't even know each other! What makes it even worse is you are definitely going to see him tonight at the bar. 

This is so fucked up, and you are for sure a sad lonely born again virgin. 

The running shoes squelched just slightly as you put your feet in them after you got out of the water. Your legs were numb. The socks didn't do a very good job of soaking up the water on your feet but you didn't care. All you cared about was getting back home fast, even if you puke from the effort. 

You had to get him out of your head. 

Unfortunately, the puking did not happen when you got back to the house. You had hoped slightly that you would have, because then you could feign sickness and get out of going to work tonight. But it was easier pulling the two waste bins down the cement slope and to the side of the house. 

“Penny! Penny, I'm home!” You shouted as you sorted through the mail on the kitchen table. Just bills, nothing special. Except for a neon orange sticky note on the fridge that caught your eye as you looked up. 

Going to the grocery store,

text me if you need anything. 

XOXO Penny

“You know, she could have just texted me that.” You chuckle to yourself as you walk down the hall and to your room. Amelia had already gone to school so you were completely alone in the house, which was usual for this time of day. 

Classes and homework dragged by slowly for the next few hours. Not all of your classes had set online meeting times but some did, like the class you were in now. Thankfully, the teacher allows students to keep their mic and video off so no one has to see your disgruntled self doing anything but paying attention. 

You then had a quick zoom meeting with your advisor, who assured you that you are on the right path to graduate this upcoming semester, spring. She helped you pick out the final classes needed to graduate and she sent you on your merry way. 

It was finally happening. All the hard work you spent on each and every class was finally paying off, even if you did take an extra year to graduate. From your office chair you could see your tiny little closet that had no door, and you were already mentally picking out what you wanted to wear with your cap and gown. It would have to match navy and yellow, as those were school colors of U of C San Diego. 

You should take Amelia into the city and go dress shopping with her when you get the time. 

Did Bob ever go to college? It seemed unlikely by how young he looked. Maybe he was taking some online classes through like Purdue, weren't they known for being able to do that kind of thing? You had seen so many commercials for it and even considered applying there yourself before getting a good scholarship to U of C San Diego. 

The next few hours drag by and your eyes are tired from reading some guy’s thesis on… something. You weren't sure at this point. The front door opens and slams shut before you hear feet running to your bedroom door. Two-thirty, Amelia’s home. You whip around to your bed and scan the room for inappropriate objects Amelia might see and you sigh in relief as you find none. 

The bedroom door swings open and you smile at the fourteen year old in your doorway. 

She grins back and goes to jump on your bed, which she swears is the comfiest place in the whole house. 

“Hey girly, no shoes on the bed.” You warn as she starts climbing up onto it. She complies and kicks off her sneakers before completely messing up your blankets in an attempt to get comfy. 

“How was school? Wasn't it one of your teachers' last days?” You ask as you turn to your desk and shut off your laptop.

“Mrs. Panchak? Yeah she's having her baby. I dont think I'm going to miss her though.” she says, her eyes on her phone, “School was fine. Nothing special, but Julia got her braces on over the weekend. She said they hurt even today.” Amelia mumbles off handedly, clearly distracted by something on her phone. 

Penny liked to tease her for how glued she is to it, but you're just glad she has fun chatting with her friends even after the school day ends. 

You slap your thighs and get up to stretch, your shoulders popping from being hunched over for the past however long. “Hey, where’s your mom?” You ask, scrunching your eyebrows. Penny hadn't come in yet, and you didn't notice because of school.

“Out with the boat, she texted me a while ago.” Amelia says and moves over so you can sit next to her. 

“So how come she texts you can not me?” You ask, feigning hurt and Amelia shrugs, laughing, “Maybe she likes me more than you?” Groaning in fake pain you lean heavily on Amelia who laughs harder and then proceeds to push you off of her. 

After bugging Amelia with more questions about school, you get up and convince her to come into the kitchen with you. Amelia requests a snack without chicken in it, as she had school lunch and today it was a ‘soggy gross chicken thing’ in her words. So you decide to make cheese quesadillas. 

Colby jack for her and pepper jack for you. Amelia shows you funny videos on her phone while the two of you eat. After she runs out of videos to show you, Amelia then goes on to show you her wishlist on some clothing websites, asking if her mom would buy it for her or if she had to do more chores to get money. 

She rolled her eyes so hard you thought they would get stuck in the back of her head when you unfortunately broke the news to her that Penny definitely would not be buying her the clothes without chores. 

Finally, it is time to head over to the bar. It opens at five and you like to be there at least half an hour early to set up. Penny is not too fond of the idea of Amelia staying home alone for too long, despite her daughter’s pleadings. So she regularly comes with you to do her homework at the bar. 

Thankfully, your hair wasn't a huge mess so you just spritzed that dry shampoo into your roots and mussed it around a bit before changing into some comfy jeans (that hugged your ass nicely) and a pretty knitted blouse that wouldn't make you too hot or cold while working. Then of course your trusty work sneakers. 

They were actually marketed as nurses shoes online but that drew you in even more at the prospect of not wanting to chop your feet off at the end of every shift because they hurt so bad. So far, they worked pretty dang well. 

The two of you hopped into your car and drove to The Hard Deck after you made sure Amelia took her backpack with so she could get some work done while she was there. It was always so weird to see the bar completely deserted. Your car was the only one there in the tiny parking lot as the two of you walked up to the double doors. 

You let Amelia unlock them as she does every time she comes with you and the two of you walk in, breathing the scent of stale beer and wood. 

Thankfully, Amelia gets straight to work at the bar so you have time to prepare for the upcoming night. There was always so much to be done. 

A while later, the doors open and a man comes in, who you then recognize to be Maverick. You smile and finish wiping down the table you were working on.

“You know, the bar doesn't open until five, Mav.” You chuckle as he walks over to you. 

“I know, I was just here to give your aunt something, is she here?” he asks as he pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket pocket. Your eyes widen at the sight and you take the tiniest step back, “Woah, you really didn't need to bring that here, I’m serious.”

“No, I insist.” Mav says firmly and hands over the cash to you. 

You look up at him apologetically, “Thank you, I will let her know you came. She's going to be here a bit after five, and you're welcome to stay.” You offer as you walk over to the till and start placing the bills in their rightful place, then make sure Penny closed his tab last night. 

“I think I might come back a bit later, nice seeing you again.” He smiles and leaves the two of you in the empty bar after talking to Amelia for a little bit, obviously amazed at how big she had gotten since the last time he had seen her. 

__________________

6:24 PM, Monday

Oldies music and the conversations of people rang in your ears as you and Penny whirled around one another, serving people from all sides of the bar, opening tabs, and cleaning up spilled drinks. It was unusually busy for a Monday night, there must be a lot of people in town. 

When you looked outside, the sun was setting, and it was just barely a sliver floating on the ocean. 

A bit ago you saw Phoenix through the crowd, her sharp elbows jabbing at people who pushed against her. She was followed by Payback and Fanboy. And Bob. Unfortunately. 

Your heart dropped straight through you as soon as you saw him, it was like a bucket of ice had been dropped on you. 

Why were you even acting this way? He had literally never done anything to you. Just asked for a couple of fucking peanuts and complimented your bracelets. Which you had made sure to wear tonight, for some reason. 

When your eyes meet Phoenix’s, she smiles a soft smile and dips her head in greeting before heading over to her spot at the pool tables. Her eyebrows had a crease in between them, as if something was deeply worrying her. Even though you too had smiled at her, it was quickly dropped as you had another customer snapping his fingers for your attention. 

What a fucking asshole. 

Half listening to his order, you watched the four of them settle at the pool table. They were all wearing civilian clothes tonight. It was interesting to see them all in outfits that expressed their own personalities. Like Bob. His long sleeve plaid button up sleeves were pushed over his elbows. 

The veins in his forearms were raised and the muscles there flexed as he played pool. 

You wondered how calloused his hands were from working. 

This was a mess. 

The night continued and Phoenix checked in on you a few times, always coming back to request more alcohol too. 

“Probably can't play pool tonight, huh?” Sipping on her drink as she sat in front of you, cleaning some shot glasses with a rag.

“Maybe later. You never know with Mondays. Sometimes they are completely dead, and others busy,” you look around, “like this.” Your lips pressed together in a thin smile as you place the dry glasses upside down on a clean dish towel. Phoenix tsked and downed her glass of pretty amber whiskey. 

She was drinking far more than last night, and so had the other people in her squad. 

Her cheeks were ruddy and a few strands of her beautiful dark hair brushed her shoulders where they escaped the knot of the back of her head. You dared not ask about today. Everyone was looking in pretty rough shape, and they all seemed to have one permanent crease between their brows that Phoenix sported. 

“So, is Bob a good partner?” you ask cautiously as you start placing the glasses under the bar, looking down so you can’t see her face. She shifts in her seat and leans her elbows on the counter.

“Yeah! He’s great. Real nice guy, super smart too. But he gets stepped on too easily, Hangman was giving him shit while we were flying today.” She scoffs, sounding annoyed. You look back up at her, a bit of relief washing through you that Bob is a confirmed nice man. 

“Jeez, like what was he saying to him?” You ask, still taken aback that a grown man would belittle and pick on another like a child. 

“Oh the normal dumb things. Snarky remarks about his glasses, his callsign too. Called him baby on board. God, what a freak. Like yes, Bob is a weird callsign, Robert is his real name so I feel kinda bad he didn't get a creative name.” Phoenix griped, clearly pissed off from today. It was actually almost funny how she was acting, the alcohol making her more animated and loose-lipped. 

“Someone needs to knock him down a peg.” You mutter and she nods in agreement. 

Phoenix asks for two more cups of the amber whiskey, eliciting a raised eyebrow from you. “Not for me.” She groans in an almost animated way, “I promised some others I would bring them back something too.” 

She was most definitely tipsy, not surprising after all the drinks she had tonight. Were the others getting drunk too? Looking over you saw that the lot of them were more relaxed than they were when they arrived, laughing freely with one another, and for once Hangman was not making snide remarks, but instead swinging his arm around Phoenix’s shoulders in a friendly manner when she arrived with his drink. 

Bob was relaxed too. A plastic water bottle in one hand and the other resting above his head and on one of the wooden support beams. He no longer stood straight and formal, but slouched slightly and leaned his weight on one foot. But god, his ass looked really nice in those bootcut jeans. 

The night went on and the crowd thinned out a bit. Penny was casually chatting with a regular when you came up beside her to put some liquor away. She stopped you with a hand on your elbow.

“Hey, I can hold down the ship if you wanna go over there and hang.” She nods in the direction of the pool table, where currently Phoenix is whipping the guys asses in the game. Smiling meekly as you finish putting away the bottles, you shrug, leaning on the counter next to her.

“I’d rather not. Feels awkward to barge in on their game.” Looking in their general direction, “Plus, they are all very much not sober, and I would have to become a sober driver-friend.” Penny looks at you in a confused way, like she had no clue why you wouldn't jump at the opportunity to finish work early and play a game of pool. A customer raps his knuckles on the bar top at the other end, so you smile sheepishly at her to go serve him. 

It’s not until a while later when you look up from organizing that damn peanut cupboard when you see the crew huddled around the jukebox, loudly arguing about music. It is not aggressive arguing, you breathe a sigh of relief at that. 

Turning your attention back to the many other shelves that needed the same deep organizing treatment. 

A whistle snaps you out of your cleaning trance and you stand up, knees creaking as you straighten them in your capris. You tilt your head to one side in an attempt to stretch it, as the concentration on the cupboards caused a crick in your neck. 

Quickly pasting on a cheery smile, you turn over your left shoulder to greet the customer standing at the bar. Your smile falters a bit as you realize it is Hangman who called you over, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin.

“What can I get for you?” You ask, your friendly demeanor slipping the tiniest bit.

“Not happy to see me?” Hangman asks, his signature smirk growing bigger.

“Well although you are charming, you aren't really my type.” You leaned on the countertop, inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne. 

“Not your type?” Challenge rose in his eyes, “You haven't even met me darlin’.” 

“I’ve met enough of you to know that I am not coming home with you.” You say matter of factly, shifting your weight to one side. You could tell that despite your words of protest, Hangman took it as a game to play now.

“Not coming home with me?” He dropped his voice lower, a large warm hand catching your wrist, “Who said I wouldn't mind going to my truck?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your wrist back, his fingertips dragging along the skin of your hand. “Listen Hangman-”

“It’s Jake. Call me Jake.” He interrupted, drumming his fingers on the bar top. The yellow lights behind him made it look like a halo was surrounding him. You scoffed. 

“Jake,” You start, annoyed that he had cut you off, “It’s going to take a lot more than you batting your eyelashes to get in my pants.” You wrinkle your nose and hope the interaction between the two of you wasn't going to cause a scene. 

A hopeful glimmer shone in his eyes. “So, what will get me into-” Jake starts, interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder. The two of you look over his shoulder, both equally in shock as you see two familiar faces behind him.

“Dude, leave the lady alone. She has more to worry about than getting with your sorry ass.” Fanboy quipped, his dark eyes watching the two of you as he stood by Bob. As Hangman stood up to his full height and turned around, Bob’s hand fell from his shoulder. 

You could see his jaw muscles flexing as Hangman came nose to nose with him. You had expected Bob to shrink back, to let Hangman overpower him. But he stood his ground, fists clenching by his sides. It was like how cats act before a fight. Bristled and taught, their ears back as they stare each other down. 

“Hangman was just leaving!” You say quickly, exchanging a worried glance to Fanboy, who took the hint and pressed his palm to Hangman’s chest, which snapped both him and Bob out from their staring contest. 

“I’m cool, I’m cool.” Hangman assures Fanboy with a grimace, holding his hands up in defense as he backs away from the two of them, walking stiffly back to the pool table. 

Fanboy laughs and slaps Bob’s back, urging him to sit next to him at the bar as he sat in a seat in front of you.

“Jesus! I had no idea you had it in you.” Fanboy says, a huge smile on his face as Bob joined him, his confidence dissolved almost completely now. You smile at the two of them, trying to shake the nervousness from your body. “A beer for me and-” He looks at Bob who shakes his head with a tight smile, “Nothing for my friend here.” Fanboy says as his attention is turned back to you.

Nodding, you walk over to the cooler and pull it out, your legs slightly wobbly from the adrenaline rush you just experienced. The brown bottle was icy and wet in your hands before you dried it with a rag that was hanging halfway off the bartop. 

“You know, I was handling the situation just fine.” You said as you strode back over to the two of them, handing the uncapped beer to Fanboy who took a drink immediately upon placing it into his outstretched hand. Bob pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, placing his elbows and forearms on the bar. 

There is that blush again, kissing the tops of his ears and cheeks. You remembered what you thought about at the beach, how you wondered if the redness crept below his plaid top. 

“Just fine? Dude, he looked like he was going to eat you alive!” Fanboy laughs, nudging Bob with his elbow, “Plus, it was Romeo over here's idea. He saw you two and just about had an aneurysm!” Fanboy was rambling now and you laughed, turning your attention to Bob who looked utterly humiliated, eyes trained on his hands. 

“Well, thank you for looking out for me. But really, I had it under control.” You say and place a hand softly on Bob’s, his eyes quickly looking up into yours. Impossibly, his blush deepened and he gave you a soft unsure smile. Fanboy noticed the tension between the two of you and excused himself with a snicker. 

You watch him leave, brushing off what he might think about you and Bob.

“You sure I can't get anything for you?” You ask as you turn your attention back to Bob. The silver of his glasses glinted against the dim bar light, reflecting the tiniest bit onto his skin.

Once you had spent part of your summer in the middle of nowhere, Nevada with some extended family. The days were hot and long, baking the dry desert earth and plants. Sage was abundant there, the light green leaves clustering in thick patches along hiking trails. 

That is exactly what Bob smelled like, sun baked sage. 

His calloused hands shifted under yours, making you realize that yours was still resting on his. You remove them and shoot him an apologetic look. “No thank you ma’am. I hope you have a good rest of your night.” He says simply, tipping his head towards yours as a goodbye, that unsure smile still on his lips. 

“Wait!” You call out, maybe a little too loud as a few nearby heads turn to look at you momentarily before returning back to their own lives. 

Bob turns back around slowly, clearly confused as he makes his way back to you, wringing his hands together. That same yellow light that shone behind Jake was behind Bob, reflecting off the corners of his glasses. The halo was much more fitting for him. 

“I just have to ask, if you don't mind me asking.” Pausing, you watched him sit, “What does your callsign mean? It is just so different and I-” You cut yourself off as you stare into his eyes, “I am just curious.” You finish, observing his fidgety behavior. 

“It’s a long story.” He starts, “I am sure you are much too busy.” Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “I don't want to bother you.” 

Turning over your shoulder to Penny, you catch her eye and smile, “I’m gonna take a break, is that okay?” You ask and she nods, grinning at you before heading over to the computer situated in one of the corners of the bar top. 

“There. Not too busy now.” You felt confident when you looked at him, wiping your hands off on your jeans before heading to the little cut out exit and towards him. Bob was frozen where he was, seemingly shocked you were leaving your responsibilities to hear his story. Leaning on your elbow next to him, you asked, “Wanna stay in here or go outside? It’s cooled off now.” 

Bob ponders your question for a moment, looking around at all the people still left in the bar, “Outside I think, it's too hot in here.” You watch his Adam's apple jump before getting up. You lead the way to the doors outside, all your focus on what lies ahead and not the other people around you. 

It is as cool as you imagined, the humidity unmistakable and clinging to you. But the soft breeze felt nice on the deck. The door shut behind Bob, blocking out some of the noise inside. Pulling out a shabby plastic chair from an equally shabby table, you sit down and urge him to do the same. 

Dark water engulfs most of your sight when looking out towards the moon. Just a silver half and resting on a bed of clouds, like it is going to bed as well. Your gaze pulls from the sight and back to him, surprised he had been staring at you the whole time. 

“Do you like being a WSO? You must be pretty good at it since you are here.” You start, shifting under his gaze. The sharp surge of confidence was fading quickly. 

“Oh, uh, yeah I do. I have always been more into the technical side of things so it is really nice to be able to do that and be in the plane.” Bob answers, itching the side of his nose as he talks. The soft light made pretty reflections off his glasses. 

Nodding, you smiled at his answer. He was probably really smart in highschool… and college if he was in it. In general too, he looked smart. 

“So, Bob. How does one get that name?” Phoenix’s voice echos in your head, Snarky remarks about his glasses, his callsign too. Called him baby on board. God, what a freak… Quickly, you shoot him a genuine smile to let him know you were interested in his story, not here to humiliate him. 

“I uh- well-” He stutters, eyes downcast as he struggles to start, “Well I’ll just start like this, you know that one song?” He pauses and you raise an eyebrow, signaling him to go on. 

