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fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.

His youngest daughter.

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.

Still.

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

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the-offside-rule · 3 months

Text

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Shouldn't Have Happened

Requested: yes

Prompts: 4) "You deserve better." 15) "You're a wonderful person and don't you ever forget that." 28) "Have you been drinking?"

Warnings: drunk max

The streets of Monaco were quiet other than the distant echoes of laughing and cars fading into the night. Y/n Leclerc walked through the cobbled alleys, her steps echoing in the silence. She had chosen to bot drink too much tonight, watching over her friends who had indulged a bit too much in the celebration. As she rounded a corner, she stumbled upon an unexpected sight—a figure sprawled in a flower bed. She scoffed before she continued walking and only to see a familiar face. Max Verstappen. Concerned, Y/n approached him, gently shaking his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Max stirred, groaning slightly. "I'm fine... just needed a moment with the flowers." He slurred, sounding very....drunk.

"A flower bed in Monaco." Y/n muttered somewhat amused. "Are you hurt?" Max sat up slowly, rubbing his temple. "Just my pride, I think." Y/n noticed the faint scent of alcohol clinging to him. "And you've been drinking?" Max laughed, his gaze shifting from the starry sky to Y/n Leclerc in a red dress, holding her heels as though they were a handbag. "Yeah, too much, I guess." He replied, sitting up, denying Y/n to help him. "Why?" Y/n asked, curiosity and concern mingling in her voice. Max hesitated before confessing. "My girlfriend um- she cheated on me. My friends convinced me to go out looking for a rebound, but I ended up feeling like shit and getting sad again."

"I'm not trying to be insincere but it was very obvious she would do this." Max looked at her, his eyes turning into one of anger. "Think About it Max. She never went to your races and whenever she did, she either paraded herself around or was glued to her phone. It was so obvious she was using you and cheating." Max groaned, nearly falling back into the flower bed. "Okay, just-" Y/n hoisted Max'sarm over her shoulder and began walking up the steep hill. "Jesus, I thought you guys liked to stay light." Y/n mumbled. "Did you just call me fat?" Max blabbered. "Oh shut up. Charles is the same." Max didn't speak. He couldn't and he didn't want to. "You deserve better." Y/n said firmly, her eyes reflecting sincerity. Max down, meeting her gaze. "Do I, though?"

"You do." Y/n insisted. "You're a wonderful person, and don't you ever forget that." As she got to the top of the hill, Max reached into his pocket and pulled out a swab for the apartment complex front door. As Max struggled to get the swab to work, Y/n took it and opened it for him. "I'll come up with you just just you can open your actual door." She mumbled. "Oh, Y/n. I didn't know you cared." He teased before Y/n slapped his chest. "Shut up! Get inside!" She began giggling upon seeing Max laughing hysterically at his own joke. "I'm serious! Come on before Charles calls me to see where I am!"

Finally, Y/n opened the front door, letting Max fall in and stumble to the kitchen. Y/n looked around in awe. This looked nothing like her brothers apartment. As a matter of fact, it could possibly be much nicer. "Drink?" She turned to see Max opening up a huge liquor cabinet. "I think I should get going." Max shrugged. "If you have to. I mean, I have two glasses here and one is going to be very lonely without the other." He sang, pouring both glasses. Y/n eyed them for a moment before she gave in. "Okay, just one."

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

"When did you and your girlfriend break up?" Y/n asked as Max poured another glass. "In like-" Max thought for a moment. "September? I just couldn't let loose and drink like I can now so I have been bottling everything up and now I'm here drinking with the littlest of the Leclerc's." Y/n and Max toasted before she downed the drink yet again. "You seem to need that vodka. Need something stronger?" She shook her head. "No, but maybe a red wine?" Max turned, grabbed a brand new bottle and placed it in front of Y/n. "I have and its my most expensive one." Y/n looked between Max and the bottle. "Well don't give me the expensive one." Max shook his head, opening the bottle. "No, no. Drink the good wine on a bad day because on a good day, all wine tastes good." Y/n smiled. "My mother always says that."

She poured herself a glass before taking a sip. "So, why are you so down?" Max asked. "University. Its getting to be too much and I'm honestly thinking of dropping out and becoming a hairdresser like Mama." Max sighed. "Well, I think you would be great in whatever you want to do. I actually think you'd be a really good therapist." Y/n smiled. "I'm in university to be a sport psychologist actually." Max nodded. "Very good. I'll come to you about all my problems from now on." Max chuckled. "Maybe that would stop me from thinking of looking for a rebound."

They sat in silence for a moment, simply looking between eachothers eyes and lips. "You're not the rebound type, Max. That's not who you are as a person." She whispered, her words resonating in the night air. "How do you know what kind of a person I am?" Max mumbled, sipping his whiskey. "Charles talks about you sometimes. And you forget I bumped into you I a club on my birthday last year." Max looked at her yet again. He felt safe with her. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or her aura but he felt safe. "And you figured me out that quick?" Y/n shook her head. "No, but I'd like to figure you out. You seem lovely."

As the night wore on, Max's shoulders seemed lighter, his smile more genuine. And as they walked back to Y/n's apartment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension. "Have you had a rebound? Have you had anyone since her?" Y/n asked as Max drank his wine and Y/n looked up at him intently. Max hesitated, his gaze flickering uncertainly. "No. Too busy, but Im hoping now with the off-season, I could get a chance to explore new possibilities and people." He replied. "New people. Does this mean men are included?" Max shook his head, nearly spitting out his drink. "No, Jesus. No. I like women. I'm a big fan of the breasts." As Y/n and Maxs laughing quietened down, they could feel the electricity in the air, their hearts pounding in their chests. They leaned in closer to one another, slowly. "Are you going to just stare at me or-" And then, in a moment of boldness, Max leaned in and kissed her.

Y/n's heart fluttered, her head spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. Max deepened the kiss as Y/n's hands flew up to the back of his head, pulling him as close as he could possibly go. Their pants and puffs filled the room, knocking over glasses as Max hoisted Y/n up onto the countertop. It was then Y/n pushed him away. "Wait. No. This is so, so wrong on so many levels." Y/n whispered to herself. "What do you mean?" Max asked. "I mean, I am not going to be your rebound because its just so fucking wrong. I haven't Eve done that kind of stuff before. Jesus!" Y/n hopped down off the counter, muttering to herself in French as Max grabbed her back for her. "Who said you were my rebound?" Max asked.

"Max! Regardless, I don't think I could do this. You race my brother, you just got cheated on and you've told me multiple times you just want a rebound. Well, I'm sorry, but that's not what I'm looking for." As she turned to head for the door, Max pulled her back. "Listen, I don't want you as a rebound. I'm not doing this because I'm drunk, I'm doing this because I genuinely like you and I'd like to get to know you better." Y/n's chest rose and fell quickly as she took deep breathes to try and control herself. "Then take me out for food or something first at least." She replied. "Okay." Max took out his phone and handed it to Y/n. She looked up it skeptically. "Put your number in. I'll text you in the morning and we can go for breakfast. Better yet, I'll bring you for lunch on my yacht." She scoffed. "Yachts don't impress me, Max."

"Maybe not, but it would give me a chance to actually get to know you." She typed her number in it and added a heart for good measure. "How's that?" She asked. Max smiled. "Perfect. I'll see you tomorrow."

-----------

Y/n groaned, her head pounding as she stumbled into the kitchen to the sound of her mother's concerned voice. Whilst she had done her hair up and changed into more respectable clothes than the night before, there was no denying that she probably felt like she was dying. Arthur and Charles exchanged mischievous grins, eying her with curiosity. Her mother, worried, placed a bowl of cereal in front of her. "Are you okay, dear?" Pascale asked, rubbing her daughter's head. "No." Y/n replied miserably. "There is some pills in the cabinet to help your headache. I just need to go go the bathroom and I'll get them for you." Pascale said, heading towards the bathroom.

Before Y/n could respond, Arthur and Charles jumped in with sly grins. "So, how was your night, Y/n?" Arthur asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Y/n felt her cheeks flush as she recalled the events of the evening—the chance encounter, the heartfelt conversations, the stolen kiss...and everything that happened after that. "It was great." She replied, her voice quiet and shy with a tone of embarrassment. "You definitely stayed at a guys house last night. Admit it!" Charles chuckled. "No! I'm back here, aren't I?" She defended herself. "Yes, but I heard you open the door at nearly 5 this morning." Charles and Arthur laughed. "I do have friends you know. Plus, there wasn't even a guy last night. It was just me and my friends." Y/n replied, trying to disguise the fact that she was in fact talking to a guy. "So, care to explain the mysterious hill-walking we saw on TikTok?" Charles asked, shoving his phone in her face. Sure enough, there it was; Y/n and a mysterious man walking up a steep hill as they argued.

Y/n sighed, realizing her night out had become the latest family gossip. "It's not what it looks like," she mumbled, bracing herself for the interrogation from her cheeky brothers. "I- That's not me. Im-" She paused when she heard her phone buzz. She quickly answered it and her heart skipped a beat upon seeing the message.

Max🧡

I'm in Cafe de Paris. Unless you decided you don't want to join me

She smiled to herself before she pocketed her phone and headed towards the door, now a bounce in her step. "Well, as much as I'd like to answer you and your false accusations, boys. I have a Cafe to head to and a person to meet so, au revoir, á bientot, et bisous." She smiled, closing the door behind her and leaving her brothers curious.

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader

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usedtobecooler · 9 months

Note

experienced!reader building virgin!eddie’s stamina by using a fleshlight on him 😈

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six

pairing | eddie munson x afab!reader

warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), use of sex toys, dirty talk, experienced!reader, inexperienced!virgin!eddie, porn without plot, set during our original virgin!eddie series from september 2022.

word count | 1.2k

a/n | damn, thank you anon the virgin!eddie saga lives on to see another day bc of you

"How does it feel?" You ask, the pearlescent, ridged tube clasped between both of your hands with ease, bobbing slightly as Eddie's cock jumps in the mould of soft silicone flesh, balls drawing up as he struggles to get a grip of himself.

"Haah—" Eddie basically wheezes out his pathetic whines, grinding his hips up into the toy like a frantic thing, propped up on both elbows with a wild expression on his face. His dark eyes blown black with desire, "It's so — so tight, warm, fuck it's gripping me."

His wild curls halo his face, soften the sharp lines of his jaw, make him look angelic and almost innocent in the luminescent glow of your childhood bedroom. His brows knit together, raw bitten lips hung open in a steady stream of moans as you slowly begin moving the fake pussy up and down the thick length of his dick — slow enough that he can feel every single ridge on his sensitive skin.

"Yeah? Wet enough?" Your questions come out conversational, almost bored, but the way you lay with curious eyes and a furious warm bloom on your cheeks would tell him otherwise.

Eddie nods his head, fervent and sure, "Feels so fucking good, Jesus Christ," he gasps, reaching out for your bent knee and squeezing the flesh, "faster? Can you, shit, can you go faster?"

You smirk, oblige him, both hands working together to grip for the plastic toy as you begin a faster rhythm — enough to have him wanting more, begging for it, but not quite enough to tip him over the edge.

"Oh," Eddie grunts, bucks his hips up wildly, "shit, that feels — like heaven, fu-goddamn,"

You flush hot all over, the noises you're eliciting from Eddie's mouth sending you into a frenzy. He's so desperate, whiny, virginal. Inexperienced and not even trying to hide it, wide eyes shooting back and forth between where his cock sinks into the tight warmth of the toy, your tits bouncing from exertion from moving the toy, your own flushed face watching in awe.

Eddie's hips jolt up into the toy and he whimpers, eyes rolling back into his skull, "I— mmph, I don't think I, oh shit, don't think I'm gonna last long, sweetheart, fuck."

The lube you used to moisten the inside of the silicone cunt almost mimics the wet slick of your own, creamy and dripping down the length of Eddie's cock, making a mess of his thatch of curly pubes, slicking up his balls and dipping lower, lower, lower.

Another time, you think, as you draw your attention back to the rhythmic bouncing of the toy, using both hands tightly to draw it up further, the tip of Eddie's cock popping out, blurting pre onto the spread lips of the pussy, smearing over the pornstars name etched into the skin-like material, making it illegible.

Eddie whimpers, a heated gasp escaping him when you wrap a hand around the base of his cock, sliding the ruddy head over the toys opening over and over and over again, until he's flushed so red down to his chest that he looks like he's spiked a fever.

"This is always my favourite part," you admit, eyes glistening with mischief as you push the toy down onto his cock an inch or two, before removing it again — running the glans on the underside of Eddie's length against the pussy until he's pistoning his hips up, begging you for more, "letting them run their cocks along the seam of my cunt — feels so good, almost better than fucking. Especially when they snag at my clit, God."

"Please, please," Eddie begs, whimpers, sounds close to fucking tears with want and desperation as his hips shoot up again, head of his cock plunging into the toy and you do nothing to stop it, he's too far gone, "wanna fuck you, nggh."

"You think you're really up to the task, handsome? When this things got you so close to blowing your load so quick?" You giggle, push the toy down the length of Eddie's dick so quickly he's crying out and throwing his head back, "You need more practice, you wouldn't satisfy me right just yet."

"I would, would do anything," Eddie moans, garbled as you pick up speed with the pussy, the dirty sounds invading your ears as the lube slick toy engulfs him, "I'd— fuck, fuck — I'd wear a ring, you could clamp me, edge me, use me, haaah, fuck m'gonna cum, let me cum, please, please,"

Your body goes hot all over, goosebumps erupting under your skin as he begs, begs and begs some more. So desperate and cunt drunk that he'd even allow pain mixed with his pleasure so that he could feel the tight heat of your cunt, and that — that does something to your insides. You've never heard anybody so pathetic, so willing to do anything for a chance.

The tendons and veins in Eddie's neck protrude as he tilts his head back, all caution thrown to the wind as his hips buck up uselessly into the toy you control. He's rhythmic, you'll give him that, looks like he could be rough if he knew how to just reel himself back enough to fuck you properly.

"So pathetic, it's cute," your words are clipped, voice raw and thick with desire as you try in vain to keep up appearances, but there's something so devastatingly erotic about watching Eddie beg — the way his hipbones glisten with sweat, his balls drawing up tight, soaked with lube and his own precum, his chest heaving as he nears closer, and you're grinding against the heel of your own foot before you even realise you're doing it, just as gone as he is.

"Pathetic for you, I'll be anything you want — fuuuck," Eddie grinds uselessly into the limp toy, burying his cock in to the hilt and you know before he even says anything that he's gone, no stopping him as his tummy spasms under the sheer force of his orgasm, "cumming, baby I'm cumming, holy fuck—"

His back arches, elbows finally giving out on him as he collapses in a heap on the bed, spine bowed up gorgeously as he releases into the toy that you keep forced down on him. It kicks and jerks in your slackened grip as his cock pulses, ropes of his come painting the insides and suddenly you ache and yearn for it to be you.

Eddie pants, whimpers, fingers digging into your plush comforter as he vibrates through aftershocks, eyes screwed up tight and tears rolling down his temples. You press down harder into the heel of your foot, own eyes clenching shut at the pressure, arousal swooping like tidal waves.

You're not sure how long your eyes shut for, with how lost you are in the pleasure you feel, but suddenly Eddie's arms loop around your middle, pulling you onto his body, and he's talking but you can't quite hear him for all the rushing in your ears.

"Let me make you feel good, sweetheart," his voice soothes, large hands smoothing over your waist and dipping under your shirt, "least I can do, baby, please?"

You nod dumbly, awe stricken by just how quickly he's recovered from a mind melting orgasm, and in one swift motion he's flipping you both over, kissing down your neck, your chest, your stomach, until he's reaching for your shorts and pulling them down with deft fingers.

"I'll make it up to you, sweetheart," Eddie coos, "lift your hips for me and let me show you."

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson drabble #my fanfic #mine #x reader #virgin!eddie

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wintersera · 9 months

Text

forever mine || alpha!karina x omega!reader

notes: AGAIN sorry for the delay anon but here’s the request!! fun fact i wrote this while listening to the super mario galaxy ost 😭

cw: OMEGAVERSE, alpha karina, omega reader (obvs), maybe rina is a little possessive, use of toys, biting, scratching, g!p rina, creampie, breeding kink

wc 2.2k

your alpha girlfriend was so sweet and caring, the best alpha you could ever wish for. unlike other alphas, she was never too aggressive with you, rather, she was too careful with you- biologically she should’ve been treating you like you were her toy for breeding, but i guess not. nonetheless she was still a great alpha girlfriend.

—

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK

first of september- the first ever day since you’ve forgotten to buy your heat suppressants since you started dating jimin. your stomach drops as your pheromones begin to waft around your workplace filled with pure blooded alphas.

shit shit shit i’m dead, oh i’m screwed what do i do? ohhh god what do i do?

it was sorta stupid. yeah- an undercover omega in a job filled to the brim with hardworking alphas. you were doing a great job of convincing everyone that you were just a simple beta. that’s how you landed your job in the first place, but now because of this one stupid mistake, you were bound to lose your job.

“guys…” head manager, a very big alpha man in your words, spoke up. his head tilting and nostrils flaring as he’s looking around the office, confusion on his sharp features “…are you smelling that?” with the attention drawn on your floral scent, you begin to panic as the other alphas begin sniffing around too.

ough,, how do you get outta this situation fast “i think i’ll head out early guys. whoever has their heat is driving me insane it might trigger my rut” how bad of a lie was that. it didn’t matter anyways, dashing out the room with your blazer and bag in, hand rummaging around your trouser pockets as soon as you make it out of the building.

“jesus christ jimin pick up please, please” walking, no- sprinting to the direction of your apartment. you knew your heat was gonna hit you badly. you’ve been taking suppressants for years so having a full blown pheromone disaster for the first time in years was going to be crazy. people were looking at you like you were crazy, but you’d rather have many people look at you weird than have your scent imprinted on the damn streets.

“what’s up?” thank the lord, she answered her phone just in time.

fumbling for your keys trying to shove it into the door lock, you sigh with a heavy breath “uh,, um jimin i’m going into heat- i already feel funny” unlocking the door, you fling yourself into the apartment, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

“what do you mean going into heat? did you not,,, oh well shit okay give me a few minutes” hanging up the call.

not so much to your surprise, slick was coating your cunt like crazy. to the point where it started to go through your trousers and down your legs. the need you had for your girlfriend was so unbearable.

in a haze, you wobbled to your shared bedroom and grabbed one of her used shirts. her clothes smelt so good, the lingering scent dripping from her clothes was enough to make you keel over and plop onto the bed. you felt yourself getting slicker, your needy cunt needing your alpha to come over and fuck you silly was growing stronger each second she wasn’t in the room with you.

taking matters into your own hands because you couldn’t wait any longer, the feeling of your heat coiling in your stomach was too much. your brain was giving into your biological urges and you needed to get off now or you’d suffer. grabbing a pile of jimin's clothes and making somewhat of a nest on the bed, you surround yourself with the scent of freshly ground coffee. quickly taking off every single piece of clothing, getting right back up to open the box of toys you kept just in case a moment like this ever happened- searching for anything, any toy, that could satisfy you while you wait for your alpha.

whereas jimin on the other hand was worried sick. throughout your two year relationship with her she’d never seen you in a proper heat. like yeah, the heat suppressants and scent blockers helped quite a lot so you were never heavily affected by the symptoms. of course omegas would usually never get this horrible desire to mate this early into their heat, but unfortunately for you, you did have this raging urge to mate so early.

you weren’t so very conscious, you were starting to feel groggy, a feverish high temperature when you touch your head began to appear. this heat was kicking you in the ass and you couldn’t take it anymore- taking the vibrator in your hands and placing it on the highest setting, your hands make there way all the way down to your throbbing clit “a-ah, hnnng jimin come quick…”

so so desperate for her, you pick up your phone hoping that she would answer your calls “please- please pick up jimin”

“i’m almost home baby, do you need something or…”

“just hurry up i’m begging you to come home pleaseee” and who was she to deny your request. stepping on the gas faster knowing that her precious little omega was in need of her alphas presence. she could here your desperation deep within your voice.

“don’t worry i’m about to park soon, just wait for me okay” jimin, knowing how she acted during your very suppressed heats, believed that she could never submit to her instincts since she has never done so when it came to you. that quickly changed as she opened the door, the scent of roses attacking her as she stepped inside. it was a thick scent, it stuck to everywhere and it didn't help that you couldn’t open the windows in time, now your walls were coated in this thick floral scent.

it took jimin a lot of willpower not to give into her urges right there. she felt her rut kicking in and it made her growl in discomfort. never feeling this way in a while, because she took rut suppressants since the two of you started dating, she started growing hazy much like you did. she was a pure blooded alpha which didn’t help either, the intensity of your heat did rounds on her and she had strongest urge to mark you up.

you could hear her footsteps grow louder and louder, her low growls could be heard with the door still shut. quite impressive. she didn’t even say anything when entering, taking off her work clothes only leaving just her boxers on, the line of her hard cock showing through made you whimper out loud. your slick was practically drooling out from your pussy.

in her eyes you were nothing more than a snack to be devoured. her red eyes peered down at you like you were some sort of prey, and you must admit that pure blooded alpha jimin was really arousing to watch. pheromones in the room were strong as hell, your thick sweet floral scent mixing with jimin’s freshly scented coffee smell made a delicious combination. the scent alone driving you two mad.

she went to sit on the bed, still peering at you meek little body. with hunter like eyes she stared you down and licked her lips, “sit up omega” obeying your alpha like the good little omega you are, you sit up from the nest of clothes.

she could hear little puffs of air pour out of your lips, stifling a chuckle as she watches you struggle to sit up straight and look at her straight in the eye. hooking you up with ease, jimin had your body pressed up against hers, sliding one of her hands in between your thighs opening them up with a strong grip “you look so needy for me” a second goes by and she’s shoving you back into the pillow.

“fuck” jimin whispered “how do you smell so good” nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “you smell so tempting, fuck, i can’t-“ she gave your thighs a firm squeeze, exhaling shakily “you need to take me right now, i can’t take it anymore. i need to feel your tight cunt around my cock” her voice low and coarse. in a flash she slipped her cock into your dripping heat, mewls threatening to escape your mouth.

if you weren’t too dazed and horny you would’ve been saying how you’ve waited for this exact moment. jimin didn’t spend anytime fucking around with foreplay, she went straight into pounding your slicked up hole with no mercy. everything she did set your body ablaze, her hands were touching every single inch on your body and it felt so fucking good.

like a ravenous animal she attacked your neck, licking, marking, biting your throat all whilst groaning. her animalistic mind wanting to show that you’re her omega and nobody else’s and by that she had to litter you with marks of any kind, purposely rubbing her scent to mark you as her omega.

every thrust made your back arch slightly off the bed, hitting all the spots you never knew could feel good because of how nice she usually fucked you. you felt how fast and precise her movement was, and it was heavenly.

as your back arched closer to hers, she shifted even more closer to you, practically pinning you onto the bed by hooking both of your legs above her broad shoulders. hitting even deeper then she previously did before, you felt the tip of her cock graze your cervix “mmfh, fuck, fuck- my baby feels so fucking good” saying all that while she’s harshly sinking her teeth into your shoulders.

“s’too much,, ah- jimin, g-good” her urges began to flare up, the only thing on her mind was to mark you up for good. like she was oh so desperate to keep you as hers.

pulling her cock out, in between breaths she instructs you “turn around. y/n turn over for me.. need to- need to fill you up“ taking your legs of her shoulders and flipping you over with ease, again with her predatory gaze, she stares right at your exposed ass in which tempted her to completely destroy you until you can’t stand anymore, leaving you in a state of vulnerability so that she can take care of you.

her alpha instincts were indeed controlling her every movement, the loving and caring alpha you knew was gone. all was left was a dominating alpha who wanted to fuck you till you were filled up with her cum, even if that means you’ll bear her pups.

returning back into your needy cunt, she moans even louder, louder than you’d ever heard. “omega- omega fuck, i’ll mark you. you’re mine, mine only. mine,,, shit you’re mine forever” relentlessly pushing your head into the pillows, her thrusts became frantic and desperate- her movement erratic and messy, it made you love her even more. her alpha side was making you wetter and wetter, bedsheets were covered with your slick.

your moans were insanely unholy. you were screaming and clawing onto whatever you could grab hold onto. her dick growing larger than before and that's when the both of you knew that she was about to knot into you. grabbing her arm for moral support, you dig your nails harshly into them leaving a few minor scars.

right now you looked so fucked out. you were crying, drooling everywhere all while you were screaming out her name. jimin took her time to place a generous amount of bites and hickeys all over your back too. you know… for extra measures of course.

“aah fuck, pleasepleaseplease alpha cum- cum in me” you sobbed out.

“bout to- gonna,, augh fuck cumming” one final harsh thrust into your cunt and her knot swelled as she spilled every ounce of cum into your hole. your cunt clamping down on her as well, essentially locking the two of you. whilst she knotted into you, she swiftly leaned to the back of your neck and inserted her teeth. it hurt a lot, the feeling of her sharp canines sent your nerves on fire, but only a second later and it felt almost orgasmic.

finally she had marked you, but now you were stuck like this for a while. her knot being large enough to just be stuck in this position. both of you were lowkey back into consciousness, the alpha side of her dying down a little bit and the subby omega side of you dissipating.

after a couple of minutes of basking in your orgasm, her knot went down eventually. it was just enough so that you could move slightly which inevitably caused her semen to seep out of your cunt.

“aaah~ can’t… believe.. i… marked.. you..” catching her breath through each word she managed to muster up “that means you’re mine.. forever, right?”

aww big dom alpha jimin was gone, but your cute puppy of a girlfriend was back. you turn around with her cock still in you and see her smiling right at you, her big puppy eyes beaming with glee.

“yeah.. forever”

#wintersera #omegaverse smut #aespa smut #g!p aespa #karina smut #aespa x reader smut #aespa karina smut #aespa x fem reader smut #g!p karina #yu jimin x reader smut #karina x fem reader smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #kpop girl group smut #fem!reader

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

Note

I love a good S3 Steddie AU so—

Eddie and Robin were friends in high school, and every time they needed cover they would pretend to be dating.

So she starts working at Scoops, sees Steve not knowing he’s different now, and as a defense mechanism tells him about her “boyfriend”

Then they become buds but she still doesn’t correct the record, because she would have to explain why she lied

So Eddie comes into the shop and she’s like “That’s him!” and Steve is “🥺”

Because he and Eddie have been dating for months

THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT AT THAT LAST LINE NONNY. This story starts on July 1st (S3E3), so after they've cracked the Russian code.

It takes a full month of working at Scoops to get Robin to be more chill around him. He gets it. He was never outright mean to her but he was a dick in high school and his reputation lingers.

He's happy now that she's graduated from quietly distrusting him to outright teasing him. He's pretty sure it means they're friends now, or something like it. She even made that white board to mock his inability to flirt a few weeks ago. He knows he'll never get a tally in the You Rule category because he's not actually trying to flirt with anyone, what with him having a boyfriend of his own. Not that he can brag about his boyfriend as much as Robin brags about her boyfriend.

And, Jesus, did she brag at first. Steve had been convinced it was a new romance, and therefore she was still in the honeymoon phase, except she said they'd been dating since she was a freshman. With senior year starting for her in September, Steve's a little jealous.

He hopes that he and Eddie never leave their honeymoon phase. It's only been three months, and Steve's in awe that Eddie even bothered to look his way after how he'd been in school. Still in awe that Eddie wants more with Steve than just the physical. That Eddie wants cuddles during a movie, and sappy hand holding while they just chat, and to hold Steve after a nightmare on the rare occasion they get to share a bed through the night.

Anyway, the point. Robin is something of a friend and Steve's pleased about it. They have to be friends now, right? They cracked a Russian code together! (Steve refuses to give Dustin any credit for their official jump into friendship even though they wouldn't have had a Russian code to crack without him.)

"Are you and the Boy going to do anything for the Fourth?" Steve asks apropos nothing after handing off a banana split, leaving no more customers to help currently. He's a little ashamed to admit that he doesn't remember the name of her boyfriend. He's sure she said it at some point, so he's blaming his shit memory for that. But she just refers to him as the Boy, and doesn't find it weird that Steve does, too, so he'll take the win.

"Oh, uh, we haven't really discussed it. I'm scheduled closing on the Fourth so," Robin shrugs.

"We'll be in misery together," Steve says.

"Joy."

It's times like these, where Robin is so deadpan Steve can't tell if she's joking or not. Like maybe they aren't the budding friends Steve thinks they are. She's tough to read, sometimes.

"Well, even with the closing shift, there's still a lot of night left. Great time for fireworks."

"True. I'm sure The Boy is thinking up something as we speak. He likes to surprise me."

Steve's not jealous. He's not. He knows that Eddie would surprise him if they didn't have to be so secret about it all.

They do have plans for after Steve gets off work on the Fourth to go to the carnival. It's not strange for friends to go together. Maybe Steve can convince Robin come and to bring the Boy and they can just be a group of friends hanging out?

"Well, if he hasn't planned anything, maybe you and he will want to come hang out at the carnival? I'm going with a friend, maybe we'd see each other."

Robin levels him with a look, eyes squinted in judgement. "Your friends, the children?"

"I have more friends than just children!"

"I literally do not believe you. Why don't any of your age appropriate friends come bother you here, like all those kids?"

It's a valid question, Steve can concede. "That's because I do not want him to see me in this uniform. I will never live it down."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Does he even know you work here?"

"Absolutely not. So if you do bump into us at the carnival, you are not allowed to say our place of employment. I'm serious, Robin. This will ruin me. You can say 'the mall' because that's all I'll say about it."

Robin's grin turns mischievous. "So, what I'm hearing is, I have blackmail material against the Steve Harrington?"

Steve groans. She's joking. He's like... 80% sure she's joking. He makes a mental note to ask Eddie if he knows Robin.

"Oh shit!" Robin calls out, surprised but delighted. Steve whips his head to her, and sees she's looking out the front door and through a sea of people.

"What, is it Dustin? Russians?" Steve joins her side quickly trying to see what she sees.

"No, it's-" she cuts herself off and Steve turns his head to look at her, only to find she's already looking at him. "It's my boyfriend. I don't think he's seen me yet. Want to meet him if he comes in?"

"Hell yeah I do. I need to meet the man you won't shut up about," Steve grins at her before turning his attention back to the people. His eyes scan over all of them, trying to figure out which guy looks like he might be Robin's boyfriend. Which, yes, he knows isn't something you can judge based on looks (he and Eddie are a prime example) but still.

And speaking of Eddie- no! No no! He'll never hear the end of it if Eddie sees the stupid sailor outfit. Eddie hasn't spotted him yet, so Steve slides around Robin to be out of eyesight. "You see him?"

