#is the best fucking sentence i've read all week

[thelastofhyde]

you cut your hair, and take some space (2)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 2 of 3! (part 1)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation ( please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries ), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, policeofficer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), pedro-ception aka there's a small cameo of another pedro boy, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, reader is described to have hair and celebrates christmas ( but no mention of the reader's religious beliefs )! smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 14.3k

hyde’s input. hey... hey... how y'all doin'?🧍remember when i said part 2 would be posted a few weeks after part 1? yeah, that was a fucking lie. and, remember when i said it would be 2 parts in total? that was also a lie! the universe is praying on my downfall ( i had a fun mental health episode and fell into a black hole for a few months <3 ) unfortunately, i am very much still alive and kicking, so this is me trying to get the ball rolling again when it comes to posting fics. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it + tumblr will not allow me to post it as a whole due to it's paragaph-count limit, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

if you see any typos, no you didn't 🫣

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of. “huh?” “this. us. it could be casual, y’know?”

Golden boy, you dropped the ball I am Annie fucking Hall

The year moves too fast.

It’s like you blink, and suddenly it’s Thanksgiving.

Leaves turn brown. Pumpkins are carved only to rot upon front porches. A gathering of friends, young adults getting their first taste at hosting a thanksgiving meal.

You’re put on dessert duty, which culminates in stressful tears and your mother’s hand rubbing soothing circles into your back, reassuring you that it’s okay, everyone burns their first pie.

No one at the party needs to know the pumpkin pie you brought was a product of your mother’s gentle care.

Then there is actual Thanksgiving, which you celebrate, as always, at your aunt's.

The highlight is, and forever has been, the road-trip out of state, your father making it his mission to deafen you and your mother with his horrific singing.

As they drop you back at your apartment, your father has no qualms leaning out the car window and calling after you.

“I expect to see you cheering me on at the Thanksgiving Touchdown event!”

Which brings you here, to said event, sweater sleeves tugged over cold fingers and a wandering pair of eyes who refuse to comply with your wants.

You want to focus on the ongoing football match- Fire Department vs Police.

Your eyes prefer to follow him, striding up the field, his hair soaked in sweat and his t-shirt long removed.

You’ve no valid reason to roll your eyes at the other women who seem to prefer spectating the sport of Javier Peña. You’re no better than them.

Yet, as one of them let’s out a joyous shriek as he takes a pass at the ball, your eyes roll.

"He’s a show-off, that boy.”

At least you have company. An older gentleman, who you caught struggling to pick his wallet up from the floor. He’d smiled as you returned it, and conversation had flowed easily from there.

As the whistle blew, commencing the final match of the local community services’ football league- or, Thanksgiving Touchdown, as your father so aptly named it-, he’d patted the empty seat next to him.

“Hmm?”

He points, and you follow the direction, realising he’s speaking about Javi.

“Him,” he says it with a teasing tone to his voice. It’s like he’s mocking the agent. “Think’s he’s God’s gift, takin’ his top off like that.”

The more you sit with the older gentleman, the more you enjoy his company.

On the field, your dad bellows something at Javi. He replies with a curt salute, and shoots off down the length of it.

He’s fast, agile, stealthy.

A force to be reckoned with, keeping pace with rookies half his age.

The vision of him, gun strapped to his leg and a tact vest on his chest, speeding down streets in the columbian heat conjures in your mind.

You wonder how it felt to know him then, if worry kept his companions awake.

It had certainly kept you awake in recent months, and that was with him safe, in Laredo, cooped up in some bachelor pad.

“Surprised he’s not thrown his top to the crowd of screaming ladies!” The gentleman continues his mocking, and it rouses laughter out of both of you.

A whistle is blown, your eyes return to the field and, though he’s quick to look away, you catch the tail end of Javier’s eyes on you.

Fifteen minutes pass, in which you do your best to not stare at him.

You’ve made worse attempts in the past.

Eventually, the man next to you coaxes you into getting him a lemonade from the food truck.

You oblige, of course, and deny his attempts to hand you cash, insist it’s on you.

He’s kept you smiling on a rather gloomy day.

You tell him you’ll be right back, smile, and realise you don’t know his name.

“Chucho,” he tells you, and waves you off.

You join the queue, keep your head down, ignore the gossiping women three spots ahead of you, claiming to have each shared an encounter with Javi.

You don’t need to know what he’s been up to.

You don’t want to know who he’s been up to it with.

It happens when you’re finally being served.

There’s no longer a queue, just you, smiling as sweetly as possible. The service industry is rough enough, nevermind on holidays.

You order successfully, both Chucho’s lemonade and a hot chocolate for yourself.

The guy working the truck- young enough, a bit too traditionally good-looking, with coiffed hair and a shaven face- he’s talkative.

Friendly.

Too friendly.

Till it crosses the border into flirty.

You’re not interested.

At all.

But it’s flattering, to feel wanted.

Even more so after a something that means nothing yet everything ends out of the blue and you’re left reeling over whether or not some part of you is to blame.

So you let him shoot you his dashing smile, and throw in unnecessary pet-names that just feel forced into every sentence he speaks to you, and write his number on the paper cup of your hot chocolate.

“Here you go, pumpkin,” he winks. The pet-name feels a little too on the nose for the season. Couldn’t he have called you sweetheart instead? “A sweet treat for that sweet smile.”

You wonder if he’s allowed to gift the free donut he slides your way.

Your stomach growls and begs for sugary release before you can fully bring yourself to care.

An awkward thanks. Hands reach up to grab the to-go cups, three fingers curling up the bagged donut. 

He helps you get a grip on the beverages, placing them in your hands.

His touch lingers, more than necessary, fingertips brushing over your knuckles as if trapped in slow-motion.

“So, a pretty girl like you got a boyfriend, or are you gonna let me take you out to-”

Gasps fill the air.

Half the crowd boos.

Your father screams one name, loud and clear, down the pitch.

“Peña, get your head out your fucking ass and pick up the ball!”

Turning on your heal, the scene unfolds.

The ball, abandoned on the ground.

The players, scrambling to grab it before one another.

Javier, frozen in place, face an unreadable maze of emotions, eyes staring right at you.

They follow you all the way back to your seat, even as the game picks up again.

Even as you congratulate your dad on another victory for the police department, now the four-time consecutive champions of the Thanksgiving Touchdown.

Even as you head off to your father’s car.

Even when you’re home, curled under a blanket and watching a televised copy of Annie Hall, you feel his eyes on you.

The look of betrayal on Javier Peña haunts you even once you fall asleep.

If you don’t love me, What was April?

You’ve always been organised.

Everything has it’s place, from the books that line your bedside table to the memories inside your mind.

You compartmentalise.

Tucked deep into the right side of your brain, there’s a box.

It’s contents, memories you’ve yet to process.

Moments you know that, if you wish to move on, you’ll have to relive.

Caution tape holds the lid shut.

Fragile stickers cover every corner.

And, scribbled in bold red marker, April ‘99.

A late night.

You, wide awake, laying on your back and mapping out stars in his ceiling.

Javier fell asleep hours ago and now snores softly against your neck, muscled arm curled around your waist as his legs entangle your own.

The agent is a fiend for cuddling, and so often wraps himself around you like a vine.

You find yourself nestling your hand in his hair, and take note of the sharp breath he intakes.

Go still.

Worry you’ve woken him.

Relax when you feel him snore and press himself even deeper against your naked skin.

He’s tired. Exhausted.

Work was getting to him as of late.

He hadn’t told you that, but he didn’t need to.

You know him. You can read him.

Can tell in the way he moved slower against you.

In the way he let you take the lead, resting back against the couch to watch how your hips wound down on him.

In the way he got even clingier than usual, dragging you into the shower with him just to have you near, holding you from behind as you washed up the plates he’d used to serve you dinner (a trade-off he’d reluctantly agreed to months ago: he cooks, you clean), laying his head on your lap as you curled up to watch some cheesy horror movie- one you’re bound to fall asleep during and he’s counting on it, glancing up till he spots you slumped over and eyes closed, granting him the perfect excuse to carry you to his bed and nestle himself in beside you.

Unlike other nights, you’re trapped awake.

Something feels off, makes you queasy.

There’s something nagging at your mind.

It’s like you’ve forgotten something, misplaced something, and can’t even figure out what it is.

You just know its absence is wrong.

Javi mumbles something, dreaming away, and you feel the subtle press of his lips against your skin.

Fingers curl tightly into the fabric of your (his) shirt.

He can’t get you close enough, it seems.

Playing against his wants, you pull back, slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

There’s a pinch between his brows, furrowed in worry.

It’s not fair, you think.

Sleep is usually where you see him at his calmest.

It’s a selfish act, born purely from your own desire, but you find yourself pressing a kiss against his forehead.

His grip loosens, though slightly.

It gives you enough time to feel a stir between your thighs, a calling coming from your bladder.

So you do your best to slip out his hold.

It’s a struggle that leaves you topless and feeling a pinch of cruelty, standing over the bed as you watch his hand grabbing at the vacant spot you once occupied, your scent and shirt the only traces you leave behind.

You don’t bother turning on a light, make your way to his bathroom with practiced ease.

Pad your way across the cold linoleum floor, sink down onto the porcelain seat- he’d stopped leaving it up when your overnight visits became more frequent. You hadn’t asked- didn’t need to ask-, he’d simply done it.

Closing the door over, yet not enough for the hinges to squeak and the handle to lock, you pray the wood muffles noise of the flushing toilet.

When it stops, you wait a few seconds, until you’re sure there’s no rustling coming from his bedroom.

Then, you open the tap.

The water is barely a trickle, yet you tell yourself its enough.

Lather your hands in soap, sit them under the constant drip of cold water till you feel the suds wash down the drain.

It’s hard to stop yourself from sneaking a glance at the mirror, just as it’s hard to recognise the version of yourself you see.

Your hair frames your face, though messy.

Your eyes are bloodshot, yet carry less bags.

Your cheeks are rounder, fuller.

You look different.

You feel it too.

Yhen come the thoughts of Javier, and how he sees you.

Has he noticed a change?

Is he the reason for it?

Does he feel different, too?

Your stomach flips.

He’s not said anything. Or done anything, to make you notice a change.

But, then, Maybe it’s been subtle, slow, dragged out long enough it’s not drastic enough for either of you to take note of.

You eye the spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom, and try to remember when it became yours.

You don’t remember.

One moment, his toothbrush sat alone. And, the next, you were standing side by side, laughing as you raced to see who could make a foamier mess of the toothpaste.

Corazón, you look like a rabid animal, he’d called you once, laughing through tears as he wiped away the white suds dripping off your chin. You’re lucky that you’re just so cute.

You can recall, even now, how quickly his mouth had found yours that night, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in the minty taste of one another.

The stir in your stomach becomes more intense.

Eyes refocusing, you find yourself in the mirror again.

Only, sweat lines your forehead and your face seems drained of colour.

You make it only two steps back before you’re hurtling across the bathroom floor.

Your knees crash down first, harsh and unforgiving against the tiles.

The first wretch burns, has you coughing over your own gag.

In the dark, it’s hard to see what exactly comes out of you, but you know where it came from.

Your stomach.

Another wave of nausea hits, this one harder, and you’re gripping at the sides of the bowl, spewing into the water below.

A splash meets your cheek, but you’re too out of it to care, wave after wave of nausea leaving you a coughing, gagging, crying mess.

You feel lightheaded, only managing a moment to catch your breath before another wave hits.

It feels like you’re suffocating.

It’s in your throat, in your mouth, in your nose, in your hair.

It feels like it’s never stopping and you’re doomed to spend the rest of your days submitting to the horrors of throwing-

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” warmth, against your naked back.

It’s a nice warmth, not like the one that has you covered in a cold sweat.

There’s a soothing motion over your skin.

Up, down, up, down.

You try to follow it, match your breathing to the tactile comfort.

“That’s it, baby,” cool air meets your neck, the hairs that stuck to your skin now pulled up and pushed back. “I’m right here, I got you.”

Eventually, all that’s left is the burning of bile at the back of your throat and the dull ache of eyes gone raw with tears.

You’re pulled into a solid mass, naked chest pressed to naked chest as you go slack upon the bathroom floor.

You’re exhausted, and covered in your own sweat, tears and vomit.

Javier doesn’t care, pulling you tighter against him and whispering sweet words you don’t quite pay attention to.

“Woke up and you weren’t there, corazón. Don’t do that again,” even in his attempts to chastise, he’s gentle, brushing the remaining strands of sweat-slicked hair off your face. You must be an awful sight, yet his expressions don’t give way. “You wake up, you wake me up too. ‘Specially if you’re gonna hurl, okay?”

You glance at him, swallow back a lump and deal with the realisation that dawned upon you ten minutes earlier, as you sat hunched over the toilet’s bowl.

“Javi,” he smiles at the way you call his name.

You feel sick all over again at the thought of that changing, everything changing, as you build the courage to speak.

He calls your own name back to you.

“I’m late.”

You await the sharp inhale.

And the unwinding of arms.

You imagine he’ll stand up, pace the floor.

Run his hands through his hair, rant over every thought he has.

Ways to get rid of it, the dangers of your dad finding out.

Then he’ll turn the blame to you.

That’s what men do, right?

He’ll ask why you weren’t safer, why you forgot to take that morning-after pill, why you played so fast-and-loose with your body.

None of it arrives.

He stands, yes, but only to pull you up with him, tired limbs leaning into his strong build as he drags you both under the heat of a warm shower.

You watch the remnants of your own vomit wash down the drain, and question how he can stand there, not disgusted with you.

He dries you off, delicate drags over your skin.

He’s rougher with himself, scarcely drying properly before he’s carrying you back to his bed, a replay of hours earlier as he lays you down, crawls in behind you and tucks you both under the soft comfort of his worn-out sheets.

Only, this time you’re wide awake.

He so easily nestles himself behind you, dragging you back against him and committing himself to the role of big-spoon.

His hands have always felt large, their touch always electrifying, but nothing compares to the feeling of him splaying one across your lower stomach, a subtle press into where part of him could be growing within you.

“Javi,” you whine, fighting off the sleep your overwhelmed body so badly needs. “I’m sorry.”

You say it because you feel obligated, like it’s your place to be apologetic.

After all, the blame is yours, surely.

“No seas boba (Don’t be silly),” there’s a fresh set of tears already sliding down your cheeks by the time he replies. “Don’t need to be sorry, baby.”

“But I-”

“But, nothing,” his tone feels final, one that tells you you’ll get nowhere arguing against him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, corazón.”

You fall asleep, eventually, soothed by his gentle breathing and the repeated motion of his thumb stroking over your belly.

Yhe next time you awake, there’s a crack of sunlight creeping through his blinds.

Javi’s still in bed, only he’s propped up on his elbow and staring down at you.

His smile stretches a little wider when he spots your open eyes.

Lips press against your own, soft and subtle.

A quiet greeting, a wordless goodmorning.

“I gotta go, corazón,” is met with a protest from you, rolling over to curl into his solid chest.

Expecting it, he wraps you up tighter in his arms, presses an array of chaste kisses to your head.

You don’t want him to leave this bed.

Or this apartment.

You don’t want him out, in the real world, where the hours you’ve spent cooped up together become more scandalous than the peaceful nature of them.

“I know, I know. Don’t wanna go either, baby,” you wonder if you spoke your thoughts aloud, or if Javi simply knows you so well.

Eventually, he peels himself away from you.

You watch him dress.

Tell him which tie to wear.

Help him tie it, the comforter pooled around your naked waist as you sit criss-cross-apple-sauce and Javi’s at the side of the bed, legs bent at the knee.

He thanks you with a kiss, then asks you to pass him his cologne.

It’s on the other side of the bed- his side of the bed- and you lean over to grab it.

You don’t bother handing him it, spraying it directly onto your own wrist and dabbing it into the skin of his tanned neck.

He lets you, a gentle smile on his face and eyes that pull you in for a hug, burrowing himself between your naked breasts.

He presses a kiss between them, hums in enjoyment.

“You’re gonna smell like me all day, cariño (darling),” he tells you.

“Good,” you reply.

Another hum, this time of approval, and a squeeze to your hip.

When he pulls back, he looks even more reluctant to leave.

Reality rears it’s ugly head, but he pushes it out your mind with the pressing of his hand against your stomach, the same spot he’d held onto all night.

Leans down, brushes his lips against it.

Your hands instinctually curl in his hair, and you like to think you leave it a little messy, enough to ward off any of the women he works along side, hopeful eyes hoping to get a taste of the handsome, unmarried cop.

“Stay,” he mumbles against your skin, as if you’re the one who’s about to leave. “Don’t go, ok? I’ll call around lunch.”

He keeps his word.

Calls you, a few minutes past two, interrupting whatever daytime TV you were pretending to watch.

Answering leaves you feeling lightheaded, like you're trapped in a daydream.

Listening to him croon down the line while your finger anxiously tangles in the phone’s wire as you stand in his apartment, it feels domestic, like you’re waiting for him to come back home, a place you share together.

The thought has you pressing a hand against your womb.

“How bout you, corazón?” He knows how to make you melt, picturing him smiling at his desk. “Have you ate yet?”

With a grimace, you admit you haven’t.

“You need to eat, baby,” you don’t like the fact he uses that pet-name, not right now. “There’s plenty in the fridge. Could make yourself a sandwich, or some toast. Might even have some of that pasta left over. You know, that one you said you liked? Oh, wait, maybe don’t eat that, don’t think uncooked salmon is good for pregn-”

You don’t want him to say the P word, so you cut him off.

“I’ll probably just have toast.”

He says ok, then you hear him take a bite of whatever his lunch is.

The call goes on a little longer.

It’s mostly him talking.

He tells you a quick story, something about one of the younger guys accidentally stapling his tie to an arrest warrant.

That rouses a laugh out of you, makes you forget all about the massive P word he almost said.

“I’ll be home soon, okay?”

That sounds nice coming from Javi.

Home.

Not his home, just home.

A place he feels his soul at rest.

A place he’d begged you to stay this morning, safe and tucked away.

“Was thinking we could drive out to the clinic, find out for sure if we’re pr-” he cuts himself off this time, like he knows you’re not ready to hear that word. “Then we’ll take things from there, okay? Whatever you decide you wanna do, corazón, you call the shots.”

He keeps his word, again.

Comes home barely three hours later.

He walks through the door and welcomes the way you coil yourself around him, humming in delight as he peppers a few kisses over your face.

“Still smell like me,” he says it with approval, takes a purposeful whiff at you as he pulls you tighter against him.

You still smell his cologne on him too, buried beneath a few layers of sweat and cigarette smoke.

Near clinging to one another, it’s a miracle you two make it out his apartment and down the elevator.

An arm around your waist, he guides you over to his car.

Pulls the door open for you, stops you from bumping your head on the way in.

He practically runs round the car’s hood, jumping into the driver’s seat and thrumming the engine to life with the turn of a key.

“You remember to eat?” He asks as he pulls out onto the street.

You nod, then audibly reply.

Tell him you did in fact eat toast, leave out the part where you spewed your guts again twenty minutes later.

The drive is quiet.

Not uncomfortable, just relaxed, with the radio playing gently and his window rolled down enough to let in some air.

At some point, his hand slides over the console and rests against your thigh.

You welcome it, covering it with your own.

As you watch out the window how he drives past the turning for the local hospital, he must catch your questioning gaze.

“They, uh,” he clears his throat, rings his hand over the steering wheel. A small stain of sweat marks it. “Know your dad pretty well in there. And me. Figure you’d rather he not find out about us like that.”

He’s right.

So you relax back into your seat, accept the fact you’re both driving out of town together.

At some point, the beginning notes of your favourite song play through the stereo.

You instantly perk up, sitting up straighter in your seat and tap your foot a little to the beat.

Javi says nothing, simply peels his hand off you to turn the volume dial up.

Seconds later, he turns his head and throws you a look just asking if he’s done good.

You smile, and thread your fingers between his own.

A soft squeeze before he pulls them up to his lips, eyes back on the road.

The clinic is bright.

And squeaky, each step you take making you a little more nervous than the last.

Javier, by all accounts, is solid as a rock, signing you both in, picking up a few pamphlets, buying you a can of soda, all while you curl up in some plastic chair and just focus on not spewing your guts out.

You only relax once he’s sat beside you, helping you get a sip of the sugary drink and wrapping a protective arm around you.

You don’t mean to but you fall victim to sleep, the past 24 hours getting the best of you.

You come-to likely not much later, but to the sound of a childish giggle.

Cracking one eye open, just slightly, you notice you’re slumped into Javier, head on his shoulder.

There’s a giggling little girl in front of you both, in purple overalls and with two pigtails to hold her curly hair.

One of her hands is on Javi’s knees, using him to keep herself standing.

“First time?” You snap your eyes shut as a stranger’s voice fills the quiet bustle of the clinic.

A confused sound leaves Javier.

“Yeah, could tell from the look on your lady’s face,” the man continues. “Same one my own wife had during our first visit.”

You want to pay attention to Javi’s response, but you’re a bit busy dealing with the fact he’s not correcting the man, telling him you’re not his lady nor his wife.

His thumb soothes over your hip, and you wonder at what rate you’ll melt away into a pile of nothing thanks to his soft touches.

“You hoping for a boy or a girl?”

You tell yourself to try harder, to actually pay attention.

You succeed, catch as Javi replies, “a girl.”

“Yeah?” the stranger seems genuinely invested, it almost makes you want to open your eyes, see him for yourself.

But you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Wanted a boy, myself,” that same little girl giggles again and you can’t fight the temptation to peek once more, catch as she crawls into her faceless-father’s lap. “Doc told us it was gonna be a boy, too. Then this one came along and, wouldn’t ya know, not a boy.”

“Surprise!” the little girl squeals, and you feel Javi’s shoulder shake under your head.

God, you want to look at him, see if he’s looking at her with the same adoration that’s festering in your heart.

“Yeah, baby, you’re my little Sarah-Surprise,” the man coos and, despite his rough accent, it suits him. Like he was only ever meant to speak with gentle words and a soft heart, all for his precious daughter. “It’ll get easier, on your lady, just so ya know. Less scary, more exciting. ‘Bout to welcome our second one, and I’ve never seen my wife so happy.”

Javi’s still not correcting him.

It makes you nauseous for a whole new reason.

“Mr. Miller?” A voice calls out.

A nurse, you imagine.

A chair squeaks as pressure is taken off it, the stranger standing.

You peak your eye open in time to see him picking his daughter up, her little legs dangling off his hip.

He takes a few steps, till Javi interrupts him.

“What,” he clears his throat, and you wonder if it’s of emotion. “What are you hoping for this time?”

“A girl.”

Eventually, it’s your turn.

You’d pretended to wake up to Javier’s coaxing.

Shuffled into some room, reluctantly separating from Javi.

A smiley nurse handed you a cup, talked you through what you needed to do for your tests.

Took your blood pressure, complimented your earrings, and stepped out the room to give you privacy.

A short while and a reunion with Javi later, you sat in a doctor’s office, both a nervous wreck as you clasped each other’s hand.

“Mrs. peña,” again, Javier does not correct the doctor. And you realise it’s because he filled out the forms, he signed you in. He wrote you down as Peña. “You and your husband are not pregnant.”

What should have followed was a sigh of relief, from both of you.

But all you felt was led drop in your stomach and Javier’s grip tighten on your hand.

“You are, however, displaying symptoms of acute food poisoning, likely salmonella.”

The doctor continues on, detailing a prescription you’re being given.

But it falls on deaf ears, the world around you gone blank as you wrestle with conflicting emotions.

