#like hell i’d wear this in public …. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xzaddyzanakinx · 17 days

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Twelve: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, domesticity kink, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, semi-public, bondage, blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking, squirting, cumming untouched, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, murder/blood/gore/drugs(referenced), knife, GEN. SMUT[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is so full of himself that he’s somehow tricked himself into a bit of emotional maturity, Anakin has blooming bromance, post murder sex spree [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Date

August 27th continued.

Anakin climbed through his living room window and shut it behind him, happily humming to himself as he shut and locked it behind him. He spread out two trash bags on the floor after rolling up the rug to get it out of his way.

Armed with a pair of scissors and a few gallon ziploc bags he went to work on the clothes he’d been wearing. Thankfully, he had enough sense to buy jeans and a hoodie from the Goodwill. He can’t fuck you in the clothes he killed a man in, that’s just gross. So he chopped up the fabric in little squares while watching an episode of Narcos for the irony of it.

He planned to drive around the city tomorrow and dump the remnants of his clothes down every sewer grate he could. He already said goodbye to his third favorite butterfly knife, having shoved it into a culvert on his way home. As well as his throwaway sneakers which he chucked into the murky water of the deep river that flowed beneath the bridge he trekked across to get home- the long way.

Anakin was a good citizen, he knew he couldn’t flush the drugs. He couldn’t dispose of them in the trash, he definitely couldn’t keep them, so he did what every responsible person would do: dumped them in the medical wastes slot at the CVS.

The cash on the other hand… over $2,000. That- that he could definitely keep.

With his mind cleared, soiled clothes squared away, and plan in place; he hit the shower and reveled in the faint metallic scent of blood that trickled down the drain. Mentally adding ‘new loofah’ to his to-do list, he scrubbed away at his skin with dawn dishsoap until he felt like his skin was screaming for him to stop. Then he used his favorite smell-good cedar soap, enjoying the steam of the scalding water pelting his back as he rinsed himself clean.

Diary Entry: August 28th

I feel GOOD. I feel better, I feel fresh.

My worries went down the drain along with every scrap of evidence I created. Have you ever felt such a clear and palpable mental reset? I haven’t.

I haven’t had a single negative thought since my visit with Joel. It’s all been rainbows and shittin’ unicorns, I know what it’s like to live completely carefree now. I could go the rest of my life and suffer through whatever disaster life throws our way and do it with a fucking smile.

Gods I just love you. I love you so much.

You’re perfect. I don’t know how the hell you do it princess but you’ve found every possible way to improve my life and you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time! It’s like you know exactly what I need without ever speaking it aloud. You just let the pieces fall into place.

It was your idea to DoorDash the pizza, your choice to wear that slutty pajama set I love so much, your sunshiny predisposition that drew his attention and the bangin’ body that held it. Without that, all of it, I’d still be wallowing in the throes of despair at my untimely death via withering away.

But here I am, having a damn good day!

The only thing that would make it better is me fucking you like a jackrabbit on his third 5hr Energy. However, I love you and as much as I’d like to fuck you within an inch of your life, I will not. I have a hand that works perfectly fine and a plethora of porn starring you that I can drool over until I’ve sated myself enough to act like a semi-normal human.

How will I broach the subject of my unrequited love today? I don’t know. Am I worried about it? Hell no. I have faith in my goddess to deliver what I’m worthy of.

How will I look you in the eye after my late night escapade? With a fucking smile.

Date

August 28th

You traded texts back and forth with Anakin all morning. Something had crawled under his skin and bit him with venomous lust, he’d sent you pretty pictures of his weeping cock, cum dribbling out and down the back of his hand. He’d texted, described in delicate detail what he’d like to do to you with the most vile and disgusting words to caress that sick little minx that lived inside your stomach.

He had you clenching around nothing, gushing slick behind the counter at the diner. Blushing deep, dusty rose petal red across your cheeks and creeping up under your shirt collar. You felt hot, your hands sweaty and mind flustered beyond belief. You hadn’t felt this sexually frustrated since Ghost had stopped torturing you in your sleep.

You were nervous and bashful around customers as if they could see straight through your polite voice and put together appearance. Underneath the confidence that you reserved for waiting tables was a deprived and thoroughly soaked cunt that controlled your every waking thought.

“Princess?” Anakin’s deep gravelly bedroom voice floated over the Formica countertop and wrapped you up in a warm embrace.

You looked up and saw the face of a desperate man. His pretty blue eyes had been completely swallowed up by his lust… love blown pupils. His normally calming cloud of energy was replaced by a jittery, buzzing storm of bottled up euphoria. He couldn’t wait to pop the cork and share it with you.

“Vigo?” Anakin’s voice cracked, his smile only growing bigger when your coworker popped his head around the kitchen door frame. “I’m stealing her.”

“Hey, you gotta clock out!” He shouted after you as Anakin gripped your wrist and whisked you out to his car. Vigo was already on his way to the time cards, punching it in for you to save himself the worry of you forgetting.

“Anakin what’s gotten into you?” You panted, trying to catch your breath while Anakin licked into your mouth and sucked the tip of your tongue. Kissing you as messily as he could short of drowning you via spit swap.

“Woke up missing you.” He groaned, nuzzling your breasts. His nose nudging the valley while he rubbed his cheeks against the swell, pushing them together with his splayed hands.

“Can’t help it.” He breathed out, biting your sensitive flesh through the fabric of your shirt.

“Ani.” You moaned, tugging his head away gently. “You already gave me a massive hickey.” He chuckled as you reminded him of the purplish bruise you’d attempted to cover with makeup.

“True.” He nodded, nipping you again anyway. “You could stand to have a few more though.”

“Shit, not now.” You shook your head and bucked up your hips, wiggling out of your jeans.

“Damn, that’s what I like to see sweetheart.” Anakin growled, smacking your ass lightly as he laid down in the back seat. “C’mere baby let me see my pussy.”

You giggled, complying and gingerly hovering over his mouth only to earn a frustrated groan from him.

“Goddamnit. I-I’ve never seen you this wet.” His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked up at you, his enlarged pupils snapping a mental picture of how beautiful you were from your position above him where you belonged.

Both hands suddenly gripped your hips and pulled you down on top of his face. He held on tightly, keeping you in place despite your concerns of suffocating him.

“Don’t care.” He moaned, thrusting his tongue up and swirling it around inside your entrance, the bridge of his nose rubbing your clit as he guided your hips to ride his face. “I’d be dying the happiest man on earth.”

“Oh my god.” You sucked in a sharp inhale, your palm smacking the headrest while your fingers hurt from the force of your grip on it.

“Mhmmmm.” You could feel his smug grin beneath you, even in this position he was able to establish dominance with just that crooked smirk and hard look to his eyes.

“Anakin…” moaning, you reached down to play with his hair, his mouth pulling your clit between his teeth to suck harshly, flicking his tongue at a fast pace in hopes to bring you to orgasm quickly. “Anakin please… s-slow.”

“Uh uh.” He shook his head with a chuckle, digging his fingertips into the fat of your ass.

“My pussy… my rules.” He mumbled, the words muffled and nearly incoherent.

He slurped and sucked, dragging his tongue in long stripes up your center, dipping the tip into your hole each time it passed over. He’d never eaten you so desperately, never had he sent you spiraling into orgasm this quickly. Heat traveled from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears, your hole quivering around his tongue darting in to lick up your cum.

“Ani- Anakin enough.” You whined, trying to get up but he just brought you back down and laved at you with just as much fervor.

“Please no… hurts.” You hiccuped, sensitive beyond belief and not ready for more in the slightest.

“Shhhh.” Anakin laughed, nibbling on your clit carefully, he slipped one hand beneath you, palm side up.

He tapped your hip and let you raise up for a moment to catch your breath, lasting less than a few seconds before he was one-armed manhandling you back over his face.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers while I watch baby.” He whispered, stroking your folds gently before prodding at your entrance.

“Oh sweet lord-“ he moaned loudly, watching your greedy pussy sink down on his fingers from below, your hole fluttering around the two digits.

“You’re so wet.” He whimpered, gazing up at you like you’d hung the moon just for him.

“All this for me?” He asked softly, as if he weren’t really sure what your answer would be.

“All for you Ani.” You nodded, brushing your knuckles across his cheek while he started pumping his finger inside slowly, stretching you out to take a third.

“Jesus, I don’t know what I wanna do.” He groaned, “I wish I could touch you all over all at once.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up for you to see the fruits of his labor, the creamy slick coated his fingers, stringing them together when he pulled them apart. He barely grazed your bottom lip with it before sucking it hungrily from his fingers.

“Goddamnit.” He moaned, pulling you back down with such force that you lost your balance and accidentally unlocked the car door, you giggled and quickly corrected your mistake, Anakin chiding you from below.

“Clumsy little brat.” He grinned, kneading your ass cheeks roughly.

His tone might’ve been playful but the look in his eyes was nothing short of predatory. He lapped at your glistening folds with the enthusiasm of a wildcat on a fresh kill, by the end of it he’d be sucking the bones dry.

Anakin hummed at the taste of you, groaning, babbling nonsense more to your cunt than to you:

“Tastes so good.”

“So pink and pretty for me.”

“Poor pussy just missed me so much huh? Is that why she’s crying?”

He switched up suddenly and had you frozen in place, your jaw dropped open as you let out a choked sob, tilting your head back to look at the car’s ceiling. He’d bit down on your raw and sore clit, peeling back the hood to tortuously bully it with kitten licks all while sucking as hard as he possibly could. It was too much, so much, all at once.

You were already so sensitive, you had already begged him to stop, now you had no words left, just pitiful whimpers as you bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Your legs quivered uncontrollably as goosebumps pricked your flesh, every hair standing on end as Anakin literally sucked you dry as you’d jokingly predicted.

He drew out a long and reedy noise from the depths of your chest, clawing it’s way through the fire in your lungs and past the torn skin on your lip. Creamy cum gushed from your core, coating his chin and neck.

The main course, what he was really after, was the hot juices that dribbled down the back of his throat as he sucked the nectar straight from the source. You would’ve worried you might drown him if you couldn’t visibly see his heavy breathing, feel and hear each desperate swallow and whimper. You could feel his stomach tensing along with his arms, his hands followed and closed into fists.

Turning his head to the side he bit down on your inner thigh, causing you to jolt and yelp, almost missing the way one of his hands flew to his crotch and squeezed his thick cock through his jeans, running his thumb over the fat, swollen tip as a small and sticky dark patch bloomed on his upper thigh.

“N-no no.” He whined, bringing you back down to his face, he carefully avoided your abused clit in favor of cleaning up your thighs and messy cunt, digging out every last drop of slick with his tongue.

“You… you are so fucking hot.” He panted, whimpering in pain when he sat up repositioned his cock.

“Did you-“

“Cum? Yeah.” He nodded sheepishly, stroking himself in his jeans for a moment before removing his hand and showing you the mess he’d made in his jeans.

“No way.” You whispered, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

“Yes.” He growled, shoving his hand between your thighs to wipe his cum off onto your spent pussy. “I don’t think you understand what you do to me sweetheart.”

“I’d pay good money to find a way to live inside your skin with you. Just to be close as I could get.” He said quietly, helping you back into your panties and jeans, wiping the excess cum onto the inside of his tshirt.

“I’d sell my soul just to breathe the same air as you if that’s what it took.” He said, pulling you into his lap and crushing you in a hug.

“You are like a Ghost that haunts every corner of my mind.” He whispered, licking the makeup off of your poorly hidden hickey.

Anakin didn’t miss the way you breathed in a sharp breath at his words it took a lot of willpower not to smile against your neck when he heard you audibly swallow with nervousness.

“I wake up and I think of you. I go to sleep and I dream of you.” His rough palms caressing the soft skin of your stomach. “Everything I see, everything I do, it all reminds me of you.”

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” He said softly. “You’d never doubt yourself again.” His lips grazing your earlobe as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger, breaking the heavy tension by cracking a smile and tickling the tip of your nose with your hair.

He gently cupped your cheeks and brushed the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks and under your eyes. Staring at you with those unwavering black saucers in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’d done drugs. It’s unnatural for a human’s eyes to stay dilated for this long. But you knew Anakin, he was just high on you.

Diary Entry: August 28th continued

I have so much energy and I don’t know what to do with it all. I might try bench pressing a school bus, I could probably make it move alittle. If I didn’t give myself a hernia first.

What I really need is more of you. I thought a little sweet treat might tithe me over but I was WRONG. I’m feeling a new kind of insatiable.

It’s time for Ghost to get back to his old tricks with a new accessory: my rarely worn tongue stud.

Man I love it though, it clacks against my teeth so good. I can hear it in my brain for like, minutes after I’ve done it. Such a satisfying sound. Its crisp.

Which is unfortunately the reason why I can’t wear it often anymore.

I click clacked it around my bottom row of teeth too much and the dentist made me promise not to do it anymore. Turns out abstinence is actually the best method when it comes to prevention. If it’s not in my mouth I can’t fuck up my teeth, but I can play with my lip piercings. Yeehaw I love a loophole.

Anywho. I feasted on my favorite meal today and I desperately need more before I actually go insane. I need to taste you. I need to feel you. I need to fuck you til I lose consciousness.

I want you to be awake though because as hot as it is to watch you cum in your sleep, it’s even hotter to see you reacting to the things I say. Deny it all you want baby but you’re my whore.

Ghost, Anakin, both. You’re willing to do anything for my cock.

Date

August 28th continued.

Anakin can’t keep his hands to himself. It’s like he’s been corrupted by an incubus, he’s turned into an insatiable beast that just can’t stop. You’ve seriously considered the possibility that he may have somehow gotten his hands on some ecstasy and a suped up gas station boner pill.

Though logically you know exactly what is happening. He’s just giddy and feeling a weight lifted from his chest after confessing to you. It makes perfect sense. Carrying a secret like that is a burden, you know that very well by now.

Anakin is purely running off adrenaline fumes and endorphins. He’s burning it off the best way possible, by touching you in every direction, position, time, space and dimension that he can put you in.

He’s fucked you twice after taking you home from work today. Kitchen counter? From the back with your legs dangling helplessly, your sweaty skin sticking to the countertop. Coffee table? He pushed you down on it, swiping off the scattered items on it, including the freshly made sandwich and chips you’d brought him. He had said ’F-fuck… you’re just so sexy when you’re domestic.’

Right now on your third go around, he had finally, finally agreed to take you to the bed after you’d formed a triangle shaped bruise from the corner on the kitchen counter.

“M’sorry baby,” He whispered, licking away the dull pain on your hip from between your legs. “didn’t mean to.”

“I know Ani,” you breathed out, “it’s not your fault.”

“It is.” He nodded, pulling you toward the edge of the bed and gently helping you onto you hands and knees. “My poor girl.”

“You’re just so pretty. You’re so perfect. You’re so… you.” He sighed, standing behind and to the side of you to caress your injured hip.

His rough palm glided over the hot, sticky skin of your spine to brush your hair away. His free hand slowly tracing a delicate pattern across the plumped flesh of your ass, all five digits teasing the skin with tingling trails of warmth.

His lips caressed your tender skin up and down your side while he lovingly slipped a finger between your pussy lips. He groaned and made a fist between your shoulder blades to keep control of himself, your wetness feeding his need to be sheathed inside your warm and welcoming cunt.

“Pretty, pretty baby.” He whispered, his voice cracking while he brought his burning hot cheek down to rest against the swell of your ass, toying with his lip piercings to stifle a moan at the sloppy noises his pointer finger made on its descent into your depths.

“You’ve been so good for me.” He praised you, massaging your shoulder with one hand, kissing your ass cheek as he turned his head and rested the other side of his blushed face there, switching sides to watch your expressions change with each plunge of his finger.

“My little girl…” he growled, low and deep in his throat, “letting me take what I need.”

“Just wanted you to feel good Ani.” You sighed, gratefully accepting a second finger from him, feeling him twist his wrist back and forth with each slow thrust.

“Mmm, I did sweetheart.” He chuckled, “trust me, it’s hard to feel anything but heavenly when I’ve got my hands on you.”

“You’ve been so needy.” You whined, letting him guide your hand to your clit so you could rub yourself at your own pace along with his languid fingers.

“I know.” He clicked his tongue. “Are you okay sweetheart?”

“Course I’m okay.” You moaned, leaning back against his hand while his fingertips pressed and massaged your inner core.

“I put your poor little body through a lot today huh?” He cooed, switching his free hand over to your other shoulder to massage it the same as the other.

He smiled widely as he watched your face relax and felt your breathing slow into a steady rhythm. He felt proud. Proud of you, of himself, of his self control.

“Felt good Ani.” You whispered, your fingers tightening around the sheets in your fist while you rocked back onto his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers. “I needed it too.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, hearing the content sigh escape your lips. “You think you can cum for me again baby?” He asked softly, kissing the small of your back.

“N-no.” You whimpered, shying away from his gentle probing fingers.

“You sure sweetheart?” He asked, slowing his movements even further. “It’s okay baby, I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.”

“M’sure.” You shook your head rapidly, “I can’t.”

“Okay baby.” He chuckled, “ready for me to stop then?” He asked.

“No… not yet.” You said quietly. “Lay with me?”

“Oh sure thing princess.” He grinned, removing his fingers just long enough for him to turn off your lamp and help you slide under the blankets, his nakedness pressed firmly against yours.

“Mm, you’re so warm,” you giggled, Anakin’s arms wrapping around you tightly while he kissed the nape of your neck, spooning you from behind.

“Cozy?” He asked with a gruff tone, slipping his fingers back into your messy pussy from behind to continue the slow and gentle caresses.

“So cozy.” You nodded. “I’m gettin’ sleepy.” You said tiredly.

“I figured so.” He nodded, his voice a soft whisper. “I’ll lay with you until it’s time for me to leave for work okay?”

“I’ll make sure everything is all locked up when I leave, I’ll kiss you bye.” He spoke low and soothingly as he gently rubbed your neck, removing his fingers from your folds when he heard your breathing slightly change.

“I’ll text you,” he whispered, sucking your slick from his fingers between words, not hiding his hard-on as it pressed against your ass. “when I get there and when I get back home. I’ll miss you so much until I see you again tomorrow.”

Soon enough you were deep in sleep and Anakin was glad he’d made you take your pills at dinner time, he’d thought ahead and considered the very real possibility that you’d end up being fucked to sleep.

He was right of course.

——————————————————————————

“Anakin what the hell man?” Trevor chortled shoving a handful of ice down the back of Anakin’s shirt in retaliation to the towel-whip he’d dealt Trevor.

“What? Can’t a guy be happy?” Anakin laughed.

“Happy? Nah you’re fucking hyper.” Trevor grinned. “What’d you do that’s got you feeling so good? Gimme some.” He teased.

“Shut up, the hardest thing I do is pot you know that.” Anakin snorted.

“Then what’s the deal?” Trevor splayed his own hand a few inches from his face.

“I’m love drunk baby.” Anakin waggled his eyebrows and shimmied his shoulders.

“Jesus I don’t even know you! Who are you and what have you done with my jackass?” Trevor grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him with a laugh, turning to pour a beer on tap for a patron.

“I ate him.” Anakin shrugged and giggled.

“I’m calling your girlfriend. I don’t know if I can be around you anymore.” April said, walking past the two of them with a serving tray.

“She needs a break from me, she’s very tired.” Anakin said with a proud grin.

“Oh my god!” April cackled and made a quick exit from behind the bar to serve drinks at a corner table.

“Fucking freak.” Trevor snickered.

“That’s what she said.” Anakin stuck out his tongue and flicked it with an impish grin.

After an hour or so the bar traffic grew stagnant and Anakin stepped out back for a cigarette, flicking his zippo out to light the flame and swinging in shut. Letting a curl of smoke leave his lips to breathe in through his nose. He leaned back against the brick wall with his legs crossed at the ankles, raising his arms above his head to rest his fists on his forehead.

He was looking up at the hazy city-light polluted night sky, searching for stars, when the back door swung open and Trevor stepped out with a bottle of beer for himself and one for Anakin.

“Trade me.” He grunted, sitting down on an old wood crate and holding out the beer bottle, two fingers extended for Anakin to sit a cigarette between.

“Yessir,” Anakin nodded, going so far as to light it for his friend.

“Anakin.” Trevor said thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Anakin said, tipping up the beer bottle and watching the amber liquid bubble as he took a gulp.

“Did you hate me?” Trevor asked. “When you first started here?”

“What? Pfft, no what are you talking about?” Anakin asked, pushing off the wall with his black leather boot.

“I don’t know, you’re just different.” Trevor said with a shrug. “You just seemed so… excuse my critique; cold and distant.”

“Criticism accepted.” Anakin nodded. “It’s true I guess.”

“Yeah? So what changed?” Trevor asked in curiosity, a rare moment of vulnerability shared between two male friends wasn’t to be wasted.

“Met a girl. Got my shit together.” Anakin said, flicking cigarette ash to the pavement. “I love her you know?”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.” Anakin nodded. “I told her. She hasn’t said it back yet.”

“Well damn I’m sorry man-“

“No don’t be. She’ll say it.” Anakin held up his hand to stop him. “She just ain’t ready to admit it that’s all.”

“How are you not all depressed and shit?”

“I was, but I realized… I don’t care.” Anakin said simply. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care if I have to wait until I’m dead in the ground. I know she’ll tell me when she’s ready.”

“I had myself a bit of a freak out.” Anakin admitted, “but after I cooled off I’ve been… happier than I’ve ever been.”

“That why you’re all…” Trevor gestured to him with both hands.

“Yessir.” Anakin grinned.

“So you’re acting like you’ve won the fuckin’ lotto because your girl didn’t say she loved you?” Trevor raised his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t have to.” Anakin said, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms, placing the cigarette between his lips, inhaling slowly. Grabbing it between his forefinger and thumb he brought it back down to his side and made an O with his lips, hollowing his cheeks and flicking the dip in his cheek to let a ring of smoke out.

“I know she does.” Anakin said, tilting his head back against the brick and letting it loll to the side to look over at Trevor. “She didn’t run off, she didn’t tell me to get lost, she laid there with me… pretty little head on my chest.” Anakin said, making a motion with his hand above his heart.

“Then today.” Anakin said, clicking his tongue with a smirk. “She sat on my face in the parking lot of the Bluebird during her break n’ let me fuck her all over the house when I got her home.”

“Jesus, here I was thinkin’ you were being sweet.” Trevor snorted, flicking his bottle cap so the it bounced off the toe of Anakin’s boot.

“If that doesn’t scream love I don’t know what does.” Anakin sighed contentedly, stubbing out his cigarette and dropping it into the designated rusty coffee can for cigarette butt.

——————————————————————————

“Hey, look Trev isn’t that the guy uh… the one who did that thing junior year of highschool?” April shouted over the din of the bar from the other end of the counter, pointing up to the smaller tv playing the news rather than the basketball game.

“Uh… hold on I can’t- I don’t have my glasses.” he said walking over and squinting, Anakin walking up behind him to look over his shoulder.

“Mm yeah that’s the guy they called- uh,” he thought for a second before snapping his right hand fingers and bringing his palm down on top of his fist, pointing up at the screen. “Duck! Didn’t they?”

“Yeah! Yeah, him.” April nodded, sucking on a lemon slice she’d dipped in sugar.

She turned back around and shook up the tumbler she was mixing a drink in, pouring it over two glasses and sliding it across the table to their owners.

“Why’d they call him that?” Anakin asked, wiping down the bar, before washing up some shot glasses.

“He’d duck his head up under the bleachers to look up girls skirts at the pep rallies.” Trevor said with a huff, “real shit guy.”

“Tried to sell my brother herbs instead of herb.” April turned around with an amused look on her face.

“Huh.” Anakin said, tonguing the inside of his cheek to hide a smirk. “Real shit guy indeed.”

“Surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” Trevor said with a chuckle.

“Why’s that?” Anakin asked, tossing his towel over his shoulder, rubbing his palms together while he sucked on the ball of one of his snake bites.

“Like I said, real shit guy.” Trevor scoffed. “Doubt they’re even looking too hard for the guys who did it.”

“Guys?” Anakin asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yeah-“ he looked over his shoulder, “what’d it say April? Four of ‘em?”

“Yep.” She said, tossing her lemon rind in the trash.

“Damn.” Anakin shook his head.

“Yeah, the guy who ‘found’ him graduated with us too.” Trevor said, glancing back up at the tv and seeing it had switched over to the weather. “Supposedly it was a real mess, shit everywhere. Stole a bunch of stuff, some kind of drug related thing.”

“Well shit, poor guy.” Anakin shook his head, “that’d be a real nice thing to walk in on.”

“Well hell yeah it would, looking like the Red Seas in there.” Trevor snorted.

“How do you know?” Anakin asked with a smile.

“The dick posted it on his private Snapchat story before he called the cops.” Trevor said, “I didn’t see it, but my buddy did and he said it looked barf worthy, could smell it through the screen.”

“Goddamn that’s nasty.” Anakin winced, “thanks for that mental image.”

“I had to imagine it, so you did too.” Trevor said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Share the wealth or whatever.”

“Trev, I don’t think that applies to murder.” April said, walking past the boys.

“It does now, baby.” He said, tapping her ass as she walked past.

“Hey!” She shot him a dirty look but blushed and smiled anyway. “Told you not to do that at work.”

“Can’t help it.” Trevor shrugged. “Stress reliever.”

“Oh whatever.” She snorted.

“Anyway yeah- apparently the dude, Kyle Spencer, is suspect number one. He was high as a kite when he called Duck’s dad.”

“He called his dad?” Anakin asked confusedly, “not the cops?”

“His dad is the cops.” Trevor said, popping a piece of gum in his mouth before tossing a stick to Anakin.

“Oh shit.” Anakin scoffed, “so what, he called the guys dad to figure it out?”

“Mhm.” Trevor nodded. “At least that’s what everyone thinks. Cause Duck’s dad arrested the guy himself and seemed real ticked off about getting the call. He was at his other son’s house for the grandkids birthday.”

“Well, well, well.” Anakin snorted, covering his mouth to hide a grin as he poured a whiskey. “Isn’t that some good luck?”

——————————————————————————

“I’ve missed this.” Anakin sighed, cradling Boogie in his arms like a furry orange baby while he stood at the foot of your bed and watched you sleep.

“It’s the simple things you know?” He whispered, his filtered voice tapering in and out. He smiled beneath his mask, watching you stir slightly, kicking the covers off your feet.

He turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom, setting your cat down on the kitchen counter and pouring her a third of a bowl of food. He took off his left hand glove to give her some chin scratches, then from the white patch between her eyes all the way to the end of her fluffy tail.

“You know, I used to really despise cats.” He said, leaning over on the counter and propping himself up on his gloved fist, watching her eat.

“The therapist I had as a kid said it was cause cats don’t automatically take to a person like dogs do.” He picked up her back foot and gently squish her paw pad to spread out her toe beans just to see her claws flex out.

“Cause they don’t listen. You can’t make ‘em listen, you can’t make ‘em do anything they don’t want.”

“I’m glad I met you.” He nodded. “You’re sweet, makes me… hmm, I wouldn’t say regretful. Just dissatisfied about before.”

“That’s okay though.” He sighed, “personal growth and whatnot.”

“I hope your momma won’t be too upset. I promised I’d start telling her before I visited, but you know tonight wasn’t really planned ahead and I got side tracked, and then sidetracked again, cause I’m here talking to you!” He chuckled, giving her a head pat.

“So hang out in here, okay kitty? I’ve got things to do.” He chuckled, unlacing his boots and setting them beside the front door, he made sure his socks were pulled up beneath his jeans and his gloves and sleeves were as they should be.

He crept back into your room, shutting the door behind him, thankful that you’d stayed naked after your evening escapade. You’d sprawled out, one leg bent and your arm above your head, the other hidden beneath the blanket along with your chest, middle and other leg. Anakin walked to the window and opened the curtain just the tiniest bit, allowing a sliver of moonlight to cast a pearly sheen across your exposed skin.

He stood and stared for a long while, having missed the scene before him. So many times he’d slunk in the shadows of your room, clinging to the wall to avoid disrupting that very beam of moonlight. He would scowl and chide you in his mind for leaving the curtains open, but he’d always, always, stop and observe the way you breathed under the pale periwinkle tinted light.

Once he’d had his fill of your nighttime innocence, he closed the curtain and returned you to the black of slumber, preparing to drag you with him on his path to midnight madness.

He lifted the blanket and folded it over out of his way, using the pretty patterned top sheet to cover his head after taking off his mask and placed it on the bed beside him.

Just for the extra security he tugged up his hood as well and hoped that he wouldn’t sweat to death before he could make you finish.

Slowly pushing your legs apart, he smiled at the soft breath you took in when he gently held your hip so that you wouldn’t shift out of position. Anakin pulled off his right hand glove and shoved it in his back pocket so it wouldn’t get lost beneath the sheets.

He kissed along your outer lips, pressing his nose against the crease at the apex of your thighs, inhaling the scent of you and dragging his tongue along behind as his nose traveled up that crease until he reached your hip, where the waist band of your panties should be. He took a moment to nuzzle into the softness of your lower belly, showering your satin skin with kisses before returning to your slit.

His mouth hovered over your folds as if he were mentally preparing himself to savor you slowly, compared to the fast-paced feasts he’d had on you earlier in the day.

With his tongue laid out flat he licked up the remnants of his cum and yours, introducing you to the warm ball centered toward the front of his tongue, purposely letting it catch against your clit. He breathed through his nose, leaving his tongue flat to circle and flick the metal ball over your clit, smiling in triumph when you jolted at the first movement.

He circled your entrance with the calloused pad of his thumb, slurping up your creamy slick from your folds. He flexed his tongue to swipe it side to side the bottom ball of the metal bar scraped along his bottom row of teeth, making a dull metallic sound that seemed much louder to Anakin than it was in reality so he halted his movements to listen for a change in your breathing.

After ensuring you wouldn’t ruin his fun too early he continued his gentle licks and prods of his tongue to your leaking hole. He pulled his mask closer to him, he needed to feel your heat around his fingers and he knew it wouldn’t take too long before you realized what was happening. After all, you didn’t drink your tea.

Inserting one finger slowly his curved it upward and flicked his tongue side to side at the same pace of his finger. He felt you stir beneath him, so he placed a sloppy kiss to your clit. Lazily licking across you rather than giving you calculated movements. He pushed in a second finger, groaning loudly at the squelch when your cunt hungrily sucked in the extra digit.

Your hands came down to push him away, trying to close your legs in your half-awake state.

“Ani?” You asked, trying to cover your drenched pussy with your hand when you felt an unfamiliar sensation slide over your clit, smooth and warm.

Anakin’s ego skyrocketed, but his penchant for deviant behavior told him that statement should be punished by Ghost. Although he’d have to make that decision later because you were getting whiny and impatient.

“Anakin, please.” You mumbled. “What’s that?”

Anakin halted his movements and slipped on his mask and quickly shoved his hand in his glove.

“I’ll give you one more guess little doe.” The modified voice cut through the fog of your sleep and you bolted upright.

“Ghost?” You gasped in surprise, pulling the blankets back over you. “You didn’t- why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Don’t be embarrassed baby,” he cooed, tugging the blankets away and running his leather hands up your stomach, stopping just beneath your tits. “This is an emergency visit and-“

“What?” You asked in confusion, your eyebrows furrowed. “What happened? What did you do?”

“Um… ow. Hurtful.” He said in a disappointed tone. “I didn’t do anything except develop a raging hard-on.”

“You ass!” You shouted, smacking at his arm. “You scared me!”

“Hey.” He barked. “Maybe next time let me finish talking yeah? Jumping to conclusions like that’ll strain a muscle.”

You stared at him in a state of… not shock or fear, but a bewildered sort of amusement. Once again: the audacity of this man is astounding.

“What?” He asked, sounding irritated.

“I don’t- I don’t know.” You snorted, covering your mouth to stifle a laugh.

“W-wha… hey?” He stammered, confused by your laughter. “Are you laughing? What’s funny?”

“You.” Another laughed bubbled up from your chest.

“Wait- what? You… you’re...” His mouth gaping beneath his mask. “Are you for real?”

“Oh- I’m sorry no… no don’t be mad.” You said reaching out but snatching your hand back quickly after remembering what happened last time you touched him like that without permission.

“Mad?” His voice crackled, the modified voice hinting at hurt in his tone. “Why- why would you think I’m mad?”

“Doe, I’m… that makes me happy.” He said quietly. “This is the first time I’ve made you laugh.”

“What?” You scoffed, “no it’s not.”

“It is.” He said solemnly. “Trust me I keep track of things like that.”

“But-“

“No, no. Trust me.” He said, straddling your legs but not putting any weight on you. “You’ve done that dorky anxious laugh a few times. But I mean… that was a real one.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, your face falling when you realized he was probably right.

“Doe, I’m sure about everything when it comes to you.” He said low and serious, inching closer.

“I’m sorry.” You said, feeling horrible. “That- I’m sorry, that makes me feel bad.”

“Don’t.” He said sternly. “Don’t feel bad.”

“I just had the most fitting conversation earlier today.” He said slowly. “Talking about things and waiting till they’re ready. You laughed cause you were ready.” He said with a defining nod, cupping your cheeks with both hands and carefully caressing your under eyes.

“I’ve always been in favor of positive reinforcement.” Anakin said, smiling to himself. “Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“What is it?” You asked suspiciously, looking him over.

“Something new.” Anakin said simply.

“But,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “You have to promise that you’ll listen to me.”

“Okay…” you nodded cautiously.

“Good girl.” He gave you a curt nod in return, breathing deeply. “Now, I’m gonna give you some very simple instructions. If you do not listen, if you don’t follow them with precision, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” You nodded, frowning slightly.

Anakin very tenderly rested his leathered thumbs over your eyes, gingerly closing them and so, so, so carefully making sure they stayed closed.

“Listen closely.” His voice low and dangerous. “When I tell you it’s okay, I want you to take my mask off.”

“What?” You jolted in shock, this was not what you expected at all, you assumed it would be something much more… raunchy.

“Shut up.” He said sharply. “Quiet, listen to me.”

“Sorry.” You whispered, biting down on your lip and fidgeting with your fingers.

“When I tell you it’s okay, you are going to take off my mask. You’re going to be quiet. You’re not going to talk. You’re not going to hear me talk. You will not move. You will keep the mask in your hands, in your lap, and you will not touch me.” Anakin’s voice was clearly conveying a seriousness that couldn’t be ignored.

“Yes sir.” You nodded.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” He dropped his hands immediately and squeaked out the most pitiful unfiltered noise a man could make.

He didn’t hide it when he palmed his cock, he didn’t seem surprised when you moaned after he grabbed your face. He did lean down, eye level to you and lace his free hand’s long fingers with yours.

“Say it again f’me doe.” He groaned, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing length.

“Yes sir.” You repeated in a smaller, less confident voice. You hadn’t expected a reaction like this, you’d meant for it to come out snarky…

“New plan.” He grunted, fisting your hair at the top of your head to pull you into sitting position.

He got down off the bed and grabbed his bag from the floor, pulling out a pretty, pink, silk handkerchief and tossing it at you. Along with a pair of padded pink fabric handcuffs, Velcro, not metal clasps.

“What are you… what’s this?” You asked in surprise, an amused smirk on your lips.

“Well, you know the tape ah- just… oh fuck off.” He huffed folding the handkerchief to make a blindfold and carefully tying it tightly around your head, guiding your arms behind your back.

You heard the loud *skrrrriiip* of the Velcro coming apart, then felt the soft liner enveloping each wrist.

“No gag this time?” You huffed, annoyed that he hadn’t finished his sentence, his explanation.

His belt buckle clanked around and he undid his zipper, guiding you to your knees in front of him. He pried your mouth open and pinched the tip of your tongue between his fingers, pulling it slightly before roughly pushing your head down, forcing his girthy length into your mouth.

“Gag on this.” He grunted, holding your head still while you choked around his fat cockhead, your eyes already beginning to water.