“You know, that one song by OutKast? B.O.B., Bombs Over Baghdad?” He asks, his voice wavering the tiniest bit. You nod, familiar with the song. It was released in two thousand, but made itself present to the American public on nine-eleven, becoming an anthem for war against the middle east. That’s all you really knew, it was referenced frequently in The Hard Deck when tensions were high between the two countries. Hell, even your dad had referenced it when you were growing up. 

“Yeah I do, I’ve heard it a few times, it is quite popular with the military, right?” You ask, your voice becoming quiet. It is and will always be a touchy subject for people here. 

“People made the correlation that Bob is a nickname for Robert, my real name, and it just stuck.” He says further, “But-” He adds quickly, as if he was trying to explain himself, “But, I want you to know that although it is what my callsign is, that song wasn’t originally made out to be pro-war. OutKast is a very anti-war band.” 

The crashing waves were soft behind his voice, it was accompanying him like an instrument. 

Bob shifts in his chair, his eyes wide and unmoving from your face like an owl, “I prefer to think of myself as the interpretation that came out before uhm, nine-eleven.” His voice had gotten quiet too. 

Nodding, a light smile returned to your face, “No, I totally get it. I could see how confusing it is having that callsign when it is so iconic in the military but not for the reason you personally want it to be.” Bob visibly relaxed at your words, his tense shoulders slumping to their normal position. He nods and hums in agreement. It was clear he put in a lot of thought over his callsign. Probably mulled it over in his mind for a while. 

Neither of you said anything for a while, just letting your eyes roam over one another. 

You broke the silence first, “I wonder what kind of weather we will be having tomorrow?” 

“Hot.” Bob answers simply. You hum in agreement back. 

After work, Penny tried to get you to eat dinner, but you declined, making a beeline to your bedroom and shutting the door for the rest of the night, mumbling something about homework and class. Which was true, you did have to commute forty-five minutes to your eight AM class. 

Sleep was horrible, you just laid in bed and stared with wide eyes at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over again. Was Bob doing the same? He seems like the type of guy to have a strict bedtime at nine PM, and to have a lengthy bedtime ritual. 

What does he wear to bed? He seems like a matching set kind of guy (he presents himself too nicely to not care about his outward appearance). But what if he slept just in his underwear (boxer briefs or boxer shorts)?

The thought makes you groan, flipping your body so you are laying on your stomach. 

Your head presses into your pillow, tempted to scream. This was so ridiculous. It was literally like you were in middle school having a crush. You are twenty-two for god sake.

__________________

7:05 AM, Tuesday

Sleep comes slow, and too soon you hear your alarm clock buzzing at you. Eyes puffy, mouth dry, you felt like shit. The light from the rising sun filtered through your curtains and made a light stain on your sheets. Rolling to a sitting position, you try to will yourself to get up.

Academic success is important to me. Academic success is important to me.

The mantra barely worked, but you found yourself able to shove your legs into some leggings and a light, flowy top. A jacket would probably be nice too, you think as you go back to your closet and sift around the hangers, till you find a black U of C branded quarter zip and throw it over your head. 

This will have to do. 

Penny is sitting on the couch, drinking what appears to be coffee and watching the morning news on mute. It was unusual to see her awake at this hour of the morning. 

Leaning on the back of the couch with your water bottle in hand, she looks up at you with a weary smile.

“Couldn't sleep?” you ask, opening your bottle and taking a drink. Penny nods, “You too?” She asks and sips at her own mug.

“What? Could you tell by my unbelievably dark circles and bags under my eyes?” You say sarcastically before you screw the cap back on and put it in your backpack. Penny chuckles and pats the hand you have resting on the backrest of the couch.

“Hey, I know today is your day off-” She paused and your jaw clenched, lips tightening to form a thin line. 

“Who called in sick?” You ask before she can finish, shifting your weight off the couch so you were fully standing up behind her. 

“Olivia did. I would really appreciate it if you filled in for her.” She set her coffee down on the small side table, “Free food, remember?” Penny said as she turned to face you, her normally penciled eyebrows scrunching together in a pleading look.

 A moment goes by before you let out a huff, a tiny smile gracing your features. 

“Course I will. What time?”

__________________

2:31 PM, Tuesday

It smelled like fresh citrus when you got home, the sea blue wax warmer still on while it sat on the kitchen counter. 

Lazily, you let your backpack slip off your shoulders and onto the floor, nudging it with your foot to the side of the entryway, promising yourself to pick it up before you leave. 

Even though no one was in the house to witness you coming home, you still made a show of dragging your feet to the bathroom, comically groaning and muttering all the way there. 

The shower scalded your skin, and you were pretty sure there were third degree burns developing on your back. Today was supposed to be your day off. Hadn’t you received enough bad luck already? You opened your eyes and stared at the water emptying down the drain. You wish you could melt under the water and get washed down there too.   

If you were unlucky enough, you would see Bob today as well, and considering how today has gone, you could easily predict your future. Flashes of the night before enter your memory. 

His eyes burning a hole into your soul, how he barely knew you yet injected himself between you and Hangman- which you had under control- but still. The thought of him feeling protective over you was enough to make your knees wobble. Maybe you were getting soft on account of not having anyone be interested in you besides your body. 

Sage filled your nose when you got close to him, the smell smooth as it filled your lungs.

Closing your eyes again, imagining the previous night in full color.

Your hands went up your body and to your breasts, squeezing them hard.

It was easy to imagine him before you, sinking to his knees while his large hands explored your body, his lips kissing every square inch of you. It was as easy as breathing. You had no idea what he looked like under his naval khakis or jeans, but you assumed he was lean and strong. More lithe and limber rather than severely muscled up and bulging. 

Your quick fingers trailed down your body and to your clit, legs automatically spreading eagerly. Starting out in smooth, languid circles, tipping your head back and out of the spray of water.

Already you ached with want as you imagined quiet, unassuming Bob taking the place of your fingers, looking up at you with those blue doe eyes. Your fingers hastened and your other hand met your core, pruney fingers slipping with ease in between your folds.

If you want to be at The Hard Deck on time, you should hurry up.

The voice in the back of your head warned, but it was quickly taken over by a vision of Bob laying you down gently against your plain cotton sheets, the smell of summer in the air. 

Two of your fingers slip in with ease, starting at a medium pace, crooked and already coaxing pleasure from you.

He was above you, inside you, the feeling of being full almost too much. You lean against the cold of the tile shower wall, all thoughts of getting clean completely out of your head now. Imagining the look on his face, twisted is pure pleasure sends you into a frenzy, massaging your clit faster as you finger fucked yourself. Your hands were cramping, which realistically would hurt, but you were too consumed by your fantasy to stop. 

Breaths gasping and stuttering, you thought of him in every compromising position with you, the balloon within you getting filled with more and more air, waiting to burst.

What eventually sends you over the edge is him right in your ear, moaning and whining your name, the way it rolls off his tongue purely immaculate, and you're convinced his voice was made just for you. 

Your head flies back, the air punched out of your lungs and your core fluttering. Thank god you were leaning against the wall, because you surely would have collapsed on account of your thighs actively shaking and quivering. 

__________________

9:45 PM, Tuesday

The yellow tinted light in the single toilet bathroom paints you in an unattractive bright beige. Under your nails stung from trying to scrub underneath them with the opposite hand’s nails. You were absolutely exhausted, mentally drained, physically beat if you will. 

Thank god it was closing time though, the crowd nearly gone at the time of you excusing yourself to hide in the bathroom. You just needed to get away for just one second before you had to face the closing chores with Penny.

A buzz in your back pocket alerted you, causing you to turn off the silver knobs and flicking your hands before tearing off a sheet of brown paper towel. It was so thin it almost disintegrated in your hands. 

After throwing it away in the dingey trash can, you leaned against the sink counter away from the mirror so you didn't have to see the sallowness of your completion, pulling out your phone. 

Penny: 

Leaving with Pete right now, can you finish up? Doesn’t have to be spotless. See you at home :) 

Reading the text elicited a groan from you, shoving the phone back into your pocket without responding. No, it wouldn’t be a problem to close up by yourself, you had done it millions of times in the past. 

It was just lonely having to finish, the only thing to keep you company was the jukebox in the corner, but even that too had to get unplugged sometime. 

Taking a deep sigh, you push yourself off the counter and to the dark wood door. You stared at the gold knob for a second, wondering if you could hide away in here for a few more minutes. The thick smell of Hawaiian Aloha Febreze suddenly made itself known to you, and you evacuated the bathroom. Gosh, why did Penny like that smell so much? 

If they made it into perfume you were sure she would have a never ending supply of it. 

The supply closet was at the very end of the hall, the door rickety with a very flimsy lock on it. Right at your forehead hung a black plastic sign with white block letters, ‘Employees Only’. You grabbed the off brand bleach sitting on the shelf level with your knees, and a fading red bucket that had some dry rags hanging over the side. 

Slowly, you uncapped the bleach bottle and poured a splash or two into the bucket, trying to avoid inhaling the strong odor. 

The jukebox was now playing quieter, the rush of the crowd completely gone. You hummed along with the song that was playing as you walked to the doorframe at the end of the hall, making sure to step up on the three inch ledge at the opening. Too many times you had forgotten about the tiny step, and ate shit. 

Not to mention it would be a complete disaster if you spilled the bleach on the wood floor.

You scanned the bar, relieved when you saw that no one was here. Not even a severely inebriated straggler left by their friends. 

This had to be some sort of record! 

You smiled to yourself, imagining a little plaque with tonight’s date on it, saying something like, ‘Hard Deck Record - No Stragglers To Call An Uber For’ or something stupid to monument today. 

A chair creaked and you snapped your head to its general direction, all hopefulness leaving your body. It scraped against the wood floor and you walked over, preparing a stern voice to tell the remaining patron to leave. To your surprise, it wasn't just any old customer, but Bob. 

Why did you choose this day to masturbate to his pretty face?

There he was, standing awkwardly next to one of the support beams, his chair hidden behind it. Both of you stood there for a moment before you broke the connection, heading over to the bar to fill up the rest of the bucket with warm water.

“Did you lose something?” You ask over the sound of the faucet, eyes trained on the slowly filling bucket. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was walking towards you, but never going behind the bar. The last thing you wanted was to look at him, to show some sort of hint that you were interested in him. 

“No I uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, watching your every move, “Penny was leaving with Maverick and I felt bad that you were going to be here by yourself. So I asked if I could stay.”

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed as you stopped the faucet, using your fingers to swirl the water around. The rags plop in after being hit by your wrist. You were surprised he had offered to stay, even more surprised that Penny had let him. Mav must’ve assured her that he wasn't trouble and could be trusted. 

Bob notices your confused expression, “I’ll help clean of course!” He says hurriedly, trying to assure you he wasn't going to just dick around while you worked. That brought the tiniest smile to your face. Sure, lots of guys tried to hang around after your shift. 

But as soon as you shoved a broom in their hands, they were out of here quicker than a chicken on a junebug. 

“Well, that is awfully sweet of you.” You smile, genuinely thankful he stuck around. Still, heat pooled lower in your stomach. Was it nervousness or arousal? You couldn't tell. 

Bob was wearing another button up today. In his signature style of course, with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows.

“Do you want anything to drink? It’s on me.” You say as you fish out a rag, wringing it out before setting it on the bartop in front of Bob, making small circles and watching the mixture bead up on the acrylic. You still refused to look at him, which was childish in a way. 

But you were almost positive that if you did, he would be able to tell what you did in the shower. 

Maybe you were just too superstitious. 

“No thank you. I don’t drink actually.” Bob states, his voice quieter now that he was in such close proximity to you. There was that damn sage smell again. 

“Religious?” You ask, finally looking at his impossibly blue eyes, “Not that it’s a bad thing.” You add on quickly, not wanting to offend him.

Bob chuckles softly, the noise almost startling you. Have you ever heard that noise from him before? It seemed so unlike his nervous and observant composure. “Not exactly. At first, yes I was religious. But now I don’t drink because it messes with my head.” He explains, now watching your hand, which had slowed its scrubbing to a snail’s pace. 

“What do you mean, ‘at first’?” 

“Well, I grew up in Oklahoma, which is in the bible belt of the United States. Southern Baptist to be exact. My whole family is, but soon after I left for the Navy, I stopped practicing.” Bob was now sitting in the stool in front of you, hands clasped between the two of you.

“Just grew apart.” You concluded for him, “So, tell me then. Why do you have a southern accent?” Your question was serious, but Bob just looked at you, bewilderment on his face. 

“People in Oklahoma have southern accents. Just not strong ones.” 

Oh. My. God.

“No way, really?” You now felt stupid, laughing in embarrassment. Your face heated up and you wanted nothing more than to crawl up in a ball and die. But you felt a little less embarrassed as Bob laughed along with you, his pretty eyes squinting under his glasses.

“So what about you, do you drink?” Bob asked after the two of you got done laughing.

“Nope. Four years sober this year actually.” You say cautiously as you start wiping down the bar with more intent to clean. 

“Four years… If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” He wonders, confusion audibly in his voice.

“I don't mind, I'm twenty-two.” You started, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “Didn’t hang around the best people growing up and in school, but I’m clean now. Have been since moving here with my aunt, Penny.”

Curiosity taking the best of you, you glanced up at Bob, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Wow, I’m sorry. Is it hard to be a bartender then?”

“Oh don’t be. Honestly, yes it was at first. But I didn’t start working here until I was about twenty.” You stop scrubbing and smile at him. He smiled back, warm and accepting. 

It was weird to see such an open and honest reaction. Even the most seemingly accepting people shut down at the thought of being friends with a once-druggie. 

“So, If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” You ask, parroting what he said earlier with a chuckle. You were becoming much more at ease with his presence, but that didn’t stop you from noticing the slight change in his facial expressions or how he picked at the skin around his fingernails. 

“Twenty-six. Now could you hand me a rag so I can help too?” Bob was practically gleaming at you, sliding off the barstool. His palm was outstretched slightly, patiently waiting for you to hand him one. 

Was he really twenty-six? It was only four years older than you, which wasn’t a huge age gap but the words twenty-six and twenty-two still felt so different. Especially considering you were still in school and he was already involved in a serious career. 

After wringing out the rag and handing it to him, you both started working on tables, conversation fueling your motivation. 

Bob talked highly about his family, how back in Oklahoma he had a plethora of sisters, all married with babies. He stopped what he was doing a few times and came over to you, showing pictures taken at family gatherings on his mom’s Facebook page. With every photo he showed you, you would be lying if it didn't cause a pang of want in your chest. 

Even the photo which he swears is the most unattractive one of all time, was somehow making your face heat in jealousy. In the photo his hair was a mess, sticking up at all angles like a porcupine. He sported a sleepy smile with an even sleepier baby with its head resting on his shoulder, spit up covering a bit of his sleeve. 

It was cute, adorable even. 

Bob flips to a new photo, “Is that your dad?” You ask and point to an older man standing next to a young Bob. He nods and zooms in a bit. He couldn't have been more than ten years old in that picture.

“Well, now I see where you get your good looks.” The comment comes out offhandedly and you don’t really realize what you are saying until you look up at him. He bites his bottom lip slightly, a blush dusting the apples of his cheeks.

“Thanks.” 

As you got back to work, he continued talking about the farm he grew up on. It was pretty secluded from the rest of the town, taking about thirty minutes to drive into civilization. Bob spoke fondly about the animals there, how cute it was to bottle feed calves and lambs. His dad had a strict policy on what animals could go inside, dogs not being one of them. 

So, being the (in your words) sweet boy he was would secretly feed them extra scraps on cold mornings before he had to leave for school. 

Bob asked you about university, wondering if you went to a community college nearby. You explained that you went to University of California San Diego, and yes, you did in fact drive forty-five minutes just for a few classes.

He seemed impressed by your major when you told him, and your heart skipped a beat at the small compliment. That snowballed into you rambling as you swept, gushing about all you wanted to do with it, that you were in your last year, and thankfully, you didn’t need to go to grad school unless you really wanted to. 

Nervously, you explained that you took an extra year to graduate, but you were relieved when he spoke up.

“You know, people put too much pressure on others to finish a degree in four years. What matters is that you like what you do.” Bob explained simply, eyes trained on the task in front of him. 

Bob was impressed by your passion for your studies, smiling secretly to himself as he dried drinking glasses. 

Then you talked about the military, asking if it ran in his family. Turns out, his dad was the rebellious one in his family, the only one out of Bob’s uncles not to serve. Even his grandpa had served, and was awfully proud of Bob for enlisting right out of highschool. 

He asked you the same, watching you carefully as you made your way over to him behind the bar to help him dry the clear pint glasses.

Your elbows brushed against one another as you worked, the clinking of glasses and friction of fabric accompanying the soft music in the background.

“Yeah I would say it runs in my family. My grandpa was an Admiral, who actually knew Mav when he was still at Top Gun. Long, long time ago” You laugh, “Mav and Penny have known eachother much longer than what they let on. I think he used to be one of her old sweethearts.” 

“Really? Well now I see it, but before you just told me, I would have never guessed. What about your parents?” 

You stiffen unintentionally, hands stilling on the glass you were working on. “My dad is Penny’s brother, he was in the Navy too. We moved around a lot, as most people do. But I wish we hadn’t. I think that if I had that one thing constant in my life, it would have saved my parents a lot in medical bills.” You laugh solemnly.

“But, I think my brother is graduating high school in the spring, and I would be in complete shock if he didn’t enlist right out like you did.” You add, trying to lighten the moment. Bob nodded silently, finishing the last glass of the night.

Finally, the two of you were done. Checking your watch, you noted the time, pleasantly surprised when you realized it was just a little past eleven. The outside world was completely dark, like an inky sheet of paper wrapped all the way around the building. 

“One second.” Momentarily, you left him at the bar, heading quickly into the back to grab your bag. Once you came back, his anxious expression dissipated.

“Hey, thanks for staying with me. It would’ve been a real drag if I had to close up shop by myself.” Walking over to a table, you pull out a chair before sitting in it, your drawstring bag hanging over the backrest. You motioned him to do the same.

“It’s no problem, really. My pleasure, actually.” He smiles and heads over, taking a seat right next to yours. You could swear he actually moved it closer. The sudden lack of distance made you feel that dizziness again, a large knot in your throat, preventing you from swallowing. 

“What do you think you would be doing? If you hadn’t joined the Navy I mean.” You ask, studying his features. His eyebrows raise the tiniest bit and you notice a beauty mark above his left one. Gosh, were you two really that close that you could see almost every detail of his face?

Bob ponders the question for a bit, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. He was still looking at you, and you could swear he was doing the same thing. Studying your looks, his blue eyes mapping you from forehead to chin. Eyes lingering a bit longer than normal at your lips, which you licked nervously.