"Yeah, he's- oh! I think he's seen me. He's coming this way," almost as an after thought, she adds, "do you remember Eddie Munson?"

Play it cool, Steve. "Uh... yes. Why? Is he coming this way? I thought I saw him out there..." Way to play it cool. If Robin didn't seem so hyped to be seeing her boyfriend, she would absolutely be questioning him.

"Oh. Well, he's my boyfriend, and yes he is."

Steve feels the floor fall out from under him.

The whole world shifts and Steve cannot stay here. He thinks he says something about a bathroom break before ducking into the employees only door, and then his body moves him further still until he's through several other doors and suddenly outside in the heat of the day.

Do you remember Eddie Munson? Well, he's my boyfriend.

He doesn't know what to do with that. Doesn't know how to process it. How to proceed. Eddie is- but he can't- this can't be real. This is a crazy dream, brought on by thoughts of Russians and codes and leftover Upside Down bullshit and he will be waking up anytime now to get ready for work.

Eddie Munson. He's my boyfriend.

He can't be your boyfriend Steve wants to scream. He can't be your boyfriend because he's mine.

Maybe... Maybe it's turning out to be that while Eddie is his boyfriend, he's not Eddie's. Maybe Eddie's never thought of him as a boyfriend.

Every instance runs through his head; all the times Eddie wouldn't stay the night. All the times Eddie told him he couldn't stay at the trailer. Is Eddie actually even in a band or is band practice just a convenient lie that keeps him from having to see Steve while still keeping him in his back pocket?

All the hiding, and the let's keep this just to us for now, and how wonderfully convenient it is that this needs to, has to, be a secret when you're in a queer relationship in a small town.

Steve's a goddman idiot!

Of course, Eddie has a girlfriend. Of course, he agreed to 'see where this thing goes.' This is why Eddie bothered to even look his direction. Because there's no scenario where Steve comes out okay. He can't even tell Robin her boyfriend isn't the fucking golden, perfect boy she brags about because how does he do that without telling her how he knows?

All the worst case scenarios play in his mind. Robin being in on it. Her and Eddie laughing at him behind his back, waiting for the right time to publicly out him. To get whatever revenge they think he owes to them for all his dick behavior in school. His whole relationship being a joke.

He lets out a yell and whips around to punch the wall next to the employee entrance door. The pain grounds him almost immediately and that yell turns into a chokes off sob, his eyes squeezing shut as he leans in to rest his forehead against the wall and take a shuddering breath.

There's no way Robin is in on this. And it was mean of him to think so. If Steve's just been some sort of experiment to Eddie, then that's on Eddie.

And Steve. For being stupid enough to believe anyone would actually be interested in him. For taking one look at Eddie's stupid dimpled smile and tripping over himself to do everything in his power to see it again. For fucking falling in love too fast, too soon, and not asking enough fucking questions and-

Oh.

That's why this hurts so much. That's why he didn't stick around to watch Eddie sweat at seeing his long-term girlfriend and- and whatever the fuck he thought Steve was working together and getting caught in whatever fuckery he's doing.

Steve's gone a fallen in love with the asshole.

He pushes off the wall, takes a deep breath to steel himself, and makes a decision. He's going to confront Eddie on the Fourth, since that's the next day they'll see each other. He'll tell him they're done, and that Eddie needs to come clean to Robin about what he's done, or he will. She deserves to know, and Steve can deal with the consequences.

When he returns the Scoops, there's no sign of Eddie, but Dustin is there.

(What Steve doesn't know is that Robin and Eddie hugged in greeting. Robin asked what he was up to. Eddie told her he was searching for his boyfriend. He works at the mall and Eddie wants to surprise him. Robin doesn't ask who he's looking for, and Eddie doesn't offer, because they both know the importance of coming out on your own terms and in your own time. Robin does ask if he's happy, and Eddie says he didn't know he could be this happy.)

Of course, what follows that is a series of terrible events that result in being stuck in an elevator, captured and tortured by Russians, drugged, and then rescued.

He and Robin end up in a bathroom, puking up their guts, and Robin says, in a Russian accent, "Interrogate me."

Steve chuckles and replies, "Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um... when was the last time you peed your pants?"

"Today."

"What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw. It was just a little bit, though."

She laughs and he groans. It's definitely still in her system.

"Okay. My turn."

"Hit me."

"Have you..." she starts, leaving a pause as she thinks of what to ask, before ending with, "ever been in love?"

And Steve, horrifyingly, mortifyingly, just starts to cry. He can normally reign this in, has better control than this, but whatever drug is still in his system robs him of that.

In another universe, where Steve is able to control himself, he'd lie. He'd describe Robin, knowing she's happily taken, maybe slide himself under the partition between their stalls so she can reject him to his face, and they can laugh it off, solidifying their friendship.

But that's not what happens.

What happens instead is this: Robin, who does not slide herself across the floor but instead hauls herself upright to stumble around the partition, kneels in front of him as Steve lets out hiccupping sobs in between saying embarrassing things like yes and they don't love me back, they never love me back.

And Robin. Sweet, wonderful Robin, to whom he has been the other person in her years long relationship, tugs his arm until he's no longer hugging the toilet and is instead cradled by Robin. And she hums and assures him that whoever doesn't love him is an idiot and it makes Steve sob harder because she doesn't know and when she learns she's going to hate him.

He cannot let her continue to comfort him while he's crying about her boyfriend. It is with that sobering thought that he's able to win his war against whatever he's been injected with and stop his tears. Just in time, too, because Dustin and Erica find them, and then the Russians do, but so does El and the others.

The world is nothing but Upside Down terror for hours.

When the dust settles, Hopper is dead, and so is Billy, and Steve is sat in the back of an ambulance, hugging Robin around her shoulders as they both look out into the parking lot with matching thousand-yard stares. They've been looked over and deemed okay to go home, so Steve is just waiting for the government men currently raiding what is left of the underground Russain bunker to either find his keys, or not.

If his keys are found, he's Robin's ride. If they aren't, they're both being dropped off by ambulance, which Robin is stressing about because her parents cannot see her come home in the back of an ambulance.

Steve offers her to stay at his house. He thinks it'll be easier to beg her parents for forgiveness than explain this situation. Robin agrees to stay if the ambulance ends up being their ride.

It doesn't, though. It takes an hour after everyone else has left, but someone delivers his keys.

It's eerie, the walk from the front lot around the mall to the back employee lot, so they clasp hands to have something to ground to. There are less people the further they walk. The fire's been contained, probably so the government people can root around the bunker below the mall to discover whatever it was the Russians knew, or know, or whatever.

The back lot is completely empty. Only Steve's car, parked towards the edge of the lot give that his shift yesterday had been an afternoon one, and all the closer parking spaces had been taken.

His car is parked so that the passenger side faces them as they approach. Wordlessly, they break apart, Robin heading for her door and Steve rounding the front of the car to get to the driver's side. Except as soon as he rounds the corner, a figure that was previously crouched or sat in front of the door jumps up, lunging at Steve.

He barely has time to register the voice, a terrified sounding "Stevie!" before Steve back tracks with a yelp, out of reach of the figure. Robin screams when he does, and whoever was lunging at him stops in their tracks, whipping around to look at the other source of the noise.

"Robin?"

It's then that Steve takes in the sight before him. It's Eddie. It was Eddie leaning against his door, waiting for him. Steve's flooded with a rush of love, his stupid brain deciding that Eddie must have been worried when Steve didn't meet him for the carnival. Had come to look for him. But then the reality of the situation settles over him.

That might have been true, but now he's seen that Steve is here with his girlfriend and this isn't how he wanted to do this but he will.

For Robin, he will. She deserves better.

"What are you doing here!? Besides scaring the shit out of us!" Robin yells, rounding the car to punch Eddie in the arm.

"Ow, Buckley, what the fuck!" Eddie rubs the spot she punched him, looking between Robin and Steve with... confusion? Steve is expecting to see maybe some remorse, or guilt, or maybe even glee at the fact stupid Steve Harrington was able to be so easily fooled. He doesn't see any of that, though.

Eddie takes a step towards him, and Steve flinches back.

Robin steps up to Eddie, like she wants to pull Eddie into a hug, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He looks from Robin to Steve again, then back to Robin. Steve can't see his face, his hair hides his profile, but he can see Robin's face. Her confusion, brows furrowed, before her eyes go wide and now she's looking between Steve and Eddie.

Fuck. She's just put it together herself! She's going to hate Steve forever, homewreaker that he is.

"Oh. Oh no," Robin whispers, then says Eddie's name in a devastated tone. "Eddie. Is it-?"

"I-I can't... Robin," Eddie says back, sounding just as hurt.

"No! No, I told him- Eddie, I told him we were dating!" she turns to Steve, then, and blurts, "I'm a lesbian!"

He doesn't know what to do with that information. "What?"

"I lied. Steve, I lied, I'm a lying liar and I'm so sorry," Robin says, shoving Eddie away from herself and towards Steve.

Maybe the drugs are still working because Steve still doesn't understand. "I don't... what?"

"I'm not dating Eddie," Robin says. "I've never dated Eddie, would never date Eddie because I don't want to date boys. Please, Steve, I never meant to make you think-" but she cuts herself off, looking from Steve to Eddie and back, before saying, "I never meant to make you think you were unlovable."

Eddie makes a wounded noise at that. "What did you say to him, Buckley!?"

Robin lied. Robin lied about dating a boy. Because she's not interested in boys? That doesn't make sense. That- oh. She lied about having a boyfriend for the same reason he's lied about not having a boyfriend. Because it isn't safe to not to.

Steve's legs give out, but he doesn't hit the pavement because Eddie catches him and the three of them sob and cling to each other in the dark of the parking lot.

Later, much later, the truth will come out. Steve will learn they've always been each other's covers but never actually together. Robin will apologize because she blames herself for Steve's bathroom, drugged-breakdown, and Steve apologizes for all the awful thoughts he had about Eddie when he thought Eddie was dating them both and lying about it.

Steve will learn that Eddie loves him, too, just as much as Steve loves him.

#Anonymous #steddie #my fic

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wheresarizona · 2 months

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Learning to Live Part 32

summary: It’s the night of his bachelor party, and a sober Javier gets a call from his very drunk fiancée asking him to pick her up from her bachelorette party. Three days later, it’s their wedding day, and Javier hasn’t seen or talked to his bride since the night before—they’d agreed not to see each other until it was time to say ‘I do,’ and his father took it one step further by having her guarded to keep Javier away. Will that really stop him from going to her before the big event (with his eyes covered)?

rating: M (This chapter is very story-driven, BUT there’s a little bit of inappropriate touching. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), Drunk!Reader, bachelor/bachelorette parties, emotional hurt/comfort, dysfunctional family, Javier taking care of you while you’re drunk and when you get sick (it’s very sweet), grief, discussion of pregnancy, WEDDING, getting ready for the wedding, Chucho hardcore not letting you see each other before the wedding, blindfolded Javier sneaking to where you are anyway, tying his bow tie, nerves, panic attack, EMOTIONS, Javier crying when he sees you in your dress, EXTREMELY romantic things said, Javier being cute with kids, you both wrote your own vows (did I mention emotions and romantic things said?), Chucho being a great officiant, (1) bible verse about love with no mention of God/Jesus/anything religious, crying, comedy sprinkled in, a fun and heartfelt chapter)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (no physical descriptions)

word count: 23k+ (Tumblr hates my long chapters and might not let you reblog with a comment. Since reblogs are super important, if you wish to comment, feel free to do it in the comments on the post or send me an ask. 🥰🥰🥰)

a/n: Get your tissues ready; it’s time to get married! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭 First of all, Happy Birthday to this story! 2 years old! I just want to thank everyone who’s continued reading this labor of my love. All the comments, reblogs, and likes mean the world to me! They make me want to write more, too. I know there’s no smut in this one, but, in my opinion, I think it’s still really good, and the people who’ve read it agree. There also was literally no opportunity for them to be alone and do anything more than touching—you can blame Chucho for keeping them apart. But the next chapter? Oh, it’s on. It’s gonna be so horny. Lol Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing. I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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In the year 1981, Ronald Reagan was sworn in as the 40th President of the United States and almost assassinated two months later; the Space Shuttle Columbia became the first crewed reusable spacecraft to return from orbit successfully, and the wedding of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer was watched by over 750 million people worldwide.

It also happened to be the year Javier Peña’s life went to shit.

Looking back at all that happened, he could pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong. It wasn’t disappearing in the early hours on the day he was supposed to be wed; it was six months earlier when he let a pretty girl, who never once acknowledged his existence in the several years they went to school together, buy him a drink—that was the beginning of the end. That was the start of his downfall and had his life veering off course.

By the time his wedding to Lorraine had rolled around in early September, Javier was at the lowest he'd ever been in his twenty-two years of life—so depressed, hopeless, and scared that he became numb and was just existing instead of living. Back then, he still had buddies in Laredo with whom he'd gone to high school, and though Lorraine didn't let him hang out with them much, she approved of them throwing him a bachelor party the weekend before their nuptials were supposed to take place.

He hadn't wanted one.

Who would want to celebrate marrying someone they didn't love or even liked? Marriage to Lorraine was a prison sentence, and his only crime had been dating the wrong woman. It’d also be a cruel reminder that he’d lose what little freedom he had in a week’s time.

His friends had known him for many years, having practically grown up together, and they were well aware of Javier’s dread. They had tried to talk him out of going through with it on multiple occasions, but he always stood firm that he wouldn’t abandon his child and their mother, and that he got himself into the mess, and he needed to own up to it—plus there was Lorraine’s father who told Javier he’d never meet his kid if he didn’t marry her.

To stop his pals from worrying about him, he finally agreed to the party and tried his best to act like he was fine when, in reality, his world was crumbling.

It may come as a surprise, but he was once a very social creature who had a lot of friends in his youth—his three closest had been Benito Esquivel, Salvador ‘Sal’ Soto, and Ken Miller. These were the guys who packed him into Sal’s moss green colored ‘72 Chevrolet Blazer and took him on a road trip to Austin, where they went bar hopping and ended up at a strip club, as was the course for bachelor parties.

Javier drank so much that night his memory was spotty on all that had happened, yet he distinctly remembered a moment when he was completely wasted in a private room at the club, crying while getting a lap dance and the kind stripper comforting him in the middle of it.

His first bachelor party didn’t go so well and wasn’t something he liked to think back on. He wished he could rip that entire chapter out of his life, but it was important for shaping the man he became—it began a chain of events that would eventually lead him to finding the perfect woman he was meant to be with—the one who truly loved him, wanted nothing more than for him to be happy, and filled that part of him he’d always been missing.

Cielito was the love of his life, his soulmate, his media naranja.

And they shared the same kind of love his parents once had, which he’d always dreamed of having but never imagined he’d actually get to experience.

His buddies had tried to keep in contact with him after he ran away, but he was too ashamed of how he left and didn't want their pity. It wasn't until his mother's funeral in '91 that he saw most of them again, and though he appreciated them being there, he kept them at arm's length. Even when he returned home in '93 and '96, he continued avoiding them because he wasn’t the same Javi they once knew, and he didn’t want to see the looks on their faces when they realized how fucked up he’d become.

Now, he was having his second bachelor party seventeen years after the first, and he couldn’t be happier celebrating that he was getting married in a few days.

This time around, his dad planned the party, and there wasn’t any bar hopping or strip clubs. Instead, Chucho got Javier’s tíos (uncles) and male primos (cousins) together for an asada (barbecue) in his backyard.

It was close to midnight, and he knew the party wouldn’t end any time soon. His family were sitting in groups, taking up the picnic table, or sitting with him in lawn chairs around the large fire pit, which was currently ablaze, with the tall flames licking up toward the sky. He’d already eaten and was nursing his third beer over the many hours he’d been there, the bottle in his hand resting on his jean-clad thigh. The fire and his black leather jacket were keeping him warm while he listened to his friend Ken, sitting beside him talking about his four-year-old daughter’s recent T-ball game.

“—so she hits the ball off the tee,” he said, “and throws her bat as hard as she can behind her at the backstop—which, thank fuck they don’t have catchers—and starts runnin’ as fast as her little legs can go, only to stop halfway to first base to pick up the ball and chuck it with all her might out of bounds.”

Javier chuckled and sipped his drink—he couldn’t wait to tell these kinds of stories about his own children.

“Clever kid,” Benito replied, sitting on his other side. “How pissed off was Emily when she didn’t get to stay on first base?”

“You know Em, Benny. That little girl is more fiery than the hair on her head.” Her father had dark blonde hair, and she had bright red, yet both shared ocean-blue eyes.

A few months back, Javier felt like he was finally in a place where he could reconnect with his old friends. He’d gone out for drinks with Benito and Ken a few times to catch up, and they’d shown him pictures of their families; Ken had three daughters, and Emily was his youngest and the only one with red hair. He’d even introduced his wif-fiancée to them and took her to have dinner with them and their wives—it was nice.

He tried to reach out to Sal, but the other man was a part of the Special Forces in the army and had spent more time deployed than at home since Desert Storm—Benito and Ken said he was okay, or as okay as a guy can be after spending so many years in active duty. It made Javier feel like a real asshole for avoiding them for so long when they’d just wanted to be there for him like they were for Sal, who’d been through more dangerous and worse shit than him.

By no means were he and his old friends back to having the tight bond they shared when they were twenty-two or had anything close to his relationship with Steve—they’d grown too far apart and were virtually strangers now. That didn’t mean it wasn’t great to hang out with people who knew him before Lorraine and hadn’t taken her side or were judgemental of the choices he made.

“Big tantrum?” Benito asked.

“A complete meltdown. You’re gonna love havin’ kids, Jav.” Ken patted him on the shoulder.

“They have their moments,” Benito added, “pero, dios mio, mi vida no sería la misma sin ellos (but, my god, my life wouldn’t be the same without them). I love my little terrors.” He had five children; his littlest wasn’t even a year old.

“Yeah,” Javier said fondly. “I’m really fucking excited to have kids and get married.”

The other two men were smiling.

“And that’s how it always should’ve been,” Ken replied. “That’s how we know you’re marryin’ the right girl this time. It’s great to see how happy you are—and Benny and I can tell you’re actually happy.”

“Yeah,” Benito said, “‘Cause you’re smiling this time around and not crying—that stripper, though, what was her name? Diamond? Ruby? Shit, what was it?”

“Jade, maybe?” Ken answered. “You should remember, Benny, you’re the one she took home.”

“I can remember her amazing tits and ass, but couldn’t tell you what the hell she looked like or her name.”

Javier couldn’t remember what she looked like or her name either, which made him frown.

“Do you guys have that one woman you can remember every fucking detail about the first time you hooked up?” Benito asked. “She haunts you—I’m talking her face is burned in your brain, and you can remember everything like what she smelled like or how soft her skin was?”

“Yeah,” Ken said. “That girl, my third year in college.” He raised his beer bottle.

“The one who deepthroated you for the first time? You wouldn’t shut up about her.”

“That’s the one—too bad she wasn’t lookin’ for anythin’ serious. Best sex I’ve ever had; don’t tell my wife that.” Ken and Benito chuckled.

“Mine was Carmen’s roommate.” Carmen was Benito’s wife and someone they went to school with. “We had a casual thing before I started dating Carmen—her name was Valentina, and mi mamá would not have liked her, which was fine; she wasn’t wife material anyway.”

What did he mean by that?

“What about you, Javi?” Ken asked.

“I’m marrying mine,” he answered and took a drink of his beer.

Benito scoffed. “Are you just saying that shit, or do you mean it?”

He met the other man’s eyes.

“I’m being completely serious. She’s it, and I’m marrying her.”

Benito blew out air, shaking his head. “You lucky pendejo (asshole).”

“Now you gotta tell us what she’s like,” Ken said, and this conversation just took a turn in a direction he did not want to go in—even when he was younger, he didn’t like to brag about what went on in the bedroom.

Javier had never been happier for his cell phone to ring, but the feeling only lasted a moment as he pulled it off his belt before panic slammed into him that something was wrong because it was Cielito calling him. She was out having her bachelorette party with her girlfriends at the town bar.

“I gotta take this,” he said, setting his beer on the ground and groaning as he got up from his chair. He briskly walked out of earshot of everyone else.

His heart was pounding a mile a minute. He hit the accept button and answered when the Nokia phone was at his ear, “Hello?”

“Ohhh myyy god,” his wif-fiancée slurred on the other end. “How do you make ans’ring the phone sooo sexy?”

He let out a breath that she didn’t sound like she was in trouble.

“I don’t know—are you okay, baby?”

"Nooo, I miss you, and I wan’ you and I need you to come ge’ me—can you pleeease come ge’ me? I don' wanna be out anymore—I wanna be at home with you and naked in our bed; wait, have I told you how amazing you fuck? If there-was like an Olympics for fucking, you'd ge’ all the gold medals tha’s how good you are.” She inhaled before she continued speaking. “And your face, god, I miss your stupidly han’some face with your big baby cow eyes tha’ Daphne and Velma totally inherited from you, and tha’ gorgeous nose, and your lips—everything on tha’ mug of yours is perfec,’ and I canno’ believe you’re marrying me. Me?! How the fuck did I ge’ so lucky?! Like, you’re too pretty for me, and usu’lly, the pretty boys jus’ wan’ my family’s money—like fucking Daniel,” she fumed. “But you jus’ like me for me, and I’m sooo in love with you tha’ I canno’ stand bein’ so far away from you righ’ now. Javiii, can you pleeease come pick me up?"

Oh, she was drunk and missed him.

With how sloshed she sounded, it had him worried she hadn’t eaten much food or had enough water, and he wanted to go to her right that second to get her home and sober her up so she wasn’t too miserable the next day. He was trying to ignore what she said about her ex, but the more he learned about the guy, the higher the chances rose that he’d kick the fucker’s ass if they ever met.

"Are you sure you want to leave early?" he asked.

"Yesss, pleeease. I wanna go home wit’ you."

"Are you somewhere safe, cariño (sweetheart)?" It didn’t sound like she was inside the bar.

“I’m ou’side the backdoor where people smoke—Stacy and Arleta from the grocery store are ou’ here wit’ meee. Say hi to Javi!”

He could tell she held the phone toward them.

“Hi, Javi,” he heard the two women say. “Are you coming to ge’ me?” Cielito asked.

“Yes, mi amor. I just need to tell everyone bye—don’t hang up.”

He didn't as he quickly walked over to say goodbye and thank his dad, friends, and family for the lovely night, telling them his fiancée wasn't feeling good and he needed to go pick her up—the plan had always been he’d be her designated driver since he hadn’t wanted to drink too much; the rest of the people at her party had their own rides.

His long legs had him striding toward where his pickup was parked.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked her.

His truck door squealed as he opened it and got inside.

“Yesss! There was karaoke and I had a lot of tequila. Like a lot. Like sooo much, I sang “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic withou’ anyone daring me to—tha’ movie is sooo fucking sad. If we were in the freezing water and you pu’ me on a door or whatever piece of wood, you beh your ass I’m gonna figure ou’ a way to ge’ you on it with me. I’m not gonna be a fucking liar and say I won’ leggo and fucking leggo! You’re gonna be like nex’ to me, or hell, you could ge’ on top of me, and we’d survive—I’d make sure we both survived.”

She made him smile because this wasn’t the first time she’d gone on this rant.

He was already on the road heading toward town.

“I’d make sure we survived, too, baby. I’d use my body heat to keep you warm.”

“Why is tha’ sooo romantic? Honestly, I think you’d figure ou’ a way to ge’ us into one of the lifeboats.”

“Probably.” He shrugged.

“And then we’d ge’ to Amer’ca and start our new life together and have sooo many babies.”

He was still smiling. “Yeah—so many babies?”

“It was ye olden times when the only thing women could do was take care of their husbands and babies, plus there was basic’ly no birth control and you only cream pie, sooo yeah, we’d hav’ a ridic’lous amoun’ of babies.”

“I wanna have a ridiculous amount of babies with you now.”

“God, I know you do, and I wanna have all your babies, all of them, ‘cause you’re gonna be the bes’ dad. Like, the bes’, and our kids will be sooo lucky to have you, and they’re gonna love you sooo much and be so cute—I hope they look like you—you were sush a cutie, and I’d love to have a bunch of mini yous.”

“I want them to look like the both of us.”

“Meh, you’re cuter.”

“Stop that, you’re fucking adorable, and I’d love if our kids looked like you.”

“Fine.”

“Why’d you drink so much tequila, mi amor? That stuff makes us—”

“Horny?” she finished for him. “Our clothes magic’ly disappear.” Her speech was still slurring. “Robyn got us Tequila Sunrises, then Cat—” That was the wife of one of her coworkers at the hospital; they hung out with the couple occasionally. “—got us another round of them, bu’ Alma—” His prima (cousin) and sister of Sebastián. “—got us all tequila shots, and I also got us tequila shots, and I think there was another round—too much tequila, whish is why I called you to pick me up.”

His mouth turned down in a frown.

“Please tell me you had some food, too, and water.”

“Yesss, I knew you’d worry, so I ate a plate of fries and shared mozz-mozzarella.” She giggled. “Tha’s a fun word to say—I shared mozzarella sticks with the girls, and I drank water—had a glass aft’r ev’ry drink ‘cause I was-like, ‘If my Javi were here righ’ now, he’d wan’ me staying hydrated,’ and I couldn’ le’ you down.”

He smiled. “Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you.”

There was someone in the background who sounded just as drunk as her, asking her, “Wha’ are you doin’ out here?” It was Robyn.

“Calling Javi,” Cielito answered.

“Come back inside. You said you were goin’ pee.”

“I wen’ and Javi’s comin’ to pick me up. I’m waitin’ for him to ge’ here.”

“Girl, it’s barely pas’ midnigh’, and your bachelorette party! Leave the man alone and have fun with us! We’ll get pie after here at the diner.” It was open twenty-four hours.

“I need him,” she whined.

“Oh my god, you’re ditchin’ us for dick!”

“It’s really good dick, and I need it!”

“Mi amor?” Javi said to get her attention.

“Yes?” she answered.

“I’m not gonna fool around with you while you’re fucked up…”

“I know,” she whispered. “Don’ tell anyone, bu’ I’m too drunk, and I hate it. I wanna go home.”

“Okay, cariño (sweetheart). I’ll be there soon to pick you up.”

Another voice was heard on her end. “Why are you guys ou’ here?” He was pretty sure it was his prima, Alma.

“She’s ditchin’ us for dick!” Robyn exclaimed.

“I told you it’s really good dick!” Cielito said just as loud.

“Gross!” Alma was slurring her words, too, and sounded disgusted. “You’re gonna-make-me puke!”

“Sorry, Alma,” the other two women replied in unison.

“It’s okay,” Alma said. “You’re leaving already? I don’ wan’ you to go. We’re having so mush fun!”

“Yeah, don’ go!” He thought that was Cat. “This is the only night I can go ou’ alone this month! Le’s keep partying!”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Cielito responded. “Tequila was a mistake, and I need to go home.”

Javier figured she’d forgotten he was on the phone with her.

“I’m horny, too,” Robyn said, “bu’ you don’ see me booty callin’ my boyfriend to ge’ me, and he’s got really good dick, too!”

“¡Guácala (Gross)!” Alma interjected. “No sé por qué salgo contigo (I don’t know why I hang out with you).”

“Because we’re fun!” Robyn said. “Don’ lie, you loved it when I got our bride-to-be to rap “Shoop” with me.” Javier only knew that Salt-N-Pepa song because he’d heard his bride-to-be rap it on many occasions—she was really good, to be honest.

“You are fun, bu’ who wan’s to hear about their brother and cousin’s sex lives?”

“Sorry, Alma,” Robyn and Cielito said again.

“You all can still have fun withou’ me!” his wif-fiancée told them.

“A bachelorette party withou’ a bachelorette?” Robyn asked.

“I think that jus’ makes it a girls' night out—yeah, you can have a girls' night out! Fuck, where’s Javi? Did I tell you guys he’s comin’ to ge’ me? Wait, my phone! Javi, are you still there?”

“Yes, baby, I’m still here.”

“Where are you?”

“Maybe ten minutes away.”

“Ugh, okay.” She whispered the next bit loudly, “Robyn’s mad at me.”

“Damn straigh,’ I’m mad at you!” Robyn said. “It’s your bachelorette party, and you’re abandonin’ us for a man!”

“But he’s like a really grea’ man, and wonderful, and han’some, and the bes’, and I love him so, so, so, sooo, mush and wanna have his babies. So, I’m not abandonin’ you for ‘a man,’ I’m abandonin’ you for the greates’ man alive, and you can’ be mad at me for tha’.”

What she said had Javier grinning.

“Y’all are too disgustingly in love, but wha’ever, nex’ girls' night, no fuckin’ tequila.”

She forgot he was on the phone with her again and listened to their drunken discussion about what they should do for a girls' night, going off topic a few times. Her friends stayed with her until he arrived.

He pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the back of the building where he saw the group of women and some other bar patrons hanging out by the door, the area lit by two lights on the building.

“Cielito?” he said, hoping it’d get her attention. “Are you still there?”

“Oh my god, Javi!” Came her exclamation. “Where are you?!”

The truck was put into park, and he kept it idling as he got out.

“To your left.”

Her head turned to the right, making him snort with a smile on his lips.

“Your other left, mi amor,” he said. He’d walked around to open the passenger door, and her gaze finally landed on him under the orangeish glow of a towering street light.

“He’s here!” she squealed, and he ended the call, putting his phone back on his belt. He watched her shove her own in her purse before she hugged all of her friends goodbye.

Javier had seen the dress she was going to wear tonight; he just hadn’t seen her wearing it. When she turned his way and he got a good look at her, his mouth fell open, and he thought his heart would beat out of his chest like a cartoon character in love.

The champagne-colored mini dress was long-sleeved and covered in sequins, the neckline plunging to accentuate her breasts, the skirt ending just a little above her knees, a white sash across her chest reading in fancy black script, ‘Bride-to-Be,’ and she looked fucking stunning.

His awe ended when he suddenly had to act fast and catch the woman he loved who flung herself into his arms—he grunted at her body slamming into him, her lips crashing into his, wrapping his arms around her back to feel her skin from the deep V down her back.

The smell of booze hit him almost as hard as she did, along with the undertones of her perfume, Javier tensing when she grabbed his ass. With how she was hitching her leg up on his waist, he thought she was trying to climb him like a goddamn tree.

“Mmm… hi, baby,” his muffled voice said.

His hand went to her face, his thumb under her chin, and fingers splayed along her cheek as he gently pushed to separate her mouth from his. Her eyelids were closed, and her lips pursed.

“Hi, baby,” he said again. “Did you miss me?”