He thrust himself in shallow strokes but made sure to hit the back of your mouth every time as punishment, drool dripping down your bottom lip and onto his weighty balls each time they smacked the underside of your chin.

“I w-was gonna kiss you.” He gritted out, causing you to pull back in an effort to say something, but he forced you back down, fucking into your throat alittle deeper.

“Jesus, just listen damnit.” He barked out at you, tugging your hair. “I was trying to… fuck that feels good- mmph.” A puff of air left his nose and he inhaled through his mouth in a shaky gasp.

“Tryin’ to kiss you, m-make it special and soft.” He grunted. “Tried to get you something alittle nicer than some tape from the junk drawer and an old bandana.”

“Should’ve known better.” He groaned, gritting his teeth while he listened to your labored breathing.

“Bitchy little ungrateful brat.” He spat, thrusting harder after he’d said it just to drive his point home.

“Y-you would’ve still gotten your kiss if you hadn’t of smart mouthed me.” He panted. “Now you’re just gonna get a belly full of cum.”

“When are you going to learn?” He chuckled, looking down at you and red tinted face. He pulled out his phone, turning on the flash and hitting record.

“You were being such a good girl.” He moaned, low and gravely. “Callin’ me sir? Good manners. That was a good job, little doe.”

“Then you you went and screwed it up didn’t you? Hmm?” His condescending tone sent a zap of lighting to your core. “Smart mouthing me like I’d let you get away with it.” He scoffed.

“Apologize to me sweetheart.” He demanded, grabbing you by the neck just beneath your jaw and squeezing when you didn’t answer. “C’mon you know you were bad.”

You breathed out through flared nostrils and blinked away your tears, you spoke as best you could but of course it was hardly more than a few choppy sounds.

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk with a full mouth?” He laughed, smacking your cheek gently.

“Oh don’t do that baby.” He cooed, his hips slowing as you tried to wriggle free from your restraints.

“Tell you what…” He pulled up your blind fold and tossed it aside. “let’s play a game.” He grunted. “Just be still for a second okay? Then we’ll talk.” He carded his fingers through your hair and nearly keeled over on the spot when your eyelids fluttered, showing just the whites of your eyes.

He doubled over, accidentally shoving his length farther than he meant to, shooting salty ropes down your throat, a choked moan left his lips as his knees buckled slightly.

“Holy shit- oh fuck…” He panted, doing his best to pull back slowly so as not to hurt you. “Sorry baby.” He mumbled sheepishly, quickly tucking himself back in his boxers.

“You okay?” He breathed out, crouching down and getting on your level after stopping the recording.

“Mhm.” Your lungs felt heavy, coughing from your sore throat. “M’fine.”

“Stand up.” He said firmly, but not in a commanding way, more of a ‘I know what’s best for you please just do it’ way.

You nodded and stood up to face him, waiting for further details but you got none. Anakin spun you around and removed your cuffs, grunting in approval when he saw he’d managed not to mar up your pretty skin on accident with these new bindings.

Then, gentle hands on your shoulders turned you back around. He just stood there and stared at you. You hated when he did that, it was so hard to judge his mood already. But when he was quiet and still? Impossible.

“Do you know what a safe word is?” He asked.

“Yes…” you said, looking off to the side.

“Good. Yours is purple, got it?” He asked, gripping your chin.

“Okay. Safe word is purple.” You nodded, gauging his unmoving form cautiously.

“Put on some pjs.” He said plainly, flipping out his knife, one you hadn’t seen before, just to play with while he waited.

“Is that new?” You asked quietly, trying to make some kind of semi-normal conversation.

“What? This?” He asked, flipping it closed and holding it out to you.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Is it?”

“You noticed.” He said simply, swinging his hand side to side in a gesture for you to take it.

“I’m smarter than I look.” You snorted, taking it from him and carefully opening it.

“We’ll see.” He said in a flat tone, his mood changed slightly now.

“Roses?” You asked, closing the handles back to look at the carved design in black metal with red backing.

“I bought that one just for you. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind it as much if it were pretty.” He said softly, reaching his hand up behind his head to scratch his neck as though he were anxious.

“I- well.” You sighed, stunned by him for the thousandth time. “That’s actually very sweet Ghost.”

You awkwardly handed it back to him, unsure how to navigate this calmer water with him. You gave him a crooked smile and finished getting dressed.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not that. I like that one.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Fine.” You slipped back out of the matching set you had chosen, and tossed it in the drawer without folding it.

“Move.” He grunted, pulling out your bottom drawer and grabbed an old tshirt of Anakin’s and a pair of his loose boxers that you sometimes wore as shorts. “Put them on.”

You scowled, but tried to bite back your words. In some strange way of his own he was being nicer. He was trying. He obviously felt terribly about how he’d scared you into a panic attack, he cared enough to check up on you. You may as well play along.

After getting dressed you put your hands on your hips and faced him squarely.

“Run.”

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Run.” He barked, his voice gritty and dangerous, he stood up to his full height and flicked open his knife again. “Get movin’, go!”

PART THIRTEEN

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

323 notes · View notes

r0ttenhearts · 10 months

Note

can I request a charac using reader who has a crush on them for their own benefits. while reader is left to wonder why chrc acts like a stranger to reader in public. eventually confronting chrc and them brushing it off as not noticing, being too busy. until reader eavesdropped to a convo with chrc's friend abt chrc just using reader. and reader leaves and ignores chrc for a while and chrc slowly starts missing reader's presence, only to see reader with someone else and confronting reader about it. of course charac won't get the happy ending 😈

(preferably scara, or childe-- if u write for him.)

feel free to ignore, I think I haven't expressed my req properly 😭😭.

also can I be 🌧️ anon ? :>

thanks 🌧️ anon for the request ^^ i hope you enjoy!

not your pet, anymore

scaramouche x reader

warnings: angst, arguments, insults, suggestive mentions

“you love me, right?”

“of course i do, scara. you mean so much to me.” you whispered, fingers running through his hair as he leaned against you. his thick eyelashes fluttered shut, hand on his chest as he lay against you.

the biting cold of fall couldn’t compare to the warmth you two shared, huddled together like this. his cheeks still tinted pink from the cold air, hands cold to the touch, it was just the way you liked him to be. cold enough for him to want to sit close to you and warm up.

touches were not a regular occurrence for scaramouche, he was normally dismissive, claiming he hated the closeness of skin on skin contact. but that wasn’t said when he’d tug at the end of your sweater, asking if he could feel more of your warmth. soft pants escaping your lips, his cold hands wandering, bodies on the cold floor of his bedroom. that’s how you’d spend your days after school.

but this time, with your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you finished up some of scaramouche’s homework he had passed on to you, something felt different. he was glued to his phone, an unusual smile gracing his lips as his thumbs danced across the device. you frowned, putting down your pen as you watched his face pull up in expressions you had rarely seen.

“who’re you talking to scara?”

“none of your business, (y/n).” he snapped, the smile he had been wearing for a few minutes dropping as his head snapped up to look at you. he sighed dramatically, getting up from the floor as he placed his phone down next to your hand, his face inches away from you.

“so damn nosy (y/n), when you should be doing my essay. are you bored? should i give you more work? or maybe i should let you suck me off, put your mouth to use. i think i like you better when you’re stuffing me in than anything you’ve ever said, anyway.” he sneered, enjoying the silence from you. a slight movement from you caused annoyance to bubbled up inside of him, his face unable to hide that itching feeling.

“you know, if you weren’t like this i’d be nicer to you, hell, maybe i’d love you. fat chance of that happening, i hate you most of the time. the only time i like your mouth open is when you’re making those pretty sounds for me, anything else is just muck.

why’re you so quiet, huh? are you gonna run off to your friends again? tell them how horrible i am? you think someone like collei will bother with you after you tell her what you do in here with me? how you open yourself to me? after swearing to her you’re done with me? you’re fucking something, (y/n). honestly, i’m getting sick of you. can you get the fuck out now?”

scaramouche’s phone buzzes, screen lighting up with a new text message. the both of you glance to it at the same time before he snatches it up, typing away a response as you gather your things without a word. biting your tongue was easier said then done, but you knew the argument would be worse if you said anything to him at all.

with a gentle click of scaramouche’s door, hours had gone by since you made your way home. a warm shower to rid of the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach, along with the stickiness scaramouche had left you. you weren’t enjoying this, not one bit.

you figured you’d talk to him tomorrow in class, apologize for your inconveniences to him, and have it return to how it usually was after a fight. if you could call it one.

what you didn’t expect was to see scaramouche sitting by the green haired girl, haypasia, his usual seat empty as they sat side by side. quietly setting your things down, you still thought to say good morning to him, as a sign of peace.

standing from your seat, you meekly stood in front of him, hands wringing in front of you nervously. “good morning scara, and haypasia, i was wondering if—“

scaramouche never looked at you the whole time you were standing in front of him, his eyes glued on haypasia as her eyes bore into yours. a bitter smirk on haypasia’s face as she waved you off, scaramouche rolling his eyes before continuing whatever conversation they were having before you interrupted him.

a pain started to form in your chest. that nauseating prick that you’d feel every time you knew scaramouche was fooling around with other girls. cold sweat was all you felt as class droned on, your eyes never leaving the back of scaramouche’s head as his hand would slip underneath haypasia’s desk, sliding her pieces of paper that she would giggle at or turn red to after reading.

why is he being like this? should you have said something yesterday? would the satisfaction of knowing he practically owned you satisfy him enough to not be like this? these thoughts ran through your head until it was time for lunch, that bell being something of a savior as you were freed from seeing him there with her.

childe’s loud laughs caught your attention as he stood with kazuha, an anxious look on the white haired boys face as his eyes locked with yours for a moment. “i mean, just look at her! everyone knows scara is just using her. i heard, he’s been sleeping with (y/n) so he’s good enough to do it with that other girl, whatever her name is. you know her, right kazuha? whatdya think? did you get a piece of her yet too? or is it just scara sinking his claws in her, and something else!”

kazuha’s nervous laugh as childe punched his arm spoke volumes as you stood up, clutching the strap of your bag. kazuha noticed the tears in your eyes as you ran out of the classroom, you had heard every word that came out of childe’s mouth. excusing himself, he ran after you, his soft taps of his feet on the floor in comparison to your loud, cluttered footsteps.

scaramouche heard about this from childe, his demeanor changing once childe gave him the details on how kazuha ran after you. he didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did. no one else should be acknowledging his pet, the one that was so compliant and listened to everything he asked of you.

that’s how he saw you, and that’s all you were to him. right? that egging feeling in his chest as his messages to you were now left on seen more often than not. your cat keychain you hung on your bag that “reminded you of him” being replaced by a charm of a maple leaf, the same one kazuha had on his bag.

it bothered him. and he didn’t try to hide it. every time you’d sit next to kazuha instead of him, he’d grumble under his breath. a part of him ached to see you bare on his bedroom floor again, your fingers running through his hair, your gentle kisses on his forehead when you’d put him to bed when he was in a foul mood. he actually missed you.

but why were you so distant now? surely kazuha wasn’t giving you something he wasn’t, right? he couldn’t. you’d always declared your loyalty to scaramouche, never once breaking it.

then why did you admit you were in love with kazuha? your hands together in front of scaramouche as he scoffs, taking you by the wrist the second those words left your mouth.

“come again? i think i misheard you (y/n). you said you were in love with me just last month. so how do you even think you have feelings for that poet?” his voice wavered, eyes scanning across your face for a sign, a hint of remorse or love that you once held for him.

you shake your head, taking your hand away from scaramouche’s grip but he tightens it anyway. his eyes bore into yours, begging, pleading for it not to be true. for you to laugh it off and say you were kidding.

“he’s.. kind. it’s unlike something i’ve had before, and.. it feels good. it feels good to be wanted, scara. something i never felt with you.”

“something i never felt with you”, those words rung in his head as he laughs loudly, fat tears spilling as he pulls you into his chest. your hands going to push him away as he holds you tightly, laughing through his tears.

“you promised me (y/n), you promised you’d stay. you said you’d stay with me forever, love me forever! please don’t be like them, please don’t let that be a lie.”

“let me go, scara. please.” you whispered, feeling him shake his head as his hands tighten around you.

“n-no, no.. i can’t lose you too. archons, i can’t. what did childe say (y/n)? i promise he didn’t mean it, whatever he said isn’t true! i swear.. let’s just, go back to how it used to be, yeah? you can come over like you used to and- and we just don’t have to have sex. we can do things you like! i swear.. so please..”

his tears had rolled down, coating your neck as he wept. you’d never seen him in such a desperate state. his eyes looking into yours for a hint of what used to be there for him, but there wasn’t. more tears rolled down his cheeks as he let you go. he had fucked up. again. and this time he lost you, the one thing he never thought he’d lose.

“i’m sorry, scara. i’ve moved on. i think you have too with haypasia, you’ll be okay.” you say before picking up your bag, leaving him standing there with a wreck of feelings in his chest.

“you’re just like the rest.” he spat under his breath, harshly wiping at his eyes as the tears continued to flow. a hateful sentence meant to comfort no one but himself. he knew you weren’t at fault for it, he knew one day you’d want something more of him, something he’d be reluctant to give you. the day you finally escaped the clutches of the toxic relationship he had given you, the same day he had deemed the end of his new beginning.

“i never got my forever with you, like you promised. i can’t apologize for hating you for it.”

taglist: @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @kaoriee @samarill

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #scaramouche #scara x you #scaramouche x you #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader angst #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n

2K notes · View notes

wheresarizona · 5 months

Text

Learning to Live Part 27

summary: Javier was warned by you that the place he chose to propose needed to be somewhere secluded because you’d be super horny afterward. What happens when you’re both super horny after he puts that ring on your finger? Let’s just say there’s no way in hell you’re making it back to your guest room at the Murphy’s, and you’re taking advantage of any time you have alone, even if it’s risky.

rating: E (18+!! This is basically porn with plot. It is horny. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), public sex, vaginal fingering, getting caught, oral sex (m & f receiving), road head, deepthroating, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), woman on top, anal play, dirty talk, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, spit mention, come eating, birth control discussion, wedding planning, feelings, Angry Javier Peña, Javier Peña in love, Javier saying romantic things, Chucho being the best supportive father, Chucho jonesing to have grandchildren)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 17.7k+

a/n: I have had a rough last couple of weeks, and the only thing that kept me from having a complete and total breakdown was writing about these two horny dummies. This chapter is unbeta’d, and any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @juletheghoul for ensuring the Spanish made sense and @theorganasolo for giving it a read.

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

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The waves were roaring as they rolled and crashed toward the shore; some bird he couldn’t identify was squawking in the distance, the warm, humid air smelling like salt and brine. All of that was surrounding him, and the only thing Javier cared about was the woman moaning beneath him.

His fiancée.

She tasted like coffee and the sweetness of the berries and pineapple she had eaten earlier, tangling his tongue with hers. He held himself up with an arm beside her head on the blanket over the sand, giving himself enough space to work his other hand between their bodies and into her stretchy black leggings and panties. Two of his thick fingers were fucking in and out of her hot, wet cunt, his thumb on her swollen little clit, Javier swallowing her noises, knowing she was close with how tightly she was squeezing his digits.

Happy was an understatement for how he felt; he was on cloud nine, over the goddamn moon, on top of the fucking world—Javier had to be the happiest man on the entire planet because she said yes.

Yes!

She was wearing the ring, her fingers currently in his hair, and he was dying to be inside her.

There wasn’t any reason for him to be surprised by her answer, yet up until she said that three-letter word, there’d been fear in the back of his mind she’d say no. Which was ridiculous for him to even think, and he deserved it when she laid into him that she did say yes, and she was going to marry him.

He’d brought her to a little stretch of beach away from the high-traffic, touristy areas Steve and Connie had shown him years ago, so they’d have some privacy hidden away in their alcove, and since the lifeguards didn’t start patrolling until eight, there wasn’t much risk of anyone coming across them.

They didn’t get this far the first time they made out due to the interruption of her stomach growling and Javier stopping the heated kiss to insist that they eat breakfast, which they did as they watched the sun rise. Now, his cock was hard and straining in his jeans, arousal hot in his belly, working his fingers faster and making it a point to press into that spot that made her toes curl. Her muffled sounds got louder until her body was tensing, clamping down on his digits hard enough that he slowed his movements, working her through her climax with his thumb gently rolling over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

He nipped at her chin while she panted. “Good girl,” he purred, kissing a wet streak under her jaw. “Quiero hacerte el amor bajo el sol (I want to make love to you under the sun).” His words were said into her skin. “Quiero dártelo despacito mientras escuchamos las olas (I want to give it to you slowly while we listen to the waves). ¿Quieres eso (You want that)?” He sucked on her pulse point, and she moaned out yes, which might be his new favorite word.

All he needed to do was pull down her pants and underwear with how she was soaked and ready for him, and he’d be able to slide his dick inside the wet, snug heat of her pussy; Javier removed his hand from down her leggings, groaning as he sat up on his knees, his fingers going into her elastic waistband, starting to tug—

“Good morning, folks,” an unfamiliar masculine voice greeted.

Javier’s stomach plummeted, his heart pounding in his chest, and he immediately went on the defensive. His hands left her as his upper body twisted, and his head turned to glare at the interloper.

Fuck.

A small white truck was a little way away from them with Ocean Rescue in big blue letters on the side of it, a rack on the back with a long white paddleboard atop it, and a red lifeguard rescue tube hanging from it. A guy in his late twenties was in the driver's seat, his arm hanging out of the window, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, with floppy black hair and a clean-shaven face.

Javier cleared his throat, frowning.

“Good morning, sir...” he said.

Thank Christ, with how they were positioned, the younger man wouldn’t have seen anything; Steve would give him so much shit if he got arrested because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“It’s usually only surfers out this early.” The lifeguard smiled. “I just wanted to make sure everything is okay over here.”

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Ma’am,” the man said a little louder, “is everything okay over here?”

“Everything’s great!” Javier glanced over to see she was holding her thumb up.

“Awesome.” The guy in the truck focused back on Javier. “I hate being a buzzkill, man, and getting in the way of your fun, but it’s my job to remind you this is a public beach.”

“Right, yeah.” Javier scratched at the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

He waved away his apology. “Don’t sweat it. Just enjoy the rest of your day!”

“Yeah, you, too. Thank you.”

The other man nodded once, his attention going in front of him as he started driving, slowly making his way down the beach and away from them.

“Oh my god, Javier,” Cielito groaned. “That was too close.”

He faced her, seeing her hands covering her eyes.

“I’m sorry, mi amor (my love),” he said, checking his watch. “Fuck, I didn’t realize it was after eight.”

She looked at him with shock on her face. “How did we lose track of time? How long were we fooling around for?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed, pressing clean fingers to his forehead. “I got so fucking caught up in everything I forgot to pay attention to the time.”

There was rustling as she sat up, her hands rubbing along his biceps. “We both got caught up and forgot we had a time limit. On the bright side, he stopped us before you pulled your dick out or got my pants off, so he saved us from being arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Still coulda gotten us with a lesser charge for fucking around in public.”

She pulled his hand away from his face to make him look at her and the soft smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

“But he didn’t. So, why don’t we pack up and take this party back to the house where we can attempt a quickie without anyone knowing?” She wagged her eyebrows.

His cock twitched, gulping at the thought. “Or I could just fuck you in the back of the car?” That was a better option.

“You know how much I love car sex, and the SUV does have a lot of space in the backseat and those dark, tinted windows, but I think our public sex luck has run out for today. I can picture perfectly how giddy Steve would be if he had to bail us out of jail because we were caught having sex in public.”

The image of his best friend’s grinning face came to mind, and just the thought made his jaw clench and mouth turn down in a frown.

He sighed. “You’re right. Steve would never let me live it down. The house is a better idea.”

“I’m always right,” she said with a smile, lightly patting his cheek.

Javier snorted, leaning forward to kiss her. “You are always right,” he murmured against her lips.

He felt her smile. “You’re gonna be the best husband.” The fingers of both her hands slid into the hair above his ears, and, along with her words, he had a shiver moving down his spine, feeling himself melt under her touch.

“And you’re gonna be the best wife,” he said as they broke apart, and he took her left hand into his, seeing the ring on her finger, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it.

“Ugh, we need to leave right this second because it is essential I make you come.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes.

“Essential? What if we can’t sneak away from the Murphys? I’m sorry, baby, but you might have to wait until tonight to get me off.”

The wheels were turning in her head. She was thinking hard until she nodded to herself at figuring something out. “I’m gonna make you come.” It was stated as a fact. “Before tonight.”

His eyebrow rose. “Uh-huh, right, and how are you going to do that?”

The toothy smile on her face was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. “Oh, it’s a surprise.”

“It’s a surprise?”

“Yep.”

“No hints?”

“Nope.” She shook her head.

The most logical way for her to achieve her goal was to corner him in the bathroom back at Steve and Connie’s, but he didn’t think she’d be this excited about that. She had something else in mind, and he was curious what it was, finding her eagerness to get him off a major turn-on, as evidenced by the hard-on in his pants.

“I do like surprises,” he mused.

“You especially love sexy surprises, and I think you’re really going to like this one.”

“I know I will.” He caressed her cheek, memorizing how her face looked in the soft glow of the morning sun—breathtaking. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

It didn’t take them long to pack up the stuff he’d brought into the tote bag that included empty berry containers, a mostly drunk thermos of coffee, and two dirtied coffee mugs, folding the big blanket, too, and putting it all in the trunk of the rental.

Javier thought the smile on his face might be permanent, with how it wouldn’t go away. He opened the passenger door for her. “Your ride awaits, Mrs. Peña.” She took the hand he held out to help her up into the vehicle as she giggled.

“Future, Mrs. Peña,” she corrected as she sat down in her seat.

He took the step to have him next to her and bent to be at her eye level, gently turning her head with his fingers on her chin. “You said yes, and you’re wearing the ring—all that’s keeping you from legally being my wife is a ceremony and a piece of paper, but to me? I’ve already got it in my head that you’re Mrs. Peña, my wife, and people will know you’re taken just by looking at your hand.” He nodded toward her hands in her lap on top of his leather jacket.

“You love that.” Her smile was beaming.

“Love what?”

She held up her left hand. “That you put a ring on my finger so it’s clear I’m off the market and unavailable—you like that you’ve staked your claim.”

Now, that made him frown—he did love that the engagement ring broadcasted she was in a serious relationship, but he did not like the idea that it was him putting a claim on her like she was a piece of property.

An exasperated breath left her. “Let me rephrase,” she said, “because I can see it on your face—” She gestured at it. “—that you’re hating me objectifying myself. You like that I’m wearing something that shows I’m yours and have chosen to spend my life with you, and when we’re together, others will see it and know, too.”

He was smiling again, taking her left hand into his, the pad of his thumb feeling the smoothness of the gold band, then the ridges of one small diamond, two, the largest, and down to the smaller ones before it was smooth gold again, and rubbing back over it, over and over again, as he spoke. “Yes,” he said. “I love that you’re wearing this ring so I can see the proof every fucking day that you chose to marry me—” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Me. You’re marrying me, and just like how I can see the proof, everyone else can, too—they’ll know you’re mine, and I’m yours, and you’ve chosen me, and I can’t wait to wear my own ring to broadcast to the entire fucking world that I’m a married man and your husband.”

“God, you’re so fucking sweet—gold or silver?”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “Huh?”

“Your wedding ring. Gold or silver? Do you want diamonds on it? Or a different kind of gem? What are you imagining?”

“A gold band—nothing on it,” he answered immediately. “Gold that matches yours.”

Her eyes softened. “That makes perfect sense—something simple and classic.”

“Yeah, that’s all I need.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Now, let’s go, babe.” Her right hand brushed his bangs off his forehead. “You know how horny it makes me when you’re stupidly romantic, and I hate that you were cockblocked.”

He huffed out an amused breath. “I’m fine, mi amor (my love).” He gave her a quick peck on the lips.

Her hand moved from his face to the front of his jeans, Javier’s mouth falling open as she rubbed over his half-hard dick. “Sure, you’re fine,” she said. “Sure, you don’t care about not coming.”

There was a dull ache low in his gut from not getting off, and he swallowed hard at remembering her promise to make him come before that evening.

“Fuck, let’s go.” He kissed her quickly, grabbing her seatbelt and getting it around her body to buckle it in, kissing her one more time before he moved to shut the door, the dark window obscuring the view of her.

Cars were crowding the roads when they started heading back to the Murphys, the rush hour traffic making their commute much longer than the forty-five minutes it’d taken earlier that morning.

Javier fucking hated traffic, and it was one of the things he didn’t miss about Miami.

His jaw was clenched tight as they moved at a crawl down the highway with one hand on the steering wheel and his other in Cielito’s lap with their fingers intertwined, trying his best not to let his irritation of the other drivers sour their joyous day.

A candy apple red Mazda Miata with its top down almost hit their front bumper as it cut into their lane, causing Javier to slam on the brakes and lay on the horn. “Fuck!”

The guy in the car flipped him off, and his nostrils flared, his heart hammering, it taking everything in him to resist the urge to jump out of their Ford and kick the other man’s ass.

“Give me your cell phone,” his wife-to-be said.

He was seething, glancing at her. “What?” The word slipped through his teeth.

She let go of his hand to hold out her palm, looking at him expectantly. “Give me your cell phone, please.”

There was a deep frown on his face, his eyebrows dipped low, not wasting another second as he adjusted in his seat to easily pull the cell phone off his belt, passing it to her.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, looking over at her.

“Home,” she answered, her attention on the phone’s numbers under the protective case’s front plastic.

“Why didn’t you bring it?”

“Why would I need it? We’re gonna be together the whole time we’re here, and I kinda didn’t want anyone to be able to reach me unless it was an emergency, which, if that were the case, they’d know to call you.”

Her answer made him smile, liking that she didn’t want their time together to be interrupted. He watched as she pressed a number, then the call button to speed dial someone, the device going up to her ear.

Seconds later, she was laughing. “Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop),” she said, “me propuso matrimonio y yo dije que sí (he proposed to me and I said yes).” She giggled, and he was looking at the road again as he listened, not caring about the traffic anymore. “Creo que soy yo la afortunada y seria estúpida si hubiera dicho que no (I think I’m the lucky one and I would have been stupid if I’d said no). Javi es increíble y me hace la mujer más feliz del mundo entero (Javi is amazing and he makes me the happiest woman in the world). No sabes lo feliz que estoy de que me haya pedido que fuera su esposa (You don’t know how happy I am that he asked me to be his wife)... Eso es cierto, estabas asi de feliz cuando Antonia dijo que sí (That’s true, you were this happy when Antonia said yes). ¿No es la mejor sensación (Isn’t it the best feeling)? Apuesto a que Javi también lo está sintiendo (I bet Javi’s feeling it, too).”

“I am,” he said, his head turning toward her with a smile, warmth spreading through his veins. “Sí, lo soy (Yes, I am). Se siente increíble (It feels amazing).”

She grinned. “Sí, él también está muy feliz (Yes, he’s very happy, too),” she told his dad. Something she heard made her laugh, and Javier wished he knew what his father was saying.

“What did he say?” Javier whispered, focusing back on what was in front of him.

It had her switching to English, sounding amused. “We haven’t even been engaged a day, and you’re already asking about grandchildren.”

Of course, that was what his dad wanted to talk about. It made his heart speed up that this was the conversation that would determine if Cielito and he would start their family—she wanted to discuss living on the ranch with Chucho while their house was being built, something his father had already agreed to with him but hadn’t talked to her about yet.

A big smile was on her face as she spoke. “Yes, we will definitely be married before a baby is born… We haven’t had a chance to hash out the details of our wedding yet… Oh, of course, we have to do something at the ranch with Daphne and Velma—” Those were their two calves they lovingly called their bovine children. “—and we’d have to make sure Steve, Connie, and their family can be there…” Her tone shifted to something somber, and he quickly looked over to see she was frowning, and he matched her look. “It’s fine that you asked,” she said, “but, no, I wouldn’t want anyone from my family there; I don’t think they’d come if we invited them, and I’d worry they’d cause a scene if they did show up… You and the rest of the Peña’s are all the family I need…”

Javier’s heart squeezed, reaching over to rub her thigh. “I love you, too…” She grabbed his hand and held it, his dad making her laugh again. “Yes, yes, your nietos (grandchildren),” she replied in exasperation. “Javi said he talked to you… I know you’re excited, Pop…” She was smiling again. “You really won’t mind a crying baby?” Javier held his breath. “You’re sure?” Whatever his answer was, it had her giggling. “I’m going to remember you said that! Today, December 11th, at—” Her attention went to the clock radio. “—8:39 am Jesús Eduardo Peña Torres swore he wouldn’t mind his grandchild crying at all hours of the night and stated he would even assist in caring for the child to give his son and daughter-in-law breaks…” His father said something that cracked her up, saying through her laughter, “You’re going to put it in writing for us?!” Javier chuckled, thinking when they saw his dad next, he most likely would have something written up for them because he was that serious.

As much as he was loving the banter between his fiancée and father, he was dying to know if this had quelled her worries.

The bumper-to-bumper traffic was an afterthought as he glanced over at her. “How are you, uh, feeling?” he quietly asked.

Her bright, shining eyes met his with a grin on her beautiful lips, moving the phone away from her mouth to cover the speaker. She whispered, “Oh, it’s go time, babe. Like, I am going to be keeping you busy."

The smile on his face made his cheeks hurt, her answer causing arousal to burn low in his gut and blood to rush to his groin.

She was going to keep him busy trying to get her pregnant, and he was more than up for the challenge—his dick hardening at the thought.

Cielito uncovered the cell phone, saying to his father, "Yes, I'm still here; sorry, Javi had a question... Oh, of course." She was smiling. "I love you, too. Here he is." With that, she held the phone out toward him, and he took it.

"¿Bueno (Hello)?" he answered with the device at his ear.

"¿Le propusiste matrimonio durante el amanecer como hablamos (Did you propose during the sunrise like we talked about)?"

While his wif-fiancée was out with her best friend the previous weekend, he’d gone to the ranch to discuss his proposal idea with his dad since the elder Peña was a romantic like him and understood what he wanted to do.

"Sí (Yes)."

“¿Dijiste el gran discurso romántico que habías planeado pero que te negaste a practicar conmigo (Did you say that big romantic speech you had planned but refused to rehearse with me)?”

Javier sighed, remembering how his dad had needled him to say it—the only reason he didn’t was because of how intimate and personal it was, and he only wanted his intended to hear it.

“Más o menos (More or less),” he answered. “Acabo de decir lo que se sentía bien y vino del corazón (I just said what felt right and came from the heart).”

“¿Y a ella le gustó mucho (And did she like it a lot)?

“Ella dijo que sí, así que supongo que si (She said yes, so I guess she did).”

“¡Esi es, mijo (That’s it, son)! Sabes, recibes tus genes románticos de mí (You know, you get your romantic genes from me).” Pride was in his tone. “No tengo duda de que lo que dijiste fue hermoso (I have no doubt that what you said was beautiful). ¿Le gustó el anillo (Did she like the ring)?”

His head turned and looked at it on her finger.

“Le encanta el anillo, especialmente porque era de mi mamá (She loves the ring, especially because it was my mom’s). Ella estaba conmovida que le dejaste tenerlo (She was touched you let her have it). Eh—” Their SUV was moving at a slow roll, and his head moved away from her, switching ears as he said, hopefully quietly enough that she wouldn't hear, "¿Es normal que haya mucho llanto (Is it normal for there to be a lot of crying)..?"

Chucho laughed. "Sí, Mijo (Yes, Mijo). Eso es bueno (That’s good). Tu madre también lloró cuando le propuse matrimonio (Your mom also cried when I proposed)—Incluso yo también lloré (I even cried).”

“Yo también (I did, too)."

"No hay nada de malo en eso (There is nothing wrong with that). Estoy muy feliz por ti, Javi, y orgulloso de ti (I am so happy for you, Javi, and proud of you). Vas a ser un esposo increíble (You’re going to be an amazing husband)."

The praise had a lump forming in his throat.

"Gracias, Pop (Thank you, Pop)."

"No, gracias, Mijo (No, thank you, Mijo). Has traído a una mujer maravillosa a nuestra familia y me encanta tener una hija (You've brought a wonderful woman into our family and I love having a daughter). Sería aún mejor si también tuviera algunos nietos (It would be even better if I also had some grandchildren)."

Javier sighed. "Lo sé, lo sé (I know, I know). Quieres a tus nietos (You want your grandchildren). Bueno, tendrás que esperar porque no es algo que sucede asi tan rapido (Well, you're going to have to wait because it's not something that happens overnight)."

"Lo siento por ser tan agresivo (I’m sorry for being pushy). Es que estoy emocionado (I’m just excited). ¿Ayudó mi conversación con ella (Did my talk with her help)?"

"Sí (Yes). Gracias por quedarte en casa hoy (Thank you for staying home today)."

"No quería perderme tu llamada (I didn't want to miss your call)."

"Lo aprecio mucho, Pop (I appreciate it a lot, Pop)."

"De nada, Javi (You're welcome, Javi). Sabes que haré cualquier cosa por ustedes dos y sus futuros hijos (You know I'll do anything for the two of you and your future kids). Ustedes significan todo para mí (You all mean everything to me)."

Javier knew his dad was telling the truth, and it made his eyes burn with unshed tears.

"Te amamos (We love you)."

"Yo también te amo (I love you, too)."

He didn't want his emotions to get the better of him when they should be celebrating.

“We'll see you Sunday,” he said in English.

"Yes, you will. I can't wait to get a picture of you and her with the engagement ring for my photo album. We're going to have a great dinner."

"Yeah, we will. I'm gonna get going. I'll let you know when we get home from our trip."

"Thank you. Congratulations, Mijo. I'm going to take some flowers to your mom and tell her the news. I love you—I love both of you, and your mother does, too."

The mention of his mom had foggy memories of his dream from the night before coming back to him, only recalling bits and pieces of it, but he knew his father was right—she did love them.

"Thanks, Pop. I love you, too. Bye."

"Bye, Mijo."

He pushed the end call button, moving it to his other hand. Beneath the car's stereo and temperature controls was a slot where he put the cell phone.

"Well," Javier started, reaching over to grab her hand, "I wouldn't be surprised if he had our wedding planned by dinner Sunday." He brought her hand up while he looked over at her and kissed the center diamond.

She giggled. "I'm pretty sure he started planning our wedding when we first got together, which, oh my god, how long has he known you were going to propose on this trip?"

"The first week of November. Why?"

His eyes were back on the road, keeping her hand in his palm, his thumb rubbing over the ring.

"Because over the last month, when it'd just be your dad and I talking, he was fishing for info on my dream wedding—I didn't think anything of it 'cause it's been set in stone for a long time that we're going to get married and I figured he was just being proactive."

Javier was frowning, feeling a twinge of annoyance that his dad could've ruined his plans.

"I'm glad it didn't tip you off..." he grumbled.

"Hey, don't be upset with him! He's our biggest supporter. He's invested in our relationship like we're Buffy and Angel or a couple in one of your tías telenovelas!"

His eyes narrowed. "He finds our relationship... entertaining?"

There was a lot of drama between couples in telenovelas, and he guessed they'd been through some shit in their relationship. She'd explained that vampire slayer show to him and made him watch some episodes, and knew Buffy and Angel didn't have an easy time being together.

"No, he doesn't find our relationship entertaining," she replied. "We're his favorite couple. He thinks we're meant to be together and wants our relationship to succeed more than anything."

"Oh."

"Yeah." There wasn't too much space between them, a small console keeping their seats separated, and she leaned over, her free hand reaching across her body to rub over his pec. "It's very sweet. There's something else I want to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" He turned on his blinker and looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot before merging into the next lane, where cars were moving a bit faster.

"Yes, babymaking."

Air hissed out of him at the sharp spike of arousal that cut through him.

He licked his lips. "What, uh, about it?"