You’re not pregnant.

You should be elated. Jumping, and cheering, and dancing all over the place. Instead, you’re silent, letting yourself be guided back into the car by Javi.

This time, the drive is silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

You watch him drive past the turning into your street.

He doesn’t explain that he’s taking you back to his place.

Getting you back in his bed, switching off the lights, he curls himself in behind you and splays his hand over your stomach.

Over your empty womb.

For some reason, you find yourself sobbing into your pillow, unaware of the tears from him that stain your neck as he tries to hush you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” the irony of him repeating those very same words last night is not lost on you.

It’s hard to move on, when every month there’s a stabbing pain in your abdomen and a trickle of blood staining your underwear to remind you of April.

And so you keep it locked in it’s box, slapping another caution tape over it’s lid as you groan and roll out your own bed, trudging your way into your bathroom to check if the wetness between your thighs is your monthly visitor.

You played a game But I run the table

You’re avoiding your dad’s calls.

It’s not because he’s done anything to warrant your rejection, but, rather, it’s the forthcoming actions he’ll be guilty of.

See, you know why he’s calling.

Your mom let it slip, over brunch and a few too many glasses of wine.

He’s hosting another poker night.

He wants you there, as always.

Some baseless theory of you being his good luck charm.

Or, at least, that’s what you were until the last poker night he’d hosted, way back in March.

He slips away, phoned by your tipsy mother and obligated to drive three towns over to go pick her up because she misses him.

“Fill in for me, will ya, kiddo?”

It was less a suggestion, more of a pleading, his hands already scraping the seat back and awaiting you to plop yourself down.

He leaves you with his hand, his winnings so-far, and a kiss to the top of your head.

“Watch out for Peña,” he whispered, as if you hadn’t been keeping an eye on the agent all evening, clouded by his own cigarette smoke and sitting looser each sip of his whiskey, no ice. “His poker face is dangerous.”

He turns out to be no threat.

None of the officer’s are, really.

Rounds end and rounds start, and you father’s pile of winnings grow more and more.

It’s an ego boost, taking money from these cocky men who look at you as though surely you have no clue what cards you’re holding.

But, taking from Javi?

That’s something else, entirely.

Each time you win, he gets more agitated.

Flinging down cards, muttering curses, shoving his cash across the table.

All whilst glaring, at you, eyes black with ire.

And intoxication.

And something else.

Something you know all too well on Javier.

Lust.

Nearly an hour’s past since your father left, someone else leaves the table.

Says he needs the toilet, you point him in the direction of it.

You all call for a break, and then you graciously offer a refill on drinks.

It’s what your dad would’ve done, kept them all drinking and lowering their inhibitions, their focus disappearing alongside it.

“I’ll help!” One of the officers exclaims.

He’s on the younger side.

Practically a rookie, it’s only the second poker night he’s attended.

He’s sweet, with his large-framed glasses and his nervous smile.

You both make your way out of the basement- refurbished to be your dad’s man-cave- and head towards the kitchen.

You open the fridge, grab however many bottles of beer you need.

He heads to the liquor cabinet, pulls out a bottle bourbon.

You beat him at grabbing the whiskey, an unvoiced need to be the one who refills Javi’s glass.

Maybe, he’ll offer you a sip.

Conversation flows naturally between you, in spite of him being a near stranger.

He asks about college.

You ask about working with your dad.

You both agree on the fact he’s a pain in the ass.

He tells you about a new bar, downtown.

You tell him where to go to get the best club sandwich.

It’s light, it’s easy, it’s friendly.

You’re enjoying his company.

nNeither of you can tell who causes it, but one of you mispronounces a word and you both wind up in a pile of giggles, falling over yourselves and banging into counters.

His hands grip his sides.

You’re clutching your chest.

Through wheezes, he repeats the phrase that left you both in this state.

You laugh harder, louder, warn him to stop before you lose control of your bladder.

Something thuds in the hallway, your eyes shoot up to the kitchen entry and you swear you see Javi’s retreating figure.

Blink a few times, realise there’s no one there.

You both gather some decorum.

He grabs as many of the beer bottles he can manage, and looks at your empty hands in question.

You tell him to head back without you, that you just need to go to the toilet.

Parting ways, you find the both the downstairs and upstairs bathrooms occupied.

Sigh in frustration, only to remember your parents en suite.

It’s empty, because of course it is. No one would feel comfortable enough invading the privacy of your parents' bedroom.

You do your business, wash your hands, fix yourself in the mirror.

Decide your lipstick needs a little touch-up, your clothes need straightening out.

And, when you’re done and ready to head back down to the poker table, you hear a thud.

Pull open the bathroom door, expect to find your father struggling to put a tipsy, giggly, clumsy version of your mother into bed.

Instead, there is only a brooding look and disapproving grunt.

A firm grip, on your arm, dragging you right back into the bathroom.

The door slams shut, a little harsher than you’d like, the sound of it surely reaching the ears of those regrouping for the next dealing of the cards.

He doesn’t pounce, like he so usually does when he’s wearing that look of frustration.

He’s simmering in it, teetering on the edge of boiling anger as he smooths a hand over his chin, visibly clenching his jaw, swallowing back whatever it is he wants to say to you.

He takes one step forward, and you go one back.

Then two steps, which you also match.

Your hip smacks into the sink’s counter on your fifth step backwards and it’s enough to finally put his hands on you.

He tugs you right into his chest, one hand soothing over where you’d banged your hip.

It’s alarmingly gentle for his stoic features.

When he speaks, you nearly melt into a puddle, the heat of him invading your space, face inching close to your own, enough to have you questioning the sanctity of your parents en suite.

“What’s going on with you, huh?”

“Could ask you the same thing, officer,” you make the fatal mistake of giggling, but you’ll blame it on the fruity cider you’d helped yourself to.

He clearly finds no humour, not even as you fiddle with the top button of his shirt and shoot him your best look of innocence.

“Think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you?” His hand, warm and imposing, grips a hold of your face.

It’s almost painful, but you like it, squirming a little at the blunt stab of his nails and the way he smooshes your cheeks, forcing a pout onto your lips.

You try shake your head, his grip won’t let you.

“Sitting in a room full of men, making yourself the centre of attention,” he huffs a breath out of his nose, and you can’t help but compare him to an angry dragon.

He’s worked up, frustrated, angry.

And it’s hot. A turn-on.

“What’s the matter, Javi? Jealous you’re not the centre of all those men’s attention?” You’re poking the dragon, teasing him, and it’s an act that may leave you burned and scarred.

Or, as you’re hoping, it’ll win you the ride of a lifetime.

He doesn’t even grace you with a verbal response.

No, he scoffs, as though he’s in physical disbelief at the words you’re saying.

Spins you around, pins you to the sink’s counter, tugs your hair till you’re forced to stare at your reflection.

He’s right behind you, seething in anger, fire in his eyes.

His head dips between you neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your pulse point.

“Not all of us are attention whores like you,” it’s fleeting, and he’ll deny it if you dare mention it, but he smiles.

Just a second, but you feel it, see it even though he tries so hard to turn his face into your neck.

It’s what lets you know he’s playing, teasing, egging you on to push him over the edge.

“I’ve been with real whores, corazón,” he confesses a sin you already know, eaves-dropping one too many times on your dad fishing stories of Colombia out of him. “Fucked them so often they started doing their nails in colours they knew I wanted to see wrapped around my cock.”

Involuntarily, your back arches, brushing your ass against him and providing him the perfect access to wind his hand up between your heaving breasts, all the way up till his fingers curl round the base of your throat.

In the mirror, the image is one of ownership, of Javi seizing your bodily autonomy. A whore and her gentleman caller.

It’s arousing to think about, Javi and his whores.

You wonder what positions he put them in.

How many rounds he lasted with them.

How often he made them cum.

“And not one of them took half the money you’ve taken from me tonight.”

Oh.

So that’s what this is, his pretty ego, bruised at the hands of you?

Poor Mr. Javier Peña, humiliated in front of all his peers round after round, hundred bill after hundred bill.

You almost taunt him for giving into the temptations of the fragile male ego, but you’re stopped in your tracks.

By him, hands squeezing at you a little tighter as he grinds the unmistakable outline of his hardened cock against you.

That single action changes the game, entirely.

Because this isn’t about you stealing his money and his ego.

No, this is something far filthier, that has your panties growing wetter beneath the skirt of your dress.

“I’m worth every dime though, aren’t I, officer?.”

The grip tightens.

He shoves you harder into the counter, so hard a tub of your mother’s moisturiser topples off.

The hard outline of him is still there, ever-present.

“‘S that what you like, huh, taking my money? Wanna be Javi’s personal little whore?”

Every ounce of feminism evaporates within you.

Who could deny such a tentative offer?

Certainly not you, reflection mimicking the way you eagerly nod, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hold back a grin.

Javi notices- of course he notices- and takes his victory, hips rocking even deeper into you.

There’s too many layers between you, a feat on which you both agree, yet neither of you do anything about.

You just savour the friction, instead, pushing and pulling one another to the axis of pleasure.

Your panties, soaked.

His jeans, tight.

“What’s it gonna cost me to get you bent over and stuffed full of my cum, corazón?” One hand leaves your body. The mirror snitches on him, exposing how he’s reaching into his back pocket. “This?”

He smacks something down, into the bowl of the sink.

It’s his wallet, and you watch the worn leather of it shine with the residue of water on the linoleum.

The hand at your throat pulses a squeeze, his knee nudges you from behind.

“C’mon, don’t be shy.”

His mouth, right by your ear, lips tickling you with the subtlest of brushes against it.

His hand guides your own, down into the sink, flipping the wallet open and putting it’s belongings on display.

Bills, some placed neatly, others stuffed in forcefully, edges spilling out the pockets. There’s less in there than when he arrived, courtesy of you.

There’s a few miscellaneous cards. A library card, an ID slip you’re sure he uses for something in the sheriff's station, a loyalty card to some record store.

The picture of his mother sits centre stage, radiant smile and loving eyes grabbing the attention of any who dare open it.

He has his mother’s eyes, you notice.

And then you notice something else, peeking out from behind his mother’s picture.

You dive into temptation, dart your nosy fingers over to tug at the object, till you realise it’s another picture.

A picture of Javi, and you.

Taken on a polaroid you found under a box of his belongings, you remember the day clear as ever.

The two of you had messed around, captured your sins on film with the promise of destroying it after. It would be too risky a thing, to allow image evidence of the intimate ways in which you knew each other’s bodies.

Javi’s fingers on your skin, your nipple in his mouth, his cock’s outline bulging within your lower abdomen.

There was no point risking your father ever finding it.

But this picture, this one you do not remember.

Fully dressed, eyes fixed on his television, your head lays in his laps while his fingers card through your hair.

It’s captured from above, as if Javi’s own eyes had made a permanent record of his view.

The sweetness of this living on, of Javi taking something sacred for himself to keep hidden in his wallet distracts you for a moment.

He does good to bring you back into the room.

“Take how much you think you’re worth, corazón,” whispered into your ear, as he rips a few of the notes out his wallet.

They sit in the sink, growing wet.

And you are too, frozen on the spot.

You glance down, count over the different bills.

Five dollars.

Twenty dollars.

Hundred dollars.

With each bill you count, your internal price shooting up within your head, you try picture his reaction.

In the mirror, he’s watching.

Not the sink bowl, no.

You, your face, looking at your expressions in a way that reminds you it’s his job to read people.

You decide to be bold, dig into his wallet and, even though your insides twist in anxious turmoil, hold up your hand to present him with your answer.

Resting neatly, between your fore and middle finger, a shiny credit card.

The gleam in Javi’s eyes just about match it, blackened and blown out with lust.

The card is plucked out your hand.

The hand on your neck leaves, in search of your waist.

The fabric of your dress bunches, wrinkling and creasing as his fabric-straining grip inches it’s hem higher and higher.

You feel sexy like this, face heated and breathing heavy.

It’s an effect he has on you, has had on you, forcing you to look at yourself in new lights, in new angles, admiring every out-of-line trace of you for what you are.

Desirable.

And attractive.

And pretty.

And smart.

And every other word under the sun that Javi whispers into your skin with innocence as his body commits sins within you.

At the bottom of the mirror, you watch as the white cotton of your panties comes into view.

Wet, as you both expected, the thin fabric now turned almost sheer, exposing the delectable view of your cunt hugged cutely by the cotton’s tight seams.

Javi hisses, muttering something to himself.

There’s a strain to his voice, one that would have you worried he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way you’re watching as his face contorts with lust.

His eyes are dark and you study them like he studies his card, contemplating something.

A few seconds pass. 

Tension is puffed out his chest with one exhale, through the nose.

You feel the air tickle your skin.

He nods curtly, to himself, and flickers his gaze back to meet your own in the mirror.

It’s unwavering, even as he brings the black plastic down and smacks it against your mound.

You squeal, he hushes, and you both know he doesn’t mean it at all.

He likes when you gift him noise, a private aria only he has tickets to.

Just as easily as the first time, he snaps the card against you again, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight through your clit.

Just as loudly as the first time, you squeal, a jolt back into his warm, steady, hard embrace.

“What’re you running from, hmm?” His face turns, burrowing itself in the tresses of your hair.

A shallow sniff, and you wonder if he notices the smell of his shampoo on you.

There’s a pressing of lips, against your scalp, and it’s far too gentle of a juxtapose to the imagery of his fingers pulling your panties to the side, exposing your pussy to the bathroom’s cold air and the two pairs of hungry eyes in the mirror.

“You say that this is what you’re worth, and then you don’t want to take it?”

The third spank of the card against your bundle of nerves is harder, louder, echos in the confined space. A moan, minuscule and muffled, slips past tightly shut lips, a look of fear flashing through wide eyes.

Javi’s quick with his reassurance, gentle with his comfort, a hand stroking over your collarbone.

“Don’t worry, no one’s gonna hear you. You just be as loud as you need, hermosa, they’re too busy encouraging that boy-cop to ask you to dinner.”

There’s a tint of jealousy to the way he says boy, and you’re reminded of the image of him in the kitchen doorway.

Smack!

The card strikes down, once more, this time eliciting an open-mouthed gasp. 

He doesn’t let up, repeating the action twice more.

It hurts, in a way that makes your core throb and your toes curl, squirming aimlessly in a grasp he knows you don’t truly want to escape.

But he mocks you, with a hushing noise in your ear and gentle it’s okay, corazón, Javi’s got yous against your neck. His thumb swipes through your folds, coating it in your wetness and dragging itself up to your clit, soaking it in soothing rubs.

His gentle nature lasts mere seconds, his wrist flicking back only to smack the credit card down again. This time, it’s a pattern of three, repeatedly crashing down on your sensitive nerves one after the other.

In the mirror, you watch him observe as he twiddles the card between deft fingers, contemplation on his mind.

The room’s quiet, apart from your shortened breaths and his deep inhales.

You hear a cheer.

From the basement.

It must have been a loud cheer, for you to hear them all the way up here.

And, suddenly, the stakes feel higher than when you were sat at the poker table, counting Javi’s coins with every passing round.

If you can hear them, they could hear you.

This doesn’t seem to cross Javier’s mind, who merely twists your head away from the bathroom door and back to the mirror, to where his hungry eyes await.

All contemplation is gone, he’s decided in what he’s going to do, and so you watch as he takes the card and swipes it through your cunt.

It’s not a pleasurable act, in itself.

In fact, it’s rather uncomfortable, the solid plastic hard on your delicate skin.

It’s the arousal of him doing it that gets you weak in the knees, to have him perform such a mundane act- the swiping of his credit card- in such a crass, dirty, wrong way.

Like he’s paying for you, committing a physical transaction in exchange for your body.

It doesn’t matter that he could have you for free, has had you for free.

He wants to pay, wants to reward you in a way that aligns with the capitalistic world.

“Javi…” You whimper, softly, head lulling back against his shoulder as he swipes the card again.

Your eyes, slowly slipping shut, shoot right back open as you feel the rounded corner of the card prod at your opening, as if trying to notch itself within you.

“Think she could take it, corazón?” Javi bites at your ear, teeth clamping down and pulling at it’s lobe. The card sinks in, not even an inch. You nudge back into, your cry circling the room around you both. “I know, baby, I know. It’d be a wide stretch, but ain’t that all pretty whores like you are good for, hmm?”

It’s automatic, the way you bend to his every whim, head nodding without direct orders from your brain, every part of you, conscious or not, ready and willing to prove you could fit his card inside of you.

For him, you can do it.

“Fitting big things in your little pussies?”

Surprisingly, the hand between your thighs retracts and you watch as he brings the card up to your mouth, glistening with your arousal.

“Open,” the directions are unnecessary, your mouth already dropping open for him in an act of muscle memory.

He hums approvingly, yet his eyes are still fury filled as he slots the card between your lips, lathering your tongue in your own taste. 

“You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you, corazón?”

The statement rings true, both ways: as much as you’ll take anything, he’ll give anything.

You don’t tell him that, though, finding it much easier to rest your palms on the countertop, backing your sopping core into him, enticing him with the wiggle of your hips and whines from your lips to take you already.

“Shh, shh, don’t you worry that pretty head. Javi’s gonna feed this greedy little cunt, ok?”

The unbuckling of a belt.

The unzipping of teeth.

The shucking down of-

Something smashes, in the basement, and it’s enough to have you flinching.

Javi’s touch soothes you, a hand running over the curve of your shoulder as he presses yet another kiss into your neck.

“S’okay, probably just a beer bottle.”

He doesn’t move another inch, not till he sees you nod, melting back into him.

You hear, more than you see, the way he tugs his trousers down, just enough to free his hardened cock from its jean-clad confine. The risky business of a quickie in your parents’ en suite calls for clothing moved aside, and not removed.

Much to your annoyance, his all-encompassing warmth drifts away as he moves back, hands clamping down on your hips. 

He tilts them to the angle he wants, the angle he knows gets him brushing all your sweet-spots.

He tugs the skirt of your dress up, and then readjusts your soiled underwear.

You hear him draw a deep breath and watch his eyes in the mirror, glued to that spot between your legs, entranced.

The drag of his cock over your folds is familiar, the way he smacks the head of it against your clit is welcomed.

He spears you no gentle coaxing, no stretching around his fingers first, coming undone just for him to fill you right back up, this time with his cock.

No, this is a vengeful touch, the kind that’s meant to display his irritation, his fury, for reasons you’ve yet to confirm yet you’re more than willing to accept.

A man like him, so unfairly selfless, taking something in this world for himself, how he wants to and how he likes to.

You’ll be his vice, so long as he grants you his virtues.

Javi fills you with a single thrust, grunting low into your ear as you feel the way the air is physically knocked out both for your lungs.

He’s still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he works on steadying his breathing, giving you time to adjust to the delicious stretch.

You whine out some version of his name, feel yourself pulse around him.

A hand, reaching up to cup your cheek.

A kiss, gentle and longing against your mouth.

He’s making you wait for it, you think, torturing you with an impending paradise.

He’s savouring the feel of you, he thinks, taking advantage of the few moments alone he wins with you.

"Javi,” he barely lets you part from him to speak, chasing a trail of kisses down your jaw. “This isn’t the time to develop patience.”

The snide remark earns you a bite, his teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin of your earlobe. You squeal, try remind yourself to be quiet, only to squeal louder when his hands tickle at your waist.

“I’m a very patient man, corazón.”

You scoff.

“Just not when it comes to you.”

His hips roll back, slowly, but it’s better than nothing, better than when he wasn’t moving at all.

Still, he makes you squirm a little longer, moan his name a little louder.

Only then does his fake resolve snap and he’s fucking into you at a brain melting pace in the blink of an eye.

Javier does his best to keep quiet, at first, biting down on his lip and your neck just to contain all those melodies he usually makes.

You can’t say the same for yourself as, despite your efforts, broken moan after broken moan tumbles out your mouth and into the sink, filling and filling and filling it in sync with how Javi your cunt.

You wonder how long till it all spills over the edge.

“Joder (Fuck),” he groans as you unconsciously squeeze him tighter, pulling him deeper into your walls. serves him right, for the teasing and the torturing. “Tienes el coño más lindo en todo el mundo. (You have the prettiest cunt in the whole world.)”

You feel lightheaded.

Warm, sweaty, covered in the fingerprints of a lover you shouldn’t be with.

The bathroom fills with an array of sounds. The slapping of skin against skin, the broken cries of an agent’s name, the mindless rambling of a man drunk on pleasure.

“So good to me, baby. Always so fucking good to me.”

“Gonna stay here forever, fuck. That sound good to you, corazón, hmm? Full of my cock always?”

“Look at yourself… Pura belleza (Pure beauty).”

He consumes you, mind, body and soul.

There’s no worrying about the happenings around the poker table, no listening out for your father’s car pulling in the driveway, no worrying about your tousled hair or sweating skin.

There’s just Javi.

Beautiful, gorgeous, deserving Javi.

“Please, please, Javi-“ The words all melt together, pleads becoming his name, his name becoming pleads.

You’re not sure what you’re begging for.

It’s okay though, Javi always knows what you need.

“I know, amor (love), I know,” he murmurs into your skin, butterfly kisses so gentle you wonder how they come from the same man that’s pistoning his hips into you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. “Let go, c’mon. Show me how much you love this cock, how much you love-”

He’s cut off by his own groan, you cunt fluttering around him as you inch closer and closer to the edge of euphoria.

Hands hurry off your waist, slipping between your thighs. 

It brings a welcomed cushioning, shielding you from repeatedly bumping against the marble of the countertop.

Your legs part further, eagerly, an easy pathway for his yearning fingers to seek out the wonders of the female body as they brush over your clit.

The gentle tactile that he strokes over your bundle of nerves, partnered with the repeated brushing of his cock against that spot that makes you weak in the knees, drool out your mouth, it’s becoming too much.

Eyes glancing in the mirror, you wonder if yours is the same image of the whores who’d warmed his Colombian nights: sweat soaked skin, hooded eyes, messed up hair, wrinkled clothing.

He tilts your hips, a deeper angle to fuck into you that has you perching up onto the tips of your toes, fighting with the chance of losing balance.

He’d catch you, if you fell.

Wrap you up in an embrace that’s more familiar than your own.

“I’m gonna- Fuck! Corazón, need you to cum. Now, please. Please. Need to feel you-”

He’s babbling, losing composure and revealing the side of him you pray he never showed those other women: the side that needs, the side that longs, the side that begs to see you cum before he allows himself to, before he’s able to.

“Javi,” it’s a struggle to speak, but you endure, fighting off your orgasm and holding back tears. There’s something you need from him too. “Cum with me. Wanna be full of you, all of you-”

“¿Sí? (Yeah?)” He pleads back, thrusts already getting a little sloppier, hands a little shakier in the way they touch you. Much like his poker face, you know how to read the face he wears moments before he falls apart. “¿Eso es lo que quiere mi corazón? (Is that what my sweetheart wants?) Want me to cum in you, hm?”

“Yes, oh god yes! So bad, Javi, I want it so bad!”

“Ay, bebesita, no llores. (Aw, baby girl, don't cry.)” He coos, a condescending lilt to his words that has you falling into a bigger mess. “Shh, don’t worry, baby. Gonna fill you right up, so my cum’s dripping down your thighs when that poor kid asks you for your number. Thinks he’s got a shot with you cause he made you laugh, poor boy wouldn’t know how to deal with all the noises I get out of you.”

Javi divulges into a spine-tingling rant of burning hot jealousy, the kind that leaves your cheeks burning and your heart scorching, lit under a flame of your desire for more of him. To have him, equal parts physical and emotional.