She smiled. “Yesss.” Her glassy, bloodshot eyes blinked open, and it was obvious she was utterly blitzed; there was no way in hell she could pass a field sobriety test. “God, you’re sooo gorgeous—look at your cute nose—” She poked the tip of it. “—boop. Your eyes are sooo pretty, and you smell sooo good—you always smell so fucking good. I love you so, sooo much.” She pecked him on the lips. “I’m sooo happy you’re here.”

She looked so cute and it had him smiling.

“Yeah?” He shrugged off his jacket and put it over her shoulders.

“Mmm, tha’s nice and warm. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cielito. You ready to go?”

“Oh my god, yesss!”

“Okay, let’s get you into the truck, hermosa (beautiful).”

He helped her get up into the cab, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, he was in the driver’s seat, with her pressed right against him.

“I’m sooo happy we’re going home,” she said, hugging his arm closest to her.

“I’m happy we’re going home, too, Cielito—let’s get you buckled.”

He leaned over her to grab the seatbelt, getting it over her lap and buckling it in, ensuring it wasn’t loose, before getting his own belt on.

The short drive to their apartment had her in his space, kissing his cheek and neck while telling him how much she loved him, and it was so sweet that warmth spread through his body.

When they arrived, Javier had to keep her steady as they walked with an arm around her waist, making her lean into him. Once inside, he propped her against the front door to remove his coat from her shoulders and her sash, hanging them with the other jackets on the wall. Then, he pulled her purse from her arm, putting it on the console table, and he helped her remove the flats on her feet, kicking off his shoes afterward.

Her eyes were closed most of the time while she mumbled, a lot of it he didn’t understand, but what he did make out was her confessing her love for him and waxing poetic about how attractive she found him—it was adorable.

He wanted to get her sober, so he helped steady her as they made their way to the kitchen, moving past the counters and appliances to the small connected dining room and having her sit in a kitchen chair, pushing her close to the table in order to keep her from falling onto the floor.

Javier’s palm rubbed circles into her back. “Cielito?”

Her head tilted up in his direction, looking at him with red, glossy eyes and a big, dreamy smile.

“You’re pretty.” Her speech wasn’t slurring as much. “And you’re marrying me. I can’t believe you’re marrying me. We should blow this popsicle stand and go back to our place to have premarital sex—gotta do as much of that as we can before we’re married and our sexy times become legal.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean by the sex becoming legal?” he asked.

“You know, sex is only legal to God when the couple is married—we won’t be living in sin anymore; gosh, that’s gonna make your dad sooo happy. I love your dad. He’s the fucking best. Let's make him your mom’s flan next weekend ‘cause that dude deserves it—man, I’m hungry.”

“We’ll make him flan, baby.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Can I make you some buttered toast?” That seemed like a safe choice and shouldn’t make her sick.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, toast sounds fucking amazing!”

He smiled. “Okay, mi amor. I’ll make you some.”

Javier bent to kiss the top of her head before padding into the kitchen.

Making her two slices of toast and having her eat them, along with drinking a large glass of water, didn’t take too long—there were a few times he had to remind her about the bread because she was so chatty; at one point she went on an entertaining tangent about how those mythical half horse, half human creatures, centaurs, would wear pants, and even made him tear off a page from the notepad on the fridge, so she could draw him visuals on why the correct answer was the pants would go on the back part of their horse body.

Jesus Christ, he was so fucking in love with her.

He felt better after she finished her snack and drink with how her speech sounded clearer and that she didn’t seem as fucked up as when she called him from the bar—she was definitely still a little drunk since she couldn’t walk without stumbling, and her eyes were having a hard time staying open.

His next priority was making her comfortable. He led her to the bedroom, where he carefully replaced her dress and bra with his olive green t-shirt, leaving her in the shirt and her cute cotton panties she already had on that were covered in red hearts.

He took her to the bathroom, where he sat her up on the countertop and stood between her legs to keep her in place.

“Cielito,” he said, grabbing a wet wipe, “I’m gonna clean off your makeup, okay?”

There was a big smile on her face, her eyelids shut. “Mmmkay, you’re sooo nice.”

He pressed it to her face to begin removing her makeup. When that was done, he used a warm washcloth to dampen the skin he’d cleaned and grabbed her face wash off the counter, which was amongst her other skincare products. He used his fingertips to apply it to her skin, starting with her cheeks, then down her jaw to her chin, and back up to spread it along her nose before doing her forehead last.

He used the wet cloth to wipe away the cleanser when she spoke.

“Did you just wash my face?” she asked.

“Yeah?” He’d finished, and her skin was finally completely clean and looking dewy. Her face wash was put away, and his eyes squinted as he read the labels of the other products until he found what he needed and picked it up. He’d seen her do her skincare routine more times than he could count and had the basics down; the serums and special creams intimidated him, though.

His fingers were massaging the moisturizer into her skin along the same path they’d taken with the cleanser.

“Is that moisturizer?”

“Yes.”

Her breath stuttered, her mouth turning into a frown, and he matched her look.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, leaning toward the sink when he was done to wash his hands. He then dried them with the towel on his other side hanging on the wall.

Her bottom lip was trembling, and it worried him.

“You love me,” she whispered.

“I do,” he said and kissed her forehead. “I love you so fucking much.” His hands rubbed over her bare thighs.

She opened her eyes, and they were welling up, glistening under the lights above.

“You love me,” she repeated.

He held her cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, I love you—I love you more than anything.”

Her voice was so small. “Why doesn’t my family love me?” With tears rolling down her face, her question shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Oh, Cielito, baby.” His tone was soft, and he wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her tight, her face going into the crook of his neck. “They’re assholes and they don’t deserve you.”

Her body started shaking with sobs, and it had his chest squeezing tight, his eyes getting watery, wishing with every cell of his being to make her feel better.

She was the strongest and bravest woman he knew, who didn’t like to show any sign of weakness, and ever since her parents’ unexpected and unwanted visit earlier in the week, she had acted like she was fine in an attempt to hide her sadness.

The day after he was offered a large sum of money to leave her, they’d gone over to his father’s to use the fax machine in his office—the office was in its own little building across the driveway from his house—and she faxed Jerry, her parents’ lawyer, a typed letter that conveyed her disappointment in how they acted and also told them to never contact her again which she signed at the bottom. She changed her home and cell phone numbers and discussed with him possibly moving to the ranch earlier than they originally planned.

He’d tried to talk to her about everything, but she’d put on this smile he knew wasn’t genuine by the lack of its usual luster, and she was unable to keep the sorrow from showing in her eyes—it killed him how her usual happy glow had dimmed from her hurt. She’d reassure him she was okay, reminding him that her family made their choice and had to live with the consequences of it, but she also had to live with the consequences of their actions and deal with the emotions of never seeing or speaking to her loved ones again. He was expecting the façade to break at some point, and it took inebriation to cause her carefully crafted walls to finally crumble.

To add salt to their wounds, Javier was served at work the following day after the fax was sent, with a lawsuit for breach of contract from her mom and dad.

What were they trying to sue him for? Going against his word to not tell their daughter about their visit and proposition, thus breaching a verbal contract that was made. He’d laughed as he called Chucho’s attorney because they never fucking agreed with his terms and, instead, had countered with the damn prenup. They didn’t have a fucking case, and it was dropped by the next day.

Javier was so unbelievably pissed off at these people for what they’d done to the woman he loved that he knew there was no way in hell he’d ever be able to have a civil conversation with them again. It was possible it’d turn into a physical altercation, and he’d end up in jail, which he honestly thought would be worth it if he got the chance to punch her dad in his stupid fucking face.

“They’re my family,” she choked out, “they’re supposed to love me—why don’t they love me? Why am I so unlovable?”

“Mi amor, you’re not unlovable—I love you, Pop loves you, my tías (aunts), tíos (uncles), and primos (cousins) love you, Robyn loves you, mi mamá loves you—you’re loved. We love you, baby. Those people you’re related to are shitty and so blinded by their obsession with money and how they’re perceived that they wouldn’t know what unconditional love was if it bit them in the ass. They’re horrible fucking people, and you don’t need them, Cielito. You don’t.”

“But they’re my family!” she cried. Her tears were soaking through his shirt. “It doesn’t feel right that they aren’t going to be at our wedding, and it hurts so fucking much that they don’t support us!”

He kissed her hair, rubbing circles on her back with his palm. “I know, cariño (sweetheart). I know you’re hurt and that it’s fucked they won’t be there.” It was hard for him to swallow around the lump that’d formed, his eyes burning, and he squeezed them shut. “I’m sorry you fell in love with me and that I’m not good enough for them or good enough for you. I’m sorry for causing all this shit and the pain you’re feeling. I’m sorry, baby—it’s all my fault,” his voice cracked on the last word. He had to clear his throat. “But I’d do it all again because you deserve to be loved—you deserve all the fucking love in the world. Your family is supposed to love you because they’re your family, and our kids will love you no matter what because you’re their amazing mom, but me? I’m choosing to love you with every fucking thing I have because you’re incredible and so lovable.” His cheeks were wet from his own tears. “I love you, Cielito—I promise I’ll love you enough to make up for them. I promise I’ll love you so much you’ll get sick of me. I love you, Cielito. You’re my everything, and I hope my love’s enough…”

She sniffled loudly, her head rising, and he opened his eyes to meet her reddened ones, her face streaked with wetness.

Her voice was hoarse. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her hands in the small space between their bodies, clutching his button-up shirt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, and you’re enough—you’ve always been enough. It just hurts how hateful the people who are supposed to want me to be happy are toward what makes me happy.” More tears fell down her cheeks. “You’re what makes me happy, and they don’t accept you.” Her lower lip was wobbling. “I’m mad and sad, and I don’t want them to be a part of our lives, but it feels… it feels like they’ve died,” she said quietly. “It feels weird grieving over people who are still breathing, who are just a phone call or a plane ride away. I’m grieving them like they’re dead—are they dead to me? Why am I grieving what little relationship we had, yet also grieving the relationship we could’ve had? One where they welcomed you with open arms, and even if it wasn’t your favorite thing to do, we visited them once a year—you’d joke around with my brother, we’d fawn over his many children, and my parents would actually be impressed with what you did in Colombia and brag to their friends about their son-in-law who helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and did take out the Cali cartel. Why am I so fucking sad about living people and a fantasy?”

He stroked his fingers along her cheek to cup it. “I don’t remember much from my mother’s funeral ‘cause my head was pretty fucked up, but there was something the Priest said that stuck with me. ‘Grief is just all the love you had for someone that suddenly has nowhere to go.’ So, it collects inside you, makes your chest ache, and leaks from your eyes—it fills all the places that were left empty by their loss. I’ll always feel my mom here—” He put a hand over his heart. “—but over time, a lot of my grief slowly disappeared, and you’ve made it easier to live with what’s left.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t think what you’re feeling is weird. They might be alive, but you lost the only family you’ve ever known and are grieving the death of your relationship with them—now there’s all that love you still have for them that has no place to go, so it’s filling the emptiness they left behind, and it’s gonna take some time to heal.” He held her face in both of his hands. “It’s okay that you're sad, Cielito, but you don’t need to hide it from me or pretend that you’re okay because I know you’re not, and I don’t want you going through this alone. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on; I’ll hold you or talk things out with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help ease your pain. Just please don’t shut me out.”

She was frowning, her eyes darting away as she spoke softly, “I knew if you saw I was upset, it’d make you sad, and I didn’t wanna make you sad so close to our wedding—this should be a happy time for us, but all I wanna do is lay in the dark and cry.”

“Baby?” His finger went under her chin to make her look at him, their gazes meeting. “Don’t worry about my feelings, and let me be there for you—I’d rather be sad with you than have you suffer alone in silence. Now, let me get you to bed so I can hold you while you cry.”

Her smile was small, and her eyes were glossy with tears. “I’d like that.” Suddenly, she looked panicked, her hand going to her mouth. “Move,” said her muffled voice. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Shit.” He immediately helped her off the counter, for her to stumble the handful of steps and drop to her knees in front of the toilet, where she did, in fact, get sick.

It took a lot to gross out Javier—he grew up on a ranch, where he witnessed animal births and deaths regularly. Combine that with the horrible things he’d seen in Colombia, someone throwing up was a welcome change.

“Oh, mi probecita (my poor thing),” he said, spinning around to the wall opposite the bathroom vanity to get a small rag from the linen closet before moving back to the sink to wet it with cold water. “Déjame cuidarte, Cielito (Let me take care of you, Cielito). Sé que no te gusta enfermarte (I know you don’t like getting sick).”

She’d told him that when she had a little too much fun at a party playing drinking games with his primos (cousins) and found herself on his old bathroom floor, hugging porcelain with Javier there for support—they’d ended up being too drunk to drive home and spent the night in his childhood bed.

He wrung out the washcloth and walked over to her, a grunt leaving him and knees popping as he lowered himself to kneel next to her. He pressed the cloth to the back of her neck with one hand while the other rubbed comforting circles over her spine.

His tone was warm and gentle. “Get it all out, baby. I know it’s awful, and you hate it, but it’ll make you feel better.”

It didn’t take long for her stomach to empty and her heaving to stop. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and Javier took care of flushing the toilet. He scooted back and pulled her with him, the tiled floor cool underneath them, until he had room to stretch out his legs in front of him while she sat between them with her spine to his chest, her eyes closed.

He held the wet cloth to her forehead, the fingers of his free hand laced with hers, and kissed her hair.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered.

“I’m never drinking again,” she mumbled.

He huffed amusedly and smiled, placing a kiss behind her ear.

“Liar,” he said. “You said that last time you drank too much.”

“I mean it this time.”

“Uh-huh, right.”

“I do—this is embarrassing.”

“I think it’s good practice.”

He knew the look on her face was one of confusion without seeing it. “Practice for what?”

“If you get morning sickness.” He kissed the side of her neck.

“Oh, god,” she whined. “Why can’t we be seahorses?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Seahorses?”

“Yeah, male seahorses do the whole pregnancy and birth thing—that’s the fucking dream.”

He thought about it for a second, taking into account how badly he wanted kids, and it was really fucking weird to say this out loud, “If I could… I’d, uh, do that for us…”

He could hear her smiling. “You’d have my babies?”

Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “...yes.”

“I know the scenario is weirding you out, and it’s sweet of you to say you would, but I’m not sure if, given the opportunity, you’d actually do it—which is fine. Pregnancy and childbirth are scary, and it just proves that mothers are more badass than fathers.”

“You’re definitely more badass than me.”

“I appreciate you saying that, man who literally hunted bad guys for a living and had a bounty on his head.”

“You are, and since you’re taking the brunt of everything for us to have a kid, I promise I’ll do whatever possible, so all you’ll have to worry about is growing our baby and working.” She’d made it clear that when she got pregnant, she was still going to work until either the baby was born or the Doctor told her to stop.

“You know, I think we’re gonna crush being married and becoming parents.”

He smiled. “We are because we’re equals, even if you’re more badass than me.”

“We are equals, and thank you for acknowledging my badassery, man who helped eliminate two of the biggest cartels in the world.”

He snorted. “Smartass. How are you feeling?”

“A little drunk, sad, and I’ve got the spins.”

“Do you still feel sick?”

“Not really—just dizzy.”

“Do you want me to help you brush your teeth and then get you comfortable in bed?”

“That actually sounds wonderful because my mouth feels icky, and I’d like to cuddle.”

“Okay, mi amor.”

He started to move, but she stopped him with her hand on his arm as she said, “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“You’re worth it.”

“Worth what…?”

“The pain and sadness over my family. You bring me so much love and happiness that I know it’ll outshine the hurt in no time, and this low I’m in is only temporary. You’re worth it and more than enough—your love is all I need. I love you.”

His throat was feeling tight, and he spoke softly. “I love you, too.” His arms went around her middle, and he didn’t squeeze as he hugged her to not hurt her stomach. He still wanted to hold her, his chin resting on her shoulder and their heads touching. “I’m happy I’m worth it to you, and just know that I’m yours; I’m here for you—good, bad, it doesn’t fucking matter because I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll get through anything together.” His lips pressed to her hair. “I tell you I love you a lot, but I hope you understand that I love you more than words can accurately describe—I love you, Cielito. I love you, and I promise I’ll be yours forever.”

Her hand came up behind her to press her fingers into his hair. “Yeah, we’re gonna crush being husband and wife.”

She made him smile. “Less than seventy-two hours, Mrs. Peña.”

“And I can’t fucking wait, Mr. Peña.”

The town of Laredo was buzzing with the news Javier Peña was getting married—yes, the same Javier Peña who left his first bride at the altar, had tumbled in the hay with many of the girls he’d gone to school with, and was apparently some kind of lothario in South America.

It really bothered you how fucking interested and judgmental the townspeople were of his sex life.

Your wedding with him was all anyone could talk about, and the bar was even taking bets on whether or not he’d disappear again, which was fucked up, but Chucho gladly put five hundred dollars on his son marrying you because he knew it was easy money. There was so much interest in how things would turn out that people you either barely knew or had never met approached you both like they were old friends of Javi’s to try and get invites—they were politely rejected with the excuse there wasn’t enough room.

According to Robyn, your wedding had the same amount of hype as your fiancé’s first, and though Javi hated that, you really hoped it annoyed the fuck out of his ex.

When you discussed how you wanted to tie the knot, your husband-to-be agreed the ceremony should be attended by a select few, and afterward, there’d be a big party to celebrate with the rest of your friends and family. Once the date was decided, the planning started immediately since there was so little time.

Chucho and his sisters would make a killing as wedding planners. They sat you and Javi down to get an idea of what you wanted the party to be like, a color scheme, and a budget, then told you guys not to worry and that they’d take care of everything. All the two of you had to do was approve things, hand over cash, and get your rings, which wasn’t too much of a hassle since you wanted simple matching gold bands.

Something you loved about the family you were marrying into was how they were all there for each other and so tight-knit—your fiancé's dad and tías managed to get all that was needed in less than a month with the help of his primos, and by calling in favors from their friends.

Javier and you didn't want anything extravagant. The party would occur in Chucho's backyard, under a giant white pole tent. Tables, chairs, and a dance floor had to be rented, and it was highway robbery how much the local place wanted to charge—Lorraine’s family frequently used them for their events, and you wouldn’t put it past her father to be the cause of such an exorbitant price just to spite Javi for wasting the absurd amount of money he spent on Lorraine’s first wedding. Luckily, on such short notice, tía Lupita’s oldest son, Matías, had a friend who knew a guy an hour away in Zapata who ran a party rental store and could get them everything at a reasonable price.

The tías, along with their daughters/daughters in law were handling food; Anna, who was friends with Javi in high school, had a bakery and was taking care of making the cake and Mexican wedding cookies that were tiny, buttery, ball-shaped, melt-in-your-mouth, powdered sugar-covered cookies, dotted with crushed nuts like pecans, walnuts, and almonds, and traditionally served at weddings and Christmas; tío Ángel and tía María’s husband were in charge of getting alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, and Ángel’s youngest son Diego was going to DJ, as it was his side hustle and he’d been paid to do gigs at other parties in town and in a couple of big city clubs.

An hour and a half before you were to be wed, practically every family member of Javi's who lived locally was at the ranch. Many had been there all day setting up the backyard or in the kitchen making food, and every time you tried to help cook, you were shooed away, but your presence was wanted outside to instruct those putting things together on how to arrange and decorate everything inside and out of the tent, and that ended up being what you did until it was time to start getting ready.

Most of Javier’s family and you were there, yet your groom was nowhere to be found and hadn’t set foot on the property in a good sixteen hours.

In that time, you hadn’t seen or talked to him either, and your last interaction was the previous night when he dropped you off at his dad’s—that’s where you spent the night, and thank goodness, Chucho had already gone to sleep when Javi helped you get settled in his old room, because he had a hard time leaving and it led to him fucking you slow and passionately in his ridiculously squeaky bed one last time.

Why were you staying at the ranch? The two of you, encouraged by Javi’s dad, made the decision not to see each other on the day of your nuptials. Since your almost father-in-law would be driving you to where the ceremony was taking place, it made sense for you to sleepover and get ready at his house—the moment Javi left you there in his room that smelled like him, under his sheets that smelled like him, in one of his white t-shirts that smelled like him, you realized it was going to be really difficult and a test of your strength to be away from him for so long, and you both knew, if you spoke even a single word over the phone, the resolve between you would shatter, and he’d be back at Chucho’s for you in record time.

That led to the lack of communication and him getting ready alone at your shared apartment.

You were sitting in a kitchen chair you’d brought into Javi’s old bathroom, wearing a white satin robe cinched tight over your clean body, fresh from the shower and the special undergarments you'd chosen for the big day. Robyn was in front of you in her matching black robe as she did your makeup, something she offered to do and you happily accepted due to how good she was at it. She'd already smoothed out your complexion and hid any imperfections; currently, she was working on your eye shadow.

"Between you and Javi," she said, her attention focused on what she was doing, "your kids are gonna have some pretty eyes."

You smiled. "I think his eyes are prettier, and just imagine tiny versions of them; they'll give me the sad puppy dog eyes, and I'll have no choice but to give them whatever they want."

She giggled. "Your babies will be spoiled."

"I have already accepted that fact—hopefully, they'll take after their dad and be spoiled, but sweet, caring, and well-behaved, and not some little assholes." You frowned. "My brother was a spoiled asshole."

She paused what she was doing to meet your eyes. "Hey, now, we agreed not to think or speak about those people today. We aren't lettin' them sour the best day of your life so far."

"I know," you sighed.

It was the right choice to sever your ties with your family, and you had no regrets; that didn't mean it wasn't hard or hurt any less. Especially today, with it being your wedding day—your mom wasn’t there to help you get ready, nor your dad for a father-daughter dance. They should’ve been there supporting you on the happiest day of your life. Instead, they destroyed whatever relationship you had with them, and it hurt a lot. Even suspecting for years that they had no love for you didn't ease much of the pain of discovering it was true. You felt stupid for caring about these people when they cared so little for you, and you weren't sure why you hadn't cut them out sooner. Was it naively thinking they'd change? Or the ingrained notion that even if you didn't like them, you had to suck it up because they were your family?

It didn't matter now because what they'd done and how they treated the man you loved was unforgivable. There was no chance in hell you’d ever trust them again, and you didn’t want the new life you were starting with Javi to be tainted by their toxicity.

Robyn's cell phone was sitting on the bathroom counter next to your open makeup bag, and it started ringing—nobody wanted to bother you while you got ready, so Robyn was made the point of contact to either deal with what was going on or talk it out with you.

She straightened and turned around to pick it up.

"Why's he callin’?" she mumbled, hitting the accept button and putting the phone to her ear. "What's shakin' bacon? Robyn speakin,’" she answered. "...yes," she told them, "I'm doin' her makeup right now... No... No, you can't... Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? No one is supposed to see her before the wedding... You're a fuckin' liar, and Chucho wouldn’t let you in here anyway... You're ridiculous," she said in exasperation. "But if you swear, on your mama's grave, you won't peek, then I'll allow it... Okay, fine. Give us a sec, then quietly knock—I don't want anyone knowin' you’re here... bye."

She set the phone down and the eyeshadow palette, spinning on her heel to face you and grab your hand.

"Was that who I think it was?" you asked.

She was smiling. "If you’re thinkin’ someone annoyin’ who could get me in more trouble than an armadillo on the highway with your father-in-law, yes—come with me."

Robyn tugged you up to stand and led you into the bedroom, where you both came to a stop.

There were two large windows on the opposite wall beside each side of the bed, sitting half a foot above the floor with closed blinds and red curtains over them. A soft knocking sounded on the one in front of you. You followed Robyn and watched her push apart the curtains, pulling on the string to raise the blinds. Her body blocked your view as she unlocked the window and shoved it up.

"How many fingers am I holdin' up?" she asked the person outside.

"I don't know," Javi answered. "I can't see shit with this thing on."

The sound of his voice had your heart beating faster.

"Good," Robyn said, moving out of your way to look at you.

With the window's position, you could only see your fiancé from the thighs up, wearing black tuxedo pants and a white long-sleeved dress shirt tucked into them. Your sleep mask covered his eyes, and there was a loose regular tie and bow tie around his neck that matched the color of his slacks, the ends of each resting over both sides of his chest. Aside from his perfectly trimmed mustache, his face was freshly shaved, and he looked unbelievably handsome as always.

"This annoyin' man—" Robyn pointed at him with her thumb. "—says it's an emergency—he needs you to tell him how you want his hair done and which tie you’d like."

It made you smile because his hair was already how you wanted it—you had given him a haircut a couple of days ago, so the sides looked nice and clean cut down, and he combed the longer top and bangs to swoop over to the other side of his head, holding it all in place with his favorite pomade, that kept his hair soft.

He also knew damn well which tie you’d chosen.

It had you feeling gooey that he couldn't wait any longer to see you.

You walked toward him, and Robyn made herself scarce by disappearing into the bathroom. At the window, you got down on your knees to make it easier to talk to him, Javier still standing above you with his height.

"An emergency, huh?" you asked, and he smiled. Taking his outstretched hand, you guided him closer.

“Are we alone?" he countered

His palms began mapping your body, sliding over your arms and shoulders and along your neck up to your head, where he avoided your face but carefully felt your ears and hair.

"Yep."

“You feel beautiful.”

Air huffed from your nose in amusement. “Well, you look handsome, even without being fully dressed.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs to rest them on his tiny hips. “Your hair looks perfect,” you continued. “Did you really forget which tie I wanted?”

He smirked. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was the only way I knew I could get Robyn to betray Pop’s orders and let me see you; well, talk to you.”

Your eyebrows creased. “Orders? What orders?”

“He might’ve made it sound like a suggestion, the whole us not seeing each other today, but Pop is super fucking superstitious like mi mamá was—he doesn’t think he is—believe me, he is, and it made him feel better we agreed to do it. So, he has everyone out here on strict orders to keep us apart, including Robyn. One of my tíos is sitting at the end of the kitchen table right now so he can watch the front and back door; another is on the living room couch to stay close to my room in case he’s gotta intercept me. You’re being guarded like a fucking high-security witness with a hit out on them. I had to park my truck down the road and have Seb hide me in the trunk of his Bronco to get here without anyone seeing.”

“That is insane.”

He sighed. “At least Pop kinda gave us a choice; my mom wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have let us take any risk of getting bad luck because I saw you.”

“It’s sweet and extremely intense.”

“Yeah, and I can’t see you, so we’re good.”

You smiled. “Gotta love loopholes.”

He was smiling, too. “Yeah. I missed you so much. I just needed to touch you and talk to you.” He grabbed your hands off his waist, stroking his thumbs over the back of them. “I couldn’t sleep last night without you—even when I tried sleeping on your side.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep either, and I missed you, too. I’m happy you’re here so we can talk. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy, and I can’t tell if they’re nerves or excitement.”

“Maybe both?”

“Could be. Don’t know what I have to be nervous about.”

“I’m nervous about having to say my sappy bullshit in front of other people and have it recorded.”

“That’s actually a good point—if we leave now, we can make it to the courthouse before it closes and skip all of that.”

He huffed out a breath. “It’s too late for that, mi amor. Pop’s excited about being a part of the ceremony and getting to walk you to me.”

There wouldn’t be an aisle per se, just a small trail of rose petals leading you to where Javi would be standing in front of the tree. Chucho cried happy tears when you asked him to give you away.

When your soon-to-be father-in-law heard about your parents' impromptu visit, you’d never seen him so angry—his face had gone red, and he went off in Spanish about what terrible people they were. He was so mad he repeatedly tried to get you to give him their phone number so he could tell them himself how lowly he thought of them and that they were awful parents; he wanted them to know that their loss was his gain and you were his daughter now; you would finally be loved and cherished by a proud parent and that it was God’s will you came into his and his son’s lives. He also needed them to be aware that their pride and greed had turned them villainous, and he’d be praying that they someday realized the error of their ways and saw you for the blessing you were.

His anger toward those who wronged you was fueled by a protective father’s love for their child, and it made you incredibly emotional that after so many years without one, you had a parent who loved you unconditionally, wanted nothing more than your happiness, and would selflessly fight battles for you.

Chucho was the best dad you’d ever had, and you were happy that in less than two hours, you’d share a last name with him, too.

“Ugh, you’re right,” you said, “Pop deserves his moment. Hey, babe?”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“When you’re saying your sappy bullshit, focus on me. It'll just be the two of us in that moment, no one else, and believe me when I say all of my tears will be happy.”

His smile was brighter than the sun. He lifted your hand to kiss each of your knuckles, saying when he finished. “All of my tears will be happy, too, and you do the same thing—it’s just us, nobody else. Will you, uh, tie my bow tie?”

His question had you smiling. “I’d love to.”

He pulled off the regular tie and stuffed it into his pocket, bending his knees and crouching with a grunt to put his neck within reach. You took the ends of the bow tie, your attention focused on what you were doing.

"This is why you had me learn how to tie a bow tie, huh?" You started going through the steps—ensuring one end was longer than the other, then crossing it over the shorter end, bringing it up from under the loop and through it.

"Yes."

The bow tie had taken shape, and you were almost done.

"What was your plan if Robyn didn't let you see me?"

"I would've called you and gotten you to sneak away."

You finished tying it, and it wasn't perfect, but it didn't look too bad.

"And I would've with zero hesitation," you said, patting the bow tie. "You look so good." You leaned out to peck him on the cheek.

"Not as good as you."

You huffed out air. "Obviously, you can't see me because only half of my makeup is done—there's literally eyeshadow on only one side. I look like a mess."

Your hands were on his shoulders, and he rubbed his hands back and forth on your arms.

"A beautiful mess."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm in love."

"I'm in love, too—madly, as a matter of fact. Oh, your dad took me out for breakfast this morning in the Mustang. He filled up the tank on our way home, and when we got back before everyone came over, he polished it, so I think it’s safe to assume you’re gonna get to drive it at some point in the next twenty-four hours—you can’t see, but I’m wagging my eyebrows.” You were.

His lips pouted, and his hands remained still. “Who drove to and from the diner?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just wanna know.”

“But why does it matter?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“No, I’m just curious why you need to know who drove.”

His shoulders slumped. “I think I have my answer—how many times has he let you drive it now? Was that four or five?”

“Six. He let me drive with him in the passenger seat and Robyn in the back when we went wedding dress shopping.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you get weird like you are now that he lets me drive it—I can’t help that he thinks my cooking is Mustang-driving-worthy.”

“But you didn’t make him anything when you went wedding dress shopping…”

“No, but he was so touched I wanted him there to help me pick out a dress, he thought the special occasion warranted me getting to drive.”

“He didn’t let me drive the Mustang when we went to find a tux…” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, babe, but my wedding dress I bought and am going to save in case our future daughter wants to wear it one day is a little more special than your rented tux that has been worn many times before you by strangers. Now, stop being jealous, and get excited that you’re finally going to drive it, and unlike me, you’ll be allowed to drive it wherever the fuck you want, so there, you have one up on me.”

He seemed to be thinking long and hard about that last bit.