"Our sex life is fucking amazing, and I don't want us to lose our spark and for it to become a chore; yes, we basically only have one shot a month, and we'll have to really go to town, but I want us to enjoy ourselves and fuck for pleasure, not for the sole purpose of reproducing."

Looking over at her with a smile, he said, "Yeah, that sounds good. I wouldn't want it becoming a chore, either."

She smiled. "I'm glad that's agreed upon. There's something else I need to tell you."

"Okay?"

"You know how we got up insanely early yesterday, too?"

That was when they traveled to Miami, and they'd woken up at 4 am to make their 6 am flight from Laredo to Dallas/Fort Worth.

"Yes?" He was paying attention to driving again.

"Well, apparently, in the hecticness that was making sure we had everything before we left the apartment, checking us in when we got to the airport, boarding the airplane, traveling, boarding another plane, and getting to Miami, it kinda, sorta, slipped my mind to take my birth control..."

His eyes went big, his head snapping toward her.

"What?"

"I know. I can't believe I forgot and just about had a heart attack this morning when I saw the pill in my pack—I had to make a choice."

"What choice?" he asked.

"It was either I take yesterday's and today's pills, or I take neither."

"What did you choose?" he breathed out the question. He thought his heart might thump right out of his chest, looking forward once more.

"Well, based on the fact that I showered after each time we fucked yesterday, and there's still come inside me, and we've agreed to a baby, I just said fuck it and threw away the entire pack."

His brain short-circuited, it taking him a little longer than usual to process what she said, and needing to make sure he understood her correctly.

"You're no longer on birth control..?"

"Nope," she said with a pop of the 'p.'

"I could get you pregnant?"

"Yep." The word popped from her mouth.

"Fuck." Blood was rushing to his dick, remembering how he had come inside her twice the day before. What if he’d already knocked her up?

She removed her hand from his, her upper body turned toward him and close while she rubbed along his inner thigh, making him gulp.

"Do you like that?" she purred.

Both of his hands were on the steering wheel now, squeezing so tight the leather creaked.

He cleared his throat. "You know I do."

She palmed his swelling cock, and his mouth fell open.

"Yes, you do. It's too bad we're gonna get back to the house and won't be able to lock ourselves away in the guest room and fuck for hours. Just imagine fucking me over and over again to keep me all nice and full."

Now, it was all he could think about. He was fully hard, and he hated that they wouldn't be able to do just that. How was he supposed to enjoy the rest of their trip when he was so fucking horny?

"How long until we get back to the Murphys?" she asked.

It took him a second to register her question; his brain was stuck on imagining fucking her in a myriad of positions and finishing inside her each time.

He glanced at the clock, then the cars in front of them, and the sign on the side of the highway for where they were. "Uh, maybe forty/forty-five minutes." And then they wouldn't be alone until later that night, which made his mouth turn down, annoyed. "Why would you put that shit in my head?" he groused.

Sure, they could try to slip away to be alone; however, he had his doubts that they’d have enough time to fuck. They didn't have an excuse like they did yesterday of needing a nap and shower after traveling. The kids would want their attention—Steve and Connie sure as fuck would notice if they disappeared for an extended amount of time in their home, and his best friend would happily interrupt if he had a chance, like when he banged on the wall the night before when they were trying to have sex in that goddamn squeaky bed.

"Because," she answered, "I want you to be so horny you'll let me suck your dick right this second."

His cock jerked hard in his jeans as he groaned.

"I thought you said our public sex luck had run out?"

"Our stationary public sex luck has run out, but now we're moving in a dark windowed vehicle. So, if you want and think you can handle it, I'll suck you off to take an edge off of how unbelievably horny you are—which you're at the grumpy stage of being unbelievably horny, and I'd prefer getting you in a better mood, so you're not too mean to Steve."

She was right. He was unbelievably horny.

"Okay, yes, please."

The sight before him was miles upon miles of cars and a sea of glowing red rearview lights, the tall buildings in downtown Miami jutting high in the sky off in the distance to the left. They were moving slowly and steadily down the road.

Her seatbelt clicked as she unbuckled herself, shuffling to get her knees on her seat, leaning over the small, low center console, his hand closest to her moving to rest on her shirt-covered back to give her room to work open his belt and jeans.

The metal of his belt buckle rattled, and she quickly popped open the button on his pants, lifting his hips instinctively for her fingers in the denim waistband to tug them down far enough to free his throbbing dick and heavy sack; his jeans pulled taut as they stretched across his spread thighs.

He looked down to watch her spit in her palm, the ruddy tip of him shining with precum. She took him in hand, and he gasped, her head tilting up to meet his gaze. Reaching, he squeezed a handful of her ass.

"I know you love watching, but I need you to be a good boy and keep your eyes on the road." He swallowed hard. "Just know I've wanted to do this since the beach, and I'm happy you're finally letting me—my panties are drenched."

"Jesus Christ," he said on an exhale, looking forward at the sports car they were slowly following. "I love you so fucking much." Both of his hands went to the steering wheel, keeping them at ten and two.

"I love you, too, and if it becomes too much, you're allowed to tap out."

"I know."

She licked a broad stripe from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the head, making Javier groan as she pressed into those sensitive spots that made sparks dance along his spine. Pleasure had ignited in his belly, her lips wrapping around him and taking him into the hot, wet heat of her mouth, his jaw dropping and hands making the leather screech with how tightly he was squeezing the steering wheel.

The vibrations of her moans had the fire rapidly building in his gut, loving how he could hear how much she was enjoying herself.

She spit on the head of his cock, following it with her mouth, bobbing up and down, taking more and more of him until he was hitting the back of her throat, and it had him panting when she swallowed around him to take him down into the tight space.

"Oh, fuck, baby," he moaned, his toes curled in his boots. "That's so fucking good."

It did feel good, but what would be even better was if he could fuck her—he was greedy. She was giving him a fantastic blow job, and all he could think about was how he wished he was inside her—that it was the wet heat of her pussy enveloping him right now.

Yeah, she was on her way to getting him off—she was now wetly stroking him while her head dipped down so she could lick at the thin skin of his balls—but no matter how much pleasure she was bringing him, there was still an undercurrent of irritation from being interrupted that morning when he was trying to get into her pants.

This might not have been the best idea when the car behind them honked because he was going too slow; Javier immediately sped up.

She was right.

She could take the edge off of how horny he was by making him come with her mouth; he just hated he couldn't fuck her until later that night.

Add in the fact she accepted his proposal and told him she wasn't on birth control anymore, and it was killing him he had to wait to have sex with her. She put it in his head about fucking her for hours, and he was annoyed it wasn't something he actually had the means to do with them being on a trip.

If it was his choice and he knew they could get away with it, he’d lock them away in the guest room when they returned to Steve and Connie’s and spend as much time as he could between his future wife’s legs.

She had him back down her throat, humming around him, and he felt his eyes beginning to roll back in his head—a horn blared behind them again, this time the car speeding to pass around them, the traffic finally letting up, and the vehicles moving at regular speeds. It pissed him off, turning on his blinker and looking over his shoulder as he moved over into the far right lane for slower traffic, hoping people would leave them the fuck alone.

He was close, his heart beating rapidly, and dick swallowed down deep in her throat while her hand fondled his sack, it adding fuel to the burning fire in his gut, the muscles starting to tighten—at the thought of finishing in her mouth, he frowned.

A sign on the side of the road caught his attention, showing some places off the next exit that gave him an idea. Glancing at the clock on the stereo, he made a decision.

Or, more accurately, his dick made a decision.

"Don't make me come."

His sentence came out strained, his big hand on the back of your head and his hard cock nestled in the tight confines of your throat. Tears were streaming from the corners of your eyes at suppressing your gag reflex, saliva dripping down your chin.

What he said made your eyebrows furrow, humming, 'What?' around him.

You could hear the blinker clicking, his long arm reaching to grab some of your ass.

"Don't make me come," he said again.

With how he was panting and his tense thighs, you knew it wasn't going to take much more to finish him, and you didn't understand why he wanted you to stop, coming off of him with a gasp, a string of spit keeping you connected.

Your breaths were labored, sitting up to look at him.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

He looked at you with a smirk, his face flushed.

"I'm fucking amazing," he answered.

His dick was slick as your hand languidly jerked him, easily moving up and down the velvety skin.

"...and you don't want to come..?" It made no sense. You knew how horny he was.

"I want to come." His eyes went to the road. "I just don't wanna come in your mouth." He seemed to be looking for something outside, his head moving forward with squinted eyes, and your face turned to see where you were, finding that he was taking you down a busy city street lined with stores, restaurants, and motels.

"Um, what's your game plan here, babe?" You were beyond confused. "We're not back in Laredo, where you have your secret sex spots around town." There were different secluded places Javi had found in his younger years to park his truck and fool around with girls. "This seems too risky."

The buildings were getting nicer and newer the closer you got to the towering buildings of downtown.

"We're not doing anything risky, mi amor (my love). Especially not after this morning. Trust me."

The blinker ticked as he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel that was by far the fanciest you've driven past so far, but definitely not a five-star establishment—maybe three if you had to guess while the others had been ones and twos.

"You're joking," you said. "We're not getting a hotel room and abandoning your friends."

He parked in a spot facing the road and turned off the engine, wiggling in his seat as he got his jeans up.

"We're not staying here for the night," he said, watching as he tucked his still-hard cock into the waistband of his pants he buttoned and buckled, covering it with the bottom of his white button-up shirt.

"This isn't the kind of place that rents by the hour, Javi. We passed those, and I don't get why we didn't stop at one if we're planning to fuck for an hour or two."

His eyes met yours as he frowned. "I'm not taking the woman I love, my fiancée, to a seedy motel. You deserve better, so I don't give a fuck if this place doesn't rent by the hour, I'm getting us a room no matter how much it costs, and I'm going to fuck you for a couple of hours because I swear I'm going to go fucking crazy if I don't come inside your pussy in the next twenty minutes."

What he said had you clenching hard around nothing, completely down for his plan. There wasn’t anything for you to wipe your face off with, so you settled on using your shirt to get the spit and tears off your skin, not caring about the dark splotches on the coral-colored fabric when you were done.

"Let's go," you said, grabbing your purse from the floor and getting out of the SUV.

Javi met you at the back of the vehicle and grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as he briskly walked toward the entrance.

“I love that you’re comfortable enough in your masculinity to admit you’re not gonna last and didn’t lie to me about how you were gonna rock my world or some shit.”

He looked over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. "Who said I'm not gonna rock your world? Yeah, the first round might be quick, but it's still gonna be good for you, baby." He ended the sentence with a wink, which had your skin heating. Javi focused on what was in front of him as you walked through the doors that automatically slid open upon your approach.

He wasn't joking when he said he didn't care about the cost—it was a Friday during the busiest travel season of the year, and you hadn't booked ahead; you were lucky they even had a room available. There was no hesitation when they told him the obscene price for one night, and he handed over his American Express credit card. His black leather wallet was in one hand, the fingers of the other tapping impatiently on the marble countertop while he waited for the worker to finish the transaction.

He didn't read over any of the paperwork he scribbled his signature on, and once they told him the room number and handed over the keycard, his hand was taking yours to quickly lead you to the elevator the hotel employee had pointed out.

The room was a queen suite with the typical bedroom furniture—a bed, nightstands, dresser, TV, as well as a sitting area that consisted of a couch and coffee table, a desk on the opposite wall, beside a mini fridge with a microwave atop it.

There wasn't much time to take in the details because the moment Javi got the door open, he was dragging you in and kicking it closed as his mouth collided with yours in a hard and searing kiss, palming your ass with one hand, an arm around your back guiding you further into the room.

The keycard got tossed onto the desk, along with your purse, his tongue eagerly pressing between your lips. Arousal was burning in your belly, your fingers working open the buttons of his shirt while he walked you toward the bed that was in the far corner and felt like it was miles away.

The tension that had built up since your morning liaison had been interrupted was so thick it was palpable enough to be cut with a knife. There was desperation in your kisses, feeling his need with every hungry press of his lips to yours; relief as you removed each other's clothes, that you were finally somewhere you didn't need to worry about how loud you were or anyone bothering you; overwhelming happiness over the day's events and eagerness to make use of the perfect, not-absurdly squeaky, queen-size bed.

The two of you were naked in record time, and after Javier pulled off the ugly red and green floral printed bedspread to fall into a pile on the floor, he was facing you, his hard dick bobbing between his legs, with a look on his face that promised trouble.

"No," you said.

That just made him grin and move quicker as he replied, "Yes," his arms getting around you as you laughed. He used that impressive strength he developed from doing manual labor on his father's ranch to toss you onto the mattress, where you bounced a few times, the springs complaining under your weight—Javi quickly followed, finding yourself with a sizable man on top of you, his hips nestling in their home between your thighs while his lips found yours once more.

His hair was soft between your fingers, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly.

You spoke between kisses. "You just love… throwing me like… a sack of potatoes."

You felt his mouth curve into a smile. "Yes."

"One of these days… you're gonna… throw out… your back."

He nipped at your lip, pulling back to look at you with a grumpy expression. "I'm not gonna throw out my fucking back—I'm used to hauling around calves and bails of hay. Tossing you around is nothing."

"Okay, Hercules. Now, how do you want me?” You held his cheeks. “Missionary? Doggy? Cowgirl? Reverse cowgirl? From the side? In your lap? What are you feeling? 'Cause you weren't the only one cockblocked this morning, and I would really like to get fucked."

"Do you wanna come on my fingers again? Or my mouth?"

"Nope.” You smiled. “Dick, please."

He crookedly smiled. "I love you so fucking much."

"A girl tells you she wants your dick, and you proclaim your love—how romantic."

"My wif-fiancée," he quickly corrected, "tells me she wants my dick when I'm dying to be inside her—I'm gonna proclaim my love for her. Hell, I wanna propose to you again."

You giggled. "The power of my pussy,” you said, pulling him down for a brief kiss, your eyes on his when you separated. "And I love you, too. Position?"

He gave you a quick peck. “You’ll see,” he said and started getting up, a pained groan leaving him.

Sitting up on your elbows, you watched as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed by you with his feet easily planted on the floor. With where he was on the mattress, you had a view of his profile, taking in the curve of his nose and his plush, pillowy lips, watching him spit on his fingers that he curled around his shaft, hearing the wet strokes as he slicked himself up.

His head turned to you. “Move your legs.”

He wanted to lie back, and it made you smile as you moved them out of his way and got up on your knees. “I’m riding you,” you said.

Javi was lying on his back with his long legs bent at the knees along the edge of the bed while his feet touched the ground, and his ass settled a little over halfway to the middle of the mattress.

He was looking at you with a smile. “Yeah—get on, mi amor (my love).”

“My ride awaits?” you asked, tossing him a few pillows, Javi putting one under his head as you shuffled toward him.

“My dick awaits.” And it was, his cock resting against his stomach in the hair below his belly button, shining from his saliva in the dim light coming from over by the door.

“Yes, it is.” When you went to straddle him, his hand on your thigh stopped you.

“Other way,” he said.

A toothy smile appeared on your face. “Reverse cowgirl.” You turned around with your back to him, getting your leg over his hips. “I’m surprised you’re putting me in charge,” you said, keeping a hand on his thigh for balance while the other went between your legs to grab his hard length. “I’d think with how horny you are, you’d wanna just fuck my brains out.” Slotting him at your entrance, you didn’t draw things out and sunk down, matching moans coming from you both as he stretched your tight walls, and you took him all the way down to the hilt.

His hands were on your hips, holding you flush against him.

"Don't move," he said through his teeth, his cock twitching inside you.

You were leaning forward with your palms on his thighs for leverage.

"I won’t—god, you feel so good inside me, Javi. I love you.”

"You feel so good around me." He already sounded wrecked.

It took a minute before his fingers loosened their grip.

"Monta me (Ride me)." He smacked the side of your ass. "Monta me, mi Cielito (Ride me, my Cielito). Mi amor, mi vida, mi prometida (My love, my life, my fiancée). Haznos venir (Make us come)."

At the order, you started moving, rising on your knees until only the tip of him remained inside and falling back down, over and over again, at a steady pace.

"I fucking love you," he groaned. "Fuck, you look so good." His hands squeezed your asscheeks, spreading them and helping you bounce. "This ass—fucking love this ass bouncing on my dick." He gave it a spank; his voice was tight like it was taking everything in him to keep himself from coming. "Love this pussy; this perfect pussy—I was made for this pussy.” His breaths were loud, and you knew if you looked at his face, it’d be screwed up like he was in pain with his eyebrows pulled together and teeth bared.

“Javi,” you moaned when his thumb slid through your wetness up his cock to press to your asshole, circling the tight ring of muscle, something blissful curling inside you.

“I'm gonna marry you,” he continued. “I wanna give you my last name. Shit," he hissed and audibly gulped. "You’re off your birth control. You're gonna make me come, and I could get you pregnant."

Obviously, he was loving the visual of seeing your ass move up and down as you worked yourself on him—and you were loving the things he was saying, so much so it had a wave of arousal dripping down his cock and making it slicker where you were joined.

Heat had started forming at the base of your spine, your slick walls hugging his dick, spearing into you and fitting so perfectly, each stroke felt like nirvana.

"I'm gonna keep you full of my come today," he gritted out. "Gonna fuck you as many times as you'll let me to keep you stuffed."

A shock of pleasure in your tummy made you clench hard around him and stuttered your rhythm.

"You think you'll knock me up?" you panted.

"I know I'll knock you up—if not today, maybe tomorrow or the next day. I'll fuck a baby into you, eventually."

It was a promise, and it thrilled you.

Your breaths started coming out heavier, feeling the threads of your orgasm beginning to wind. Your brows were furrowed as you concentrated on your movements, breathily moaning.

As incredible as this felt, just the penetration wouldn't get you off; you needed more—it was loud between your legs, hearing his cock wetly working in and out of your pussy, the bed’s springs softly squeaking beneath you, rough sounds coming from Javi’s throat, and softer ones slipping past your lips, the air conditioner, below the window, loudly thrumming in the background.

"Fuck, lay back," he said. "I'm too fucking close."

It took a little maneuvering to get your legs out in front of you while keeping his dick in place and lying back so your spine was to his chest. You ended up leaning a little to the left, so your head rested beside his on two stacked pillows. His fingers dug into your waist, and he started thrusting up from beneath you, the new angle making his cock press into spots that had stars bursting behind your closed eyelids and his name leaving your lips in a hedonistic chant that seemed to only get louder as the seconds passed.

This was on par with how you expected he'd fuck you when you got into this room, his feet planted and giving him the traction he needed to push up his hips and fuck into you hard and fast, his dick never more than halfway out of you.

He was grunting in your ear, the pleasure in you building, hearing the slick slide of him fucking in and out of you. Your hands had grabbed onto his forearms for something to hold onto, your fingernails, no doubt leaving behind crescent moon indents in his skin.

And since Javi knew your body like the back of his hand and how to play you like a goddamn fiddle, he licked two of his fingers and pressed the pads to your perky little clit, circling it just the way you liked while his other hand massaged your breast before his digits were tweaking your stiff nipple.

"Need you to come for me," he grunted. "I wanna feel my fiancée come around my dick. I need you to squeeze me, so I can fuck you full of me—need to fill you up."

The muscles in your abdomen began to wind up tight; the onslaught of his cock pistoning into you, his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and your nipple being pinched and rolled had you soaring toward your end.

"Oh god," you whined through hard breaths, "I'm gonna come—you're gonna make me come."

"Let go, mi amor (my love)," he said. "Come for me, baby."

The tension built inside you until you were cresting, coming with a shout, your body tensing up and pussy clamping down on him so hard it sent him with you. Javi pushed up into you as deep as possible, a low, dirty moan leaving him as his dick jerked hard, and you felt the pulse of spurts and spurts of his come painting your walls.

Pleasure had overtaken every molecule in your body, your breaths panting from your lungs, and your heart thudding a mile a minute, not bothering to fight it when you went completely lax and became a dead weight atop your future husband. You welcomed the sweaty arms that wrapped around your middle, and turned you onto your sides without dislodging himself inside you, your hand going back to push into his damp hair, his face nuzzling at the back of your neck.

There was a stillness to the room as your hearts slowed together and breaths evened out, the hum of the air conditioner’s motor the loudest sound. Calm had washed over you both; peace, relief—for the first time since you were back home, you could actually relax. There was no fear that someone heard you or you were too loud. Instead, you were able to bask in the post-coital glow when the two of you never felt closer and more connected.

Minutes pass, and in the distance, you hear the occasional door slamming and voices passing by your rented room, fading away as quickly as they came.

"What's your dream wedding like?" Javi asked, ending the long, comfortable silence.

“You know how women say they’ve been dreaming about their wedding since they were little girls?”

"Yeah?"

"I don't know what kind of childhoods they had, but weddings never crossed my mind as a kid aside from when we had to go to one, and they were really fucking boring to me.” Javi snorted. “There was maybe one time I thought about my own nuptials, and it was in my early teens at my cousin's wedding that was insane. There were over two hundred people in attendance at some swanky venue, with expensive food and booze—think steak and lobster, a raw oyster bar, and Dom Pérignon; they went all out, and my mother made this comment about how so many of the guests would come to my future wedding—and she didn’t mean our family members; she was talking about the wealthy friends of our family I barely knew and the rich acquaintances my parents just wanted to rub elbows with.”

“You hated that,” he said, kissing your bare shoulder.

“I fucking hated it and was not okay with the idea that one of what was supposed to be the happiest days of my life would be hijacked to keep up appearances.”

“Sounds fucking miserable.”

“Right? I don’t want a big wedding. I don’t like being the center of attention, and I know I seem pretty confident, but I actually get awful stage fright. So, I don’t think I want a small wedding either. My dream wedding is you and me going to the courthouse with your dad and Robyn as witnesses and eloping, then afterward, we throw a big party to celebrate with our friends and family—that just sounds nice to me.”

His lips pressed to your neck.

"What about you?" you asked. "How do you imagine your dream wedding?"

His arms around your belly squeezed a little tighter.

"My dream wedding is whatever you want it to be."

"As sweet as that is, it's your special day, too. And you're a big 'ol sap, so I know you've got something in mind.” Your fingers scratched lovingly at his scalp.

"I don't want a big wedding, either.”

“I am well aware.”

Years and years ago, his wedding with Lorraine was going to be the biggest in Laredo that year since her dad was the mayor and her family was well-known and the wealthiest in town—which was a huge reason why it was well over seventeen years later, and people still talked about Javier leaving her at the altar.

“Yeah, I guess you are—I love you.” He held you closer.

“I love you, too, baby,” you said.

“You wanna know how I picture our wedding?” he asked. “You know the tree on the hill out on Pop's land, I take you to watch the sunset?" It was the place where you told him you knew he loved you before he ever said the words and somewhere you’d returned many times after.

"I'm very aware of the spot. We ride out there all the time." Him on his horse, Sombra, and you on his cousin's, Dulce. Javi was more than happy having you on his horse with him, but you had asked him to teach you how to ride by yourself, and he did. You quite enjoyed being able to do it on your own.

His finger started skating along the skin of your belly, drawing random shapes.

“I like to imagine us at the tree as the sun sets with my dad officiating—he’s holding his bible, and I know we’re not into that shit, but it’s Pop, and he’d give it his all, including a scripture or two, and a photo of mi mamá (my mom) he’d hold under his fingers to the cover of the book so she’s there with us, too, and Seb and Robyn would come as our only two witnesses.” His cousin, and your best friend/co-worker, who were dating.

You could picture it perfectly, standing there beneath the old oak tree’s tall, twisting limbs and canopy of green leaves with Javi’s big hands holding yours as you said your vows and intertwined your lives with an exchange of rings, the sky exploding in color from the setting sun.

"Your dream wedding is just a stupidly romantic version of my dream wedding,” you said. “How dare you out-dream wedding me!"

He chuckled, sitting up a little and using his hand to turn your head by the chin so he could lean over and kiss your cheek. "I told you my dream wedding is whatever you want it to be.” He nuzzled against your face. “I don’t think I’ve told you this,” he said. “Sunrise and sunset used to be nothing more than the beginning and end of my day when I worked on the ranch, and then I met you—the sun would rise, and it meant another day with you in my life, and the beauty of it took my breath away. And sunsets? They’ve never been prettier—they’re gorgeous, and I want to share every sunrise and sunset with you for the rest of my life.”

You flipped over, and it had him slipping out from between your legs, a low hiss coming from his mouth.

"Sorry," you said, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddled his hips, and laid chest to chest with him. Your face hovered over his with your arms holding yourself up beside his head, ignoring his come oozing out of you. His eyes were squeezed shut as you stared at him. "I’m gonna marry you so hard, you sweet, adorable, romantic man—you said your dream wedding is whatever I want it to be, and now it’s your stupidly romantic wedding at our tree during sunset."

His eyelids blinked open, and he smiled crookedly.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." You nodded. "Is your dad even ordained?"

He had a thoughtful expression. "I don't think so? But I read you can get ordained online, and it's not difficult to do. We can ask him if he'd want to."

Your face softened. "You know he'd love to."

He was smiling. "Yeah, he would."

The look on your face shifted to something mischievous. "And if he says no, we can just ask Steve to do it."

His features scrunched into something annoyed, and a hand slapped your ass hard, making you laugh.

"Over my dead body," he said. "He's not doing our fucking wedding ‘cause he’d say embarrassing shit and ruin everything. If Pop won't do it, then we're going to the courthouse."

"That's it? We're either having a sunset tree wedding or going to the courthouse? There's nothing else you'd want?"

He thought it over for a second.

"I like your idea about a party afterward with our friends and family," he answered. "I'm with you on not wanting to get married in front of everyone, but I do wanna celebrate with them."

You smiled. "So, private ceremony and a poppin' party afterward? Did we just plan our wedding?"

He matched your look, his hand coming up to hold your cheek. "Yeah, I think we did." He pulled you down, kissing you tenderly. When he looked at you after, his gaze was soft. "Any day, any time, you tell me when, and I'll be there no matter what," he said. "Nothing will keep me from marrying you.” He suddenly looked unsure. “You know that, right?"

It made your heart ache. He was worried you thought he might not show up to your wedding as he'd done at his first.

"Javi, baby." You put all your weight onto one arm to push his hair out of his face with your other hand and soothingly stroke your fingers through the soft strands. "Is the sky blue?"

His eyebrows creased. "Yes?"

"Is grass green?"

"Yes?"

"Are you the sexiest man alive?"

He frowned. "Fucking Harrison Ford is this year’s sexiest man alive, and you know that." He was pouting, and it made you snort.

When he saw the People Magazine while the two of you were at the grocery store proclaiming Harrison Ford as this year's sexiest man alive the previous month, Javi had grumbled, 'You gotta be fucking kidding me,' because he knew you thought the actor was attractive and had seen the majority of his filmography. Javi had a love/hate relationship with the guy since he did quite enjoy his movies but couldn't stand the fact that the other man was your celebrity crush.

"Well, whoever decides the sexiest man alive at People Magazine is wrong since the correct answer to that question was yes—you, Javier Peña, are the sexiest man alive."

"Fucking Harrison Ford," he muttered.

You huffed in exasperation, rolling your eyes.

"Let's get back on topic. Does two plus two equal four?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Is Empire Strikes Back the best Star Wars movie?"

"Yes—why are you asking these questions?"

"Because they’re all facts," you said. "Like how I know for a fact you'll be there on our wedding day to say 'I do' and put a ring on my finger so I'll officially become Mrs. Javier Peña."

His dimple was showing he was smiling so big. "Yes, I fucking will."

His arms were around you, and a surprised sound left you as he rolled you onto your back, your thighs cradling his hips and feeling his cock beginning to harden between your bodies.

He lightly bit at your chin, his lips making a wet trail of kisses under your jaw that had tingles skittering down your spine, moaning when he got to the sensitive skin of your throat, your fingers tangling into his hair.

"I'm gonna marry you.” His voice was muffled while he kissed and bit along the column of taut skin. "And there's a chance you could be pregnant with our baby when I do."

He was making it hard to think while he sucked at your pulse.

"When?" you gasped.

"Hmmm?" he hummed.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart beating in your cunt.

"When do you want to get married?"

His head came up to look you in the eyes, low light from the fixture above the room’s door across the bedroom glowing behind the mess of brown hair on his head, giving some strands sticking out at odd angles a honeyed hue. His lips were red, cheeks pinked up, his gaze dark and hungry.

"Whenever you want," he answered. "Next weekend, next month—if you're planning on inviting people out of state, I'm fine with waiting a few months to give them time to figure out their travel shit. It's all up to you." He pecked your lips. "Most of my family are back home, and then I'd want Steve's family there—that's it for me."

He kissed you then and really kissed you. The kind of kiss that told you the conversation was over, and he wanted to shift his focus to the fact you were both naked in a bed, in a place where you could fuck with abandon and no interruptions.

Javi moved you further up the mattress and sheathed his hard dick back inside your sopping pussy, the slickness of his come allowing him to slip right in—his mouth was fused to yours while he slowly rocked, letting you feel every ridge and vein along his shaft pressing against your inner walls.

He had you feeling incredibly full with how he was keeping most of himself buried inside your cunt, pushing in so deep you thought he had to be up in your guts. Your legs wrapped around his waist and locked at the ankles, his large palm grabbing your left hand from his hair to lace your fingers together, his lips leaving yours to kiss the diamond before pressing your hands into the bed beside your head, his mouth back on yours.

It started soft and slow, neither of you rushing to come and simply enjoying being with the other. At some point, there was a shift, and the kisses became more heated until he was breaking away to get up on his knees, untangling your legs from him and moving them to one side, causing your hips to twist onto your side with his cock still inside you. He had one hand gripping your thigh, the other on the side of your ass, and he started moving at a hard, fast pace that had skin slapping against skin as his hips connected with your backside and the backs of your thighs.

He made you come by getting his fingers into the tight space between your closed legs to play with your clit while he pounded into you, and before you even recovered, he had you up on your spread knees, your chest to the mattress as you caught your breath. Your fingers were clawing at the snow-white sheets and moaning loudly when his tongue licked against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

Javier said he was going to fuck you for a couple of hours in this hotel room, and he did.

In the first hour, he had you on top of him, on your knees, your back, your stomach, your side, bent over the bed and on the edge of it. You lost track of how many times you came, and it was a mess between your legs with the two times Javi had finished inside you.

There was, of course, a break for Javi to recover after he'd come, and so you both could drink some water from the plastic cups on a tray with the empty ice bucket.

His cell phone started ringing about an hour and a half after you arrived.

There was a thin sheen of sweat coating both of your naked bodies, and you were lying back with your head on a pillow—Javi's lips were wrapped around the swollen berry of your clit while two of his thick fingers were deep in your come-filled cunt, pressing into that spot that had your vision blurring, so close to climaxing you were right on the precipice.

Your hands were in his hair, moaning loudly, and the sudden ringing had you jumping in your skin.

"Ignore it," he said into your pussy.

He was back to sucking on your bundle of nerves, and you focused on the pleasure building in your tummy, winding tighter and tighter. The call went to voicemail, and the ringing stopped. Finally, you fell over the edge, coming with a gasp, your muscles clenching up tight, euphoria erupting out from your center.

"Good girl," his muffled voice said, working you through your high.

You were feeling amazing, your body completely relaxing, limbs trembling, practically melting into the bed, and having to fight off the exhaustion from so many orgasms that was threatening to make you fall asleep.

Ringing started again, and it startled you.

Javi sighed against your cunt, his mouth and fingers leaving you and the mattress jostling as he got up.

"Who the fuck is calling?" His voice was a little hoarse.

"My money is on either your dad or Steve," you slurred, sounding drunk.

Your eyes were closed, but you could hear the rustle of him grabbing his jeans off the ground to get the cell phone off of his belt.

"Goddammit," he muttered, and you heard the beep of him pressing a button. "What?" he answered. "Yeah, we're fine... She said yes... Thanks..." He was talking to Steve. You were sure of it with his annoyed, clipped answers. "We had time, so I brought her downtown... Yeah, we'll be back before then..." He loudly sighed. "With all the great shit that happened this morning, I was too busy enjoying time with my new fiancée to even think about calling anyone. Sorry... Okay, I gotta go... Bye." Another beep of him pressing the end call button and the phone dropping down to his jeans on the floor.

"Was he worried we hadn't gotten back?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"That's sweet."

"It's annoying."

The bed’s springs softly squeaked as he got onto it.

You smiled. "I think it's cute that Steve gets on your nerves as if he was your sibling—you love him, you'd take a bullet for him, but just the sound of him breathing aggravates you; Steve's your adopted brother."

His hand grabbed your ankle, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

"Maybe he is."

"He is. His kids call you tío (uncle), and you love them like they are your flesh and blood."

"I do."

"Yes, you do." Your eyes blinked open, moving to sit up on your elbows to see him sitting on the bed by your legs, his gaze meeting yours. "There are a lot of people who love you, Javi, and I'm happy our kids will have so much family."

He frowned, and you knew he was about to ask about your own, who'll be up in arms when they discover you’re engaged to him.

"I don't want to talk about it," you said before he could open his mouth. "This is a happy, horny time, and we're not gonna ruin the mood with my baggage—I gotta go to the bathroom." You started getting up, and he stopped you with his hand on your leg, your eyes meeting his.

"Mi familia es tu familia y te aman sin condiciones (My family is your family and they love you no matter what)—te amamos sin condiciones (we love you no matter what). Tu familia biológica no saben lo que se están perdiendo (Your biological family have no idea what they’re missing). Eres inteligente, hermosa, compasiva, y cómica (You’re smart, beautiful, compassionate, and funny)—eres increíble y si ellos no pueden ver eso, no los necesitas (you are incredible and if they can’t see that, you don’t need them).”

Emotion had your eyes burning. "Thank you," you said, leaning forward to touch his forearm. "I know you all love me, and I love you—it'll be nice when I can change my last name."

A little smile pulled up on his lips. "I can't wait to give you my last name—now, go pee.” He patted your leg. “We only have half an hour left, and I don't wanna waste a single minute."

"You know, you get really bossy when you're horny." You got off the bed on shaky legs, something you were used to, padding across the floor.

"Would you rather me be grumpy?" he called after you, making you laugh.

Stopping at the bathroom doorway near the room's door, your hand on the mahogany-colored wood, you looked over at him. "Grumpy-horny Javi is very hot, and I can expect to be railed senseless—like last night when you were mad about the squeaky bed and worked out your frustration by putting me face down, ass up, and fucking me hard. With bossy-horny Javi, I'm in for an insane amount of orgasms because you get all pleasure dommy and make it your life's purpose to make me come so many times, I look like a newborn giraffe when I try to walk afterward."

A short huff of air left his nose, and he looked amused.

"Is there a regular-horny Javi?" he asked.

"Yes.” You nodded. “Regular-horny Javi is usually stuck to me like glue and handsy before we get naked. The sex is very intimate and involves a lot of kissing, and we're so comfortable we sometimes chat and laugh in the middle of it."

He was giving you a fond smile. "That one's your favorite," he said.

You grinned. "Of course, and it's the horny Javi I get the majority of the time, so I am living the fucking dream."

"It's my favorite, too."

"Like, don't get me wrong, the last hour or so has been spectacular and some of your best work, but all the position changes had me feeling like we were filming a porno."

Something happened because he was suddenly giving you a blank stare, and it had your eyebrows cinching together. After a few seconds of silence, you spoke. "Javi?"

Saying his name had him coming back to himself with a slight shake of his head.

He said something so quietly you couldn't hear it from how far away you were.

"What?" you asked.

His eyes were on yours, and they'd gone darker.

"I'm buying a camcorder."

"Oh my god, Javier," you said in exasperation. "You're not buying a camcorder for the sole purpose of us making a dirty movie."

He was frowning. "I'd use it for other stuff—like our wedding and the birth of our kid."

"You're absolutely not recording me giving birth."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "No birthing video, got it. I still wanna record our wedding and some of the party. I'm sure there's a lot of other shit we'd wanna film."

"Uh-huh." You crossed your arms. "We've been together awhile, and you're just now deciding you should get a camcorder?"