You try warn him of the bubble that’s about to burst, the feeling in your loins building and building till it’s seconds way from toppling over. 

“That’s it, baby, squeeze my cock. Lemme feel it,” He urges, heart pounding out his chest against your back, hands tightening their grip on your hips. “Need to feel you cum, ‘s all I want.”

You both crash and burn, together.

You fall first, a chaos of unfinished words, crying out for Javi.

He follows close behind, body pressed against your own like he’s willing you to fuse together, to become to entangled in one another that all possibilities of separation become void.

“Take it, cora-” He’s in your ears, in your head, in your heart. Inside of you, consuming you, as eagerly as he’s willing to be consumed by you, fingerprints on hips and teeth-marks in necks. “Take it, take it, take it.”

Arms envelop you from behind, crossing over your chest to pin you back against him.

He’s nearly stagnant, nothing but the twitch of his cock and the shallow thrusts he fucks you deeper with, filling you with another, another, another pump of his cum.

“So good,” Javi’s voice persists, teeth gritting as he bites back the need to be loud, to be heard, to lay a claim on you so blatant no one could deny hearing it. Your relationship with your father is the only thing that holds him back. “Good to me, baby. Always… Good… Díos. (God.)”

Craning your neck to the side, you manage to pull him in for a kiss.

It’s something he accepts easily, lips parting and melting into a dance against your own.

One of his hands falls over your jaw, twisting your face even closer to him.

The kiss dies slowly, with each of you refusing to truly part, pecks being splattered messily against the other’s mouth.

“Was I,” Javi interrupts you with another kiss, his free hand smoothing up and down your side, his hips still slowly rocking into yours, a delicious sting of overstimulation biting at your core. “Am I worth it?”

He pulls back, tired gaze warm as it takes in your messed features.

With the smile that stretches over his lips, however, one would think you were the prettiest creature in all the world.

He calls your name, calmly, slowly, like he’s trying to memorise the shape of it on his tongue. “You’re worth everything I could give, and more.”

There’s something behind the ways he says it that makes you believe him.

With little will to do so, you peel apart from each other, his hands moving quick to adjust your underwear as his cum starts to leak out onto your folds.

He exits the bathroom first, a final kiss placed on your cheek before your left alone, forced to confront the wrecked version of you that will never see your parent���s en suite in the same light.

Your dad arrives back just in time to see you slipping back down to sit at the poker table, no seat left for him to take but the one between his sweet daughter and his loyal best friend.

If only he knew he was placing you both where you most wanted to be when he suggested Javi give you a ride home, waving you both off through the car window with no idea Javi's cum sat dripping out your cunt, staining the car seat.

Your phone buzzes to life in your hand, slipping you out of your memories.

Your father’s contact name reads clearly on the screen.

Hitting decline one more time, you roll over and try ignore the gathering slick between your thighs.

Damn Javi and all the memories he haunts you with.

Mr, I don’t want a label You made me a little miss unstable (And it)

Days grow colder.

Nights grow longer.

You change your bedsheets, stuff a comforter back inside.

Pick out a tree, synthetic, and lump the box up the countless stairs to your apartment.

Try not to think of how he would’ve insisted on helping, refused to let you carry it.

Even if it culminated in him doubled over in pain, clutching his lower back.

Lights, baubles, action.

The tree’s smaller than you expect, barely reaching your hip, but it’s green, tree-shaped and festive. It’s enough.

Your decorations are minimal, a few inconsequential things you picked out your parents’ stash. There’s a Santa hat, frayed with time. A few cracked baubles, with string so thin you suspect they’ll snap off. A gingerbread man ornament, a glass snow-flake. A crooked star, missing one of its points, tops the tree.

A homemade snowman, one you’d gifted your parents after a busy day in nursery. Neither of them had the heart to tell you you’d made its nose a rather phallic shape.

And then there's the red phone-box, nestled somewhere in the middle, an etching of LONDON brandishing it as a reminder of your trip.

You’d picked it up in a tiny bookstore, right next door to The Distillery Club.

The winter season has never felt so lonesome, tucked away in your grown-up apartment. 

There’s no fireplace to warm your hands, no hot cocoa boiling on the stove. No cheesy hallmark movies to laugh at with your mother, no racing past your father to grab the last slice of dessert.

It’s just you, alone, with only your wandering mind as company.

Sometimes, more often than not, it wanders to him. To if he’s alone.

To if he’s filling his heart as easily as he fills his bed.

To if he’s finally bought a second seat for his dingy balcony.

“Is this some tactic of yours?”

He hums, brows furrowing, lips pouting, smoke dragging into his lungs.

The cigarette sits perched between two fingers of the hand resting on your knee, his other curled around your waist.

“Some what?”

“Tactic,” you repeat. Watch him blow a puff a smoke, taste his ash at the back of your throat. “Only having one chair, so pretty girls have no choice but to sit in your lap.”

He lets his gaze wander away from the streets below and up to you, sitting pretty in his lap. Like a cat, draped over his thighs.

Nothing but his own rumpled, inside-out shirt to cover your skin.

Bare legs, messed hair, smudged lipstick.

Fingerprint bruises littering your hips, bitemarks etched into your collarbone.

“I gave you a choice,” he speaks with a reservation he didn’t have before, when he’d offered you a ride home from the bar. There’s an etching of something that’s diluting his expressions, sinking him deeper and deeper into his own pensive mind. “You were the one who insisted on sitting on me.”

“You weren’t complaining earlier.”

Nails pinch at your thigh, causing a squeal out of you.

A few birds fly off a nearby wire, a head or two turn in the street below.

They don’t see you, or Javi, or the lack of clothing that sits between you.

“Neither were you. In fact, you were a little busy fucking my fac-”

“Stop!” Your sudden modesty feels unearned, yet that does nothing to stop you from placing your hand over his mouth.

He licks at it, you grimace, he licks again.

Then takes another breath of nicotine, as you wipe the remnants of his spit onto his naked thigh.

When he offers the cigarette your way, you hesitate.

Picture your father, disappointed to see you smoke.

The whiff of Javi’s post-sex smell- muted cologne, matted sweat, burnt ash- steals your senses, reminds you you’ve already done enough to disappoint your father, a cigarette can’t do much damage.

So you let him hold it up to your mouth and inhale it’s poison.

You and Javi were never meant to happen.

Sure, the line had already been crossed weeks ago.

But that was supposed to stay in Vermont, tucked between snowy slopes and wooden cabins. Existing in a timeline separate from your reality, where you are your father’s precious daughter and Javi is his trustworthy colleague and friend, that is where it should have stayed.

And it had, for two weeks. Sixteen days, specifically. 

You’d returned to classes, to sharing lunch breaks with your father in his office, to slowly moving more of your things out the family home and into your new apartment.

And Javi, from what you heard, had returned to keeping civilians safe, to sharing a drink or two with your father at the end of the work week, to flirting with every secretary within a mile radius.

Neither of your crossed paths and, when you nearly did, the other made the effort to turn a corner, shut a door, hide behind a wall.

Until tonight.

Until you ditched your mediocre date, some lame excuse of having a last-minute paper due.

Until you’d gone to console yourself over your failing love life, unknowingly sliding into a bar stool right next to the most desired cop in town.

Until he’d turned to you, tilted his head, and asked “d’you wanna get out of here?”

He’d offered to take you home.

The drive was quiet, tense, until his hand drifted over the gearstick and you dragged it down onto your thigh.

He squeezed.

You inched it further up, till the tips of his fingers brushed at the edge of your dress.

He took the invitation, took a turning towards his own place.

Brought you into his apartment, drowned you in his fountain of kisses, begged you to sit upon his face. He’d made you see stars beneath a roofed sky, eyes rolling so far back they threatened to get stuck there.

With barely a moments recovery from a third blinding orgasm, he dragged you down the expanse of his body, sat you down on his cock and refused to help your overstimulated, puddle-brained self ride him, grinning cunningly with his back pressed against the mattress as you struggled through shaky legs.

Eventually, he tired and launched himself, arms tangling behind your back, feet planted flat behind you, hips fucking up into your battered cunt until you both came to a haltering crescendo.

He’d layed you down to rest, cleaned you of any mess, and then wandered out to his balcony, inviting you to join him when the feeling returned to your legs.

Which brings you here, fifteen minutes later.

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of.

“Huh?”

“This. Us. It could be casual, y’know?” Another puff of smoke slips right through his lips. “If that’s what you’re worrying about… your dad, and all that other stuff. I don’t need a label, not if it means I get to have… We could keep it casual, if that’s what you want.”

It takes a few moments for you to fully register his words, and then a few more to formulate a response.

“Is that what you want?”

He shrugs.

Pulls in another breath of his cigarette.

Stubs it out on the arm of the chair.

And says nothing.

You assume it’s a yes.

Because what else could Javier Peña, notorious womaniser, want with you if not a casual, no-strings-attached permit to sleep with you, as many times as he sees fit, without the risk of losing his job or, worse, his best friend?

Silence falls upon you both.

You twist in his lap.

He tightens his hold.

Within a half’s hour, he’s got your hands white knuckling as they grip the metal bannister of his balcony, his own hands busy pulling your hips back to meet each of his desperate thrusts, not even the cool air of the night enough to soothe the flaming desire that burns between you.

Your stomach twists, your mouth dries, your eyes water at the thought of him out on that balcony now.

Somebody else, some new body sat in your spot, upon his lap as they exchange smoke rings and warm mouths.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think i’m alright

The Laredo sheriff’s department is known best for three things: its lack of parking, its swoon-worthy ex-DEA agent, and its office holiday parties.

Each year, it’s the same.

The station, decked out in decorations.

A Christmas wreath, mistletoe hanging from every doorway, egg-nog and mulled wine.

It’s not just Christmas.

It’s menorahs, and ficus trees, and a statues of different gods.

Each piece of culture, tradition, holiday that makes up the people that inhabit the station, day in and day out, behind desks and in cop cars, filing paperwork and fetching coffees, represented in some way, celebrated.

Each member of staff is encouraged to bring their friends, their family.

Their spouse, their mothers.

Anyone, and everyone, is welcome.

Then there’s the gift exchange, a Secret Santa system, optional for each member of staff.

It’s the part you look forward to most.

Crowding your dad the minute he gets home on the first of December, poking and prodding till he lets it spill who he’s got.

Fishing out a pen, some paper.

Drawing up a list, made of details and anecdotes your father remembers of his target.

Dragging your shop-avoidant father down to the mall, for a day of gift hunting and sweet-tooth indulging.

Getting to watch your father’s coworker open their gift, eyes lighting up as you once again knock the ball out the park and gift them something perfectly tailored to them, winning your dad the spot of top gift-giver year after year.

This year, there was none of that.

No list of pros and cons for each gift option.

No trying to crack just what exactly your dad should gift his person.

No waiting with baited breath to watch them open it, heart racing with that little fear of them not liking it, of you failing.

No, the moment that name fell from your father’s mouth, you knew what he needed to get.

Hinted at it, slightly.

Claimed you’d smelt it on a friend, thought it would be a good idea.

Sipping on some wine and picking at the buffet, you watch him pick up his gift.

Hold it up to his ear, shake it.

Look down at the box, confused, then tear into the wrapping paper.

The whole room stops.

Not really, but it feels like it does, as somewhere across the room Javier Peña holds up a bottle of that damn cologne.

And, when his eyes instinctively find yours, it feels like everything else fades away.

Fades to grey.

It’s just him, and you. The only two within the room, holding a secret too heavy on the tongue to ever speak it aloud.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

Knows you’d watched him spray it on his skin, day in, and day out.

Knows you’d worn it on your own, sunk it deep into your pores after intertwining your souls upon wrinkled sheets.

Knows you’d watch its contents decrease over time, time you’d spent with him.

That bottle of cologne reminiscent of a timer on you both, that morning before the hospital trip becoming the last few sprays he got out of it.

Colour returns to the world that surrounds you as your dad steps into view.

He’s hugging Javi, pathetically tipsy and ignorant to the lipstick stain on his cheek, no doubt ingrained to his skin with how hell-bent he is on having your mother kiss him beneath each mistletoe.

They’re exchanging words you don’t hear, slapping one another on the back.

You turn on your heel, insides twisting as nausea overcomes you at the scene.

The next time you see Javi is hours later.

You’re trying to leave, tempted to take the good old Irish exit and just slip out a back door.

But your parents- ne, your father- are so busy show-ponying you around the room, that you fail to take a single step that goes unnoticed.

“There she is!” Your father calls out, somewhere behind you, as you slip your hand into the arm of your coat. This act sparks outrage, a frown birthing onto his face. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving too.”

You say you’re tired.

He boos, loudly, like he’s not the chief of police and a whole grown adult.

Grabs at you, lovingly, trying to pry the coat out of your hands.

The effort is minimum, and you know he’s only messing around.

You can leave, if you want to, even if he’d rather you stay.

“It’s not even midnight and you two buzzkills are leaving!” He wails, all the while he’s reaching around and helping you slip your other arm into the coat.

That’s when Javi’s face comes into view, over the arch of your dad’s shoulder, sporting a smile and a pair of keys dangling off one finger.

You try your best to counter his smile with your own, though your throat feels dry and your cheeks feel tight.

“I can’t believe I’m being betrayed like this by two of my favourite people!” The smile slips before you can catch it, eyes widening at your father’s words.

Words you’d spent months agonising over the thought of hearing. Picturing the circumstances in which he’d find out. Imagining the horrendous fallout, a red slash over Javier’s reputation. Swearing you’d quit it, quit him, and then winding up tangled in his sheets again, head pressed to his chest, eyes closed in the soundest of sleeps.

Javi plays it cool.

Nudges your dad’s shoulder, shakes his head and tells him to “quit the dramatics, viejo (old man).”

“I gotta head out to my pop’s first thing in the morning, he’s wanting me to help him rewire some of the fences.” Comes out as his excuse, one your dad can’t really argue against.

He knows better than anyone that Javi drops everything for his dad.

Well, better than anyone but you.

Your excuse, however, falls a little short, a consequence of the last minute conjuring of the lie.

“I’ve, uh, got an early class. Don’t wanna flunk out in my last year, right?”

Your dad stares at you.

Your mum stares at you.

Javi stares at you.

And that’s how you know you’re screwed.

“Class? I thought you were on winter break.”

Javi takes the momentary distraction to shrug his coat on, over those broad shoulders.

Shoulders that twist with the rest of him, as he makes space for you in the doorway, nodding you over. Here, he’s saying without really speaking, escape with me.

So you do, tiptoeing past your parents as though, the slower and quieter you move, the less they’ll notice your approach to the exit.

“Oh! Yeah, I- Sorry, I meant that I-”

“The library, it’s still open for the graduate students,” Javi swoops in effortlessly, dragging the spotlight off you.

He takes hold of your jacket, too, slipping the zip into place and dragging it up the length of your torso, over your chest, till it rests snuggly at your sternum.

A little too snug, making each new inhale deeper, harder, practically heaving the air into your lungs.

At least that’s the reason you give yourself.

You don’t get to dwell on it too long, fortunately, for your mother lets out a gasp.

She points, eyes a little widened by excitement, at the both of you and nudges at your father.

“Look!” She tells him, and you watch in confusion as he displays her same reaction, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Then comes the laughter, straight out the depths of your dad’s belly and right to your weak heart, a melody that reminds you so much of easy Sundays and curling up next to him on the sofa, watching kids’ shows that seemed to entertain him more than you.

“Oh that’s just,” he takes a laugh break, doubling over slightly, his own finger joined in pointing at you two, beneath the doorway. “Too perfect!”

Before you can inquire on either of your parents bizarre reactions, Javi’s eyes are staring into your own and pointing upwards.

Wrapped with a red bow and barely hanging onto the door frame with a single strip of tape, a mistletoe stares down at you, two white berries like mini eyes.

When you glance at the agent once more, it’s hard to read what he’s thinking.

His shoulders are tense, his lips are pursed, his brows are furrowed. But, his eyes.

His eyes burn you with an unspoken intensity, a look he should never possess in front of your parents.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You mom, camera in hand, urges you both, a wide grin cast upon her face.

You dad is in no better state, rushing forward to squeeze you both closer, one hand clasped over the back of Javi’s head.

When the once-agent exhales a nerve-striken breath, the warmth of it, of him, hits your neck.

“Dad, c’mon, stop-” you’ve never imagined yourself stuck like this, your mother and father both urging you to kiss a man you spent months tossing and turning in bedsheets with behind their back.

The creatively deviant part of your brain tells you this is how it could be, maybe, in some other life.

Some other life, where Javi’s not a cop, you’re new in town, and you both bump into each other at the grocery store.

Both of you reaching out for the same apple, or box of cereal, or bottle of milk.

Your hands, brushing.

Your eyes, meeting.

He’d charm you, easily as he always has.

Get your number and then, the next day, a date.

One date leading to two, three, four, more dates.

Till you bring him home to meet your parents at last, squeezing his hand tighter when he tries to pry it away as the door opens to your father’s stern face.

It would take a while, you reckon, for your dad to see past the difference in years.

Your mother wouldn’t care, wouldn’t spare a second thought to it, not when she notices how much he makes you laugh and how he can’t keep his eyes off of you in any room you occupy.

This could be your first Christmas together, your parents begging for one sweet photo of you under the mistletoe, before you both head off to spend the rest of the holiday season with Javi’s father.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“C’mon, it’s bad luck not to!” Back in the present, in reality, your dad’s found his way over to your mother’s side. “Peña, just kiss the girl on the cheek for Christ sake, I ain’t gonna bite your head off for it this one time!”

His lips brush your cheek like an autumn breeze.

Gentle, a hint of warmth, a tickle from the wisps of his well-groomed moustache.

“Get a bit closer, you’re not fully in frame!”

The flash goes off on your mother’s camera, and the two give a little cheer, and Javi wraps an arm around your back, squeezing you a little closer.

When all is said and done, your mother’s forcing you both to stare at the camera screen, a perfect picture of the most doomed couple to ever grace this Earth.

Such dramatics in your thoughts reminds you of the copious glasses of prosecco you’d downed throughout the night, and of your intentions to get yourself home before you done something stupid.

Like stand under the mistletoe with your former casual lover, the very same man your father calls for golf matches and March Madness debriefs.

Javi offers you a ride home, an idea your father approves of.

“I’m heading that way anyway, gotta pick up a few things before I drive out to the ranch.”

A part of you thinks he’s lying, wanting any excuse for a moment alone with you, but then that’s the kind of delusions you shouldn’t be feeding into.

You and Javi don’t spend time alone anymore.

You and Javi do not exist together anymore.

Maybe you never did.

“It’s okay, I already called a cab.”

You part ways at the door, your father watching you from inside.

Javi calls your name, before you can take more than a few steps.

For a second, he just looks at you.

Then his arms are pulling you in, and he’s got you right against his steady chest, and he’s resting his head atop your own, arms squeezing tightly at your sides.

“Get home safe.”

He walks away before you can tell him to do the same, the door slamming to his car the last thing you hear as you pull out your phone and call a cab.

It takes twenty minutes for it to appear, in which the rain starts and your clothes get soaked, but all that and the fifteen dollar fare are a cheaper price to pay than the torture of letting Javier Peña drive you home.

Crawl up the stairs, unlock the apartment door, drop your clothes onto the floor.

You find sanctuary under the shower, soap suds and boiling water, a dynamic duo that scrub off any remnants of his skin against yours.

Even as you step out, fully cleaned and towel wrapped around yourself, you catch a hint of his cologne, the very same one you’d made sure your dad picked out for him.

And as you pick your coat off the ground, a distant voice that sounds much like your mother scolding you for leaving such a mess, you notice it.

First, just a little extra weight.

Then, scratchy paper as your hand dives into the left pocket.

The wrapping is haphazard, with an uneven bow tied atop it, but that’s not what matters.

You tear away at it, let the paper fall to the floor at your feet.

Then you’re met with a small box, which you tear open too. 

And find it sitting neatly among balls of yarn, the prettiest, most delicate looking glass bauble.

It’s ribbon a deep green, and it’s centre an image of mountain slopes, backed by a green forest and a valley full of wooden lodges.

It shakes in your grasp, and you spy the snowglobe-esque white foam that dances around within it.

In it’s centre, in bold, italic and green, Vermont.

One more glance in the box.

There’s a note, tucked at the bottom.

You fish it out in one breath, hold it up to read what it says.

Corazón, For your tree. I hope there’s still space.

#javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña oneshot

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

my love if i may request a whiskey with dbf!joel or dbf!bucky with the prompt “i’ve wanted this for so long” and mayhaps if it’s not too much to ask for but some breeding kink👀👉🏻👈🏻

Promises, Promises.

warnings - smut. cursing.

I figured I'd make this dbf!bucky, because i've done a dbf!joel fic for this celebration already. y'all, I read the words dad's best friend and go fucking feral. this one got away from me.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

You're the last person Bucky expected to be at his front door at 3am.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Locked myself out of my goddamn house, and my parents are still on vacation. Can I crash here tonight? Please?"

Who is he to turn down an offer that tempting?

"Course. Come on, it's too cold for you to be stood out here."

The two of you sit down on his couch, settling in to watch some TV.

"Bucky Barnes. Are you watching a romcom?"

He blushes, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. They're my guilty pleasure."

"It makes me like you more, if anything," you grin. He can't help but smile back at you, less embarrassed now.

"Look, my love life is fuckin' terrible. I live vicariously through these cheesy films right now."

"You? Terrible love life? Those two phrases don't usually go in the same sentence."

You're teasing him. Seeing if you can get a rise, hit the right button.

"Oh, shut it. Just because you're on a new date every week."

"I'm... what?"

"Your Dad seems to think you're dating a lot."

You quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips.

"Is that so?"

"I'm only telling you what I've heard, honey."

He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps threatening to break free from the confines of his t shirt.

"He's wrong."

"Is that so?"

You roll your eyes.

"I have a friend, he's a guy. My Dad automatically assumes we're dating because we hang out. But we're not."

"And why not?"

"I don't know, I guess he's just..." you debate your answer, realising it's now or never. "He's not old enough for me. Not mature enough."

Bucky bites his lip, eyes scanning your face.

"He's your age."

"Exactly. Boys my age don't know shit."

He laughs, but it's dark and low, something brewing beneath the surface.

"You always were too smart for your own good, huh?"

Bucky's thigh is pressing into yours, the warmth from his skin seeping through. His rough fingertips glide across your arm, slow and soft. He's testing the waters.

"I shouldn't want this," he murmurs, barely audible. "Neither should you."

"But I do," you whisper. "So fucking bad."

"Me too."

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, smashing his lips to yours. You grip at his hair, his biceps, his shirt - anything you can get a hold of. You feel like you're dreaming, your filthiest thoughts coming into fruition.

He pulls you into his lap so you're straddling his hips, grinding down and panting into his mouth. You're both breathless, but neither of you want to be the first to pull away.

Bucky rips your shirt over your head, instantly attacking your chest with kisses. He's marking you up, claiming you as his. You should be worried about the repercussions, but you're not.

You pull his shirt off and rake your nails down his front, grinning when he shivers. Suddenly, Bucky stands up, setting you on your feet.

"Strip."

You blink at him, processing.

"Strip, baby. I won't tell you again."

You shimmy your pants down your legs, your underwear going too. Your mouth waters as you watch him undress, admiring the angles and smooth ridges of him. A Greek God.

Bucky stalks over to you and hooks a foot behind your ankle, sending you both flying onto the rug on the floor. He cushions your fall, not letting go of you once. Running two fingers through your wet heat, he groans.