“That is better…”

“It sure is. Lean in and kiss me. It’ll make you less grumpy.”

“As much as I’m dying to kiss you right now, I, um, wanna wait, so it’s kinda special…”

“I respect that and understand what you mean. Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married today, and I hope you like my dress.”

He smiled brightly. “I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married, too. I’m gonna love your dress.”

“I hope so.”

“Baby, you could show up in a paper bag, and I’d be blown away.”

“The bar is so low. Do you wanna feel what I’ll be wearing under the dress?”

The pink of his tongue quickly peeked between his lips, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

His timbre deepened. “Yes.”

You poked your head out the window to ensure no one was around, then loosened the belt, holding your robe shut. Taking his hand, you started at your shoulder beneath the silk, letting his fingertips graze over the bare skin, trailing them down to the lacy cup of your strapless bra. He couldn’t help himself and palmed your covered breast before you moved his hand once more to continue the journey downward, where he got to feel the smooth, stretchy material hugging your middle; you let his fingers find that the spandex covering the warmth between your thighs, too.

“Not very sexy,” you said. “Well, the bra is cute. The rest is so I don’t look lumpy in the dress or have panty lines.”

He was about to say something, but you spoke before he had a chance. “Yes, Javier, I know you love my natural body, including the bits I don’t, but I wanna look my very best, and that means Spanx.”

He was frowning. “Are they uncomfortable?”

It warmed your heart that he was concerned for your comfort.

"Not really," you answered truthfully. "They're like my bicycle shorts, so stretchy and breathable. Will it make you feel better to know I have sexier bottoms I'm gonna wear when I change into my comfier dress after food and our first dance?"

He didn't know what your wedding dress looked like, but he had seen the one you were changing into after it.

His free hand went to the window frame, feeling along it until he found where the opened window stopped and ducked his head under it. His face was close to yours, one of his palms still between your legs, the other carefully sliding up the edge of your open robe.

"I'd prefer you wear no panties," he rasped, pulling the silk off your shoulder. His mouth pressed to the newly revealed skin, the soft kiss of his lips and tickle of his mustache, paired with his hand on your pussy beginning to rub, had sparks dancing down your spine. "It's gonna make me hard," his words were muffled between kisses as he moved across your shoulder toward your neck, "seeing you in your wedding dress.” Your fingers went into the hair at the back of his head, his spare hand palming your breast. “I'm gonna lose my fucking mind hearing you say 'I do.'" He was kissing and nibbling at your throat now, the added friction of his palm at the crux of your thighs making it hard to think. "It's gonna drive me fucking crazy that you're my wife—my wife,” he repeated against your throat. “And I’ll be your husband—I already want you, but all I’ll be able to think about after we’re pronounced husband and wife is getting you alone, and if you’re not wearing panties, it’ll make it easier for me to lift up that pretty—“

“No, Javier!” Robyn interrupted, and you felt cold water mist against your bare skin, the spray bottle hissing near your ear. “Bad!”

“Fuck!” he yelped, his head narrowly missing the bottom of the raised window as he pushed back from you so fast you’d think he was burned. His expression had turned grumpy as he stood. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I promised your daddy I wouldn’t let you see her,” she said, looking mad. “But out of the kindness of my heart—” She pressed a hand to the left side of her chest. “—I went against my word to your father, and how do you repay me? By wastin’ time gettin’ fresh with your fiancée when I’m riskin’ your daddy bein’ madder than a box of frogs at me for not doin’ what I said I’d do—you’re bein’ real rude Javier Peña, exploitin’ my niceness and I’d appreciate you sayin’ your goodbyes, and bein’ on your way.”

His eyes were covered, but it was visible how his face shifted from grumpy to guilty.

“I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said.

“Apology accepted. Say goodbye, and then we gotta get back to work.”

“Okay,” he replied.

The other woman headed back to the en suite. Leaning forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to step toward you.

“Thank you for coming to see me or, you know, talk to me,” you told him.

He smiled, squeezing your palm. “There was zero chance of me waiting to talk to you until the wedding. I love you too much.”

“I’m happy you did, and I love you, too.”

He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know you will, and I’ll be there.”

Javi sighed. “I better go. Bye, Cielito,” he said and didn’t move.

“You’re gonna see me in a little bit—get going, babe.”

He sighed again. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

This time, he quickly pecked the back of your hand and started quietly walking along the front of the house. You assumed he had taken off the sleep mask to sneak away.

You closed and locked the window, shutting the blinds and curtains, feeling happy that you'd be seeing him again soon.

It took some time to finish getting ready, as you wanted to look perfect. Robyn did a fantastic job on your makeup, and your hair turned out well. When you saw yourself all dolled up and wearing your dress, you almost couldn't believe it was your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.

The white, silky satin hugged your curves as it cascaded to the ground to pool around your feet, the fabric having some stretch to it so your movements weren’t hindered. The neckline dipped in a slight V, your upper back bare from under your armpits up, and thin straps went over your shoulders connecting the two sides.

With how the satin draped over your figure, perfectly fitting the contours of your body, then flared out below your knees, it had a Morticia Addams feel to it—change the color of it to black, add sleeves, and you’d find it in her closet.

Javi was right. You looked so amazing that he was absolutely going to get a boner when he saw you.

And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?

A man so in love with you he gets aroused even when you're fully clothed because he thinks you're that pretty. He was also the kind of guy who sometimes got too excited from a kiss, and you had to wait a little while in the car for him to calm down…

"What do you think?" Robyn asked beside you. She'd put on her dress—a lavender-colored, A-line, floor-length gown with ruffled short sleeves and a V-neckline that, as an added bonus, had pockets.

You met her eyes in the mirror. "That I've never looked more beautiful—if you ever wanted to get out of nursing, you'd be a fantastic makeup artist."

She smiled, her full lips painted in rose-pink lipstick. "Thank you, but I prefer doin' it as a hobby and bein' able to help my friends out."

"Well, thank you for making me look insanely pretty."

"All I did was enhance what was already there, girl—Javi's gonna lose it."

"I hope he does."

A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and without a word, your friend went to see who it was.

"Is it okay for Chucho to see you?" Robyn called from the other room.

"Yes!" you answered, and nerves started fluttering in your belly over what he'd think.

Within seconds, your father-in-law was standing in the doorway, where you faced him with a grin.

"Dios mío (My God)," he gasped, his hand going to his mouth, “eres tan hermosa (you’re so beautiful)!” His dark eyes behind his glasses started to shine.

He was wearing light grey slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie in the same shade as Robyn’s dress resting against his chest from a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck; as usual, his long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

“Ese vestido es perfecto (That dress is perfect)!” he said. “Estoy tan feliz de que lo hayas elegido porque te ves increíble (I’m so happy you chose it because you look amazing). Javi se va a volver loco (Javi is going to go crazy)."

"You really think so?" you asked, looking down at your outfit.

"Oh, yes." He nodded. "He's not going to leave you alone. We'll have to get a crowbar to pry him away from you."

You giggled, looking at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling he's gonna be stuck to me all night."

"When isn't he?"

The question made you laugh. "Touché."

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to," the older man started, "but I went through mi amor's jewelry to see if there was anything I thought you might want to wear—it could be your something old—” You hadn’t figured out what to do for something old; your something new was the perfume Javi got you for Christmas that you saved for today so he’d have a scent memory. Something borrowed was Chucho’s land, where your ceremony and party would take place, and something blue was a garter from Robyn around your thigh under your dress. “—and I found this necklace,” he said.

That's when you realized he was holding a large, thin, black leather box in his other hand.

Chucho walked closer to you, holding it in a palm, while the other lifted the hinged top—the necklace was made up of many silver waves connected together, purple sapphires resting in each dip, that you counted seventeen in total. It was stunning, the metal and precious gemstones glimmering beneath the lighting.

"I gave this to mi Antonia on our twentieth anniversary," he told you. "We'd visit her family in Mexico two, three times a year, and always for Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). On one visit, she saw this necklace and fell in love with it—it's Taxco silver and known for its high quality; many pieces made with it are crafted by hand and marked, so you know it's real. She wouldn't let me buy it for her because she thought it was too expensive for something she’d hardly wear, but the way she looked at it, I had to get it for her anyway, so I did and surprised her with it on our anniversary; she yelled at me," he chuckled, smiling. "Then had me put it on her and covered my face in kisses." He sighed fondly. "I think if she were here today, this is what she would've chosen for you, too—if you don’t like it, we can go upstairs for you to pick something else out..."

"No, Pop," you said quickly, meeting his gaze. There was a lump in your throat at the thought he'd put into finding you this piece of jewelry. "It's perfect, and I'd love to wear it. Can you help me put it on, please?"

"Yes, Mija." He set the open box on the bathroom counter and picked up the necklace with the same care as you would a newborn. Turning so your back was to him, he had an end in each hand as his arm went over your head to get the silver and sapphires around the front of your neck, clasping it at the back. He stepped away, and you faced him again.

There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were soft. "Mi hija hermosa (My beautiful daughter).” The sentence had your breath hitching. “¿Ella es preciosa, no (She is gorgeous, right)?" he asked Robyn. She understood Spanish but had a hard time speaking it.

The other woman was beside him, grinning. "She sure is," she agreed. "A real stunner."

"I'm so happy this day has finally come." Tears were brimming on his eyelids, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. "I just wish mi amor was here to see our son marry such a wonderful woman."

Your eyes were burning as you held back from crying. He'd put his eyeglasses back on, and you stepped forward to hug him, being careful of your makeup. His arms went around you, squeezing you back.

"I wish she was here, too," you said. "At least we've got you, the best dad in the whole world. I love you, Pop."

"I love you, too, Mija. Thank you for loving my son and making him the happiest I've ever seen. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't tell you how much joy I feel that you've decided to take our last name; I think it suits you better."

"I think it suits me better, too."

“You’re gonna kill the grass if you keep walking back and forth like that,” the other man told him.

They were at the oak tree on the hill, and the sun was getting close to setting. Javier had his whole outfit on: a black tuxedo and bow tie, white shirt, and lavender pocket square—he’d borrowed a pair of his father’s golden cufflinks, and one of his mother’s violet roses was pinned to his lapel. He didn’t have a cigarette to calm his nerves, so he was pacing, but the comment had him stopping with a sigh.

"Are you wearing a hole in the ground 'cause you're being impatient?" Steve continued. "Or are you nervous?"

His gaze went to his best friend, who was standing in front of him holding a small, white, heart-shaped pillow adorned in lace that went around the edges—there were two golden rings, one bigger than the other, secured to the top of it by a satin ribbon tied into a bow. The older man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit he regularly wore to work, with a new tie provided by Javier that matched his lavender pocket square. Nate was in a carrier on his back; the parents put the one-year-old in a onesie that made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo and some dark pants, the child happily chewing on a football-shaped teething toy.

His hands went to his hips as he frowned. “Both?” Javier answered. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’m nervous about saying shi-stuff—“ He quickly corrected himself with the children present. “—I usually save for when we’re alone.”

Steve was giving him a weird look. “My kids are here. This ‘stuff’ is appropriate for them to hear, right…? It’s not anything… lewd…?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not anything like that, you judgemental pri-prude.”

The blonde man’s free hand went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, you said you save it for when you’re alone, and y’all have stayed at our house—any time the two of you were alone, you… folded laundry.”

“Folded laundry…?”

“Javi,” Connie said to get his attention, and he looked over to where she was fussing with the purple bow in Olivia’s hair. “You know when there’s a big load of laundry that requires two adults to fold, and they have to lock the bedroom door so there aren’t any distractions.”

Oh, ‘folding laundry’ was their code word for sex—that was smart.

“Mom and Dad have been folding a lot of laundry together lately,” Olivia added with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know it was so hard to do alone—the baskets don’t seem that big.”

Javier smiled, his head turning from one parent to the other, seeing they were avoiding his eyes and blushing—good for them, fucking regularly.

“It’s more satisfying to do laundry with someone, so it gets done quicker,” he said.

“Doesn’t seem to get done quicker,” she replied.

Steve cleared his throat before he spoke. “Anyways, enough about laundry—what are you planning to say that’s got you nervous, Jav?”

He stopped smiling and scratched his mustache. “Uh, like, lovey-dovey, romantic crap…”

His best friend’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “What, like, super cheesy stuff? Are you gonna read the poetry you wrote about her eyes in your diary or something?”

Javier ground his teeth.

"Leave him alone, Steve," Connie said. "In our wedding video, before I walked down the aisle, you were clearly figuring out where all of the nearest exits were in the church. It’s refreshing and sweet that Javi’s gonna be vulnerable in front of everyone for the woman he loves.”

"I was checking where the exits were in case of a fire!" Steve rebuked. "All those candles they lit made me nervous."

"If that's what you tell yourself." She didn’t sound convinced.

“I was! Why did we need to be here forty-five minutes early?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I was really enjoying the food your aunties were feeding us back at the house.”

There wasn’t a chance for Javier to respond; the answer to the question was he wanted to show how eager he was to marry the woman he actually loved and avoid any chance of being late—it also was a ‘fuck you’ to the people betting against him at the bar.

"Tío, tío!" The three-year-old Stevie shouted, running up to him; he was holding a Ninja Turtle action figure he'd been playing with in the grass.

Javier smiled, his attention moving to the child, crouching to be at his level. "Yes, mi principito (my little prince)?"

"We match!" His tiny finger pointed at his little light purple bow tie over his white dress shirt. The kid refused to wear a regular tie like his dad, and the only way they got him to agree to the clip-on bow tie was by telling him Javier had one, too.

His friends weren't by any means struggling with money, but Javier and his wif-fiancée, sent them a check to pay for their trip to Texas, which included flights, lodging, a rental car, and clothes for the wedding since they wanted those at the ceremony to match—Olivia got a new dress and so did her mom in the shade of lavender everyone else was wearing.

The family had gotten into town the day before. Cielito and Javier had shown them around town and taken them out to the ranch where Chucho and Connie finally got to meet in person—there was a lot of hugging—and that evening, they all, including his father, went out to dinner. Today, he’d spent more time with his friends before they all needed to get ready, then they followed him out to the ranch to distract Chucho while Javier covertly went to see, or, well, talk to his bride-to-be—the sleep mask was Connie’s idea, and she thought them sneakily meeting without anyone knowing was incredibly romantic.

"We do, bud,” he said. “You look so cool." He gently patted the child's arm.

Stevie was grinning. "I'm gonna walk from Mommy to Daddy and give him the rings?"

The hill they were on wasn’t too steep; Olivia was fine with walking up it from the bottom—she was excited to do it. For her younger brother, it was too much for him, so Connie was going to stand with Stevie a little before the land evened out at the top to signal when it was time for him to walk to his father.

"Yes," he nodded. "You'll walk while holding the pillow with the rings and hand it to your dad."

"It's a special job?"

"It's very special."

"Sissy's gonna throw flowers?"

"Yes, flower petals."

"It's a special job, too?"

"It is. They’re both important. Thank you for helping me, mi principito (my little prince).” He ruffled the child’s dirty blonde hair, making Stevie laugh.

Javier’s primos, Sebastián, and his tía Rebeca's daughter, Angelita, were taking care of the videography and photography, respectively. Seb had the video camera Javier bought, and Angelita had her own gear since she was a professional photographer—when you had fourteen cousins on just your father’s side, the odds were in your favor, one of them could either help with what you needed or knew somebody who could.

Photos were taken of Javier with the Murphys when they all first got there, and then his primos told everyone to pretend they weren’t there while they got candids and views of the scenery—his cousins arrived together in Sebastián’s SUV.

“Hey, Javi?” Seb said as he walked toward him.

"I gotta talk to him, buddy," Javier told Stevie. "I'll be back." He rose up with a groan, taking a few steps to reach his primo. "Yeah?" he answered.

When camcorders first came out, they were big and had to be rested on the operator’s shoulder, but the one Seb was using, he held in one of his hands with the side pulled open to see the little screen that previewed what was being recorded. The younger man hit a button on the video camera to pause what he’d been doing. “Do you want me to interview people?” Seb asked. “Ask how they like the wedding, if they have any advice, that kinda stuff.”

"Uh." He thought about it and Cielito would probably enjoy that. "Sure.”

"Perfecto (Perfect)." Seb nodded, hitting the button to record again.

Javier immediately regretted his decision when the camera was put in his face.

“It’s your big day, primo,” Seb said. “How are you feeling?”

“Um, excited and nervous.”

“The audience would like to hear how you met your bride.”

Javier smiled, heat rising on his cheeks. “At the grocery store, in the produce department—I guess it was obvious I was struggling to pick out a tomato, and she came to my rescue and showed me what to look for.”

“What was your first impression of her?”

He scratched at the back of his neck while looking away. “Uh, that she was sweet for helping me out, and beautiful. I could tell she had a good, kind heart and—” he lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “—no fuckin’ clue who I was.” He chuckled. “I was hooked from that first conversation; an instant connection—there was something about her that told me she was going to be someone important to me, and I’d never felt that with anyone else.”

“What’d you do for your first date?”

His immediate thought was what happened after the bar, and his face felt hot. “We, uh, went out for drinks.”

“When did you know you loved her?”

He looked at the camera. “Honestly? Our third date. We were dancing in her kitchen to “¿Y cómo es él?”—”

“Mi mamá loves that song,” Seb said.

Javier huffed, smiling. “All my tías do. So, uh, we were dancing in her kitchen, and I realized she was the woman I was going to marry. I could see us having a future and was picturing what our Sunday mornings would look like—which, they’re exactly how I imagined—yeah, I knew I loved her on the third date and that we were going to get married one day.” He cleared his throat. “When my dad tells the story of the first time he saw my mother, he says his gut told him she was the one, and I always thought he was talking out of his—ass,” he whispered. “But it’s real and crazy to know deep down inside that you’ve found the person who completes you—feeling that confirmed she was it and that I truly did love her.”

“I think I know the feeling you’re talking about, and it’s great.”

“It is, and at your wedding, I’m gonna grill you on camera about it.”

“Hey, your wife is gonna eat this up, and you both want kids; think about your hijos (children) watching this one day and seeing how much you love their mom on your wedding day.”

The thought of sitting on the couch surrounded by his wife and kids, watching this wedding video, made him soften to the point he was putty—he wanted it to be a reality one day.

“What’s something you want to say to the bride before you get married?” Seb asked.

“I love you, and today is the best day of my entire fucking life—”

“—Eso es un dólar en la jarra, tío (That’s a dollar in the jar, uncle).” Olivia interrupted.

She meant the swear jar.

Javier sighed. “Lo siento, mi tesorito (I’m sorry, my little treasure). As I was saying, mi Cielito, I love you, and today is the best day of my entire freaking life. Happy isn’t enough to describe how I feel about us starting this new chapter of being husband and wife, and I’m looking forward to our future full of love, happiness, and hopefully, a lot of kids.” He smiled big. “I love you more than anything, and I will tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” To end the sentence, he blew a kiss at the camera lens.

In order to get to where Javi was, it involved Chucho driving you off-road, and the trip was bumpy; you sat in the passenger seat, and Robyn was in the backseat, and because your father-in-law was probably as nervous as you were about speaking in front of people, he held your hand the entire way.

The previous day, when you brought the Murphys out to the ranch, you’d taken them to where you were going to be wed to do a quick rehearsal on how things would go; Olivia was beyond ecstatic to be a flower girl, and Stevie didn’t really understand what was going on, except that his tío Javi had an important job for him.

Chucho pulled up and parked at the base of the hill with your door opposite it so you couldn’t get a closer look at everyone atop it. The butterflies in your belly were flapping around so hard you thought they might get out, while your mind was racing with what could go wrong like you falling—that was a reason you wore flats, but with how much of your dress touched the ground, there was a chance of it tripping you up. Or what if Javi’s handsomeness made your brain stop working, and you couldn’t speak a single coherent word? Something that has happened before. God, your heart was pounding, and you thought you might be having a minor panic attack due to your vision starting to tunnel—a small silver flask was held up in front of your face, the cap already twisted off.

“Take a drink, Mija,” Chucho’s soothing voice said. “It’ll calm you down.”

The man was a lifesaver.

You grabbed it, taking a big swig, and your face pinched as the whiskey burned down your throat—from the taste and smoothness, you recognized it as Javi’s favorite, which was top shelf, a little spendy, and probably came from the bottle your fiancé gifted his dad to thank him for his help in getting you to give the green light to start your family.

The effect the alcohol had on you was almost immediate, feeling all of the tense muscles in your body relax at the same time. Your father-in-law took the flask from you and knocked it back with a drink of his own.

“Robyn?” he asked when he finished, holding it up for her to reach.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, accepting it from him to take a gulp.

“I couldn’t see Antonia before our wedding,” he said, his head turned your way, “or talk to her. We were kept apart at the church, and I was so nervous that I was shaking like a leaf.” He chuckled. “Not about getting married, but having to stand in front of so many people. It had to be minutes before I needed to go out with the priest that mi amor’s maid of honor, her best friend, found me to give me an opened bottle of tequila and a note written by Antonia that read, ‘Mi amor, un trago para el coraje (My love, a drink for courage). Yo también necesitaba uno (I needed one, too).’ And she left a lipstick stamp of her lips at the bottom, where she kissed the paper. I won’t deny it. I kissed where her lips had been and took two shots.”

The story made you smile.

Chucho had put on a jacket that matched his light grey pants, and you watched as he pulled something from the inside pocket. It was a small folded piece of paper that’d been ripped from the notepad he kept by the answering machine at his house to write down messages. He passed it over to you, and you unfolded it, finding Javi’s scratchy handwriting. You read what he wrote:

Cielito, You said you were never drinking again, but I think this can be an exception since you’re probably freaking the fuck out about embarrassing yourself like I am. I’m worried I’ll see how beautiful you are and forget how to talk, or my brain will stop working. Have a drink to calm your nerves, and know it will all be okay because we’re doing this together. I love you, Your husband

The note was touching, especially since he knew how you’d be feeling.

“When did he write this?” you asked Chucho, whose eyes you met, the man smiling.

“When he met up with Connie and all of them at the house before they came out here. I’d given him the flask when he got there as a gift, but he told me to keep it for you and asked if he could write you a message. It reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn’t say no.”

“Thanks, Pop. I needed it.”

“I know you did, Mija.” He patted your leg.

When Javier saw his father's truck in the distance, his heart rate increased, and by the time they parked at the bottom of the hill, his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest.

With where he was standing at the tree and how the land sloped, he didn’t have a visual. Steve was beside him with Nate still in the carrier, Connie and Stevie, who was holding the pillow with the rings, had walked to the top of the hill and were looking down it, probably watching Olivia, who booked it to join the people at the truck. Seb was near Steve's wife and kid with the camcorder and a battery-powered boombox on the ground he was supposed to hit play on when Robyn gave him the signal.

Sweat was forming on his brow and on his palms. He turned to Steve.

"Do I look okay?" he asked his friend. "How's my hair? And the bow tie?" He lifted his chin.

The other man was wearing an amused smile. "Hair and bow tie look as fine as they did when you asked five minutes ago." He put a hand on Javier's shoulder and squeezed. "Relax, man—you look great. She's gonna love what she sees."

"I fucking hope so."

The sun had started its descent on the horizon and was the backdrop for the place they’d be standing; the sky where it met land was lit up in burning orange, bleeding into golden yellow where the sun was positioned, and high above that, it turned into a calming mauve.

The soft, melodic sound of a piano began, and it was Javier's cue to face the others. Christine McVie’s voice floated through the air as she sang the opening to the Fleetwood Mac song, "Songbird:"

“For you there'll be no more crying For you the Sun will be shining And I feel that when I'm with you It's alright, I know it's right.”

Seconds later, Robyn came into view, smiling while holding a small bouquet of sunflowers with a lavender ribbon wrapped around the stems. She shot her boyfriend, Sebastián, a wink as she passed him. She took her spot across from Javier beside where Cielito would be.

When he discussed with his wife-to-be the music for today, she only knew for sure what she wanted them to dance their first dance to, and since Javier didn’t object to it, she left what she’d walk down the aisle to up to him. He knew she’d hate the traditional “Bridal Chorus,” a couple of Elvis Presley songs came to mind, “No Sé Tú” by Luis Miguel perfectly described how Javier felt when they met and was a good option, “At Last” by Etta James would be appropriate, too, and “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena was in the running, because, Selena, but then he remembered this song on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours—his favorite album, and for good reason with it having some of the band’s best classics like “The Chain,” “Dreams,” and “Go Your Own Way;” it was also seeping with palpable heartbreak of a messy breakup, except for the track, “Songbird.” It was a major tonal shift from all the angst with its pretty piano and Christine McVie crooning her love. What sold him on it were the lines:

“To you, I’ll give the world To you, I’ll never be cold ‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you It’s alright, I know it’s right.”

He loved it when he heard it played live at the band's concert twenty-three years ago—he’d been seventeen and still in high school; he and his buddies snuck off to Fort Worth to see them, and “Songbird” was the last song of their set before the encore.

It was his three-year-old sobrino’s (nephew’s) turn to walk forward, his mom sending him to his dad with the rings—they all laughed at how he ran as fast as he could, making Javier smile.

"Here, Daddy," the child said to Steve, holding up the pillow.

His father accepted it.

"Great job, kiddo—high-five." His friend had to bend a little to gently hit his palm to Stevie’s tinier one, and the toddler turned to Javier expectantly, who, of course, bent his knees and high-fived him.

"You did good, buddy,” he said.

Steve told his son to stand with him, and Connie went to be next to Robyn as everyone watched Olivia walk up, tossing red rose petals from a small white basket, leaving a trail of them behind her. He hum-sang under his breath along with the song:

“And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before.”

Finally, his bride came into view, her eyes locking onto his, and all the love he had for, all of his happiness, and thanks he had to the universe for making this day happen overflowed from him, falling as tears down his face and made his smile so big, he could feel the dimple in his cheek.

She was breathtaking and better than anything he could’ve imagined; this moment would be seared into his brain for all eternity, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life—he almost told Steve to make sure he didn’t float away.

Her bouquet was made up of roses from his mother’s garden, and his heart felt like it would burst. Then the dress—Jesus Christ, the dress was perfect with how it molded to her body and showed off her tits from the neckline V-ing between them. His fingers were itching to see if the fabric was as buttery smooth as it looked, wanting to explore the expanse with his fingertips, mapping out every curve, line, and dip he’d already ventured countless times before but now on a new canvas; He desired to feel her softness under his palms and cradle her beautiful face to kiss those delectable lips he so loved; he wanted to hold her in his arms, her familiar shape he knew as intimately as his own, pressed against him, where she belonged.

All of it was getting him too excited, and his pants were feeling tighter, just as he suspected might happen.

Javier’s dream wedding night would have them partying with their friends and family well into the later hours and holding off on consummating their marriage until they retired to the room he rented at the nicest hotel in town he was surprising her with. He’d been determined to do just that up until he had to spend the previous evening by himself where he was alone with his thoughts and ruminated on how beautiful she was going to look, that she was going to be his wife, and one day soon, the mother of his children; since she wasn’t there to distract him by simply being in his vicinity, he worked himself up until he was rock hard and had to take a freezing shower.

He didn’t see there being any chance they’d make it to the hotel without them fucking at least once beforehand.

God, she was so fucking gorgeous.

He had to wipe at the wetness on his face, his smile continuing to shine.

Telling her his feelings in front of everyone wasn’t all he’d been nervous about; his brain was a real asshole, and there’d been a tiny thread of worry she wasn’t going to show—it was stupid, to have even fathomed something so absurd, yet looking at how shitty his luck was up until they met, he thought it wouldn’t have been too surprising that this time he’d be the one left at the altar.

But she was here! She came! And he was so overjoyed he couldn’t stop crying.

Wait.

Oh, fuck, she was close now—what was he supposed to do? It only just registered that she was walking with his dad, and they were almost to him, and he couldn’t remember what needed to happen when she got to him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he was starting to panic that he didn’t know what his next move was, worried he was going to fuck it all up; it was unbelievable that he’d been in gunfights, had to think on the fly to stay alive many times, and put on press conferences, yet at this moment when there wasn’t any danger or eager reporters, he was so overwhelmed by the woman he loved’s beauty, and that she was marrying him, his brain had ceased functioning entirely, and he was spiraling at embarrassing himself with so many onlookers.

Javi was having a panic attack.

The change in his eyes, how they went from bright and happy to panicked, clued you in, and any nervousness you felt flew out the window because your only concern was helping him.

Unhooking your arm from Chucho, you held out the hand, not holding flowers to Robyn.

“Flask me,” you said. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and passed it to you, taking your bouquet in return. You stepped in front of your betrothed as you unscrewed the cap on the container of booze. “Hey, baby,” you said in a soothing tone. “You’re okay.” You grabbed his hand and put the flask in it, pushing it toward his face. “Have a drink to calm your nerves. Everything is gonna be okay, honey. Remember, we’re doing this together—it’s just us.”

The music had stopped playing.

He shook his head once like he was trying to shake the bad stuff out, and he took a drink, or several, with how his Adam’s apple kept bobbing.

“Looks like I’ll be driving us after this.” The adults surrounding you chuckled, and you smiled.

His hand lowered, and his vision focused on you, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No reason to be sorry—I freaked out in the car.” You took the flask from him, screwed on the cap, and handed it back to Robyn without looking. “Feeling better?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over his bangs while his eyes were on yours.

“Much,” he answered with a small smile, his palms moving to rest on your hips.

“Wanna get married?”

“More than anything.”

“Good—liquid courage helps.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, then put your lips near his ear for only him to hear, “Say the word, and we’ll pack up, go party with everyone, and hit the courthouse tomorrow.”

He spoke softly in your ear, “Thank you, Cielito, but I promise I’m okay.” He kissed your cheek. “I told you I’d see how beautiful you are and forget how to function.”

You giggled, pulling back to look at him, taking in the black tuxedo jacket and bow tie over his crisp white shirt and the lavender pocket square and the pinned violet rose for a pop of color—his hair still looked good, and you rubbed away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

When he saw you in your wedding dress, the expression on his face was something you’d never forget—it was a look of pure, uninhibited joy, and you were sure you saw hearts in his eyes with how they beamed his immense love and devotion. The way that it had him crying happy tears made you feel emotional that someone loved you with such magnitude. It’s why your immediate thought when you saw him panicking wasn’t that he wanted to back out, knowing from his note that he was freaking the fuck out about embarrassing himself, and the nerves got him.

“Let’s get married.” His head turned to kiss one of your palms.

“Let’s get married.”

Turning to your almost-father-in-law, you gave him a quick hug, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to give Javi a side hug, careful of the stuff held in one of his hands and whispering something in his son’s ear, you didn’t catch.

The elder Peña went to stand at his place in front of the tree, holding his worn, soft leather bible, with a picture of Javi’s mother stuck to the cover and a note card sticking out from between the pages to mark a spot.