“I’d probably be on a farm somewhere. Maybe not Oklahoma, but somewhere with lots of mountains and trees. I love to hike.” His eyes looked past you, as if he was in a dreamlike state imagining where he would be, “But, the beach is really nice too. Maybe the weather is a bit too hot for my liking, but beautiful nonetheless.” He added on quietly, eyes flitting to yours.

Nodding, you took a deep, almost shuddering breath. “Yeah, the beach is pretty gorgeous, isn't it?” The words came out almost as a whisper. 

It was suddenly much too hot in the bar. 

“I love to run.” You offered, trying to get rid of the silence that was settling around you two. 

“Really? That’s cool, I like to run too.” Bob simply stated, like it was the most casual of conversations, like you two were not seconds away from jumping each other. 

“Maybe when this is all over we could run together.” You gulped, realizing the underlying intentions of the offer. A possible date maybe? What would this simple run turn into? Maybe a picnic on the sand? The two of you laughing, sweaty in the ocean water? 

“Yeah, I think we should.” He breathed, like it took all his effort to come up with that simple sentence. 

The tension between the two of you was bubbling over like a pot left on the stove for too long. His foot nudged yours under the table, which you tapped back with a weak smile. 

Before you could think, you found yourself leaning forward in your chair. So forward towards him in fact, your butt was lifting from the chair, leaving you in this odd ninety degree angle at the hips while your face was directly in front of his. Your hands came out to steady you, one on the table and one on the arm of his chair.

Bob looked startled, peering up at you through his glasses with wide owl-like eyes. His tongue poked out between his lips and passed over them quickly, looking rapidly between your eyes and lips. 

A large hand grabbed at the base of your skull, and pulled you down to his face, the other hand cupping your cheek. His palm was rough with thick calluses, scratching the soft skin of your face. Big blue eyes were the last thing you saw before yours fluttered closed, the next sensation being the soft cushion of his lips melding with yours. 

An earthy sage scent plugged up your nose, letting it envelope you like the salty water outside. They were soft kisses, gentle and tentative. Bob drew back to catch his breath, his cheeks reddened and freckled. 

Were you always this lonely? The loss of his lips dug a pit in your stomach, making it known how long you have stayed away from intimacy. This feeling of need made you scared. You wanted to be independent, you had built up confidence to not rely on another person for so long. Yet you could feel it slipping away like sand just from a few kisses. 

Your crisis was distracted by his lips on yours again, letting out a soft sound of happiness that had Bob smiling against your lips. Slowly, he pushed himself out of the chair, the tension in your muscles dissolving as you straightened out to your full height. 

The tentative kisses did not stay for long as they were replaced by a desperate sense of urgency. Bob backed you more into the table, your ass hitting the ledge. Hands now free to explore, you planted your palms on his chest, digging your fingers into the soft fabric of his button up. 

You hadn’t even noticed that his hands had moved from your face till you felt them slip down to your waist, his fingertips softly brushing the belt you had worn today. It was modest, the way he was touching you. Letting you take the lead of pushing and pulling with your two bodies. 

Standing on your toes, you backed up more into the table and sat upon it, breaking the kiss only to get comfortable before you were tugging him closer. Bob settled himself between your legs. The sudden shifting against the inside of your thighs brought your attention down to your throbbing core. 

It was almost embarrassing how turned on you were, the dampness and heat pulsing with every accidental touch to the insides of your thighs. Pulling him closer so he was almost flush with you must have awoken something within him as well because you could feel the kisses morphing into almost bruising. His mouth tasted like sweet peppermint candy, the white and red ones your grandma always had in her purse. 

Dizzy, you raised your hand to tangle in the short hairs on his neck, pulling him back from your mouth. Looking at him through bleary eyes, a sharp gasp left your throat as he chose to continue the kisses down your jaw and to your exposed neck. 

This couldn't be happening, right? You must have done something amazing in a past life to deserve this. It was almost too much. The coldness of the frames of his glasses, the hot, wet kisses he was pressing into your skin like his life depended on it, you could pass out from all of the attention. 

Your mind wandered as your body went to putty in his hands. 

It was a quick realization of what you had felt earlier. Lonely. So, so unbearably lonely. 

But you were used to loneliness. It was scary to feel this sharp sense of want in your chest, this man you barely knew was breaking down your walls faster than even Penny, who basically knew all your deepest, darkest secrets. 

“Stop, please-” 

But before you could even finish, Bob was off of you in an instant. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he looked at you with worry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times after, wanting to say something more as he put a few spaces of distance between the two of you. 

“No, no. It’s me.” You gulped, “Please just- I need to finish and go home.” You let out a rush of a breath, still sitting on the table as you were not sure you could stand. 

Nodding, he scrubbed his hand over his face and straightened out his shirt some, the wrinkles you caused on his chest still there. Then, he was gone. Just like that he left without a word. 

The door closed softly though, you were bracing yourself to hear it slam but it never did. It was like he was making a point to close it softly, like he didn’t want to scare you. 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared up into the warm yellow glow of the lights above you. 

__________________

3:26 PM, Friday

Even through the kitchen window above the sink, the sun was hot. Not exactly a record breaking temperature, but nonetheless sweltering for what was supposed to be fall.

The stainless steel basin sink was smooth under your fingertips, sun peeking through the window and reflecting off the silver metal. Your nail beds were burning under the heat, but also because of how hard they were gripping the basin. The sight outside on the sand was unbelievable. 

Phoenix had mentioned to you several times how all their asses were getting beat day after day with little to no reward. How they were all scared shitless for the upcoming mission- which she told you nothing about- just what could be shared with people outside her circle. 

Of handedly, she mentioned something about Mav having something planned to let them blow off some steam, but you had just figured Mav sweet talked Penny into renting out the bar for one night just for the crew so they could play and drink.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever expected to look out and see them playing football right in your backyard.

Penny hadn't warned you either. But she had known about this because Mav must have asked her. The two of them had become extremely close in the past few days, his motorcycle frequenting the house after he got off work. 

You were shopping online in the coolness of your bedroom when you heard the door open and a bunch of loud voices travel down the hall to your room. Amelia’s birthday was in a few weeks and you couldn't wait to get a head start on the birthday presents, she was going to be fifteen. You swear you remember her being born like it was yesterday. 

Not thinking much of it, you continued adding more stuff to your favorites to look at later. 

But soon you realized that it was not Amelia and her friends, but a bunch of mature adults whooping and hollering in the house. Quickly, you got up after shutting your computer. Penny hasn't texted you at all today so you had no idea who it could be.

Hands shaking, you reached out and tried to grab the doorknob, sweaty palms making it almost impossible to turn. It had to be someone that knew your family. There were too many cheery voices for it to be intruders. 

Slowly you opened the door and peeked your head out and looked towards the kitchen, and with no such luck, you saw no one. Damn that staircase blocking your view. So quietly, you step out into the hardwood hallway and shut the door, taking some cautious steps forward. God, even your feet were sweaty and sticking to the floor.

It was so much hotter in the rest of the house, even with the AC running. Penny loved natural light so unfortunately she always tried to keep the blinds open. Unlike your room with the single window, you only opened the blinds when you were sure it wouldn't cook everything you owned. 

Twisting your hands together nervously, you finally made it within view of the kitchen, and the butterflies in your stomach turned into feral bats trying to escape a cave. 

Everyone, and you mean everyone was in the kitchen. The whole crew. The Daggers, or whatever dumb name they decided to call themselves. 

Frantically turning to leave, you heard Penny call out your name. You had been spotted. 

Twisting your body back to face the group, most of whom were still chatting, thank god. 

Penny was grinning ear to ear, sitting in a chair but turned around to face you, beckoning you forward with her left hand while her right held a glass with what you could only assume to be lemon water or a cocktail.

Plastering on the most genuine smile you could muster (you were sure you just looked like you were in pain though), your sticky feet led you to the familiar faces scattered about the room. 

Phoenix was the first one to greet you, leaving her spot leaning against the chair Halo was sitting in to go and hug you. She smelled like outside and sweet perfume, her loose ponytail tickling your nose as she held you in a great bear hug. Pulling back, you noticed the clothes she was wearing. Not her usual khakis but black shorts and a loose fitting plain white tank top.

You tuned in as she was talking to you, your eyes trained on her face but your mind was busy with the noise around you.

“... good for our team work if we let loose and played some football.” She grinned as she moved out of the way for Payback as he made his way to the hall, probably to the bathroom.

Your hands came up and scrubbed your face, looking at her apologetically, “What did you say? It's rowdy in here.” Phoenix laughs, her drink tipping with her as she explains again, that Mav wanted them to work as a team, and what better way than an American pastime. 

Agreeing with her, you turn to the fridge and grab a soda, frosty in your hands. It was like a swarm of bees had taken over the room. Even halfway behind the fridge door, people were brushing against you, their hands reaching for the crisp drinks they desperately needed in this heat. 

“So, why my house?” You ask, making your way back to Phoenix and Halo at the table, smiling to let them know you are not upset, just curious. Phoenix’s eyes flit between Penny and Maverick, who were obviously flirting. You catch her eye and she tips her head towards them, indicating their obvious likeness for one another.  

Nodding in response you look around the cramped kitchen. Rooster came up beside you, his left arm swinging casually around your shoulders. The shift of his arm caused your own clothing to suddenly move, making you hyper aware of what you were wearing. 

Casual lounging shorts cut at mid thigh, and a ribbed t-shirt. What made this ensemble quite unfortunate was the low support sports bra you were wearing underneath. Perfect for the comfort of your bedroom, but never in front of company. You might as well be wearing no bra at all.

Crossing your arms protectively in front of you, you turned your head to look at Rooster, a small smile on your face.

“Been a while, huh?” Rooster says playfully, squeezing your shoulders just slightly.

Rolling your eyes, your elbow nudged him in the ribs, “You literally saw me yesterday, at the bar… and you never tipped me.” You add on, scoffing sarcastically.

“I mean,” He says with emphasis, “We haven't hung out in a while. With my work, and your school- You know the phone works both ways.” Rooster says in fake disapproval, mocking the least favored divorced parent.

Letting out a laugh, you look down at your feet. The smell of his deodorant and sweat enveloping you. 

“I know, I’m just the worst aren't I? You know-” You start but get cut off by Maverick trying to get everyone’s attention as he stands up from the chair beside Penny’s. 

Rooster’s arm drops from atop your shoulders and down to his side, his lips pressed into a thin line as Mav started talking. You knew all about his papers being pulled, how upset he was when it happened. 

Mav started out by thanking Penny for letting them use her house as a meeting place, which elicited a few claps and ‘thank yous’ by some members. A soft blush creeped up her cheeks as she lowered her head a bit and smiled. God, she has it bad. Never in your life had you expected your aunt, who was full of quick answers and witty remarks to be in love. 

The kitchen quieted down as Mav continued, explaining what they were going to do, the teams, and more. You stopped listening, and looked around the room. Your mouth went completely dry as you locked eyes with him. 

Wearing a yellow shirt with a white design in the middle and basketball shorts, he looks wildly out of place. Not in a way that segregates him from others as they are all wearing casual workout wear, but in the way it was just so casual from all the times you had seen him.

He's standing almost at the polar opposite end of the kitchen from you, jaw flexing and eyes now at the ground, making a point not to stare at you. You wiped your clammy hands on your shorts, thinking back to your last interaction with him.

That night you had gotten so comfortable with him, opening up to him in that short amount of time more than you had with Penny your first year here. What pained you even more is how much he had opened up to you. You knew the real Bob. The one who eagerly shows you pictures of his nieces and nephews upon talking about them, the one who is passionate about agriculture and wishes to settle down to have a farm. 

The one under his quiet, reserved outer shell that he projects to his colleagues. 

Then, out of your own selfishness, you had to ruin it. The tension after you two had kissed could have been cut with a knife. You had felt betrayed by your body as you touched him, but relieved when he did the same. But, with all relationships, you pushed him away and out of your life, and the bar. 

You were sure you could die of shame and embarrassment right there in the kitchen.

Finally, Maverick finished his spiel and instructed everyone to leave the house and head down to the beach. Phoenix patted your arm before she followed the crowd out, leaving her drink on the dining room table. You pressed yourself to the kitchen counter in an attempt to get out of anyone's way as they passed. 

Penny got up and disappeared to the living room. You must talk to her about letting you know when people are coming over, especially when she knows you aren't decent.  

As the kitchen emptied out, you let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding, but sucked another one right up after you realize the room was still not empty.

“Hey.” You grimaced, tipping your head at him. You meant to move closer but your feet were cemented to the ground.

“I have this,” Bob says as he leans down and picks up a smaller dark blue duffle bag, “Could I leave it here?” He asks shakily. You knew he was as nervous as you were, whether it was because he did not want to play football, or he was remembering that night as well. 

Blinking at him, trying to formulate an answer as the silence became painful.

“Yes! Yeah, go right ahead. Sorry.” You finally get out, the words gushing out on a quick exhaled breath. “Just put it on a chair or under the table, so it doesn't get stepped on.” You continue and mentally shake yourself out, trying to put on a facade of cool, calm, and collected. 

Bob nodded and slid out a chair to drop the duffle bag onto, before sliding it back into its original place. Looking back at you, his lips quirked up the tiniest bit (if your eyes hadn't been glued to his face you surely would have missed it) before tipping his head as a goodbye, and leaving. 

The screen door closing brought you back to reality, thank god he was only going to be stationed here for a little more. You couldn't handle having to see him anymore. Penny finally emerged with two brown leather books in her arms, and you immediately recognized them as The Hard Deck’s financing books. 

“Come out and join me,” She smiled as she shifted the two books to one side of her hips, holding them like someone would hold a toddler, “it'll be fun, and I need help with these.” She says, gesturing to the books.

“I'll be out in a minute.” You promise, the weak smile you had earlier coming back to your face. Before closing the door behind her, she quipped something at you, but the blood rushing in your ears was too loud. 

So that's where you were. Fingers gripping the sink as your neck craned to watch the game from the window. Your focus solely trained on Bob, who had kept that yellow shirt on instead of shedding it like the others. Admittedly you were a little disappointed he kept it on. 

If you were going outside, you had to change, you decided before heading back to your room. 

As the door shut behind you, you sagged on it. Was it even worth changing? Everyone had already seen you in these clothes, and besides your obvious lack of chest support, it wasn't like you were wearing something egregious. 

Even though you never open your blinds when it is hot out, you have to admit the rest of the house looked absolutely beautiful in the afternoon light. Making your way to the window, you grab an old baseball cap and put it snuggly atop your head, in an attempt to shade the sun you will surely get outside with Penny. 

After opening the blinds up, you leave the room, the door cracked just slightly. 

Slipping on a pair of sandals by the door, you take a deep breath. You had nothing to worry about. All you were going to do was manage the books with Penny and steal some looks at the team. No big deal. 

Penny was sitting a ways away from the game in a beach chair, a book open in her lap and the end of the pen between her teeth, clearly not concentrating on the page in front of her. Plopping down beside her in the warm sand, you took the other book and flipped it to the most current page, studying the numbers. 

You had to do this many times before, so managing it had become quite easy to you.

The two of you sat in silence, like an unspoken pact not to make a peep while you both concentrated on the pages, and the men in front of you. 

You couldn't help but smile as you watched the game, especially when Bob was involved. He hung back from the game, but as it went on he became more confident. He was definitely the type to sit back and watch things unfold before inserting himself. 

There is a reason why he is here over the millions of other WSOs in the Navy. 

As the game progressed, it became less serious and more playful. You were sure none of them were keeping track of points at this time. You closed the book and leaned back on your elbows, as the numbers were becoming confusing in your brain. The game was coming to a close.

You laughed out loud when Rooster picked up Bob on his shoulders, Bob gleaming triumphantly with the ball in his hands. The group excitedly cheered around him, causing your heart to soar. It was an unfamiliar sight to see him at the center of attention, especially after observing him at the bar. 

Soon, the heat became too much and you headed in, promising Penny that you had full intentions of returning, just that you needed to cool off. 

Back inside the house, you filled up a blue drinking glass with the cold water from the pitcher in the fridge. The baseball cap suddenly felt too tight on your head, so you took it off and set it next to the sink, praying you didn't have too bad of hat hair. Your back was turned from the door, eyes looking over the many papers littering the fridge door, all held up by colorful magnets. 

Not too long after you finished your first cup, you heard the door open behind you. Assuming it was Penny, you turned around ready to start firing off witty comments about her and Mav. 

To your surprise Bob is standing in the doorway, breathing heavy, his cheeks flushed from exertion. Licking his lips, he walks over to the chair he placed his bag on, almost stumbling a bit. 

“Do- do you need some water?” You ask, gesturing to the cup in your hand. He looked absolutely beat, his hair in disarray and a bit of wet sand smeared on his right cheek. Bob nods, his chest stuttering as if he couldn't get enough breath in his lungs.

Whipping around, you open the fridge door and fill up the cup in your hand, not even realizing how impolite it is not to get a clean cup for him. The whole world was completely silent, as if everyone was holding their breath as you let the door close and you made your way over to him, wasting no time to give him his drink.

Holding the glass up to him, you noted the condensation that had gathered around your fingers, how the cool water made your fingers slip right off as he took it from you. Standing so close to him you smelled a mixture of wet sand and the saltiness of the sea. You stared intently as Bob rose the glass to his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. A small bead of water escaped his lips and rolled slowly down his chin. Knees weak, you grasped the back of a dining chair right beside you. 

You could swear you were drooling at the sight. 

Bob set the glass down on the table, making a dull clinking sound against the wood. 

The sudden noise snapped you back to reality, forcing you to realize the distance between you two was small, and that you were most definitely in his personal space. 

Taking a step back, you noticed his hand was still grasping the duffle.

“Do you mind if I uh-” He cleared his throat, “go and change? In your bathroom?” 

“Sure!” Your voice came out tight and squeaky, “Down the hall, last door on the left.” You gestured over your shoulder with your thumb in the direction of the bathroom, watching him smile softly and thank you. 

As he started walking away from you, you noticed the deep red sunburn glaring on the back of his neck. 

“Oh my god.” You say and he immediately turns on his heels, spinning abruptly to look at you with wide eyes, “What? What?” He repeats, concern washing over his features.

Feet unwillingly carrying you over to Bob, gesturing to the back of your own neck, “Your neck- it’s really burnt.” You stop in front of him, almost toe to toe. “Did you not use any sunscreen?” You ask, praying your tone doesn't make you sound like a disappointed parent. 

You were trying to portray ‘chill, concerned, friend’.

Bob raises his hand to rub the back of his neck, wincing slightly at the hot skin, “No, I did. But it must've rubbed off.” He explains, a southern accent dripping through his words, making you melt. 

Before you could even process what was going on, you had pushed past him, walking down the hallway down to the bathroom. 

“I- I have some of that aloe vera stuff we can put on it.” You call over your shoulder, hoping he’s not too far along behind you, “It’s that green gel, feels really good on sunburns.”