"All for me, pretty girl? What did I do to deserve somethin' this sweet, huh?"

"Need you," you whine. "Please, Buck."

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, lining himself up. "Fuck, you're a dream."

You both gasp as he slides home, your back arching and his jaw falling slack. Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, the weight grounding you back down to Earth.

"Need you to move," you choke out. "Fuck, I need it, Buck. Please."

"Oh you need it, do you?" he smirks. "My needy girl."

He snaps his hips into yours in long, careful glides, very aware of the effect he has on you. Before long, his restraint snaps, and his thrusts get harder, quicker, more frantic.

"Gonna fill you up, baby," he's muttering under his breath. "Make you mine. You want that? To have everyone know who you belong to?"

You're nodding rapidly, tears gathering in your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

"How are we gonna keep this a secret if you're pregnant, huh?"

The thought makes you moan, a breathy, gutteral sound.

"You like that? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck, I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll buy you a house and knock you up, you'll never want for anything."

His low, honeyed words throw you over the edge, squeezing and clenching around him. Bucky groans, deep and rumbled, the sound vibrating through the both of you. You find your releases together, panting and out of breath.

"House first."

"Huh?" he breathes, raising his head from your chest.

"Buy me a house first. Kids second. Maybe marriage in between."

He laughs, floating and content. You both know he meant what he said, not just a heat of the moment confession.

You stay wrapped up in each other for hours, on the rug in front of the fire.

You'll deal with the repercussions later.

#bucky smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #dbf bucky barnes #dbf!bucky barnes #dbf!bucky #dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel smut #murphy's 3k celebration #bucky barnes #dad's best friend bucky barnes

[hanjsquokka]

MILF Next Door - [ Han Jisung ]

🐿 SYNOPSIS : Jisung gets a new neighbor and he's completely head over heels. Love at first sight — in his opinion. And he's not going to let an adorable three year old get in the way of true love.

GENRE : strangers to potential lovers, light fluff, smut

PAIRING : neighbor! jisung × fem! single mom reader

CONTENT WARNING : perv! jisung, jisung is a simp and he's horny, mature language, mentions divorce (not between jisung and reader), single parenting, (smut warnings under the cut)

WORD COUNT : 4.5K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : this is just trash tbh but here we go

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

SMUT WARNING : sub leaning jisung, slightly dom reader, oral (m receiving), riding, nicknames (good boy, baby, etc.), jisung has thing for moms, orgasm denial, piv, unprotected sex (pls don't do this)

Jisung was curious — to say the least. He was working on producing a song for his friend Changbin (honestly one of the best rappers Jisung had ever met) when he heard loud thumps from the corridor outside and the apartment next door. He heard a lot of shuffling — thanks to the wonderfully thin walls, and it was safe to say that he had gotten a new neighbor. He'd been trying to get a peek at them, in a completely friendly way obviously, but they seemed really private or they went out a lot. He was just about to assume that it was probably another working adult when one day, he was on the balcony in the morning for some fresh air. He'd been working the whole night and desperately needed to inhale something that wasn't carbon dioxide.

Which was when he spotted... you. You were putting some pots in your balcony, maybe for a few plants. Who was this beauty and why have I never seen her before? You looked pretty. Far too pretty for Jisung to stop staring at you like a literal creep. Thankfully the microwave started beeping loudly, so he had to go back inside and save his re-heated dinner from going cold. When he went back out again, you were gone. All that was left, were a few empty pots and packets of seeds.

I have to see her again.

Jisung not to secretly tried to get another look at his new neighbor, trying to determine when you would go out so he could casually bump into you and say hi. It was highly unlikely you were still single — who would not fall for a pretty girl like that? But he had to try.

After a week, he gave up. Maybe you just wanted to be left alone. He was returning home late one day, tired from his long day at the recording studio with Changbin who was not satisfied even after twenty retakes of the same verse. He was so tired, his vision was blurry and he bumped his foot loudly against the door. "Shit!" He cursed, wincing as he tried to step back. He was just about done with everything when the door next door opened, revealing the insanely pretty girl with concern masking your features. You were wearing pajamas, some part of his brain noted, pajamas with squirrels on them. Why did that make make him feel things?

Great going Jisung. Amazing first impression.

"Sorry, I heard some loud noises — are you okay?" You asked. You pushed away the hair covering your eyes. He took in more of your features. Your wispy bangs, your almost black eyes, your nose, the pink in your cheeks and your lips. Oh god. He could feel all sorts of wild thoughts running through his mind. Most of which were not child friendly.

Jisung couldn't look away. "Yeah. Yeah I'm good. Thank you." He said, mustering a smile to match the one forming on your face. I'm doomed. "You're new... right? I'm Jisung. Han Jisung." Nice save dork.

"Y/n. I've been meaning to introduce myself. I've just been busy and —"

You never had time to finish your sentence because a kid appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and clinging onto your leg. What the — "Mama..."

"Sorry baby, did I wake you up?" You asked softly, picking up the kid in your arms. Jisung's heart was plummeting. No way. No fucking way — "I was just saying to the nice man next door. Say hi." The little boy waved cutely.

Jisung returned the gesture, too stunned to speak. "Is he your...."

"Huh? Yeah —" Your face broke into another huge grin. "This is my son, Sunghwan." The sleepy kid perked up at the mention of his name before starting to doze off again on your shoulder. "I should put him back to sleep. It was nice meeting you Jisung." You bowed and went back inside your house, closing the door behind her, leaving Jisung in a state of utter shock and confusion.

The pretty (sexy) girl next door was not only taken, but you were married and had a kid. Why did the universe like toying with his heart so much? Jisung went inside his own house, closing the door with a grumpy face. He really got too ahead of himself, didn't he?

A few days later, he ran into the pretty married girl with an adorable kid at the supermarket. Well — he ran into your adorable kid first. Jisung was piling up on snacks since he needed the sugar, when he spotted a small child trying to hold onto candy bars and grab more from the shelves. Upon getting a closer look, he noticed it was the kid from next door! He couldn't just leave the little boy, now could he? Not when he knew him. He had to take responsibility as a neighbor and a decent dude to bring him back to his mom.

So he approached the kid. "Hey little guy, where's your mom?" He asked, crouching down to his height. He really was cute (just like his mom).

"She buying vegetables. Bleh." The kid made a disgusted face, making Jisung laugh.

"You don't like vegetables?"

"No. They gross. I like candy!" He said excitedly, holding up the goodies that he piled in his small hands.

"Okay then, what about your dad?"

"Dada sees me every Fri-day.” He said carefully. “Only Mama here.” He looked around in confusion. “Mama?”

Jisung was still caught on the sentence about his dad. He sees him every Friday? That sounded a lot like… those child custody things he saw on TV. "Okay little guy, let's go find your mom first. She must be worried." He held out his hand. "My name is Jisung." He offered a smile.

"Ji-sung?" The kid held onto his hand. Jisung began leading them down the aisles. "I'm Sung-hwan! Sunghwan!" He said with a giggle. Aw man he's so cute.

"Sunghwan huh? That's a nice name." Jisung noted as he looked around for you. He soon found you near the cereals, looking worried. "Aha, we found her!" He took a very long glance at your figure and had a few seconds to fantasize over her long legs before Sunghwan shouted.

"Mama!"

You snapped your head in their direction, relief washing over your face as you knelt down so the kid could run into your arms. "Sunghwan! How many times have I told you to not run off like that!" You chided, but you held onto him tightly. You stood up, your gaze meeting Jisung's. A smile formed on your face. "Jisung, right? I can't thank you enough! I looked away for two seconds and he was gone and—"

"It's alright." Jisung brushed it off, but his heart was going crazy inside his chest. She's smiling at me and she's talking to me! "I found him in the candy aisle. Little man has taste."

You looked at kid, who had an innocent look on his face. You shook your head. "I should've known. But anyways, thank you." You held Jisung's hand to shake it. Holy moly.

"It's okay. Really." He said, a huge smile on his face. "Do you need some help?" He asked, looking at the shopping cart that was full of groceries.

"No, no, it's okay —"

"No, I could help, seriously. You look like you have a lot on your hands already." Jisung said, looking at the kid was trying to pick up a box of cereal from the shopping cart. "I live next door, it really isn't an issue.”

“Honestly, that would be really helpful.”.

"No worries." Jisung said casually.

Which was how he found himself in the apartment next door, setting down the bags of groceries in the kitchen. The house was neat — except there were toys everywhere. Sunghwan was way more than thrilled to show Jisung each and every one of them. He even began narrating the story of why his Mickey Mouse stuffed toy had a bandage (bad encounter with a dog at the park) which made Jisung laugh. He would've loved to spend the whole day there, if he didn't get a call from Changbin.

"Oh, that's work. I gotta go." He said, standing up.

"Thank you again, Jisung." You said, coming out of the kitchen.

"I told you, it's okay." He chuckled. "I like helping people out."

"Jisungie, you have to come back and play with me, okay?" Sunghwan had gotten up from his place and was now holding onto the fabric of his jeans. It was adorable. "I no show my Legos." He pouted. This kid was pulling at his heartstrings.

"I mean, if it's okay with your mom…” He tried off, meeting your eyes. Please say yes.

"Of course you can." You nodded with another one of those bright smiles.

"Yay!" Sunghwan jumped around.

"Say bye, Sung." You told the kid, who waved brightly.

"Bye Sunghwan. And you too Y/n. You can call me if you ever need anything." Jisung told you, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you guys later." He saw himself out and back to his own house. That kid was the ticket to get close to you. You're single (as far as he understood), which means he was doing no wrong. Besides, moms are super sexy (she was an absolute milf). God, he was getting too excited. He grabbed his things and headed to the recording studio.

Safe to say the Jisung was absolutely fucked. He was goner the day he saw you dressed up in a dress that was too short for his mental wellbeing. It was supposed to be a normal day. He started babysitting Sunghwan quite often because you had job interviews packed for the whole week. Since he loved you oh so much, the second he swung open to the door to meet your nervous face, asking him if he could watch Sunghwan for a while.

Truth be told — Jisung didn't exactly hear what you said. He'd known you for a month and he was already down so so bad. He only saw your pretty lips moving, the way you fiddled with your fingers as you tried to explain it to him. But Jisung. Oh god. He just stared at you like a lovesick fool and immediately nodded to save his ass when you finished speaking.

Which was how he found himself in his apartment the next day with Sunghwan and his Legos spread out across the living room. Jisung had to work on this track for Changbin and he also had to watch the kid so he decided to multitask. I mean, how hard could it be to take care of a three year old?

Jisung found out his answer within five minutes when said three year old completely trashed his house with Legos. He couldn't walk two feet without stepping on one of the bricks, making him bite his lip in pain so he wouldn't let out a yelp.

“I'm just going to let myself in!” The second day of baby-sitting, Changbin just appeared in his apartment for no reason. This was probably the worst possible situation is overly loud friend could've walked into. Jisung could practically see his face morph into confusion, his eyes widening and his jaw dropped. “Since when do you have a kid?” He asked loudly. Even a deaf person could hear him at this point. “When did you get laid bro? You've been bitchless —”

“Okay!” Jisung cut him off, covering Sunghwan's ears. “Let's not use colorful language when there is a child present.” Only after Changbin muttered a half-hearted sorry did Jisung uncover the kid's ears. “He's my neighbor's kid —”

“You knocked up your neighbor?—”

“Will you please shut the fuc — shut up please?” Jisung took a deep breath. “I'm baby-sitting. His mom has job interviews and she asked for help and I couldn't say no. The kid's too cute.” He shrugged. Just thinking about you made a small blush creep up on his face, his ears turning red. He's never been down so bad for a person before like this.

“Holy shit —” Changbin completely ignored the don't curse there's a fucking child in front of you warning. “You like his mom.” He mouthed the last two words. Guess he didn't trade all of his brain cells for those muscles. “I should've known you actually had a thing for older woman when you brought up —”

“Enough of my embarrassing past and just get on with why you're here.” Jisung was not going to relive his teenage embarrassments. He'd done some things he's not so proud of and Changbin took every chance to make sure he never forgot them.

His friend left a while later. You texted saying that you would be home in a few. He took Sunghwan back to your house after cleaning up all the toys in his. All was well.

But everything turned topsy-turvy the second he saw you entering the house with that purple dress you wore for your job interview. It stopped just where Jisung's imagination started to wander down the gutter. It hugged your curves perfectly and accentuated your boobs so well that it made him dizzy.

"How'd it go?" He asked you once you sat down on the couch near him, playing Legos with Sunghwan, who was absorbed in his kids show playing on the TV. Jisung was sitting on the floor, so your bare knees were brushing against his shoulder, creating waves of tingles over him.

"It went pretty well." You answered, moving those magenta stained lips of yours. I wonder what it would feel like wrapped around my cock. Jisung had to mentally slap himself. Whatever sexual attraction he had to you was not disappearing in anyway — if anything, it increased every second he spent in your presence. For some reason, everything you did turned him on. The past few weeks ended in cold showers every day to calm himself down. "You're spacing out. Have something on your mind?"

Yeah, you. "Nah, I was just thinking about this song I was working on for my friend." Nice save. "The beat isn't perfect, you know? I've been tweaking it for days, maybe I should just let it be."

He saw you put your hand on your chin to think. "Well, I don't know much about music but maybe you need a fresh perspective? I think I read that somewhere. Something about not working on it for a while...."

"That... makes sense." He nodded slowly. "Maybe I just need some fresh air, you know?"

Sunghwan perked up at that. He jumped onto Jisung, a big, goofy smile on his face. Jisung found himself seeing you in the kid. His smile, his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he was happy — he was almost exactly like you.

"Jisungie! Park!" He exclaimed with a giggle. "Let's go to park!"

"A park? Now? Maybe tomorrow bud, your mom's probably tired."

"Yeah Sung, we'll go tomorrow. I promise." You ruffled the kid's hair.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise." You repeated with a laugh. Sunghwan went back to playing with his Legos. "By the way Jisung, if you're free on Friday, you wanna go watch a movie?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah I'd be down." He nodded absent-mindedly, watching the boy run around the room with a Lego car.

"Great." You gave him another one of those smiles before walking to her bedroom. Jisung's eyes were on your ass as you disappeared from the corridor. Wait a minute. Sunghwan will be with his dad on Friday, right? Did you just... ask him out?

"What did mommy say?" Sunghwan asked Jisung.

"Mommies are confusing." He said. "But sexy."

"Sixy?" The kid repeated.

"No — no not sixy! Uh, uh —" Jisung panicked. "Hey, I found this Lego set on Amazon and I thought you'd like it." He quickly whipped out his phone to show him to take his mind off of what he said. God forbid you found that he was talking about how you looked in front of your own kid.

That night after going back to his apartment, he laid in bed, his cock in his hands as he stroked himself to the thought of you. Unconsciously moaning your name loudly (maybe a bit too loud) as he imagined you there, jerking him off with your soft hands and that fuckable face with your big eyes, your lips wrapped around him as you took him in whole — yeah, he came pretty hard after that.

Friday took way longer than Jisung wanted. He was antsy the entire morning in the studio, leg bouncing as he sat on the chair while Changbin recorded in the booth. He was so out of it, he didn't hear his friend calling him thrice from outside the little room until Changbin smacked the back of his head which momentarily brought Jisung out of his dreamland.

How could he focus? When he was just a few hours away from spending an evening with you? Only you? He loved Sunghwan, don't get him wrong but going to a movie together and getting dinner afterwards and maybe — just maybe Jisung could spit out the words he'd been holding hostage inside his mouth ever since he first laid eyes on you. Dear Y/n, I've liked you since the second I saw you in your balcony and I was hoping you could rail me —

The second he got home, he took a shower, brushed his teeth again, and spent twenty minutes trying to decide what he should wear. A suit was too over the top and a normal t-shirt and jeans would look like he didn't care. He had to look cool but interested. In the end he opted for a plain black shirt over his loose jeans. He styled his dark hair with a part in the middle and sprayed some cologne on.

Two mental breakdowns later, he was standing in front of the movie theater where you told him you'd meet him. He tried to act all nonchalant but he was slowly losing his mind as he stood there like a loser (it was for ten minutes).

When you finally arrived, he swore his heart stopped beating for a good few seconds as his eyes raked over your little top that dipped low in the front. Did you do it on purpose? Did you know the way his heart started to a marathon every time he looked at you? How the fuck was he supposed to pay attention to a movie when you were dressed like that?

“Sorry I'm late. Dropping Sunghwan off took a little longer than expected.” You adjusted the strap of your handbag which was resting on your shoulder.

“I just got here too. It's okay.” Jisung played it off coolly. It was all worth seeing that smile on your face. He took a moment to mentally note that he also liked the subtle pink lipstick you wore today, but his favorite had to be that magenta color. Just imagining himself stained in your kisses — his face, his chest, his d —

Han Jisung almost publicly humiliated himself for the nth time this month.

The movie was fine. It was some romcom that you liked. His attention was more on you. Your reactions to everything, the way your eyes sparkled as you pointed to the screen, the way your eyes turned into crescents as you laughed at whatever corny ass jokes Jisung made that weren't even that funny.

Dinner… Dinner was far more difficult. He could barely pay any attention to what you were saying. He was more focused on your fingers and your freshly painted magenta nails. Magenta was going to be his fucking end. He could barely keep himself from imagining how good those freshly manicured hands would look wrapped around his cock. Oh god, he was getting hard again. He was only snapped out of his thoughts when you said, “You want to go home?”

“Huh?”

“You look tired. And I'm probably boring you —”

“No, no — never.” Jisung shook his head.

“Then what's wrong Jisung?”

Fuck it, he couldn't take it anymore. “I like you Y/n.” Silence. The silence after that was killing him. He swallowed hard and took a big gulp of water as his face turned redder than red.

“Well I know that. Why do you think I invited you out on a date?”

Every time Jisung believed he couldn't be more surprised, you just had to go and prove him wrong. “What?” He breathed out.

“I know you like me. You're not very secretive about it.” You chuckled, twisted the pasta in your plate onto your fork. “I like you a lot too.” What the actual fuck? “I never thought I'd like someone so fast after… everything. But you proved me wrong.” You shrugged. “But my real question is… do you jerk off to me every night?”

That's it. Jisung knew the thin walls of his apartment would come back to bite him someday in the future. He was betrayed by his own house. He was absolutely mortified you heard him fisting himself to you. He turned impossibly more red. He could barely stutter out a response but he stopped when he saw that teasing smile on your face.

“It's a good thing I feel the same way.”

The cab ride home was torture. Not only did you like him. But you wanted to fuck him too? And it definitely did not help whatsoever that you hand rested on his thigh and slowly inched upward, agonizingly slow towards the obvious tent in his pants. His dick was so hard it hurt in the confines of his pants. He bit down on his lip so hard when you brushed over his bones and then started to palm him through the fabric. Oh fucking hell… You were teasing him. He could see that smirk on your face as he almost whined when you pulled away because the cab stopped.

The second you stepped foot in his apartment, he pushed you against the wall next to the door and smashed his lips against yours. Hungry and needy. He pressed his body against yours, pulling you along to his bedroom (how he got there, he had no clue). His hands were everywhere. Touching and caressing every part of you. Your hair, your waist, your ass — it was heaven. You threaded your fingers through his fingers, lightly tugging at the strands. It was enough to elicit a soft moan from him, muffled by the kiss.

“Tell me Jisung…” You said quietly as you pulled away from him. “What did you imagine about me?” You pushed him onto the bed and as you got on your knees. He lifted his hips as you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, releasing his dick. It was red and stained with precum and so hard.

But you didn't do anything. “Please.” He whimpered. “Do something.” You smiled at him deviously before beginning to stroke him at a slow pace. Too slow. “F-Fuck.” He threw his head back with a groan. You were barely doing anything and he was so far gone. You carefully took him into your mouth, inch by inch. Your mouth was warm, your plush lips wrapped around his cock was making him lose his mind. He wanted to grab your hair and fuck your throat but he couldn't move his body. It was like he was frozen, only able to buck his hips into your mouth for some kind of friction. You finally — finally started bobbing your head up and down, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat each time. “S-Shit. Fuck. Don't stop.” You went faster after that, fondling with his balls. Your tongue swirling around the tip and your hands on his balls, he could feel that band in his belly about to snap. “Fuck. Fuck I'm gonna —” Before he could reach that sweet release, you pulled away with a pop, innocent eyes staring up at him. He let out a loud groan at that. “W-Why —”

He stopped himself when you stood up and took off your pants and panties and crawled onto his lap, sinking onto him slowly. A soft moan escaped both your mouths when his dick was completely inside you. “Fuck you're big.” You whimpered, trying to adjust to his size. It gave him a bit of an ego boost. You started to bounce on him, letting out the most sinful moans Jisung ever heard in his entire life. “Perfect little dick. Filling me up so well.” You groaned. His dick twitched. Your walls were sucking him in, milking him. It was too much. He was already on edge from his denied orgasm, but the way you were talking to him? Fuck. He wasn't going to last.

“S-So tight.” He whimpered. “F-Fuck. Feels good.”

“Feels good baby?” You asked. He nodded frantically. “Are you gonna cum?” He nodded again. “Hold it for a bit. Only good boys get to cum. Have you been a good boy?”

“Y-Yes, fuck —” He squeezed his eyes shut as your walls clenched around him. “Oh fuck —” Jisung was determined to save the last of his dignity (not like he had much in the first place) and tried to get you off too. He met your thrusts half way, his dick repeatedly brushing against that spongy spot deep inside you.

“Right there.” Your nails dug into his skin but he didn't give two shits. “‘M so close.”

“Let me make you cum too.” He kissed your chest, your breasts and wrapped his lips around your hardened buds, alternating between the two of them. From the fucked out expression on your face and the way he was two seconds from filling you with his seed, he two took of his fingers and found your clit in no time, rubbing harsh circles on the sensitive numb making you cry out as your orgasm washed over you. Jisung came a moment later, his body spasming as he came down from his high.

“Fuck, that was amazing.” You panted, your head laying on his shoulder. Jisung could barely even nod in reply. His dick was still inside you as your juices and his pooled onto his thighs and onto his sheets. It was a mistake to look at where your swollen pussy lips swallowed him whole and he could feel himself getting hard again.

Yeah. He definitely had a thing for mommies.

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#han jisung #skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz fluff #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung x reader #han jisung hard hours #han jisung smut #han jisung x y/n #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz smut #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / han jisung )

[ozzgin]

Sorry to bother you, but the bodyguard post you did was just 🤤🥰😍 and I can't stop thinking about it day later

Have you ever seen Oshi no Ko? I'd love to see Bodyguard react to someone trying to do something similar as what happened to Ai.

Fans get wind their beloved idol might have feeling for her staff, so a crazed fan tracks down her private address. He plans to get revenge for "His idol cheating on him" but doesn't know there is a guard dog inside ready to bite any threat to his precious charge.

Sorry to keep ragging on about the topic, I just adore you work enough that it lives in my head rent free.

Happy holidays

-🌟

I sadly haven't seen Oshi no Ko, but your description sounds very interesting. Thank you for the idea! I've combined it with your previous suggestion, I think they work together really well. Happy Holidays to you, too! :)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (II)

Your new manager has sent you home for the holidays after persistent rumors surrounding you and your bodyguard. And, as luck would have it, the fan responsible for the accusations successfully sneaks his way in. Sadly for him, you’ve never left the watchful gaze of your loyal, mean dog.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

TW: violence, threats, mentions of stalking

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Enjoy your holidays!" 