Javier took your hand, and you both walked the few steps to your spots before his father; he grasped your other palm in his once you faced one another, Chucho on your left and Javi’s right.

Your husband-to-be mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and you silently replied with the movement of your lips, ‘I love you, too.’

Chucho cleared his throat, and your attention went to him.

“Welcome, loved ones,” he started, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and each other to bear witness to the perfect union of Javier, and—” He said your name. “What a joyous day we get to share with them as they embark on this new journey of a life together in matrimony that will, no doubt, be long, healthy, and filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Mijo, Mija,” he addressed you both, “I called this union between you perfect, and I meant it. Besides my marriage to my dear Antonia, que en paz descanse (may she rest in peace), I cannot think of two other people more suited to share a life together. It’s clear the good you bring out in one another and how happy you make each other.” His eyes landed on you. “And you truly make my son happy. This might come as a shock,” he said to everyone in attendance, “but Javier is a smiley guy when he’s happy, and I haven’t seen him smile so much in a long, long time.

“He also has never been able to hide his feelings because that handsome face of his tells his secrets—it’s his—” He glanced at you. “—I’m stealing this from you, Mija—it’s his puppy dog eyes, he got from his mother, and she suffered the same problem.” His gaze stayed on you. “I know Javier loves you more than there’s blue in all the sky because he looks at you the same way mi amor looked at me, and as we know, their eyes don’t lie.”

He was right, and it made you choke up that he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such honesty and the weight of so much love.

Chucho looked at his son. “Your media naranja (soulmate) isn’t much better.” He nodded toward you. “Her eyes betray her, too, even when she does her damndest to hide behind a mask. When she looks at you, though, the truth of her love is revealed—her thoughts are loud when she stares at you, and sometimes I think I can hear them; the declaration of ‘I love you,’ she’s repeating over and over again. She looks at you like you’re her whole world, and I know it’s true from those looks, how she treats and cares for you, the things she does for you, even when you don’t ask, and the effort she puts into cultivating your relationship.”

He spoke to you both again. “Marriage can be wonderful with the right person, but it isn’t always easy; I want to take a moment and give you some advice that kept my marriage happy.

“Be best friends—talk about everything, even when you don’t want to or it’s a hard subject. Communicate your needs and wants constantly, and don’t stop talking to each other. Be best friends who share everything, and I mean everything, because your relationship needs to be built upon trust, and there’s nothing better than spending your life with your best friend.

“Keep having fun—joke around, cook together, dance in the kitchen, don’t stop having fun. And keep dating each other. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that the dating stops. Go out, stay in, just have romantic time you dedicate to one another; that way, the spark stays alive. I know it’ll be harder to do when you have kids; you’ll be exhausted and won’t have much energy. Dating still needs to be a priority, and it doesn’t have to be anything exciting; it can be as simple as putting the kids to bed, staying up, watching a movie together, or baking cookies.”

“—or folding laundry together,” Steve interjected.

Javi chuckled, and you were confused. He leaned toward you to whisper in your ear, “It’s their code word for sex.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” you said as he straightened.

A furrow was between Chucho’s eyebrows. “I guess folding laundry can be romantic…” the older man said. “Now, where was I?” He opened his bible and pulled out the notecard, his eyes scanning over. “Oh, yes—anyone can fall in love; it’s nurturing that love, sharing your life with the other, facing challenges together, and growing as one that makes it real love, and what you have is real. The love you share and I had with my wife is beautiful, but it’s also fierce, it’s powerful, and all consuming; it’s not something anyone can get between and will live on even when you no longer walk the earth. I know you didn’t want a religious ceremony, but there’s a scripture I’d like to share that perfectly describes what I mean. May I?” he asked, his bible already open to the page.

Javier and you figured he’d slip in a verse or two simply because he was a devout Christian man. It was nice of him to ask permission first, though. You turned your head to meet your almost-husband’s eyes and shrugged that you were fine with it. He smiled, his attention going back to his father.

“Go ahead,” Javi said.

Chucho had a toothy grin. “Wonderful—it’s in Songs of Solomon 8 and reads: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”

He shut the bible with one hand, his notes resting atop it.

“I wish more people got to experience that kind of love—it’d do the world a whole lot of good. Javier—” He looked at his son, then over to you, saying your name. “I know with how you feel for each other, it’s natural to think marriage is the next step in your relationship. I want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes were moving between you both. “This is a lifelong commitment that will have its ups and downs, highs and lows, and you’ll need to challenge yourselves to love the other more completely each and every day. Are you ready to take this step?”

Without missing a beat, Javi and you said simultaneously, ‘Yes,’ your hands still in his.

Chucho smiled. “Wonderful. Javier—” His eyes went to his son. “—do you take—” He said your name. “—to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor her, cherish her, love, trust, and commit to her and her alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Javi said.

His father turned his attention to you and addressed you by name. “—do you take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor him, cherish him, love, trust, and commit to him and him alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” you answered.

“It’s time for you to share the vows you’ve written for one another before you exchange rings. Who’d like to go first?”

“Me!” you said immediately, and everyone laughed. “I need to get them out of the way before Javi makes me a blubbering mess. Robyn, vows me.” Turning her way, you put out your hand, and she juggled the two bouquets she held to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket to hand to you. “Have I told you your dress is amazing?” you asked her.

“Thank you—I look good and have pockets. What could be better?”

“Dresses with pockets are a game-changer.” You faced Javi, and heat bloomed up your neck and on your face at remembering you had to say how you felt in front of people.

“Hey,” Javi said to get your attention, and your gazes locked. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “Talk to me—no one else is here.”

“Right.” You smiled, then focused on the lined notebook paper you unfolded that had your writing on it. “Javier Jesús Peña López,” you began, “the first of his name, King of my heart, Lord of our tiny apartment, and Protector of me—”

“Just Javi’s fine,” he said.

You giggled. “Javi, not a day goes by that I am unaware of how lucky I am to have found you. When I think about how much time you spent away from this town—that I both love and hate—all the people you’ve met, the life you’ve lived, and the things you’ve gone through, it’s a miracle our paths crossed, and possibly Divine Intervention or the universe doing me a solid, that after everything that’s happened to you, you’ve ended up here, with me.

“It’s crazy the number of obstacles we’ve had to face together and how many people are obsessed with making your life difficult—this isn’t me complaining. I’m weirdly thankful for it; it’s kept us on our toes and tested our bond. It’s improved our communication and has built a strong foundation for our relationship.

“Something I’m also thankful for is the trust we share. I can count on you. I know you’re true to your word, and I have no reason to worry about you ever being deceitful.

“What’s also reassuring is your star signs back up the faith I have in you—as a Sagittarius, you value honesty, and when you find someone you think is really worth it, you commit, and you commit hard. With Capricorn and Scorpio in your top three, you’re super loyal, a little possessive, and definitely a relationship guy. To sum all of that up, you’re pretty much perfect and an amazing partner.

“You’re a good man, the best I’ve known. My life is better with you in it. Thank you for loving me.” Tears started to distort your vision, the emotion coming through in your voice. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being my rock. Thank you for being my protector and making me feel so safe with you. Thank you for being my best friend and the love of my life.”

You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Here are my promises to you,” you said, “I promise to love you until the end of time, and if I happen to go first, haunt you until we can be together again.” He chuckled. “I promise to be your protector and to always have your back; I will go to battle for you in a heartbeat, and hopefully, you know that. I promise to be honest, and it should go without saying because, as we’ve established, you’re perfect, but I promise to be faithful. I promise to keep making you laugh and smile. I promise to put you first and to always be your best friend—sorry, Steve.”

“You can have him,” Steve replied, and everyone laughed.

You continued speaking, “I promise to make your mother’s tamales a couple times a year—I promise to make you one of her other recipes on the days you miss her particularly bad. I promise to keep reminding you that you’re sexier and better than Harrison Ford.” That one made him and the others crack up. “I promise to rap “Whatta Man” for you every time it comes on, so you don’t forget whatta man you are. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen every chance we get. I promise to try, keyword here, try, not to recite the movies word for word when we watch Star Wars or Addams Family Values. I promise to always make sure we don’t run out of limes or your hot sauce or side-eye you when you put either on the perfectly seasoned food I made. I promise to always leave you the last of the ice cream because you’re a dirty liar when you say you don’t want it. I promise to tell you I love you every day until the day I die. I promise that you and your love will always be enough, and I’ll always pick you; I’ll always choose you over anyone else.

“Today, the separate books of our lives have come to an end, and we’re starting the next one together—I can’t wait to see what each new chapter will bring. What I know for sure—” You glanced over at Chucho. “—I’m stealing this from you, Pop—” Your eyes went to Javi’s, and his were reddened, his face glistening from crying and flushed from the alcohol. “—What I know for sure,” you said, “is this new adventure we’re beginning, will be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Javi, you are my person. You’re the love of my life, my one true love, mi media naranja, the person I want to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning. You’re my best friend and my forever.

“I love you, Javier Jesús Peña López and I am so happy I get to spend eternity with you.”

His smile was big enough his dimple was showing and you hated that you couldn’t kiss him.

Chucho sniffled, putting his bible under his arm to get his handkerchief from his pocket, lifting his glasses to wipe away his tears.

“That was beautiful, Mija. When you’re ready, Javi, go ahead.”

All she said had Javier feeling so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, and he thought his smile might be permanently stuck on his face—he was sure the alcohol wasn’t helping him to keep his composure.

His dad’s speech had gotten him, too, especially about how Chucho could see her feelings for him and said their love was real. He always wondered if the intensity of what he felt for her was normal, and hearing that his parents were the same way reassured him that they just had a strong connection. His father’s advice was helpful, too, and he planned on following it.

She looked incredible and smelled amazing; her perfume wasn’t one she’d worn before, but he knew the scent because he got it for her as a Christmas present—it was intoxicating, and he was dying to shove his face into her neck to drown himself in it. With the emotions she was eliciting from him, her beauty, the perfume, and the whiskey he drank, it was a heady combination that had him feeling buzzed, and he was so caught up in all of it that it had completely slipped his mind that he had to speak.

“Shit,” he said under his breath and barely pulled open the left side of his jacket to get into the inside pocket. First, he grabbed his reading glasses, which he put on, then the folded piece of yellow, lined paper he’d taken from a legal pad at work.

“I am literally the luckiest woman in the world,” Cielito said, and his eyes lifted to her. She was smiling, her eyelashes wet, and she looked incredibly delighted.

“The glasses?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “You’re spoiling me. I get glasses Javi in a tuxedo, and he’s gonna say pretty, romantic things about how much he loves me—talk about the best day ever.”

“With how you look?” he said. “It’s my best day ever, too.”

She playfully smacked his arm. “Stop it, don’t make me want to suck—”

Robyn started coughing loudly, and his wife-to-be’s eyes widened.

“—hug you more,” she tried to save and cringed. “Hugs, not drugs, am I right?” She chuckled nervously.

He snorted, shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked.

“Wait.” Her upper body twisted so she could look behind her. “Tissue me,” she said to Robyn, and her friend got a clean one out of her pocket and exchanged it for Cielito’s folded paper. She faced him again. “Okay, I’m ready. Remember to focus on me. No one else is here.”

“That’ll be easy.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to what he’d written. It wasn’t something he said often, but he let her first name slide off his tongue, thinking how perfect it was going to sound paired with his last. “—mi Cielito, mi amor, mi alma, mi media naranja, y ahora, mi esposa (My Cielito, my love, my soul, my soulmate, and now, my wife), my life didn’t begin until the moment I met you; what I mean by that, is I was alive, yes, I was breathing, I had a pulse, but I didn’t start living until we met. You made me want to live and be happy—for so long, I thought I would die miserable and alone, and you showed me that I deserved happiness and to be loved.” His eyes were burning, and the following sentence made him choke up. “You showed me I deserved a family of my own.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thank the universe, the powers that be. I thank whoever let you find me because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

He went off script to look into her beautiful, teary eyes. “Pop was right; I love you more than there’s blue in the sky, I love you more than there’s water in all the depths of the oceans, I love you more than there are stars in the entire galaxy—I love you more than anything, and I mean anything.”

He focused on what he’d written again. “I once told you I didn’t believe in true love, and I didn’t—that was just made-up stuff in the cartoon movies I watched with Olivia. Or at least I thought it was before you, and then, having you in my life, I discovered it was real. With you, ‘media naranja (soulmate)’ isn’t just a term of endearment; it’s an acknowledgment that you’re my other half and that we’re two parts meant to be together. Love with you transcends what most people have; we feel it deeper than our bones, all the way down into our souls, where we’re connected.

“Our love is true love.”

Wetness was dripping from his eyes to splatter onto the paper.

“Those fairytale movies got something right, and it’s that this kind of love would make a person fight dragons and sea witches for their true love. As my father said, it’s fierce, powerful, and all-consuming. It doesn’t end when our hearts stop beating; it continues on—it’s infinite—what we feel for one another is more than a single life can handle, and I’ll follow you when this one’s over; we’ll find each other again, and live another life together because there is no me without you or you without me.

“From the first day we met, I knew you were special. We spent hours talking in that bar, and I’ve never felt such peace or so comfortable with someone; with you, I don’t have to keep my guard up. I can be vulnerable, speak what’s on my mind, and openly show my affection. With you, I’m safe, and from the first night, you were my Cielito, my little heaven—there’s no better name for you, not with how happy you make me, how you make me feel, and how much better my life is with you.

“You’re my little heaven, mi Cielito, my everything. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known—thank you.” His voice faltered, and he had to wipe at his eyes as best he could beneath his glasses. “Those two words aren’t enough to express my gratitude, and I will spend every waking moment showing you how thankful I am for you and all you’ve done.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “it’s not enough, but thank you.”

He sounded gravelly, the words thick. “In you, I’ve found love, a wife, a partner for life, a best friend, an incredible lover, a home, a teacher to show me how to live; someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, someone to have a family with, who supports me, inspires me, and makes me want to be a better man.

“Thank you for being all of this and more. Thank you for marrying me today and making me the happiest man in the entire goddamn universe.

“Fuck,” he breathed, taking off his readers to hold with the paper while his other hand scrubbed away the tears. “I really hoped I wouldn’t cry this much—it’s embarrassing.”

“I love it,” she reassured. “It just shows you really mean what you’re saying.”

He put the lenses back on and looked at her, seeing her eyes were red from crying, the tissue in her hand stained with mascara—she’d managed to keep from ruining the rest of her makeup.

“I do mean it all,” he said.

She was smiling. “I know.”

Javier composed himself by taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. Finally, he was ready to speak again. “It was hard figuring out my vows because I wanted to promise you everything your heart could possibly desire, but Pop said that was boring.” He frowned.

“And that he needed to do better,” Chucho added.

Javier sighed.

“I would’ve been fine with that vow,” Cielito said.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pop was right. You deserve the best.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at what he’d written and patting himself on the back for making notes—he was definitely too emotional and tipsy to have remembered everything he wanted to say. “Cielito,” he started, “you have all my love and devotion, and I give you myself; my mind, body, and soul belong to you. I vow to never stop loving you, even when this earth is no more and the stars stop shining. I vow to make you feel loved and cherished until the end of my days. I vow to always be your best friend, your confidant, your shoulder to cry on, y un chismoso contigo (and a gossiper with you)—me encanta chismear contigo (I love to gossip with you).”

She giggled, and he smiled.

“I vow to be your equal in everything and give more than I take. I vow to always be there for you no matter what, in sickness and health, when life is easy and hard, I’ll stand by you and be your anchor.” The next one made his smile get bigger. “I vow to treat you like una reina (a queen) and be the best husband you could ask for so when you brag to your girlfriends, they can see their worth and deserve to be treated like queens, too. I vow to be the best father, one you can rely on, and doesn’t call watching my own children babysitting; I’ll pull my weight, I’ll never let you get overwhelmed, and I’ll be an active parent who loves our kids so fu-freaking much.”

“I vow to keep you safe and always make you feel safe; I’ll protect you and our children with my life. I vow to make sure all of your needs are met.” He smirked, glancing at her. “I vow to ‘fold laundry’ with you whenever you ask.” He winked, and she laughed.

“Why are adults so obsessed with laundry?” He heard Olivia ask.

“I’m wonderin’ the same thing, kiddo,” Robyn said. “I’m not obsessed with it.”

“Oh, believe me, you are,” Connie replied.

“I know the stars,” Javier said, “that astrology stuff you love, told you this already, but I want you to hear it from me, too: I vow to be loyal to you and faithful, always—to me, you are the only woman I see, or will ever want; I vow to put you and our family before all else.”

He looked at her with a smile. “I have some more things I’m gonna promise after hearing yours. I vow to always give you my pickles.” Her grin was big and happy as she giggled. “I vow to always let you sing Freddie Mercury’s parts in Bohemian Rhapsody while I do the guitar solo, and I’ll always leave you the last piece of cheesecake because I love you and value my life.” That made her giggle harder. “I vow to try, the keyword here is try, to not, as you put it, ‘creepily watch you while you sleep,’ even though you’re guilty of the same thing.” Her giggles transformed into laughter. “I vow to always dance with you when we’re cleaning the house and in the kitchen while we cook together. I vow to pretend—I mean, agree that you’re the best driver in Laredo and always know your way around, even when you don’t.”

There was a reason he drove them the majority of the time.

“Rude!” she gasped. “I’m an amazing driver!”

“I agree, mi amor, you’re the best in Laredo.” He winked again, folded his paper, and put it back in his inner pocket. He spoke as he took off his reading glasses. “There’s one more thing I vow,” he said, putting the lenses away. His hands were free and he grabbed hers, ignoring the tissue clenched in one of her palms, and stared adoringly into her eyes. “I vow that years from now—decades—after our kids are grown, and we’ve retired, maybe we’ll be living in Florida like other retirees, or we’ll still be here where our family lives and we made our best memories; I vow that when we’re old and grey and can’t hear or see shit without hearing aids or glasses, that we’ll look back on our life together, and we’ll have no regrets.

“Zero,” he said.

“We did everything we wanted and lived the life we shared to the fullest, filled with love, happiness, and laughter.”

Her shoulders started to shake, and she had to let go of his hand to blot at her eyes.

“Javier!” she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. “Why would you end with something so sweet?”

“Para que sepas cómo nuestro futuro será (So you know what our future together will be like). Quería que vieras que cuando me des ese anillo, te daré mi futuro y lo que venga después de eso (I wanted you to see that when you give me that ring, I’ll give you my future and whatever comes after that).”

She leaned back to look at him, and he was impressed that only her mascara had gotten messed up. She poked him in the chest and said, “That ring is going on your finger right this second.” Javier chuckled as her head turned to his dad. “Can we do the rings now, please?”

Chucho laughed. “Yes, Mija, you can do the rings. Who has them?” he asked aloud.

“Me!” Steve answered and moved to stand next to the older man, being careful not to bump Nate, who’d fallen asleep in the backpack carrier. At some point, the three-year-old Stevie had gone over to his mom and was now sitting in the grass next to her, eating Goldfish crackers out of a plastic baggy from the diaper bag near them. Steve untied the ribbon keeping the gold bands secured, then picked them both up, the pillow getting shoved under his arm. “Here, Jav.” Javier turned a little, holding out his palm to his friend, and her ring was set in it. He faced his bride again.

“At this time, they will exchange rings,” Chucho said, holding his bible in front of him with the notecard atop it. “Javier, go ahead and place it on her finger.” She looked adorably giddy, presenting her left hand to him, and he held it in his palm as he slid the band onto the finger with her engagement ring, pressing it against the other. “Now, repeat after me,” his dad said, reading his notes, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

Javier’s eyes fastened onto hers, and he repeated what his father said: “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.” When he finished speaking, he lifted her hand to press his lips to the new addition on her finger with a kiss, keeping his gaze on her watery one.

“I love you,” she told him.

His thumb rubbed over the gold as he lowered her arm. “I love you, too.”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “it’s your turn.”

Javier held his hand out for her to take, and when she did, goosebumps rose on his skin, practically vibrating from anticipation. Her palm was smaller and softer than his, and he watched as Steve passed her the remaining ring. A big smile formed on his face at her not waiting for his father’s instruction, putting the band onto his finger immediately—it got stuck on his knuckle, and she had to wiggle it a little to finally slide it home.

“Repeat after me,” Chucho said, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

She held his larger palm in both of her smaller ones, gazing into his eyes and smiling as she said, “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

His breath hitched as he watched her raise his hand to kiss the band, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

His father started speaking to them, “Now that you’ve proclaimed your love for one another and exchanged rings as a seal of the promises you made today in front of these witnesses and myself, by the power vested in me by the great State of Texas, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife! Javier, you may now kiss your bride!”

There was clapping and hollering, someone patted his back, and Javier didn’t waste any time—he was told he could finally kiss this stunning woman in front of him, who he loved more than anything; she completed him and made him happy like no one else—ella es su vida (she is his life), su amor (his love), su media naranja (his soulmate), finalmente su esposa (finally his wife), his Cielito.

The fingers of one of his hands traced over the familiar line of her jaw, the other pulling her tight to his chest, finding the fabric of her dress was as buttery soft as he suspected. The sun had barely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky fiery in its wake, and as it descended, so did Javier’s mouth onto hers, crushing his lips to hers. At the first touch, it felt like electricity was thrumming just below his skin, his heart racing, the press of her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making tingles wash down his spine.

It was almost like he was kissing her for the first time, and it started out gentle, wanting to savor this moment with his wife—his wife—they were married. He was a husband and wearing a ring, the metal currently pressed to the warm skin of her cheek. His excitement got the better of him, and he deepened the kiss, licking in her mouth, her soft moan causing arousal to erupt in his belly, feeling blood begin to rush to his groin. She seemed to be just as ravenous as him, their tongues tangling and her hands gripping handfuls of his hair.

Javier didn’t think he could be happier than he was at this moment.

This was the best day of his entire fucking life.

He was a married man with an amazing wife and their lives were intertwined now, becoming one they both shared. What wound him up even more was her taking his last name—not in a possessive way, but because it was another thing they’d share, and Javier wanted to share everything with her. Name, life, home, things, children, all of it, he wanted to have and with her by his side.

His dad’s voice showed amusement when he heard him speak. “We’ll just let them get that out of their system.” People laughed. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Peña!”

Mr. and Mrs. Peña.

Nothing sounded more perfect.

They hadn’t stopped kissing, too caught up in each other.

“Why are they trying to eat each other’s faces?” Olivia asked, clearly confused.

Steve shouted, “Cover her eyes, Connie!”

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a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #Javier Peña/you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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neowinestainedress · 2 years

Text

can you handle it?

title: can you handle it?

pairing: suh johnny x jeong jaehyun x lee jeno x na jaemin x fem!oc/reader (no name, written in third person)

genre: smut, pwp, best friends!au

summary: Johnny drags her wildest fantasies out of her mouth, or to be more precise, out of her phone. But can she handle it?

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fivesome, masturbation (f), oral sex (f&m), sex toys, (heavy) degradation, praises, dirty talk, orgasm denial/control, blindfold, anal (f), spit roasting, double penetration, blackmail (it’s a roleplay that starts halfway through, so no, she’s not really being blackmailed, 100% consensual), size kink, free use (kinda?? it’s more like a mentioned fantasy), squirting, fingers sucking, spitting, size kink, bulge kink, overstimulation, dacryphilia, dumbification, aftercare, mentions of breeding kink, (hard) dom johnny, dom Jaehyun, (hard) dom jeno, dom jaemin, sub!oc/reader | lmk if i missed something

word count: 12.400k

a/n: a gift for the 1k followers (thank you again, ily♡) because if I’m going to hell you’re coming with me. another adventure of them (you don’t have to read it to understand this)

“Aren’t we a bit too early?” Jaemin asked, taking a look at his watch seeing they arrived at her place three hours before their date. They had decided on a movie night together, nothing crazy to spend some time together on an early September night.

“We’ve spent all our lives being at each other’s houses when we weren’t supposed to, I’m sure she won’t mind,” Jaehyun replied, holding the bag of alcohol in his hand tighter.

“If she answered maybe,” Jeno huffed and then rang her bell for the third time.

“Jesus, I’m coming.” They heard screaming. “You could’ve left my pack — You?” She stopped when she opened the door and saw her friends standing in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t know we were coming,” Johnny said, lifting his hands with the bags full of food.

“Yes, but you weren’t supposed to be here so soon,” she chuckled awkwardly, trying to fix herself, and diverting her gaze from Johnny’s that was a little suspicious of how flustered she looked.

He knew that look on her face but shrugged it off.

“Yeah, can we come in?” Jeno urged her. “We were bored at home. You don’t mind spending more time with us, right?”

“No, of course,” she replied, moving to the side, pushing her grey sweatpants up and pulling down the camisole that was rolled up halfway on her stomach. “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

“I told them it was too early,” Jaemin said, leaning in to leave a peck on her cheeks before walking to the kitchen to leave what they bought.

“I don’t have anything ready,” she said, watching as they moved around her place as if that was their own, leaving their shoes and jackets at the door, opening drawers, and placing the alcohol in the fridge.

“Great, should we get started and do it together?” Jeno proposed. “What even did you want to do? A cake?”

“So… you’re staying, staying?” She asked, biting a hangnail of her thumb.

“What, babe? Were you having fun without us?” Johnny asked, raising a brow and smirking at her, making her look away.

“No,” she said, walking toward the kitchen while scratching her neck nervously. “I was so bored I was hoping you were going to come so soon.”

“You didn’t answer me, by the way,” Jeno said, not paying attention to their weird exchange of lines and jumping on the countertop, shrugging when she glared at him, intimating him to jump off.

“I wanted to make muffins but it was a special recipe, I don’t remember it.”

“Well, is it in one of those books?” Jaehyun asked pointing at the culinary books behind Jeno.

“Nope, I saw it on Instagram, I guess. I think I saved it,” she said. “No, yeah, I did, I also sent it in the group chat. I just need to get my phone and,” she stopped, furrowing when touching her thighs she realized her pockets were empty. “Where’s my phone?”

“Want us to call you”? Jaemin proposed with his phone already in hand.

“No, it’s on silent, I think,” she huffed, throwing her head back. Freaking habit of never turning the sound on. “Can you help me search for it? It must be here somehow.”

“Sure, maybe you placed it next to the door when you opened it,” Jaehyun said as they all started walking outside to look for it.

But Johnny had a mere idea of where it could’ve been, so he walked upstairs, made way into her room and called it anyway.

And there it was, a buzzing sound coming from behind a pile of messy blankets and… what…

“God, I can’t believe her…” he whispered with a smirk on his face while he lifted the other object up. “This is going to be so much fun.”

“Where the hell it is,” she cried curled up against the couch with her fingers tangled in her hair.

“If you stay there it surely won’t pop out of nowhere,” Jeno said.

“No need to cry, I’m your saviour,” Johnny cooed, coming downstairs, and shaking the phone in his right hand while his other hand was hidden behind his back.

“You found it!” She exclaimed enthusiastically, jumping from her spot and walking toward him. “Where the hell was it?” She asked, trying to grab it but Johnny lifted it enough that she couldn’t get it, making her quirk a brow.

“Johnny, my phone,” she insisted, the palm of her hand out, patiently waiting for him to give it back to her, not understating why he was acting like that.

“Yeah,” he hummed, “don’t you want to know where I found it?” He smirked and her eyes widened at the realization.

An awkward giggle escaped her lips while she scratched her neck nervously. “You didn’t unlock it, right?

“You don’t even have a password,” he replied. “But no, I didn’t. Wait, is the funny still on?” He teased, a mocking smirk on his face that made her knit her eyebrow.

“You rang the bell out of nowhere, I tough it was the delivery guy with my box.”

Johnny smirked again, moving his hand from his back, “a box full of these?” He asked, shaking the vibrator, making the others gasp.

“Johnny, for fuck sake!” She screamed, trying to snatch it from his hand but Johnny was too tall and too strong compared to her so there was no way she could reach it. “Stop touching it! I didn’t even clean it.”

“Pft, I was inside you, this doesn’t faze me.”

At his words she lowered her head, fingers massaging her temples, cursing lowly as she felt the others reach closer.

“Damn, it’s also a clit sucker,” Jaemin pointed out, turning it around inside his hands. “If you want somebody to eat you out I volunteer.”

“Just shut up, Nana,” she cursed. “And you, give me my phone back!”

“But I’m curious to know what you were watching...” Johnny cooed, giving her doe eyes.

“I wasn’t watching,” she said, once again trying to take her phone back with no success.

“Maybe she was filming,” Jeno teased, laughing lightly at her flustered face.

“I wasn’t filming,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Then what were you doing? Don’t tell me you can actually get off reading what are those called? Ah yeah, smut books,” Jaehyun said with a frown of disgust on his face.

“No, it wasn’t even that,” she snapped, throwing her head back.

“Then what?” Jaemin asked, raising a brow.

“Johnny, no!” She screamed but it was too late, his thumb slid on her screen, and the page popped up.

She gulped, silently watching his lips curl in a smirk before he chuckled.

“Audio porn? Seriously?”

“Mind your business,” she replied through gritted teeth, glaring at him.

“Should we get comfortable on the sofa?” Jeno proposed, placing a hand on her back.

“Nobody is getting comfortable nowhere,” she snapped. “I don’t judge you for the things you do, or watch or whatever”

“Who said we were judging? We told you, we can make you happy,” Jaehyun said, trying to calm her down.

“You will judge me if you see what I’m into,” she whispered.

They looked at each other for a quick second, all thinking the same thing: how terrible were the things she got off to?

But the first one to talk was Jeno, “Let’s make an oath then, we won’t.”

“You trusted us once, can’t you do it twice?” Jaemin asked, batting his eyes at her, making her huff and turn his face away with a playful push of her hand.

“Fine,” she gave up and Jeno didn’t waste a second lifting her up to carry her to the couch.

“What’s with your thing of lifting me up as if I’m nothing? She asked and Jeno laughed.

“I would never want my princess to tire herself,” he pouted, and she rolled her eyes, thumb trapped in her teeth when Johnny sat in front of her and started looking through her phone without saying a word.

This was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?

“Why are you making those faces? Come on tell us what’s going on there,” Jaehyun said when Johnny kept giggling but didn’t say a thing.

“Well, umh, a ton of degradation... I’m surprised. Weren’t you the one that always cried as soon as someone raised their voice at you?”

She whined loudly. “It’s the way they do it,” she cried, hiding her face behind the palms of her hands.

“Oh, should we listen to them?” Jeno asked, a teasing smirk curling his lips. “So we can learn how you like it.”

She shook her head, and mumbled, “the — the way you did it last time... I liked it.”

“Yeah, considering the number of audios with that tag, you love it,” Johnny sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s —”

“Girl, free use? Really? You’re so gross,” he mocked, lifting his gaze to meet her eyes.