Now you were just babbling, frantically twisting your hands. Jesus Christ, you should have asked him before totally assuming he would be fine with you putting your hands all over his body- well only his neck, but still!

When you realized this, you were already in the doorway of the bathroom. Your hand caught the door frame and turned around. Bob must've been following you closely because he stopped a couple inches short of barreling you over, his duffle bag hitting your leg. You can see the reflection of your face in his glasses.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I should've asked you first-” You start to say and he cuts you off. 

“No, it’s a great idea. Thank you.” He breathed and you could feel it on your face. Nodding slowly as you bit your bottom lip, searching his eyes. You notice that freckle above his left eyebrow, the same as you did when you kissed him at the bar. 

It was taking everything in your being to not crush your lips against him desperately, the sexual tension of that night drifting over to this moment. 

Your fingers fumble with the light switch, grasping at anything to keep yourself grounded. As the light hums on, Bob’s eyes close tightly for a moment. You didn’t realize how dark the end of the hallway was till both of your eyes were assaulted by the fluorescents. 

Crouching down to open the cupboards, you feel Bob’s shins rub against your lower back as he side shuffles his way into the room. God, there was so much junk in here. A lot of it was hardly ever used and dust was collecting on the bottles. Bob lowered his duffle onto the closed toilet seat, and you could hear him fiddling with the zipper to the bag. 

Finally, you locate the bottle and stand up to your full height, closing the cupboard door with your knee. You fiddle with the cap before looking up at him, noticing how his eyes flit from your face to something behind you.

Looking over your shoulder you see nothing, so you bring your attention back to him, tilting your head in question, your fingers now picking at the hard plastic top of the aloe vera gel.

“Can we… close the door?” Bob asks, carefully choosing his words, hoping you will get the hint as he toys with the hem of his yellow shirt. Humming in agreement, you turn and close the door softly, gently turning the lock. Thankfully it didn't make too much noise, as you were not wanting to startle Bob and make him feel trapped in the room with you. 

You were merely doing it for privacy.

Turning back to Bob, you notice yourself in the mirror. Lips chapped from the heat and licking them, your shirt bunched up a bit around your armpits (which you immediately adjusted by tugging at the hem), and your cheeks flushed from the sun.

You both knew what had to come next, and stalling wasn’t the answer to getting this done and over with. In order for you to accurately help him, he must take off his shirt. 

This all felt so juvenile, christ it wasn’t like you had never seen a man without his shirt on, and he had been shirtless plenty of times. But right now, in the bathroom with the door locked, purposefully hiding away from the others, it felt like it was the gateway to possible disaster. 

After standing there staring at one another for what seemed like ages, Bob grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head, ducking carefully in order for his glasses not to get knocked off his head. You held your breath as he dropped it to the tile floor, the yellow contrasting against the light tan squares. He was as handsome as you had imagined. 

Broad shoulders, sprinkled with millions of freckles. His collarbone defined, tapering to his chest, the muscles rising with every breath. Abs softly there, but visible nonetheless. 

Lower and lower, your vision got. Shamefully you peaked at his hips and you noticed a light v-line, practically begging for you to explore what was below.

Your eyes snapped back up to him, “Turn around, please.” You direct quietly as your hand reaches for his elbow, gently touching it as another signal to turn. He did as he was told, facing away from you and slightly lowering his head. The freckles trailed from his shoulders to his back. 

Squeezing a small amount of the green gel in your palm, you set the bottle on the countertop. It was a thin consistency as you attempted to warm it up in your hands, trying to minimize the cold shock. 

With no second thoughts, you swiped a flat palm across his neck, which was indeed burning. Bob’s shoulders moved the tiniest bit, probably because you gave him no warning. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed as you massaged the aloe into his neck, grabbing the bottle and squeezing more after you realized the first amount was not enough.

You couldn't tell if it was hot in here or if it was you. But the feeling of want pooled in your lower stomach, causing your thighs to clench closer together. Once you felt your hands had overstayed their welcome, you removed them, letting your fingertips ghost down his back, yearning to touch him more.

Bob paused for a beat before turning back to face you. His bottom lip was swollen and wet, as if he had been worrying it with his teeth the entire time. The sight was making you go absolutely feral. 

“I want you.” You croaked out, mouth dry as a desert. Your eyes then widened in shock as you realized what you had just said, hand clamping over your mouth. The world was literally burning to the ground in front of you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He looked like his brain had short circuited at what you said, trying to process three tiny words that had a life altering meaning. Faintly, you heard the front door open, then shut. 

Voices distantly talking in the kitchen. But Bob seemed to not notice. Steely blue eyes burning into yours. 

“You want…” He paused, his tongue wetting his bottom lip, “You want me.” He said it less like a question and more like a matter of fact statement. You almost expected him to blow up in your face, to angrily tell you how unfair it was for you to say that you wanted him. After you had rejected him at the bar. But to your surprise he was calm- well as calm as someone can be due to the vulnerability of this interaction. 

Dropping your hand from your mouth, inhaling a sharp breath through your nose. “Yes.” You say dumbly, struggling to even think due to the environment. It was dreadfully humid, the aloe smell the only thing you could comprehend right now. You felt drunk on sight alone, and you swear Bob is now officially the most handsome man in the world. 

So handsome it makes you want to sob and rip your heart out. 

Suddenly, your whole world was flipped upside down. You stiffened as he took a quick step towards you, closing the already nonexistent distance. You felt his hands fly to your biceps, his strong fingers holding your whole body at his mercy. Not even giving you a second to think, his lips crushed into yours, a much different feeling than the tender first kiss you shared at the bar. 

A much different Bob too. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever expect such a sudden force from him.

Realizing your eyes are still open in shock, you shut them and kiss back after a beat, feeling his bare chest pressed flush to yours. He is so sturdy and unmoving, like a boulder near the shore. His hands loosen their grip on your upper arms and you take the opportunity to raise your hands to either side of his face, pulling him in for deeper kisses, both of your mouths opening to let eachother explore.

In fractions of seconds, the kisses turned from wants to needs. Your back was now against the locked door, Bob’s thigh wedged between your own. It was pressed into the soft cotton juncture between your legs, the slight friction doing nothing to ease your now aching core. Bob had one hand curved around your hip, and the other on your upper back, pushing you into him even more.

Lungs screaming, you pushed his face back the smallest bit. Foreheads touching, and the silver metal of his glasses cooling the spot between your eyebrows. Strings of saliva connecting your mouths were disrupted by panting, the two of you trying to catch your breath. 

Barely opening your eyes, you noticed his were still shut, a deep crease ran between his brows. 

You gave him a quick kiss on his open mouth before gently pushing him back more, observing his whole face now. Bob looked absolutely wrecked, eyes dark, glasses threatening to slip off his nose, and his whole chest was blotchy and red (confirming your suspicion that his blush did in fact creep down below his shirt collar). 

He looked disappointed that you had stopped kissing, searching your eyes for answers.

“W-We should go to my room.” You whisper, but not for privacy. You physically felt like your voice couldn't get any louder. “Just across the hall.” More voices could be heard from in the kitchen and your heart picked up even more, scared to get caught in such a compromising position with Bob. You considered the thought of stopping what was going on, to just compose yourselves and act normal until you could get more promising alone time. 

But as Bob nodded, letting out a raspy noise of agreement, he got off of you. 

This movement not only left your body strikingly cold without his, but as he removed his thigh it rubbed just right, leaving you on an upstroke of a very short high. 

The thought of stopping seemed utterly ridiculous now, your body humming with need as Bob picked up his shirt and duffle, waiting for you to initiate the escape. Turning around, your shaky fingers silently turned the lock and then the knob. 

You shot a quick glance over your shoulder at Bob, who was still in the exact same spot. With the doorknob still in one hand, you messily turned the light switch off with the other, leaving the two of you in complete darkness besides one sliver of faint light seeping through the cracked door.

Holding your breath, you peaked your head out. The voices were louder, and they were laughing. Bob’s hand grasped your hip in an attempt to not lose you in the dark. You couldn't tell who was here based on voices alone, but if you had to guess, there were probably half as many people here now than when you first emerged from your room. 

Blindly, you reached back and grabbed his hand on your hip, holding it tightly as you pushed through the door and all but sprinted into your room. You were thankful for leaving it cracked earlier, saving you the time of loudly having to open it. 

You stayed at the door while Bob went in, quietly closing and locking it. Hands shaking, you looked down at them, still facing the door. Only the quiet breaths from the both of you could be heard. The collar of your shirt was bugging your neck. 

Bob seemed to read your mind because he reached out, brushing the hairs on your neck softly before tucking in the tag of your shirt. 

It was a harmless gesture, something that anyone could do. But the way he did it, lingering fingertips, felt oddly domestic and sensual. 

“I am sorry for the other night.” 

Bob was the first to break the silence, even if it was a quiet muttering of words. His fingertips were still lightly brushing your upper back, as if he was trying to coax you to turn around to face him. You were still too scared to. 

It made you gulp. The comment makes your lungs hitch as if you had been punched. 

Your eyes searched the plain door in front of you. You probably looked utterly ridiculous, your whole body turned rigidly to the door without moving. Hands still clasped tightly on the knob. 

But that didn’t phase him. Gently, his fingers smoothed out the wrinkles of your shirt, coming close enough to feel his breath on the back of your neck. Lightly, you felt him trace the backing of your sports bra. A simple cross-back, nothing special. But in this moment, it felt special. The way he was tracing it like it was the most delicate of lace, patterned with beautiful designs. 

It wasn't until he dipped down and pressed his lips to your shoulder that you relaxed, cautiously laying your head back to touch his shoulder. He was beautiful, the same man as before, but amplified by his loving actions towards you. 

The knob clacked as you let it go, hands going to his cheeks and jaw while your body followed to be facing him. 

All the tension remaining in your body was gone when you started to kiss him. Bodies warmed up and humming with pleasure. Easily opening up to one another as you made your way to the bed, still attached at the lips. 

You were the first to lay down, shimming up the bed so you rested on it until just your feet hang off the end. Bob stood between your spread legs, one hand reaching down to jostle your ankle in a friendly way before kneeling on the bed. Impatient by his slow crawl up to you, you sat up on an elbow while the other hand grasped at his shirtsleeve to try and urge him upwards. 

He smiled bashfully, dipping his head before he found your lips again. Your hand wandered to the hem of his shirt, pushing upwards to grope at his stomach and chest. 

His skin is smooth, despite the rounded bumps scattered sparsely about him, dark beauty marks that looked like stars on his skin. You were eager to see them again. 

Bob took the hint and sat up to pull his shirt off, letting it fall off the bed with a light thump. You admired his body before tugging off your own shirt and bra. He looked at you hungrily and let his fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts, silently asking for approval. You nod, biting your lip as you watch him slip off your panties and shorts, moving off the bed to help you take them off your ankles. 

Your heartbeat quickened, feeling very exposed in front of him so you promptly shut your legs, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. Remembering all your little scars and insecurities that you did not want him to see. They were human, something that made you- you, but you felt more than naked now. 

Suddenly, you remembered all the people in the kitchen, their voices drifting back to you. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, you spread your legs, this time with the soles of your feet firmly planted on the comforter. 

The man at the end of your bed seemed perplexed at your movements, watching you in real time how the wheels turned in your head. But he wasted no time dropping to his knees, making a thunking noise on the floor. 

Large hands grabbed at your thighs, urging you closer to the end of the bed. You obeyed them and shuffled downwards till your naked pussy was inches away from the most handsome man you have ever seen. 

The hungry look in his eyes made you visibly shiver, noting how his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, seemingly intoxicated by your musky scent. He took both of your legs and put them over his shoulders, the crook of your knees on each of his respective shoulders. Spread even more for him, he kissed and nibbled at your inner thighs. 

Drawing out whimpers of desperation from you, making you impatient and driving you wild. You raised your head up from the bed and tugged on his hair, directing him to where you would rather have his mouth. His hot breath fanned over your glistening folds, and you could practically see him drooling. Right before he dove in you gave a sharp tug to his hair, forcing him to look at you. 

“Glasses?” You choked out hoarsely, your fingers slipping from his hair to touch the frames of his glasses. 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He mutters, eyes glazed over as he focuses on you before pulling off his glasses and folding them. Reaching behind himself, he places them on the floor and goes right back where he was. Giving you a quick kiss to your thigh, he dives in without warning. 

It makes you jump, the flat of his tongue dragging a thick line from opening to clit. Your head drops back on the bed as you clamp a hand over your mouth, stifling a string of curse words threatening to get you in trouble by the volume of them. 

In no time he has you quivering and panting, biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood to block out the loud moans and whines. Never in your life had anyone you slept with got you to the edge this quickly with just their fingers and mouth. You were thankful for the locked door as his obscene slurping got increasingly louder. It was like he didn’t care, too lost in pleasuring you to contain his noises. 

Your surroundings had gone blurry long ago, like your body was shutting down all unnecessary functions to just focus on this one delicious sensation between your legs. 

Every time you glance down your heart stops at the scene before you. 

Bob’s face red and glistening from sweat, eyes scrunched tight in concentration. When the lower half of his face isn't completely hidden by your mound, his nose peaks up and rests upon your pubic bone, extra wet with your juices. One hand rests between your legs, two long fingers stuffed inside your weeping hole, curling and massaging a spot even you have never found. While the other hand is wrapped around your thigh, the beds of his fingernails white with pressure as he grips the soft flesh of your leg, hard enough to leave a bruise. 

“Fuuuuck-” You whine quietly, one hand tangled in your hair while the other scrabbling at the sheets beneath you. The feeling in your belly was unmistakable, it had your chest heaving in quick breaths. It felt like he had been between your legs for hours, but when you glanced up at the clock by your bedside (it took you longer than you liked to figure out the time) it had only been about ten or so minutes since he had started. 

“Bobby-” The nickname slips out against your will, making him falter against your core. 

You can see that his long eyelashes are fluttering against his cheeks before he returns to the pace he set earlier, maybe even a little more restored with vigor as he groans against you. The vibrations send a zing straight to your belly button. 

“I’m close- fucking christ- I’m gonna cum-” You warn him almost seconds too late as your back snaps into an arch, the walls of your cunt pulsing around his still-moving fingers. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only the faintest of guttural noises making themselves known as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. 

You know real life isn't like the porno films. It is never glamorous or pretty with flattering angles. Because of that knowledge you always were hyper-aware of how you looked and sounded, wanting to be the prettiest version of yourself always. But in this moment, you forgot everything and just allowed yourself to feel. 

It was earth-shattering, this amazing, otherworldly feeling all over your body. Bob was doing his best to draw it out, watching you with fascination. It did not even occur to him that your heels were digging into his back. 

Nor did you realize until the ringing in your ears stopped that he was talking to you, only catching the tail end of his words. 

“- at’s it, that's it. Good girl… fuck, so gorgeous.” Bob groaned into your thigh, watching you start to relax, slowing down the two fingers inside you to a light massage before slowly pulling out as if to not disturb you. Somehow, he had found that prominent scar on your left hip, stroking it lightly with his wet fingertips. 

Even through your haze, you whined at the loss and tried to lift your head up but you were completely boneless. You feel your legs being lifted off his shoulders and the bed dips next to you before Bob nuzzles his nose into your sweaty hairline, the smell of you all over his face.  

It makes you smile the tiniest bit, opening up your eyes to see him staring down at you, that glazed drunk look still on his face. 

You reach out in search for his dick, your hand coming in contact with his lower belly first. You know you have found your final destination when your hand brushes over something rock hard and Bob hisses, his hips bucking into your hand. 

“Want you to fuck me. Please?” You murmur up at him, palming his dick with more intention as he grinds his hips into your hand. He nods, looking down at you with searching eyes.

“Anything you want, baby.” 

The pet name makes your smile grow, directing him to the condoms stored away on the top drawer of your dresser, under your camisoles. It takes no time at all before he is stripped naked in front of you and rolling the condom onto his aching cock. It is so fast in fact that you don’t even process it till he is crowding over you. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna last long.” He admits sheepishly as you shift on the bed, trying to ignore how damp it feels with sweat. 

His words make you huff out a laugh, moving closer to the headboard so you can lay back on a pillow, “Bobby, I could care less how long you last.” It was more than the truth, he just gave you the most mind blowing orgasm of your life and that alone would probably satisfy you for the rest of the year. 

He crawls up after you, bracing himself on a hand beside your head, the other now swiping the head of his cock through your puffy folds. 

The sting of the stretch was basically nonexistent by how relaxed you were, enjoying the slow slide of his dick in you. As his strokes got quicker, Bob chose to lean down, now bracing himself on his forearms bracketing either side of your head. The friction only got better as you lifted your legs up and hooked your ankles around his back, the head of his dick now rubbing deliciously against the spot he stimulated earlier. 

To be honest, he lasted longer than you thought he would by the way he was acting. But soon his face crumpled and dropped into the crook of your neck, gasping against your sweaty skin while his hips snapped a few times but ultimately stilled while flush against you. 

Your nails traced designs into his back as he caught his breath, light tremors shaking his body as he returned from his high. 

The two of you said nothing but stayed how you were, inhaling the other’s scent peacefully. You could still hear people outside and in the kitchen of the house, but you were too far gone to really care. 

“Bobby?” You ask quietly, stilling your fingers on his back. 

“Hmm?” He mumbles from your shoulder, shifting to pepper a few kisses upon your neck. 

“What do you wear to bed? Are you a matching set kinda guy or do you just sleep in your underwear?” You smile, looking up at the ceiling, waiting for his answer. 

Bob answers after a short pause, “Matching set, why?”

Hope you enjoyed this! Check out my AO3 under Creatchie8 too!

#bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd fanfiction

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

Chapter Ten of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Eleven

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.1K

Chapter Overview: Rochelle and Frankie's relationship finally reaches a boiling point

TW: toxic relationship, mentions of cocaine, depictions of domestic assault/violence

Notes: hey everyone !! this is a heavier chapter,, so it didn't feel right to include a lot of the things i originally intended too. not to worry though because that's what next week is for hehe ((: thank u to @missbabyjay for being a blessing and giving me some inspo for the fight scene !! i updated the tag list so please let me know if i missed you/ you want to be added ! as usual ... my asks are always open and happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“What’s going on?” Benny looks puzzled as Will holds your scared body with extreme care. He peers past his brother to find only Pope following closely behind. “Where’s Fish?”

“Dealin’ with his past.” Will sighs as he sets you down. 

You quietly wrap your arms around your body and turn to look back at the front door of the gym.

“His past? Could you be any more vague?” He brushes past his brother for you. Benny crouches down and cups your face in his hands while cautiously inspecting you. “What happened out there?”