The driver cheerfully bids you goodbye and speeds away, leaving you behind the imposing gate. You drag your luggage inside and nonchalantly toss it with an annoyed huff.

What now? You're all alone in a hollow mansion. 

Early December you begun receiving worrying letters from a fan, making wild claims about you and your bodyguard. Naturally, you laughed it off. Your bodyguard found them equally amusing. So much, that he'd ask you to read them out loud as you rode him. "I w-won't stand for it. You know we ha-ave something special going on, (Y/N)-chan." You barely managed to form coherent sentences, feverishly clinging to the large man underneath you. "You heard the guy. Better be on your best behavior", he'd add with a chuckle, wiping the drool from your mouth. 

The new manager, however, wasn't as relaxed about it. He couldn't risk tarnishing the reputation of his beloved cash cow, so he suggested you take a break from personal assistants until the rumors tone down. If you remained within your expensively secured house, you wouldn't need any guarding. So, he caringly prescribed a dose of homely isolation for the upcoming holidays. 

"Don't be so dramatic", he said, "Jesus spent 40 days in the desert by himself. And he didn't have your indoor cinema or jacuzzi bathtub."

"Yeah, but he had the Devil to tempt him. Where's my bad guy?" You whined as a retort. 

You let out another groan and throw yourself on the couch, fiddling with the remote. Kind of them to decorate everything for Christmas, you think as you eye the gigantic kitsch of a tree slapped in the middle of the living room. 

Fuck. What an absolute waste of time. All because of one crazy fan. You almost wish he'd show his stupid face so your bodyguard could pummel it to bits and crumbles. You wonder what he's doing by himself. Is he going to be assigned to another idol? Probably not, two weeks is too short of a time for anything. You check your phone.

Suddenly, the screen lights up. A text notification. 

"Bored?"

Heh. It's almost as if he can read your mind. You smile to yourself and type your response, stretching onto the sofa. Your little back and forth messaging goes on until you look up and notice the room has gotten darker. Already evening. You can hear your stomach growl, so you get up and drag your feet towards the kitchen, searching for takeaway fliers. If you're going to be under house arrest, the least you can afford is junk food. 

Once you place your decadent order, you hop onto the counter and idly dangle your legs in anticipation. Your favorite off-duty guard dog has abruptly told you he needs to go and is now offline. "Something came up". What could possibly require his immediate attention? A mistress? You giggle at the idea. In all your time spent together, you haven't seen him glance at a single woman. If he must, he will engage with other people using one-word replies, visibly uninterested. You never considered him much of a talker, but his behavior with anyone else, in comparison, is downright hostile. 

There's a rustling sound and you jolt. Was the food delivered already? It hasn't been that long. You jump off the marble countertop and freeze in place once you see the man standing in the doorway. His face is concealed with a medical mask and he's audibly panting, the hot air fogging up his glasses. You notice the knife in his hand.

"How rude of you to cheat on me so shamelessly, (Y/N) dear."

Huh? Your eyes widen in realization. Was this the crazed fan bombarding you with threatening letters? Your features twist in utter disgust, still transfixed on the weapon within his grip. 

This little shit. Not only does he break into your home, but he decides to intimidate you with a department store kitchen utensil. Is that all you're worth? Is that any way to greet one of the top idols in this country?

You angrily pull the nearby drawer open and grab a long, sharp blade. The man tenses up and steps forward, but you stop him in his tracks, throwing the item at his feet. He stares at you, bewildered. 

"It's a Yoshihiro Sashimi knife. More than your monthly income, most likely." You state as you leer down at him, grimace plastered on your face. "Pick it up like the animal you are."

He cannot move. Is this his beloved (Y/N)? Her pretty, innocent smile and sparkling eyes have been replaced by this hateful scowl. He feels like a cockroach about to be stepped on, a mere vermin invading her personal space. This can't be right. It's him that should be upset, he's the betrayed party. When has she gotten so...Ah. This must be the work of that bodyguard. He's always known. The way he looks at her, with a predatory glint as if marking his territory. He should've noticed earlier. Poor, sweet (Y/N), at the hands of a brute. Tears form in his eyes and he opens his mouth to speak up, but a burning blow assaults his back and everything goes black. 

Your bodyguard casually walks in and lifts the intruder up by the nape of his neck. 

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

You blush and wipe your eyelashes dramatically, releasing a gentle sob from your puckered lips.

"Touch? He almost killed me! I was so scared...I thought I was done for."

He frowns at your words.

"I'll take care of it."

You can feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach. As he drags the body out of the kitchen, you follow behind enthusiastically. 

"Do it in the living room!" You almost squeal.

"Are you sure? It will get messy. I'm not letting this one walk out." He warns you with a worried expression. 

"Yes, yes!" you nod, all bubbly. "Right here, next to the Christmas tree."

Once the gory spectacle is over, the bodyguard sprawls onto the sofa, exhausted. He exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. You are about to join him, when a thought crosses your mind. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you know I was about to be attacked? That was some really extraordinary timing."

Out of reflex, he palms his pocket to check if his phone is still within his possession. Thankfully he hasn't left it in plain sight. You squint suspiciously. 

"Are you spying on me or something?"

He remains quiet for a few moments and eventually lowers his head apologetically, avoiding eye contact.

"Forgive me, Miss."

When he glances up again, your small figure is looming over him.

"Wow, what a pervert you are." You push his chin up with your dainty fingers. "How will you make it up to me for such nasty habit~?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Good boy."

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere bodyguard #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #yandere original character #yandere oc

[lovingmattysposts]

Friends with Benefits Part 3

(I would listen to these two songs on repeat while reading)

P1 P2 P4 P5 P6

pairing: y/n and matt sturniolo

summary: You and Matt are best friends, who occationaly have sex on the low. No string attached, just sex. Well, just sex for him. Little did he know you were falling in love and falling fucking fast.

warnings: smut, mention of an age gap (not in a creepy way, just a joke), drinking, cursing, a physical fight at the end

part three you guys have been begging for, prepare yourselves now. Just warning you this one is a sad one, love yall

xoxo, Autumn

"This one?" I asked holding up the third option of the night. "No" She stated staring at me. I dropped the dress in my hands and glared at her. "You're not taking this seriously" I said turning back to my closet. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I'm taking this very seriously" She nodded. I glared back at her.

The truth was is that i've been avoiding Matt all week. I respond to his texts, miss his calls. I'll say I miss him, but I won't come over. It's been a back in forth battle between my mind whether or not I wanted to do this or not. All day I'll pace around, saying that I was done. Then the night came and I would text him. He was starting to get irretated and I knew it.

Tonight was his birthday. I was texting him last night when it turned midnight.

last night:

to Matt Stromboli       12:01am

I guess you're a year older now

From: Matt Stromboli     12:01am

Is that suppose to be your way of telling me happy birthday?

to Matt Stromboli   12:02am

Something like that

From: Matt Stromboli   12:02am

How sweet of you. Oops, just got another text from my side hoe, she sent me a paragraph

I knew it was a joke, but it hit me like a punch in the face. I couldn't show it, and that's when my brain tells me i'm trying to pull back for a reason.

to Matt Stromboli   12:04

Wouldn't want to keep her waiting now do we?

From: Matt Stromboli 12:02am

Oh of course not, brb

From: Matt Stromboli 12:03am

Thank you so much for the deep message y/n/n, I can't stop thinking about you either. You are so hot and I can't wait to spend the entire night with you while you tell me just HOW happy you are that it is my birthday. 20 has never felt so good. Guess I'm considered a pedo since you're still 19, but still can't keep you off my mind ;)

to Matt Stromboli 12:04

Was that you referencing me as your side hoe and dissing my age all in one message?

From: Matt Stromboli 12:05am

Side hoe, main hoe, whatever hoe. You fit the description for all of them.

From: Matt Stromboli 12:05

....or you guys just happen to have the same name

to Matt Stromboli 12:06

So you're messing with TWO 19-year-olds. brb calling the police

From: Matt Stromboli 12:06

Lol so funny. (pls don't)

I laughed out loud.

to Matt Stromboli 12:07

I just talked to them. They said you're sentenced to no birthday sex from either of the 19-year-olds.

From: Matt Stromboli 12:07

NO PLEASE I'LL DO ANYTHING. THERE IS ONLY ONE 19-YEAR-OLD I SWEAR

to Matt Stromboli 12:08

wow never have seen you beg before. Kinda like it

From: Matt Stromboli 12:09

Don't get used to it. You've been depriving me for a week now, i'm starting to lose vision in my left eye.

to Matt Stromboli 12:08

Goodnight birthday boy

From: Matt Stromboli 12:10

God that message just made me hard

to Matt Stromboli 12:08

Oh god, doctor, he's flat-lining

From: Matt Stromboli 12:10

my doctor is a gross old man, you ruined it.

to Matt Stromboli 12:11

Sorry

From: Matt Stromboli 12:12

Can I call you?

I sighed looking at the ceiling. As much as I wanted to keep this going of pulling back. It was midnight and I was talking to the man I was in love with and he hasn't touched me in a week.

From: Matt Stromboli 12:13

Please. I just need to hear your voice. You could literally talk about anything for about 30 seconds and I'll be done for.

I smiled.

to Matt Stromboli 12:11

Am I dreaming or is Matthew Bernard Sturniolo being submissive?

From: Matt Stromboli 12:13

I can't finish without you, please. It's my birthday

I rolled my eyes before I clicked to call him. It didn't ring one time before he answered. "Matthewwww" I sang. I already heard him whine over the phone and small breaths over the phone. My eyes went wide.

"Wow okay. Already going at it I see?" I chuckled. "Shut up" He grunted over the phone. I sat up on my bed, smiling to myself. "Hey who's the one in control right now? I could start talking about your doctor again and turn you off so fast" I stated. He groaned. "Stop talking about my doctor" I heard him chuckle over the phone.

"Then stop telling me to shut up" I said bluntly. He let out a breath. "Okay, I'm sorry" He said quickly. I smiled, I loved this. "What do you want me to talk about?" I asked, he took a few second before responding.

"Anything-Anything just keep talking" He stuttered. I smiled, rolling over. "Okay" I sighed thinking. I could fuck with him. "Today I did laundry." I stated. I heard him chuckle softly. "Yeah?" He breathed. I hummed. "Yeah and then I fingered myself while wearing that shirt you gave me" I said out of the blue. I heard him moan almost immediately, making me chuckle.

"A-Are you serious?" He asked breathlessly. I chuckled to myself. "No, I just have no idea how to do this" I laughed. I heard him chucking a bit, before breathing in. "Dude" He said. "Plus I'm on my period" I lied. "No you're not" He grunted. I furrowed my eyebrows. "I have your period on a tracker" He breathed. I rolled my eyes, of course he did.

"Tell me what you're wearing" He breathed. I looked down at my big t-shirt and sweatpants. "Uhm" I hummed. "Nothing" I lied. I heard short and shallow breaths. "Just laying here, like naked you know?" I sighed looking up.

"I know you're lying" He moaned. I giggled. "Tell me about you're day" He grunted. "Just keep talking" His voice broke at the last word. I sighed into the phone. "Okay, well. I cleaned my room I was actually being really productive. Then I started scrolling through instagram then-Oh! You know that clothing account that has the like spider-web design like thing on it?" I asked through the phone.

"Uh humm" He hummed through the phone. "Well I bought like a sweatshirt off of it, and I'm actually really excited for it to come in, you know?" I smiled. "Yeah baby" He sighed into the phone.  I smiled. "Lucy said it was a stupid buy, but I think that it would look really cool with those cargo pants I got, but I have no idea what shoes to wear with them. Trying out a new like cool look." I said smiling. He breathed in sharply.

"Fuck" He cursed, his breathing getting heavier. "Are you clooossee?" I asked. "Hm huh" He breathed. I sighed into the phone. "I wish I was there" I stated leaning on my hand as i started to play with my hair. "Me too" He said quickly. "Hmm, you wish it was my hand don't you?" I teased. "Fuck, yes" He moaned. I smiled.

"Just pretend that is. That I'm hovering over you, kissing your neck. Telling you to let go all over my fingers like a good birthday boy-" I almost laughed at my dirty talk, but he liked it.

"Y/n-Fuck-I-" I heard him say loudly and then moaned loudly, before he let out a deep breath. "Are you-Did you-" I asked. "Yes" He chuckled. I smiled. "Good" I stated. He sighed into the phone. "Hold on a second" He said and I heard rustling on the other end, and I waited.

"You're coming tomorrow right?" He asked. I sighed into the phone. "Yeah" I breathed. "Good" He said softly, settling back down.

"Nate and Justin come in tomorrow and they are staying with us" He explained. I nodded. "That'll be fun" I said over the phone. He sighed. "The only reason I'm saying that is because you can't spend the night tomorrow" He said, making my face drop and my heart hurt.

"Oh" I said, swallowing. "I just don't want to make it a thing you know? I mean like it's not a big deal with Chris and Nick because they like know, but I don't feel like explaining it to Nate and Justin" He said, making me breath out.

"Right" I said. I felt like an idiot. An absolute idiot. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Feeling the pit in mu stomach form from the punch in the gut. You're not like my girlfriend, so you shouldn't spend the night when people I care about are staying with me.

"But, I am still excited for you to see them and meet them and stuff" He said. I bit my lip. "Yeah, yeah of course" I breathed. "And I'm excited to see you. Since you've been ghosting me the past week" He chuckled.  I swallowed. "Yeah, sorry i've just been.....busy" I said feeling tears start to fill in my eyes.

"Yeah I know, no hard feelings. I just miss seeing my homie" He said happily. His homie. Fucking Ouch. "Yeah yeah. I just-" I took a breath. "I'll just see you at the party then" I said shaking my head. "Okay cool" He said before we said our goodbyes. I swallowed clicking off the phone.

present:

I swallowed shifting through my clothes remembering last night. "Just pick something already" She sighed. I picked out a black dress and showed it to her. Her eyes went wide. "What? It's my favorite dress" I argued. "No" She said standing. "It's Matt's favorite dress" She said raising her eyebrows. I sighed looking at it, it did make me look really good.

"Give me the shirt back or i'm wearing it" I said looking over at her. She sighed and looked at me. "No" She said. "Then, I'm wearing it" I smiled before walking into the bathroom.

-

We were on the uber ride there when I turned to Lucy. "I'm gonna talk to him eventually Lucy, I just-tonight's his birthday" I sighed. She looked over at me and nodded. "I'll hold my breath" She smiled making me shake my head. She pushed me slightly.

"Hey, it's your life you can do what you want. I just don't want to see you get hurt" She said quietly. I nodded. Lucy was a good friend. She really was, but I was already hurt. Constantly getting hurt. I looked down at the box in my hand, rubbing my thumb over it.

"Is that for Matt?" She asked looking down, I nodded. I opened it looking down at the ring. It was a ring that he's wanted for so long. So I thought I'd buy it for his birthday. Now looking down at it, I debated even giving it to him. I closed it before putting it back in my purse and turning to look out the window.

We pulled up to the house and their were cars lining the street. We thanked the driver and walked out and up to the house. I stood at the door for a second. Lucy stopped and looked at me. "You okay?" She asked. I looked at her before nodding, but not moving.

"You gonna go inside?" She asked pointing at the door. I licked my lips. "It feels-" I started to say. "Weird" I whispered. She sighed leaning over to me. "You look hot. If Matt can't see it then screw him. Okay? Birthday or not I'll beat his ass" She smiled making me smile.

I nodded before walking through the door. The loudness of the party came over me as we walked in. I glanced around before I saw all of them standing and talking in the kitchen. I swallowed and turned towards Lucy who was behind me.

"What are you doing?" She asked quickly. "I can't do it" I said shaking my head. She furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?" She asked leaning towards me. "I can't be here, not tonight, not on his birthday. I can't-" I started to shake my head.

"Y/n!"

I winced at the sound of my name being called. Lucy looked up behind me and then back down to me. "They are walking over here" She whispered in between her teeth. I opened my eyes and slowly turned around. I saw Chris, Nate, and Nick all walk up to me glancing behind them seeing Matt and Justin stay on the other side of the kitchen, while Matt glanced at me. I looked away from them.

"Hey" I smiled up at Nick, bringing him into a hug. "Happy birthday" I said as I pulled back from the hug. "Thank you" He smiled. I pulled Chris into a hug as well. "Happy birthday" I smiled, he let go. "Thanks Y/n/n" He smiled down at me. I looked over to Nate.

"Y/n and Lucy, this is Nate" Nick said motion to Nate. I pulled him into a hug as well, catching Matt's stare from the other side of the kitchen. I let Nate go, leaning back. "It's nice to meet you" Nate smiled at me. I nodded smiling. "It's nice to meet you too, these boys never shut up about you" I smiled, making him look over at Chris and Nick.

"I'm Lucy, I don't do hugs. Happy birthday boys" She motioned to Chris and Nick. They nodded.

"So Y/n, do you live in LA?" Nate asked. I nodded looking down. "I do, i've lived here my whole life" I said looking at him, he nodded. "I'm gonna have to come visit more often" He said smiling, making me raise my eyebrows. Chris and Nick looked at each other. Lucy looked over at me. I awkwardly laughed.

"Oh yeah well" I cleared my throat. "You look beautiful" He said looking at me. I opened my mouth to respond when Matt came over to us. He put his hands on Nate's shoulders staring down at him.

"Nate, getting a little too friendly with my guests hm?" He said smiling. Nate just looked at him. Lucy eyed me and I just looked at her. Matt looked over to me, releasing Nate. "Y/n" He stated. I nodded at him. Nick looked between us and cleared his throat.

"Justin, this is Y/n" Nick said motioning to Justin. I looked over smiling, shaking his hand. "Hi" I smiled he nodded. Matt stayed looking at me. "Y/n/n, let's go get a drink" Lucy said pulling my arm. I looked at her and then to Matt.

"Okay" I breathed as we walked away. I let out a deep breath. "That was weird" Lucy said. I nodded. "Really weird" She nodded. I turned back around looking at them, Matt's eyes were trained on me. I swallowed turning back around as Lucy handed me a drink.

-

The rest of the night I attempted to talk to as many people as I possibly could so that I wouldn't run into Matt. I didn't want to deal with my feelings, if I was being completely honest. I didn't want to face him.

I've been here and hour and haven't even spoken to him. Lucy turned to me and told me she was going to the bathroom. I nodded as she walked off. I wasn't standing there three seconds before I felt someone walk up to me.

"You're not gonna tell me happy birthday?"

I turned slowly, seeing Matt looking down at me. I blinked up at him before looking down. "I already did Matt, last night" I said barley looking at him, keeping my eyes busy scanning the room. He licked his lips, his eyes trained on my face.

"You've been avoiding me" he stated making me look up at him. He was looking down at me with an expression I couldn't read.

"No I haven't" I lied. "I know when you lie to me y/n" He stated quickly. I swallowed before bringing my drink up to my mouth. He took it out of my hands, putting it on the counter beside us.

I looked down at the cup and then back up at him.

"Happy Birthday Matt" I breathed before attempting to turn, but I felt my arm being grabbed as he dragged me away. I looked up at him as he dragged me away down the hall.

"Matt" I said trying to get my arm away but he pushed me into his room before closing the door.

"Matt! What the hell was-"

"Are you pregnant?" He asked looking down at me closing his eyes briefly. My mouth fell open. That was the last possible thing I expected to fall from him mouth.

"W-What?" I asked looking up at him in shock. He sighed looking down. "Fuck Y/n are you? because if you are-Oh my god-Fuck-" he rambled.

"Matt I'm not pregnant!" I yelled at him. He looked up at me pausing. "Then what is wrong?" He threw us hands up. I sighed looking down.

"Y/n/n" he breathed stepping towards me. If I was smart, I would step away from him. But I was the dumbest bitch alive. I looked up at him as his hands came around my waist.

"Talk to me." He breathed. I let out a shaky breath. I looked down at my purse. I looked back up at him, his eyes boring into mine. I gripped my purse.

"I got you something" I whispered. He just looked at me. "For your birthday" I said reaching down and opening my bag. He looked down, stepping back for a second. I pulled out the small box and handed it to him.

He looked down at it and then back at me. I smiled sadly at him. He looked back down opening the small box and pulling out the ring. He smiled rubbing his thumb over it. He looked up at me.

"You didn't have to do that y/n/n" he breathed. I nodded. "I know I just thought-" I swallowed. I looked up at him. "Do you like it?" I whispered.

He nodded. "I love it" He said looking at it. He walked over setting the box on his dresser and slipping the ring over his finger. I looked down at my feet.

"You look pretty" he said as he turned around. I just looked at him. "Yeah" I stated. He walked over to me slowly.

"It's the dress" he stated as he ran his finger over the strap. I swallowed. "It's the dress" I said back. The dress I was wearing the first time we hooked up. He put his hands on my face. I blinked up at him.

I love you so much. 

My mind screamed.

"I love the ring" he said rubbing his thumbs across my cheeks. I smiled. "I'm glad" I said quietly, almost inaudible.

I want this to be forever. I wanted this to be real. I want to be yours. I don't want to be hiding behind your bedroom door anymore.

I closed my eyes.

"I've thought about you all day long" he whispered. My eyes stayed closed. "Yeah?" I whispered back. "Yeah" he breathed before I felt him kiss me softly. I opened my eyes as he pulled away.

"Have you had a good birthday?" I asked. He smiled. "Yeah" he said leaning down and kissing my cheek so softly. I swallowed. He lifted his head and looked at me.

"Does the police sentence still stand?" He whispered as he trailed his hand down my arm. Sex. Right. I let out a shaky breath.

"I-I don't know" I stuttered. He pulled me against him, making me breath in. "I'm staying in here with you while my birthday party goes on out there" he stated as he brushed a piece of hair behind my ear.

"And I can't have you tonight" he dragged out smiling. I just watched him. "And I've missed you. I've missed this" he stated. I looked up at him.

"And you in that dress" he sighed looking down at me. I swallowed feeling my emotions starting to come up my throat.

"Matt?" I whispered. He looked up at me. "Can you kiss me?" I asked softly. He smiled and nodded before bringing our lips together in a slow kiss. I kissed him back, in my mind kissing my boyfriend. On his birthday. And after he was going to walk out there holding my hand announcing to the world that I was his girlfriend. That he was proud of me. Proud that I was his.

I sighed as I kissed him. He pushed me back by my hips and pushed me onto the bed, climbing on top me. I connected us back together in a hungrier kiss.

"You make me crazy" he mumbled against my lips. You have no idea how crazy you make me. I closed my eyes feeling the lump in my throat pushing it down. Praying it would go down.

He moved down kissing my neck hungrily, slightly pushing up my dress. I stared up at the ceiling feeling it in my chest. The reality of the situation setting in, hitting me like a ton of bricks. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair.

I felt tears start to brim at my eyes. I couldn't focus on his mouth against my neck. I couldn't even feel the sensation of it anymore, all I was focused was the tears threatening to spill over.

"Matt" I said softly as the tears pooled. "Hmm" He breathed against me moving downward towards my chest, pushing the dress up higher. I swallowed and closed my eyes.

"Matt stop. Please stop" my voice broke. Immediately from hearing my voice he sat up lifting his hands off me completely. He looked down at me with a look of fear when he saw my face.

"What? What happened? Y/n what's wrong?" His voice full of concern as he looked in my eyes. I shook my head tears spilling from my eyes. I felt his hands come up to my face and I pushed them off of me. I rolled out from under him and he sat hesitantly next to me, going to hold me but paused.