She was about to remind him of the pact before but from the way his voice dropped low and his eyes were staring at her with his lips curled in a smirk, she knew that he wasn’t mocking. He was teasing because he knew that had an effect on her and, in fact, it did. Her thighs clenched together and she could feel the room get hotter. Why the hell Johnny had such a hold on her?

“Oh,” the others whispered, getting their silent game without a word.

“And free use in a... gangbang. Too many men, I don’t think you can take it,” he said, shaking his head.

“You know I can. I proved it to you.”

“The numbers on this disgusting audios you get off to are a bit too high for you fragile, little body.”

Bingo. Another one. Johnny smirked when she squirmed more in her seat.

“Imagine yourself surrounded,” he whispered, voice getting lower. “These big, tall men all over you with their big cocks ready to fuck you. And you? What would you do?” He asked, locking the phone for a second to walk toward her. His big body towering over hers as he lifted her chin up and pinched it. “You’d love it because you are disgusting. Because that shit turns you on.”

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even want to fight back because Johnny slipped into her fantasies so well that she couldn’t break the magic and the anticipation she was feeling.

“And you really told us that being filmed is the wildest thing that turns you on,” Jeno chuckled.

“Maybe she wants to be filmed so even more men can see her,” Jaemin teased, his breath fanning against the skin of her neck while Jeno’s fingers grazed her right thigh. “Isn’t it? The idea of them jacking off to you, not sleeping at night because you are the only one filling their brain. Making them go insane,” he whispered before his lips met her neck and started kissing it, a low moan slipped past her lips, head thrown back and wetness pooling between her legs.

“Yeah, isn’t what you did with us this summer? You loved knowing you had so much power over us.” This time it was Jaehyun talking, and slightly opening her eyes, she could see him stand tall next to Johnny.

“Not answering?” Johnny asked. “Fine, if you want to do it like this. Get up,” he ordered and smirked when she didn’t waste a second to stand on her feet. “Get undressed while I see what else gets you off.”

“I don’t think —” she tried to stop him but was stopped instead.

“Yeah, don’t think. Don’t talk. Don’t say a word. Follow my orders,” he ordered and she hummed. I think you like this, what’s with this title? You’re my object. My possession. My fucktoy. Seriously?”

“Do you really get off to that?” Jeno teased, laughing mockingly at her that was now standing naked, surrounded by them fully clothed.

“Of course, she does, I bet she’s dripping already.” The phone slipped into Johnny’s pocket again, she moved a hand to stop him and take it back but he blocked her and clicked his tongue. “Nah, ah, baby. The phone is my possession, you were caught with your hands in the cookie jar and now we have to teach you some things,” he said, letting go of her hand. “Since you enjoy this so much, let me ask just one time... Would you want to be our free use fucktoy?”

They chuckled when in a second she answered ‘yes’ but she didn’t mind.

“Great. But since I think this might be more intense than last time, let’s set some ground rules,” he said, looking at all of them. “I want to hear ‘red’ if anything gets too much for you, alright, baby? Even though you’re so pathetic that nothing will be too much for you,” he finished with a low laugh, looking into her eyes and she could feel her knees buckle before he moved his attention away from her.

With a wink of an eye, Johnny signaled Jaehyun to lift her back on the couch, making her sit where she was before.

“Since you like to show off so much shouldn’t you do that?” Jeno teased, moving the other chair in front of her so he could see her perfectly. “You should show us how you touch yourself while those things play in the background. Come on.”

She gulped, shyly opening her legs, revealing how wet she was.

“Spread it,” Jaehyun ordered. “Make it drip down.”

“No — no, I,” she tried to retort but their stern gazes shut her up while her hands moved to part her lips, eyes falling shut when she felt a gush slide down.

“See. You can’t pretend you don’t like this. You are disgusting,” Jeno mocked. “And now fuck yourself with those fingers.”

A moan slipped out of her lips when she slipped a finger inside her, feeling a bit of relief from the tension, her head rolled behind as the pleasure slowly intensified. She could hear the low curses coming from their mouths, and the rustling of their pants against their seats as they tried to find a bit of comfort for the boners inside their pants.

“Stop playing.” Johnny’s groan made her jolt, head snapping up, looking at him with a furrow.

“I — I’m not playing,” she replied with a shaky voice, heat washing over her body as she kept moving her finger inside because she couldn’t stop.

“Yes, you are,” he said, laying back against the armchair, legs spreading open and her eyes couldn’t help but fall there, between his legs, the outline of his hard cock too visible to don’t make her look at it with heart-eyes.

“If you want this so bad,” he said with a chuckle, sitting forward to cover his dick, “fuck yourself like you always do. Come on, you can do much better than one finger and your other hand nowhere to be seen.”

She nodded, spreading her legs more and pushing another finger inside, an higher moan slipped out of her mouth while her hand shyly found the courage to move on her body, making them smile as they finally got what they wanted. And her hands kept moving, cupping her boobs and massaging them, eliciting more moans out of her.

“Fuck,” she cried when she curled her fingers inside right where she wanted and pinched her nipple.

“Bet you’re thinking about the audio of before, aren’t you?” Jeno joked, he didn’t even know what the hell she was listening to but he couldn’t care. All it mattered right now was her, totally exposed to their eyes, fucking herself so well he couldn’t keep his dick inside his pants anymore.

She shook her head, lower lip trapped inside her teeth as she felt her stomach tighten when she started pressing her palm against her clit and grinding her hips against it. “Thinking — uhm — about you,” she confessed, eyes opening to make contact with them, drifting on all of them to see them half naked now. A smirk curled her lips, happy she could finally see their bodies again.

“Keep fucking yourself,” Johnny groaned. “It won’t be that easy to have us.”

She whined but kept moving her fingers, adding another one.

“Since you’re not thinking about those gross stuff, I want to see more,” Johnny said, unlocking her phone again, and at that point, she didn’t even care. The worse had passed, right? No, probably no.

“Orgasm countdown?” Johnny asked, quirking a brow, making Jaemin lean over to see with a smile on his face, not a mocking smirk, just an entertained smile.

“Do they tell you when to come?” Jaemin asked. “Do you listen to the orders that men you don’t even know give you?”

She nodded, eyes squeezing shut when she felt the orgasm so close.

“Well, if you listen to men you don’t know you will listen to us, right?” Johnny said and she hummed, not even registering his words.

“Stop,” he ordered.

“What?” She asked, shocked, looking at him, but still not stopping moving her fingers. They had already ruined the orgasm she was trying to reach before by showing up out of the blue. She just wanted to come.

“I said, stop. Fucking. Yourself,” he groaned, standing up, and only then she stopped moving her fingers.

“Johnny, no, it’s not —”

“Shut up,” he mumbled while he kissed her roughly.

“I think you can use something else to have fun with,” Jaehyun said, the couch at her right hollowing when his knee pushed down the seat and he twirled the vibrator in his hand.

“You — you want me to use that?”

“Please,” Jeno huffed, coming at her left, “that’s probably your best friend,” he laughed. “Does it have a little bit of battery left? I think not.”

“It surely does,” Jaemin said, pushing Johnny away and kneeling in front of her. “You always make sure it’s fully charged, right?”

She hummed, nodding shyly, looking down at him between her legs.

Jaemin smiled, his hands wrapped around her thighs and pushed them further apart, nails digging into her skin. “Will you be a good girl and keep your little toy on your clit?” He asked, and she nodded, shaky hands grabbing it from Jaehyun’s hands. “Good, and Nana will go down on you while you keep taking care of yourself, alright?”

“Yes, mmh,” she whined when he lapped at her wetness.

“Fuck, I knew you tasted so fucking good,” he hummed against her. “Come on, turn it on.”

“Can you do it or do we have to do it for you?” Jeno asked when she hesitated to turn it on.

“I — I can,” she whispered.

“Then do it,” Johnny urged.

When the buzzing sound filled the room, Jaemin started licking and pushing his tongue in and out of her dripping cunt, dragging whimpers out of her lips.

“Is it the highest it can go?” Jaehyun asked, lips moving on her neck, leaving kisses and bites.

“No — no, it can go, it can — fuck — higher,” she replied, feeling the orgasm that had been killed before starting up again.

“Then turn it to the fullest.”

“No, it — it will make me come.”

“No, no orgasm for fucktoys,” Johnny said sternly.

“No, please,” she whined louder when Jeno pushed the button and raised the vibrations. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Jaemin mumbled against her. “You’re doing so good.”

More senseless begs came out of her mouth but they were unbothered as their lips were busy kissing other parts of her body, not even leaving a single inch uncovered.

Jaemin hands were firmly wrapped around her thighs, keeping them apart, caressing the skin ever so often to soothe her and calm her down. But she was struggling to hold her orgasm in when Jaemin was sucking and licking so passionately, his hums muffled against her wetness were literally making her go crazy.

“You love it so much,” Jaehyun whispered against her neck, lips sucking and teeth nibbling her skin. “And he loves eating your pussy so much. Are you that good, baby? Do you drive everybody crazy with your sweet little pussy?”

“I don’t know,” Jaemin mumbled before pulling away, “about the others but, fuck, she’s definitely driving me crazy,” he said, before he leaned down again, this time pushing two fingers inside, making her hips jolt against him in surprise.

“You’re so sensitive,” Jeno laughed, starting to move the vibrator, stimulating her even more while his other hand cupped her right boob, massaging the skin and pinching the nipple. “Are you gonna come in his mouth?”

She nodded, mind hazy, and mouth already dry. But Johnny had other plans, lost between the sight of them teasing her and stimulating her he didn’t stop scrolling through her phone.

“Guys, stop.” She was brought back to earth when Johnny stopped them. “There’s an interesting amount of face-fucking.”

“It’s not so much,” she replied, whining.

“But even one it’s enough,” he said. “And spitting, too… So, you are into it?”

She avoided his gaze, trying to close her legs but Jaemin blocked them open. “I — I wasn’t before Jeno did it,” she confessed.

Jeno smirked beside her, a low chuckle rolling out of his lips before his fingers turned her face toward him. “Really, baby? It’s also my fault that you’re so dirty?”

She was about to reply but he shushed her, fingers placing on her lips.

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, you do look pretty looking like a mess, so maybe we should get started,” he said, caressing her lips with his thumb. “Get you all messy while you suck our cocks and then later give you what you want.”

“Come here,” Jaemin said, getting up from between her legs. “Repay the favour back?”

“You don’t know how to facefuck her,” Jeno complained.

“The hell do you know about that?” The younger replied, pushing him off while he waited for her to get on her knees.

“She wants it hard and you’re too nice for her.”

“Fuck off,” he simply replied before grabbing his hard throbbing cock and pushing it against her lips. “She likes it the way I give it to her. Right, baby?” He hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and when she nodded, he smirked.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jaemin moaned when he pushed in her open mouth and her eyes looked up at him. Her jaw went slack as she let him thrust into her mouth.

Jeno wanted to complain again about how it wasn’t hard enough but Johnny’s glare at him shut him up.

“Oh, shit, baby,” Jaemin moaned, throwing his head back as his hips started moving faster, making her gag ever so often. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

The praise made her shift in her place, but made her work harder, meeting him halfway through.

“Is it too big for you?” He cooed, lower lip pouting out as he stared at her watery eyes. “Noo?” He sang when she shook her head and moved against him. “Keep bobbing your head on my big cock, come on.”

“You need to fuck her harder,” Jeno muttered under his breath, making her eyes shift on him for a second before she brought them up on Jaemin that wasn’t looking at her.

“You need to mind your business,” he lashed out before looking at her again, tone turning sweet again. “Do you wanna gag on my cock, baby?”

She hummed, ass wiggling in excitement, eliciting an ‘I told you,’ from Jeno.

“Take a deep breath, then,” Jaemin said, pulling out of her and giving her time to breathe again. “And now take it all, deeper and harder, because you love — fuck — my cock so much. Gag on my cock like a good girl.”

It wasn’t like she had many choices when his dick was reaching the back of her throat, she had a quite good gag reflex but it still made her gag around him, spit starting to drool down her chin as the blowjob got messier.

“Can you hold me in? Fuck,” he moaned, his fingers reaching the back of her hair and tangling in her hair. “Hold my cock right there and then — shit — I pull out and only then you’ll breathe.”

She gasped when he pulled out after pressing it all the way down her throat.

“One more time, baby. You’re so good — fuck — your mouth’s gonna make me come,” he groaned, once again slipping completely into her mouth, her throat closing around his tip was the last drop he needed to come, cum filling her mouth, giving her no chance but to swallow. “Fuck, so good, so good,” he moaned before pulling out, watching her gag, and try to don’t make a mess while she coughed and spurted out some cum and spit.

“Look at you,” Johnny cooed, wiping the spit that rolled on her chin but instead of cleaning it, he let it drip down on her boobs, “such a messy, dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

She nodded mindlessly, pushing up, trying to kiss him but he smirked, pulling away.

“I found out another interesting thing about you.”

“Another?” Jaehyun whispered, what the fuck was she hiding?

Johnny snickered, “No, this one it’s not that bad. It’s cute, actually.”

“What? One audio with vanilla sex that probably ended up there by mistake?” Jeno mocked, chuckling lowly.

Johnny shook his head, pushing the hair that stuck to her forehead back and leaving a kiss on her forehead that made her squirm under him. “Our baby wants to be praised, doesn’t she?”

“Praised?” Jaehyun asked. “Didn’t you want to be degraded two seconds ago?”

“I — is it weird that — fuck,” the words got stuck in her mouth when the vibrator started buzzing against her clit again, she didn’t even register that Johnny had kneeled down so he could press it right where she needed the most, too focused on the others.

“What’s weird, baby?” He cooed, urging her to keep going.

She cried, head falling forward, thighs clasping together but it wasn’t enough to dim the sensation of the vibrations and the sucking on her clit. “That both turn — turn me — fuck — turn me on.”

They chuckled but shook their heads.

“Not the weirdest shit that turns you on,” Jeno said.

“But to be praised you need to be good, princess,” Jaemin teased, and she didn’t bother lifting her gaze and looking at him, trying to fight back the orgasm while the toy was working on her at such high speed was the only thing she could focus at the moment.

“I think she has been good,” Jaehyun pointed out, smiling at the way her body was twitching under Johnny, but she didn’t move at all to pull away or stop the torture in any way. She had always been too headstrong when she had to prove a point.

“What do you say, Jeno? Should we let her come?” Johnny asked, raising the vibrations higher, making her head snap up, watery eyes looking up at him, begging him to say yes.

Jeno smirked, he was tempted to say ‘no’ and see how much she could last but didn’t. “She was good. Let her come.”

Her body slumped against Johnny in relief, and the older laughed. “You heard him, come.” And she let go, body relaxing while her muscles finally let go of all the pent-up tension, she started shaking in Johnny’s arms and only stopped when the climax passed.

“Why are you — mhh — why are you looking at me like that?” She asked when her eyes moved up and she met Johnny’s mocking face.

“You said you could take more than us and you’re already wrecked,” he pointed out. “We didn’t even start and I’m sure there’s so much more that turns you on.”

“I can, I’m not tired,” she replied, daring eyes looking into his.

“Let’s see,” Jeno said, standing up to scoop her up from the floor and place her on the couch again. “Didn’t she have a thing for… what was that?”

“Free use?” Johnny continued, tilting his head.

“Yeah. Maybe we should leave you here, bent over,” he said, pushing her chest against the backrest and parting her legs on the seats, “blindfolded,” he whispered, “and each of us will fuck you in every hole and you will have no idea who’s doing what. Do you like that?”

She should’ve hesitated, at least to pretend she had a bit of dignity left, but nothing but “Yes, please, just… use me,” passed through her mind and slid right out of her mouth like a plea.

“Is that what you want, bunny?” Jaemin asked, walking around the couch to come in front of her.

“Yes, please. Fuck me dumb,” she begged, looking up at him before turning around to look at the others.

Before she could beg another time, she felt them all over her. Jaemin was busy kissing her, intensely but rather slowly, taking his time. While she could feel Jaehyun and Jeno’s fingers brush against the skin of her back, causing shivers to run down her spine.

She gasped in Jaemin’s mouth when Jeno pushed two fingers inside her pussy, the cold steel of his rings making her squirm more under his touch.

“Mhh, fuck,” she moaned when Jaehyun moved a hand under her, his fingers making circles on her already sensitive clit.

And she wouldn’t have minded if they kept going like this, but, in the blink of an eye, Johnny was downstairs again — not that she ever saw him leaving in the first place.

“I saw you were well equipped with the lube,” he teased, throwing the bottle to Jaehyun, but she could barely turn around because Jaemin forced her head forward, still nibbling at her lips and whispering teasing words. “And for the blindfold… I guess this bandana will do,” he said, lifting up one of her bandanas, red and silky. “I hope we won’t ruin it, it seems… rather good.”

She hummed mindlessly, watching as Jaemin took a step to the side to let Johnny come in front of her. She looked up, meeting his eyes one last time before her vision went blank.

He gently placed the fabric around her head, covering her eyes before his fingers moved skillfully to close it around the back of her head, tight enough to make it stay in place but not too much to hurt her.

“Is it good, baby?” He asked, brushing her lips and then pinching her chin.

“Yeah, ‘s good.”

“Great,” Johnny cooed.

“Fuck, who’s — umh — who’s that?” She moaned in a choked voice when a finger slipped past her asshole.

“What, baby?” Jaehyun cooed. “You loved that last time.”

“Yeah, I — ummh — I wasn’t expecting that,” she mumbled, breath getting heavier as both he and Jeno started thrusting faster.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that if I scroll through your favorites again it will be full of anal, am I right?” Johnny mocked. Well, he did��scroll through more of it, and he knew that was true, just like plenty of other things he planned of doing that night. She couldn’t see but from his voice, she got that he was still standing in front of her. “I said, am I right?” He talked again, slapping her cheek with his cock, surprising her.

“Yes — yes,” she replied.

“You looked terrified when I proposed to you,” Jaemin chuckled. “We really have a bad influence on you,” he cooed, pushing his thumb inside her mouth. “Your mother was right.”

“Bet your mom still thinks you’re her innocent, little daughter,” Jeno teased, inserting the third finger inside her cunt, chuckling at the way she was dripping down the couch.

“Maybe we should show her your internet history,” Johnny said.

“No,” she screamed.

“No?” He cooed, “Why? Will she be ashamed of you? Stop talking to you because she hates knowing you get off such disgusting things? Degradation? Free use? Blackmail? Spitting? How nasty, baby, so fucking nasty.”

She nodded, head falling against the couch because she felt the old familiar sensation build up again.

“What if our other friends find out?” Jaemin teased, wetting his lips as he stared at her body reacting to his words.

“N-no, you can’t tell ‘em,” she breathed out, but her words contradicted the way her body trembled and a rush made her skin burn up.

“You don’t want them to know?” Johnny asked. “You don’t want rumors to run around town fast about you? Think about it… you might have your dream come true.”

“No, no. I — I — fuck — I don’t want them to — shit — know.”

“Then do exactly what we order and then, if you can satisfy us, no words will slip out of our mouths,” Johnny whispered, his deep voice hitting right against her earbud making her shiver and the fantasy of being blackmailed turned her more than she wanted to admit. More cum dripped down as she clenched hard around Jaehyun and Jeno’s fingers.

“Mouth open,” he ordered, and she followed, lips falling open and tongue sticking out.

The flow of air in her lungs immediately dimed down when he pushed in completely, his tip reaching the back of her throat before he pushed all the way out.

But she wanted more, she couldn’t stand feeling just fingers and she couldn’t let them know in any way. So she pushed back, wiggling her ass, trying to make them understand but it wasn’t like they didn’t know… they wanted to see, to hear her beg, to watch her break.

“Please,” she coughed when Johnny pulled out, “fuck me.”

“You’re not in the position to commend,” Jeno replied, one hand cupping her ass cheek and squeezing tight.

“But if you don’t want to fuck her, I can do it instead,” Jaemin said, urging at least one of them to do something because teasing her meant to tease each other just as much.

“You already had her mouth,” Jeno huffed, pulling out, cleaning his cum stained fingers on her inner thigh. “I’m sure you can wait.”

“You can wait too,” Jaehyun replied, pushing Jeno to the side. “Need to fuck her first.”

“Wait, why?” Jeno asked annoyed, glaring at him.

“I was here first, and you had her for so long last time,” Jaehyun groaned, pouring more lube on his hard cock, pumping up and down before he pushed his tip against her hole.

“Oh, honey,” Johnny cooed, caressing her cheek but never stopping moving in and out of her mouth, “you’re making them fight over you. Yeah, you love that, don’t you? That they can’t wait to be inside of you and ruin you.”

She tried to nod, but he didn’t need it to know that she loved it, the way her eyes fluttered close was enough.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun moaned when he bottomed out, feeling how tight her ass still was, no matter how much he had stretched her.

“Breathe,” Johnny ordered, pulling out of her, spit rolling down her chin as her nails dug into the couch.

“Fuck, Jae,” she moaned, back arching, torn between wanting more and already feeling like it was too much.

“What, baby? You already had me don’t — fuck — be so shocked,” he replied, groaning, hands wrapping around her waist tighter as he pulled her against him with more force.

“N-no, it’s good,” she replied before her mouth fell open again, blindly searching for Johnny’s cock again.

Jaemin laughed, “Somebody’s eager. Want to suck him?”

She nodded, tongue still out and the sight would’ve been enough to make them come, but they both groaned before Johnny pushed into her warm mouth again.

“Since you’re — fuck — so eager, take it all,” he groaned, fingers wrapping around her hair to hold her head still. “That’s what you want. That’s all you need — fuck. Want them to touch you, too?” He asked and she barely managed to nod. And her eyes, hiding behind the red fabric, rolled in the back of her head when Jeno and Jaemin’s hands started roaming on her body, touching and teasing her everywhere.

“Bet you would want even more, isn’t it right?” Jeno teased while his fingers pinched her nipple, making her let out a broken moan around Johnny’s girth. “Maybe we should spread the news around and let more people pass you around.”

“Would you want that, baby?” Jaemin’s gentle tone teased. “Would you let them?”

She shook her head, body squirming more as she felt another orgasm build up.

“No? Are you all ours?” He asked, hand creeping down to play with her clit.

“Yes, fuck, yours,” she spluttered when Johnny pulled out, making her gasp for air.

“Remember you have to prove it to us,” Johnny said, voice deep and stern. “Unless you don’t want all of our friends to know about your little secrets… we might not let them fuck you,” he whispered against her ear, “but we might fuck you while they watch you.” He chuckled when she shivered and a louder moan rolled out of her lips. “Yeah, you’d love that, don’t you?”

“I bet a few of them would be boiling in anger, eager to get their hands on you,” Jeno added. “And yet, you picked your favorites and it’s not them, what a shame. They can only watch while we get to ruin you.”

She wanted to hold it in, she thought she could hold it in but when those words rolled out of his mouth, she lost it. Slumping forward her legs trembled hard, and the orgasm shook her from head to toe.

“I’m sorry. I — fuck — I didn’t mean to,” she cried, still shaking from overstimulation because Jaehyun was still buried deep into her, and Jaemin’s fingers were moving on her clit.

“You can come as much as you want,” Johnny said. “All you need to do is take us, so if you tire yourself so much, well, that’s your problem. Remember, you don’t want your mother to know about the filthy things you listen to.”

“No, no, I can — fuck — take it,” she mumbled.

“Good, then take us,” he groaned, thrusting into her mouth again.

And her mind went blank again as they started fucking her at the same time. Jaehyun’s hands were tightly wrapped around her waist as he pounded from behind, strokes hard and deep, leaving her trembling under his firm hold. Johnny’s hand was holding her head up, moving her exactly how he wanted, balls slapping against her chin as he pushed down her throat, leaving no space for hair to pass through. She could only recognize Jaemin and Jeno’s hands because of the metal on Jeno’s fingers, but the way both pairs were teasing her body made her mind get even emptier.

“It’s like you were made for us,” Jaehyun groaned, eyes fixed where their bodies met, watching her tight hole suck his cock in with every thrust. “Your tight ass is begging for more. Wonder if you could take two at the same time.”

A muffled whimper resonated around Johnny’s length at the idea of being fucked even more by them at an inhumane stretch.

“Yes, fuck,” Johnny moaned, feeling his orgasm build up. “Is this what turns you on?” He hummed, balls slamming harder against her chin. “Being passed around and filled with cum. You love being — fuck — left all dripping, our cum rolling down your thighs, — fuck — sticking to your skin?”

She mumbled around his length and Jaehyun could feel her squeeze harder around his cock.

“You’re so fucking disgusting,” Jaehyun mocked, slapping her ass. “Dreaming about so many men fucking you, filling you up. Fuck,” he groaned when she came again with no warning. “I’m gonna fill you up, do you want that?” He asked as if he didn’t know the answer. “Of course, you want — shit — you need it.”

And soon after they both came inside of her, filling her from both sides, groans, and moans mixing with the disgusting, lewd sounds of their cum squelching out of her.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun whispered, leaning down to kiss her should. “You’re always so good.”

“Come here,” Jeno said, wrapping a hand around her waist when the other two pulled back, and moved her around, letting her rest against the couch. “Need to try a new position,” he cooed, dragging her so her head was dangling out from the armrest of the couch.

“Mmph,” she moaned when Jaemin smeared her wetness on her skin before pushing a finger inside.

“Can’t wait to fuck you, baby,” he hummed, staring at the mess between her legs with a smug smile, her cum rolling down, mixing with Jaehyun’s that was slowly dripping out of her asshole.

“I need this out of the way,” Jeno said, taking the blindfold off, making her blink repeatedly as she adjusted to the light again, briefly noting how the sun was starting to go down, the only sign telling her how much time had passed since they started. “God, you’re so pretty even when you’re covered in cum,” he whispered before he kissed her roughly, one hand cupping her cheek and the other in her hair.

She moaned in the kiss when she felt Jaemin make his way inside of her wet cunt, fingers slipping out and cock stretching her, leaving her breathless for a few seconds.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moaned, before gripping the back of her knees and pushing her legs flat against her chest.

“Fuck, too deep,” she cried, lifting her head to look at him, a smug smirk on his face.

“You can take me, baby. You can be my good girl like you were before, right?” He cooed, leaning in to get closer to her face, kissing her gently.

“Ye-yes,” she replied, eyes blinking lazily as she relaxed against the soft seat underneath her.

“And you can take my cock, too, right?” Jeno brought her attention back to him, while Jaemin sat straight again and started thrusting faster. “I still don’t know what your mouth feels like.” The tip of his cock pushed against her lips and they parted immediately to welcome him in. The upside-down position was a bit uncomfortable but she didn’t dwell on it much because Jaemin was bringing her too much pleasure, and the discomfort was worth it when Jeno started to groan and moan louder.

“Fuck,” Jaemin moaned, head thrown back and mouth open. “Your pussy feels so good, baby. So much better than your pretty mouth.”

Her hands slapped against Jeno’s thighs, pushing him away.

“What? You know how to suck everybody’s dick but mine?” He asked, looking down at her, watching as she struggled to catch her breath.

“No, I — I can, I — I’m trying,” she mumbled.

Jeno rolled his eyes. “Think you can take it for real this time or will you disappoint again?”

“I won’t,” she mumbled, “I won’t disappoint, please.”

“Beg for it,” he ordered. “Beg for me to give you another chance with my cock.”

“Please — fuck — Jeno, please let me — mmph — let me suck you. I’ll do well, I’ll make you feel so good.”

“You better,” he said, pushing against her mouth again, sliding in. “After all the fucking praises they gave you, I expect you to be good at this.”

She hummed around him, trying to keep her focus on her breathing and stop her brain from forgetting even the bare minimum to don’t pass out. It wasn’t harder because of the position — well, maybe, a bit more — or because he was too big, but because her brain was too far gone.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” Jeno moaned, starting to move his hips back and forth.

“So pretty getting fucked like that,” Johnny commented, his hand on her body, massaging her breast.

“You’re so messy, baby,” Jaemin mocked, rubbing his hand on her clit, smearing the cum around, sticking to her skin. “Our messy pretty doll.”

“Are you gonna come again?” Johnny teased, staring at her body. “No?” He cooed when she shook her head — tried to shake her head. “Oh, doll, think I don’t know your body? Think I don’t know the way your back arches when you’re close? Or the way your nails dig in anything they can find because it’s too much for you? Think we don’t know you’re so pathetic that anything makes you come so easily?”

She mumbled around Jeno’s length, eyes squeezing tight and body heating up because it was embarrassing he could read her so easily just after the second time together. And it was humiliating that it took them nothing to make her come.

“As I thought,” Johnny mocked with a smug smirk that she couldn’t see. “Let me guess… if I just touch you here…” he whispered, fingers grazing her clit, “you’ll come again.”

And she did, the nth orgasm of the night ripped out of her, leaving her breathless, trying to gasp for air since Jeno pulled out of her to make her breathe. But this one was longer, exhaustingly longer, since Jaemin’s cock kept thrusting deep into her, and Johnny’s fingers moved fast on her clit and she came again. Squirting everywhere and unexpectedly, a stream of broken moans, cries and curses coming out of her lips as the orgasm almost knocked her out.

“Fuck, doll,” Jaemin groaned. “God, how much do you have?” He asked in surprise when it kept coming. “No, don’t shake, it’s alright, it’s okay, babydoll,” he cooed, dragging her closer to him, body resting completely against the couch seats now as he shielded her with his.

“Too much,” she cried, voice barely coming out and tears rolling down her face, her legs were limp and the only thing keeping them in position was Jaemin’s hand and his body pressing against it.

“Just a bit more,” he whispered, kissing her. “Be good and take my cum.”

Her head rolled back, lower lip tortured by her teeth as she tried to hold in the moans, her hands found the strength to lift up and wrapped around Jaemin’s back, pushing him closer.

“Need to feel you,” she cried as her fingers dangled in his hair. “Ki-kiss me, please, please.”

“Here,” he whispered, leaning down to meet her lips and trap them in a long kiss. Hips starting to falter as he felt closer.

The other three looked at them with a playful smirk on their faces. It was fun seeing her so broken and yet needy. And still, it wasn’t enough for her to make it stop.

“Nana, please,” she almost screamed, nails digging into the skin of his back as she felt once again over the edge.

“Yes, baby, I’m — fuck — here. Come with me?”

She nodded, wet eyes looking up at him and lips shaking, moans getting louder when his hands reached the small of her back and lifted her lower body up, pulling her closer to him, going deeper before he leaned down again, trapping her body under his. And that was enough to trigger her orgasm, walls squeezing so tight, Jaemin couldn’t hold it in either.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moaned, head falling in the crook of her neck, teeth sinking into her skin. “Perfect, fuck, you’re so good,” he praised, leaving one last kiss on her lips before he pulled out. An embarrassing amount of cum dripping out of her and falling on the couch.