“I don’t know. I really don't know. One minute everything is fine and then the next minute a car comes barreling towards all four of us and I’m being rushed inside.” 

He looks for his friends for more answers as he rubs your shoulder. When Will stays silent, Pope speaks up. 

“Crazy bitch decided it would be a good idea to show up here.” He offers.

“Rochelle?” Benny stands to his full height. “Rochelle is outside my fuckin’ gym? No way in hell.” He starts heading for the exit with murder in his eyes, but Will plants a steady hand on his chest. 

“Fish is takin’ care of it. Leave it be.”

“Leave it be?! How can you say that after everything she has done to him?” Benny spits.

“For the love of God will someone tell me what’s going on?!” You finally crack.

All three of them look at you with pained expressions. 

“As much as we want to tell you-” Pope starts.

“And we really want to tell you.” Benny quickly adds.

“This is something Catfish has to tell you himself. You deserve to hear it directly from him and not a third party, hermosa.” 

“But-” You begin.

“He will tell you, hon.” Will wraps his arms around you and you allow yourself to accept the comfort you so desperately need amidst the chaos. “You just need to be patient with him. His past, just like the rest of ours, is hard to talk about. I know it’s easier said than done, but trust us.”

You slowly move your own limbs around his torso and take a deep breath of his woodsy cologne. Of course he wears a scent that is reminiscent of trees. They are one in the same if you think about it. Both of them are tall, strong, able to stand firm in any weather, and always constant. Will is your oak tree and you cling on to him until the raging winds start to die down. Unfortunately, just as trees are predictable, the winds never are. Muffled yelling begins to seep through the door accompanied by pounding fists on glass.

***

“Francisco fucking Morales!” She screeches. “We need to talk!”

He starts walking towards her. “Yes, Rochelle. We do.”

“Oh!” She gasps dramatically. “So now you want to talk?! That’s funny because you have been avoiding my calls and texts for the past week! I haven’t heard from you since Saturday night! It wouldn’t have anything to do with that fucking receptionsit, would it?”

He knew this would happen. He knew that she would immediately bring you up.

“Do you know how many times you would disappear on me while we were dating, Rochelle?” He asks calmly. “But now that we aren’t dating and I’m the one not responding, it’s an issue for you?”

He can see it in her eyes that she's taken aback. In every argument that they have ever had in the history of their relationship, Frankie had always rolled over and bared his stomach to her. He never tried to fight back in order to preserve the peace. Clearly she thought that this time would be the same.

“Why haven’t you answered my question?! Does that receptionist have anything to do with you ignoring me?!”

“This is between me and you. Leave her out of this.” He wants to keep you as far away from her hooked claws as he can. He might not have been able to escape them, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her drag you down.

“So, that’s a yes!” She throws her hands up in the air as if she is celebrating a victory. “I’m also going to correctly assume that she’s the reason why you haven’t given me an answer about getting back together!”

You were the reason. You were without a doubt the reason. In the short time that he has known you and the even shorter time that he has been with you, you have given him things he didn’t think he was worthy of. You gave back all the kindness and care he gifted you tenfold. You listened when he talked, communicated with him about the little things, and above all, even if you didn’t know it yet, were patient with him. He knew he was a broken and shattered piece of glass, but you were like the sea. Your gentle waves came up and kissed his rough edges until they were soft and round. You were nothing like the relentless, careening waters that he knew Rochelle to be. That he thought all relationships to be. You never made him feel like he was in a perpetual state of purgatory waiting to be granted access to the Heaven that was your affection. You gave it to him so willingly and without hesitation.

“No, I’m the reason why you haven’t been given an answer about if we are getting back together. I don’t want to do this anymore,” He motions his hands in between the two of them. “I want something healthy.”

He watches her eyes grow wide at his words. The sheer weight of them slams down on her so hard that he swears he almost sees her knees buckle.

“You ‘want something healthy’?!” She mocks. “I pulled you out of the gutter when I met you!”

“Oh my fucking God.” He whispers. It’s like he’s looking in a mirror eight months ago. “You’re high, aren’t you? You could have killed all of us and yourself driving like that!” Anger starts to bubble below his cool demeanor.

“Don’t change the subject!” She bellows.

“You want to talk about pulling me out of the gutter? Fine! You pulling me out of the gutter caused me to lose my fucking pilots license! The best part was,” He can’t help but laugh dryly. “You didn’t even care! That didn’t even snap you back to reality! You never came to visit me in rehab either!” He takes a deep breath to get centered as he can feel himself getting sucked in. “I’m just as complicit in the drug use as you were. You may have shown it to me, but I continued to buy it. I know this. But, when I needed your support you bailed on me.”

“I gave you a distraction from all of those goddamn nightmares!” She hollers. “If you were too busy being high on coke then you wouldn’t have them!”

“You’re fucking deranged if you think that’s what help is supposed to be!”

“At least when you were with me, you knew I wouldn’t judge you for it!” She quips. “What has she said about your little ‘habit’, Frankie? Did she gasp? Did she move away when you tried to touch her? Did she tell you she needed time to be by herself to think everything over?” 

He stays quiet as he clenches his fists by his side. His nails are biting into the flesh of his palm, but he doesn’t care. Her words vibrate violently around in his head. He hadn’t told you about the coke, not yet at least. It wasn’t something he was comfortable coming right out and saying on a first date. The fear that it would make you look at him differently or even want to leave all together haunted him at night. Keeping it from you was wrong if he wanted to be in a relationship; however, he selfishly wanted to keep the image you had of him inside your head intact and uncorrupted. 

“Well look at that!” She giggles maniacally. “She doesn’t know. You haven’t fessed up, have you?”

“What she and I talk about doesn’t concern you, Rochelle. As a matter-of-fact, nothing I say or do should concern you from here on out.” He conjures images of you and uses them to keep him steady and put the final nail in the coffin. “Since you clearly didn’t understand what my silence meant this past week, I’ll waste my breath on you one last time. I don’t want to be in a relationship with you. I don’t want to associate with you. I don’t want to know you anymore.”

“Frankie, baby. Please-” Rochelle begs. She can feel him slipping out from where she verbally pinned him. The struggle for control was tipping in Frankie’s favor and she didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t pretend like you care now to make up for the fact that you never did the entire time. It’s over for good. I should have ended it officially long ago. I guess in a fucked up way you did help me when we did coke. Whenever I was high I could actually convince myself that I loved you.”

Frankie watches as the woman’s eyes across from him darken. Her lips contort into a sinister smile and she tilts her head to one side. It made his blood run cold at how quickly she could switch emotions.

“She’ll leave you, you know?” Her voice is thick with false sweetness. “If she doesn’t leave you when she finds out about the drugs, she will leave when she learns about the little ‘vacation’ you took.” 

He feels like he just got the air knocked out of him.

“Once she finds out that it’s all an illusion, you and all your friends, she’ll run for the hills. At the end of the day, you’re still the man who shot first.” 

There it is. There is her winning blow. There is that conniving woman he always knew she could be. She had a gift for knowing exactly what to say to destroy a person from the inside out. Every time she did it, that signature smile was always present. It seemed to grow wider each time she twisted her verbal blade into his stomach. Up until this point, Frankie had managed to remain relatively controlled. He knew she was sick, but he never dreamed she would bring up what happened in South America. He told her, in confidence, a little about what happened because he desperately needed to. He went to places he never imagined due to the guilt he felt about Tom’s death. Figuring that talking about it would lessen the pain, he opened up to her. Unfortunately, that only worked when the person he was talking to was actually listening. 

“Leave, Rochelle.” His voice waning under the strain of his plethora of emotions. “We’re done here.”

“I’m not done! I have something to tell that lovely woman hiding inside the gym!” She makes a mad dash to the gym entrance. When she frantically pulls on the handle and finds it locked, she resorts to yelling and slamming her hands against the glass. “Come out! Come out!” 

Frankie has caught up to her by this time and is trying to move her away. As angry as he was, he would never resort to being physical with her. 

“Rochelle, for the love of God get the fuck away! This isn’t going to fix anything!”

“Does it look like I care?!” She screams, turning her body to face him. “I don’t get dumped! That’s not how this works! I’m in control!” 

She starts to bring her fists down on Frankie now. He blocks her blows with his forearms and prays that the guys have kept you far enough away to where none of this madness reaches your ears. 

Loud sirens slice through Rochelle’s incomprehensible rambling. He looks past her flailing body and sees red and blue lights begin to paint the buildings on the street. As they get closer, its noise registers in her ears too. 

“You called the cops?! You called the fucking cops on me?!” She brings her balled up hands down harder and faster on Frankie’s makeshift shield. “Asshole! Asshole! You’re such an asshole!”

A police cruiser pulls into the parking lot and comes to a quick stop in front of the gym. Two officers immediately jump out of the car and rush over. Within minutes they have Rochelle pinned up against the wall of the gym and are attaching handcuffs to her writhing wrists. She keeps yelling things like ‘this is a misunderstanding’ and ‘we were just having a passionate argument’. Frankie watches as the cops have to force her into the back seat because she keeps trying to climb out. She looks like a rabid animal being caged.

“Goodbye, Rochelle.” He doesn’t know if this is the last time he will see her, but for now he knows he can sleep without having to keep one eye open.

Once they finally have her secured, one officer climbs into the passenger seat and the one makes his way over to Frankie. 

“Evenin’, sir. What can you tell me about the young lady?”

He has no idea how the cops arrived and no energy to speak with them. Frankie just wants the comfort of you.

“Uhh her name is Rochelle and I’m pretty sure she’s high right now. I really don’t have any other relevant information to give you. She just showed up here out of the blue.”

“Well, we were already goin’ to charge her with assault when we arrived on the scene, but I’ll have her drug tested when we get back to the station.” The man looks into the gym. “They know anythin’ about it?” 

Frankie turns and sees Benny leading Will, Pope, and you to the front. Benny unlocks the front door and you slip under his arm and scurry to Frankie’s side. He swaddles you in his arms as he buries his head in the curve of your neck. He doesn’t know which one of y’all is shaking harder at this point. 

“I’m Benjamin Miller, the owner of this gym. Maybe I could help answer some questions? My friends here were also outside when she sped through the parking lot earlier.”

Frankie looks up at his friend and nods in his direction. An unspoken ‘thank you’ for getting the attention off of him.

“Let’s get away from all this craziness, estrella. Walk with me.”

You feel him pull away from you, but reach down to take your hand. He holds it tightly as he guides you away from all the commotion. You follow him as he walks around the back side of Brass Knuckles until the sights and sounds of the evening fade away. Then it's only him and you leaning against the brick wall. There are so many questions buzzing around inside you, but no words come. You observe him take a small pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He thumbs one out and places it delicately between his lips. Then he looks over at you with tired eyes and offers you the pack. You shimmy one out for yourself, an act of solidarity, and wait as he gets the lighter. He lights yours first and then he takes care of himself. Only after he takes a long drag does he speak. 

“I’m sorry that you had to be a part of that.” He sounds distant when he speaks. You don’t think that he’s doing it on purpose. This must be a defense mechanism.

“Do you want to talk about it? I know it's still really raw, but I’ll listen if you want me too.” 

The sun had long set, but the faint glow from the end of his cigarette allows you to see a small smile pull at his lips.

“Would you settle for the sparknotes version right now? I promise I’ll give you the details tonight.” 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” You offer quietly.

“Did you-did you hear anything that she said?” 

“I heard her yell your name before Will and Pope got me completely inside. Then we all heard yelling, more her than you, and finally her banging on the door.” 

“To make a long story short, Rochelle showed up angry because I have been ignoring her since Saturday. Over a month ago, the day Benny hired you actually, she texted me saying she wanted to get back together. It wasn’t a healthy relationship, but it was the longest one I had been in so I was confused. It sounds silly.”

“No it doesn’t.” You reassure him. “Keep going.”

“Well, I knew I didn’t want to be in that relationship anymore and I just didn’t know what to tell her. Ignoring her was childish, I know, but it seemed like the best possible option at the time. I didn’t want to get into a big argument. I guess that blew up in my face, huh?” 

“You did what you thought would be best, Frankie. Unfortunately, things just go south sometimes.” 

“Hmm.” He nods at your statement. “Basically she was just angry that I didn’t want her in my life anymore. She’s not really used to being told ‘no’. You really didn’t hear anything specific though?”

“No.” You take a pull from your own cigarette. “The guys never let me leave the heavy bag area in the back.” 

“Good.” He breathes out. He sounds like he is coming back to you.

“But…” You turn your head up to face him. “They really should have kept a closer eye on me if they didn’t want me involved.”

“It was you!” He says, whipping his head to look at you.

“In their defense, they were all discussing what they should do about her showing up. Will wanted to let you figure it out yourself, Benny wanted to punch her out I'm pretty sure, and Pope was somewhere in the middle. I got tired of sitting there and listening to them bicker so I took my own course of action.”

“You amaze me, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” You feel your cheeks heat up.

“I just-I just can’t believe you did that. There were four people telling you to stay out of it and yet you still found a way to help me. I’ve never had someone like that in my life.”

“Your friends would drop everything for you!” 

“I know that.” He laughs lightly. “I mean I’ve never had a woman I’m … dating do that for me.”

“Oh, so we’re dating?” You tease.

“Yes? No? Talking? Courting, maybe?” 

“Courting?” You cough. You were in the middle of inhaling and that caught you off guard.

“Don’t laugh!” He says, shoving you in the shoulder. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what we are. I just know I like whatever it is.”

“I like it too, Frankie. Labels can come later.” You take the hand he had resting by his side and interlace your fingers. “So…you smoke?”

“It’s not an everyday thing!” He rushes. “It just helps curb the anxiety in a stressful situation.”

“I get it.” You say honestly. 

“I haven’t had to use them in a little over a month.” His hand squeezes yours. “That’s about when you came into my life.” 

“I’m your new vice, huh?” 

“You have no idea, estrella.”

The two of you stand, hands together, letting the smoke from your cigarettes dance around in the air. The quiet that has encompassed y’all is welcome. You don’t hear the blaring sounds of the siren nor the damped dialogue between the police and your friends. It’s safe to say that the coast is clear and safe, but something keeps you here. Something keeps you both here. You can feel it in the way Frankie is breathing, the way that his thumb is rubbing over your skin, that he has more to tell you. He says your name barely above a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I know I said I would only give you a quick summary, but you deserve more than that. You deserve better than that.”

“Frankie, it can wait if you want it to.”

“This is something I need to tell you. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to explain it, but it’s just so hard.” You clutch his hand to let him know you’re listening. “It has to do with my Tuesday work meetings.” 

“Alright?” You aren’t really sure what that has to do with the current situation.

“I don’t really go- they aren’t work meetings. They’re meetings, but they focus on something other than my job. I uhh fuck.” He has to take a breath. “It’s a support group.” 

“For dealing with what you saw on missions?”

“For the things I did to erase what I saw on missions actually. I go to an NA meeting every Tuesday. I met Rochelle when I got back from a particularly bad one. We both kinda clung to each other although, in hindsight, we were both sinking ships. We would go out drinking all the time and when that stopped helping I started using cocaine. It just snowballed from there into something I couldn’t control. I ended up losing my pilot's license because my habit got so bad.”

“God, Frankie. I’m so sorry.” 

“The guys helped me get into a temporary rehab and then find a new job. I’ve been clean for eight months now.” 

“That’s amazing!” You're looking directly into those deep brown eyes. “I’m so proud of you!” 

“You’re what?” The pure shock on his face makes you want to sob.

“Frankie, I’m proud of you. Pulling yourself up after dealing with something like that isn’t easy in the slightest, but you did it. You found your footing and have been walking on your own for eight long months. Going to those weekly NA meetings proves that you are serious about recovery. You should be proud of yourself.”

“You don’t want to leave?” 

“Leave? Why would I want to leave?”

“I’m an addict.” He speaks softly.

“A recovering addict.” You say taking his face in your hand after discarding your cig. “You’re recovering. Please don’t discount all of your hard work. I’m so humbled that you wanted to tell me about this. It would be hard to support you if I left, now wouldn’t it?” 

He surges forward and swallows you in a kiss. His tongue tastes of sweet tobacco as it parts your lips. Your hands find his hair and knock away his cap so you can run your fingers through it. His moans fill your ears as you bite down on his bottom lip. He moves so he’s positioned in front of you. You feel the coarse brick nip at your exposed skin as he pushes your body against it. His hand comes down to roughly palm you through your shirt. You whine in approval as your back arches in a subconscious response to his actions. 

“It’s Pope! I’m coming back there! Y’all better not be doing anything I would be doing!” 

The two of you scramble to separate before you get caught like a couple of horny teenagers. Frankie is in the process of snatching his cap off the ground when Pope rounds the corner of the building. 

“Hi!” You say, breathing abnormally.

“Hello to you.” Pope says with a knowing grin. “Fish.” He nods

The man next to you returns the same greeting.

“Not to kill the vibe of whatever is going on here, but Benny is bitching up a storm.”

“Oh, God. What now?” You question.

“He can’t find his ring girl for this evening.” He smiles.

“It’s barely even 9 o’clock.” Frankie finally chimes in.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Pope holds his hands up. “I was just told to come tell you to get your ass inside. You know how the Millers are about punctuality.” 

“Yeah, alright.” You concede. “Tell him I’m coming.” 

Pope throws each of you a devious wink before leaving. You throw your head back and sigh loudly when it's just you and Frankie again. 

“Want to accompany me into the lion's den?” You hold out your hand to him.

“Yes, but can I ask you something first?” 

“What’s up?” 

“Would you maybe, Christ I feel like a child, want to be my girlfriend? I know you said that labels could come later, but I don’t want to wait until later.”

Your smile could light up the entire alley. You throw your hands around his neck and kiss him. He learned from your last interaction and placed one hand on his cap and circled your lower back with the other. You can feel him smiling against you as you pepper his lips, his jaw, and any skin that you can reach with kisses. 

“Is that a ‘yes’?” He laughs when you finally release him. 

“Of course it’s a fucking yes! Francisco Morales, I would love to be your girlfriend!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @mashomasho @lilmizmoz @angstylittlepascal @sofiparallel @selflcontrol @adriennemichelle98 @painitemoondust @pedritosgirl2000 @tpwkmera @romanarose @missbabyjay }

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #will miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #read on a03

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/740284683556929536/

Omg I'm so sorry! I wrote that anon when I was sleepy so it had very ham-fisted wording. Yes, I meant to ask about portraying self-esteem issues about bodies. I thought guys don't talk about it much.

To that one person, why would dudes comparing dick sizes be considered smut? I can see it being rated M. Are you suggesting the rating go up to E?

--

Ahahaha.

Uh... anon... if that's truly what you were trying to ask... I think maybe you need to work on your writing a bit more. The vibes you give off are odd, to say the least...

Like, creepy pervert angling for foot fetish photos while lying about what they want-level weird.