"Y/n. What's wrong? Why are you crying? Did I do something?" He asked next to me quickly. I shook my head and looked down, not being able to form words, my throat closing. suffocating me. His presence and his confusion suffocating me.

"Y/n" he said softly, placing his hand on my leg. I pushed it off. "I don't understand" he shook his head. I took a deep breath and stood up.

"That's the problem Matt, you don't understand" I said shaking my head and wiping my face. "You don't understand that every single thing you do fucking kills me! You're killing me." I yelled down at him. He just stared up at me, like a lost puppy.

"Don't look at me like-like that" I said turning my head starting to cry harder. He stood up reaching for me but I stepped back. "No" I whimpered.

"Y/n-" he started to say but I cut him off. "It's not f-fair!" I pointed at him.  "It's not fair that you hold me after we have sex. It's not fair that you kiss me like you care about me. It's not fair that you tell me you think about me all day. It's not fair that tell me not to see anyone else. It's not fair that you almost rip your best friend's fucking head off for flirting with me." I said out of breath. His face turned hard and he looked down.

"It's not fair that call me yours when I'm n-not!" I yelled letting the tears stream down my face, clawing at my chest. He just blinked up at me.

"Y-You don't get it" I breathed. "You don't get that every single thing you say to me-" I took a deep breath. I couldn't think, everything that was in my mind was coming out like a word vomit.

"Y-you treat me like your fucking girlfriend and drop my hand when someone walks by. You don't even want to be the one to introduce me to your best friend. Y-You pull me into your room when you have to ask me what's wrong because you don't want people to see that you care." I shook my head, hearing it all fall out of my mouth just made it more of a reality.

"And-and I get it okay? I get it that it was my choice. I agreed to this, but how can you-" I bit my lip looking up. "How you lay there and do those things and-" I cried cutting myself off, shaking my head. "It's not fucking fair" I whispered.

Things that I've kept bottled up forever and had never vocalized before were spilling out of my mouth as I cried in front of the boy I loved most, the boy that was killing me.

"Everyday I lay there hoping and wishing that you would-" I closed my eyes trying to breath.

"You hide me like I'm some huge secret and it's killing me" I cried holding my chest. Matt stood silently in front of me with his mouth slightly parted staring at me.

"You drive 25 minutes out of your way to give me your shirt because you thought I was mad that you asked me to give it back." I breathed looking at him, shaking my head.

"Matt, you're fucking killing me" I said barley above a whisper. Silence filled the room around us. I looked down at my feet. My heart beating out of my chest. The silence slicing through me like a knife. This was it. It was all out there.

"Y/n" he breathed. I looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. His eyes full of sorrow as he stared at me.

"I was a virgin" I admitted. His eyes went wider. "What?" He asked suddenly. I licked my lips and looked down at my feet.

"I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to not take me seriously. I-I wanted this. I thought I could do it like this. I thought it would be easier, I didn't realize that-" I stopped taking in a deep breath.

"You were my first everything" I said looking at him. He blinked at me. I realized with his expression that It wasn't fair that I didn't tell him. It wasn't fair to him and It wasn't fair to myself. "What?" His voice broke. I bit my lip and looked to the side and then back at him.

"I'm such-I thought that-" I let out a breath. I looked at him, hurt filling his face. "I thought that one day you would wake up and realize that you wanted more. That you wanted to show me to your friends not h-hide me behind closed doors-" I shook my head as a sob came up my throat, realizing how ridilcious this sounded as it came out of my mouth.

"That you'd wake up and realize that you-" I let out a shaky breath along with a sob.

"Matt, I love you" I admitted, his face dropped. "Y/n-" he breathed stepping forwards. I shook my head stepping back and hitting the wall slightly.

"I can't-" I shook my head. "I can't do this anymore" I said through a sob. "I can't live another day just being the girl who sits and waits for the boy to love her back" I cried before turning and waking out of the room.

"Y/n. Wait. Please don't-" Matt ran after me. The noises of the party came back over me as it felt like everyone's eyes came to me. I looked down hiding my face as I bolted towards the kitchen.

"Y/n?" I heard Chris's voice. I looked up at him, worry filling his face. I turned and saw Matt walking quickly behind me.

"Y/n?" I heard Lucy's voice I looked up at her. Horror filled her face and she looked at Matt approaching us. "Let's go. We're leaving right now" she said grabbing my arm and pulling me away.

I nodded as we walked to the front door, a cry coming out of my mouth. I turned and saw Chris stopping Matt, pushing his chest and Matt argued towards him before I turned around leaving the party.

Matt pov

"Y/n" I breathed, tears filling my eyes as I watched Lucy grab her arm and drag her away. I went to go after her but felt Chris push my chest back. I looked up at him, anger filled his face. I tried to move past him but he stood in front of me.

"Move" I spat harshly trying to move past him again but he pushed me back again. I watched as she walked out of the door and out of my life. I felt my heart drop. I swallowed feeling tears start to run down my face.

"What did you do?" Chris asked angrily at me. I looked over at him. "I didn't-" I breathed looking between him and Nick. "Get out of my way" I said through gritted teeth, pushing him harder. I was't losing her. Under any circumstance. She can't leave like this. What if she gets hurt? What if she does something stupid? What I never saw her again? She can't walk away like this.

I felt Nick's arm pull me back. "Matt stop!" Nick said. I turned around and looked at him. "Let her go" Nick said softly. "Nick I will rip your arm off, let me go now" I spat. He bit his lip as he looked at me. I realized that the party talk had stopped around us and everyone was looking at us.

"I will fight you in front of everyone. I don't care. I can't let her leave" I said glaring at him, my eyes full of tears. He just blinked at me. I ripped my arm away from him and sprinted towards the door. I ripped the door open and ran down the driveway, the tears clouding my vision. I could barely see.

"Please" I mumbled looking around. She was nowhere to be found. "Fuck" My voice broke. I heard footsteps come from behind me as I walked back and forth down the street. No sign of her anywhere.

She left.

I turned kicking the trash can to the ground and fisting my hair with my hand. I looked over to see Chris and Nick looking at me with a worried expression from the driveway. I tore my eyes away from them, looking away as a cry escaped my throat. I covered my face with my hands as the tears came.

I heard footsteps approach me and I felt a hand on my back. I pushed away from them. I looked up.

"A-Are you happy?" I asked looking between them. They both looked at each other. I wiped my nose and looked down. "Are you?" Nick asked looking at me, making me look up at them. "What?" I spat, trying to catch my breath. Nick sighed and looked down.

"We told you-" Chris started. "I'm not talking about this with you" I cut him off pushing past him. "I told you that you were gonna hurt her!" He screamed back at me making me stop. I glared down at the ground. "She didn't deserve that" Chris breathed. I bit my lip before letting out a deep breath. I stopped, sitting down on the grass. They walked over sitting next to me. I shook my head as I leaned down crying between my knees.

"I didn't-" I shook as their arms came around me. "How could I-" I choked. I leaned up attempting to breathe. "I should have-" I stopped as I cried. "She told me she loved me" I whispered, Chris and Nick looked at each other.

"And you didn't already know that?" Nick asked looking down at me. I looked over at him. I closed my eyes and sighed. A part of me knew that. A part of me saw it in the way she looked at me, or the way she spoke to me. The other part of me just didn't want to accept that.

"You fell in love with her too, you're just too fucking prideful to admit it" Chris said making me, bite my lip. "I don't date" I said shaking my head. Chris stood up standing in front of me. "Will you get over yourself?" He yelled down at me. I didn't look up at him.

"Look at you right now! You almost fought Nick in there for stopping you from getting to her and you're gonna sit here and tell me that you don't love her?" He yelled. I glared at my feet. "You talk about her like she's the only thing you think about for god's sake!" He said throwing his hands up.

"You're private about your life with her and I get that, I do, but if you were just using her for a good fuck and that's it- wouldn't you brag about it? Wouldn't you tell you're best friends about what she does behind closed doors?" He asked making me look up at him. I glared at him, tightening my fists.

"Chris" Nick said warningly. Chris scoffed shaking his head. "No" He said crossing his arms. "No, he doesn't." He looked back at me. "What does she do huh?" Chris said raising his eyebrows. I closed my eyes. I can't fight my brother. I can't fight my brother. My mind screamed at me.

"Is she good at giving head?" He asked suddenly my eyes snapped open at him. I let out a breath. "What kind of underwear does she wear? Hm?" He asked looking at me. I felt all the blood rush to my head. He can't talk about her like that. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Or does she even wear any at all?" He said. I stood up pushing him back. "Matt!" Nick stood up. Chris walked back to me, pushing me and then we were in a full on brawl. He punched me in the shoulder and I punched him across the face.

"Matt what the fuck!" Nick yelled between us. Chris wiped his mouth, blood present on his hand. Chris held his hand up to stop Nick from interfering. He spat on the ground before walking back towards me. "You wanna go? Let's go fuck boy" He said motioning for me to come towards him. I walked over to him grabbing him by the shoulders and onto the ground beneath us.

"Get off of each other!" Nick yelled. He pushed himself on top of me, holding me against the ground.

"You talk about how pretty her eyes are" He breathed looking down at me. I struggled beneath him, glaring up at him. He pushed my shoulders harder against the ground. I was breathing heavy up at him. "You talk about what joke's she told" He stated. I stopped struggling.

"You talk about her like you love her" He said letting my shoulders go. I turned my head and tears started to come up to my eyes again. "You just need to get over yourself and admit it" He said climbing off me completely. I let out a breath sitting up.

They both looked down at me. I avoided their eyes and looked away.

"Of course I'm in love with her" I admitted out loud for the first time. Nick smiled down at me and Chris shook his head. "How could someone not be?" I sighed rubbing my face. "I treated her like shit" I said realizing everything I've done to her. They just stood in front of me.

"Fuck" I said hanging my head. "What do I do?" I asked looking up at them, they just looked at each other.

lollll sorry i'm just gonna leave this hear (dont hate me)❤️

#christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

[alloftheimaginesblog]

nose in a book {bucky barnes}

plot: the coffee shop you and bucky frequent is also a library and every week, you have your nose in a new book.

request by sunflowerkitten2: a coffee shop meet-cute

character: reader x bucky barnes

In all of his years, Bucky Barnes had been to hundreds of coffee shops and had drank thousands of crappy cups of coffee but recently, he'd began to drink at this coffee shop. It was a small shop, half library half coffee shop with warm lighting and a nostalgic musky smell from the old books that adorned the shelves. There was a certain charm to it but the coffee certainly wasn't it. The coffee was actually pretty awful but there was a reason that Bucky kept coming back to this one.

The reason was you.

Each time Bucky came into the small shop, there you sat same time every Saturday morning, same time but always with a different book in your hand. From the first time Bucky entered that coffee shop, he was intrigued by you.

You were usually too concentrated on the book to look up at him when the chime of the door went as he walked in. Sometimes you caught each other's eye and exchanged friendly smiles but that was rare.

Bucky had never approached you, he wanted to but he wasn't that confident around asking beautiful people out anymore. He had changed a lot since the forties. Today though, the book you held in your hands was familiar to him... in fact it was one of his favourites; The Hobbit.

"You know," he said gently as he approached you, voice soft so's not to scare you, "I was there when they first printed that book."

With the comment, you expected it to be attached to a ninety year old man (which he was but you didn't know that yet) and instead you were met with the blue eyes of a very handsome thirty something year old. You laughed, "That's a rubbish pick up line," you teased.

Bucky frowned, "Not a pick up line, doll," he said, "I was actually there. 1937. What a year."

You blinked at him, insanely confused, before your foot pushed out the chair across from me, "Okay, I gotta hear this... How?"

He sat with a smile, reaching his hand across the table to shake yours, "Bucky Barnes, ma'am. Pleasure to meet you." Bucky... Barnes. That name sounded familiar.

Then it clicked.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a little surprise as your shook his glove clad hand, "Oh my god, you look so good for your age." You hadn't meant to say that, it sounded pretty fucking weird but Bucky's face split into a wide grin. You were amusing. Usually, when people realised who Bucky was they recoiled with fear or at the very least they'd be apprehensive to talk to a ninety something assassin but you... you looked intrigued? He laughed, thanking you for the compliment that slipped out.

"Have you read Lord of the Rings?" You asked him with slightly warm cheeks.

It was his turn to be confused, "I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"Oh my god!" You gasped, "So obviously this is the Hobbit and this is a prequel to The Lord of the Rings which is hands down one of the best series ever written. They made movies of them too! It follows Bilbo's nephew, Frodo and his quest to destroy the Ring."

Bucky vaguely recalled Stark talking about movies that sounded similar to that title, "Are they any good?" He asked, genuinely curious, "To be honest, I've not seen many movies."

"They're so good. They made Hobbit movies too. Three."

He frowned, "Three movies? Did two more Hobbit books come out then?"

You shook your head, explaining that it was three movies centred around the one book, "I really liked them," you shrugged, "but is that because I just absolutely love the Hobbit? Who knows?"

As you and Bucky continued to chat you realised a very important fact, "I just realised I never told you my name," you said stopping mid sentence, "I'm (y/n). It's so nice to meet you, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, "Trust me, doll, pleasure's all mine... Now, can I buy you another cup of coffee?"

#one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fic #os #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky #bucky barnes imagine #imagine

[princesssmars]

another one of my dreams that i have to write out because it flabbergasted me and two of my friends. but this time about hazel from bottoms.

ok, reader is the new girl at school. in my dream i was kind of a loser (accurate) but because i can write what i want (and i've read @ptolemaeacles cheerleader headcanons ten times) im changing it.

so reader is trying out to be cheerleader! it helps you make a few friends, isabel being the best one because she’s amazing, beautiful, and a little weird in a really endearing way. she finds you interesting, given your natural talent for dancing and how despite doing vulgar dance moves on the football field, off of it you can be a shy and sweet person!

because of this isabel, brittany and you are pretty much always together. and since they're popular and seen everywhere, that means you are seen everywhere!

which means hazel cant take a fucking break.

walking to sit with pj and josie during lunch and means almost having a heart attack when she sees you handing out flyers for the next school event, looking so ethereal in your cheer uniform she nearly trips over herself.

or when every morning she sits two rows over from you in math class, not so sneakily staring at you for minutes at a time while doing her worksheets.

despite being close to a genius, she thinks there's no way in hell you have ever noticed her. never seen the way your eyes will drift to her when she's sitting in the bleachers while, you're practicing, how you're heart will race when the teacher is calling names for project partners with the chance that the brunette could be in your group.

so sure you had a crush that was going nowhere, but you had a nice bunch of new friends, so people we're starting to like you!

all except one.

mrs. fucking barnes.

for whatever reason, your second period english teacher had decided on your first day to make your senior year a living fucking hell.

put a good amount of effort into an essay? you get a d minus!

want to share a comment you had about the book the class is reading? shut up silly, jeff is going to popcorn read and stutter over a basic sentence!

but one friday, you decided to skip class and the next week she went ballistic.

now, since moving to town, you had noticed that the people here were a little odd, regularly seeing a normal interaction or conversation go to the extreme in seconds.

so, when you're hovering over the toilet in the girls bathroom, a small thought in your brain that loves to say what if's asks: what if somebody bursted in here right now?

when you finish and stand up to pull your jeans up, only to be interrupted when the stall doors bust open with a loud bang! you think for split second that god can literally hear your thoughts and is making you pay for whatever sins you've committed.

those sins must have been fucking murder to make up for how mortified you felt standing in a cramped girls bathroom stall, your pants down with three people staring at you/

the first, mrs. barnes, wearing a look thats a mix between anger and regret.

the second is nettie brown, a girl you recognized from your art class who you remember complimented your heels and you did the same for her coat.'

and then, standing in front the sinks with eyes that look as big as fucking saucers, hazel callahan herself.

your brain catches up to your body and you manage to splutter out a string of curses and yells, forcing the door back closed as the teachers splutters out an excuse about someone telling her you had started doing weed in the bathrooms.

you hear her and some more shoes shuffling out of the bathroom, taking a minute to gather your bearings before you leave the bathroom. when you open the door again you rest your hands on the counter, your eyes closed as you take a breath. when you look up to your reflection, in your peripheral you see a figure standing awkwardly at the back of the bathroom, blue eyes avoiding looking at you.

"hazel?" you ask under your breath, turning around to look at her dead on. she flinches to attention like a child called to attention.

"uh...i just wanted to make sure that you were alright, what she did was really fucked up."

"oh," you mouth, grateful that after something so embarrassing this girl who you barely knew was waiting in a crappy bathroom to make sure you were alright. if it was possible your crush on her just grows. "thank you. that means a lot to me."

her face lights up so brightly you think it could light up a city.

"no problem! i mean, really who cares that much about weed, anyway? i've never cared about bush anyway-"

the room gets silent.

as she quickly rushes out an apology and leaves, all you can think about is how its weird you've been shocked like this twice in a span of ten minutes, and that you have got to ask hazel callahan on a date.

i made this a lot cuter than it was in my dream. i was in the bathroom, looking at these really nice coats on the counter ?? when the door opened, hazel just said "y'know ive never minded bush" and the sheer confusion made wake up.

i put my senior year english teacher in here because. i still hate that bitch.

#bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #bottoms x reader #hazel #hazel callahan #hazel x reader #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you

[becca-e-barnes]

Beccaaa, I'm missing darkbestfriend!bucky so much, could you spoil me, please?

Okay, hear me out. I've had SUCH a fantasy recently about those aphrodisiac supplements and how much fun they could be. I've never tried them but I've been looking into them this week and it's on my list of things to do this year 👀

I'm soooo convinced these would be right up darkbestfriend!bucky's street and he'd turn it into a bit of a game.

"Are you sure you want to try these? I don't know if you can handle them. They're pretty intense." He's watching you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, pretty confident he knows your answer before you even say it. "You know what the rules are. We take one each and you have to sit there like a good girl. You can't touch me and I can't touch you. Whoever gives in first loses."

This isn't a game you think you'll be awfully good at but you're happy to lose this one.

"Got it. Give me one." You haven't always been known for your patience but being direct pays off this time. You take a capsule each, chasing it with some water.

The first little while is easy enough. You go back to reading your book and Bucky refocuses his attention on the show he was watching.

It builds slowly. You notice the heat first, originating at the base of your spine, fizzling outwards. Within a few minutes you feel it right to your fingertips but it's still bearable.

Bearable until the dull throb settles deep inside you. You feel your sex tightening and releasing and you've got no control over the flutters of arousal that have taken over your body. Fuck, you're wet. You have no idea how but you can feel it already when you press your thighs together beneath the skirt of your dress.

The heat building in your body creeps higher. You find yourself rereading the same sentence of your book over and over and you still have no idea what the hell it said. You need to cool down. Or touch yourself. Since the latter is banned, you settle for taking your jacket off, laying it neatly on the bed.

"Holy fuck, that's cheating." Bucky sounds more than a little strained, his eyes trained on the exposed neckline of your dress and your bare shoulders. "Fuck it, you win."

Within a second you feel his lips are on yours, his body slotting on top of you and this is exactly what you need. His hand trails up the inside of your thighs, groaning against your lips when he finds what he's looking for.

"Jesus, you soaked through your panties." He can't slow down. Not that you want him to. There's a desperation in you both that you'd quite happily drown in, given the chance.

Your clothes fall into a heap on the floor, along with his and although you've hardly even touched him he's rock hard and throbbing; his tip leaking precum that he smears over the slick folds of your cunt.

It's never felt like this before. You're so sensitive, you can do nothing but whimper. You don't know what you need him to do but you know you need more.

"Bucky please. Oh God, please fuck me. I-I can't..." You press your hips up off the bed, hoping to achieve whatever it is that you need but you have no such luck.

"Is this what you want?" He's overconfident, slapping his length against the softest part of your body, enjoying the obscene sounds.

As soon as you nod, he slides himself into your body, almost sobbing at the feeling of you around him. Despite all his teasing, he's convinced he needed this even more than you did.

The first few thrusts feel insane in the very best way. You can't stop yourself from moaning and you certainly can't help the way you try to meet his hips with your own, ensuring he's as deep inside you as possible.

"You've gotta be quiet, honey. Whole damn street can hear you getting fucked like a desperate slut." He's right but you're surprised he cares. "Open that pretty mouth."

You do as you're told, waiting for him to fill your mouth with his fingers or maybe spit in it but you weren't expecting him to set your own heavy, wet panties on your waiting tongue. "Gonna get you addicted to the way you taste. Just like I am." He keeps his hand clamped over your lips, his hips stuttering while he pumps you full of his cum but that doesn't mean he's finished. Not even close.

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #Bucky Barnes smut #darkbestfriend!bucky #I've already got to tick a lot off my list for the year #I tried caviar #and lobster #and oysters #they were all on it #and I really want to try uni #and this ^^ #consider this a formal suggestion btw 👀

[fanficbtss13]

Pretty Please?~

<Babygirl series> [1]

JJK (JEON JUNGKOOK) ONESHOT SMUT.

⚠️ WARMING: DO NOT read if you are not used to smut and mature content or if you are not an adult.

Do NOT copy.

Available on Instagram too- @fanficbtss13

Loving you right seven days a week.

⬇️

Fucking

<><><><><><><>

GUITARIST BOYFRIEND

<><><><><><><>

She put the hot chocolate cup on the coffee table after taking a sip from it and sighed in satisfaction. A clicking sound came as the main door opened and a manly voice sighed in tiredness. "I am home, babe." He stepped inside and took off his shoes, putting them on the rack.

He rushed inside towards her and lay on the couch rested his head on her chest and slid his hand inside her top, grabbing her breast and massaging it lightly, trying to let his stress out by being close to her.

She smiled and caressed his hair. "How was your day at practice, baby?" He smiled as he closed his eyes while feeling her nipple touching his palm he squeezed her breast gently and hummed. "Hm, as usual, it was just so tiring.

I always just feel like I could just touch and press against your soft skin." She chuckled lightly as she cupped his cheek and made him look at her as his hand was still on her breast, squeezing and massaging lightly to be stress-free after being tired by his practice. "You are doing great, Kookie. Don't overwork yourself, okay?"

He was silent for a while and sighed and nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's just I want the best for us both in the future." He stared at her lips and then licked his lips quickly. She raised her eyes and ruffled his hair lightly. "You have the next practice session, right? When is it?" By seeing him staring at her lips, she knew what he was thinking.

He gave a quick glance at her eyes and again looked at her lips. "Um, yeah in an hour." His voice was getting a bit deeper and fingers slowly teased her nipple while looking at her.

"Jungkook, I know what you are doing baby, we just did it the morning before you went for your practice, you were like 'I will miss you, baby, I need it.' What will you do if I will just not be in your life anymore?" She scolded him and his hand's grip tightened on her breast as his jaw clinched at her last sentence.

"Fucking dare say that again baby, or you will be cumming all day." Her heart pounded in her ribcage when she heard him say that and sighed and gave a sweet peck on his forehead, he looked down at her body, slowly sliding up her top. "What are you doing? You know you have your practice session in a while, you will get late like this."

She held his wrists to stop him and he looked up and gave her a lustful glare. "Oh stop me if you can." He smirked and moved closer and pinned her wrists above her head and her eyes widened by his aggressiveness all of a sudden. He traces his index finger on her jaw. "I've heard you are having a salsa dance for your next performance this week?" He poked his inner cheek, clearly showing his regular expression as if he was jealous.

"Who is that guy you are dancing with?"