"Yeah, seems like a great investment." He shrugged.

"Seems like a horny investment—you're ridiculous. Buy your camcorder, Mr. Amateur Porn Star." You walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light.

"Our homemade porno would be better than anything professionally made!" he shouted from the other room.

Javier was getting old, and he fucking hated it.

When the idea came to him to stop at the hotel, he thought two hours was more than enough time—he could fuck her over and over and over again to work it out of his system so he wouldn't be on edge the rest of the trip.

What he didn't account for, in his grand horny scheme, was his goddamn refractory period. It pissed him off that he wasn't ready to go again after five, ten minutes like it'd been in his twenties. No, on a good day, he was looking at fifteen, and most of the time, it was at least twenty. So, forty minutes out of their two stolen hours they had alone together, his dick didn't work.

It made him so fucking mad.

The time wasn't wasted—the first twenty minutes, he got to enjoy some post-sex cuddling, and they planned their wedding. The second time, the moment he could function, he was using his mouth and fingers to make her feel really fucking good.

This has never been an issue since they haven’t had a time constraint like this before. The few Saturdays where they spent the majority of the day tangled in their bed's sheets, it wasn't a big deal for them to take a fifteen to twenty-minute breather between rounds.

But in these two uninterrupted hours after the love of his life agreed to marry him and told him she was ready for them to start their family, revealing she was already off of her birth control, every minute counted; there was something in the back of his mind, an urge, that he needed to bury himself inside her and fuck his come as deep as possible—it was insatiable. He'd already finished twice, and it wasn't enough, and because he had to wait twenty fucking minutes to get hard again, there was only enough time for him to come once more.

Which was where they were now, with Javier kneeling on the bed while she straddled his hips, her arm around his neck, the other on the bed behind her for balance, his hands gripping her ass and helping her work herself up and down his cock.

His forehead was wet with sweat, feeling a drop slide down the side of his face, the rest of his body glistening. Exertion had grunts pushing from his throat, his mouth on hers smothering her moans.

He had already got one last orgasm out of her and was heading toward his own end. Her pussy was drooling all over his dick with the mixture of their come and her arousal, dripping down to coat his balls and fall onto the sheets—they were making a mess, and he planned to leave the housekeepers a big tip for all the trouble.

The familiar pressure was coiling deep in his gut, electricity igniting in his core, a telltale sign he was close. He broke the kiss and got both of her arms around his neck, making her squeak in surprise when he practically tackled her back onto the mattress, their bodies bouncing a little for a few seconds.

His hips were moving fast, hearing the wet smack of his body colliding with hers and his cock working in and out of her drenched cunt.

His teeth found her chin with a small amount of pressure while his eyes were closed, holding himself up with his arms bracketing her ears.

"Come for me, Javi," she breathlessly said, grabbing onto his ass, her fingers digging into the flexed muscles. "Come for me, baby." His face went into the crook of her neck, panting hot breaths against her skin. "You've fucked me so good today, Javi. I need you to come—fuck a baby into me."

Pleasure sliced through him like a burning knife, and he whined, his strokes speeding up.

"Anything," he panted. "I'll give you anything you want—you can have anything. I'm yours—" he was fuck drunk and rambling. "—I'm all yours, and I'll give you a baby—I'll get you pregnant. We'll have our baby. Fuck," he groaned.

All his nerves lit up, energy thrumming under his skin and sparking through his body. The knot in his belly was tightening, his rhythm becoming uneven until he was at the point of no return—he was coming, and nothing could stop him.

He pushed forward hard, sinking his dick inside her to the root as it jerked, and pleasure overtook him, raggedly moaning that dulled when he bit into her shoulder—his come gushed into her depths, his hips rolling to fuck it deeper before the oversensitivity made him hiss.

Something in the recesses of his brain was purring happily—satiated.

His body was blissfully relaxed, and he slumped onto the woman under him, feeling completely wrung out and thinking he might pass out.

"'m sorry," he mumbled into her neck. "Is this okay?"

Her fingers slid into his hair, and tingles shivered down his spine.

"It's fine, baby," she whispered. "But don't pass out—we have to leave."

The sound he made was a mix of a groan and whine. He was so comfortable he didn't want to move.

How mad would Steve and Connie be if they didn't go on the beach trip and stayed here for a few more hours?

"No," she said. "We're not ditching your friends." Of course, she knew what he was thinking.

"I don't wanna move." He actually whined this time.

"You knew we had two hours here, and that's it. We need to take a quick shower so it's not obvious we've been fucking, and then we gotta get back to Steve and Connie's because the kids are excited to go to the beach with you."

He nuzzled closer into her throat.

"'m comfy."

She pinched his asscheek hard, and he twitched.

"We're not disappointing the children, Javier. Now, get up." She smacked his ass.

"You're mean,” he grumbled.

"I'm not mean. I'm polite to our hosts. You're being a big whiny baby."

"Que mala que eres conmigo (You're so mean to me)."

"Yo tampoco soy mala en español (I'm not mean in Spanish either)."

He sighed. "Cinco minutos, por favor, mi amor (Five minutes, please, my love)."

"Bueno, cinco minutos por que eres lindo (Okay, you can have five minutes because you're cute)." The fingers on one of her hands scratched at his scalp, and her other hand rubbed over his back, a content sigh leaving him as he smiled.

She was so soft and warm beneath him, her scent filling his nose and soothing him.

Up until he met her, home was the ranch he grew up on—no matter where in the world he lived, it was always that house where his parents were, and he was welcome and loved.

Home was no longer a place.

Home was the woman he loved's arms wrapped around him; It was her grinning at him with that gorgeous smile; It was her perfect lips pressed to his; It was her delicate hand held in his larger palm; It was her beautiful eyes staring at him with all the love in the world.

Home was his Cielito, his little heaven.

And as long as he was with her, he was home.

His mind had drifted, and quickly, his consciousness went with it, too.

A loud snore erupted against your neck, the sudden noise causing you to jolt.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whispered.

You explicitly told him not to pass out, you had even asked him after going to the bathroom if he should really go again because you had a feeling it’d put him to sleep, and he reassured you he’d be perfectly fine—the dirty fucking liar.

“Javi?” you said softly, lightly patting his back. “Wake up, babe. We have to get going, honey.”

His body tensed, and he sucked in a breath as he awoke immediately, his head raising to look at you with bleary eyes.

“Fuck.” His voice was hoarse. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Sure did, Sleeping Beauty.” You rubbed along his spine. “We gotta get up and leave. You can take a nap at the beach.”

His pouty lips were dipped low in a frown.

“With you…?”

You smiled, pushing some hair away from his face. "Is this one of those days where you can't go more than a few seconds without touching me?"

Those big brown eyes of his got bigger as he nodded.

In general, Javi was constantly touching you, but there were some days when he was practically stuck to you like a handsy octopus and went with you everywhere—except the bathroom, the one place you firmly told him, no, he couldn't come with you and hang out while you did your business.

"My cute, needy fiancé." You cupped his cheek. "I'll stay close if you need me to."

His head turned to kiss your palm. "I need you to."

"Okay, now let's get up."

A long, sad sigh exhaled from his lungs. "Fine," he said, leaning forward to peck you on the lips.

He moved then, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulled his soft length out of you, his hands sinking into the mattress when he pushed himself back and up with a grunt to kneel between your legs.

His gaze was stuck at the apex of your thighs, the lips of your sex puffy, and your hole starting to drip his come—two of his fingers scooped up what had dribbled out and pushed it back in, your mouth falling open.

His dark eyes locked on yours, his voice a deep, rough rasp when he spoke. "We don't want to waste any." He laid his other hand onto your lower abdomen, his digits spread wide to take up ample real estate over your womb. "We need to keep you full. Can you be my good girl and keep me inside?"

Pleasure zipped along your spine, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you nodded.

"Yes," you answered, putting a hand over his on your skin.

He picked up your smaller palm, his gaze dropping to the ring that made him smile, the pad of his thumb mapping the mountain range of diamonds before he lifted it to his lips in a kiss.

"Good," he said, setting your hand down and removing the fingers of his other from inside your pussy. You watched as he sucked the come-soaked digits into his mouth with a dirty groan at the taste. They came out licked clean from between his lips. "We taste so fucking good together," he told you, with his attention on you. "Let's shower, mi amor (my love). Then we can go and figure out what the fuck we're gonna tell Steve and Connie on the way."

"Are you saying they wouldn't appreciate us spending a dumb amount of money to fuck for a couple of hours instead of secretly getting busy under their roof?"

"They'll be happy we did it outside of their house, but it'd piss Steve off that we made them worry and didn't call to tell them we had other plans because we were too busy fucking."

You blew air out of the side of your mouth. "We just can't win with that guy."

"I told you he's fucking annoying."

"Eh—" You shrugged. "—he's just your brother from another mother, and you both find dumb shit to get annoyed about with each other. I wish I only got annoyed about dumb shit with my little brother, but he's actually an entitled dick because my parents gave him anything and everything he's ever wanted and kiss the ground he walks upon."

He was frowning now.

"Are you going to tell them?" he asked softly.

"About the engagement? Yeah, the next time my mom calls to make sure I'm not bringing any more shame on our family name—she's gonna be pissed, and I can feel it in my bones that it will cause me to go no contact with her and the rest of them."

His hand rubbed over your thigh. "I'm sorry." The remorse was heavy in his tone.

"Meh." You waved away his apology. "Nothing to be sorry about. I chose you, and I'd choose you again without hesitation. I couldn't care less if us getting married upsets them. We're happy, and that's all that matters."

"We are happy. I just feel like shit, I'm the reason your relationship with your family is so fucking strained."

"Javi, babe, the relationship has been strained long before we got together. You just gave me a reason to stick up for myself and not put up with their shit. Don't feel bad. You told me today your family is my family, and all of you is all I need."

"Promise?" he whispered.

You held out your pinky. "I pinky promise."

That made him smile, looping his around yours to make the sacred vow that he and his family were really all you needed—Javi leaning down, holding himself up with a hand on the bed beside you as he gave you a tender kiss.

Javier felt fucking amazing and exhausted.

Did he overdo it? Probably. His back was already a little achier than usual, and he imagined it'd feel even worse the next day. The fantastic sex was worth the backache and pain in his knees, especially with how his future wife had the post-good sex glow about her that made his chest puff out a little.

She had a point that a shower was needed before they left the hotel room so they didn't reek of sex, which they quickly took after getting up.

One twenty-dollar bill was put on top of the hotel notepad sitting on the desk that Javier had scribbled, 'Thank you,' as they left. The bedding had been stripped from the bed and put in one pile, while their used towels were in another.

The same person who checked them in, checked them out, and, from the look on her face, didn’t buy their lie that they were leaving so early due to a family emergency—it was probably Cielito trying to sell it by saying they had to rush to the hospital because his nephew had been viciously attacked by a… duck.

They were driving on the freeway, her hand in his, resting on her legging-covered thigh.

"A duck?" he asked. They'd been silent up until now, but he needed to know where that came from. "We're in Florida where there are actual dangerous wild animals like fucking alligators and sharks—hell, a dog woulda made sense, and you said my fake nephew was attacked by a duck?"

"Oh my god, Javier," she groaned, covering her eyes with her spare hand. "I know it was stupid, but I was super uncomfortable with the looks the employees were giving me."

He frowned. "What looks?" He glanced over at her, and her hand lowered to meet his eyes.

"The extremely judgey, disgusted looks because they thought I was a working girl—the mistaken identity was fine; that didn't bother me. It was how they looked at me like I was less of a person than them." She was frowning. "It just made me feel so bad for actual working girls who have to deal with that bullshit on the daily."

"Fuck." He focused back on the road. "I'm sorry you went through that, and I shouldn't have put you in that spot." He sighed, untangling their hands to push his shower-damp hair back with his hand. "I've been so caught up in you wearing the ring and assuming other people would notice it, too, that it didn't even cross my mind how us only spending a couple of hours at a hotel would look."

She sounded amused when she spoke. "It's adorable that you assume everyone knows we're engaged and figured the hotel employees thought we were just an incredibly horny couple instead of a lady of the night with her John."

If people weren't tipped off she was his fiancée with the ring on her finger, then he was going to start telling every person they came in contact with, so there wasn’t any more confusion in the future—giddiness bubbled up inside him over the thought of eventually getting to introduce her as his wife.

If he’d been wearing a ring, she wouldn’t have been put in that situation; it would’ve been clear as day they were married…

“Marry me,” he said, quickly looking over at her.

She giggled. “I’ve already agreed to marry you.”

“No—“ He shook his head. “—I know I said I was fine waiting a few months for our wedding, but I fucking can’t—I wanna marry you as soon as possible." His attention went forward once more, nerves fluttering in his gut.

She reached to grab his hand and held it in both of hers.

"You know there are a lot of men who dread their wedding day. They're the guys who call their wives 'balls and chains,' like being married is comparable to being in jail and an all-around nuisance even though they're the ones who proposed in the first place. The fact you're impatient to marry me makes me very happy—you're excited about our wedding day and don't see marriage as you losing your freedom; you see it as a guarantee you'll spend the rest of your life with the person you love."

He smiled. "Yeah," he said. "That's right."

"Regarding marrying me as soon as possible—my heart's set on the wedding at the tree we discussed. We can talk to your dad when we get home and see if he wants to get ordained. If he doesn't, then we'll go to the courthouse, make it official, and we can throw a party later. If your dad wants to officiate, I say we give it a month to get everything worked out with him and at the ranch."

A month at most. He could wait a month, right?

"Okay," he said, glancing toward her. "I'm fine with that."

She grinned. "Great. So, what's our story about where we've been since this morning?"

He looked at the road. "It won't be that we were viciously attacked by a duck..."

“Oh my god!”

It took them a bit to come up with something pretty believable—after spending a considerable amount of time at the beach, Javier gave her a tour of the area and took her exploring by foot around downtown. It was plausible.

They'd made sure they looked put together before leaving the hotel so it didn't raise any suspicions when they returned to their friends.

Arriving at the Murphy's, happy squeals could be heard as Javier unlocked the front door, and for a split second, he imagined a future where it wasn't his niece and nephews who were excited he was home, but his own children; the thought of his kids being unable to control their volume because they were just so happy to see him had warmth spreading through his body to the tips of his fingers to his toes.

The moment he stepped foot into the house, a three-year-old was screaming excitedly, "Tío!" and little arms hugged his legs as best they could.

Javier smiled, bending with a groan, saying, "Mi principito (My little prince)." He picked up the child, holding him in his arm while he toed off his black leather Chelsea boots in front of a shoe rack filled to the brim with children’s and adult shoes, Cielito following him inside and shutting the door.

"Are we going to the beach, tío?" Stevie asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, bud—” He tickled the child’s belly, making him laugh and squirm. “—in a little bit."

He heard the pattering of feet before he saw the oldest of the kids running into the room they were in.

"You're back!" Olivia said with a big smile. "We can finally go to the beach!"

Steve had walked in.

"Sorry, we got back so late, mi tesorito (my little treasure)." Javier apologized to the young girl.

"And where were you?" Steve asked.

His friend’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion when their gazes met. Javier moved Stevie into his other arm so he could pull Cielito into his side, keeping his hand on her hip.

"The beach, then I gave my fiancée a tour of the city, and we walked around everywhere."

Steve's eyes narrowed further. "Bullsh—crap." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Where were you really?"

Javier's jaw clenched. "I just told you, and I'm not gonna repeat myself, so drop it."

"Olivia, baby girl, take your brother to the family room. I need to have an adult ears-only conversation with your tío Javi."

The nine-year-old looked confused but came forward and took the younger child from him.

"Come on, Stevie," she said, heading out of the room. "We'll hang out with tío more later. Let's go watch cartoons."

Their father looked over his shoulder, watching them depart, and once they were out of earshot, he was rounding on Javier.

"You asshole," he harshly whispered. "Walking around downtown, my ass." He stepped forward and tugged on Javier's shirt collar. "These hickies tell me you were doing a hell of a lot more than walking." Shit, Javier batted away his hand, glaring at the blonde man. "What if you'd gotten caught, where? In the back of that rental? You just expected I'd bail you out of jail? Were you even thinking with your brain? Or just with your dick?"

Anger was sizzling in his gut, along with shame, because they had almost gotten caught, and there was a chance Steve would’ve had to bail them out.

"I told you to drop it.” The sentence was gritted through his teeth as he seethed, his wif-fiancée putting a comforting hand on his back and rubbing circles.

"I'm not gonna drop it, 'cause what would I have told the kids if you'd gotten caught?" he asked, crossing his arms back over his chest.

That was a low blow, and it pissed him off even more.

"Well, we didn't get fucking caught, and for your information—" He jabbed his finger into the center of Steve's chest. "—I was thinking with my brain—I've been holed up in a hotel for the last two hours with my fiancée, you fucking prick."

A humorless huff left his friend, his eyes wide in disbelief. "You horny fucker—you're joking."

Javier's hand went to his waist, lifting his eyebrow. "You wanna see the receipt? You’d think we were at the fucking, uh, Ritz or whatever the fuck luxury hotel with how much they charged for one night when this place didn’t even have fucking room service."

The other man chuckled, shaking his head. He met his gaze. "You know what? I forgive you for making us worry." He clapped a hand on Javier's shoulder, giving him a beaming smile. "Congratulations, Javi. I’m happy for you guys and get it. You were excited and wanted to be alone with the woman you’re marrying. I don't blame you for spending hours in a hotel room.” His smile shifted to something smarmy. “I sure as hell don't want you doing that shit here, and it's not like you can with how goddamn squeaky the guest bed is."

Javier wanted to wipe the smug smile off his old partner’s face.

"Hey, Steve?" Cielito cut in.

His friend looked at her. "Yeah?"

"Have you seen the first Jurassic Park movie?"

The blonde man's eyebrows pulled together. "I have." He nodded. "A few times."

She smiled. "Then you know, life finds a way."

God, he loved her, and he loved that she enjoyed messing with his best friend as much as he did—Javier snorted and kissed the side of her head.

Steve looked confused until it dawned on him what she meant.

"No," he whispered in denial.

"Yes," Javier replied, smirking, the other man facing him.

"But the bed..."

It was Javier’s turn to clap a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Steve… But the fact you think a bed is the only place to fuck, tells me you’re a really boring and bad lay—need me to give you some pointers?”

“I quite enjoyed what we did on the chair,” Cielito said. “And my god, Javi is always amazing, but he brought his A-game on the floor. You put some blankets and pillows on the stone tiles, and they’re not too bad to be fucked on.”

Steve’s face had slowly gotten redder and redder as they spoke, and Javier was worried the man’s head would explode, especially with how he couldn’t say anything, his blue eyes big and mouth opening and closing like a fish in a bowl.

“What we’re saying, man,” Javier said, patting the blonde man’s shoulder. “Is when you’re horny enough, you’ll find a way.” He looked over at his fiancée, and her expression showed she was just as delighted as he felt. “From the sound of it, the guest bathroom hasn’t seen any action.”

Her eyes were on his. “A travesty—it’s a law that every room in the house has to be christened. Don’t worry, Steve—“ Her attention moved to the man in front of them, reaching to pat his arm. “—we know a bathroom is too exotic of a locale for you, so we’ll take one for the team and break it in; there’s no need to thank us.”

His former partner finally found his voice.

"Connie!" Steve yelled, his upper body turning, along with his head, to look behind him.

"Yeah?!" she answered from the kitchen.

"Everything in the guest room has to go! It all needs to be burned, and the guest bathroom is getting that remodel you wanted!”

She walked out of the kitchen with a small dish towel in her hands.

“You said we couldn’t afford to remodel the guest bath...”

“Well, I’m gonna figure out where we can add it into our budget ‘cause it’s happening, along with all new furniture in that room and linen. We also gotta have the floors sanitized.”

She looked past her husband at the two of them.

“He found out y’all messed around in there?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

She nodded in understanding and straightened.

“You’re so right, baby,” she said, agreeing too easily. “We have to remodel that entire back bedroom and bathroom now. It’s the only choice we have.”

“I’m happy you agree,” her husband said seriously. “We’ll toss all the bedding when they leave.”

“Except for the throw pillows. I really like those pillows and can have them professionally cleaned.”

“Of course, honey.”

Cielito leaned into him and whispered in his ear while his friends continued speaking, “Did we just inadvertently help Connie bamboozle Steve into doing a house project she’s been wanting done?”

“I think so,” he said just as quietly. “I’m happy to help after all she’s done for us.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to ask if she needs us to fuck anywhere else in or outside the house.”

“Or her van if she wanted a new one.”

“True. She just found a cheat code to get stuff she wants.”

“Will we be like this when we’re married?”

“Javi, babe, you give me anything I want if I ask—I don’t need a cheat code. It’s the same for you with me. If either of us wants anything, the other will do whatever they can to make it happen. Also, we’re equals in our relationship, whereas Steve thinks he’s the man of the house and in charge of everything, but it’s really Connie who runs the show and knows how to play him, like with this guest bedroom remodel. She’s crafty, and I highly respect her. So, no, we won’t be like this because I wouldn’t have or want to manipulate you to do my bidding.”

“Marry me.”

She giggled.

“I’m already marrying you, you goober.” She playfully slapped his arm, and he grabbed her hand, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles as he stared into her eyes.

“Marry me again.”

“Then yes, I’ll double marry you.”

He smiled. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with how she was looking at him, he knew she meant every word, and it made him feel so happy there was a chance he’d float away.

This was real love.

This was the kind of love that wraps around you tight and never lets go.

The kind of love that can handle anything life throws at it since they’re stronger together.

The kind of love that lasts forever, even after their souls leave this earth. Their story will be remembered for eternity by the stars up above.

This was real love.

It was true love, and it was their love.

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series #pedro pascal fanfiction

416 notes · View notes

rafedaddy01 · 6 months

Note

Hate sex with like enemy Rafe and him saying “I’ll make it fit” 😩😩😩😩

“Look who it is!” My mother beams at my father as I snap my head in the direction she indicates.

Ugh. Him.

Rafe Cameron. Kook King. My sworn enemy. And also my childhood crush.

I roll my eyes as Rose and Ward walk up to greet my parents with Rafe hot on their trail.

Shit. He looks fine.

He’s wearing a black button up with the top button exposed. His shirt is tucked into his black dress pants and his hands hang in his pockets like he could care less about being here.

He probably does, he hated being seen in public with his family, im surprised he’s here.

“Y/n” he greets coldly as I stare at his outstretched hand.

I look him dead in the eyes before reaching out and shaking it.

“Sit down, sit down!” My mother says to rose.

“Oh no. We have reservations! Ward is meeting with some business partners to discuss Rafe taking over the business.”

So that’s why he’s here.

He stands silently still, his eyes raking down my body and up to my eyes where he smirks once he’s noticed he’s been caught.

“Who knew trolls could clean up so well” he laughs at his own pathetic comment.

“Funny.” I say bluntly as our parents continue small talk for a few minutes.

“Here I thought I caught your attention. With the way your eyes were roaming my body I’d say you want me Cameron” I say as I lean my elbows on the table, giving him a show of my cleavage which he gladly takes.

“Ha! Not a chance sweetheart. Not even if hell froze over” he leans closer before bopping my nose.

I scrunch it as I prop myself up and turn my head away, refusing to stare at his smug face.

“Well, that’s our cue” ward announces as some important looking men walk through the front entrance.

“We should catch up soon!” My mother shouts as they walk away, rose turns around to give a brief thumbs up.

We continue our family dinner and after a few moments I get tired of my parents flirting. “Excuse me, restroom” I mutter, which they barely hear, and head head towards the hallway where the bathrooms are.

As I round the corner I bump into a broad chest.

“Oh! Excu-“

“Watch-“

I look up and am met with beautiful blue eyes, the same eyes that I’m dreamed about since grade school. The same eyes that look at me with disgust when they realize who I am.

“Move out of the way Cameron” I gruff and I try to push past him.

“Bitch” he mumbles.

“What did you say?” I snap my head back so fast I think I get whip lash.

“I said your a bitch” he repeats, trying to hold back his smirk.

“You know..” I start, walking towards him and catch him off guard, he steps back and his back hits the ladies room door.

“I don’t get what your issue with me is! Ever since we were little you always have to pick on me. Why? Huh? Is it cause I’m smaller than you? Or is it cause your so jeal-“ I can’t even finish my sentence before I’m pulled into the bathroom.

“What the hell-“

My back is now against the door and Rafes face is inches away from mine.

“Do you ever shut up” his breath is hot and smells of whiskey and cigars, oddly comforting.

“What?” I ask.

“You never shut up, always yapping about something. Maybe I need to teach you how to be quiet”

I’m perplexed as my breath catches in my throat and I gulp, pushing my thighs together.

Rafe cocks an eyebrow at me and looks down, “you like that? The idea of me shutting you up?” He runs his nose down the column of my neck and I let out a shaky breath.

“I think you do” he whispers in my ear before nibbling my neck.

“Fuck, y/n” he groans in my ear and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

In this moment I don’t even care to remember how much I hate him.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since you gave me attitude in gym class back in 9th grade” he confesses as he sucks a sweet spot on my neck.

I swallow hard and my eyes screw shut as my hands grasp the back of his neck, “take what you want” I whisper.

He stops and looks at me before reaching over and locking the door.

We lock eyes and Rafe smiles as he leans forward and captures my lips with his. I moan against them and he picks me up and leads me towards the sink.

He pulls away and turns me around so my ass rubs against his straining zipper.

He runs a hand down my back and I jerk up at his touch, “shit your fucking sexy” he whispers as his hands travels down and under my dress.

He locks his eyes with mine in the mirror and his hand meets the wet patch on my panties, which he quickly tugs down and spreads my legs open.

“Watch me fuck you” he says as he unzips his pants and they fall to the ground with his boxers.

My eyes widen in fear as I peer over my shoulders.

“Rafe! Will- will it fit?” I bite my lip anxiously as he grins and slaps my ass, causing me to yelp.

“I’ll make it fit” he shoots my a wink and sinks into my soaking heat.

My mouth shoots open as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in.

He picks up the pace and I can no longer hold my head up, it falls down and Rafes quick to grip my hair causing me to hiss as he pulls it back.

“I said watch”

I grip the counter as his thrusts pick up and he groans.

“Fucking perfect” he mutters “wanted this for so long baby” he hits a particular spot deep inside me and I squeeze his cock.

“Rafe!” His hand comes around and presses against my mouth.

“Shh. I’m teaching you to be quiet”

He stares at me through the mirror as his thrusts become relentless and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

I’m squeezing him so hard and he moans in my ear which sends me over the edge.

“Fuck fuck fuck” Rafe hisses out as he delivers a few sloppy thrusts and cums inside me.

He leans over my sweaty body and catches his breath before pulling out and getting himself together.

I turn around and he smiles at me.

He looks like he didn’t just fuck me into oblivion. Me on the other hand? I have red cheeks, messy hair, and hickies on my neck.

“I want you to walk back out there with my cum dripping down your thighs, let everyone see the marks left on your body and know that your taken”

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips before smacking my ass.

“I hate you” I scowl. Which causes him to laugh.

“But your pussy doesn’t”

He winks and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me a heated mess as I try to find my underwear.

I give up and try to make myself look as presentable as possible and head back to our table.

My parents barely noticed I was gone.

When I sit down my phone dings. It’s a message from Rafe.

*see attachment

“Looking for these?”

It’s a picture of Rafe holding onto my panties and winking.

I blush as I shift uncomfortably and watch him stride out of the bathroom hallway before shooting me a wink.

Fuck me. What have I gotten myself into.

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #smut #dark rafe cameron #drewstarkey smut #outerbanks #drewstarkey #rafecameron #fanfic #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron blurb

494 notes · View notes

sluttywonwoo · 19 days

Text

instead of you [part forty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: semi-public messing around, oral - m+f receiving

The other resorts along the shore were nice, yes, but they were also crowded to all hell. There’s no way you would have been able to relax at any of them. Not just because crowds make you anxious, but because Minho probably wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere. He’d have to wear a hoodie to the pool or swim with a baseball cap on, and even those weren’t guaranteed to be foolproof.

There were hardly any people occupying the outdoor spaces so late in the day so it was like you had the place to yourselves. You and Felix continued to play in the pool while Minho grilled steaks and Jisung worked upstairs. You offered to accompany Jisung while he cooked but he assured you that he was fine to do it himself. Sometimes you kept him company at home but you knew he liked to work alone as well.

The room that you and Jisung were staying in was a standard hotel room but Nikki and Dom had a suite with a kitchenette that he could use to prepare the side dishes.

You ate gathered around one of the fire pits as the sun sank beneath the waves in the distance. When it got too dark out, Dom lit the fire so that you could all see what you were eating. There were path lights littered around the resort but they weren’t bright enough to illuminate the adjacent sitting areas too.

“I wish we had marshmallows,” you sighed. “We could roast them and make s’mores.”

“I think the bar sells little kits,” Jisung piped up. “I remember seeing a sign posted on their menu.”

“How convenient!” Nikki exclaimed.

“Want me to grab some?” Minho offered, already standing from his seat.

You had once again put yourself on the spot. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“I-I’d feel bad. I’m the only one who wants them, so you don’t have to!”

“Don’t be silly, we’d all eat them,” Jisung assured you with a pat on your knee.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try s’mores,” Felix agreed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait, you’ve never had one?”

“They’re an American thing, babe.”

“Does that mean you’re the only other one here who has had a s’more?” you asked Jisung.

“I might have had one before,” Minho added thoughtfully.

“Might? You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, well, when we were on the first world tour we had a lot of bonfires and shit but I was pretty drunk at all of them so there could have been s’mores there, there could not have been. I dunno.”

“Anyway,” Nikki swooped in, averting the attention away from her eldest son’s anecdotes of underage drinking. “Minho, why don’t you go grab a few kits from the bar Ji mentioned? I think your father and I would like to try a s’more too.”

“How many do you think we need?” Minho asked.

“It depends on how many each serves. Why don’t we start with two and if we run out of supplies we can send Felix up to get more.”

Felix made a face. “What, me?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to send Minho up twice,” Dom explained.

“What about Jisung?”

“He cooked dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” Minho interjected, cutting Felix off before he could protest any further. “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m over there?”

He took everyone’s order and then disappeared in the direction of the bar.

“Do you think he’ll need help carrying stuff?” you whispered to Jisung after he left.

“Oh, shit, maybe.”

“Should I go help him? Would that be weird?”

Jisung looked back toward his parents to check that they weren’t paying attention before answering. “No, I don’t think so. No one suspected anything other than me. Do you want me to go with you, though?”

“No, you cooked,” you reminded him, “you should stay and relax. I’ll go help him.”

He nodded. “Okay. Oh, but kiss me before you go.”

Minho was still waiting when you joined him at the bar. It was almost as deserted as the rest of the pool area. Only a couple of people were occupying the stools and they seemed to be strangers to each other, drinking in silence apart from the waves crashing on the shore nearby and the occasional sound of the blender.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, grabbing Minho’s attention with an elbow to his side.

“Hey... did someone forget to ask for something?”

“No, I came to help you. We realized it’s a lot of stuff to carry all by yourself.”

He scoffed. “You doubted me?”

The bartender placed the drinks and s’mores kit down on the counter in front of Minho right at that moment, leaving both of you to size up all there was to bring back to the fire pit.

“You could have carried all that without spilling anything?”

“Fine, maybe it’s good that you came,” he grumbled.

“Maybe?”

He set his jaw and took a deep breath. “It is good that you came. Thank you for helping. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

You grabbed two of the drinks while Minho took the rest, holding the plastic bags of s’mores supplies between his teeth.

Nikki and Dom cheered when you reappeared with everything. The twins looked marginally happier. It was honestly as much as you could ask for from them.

You spent the rest of the evening teaching the Hans how to make, what was in your opinion, the perfect s’more. There were only a few skewers to go around so everyone had to take turns, but it was nice to be able to take your time with something and relax. There hadn’t been much time to do that on this trip. Jisung had warned you of that in the beginning but you were still way more exhausted than you expected to be at this point. At least it was almost over.

The thought of the trip ending was one that you had been pushing to the back of your mind for weeks now. Especially now that Jisung knew what had happened, you didn’t want to think about what would happen when you went back home. Would you grow apart? Would he distance himself once he was no longer in forced proximity with you? Would Minho break up with you? It wasn’t just something you could ignore now. There were only a matter of days left.

When it was over, you would go back to Seoul with the Hans until the summer ended officially. But that would be different too.

“You’re burning your marshmallow, love,” Nikki said softly, putting her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Oh!” you exclaimed and pulled your skewer out of the heat. You blew the flame out and transferred it onto a graham cracker.

“Do you want a new one?” Dom asked.

“No, that’s okay! I like them burnt, actually. I just didn’t mean to leave it in the fire for so long. It could have made a mess.”

Jisung’s dad shrugged as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before taking the rod from you and reloading it with fresh marshmallows.

If it was woodburning, the fire would slowly start to dwindle as the kindling turned to ash. Since it wasn’t, it was still burning as brightly as it had been at the start of the evening when Dom finally turned the propane off. Nikki collected the empty cups and dirty skewers to return to the bar.

“Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”

Felix was the first out of the four of you to go up to his room, leaving you with your best friend and... Minho.

The pool area was completely empty by then.

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two,” Jisung said and stood to leave.

You grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, a little less convincingly. “You should stay.”

Jisung shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather not third-wheel.”

“Ji-”

“Take as much time as you need,” he said to you. “Just don’t get fucking caught by anyone else.”

You waited for him to leave before slumping forward and sighing into your hands.

“I thought you said he forgave you,” Minho whispered.

“He did. That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” you sighed.

Minho leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat, inviting you to sit with him. You crossed over to his side and joined him, allowing yourself to lean into his side. He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. It felt nice, to do something so domestic with him, even while sitting in complete silence. Still, you worried about someone seeing you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just you.”

You didn’t want to give him the details and risk ruining the mood so you hoped he was content with that answer. Thankfully, he didn’t ask you to elaborate.

You shivered suddenly, unintentionally but thankfully changing the subject.

“Are you cold?” Minho asked.

“A little.”

“Should I turn the fire pit back on?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s so dark out now. It’ll only draw attention to us.”

“I don’t want you to be cold, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Minho didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we get in the hot tub? You still have your bathing suit on, right?”

“Are we allowed to?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

You followed Minho over to one of the many hot tubs on the property. It was tucked away behind the now-deserted tiki bar and also totally empty. Minho turned on the jets and ventured down into the water, holding his hand out for you to get in behind him.

You let out a sigh as you sank into the bubbling water, closing your eyes and resting your head against the pool’s edge.

“Better?”

“So much better.”

You looked over to see him smile. “Good.”

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you were warm. The chill had seeped through your bathing suit too. You could feel it ebbing out of the fabric as well as your muscles the longer you sat in the water.

Minho settled next to you and put his hand on your thigh. It was comforting even though his hand was still cold.

“This is nice,” he said.

“It is nice,” you agreed. “I like being able to do just nothing with you.”

“We don’t get a lot of time to do that, do we?”

“No, not really.”

“Guess that just means we have to enjoy it while we have it.”

You sat up to look at him, wondering if he meant something more than what was implied when he said that. He met your gaze and gave you a questioning look.

“What?” You shook your head and sank further into the bubbles. You were reading way too much into everything. You needed to get a grip.

“What’s wrong?” Minho repeated. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared to,” you finally admitted.

It wasn’t much, but you were finally being honest with Minho instead of skirting around his questions like you usually did. You could tell your answer hurt him but you were afraid that you’d hurt yourself even more if you told him everything. You had a feeling the conversation was going there anyway, though, and there was little you could do to stop it.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know... what we are?” You cringed as you said it. “And I don’t want to ruin things by asking, you know, because I like what we have going on and I don’t want it to go away but I also don’t want to get my hopes up by thinking we’re something that we’re not but sometimes you do things that make me think you want something more than... whatever it is we’re already doing but- mph!”