It sounds like you want to heavy-breathe while reading guys' descriptions of their own penises, not like you want help with writing.

--

The reason your ask reads so "She breasted boobily down the stairs" but from the other side is that guys, at least from what I've seen, do not stand around comparing their dicks, at least not in the way you implied.

The people who most commonly compare their junk out of curiosity are toddlers.

This is something tiny children do. Anecdotally, some teens do it, but a lot don't, and there are clickbait articles about athletes sizing each other up this way, but they are just that: clickbait. I'm not saying it never happens, but you wrote about it like it always happens.

It is fucking weird to have a grown-ass man routinely doing it outside of maaaaybe some weirdly homoerotic scene in a stoner comedy or something.

People joke about this practice because it's a thing that exists, not because it is ubiquitous.

That's also why it reads like porn. IRL, if some dude is like "I think we should compare our dicks... uh... and they should be hard so we can compare properly", many other guys are going to interpret that as sexual. And also self-deluding. Which is a good reason to say no.

--

Most people in locker rooms and public bathrooms try to give each other a little privacy if they can, regardless of gender. Openly ogling is what you do if you're about to proposition someone for sex. Or, if it's hostile, you stare because you're about to beat them up.

I'm not saying a guy couldn't sneakily see the size of another guy's junk and have a response, but the whole way you described this sounds like you've never spoken to a human before. Did you seriously get this idea from those clickbait articles?

Among other issues, penises become erect. They look different in different states of arousal. Surely, you've heard of "growers vs. showers"? Temperature also matters. There's a whole fucking bit on Seinfeld that everyone quoted for like years and is probably still quoting about "shrinkage"—i.e. a guy is insecure that someone saw him when he'd just gotten out of the pool and his dick looked small because he was cold. Hopefully, the locker room isn't that cold, but you still don't know what a dude's dick looks like all of the time from catching a glimpse of it one time.

So an adult man who is not completely unfamiliar with penises is not going to 1. openly stare at another man in the locker room and 2. look only at his penis and have some crisis about "Mine looks different".

I suppose for the right character in the right circumstances, you can sell any kind of goofy-ass reaction, including the "breasted boobily" stuff where women think consciously about their tits in a way that actual women generally don't and male authors love to write. But you have to make it a whole Thing. She has to have some reason why her nipples are super sensitive today and thus she pays attention when she normally wouldn't.

Instead, you keep asking these dumbass questions like you're 12 that boil down to "Literally all men are the same cardboard cutout based on their D&D stats from this character sheet. Please tell me some facts about these stats!" instead of approaching people as individual humans who all react differently. You haven't even said anything about what kind of culture these characters come from. Both personality and specific culture (not just big things like nationality but shit like whether they're athletes who change with the same guys all the time) are going to affect how and whether men talk about self esteem and bodies.

You're boiling this down to "What does the penis-having alien species all do?" despite already getting several answers that told you to stop doing that. You either didn't listen or didn't understand what people meant so badly that it's pointless to keep giving you help.

This is not a good way to write three-dimensional characters.

--

Now, I'm not saying nobody has ever snuck a peek in a locker room. Lots of people, regardless of gender, do that. But we're talking covert looks and that kind of looking gives you glimpses of many body parts and not always a very clear look either.

Most actual men on most actual days of their lives are going to feel insecure about their bodies relative to someone else because the other dude looks better at the gym or grows chest and facial hair more easily or is much taller or isn't going bald.

We love to make jokes about penis size, but in my experience, the level of perpetual crisis dudes have over potential baldness is way higher. There are a shitton of ways to be insecure about yourself and your body. That goes for any gender.

Maybe a dude feels insecure because the other guy is much less body-conscious and has an easier time changing in front of people or because he's paid five times as much and is changing into a thousand dollar suit.

Many of the markers of masculinity and attractiveness have very little to do with penises.

There's also a vast difference between your POV character thinking some other dude's huge package is admirable and your POV character thinking he himself is inadequate. He could think his own dick is average and that it would be nicer to be hung like a pornstar without being insecure about it. He could also have a big dick yet still be insecure about it because he's a weirdo who's obsessed with penis size. He could be a size queen who wants to take a ride on that. He could have an ex girlfriend who thought big penises hurt and be creepily fascinated and wonder whom this guy fucks and how they manage.

--

All this shit is a character point. Stop treating it as immutable truth where someone can give you the Correct Answer™ for you to slot into your writing or spank bank fantasies.

[heyhilana]

Hi. I don't know if your taking requests atm but I love your work and was wondering if I could request. Here me out - javier pena x reader. Enemies to lovers trope. Something like they work together, have a fight and wake up in each others bodies the next day. They try to embarrass each other and make things worse. Deep down they both like each other but are so stubborn they don't want to admit their feelings for one another but eventually they do and change back to normal. Sorry if that's confusing. If you can't write it that's all good :) just thought I'd ask. Thanks again.

Hi lovely 😊 Thank you for your request, and I’m sorry that this took me a little while to get to as I've been a little busy. I love the idea, and I tweaked it slightly as I didn’t know exactly what you meant when you said change back to normal so I hope that’s okay! Also, I would’ve made this strictly hate fuck but Javi...he’s just too tender in his scenes to do a hate fuck fully LMAO like we all know that infamous scene where he pulls that girl’s hair and brings her flush to him so my point stands. But, hugs and love and as always, drink water. 💚

-

Summary: Two unlikely and rather animosity filled partners could accurately describe you and Javi. But after a shitshow of a meeting with the bosses, tensions are pulling at the strings that create a crescendo that’s undeniable in a random office you decide to walk into. But it’s the aftermath from the next day that threatens everything of detachment and realization.

A/N: Hi, lovelies! Just to remind you all, requests are open; if and when I need to close them, I will update my masterlist to say they are closed. There is more in my masterlist about who and what I’ll write about for notes. But beyond that, this was super fun for me to write, and I got to rechallenge myself. Also, thank you so much for 1k followers! I never thought I would reach that with my inconsistency, but it means the world to me that you guys enjoy my works and you want to support me :)) But for now, I hope you enjoy reading this! :)

Pairing: Javier Peña x !f reader (enemies/coworkers to lovers)

Warnings: (What can I say? I love a little spice) Hair pulling, spanking, rough grips, orgasm denial, foul language, f and m oral receiving, cum shot on ass, unprotected because this was unexpected hate fuck (but wrap it up), a little bit of degrading, but that's all I can label.

Word Count: 6.1k (You know what it be LMAO)

“You’re an asshole.” You spat, walking out of the boardroom and turning sharply on your heel down the hall.

Asshole was an understatement. Infuriating, jerk, jackass, arrogant, intolerable, the list could go on. Javier Peña, somehow your new partner when you were sent down here, and you would’ve chosen anyone else over him. If it meant peaceful, level-headed conversations, you would’ve even taken the secretary to be your partner. Being at his throat on an everyday basis was draining, lighting fires in you every time he got under your skin.

“I could say the same about you.” Catching up to you and jaw tightening, his presence was something you wanted to shake, but you couldn’t.

“You do it every day.” A dry laugh echoed from you as you walked into the empty office, turning on the lights.

“That’s because you give me a reason to.” You half sat on the desk as he leaned against it in the doorway. How could he be so calm while your blood was boiling, the tipping mark fading into the distance.

“Oh I give you a reason when you get your ass handed to you most days.” You hissed, venom laced in your tone as you folded your arms.

“Did we go to the same meeting because you got your ass handed to you as well in there.” You wanted to forget it all. Crosby and Noonan taking turns tearing into you both over negligence and overall stupidity. A waste of 15 minutes when you could’ve been home, far away from him, since he walked further into the room.

“That’s because your fuck-up got us here.” You tried to keep your voice down as you heard your superiors leaving the building. When you both heard the elevator door open and close, you knew there was no one else there besides you two.

“My fuck-up? It was you who didn’t trust my informant.”

“Because she lies more than she tells the truth! And why would I trust any girl who you’ve been fucking more than talking to.” He narrowed his eyes at you and walked closer, this being the closest you could tolerate since you could feel something brewing in you that you couldn’t place your finger on.

“What I do is my business. I don’t let it cloud my judgment.” He looked down at you, and you kept eye contact, the glare intensifying as you cocked your head slightly.

“You sure about that?”

“What the fuck are you implying since I’m not the one who slept my way up here.” A low blow. Rumors had traveled with you the moment you arrived. The only woman who was qualified for the job, every man was against you for supposedly taking their spot when they didn’t earn it. You worked just like everyone else did, and he was only doing it to get under your skin.

“Don’t you fucking believe that I slept my way up here when you sleep your way into information that leads to fuckups.” Deflection at its finest with him, but you weren’t having it. You were going to leave, but he closed that gap between you, his legs right on yours, and you sat more on the desk. His hands were on the desk, and he was dangerously close to you, your heart pounding out of anger and curiosity about what he would do.

“I don’t let a fuck get in the way of my job. You may be new here, but this is how it goes.” His eyes had never looked so dark before, and you were unsure of why you couldn’t break eye contact with him. Infuriating, yet the pool of desire had grown significantly when you moved your legs.

“You know what? Fuck you.” You spat at him. You could tell he was taken aback by your boldness, but he remained firm where he stood.

“Fuck you.” He enunciated those words, but when you saw the flicker down to your lips ever so slightly, you felt that small stoke of the flame reach new heights.

That first brush on your lips that turned into heady, almost feral kisses was nothing that you could expect. How did he manage to have impossibly soft lips, the odd taste of whiskey that made you drunk over him. The nibble on your bottom lip, the groan that did nothing to quell your desire except intensify it. How his hands rose up your arms to pull off your suit jacket, and his fingertips brushed your exposed collarbone. You helped him with taking off the jacket, discarding it on the desk, and kicking off your heels. He pulled off his jacket and threw it somewhere as you were unbuttoning his shirt as fast as you could.

“Someone’s excited,” He mumbled against your lips, unbuttoning the last button for you and taking it off. “This what you wanted?”

“Don’t let that ego of yours get any bigger,” You mumbled back, and he nibbled on your lip in retaliation. “You’re gonna tease me now?” You pulled back to pull off your blouse, moving it on the table again before you went to unclasp your bra in the front. He stopped you, doing it himself and watching your breasts fall, which made him groan.

“You’re the one teasing me.” He countered before his lips were back on yours with more ferocity that you didn’t think was possible. His hands traveled to your breasts, and yours went up and down his body, feeling him and finally understanding why those women would throw themselves at him. Why he was so confident because he felt amazing. Sure, his arrogance got under your skin, but now you wanted him skin-to-skin with you. You moaned in his mouth when he was playing with your nipples, to which he smiled against your lips. Damn him and all the reactions he could get out of you. Fuck him, you repeated in your head, but your body was begging for him to explore you. He left your lips and kissed down your jaw and to your throat, leaving chaste kisses until that one made you whine. The laugh that followed left you embarrassed and more turned on than you wanted to admit.

“I knew you were a little noisy but whining? Something finally coming out of that mouth of yours that I like.” With that glint in his eye from the window, you could see that he enjoyed all of it. Finally having you after months of being at your throat.

“Shut up already.” You feigned annoyance, but he saw right through you.

“Be careful what you ask for.” You couldn’t come up with a retort once he put his mouth on your nipple, his tongue twirling around it, sucking, flicking it. His other hand massaged your other breast, and you instinctively opened your legs more to let him slide in between you. Even with not being a fan of nipple sucking, he made it hot. You looked down at him and saw he was looking at you, eyes a little low, but his gaze never wavering. You put your hand in his hair and tangled in it, gripping a little when he sucked harder.

“Please don’t stop,” You whined further, grinding on the desk to get some friction. He shifted his mouth to your other breast to give it the attention it deserved, and his hands traveled down to your pants, unbuttoning them without a second thought. He pulled at the hem of them, you moved your hand out of his hair, and put your feet back on the floor to get out of them with him stopping with your breasts to catch his breath. He pulled your pants and panties down for you and kissed your hips, then your thighs, your calves, and when you kicked your pants off he put you back on the desk. You leaned back a little as he put your legs on his shoulders, kneeling before you. You gripped the desk for balance as he got close to your dripping pussy, that smile on his face something that would be imprinted in your mind for a lifetime.

“You sure you hate me?” Ever the one to still push your buttons, you rolled your eyes.

“I can’t fucking stand you.” Those little white lies that you both knew were meaningless as he put two fingers right near your clit and dragged it down on the slit, gathering up your slick in one go.

“You sure about that because she’s telling me otherwise.” He held up his fingers and, just like that, coated with your desire for him that you couldn’t deny without feeling foolish.

“Fuck me.” Double meaning as you knew you were in for it and you needed him to fuck you, he kissed your clit and licked gently, making you gasp.

“Gladly.” Flattening his tongue to lick up your hole, the slit, up to your clit, then sucking your clit, and you were gone. You didn’t know how loud you could get until now, hands tangled in his hair as he switched from sucking to tasting your slick near your hole, the wave of pleasure riding through your body with each passing moment. But when those same two fingers brushed at your hole, the small push before fully slotting them inside you, you forgot how good fingering could be. Curling at your spot, the pace that matched with each suck, the moans that vibrated against your clit. You were sure if there was anyone else in the building on a different floor, they would’ve heard you. But all those rumors surrounding your insufferable partner were true.

“So fucking sweet,” He moved his head up to say that and look at you, that look on your face of pure ecstasy was something he never wanted to forget. Biting your lip, eyes a little low, slightly flushed cheeks, and then trailing down your body to see the thin layer of perspiration glowing on your skin, he felt his dick twitch in his pants from that.

“J-Javi, please I-” The all too familiar feeling in your stomach, the intensity rising as he fingered you a little faster, made you clench around his fingers.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my fingers and make a mess? Déjandome usar tu coño así.” He dove back down to your clit to suck and lick just as he did before. You gripped his hair, and when he curled at that spot, you inhaled a sharp breath and let go, all the sounds you were holding back flowing out and the shutters washing over you. Riding you through it, he slowed his actions just as you stopped shaking, giving your clit a final kiss, and licking at your hole to make you jump. He then brought his fingers to his mouth and got up to show you him tasting it, the act making you clench around nothing when he pulled them out, and they were clean.

“Dulce, mami,” He mumbled before he kissed you, pulling down his pants hastily. You moved your hand down his stomach and palmed him in his boxers, surprised at his size. Even in his tight clothes, you never imagined it to feel this good, this thick. The stretch would be nothing like you imagined, making you pull away from him to get on your knees.

You pulled down his boxers and watched his dick spring up. The rosy red tip with precum leaking, the slight curve, the thickness, it was a sight for sore eyes. You looked up at him and licked your lips before kissing the tip and licking the precum to see him groan and grip the desk. You sucked the tip just enough to tease, making his jaw tighten. You enjoyed the stretch on your lips and jaw as you reached closer to the base. His hand was right at the back of your head, guiding you down nice and slow, coaxing you to take it.

“You can do it, baby. Take every inch of me.” That little praise made you go down to the base, lips touching that soft patch of hair before pulling away, spit dribbling at your lip. You spat in your hand and brought it to the tip, stroking slowly but squeezing just enough to make him hiss. He fucked himself into your tight grip, and you began to move your hand from tip to base, enjoying the way he opened up your grip with how thick he was. You sucked the tip and decided to move your hand down to his thigh to hold him in place to take him to the back of your throat.

“You feel so fucking good. Should’ve known with all that talking you do I should’ve stuffed your mouth.” His knuckles were almost white with how he gripped the desk, and you popped your lips off the tip to glare at him.

“God, you’re so infuriating.” He had a talent for getting under your skin even when you were on your knees for him.

“You’re so much worse.”

“Is this worse?” You put your lips back on the tip and looked up at him.

“N-no.” A smirk was lightly tugging at your lips when you pulled off him again.

“Aw, you’re stuttering.”

“You were doing it first,” Instead of arguing, you took him whole in one go to make him suck in a sharp breath. You kept going just like that, from tip to base taking him until you had to catch your breath and stroke the tip, flicking your wrist a little before going back down to do it again. It kept going like that, Javi was blown away at how long you wanted his shaft down your throat. But something else lingered, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

You could tell he was getting close when a slight whimper escaped his lips. So low that you almost thought it was a figment of your imagination, but it happened again. The sound lit something in you, and you had to get it again, and again, and again because with how much you loved those groans, to hear him have such desperation in his voice, so much ecstasy at your ministrations, it was a high that you never wanted to get off of.

“Right there, baby. Keep going for me, please.” The strain in his voice was evident, and somehow the curve in your mouth grew. There were two thoughts buzzing through your head, surprisingly. To swallow him whole and let him cum, or to deny? Sure, the desire was close to winning, but he had to pay after the stunt he pulled. So, you stopped everything.

“What the fuck was that?” The fire in his eyes elicited a smirk from you.

“You gotta fuck me first if you want to cum.” Toying with him, he pulled you up and pushed you onto the desk, bending you over while you knew you were getting under his skin.

“Oh I’ll fuck you.” Roughly, he pushed inside you, the sheer size making you yelp as he fucked you. Hands gripped tightly on your hips, the grunts that fell from his lips, and knowing that he was taking you just as he knew you would.

“You think it's funny to tease me, don’t you?” He smacked your ass as he thrusted inside you.

“I-I do.” He smacked your ass again, making you bite your lip and hold back your moans.

“Oh, you like the pain,” He smacked your ass three times in a row, and you were sure that it made your ass burn bright red as each sting brought more pain and pleasure from the last. “My handprint on your ass right now is perfect. Little fucking slut.” The way those words fell from his lips would normally make you angry, but it didn’t do anything but make you clench around him harder.

“F-Fuck you!” You stuttered out, pleasure blinding you as you started to meet his thrusts halfway.

“F-Fuck you too.” He pulled you by your hair, and the glimpse you got of light sweat dripping down his face, head full of hair a mess, gritting words through his teeth was breathtaking. He moved your head back down and let go of your hair, resting his hand back on your hip.

You whined a little, feeling your orgasm approach quickly. From how he stretched you out and brushed up against your pleasure spot, you knew it would come quicker than you could anticipate. You wanted to cum without him noticing, but with the pulsing you did all around his shaft, he knew that you were trying to play it off.

“Feels like you want to cum,” He trailed off as he moved one of his hands down to your clit, rubbing tight and fast circles enough to make you jolt up.

“Yes, I need to cum.” You rasped out, barely making a coherent thought in your head. He fucked you through it just until you were about to cum, even denying himself an orgasm before he pulled out, making you turn your head to look at him.

“You thought I would let you cum? So naïve.” He laughed while you were fuming. Why did you think he would let you cum twice after the stunt you pulled? And, more importantly, why were you in this position?

“I fucking hate you.” You gritted through your teeth, getting ready to move away and get dressed, but he stopped you, gripping your hip with one hand to keep you in place.