She gulped and took a deep breath, her heart was going crazy inside her ribcage and her hands fist a bit as his hands were pinning her wrists above her head. "Jungkook, he is a normal guy and yeah he has a girlfriend. You know baby, there is nothing between us or will never happen when I love you." She was staring directly into his eyes, all his eyes screamed jealousy and lust with a mix of possessiveness and love. He shook his head,

"Oh baby, did I ask that? I. Asked. Who. He. Is. I didn't ask if I trust you or not." His jaw tightened as his hands also tightened around her wrists, he leaned and his other hand moved on her chin, gripping on it lightly and titled it as he pressed his lips on her jaw, up her neck, kissing her soft spot hungrily and possessively.

"I trust you, but not other guys." He finally completed his sentence and her lips parted as he gripped the skin of her neck between his teeth gently, marking on there.

She knew he was getting jealous and just putting those marks to show others that she was taken. "Ah- um, S-Seokmin." She shuttered and he teased her neck area with his kisses and love bite. "Hm okay, just tell me if he does anything to my baby girl, okay? And if he even touched my baby girl inappropriately, he would be messing with the wrong guy."

He said in a low voice and moved his hands unhooked her bra and took off her top, now her upper body was naked in front of his hungry eyes, he was trying not to let the animal inside him take over all the control. "Um, Jungkook you will get late for your practice." She bit her lower lip and his breath ragged as her heart pounded seeing him staring at her breast,

"Fuck baby, why are you always too beautiful to resist? Huh?" He swallowed hard, gliding his hands all over her body which was so beautiful and gorgeous in his eyes, and again met her gaze, "No way I will not fuck you every single day, even twice a day." He moved closer and whispered and his hands cupped her breasts. Her eyes widen, "No way baby, it's too much!" She whined and he laughed at her cute whining,

"For me, it will still not be enough." He smirked as his hand moved down and took off her shorts and rubbed her clit with his thumb through her pantie, and she gasped lightly, "Jung... Jungkook you have a practice session, you will get late like this." She tried to pull away but his hand was tight on her wrists and he smirked wider,

"Oh no, I need to fuck that tight little pussy, jerk off and leave my cum inside as if I am writing my name there forever. And as for the practice, I promise I will make this quick and that's it." He moved lower and took off her pantie too.

"Now be my good baby girl and spread your legs and show your pussy to your dearest boyfriend." She looked at him and gulped, biting her lower lip harder. "But-" She was about to say something but he cut her off by spreading her legs himself after hearing 'but' from her and she closed her eyes tightly. He placed his two fingers over her folds and spread her folds, he was getting hard in his pants as he looked up at her with hooked eyes.

"Please let me get inside, my baby girl?" His calling to her, pleading and his fingers on his folds made her more wetter for him. She reluctantly nodded his head and leaned back on the couch. "But be quick, okay?" His lips break out with a lustful bright smile as he hears her and his hands rush over the bottom of his jeans he takes off his jeans and includes his boxers, exposing his hard length and positioning himself near her pussy.

"You know what baby? I was just thinking about you in the practice room. Yeah, we did this, this morning but I was feeling like being inside of you forever."

He gazed directly into her eyes, and she gripped his shirt tightly he entered inside her and she gasped. Both of their hearts were pounding inside their chests crazily.

"Fuck." He groaned as he started moving inside her tight hole, stretching her with his huge size and she gasped, the slapping of wetness and the sound from their parted lips filled the living room, he started moving faster and leaned over her, capturing her lips on his, making their moans collide just how their body were colliding.

"Jungkook..." She moaned his name against his ear and he started moving faster hearing that and wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and pulled her up and now she was on top of his and his legs were folded back. He thrust upwards, filling her more and they moaned louder together.

"I'm... So fucking close.." He growled lightly and thrust harder inside her and held her close to him as she gasped louder than before when he released his cum inside of her. They were breathing heavily and he was buried deep inside her, emptying himself.

He slowly pulled out of her and it made a light wet sticky sound, he gazed down, his cum was dripping out of her as he was breathing heavily, and her lipstick was smudged, all was so sexy in his eyes as he pulled her close to his chest "Thank you, so much baby." He whispered in her ear and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek and she smiled. "Why do I need to thank, kookie? You know it is yours, forever."

She made him chuckle lightly and he ruffled her hair and took a blanket from the edge of the couch and wrapped it around her and he stood up wearing his clothes back. Her breathing got normal as he looked at him, dressing.

"Okay, I am getting late. I need to rush!" He looked at the clock on his phone and looked back at her and smiled fondly and affectionately and leaned to give her a quick peck on her lips and she blushed lightly and smiled. "Bye, baby." She said in a soft voice and he smirked.

"Just let me come back, and I definitely have no intention to let you sleep tonight, bye baby girl!"

He had already rushed out, and she didn't even get the chance to even protest back she leaned on the couch and blushed while smiling thinking about what just happened between them.

END

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#bts jhope #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts suga #bts jin #bts v #bts taehyung #bts fic #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jjk smut #smut #bts ffs #bts ff #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #fanfiction smut #jeon jungkook smut

[zablife]

Tachipen (Part 5)

Summary: With the flip of a coin, Tommy makes a deal to bring a young gypsy girl into the Shelby clan. Considering her too young to marry, he takes pity on her and employs her as a nanny for John’s children instead. The arrangement soon sours when Tommy believes his horse has been cursed and demands her help stealing from the Lees. When she seeks solace in John’s company, an innocent romance blossoms, but a war with the Lees and Polly’s poorly-timed advice drive them apart in a way that will change their history forever. As the scenes from the present reveal, Y/n must watch the Shelby men go on to love others while she is shut out. However, the events of one tragic afternoon could change everything.

Author’s Note: After a 5 month hiatus, this story is back! I'll be updating more regularly now that I've outlined more of the fic. The story is told through flashbacks, but I will note the year. Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925. 

Warnings: language, ethnic slur, implied smut, mention of pregnancy, mention of arranged marriage

Part 4

1924

The frosted glass shook as Polly forcefully closed John’s office door, her eyes darting from you to her nephew. “What is this I hear about the two of you sniping at one another like bloody children?”

You and John both started speaking at once and Polly shouted over you to assert authority. “That’s enough! John, perhaps you could explain why you’re even in the office today?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Y/n is perfectly capable of supervising the other girls.”

John opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock, giving the appearance of a fish out of water before you interjected. “He’s been hovering over me for weeks, Pol. Won’t let me finish one fucking job without trying to find a mistake!”

John pointed a finger in your direction as he retorted, “If she could keep her mind on her work instead of her love life for a change--”

“Would you stop?!" you screamed, interrupting him mid-sentence. You felt the emotion welling in your chest and did your best to keep from crying. Running a shaky hand through your hair, you took a deep breath to regain control before continuing your plea to Polly. "I did as I was told. I broke up with Angel and I apologized…” you stopped before you broke down, then continued with the part that stung most, “for the inconvenience.” Those had been the words Arthur insisted you use. He’d probably consulted Linda about it at the first sign of trouble, you thought bitterly. 

Polly softened at your show of emotion, reaching across the table for your hand. “Alright, I think I understand. John, would you leave us, please?” John nodded with clenched jaw, pushing out of his chair with more force than necessary. He looked back at you as he crossed to the door and you swore you saw a brief shadow of remorse cross his handsome features though you couldn’t be sure with the lingering tension between you.

When you were finally alone, Polly began, “Y/n, I’m sorry about this. I know you’re upset about the Changretta boy and I don’t blame you, but what’s done is done. And you must understand that John is under a lot of stress at home. I’m not sure if you know this, but there's another little one on the way,” she said hesitantly.

“Again?” you nearly shrieked. It was the third time in the nearly four years he'd been married. 

Polly nodded slowly. “You see why he’s so on edge lately?”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of how chaotic the household must be with six children, soon to be seven. Although you attempted a shred of compassion for his new wife, you couldn’t manage it. “Yes, I understand,” you said in a quiet monotone. “He has a lot of people depending on him.” It was what Polly wanted to hear so you spoke the words, turning your head away so she couldn’t read your expression.

“Exactly. I know it doesn’t excuse his behavior here, but we all have to learn to get along,” she advised, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before leaving you alone in the room. A bitter laugh escaped your throat at the thought of any of you living peacefully after all you’d inflicted upon one another. 

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1919

As the first rays of dawn broke, you sat up in bed, face aching from the bruise across your cheek and your mind reeling from the events of the previous day. If Tommy hadn’t trusted you before, there was no hope for you now with so much cash missing from the betting shop, especially when he learned the Lees were to blame. How could he not think you were involved?

Panic setting into your bones, you decided to make a hasty retreat from Polly’s house while you still could. Despite the throbbing in your wrist, you slipped your dress over your head and silently turned the bedroom doorknob, giving the hallway a quick glance for occupants. With no signs of activity, you slipped quietly down the steps and right to the front door, knowing this would be the most difficult part of your escape. The rusty hinges creaked loudly and you cringed at the noise, well aware of how it carried throughout the house. Rightfully so as Tommy’s voice beckoned to you at the sound. “Where are you off to so early?” his husky voice called out.

You spun around to face him, heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his wrath to rain down upon you. You calculated the distance to the street, wondering if you might still be able to outrun him, when he suddenly closed the distance between you, shutting the door with a gentle push. 

As he stared into your eyes, he spoke again in a much softer voice. “I misjudged you."

You held your breath realizing how close he stood, the heat radiating off his body into yours. Transfixed by the intensity of his bright, blue eyes, you couldn’t help but stare back at him. The anxious flutter you felt in your stomach intensified as you waited to hear what he thought he knew about you.

“What you did for Ada last night was…” he looked away for a moment as he tried to find the words to express the gratitude he felt upon hearing of Ada’s difficult labor and delivery. “Well, my sister and nephew are alive because of you. You could have gone with the Lees, but you stayed here,” he said, emphasizing the last part. You realized he was recognizing the loyalty in your decision, though for you it had been a matter of common decency.

“Thank you,” he added hesitantly and you could tell from the way he said it, he didn’t make a habit of ingratiating himself to others.

“I only did what I thought was right,” you said, averting your eyes to the floorboards.

One look at your tense posture and Tommy took a step back to give you air. He gestured toward the table as he asked, “Will you sit with me?” You nodded slowly, crossing to join him at the kitchen table. Tommy took a seat and lit a cigarette, leaning back and tilting his head as he searched the ceiling through the rings of smoke. Then the words tumbled forth, breaking the awkward silence unexpectedly. 

“About that night in the stable… I brought you here to look after my family and I had to know I could trust you. Charlie thought you might have put a spell on the horse and for a moment I believed him.” Sitting up and looking you in the eye he added, “But when I asked you for the truth, I could tell by your reaction that it wasn’t your doing.”

Your eyes grew wide at his confession. You hadn’t expected him to speak of it ever again and the thought of him bringing it up now made you shudder. With a dismissive air and bitter tone you pushed it away saying, “M used to it. No one trusts gypsies.” You hugged your arms around your body to still your trembling limbs, hoping Tommy would’t recognize weakness in you.  

“It’s not right though,” he said looking you in the eye. “I should never have…”

“No, you shouldn’t, you bastard” you interjected, jaw firmly set at the mention of his cruel treatment. 

Tommy sucked his teeth as he flicked ash into a mug, giving your jab a moment to wash over him before responding. “I suppose I deserve that, but I want to make amends. Can we start fresh?” Tommy asked, blue eyes searching yours intently.

“Yes, I think so,” you agreed reluctantly, unsure how this turn of events had happened.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Because I’d like to invite you to have a seat at the next family meeting.”

Your head was still swimming with Tommy’s apology so you weren’t quite sure you heard correctly. “What? When?” you sputtered.

“Today, we have to go on the offensive now that the Lees have struck a blow and you’re our best hope of understanding their way of thinking,” Tommy explained. 

You touched the bruise on the right side of your face that was turning to a dark shade of purple, thinking of how your sister was one of them by now. What would your scheming do to her, you wondered?

While you were lost in thought, Tommy leaned forward to examine your swollen wrist and you cried out at his touch. He lifted your hand and moved it carefully to see if there were any broken bones, a skill he’d learned during the war while attending to his men. Nodding thoughtfully he replied, “You’ve got a sprain. You should let me wrap it.” 

“Alright,” you agreed, watching as Tommy fetched a bandage and efficiently went about his work, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lower lip. His touch was surprisingly gentle and your mind wandered to the times you’d watched him with the horses. You recalled how they’d responded to him without the use of a whip, only the sound of his voice over the noise of the scrap metal yard. You couldn’t deny that there was something about his presence in this moment that you found calming.

The roughness of his voice cut the silence as he spoke for the first time since he began tending to you. “I’ll be off to John’s now,” he said with a nod as he stamped out his smoke and before you could ask anything more he was gone, leaving you in quiet contemplation of your new role within the family and everything you thought you knew about Tommy.

————————————-

“Open up!” A voice bellowed out before John’s front door swung open, footsteps falling hard and fast on the stairs leading to the bedroom.

John sat up quickly, pulling the duvet over his naked body before reaching for his revolver on the nightstand. Tommy burst in with John cursing, “Fuck, Tommy! When will you learn to knock?” 

“When will you learn to lock your bloody door? The Lees could still be in town for all we know,” Tommy scolded.

As the brothers argued, the woman beside John began to stir at the sound of their shouting. As she rolled over to face John, Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he caught sight of the woman’s familiar dark curls. John covered her quickly though he knew Tommy had already spied his secretary.

John tossed his gun onto the bedside table as he waved his brother off. “Alright, that’s enough! Get out!”

“Fine, but get dressed quickly. There’s business to discuss,” Tommy said, turning to leave. Then hesitating for a moment he called over his shoulder, “Lizzie, I want you at work by nine!”

She inhaled a sharp breath beneath the covers, embarrassed at being caught in bed with the boss’s younger brother. She’d gone to the Garrison to celebrate the new baby with everyone else from the office, but it was Tommy she’d been after. John just happened to be the brother who stumbled into the snug first.

After donning her dress and shoes, Lizzie leaned over with a warm smile and gave John a tender goodbye kiss. His head pounding from the hangover, he gave her only a sliver of affection in return, the reality of what he’d done hitting him full force. When he closed his eyes the only person he could see was you.

“I’ll be going, but I’d like to do this again. You never call me anymore,” she said biting her lip. Pulling back to study him she noticed John’s baby blue eyes didn’t dance with light as they had the night before.

“Listen, Lizzie…” he began, but Tommy interrupted, calling to him from downstairs. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” he said and she nodded cheerfully before pulling on her heels and clicking down the hall.

By the time John joined Tommy in the kitchen, Tommy was pacing like a wild animal. “Where the fuck were you yesterday, eh?” he asked, pointing a finger at his brother. 

John rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head slightly. He couldn’t think clearly. What had happened? Before he had time to reply, Tommy was stalking toward him angrily. “The betting shop was robbed by the Lees. Y/n and Ada could have been killed because you left your post, John!”

“Oh, fuck off, Tommy!” John replied. “This is not my fault! How was I meant to do collections for Arthur and run the shop? Scudboat was there anyhow,” he asserted, pulling his suspenders up with an annoyed roll of his neck.

“Except he wasn’t. He went to Charlie’s yard for the arrival of the new shipment which is why you were supposed to have been back by four!” Tommy said, slamming the kitchen table with his palm for emphasis. Running a hand through his hair he shook his head muttering, “You never fucking listen.”

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, another vision of you suddenly dancing across his eyelids. He’d noticed a deep red mark on your cheek and how you winced when Ada put too much pressure on your hand, but you’d both been so consumed with Ada’s labor. You’d been steadfast delivering the baby, but that was how you were when you were scared, carrying on despite the fear. John’s head shot up as he asked, “Y/n? How is she?”

Tommy let out a heavy sigh as he realized he was finally getting through to his brother, plopping down in a chair he replied, “She has some bruises and a sprained wrist. She was lucky this time, brother, but the danger will increase. The Lees know she gave us information about their operation. They took their money, but now they want blood,” Tommy said ominously. 

John nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t let his concentration lapse again. You were too important and he was determined to do everything in his power to protect you this time. He only needed to bring you home.

———————————————-

The family assembled in the betting shop without noticing you hovering in the corner, feeling woefully out of place. Polly and Arthur were already seated, talking quietly as Polly smoked her clove cigarettes. Lizzie sat with pencil and paper in hand to take notes if necessary, but she didn’t appear nearly as concerned as the others. In fact, she was positively radiant, as though she couldn't stop smiling. You wondered what she had to be so cheerful about, when Isaiah appeared in the doorway, remarking to her, “Looks as though someone had a good night.”

“You know, John,” Lizzie replied with a giggle. Your heart stopped as you watched her bite her lip seductively, wondering what she meant by that. 

Moving to the kitchen to help yourself to a cup of tea, Isaiah sauntered in behind you, clearing his throat to announce his presence. “Why didn’t you come to the Garrison last night?” he asked, leaning against the cupboards with a casual charm he directed at most ladies.

“I was tired. Delivering a baby will do that,” you replied with a smile.

“Of course. John said you were brilliant,” Isaiah complimented you as he removed his cap and smoothed his hair.

“Isaiah, was Lizzie with you and John last night?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

A wide grin spread across Isaiah’s face as he accepted the mug of tea you offered exclaiming, “Yeah, for a bit. Then they told me to piss off. I mean, you know how they are.”

“N-no, I don’t,” you stuttered, hands beginning to tremble around your cup.

“Those two can’t keep their hands off each other! It’s been that way since the war ended. John used to blind her other customers just so he could see her more often,” he said with a laugh. When Isaiah observed your blank expression he continued saying, “You know what Lizzie used to do, don’t you?” 

Shaking your head, you felt your stomach drop and your mouth go dry as he explained their arrangement. Apparently John had been paying her for sex for years. The words stabbed into you as you held yourself up against the cupboards, willing your face not to betray your tender heart in front of a blinder. 

But the terrible feeling of betrayal was overwhelming as you remembered Katie’s words about her father and his whores. You thought John had feelings for you, but clearly you’d been wrong. The pit in your stomach grew as you relived the kiss you shared the night before outside Polly’s house. He must have sensed your hesitation and gone back to someone more experienced and familiar. You felt another twist of the knife as you wondered if he ever wanted you. His brother had forced him to take you in after all and suddenly you felt terribly foolish. Worried your legs might give out at any moment, you excused yourself to take a seat at the table.

The pain only worsened as Lizzie turned to address you with an air of worldly sophistication. “Y/n, it was kind of you to leave John and me last night. One day you’ll see how important it is that a man and a woman have their privacy. I know John appreciates it,” she said with a wink and a knowing smile. As heat seeped into your cheeks with the overwhelming feeling of humiliation, it was almost more than you could bare. Did everyone know John saw you as a child who wasn’t worthy of his attention?

Soon Tommy and John arrived, taking their seats at the table and you found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you tried to avoid John’s gaze.

As Tommy called the meeting to order you noticed all eyes on you, making you painfully aware that as a non blood relative nor a blinder, you shouldn’t be there. Tommy quickly put everyone’s fears to rest, making it known that he had asked you to be his adviser and no one dared go against Tommy. 

The meeting progressed quickly after that with John proposing an all out war against the Lees. He wanted to see them all cut to ribbons and you could tell by the dangerous gleam in his eye he was more than capable. Lizzie gave him a nod of approval from across the table and your blood boiled at the thought of them discussing strategy together, plotting and scheming as they lay tangled between the sheets. You were past the point of tears by now, coiling your hands into fists below the table.

While no one else came forward with a different thought right away, Arthur quickly agreed to John’s plan. Not one for ideas himself, he went along with the quickest method of handling enemies. 

However, Polly was next to speak and interjected reason before the men could become too blood hungry. “This all began because of greed, Thomas. If we propose to share our contacts with Erasmus and thus the earnings, it might convince them to stop trying to kill us.” You could see Polly favored peace above all else, but you knew Tommy would never settle for half his take. 

Then the idea came to you, born of resentment and retaliation, but an age old solution that would work nonetheless. You knew how to achieve peace if only you could convince your aunt and Tommy.

“There’s another way, but it requires discussion with an elder, my aunt, Zilpha,” you proposed, glancing up at Tommy.

“She’ll see me after everything that’s happened?” Tommy asked, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“No, but she’ll see me,” you promised him. You could see the wheels in his mind turning as he pondered what you might say to your aunt. If he truly trusted you, he would agree to let you speak on their behalf, however. 

With a small nod he agreed. “Alright, I’ll take you tomorrow,” Tommy said. “You’d better get some rest.” And with that, he left everyone in stunned silence, their fate in your hands.

As everyone filed out of the room, John remained, leaning on a desk. When you attempted to walk past, he stopped you, reaching out to capture your arm. “Y/n, wait,” he called out.

Your eyebrows shot up at his request, unsure why he hadn’t dashed out after Lizzie. It seemed her company was what he craved now so why was he here waiting for you? “What is it, John?” you asked, voice tinged with irritation. 

“I wanted to see how you are,” he said, looking you over with what appeared to be genuine concern. His opposite hand traced the bandage that covered your wrist, eyes trained on your injury as though he felt the pain concealed beneath it. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to break away, but John held you to him.

Reaching up to caress your bruised cheek he spoke earnestly, “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have been at the shop. If I had been, none of this would have happened.”

“Well you can’t change it now,” you replied, locking eyes with him, wanting to scream at him about Lizzie, but knowing it wouldn’t help.

“Let me at least try to make it up to you,” John pleaded, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “Come home,” he suggested in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him.

“Why?” you asked, snatching your hand away.

The biting tone had obviously hurt John, a wounded look crossing his face immediately as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. “Because…because the children and I need you,” he reasoned, furrowing his brow. He’d never been good with words, but he hoped you would hear how much he cared for you with that simple phrase.

The words pricked the hairs at the back of your neck, confirming what you already suspected. There was no love there, only a life of convenience. Biting your cheek to keep from crying, you sucked in a quick breath before replying, “I’m sorry, John, but I’m needed elsewhere at the moment.” You turned on your heel and disappeared into the house.

—————————————-

You spent another night at Polly’s, too upset to return to John’s. When you closed the bedroom door before having your dinner, Tommy urged the others not to pry into the cause of  your sudden mood change. He explained there was a long drive ahead of you in the morning and reasoned you must be anxious at the thought of returning to a camp full of angry relatives.

As you drove to the Lee camp in comfortable silence, you were relieved that Tommy wasn’t the curious sort. However, you knew he deserved to hear what you intended on proposing to your aunt so you began explaining your plan for ushering in peace between the two families. While you expected him to question it a bit more, he only chain smoked as he kept his eyes trained on the road. When you’d finished, you swore you heard a low hum of approval emanate from his pursed lips, though you weren’t entirely sure from his stoic expression.

There was no time for doubt in any case as the car jerked to a halt. You exited your side cautiously, eyes scanning the horizon to find men with rifles stood at attention above you. “Slowly now,” Tommy advised as he stooped to gather a stick and dug into his pocket for a white handkerchief to tie at the top. As he walked up the dirt road toward the vardos circled on the ridge, he waved the makeshift flag. You allowed him to lead until he leaned toward you to whisper, “You’re sure you still want to do this? What of your future, eh?” It was the first he had mentioned you in any of the plans and you swallowed harshly at his insinuation that your fate mattered either way.

“Let me worry about that,” you replied stubbornly, marching ahead. Tommy wanted to laugh at your determination, but thought better of it considering the circumstances. He shook his head as he followed after you, admiration for your courage swelling in his throat. 

Zilpha greeted you with a wary expression upon your approach, face as dark and stormy as the clouds overhead threatening rain. Standing at the doorway of her vardo, she refused to descend until you had both been searched for weapons. Although you understood her hesitation, it stung to be treated as a traitor when you still held love for your family. 