You were cut off with a kiss, like something out of a movie. It was brief, but enough to disrupt your train of thought. You stared at him incredulously, trying to read his expression.

His face was even but his eyes were warm. You wished you knew what he was thinking. Moonlight and the flickering flames of torches in the distance were just enough to illuminate his features. The quirk of his cupid’s bow, the flutter of his long eyelashes...

“What was that for?” you inquired, even though you knew what it was for.

“You were spiraling.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Minho said softly. “For what it’s worth though, I feel the same way.”

You lifted your head to look at him again, your vision slightly blurred by the water dripping down your face from your wet hands. “What?”

He hesitated. “I feel... what you said. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t even know what I said,” you laughed.

“Me either, but I got the general vibe of it and I’m in agreement.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I... I thought I was making it kind of obvious that I wanted something serious with you.”

“You never said anything outright, though!”

“Because I didn’t know what you wanted,” he explained. “You never said anything either.”

“Well, you’re the man!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going there? The feminism just evaporates from your body the moment you’re faced with confrontation?”

“See, you get it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now, okay? I want you. In all the ways you’re willing to let me have you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. You didn’t want to start crying and you didn’t want Minho to see you crying so you kissed him again, with more urgency this time. You couldn’t think, hell, you couldn’t breathe, until he pulled away, leaving you wishing and hoping for more.

When your lips met for the third time, he pulled you under with him, just long enough to shock your senses. You gasped for air when you surfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” you scolded, sputtering as you shoved him.

He stumbled backward onto the bench, falling seated again and pulling you on top of him.

“You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed.

“It’s not bullshit! It’s not good for you to put your head under the water in a hot tub!”

“I know people say that but why?”

“I... I don’t know why,” you admitted, “but I know you’re not supposed to.”

“See, you don’t even know!” You gave him a look. “Will you accept an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss?”

“That depends, are you actually sorry?”

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he kissed you anyway, cradling the back of your head as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He tasted like s’mores and whiskey and chlorine, a combination so strange you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

One of his arms dropped to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. You could feel him through his swim trunks, growing harder by the second. You were tempted to take him right there, but you were in public and having sex in a hot tub couldn’t be good either, right? That sounded like an infection waiting to happen.

“Upstairs?” Minho asked breathlessly, lips only centimeters from yours. Not for the first time you wondered if he could read your mind.

You nodded. “Yeah, upstairs.”

You dripped your way back to his room, shivering despite the thick towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“Wanna hop in the shower?” Minho asked between kisses as he fumbled with the straps of your bikini.

“Yeah, don’t want to get your bed all wet,” you replied.

“That would happen whether or not we had just been in the pool,” he joked.

“Hilarious.”

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he hissed. “Let’s get these off of you, they’re so cold.”

“Is that the only reason you want them off?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

You knew Minho was expecting to have sex in the shower but you kind of wanted to fuck on the bed so you sucked his dick while he washed your hair and then took turns rinsing off before moving to his bed. You put your hair up in a towel to avoid the aforementioned wetness and wrapped yourself up in one of the hotel’s robes even though you knew it’d be coming right off.

To your surprise, Minho left your robe on. He just undid the tie around your waist and let it fall open before shouldering himself between your legs. It was kind of like putting a towel down. He was killing two birds with one stone that way: protecting the sheets and keeping you warm.

It didn’t take long for you to cum in his mouth. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand by now. It had taken him a fraction of the time it took your past lovers to learn what made you tick and he used all of that knowledge to his advantage.

He kept going after you came the first time, eager to pull another from you, but you pulled him up by the hair to get his attention before he could get too into it.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Want you to fuck me,” you urged.

Thankfully, he was receptive to this and moved up so that he could position himself on top of you. He notched himself at your entrance and kissed you as he pushed himself inside, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before pulling away and wiping his face on your shoulder.

“Ew!” you cried and tried to push him away.

Minho looked offended. “What do you mean, ‘ew’? It’s you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want me all over what I’m wearing!”

“Since when?” he joked. “Seems like it’s always all over what you’re wearing when you’re around me.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you begged, suddenly embarrassed and grossed out at the same time.

Minho laughed and pecked you on the cheek. “What would you rather talk about? The weather?”

You tightened around him as punishment, making him swear and bury his face in your neck. “Fucking hell, you succubus.”

You smiled politely and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Don’t people usually say that if she can talk at all, you’re doing it wrong?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I was just taking it easy on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, this was for your benefit,” he continued. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“How gracious of you.”

He clenched his jaw as he started fucking you faster, muttering sarcastically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was boring you.”

Ironically, you couldn’t respond right away, too caught up in the feeling of how deep he was inside of you to get any words out.

“I forgive you,” you choked out finally.

Your hands fell to his biceps, desperate for something to hold on to. You dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Harder,” he urged. You squeezed harder and he gasped. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, baby. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #stray kids series #stray kids x female reader

189 notes · View notes

borahaerhy · 1 year

Text

Round Two - jjk

Summary: Jungkook has a big fight coming up, and he's not allowed to have sex for a month prior.

Genre: Boxer!JungkookxReader, SMUT

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Just filth, Jungkook is obscenely horny, desperate, and possessive, mentions of them being VERY sexually active before this, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't), choking? (not really, his hands just there), creampie

“No climaxing for a month before any large-scale fight.”

A sentence Jungkook had hated the first time is was said to him, but respected nonetheless. He hated not even being able to jack-off for that long, but it was manageable before he met you.

Then you showed up right as his career began to take off. A lot more of his fights were high-profile; all televised, and a lot rode on him winning - and him winning rode very heavily on him obeying that one rule he despised so much.

The first high-profile fight he had while with you, that rule wasn’t exactly something he paid much mind to; chalking it all up to superstition. He knew he was good, and having sex wasn’t going to change that, right?

Wrong.

He bombed the fight and his manager was pissed, to say the least. “I swear to god, JK, your career will be over if you pull another move like that.”

So a few months later when he was told about the next big fight, his manager repeated those words to him, and by God, he listened.

Hated having to break the news to you though.

“So, we can’t have sex? Like at all?”

“No,” He shook his head before his expression changed slightly, thinking for a moment before he continued, “Well, I can do stuff to you, I just can’t really do anything that involves my dick, and probably nothing at all for two weeks before the fight,” You sat in almost complete amazement.

“Jungkook, sweetie, since we’ve started dating we haven’t gone more than twenty-four hours without fucking, shit, I’d be surprised if we made it twelve,” you laughed, only kind of joking as Jungkook smirked, thinking back to all the times you’d had sex three and four times a day for months on end.

“Yeah, I know, but that’s why I lost my last fight so bad. I really can’t this time,” He spoke almost solemnly, his hand coming over to rub your thigh soothingly; though it really just made you want to rip his clothes off.

“A month?” You asked softly, almost whining as your eyes remained glued to his hand.

“Just a month, It’ll be easy.”

Like hell it was.

But you did it, and man, did this fight go differently from the last one.

This time, the other guy was barely even able to land a punch on Jungkook. His punches barely landed, and his attempts to overpower him were struck down as Jungkook was easily able to knock him back down and off of him. By the end of the fight, everyone was screaming his name; everyone except the one person he wanted to be screaming it the most.

He immediately closed the door to his dressing room, you already sitting on the couch wearing the skimpiest dress you owned, smiling from ear to ear as you waited to congratulate him. He’d been in a near constant state of arousal for the past several weeks, and you, while trying your best not to add to his struggle of not being able to bend you over every surface in his house, were no help.

Sure, you covered up more, and went out more than you stayed in to avoid temptations, but you were still you. You still made dirty jokes that made his mind wander, you still ran your hand across his leg absentmindedly, your perfume still smelled intoxicating and your lips still tasted like desire.

So, when he saw you in the room he knew you’d be waiting for him in, showing more skin than he had seem in a month, he cut off your words when you went to congratulate him, his mouth engulfing yours as his tongue past your lips and into the furthest corners of your mouth. You moaned into him softly, while his actions were not fully unexpected, he still threw you off balance before his hands gripped your hips and pulled you into him.

Seconds later his his hands were up your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pulled you further into him, his cock already hard as it pressed against your stomach. He desperately pulled your dress up and over your head, throwing it roughly to the side as your hand went down his shorts, gripping his hard length gently as you moved up and down.

He groaned deeply, throwing his head back in pleasure as your other hand ran down his chest and abs. He moved his head back up, going back and forth between watching you stroke him under his shorts and watching your tits move as you did.

A wave of overwhelming need came over him, pulling your hand out of his pants before he grabbed you by the hips and spun you around and pushed you down onto the couch, your hands bracing you on the back of the couch.

“You have no fucking idea,” He started, hastily pulling his shorts and underwear down before he stepped toward you, running his dick along the crack of your ass as he lets out a low groan. “How hard it was for me to not fuck you,” He used his middle finger to pull your thong to the side as you pushed your ass back further, desperate for him to touch you.

He groaned as he thrust into you roughly, having to hold himself back from pounding into you relentlessly. “Fuck,” A swift slap landed on your ass as you moaned out, his thrusts slow and deliberate. “I had to rush through that fight,” His words were low as you could tell he was trying to avoid cumming too soon. “Because i knew you were back here,” thrust “wearing that,” thrust “waiting for me to come back here and fuck you,”

He snapped into you roughly, hands on your hips as he thrust into you faster than he ever had before. Your moans were obnoxiously loud and constant, something people outside this room could definitely hear; but neither of you cared. He reached on hand around your neck and pulled you back against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

“You’ve been my good little slut, hmm?” he hummed into your ear, his free hand wrapping around you to play with your tits. “Waiting so patiently for me, all for me,” you nodded against him as he kissed starting sucking harshly on your shoulder as his pace became unsteady. “Gotta cum, baby,” he whispered into your shoulder was he moved the hand from your neck down to your clit, rubbing it harshly as you reached back to pull his hair, feeling yourself about to come undone.

He pushed you back down as you came, fingers digging into your hips as he drilled into you ruthlessly before he spilled into you, his sticky cum filling you up quickly and began spurting out of you, dripping onto the couch.

He sighed heavily as he pulled out of you, falling back into the couch next to you, his body spent. He adjusted to sit next to him, your legs draped over his as he pulled you into his heaving chest. “Fuck, that was good,” he spoke after catching his breath, his voice low as his eyes remained shut.

You hummed in response, kissing his chest softly before you stood, grabbing your dress from off the ground and slipping it back on, Jungkook’s eyes low as he watched you. “Ready for round two when we get back to your place?” You smiled, noticing the way his eyes were watching you.

He smirked lightly as his eyes moved back up to meet yours. He swiftly stood and pulled you into him, caressing your cheek with his thumb as his eyes stayed glued on your lips. “When we get back to my place?” His smirk widening as he looked into your eyes. “Round two’s happening right here and now, baby,”

2K notes · View notes

wreckedandpolemic · 16 days

Text

screwed up and brilliant - matty healy

(mdni) in which your whirlwind summer takes a turn you never could have predicted. part two of white and gold. 16185 words.

warnings (here we go): daddy kink (obvs), phone sex, authority kink, roleplay, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!matty, spanking, semi-public sex, gagging, oral (f receiving), mentions of anal, vague allusions to parental fuckery

The singular thought circling through your head the entire way home is what the fuck. If it weren’t for the soreness in your muscles, the bruises on your thighs and your embarrassing lack of underwear, you’d believe you dreamt the whole thing. You stop the taxi a little ways down your street, trying not to draw attention to yourself returning from your unbelievable night. It’s not like your parents would know exactly where you’ve been, but you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of getting caught coming home from a hookup.

It turns out you didn’t need to worry, though, your footsteps echoing through an empty house as you let yourself in the back. Checking your phone for the first time since you left the dinner with Matty, critically low battery and a text from your mother flash up at you. We’ve gone out for lunch at the Dove. Love you x, the text informs you, a sense of guilty relief washing over you. There’s few things you love more than your house being empty; your shoulders loose without your mother’s nervous, slightly oppressive energy and your father’s meaningful and disappointed glances. Your steps are light as you waltz up the stairs to your room, flinging open your wardrobe to start getting ready before you realise you don’t know what you should be dressing for.

You tip out your clutch onto the bed, business cards, lipgloss and a forgotten pair of earrings spilling on your sheets as you dig for Matty’s number. Tapping the keyboard idly, you try to think of a good opening message, inspiration striking as you catch sight of a discarded bra on your bedroom floor. You slip into a favourite set, black with gold detailing and leaving very little to the imagination, and pose in your bedroom mirror, texting the photo to Matty.

hi x

trying to get ready but i don’t know what to wear :( where are we going?

Fucking hell

Hi, pretty girl

You could wear that and I’d be a very happy man

yeah i bet you would

answer the question perv

I don’t want to spoil the surprise

if you don’t tell me im changing

Fine

Brat

It’s nice but relaxed

Youre not dressing for dinner its not that hard

rude

pick me up in an hour ;)

You turn back to your wardrobe with a groan — what the fuck does he mean by nice but relaxed? A skirt and a nice top? Heels or no heels? What are you supposed to do with your hair? Leafing through your clothes, you find a green sundress tucked away near the back, a vintage treasure you’d picked up at a market a few years ago and promptly forgotten about. By some stroke of luck, it fits perfectly, the skirt swirling gorgeously around your calves. Your reflection grins back at you as you dust on some makeup, finding a dangling pair of jade earrings to match.

Exactly on cue, your phone rings, flashing up Matty’s contact. “Hi, love. I’m outside — well, as close as I dare, anyway. I’m on a double yellow, actually. Risking my spotless driving record for you.”

You snort. “They’ve gone out, park in the drive. I’ll come to the door.” You pad down the stairs as Matty’s tyres crunch on the gravel outside. Smoothing down your hair nervously, you take a deep breath, the blurry outline of him visible through the stained glass of your front door. You swing the door open as Matty raises his fist to knock, giggling slightly at the way he stands, his hand hovering meaninglessly in midair.

His eyes blow wide as he takes you in, crowding you close in a split-second. “Hi, princess,” he grins, electricity tingling under your skin where he holds you by the waist, his body pressed against yours. “If nobody’s home, I can do this,” he breathes, catching your lips and kissing you deeply, licking into your mouth like a starving man.

After a long moment, you find the strength to push him away. “Matty, the neighbours!” you protest.

“Fine,” Matty says, walking you inside and kicking the door shut behind him. He pulls you back to him, catching your lips in a filthy kiss, a slide of lips and tongue, sticky with desire. Groaning into your mouth, his lips fall to your neck, pressing kisses over the concealed bruises on your neck. You can tell he wants to cover them, mark you up as his own, and you giggle as you push his head back.

“Do we have to go to lunch?” you tease. “They’re not gonna be back for hours.”

Matty pinches your ass through your skirt. “Needy girl. You’ll love the place, I promise.” Slowly, like it pains him, he lets go of you and steps back, eyes widening as he properly takes in the sight of you for the first time. “God, you look gorgeous, princess. You look like summer.” You flush, shifting on your feet and glancing at the floor. “Can’t believe I get to have you. You know everyone who sees you is gonna be fuckin’ jealous of me, gonna want my pretty girl for themselves?” He looks livid at the mere prospect, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

You giggle. “But I’ll be there with you. Why would I want anyone else?” you assure him, stretching up to kiss at the corners of his mouth until he cracks a smile. Your chest aches a little at the sight, a private moment of happiness stretching between you. You can almost see the path along with it, a brief flicker of a life with him dancing in your imagination before you swat it away.

Fuck, you’re in too deep. You’re hurtling towards a vast expanse of something, and you don’t even have the strength to look away. You can only hope the breakneck pace isn’t going to break your heart, too.

“That’s right,” Matty says, after what feels like an eternity. “All mine, yeah? Shall we?”

You nod, not yet trusting yourself to speak, and take his hand, sliding into the passenger seat of his car. The smell of clean leather envelops you, mixed with Matty’s now-familiar cigarettes and cologne smell. Matty’s hand lands on your thigh and traces absent circles as he reverses out of the drive. The streets roll by, rows of houses all merging together, your eyes glazing over while you avoid Matty’s gaze. “So pretty, baby,” he murmurs. “My pretty little passenger princess.”

“Does that mean you’ll drive me anywhere I want?” you tease, finally bringing your gaze back to Matty. The afternoon light casts him in a soft glow, his curls ruffling in the gentle breeze. He taps his fingers absently on the wheel, a sick thrill running through you as you remember feeling them on your skin, thighs clenching needily under his touch. You slide a hand between his legs, smirking at the hiss he lets out when you palm gently over his cock. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” you add teasingly, plying him with wide, innocent eyes.

Matty chuckles darkly and returns his other hand to the wheel, your skin impossibly cold in the absence his touch leaves behind. “You gonna get me off right here? In the car with the windows down? Such a naughty girl.” He inclines his head as if to say go on, calling your bluff, and you lower your gaze and return your hand to your lap, subdued. “That’s what I thought. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, princess.”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t want to taint your spotless driving record,” you tease, and he tips back his head and laughs, the sound filling the car and wrapping around you, your head going fuzzy with affection. A few minutes later, Matty puts the car in park, leaning over the centre console to kiss you. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumbing lightly over your cheek and smiling against your lips. Ever the gentleman, he comes to the passenger side to let you out, and you take his arm and let him lead you inside.

“Afternoon,” Matty greets the maître d’ with a polite smile. “Healy for two, one thirty?”

“Ah, yes, right this way, sir,” he says, his eyes flickering curiously over you as he leads you through the restaurant.

His gaze lands judgmentally on Matty when he tugs you into him by the waist, and you bristle, deliberately planting a kiss on his cheek as you walk. “Would you like to sit inside or outside?” the maître d’ asks in a tone that suggests he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Can we sit outside, please? It’s such a nice day,” you say, and Matty grins indulgently down at you. He inclines his head at the maître d’, who leads you into the restaurant’s courtyard. Your jaw drops at the oasis you’ve suddenly found yourself in, lush green dotted through with glass tables, quiet chatter undercut with the splash of a dancing water fountain.

“This place is gorgeous,” you say as Matty pulls out your chair for you. “Do you come here a lot?”

He sees right through you, smirking over his menu. “I’ve never brought a girl here,” he tells you, answering the question you’re really asking.

“You keep saying that,” you say thoughtfully. “No bullshitting this time, what makes me so special?”

Matty meets your eyes, holding your gaze deadly serious. “I don’t date a lot, princess,” he tells you. “The girls that I… spend time with…” Your jaw clenches. “They’re not… Well, I need to feel a connection, you know? And I hadn’t felt it in a long time. I was kind of starting to give up hope,” he huffs a quiet laugh, a soft smile crossing his face when he speaks. “And then I met you, and I could just feel it.” He’s gazing adoringly at you, and you suddenly wonder if maybe it’s okay that you’re in too deep, because maybe, just maybe, he’s right there with you.

“Matty, I—”

“Good afternoon!” a bright, falsely cheery voice cuts in. “Are you both ready for drinks?”

Annoyed at the interruption, you purse your lips and address Matty. “I don’t know… What do you think I should get?” you grin, deliberately playing up the affection, leaning towards him and batting your lashes.

“I don’t know, darling. Are you feeling like wine?”

“I can come back,” the waitress says, all pretence at cheer abandoned as she taps her pencil against her notepad impatiently.

Rolling your eyes, you wave a hand at her. “No, stay. Just give me a minute to decide, ‘kay?” You scan the menu and deliberately order the most expensive rosé with a smirk in Matty’s direction. He shrugs, ordering himself a Malbec, and the waitress finally buzzes off.

It feels inappropriate to return to your conversation after the interruption, and you chuckle awkwardly. The breeze ripples in the silence between you, pulling clouds away from the sun so it shines directly into your eyes. Wincing, you shield your face, squinting in a way you’re sure is horrendously unattractive. Matty laughs softly. “Here you go, darling,” he says, pulling his sunglasses off his head and gently resting them on your face. “God, and here I thought you couldn’t get any prettier,” he adds, and you flush, picking at imaginary lint on your dress to avoid his gaze.

“Flatterer,” you scoff, kicking softly at his shin. “Thank you,” you add, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“S’nothing, princess. Keep ‘em, if you want.” Matty shrugs as if they’re inconsequential, and not a two hundred pound accessory. “Smoke?” he offers as you’re still reeling.

You nod, tilting your head quizzically. “Thought you didn’t want me ruining my lungs?” you tease, slipping the cigarette between your lips.

Matty chuckles. “It’s a beautiful day, you’re getting fresh air, your pretty lungs will survive one,” he teases, flicking his lighter under your cigarette as you take a deep drag.

His gaze lingers meaningfully on you as the smoke curls from your mouth and you squirm. “What?” you ask, desire evident in his eyes; he just keeps fucking staring.

He blinks, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “God, you look fucking hot,” he adds with a chuckle. Just as you go to reply, the waitress returns with your drinks. You give a cursory thanks and take a long sip, full flavour swirling in your mouth. “You know, I wouldn’t have put you down as a dry wine kind of girl,” Matty remarks. “Sweet little thing like you.”

You flush the colour of your wine, but meet his gaze in challenge. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I’d like to,” he says immediately, and you swallow thickly, his ability to disarm you frustratingly constant. He’s so fucking perfect, it’s actually disgusting. As you’re searching for a response, he perks up, tilting his head to tune into the song playing quietly over some unseen speaker. “Oh, man, I haven’t heard this song in forever,” he gasps, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “I was obsessed with this one when I was younger. Used to be on my band’s setlist and everything.”

Your jaw drops. “You were in a band?” you demand. “Were you any good?”

Matty chuckles. “I’d like to think so. S’a shame it didn’t pan out, really. I would’ve made a great rockstar, don’t you think?” he smirks, visions of Matty clad in a leather jacket, sweaty and gorgeous, crooning into a microphone swimming across your vision.

“Fuck, yeah. I’d have hated fighting your hordes of fangirls for your attention, though,” you sigh, and his grin widens as you stroke his ego. “Were you the guitarist?” you ask, memories of his calloused hands ghosting over your skin.

He scoffs, insulted. “I was the frontman, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you repeat, teasingly blowing smoke in his face as you stub out your cigarette. “But you still play?”

“Yeah,” Matty says, smiling wistfully, the expression taking years off him so clearly that you can almost see the ambitious, idealistic boy he must have been. You hope there’s a world where the band worked out for him, even if it means you’d never have met. “S’just a hobby, though,” he shrugs, interrupting your reverie. “You should hear my mate Hann, he’s fucking wicked.”

Taking a sip of your wine, you sigh meaningfully. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar.” You lean purposefully on the words, and Matty grins.

“You want me to teach you?”

You smile blithely. “Oh, please. I can sight read sheet music and everything, I’d be such a good student, Professor,” you add, smirking as he stiffens slightly.

“Oh, behave,” he scolds lightly, tugging at his

collar as if he’s sweating at your words.

“Make me,” you giggle, meeting his eyes in challenge.

“You know I will, princess,” he says seriously, your skin prickling hot as he watches you, daring you to break first. You’re saved from having to, though, by the same waitress coming to take your order. Not even having picked up the food menu, you let Matty order for you, trusting his taste.

As it turns out, his taste is impeccable, down to the steak being cooked exactly the way you like. “God, this is fucking delicious,” you exclaim, digging in eagerly. “This place is amazing,” you add, unable to keep the beaming smile off your face. You chat back and forth for a couple of hours, asking about his family and his childhood, cooing at the stories he tells. If anyone were listening, they’d probably be nauseated by your obscene flirting, getting bolder as Matty continues plying you with wine even as he switches to water.

The same waitress returns, the false cheer bright in her tone as she offers you dessert menus. “No, thanks,” you say without taking your eyes off Matty. “We have dessert at home.” You flash your teeth in a grin so there can be no mistaking your meaning.

Matty picks up the bill, and you don’t even pretend to protest. It’s been years since you’ve been on a date you didn’t have to pay for, guys your age from your circles unusually stingy, and you feel guilty expecting broke college boys to pay for you. And it’s only feminist to split the bill with another girl, anyway. “Dessert, yeah?” he smirks as you slide into the passenger seat, and you squirm.

“I promise I’m just as sweet,” you tease. “Take me to yours and I’ll show you exactly how sweet I can be.”

Matty clicks his tongue. “I don’t think so,” he says, and your stomach sinks. “Good girl like you shouldn’t put out on the first date, or didn’t your daddy teach you any better?” he says, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

God, he’s a fucking tease. “You didn’t teach me anything like that, Daddy,” you pout. “You can’t get me all needy looking this hot and not let me have you. S’not fair.” You fold your arms, sulking.

“Oh, angel,” he tuts. “Not figured it out, yet? I don’t have to be fair.” And with that, your fate is sealed, Matty dropping you home and leaning over for a chaste kiss that he resists your attempts to deepen. “I’ll see you soon, princess. You know where to find me,” he promises, your eyes not leaving him until his car turns the corner and disappears from view.

You slope inside, disappointed and unsatisfied, plagued with the thought of where you could be right now if Matty had taken you home with him. Your father’s car is in the drive, and you groan to yourself, utterly uninterested in explaining yourself. Of course, you’re expected to anyways. “Where have you been?” your mother demands, and you fold your arms. If she’d asked out of curiosity, genuine interest, it would be different, but she only wants to know so she can approve or disapprove, sneering consternation written across her face.

“Out,” you say shortly, thick tension pulling taut between you.

“With who?” she asks, lips pursed.

“A friend,” you snap. “God, Mum, I went out for lunch, what’s it to you? I’m a grown-ass woman, I shouldn’t have to ask my mummy for permission to leave the house!”

“Language!” she exclaims, and you roll your eyes and push past her, storming up the stairs and slamming the door, finally breathing easy when the lock on your door forms a decisive barrier between you and your parents. Left alone, it doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift back to Matty and the ache he left between your thighs. You wonder if he’s home yet, if he’ll want to hear your voice, or if it’s too soon.

You war with yourself for a few minutes, but your desire wins out, calling Matty up and laying back against your pillows. “Hello, darling.” He picks up on the second ring. “Missing me already?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, the mere sound of his voice sending a pulse of desire thrumming through you. “Thinkin’ about you. About how you got me all needy.”

He laughs darkly. “God, what am I going to do with you? Naughty girl can’t even keep her hands to herself for an hour. Are you getting wet for me, angel?”

“Yes,” you moan happily, thrilled to get what you want. “I need you.”

“You beg so pretty, baby,” he coos, grunting softly, and you can just picture him, cock half-hard in his palm as you hear the rustle of clothes dropping to the floor. “C’mon, tell Daddy what you want.”

You whimper, dipping your hand under your waistband, slick pooling against your fingertips. “Wish you were touching me,” you moan. “Could’ve brought me home with you. Could’ve bent me over anywhere you wanted, stuffed me full and fucking used me.”

“Such a slut,” Matty murmurs, faint, slick sounds echoing from the other end of the call as he grunts rhythmically. The image of him makes you dizzy, fisting his cock messily, hips thrusting into his hand. You moan quietly, rubbing slow, tight circles into your clit. “Are you touching yourself?” You murmur an affirmative. “Stop.” Your blood runs cold, like you’ve been doused in ice water.

“Wh- What?” you hiss, disbelieving.

“You heard me, darling. I told you, good girls don’t put out on the first date. Daddy’s teachin’ you manners, yeah?”

“That’s not fair, Daddy,” you whine again. “Don’t need you to tell me when I can get off. Managed just fine before you came along,” you add petulantly.

Matty just laughs. “Okay, baby. I’m sure you did. You could hang up this call right now, get yourself off all on your own. But you won’t,” he says, smugly confident. “You know why? Because Daddy knows what’s best for brats like you. And, really, you just wanna be my good, sweet, dumb little girl, don’t you, angel?”

Thick, choking lust envelops you, crushing the air from your lungs as you find yourself whimpering, “Yes, Daddy. Won’t touch anymore,” you say, your mouth moving without your brain’s say-so.

Your body hums with energy, tense with the knowledge you won’t be allowed to release it. “Good girl,” Matty croons, your chest warming at the praise. “Still gotta punish you for bein’ a brat, though,” he adds, through a soft moan. “Don’t want you touchin’ that pretty cunt without my permission, ‘kay?” Your stomach sinks, arousal flaring impossibly in your gut.

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll be good,” you promise, his appreciative moan sending heat spiralling between your legs. You stay on the call until the sound of Matty spilling into his fist fills your ears, leaving you sticky and fucking throbbing with need. It takes you what feels like forever to get your breathing under control enough that your legs will stop shaking to carry you to the shower. You gasp as you plunge into the freezing cold spray, barely enough to quench the fire rolling through your veins. Unable to resist, you text Matty a picture of yourself when you step out, the steam on the mirror teasingly blurring your wet, naked body.

And that is the last time you hear Matty’s voice for an entire fucking week. There always seems to be some obstacle, a friend’s birthday, or a dinner you’re not invited to, or both of you are up to your eyeballs in pointless, mind-numbing work. You’d almost think he was avoiding you, if not for your constant back-and-forth over text and Matty’s incessant pleas for you to visit him at the office. You resist for a while, terrified of being caught and what that would mean for this… thing… that’s blooming between you, still fragile and new.

But it’s driving you fucking crazy, and you miss him, so after a week, you find an excuse; because you’re a good, dutiful daughter, you’re bringing your father lunch to share after he cancelled your meal out yesterday. You zone out after the same five minutes of talking in circles, giving automatic, robotic responses you know he wants to hear. It would be a lie to say you didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the lift doors ding shut, carrying you up to Matty’s office. You haven’t told him you’re coming, hoping your presence will be a welcome surprise. What you hadn’t counted on, though, was his bleach-blonde secretary, idly tapping on her keyboard and actively standing in your way.

Your heart sinks. She’s pretty, unbelievably so, and barely older than you. If Matty hasn’t already had her, which you doubt, it’s crossed his mind. What if that’s what he’s been doing, all those times he’s complained about leaving the office late? A vision of her spread out on his desk fills your mind, Matty crooning his sweet, filthy words into her ear as her chest heaves. Her boobs are fake, you decide, your gaze flickering to them. It’s not humanly possible for a pair of tits to be that big and perky at the same time. Pushing down the jealousy roiling in your gut, you step up to her desk. Her eyes sweep over you, unimpressed, and she purses her lips.

You push your shoulders back, letting the snotty, spoiled brat who’s never been told no free, a snide grin spreading across your features. It feels fucking good to exercise that facet of your personality again, having tamped down on it since you went to uni — makes it easier to play well with others. Impatiently, you click your fingers in front of the woman’s face. “I’m here to see Mr. Healy,” you say with a saccharine smile. Sure, you could just call him and tell him you’re outside, but this is so much more fun. Especially now that you get to mess with her head, too. Matty’s never fucked her, but she wants him to, you can tell by the way her face falls when she sees you. Good, you think vindictively. Maybe blondes don’t have more fun. Not with him, at least.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, voice nasally and grating.

You sigh, like she’s asking you a ridiculous question. “No, but he’ll want to see me, trust me. Tell him… Tell him Angel is here, yeah?” She looks at you, sceptical and detached. “My parents were hippies, what can you do?” you shrug, raising your eyebrows and flicking your fingers patronisingly at her, as if to say go on. Your gazes lock in a battle of wills for a brief moment, but you grin victoriously when she picks up her phone.

“Hello, sir. There’s a girl out here asking to see you.” The way she says girl feels like a slur dripping from her overglossed lips. “Says her name’s Angel? She doesn’t have an appointment, I can send her away, if you like. Won’t be a problem.”

“No, no, send her in. And, for future reference, she’s welcome anytime, okay? No appointment necessary. Actually, I’ll come get her.” Matty’s voice is faint from the other end of the phone, but distinct enough that you can hear his words and the click as he sets the phone down. Seconds later, he emerges from his office, breaking into a wide grin at the sight of you. “Hello, angel,” he grins, kissing your cheek politely but lingering a little longer than appropriate. “Feels like it’s been forever. Come on in, yeah?” He takes you by the waist and leads you to his office, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at the secretary as you go, a clear message: I win, you lose. “Oh, and Ruby? Nobody in my office for the next hour, alright?” She flushes as red as her name suggests, glaring at you furiously, trying to tell you this isn’t over. You ignore her, though, because you and Matty are finally alone.

“Only an hour?” you giggle. “You’re losing your touch, sir.”

“Oh, sir, hm? That’s new,” he teases as you perch on his desk, drinking in the sight of him with something dangerously close to relief.

You lean forward. “She wants you. So fucking badly,” you remark.

“I know,” he shrugs, loosening his tie with one hand and stroking your bare thigh with the other.

This time, you let the jealousy bubble up to the surface. “Have you ever fucked her?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

Matty laughs. “Have you ever heard the expression, don’t shit where you eat?” he asks, and you wrinkle your nose and nod. “Well, that goes double for the young, hot blonde the company dangles in front of you like fucking bait, just waiting for you to cross a line.”

You’re starting to see red, his words nothing close to what you wanted to hear. “But you would. If she didn’t work for you.”

He shrugs. “Maybe.” He grips your hips, sliding you closer to him, dislodging stacks of paper and pens from his desk. “If I didn’t have you.” Then, his fingers creep higher, tantalisingly close to where you want them, and you push down the argument you were about to start. Giving up the best sex you’ve ever had isn’t worth it just because you got a little too possessive over someone who isn’t actually yours.

“She’d never be as good as me,” you say bitterly. “I don’t think a man like you would let a little red tape stop you if you actually wanted her. What’s wrong with her, really?”

Matty smirks. “Jealous girl,” he says smugly. “Don’t wanna talk about her when I could have this,” he adds, rubbing slow, teasing circles into your thigh. You whine softly, arching forward into his touch. “You’d be better than her, yeah? You wanna prove it?” You tilt your head quizzically. “Let’s say you’re my secretary, yeah, baby?”

A thrill runs up your spine. “Yes, sir,” you breathe. You slide off the desk to prop yourself in the chair opposite his, unbuttoning your blouse a little and leaning back with a smirk. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you say, playing up your wide, innocent eyes.

“Yes,” Matty says thoughtfully. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my office.” You bite your lip to clamp down on your grin, nodding seriously. “Always in those short little skirts, bendin’ over so you can show off those pretty, lace panties. You wear those for me, don’t you, baby?”

You smirk, popping the buttons of your blouse past decency. “You’re wrong, sir.” You spread your legs wide, and he chokes on his inhale. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Matty groans, sweeping his desk clear, pens and paper scattering across the floor. “Bend over,” he orders sharply. “Now.”

You stand to obey, then pause. “Wait one second,” you say, darting around the desk so you’re face-to-face. “Just realised I haven’t done this yet.” You sling your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, kissing him hungrily and melting at his touch. Desperately, you try not to dissect the relief flooding your body from the point where his hands meet your skin. “Okay,” you say as you pull back, breathless. “M’ready now.”

Bracing your elbows on the desk, you bend over, baring your dripping cunt as Matty shoves your skirt up your thighs. “Spread your legs for me.” You obey, but he just growls and kicks them further apart, a shocked sound pulling free from your throat. “Wider,” he orders. “Not doin’ such a good job of convincing me you’d be so much better than her, you know,” he says, tone almost conversational if his nails weren’t digging into your hips so hard they’ll bruise.

Angry, red-hot jealousy floods your veins, tangling cruelly with the ball of anticipation winding tight in your core. You can’t decide whether to go lax, let Matty have his good girl, or to fight against him for comparing you to her. It doesn’t take long for the brat to win out. “You want her so bad? Call her in, then,”

You can practically hear Matty’s eyebrows raise, the realisation you won’t let him have this so easily setting in. “You want me to, baby?” He clicks his tongue. “I don’t think so. I think you’re jealous of the pretty girl who sits outside my office all day.” He reaches around to pop another button of your blouse. “And you’re scared of what I might be doing with her when you can’t see.” He pulls your shirt out of the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your shoulders. “So you want her to know exactly what we’re doing in here, so you can lay some kind of claim on me. Am I right?” Your mind spins as you try to think of a smartass response, thoughts jolted free from your head when Matty spanks you harshly. The crack of skin on skin might have been loud enough to be heard from outside, you think with a pulse of satisfaction. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are yes, sir or yes, Daddy, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan out, your cunt throbbing needily. “You’re right. Want her to see how good you fuck me, want her to know she could never make you feel as good as I do,” you say, the admissions stumbling one after another from your lips, unbidden.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos, your stomach clenching at the sound of his belt unbuckling, his zipper falling. “Such a little brat when you’re gagging for my cock, aren’t you, princess?” You nod furiously, whining as he teases your hole with the tips of his fingers. Desperate for friction, you grind back against them, weak, helpless moans tumbling from your lips. “Beg for it.” You choke on a gasp. “Go on, angel. You want my cock so bad? Beg for it.”