She felt her head dizzy, ears buzzing and vision blurry, body limp as she laid there, trying to catch her breath and stop her legs from shaking when Jeno lifted her up again.

“Come here, baby,” he cooed, making her sit on his lap, her eyes widened when she felt his tip prod at her entrance.

“What — what are you doing?” She asked, voice raspy and sore, looking back at him with big wide wet eyes.

Jeno chuckled, “What am I doing? Really, baby? You disappointed me before, don’t you think so? You never pay attention to me,” he pouted, bobbing her nose, a sweet contrast to the way he was manhandling her on top of him

“I don’t — I can’t anymore,” she stuttered.

“No, shh, you can, remember? You don’t want your mom to find out how nasty you are. Imagine her face if she heard all those things you have on your phone,” he cooed, pushing her down on him, her head rolled back and a groan ripped past her throat. “That’s right, baby, just fall back into my arms,” he groaned, wrapping his hands around her waist and moving her up and down, “and moan for me. Want to hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And she would’ve done that if only her throat wasn’t completely sore.

“Open your mouth and lift your head.” Johnny’s voice made her come back to earth — well, partially, because she was too far gone, and her body was following their commands automatically. “Drink up, baby.”

“Is — is it water?”

“No, vodka,” he joked, pressing the glass against her lips, waiting for her to open up before he gently inclined it, the cold liquid rolled down her throat and she found a glimpse of relief. “Better?” He asked and she nodded.

Her head fell back as soon as Jeno started moving again. But it snapped up when she felt Johnny’s cock prod against her swollen cunt.

“Johnny, no,” she cried, biting her lips, feeling another orgasm build up. “Two is too much.”

He laughed, “I thought you were a big girl and you could take it,” he mocked, teasing her entrance, only pushing his fat tip inside, already making her toes curl. “Aren’t you?”

She mumbled something, nodding, shaking her head, or whatever…

“So, is it red?” He asked, tilting a brow, waiting for a stop sign, but that never came. She shook her head and when the words ‘no, it’s not,’ slipped past her lips, he pushed inside, bottoming into her. Her nails dug into the skin of his arms, and she hid her face in the crook of Jeno’s neck.

“Fuck, you two are — shit — too big,” she whimpered. “But — but I like it, fuck, I love it so much.”

“That’s it, good,” Johnny moaned, turning her face around and kissing her hard while they started to work together, finding the rhythm that worked the best. “We’ll keep fucking you until there’s nothing left but those filthy thoughts in your brain,” he groaned, hands slipping behind her knees and pushing her legs pressed against her chest. “Until your mind’s so empty that you’ll be nothing but — fuck — our little fuckdoll, how’s that sound?”

She didn’t answer, but if the hums and nods of agreement weren’t enough to show how much she loved it, the way her walls squeezed around them, was.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” Jeno groaned, squeezing her boob, feeling her clench even more. “Want to be fucked senseless until not a single — fuck — ounce of responsibility and control weighs over you? Until your mind breaks?”

“Yeah, yeah, please,” she moaned before another orgasm washed over and drained all that was left of sanity out of her.

“You’re such a good girl.” She could faintly make out Jaemin’s voice praising her and then his lips kissing her neck while his hand grabbed hers and guided it on his cock, making her work him up and down. “Open your mouth,” he whispered, smiling when her lips parted more and he could easily slip two fingers inside. “Just suck and relax,” he ordered, eyes glistening as he watched her eyelids flutter close and her chest pant slower.

“Someone really loves sucking on things,” Jaehyun cooed, smirking at the scene in front of him. “Maybe you should keep your mouth full more often,” he proposed.

“Yeah, give you lollipops so you can — fuck — fulfil your needs with them when you don’t have our cocks,” Johnny groaned. “Hey, are you asleep?” He asked, lightly slapping her cheek, making her open her glossy eyes and shake her head.

They chuckled. “She’s just following your order of don’t think at all, right?” Jaehyun cooed while his hand travelled on her body. “Jesus, you’re so messy,” he whispered when he reached her clit, there was cum everywhere, and Johnny was pumping it in and out more, making it messier.

“Are you — fuck — gonna come again?” Jeno asked when he felt her inside twitch more and her body squirm against his.

She nodded, humming around Jaemin’s fingers, sucking at them with eagerness, and came again and again, she had no idea, the orgasm was so strong that she couldn’t describe the end of it.

“Johnny,” she mumbled, eyes snapping open when he pushed his hand against her tummy.

“Do you see it?” He asked, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her head to look down. “See my cock moving in and out of you? See how big it is? How deep it fucks you? How you were made just for this?”

She moaned, gagging when Jaemin pushed his fingers deeper, and a river of spit drooled down her breasts before he pulled out, making her breathe.

“You fuck me — mmph — so good,” she cried, still looking down, quite amazed by the way she could see the outline of his cock. She would’ve stared longer if only Jeno didn’t push her back again against him, turning her face around and kissing her hard, his other hand gripping around her waist harder, leaving marks on her skin.

“Open your mouth,” Jeno ordered and she smiled, already knowing what was coming, stomach curling in anticipation. “Fuck, no hesitation this time,” he chuckled mockingly before spitting in her mouth. “Fucking pathetic.”

“Are you tired?” Johnny cooed, cupping her cheek, grinning when she nodded lazily. “We’re not done with you, babydoll.”

“Thought you could take it,” Jeno groaned against her neck, lifting her up more so he could slam into her faster. “What happened to being our free use toy? Don’t want that anymore?”

“No, no, I — I do, I — fuck — nggh,” she cried, head falling behind, no more strength on her neck to keep it up.

“You still do?” Jaehyun asked, and she nodded, more tears rolling down her face as the overstimulation was seriously getting too much but she didn’t want to stop. She needed them to come into her, fill her more.

“Of course,” Jeno moaned. “Want to go around dripping cum, being bent over any surface at any time, don’t you?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering open to meet Jaemin’s face, contorted in pleasure as he moved her hand on his cock faster.

“You want that?” Johnny cooed, slapping her face light enough to make her eyes open and stare into his. “Want to be our little cum dump, baby?”

“Yes, yes, please,” her voice broke as soon as they started moving faster, Johnny leaned closer, pressing her body between his and Jeno’s making her head spin so fast and feel so small she could come only by that.

“Then beg for it,” Jeno groaned, throwing his head back because it was getting too much even for them. The wet sounds of their skins, her soft, hoarse moans, the warmth of her insides, these fantasies they never even imagined finding hot, everything was too much. “Come on, let me hear your pretty voice — fuck — beg for it. Beg to be pumped full of cum.”

“Please,” she whimpered, voice airy and chest panting faster than before. “Please, a — ahh.”

“That was pathetic,” Johnny mocked, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest. “Try again, doll. And look at me while you beg.”

She huffed, eyes barely opening, heart fluttering at the way he was looking at her. “Ple-please, — come inside of me — mmph — please.”

“Is this all you have to give?” Jeno laughed. “You don’t understand — fuck. No, listen to me,” he groaned when she tried to retort. “Beg for it and tell us exactly what you need. If I don’t — shit — hear those words slip out of your dirty mouth like I want to,” he growled, turning her face around, forcing her lips open, spit rolling down her throat again, “we will come all over you and you’ll come over and over again with that vibrator until there’s nothing to drain out of you, got it?”

She hummed, head bobbing up and down quickly before Johnny turned her face around again. “Your throat’s a little sore, isn’t it?” He asked, lower lip pouting out and she nodded. “Need to wet it? Yes? Then open your mouth,” he ordered.

“You — you, there’s no water,” she said, looking at the empty glass sitting on the table behind him.

He laughed, “who talked about water? Open. Up,” he ordered, voice dropping low, making her obey immediately. “Good,” he smirked before his spit rolled down her tongue too. “And now beg.”

“Please, give me — give me your cum,” she whimpered. “I want to be filled — no — fuck — I — mmph — I need to be filled, need your cum, need to be your — your dirty messy doll, please. Fuck me full, n-nhh, ahhh, fuck me til I’m a — a leaking mess.”

“See, it wasn’t that fucking hard,” Jeno praised, wrapping a hand around her neck but applying no pressure, just to keep her body up, noticing she was going limper every passing second.

“Now we can give you what you need,” Johnny groaned, looking over at Jeno that nodded at his silent words. “Come with us, one last time, come on, you can do that.”

She saw white when the last orgasm hit, leaving her trembling, squeezed between their bodies, tears spilling free and once again transparent fluid squirting out of her, making a mess on Johnny’s abs and her own tummy.

“You — fuck — feel so good,” Jeno groaned, coming inside of her, hips moving lazily, pumping into her and she felt like she could feel their cocks slamming into her much more now, seriously too stimulated. And only when Johnny came, too much cum filling her up, already sliding out of her even if he was still inside, her squirting stopped, and her body chased shaking.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Jaehyun and Jaemin mumbled at the same time, their hands on their cocks moving faster, reaching their high too and as soon as Johnny pulled back from her body, they let their cum fall on her tummy and boobs, painting her skin white.

“Good girl,” Johnny and Jeno moaned at the same time. Jeno was leaving kisses against her neck and Johnny moved back her hair from her face, caressing her burning wet cheek. “Our good fucking girl.”

“Guess we won’t tell anything to your mother,” they laughed, pulling away slowly, a copious amount of cum dripping out of her, making a mess on the couch and on the floor. But she couldn’t care, her eyes were too heavy and her body was wrecked, so she slipped into a deep sleep before she could say or do anything else.

“What the hell,” she mumbled, turning around on… her bed? She stood up, feeling sore, and looked around, noticing that yes, she was in her room, her body was clean and she was covered with a big sweater. “Are they still here?” She questioned under her breath, hearing sounds coming from downstairs.

“Look who’s up,” Jaemin said when she entered the living room, turning around from the couch and smiling at her.

“I hope you cleaned it before sitting on it,” she said, walking toward them, groaning when she felt her muscles burn with every step.

“Yeah, we’re not that dumb,” Jeno replied. “How do you feel?”

She shrugged, sitting on Johnny’s lap, snuggling close to his body. “Wrecked.”

“Go back to sleep, then?” Jaehyun said.

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “My body is tired but not my mind.”

“Here,” Jaehyun said, walking toward her. “You need water.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go.

“Better?” Johnny asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she nodded and waited for Jaehyun to pour another one.

“You fell asleep so soon before, we were afraid we pushed you too much,” Jeno confessed.

She shook her head, placing the glass on the coffee table and snuggling back close to Johnny. “I’m fine, I was just exhausted,” she chuckled. “If I wanted to stop, I would’ve used the safeword,” she reassured them, hands playing with the sleeves of her sweater nervously.

“Okay,” Johnny said when his gaze fell there, and he could feel her shift uncomfortably on top of him. “What’s going on?”

“What?” She asked, lifting her head up to look at him.

“You’re nervous, you have something going on in your mind, what’s that?”

She huffed, he did know her too well. “I… I had fun, so much fun, but… what if this changed the way you see me? What if you really think I’m gross,” she whispered, looking down at her hand.

“Hey,” Jeno cooed, lifting her head up with two fingers. “You threw up on me at a party, I think that’s the thing that should’ve made me change the way I see you, and here we are.”

“Shut up,” she said, slapping his hand away, and cringing at the memory. Fair, that was humiliating, and there was no need to be reminded.

“Anyway, I’m serious, and I think that’s the same for all of us, right?” He said, looking at his other friends.

“Yeah, also maybe you awoke those fantasies in us, too,” Jaemin commented. “I mean, that was hot in a way I never imagined.”

“So, you were only playing those fantasies, right?”

“Of course, we were,” Johnny said, his hand caressing the skin on her thigh in circles. “And you did such a good job taking so much, you know that right?” He whispered, making her smile shyly and once again look at the floor. “Also, you mean too much for us to think that some silly fantasies will ruin what we think of you.”

“Yeah, also you do tend to worry too much every day, so I’m not so shocked that during sex you want to shut your brain off completely,” Jaemin added, showing her his usual reassuring smile.

“So, you get it! Like, that’s why I like it so much, I know it’s weird but, but I trust you and I can just loosen up, you know? I know giving up control can be a lot but when it’s with the right person… well, in this case, people, it feels so good. I feel like I carry so much weight every day that I just want to turn my brain off when I know I’m safe.”

“And that’s totally valid,” Johnny whispered, resting his chin on top of her shoulder.

“We weren’t expecting so much degradation, though,” Jeno said. “You do start crying at the smallest criticism.”

“But it’s different. It’s more about being talked down at, it’s the tone, the teasing, also… being challenged makes me want to prove something so yeah, you know I’ve always been extremely competitive, and I have to prove a point. And the back and forth with degradation and praises just… does something to me, I guess,” she explained, or at least tried to, it wasn’t like she broke down her kinks every day, some part of it just felt good with no need to give an explanation.

They hummed, it made sense somehow.

“As long as you’re enjoying it, it’s fine for us. It was just surprising, especially because you seem to really be into it,” Jaehyun said, a teasing smile on his lips that made her lower her head.

“You know, I wasn’t surprised about the praise kink at all, considering how eager you are at getting praises and how you do cartwheels every time someone compliments you,” Johnny commented, chuckling tenderly.

“Not my fault. Blame it on being a failed gifted kid, my desire for academic validation and trauma,” she replied with a pout, making them laugh.

“So you’re not even shocked anymore, right? You won’t let this slip with anybody else?”

“Nah, I think that nothing about you can shock us anymore,” Jaemin replied.

“Maybe she keeps dead bodies in her freezer,” Jaehyun joked.

“Maybe the first one will be yours.” She faked an evil smile while looking at him, making him laugh.

“Don’t worry, by the way, we won’t tell anybody,” Johnny reassured her, caressing her back.

“Yeah, also because I don’t want — we don’t want anybody else to have you,” Jeno added, trying to shrug the furrow on his face.

“Good. I got so lost before I didn’t even fear you weren’t okay with this but then you know, after nut clarity was like a cold shower,” she giggled, feeling her heart lighter knowing that they still valued her the same.

“We had the time of our lives, I think it was pretty clear,” Jaehyun replied.

“Yeah, you are good,” Jaemin said. “Like, not only because well, of course, you are attractive and that’s good but you know, it’s you. We’ve known you so long we feel the same safeness that you feel even if our roles are different.”

“I agree,” Johnny said. “I don’t think I’ll feel as comfortable as I feel with you with somebody else. Maybe a girlfriend, after some months, but with a stranger? Not knowing their limits? Not being able to read them and see what gets them the most?”

“Okay so you were all terrible boyfriends,” she joked.

“Nah, when you date someone it’s different because you know them, the problems are one-night stands,” Jeno replied.

“But you weren’t expecting this even from me… Our first time was like a one-night stand.” That was what it was supposed to be.

“Yeah, but trust me when I say that we can read your body. And after last time, I’m pretty sure we can all tell what’s running in your mind while we’re fucking you,” Johnny said and she hummed, hiding in the crook of his neck. “Oh, please, acting shy now?”

“It’s weird when I’m lucid,” she mumbled against him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You don’t even want a few praises when your brain’s with us?” Jaemin asked, chuckling when she moved again and stared at him.

“No, I always want praises.”

“Fine, so, in case you were wondering,” he started saying, “you were so good, and we all loved trying those gross things with you so you can sleep at night with no worries, okay?”

She hummed, still feeling a bit shy, but she knew she was just still overwhelmed by everything because there was no awkwardness in the air.

“And since you’ve been such a good girl,” Johnny said, looking at the others, making her do the same, “we have a surprise for you.”

“I can’t take another round,” she said immediately.

“It’s not another round, girl, you milked the fuck out of us give us some time to refill,” Jeno replied.

“You’re always so gross,” she huffed, looking at him with a disgusted expression.

“You are the one talking,” he said and she was about to reply when Jaemin stopped their small bickering.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered her. She could see he was holding something behind his back, but followed the order. “Open.”

“You baked the muffins?” She exclaimed with a big smile on her face, looking at the tray full of sweets.

“We thought you deserved a treat after everything you took,” Jaehyun replied, smiling at her.

“Yeah, and it turned out that on your phone, other than those nasty audios there was also the recipe,” Johnny joked, making her roll her eyes.

“Talking about my phone,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at Johnny. “Give it back to me.”

“Is there more that you’re hiding?” He asked, eyes wide in shock but taking the phone from his pocket and handing it to her.

“Maybe…” she whispered, turning around to grab the muffin. “Should we see if you’re good at baking as you’re good at fucking?”

“I think that will disappoint you, then,” Jaehyun joked, moving from the armchair to reach the plate on the coffee table.

“Come on, they won’t be so bad,” Jaemin said, doing the same.

“Mhh,” she moaned after a bite, “these are good,” she mumbled, swallowing.

Johnny took a bite and hummed in agreement, “they are good, but they won’t make you run away from your kinks, what’s worse than we already know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why do you want to know? Are we going to do this again?”

They all shrugged. “Why not?” they asked all together and she sighed, they always knew how to be synchronized when they wanted to.

“You like it, right?” Jaehyun asked. “And it’s not like you, or any of us, is seeing someone? Isn’t this safer and better than random sex?”

“I can’t always take the four of you,” she said after swallowing another bite of the sweet. “Sure, I like it but it’s a lot.”

“We don’t come in a pack,” Jeno said, voice almost bitter. She furrowed looking at him, not understanding his shift, but then shrugged it off.

“I liked the conversation about my kinks better,” she whispered, biting her lip nervously.

“Hey, if you don’t want that to happen again, we won’t make it happen,” Johnny reassured, caressing her shoulder.

“It’s not that I don’t want it to happen again,” she sighed. “But that would make us... friends with benefits? And what if… what if this goes wrong?”

“Then let’s not think about it,” Jaemin said, trying to lighten up the room again. “Let’s stay like this, if something happens, it happens and if we can keep our pants on, that’s okay too.”

“I just don’t want to lose you,” she said, hoping they could understand. But at this point, she was confused too. It had been hard also for her to pretend that nothing happened, not that they wanted to delete that summer night, but they were trying to avoid it from happening again. But she couldn’t deny that she was more touchy than usual and she saw them in a slightly different light than the usual, not a love light, but the attraction was there, so dense they could’ve cut it with a knife and she had no idea where it would’ve led them.

“We don’t want to lose you either,” Johnny said. “But if this will happen again… tell us just one more, please,” he pouted, tickling her, making her laugh.

“Stop, I could’ve choked,” she said, coughing, placing the empty cup of the muffin on the table. “No judging, but you have to promise me for real this time,” she said, glaring at them with a scary pointer finger.

“Yeah, go on, nothing scares us anymore,” Jaemin encouraged her.

“I might have a breeding kink too,” she confessed, eyes drifting on them to see their reactions.

“Shit, breeding, too?” Johnny gasped.

“Oh, hell no, we’re not putting a baby inside you,” Jeno said, shaking his head.

“Dummy, it’s not actually wanting a baby,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “It’s the intimacy and the possessiveness. I don’t know, I can’t give you an explanation and I won’t because you don’t deserve it, you promised you weren’t going to judge but you did.”

“We’re not judging the kink but weren’t you terrified of pregnancy?” Jeno asked.

“It’s not that,” she huffed. “It’s hot, I don’t know why, let me breathe,” she sighed. “I swear I’ll get something embarrassing that turns you on out of your mouth and will tease you for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, come here,” Jeno said, moving her on top of him and leaving a small peck on her lips, “we’re just messing with you. It’s okay to just enjoy being filled with cum and don’t give a philosophical explanation,” he joked and she whined more. “I hate you,” she mumbled against his chest, even if, well, he wasn’t so wrong and maybe the main reason was that.

“Come on, stop messing with her,” Jaehyun said, getting up and stretching. “It’s not that late, should we have our small party anyway?”

“I’ll pick the movie,” she said, lifting a hand,

“You will fall asleep halfway through, you won’t pick anything,” Jeno said.

“I don’t care, gonna grab more food and some drinks,” Jaemin said, excluding himself from their discussion and going to the kitchen.

When they finally picked a movie they all tried to squeeze on her couch, leading to her sitting on Jeno’s lap, while they eat and drank and talked over the movie because discussing it and criticizing it was more interesting than watching it.

“I’m just going to lay on top of you,” she said, lying sideways, taking space on top of Johnny with her legs and Jeno with her upper body. “I’m not sleeping,” she warned, making them chuckle. She needed to prove Jeno a point, but she was so tired that not even her pride could win over tiredness. So, her eyes fell shut, and the next morning she would’ve blamed it on their soft touches on her skin.

“Damn, we didn’t film it,” Jeno pointed out, fingers playing with her hair, studying her relaxed face, completely zoned out from the movie — he had missed like half of the plot by then.

“We’ve saved it for the next time,” Jaemin replied, sipping from his glass before his cold hand started caressing her leg, making her shiver for a second.

“There will be a next time?” Jaehyun asked, looking at them with a furrow.

Johnny smirked, lips curling in a softer smile when he looked at her, sleeping peacefully. “Trust me, there will be.”

taglist: @kundann

I hope you liked it, let me know what you think, please!!

#nct fanfiction #johnny smut #jaehyun smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #johnjae smut #nomin smut #suh johnny smut #jeong jaehyun smut #lee jeno smut #na jaemin smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Text

Pizza Box Puzzle Pieces - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake is a responsible drinker, he swears. But when you're stuck being responsible for the night, a very drunk Jake gives you all but one piece to a puzzle you don't complete until the morning after.

Contents/Warnings: drinking, fem!reader, typical hangman behavior, enemies to lovers (really more like rivals to lovers)

Requested: A thousand times congratulations on such an amazing milestone! Could I please have an espresso w. enemies to lovers with Jake ‘hangman’ Seresin? ☀️ - @saintlike78 THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS SINCE SEPTEMBER I AM SO SORRY MY LOVE i hope you still like hangman <3

WC: 5.3K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Jake Seresin is a responsible drinker. He keeps a rideshare app on his phone, he tells Bob (the permanent sober babysitter) that he needs to be cut off after 10:00 PM, and he gives Penny his keys before he even orders his first drink.

Tonight, though, she'd left them unattended. There they were, shiny and appealing, sitting on the bar. She had left to get a clean dishrag, he could just take them! Driving sounded fun now, less of a chore and more of an adventure now that his brain was blurry.

You watch Jake's eyes widen as he catches sight of his keys, and your hand darts out to snag them before he can. His reflexes are slow, and when he reaches for them, his hand hits empty counter space.

He looks around, bewildered. They'd just disappeared.

"Here, Bagman." You jingle the keys in your hand, and he catches the sound from the few seats down where he's sitting. His eyes drift aimlessly over to your hand, and brighten at the sight of his keys.

"Thanks," He drawls, his southern lilt far more noticeable now that he's running on autopilot, "I'm gonna-" he hiccups hard, his chest bouncing, "Head home."

He stands, wobbly on his feet, and treads forwards to take the keys from you. You raise them above your head, but he doesn't follow, instead slumping forwards as his hand grasps at thin air. His head hits your chest and Coyote catches your eye from over Jake's shoulder. You widen your eyes, flaunting the keys you'd managed to snatch from him.

All the pilot does is laugh, and then his attention is shifted back to the dartboard. Typical.

"Jesus," You grunt, pushing at Jake's chest. He straightens up again, eyes blinking open from where they'd been shut, "What did you drink?"

"I don't remember," He admits, and that's all the explanation you need.

"Come on," You reach for his pocket, his phone sticking out, "Let's call you a ride."

"Nooo," He darts away, almost too late to evade you, "That's my phone."

"Yes Hangman," You smirk, "I think you're smarter drunk than you are sober."

"But that's-" He fumbles with his cell, "You can't touch my phone."

"I want to get you home," You urge, once more reaching for the device in his hands, "Don't you want to go to sleep?"

"You can't have it," He insists, yanking the waistband of his khakis off of his stomach and slipping his phone dangerously close to his crotch, "Unless you-" Another hiccup that flutters his eyelashes, "-wanna take it."

The smirk he shoots you after shoving his phone down his pants contains lethal cockiness. You're surprised the sheer size of his ego doesn't knock you down, you're not sure how you're standing so close to him without running into it.

You glance down at his phone. It's protruding just enough from his waistband for it to be quick and easy to grab. But your hand has never been that close to Jake's dick before, and you're hoping it never will be.

"Fuck," You deflate, shoulders slumping as your fingers curl tighter around his keys, "Come on, I'm driving you."

"Take my car," He insists, as if he's forgotten you have his keys, "It's.. It's really cool."

"Can't wait," You gripe, slinging his arm around your shoulders, "Come on, one foot in front of the other, Seresin."

The cold night air hits you like a tsunami. It floods your thin shirt and seeps into your bones, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You've never known it to get this cold here, and the skin-to-skin that Jake's shoulder provides against your own is your only warmth.

You prop him up against his car while you fumble with the keys, but before you can click the 'unlock' button, he's snatching them from you.

"I wanna- I wanna do it," He insists, gripping the pointed end and bumping it up against the panel on the outside of the keyhole, "It's my car, I wanna.. do it."

You give him a minute to figure out the key. After it passes you yank it from where he's been pathetically butting it up against the hole, still confused about how to slot it inside.

"Gimme," You grumble, sliding the key into the hole with barely a second's delay, "You're too drunk for this."

"I'm not drunk." He scoffs. He says it with so much sincerity, with so much raw belief, that you're surprised that it doesn't come into existence. You're surprised the alcohol doesn't drain from his system completely, and leave him his usual coordinated, upright self. But he's still leaning against his car, half-coherent and dizzy.

"Right." You chuckle, throwing open the driver's side door and unlocking the rest of the car, "Get in, Hangman."

He starts for your seat and you shove him away, "No, not the driver's seat," You groan, "Other side."

He starts for the backseat.

"For fuck's sake," You exclaim, grabbing his bicep to lead him around the car, "The passenger's side!"

You get him wrestled into his seat with no further drunken antics, and you relish the fact that you've gotten him calm for the night. He's anything but when you finally glance up at his face, though, great big tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"You're mean." He whispers, his voice shaky. You've never seen such a pitiful sight, his big green eyes brimming with anguish that seeps down his cheeks in rivers of tears. "You grabbed me, and-" He waves his bicep at you, "And you manhandled me," He gushes, angst-stricken, "You're mean!"

"I'm sorry," You sigh, playing into his inebriated sorrow, "Are you okay, Hangman?"

He doesn't note the sarcasm in your voice, sniffling pathetically, "No. It hurts."

You offer a quick pat to the affected area, but he shakes his head.

"Kiss." He offers in explanation, 'Kiss it better."

"I am not going to-" You begin, rage evident in your voice. Then you glance back up at his eyes, filled with new tears.

It's a staring contest for a moment, but you break first. You hunch, bracing yourself for the most humiliating thing you've ever had to do when you pucker your lips and press them into his bicep.

It's firm. Fuck, you wish it wasn't, it holds up under your lips and warms them. It's intoxicating, your lips on his skin, so close to his chest. It's exhilarating. You have to get away.

"There." You grouse, practically glaring at him despite the blush at your cheeks as you straighten, "Better?"

"Yes," He whimpers, and it's small, broken, pathetic, "Thank you."

You shut the door without another word, letting him wipe his own tears.

His car is surprisingly nice. Where you'd expect fast food wrappers and condoms, you find an air freshener.

He grabs it excitedly, shoving it into your face as you start down the road, "Darlin' you gotta- gotta smell! It smells like ocean breeze."

It slips over your eyes and you strain to get away from it, "Okay, Hangman, okay! It smells very nice," You gush, giving him the attention he's seeking. He preens proudly as he hooks it around his mirror once more, but he doesn't settle into his seat.

"Those are cool jeans," He prods a finger at your thigh, and even though you know it's drunken rather than lustful, his touch makes you shiver.

"They were five dollars," You humor him, feeling him fiddle carefully with the ripped strands of fraying string showcasing your skin.

"Cheap." He murmurs, concentration far too heavy on rearranging the strings. Half of them have ripped beyond repair from where they were stretched over your thigh, but he seems to be playing with them like they're yarn to a housecat. You have the sudden urge to run a hand through his hair and see if he purrs.

"My house is that way," Jake points blearily through the windshield down a one-way street, "It's the big blue one."

"You live in an apartment," You turn the wheel in the opposite direction, "And it's not blue, and it's not that way."

"Oh so you-" He hiccups, "-know where I live?"

"I do," You nod, keeping your eyes on the road even when his fingers keep pawing at your jeans, "I've been there before. Remember? We had a movie night."

"Oh yeah," He nods, brow furrowed, "Payback spilled his water on my carpet."

"Not water," You snort, remembering the cheap liquor spilled over the shag, "But yeah, he did."

There's a bout of silence that follows your words, shadows ripping through the car as you pass beneath trees. The road is paved unevenly in a few spots, and Jake's car bounces on its tires.

"Woah," He grumbles, head bumping your shoulder after a particularly raucous pothole, "Look! Look they're in a- a heart."

You slow to a stop in front of his apartment and glance down to where his finger is digging into your thigh. The loose strings on your jeans have all been twisted and tied into a heart that overlays the rip, puffy and frayed where it rests against your leg.

"Oh," You let the sincerity of the gesture steal the breath from your lungs, even if it does come out of a drunk man, "That's pretty, Hangman. Thanks."

You unlatch your seatbelt, breaking his trance. The heart, tied at the bottom and woven through other strands at its apexes, stays tightly knotted into your jeans, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to get it out. It's the last of your concerns, though, as Jake fumbles with his own seatbelt.

He finally jabs just right at the button, though it's after a string of mumbled frustrations. You swear you hear something along the lines of "You're pretty." thrown into the mix, but you choose to ignore it so that your hands don't get sweaty. You probably misheard.

It's a wonder that he's able to get himself out of the car. He lands with a crunch of gravel onto the driveway of his apartment, feet planted firmly beneath him. You suppose he might have sobered slightly during the long, quiet drive, and you're just glad you don't have to press him to yourself anymore to keep him upright.

Thankfully, he knows which door is his, but he forgets that you have his keys. You keep a hand stuffed into your pocket, curled around them, while he fumbles in his pocket for them.

“Damn,” He hisses, patting his pockets and coming up empty, “My- my keys are gone. I think someone took them, we have to-”

“I have your keys,” You’re far too smug as you hold them up, the ring hooked over your middle finger, “Remember? That’s why I drove?”

“Oh.” His brows furrow, and the word adorable flashes through your head before you can stop it. As soon as you acknowledge it, though, it’s gone in a puff of smoke.

“I’ll do it.” You carefully shoo his hands away from the door, slipping the key in and turning it. His apartment is neat, you’ll give him that, but you suppose it’s because he doesn’t have time to mess it up. You toe off your shoes in the doorway, leaving them in a heap which he contributes to. His boots are going to muck up your white wedges, but you can’t care about that right now. What’s more important is making sure Hangman doesn’t head straight for his own liquor stash, which of course, he does.