When she was satisfied you weren’t there to harm her, she allowed you to ascend the steps and you breathed a sigh of relief when she extended a wrinkled hand to you, pulling you inside.

Despite having convinced her of your own good intentions, Tommy was made to wait outside. You could tell from her knitted brow, he would never gain her full approval and you knew you would have to work hard to sell his good points. 

After the preamble of commenting on your thin frame and offering up a hearty stew, Zilpha asked why you had come and you wasted no time with your appeal. 

“He’s a smart man, aunt. But he needs strong men,” you explained.

“For what?” she asked harshly, turning to face you with such force, her jewelry crashed together creating a tinny clinking that echoed out like a warning.

“Protection for his growing business. They get the winner in one of every three races before the race even starts. No need for chalks or rafflers. It’s a certainty,” you promised her, believing in Tommy’s operations so that she would have faith as well. 

“It sounds like this Shelby man’s got his hooks in ya,” she said, eyeing you suspiciously.

You bristled at her assumptions, holding your head high. “No Shelby has me, aunt. In fact, I have a unique proposal for you to end the war between you and them.”

“And what might that be?” she said, leaning forward elbows on her knees to hear you better.

“Rumors say Erasmus’s cousin Esme has been running wild. If I could promise a good husband for her, would you give Tommy soldiers? If you do, this alliance will make you a rich woman,” you promised.

Zilpha thought for a moment, recalling the trouble she’d had finding a suitable groom to take on the headstrong young woman.

“And what man do you suggest?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Tommy’s younger brother, John Shelby,” you said, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice wavered as you said his name. She hadn’t, too preoccupied by your talk of fortune. Without hesitation, she extended a hand in agreement.  

As you both emerged, Tommy searched your face for a sign that the negotiations had been a success. You gave him a small nod and he turned to Zilpha. “He’ll do then?” Tommy asked.

“Bring him round in a fortnight and it will be done,” Zilpha proclaimed. 

The drive back to Small Heath was cloaked in thick silence as you looked out the passenger window. Exhaustion from the long day was beginning to take hold of you, but something wouldn’t let you give in to the need for rest. Although you hoped your plan of revenge might heal your broken heart, the ache only grew stronger. You didn’t yet know it, but regret would soon take hold and there would be nothing you could do to reverse it. 

——————————————

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#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby #John Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x y/n #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x y/n

[ohisms]

↪ 𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯 . ( a collection of sentence starters from black mirror's episode bandersnatch . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

here's your tea .

sorry , i was miles away .

this is my latest .

listen , let's get down to business .

got a copy of this at home , never got around to reading it .

how do you want to go about this ?

you're ... you're interested ?

it's just that it's all in my head .

when it's a concept piece , a bit of madness is what you need .

what do you listen to ? to get into the flow .

so ... how does it work , then ?

is that the best way to work on something like this ?

nothing's perfect .

it was too ... too good to be true .

i don't know where it came from , i just said "no" .

would you like to talk about what happened with [ name ] ?

come on , [ name ] , we're going to be late .

you couldn't have known . [ name ] , you couldn't have known .

i fucking hate him for it .

the past is immutable , [ name ] .

remember- any time you need me , just pick up the phone .

is everything alright ?

you've been stuck in your room for weeks .

i can't help you if you just sit there and don't speak !

[ name ] , just ... fuck off !

you're not sleeping , you're not eating ... i'm concerned about you .

you're in the hole . in a fight with your own head .

you got anywhere to be later ?

oh , i haven't ever really -

one for you ... one for me .

it's your choice . totally up to you , don't feel pressured .

just thought i'd give you the choice .

what have you done ?

i chose for you . are you okay with that ?

people think there's one reality , but there's loads of them .

people think you can't go back and change things , but you can .

it's a fucking nightmare world , and the worst thing is it's real and we're living in it

i've given you the knowledge . i've set you free . do you understand ?

i'll show you what i mean . come with me .

do you believe me ? i'll prove it .

it wouldn't matter , because there are other timelines .

you'd die ... you'd die !

see you on the other side .

[ name ] , maybe ... you're not well .

my head is all over the place . i keep having vivid dreams .

don't see this as a setback .

just ... don't . fuck . up . there's a lot riding on this , now .

[ name ] wanted me to give you this .

your fate has been dictated . it's out of your hands .

you're just a puppet . you're not in control .

who's doing this to me ? i know there's someone there .

i know there's someone there , just give me a fucking sign !

i'm not in control ... i'm not in control . i'm being controlled .

what do i do ?

[ name ] , spit it out .

fuckin' hell , you've gone right down the hole .

so . are you gonna let me go , or are you gonna kill me ?

i'm quite enjoying this lifetime .

i know what you've been doing to me .

try again .

#rp meme #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #rp prompt

[bonesandthebees]

Hi Bee!

I really admire your work and I'm currently attempting to write my own fic, and I'd love to have some advice on writing stuff.

1) Do you have any tips for writing the beginning of a fic? I cannot figure out how to start writing with a decent sentence. It all falls apart when my fingers go on the keyboard.

2) Do you have any tips for pacing/plot/outlining? I still have barely figured out what pacing is, because I cannot tell when authors are like "oh I don't like this because I rushed the pacing". I literally can't tell most of the time, unless there is not any space to breathe between things that happen.

3) Do you have tips for writing surroundings and the parts of the paragraph that aren't dialogue? Like. How do I naturally fit the description of the area into the fic? And how do I naturally fit extra commentary into a paragraph that has dialogue in it, especially when it isn't the pov character's dialogue?

Again, adore your writing. I feel kind of awkward since I've never done an ask before; idk if there's some kind of etiquette.

Hope you're doing well!

-Royal :)

hi sorry it's taken me a bit to answer this one! I'm more than happy to give some advice!

okay so first off, writing the first line of a fic is borderline torture sometimes. it's so fucking hard. to me though it's kind of like jumping into a cold pool. you can stare at the water thinking about how cold it's going to be and how unsure you are, but then at some point you have to bend your legs and jump before you can overthink it or else you'll never do it. you have to just put something down for the first line.

one method I like employing when I'm really struggling is starting with a line of dialogue. it instantly throws the reader into the scene as they have to try and find out who is talking, what they are talking about, and where everyone is. an example where I used this is in the stars and their children, which opens with a line from tommy "Hey Wil, can you hand me the epli?" this tells us multiple things right off the bat. it establishes a character present in the scene (Wil) and that there's something different about this world from ours (epli—it makes the reader want to know what it is and why it's being handed to the character speaking)

other times I try to either start with a line that describes the setting ("The streets were crowded at this time of day." - everything else has gone wrong), or start with a line that describes the emotions of the pov character ("Lessons were the most unbearable in the afternoon." - under the hanging rose). basically, you're trying to find a way to throw the reader into the scene in one line. it's difficult, but try any of those angles and hopefully you'll think of something that fits. but again, it's jumping into a cold pool. you just have to put something down so you can start. you can always go back and change it later

okay putting the other two under a read more bc it got long

2. okay now pacing. that's a bit more difficult to help with because a lot of pacing is just getting a feel for it. one way is to just think about it logically. say you have two characters that start as strangers and you want to get them to be best friends. you can show them meeting for the first time, but then you often have to show them bonding before they can reach best friend status. there's pacing here both in the literal world of the story, but also in the text itself. you don't want to write them hanging out for a few hours and suddenly decide they're best friends (although ofc there are exceptions to this like if they're little kids bc, well, that is a thing little kids do where they'll declare a kid they just met their best friend), nor do you want to write them meeting for the first time, write a line saying "they hung out every day for the next three weeks until they were best friends" and then just act as though they're besties (again, there are exceptions to this in specific cases). it just feels weird yknow? It doesn't get the reader invested in this relationship because it doesn't feel like it's been earned. it's a similar thing with plot beats. you have to make it feel natural both in the world of the story itself, but also the timing with which you tell the story. like I said though, pacing is really something you just get the hang of naturally with practice. reading published novels will help as well because it'll help you get a sense of what good pacing feels like.

3. ohhhh you've hit a specific issue I had a lot when I was younger. when you have a dialogue scene going on there's a lot of ways you can balance the text outside the dialogue. ofc if the dialogue is going by at rapid speed, you can straight up just do the dialogue lines and you don't even have to specify who's talking if it's clear within the text

Ex:

"You can't come to my nuclear reactor, Tommy," Tubbo sighed.

Tommy scowled. "What the fuck? Why not?"

"Knowing you you'd find a way to cause a nuclear meltdown."

"Would not."

"Would to."

"Would not."

"Would to!"

"So what, you're a bitch who can't handle a little radiation?"

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

see how after the first two lines of dialogue where I established who is talking in which order, I stop using the tags all together? it's still clear who is talking because the dialogue is ping ponging back and forth. it's a fast-paced conversation, so cutting out the tags helps that effect.

but of course this is only the case in a few instances. most of the time, you do need lines outside dialogue not only to establish who is talking, but also to keep the characters present in the scene itself.

you have several options for what to include outside your dialogue. one of my go to's is always character actions.

"Don't you have one of those swimming pools you keep the nuclear shit in?" Tommy asked, leaning against the wall.

Tubbo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes but before you ask, no, you can't go swimming in it."

there we include the action of tommy leaning against a wall after he asks the question, which is followed by tubbo pinching the bridge of his nose. this lets the reader see exactly what each character is doing, which can also establish the emotions each character is feeling without saying them outright. tommy is comfortable enough with tubbo to annoy him with his questions, which we see by him casually leaning against the wall. tubbo, meanwhile, is annoyed just like tommy wants, which we see by him pinching the bridge of his nose.

characters sitting down, standing up, wringing their hands in front of them, folding their arms over their chest, shrugging, curling their hands into fists, etc. are all examples of character actions you can include to give the reader the ability to picture the scene more accurately

then of course you have thought process and scenery description you can include as well. thought process is just including what your pov character is thinking as the conversation progresses.

"Yes but before you ask, no, you can't go swimming in it."

Tommy huffed and folded his arms over his chest. Tubbo was so fucking boring these days with his 'safety rules'. He'd nearly been nuked before and was fine! A little radiation wasn't going to hurt him.

that right there is a glimpse into what's going on in tommy's head at that moment. he's frustrated with his friend because he thinks he'd be fine swimming in the nuclear pool. it gives us more insight into the pov character and how they're reacting to the conversation at hand.

then for scenery description:

Silence fell over them as Tommy glared at Tubbo. Tubbo glared back, refusing to budge. Around them, the snow coating the ground glittered in the afternoon sunlight. Clouds of breath puffed in front of Tommy's face. An icy breeze wound between the buildings, making goosebumps rise along his arms. He tugged his sleeves down, still not breaking eye contact with his friend.

the conversation falls silent for a moment, so we take a moment to step back from the two characters. we look at the setting around us, which emphasizes the pause in dialogue and makes it feel quiet even to us as the readers. you don't have to restrict your scenery description to moments where a conversation takes a pause, but taking a step back gives a sense of a 'silence' to the reader even if it's brief. another example of this could be,

"Don't bullshit me, Tubbo. Why won't you let me see it?" Tommy asked after several long beats.

Clenching his jaw, Tubbo's eyes flickered to the ground. The snow beneath their boots was muddied. Tommy spotted a dead worm frozen against the hard earth.

Then, Tommy understood.

"You don't trust me anymore."

now let's see this a different way

"Don't bullshit me, Tubbo. Why won't you let me see it?" Tommy asked after several long beats. "You don't trust me anymore."

see how without all that extra description the pause feels much shorter? and with that shorter pause the weight of Tommy's next sentence loses it's emotional impact?

if you want to add scenery description to a dialogue exchange, imagine it like it's a movie. you have two characters that are talking, and suddenly the camera pans away from them to look at the setting around them. why does it do that? what effect does it have on the scene playing out? your words are the camera zooming in and out on the characters. there are a lot of ways you can use this 'camera' to change the rhythm/flow of a scene. you just have to play around with it to figure out how to use it

I hope that's helpful!

#bones writes #ask #royallygray #also sorry for the half-assed clingyduo scene that's not from a fic or anything i just came up with that on the spot while writing this

[heysweetheart-writes]

Welcome to my Seven Several Sentences Sunday!

I know I promised that I was posting Watermelon Sugar this week but I still have miles to go so as an apology, I'm leaving you with a sneak peek with the smut!

“Are you going to put on a little show for me?”  “Fuck.” Alex's response comes out muffled against Henry. “Yeah, yes.” He looks over his shoulder at Sam and adds, “I want to be good.” He then turns back to Henry and repeats his words to him like a promise. He runs his hands up Henry’s thighs, reveling at the way his skin reacts to Alex’s touch and he finally grabs and tugs at the bottom of Henry’s light blue sweater. “Can we get rid of this?” Alex’s voice comes out almost pleading. 

Tags under the cut!

Thank you so much to these lovies that tagged me today: @firenati0n @tailsbeth-writes @kiwiana-writes @songliili @getmehighonmagic @orchidscript @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @anincompletelist & @notspecialbabe for your tags. Forehead kisses for all of you! I've been out all day with y best friend who's moving out of the country forever 😭😭 and haven't been able to read your words but I will nomnom on them through tears tomorrow.

I’m tagging both people I want to see what they’re up to and people I’m hoping will see this snip: @read-and-write- @theprinceandagcd @happiness-of-the-pursuit @daisymae-12 @cricketnationrise @suseagull04 @pridepages @clottedcreamfudge @myheartalivewrites @three-drink-amy @lizzie-bennetdarcy @zwiazdziarka @callumsmitchells @raysletters @cultofsappho @priincebutt @bigassbowlingballhead @onward--upward @ninzied

(Sorry if you've already done it and I missed it. Also if you want to be added or not be tagged anymore please let me know!)

#rwrb #rwrb fic #my fic #six sentence sunday #seven sentence sunday #red white & royal blue #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfiction #fic: watermelon sugar

[garf-lover96]

my long ass elaborate ranking of Will Wood's (and The Tapeworms') albums!! (Everything is a Lot ranking list)

for the purpose of making this i've been listening to this whole album like non stop for the past week. i even made my parents listen to it with me (my mom liked it and said that she'd go to see the songs live if she could!). it was actually pretty difficult to rank all of them but i think the top 3 will remain unchanged forever, they're some of my all time favorites from will wood!! the way i'll do this i think is i'll write down all the things i like about a particular song, maybe a favorite lyric and a favorite moment or something. or just some general rambling. also i split Everything is a Lot into Everything is a Lot and Destroy to Enjoy, like in the remastered album!

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1. Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY (Bones)

first time i heard this song was over a year ago so i can't tell what my exact first impression was but it did almost immediately become my favorite song ever. I LOVE IT SO MUCH IT'S INSANE. also fun fact, memberoflottiescult really likes this song!

my main thing with this song is that it sounds like?? you know, bones?? it sounds like skeletons. the melody is like something a skeleton would've come up with. i can't explain it but it is hearable. best song ever

2. 6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro / Con)

it was one of the first will's songs i've ever liked on spotify. ughhhh the energy, the general mashing of the piano and it sounding like it's about to fall apart any second lol!! the high ass notes. perfect, so perfect. i was listening to this song while purchasing a meter long plush goose. the song is like a brother to me

my favorite part is the spoken "am i being detained? am i under arrest? read me my rights please! I WANT MY PHONECALL" it's uhfhdfhkf. showstopping

3. White Knuckle Jerk (Where Do You Get Off?)

it took me exactly one (1) full listen to this one to absolutely fall in love with it, holy fuck. one of the best things i've ever heard. every time it's on i have to loop it a few times

my favorite parts are the "i wonder how i woke up in the middle of my surgery and i watched them botch my heart. only the second worst thing that i could've thought was 'this won't have to end if it doesn't start'" and "i'll never know what it's like to love you" because ummm???? the emotion in his voice omfg, i love it when this happens. it's so perfect (reminds me of julian devorak..........)

4. Lygerside Daydream

had me hooked after the first listen as well. i love the melody and i love how the lyrics are written here. i, too, want to blow the seeds of dandelions and wish for nothing more. such a sweet sound. one of my favorites as well. nice to daydream to, ha!!!

5. Front Street

idk how to explain this but the pace of the song, like the way the lyrics are sung is so satisfying. just the sentence structure and stuff.. uhhh i really don't know how to describe this, but i love it a whole lot. the piano melody here is amazing as well it so???? I DON'T FUCKING KNOW it's just good

6. The First Step

so nice to sing along to!!! "and i hope i don't choke on my vomit tonight" and "take my anxiety and my sobriety, i'll kill two birds with one stoner. so if you see me please, take my keys i don't wanna be an organ donor" are my favorite parts:3 so satisfyingly said

7. Chemical Overreaction / Compound Fracture

one of my first ones too i'm pretty sure. the chorus really pulled me in. fast and fun. i think i showed it to my godfather once. the spanish part scratches my brain so good

8. Cover This Song (A Little Bit Mine)

very nice to sing along to as well. i love the melody on the very first verse. i love the part with the piano solo so much

9. Everything is a Lot

i love the melody sooooooo much, "all the moments you've lost, all the money it cost" part is my favorite. shouldn't be overlooked!!!!!

10. Red Moon

i had to come around to it a bit but i actually love it. love the "the constellations form infinite paisleys in the sky" part, such a nice sound. satisfying lyrics in general

11. Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq. G.F.D.

nice to listen to when i want to have something screaming into my ears. loooove the fact that liar liar was sampled in the beginning, i really like that movie. i used to be obsessed with jim carrey also. i binged pretty much all of his movies as a little lad

12. Jimmy Mushrooms' Last Drink: Bedtime in Wayne, NJ

the kalimba kind of bothered me initially but i got used to it. i enjoy the melody. don't have much to say about it

13. ¡Aikido! (Neurotic / Erotic)

it's not horrible by any means, it just kind of doesn't do it for me. i usually skip it

14. Destroy to Enjoy

satisfying rhymes, i prefer not to listen to construction work as a past time

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this took so long to put together, i kept forgetting about it or rearranging it...

#garf lover96 yaps #will wood #everything is a lot #will wood and the tapeworms

[daisymae-12]

WIP Wednesday

thanks y'all for the tags the last few weeks for wip wednesday, seven/six sentence sunday, last line, inspiration weekend !!!! ❤️ I've been a lil bit inactive here (and also on the rec blog whoops 😅) because life! responsibilities! lame irl things! but the tags make it so easy for me to catch up and reblog things 😊 ty ty ty

also!! I finished the first very rough draft of my vampire henry fic 🥰 fingers crossed I can finish & post it before I go on holiday next week ahh 🤞🏻 So instead of a vampire fic snippet, here's a lil bit from a 5+1 that started as a drabble but grew into a full fic and I'm determined to finish it after vampire fic is done 😌

“Liammmm,” Alex whines from the floor. Liam grunts noncommittally, eyes laser-focused on his computer screen as he types furiously. Alex takes it as a sign to continue. “I’ve been dropping hints for weeks. I tried being subtle to get a feel if he’s even interested but he’s given me nothing!” Liam offers him another grunt.  “I even outright kissed him on the cheek on Valentine’s Day and he didn’t even blink!”  This time Liam mhm’s in response.  “I just–” Alex sighs. “I don’t know what else I can do to show Henry I want more than friendship.”  Liam stops typing abruptly, turns around in his seat and shoots Alex a deeply unimpressed look. “Firstly, it’d probably help if you stopped making a big deal out of him being your best friend.”  “What! I don’t!” he protests, sitting up so fast that his head spins.  “Alex,” Liam deadpans. “You talked incessantly for weeks about your upcoming best-friendaversary. I mean who the fuck even celebrates a best-friendaversary?” Alex’s mouth drops open in indignation. “What’s wrong with celebrating our best-friendaversary?!”

For once I'm beating y'all to the tags because I live in the future and it's already Wednesday arvo here !! excited to read all your snippets over my lunch tomorrow 🌞 @kiwiana-writes @myheartalivewrites @cha-melodius @leaves-of-laurelin @happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @anincompletelist @sherryvalli @cultofsappho @affectionatelyrs @heybuddy-drabbles @read-and-write- @rmd-writes @suseagull04 @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @welcometololaland @tintagel-or-cockleshells @14carrotghoul @zwiazdziarka @alasse9 @littlemisskittentoes @adreamareads @indomitable-love + open tag for anyone who wants to do it (srsly tag me because I barely have time to scroll tumblr anymore, I consume posts via tags these days 😬)

#this isn't vampire fic but I'M ALMOST DONE VAMPIRE FIC #also alex is an idiot in this but what's new #wip wednesday

[cheesus-doodles]

Hello again! How are you? I'm the anonymous person who previously asked about the "boss". When reading your response about her personality in the "red dragonflies au", I realized it was me who had asked the same question back in 2022, recognized by the heart character I usually use haha, I didn't even remember that.

To be more recognizable, I'll use a more specific emoji this time.

This isn't a writing request, but I'd like to know about your creative process when writing. Usually, I focus more on my ideas after having a cup of coffee and meditating with white noise. My mind organizes better, and I avoid making too many mistakes.

I can say that your profile is one of my havens in the tokyo revengers community. Your writing and character inspired me to pick up an old project I started weeks after reading a few chapters of the manga, back when my only concerns were school exams, haha.

— 🥀.

was thinking between posting this now and next week, but I suppose it doesn't quite make a difference! will be back working on some longer fics but i'll make sure there's no drought next week

Masterlist

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Hello again 🥀 anon! well I have to say its great to see you around, and to have a recognisable emoji! :D I'm super thankful that you decided to stick around here all this time, best of luck with that project (and if you don't mind, I would love to see it whenever you're done!)

Ahh I do kinda miss school a little - the transition to work life is still pretty jarring ngl ;-; I still hate it time to time but what can we do amrite HAHAHAHA

‎

In terms of my creative process, I had a think about it because I was originally going to say that I didn't have any fixed process, but then I realised that the one constant time that I would get some writing done would be usually late nights/early mornings right before bed time. Mostly because I work full time and there are chores and stuff to do around the house after work, but also because I've always been a night owl and I find writing a good way to burn off whatever energy I have left before bedtime. Plus usually I get a bit more loose and fluid when I'm tired (its pretty strange ngl - the logic is just too strong for yanderes to make sense when I'm fully awake).

I also love to watch/listen to news updates/documentaries/financial stuff while I write? Or if I'm overstimulated I listen to music! I did try watching some cafe asmr while writing previously but I get too distracted watching the video to write so that didn't work out HAHAHAHA

But writing when I'm tired generally has an adverse effect on the sentence structure/grammar/generally story flow, so I will use my awake brain to string together what my tired brain wrote the previous night. From time to time at least, other times I'm just too impatient and just fuck it and post it.

‎‎

Inspiration also tends to hit me here and there, so I will occasionally write down ideas and sentences at work if I have free time, or while I'm out and about on weekends - just pop open Tumblr/Google Docs and jot it down before I forget! Might be that I was mulling over the prompt/idea and I see/hear/think something that hits just right!

Yea but that's how I usually go about it! As chaotic as it sounds ngl, but it works I suppose :))

Would love to hear more about your idea flow/creative process if you would like to share! Like where you get your ideas and inspiration, character personalities, or anything else you want to talk about :)

#🥀 anon #tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #cheesus rambles #mikey x reader #baji x reader #mitsuya x reader #kazutora x reader #pah chin x reader #mitsuya takashi #draken x reader #kazutora #sano manjiro #keisuke baji #draken #kokonoi hajime #kokonoi x reader #shinichiro #inupi seishu #shion madarame