You don’t even have time to pretend to have dignity before wanton pleas spill free. “Fuck, Daddy, please! Want your cock so fucking bad, always make me feel so good, s’not the same when I do it myself,” you whine, giving a shuddering gasp when he teases your clit with the tip of his cock. “Please! I’m beggin’ you, Daddy, I’ll be good, I promise.”

Matty chuckles. “Alright, baby, alright,” he murmurs soothingly, lining himself up with your soaked entrance and sliding home so fast you’re gasping. Your knees buckle as you scramble for purchase on the desk, nails scraping against the varnished wood. “Oh, princess, it’s okay, Daddy’s here now,” he soothes, your cunt pulsing desperately around him. “Look at you, bein’ all sweet for me now you’re stuffed full. Such a dumb little slut, aren’t you, baby? Bet you wish you didn’t have to think about anythin’ except my cock.”

“Mhm,” you whine, arching your back as much as you can, your tits pressing against the cool wood of the desk. “M’just your stupid little slut, Daddy, please fuck me,” you beg, grinding back against him.

Matty’s hips slam suddenly against yours, a whining scream tearing from your throat as pleasure spills over in your veins. His hand comes down to cover your mouth, your body going limp against his. “Shh, princess. I’m at work, remember?” The reminder that fucking anyone could come to his door, know exactly what he’s doing to you, sends a thrill up your spine. “Can you be quiet, hm? Or do I need to make you quiet?” Another deep thrust draws a long, low moan from your throat, and he seems to have answered his own question. The fabric of his tie covers your mouth, spit leaking out around it. “There you go, angel. Nice and quiet for me. Bang on the desk if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nod, something that might be yes, Daddy coming out garbled around the gag. Matty fucks into you brutally, your chest heaving as ecstasy burns under your skin. “Good girl,” he coos. “Good, sweet girl. Takin’ my cock so well, princess. Such a pretty toy for your Daddy.”

Matty sets a bruising pace, your tongue pushing against his tie as it holds back your pathetic little noises. Your tits press against the desk, the sharp tip of a pencil digging into your bare stomach. You barely feel it, unconscious of anything but Matty’s skin against yours. “God, you feel so fucking good, princess. Daddy’s girl, aren’t you? Why would I ever want another girl when I’ve ruined you so perfect for me? Look at you, good little girl gagged and bent over my desk like a whore.” You moan, filthy words washing over you, sliding down your throat, sticky, wet pleasure dripping out of you.

You’re dizzy with lust, dazed and drooling, ecstasy spiralling through your bones. You can’t even think, Matty fucking all coherence out of you, every thrust clouding your mind more and more. Garbled moans fall from your lips in a filthy, spit-slick string, Matty’s rhythmic grunts swirling deliciously around your head. The calloused pads of his fingers find your clit, euphoria scorching in your bloodstream at the scrape over your swollen nerves. Your legs feel like jelly, melting hot and sweet under Matty’s touch. “You’re close, aren’t you, baby? Can feel your pretty cunt squeezin’ me so tight, princess. You wanna cum for Daddy?”

A few more rough circles over your clit, one more deep, spearing thrust and you break, wailing around the gag. “Good girl,” Matty croons, fucking you through as stars shatter behind your closed lids. Liquid ecstasy melts your bones, glueing you to the desk. Matty groans your name, cock pulsing as he spills inside you, a sound that’s pure desire falling from his lips. Still inside you, he unties the gag, letting it fall onto the desk as you draw a deep breath. “How are you feeling, angel?”

“So good,�� you murmur, voice scratchy from disuse, whining as he pulls out of you. “Always make me feel so good, Daddy,” you add, letting Matty flip you around and set you on the desk, his eyes falling to your glistening core. Cum drips obscenely from you, puddling sticky and wet on his desk, a filthy smirk crossing his face.

“Good girl. So pretty for me, darling.” He tucks himself away, and once his belt is buckled he’s the picture of professionalism while you sit in front of him, sex-rumpled and half-naked and panting. “First girl I’ve ever fucked in here, you know,” he adds, so offhand you’d almost miss it if it it hadn’t made your heart jump into your throat. You can’t make head or fucking tail of him, one minute taunting you with his pretty secretary, the next swearing that you’re special. “M’sorry, darling, I don’t have much in here to clean you up with,” he says with a soft laugh, wiping a tissue through your folds and crooning soothingly when you whimper.

“S’okay. Was worth it,” you say. Your limbs feel tired and heavy, your eyelids drooping as you glance at the time and realise half your allotted hour is gone.

“You tired, sweet girl?” he asks with a soft, fond chuckle.

“Yeah,” you yawn. “You wore me out. Wish we were in bed. That was the best sleep of my life,” you confess, huffing a soft laugh.

You shudder as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch careful and tender. “Soon, princess, I promise. I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other. Missed you,” he says, and the admission melts in your chest, glueing your organs together and squeezing tightly. You sigh, the question on the tip of your tongue dissolving like a sugar pill as your resolve shatters. “How’s your week been, angel? Your friend’s birthday, right?”

You swallow a grimace. Isobel is hardly your friend, in the same way your parents aren’t friends, but you run in the same circles so proximity forced you into something resembling friendship. “Oh, the usual,” you say idly, twirling a curl that’s sprung loose from the gel in his hair around your finger. “Drinks, drugs, boys,” you tease, grinning when his jaw clenches. So he can dish it out but not take it? Interesting.

“Did you talk to any boys, princess?” he asks, eyes glittering dangerously.

Shrugging airily, you kick your legs where they dangle off the desk. “So what if I did?” you challenge. The next words wrench themselves free of your mouth, tasting bitter as they fall. “We’re only fucking, it’s not like you actually own me. If I want to fuck someone else, are you gonna stop me?”

The question hangs thick and acerbic in the air between you and Matty swallows visibly. “No,” he says after a pause. “You can fuck whoever you want, princess. Won’t be as good as me, though, and you know it,” he says, smug and acrid.

The air between you is tense, horribly charged and all wrong, and you can feel tears prickling at the back of your throat. “I should get going,” you say abruptly, getting to your feet. “I’ll see you soon,” you add, not looking back at him as you cross the room.

“Say hi to Ruby on your way out, yeah?” Matty says, something close to a sneer in his voice. As you open the door, though, you paste on a blithe smile and relax your shoulders for Ruby’s benefit.

“Hope it’s not you who has to clean up in there,” you smirk as you pass. “Made a bit of a mess,” you giggle, savouring the way Ruby’s face shifts in colour as she swallows her grimace.

And so you leave Matty’s office more confused about what he wants than when you fucking came in. Something shifts between you after that. Your words don’t change, Matty just as syrupy-sweet as ever, but the difference is palpable, sugared words souring as you digest them. He gets even more possessive while you fuck, more degrading, insisting you’re such a little slut, baby. Whoring yourself out to every fucking boy who looks at you, but you always come runnin’ back to your Daddy, yeah?

But it’s not always angry and mean. Sometimes, it’s slow and so sweet you could swear it’s loving, Matty lavishing you with praise, murmurs of that’s right, such a good girl and Daddy’s girl, so pretty for me soaking into your skin and tying themselves in knots around your brain. Some nights, especially recently, you don’t even fuck when you go to his place. Being there is a comfort, away from catty friends and overbearing parents, somewhere you can just be. Last night, you’d suddenly realised you kind of just weren’t in the mood, apologising and making to leave, and he’d just kissed your temple, pulled you in close and asked what your favourite movie was. And you started to believe. And then you’ll go out for drinks, so much as mention a boy’s name; he’ll toss a jab about some pretty young girl he works with, and you’re right back where you started, tearing each other apart at the seams.

You’re this close to ripping your fucking hair out, sick to death of bottling it all up when you finally decide you need to unload on someone. “I just don’t get him,” you complain, your best friend Thea making sympathetic noises at all the right moments. “One minute it’s all you’re my girl and my pretty baby, the next it’s such a whore, bet you’d let anyone fuck you.”

“But you’re still sleeping at his place?” Thea asks, judgement obvious in her tone.

You groan. “Yes, leave me alone! If you saw the state I’m in after, you’d understand.”

Thea clicks her tongue. “And you haven’t actually fucked anyone else?”

“No,” you admit, defeated. “Don’t know if I could, to be honest.”

“Does he know that? Has he?”

“No and I don’t know. I just don’t know where I fucking stand, and I can’t ask. He’ll think I’m some pathetic little girl who can’t handle it, I know it.”

“You know what you need? You, me, a pair of slutty little dresses, and those fancy cocktails with about twelve kinds of alcohol in them from 102. I’m not taking no for an answer, I’ll see you at ten.”

And, true enough, at eleven you’re clutching a gin bowl for dear life and screeching along to the song thumping through the club’s speakers. “I need a refill, c’mon!” you shout in Thea’s ear, dragging her off to the bar where you can hear slightly better.

Despite the queue, the bartender stops in front of you with a smile. “Love that dress. What can I get for you?” You scan the menu, brow scrunching in a frown, but your words die in your throat as the bartender steps into slightly better light and you take her in properly. She’s a fucking goddess, model-pretty with thick, dark hair and long-lashed brown eyes.

Thea swats your arm and you realise your gaze has drifted down, and you pull it back up to where she’s waiting with a smirk. “You’ve— The menu’s changed. I used to get a Sucker,” you manage to get out around the lump in your throat.

“Alright,” she says cryptically. “And you?”

Thea shrugs. “I’ll have what she’s having, I’m not picky.”

She laughs. “Oh, no. You two do not pick the same poisons. I’ve got this, okay?” Slightly entranced, you watch her work, setting something golden and glittering in front of you. “Sunshine Baby,” she says with a wink. “And for you… Antichrist.”

Thea takes her swirling, dark drink with a delighted grin. “She was into you,” she teases, nudging you with her hip.

“Oh, please, she wanted a tip.” The pair of you find a table, one with a prime view of the DJ booth so you can ogle the hot, blond DJ as he whips the crowd into a frenzied mass of sweating bodies. You keep returning to the same bartender, whose name you learn is Charli, and she keeps plying you with free shots for hot girls and increasingly strong drinks, until you find yourself stumbling onto the dancefloor and losing track of Thea.

Your head feels light, your body loose in a way it hasn’t been in weeks, the alcohol dampening your coherent thoughts. A pair of hands find your waist, and you twist your head back to meet the eyes of their owner. He couldn’t be further from Matty if he tried; your age, for one, tall, willowy and blond. The kind of man you’d usually never have looked twice at. But maybe that’s exactly what you need right now, you think, grinding your hips back against his with a grin. “Can I get your number?” he asks, pulling you free of the dancefloor, sweaty and flushed and smiling freely. After a long moment of consideration, Matty’s warning gaze flashing in your mind, you smirk and give it to him. “Let me take you out. You free Thursday?”

His overconfidence is jarring, and you swallow a frown. “I don’t know,” you tease. “Maybe. Why don’t we get back out there and you can convince me?” You obviously aren’t going to fucking go. Even as drunk as you are, you know that. Whatever this thing with Matty is, it’s serious to you, and you know the pair of you need to untangle it. But, for now, you shove it to the back of your mind, distracting yourself with free shots from a pretty boy, your head spinning wildly by the time you find Thea.

She might even be drunker than you are, stumbling and slurring as you bundle her into a taxi; she lives on the other side of town to you, so it doesn’t make sense to share. “Go, I’ll be fine,” you insist. “There’ll be another one in a minute, okay? Bye! Love you!” you shout as the car pulls away, Thea’s slightly green-tinged face hanging out of the open window. Left alone, you suddenly realise just how drunk you are, your vision blurred as you slump to the curb. When ten minutes pass without a taxi appearing, panic starts to set in; it’s too close to closing time and you’re too drunk, 102 won’t let you back in, and it’ll be the same story anywhere up and down the street. You’re alone in the dark, bile rising in your throat as you do the only thing you can think of and dial Matty.

“Hello?” he says, voice gruff with sleep. “Bit late to be calling, darling. Can’t sleep? Need some help to relax?” he adds, his smirk audible.

Your voice wavers as you speak. “M’sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” you say, choked with the effort of holding back tears. “I can’t call my parents, I don’t have any fucking friends who’d care, there’s no taxis, I—” you cut yourself off with a hysterical gasp.

Matty shushes you soothingly. “Baby. Baby, breathe. Breathe for me, okay?” You try your best to obey, drawing deep, hiccuping breaths, shuddering harshly on the exhale. “What’s wrong, love?” You stumble your way through an explanation, babbling profuse apologies, mortification creeping up your spine. “Darling, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Where are you?”

“102,” you sniffle. “It’s—”

“I know the place. Sit tight, okay? I’m getting in the car now, I’ll be there soon. I’ve got you, promise.” The wave of relief that floods your body when you finally spot Matty’s car pulling to a stop in front of you is near-crippling, and you’d have collapsed when he wraps his arms around you if he wasn’t supporting your weight. “Oh, baby. Sweet girl, it’s okay. I’m here now. I’ve got you,” he repeats soothingly, only pulling away when you stop swaying on your feet. “God, you smell like the floor of a dive bar,” he teases, and you chuckle weakly. “C’mon, angel. Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You murmur another apology as you slide into the passenger seat, and he waves it away with a smile. “Hey, my house is the left back there,” you say, the cool night air having snapped you back to yourself a little.

“I know,” Matty says quietly. “I’m not sending you back there alone, darling. Promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he says, his hand on your thigh gently calming instead of teasing.

“Thank you,” you mumble, looking down at your lap as Matty parks the car in his drive.

“Any time, angel. I’m serious. I’m glad you called. Don’t ever want you to think I won’t be here if you’re not okay.” And fuck if that sickening, chaotic mess of feelings doesn’t just bubble right back up to the surface. He leads you into the kitchen, your body curled into his to steady yourself. “I’ll get you something to eat, okay?”

You shake your head. “Mm-mm. You’re already doing too much. And I won’t keep it down, anyway,” you say, pressing a hand to your roiling stomach. “I just need to lie down.” You start to wander into the living room, and Matty grabs your wrist gently.

“You need to eat something, darling. Drink some water, sleep in a bed,” he adds insistently. You let him fuss over you, plying you with a slice of toast and a glass of water, and you tuck yourself into his chest as he carries you up to bed. Dressed in one of his well-worn shirts, his familiar scent fills your lungs, comforting as he tucks himself into bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “Can’t say it enough. Didn’t have to do all this, Matty. I would’ve been okay.”

“Don’t want you just okay,” he answers. “Want you feeling good, and safe, and happy. Get some sleep, love, m’here.” You close your eyes obligingly, but your drunken haze lifting has set your thoughts free, spinning like a coin set on its edge that just won’t fall. Your night plays back in sickening detail behind your lids, the memory of the boy’s hands on you bringing bile up your throat. Laying in Matty’s bed without having been thoroughly exhausted first always plays with your sanity, your brain wandering to places you know it shouldn’t go as he sleeps peacefully next to you.

The sun is coming up by the time you give up on sleep, hoping Matty’s rhythmic breathing means he won’t hear you trying to sneak away. No such luck, though. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?” he asks, and you feel a stab of guilt at interrupting his sleep yet again.

“Home. I’ll get out of your hair, now. Thank you again,” you say quietly.

“Baby. Princess. Come here, come back here,” Matty says, and he looks so sweet and earnest, sleep-soft and smiling, that you obey, and you can’t help the happy little sigh that escapes you as he pulls you close.

Shame burns hot through you as you remember the previous night all over again, and you can’t stop yourself from blurting out, “A boy asked me on a date last night.”

Matty’s hand tightens on your hip. “What did you say?” he asks, voice low with warning.

You sigh, steeling yourself to look into his eyes. “What do you want me to have said? you answer, and he blinks, confusion written across his features. “What is this, Matty? Because if this is casual, if you just want a shiny young girl on your arm for a few months, it’s fine by me,” you lie, pushing down the nausea that pools at your words. “But if this is just fun, we should be allowed to see other people — are you seeing other people?” you ask, tension winding between your shoulder blades as you prepare for the answer.

“No,” Matty practically growls. “And I’m not fucking anyone else, either, before you ask. I haven’t in weeks.” He huffs a laugh. “I tried, the day I met you, tried to get you out of my head ‘cause I didn’t think I’d get to have you.” His thumb rubs gentle circles into your hip, his touch comforting as his words soak in, a soothing balm to your nerves. “Didn’t fucking work. Couldn’t stop picturing you instead,” he confesses. “You’re in my head, princess. M’sorry I let my little strop go on so long. Thinkin’ about some other man touching you was driving me crazy. I was bein’ selfish. If you want to see other people, I—”

“I don’t,” you interrupt. “Only want you.”

He breaks out in a wide grin. “Pictured this being a bit more romantic, but,” Matty pinches your hip gently, and you giggle, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “You’re my girl, yeah? Properly mine.”

“Yeah,” you say, practically glowing as you smile back at him. “As long as you’re mine.”

He threads a hand into your hair, kisses you like breathing is a choice, licking eagerly into your mouth as you melt against him. “What are you gonna say if another boy asks you on a date, princess?”

“I have a boyfriend,” you beam, just using the word making your heart warm. The tangled knot that’s sat in your belly for weeks now blissfully untied, your body feels loose and happy and willing. “I’m gonna have a shower, okay, then I’ve gotta thank you properly, yeah?”

A filthy smirk pulls at Matty’s lips. “I like the sound of that.” You giggle, pressing a kiss to his nose before climbing off him.

“You would,” you tease, padding into the bathroom and running the shower. You luxuriate under the water for several long, glorious minutes, the water pressure melting the last lingering tension between your shoulders. The smell of the club lingers in your hair until you scrub it with Matty’s expensive shampoo, the smell familiar as you work your fingers over your scalp, lingering like you’ll be able to absorb him through your skin. You towel your hair mostly dry, despite your insistence that Matty was committing a cardinal sin by doing the same, and wander back into the bedroom still naked and dripping wet.

Matty chokes on a gasp. “Fuck. Hi, gorgeous.” The praise heats your cheeks and you kneel at the foot of his bed, clasping your hands behind your back.

“Hi, Daddy,” you say sweetly. “I said I’d thank you properly. Gonna show you what a good girl I can be. Best girl you’ll ever have.” Matty smirks, sitting up to give himself a better view. “Can do whatever you want with me. All day long.” He smirks, dirty and sleazy and delicious, and pats the sheets next to him.

“C’mere, princess. Up you get.” You scramble to obey, sighing happily when he tangles his legs with yours and kisses you slow and deep. His hardness presses against your thigh as you make out, his hands wandering to your ass and squeezing. “God, so perfect, darling,” he praises. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Yours,” you whimper into his mouth, almost deliriously happy. His kiss is almost ferocious, hungry and devouring, desire coiling under your skin. “Daddy, please. Want you so bad,” you murmur.

Matty laughs. “Patience, angel. Thought you were gonna be good?” he says, but it’s light and teasing, without any of the underlying meanness that might have laced his tone a week ago. You relax, tension unspooling in your belly as you put your trust in him. His hands skim over your body, somehow both gentle and working you into a frenzy. A litany of pathetic little whimpers fall from your lips as you squirm under his hands, Matty smirking into the kiss. “Sweet, needy baby,” he croons. “Missed havin’ you all sweet for me. M’sorry I was so mean, princess. Gonna make it up to you, I swear.” His fingers finally find your clit, heat welling between your thighs. It takes a Herculean effort to stay still, not react beyond your involuntary gasp, but the proud little smile on Matty’s face is worth it. “Good girl. Tell Daddy what you want, angel.”

You nod, swallowed in hazy pleasure as he rubs slow circles over your clit. “Want you to fuck me,” you choke out, your throat closing in overwhelming arousal.

Matty rolls on top of you, connecting your lips in a messy kiss. “Of course, baby. You okay like this? Wanna watch your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Please,” you breathe. Matty doesn’t tease, just rubs gentle circles over your clit as he enters you, moaning softly into your mouth. Your hips roll, desire pooling under your skin as he fucks you slow and deep.

“God, missed havin’ you like this,” he breathes, his head falling into your shoulder. “Oh, darling, I know, I know. Daddy’s here, I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs as you whimper softly, languid, bone-deep pleasure rolling over you. Matty’s eyes are liquid with affection, his lips curving into an unconscious smile.

His lips find yours again, your tongues sliding together as punched-out gasps fall from your lips in time with his smooth, measured thrusts. It’s immeasurably intense, Matty playing your body like a symphony, and you’re powerless to do anything but whine and writhe. “Thank you s’much, Daddy. Feels so fucking good,” you whimper, locking your legs around his waist. The change in angle is glorious, ecstasy winding through your bloodstream as Matty rubs circles into your clit.

“Good girl,” Matty murmurs, “Such a good girl for Daddy. My girl, my fucking girl. Wish I could keep you all sweet and cockdrunk for me all the fuckin’ time. Fuckin’ wish I could have you as my little kept girl, have this pussy at home waitin’ for me every fuckin’ night,” he groans, the familiar fantasy spiralling through your mind. He murmurs soft, sugary words into your ear, liquid desire melting your brain until you’re sure it must be dripping from your ears, soaking the sheets under your hair. “So, so pretty, darling. Look so gorgeous while I’m fucking you, god.”

You glow at the praise, heat thrumming under your skin as his hips meet yours over and over. You’re practically delirious, lost in thick, syrupy pleasure, the lewd sound of skin meeting filling the room. “Mmh, oh, my God, fuck—” you gasp, pleasure coiling tight in your belly as you dig your nails into his back. “M’gonna cum, Daddy, oh, my God, need it s’bad. Wanna cum, wanna make you cum, shit. Need to feel it, need you to fill me up, make me yours, God, please!”

“Fuck, such a good girl,” Matty gasps, his rhythm faltering as he gets closer. “Can hold on for me, just for a second, yeah? Wanna cum together,” he adds, and you whine, rolling your hips up against him and trembling with the effort of holding your orgasm at bay. He fucks into you with deep, sloppy thrusts, moaning into your mouth and pinching your clit. Garbled moans of fuck and yes and Daddy stumble from your lips, sticky, hot desire dripping from your cunt as you writhe under him. “Fuck, princess, you ready?” Matty gasps against your lips.

“Yeah, m’ready, Daddy, c’mon. Cum in me, fill up this slutty little pussy. M’yours, your good girl, your little cumdump. God, need it s’bad,” you moan, breaking into a whine as Matty spills inside you with a groan. Your orgasm follows a split-second later, moaning against Matty’s mouth with stardust glittering in your veins. Euphoria scorches under your skin, your head floating clear of your body as pleasure floods you, gasping and moaning. “Thank you,” you say dopily, smiling up at him as he pulls out. You widen your legs to watch his cum dripping out of you, pooling obscene and sticky on the mattress.

Matty watches you with a laugh. “Little cumslut,” he says fondly.

“Your little cumslut,” you smirk, stretching out your sore muscles. “When I said anything you want, I meant anything,” you grin. “Want me to be your little kept girl? Cook and clean for you while you look all pretty and important?”

He chuckles. “First of all, I’ve seen what you think passes for a meal, princess. Don’t know how you haven’t poisoned yourself.” You swat his shoulder, laughing. “Second of all, if you can stand right now, I haven’t worked hard enough,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“You’re lucky I like you cocky,” you tease, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and testing your weight on your feet as you stand. Matty catches you as you stumble slightly, I told you so written plainly on his face. “Don’t,” you warn, before it can leave his mouth.

“Y’know, I think I like the sound of having a little housewife for the day,” he grins, your stomach tying itself in a knot at the word wife from his lips. “C’mon, sweet girl, I’m sure we can find something for you to occupy yourself with while you’re waitin’ for me to fuck you dumb again, huh?” he teases, your thighs clenching at the words. You bend to reach for your clothes, and he tsks softly. “Didn’t say you could get dressed, did I, angel?”

“No, Daddy. I won’t.” You swallow thickly, following him downstairs, feeling shockingly exposed in the glare of the sunlight pooling from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Matty’s cum trickles down your thighs as you hover beside him.

“Make us some tea, would you, darling?” he says, casual like you’re not naked and dripping cum on his pristine kitchen floor. “Shame you haven’t got a little apron, or something. Think I’d go a bit crazy, seein’ you in my kitchen dripping wet in nothing but an apron and a smile. Gotta teach you how to cook someday, if you wanna be my kept girl,” he continues, still maddeningly conversational as your cunt pulses wantonly at his words. “Tea, darling? Or have I got you too dumb for that without even touching you?” he teases.

Almost mechanically, you fill the kettle and flick it on, dropping a teabag into a mug for him and wrinkling your nose unsubtly. “Can I have a coffee? I don’t do tea.”

Matty laughs. “Course, princess. Want you to make yourself at home. Coffee’s just down there.” He points to a cupboard near your feet, stroking over the curve of your ass as you bend over. You don’t realise his game until you scan the contents of the cupboard and find nothing but pots and pans, and his fingers are tracing your messy, sensitive cunt. “Oops, did I say down?” he deadpans, reaching above your head to open another cupboard. “I meant up.”

“Perv,” you tease, retrieving the tin of coffee as the kettle whistles.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss softly at your neck and jaw. “Too fucking gorgeous. Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You giggle, breaking his hold to pour your drinks. “Can’t believe it took us this long. We’re idiots, kind of.”

“A bit,” he chuckles, accepting his tea and taking a sip. “So, what did you say? To that boy?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“No, obviously. Felt so guilty taking his number. Deleted it in the car,” you admit, staring into your coffee to avoid his gaze.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Knew nobody could fuck you like me, right? Nobody could treat you as good?”

You flush, setting your drink down and hopping up onto the counter, crossing your legs behind his back as he crowds into your space. “No, Daddy. Only you, I promise.”

Matty cups your jaw. “That’s right, princess. All mine. And I’m yours,” he says, cupping your jaw and connecting your lips in a searing kiss, drinking in the taste of you as you pour your emotions into his mouth. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me,” he says, sucking a bruise into your skin and working his way down. He presses kisses over your tits, one hand coming up to play with a peaked bud as he wraps his lips around the other. You whine, arching your back and pushing against his attentions, a low buzz of pleasure growing in the back of your skull. “Love these tits so much, baby. So fucking perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing a kiss in the valley of your breasts and tracing his fingers down, your muscles tensing at his touch. Desire whirls in your stomach, your head light and skin loose on your bones. He drops to his knees on the cool tile floor, kissing your knees as he spreads your legs wider, eyes blowing impossibly wider at the sight of your dripping cunt. “God, made such a mess of you, huh, princess? Want Daddy to get you cleaned up?”

“Please,” you gasp, threading a hand in his curls as he kisses the tender skin of your inner thigh. “Daddy, please. Want your mouth,” you whimper, moaning when his lips meet your slick skin. The pressure between your thighs is instant and familiar, mounting as Matty laps at your folds. He pulls off to bite at your thighs, scraping over his own fading bruises, faint pain tangling with pleasure under your overheated skin. His tongue is hungry as it fucks into you, his moans vibrating gloriously through you as you cling to the counter for dear life.

Your hips grind against his face, euphoria spiralling through you, stoking the fire low in your belly. “That’s it, princess. Gonna help Daddy get you off? My pretty little cockdrunk slut, need it all the time, right?” he murmurs, rubbing circles into your clit as he buries his tongue back into you. You can’t fucking think, everything in your brain drowned out by lips, tongue, teeth, Matty.

“Fuck, yes, Daddy, feels s’fucking good,” you whine, burying your hand in his curls and dragging him even closer, his tongue impossibly deep inside you as you clench around the muscle. Heat unspools in your belly, licking under your skin and setting your blood on fire, your hips rocking unbidden against his mouth. You cry out as Matty wraps his lips around your clit, pleasure-pain screaming from your still-sensitive nerves, all his attention focused on your swollen bud. “Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God,” you gasp, pulse jackhammering between your thighs, so fast you’re scared it’ll set off dynamite in your chest.

“Yeah?” Matty smirks up at you, his lips and chin soaked in your arousal. You’re close, embarrassingly so, his tongue sloppy and greedy as he devours your cunt. His quiet moans into your cunt are intensely gratifying, amplifying the ecstasy kicking wildly under your skin. “God, you’re so pretty fallin’ apart like this. Could live between these pretty thighs, princess.” In response, you tighten them around his head, savouring his little gasp as his tongue returns to your cunt, licking over your hole with fervour. Your eyes roll back in your head, swimming dizzily in ecstasy, your cunt throbbing with need.

Your entire body is tense, muscles clenched and expectant as Matty tongue-fucks you within an inch of your life. “M’so close, Daddy, wanna cum,” you whimper, chasing the pleasure that coils tight around your veins, your vision blurring as euphoria chokes you.

Matty circles his fingers over your clit, his callouses scraping deliciously over your tender skin. “Cum for me whenever you’re ready, princess. Wanna feel you fallin’ apart on my tongue. Sweetest fuckin’ girl in the world,” he murmurs, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking hard, a scream tearing free from your throat. Molten desire pools in your belly, your body humming with energy begging to be released. “Come on, darling, let me hear you. Give me everything you’ve got,” he moans, your cunt dripping on his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, m’cumming, Daddy, fuck! Oh, God, feels s’good, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, pure pleasure breaking you wide open, your vision whiting out as Matty’s tongue curls deep inside of you. You throb around him, every muscle in your body suddenly jelly, his hands on your thighs the only thing anchoring you to reality. Matty gets to his feet with a smirk, wordlessly prising your jaw open and sliding his wet fingers into your mouth.

You wrap your fingers around his tongue, sucking and licking the taste of you off his skin and moaning softly. “Good girl. You look so fucking gorgeous when you cum, princess.” He catches your lips in a messy kiss, your slick on his tongue as it sweeps your mouth, his hands finding your hips and pulling you close. “You up for a little day out, angel? Wanna show off my pretty girl, make everyone jealous of me.”

You giggle. “I told you. Anything you want. If you want to bend me over and show the entire fucking world who I belong to, I’ll drop my panties right then and there, promise.”

Matty’s jaw clenches, nails digging into your hips. “Don’t want anyone else seeing you like that, ever,” he growls. “C’mon, princess, go and get dressed. Got a busy day planned,” he grins.

“When did you have time to plan a day out?” you scoff, hopping to your feet and heading back up the stairs.

“Wanted to take you out and ask you to be my girlfriend, but that part got wrecked. I still wanna spoil you, baby.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss into your hair.

You melt into his touch, leaning into him with a soft, private smile. “You’re too sweet,” you say, pulling away from him to step into your discarded underwear and jeans, turning to rifle through his drawers. After a few moments, you find what you were looking for, a shirt that must be a remnant of some distant, misspent youth; so small it’s almost your size, and it must have been cropped short on him because it barely brushes the hem of your jeans. “Did you actually wear this?” you laugh, turning this way and that as you admire how surprisingly well the shirt flatters you.

Matty laughs. “Told you, I was in a band in my twenties. Made some questionable fashion choices, but I made it work.”

Your eyes light up. “You have to show me. Please, I have got to see what you looked like when you fit into this,” you plead, and he scoffs.

“Nah. Looks better on you, anyway,” he says, sliding a pair of sunglasses over your eyes and kissing your cheek, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Have you got a jacket? It’s fucking cold, for June,” he comments, a poor attempt at sounding casual.

It’s not that cold, and he knows damn well you don’t have a jacket. “Hmm, nope.” You pop the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “Guess I’ll have to borrow one of yours,” you say airily, as if that wasn’t his obvious fucking game all along. He slides a leather jacket over your shoulders, well-worn and smelling like him, and your reflection stops you dead. You look fucking hot. You look like a rich man’s scandalously young girlfriend, the graceful lines of him slotting perfectly into the picture. You snap a sweet photo of the two of you as he kisses your temple, and you giggle up at him.

“God, never gonna get over how gorgeous you look wearin’ my clothes, darling,” he murmurs, giving your ass a little smack and hurrying you into the car. His hand is familiar on your thigh as he drives, the warmth of his touch soaking into your skin and fizzing up in your chest. He presses kisses to your cheek at every red light, his gaze adoring every time it lands on you.

You share a lazy, light breakfast, trading kisses over pastries and coffee; yours heaped with cream and sugar and his bitter and black. Matty listens as you explain your friends’ petty little dramas, nodding or frowning at all the right moments but wise enough not to weigh in. He presses you against the car when you leave, digging one hand into your hair and the other into your waist and kissing the sugary-almond taste out of your mouth. “Pretty girl,” he praises, smiling as you flush.

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, kissing his nose as he pulls back and opens the passenger-side door for you. “Such a gentleman,” you giggle, sliding into your seat. You fiddle with the radio, turning to him expectantly when the car stays in park. “Thought you had the whole day planned out?”

“I do,” he grins. “Just waitin’ for you to tell me where you like to shop, angel.”

You smile, rattling off a list that comes as easily as breathing. “Are you gonna take me shopping?” you giggle as the engine purrs to life. “Won’t you get bored?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, reversing out of the car park. “I’ll be like the male lead in a romcom, carrying all your bags and following you like a lost puppy. It’ll be well funny,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, the image of him laden with shopping he’s paying for and wandering around a boutique looking slightly mystified frankly adorable.

“You’d make a good movie star. Just about pretty enough.” Matty gives an offended scoff and lights a cigarette, sulkily facing away from you as he takes a drag. An old favourite song crackles through the radio and you sing along, uninhibited and happy and maybe even a little in love.

Matty smiles at you indulgently as you start flipping through clothing racks, running your fingers through the fabric and musing which pieces already in your closet they’d pair well with. You pull out a pretty little summer dress, white and lacy with pink florals, and hold it up without looking at the price tag. “What do you think?” you grin, watching him picture you wearing it with a sleazy smile.

“If you want it, it’s yours,” he shrugs. “Go wild, princess.” Not one to look a gift horse, you take him at his word, draping the dress over your arm and fluttering off to flip through the skirts. A scandalously short leather mini catches your eye, and you hold it against your hips thoughtfully.

Matty’s jaw tightens unsubtly. “Oh, don’t be such a boy,” you tease. “I’ll model it for you later,” you add with a grin, and his hands fly to your waist and pull you in.

“Please don’t get me all worked up, sweetheart,” he pleads against your lips. “Don’t wanna have to cut this short because I had to bring you home and take what I need from you, do you?”

Your insides melt into liquid and you flush, heat slick under your skin. “Tempting,” you smirk. “Later tonight?”

His eyes darken, sparkling with allure. “I’m counting the minutes,” he murmurs against your lips, taking an inappropriately greedy handful of your ass and pressing his lips against yours.

Your knees go weak when Matty licks into your mouth, his tongue hedonistic and clever and sure. You indulge yourself in his kiss for a few moments, his body pressing against yours as he threads a hand into your hair. “Mmh, stop trying to distract me,” you say, voice slightly rough with desire. “I’m gonna bleed you dry, darling.”

Matty grins. “Do your worst, angel.”

And you certainly try your fucking hardest, piling his arms high with blouses and dresses and skirts; lipsticks and powders and creams; pumps and heels and sandals. When Matty starts dragging his feet, you take pity on him and pull him into the lingerie section, his jaw going slightly slack as he stares around; he looks vaguely guilty, like he’s been caught somewhere he shouldn’t.

You pluck a delicate, white corset off the rack, holding it up musingly. “How about this? Might be cute with one of those skirts?” Matty swallows thickly, clearly stuck for words that won’t get the pair of you banned from the store and maybe arrested for lewd behaviour.