“I hate you so much more.” He pushed back inside you, and you were relieved to feel him again, even with your mind telling you that he was the enemy. An enemy who could play with your body while simultaneously getting under your skin, bringing you to ecstasy faster than any man could.

But for him, hearing you loosen up on him, the regular insults transforming into breathless moans as your body begging for him changed something in him. A hate fuck that he was used to, getting it out of the way before he would go home to drink and go to sleep. But this? No, he was transfixed on giving you more than he normally would, even if you were everything that he couldn’t stand.

Suddenly, a twitch was felt right up on your spot as your intense pulses increasing with each second. His hand went back down to your clit to rub faster circles, and he bent down just enough to get a little closer to your ear.

“You gonna cum? Use that pretty mouth of yours and scream my name.” Deep, a little raspy even as he encouraged you to cum, you let go and squeezed all around him as you came, much to his pleasure as he tried to ride it out for you. Just as he couldn’t hold it anymore, he pulled out in a haste to cum on your ass. Heavy breaths, body shaking, mind empty, you both were spent. Drunk off the other's touch and how you both felt, you knew you did something that would cause issues in the morning. He moved off to grab a tissue from the desk, wiping off your other ass cheek that he came on and admiring the light handprint on your ass.

“That’s gonna be pretty in the morning.” He commented as he got up. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your clothes which were all over the place, putting them on quickly.

“How does everything that comes out of your mouth annoy me?” You put your blouse back on and looked at him as he put his shirt back on.

“Just before you were enjoying my words.” Your face burned after he spoke, turning your head while you pulled on your panties and then pants.

“That doesn’t count,” You trailed off, voice not as strong as usual given that you knew you were lying.

“Right,” He pulled on his pants, walking over to you to tilt your head up when he finished. “I can go for round 2 at your place.” Your eyes lit up at those words, and you smirked.

“Follow me home then.”

-

The Colombian sun shined through your bedroom window, cascading a shadow on your bed as you stirred in your sleep. The window was open, making your room a little bit rise in temperature by noon, and you could faintly hear the cars driving down the street. The sheets tangled, limbs as well, an arm lazily wrapped around your waist, you were close to thinking that you were still dreaming. Your back felt warm, and there was a soft rumble hitting your upper back with each breath he took. Finally, you opened your eyes, seeing that the sun was higher in the sky, which you were not used to seeing so much in your apartment. You turned to face Javi, seeing that he was fast asleep, snoring softly as he was undisturbed by your shift in bed.

Somehow, he looks softer than you’ve ever seen him. The sheet rested just above his hip bone, trailing up, you could see his tan skin, the soft expanse of his stomach, his chest, his collarbone, his neck, up to his face. That damned face of his. 12 hours ago, and you couldn’t stand the sight of him, yet he was tangled in your bed, snoring softly. If you didn’t remember that he was the enemy still, you would’ve stared at him until you couldn’t anymore, but when you turned over to finally look at your clock, and it read 8:00 am, you were fucked.

“Shit. I’m late.” You sprung out of bed to close your window. Javi stirred as he rubbed his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“8:00 am. We have to meet Noonan by 8:30.” You rushed it out as you tried to find clean clothes, cursing yourself for not getting up. That alarm you had to set faded into the distance when you brought him to your bed last night. The way his lips felt on your neck made all your thoughts melt away as you let him take you once more.

“Fuck, you’re right.” He got out of bed fast, trying to find his clothes that were discarded in your room. It didn’t take much last night to help him undress, although it was slower, less hasty. The air felt different the second go around, with no pesky insults to throw the other off the scent of surface-level tension, culminating into something more. It was just you and him, using every inch of the bed for as long as you could keep your eyes open. You both put your clothes on and were headed for the door when you turned to face him, your face burning at how this would play out.

“What are we going to tell Noonan?” You asked, and his incredulous look made you sink further into embarrassment.

“What do you mean what do we tell her?”

“She’s going to ask why we’re both late, so we need an excuse.” Perhaps you were overthinking it, trying to avoid the other question that was burning in your head worse than a typical hangover.

“Just act how you normally act and I’ll do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard since this was just a one-time thing.” He brushed it off and walked ahead of you, and it stung in your heart more than his usual banter with you. Nothing was what he thought. Nothing to him when it meant everything to you when he was coaxing you into new highs for him, to unwind for him and let him get to the deepest parts of you. Nothing. Nothing for him, and it was nothing for you as you walked out the door.

“Got it.” The hardness in your voice surprised him when you didn’t catch his eyes again. You were the same as you were yesterday, stoic and angry as he knew you to be most of the time. Yet he realized he liked it more the way you were last night and how he was much softer with you. To have it all again would be nice, but those dreams of tomorrow were not promised in the lives you both lived.

-

A traffic-filled drive later, you and Javi were in the elevator waiting to see Noonan. You both look disheveled, even with fixing yourself in the car as you drove, but it would still get some comments from her that you didn’t need. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, and you both walked there as fast as you could, seeing that Noonan’s door was ajar. You walked in first, and Javi followed. and Noonan looked just the same as last night, making you wish you didn’t have to see her today.

“You both look like you went through a pigsty.” She pushed her papers to the side and darted her eyes between you both.

“Shower’s broken.” You made up, and you could see Noonan was fighting to roll her eyes at you.

“Well get it fixed.”

“Will do.” It was best to speak less around her, and when her attention was redirected to Javi, you were in the clear.

“What’s your excuse Peña? Couldn’t bother to iron?” Javi had a backup outfit in his car, yet it was wrinkled, and you could only imagine why that was the case.

“The iron broke yesterday. Didn’t have time to buy another one.” She didn’t buy it at all, and if you weren’t still pissed from earlier, you would’ve fought back a laugh.

“You have time to fuck up everything else but not get ready. Your priorities are wonderful,” You had to stifle a laugh there, or else she would chew you in again. “Just get your shit done and try to fix yourselves up.”

“Understood.” You both spoke in unison.

“And that meeting yesterday was a disaster. I’ve never had partners go against each other like that to save their ass.”

“With all due respect, Y/L/N went out on a limb and I didn’t have much of a choice. She wouldn’t trust my informant even after she met her.” You turned your head to look at him, the urge to slap him making you ball your hand into a fist.

“You seem to make a lot of choices for yourself without much thought, Peña. Don’t act like you have reservations now.”

“Peña’s informant has lied multiple times now, only with some of her intel being useful. I didn’t trust her with this because it could’ve led us to a death trap and he keeps going to her anyways. I had to do what made sense.” The damage control was useless once more, as you could see the irritation in her eyes.

“What would’ve made sense was to follow protocol. You went completely off the rails and were going to put yourself in danger without telling anyone. For that I should send you back to the States.”

“I’m sorry about what I did. It won’t happen it again.” Javi didn’t say anything, and you presumed it was that she wouldn’t believe he was sorry anyways.

“You’re right, it won’t. Figure out how to work together or I’ll put you both on desk duty permanently somewhere else. Now go take care of that paperwork Juarez left on your desks.”

“Yes ma’am.” You both walked out, reminiscent of the night before as you were fuming again. You walked straight to your desk and saw the stacks of files that were as tall as you are right in the middle. Javi’s was a little bit larger, and you wished someone else could help. You sat down and began to sort through them, ignoring the stare he was giving you.

“Your hair looks like it got tangled in a fan.” You scoffed, his first words to you being an insult like always.

“Could say the same for you. You could go undercover as a shaggy dog.”

“You seemed to like it last night.”

“That was a mistake.” You gritted through your teeth. You didn’t look, but you could feel the air shift between you two.

“You’re right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He was stoic, maybe a little angry, even when he didn’t have the right to be. After all, it was his idea to treat it as such.

“I’m just following what you said this morning. Nothing remotely special about what happened.” While you were talking to him, deep down, you were reassuring yourself that this was all it was as you read through the files and tried to finish them off. Distractions from how your body shivered from the memories of last night, how he said those sweet little nothings that would echo in your mind longer than they should.

“Something’s finally useful in that head of yours.”

“I’m surprised you have thoughts at all. You only seem to think when it’s about saving your ass.” You took a quick glance and saw he was fuming and doing a terrible job of hiding it.

“I missed it when you weren’t speaking.” He muttered, finishing a file and sliding it over in haste.

“And I can’t wait to get away from you.” You replied, busying yourself with files as you could feel the pang in your heart grow with each passing moment. You blinked away your tears as you thought about last night, returning you to a better place.

Brushing your hair out of your face, the gentle kiss on your forehead. Sweet nothings as he went slow. Completely drunk off of both times, but the second one made you squeeze his hand as he thrusted into you. Again, and again, and again.

-

Nightfall came, and you were finished with your files. Javi had finished 20 minutes before you did, leaving without saying goodnight. You turned off the light at your desk and grabbed your things, passing by the office for a moment which made you stop in your tracks. Nearly 24 hours ago, he had you bent over in there and then, shortly after, gave you a much tender, softer side of him that you couldn’t stop thinking about. Now, it was as if nothing happened when you wanted to talk about it. Hell, you wanted it to happen again, and again, and again. He made your existence hell, but when you thought about things as you walked into the office, you thought about who he really was. His efforts were unconventional, but he had to get his hands dirty after doing this for a long time. And even with how he pushed back on your efforts, he had reason, as did you. Maybe you had him pegged wrong, but you were going to stick to what you said before. It was nothing, despite it making you feel everything.

You went to the elevator and hit the garage level, fighting back tears as they threatened to fall before you got in the car. What were you feeling over one night? Was the first time what tipped you over the edge, or was it the second time? That damned second time shouldn’t have happened. But you didn’t want to regret it, not when it replayed in your head.

“That’s it. Take it all for me.”

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

"Tomándome tan bien."

And a little phrase that went over your head.

“Eres mía.”

Before you knew it, the elevator dinged, and you reached the garage level. You walked out and saw that Javi was there on the left waiting for you.

“I thought you left 20 minutes ago.” You asked, but you didn’t look at him. Not when your eyes were still a little glassy and you didn’t want to be that vulnerable.

“I was, but I waited so I could tail you on the way home.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Now he cares. Now he wants to be nice.

“I’m good, Javi. I can take care of myself alright? I have my gun and my knife so there’s no need to worry.” You were beginning to walk off but he caught your wrist and pulled you back.

“There’s sicarios out there. I can’t let you go out there like that.” You finally looked at him and saw his eyes were a little glassy too. Surely you were imagining it. You had to be.

“Why do you care?” Voice trembling, you were letting a wall down with him.

“I…I don’t. I’m just making sure you don’t become the next example for them.” Somehow that beat he took before speaking gave you everything you needed to know.

“You never did this before.”

“I’m not gonna make it a habit.” If he was going to close up, so were you. You took his hand off your wrist and moved back.

“I don’t expect you to. You’re just doing your job I guess.” You regretted asking that question, and your feet were itching to run to your car.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, Javi. Just go home and leave me be.” Your feet begged to run, but your heart kept you right in place.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t have to. It didn’t mean anything just like none of this means anything.” Tears welled again just as your heart swelled from pain. Why couldn’t you leave? What was seeing him get closer to you, grabbing your hands and interlocking them that made you want more?

“This doesn’t mean anything to you?” He caught your gaze and you couldn’t escape it. You sucked in a breath, savoring it before answering.

“No.”

“You hesitated.” He squeezed your hand and you squeezed back.

“Does it mean anything to you?” You countered.

“Don’t put this on me.” Damn him for calling you out for the reversal.

“You asked.”

“Be honest with me. Did you think about what we did last night at all today?” His voice was softer, the hint of desperation laced in that pulled at your heartstrings.

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Okay, maybe. Did you?” That maybe held you from admitting it completely, but the glimmer of hope that flashed in his eyes made you realize that it meant something to him.

“All day today. I couldn’t stop.” He was a little breathless, the weight of that finally off his shoulders.

“I thought you didn’t care.” He sighed when you spoke.

“Did you believe me for a second when I said it?”

“I had my doubts but I wasn’t sure. Did you believe me?”

“No. Not then, not now.” He squeezed your hand again, pulling you a little closer. He opened his mouth but closed it just as fast, making you wonder what he wanted to say.

“You’re hesitating on asking me something.” He averted his eyes from you but you caught his gaze again.

“Well if you’re going to dodge the truth I won’t ask.”

“I’ll be honest. I swear.”

“Do you want that to happen again…and more?” The vulnerability in his voice was evident with the pause he took, his voice cracking just enough that you knew you weren’t in this by yourself.

“I do. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do.” That was all you needed to hear before you took the leap. That leap led you to kiss him softly, pouring all those buried feelings into it, knowing that you were finally happy. Happiest with him, even with what would come after. He pulled back but he let go of your hands and put them on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb against them.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you before. I never believed the rumors because you proved yourself. And I’m sorry for what I did earlier with Noonan. You were right about my informant even when I didn’t want to believe it.” Sincerity in his voice and his eyes, you gave him a warm smile that you didn’t know you had in you after all this time being down here.

“It’s okay. And I’m sorry for accusing you of letting things like your informants get in the way of your job. I know we both want the same thing we just have different ways of getting it done.” The smile that was etched onto his face made you smile a little wider, two grinning agents as if they were teens crushing on each other.

“I think we want two things.” You cocked your head to the side as his smile changed into a smirk.

“You sure?” You challenged, and he kissed you again, which was deeper and more passionate. Somehow, you didn’t think you would get enough of his kisses anytime soon.

“Positive.”

“Tail me home then.”

-

Translations:

Déjandome usar tu coño así - Letting me use your pussy like this.

Dulce - Sweet (you guys should know what mami is LMAO)

Tomándome tan bien - You're taking me so well.

Eres mía - You're mine.

#javier pena smut #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier peña #javier pena #javier pena x you #javier pena angst #javier pena/reader #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #narcos fic #pedropascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #lanawrites #coworkers to lovers #slight enemies to lovers #i say slight because it's not full blown but its there

[kentocidal]

i fucking hate you (but i love you)

alhaitham x afab!reader

tws: dubcon, afab reader, hatefucking, semi-public (they’re in the akademiya), porn with plot, alhaitham has questionable motives but like barely so do with this warning what you will, pulling out

words: ~3.9k

a/n: i did his story quest and then i was possessed. lol um anyway. reblogs >>> likes.

it was your fault for choosing the elective course with the smallest number of registered students. no, seriously, it had to have been your fault. only you of all people would have made such an idiotic mistake. you knew something was up when you had enrolled and saw the suspiciously low number, but hey, it was just an easy elective from haravatat, what could go wrong?

everything. the answer had been everything.

“you have it wrong again.”

those words had become ingrained into your brain, etched into your bloodstream and made you boil over. you had failed almost every test, every assignment, absolutely butchering every field task you were given for this class about linguistics for a language you had been studying for years, and instead of just dropping the class and choosing another elective, you chose to take on a tutor, also from your class at the time, and he had been your worst nightmare.

alhaitham. a star haravatat student destined for greatness. someone you should have been looking up to, someone that honestly should have helped more. but, alas, alhaitham (in your opinion) was stuck too far up his own ass to help with your grades, or with your comprehension of anything having to do with the material you were struggling with.

“this is an easy concept. i really do not need to explain it to you.”

“you- you’re literally being paid to explain it to me. explain it.”

“no.”

“you do realize you’re supposed to be tutoring me?”

“yes, i do. i have explained this concept three times by now. at this point, it is simply your own fault for not comprehending it- you are definitely wrong again there, too.”

alhaitham did not help your grades. alhaitham did not help you. he did not find the idea of helping someone other than himself interesting, not in the slightest, but yet he still showed up to your twice-a-week tutoring sessions to piss you the fuck off.

twice a week you would be given long paragraphs to read over and translate, or images of runes to decipher and translate again. and alhaitham would sit next to you, his nose in a book, barely answering your questions with more than ten words at maximum. or, worse, he would stand almost over you, his presence just over your shoulder and over your back, watching the way your ink pencil scribbled mindlessly over the images or the texts to try and make sense of them. he would click his tongue in those moments, shifting his weight behind you, and the hairs on your neck would always stand on end.

alhaitham was really only there because he was forced to, and so were you, but in the short month and a half that you were with him twice a week, you found yourself absolutely loathing your fellow student.

you passed the class by a hair’s breadth, marring your educational reputation within the akademiya for good. and it was mostly your fault for believing that the elective course would be easy for you, but something inside of you had snapped. you did not like alhaitham.

you grunted as you carried the hefty file down the long, winding hallway, clutching it close to your chest and gritting your teeth.

it had been a long time since that elective course, and every time you heard of alhaitham’s academic achievements afterward sent some foreign emotion through your body. while he continued to succeed and grow, you had to rebuild your reputation from the ground up. while he became a scribe, a hero, you were stuck in the shadows, working in the background for your previous master in spantamad. your name was listed almost last on all of his papers, as if he was ashamed of the fact that you were there. you felt as though your accomplishments were not your own, and you were promptly of the opinion that someone other than yourself needed to be blamed for your unfortunate misgivings.

alhaitham was that person. which was why this task of yours was so bothersome.

not only were you lugging worthless documents halfway across sumeru city to the akademiya main offices to drop them off for filing, you had to hand them to alhaitham. the same guy who you felt had a hand in ruining you.

you gritted your teeth harder together as you made your way up the stairs towards the scribe’s private offices.

you felt like he had been a constant presence in your life ever since that semester with him. alhaitham was consistently in the background, enshrouding your consciousness with his overbearing presence. you wanted to walk through sumeru city to clear your head from studying? he was there, sitting in the back of puspa cafe with some physics book in hand. you wanted to go out towards apam woods to get some data on ley lines for your research and your thesis? he was there too, studying some old decrepit domain and sketching the symbols on the arches. and he would always glance over, as if to say, see, i’m better than you. you’re not worthy of your lowly position beneath me.

part of you wanted to seriously scream at him. give him a piece of your mind. but maybe that’s what he really wanted from you, or maybe he really just didn’t care. not at all.

you stopped outside the door to the scribe’s office, glaring hard at the lacquered nameplate that had been made for him. ‘scribe alhaitham.’ what a fucking joke.

you shifted the heavy folder to one arm and turned the knob, pushing the door all the way open. the scribe was often never in the place anyone needed him to be, so you had been instructed to just leave the file on his desk with a note from your master that simply explained where it was from, and to please file accordingly, thank you very much.

unfortunately, though, you weren’t allowed to have good luck. not when it came to alhaitham.

you stared bug-eyed at the gray-haired man sitting behind a desk that had never been so neat in the length of time that you had been dropping files off to him. it seemed that the scribe had actually chosen to report to work during business hours, for the first time in his adult working life, and looking at him straight on made your stomach flip.

also, you hadn’t knocked. so you were just barging in on the scribe while he was probably doing something of some importance to warrant his appearance in the akademiya.

you wanted to be sick. you couldn’t.