“No,” You rush for the bottle he’s about to grab, “You’re cut off for the night. Remember?”

“No,” His brow furrows, and he stares at your fingers wrapped around his own against the neck of the bottle, “I don’t.”

At least you know he’s being honest. You pry his hand off of the bottle, setting it back on the counter and letting go of his fingers. You expect them to drop but they don’t, they curl around your own and slot your palms together.

You stiffen but he doesn’t seem to notice, his hand still enveloping yours in a gesture that sends heat rushing up from your fingertips and straight to your heart. You glance down first, then up at him, finding a gooey, lovesick smile on his face paired with empty eyes.

“Hi, darlin’.” He gushes, and squeezes your hand.

Fuck.

“Okay, bedtime.” You decide, trying to pry your hand out of his grip. He won’t let you, though, the more you pull the closer he gets. Until he’s pressed to you, his right thigh to your left, chest-to-chest, smiling contently at you.

If you can’t make him let go, you suppose you can move. So you do, you lead him through the short hallway, and flick the light on in his bedroom. His room is.. less neat. There’s clothes on the floor, and what looks dangerously like an old pizza box sticking out from under the bed. You decide to ignore it for time’s sake, your main goal is to get Jake into bed before he tips over.

He looks close to it now, stumbling towards his nightstand to snatch a necklace off of it. It’s a delicate silver chain, and there’s a pretty heart pendant on it.

“Look,” He shows it off, “‘S my mom’s. She gave it to me before I came down here.”

“That’s very sweet,” You croon, and all of a sudden you want to know more about Mama Seresin, “I think I’d like to see you wear that someday, Hangman.”

“That’d look silly.” He muses, eyes shiny as they rove over the charm, finally putting it down to look back at you, “But if you’d really like it I’ll do it.”

You suppose that if anything comes out of his drunken stupor, it’ll be a hell of a lot of blackmail material. Apparently he’s blabby when drunk, and you’ll definitely ask why he’s not wearing his mom’s necklace tomorrow when you meet for breakfast.

“Okay, Jake, let’s get you changed.” You hum, glancing around his room and peering apprehensively at his dresser. You turn back, intent on asking him which drawers you should avoid opening, and are met with-

“Jake! Put- put your pants back on!”

Your hands fly to your eyes to shield yourself from the sight of Jake Seresin’s Uncovered Crotch, but you forget that he’s still clinging tight to you, and he stumbles along with you. All you can do is let out a strangled cry as his outer thigh presses against yours, praying nothing else will.

“Put your boxers back on,” You beg, “And- and get into pajamas! Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Jake giggles, far too inebriated to read the room, “That’s what they all say.”

“I hate you,” You groan, and finally, he lets go of your hand.

There’s absolute silence for too long, but just before you can urge him to hurry up and get dressed, he speaks.

“You do?”

HIs voice is unlike you’ve ever heard it. Jake has a particular talent for boasting, and his voice often bleeds confidence, loud and strong and clear. Now it’s small, unsure and weak.

“Get dressed,” You huff, “With pants, please.”

You’re not eager to admit it, but you don’t hate him. Not at all. Sure, he annoys you, but he annoys everyone. He shoves confetti through the slats in your locker so that opening it triggers a snowstorm, he steals food from your plate when his own is nearly full, and he always, always knocks his knuckles against your helmet. But he’s never mean, he’s never insulted you or pushed you or demeaned you. So you can’t find it in yourself to hate him, even if you don’t always like him.

Or maybe you do. Maybe you bite back a smile when you find confetti on the ground, and maybe you bend over with your back to him just in case he likes what he sees. Maybe you steal his food right back, and maybe the best part of your day is when you make it a competition, and he practically crawls over Fanboy to try to nab a piece of your orange chicken. Maybe the rapping of his knuckles on your helmet makes you want to respond by bumping it against his chest, an urge you’ve never dared to act on.

Feigning hatred is much easier, you’ve found, than admitting love.

His voice cuts through your thoughts, still devoid of its usual enthusiasm, “I’m dressed.”

You let your hands fall to your sides with a relieved sigh, and though your vision is somewhat bleary from being covered for so long, you work with it, blinking until you can see his form, already under the covers on his bed and facing away from you.

“Okay,” You hum awkwardly, glancing around the room, “You’re gonna need medicine in the morning. And water, so-”

“Pills are in the bathroom cabinet, there’s a cup on the counter.” He drawls, voice muffled by his pillow.

You bustle off to gather those, and when you reenter his bedroom you find him staring at the wall. It’s a sad expression, an empty one, but you suppose that’s what binge drinking does to a man.

“I’m gonna head out,” You speak to his back, setting the pills and glass down on his nightstand, “Are you.. gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” He hums, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” You mumble, more than ready to flee the awkward scene, “Bye, Jake.”

“Do you really hate me?”

You freeze in the doorway, heart thudding in your chest. You turn slow, your eyes meeting Jake’s before your body faces him, giving you enough time to figure out a response.

“No,” You speak carefully, “I- I was just teasing, Jake. I don’t hate you.”

“You’re sure?” He peers up anxiously at you, looking more like a scared child than a naval aviator, “You really don’t?”

“I’m sure,” You nod, gracing him with a soft smile to soothe his nerves, “I don’t hate you, Jake.” “Okay,” He breathes, his frown flattening out into a neutral expression as his eyes drink you in, “Thanks, Y/N. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime,” You promise, and you mean it more than you’ll let on, “Get some rest, Jake, we’re meeting for breakfast at nine tomorrow.”

He nods, and that’s your cue to leave. Your shoes are still by the door, and you slip them on, fiddling with the straps. When you straighten up from where you’d hunched over you spot Jake’s keys where you’d left them on his entryway table, and realize he won’t know where they are in the morning. You don’t want him to panic, so you scoop them up, knowing that his door auto-locks behind him as a part of the apartment’s security features. You’ll be able to leave without the keys, and he won’t be at risk overnight.

You pad quietly back into his room, intent on setting the keys by the glass of water and leaving. But you realize that he’s already asleep, the magic of booze eliciting soft, even breaths from him that ricochet off of the pillow he’s smushed against and blow his hair back. You stifle a giggle at the sight, and pride yourself for how much self control it takes not to record it.

You set the keys down, and your heel catches on the pizza box beneath his bed. Your nose wrinkles, and you decide there’s no good reason for Jake to be keeping old food under his bed, of all places.

You pick it up and it feels nearly empty, prompting confusion on your part. Pizza is not weightless.

Maybe you should, maybe you shouldn’t, but you decide to flip the lid open. You brace the box on his nightstand and pop the top, your eyes landing on a collection of memorabilia inside, not cheese and bread.

You recognize a chubby baby as Jake himself, a slightly aged photo that looks delicate. You bite back a soft smile, but decide that his baby pictures are none of your business, fingers ghosting over the lid to shut it once more now that you know he’s not hoarding Papa John’s beneath his mattress.

Just before the lid closes, your heart stops. Your eyes catch a picture of just about the last face you’d ever expect to see in a pizza box under Jake Seresin’s bed: your own. It’s a picture of you talking to Payback, eyes shut and crinkled at the corners, mouth open in a laugh you’re sure was less-than-graceful at whatever the other aviator had said. You pick the photo up, pushing away a jewelry box that’s lying on top of its corner, and finding dozens more of your squadron beneath it. There’s one flipped on its front, and Jake’s scrawled sharpie over it, ‘Rooster being dumb. 6-07-2022.’

Upon inspection, the photo is of Bradley making a fool of himself. He’s halfway to the ground, foot caught in the sand as he topples over. You remember that day, you’d all laughed when he’d emerged with a mustache-full of sand.

You flip the photo of yourself, brows furrowing when the description is less-than-understandable.

‘Third time. 5-03-2021.’

Third time.. Third time you’d… laughed at Payback’s jokes? Definitely not, he’s quick on his toes and surprisingly witty.

Thumbing through each photo of you and your friends, the descriptions are all simple. ‘Natasha losing a bet’ showcases her rare defeated look, and of course Jake would have that documented. ‘Fanboy exhaling lemonade’ is self-explanatory, the substance shooting out of his nose in response to the Bradley-Sand-Mustache incident. The only ones you can’t figure out are your own, ‘First time. 4-25-2020’, ‘Second time. 10-10-2020’, and even, ‘Relapse. 9-14-2022;.

For the life of you, you can’t figure them out. You realize that you’ve been sifting through Hangman’s personal possessions far longer than you should have been, stuffing them all back inside the pizza box and sliding it beneath his bed. Something strange and confusing clouds your brain as you make your way to the front door, and you barely remember to listen for the click of the automatic lock when you leave.

Your apartment isn’t far from Jake’s, it’s only a few streets down, and you’d hitched a ride with Omaha to the Hard Deck anyways. You won’t make him pick you up to drive you three blocks.

There’s something infuriating about knowing that Jake writes about you in code. It’s like a mental game, and you’re losing. You ponder it all the way back to your apartment, and you dig your own keys out of your pocket to get yourself inside.

Your determination to figure Jake’s code out only transforms into insomnia, and you fall asleep at nearly three in the morning, alarms set for five hours ahead, wondering if you’ll ever find out what they mean.

Surprisingly, for how you’d left him last night, Jake is the first one to show up to Team Breakfast. Your typical spot at the local cafe is inhabited by none other than Hangman, checking his watch to see how late everyone was running so far.

“You’re here early,” You marvel, and his head shoots up to meet your gaze. He grins sheepishly, nodding, “I had too much of a headache to go back to sleep.”

“Oooh,” You laugh, “Tough luck.”

“Yeah. Reckon’ I drank a lot last night?” He asks, already grimacing in expectation of your response.

You take a particular pleasure in nodding, “You tried kissing Bradley.”

He hadn’t, at least, not on this particular occasion. Rooster has gotten his fair share of Drunk Hangman Love, as have you all, but this time he’d stayed away from anything too intimate.

“Shit,” Hangman grimaces, screwing his eyes up and plunking his chin to his chest, “I thought you said Bob was gonna start watching out for that?”

“He did,” You snort, “He saw it about to happen, and left before you could do it to him. He watched out for himself.”

Jake mumbles something, probably along the lines of ‘typical’, but it’s as he raises his head again, and the glint of something silver at his neck catches your eye. You squint, hard, glimpsing a familiar heart-shaped pendant pressed to his chest and outlined beneath his shirt.

“Oh my god,” You laugh, “The necklace! You’re really wearing it.”

He bites back a smirk and fits his lips to the rim of his water glass instead, “I told you I’d wear it. I’m no chicken.”

“Send a picture to your mom,” You suggest, “Tell her you’ve got her heart with you.”

His smile dims, something apprehensive in his eyes.

“You went through the box under my bed last night, didn’t you?”

You still at the question, your eyes wide, “What?”

“I heard you,” He admits, “I’m- I’m not mad, or anything. I just.. I know you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Even if he’s not upset, you feel awkward, like a kid caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar, “It was none of my business, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” He shakes his head, reaching back for the clasp on the necklace, “It was your business. Is, if..” He hesitates, face screwed up in concentration.

“Y/N,” He finally continues, necklace now pinched between his fingers, “This isn’t my mom’s.”

“Oh?” You pry cautiously, “Who’s is it, then?”

“Yours.” He admits, and your brows furrow.

“It’s not mine, I’ve never had one like that. I- I guess someone must have left it at your apartment or something, maybe Phoenix?”

“No,” He sighs, eyes screwed shut, “I mean- I mean I bought it for you.”

“You,, you bought that necklace.. for me?”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Did you see the box in there?”

You nod, recalling the teal case.

“I bought it for you for your birthday last year. Chickened out before I could give it to you, though. That’s why I had to give you half a bottle of whiskey.”

His lackluster birthday present made a lot more sense now.

“I know you saw the pictures I’ve got of you,” He continues, keeping his eyes on the pendant of the necklace that he’s pressing against his thumb, “I just thought.. I’d get everything off my chest.”

“First time..” You recall, and he raises his eyes to you questioningly.

“The pictures of me,” You prompt him, “On the back, you had little.. notes? Captions? Whatever, they said first time, second time, third time, relapse. What did those mean?”

He stares at you, the prolonged eye contact making you squirm.

“You sure you don’t hate me?” He asks, just as timid as he had the night before.

“Jake- of course I don’t hate you!” You promise, “Just- tell me, please?”

“They’re every time I fell in love with you.” He murmurs, and your entire world stops spinning. You’ve built it carefully on a foundation of Jake-directed sarcasm and a healthy distance away from your fellow aviator, and when the word ‘love’ slips from his lips the foundation crumbles. You feel everything collapse, every witty comeback, every dramatic eye-roll, every logical pushback. Nothing remains, except love. The word, the feeling, the sound of it coming from his mouth.

Apparently the demolition of your entire world takes too much time. Jake cringes, tucking the necklace into his fist and going to pocket it, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- fuck, I should have just shut my mouth. I won’t bring it up again, we can just forget this, and-”

“Stop,” You reach for his hand, covering his closed fist with your open palm, “Give me the necklace.”

He unfurls his hand, slowly, unsurely. His eyes linger on you, and he watches as you carefully scoop the jewelry from his palm, your fingers delicately brushing over the heart.

“You really love me?” You verify, keeping your eyes on the silver charm so that if this is some sick joke, you won’t see him break the facade. You won’t see the adoration in his eyes turn to mockery, the love to hatred.

“I really do,” He promises, “And I know that I’m not the best at communicating that…”

“What with the constant teasing and badgering?” You glance up at him for the first time since his confession, your view of his face obscured by your lashes.

“Yeah,” He grimaces, “That.”

“Can I be honest with you, Jake?” You bite the inside of your cheek, regretting admitting what you’re about to say before you’ve even said it.

“Yeah,” He breathes, and you think he expects the worst.

“I kind of like it,” You admit, and his frown breaks.

“I knew it,” He gloats, his grin wide and bright, “I knew there was a reason you never say anywhere I couldn’t steal your food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You groan, closing your fist around the necklace, “I haven’t responded to your confession yet, have I, Seresin? Don’t get too cocky.”

As much as you’re teasing him, he takes it seriously. His grin dims, and his eyes soften, worry pooling in his irises.

“I..” You start, eyes on the heart that still lies in the rips of your jeans instead of his own gaze, “I love you, too.”

“You do?” You think you’re starting to like his voice when it’s not brash and cocky, instead sincere and a little timid.

“I do,” You nod, glancing back up at him, “And.. I don’t really know what to do about that. I tried to ignore it, because we work together, and because I wasn’t sure you liked me back, but.. I do love you, Jake.”

“That,” He smiles, real and genuine, “Is something I’ve wanted to hear you say for years, darlin;.”

“Well. you should thank your inebriated self last night,” You laugh, letting him take the necklace from your fist and unclasp it, “You’re very touchy when you’re drunk, and I may or may not have seen your penis.”

“That’s.. not something I remember.” Jake grimaces, pausing with the necklace open in his hands, “Was it.. I mean- did you.. like it?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” You advise Jake, leaning forwards so that he can wrap his arms around your neck, “I’m not talking about your dick at brunch with our friends.”

“They’re not here yet,” He murmurs, and when you lock eyes, you take in the fact that he’s only inches from your face.

There’s a soft click as he clasps the necklace against the base of your hairline, then he drops it to your neck. The chain is cold, but Jake’s hands are warm where they smooth over your cheeks. You let your lashes flutter shut, lips already slightly puckered, waiting for the press of his own over them. You can’t be but a hair’s breadth away from kissing Jake when a shrill scream comes from the parking lot, and your eyes snap open with a start.

You turn, but he doesn’t release your face, instead pressing his cheek to yours as you both look for the culprit. It’s not Natasha you find with her hands clamped over her mouth, but Rooster, though the former is smirking.

“We carpooled,” She informs you, elbowing Bradley in the side, “We were only five minutes late, and you guys have already sucked face?”

“I gave her the necklace,” Hangman reaches over to show off the charm around your neck, “I, uh- asked for Phoenix’s help buying it. I didn’t know what you’d like.”

“Thanks,” You laugh sheepishly, though you’re not sure who you’re talking to. Maybe both of them, “Uh, is that Fanboy’s car?”

It is, tires crunching against spare bits of asphalt as he turns into the parking lot.

“Coyote’s in there, too,” Hangman groans, pulling back from where you’d been smushed together, “Let’s hope they didn’t see.”

“Oh, we’ll tell them,” Natasha promises, and her laugh can only be described as maniacal, “They each owe me $20, they thought she’d say no.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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rustedhearts · 10 months

Text

trouble (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: the morning after a fight brings comfort and longing to you and steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ main masterlist

tags: angry!steve again :); violence; verbal argument; angst; hurt/comfort; I did not edit this so ignore any mistakes.

hawkins, indiana. september 1990.

The dawn was quiet. Soft: a blended stroke of amber through pale blue across the sky. The interruption of tree limbs came with bright yellow leaves, changed by the cool breeze and autumnal warning. Somewhere beyond the glass you peered through, a crow cawed. In the parking lot below, a car engine shuddered alive.

The dawn was quiet, but the dusk was deafening.

The hiss and click of Steve’s lighter caused you to turn your head. And there he was: rolling into a seated position on the edge of the bed, dipping the mattress with shifted weight. In the swirl of blended lights, his bare back still held the tint of a late summer bronze. Speckled with beauty spots and the indigo, spiderwebbed haloes of burst blood vessels. Bruises from fights he never lost, but fights you wished he wouldn’t pick. The familiar haze of cigarette smoke settled into the room, paired with the potent tobacco sent you’d come to know all too well.

“What do you expect of me, huh? I’m not some fuckin’ punk, Libby, I won’t put up with that shit.”

“I’m not asking you to! But you didn’t need to do that—you don’t need to fight everyone!”

Steve’s shoulders hunched with exhaustion, hands slow to pull the cigarette away. A steady plume of smoke exhumed from his lips toward the bedroom door. His sheets were soft around your body, recently washed this past weekend. You’d spent those two days tangled together in the confines of this tiny apartment, enraptured with each other. The past few months felt like a lifetime. You latched onto each other like magnets, and now you couldn’t let go.

Not even when he broke your heart.

“Jesus, you need to stop pretending you’re such a fuckin' saint.

“You need to stop acting like I’m the bad guy for calling you out.”

Steve’s legs swished over the sheets, cotton rustling with the strained shift of his body in an attempt to straighten his posture. The flex of muscles came with a visible wince, a quiet hiss he hoped you were too unconscious to hear. Even with your alertness unbeknownst to him, he did his best to hide his sounds. Always the tough guy, always the man. He could never be soft, never gentle or real. Pain was weakness.

His hand came to cradle the welt festering on his ribs, but it twitched away to rub his eyes. You knew a migraine must’ve been collecting behind them and pounding in his head. He took another drag of his Marlboro and sighed it out.

“Because it’s me, right? I’m the bad guy? If you’re so embarrassed to be with me, why are you?”

“I’m not embarrassed to be with you, Steve. God, don’t you know how much I care about you?”

“Don’t you see that’s what this is all about? I mean—fuck’s sake, never-mind.”

Gently stirring, you turned onto your side away from the window, toward Steve. His profile appeared when he moved his head an inch; the bridge of his nose swollen and pink. His lashes fluttered in acknowledgement for your consciousness. His cheeks hollowed around the cigarette again, and the smoke streamed out of his nose. You tucked your hand beneath your cheek and watched him quietly.

Neither speaking a word, but both waiting.

“No, talk to me. Say what you actually fucking mean for once, please! But don’t you dare say you did this for me.”

“Then who the fuck do you think I did it for? All I want is to protect you. It’s—“

“All you do is fight! You can protect me without being so violent.”

“That’s who I am, honey. If you don’t like it, then fucking leave.”

You knew somewhere in the parking lot lied the contents of your purse, burst open by the impact of it hitting Steve’s back in a moment of blind rage when he just wouldn’t listen. Steve only ever saw things his way. He couldn’t understand that maybe you just wanted him to be okay. Maybe you just didn’t want to see him lose himself to the rush of another beating, or more blood and bruises and broken bones.

The coolness blowing outside settled into the room, seeping through the windows and cracks. You slid a little closer to the warmth of his body. Reaching out, letting your finger skate down his spine. His skin was soft, sprinkled with dark hair. His breathing stopped for just a minute at the delicacy of your touch.

“So that’s it? You’d rather throw this away than actually hear what I’m saying; than actually talk to me? Sometimes I wonder if you really wanna be with me, Steve, or if I’m just a pastime until your career takes off.”

“Are you—Jesus, it’s like you’re fuckin' blind. Don’t you see? Don’t you see that—“

“What? What? All I see is you getting into fights!”

“For you! I’m fighting for you, for fuck’s sake! To know you’re okay, to know you’re safe, to know you’re mine.”

Before Steve, you’d never known violence like this. You’ve been audience to few fights in your life, most childish and broken apart by school faculty. Boys rumbled behind the football field, shoved each other into lockers on the way back from gym. Once, a girl slapped another girl for stealing her boyfriend, but by the next week they were over it. It wasn’t until Steve came into your life that you knew how badly someone could bleed; how heavy hits could feel from the sidelines. How loud an uppercut was. How bad a rib could bruise, how much a nose could gush. How easily skin ripped apart.

Bottles shattered on the sidewalk, bar stools splintered by the weight of a grown man’s body. The gurgle of liquor spilling over the floor. The sputter of a mouth against a windpipe being squeezed. What it sounded like for someone to lose their two front teeth in the time it took to blink.

“This is the only way I know how to tell you how much I—that I—that I want—“

“Why can’t you say it, Steve? Hmm? Just look at me and say it.”

You could still see his face, eye swollen by a tattooed fist from the corner of the bar twenty minutes prior. Eyes welling, cheeks flushed pink, hands still balled together at his sides, black cotton tee soaked in beer and sweat. The night was cool and dark and everything blurred around Steve.

Even with your heart still racing from the fight he started, it wept only for Steve. It ached for him entirely.

“Don’t you know, angel?”

Pressing up on your palm, you closed the gap between your bodies on the bed. The sheets went with you, twisting around your thighs and waist as you pressed against his back. The smooth firmness of it was a welcome feeling. The warmth eased the stiffness in your limbs, arms circling around his middle to rid of any distance. Cheek against his shoulder, lip buried in his flesh, inhaling the musk of his bareness.

Steve sighed another stuttered breath.

“Know what, Steve?”

“That you’re mine. It’s me and you, and that’s how I want it to always be. Do you…don’t you want that?”

With the cigarette dangling from the corner of his lip, Steve slid his hand over your yours against his chest. Grateful for your touch, delighted by your smell. He let his head press back against your shoulder, and his eyes sink shut. He breathed in the sweetness of your recent slumber. He felt the warmth of your thighs, squeezing around his hips. Your lips left the softest wet ring on his skin, cooled by the breeze.

“I’m scared.”

You nuzzled your nose against his shoulder, exhaling a deep breath into his skin. You never wanted to be further from him than this, and you could’ve stayed there forever. Listening to each other’s heartbeats, containing each other’s bodies.

“Scared o’ what, baby? Don’t be scared.”

The crow cawed again. Another engine grumbled and faded into its morning route. A door slammed down the hall. The acidic stench of someone’s coffee seeped through the wall. Marlboro smoke tickled your nose, settled into your hair. His hand was rough around yours, skin callused and tough.

“M’ scared I’ll lose you. Trouble follows you wherever you go, and I…I’m worried it’ll get the best of you.”

His thumb rubbed gentle, mindless shapes into the back of your hand. You brought your chin to rest on his back, nose brushing the dark hair at the nape of his neck. It smelled like sweat, pillow-case-laundry-soap, and Steve.

And Steve always smelled like blood.

"You won't. You won't, baby—c'mon, don't cry."

Cigarette perched between his lips, held steady by that strong jaw, Steve raised a hand and searched behind him. His fingers grazed your hair, sweeping in a downward motion to stroke the back of your head and hold you close. He cupped your skull, pressed until your forehead met his own. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and inhaled.

He never wanted to forget this feeling.

You drove home in silence last night. The rumble of his Harley deafening, your grip around his torso tight and unrelenting. The argument found second life in the complex parking lot, where more than one neighbor threatened to call the cops if you didn't keep it down. Steve directed the screaming toward them. You just wanted him to talk to you, to listen to you; to stop letting his fists do all the explaining.

Steve was quick to knock someone out for wolf-whistling, swift to blacken eyes for glancing your way too long—but when it came to telling you how he truly felt, he shut down. When it came to reassuring your worries, he became a stoic statue.

You crawled into bed heavy with exhaustion, peeled free of clothes and begrudgingly covered in your favorite of Steve's t-shirts: big, crisp white cotton, patterned with his favorite football team. It smelled like his cologne and a cigarette smoked on the balcony.

Turned separate ways, staring at opposite spaces of darkness, feeling anger and regret fizzle in your chests.

"I hate fighting with you."

"Me, too."

But something curdled around that raging, guilty fizzle. Something tender and achey, weepy like an open wound pulsing life. Something sweet and sweeping. Something unlike either of you had ever felt before.

Something like...love.

"We don't have t' fight."

Love bruised. Love sliced. Love terrified the pair of you equally; chilled you right down to the bone.

One of you terrified to love something so gentle and beautiful, so bright and wonderful.

The other terrified to love something so cruel, so boorish and cold.

"Yes we do."

Lifting your chin, you tipped your head aside to get a peek at Steve's face. Blank, but peaceful, he fell still with steady breath. You ran the side of your finger down his cheek gently, stroking the skin where stubble collected. His eyes peeped open, lashes brushing his brows where they furrowed contemplatively.

He gave you a moment to continue your stroking ministrations before turning his head aside. You passed him a lazy smile, noses brushing. His hand traveled to your thigh, rubbing the pudgy flesh appreciatively. You squeezed around him a little tighter. He inched his head a little closer. His breath tickled your lips. His cigarette was the size of a half-bitten stick of gum in his other hand. The ashes collected on the shag carpet, a few decades old. At this proximity, you could see all the different flecks of colors in his eyes.

There was nothing scary about him, or that weepy feeling in your chest.

"Eggs or pancakes?" you asked.

Steve inhaled, bringing the butt of the cigarette to his mouth for one last drag. It burned against your mouth. "Pancakes."

He smoked his second cigarette at the table, tapping his ashes into a porcelain mug and watching you flip pancakes in his shirt with a silent brood. He took his stack of pancakes with a kiss, deep and tender and full of tongue. He tugged you into his lap and fed you bites off his fork.

He spent the afternoon alternating his hand and head between your legs.

And when the sun went down, he took you to the Harley with his arm around your waist. He collected your strewn items from the asphalt and shoved them back into your purse, leaving the broken zipper open with a promise to replace. You swung your leg over the Harley seat and wound your arms around his waist.

You waited for the next moment he'd turn his words into fists.

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aaron-m-geist-ff · 3 months

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Hi, I hope your day is going well! 🫶🏻Omg the zodiac ask is such a cute idea!! If it's still open can I do one? 🥹 tiny 5'2 libra, she/her, love Halloween, just waiting for a man to toss me around like a ragdoll and not be afraid I'll break in the process tbh lol

Omg hello!! I also love Halloween ;) it’s my favorite holiday 🕷️🎃 and these asks started out with just a zodiac sign and a pronoun, now everyone has been sending me their hobbies and kinks and I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH LMAO.

You want to be treated like a ragdoll?? Sounds like you already know who you’re getting, Libra 😅 holy shit you’re gonna eat this up, I already know 🔮

_______________________________________________

Toji Fushiguro takes you to Spirit Halloween (smut)

You got…🥁🥁🥁

Toji Fushiguro!

“I don’t even think that Spirit Halloween is open yet. It’s September,” Toji said flatly. He was busy eating some dumplings as you rambled on and on about preparing for Halloween.

“Oh, trust me. They’re open. We have to go now, Toji!! Come on!” You weren’t above begging. You knew that Toji was weak for you and would give you whatever you wanted if you begged for it. He seemed like such a rough man, and maybe he was, but he had a soft spot for you.

The two of you did end up taking your little shopping trip to Spirit Halloween. Toji followed you down the aisles aimlessly. He clearly didn’t know where to go so he just allowed you to take the lead. He totally wasn’t doing that just to stare at your cute ass 👀

He did pull a slutty nurse costume off the rack once, smirking as he handed it to you.

“Wanna take this one home?” He asked. You ended up swatting at his arm as you rolled your eyes.

Toji would definitely try a few of the animatronics, but he would just stand there with his hands shoved into his pockets. Completely unfazed by the jumpscares.

“What’s wrong, Toji? Aren’t you scared of those?” You questioned sweetly.

Your boyfriend scoffed.

“I’m scarier.”

…That was probably true. You had no idea what Toji did for work, but he did tell you that it was a dangerous job. That was kinda hot though. Jesus, you’re fucked up for liking that 😅

Eventually, the two of you would wander into the mask aisle. Toji jokingly put on a Michael Myers mask. He did it to be funny. But once he saw the insane blush on your cheeks, he started to catch on. His tiny girlfriend wasn’t just interested in Halloween for innocent reasons. She had a goddamn mask kink.

_______

You stared up at the Michael Myers mask, panting desperately as Toji’s cock drilled into your tight pussy. Your legs were spread impossibly wide to make room for him.

Toji’s waist was huge compared to your own, his chiseled abs glistening with sweat. He was breathing heavily as he fucked you good. But the panting sounds only reminded you of Myers even more. You could see your boyfriend’s sharp gaze peering down at you through the mask.

“Fuck, you’re such a whore,” Toji growled. “Thought you were innocent. Guess I was wrong.”

He held your waist firmly with his large hands. You wouldn’t be able to push him away if you wanted to stop. The thought of that made your brain turn to mush.

“Y-yes! I’m a whore for you, Toji…P-please don’t stop!” You begged even more. Your voice sounded so shrill and weak. You gasped with every sharp thrust.

Toji moaned lowly from the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his shaft. He was slamming right into your G-spot with every movement. It made you arch your back from the sensations.

“Shit…Can’t even fit all of me inside, huh? Such a pathetic little girl. I could break you, y’know.”

Toji knew how much you liked the size difference. He always brought attention to it whenever you had sex. It was difficult for him to achieve an orgasm with you due to your small pussy. Therefore he could last a lot longer, which you never complained about. You loved feeling him inside. And…That Myers mask was insanely hot.

“Y’er so fuckin’ wet from this mask,” Toji hissed. He grabbed your breast roughly and squeezed it with his powerful hand. You keened, whimpering and yelping as he picked up the pace.

“Ya like gettin’ fucked by a murderer, huh?”

You nodded your head enthusiastically, unable to form words any longer.

Toji smirked behind the mask. Little did you know, you actually got fucked by a murderer every night. ;)