“I like it.” He clears his throat. “A lot.”

You grin mischievously. “I have an idea, Daddy,” you murmur, the word a delicious taboo as it slips from your lips, scandalously inappropriate on the wide-open shop floor. “Should get yourself some presents, too. Pick some stuff out for me?”

A filthy smirk splits his face, and you shiver, a thrill running up your spine. Matty, it turns out, has extremely discerning tastes, at least when it comes to lingerie. Everything he chooses is carefully considered, holding the lace against your skin to consider the colour, the shape, the cut of the piece and how it’ll sit on your body. You end up heaped with a pile of bras and panties, corsets and teddies, babydoll dresses and chemises, slightly dizzy at the thought of dressing up in them for him.

“Think that’s more than enough to keep us both happy, don’t you, princess?” he grins, leading you to the counter. It takes aeons to get you rung up, and you feel a little faint at the sight of the total; it’s more than five thousand pounds. Matty doesn’t even look fazed, though, kissing you softly and swiping his card like it’s nothing. It’s maybe a little embarrassing, but you feel a faint tingle of arousal at him taking such a massive sum in stride.

You drape yourself across him as he loads your bags into the car, pressing grateful kisses anywhere you can reach. “Thank you, Daddy. Too good to me. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

Matty smiles, wide and warm and so fucking sweet you can taste the honey dripping from his mouth. “Don’t need to, angel. Just let me spoil you. Like seein’ you happy after I was such a little bitch before. M’sorry, sweet girl.”

You laugh as you slide into the car beside him. “I’ve accepted worse apologies for worse things from far worse men. I think we’re more than even now.” You run your hand over his thigh, cupping his cock with a smirk. “How about I put on a little fashion show for you when we get back? Call it even when I can’t even remember my own name?”

He grins. “You are filthy,” he says delightedly, throwing on a burst of speed that pins you against the seat, suddenly desperate to get the pair of you into a bedroom.

Matty’s mouth is ravenous on yours as soon as you’re alone, dropping the bags to grip your waist hungrily and pull you flush against him. “Mmh, hold on,” you say, breaking away regretfully. “Don’t you wanna see me all dolled up for you, Daddy?”

Groaning, Matty slides his hands down to your waist, spanking you when you bend over to retrieve your bags. A pulse of wanton arousal throbs stickily between your legs, an involuntary moan rumbling from your lips. “Pretty little slut,” he mumbles approvingly. “Wanna get that pretty ass all red for me, god.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, straightening up and leaning back against him. “Anything you want.” He follows you up the stairs, making himself comfortable on the bed as you slip into the bathroom and change. You primp and preen, experimenting with lip swatches and sparkling eyeshadow, switching out your outfit until you’re satisfied.

Matty is waiting on the bed when you slip back into the room. The sight of him, his legs spread wide and clad only in boxers with one hand lazily palming his cock through the fabric, is almost enough to make you abandon your plans. “D’you like the skirt now, Daddy?” you ask, pulling the waistband down to reveal the scrap of deep-red satin clinging to your waist.

“Mmm, I don’t know if I’m quite convinced yet, princess,” he teases. “Think you should show me what it looks like off.”

A heavy pulse of want wells between your thighs, and you grin. “Let me put on a little show for you, first.” You cue up a carefully-curated playlist, swaying your hips in time with the beat and slowly peeling off your shirt. Matty’s breath catches at the sight of you, groaning low in his throat, the sound going straight to your cunt.

Turning and bending over right on cue, you shake your ass, flashing your panties under the skirt; Matty moans outright. “So gorgeous, princess. Gettin’ me so fucking hard, god,” he groans, and as you turn to face him, you’re treated to the sight of him freeing his cock, slowly pumping it and watching you intently. Your skirt slides to the floor as Matty fucks into his fist, delicious, gasping little moans tumbling from his lips. “Fuck, c’mere, please,” he pleads, gaze fixed on you as you stalk to the edge of the bed.

“Wanna sample the merchandise, huh?” you tease, straddling his lap and grinding down on his cock. Matty’s hands come up to your tits, palming and squeezing greedily as your head falls forward to meet his lips. You let him grope you for a few long, delicious minutes, his hands finding your hips, your waist, your ass and digging in. Then, you hop off his lap, and Matty whines. “I’ve still got more stuff to try on,” you grin, slipping away and changing into a sheer-white babydoll with a matching thong.

Matty chokes on air at the sight of you, and you smile angelically, kneeling at the foot of the bed. “God, gonna drive me crazy, darling. Need to fuck you so bad,” he groans, his cock flushed red and dripping as it disappears into his fist.

You giggle. “M’glad you picked this one, Daddy. D’you wanna know what I thought when I saw it?” He nods, dazed and practically drooling. “I thought, ‘That’s what I wanna wear around the house when I’m bein’ a good little housewife for my Daddy,’” you murmur, and Matty has a physical reaction, shuddering as his eyes go wide, the fantasy playing clear as day on his face.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans. “Angel. Darling. Sweet girl. Come here. Let me fuck you, please,” he begs, hips shifting needily as he pumps his cock.

Draping yourself over his lap, you smile blithely up at him. “You promised to spank me, Daddy,” you pout, and Matty gives a filthy smirk, tracing his fingers over your panties as you shudder and squirm.

“Such a filthy little slut, god,” he murmurs. “This sweet little ass is gonna look so pretty covered in my handprints, baby. Gonna remind you who you belong to every time you sit down, yeah?”

Arousal swirls through your body, wanton need dripping from your neglected cunt. “Belong to you, Daddy. Your girl— ah!” you gasp as Matty’s hand comes down, meeting your ass harshly. A long, low moan pulls from your throat, sweet pain tangling with the burning need under your skin. “Yes, Daddy, fuck. Please, more,” you whimper, face pressed against the sheets as you sink deeper into glorious submission. Three more smacks come in quick succession, the flesh of your ass flaming under his touch.

Matty kneads your tender skin gently, soothing before he delivers another hit, the pain washing over you and coiling into thick, palpable pleasure under your skin. “Love this pretty ass so much, princess,” he praises.

“Want you to fuck me there, one day,” you say dreamily, so lost in desire-slick fantasies that you don’t even process the admission as it falls from your lips. “Wanna be yours. Every single hole,” you murmur, eyes lidded and voice rough with lust. Matty freezes, and you tense. God, was that a weird thing to say? Too early to admit it? Is he gonna think you’re actually a slut now?

A moan of pure, unfiltered lust falls from his mouth and your thighs clench, the fabric of your panties soaked and sticky between your thighs. “Fuck, you can’t say things like that, princess. Gonna make me fuckin’ cum before I’ve even fucked you,” he murmurs, voice low and raked over gravel, thick with lust. His fingers tease over your clit through your panties, and you arch up into his touch, whimpering.

“Then fuck me,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. Want you.” Matty grins, manhandling you until you’re laying on your front, pleasure tense in your belly as he slides your panties to the side.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, gasping and pleading softly as the sheets dig into your cheek. “This okay, angel? Wanna watch the bruises come up on your pretty little ass.”

Lifting your hips, you shake your ass at him, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Gonna think about fucking it, Daddy?” He groans, the sound going straight to your core, slick cunt dripping as you press against him. “S’okay if you do. I have been. When I’m alone, when I want you, fucking myself on my fingers and thinkin’ about you stretching me out there. Would feel so fucking— Ohh,” you break into a moan as Matty enters you with no warning, meeting no resistance from your soaked cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, princess. So fucking filthy, playing with that needy cunt and thinkin’ about me fucking your ass, god,” he groans, dipping his head to kiss between your shoulder blades. A shudder runs through you, the stretch and burn between your thighs familiar, the ache soothing.

Your cunt throbs, thick pulses of arousal hammering in time with your racing heart. “Harder, Daddy, please,” you whine, arching your back. Dizzying lust envelops you, your head hazy and light, practically floating clear of your body. A shocked moan escapes you as Matty spanks you again, pain sinking into pleasure that coils tightly through your insides.

“Don’t be greedy, darling,” he chides. “C’mon, lift your hips a little for Daddy, okay?” Unthinkingly, you obey, letting him puppeteer you, mould you into whatever shape he likes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, sliding a pillow under your hips. You glow at the praise, nails scraping the sheets when he fucks deep into you, the change in angle sending waves of pleasure spilling over you.

“Ngh, Daddy, fuck,” you whimper, your words coming out garbled where your face presses into the sheets. Incoherent moans of please and fuck and I need and Daddy stumble from your lips, your body melting into a pleasure-soaked haze as Matty fucks deep into you.

Your hips meet obscenely, lewd sounds filling the room as your world narrows down to the four walls, aware of nothing but him. “That’s it, princess. Let it all out, let Daddy hear those pretty noises, yeah? Nobody else gets to hear you like this, right?” he coos, pinching your clit and moaning softly as your cunt clenches around him reflexively.

“N-no,” you promise shakily, struggling to pull the words to the forefront of your mind, delirious with pleasure. “Only you, Daddy. Only one who can fuck me like this. So fucking good.” You choke on a gasp, Matty’s hips meeting yours over and over, your vision swimming, your body set adrift in an ocean of sheer ecstasy.

“Such a sweet girl,” Matty murmurs, teasing your clit as you whine powerlessly. Seemingly just for the fun of it, he slaps your ass again, the sweet sting tearing you open. Pleasure rushes through you, cradling your very organs, stoking a fire that chars your bones. “God, I love your pretty ass, darling. Can’t wait to fuck this tight little hole.” His words sink into your skin, wrapping tight around your sore muscles, ecstasy coiling in your veins. With what feels like a monumental effort, you rock your hips up towards him, Matty impossibly deep inside you.

The tip of his cock brushes that perfect spot inside you, sending a bright jolt of pure euphoria fizzing up your spine. A keening wail falls from your lips, a loud, uninhibited sound of undiluted pleasure. “Gettin’ close, angel? Wanna cum for your Daddy?” You nod wildly, indistinct, stifled pleas tumbling from your lips like prayers. “Go on, princess, cum for me. Cum all over my fuckin’ cock, make me cum.” In that same obedient, thoughtless way, you do. You choke and whimper and whine, drool pooling in your mouth and dripping out against the sheets as you moan the only word you know: Daddy. Euphoria burns white-hot under your skin, melting your organs until your body is made of liquid desire, messily strung together by flimsy ligaments. Matty’s touch is the only thing anchoring you to reality, your head still hazy as you drift back to Earth.

Matty’s pace is erratic, frenzied and wild and hot as your cunt pulses with aftershocks. “Cum on me,” you beg. “On my cunt, on my tits, on my face, I don't care. Just wanna see it, wanna feel it, want you to mark me, make me yours,” you plead, and Matty groans. He gives your ass one more swift smack for good measure and flips you over, your bruised skin screaming in protest as it presses into the sheets. Three quick passes of his fist over his cock and he’s cumming, white ropes splashing across your belly and up to your tits, painting your skin in a filthy, lurid display. “Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur as he breathes heavily above you. “Love bein’ your little cumdump.”

His head tips back, a disbelieving laugh bubbling free. “Such a good, sweet, pretty girl with such a filthy mouth, princess. So fuckin’ hot.” You smile proudly, dragging your fingers through his mess and sucking the taste of him off them. Matty’s eyes go wide, his head falling to lap at the skin between your tits, kissing and sucking ravenously at them. He makes his way up and presses his lips to yours, the taste of him smearing between your mouths, the kiss a filthy thing, alive with desire. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles, hushed like he isn’t even aware of the words, and you flush.

“So are you,” you smile as he falls next to you, gazing adoringly into your eyes as your chests heave.

“We should get cleaned up,” he says with a weak chuckle, and you mumble an affirmative without even pretending to move. “Just a minute, princess, then I’ll get you cleaned up, cook us some dinner, yeah?” he promises, kissing you gently as your eyes flutter closed. Of course, the pair of you wake an hour or so later, dried cum on your belly and crusting into your brand-new lingerie, your thighs uncomfortably wet and sticking. Matty carries you into the bath, takes gentle care of you, the promised meal waiting when you pull yourself out of the now-lukewarm water. Pillar candles glow atop the dining table, the light sparkling off your wine glasses, and your heart melts.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall deeply, irrevocably in love with him; every passing day reveals something new to adore. The words spring to your lips at any and all moments, both opportune and not, and it starts to become a real struggle to swallow them back down. You don’t want to be too much, too soon, and truthfully you’re scared of what his answer will be, and even more so of how you’ll react.

Your private-not-secret relationship is your so-called friends’ favourite topic of discussion, so much so that you’re afraid it’ll get back to your parents before you’re ready for them to know. You try to keep them happy with minor tidbits, throw them off with misdirections (yes, he’s older; no, I won’t tell you by how much; no, my parents don’t know him), but their endless reserves of intrusion are starting to wear you down. Thea is your only confidante, the only one besides Matty himself who knows the ins and outs, and you’re fucking dying for someone new to brag and gush to. So when Matty texts you one day in mid-August, asking if you want to meet his friends, you jump at the chance.

My friends are absolutely desperate to meet you, by the way

Insist they have to meet this girl I won’t shut up about

I’ve been told to tell you Emerald Hill at 10pm on Saturday, and not to take no for an answer

If that tells you what kind of a bunch they are, fair warning

i’d love to :)

come pick me up at 8? then we’ll have time to get presentable before we have to go ;)

By the time Saturday rolls around, you’re practically fizzing with excitement, much to your parents’ suspicion — they’ve been sceptical all summer of how happy you’ve been, curious glances and pursed lips every time you so much as smile at your phone. The excitement has turned to nerves as you’re leaving Matty’s, though, roiling in your gut as you obsess over every detail that could go wrong. Matty wraps comforting arms around your waist from behind, kissing the top of your head and holding you close, the thump of his heartbeat at your back soothing. “Stop worryin’ so much, love. S’gonna be fine, okay?” He gives a boyish little grin as he opens the car for you. “Can’t wait for you to meet my boys. All my favourite people in one place,” he says, and you smile softly, that warm, fizzing affection you don’t want to give a name to creeping up your chest.

Matty lets you choose the music as you drive, shaking his head every time you queue up another glitter-gel-pen pop song. He takes your hand and leads you into the bar, a classy little place tucked into a street corner, his eyes lighting up as he catches sight of whoever you’re here to meet, swallowed into a bear hug by a tall blond when he reaches the table.

“Ah, mate, it’s been too long,” the other man says, pulling back and offering you a hand. “George.”

You look up into his face and your jaw drops. The hot DJ from that fateful night at 102 grins down at you, and your eyes widen as you try to take back your composure. Swallowing your tongue, you smile and give your name, taking a seat as Matty pulls a chair out for you. Just as you’re getting over that shock, you lock eyes with Charli and she smirks back at you.

“Sunshine Baby!” she exclaims. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening at the merest semblance of familiarity. “How do you remember that?” you laugh disbelievingly.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Matty interrupts.

Charli shrugs. “Sort of. Sunshine over here racked up a three hundred quid tab and tipped me a hundred on top. Don’t forget that in a hurry.”

You cover your face in embarrassment. “That makes me sound like an alcoholic,” you groan. “Your fault, by the way.” You poke Matty’s shoulder affectionately. “I was mad at you, practically fucking bought out the bar about it. Entire place got a free drink off me.”

“I like her,” another member of the group chimes in with a laugh. You look up to meet the eyes of the speaker, and– Jesus. One group of friends shouldn’t be allowed to have this many hot people in it. “Ross,” he says, and you smile politely. The last member of the party introduces himself as Adam, and you greet him with a smile, letting yourself get absorbed into rapid conversation and raucous laughter. “Right,” Ross interrupts. “Matty — you’re picking up the tab,” he declares. “Oh, don’t make that face,” he says as Matty scoffs. “Amount you drink, I’m not paying it on a teacher’s salary.”

You giggle. “Aw, give him a break. These days, I’m spending his money faster than he can make it,” you joke, and Charli cackles. You’re pleasantly tipsy, the alcohol loosening your lips and lifting the weight of anxiety in your chest, conversation flowing between you as easily as the wine in your glass. You cling to Matty as you leave, waving cheerful goodbyes and promising to text Charli to arrange a girls’ night.

“I’m gonna regret introducing you two, aren’t I?” Matty sighs, pulling you in close against the unseasonably cold wind, the warmth of his body soothing.

“No,” you giggle. “I love her. Wish I had friends like yours,” you say, wistful and slightly self-pitying as you slide into the car.

Matty cups your cheek, leaning in across the console to press a tender, loving kiss against your lips. “I’m sorry, baby. But you have me. Always gonna have me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters, those three little words rising in your throat once again. “I guess you’re a pretty good consolation prize,” you tease, pushing down the frightening intimacy of the moment with levity.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles. “Wanna come back with me? Or do you want me to drop you home?”

You scoff. “Is that even a question?”

The rest of your summer passes quickly, too quickly. You spend more time at Matty’s house than home, more and more of your things finding their place there as time passes. You start going to visit him at work without any other justification, every step nerve-wracking as your father’s presence looms. You have one unbelievably close call when he’s in the lobby as you’re leaving, frantically slamming the door close button in the lift before he can turn and spot you. Ruby stays just as hostile, seething at you and muttering warnings that Matty’ll be bored soon every time you pass her by. You take a petty, savage pleasure in tormenting her, just a little, deliberately pulling Matty in for long, filthy kisses as you open his office door.

By the time you can’t put off going back to uni any longer, there’s barely any point in you being home at all. Naturally, Matty offers to be the one to drive you up, and you seize the opportunity to be alone with him for the last time in however fucking long. Your father is privately relieved not to be the one to have to, you can tell, accepting your explanation that Thea’s just passed her test and she’s offered to drive me. You don’t mind, do you? without question. Shows how much he knows; Thea’s failed her practical six times and counting.

When you arrive, Matty insists that you don’t lift a finger, carrying all of your boxes upstairs and giving you something to ogle in the process. You’re the last one back, your housemates smirking at you and nudging each other at the sight of him, fourteen years your senior with grey in his hair, kissing you filthy and unashamed in plain view. Later, you mouth behind his back, their answering giggles reminding you that you do have good friends, after all.

Matty looks devastatingly gorgeous in the late-autumn sunset, leaning against his car with a cigarette dangling from his lips. You snatch it with a smirk, stretching up to peck his lips and taking a deep drag. His smile melts you into goo, your heart hammering so fast it might smash free of your ribcage. If you don’t say it now, you’ll lose your nerve.

“I love you,” you rush out, muffled against his chest as he holds you, arms cradling your body tight and warm and safe. “You don’t have to say it back, I just… I do, and I want you to know.”

Matty pulls back to look at you, eyes soft with affection and adoration and maybe even something deeper. “Do you know how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that, princess? God, I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” he groans, his hands at your waist the only thing keeping you upright as your knees go weak. “Think I might die, havin’ to be without you these next few weeks.” You giggle, giddy with infatuation and devotion and… God, you can just say love, now. “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Could never stay away from you.”

#take a shot every time i reference one of my friends' fics in this series #fly high prof matty forever in our hearts #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #white and gold

240 notes · View notes

rookthorne · 8 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰

It was your first classic car meet and you were excited for what lay ahead. Meeting others within the scene and maybe the possibility of making friends was your goal, but what awaited you was much, much more intense — for better, or for worse.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✯ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✯ 3.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✯ Fluff, violence, possessive Bucky (that's the understatement of the century) ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected, public, car sex, gagging and restraints, oral fixation, multiple orgasms, cum play, Dom!Bucky ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, breeding, sir, exhibitionism

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✯ This was written for a certain someone, and that certain someone knows who they are, and they know exactly what they did to me to inspire it — so, chaos kittens, enjoy some of the most depraved smut I have ever written.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✯ Keep It Down by Migrant Motel

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✯ @allcapsbingo 𝗢𝟯 — Oral Fixation (September Monthly Mission) — Masterlist

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Are you sure–?”

Bucky grinned in the driver’s seat, downshifting the Mustang a gear as he took the turn into the expansive parking lot. “Baby, I am positive–tonight’s gonna be fun, and not only that,” he assured, taking his hand off the shifter to squeeze your thigh. “I’ve got the sexiest woman on my arm, and like hell am I not gonna show off what’s mine.”

“Such a sap,” you whispered, and he laughed. “But what if–”

“No buts. Just relax.” The Mustang purred as Bucky pulled into the rows and rows of cars lined in increments – each one shining under the bright spotlights. You watched with keen interest as Bucky drove past what seemed like hundreds of classic muscle cars. “Ah. There we are.”

The steering wheel spun with grace and suddenly, you were parked facing another Mustang, and another, and another… “Whoa,” you gasped, looking down the row you were parked in. “There’s so many.”

“What did you expect, sweetheart?” Bucky chuckled as he wound up his window. “It’s a meet–who knows what and who we’re gonna see tonight.”

You sighed, and prepared to step foot out of the car. Sure, you had wanted to fit in, and you had no doubts that Bucky had lost his mind over your choice of outfit – he had spent half an hour on his knees worshipping you before you had to force him to his feet so you wouldn’t be late, but still, nerves were an accompanying thing you wished you could go without.

Bucky opened the passenger door and held out his hand. “M’lady.”

“Such a charmer,” you teased, and he smirked.

“Always.”

The door shut with a loud thunk, affording you the opportunity to look Bucky over while he locked the door. He had chosen to wear your favourite Henley, pairing it with a black leather jacket and dark jeans that hugged his thighs perfectly. Heavy combat boots made his footsteps heavy, and the sound of metal clinking was the sign that he’d worn his favourite belt, too. “You like what you see, Honey?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Close your mouth or you’ll regret openin’ it, baby,” Bucky purred as he gripped your chin, forcing your jaw closed. When did it open? “Not here and not now, kitten.”

Graciously, a shout of his name down the row of classics distracted Bucky long enough for you to bite your lip and squeeze your thighs – real subtle, you inwardly laughed.

A familiar face, blonde and far too handsome for his own good, appeared. “Hey, Honey Bee,” Steve said happily. You grinned back and then looked behind him to see Ari.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted, and you rushed forward to give him a hug while Steve and Bucky stood and talked. “You ready for tonight?”

“No,” you replied honestly. “Excited though, Buck promised I’d be okay, so.”

Ari grinned at you. “Trust me, Honey, no one is gonna get between you and ‘im tonight. Look at him.” Covertly, you stole a glance at Bucky, only he was already staring at you with a fierce glint in his eye. “I suspect you chose this outfit just to fuck with my boss, huh?”

“Guilty as charged,” you whispered. Ari shook his head and laughed.

“Alright,” Bucky said abruptly, and his arms encircled your waist while his chin rested in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “If you fellas don’t mind, I gotta show my girl the ropes of a meet.”

Both Ari and Steve saluted their farewells and they strode off to god-knows-where, their heads high and motivations sinful, no doubt.

You grabbed Bucky’s hand and stepped away from his embrace. “Wanna show me the ropes, sir?”

“Behave, you lil’ minx,” Bucky scolded, eyes narrowed. “But, yes, let’s go.”

Bucky held your hand the whole time while he guided you up and down rows of cars, only letting go to guide you by the small of your back, but he never left your side. His presence was a blessing, if you were honest with yourself – a new environment full of men measuring their dicks just as much as they bragged about the power under their hoods was intimidating.

Men stopped Bucky and asked how his business in restorations had been going since they last saw him, and while they spared you glances and pleasant greetings, few lingered and stared for longer than you’d liked. Bucky picked up on the tense line of your shoulders every time and cut the conversation short, guiding you away with his hand just above your ass.

“They’re creepy,” you groaned.

Bucky snarled. “I know, sweetheart. I thought they’d respect the- No, they’re men. What am I fuckin’ thinking?”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed and the sound made Bucky smirk. “You’re one in a million, babe,” you managed between fits of giggles.

“Why, thank you, doll. You know how to make a fella feel special.” The dignified snort of laughter that left you made Bucky cough and sputter a laugh, too.

The sky grew darker, streaks of indigo and navy across the stars as the moon rose higher, and the meet was in full swing. Cars revved and roared around you, men and women passed with nods and lingering stares; each more heated than the last. The attention gave you an inkling of something, similar to the feeling of striding alongside a king – you supposed that was the reality.

After learning about Chevelles and Plymouths, Bucky took you down a row of other Mustangs, intermingled with the occasional Shelby. There were a few familiar faces interspersed, and you felt pride in the ability to willingly say hello to them – all of which were regulars at Bucky’s garage.

“And how are you doing, miss?” One regular asked, and Bucky’s hand moved from the small of your back to your hip, innocently pulling you closer. You smiled at the action and replied to the friendly regular, keeping polite conversation about his own Mustang – a sixty-nine Mach One. “It’s good to see more of you at the garage,” he went on, and Bucky raised a brow in challenge. “Seeing Barnes in order is a pleasant surprise.”

“Shut it, Porter,” Bucky laughed. Porter – of which you assumed was his last name – laughed too and shook Bucky’s hand. “See you next week, yeah? You’re booked in with Bessie.” Bucky pointed at the black Mustang behind him.

“Do all guys name their cars?” you asked, confused.

Porter laughed and Bucky blinked once, twice, “Yeah, they do, Honey. Why?”

You stared at him, discerning his sudden sheepish expression. “Why haven’t you named yours–?”

“No reason.” Bucky turned to Porter and clapped him on the shoulder. “See you next week.” You parted his company with a wave, and then you watched Bucky’s profile as he guided you both away, until he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Why are you being suspicious?”

The abruptness of your question made him chuckle heartily, and he grabbed your hand. You squeezed it back. “Jus’–I haven’t named my babies because… Well, I was think-”

A loud wolf whistle from a ways back made you jump in surprise, and Bucky froze mid stride. “Who was that to?” you wondered aloud, looking for a lone woman in case she’d needed help. “I can’t see anyone–”

“No, Honey-” Another whistle sounded, this time closer. The tune made you feel queasy and the hair on your nape stood on end. “For fucks sake,” Bucky cursed. “Keep moving.” The usual drawl and accent in his voice disappeared as he spoke, and you gulped – that meant he was pissed.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” A voice called. The implication made you freeze, and Bucky growled. “We just wanna see-”

“Shut the fuck up, punk,” Bucky snapped, rounding on the approaching pack of catcallers. “Take your shit out of here before I kick your ass to the curb.”

“Oh, god,” you breathed, and you pulled on Bucky’s hand, desperate to pull him back and away from them. “Bucky-”

“No,” Bucky growled, his voice dangerously low. His hands moved you behind him and you could hear the concussive silence over the boom of the speakers – even the people around you had paused whatever they were doing in their curiosity. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Huh? You think going around and hitting on anything with legs would get your dick wet?”

The man at the front of the pack bristled and advanced. “Don’t you fuckin’ talk to me like that-”

“Or what?” Bucky challenged, stepping closer to the pack of sheep. “What are you gonna do?” His broad back hid you from their view and you watched mesmerised as Bucky stepped even closer to the catcaller, invading his space. “You think you and your piece of shit friends scare me?”

“We’ll fuck you up-” The crack of skin on bone made you gasp loudly; your hands flew to your mouth in shock as you watched the man stumble and topple over. Blood spurted from his now very broken nose, covering his mouth and chin. “Fuck!”

There was suddenly a crowd of men around you – Bucky and the group in the centre as the bystanders tried to split them apart. “Get the fuck off me,” Bucky warned as one of the strangers neared, hand outstretched to touch his shoulder.

“Bucky, please, let’s just go,” you pleaded. Bucky shook his head and tensed his bloodied hand.

It was a surreal experience – the visual of Bucky looming over a man that dared to reduce you to just an object, something to keep his dick warm and wet and a hole to fuck.

“You fuckin’ think I’d let you look at what’s mine, you fuckin’ bastard? You think I’d let you touch her–Jesus Christ, you’re as fuckin’ stupid as you look!” The crowd was slowly dispersing as Bucky stared down at the cowering catcaller, but you were rooted to the spot, a mix of fear, awe, and downright arousal keeping you in place.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, his face almost level with the bloodied mess he’d created. The low, gravelly tone of his voice shot a bolt of arousal straight to your cunt, and you quietly whimpered. “If you dare to look at another woman like you did my girl… I swear to god, punk, what I do to you will make your worst nightmare look like child’s play. I will hunt you down and feed you your own dick if I fuckin’ have to. Do you understand me?”

The reply was muffled by a torrent of blood from the catcaller’s nose, though Bucky seemed to be satisfied because he stood tall over his quarry, grinning like a predator that had locked onto its prey. “Get your sorry ass out of here, fucker.”

Bucky turned to you, eyes fierce and bright in his anger, and he kissed you full on the lips, his bloodied hand holding your throat. A squeak tore from your throat and Bucky rumbled against your lips, his grip tightening. “You’re mine, Honey. And I am gonna fuckin’ kill any man that thinks he can take you from me.”

“Oh.”

A groan of pain and scuffled footsteps from the catcaller as he stood went ignored as you stared into Bucky’s eyes – doe-eyed and unable to move. Fire was coursing through every nerve to land in your throbbing cunt, and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Bucky…”

His hand grabbed yours and he pulled in the direction of his Mustang. It was so late into the night that most people had cleared out and headed back home, the once packed parking lot now close to empty and abandoned.

“That bastard thinkin’ he can take what’s mine,” Bucky grunted, and you began to pant with adrenaline, his grip had only tightened and when his Mustang came into view, you could have sworn something had possessed him – not that you were complaining. “Fuckin’ arrogant fuck–no, you are mine, and I am takin’ what’s mine.”

“Bucky, wait- I can-” You tried, but Bucky wasn’t listening. He marched you to the bonnet of his Mustang and you squealed in surprise when he forced your body over it, the cold metal biting through the outfit you’d chosen.

“No, I won’t fuckin’ wait,” Bucky said lowly, his lips on your ear. You could feel his whole body over yours, as well as the tent in his jeans. “I need to show everyone that you’re mine–not anyone else’s.” No one can fill your pretty pussy like I can, and no one can fuck you like I can–where you’re droolin’ and screamin’ for more.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, and your legs parted on instinct. “Need-”

“Tha’s it, doll–let those instincts take over, you’re gonna be a good girl for me, and you’re gonna take it all.” The sound of leather rubbing over denim brought you back from the imagery his words were casting in your mind’s eye, and you felt the smooth, cold surface brush your cheek. “Open up for me–there’s a good girl. You jus’ need somethin’ in that pretty mouth a’yours, huh?”

Humming an ascent, you took the leather into your mouth as Bucky cooed, the tent in his jeans rubbing tantalisingly over your ass. The leather tasted earthy and sultry, tones you couldn’t even describe in your lustful haze.

“Good girl,” he praised. “You’re gonna bite down on that for me–I know you’re a screamer, but I don’t want anyone to hear those pretty noises you make, yeah? They’re just for your sir.”

You nodded as Bucky chuckled, a dark sound that sent a thrill up your spine. “When we get home,” he drawled slowly and the threat in his tone made you squirm. “I am gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours, and I’m gonna fuck it like it’s your pussy. And, guess what, kitten?”

“Mm,” you mumbled around the leather.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ take it, ‘cos I know you can,” he purred. The words sent a wave of slick to soak your panties, and you moaned low in your throat.

His fingers danced over the clothes covering your crotch, and he whistled lowly. “Seein’ me be a possessive bastard made you this wet, baby? This all for me?”

“Mhm, yes,” you ground out past the leather, the words muffled on each syllable. “For you, sir.”

“Tha’s right, sweetheart. This pussy is mine, and I think she’s a greedy bitch that can’t get enough.” You shuddered violently at the words, and your cunt clenched around nothing. “And, you know what that means, Honey?”

A singular shake of your head snapped the chain that had held Bucky back, and he lost the last inkling of control. You gasped loudly when you heard the sound of fabric tearing, and the night air kissed your ass and thighs. It was an effort to stay grounded as Bucky shoved three fingers into your entrance to stretch it.

“It means, sweetheart, that your pussy is gonna take me over and over, and she’s gonna beg for more–for me to fill her up, and even then…” Bucky trailed off. He curled his fingers, and you moaned loudly around the belt. “I won’t fuckin’ stop.”

The initial breach of his length burned and stung, the ache making you whimper until he forced himself to the hilt and stilled. “Sir,” you whined and you rocked on the heels of your feet. “Fuck me–take me, please.”

“Beg correctly, whore,” Bucky spat, and the words caused a cascade of sensations to settle in your pulsing cunt. “You know how I like it.”

You sobbed and bore down on his cock like a vice, and his breath hitched. “‘M yours, ‘m yours, sir!”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he soothed. You felt his hand move to the back of your neck, and his other hand forced your arms back and up, immobilising you. “You take this cock like you were made to, and you thank me for it, bitch.”

Bucky thrust forward with such force you were moved up the bonnet of the Mustang, your skin sticking to the now slick metal as he fucked you with abandon. Pleasure curled up your spine and your toes curled – the anticipation and downright feral state of Bucky had left you no time to call upon endurance, and your release loomed closer and closer, each pass of his cock over your walls bringing it to fruition.

“Your cunt is so fuckin’ good, baby,” Bucky groaned, letting go of your arms so his front could press flush against your back. “Fuckin’ perfect for me–made jus’ for me to fuck and fill, to breed, huh?”

You screamed around the belt and nodded, tears filling your eyes at the onslaught. “Close! Please, please don’ stop, sir!”

“Already,” Bucky grumbled, and he followed the statement with such a harsh thrust your mouth opened wide in a silent scream – the leather falling from your mouth to land on the bonnet with a wet slap. “Whose cock makes you feel this good, doll? Say it!”

“Yours, sir! Sir’s cock!” you sobbed. “Uh, uh, fuck!”

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, Honey,” Bucky cooed, the mocking tone only stoking the fire of your climax. “You gonna cum for me? That what you want?”

“Oh, fucking- Fuck, yes! Wanna cum, sir, please,” you begged. The sudden feel of Bucky’s hand skirting over your hip made your eyes widen, and you gulped and choked as he circled your clit in tight, fast circles.

The slick sound of his cock pumping in and out of you at a hard, deep pace, paired with the sound of his pants for air behind you only forced you closer to the edge.

“This pussy is mine, isn’t it?” Bucky barked, his thrusts growing sloppy. “Fuckin’ tell me it’s mine—be a good girl and tell me.”

You moaned and groped over the bonnet for purchase, and Bucky slammed his hand down on top of yours, pinning it in place. “Bucky, Bucky–oh fuck, it’s yours!”

The climax that had sped into grasping distance had finally started to crest and you whimpered loudly, a cry for release. “Soak my cock, baby, it’s yours. Fuckin’ cum for me, kitten–give it to me.”

Sweet, sweet release swept you away, and you sobbed through the intense waves that pulled you under. Your feet left the ground with each pump of Bucky’s cock while he fucked you through your climax, and the coattails of another one started to crest. “Gonna cum again, sir!”

“Tell them who you fuckin’ belong to, doll,” Bucky groaned, his hips faltering in their rhythm. “Call for me, baby–call me!”

Your second climax tore you from your body and you faintly registered the warmth blooming in your pussy while Bucky moaned, his hips rabbiting and pumping you full of his release so it fell in rivulets down your inner thighs. “Fuckin’ hell,” he panted, and you giggled weakly. “Baby–baby, you alright?”

“Yeah,” you panted. “Fucked me so good, sir.”

Bucky snorted and rested his forehead between your shoulders.

Slowly, you came back down from your high, and just when you felt able to move, Bucky pulled out with a groan. You could feel his fingers force his cum back in your cunt, and the action alone made you moan quietly. “So fuckin’ pretty for me, baby,” Bucky breathed.

He helped you stand and steadied you against his chest, when he kissed you on the forehead and smiled like a lovestruck fool. “Let’s go home, sweetheart, I made a promise and I know for fuckin’ sure there are other ways I can show everyone that you’re mine.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #allcapsbingo2023 #rookthorne's works

410 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 9 months

Text

Wither and Bleed

sorry for the wait y'all <33 Daishou Suguru x female reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader w.c 4.6k tw: dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, nsfw, stockholm syndrome, mentions of blood, alcoholism, mild smut

Daishou eyes the bottom of his glass dispassionately, watching the amber dregs of whiskey roll as he slowly tilts it – pointedly ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching, the low, mocking whistle that follows.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, Daishou, but I gotta be honest, this place is a dump and you look like shit.”