“excuse me?” alhaitham stared at you, a look of mild surprise overshadowed by annoyance. “can i… help you with something? you look lost.”

you stared at him for another moment, feeling like a fish out of water what with the way your jaw opened and closed. it had been a considerable amount of time since you had seen him up close.

“i’m- here to drop these off.”

“okay.” he jutted his chin towards his desk, and you remembered that yeah, you should probably put them down and leave.

just put them down and leave. your feet moved, and your arms moved to shift the weight of the file folder, and your hands definitely moved to grab it and set it down properly in front of him, but your head? your head was spinning, what was this? loathing? rage? jealousy?

“next time, you really should knock. i was in the middle of something.”

his voice cut like a knife, and your lips were moving before you could wrap your head around your thoughts.

“oh, i’m so sorry, scribe alhaitham. or should i still call you the grand sage? i don’t know what to call you these days, since you’re never around to do your job.”

you hesitated for a second after the words left your mouth, and then you took a step back to look at him, eyes wide.

alhaitham was a rather stoic man. his facial expression almost never changed from that of mild boredom and dissatisfaction with the world around him. he was the type of man to sit and stew about everything all of the time. it seemed, to many, like he had no true emotions at all.

this time, though, when you looked at him after insulting him to his face, he looked… he looked almost shocked, bewildered would be a better word for it. somewhere in those oranged-tinged irises, though, laid a deeply seated heat that could only be attributed to anger.

you had gotten a rise out of him.

“i’m sorry?” his voice was steady, but from where he was sitting in his chair, he looked stiff.

you swallowed. you would be fired. at least you could go out in a blaze of glory.

“you heard me.” your voice was shaking, and you forced air back into your lungs as you did your best to find the best vocabulary to use on him. he was intelligent, after all; he’d be able to understand. “it isn’t my fault for just walking in here. i mean, you’re never around when you’re supposed to be. isn’t it the job of the scribe to, you know, take notes of the goings-on in meetings and within the akademiya? you would think that after your disgustingly high pay raise from playing grand sage simulator for a month, you would find it in you to stop being so self-serving and actually do some of us a favor by doing your job. we’ve all gotten accustomed to you not being around when you need to be because you’re always off doing some fuckery or some independent research, so excuse me for deciding to skip the formality that i don’t believe you truly deserve.”

you had to force air back into your lungs. you had shifted forward a bit, hands on his desk, towering over him like you had some sort of power in this dynamic, when it was entirely the opposite.

alhaitham’s brows were knitted together, an annoying crease making itself known above the bump in his nose. you took another breath as he sat back, smoothed out the front of his shirt.

“are you still hung up on our class together?”

you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “what?”

“you cannot blame me for your lack of educational prowess in a subject that is far out of your field.” alhaitham hummed as he pushed his chair back, got to his feet, reminded you of his station above you both physically and mentally. “i tried to tutor you, but nothing i did for you ever worked. that is simply not my fault.”

“you-” you stood up, trying to meet his height. “you asshole. you didn’t try at all. all you did was intimidate me- this has nothing to do with the past!” you snarled at him, all bark and really no bite, “i have tried my best to recover from the hell that you put me through. while you were handed everything on a silver spoon, i had to claw my way into a job-”

“don’t try and speak on subjects you don’t have any true knowledge of, it’s unbecoming.” he squinted at you, hands relaxed at his sides while yours were fists.

alhaitham was a menace. you hated him. he had everything you had ever wanted – a cushy job within the akademiya, status, worthy research tagged to his name, and you had failed one class in his field and failed. it had shifted your world, your future, and he remembered it.

“you make me sick.” you hissed at him, and he barely shrugged as he stepped around the wooden desk between you to your side.

“i can’t say the feeling is mutual, because it certainly isn’t. i almost want to pity you.”

he was tall. you felt like heat was radiating off of him as you took a step back and away from him, just one. you glared up at him, something in your abdomen shifting, like when you would drink too much water at one time. maybe you were going to be sick because of him.

it was stifling in the small office as you glared at each other. the proximity between you and the scribe was small to begin with, but it felt like it became ever smaller now that alhaitham was on the same side of the desk as you.

alhaitham sighed. “you are just as pathetic now as you were then in my class. it’s unfortunate that you barely passed, there’s potential in you.” the feeble scholar stepped into your personal space, crowding you against the bookcase behind you. “i’ve seen your previous work, your research. i am the scribe, after all. i do in fact do my job, and do it well. if you had been just a bit more open to learning from me, perhaps you would have my position instead.”

something inside your chest lurched as you stared up at him, your anger and hatred pulling back like waves receding from the shoreline, leaving something in its wake.

the tide shifted. a storm was brewing.

it was hot in the office. far too quiet. no one ever really came up to the scribe’s office, let alone his floor; he was never there, there was barely a need.

the tension in the room crackled. alhaitham had always been there, working in the background, tugging your eyes away from your work or your life to command your attention to him.

the first crack of lightning spidered across an ever-darkening sky.

you weren’t sure who had moved first, whether it had been your hands to his collar or his hands to your face, but suddenly he was on you, his mouth on yours, bruising and forcing you to simply open up to him. and you were kissing him back, fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, crumpling it beneath your nails and tugging him forward to feel the weight of his broad chest pressed against yours.

his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, fighting with yours to occupy the most space; alhaitham always took up the most space in a room and this was no exception. his hands, calloused from his sword usage and so hot, brought your face closer to his and tipped your head back to really stand over you. you felt him against your thigh through his pants, hard and twitching, and part of you wondered how long he had been hard for. did he get off on getting told he was shit at his job? at being degraded?

did he get worked up because it was you?

his hands slid their way down from your face, over your chest and to your sides to pull you flush to him. some worthless sound bubbled up in your throat, making you feel small and meek against his broad chest.

he started to move, and you went with him, biting at his lips and making him hiss and bite you right back.

he brought you over to the front of his desk again, barely pulling away and licking the saliva that clung between you two away to push you back until you were just barely sitting on the top of his desk. he seemed to have a motive, calculated ministrations planned three moves ahead at all times.

you felt like a pawn in his chess game, and you let him take your queen.

his rough hands gripped at your sides and pushed their way towards the buckle on your pants, and you put your hands on his desk to lift yourself up, sliding on the papers you had brought and scattering some to the ground.

“you messed it up,” he huffed at you, his turquoise eyes completely hooded and darkened to some deep, foreign color.

“fuck you.”

“i will.” he grunted as he pulled your uniform pants down and off, dropping them to the floor and shoving his way right back between your thighs.

you panted, having barely a moment of reprieve as he removed his hands from your body to start tugging at his belt buckle. somewhere in your hazy mind, you asked yourself what you were doing, but the question disappeared when his lips crashed into yours again, making your teeth bump into his and making you whine.

it was like he needed to remind you that he was in charge here. he was ahead of you in everything, always coming out on top, even now.

you groaned into his mouth when you heard his belt buckle finally clink open, and the shuffling of fabric. he didn’t push his pants or boxers down, not yet anyway; he pulled away from your kiss finally and put a hand on the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his shoulder to make you watch as his fingers moved your panties to the side to reveal your sticky cunt to the both of you. you bit your lip to fight back a whine, his fingers threading through your hair as the middle finger on his other hand swiped slowly through your folds, making you jolt. he was silent as his rough finger traced over your hard clit before slipping back down and slowly, slowly sinking into your fluttering hole.

you moaned, mouth dropping open as knuckle by knuckle your enemy’s thick finger pushed into you, you wanted to drop your head back, arch up into him, but the hand in your hair held you steady and firm, acting like an anchor while the storm crashed in your ocean.

he pumped his finger in and out of you, experimentally, testing the waters, stretching you. it wasn’t for your pleasure, despite how he curled in you; he was prepping you proper, stretching you open.

one finger turned to two, and your moans got higher at the stretch, turning to whines as your thighs tried to press together but couldn’t because of his hips being in the way. he kept you spread open, barely having a foothold on the desk, gripping at his shirt. he had you at his mercy as he scissored his fingers inside you to prep you, soaking his hand with your juices, shushing you gently and making sure you were ready to take his cock.

you cried out when two fingers turned to three, scissoring and stretching you farther than your own fingers had allowed. your head was buzzing and part of you recognized that you were allowing this to occur on an akademiya desk in an akademiya building, but fuck it. damn it all to hell, even.

his fingers slowly pulled out of you and you whined at the loss, but his opposite hand pulled your head up by your hair to get you sitting up straight. both of his hands moved to finally, finally free his cock from its constraints, and it jumped up towards his stomach, hard and leaking.

you bit your lip. what had you gotten yourself into?

neither of you said a word as he pulled your panties to the side again, harder this time, and pressed the hot tip of his cock to your wet clit. the slide made you both groan, your eyes rolling back while his nose scrunched up slightly.

alhaitham gritted his teeth as he guided the head of his cock through your sticky folds, catching on your entrance and making you whimper. it was only a matter of time until he was pushing into you, guiding himself all the way, sinking deep into your wet heat and carving himself a home there.

your jaw went slack and your hands braced themselves on the desk, crumpling your papers, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

your eyes finally caught alhaitham’s when you felt his hands under your knees, pulling them up to hook in the slots of his elbows. you squirmed. you were completely open, stretched and full, being forced to be split apart on his cock.

he stared at your face as he pulled his hips back, and then slammed home, and got a sick pleasure out of watching all of the air leave your lungs.

he set a brutal pace, grunting and watching your pussy closely as you started to wail into the confines of his office, head either thrown back or staring down at the milky white ring you were leaving at the base of his cock. it bullied into you, and you swore you could feel his tip kissing your cervix when he shifted angles.

finally, the prodigal scribe spoke, shifting and leaning more into you to bite at your neck. “fuck…” he groaned against your ear, and you felt like you had ascended.

the tidal wave building within you finally started to come to a crescendo, and your body started to go taut, squirming under him, clawing at his back. “a-a- ‘haitham, i-“

“i know. i can feel you.” he practically growled against your ear, and the bass was like thunder, making you cry out and start to really come on his cock, the pap, pap, pap of his hips meeting yours getting louder as you gushed around him and gripped him like a vice.

he huffed against your skin and made sure you were properly coming down from your high before pulling out at the absolute last minute to shoot white ropes over your pussy, making a further mess of you.

you both stayed there for a second, panting against each other’s skin. your hands slowly dropped from his back, and he placed one of your legs down carefully, and then the other, as if he were some kind of gentleman. that kindness was kind of wiped away by the way he assessed the mess of your pussy, hummed, and moved your panties back to their rightful spot, keeping his cum there. he patted your pussy over your panties, making you jump and whimper.

“this should keep you relaxed now, shouldn’t it? you are always so upset. hopefully this will keep you at bay for some time for me to continue my work.” alhaitham took a small step back to tuck himself away and fix his pants, cleaning himself up while you sat there on his desk, ever so slow to catch up to his speed.

you couldn’t say anything before he was helping you back into your uniform. your head was clouded and foggy as he looked you over, holding your chin between his wet fingers and assessing your face.

“you have potential. i can assure you of that. do not underestimate your intelligence or your strengths.” he pressed an almost chaste kiss to your lips. “go, your other master is most likely wondering where you’ve gone. do not make him think you are skipping out on your assignments.”

confused and muddled, you left the office and shut the door behind you.

your anger surged, but it was but a small wave against the much larger ship that was now going to become a problem: you liked him.

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #tw.dubcon #alhaitham.txt #asktotag.txt #tw.ns/fw #woodrow.txt #here it is folks! eat up!

[jeanette-luminia]

Hey can you do a Larissa x femreader where reader insecurities get the best of her (age gap and how she looks maybe) and Larissa being stressed with work just push her more down to that hole and theres no happy ending...... sorry i just want to have a good cry

𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 || 𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑨 𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑴𝑺

a/n: I didn't expect requests to be quite overwhelming but I love it! I had fun writing this cuz I love angst, thank you anon. &lt;3

“Doesn’t it feel weird?” your friend, Aera, said out of nowhere. Confused, you stopped drinking your coffee and tilted your head, pushing her to continue.

“I mean, Larissa’s older than you,” she said. You gripped your cup a little too hard as you kept still in your seat.

Don’t start this again.”

“I’m only stating my opinion.”

“Well, some opinions should be kept inside.” your anger was seeping, feeling your head boiling. “Y/N, she’s 43, you’re 24. Shouldn’t you be with someone who’s… I don’t know, a closer to your age?” she tried to reason.

“So what? I love her, and we’re both adults.”

“Jesus Christ, when was the last time she actually paid attention to you?” you stopped. People around you always talk about that feeling when they realize something big. When they froze. When they felt like time suddenly stopped. The feeling of your heart sinking. You were sure yourself you wouldn’t have to feel that. Everything was okay. You and Larissa are okay.

Yet you sit still, feeling your stomach drop, it almost made you sick. Everything around you was a blur. You felt your heartache, reaching your fingertips. Usually, you like the feeling of it while reading a sad book that made you sob. But at this moment, it hurts.

“S—she’s just busy.” You tremble.

“That’s bullshit. You’re forgetting that you’ve complained to me that your girlfriend hasn’t been giving you attention.”

You looked at Aera. “how much?”

“How much what?” she looked puzzled.

“How much have I been complaining?”

“...” she stared at you for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “At least every other day for weeks.” you bring your hand to your face, and you took a shaky breath as you feel an overwhelming emotion take over you. 

“Listen, I’m not saying this just because I want to ruin your relationship, because I know you love her so much and that you are happy with her. But for fuck sake know your worth.” She took your hand.

“You should be with someone who will be there when you need them. I understand that she’s busy but avoiding you isn’t the answer. You should be with someone who will make time for you and is younger than her. ”

You wipe the tear that has slipped, composing yourself. “I’ll talk to her.”

You walked along the corridor, the sun was setting, and the students has retreated to their own dorm rooms. You were sure Larissa was still on her desk. Seemingly enough, you were right.

You walked in quietly, wanting to get this over with as your heart pound like someone is playing the drums. Larissa didn’t even look up to see who entered, her eyes is glued to her laptop screen.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, love.”

“How many times will I tell you to knock before coming inside?” she briefly looked in your direction before going back to typing on her laptop. She was annoyed and her patient was running on thin ice.

You thought about backing away, letting this conversation be discussed at another time. But here you are, standing in front of her desk.

“We need to talk.”

She paused, looking up at you. You saw how annoyed she was, being disturbed by her work. It’s just like how your parents look at you.

“We can talk later, dear.” she pushed away.

You shook your head. “No. Let’s talk now.”

She sighed and massage the bridge of your nose. “What?”

You looked down, feeling an overwhelming anticipation rise up from your body. You took a deep breath before saying: “You haven’t paid attention to me.” you felt your anxiety rise, and words end up in a whisper at the end.

You heard her chuckle, and you heard your heart crack.

“Y/N, that's all you want to talk about?”

“Y–yes but-”

“I’ve been busy, my dear. Running an entire school with supernatural teenagers is harder than your job.” she gritted her teeth, holding her anger. She’d been stressed by the recent activities. Wednesday has been causing trouble all over town and Sheriff Galpin has been complaining none stop.

Her anger wasn’t towards you, she just has a lot going on right now.

You felt anger bubbling all over you. “Even so, you should take a break and maybe spend time with me.”

“Not everything is about you.”

“Oh really? Coming from the person who just said that running an entire school with supernatural teenagers is harder than my job.” You retorted. You had enough of her little act.

“You know what I mean.”

“No! I don’t get what you mean! Why is work more important to me? I understand that you are keeping the school working but you need a break as well and I—”

You jumped as she slammed her hand on her desk, flinching away as she rose from her seat. “You’re acting like a child Y/N! You need to grow up and realize that not everything is about you!”

You’re acting like a child Y/N. she thinks you’re just a child. Just like everyone thinks of you being in a relationship with her. 

You’re too young for her.

She’ll think you're a child.

She will have power over you.

She’s too old to be your partner.

Suddenly you feel tears in your eyes, your lips wobble in fear of her hurting you much more than she’s hurting you right now. You felt as if your heart was broken, broken into a million pieces. Maybe she wasn’t for you, you were just forcing it to work out.

Larissa paused, witnessing the damage she just caused. Your figure trembles as she towers over you. Your tears uncontrollably fall. You shield yourself against hers. She realized she became the monster she promised not to.

“Love, I–”

“Don't.”

She walked towards you, but you backed away. “You have no idea how much I’ve endured just to keep our relationship,” you said. “You have no idea how much I’ve heard people say how I should date people around my age. People say that I’m way too younger for you or you’re way too old for me. How you’ll think of me as a child.” you let everything out. The anger, the pain, the insecurities.

“I felt insecure about our relationship and you weren’t there for me! For us!” you cried, not caring about how loud you were being. “You’re always at work. I’m busy with work too but I make time for you. I wished that if I make time for you, you’d do the same.” you bring up a hand to cover your face. Your voice became hoarse and trembling.

“I guess I’m just a child.”

Her heart stung from the word she said. “No no no, you’re not a child, I was just stressed and was caught up with work.” she tried to reason out.

“Please love, I’m sorry I– I’ll make time for you. I promise. I’ll clear my schedule—”

“Too late.” she paused.

“... what?”

“Let’s end this Larissa,” you said, as you stared at her. “No please, Y/N. I’d do anything just don’t go—I’ll make time for you. Please love.” tears swell up in the corner of her eye. She wants you to stay. She needs you to stay. You were her home. The sole reason why she comes home.

“Goodbye Larissa.” You whispered, walking away from the distraught figure who is still trying to process everything.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry.” she cried out. Her knees gave in as she falls to the ground. As she heard the door close, she looked. You weren’t there anymore. You left her.

She cried that night, drinking a whole bottle of champagne. Burring her sorrow as she cried herself to sleep, hoping it was just a bad dream, and that you’d be there to comfort her when she wakes up.

You weren’t there anymore. She patted the empty side of her bed, realizing that you had left her. She cried that day, she couldn’t bring herself to go to work.

You were her last love. While she was just a love passing by, she was your second love. The love that hurts the most.

She watches you from afar. Dancing with your partner, in a beautiful white lacy dress and a veil on your hair. You were with the lover you deserve, the one who won’t be the reason she cries, the person who will make you happy, the person who will be there for you like she wished she was there.

Watches through the shadows. She brings her hand up to her neck, fidgeting with the necklace with a ring on.

It’s a bittersweet feeling, she still loves you. She never stopped loving you. She planned to propose to you after every workload she had. While trying to finish everything as early as possible, she ends up hurting you. Tears fell down her face, laughing at herself.

She would have been the one dancing with you right now.

© 𝐋𝐔𝐕-𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐃 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate. please ask me first then credit me once you shared my work to other platforms.

#☕: writes #💬: answers #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie x reader #larissa weems #gwendoline christie