There’s a flush high on his cheekbones, his eyes are glazed, bloodshot. Despite the heaviness in his head, the liquor fuelled haze and exhaustion that makes pulling a coherent train of thought… somewhat difficult, he’s not so far gone that he can’t recognise the grating voice and accompanying laugh.

One more. One more, and maybe then he’ll stumble off home to continue drinking in peace. That, or he’ll pass out the second he hits the couch. At this point, he’s not picky.

“Another,” he rasps at the bartender, whose only response, aside from the surly look he sends Daishou’s way, is to unscrew the cap of the bottle of cheap whiskey and tilt it back over his glass. Glaring, all the while.

Once upon a time, Daishou might’ve said something to that. Made some snarky remark, goaded him ‘til he got a rise – or got his ass thrown out.

(You’d chide him for it, too, in that exasperated tone of yours. He’d be tempted to think you were serious, but you’d sigh, call him hopeless and your hand would snake in his on the walk home anyway.)

Disdainful sneers, the staring, the whispers and pointing, baldie behind the bar wouldn’t be the first stranger to recognise him. Daishou can’t even blame the guy, really. A woman goes missing, all eyes turn to the husband. The boyfriend. The ex. He might be a piece of work, depending on who you asked –an asshole, arrogant, a conniving son of a bitch – but hell would freeze over before he’d ever lay a hand on his girl. On any girl.

So, yeah, he gets why the guy’s staring at him like he’s the scum of the earth. Doesn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow.

“You planning on ignoring me, then?”

“Trying to,” he mutters, accepting the drink with a short dip of his chin. The whiskey burns on the way down, warming his chest through. Bottom shelf liquor’s too cheap to enjoy for much else. Daishou closes his eyes, “Leave me alone.”

And that stupid, suit-wearing, smug asshole laughs, and pulls out the seat next to him.

Fucking terrific.

Kuroo tuts, motioning at the bartender for a drink of his own, “Aw, c’mon. That’s no way to greet an old friend, is it?” He waits a beat for the reaction that doesn’t come, the mirth in his eyes fading somewhat, then sighs. In a more sober voice, he says, “I heard Yotsuya Motors dropped you. I’m sorry, man.”

The muscle in his jaw tightens, his knuckles turning white. Dropped was a good way of putting it. Closer to the truth than the bullshit story they’d peddled online and to the fans, the one wherein Daishou and the Yotsuya Motor Spirits had amicably reached the decision to part ways before the beginning of the new season.

‘This isn’t a position any of us want to be in, Suguru. You’re a good player, you’ve done well this past season, but you have to consider how this looks for both the team and the V League as a whole. We’re not saying you’ve done anything wrong – of course not – only that the public perception holds weight these days.’

And so it went. He’d sat there, numb, and listened for fifteen minutes while the head coach and upper management explained that him ‘voluntarily’ stepping down was in his best interest. Pretending, all the while, that they were on his side. That they for one second actually believed in his innocence.

The cowards couldn’t even look him in the eye.

None of which makes enduring his old rival’s fake fucking sympathy any easier.

“For what it’s worth,” Kuroo continues, “while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind–”

One minute, his drink is in his hand, the next, he’s hurled it against the wall behind Kuroo’s head, the glass shattering on impact, cheap whiskey sliding down the paint, and Daishou’s on his feet, chest heaving, muscles taut. Hands shaking as they flex and curl around nothing.

For once, Kuroo’s stunned into absolute silence.

The whole bar stills, a deathly quiet falling over the room. The other patrons gawk at him, wide eyed and horrified – a violent unravelling they’re eager to glut themselves on – no noise but the forgotten hum of 80’s rock drifting through the speakers.

No one breathes.

No one moves.

Daishou, shaking, trembling in the cold wake of his own dissipating rage, shudders out a strangled breath. “She’s not–” the words stick in his throat; tight, painful. He forces them out through gritted teeth, “She’s not dead.”

Kuroo, staring back at him with some inscrutable expression, says nothing. Does nothing, aside from slowly lowering his drink – still untouched – down to the bar, as though Daishou hadn’t just pitched a glass tumbler right past his head. At his head, technically.

“Out,” the bartender snaps after a tense beat, jabbing one thick finger towards the door. “Get the fuck out!”

Daishou can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears.

“She’s not dead,” he repeats, his voice hoarse.

Through all of this, it’s the one thought he won’t entertain. No matter how many times he’s hauled back into the police station, or someone recognises him from the news and the dirty looks and whispers start. No matter how much hatred and vitriol and accusations are thrown his way, that thought alone is constant.

You can’t be dead.

“Out!”

Daishou doesn’t need to be told a third time. He spares the raven haired bastard one last look on his way out, sneering, and lets the door sweep shut behind him.

The place was a shithole anyway.

And he can pretend, for a minute or two, that the churning, sick feeling eating away at his insides is the liquor, that the sheen in his eyes is purely due to the icy bite of the wind as he stumbles off in the direction of home.

Too much alcohol flooding his veins, too screwed up to register the prickling on the nape of his neck, or the footsteps that follow after him, down the narrow laneway – a shortcut he’s taken a thousand times.

When the blow comes, striking hard and fast at the back of his head, Daishou drops like a stone.

—

When Daishou was seven years old, he fell out of the tree in his backyard and broke his arm. He also managed to knock himself out – for all of about five seconds.

Long enough to scare the hell out of his parents, anyway. When he woke up, bleary and dazed, his parents hovering over him, Daishou didn’t feel any pain, not immediately. That’d come later, trying not to blubber and wail in the back seat of his dad’s car on the way to the E.R. At first, though, it was just… sort of like being shaken from a deep, deep sleep. Disorientating, more than anything else.

This isn’t like that at all.

Coming to, all Daishou can focus on is the pain in the back of his skull. His eyes are too heavy to lift, his limbs sluggish and sore. From a dry, cotton mouth, a low groan escapes him.

At first, he assumes he’s at home – lying sprawled on the bathroom floor, having hurled up his guts through the night. Wouldn’t be the first time, and considering his sorry state, he’d hazard a guess that it wouldn’t be the last, either.

“Suguru.”

Warmth. A loosening in his chest. Despite the discomfort, the sound of your voice never fails to soothe. In the weeks that you’ve been missing, Daishou’s dreamed of waking up beside you. Of rolling over and cracking an eye open to find you right there, fast asleep and curled up beside him, where you’ve always been.

Where you’ve always belonged.

You stir when his fingertips trace along your jaw, smile in that sleepy way of yours, catching his hand, keeping him there. And even in his dream, when there’s no reason for his chest to tighten, a lump to settle in his throat at the sight of you, it does.

“Suguru, listen to me!” your voice pleads.

There are other dreams, ones where you’re lying on the living room floor surrounded by a pool of blood. There’s a kitchen knife sticking out of your chest, and he’s the one holding it.

Daishou prefers the ones where you’re alive. Safe. Home with him.

“You have to wake up.”

Why? He wakes up and you disappear again. Cheek pressed to the cold bathroom tiles, sick to his stomach and head throbbing.

And you still won’t be there.

“Please.” Your voice sounds… different. Not soft and loving, not the sleep tinged murmur he usually hears. “Please, Suguru, you’ve gotta wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Daishou doesn’t want to. Pounding head or not, he’d stay in the dark with you – your voice, strained as it is – as long as his subconscious would allow. But that’s not a choice he gets to make, leaden lids slowly prying open, squinting under the influx of light.

The first day or two after you disappeared, Daishou convinced himself that despite all the evidence to the contrary, you weren’t gone gone. An accident, a miscommunication, dead phone, fuck, a fight he didn’t remember picking; he clung to any excuse, any explanation that left room for you walking through the door, sheepishly abashed over all the fuss caused.

He would’ve forgiven you – for anything.

The days passed, the cops came by, dragged him in for questioning, and Daishou started to realise that you weren’t staying with your parents, or a friend. You weren’t pissed at him for something stupid he did or said. You weren’t coming home on your own.

Which left the alternative.

People who disappear like you did; out of the blue, no warning, no trace – they don��t come back unscathed.

If they come back.

Daishou’s had weeks now to sit with that – while he drowns himself in bottom shelf whiskey and cheap beer, wallowing in his own fucking misery, you’re going through an unimaginable hell.

Blinking against the brightness, the room slowly comes into focus, his eyes adjusting, and Daishou’s heart leaps into his throat. He forgets the pain. Forgets that he’s spent weeks – months, now – thinking over every awful eventuality and drinking himself stupid in the process. All he sees is you; sitting up in bed, hair tousled, wearing an old, faded tee two sizes too big, looking the way you do in the dreams he has where you never disappeared.

“Suguru,” you gasp, the noise choked, halfway to a sob, your wobbling smile mired by the sheen of tears brimming behind your lashes.

But Daishou doesn’t see that. Doesn’t register it, not as he scrambles forward, his desperation to touch you, feel you, make sure you’re here and you’re real overriding every other sense–

Only for the cold, metal handcuffs hooked from his wrist to the broken radiator to pull taut, jerking him to a stop.

“… The fuck?” he mutters, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Experimentally, he tugs on it again.

It doesn’t budge.

Daishou swallows, mouth dry, blood running cold, and as this new, unsettling reality takes root, slowly drags his gaze from his cuffed hand back to the bed. To you, watching him with a devastation that has his heart clenching.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his subconscious sings, the warning bells tolling, and for the first time since he opened his eyes in this unfamiliar room, Daishou sees you.

The mottled marks of red and purple, fading yellow littered across your exposed collarbone, trailing along your neck. The shadows under bloodshot eyes, the pallor of your skin.

And Daishou remembers.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him through tears, the words spilling out as though you’re confessing some great, unforgivable sin. “It’s my fault, Suguru. It’s all my fault.”

His mouth opens – all that comes out is a strangled rasp of your name, which only serves to make you cry harder, shoulders shaking and a hand clamped over your lips to stifle them.

Daishou’s never wanted to wake up from a nightmare so badly. He’s never wanted so desperately to pinch himself and prove he’s not dreaming.

But at the sound of footsteps approaching, a change sweeps over you. You stiffen, freezing for the briefest of moments before you hastily set about wiping away the evidence of tears, shooting him a pleading, desperate look he doesn’t really understand.

Not until the deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, and Daishou’s confronted with the man who took everything from him.

One by one, the pieces fall into place with horrifying clarity.

The bar, their ‘chance’ meeting, all that goading– ‘For what it’s worth, while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind.’

A small, insane part of him wants to laugh hysterically.

He settles for a baser instinct. Strains against the chain at his wrist, face twisted into a feral snarl, and hisses, “You fucking asshole.”

Kuroo’s eyes crinkle with a grin, but his attention doesn’t remain on Daishou for long. On cue, you shuffle to the edge of the bed, shoulders low and eyes glistening. “I-I’m sorry, Tetsurou,” you murmur, meek and demure.

The fucker laps it right up. Coos as he makes his way over, disregarding his other captive entirely. Two long fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. He holds you there, lets his thumb brush along your lower lip. You shiver, and that too he greedily drinks in.

He doubts very much that Kuroo’s forgotten about him, yet the way he stares at you – insatiable, a craving that goes too deep, a yearning too consuming – and you back at him, Daishou may as well have been invisible

A wave of disgust seeps through his bones, tainting his blood, curdling in his stomach – but he doesn’t look away. He can’t bear that, either.

When Kuroo finally decides to close that gap and kiss you, you don’t offer a shred of hesitation. You surrender to it, breath hitching when he catches your lip between his teeth and nips at it–

(The way you used to when he’d do the same.)

–and when he breaks away, a strand of his spit still connecting you, and moves to cup your tear stained cheek, you nuzzle into him, peppering soft little kisses to his palm.

“I know, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice a touch deeper, clearly affected by how sweetly you’re trying to pacify him. “But actions gotta have consequences. I warned you what’d happen if you brought him up again,” he pauses, and chuckles a little, “and you know I’m too much of a jealous bastard to let that kinda stuff slide.”

Hooded, hazel eyes flicker back to him, pinning him in place. The amusement in Kuroo’s face fades, leaving behind a blistering cold contempt as he regards his old high school rival.

Daishou sneers back.

“You said you loved him.”

“I don’t,” comes the immediate response. Too quick.

Kuroo scoffs. “You still mumble his damn name in your sleep. He the one you’re imagining when I’m buried inside of you, making you cum, sweetheart?”

You’re fucking right it is, you piece of shit, Daishou thinks viciously. The words themselves sit on the tip of his tongue, prideful and sharp, itching to be inflicted. Damn the consequences, he might’ve said it just to see the look on that bastard’s face – except Kuroo isn’t even looking his way. Isn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention, idly toying with a lock of your hair as if you aren’t clutching at him, eyes betraying your panic like a deer in headlights, and Daishou feels sick all over again.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“N-no, of course not!”

“No?” Kuroo’s brow arches upwards. “You sure ‘bout that?”

There’s no answer you can give that’ll convince him, yet silence proves equally damning. You seem to realise as much, mouth opening and closing as you try and fail to conjure up the right words to diffuse the situation. Kuroo offers you no out, letting you dig your own grave with the shovel he’s given you, taking some kind of sick satisfaction in your distress.

Unable to summon anything more than a choked squeak, you stretch upwards again, a delicate hand on his jaw, and kiss him. The action is desperate and clumsy, borne from panic over passion or affection. Kuroo accepts it eagerly all the same, one arm snaking around your waist to draw you closer – or rather, to keep you from slipping away ‘til he’s had his fill of your lips. “I love you,” you murmur against him. “Only you.”

Though they’re shaky, the words stand stronger than those that came before.

His nose nudges against your own, a look of contentment gracing his features. “Not yet, but we’ll get you there. On your knees, pretty girl.”

Your face crumples in dismay, lips parting only to fall shut with an audible click. As Kuroo’s grip on you loosens, you obediently slide off the bed and onto your knees.

“Arms up.”

Trembling like a leaf and looking faintly ill, you obey, letting him tug your shirt – his shirt, from the looks of it – up and over your head, carelessly tossing it aside. And though you flinch, biting down on your bottom lip, eyes glossy, burning with shame and humiliation, you don’t make a move to cover yourself.

You must know better.

His blood roars, heart thundering violently against his ribs. There’s no pretending he doesn’t see the love bites and bruises spanning your chest, nor the smug, triumphant look in that fucker’s eyes when he notices Daishou looking, his body tensed, shaking with barely contained fury.

Kuroo strokes your cheek, “Keep your eyes on me. Just you ‘n me, yeah?”

You nod. Without prompting you reach for his belt, the clinking of metal and the hiss of Kuroo’s zipper rattling in his skull, the deep, husky groan that slips from his lips when your fingers slide into his pants and curl around his cock, pulling it out.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Daishou doesn’t want to watch you kiss a trail from Kuroo’s navel down to his cock. He doesn’t want to see the way your thumb swirls along the head of his dick, smearing his pre only for your tongue to follow its path, lapping it right up.

He doesn’t wanna watch you lick your lips, lean in and suck Kuroo’s cock like a well trained slut while he palms at your tits, but between the rage and disgust and the nausea crawling up the back of his throat, Daishou’s frozen in place.

Guided by the not-so-gentle grip he has on the back of your hair, you take more of him into your mouth with every bob of your head, your other hand diligently working away at what doesn’t fit. He allows it for a minute or two, watching you try your best to take all of him with a hiss of pleasure.

Eventually, though, greed wins out. Kuroo’s hips cant forward, bucking past your lips to force his cock deeper, grazing the back of your throat. Eyes widening, you make a surprised noise and try to pull back, allow yourself a little breathing room to set a pace you're comfortable with, but Kuroo’s having none of it. He growls once in warning, grip tightening around your hair, holding you in place, and begins to fuck your face in earnest.

“That’s my good – little – whore,” he grunts, each word punched out with another cruel thrust of his hips.

The sounds of you gagging on the dick in your mouth, your choked little whines and whimpers burn through Daishou like wildfire, igniting something deep. A faint stirring in his gut he wishes, more than anything, he could smother entirely.

He doesn’t look away.

It’s only when the lack of oxygen becomes too much and you claw at Kuroo’s thighs, tears streaming down your face that he finally relents, letting you pop off his dick with a heaving gasp. With nothing else to tether you, you collapse against his legs, boneless and panting, your eyes fluttering shut.

They crack open, however, looking up when his hand comes to a rest on the crown of your head, “Say it again. I want to hear it.”

The demand takes a moment to process, but you swallow and tell him what he wants to hear. “I love you, Tetsu. More than anyone.”

He grins, lazily stroking your hair, “I know, sweetheart. Now c’mon, up on the bed. I’ve been been dreaming of your perfect little pussy all day, wanna fuck you properly.”

—

Hours pass. Half a day, a day. Maybe longer. There’s no light down here, no windows to track the path of the sun, the shadows creeping across the floor, but he can feel the endless drag of seconds and minutes ticking like a slow suffocation.

After fucking you to the edge of exhaustion, Kuroo had carried you out, cradled to his chest like something precious, and left him alone in the dark.

Left Daishou to scream and rage and cry like a fucking baby. It doesn’t help any. His bones and muscles ache, the skin of his wrist rubbed raw trying to move to a position that doesn’t scream with discomfort, the cold, unforgiving floor beneath him offering no relief. Mere feet away lies the bed Kuroo fucked you on, with its pillows and blankets, soft, plush mattress.

With his eyes adjusting to the complete lack of light, Daishou can only make out a vague shape in the darkness. In some kind of fucked up way, he decides it’s a blessing in disguise.

Being able to see the bed’s another cruelty, the promise of comfort and warmth when he’s shivering and cold and lying in his own filth, placed just out of reach. And while the thought of lying in the sheets he’d fucked you in (raped you in, a voice reminds him) makes his stomach turn, he’s not so sure that given the chance, he wouldn’t shove those thoughts aside for a soft reprieve and a few hours of rest.

Some messed up part of him wonders if the pillows and sheets still smell like you.

So no, it’s a good thing he can’t really see the bed, or the door, or much of anything, really.

Besides, it isn’t the hunger pangs or the lack of sleep or the dull, throbbing pain from his joints that bother him the most, it’s the feeling of inhaling razor blades doused in fire he’s subjected to with every shallow, rattling breath. The last taste of water he’d had… would’ve been before the bar, however long ago that was. Too long. More than a warm bed, more than food or freedom from the cuff around his wrist, Daishou thinks he’d just about kill for a single sip of water to wet his throat.

More than likely, that’s the whole fucking point.

Left to rot in the darkness, Daishou has plenty of time on his hands to think, musing over the bed in this little windowless room, and the other door he suspects must lead to a bathroom. That asshole went to some effort in getting him here, he’ll admit, but he doubts all this was solely for his benefit.

You were here when he came to; obviously he’d kept you down here, the question was for how long? Did he keep you chained up and hungry in the dark when you wouldn’t play nice? The way you’d melted for him, the affection, the goddamn look in your eyes when you’d said that bastard’s fucking name–

The fear that’d shone there when you’d said his.

Daishou knows from the depths of whatever’s left of him, that he could never, ever hate you. If he starves to death alone down here, if you’re the one to plunge a dagger into his heart yourself, if you forget all about him and buy into the delusional fucking nightmare that psychotic prick keeps peddling, he’d love you. That much is immutable.

But hatred’s too soft a word for the thorn riddled vines that sprout and twist inside of him, ripping away at muscle and flesh, choking his organs, his veins, everything that he is – because of Kuroo.

When he hears those footsteps again, the clicking of the altogether unnecessary locks, Daishou can’t help the wide grin that cracks at his face. “Was wonderin’ when you’d come back down to gloat,” he croaks, manages a laugh too, though it feels like dragging his vocal cords over sandpaper.

Having flicked the light switch on (half blinding Daishou in the process) Kuroo fixes him with a sardonic smirk. “Missing me already?”

“Hate waiting around.”

“Ah well, what can I say? I had better things to do.” His smirk broadens, a cruel glint under too bright fluorescent light as he plops himself down on the bed Daishou’s been doing his utmost to ignore and stretches out, rolling his shoulder and neck. “Prettier things.”

A stab of something dark and ugly wrenches between his ribs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits through cracked, dry lips, and before he can think better of it, adds, “Mommy didn’t love you enough, Kuroo? That what this is?”

Kuroo doesn’t snap the way he expects him to. He doesn’t lash out like he would’ve when they were hot headed teenagers desperate to grind the other into the dirt and lord it over them. The muscle in his jaw jumps and his eyes narrow, sharpen – but his expression is quick to smooth over. Water off a duck’s back. He lets out an amused snort, rising from the bed.

“Y’know, as entertaining as it was watching you self-destruct, losing your volleyball career, your fans, friends, all those nights you spent searching for her at the bottom of a bottle – and it was entertaining, believe me – I think I like this better.”

A short, sharp burst of pain. Warm copper spills over his tongue.

“You’re not gonna survive this. Even you’re smart enough to have realised that much.” He crouches down low, at eye-level, just out of reach, appraising him with a tilted head – as though Daishou’s some whimpering puppy at the pound.

Daishou’s not a fucking puppy.

“Most likely it’ll be the dehydration that kills you first,” Kuroo continues. “That only takes a few days, but with water, you could probably make it two, three weeks before your body starves itself to death – plenty of time for your muscles to begin to atrophy, which’ll be painful as hell, not to mention how bad the isolation’s gonna fuck you up. And who knows, maybe I’ll be nice and bring you something to drink every now and then, throw you some scraps from dinner. I might even let you out of those cuffs for an hour or two, so you can walk around down here, stretch those legs of yours before they completely shrivel up… But you won’t see her again, ever.”

Scowling and hateful, Daishou spits at Kuroo and bares bloody teeth.

Kuroo wants to treat him like a dog, fine – but wolves gnaw through flesh and bone to free themselves from hunting traps, and he ain’t about to just keel over with a whimper and make this easy for him.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Tension crackles through the air like an oncoming storm.

Daishou falls back against the radiator, breathing heavy and Kuroo wipes at his cheek with the pad of his thumb and huffs out a dry laugh, eyeing the bloody digit. Looking back at Daishou, he stands. “You look thirsty, I’ll go get you some water. Can’t have you croaking on us just yet.”

He’ll bite his fucking throat out if he has to.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo tetsurous x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #tw: dubcon

444 notes · View notes

emmie-writes-stuff · 6 days

Text

So the new chapter is out and GOOD GOD do I have some thoughts and a lot of them don’t make a whole lot of sense but I can’t not talk about this chapter

Firstly, Kaiser looks adorable (never thought I’d say that about him outside of my head but here I am)

Secondly, holy hell my heart hurts

He didn’t deserve this, no child deserves this

The fact that he had to “go to work” and just steal

HE HAS NO SHOES his little feet have got to hurt, or they’ve completely calloused up from not wearing shoes, but even then (speaking from experience) it still hurts to walk on hot ground and rocks and other stuff on the street

Yknow, I understood him hating milk before (because milk is disgusting) but now I get it even more

What a stupid reason to get upset, imma kick this waste of space excuse for a father in the fucking face AND balls because ITS FUCKING MILK

Eat some damn fiber or somethin if you got constipation issues

Who let this absolute scum of the earth reproduce???

HES LITERALTL TWELVE YEARS OLD

All the other shit went down before he was even double digits

But dangerous situations create smart kids, and Kaiser was very smart to start saving his own money

I used to have my own stash in case I ever had to run away (long story, we’re not getting into my family issues in this post, but yeah)

At least he has shoes now, protect those feet plz, they’re what keep you upright and moving

Soooooooo are we gonna acknowledge that he treats the soccer ball the same way he’s currently treating Ness orrrrrrrr

But like, it’s nice that he has an outlet to channel his anger into that isn’t a person (at least for now smh)

It’s really interesting seeing how each of the characters came to play soccer

(Side note: but he throws the ball at a picture of a woman, could he maybe be imagining this woman as his mother?)

His mother also deserves a kick to the face if I have anything to say bout it

I have no words for this

Just, can I steal him? Please? I’ll give him a good life

Fuck the snitches, how dare they

Also, you can clearly see his ribs defined, and that hurts me

I love that he was willing to let go of everything

He was ready to start fresh with getting money, was cooperating with the police, until the soccer ball was threatened

Because that is his most valuable possession

The money doesn’t matter, but the ball is a symbol to him of something that won’t leave him or hurt him

It’s a very small sense of independence and stability in this very unstable and controlling environment

The ball is heavily implied to be the first thing he ever bought for himself, it’s what defined a key part in his life

Taking that away is like taking away his soul, his outlet, and comfort, and Kaiser just couldn’t stand for it

There’s so many more things I’m thinkin and I have way too many incoherent thoughts for tumblr, but these are the ones I was able to clear up and make sense of

This chapter hit very deep and while my past doesn’t involve much physical abuse and struggles to this level, it was hard not to empathize and relate my own experiences with abuse with the ones in this chapter

I don’t wanna get into shit, it’s not somethin I exactly wanna put out in the public, but there’s so much here that I could understand and relate to and it just made everything so much more difficult to read (in a good way I guess)

Just, GOD, why did I have to become a fan before this chapter came out???

Okay, that’s my ramble for this, bye before I start going on even more tangents

#bllk #blue lock #bllk manga spoilers #michael kaiser #bllk manga #emmie rambles #holy hell this was intense #I read this before work and had to be thinkin about it my whole shift #good god #the beef with Kaiser is gone #I’ve experienced character growth

96 notes · View notes

diorsluv · 5 months

Text

feather , part 4

“ when it’s on a platter for you ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, _alexturcotte, trevorzegras, and 29,377 others

yourusername TELL ME I ATE IT UP 🥱

view all comments

username27 OH MY GODDDDD I THINK I’M IN LOVE

mackie.samo where’s my photo creds.

→ yourusername oops

jamie.drysdale is that the necklace i got you for your birthday?

→ yourusername it is 🙄🙄

→ trevorzegras aka the necklace I SUGGESTED

→ jamie.drysdale yeah yeah we get it 🫤 trevorzegras

username13 good genes run in the goddamn family

username5 I JUST WANT ONE CHANCE. JUST. ONE. CHANCE.

lhughes_06 woah

→ markestapa bro’s in love

→ lhughes_06 hold ur horses bro

→ edwards.73 HOLD UR HORSES??? mans in fucking texas 😂😂😂

→ yourusername okay everyone needs to stop using that emoji right now

→ luca.fantilli and she just completely ignores the first reply

→ lhughes_06 what first reply? luca.fantilli

→ yourusername fr what he said!! idk what “first reply” ur talking abt luca.fantilli !!!!!

username88 the umich replies are always so weird 😭😭

colecaufield lil drizz is growing upppp

→ yourusername i should just give up shouldn’t i

→ trevorzegras you’re never living the nickname down 😁

adamfantilli THOSE ARE THE RINGS I GAVE YOU FOR CHRISTMAS LAST YEAR

→ yourusername THEY ARE ☺️☺️

→ jamie.drysdale okay so are you just wearing everyone’s jewelry..

→ yourusername yes do you have a problem???

→ jamie.drysdale no…….

→ adamfantilli how’d i get roped into family drama

yourusername

liked by mackie.samo, jackhughes, jamie.drysdale and 50,736 others

yourusername mackie stole me from my quality hughes time and dragged me to quality samoskevich time

tagged: mackie.samo, msamoskevich, maddysamo

view all comments

lhughes_06 petition to bring her back to where she belongs (WITH US)

→ jackhughes SIGNING ALL THE DAMN LINES ✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️

→ _quinnhughes BRING HER BACK.

→ yourusername thought u hated me quinny

→ _quinnhughes i’d rather have you here than with……….... THEM. 😒

→ mackie.samo i’d say she likes it better being here with us 😤

→ msamoskevich yeah, WE didn’t post bad pictures of her on our public instas

→ maddysamo and we didn’t almost drown her in a lake either

→ jackhughes this means war. mackie.samo maddysamo msamoskevich

→ yourusername wait WHAT

username91 oh god

username7 HUGHES VS SAMOS PLACE YOUR BETS HERE

username10 personally i think the hughes bros are gonna win

username64 she’s always had a soft spot for mackie so i think samos might win ngl

luca.fantilli LIL DRIZZLE WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

→ yourusername I DIDN’T THINK THEY WERE GONNA FUCKING FIGHT OVER ME

adamfantilli CAN I BE THE REFEREE

→ lhughes_06 this is WAR not a silly little GAME 🤬🤬🤬

trevorzegras what the hell is happening

→ jamie.drysdale luke and mack are fighting over my sister

→ yourusername THAT’S NOT WHAT’S GOING ON jamie.drysdale

→ trevorzegras LIL DRIZZY DID YOU JUST PIT TWO FAMILIES AGAINST EACH OTHER

→ yourusername i’ve officially given up

username57 THE WAR HAS COME

maddysamo

liked by yourusername, trevorzegras, colecaufield, and 30,007 others

maddysamo us on summer vacation in 2022 because SHE LOVES US MORE

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername oh my goddd LAST SUMMER WAS SO FUN i wish i could go back 😕😕

_quinnhughes oh please this is weak compared to ours

jackhughes c’mon you can do better than that

msamoskevich i’ve never seen her so happy 😊

→ lhughes_06 clearly you haven’t seen her when she’s on vacation with us

comments on this post have been limited

jackhughes

liked by yourusername, adamfantilli, _quinnhughes, and 56,512 others

jackhughes spring break in korea 2021 when she BEGGED us to let her come with

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername UM HELLO??? you guys are digging in the ARCHIVES for these photos 😦

yourusername and also i didn’t beg you, it was actually the other way around……….. don’t spread rumors rowdy 🙄🙄

mackie.samo when the fuck did you go to korea????

→ _quinnhughes in spring break 2021 keep up

maddysamo oh so YOU haven’t been on a recent vacation with her like we have, i see i see

comments on this post have been limited

mackie.samo

liked by edwards.73, markestapa, yourusername, and 62,628 others

mackie.samo since jack wanted to be all nostalgic, here’s a couple photos from 2020 🙄

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

jackhughes were subways even open in 2020??

→ msamoskevich no shit 🙄🙄 we wouldn’t have been able to even get these photos if they weren’t

yourusername I FORGOT ABOUT THESE PICS WHAT THE HELLLLL

lhughes_06 doesn’t matter bc she was at our house almost every day when covid hit

comments on this post have been limited

lhughes_06

liked by _alexturcotte, yourusername, jamie.drysdale, and 78,280 others

lhughes_06 more korea pics bc lil drizzy was lookin dripped out

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

markestapa bro does NOT sound like he cares about the ongoing war

yourusername luke sweetie..

→ lhughes_06 yes? ☺️

mackie.samo stop taking pics from the same vacation you’re looking DESPERATE 🥱🥱

comments on this post have been limited

maddysamo

liked by yourusername, dylanduke25, colecaufield, and 63,412 others

maddysamo look at my cutie 🥰

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername STOP ITTTT I LOVE U

_quinnhughes when did it turn into them flirting

jackhughes i hear a certain someone getting jealous

→ lhughes_06 really who is it????

msamoskevich I TOOK THOSE PHOTOS (creds: me 2023)

mackie.samo barely heard a PEEP from moosey poo

→ lhughes_06 istg u better not call me that ever again

comments on this post have been limited

lhughes_06

liked by yourusername, luca.fantilli, trevorzegras, and 85,680 others

lhughes_06 some pictures i snapped out in the city the night before my draft day

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername LUKE STOP IT RN. ur making me tear up 😭

→ lhughes_06 miss those days

maddysamo THIS IS EMOTIONAL BARGAINING THIS CAN’T COUNT

→ jackhughes wtf is “emotional bargaining”

msamoskevich WE WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS INJUSTICE

comments on this post have been limited

mackie.samo

liked by jamie.drysdale, rutgermcgroarty, luca.fantilli, and 79,006 others

mackie.samo last post, her when we took her out for her birthday last year AND HER WHOLE OUTFIT WAS CLOTHES I BOUGHT HER

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername best birthday i could’ve ever asked for 🫶

→ maddysamo NO STOP ITTTTT

_quinnhughes WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL YOUR BIRTHDAYS AT THE LAKE HOUSE??

→ yourusername YOU ALMOST KILLED ME EVERY SINGLE TIME

→ jackhughes u set a girl’s dress on fire once ON ACCIDENT and u never live it down 😔

comments on this post have been limited

next chapter notes ) THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO FUCKING FUN TO MAKE AND THE FEUD WAS SO CUTE not giving an actual winner tho so u guys can decide 😈 this is also like the longest one i’ve ever done (obviously) AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH but i think i’m gonna stick to two-ish posts per chapter…….

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #jack hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield #alex turcotte #jamie drysdale #quinn hughes #mark estapa #dylan duke #mackie samoskevich #rutger mcgroarty #ethan edwards #adam fantilli #luca fantilli

362 notes · View notes

writerblue275 · 4 months

Text

Heartsteel Ranking: “Scary boyfriend privilege”

(AKA how intimidating they are to people who don’t know them.)

Inspiration: I’ll be honest this is a bit of a random ranking but I thought it would be fun to do and it was!

Champions: Heartsteel

Genre: Ranking

Type: Fluff? This is meant in a funny way.

Tw: Small mention of alcohol (drink responsibly y’all), and swearing (because I do, in fact, have the mouth of a damn sailor.)

List goes least intimidating to most intimidating.

LEAST

Ezreal (One of these days I will do a ranking that doesn’t put him at the bottom! I swear it’s not intentional! 😂)

Let’s be honest no one is shocked he’s here, right? Where else was Ez going to go on this list?? This isn’t a bad thing though! He just gives off such golden retriever energy and it’s amazing and I love him. I want to be at least best friends with HS Ezreal.

Despite the usual happy golden retriever energy, he’s definitely not afraid to tell people off/protect you though. (I feel like he secretly has quite a temper. He’s a Sagittarius after all [love my fellow 🔥 signs WOOT WOOT]. Usually he’s very good about keeping it under control…but if someone [besides you, he absolutely adores you] pushes him too far [ex: by making you uncomfortable]…just see what happens.)

Aphelios

You absolutely have scary boyfriend privilege with Aphelios, but I just can’t rank him higher than any of the other members below. He definitely has that “brooding silent type” down pat, and when he’s wearing his mask, that’s doubled. That air of mystery, baby, he’s got that in SPADES.

We also know he’s tall. Like not Sett, K’Sante, or Yone tall, but he’s got some height on him (unconfirmed 6’). Physically, he’s definitely more intimidating than Ez. Like imagine Phel silently staring daggers at someone. Lmao I’d hate to be whoever pissed him off.

K’Sante

Most of this comes from his height (unconfirmed 6’4”) and the fact he’s one of the gym bros. Like general vibe/personality-wise, I think Phel could be more-intimidating than K’Sante (or even Sett), but have you seen how just MASSIVE K’Sante is? HE CAN CANONICALLY BENCH SETT. Like 😮😮😮

Not to mention I feel like he’d always stick close to you in public, so no one would even dream of trying to do anything to you. (Unless they’re a whole dumbass.) K’Sante genuinely gives me very kind vibes, but he definitely protects those he loves very fiercely.

Sett

Sett is (unconfirmed) 6’7” (at least confirmed the tallest in the group), and JACKED AS HELL. Not to mention “allergic” to sleeves so those arms are out most of the time lmao. Only a fucking moron (or someone who is incredibly drunk) would look at Settrigh and go “oh yeah I am absolutely going to mess with this guy.” RIP that idiot.

He also doesn’t fuck around about the safety of the people he loves. Sett genuinely seems like the sweetest guy (I love this giant, ripped, sewing himbo so fucking much oh my fucking god) but he can/will be intentionally intimidating if it’s necessary to keep you or Ma safe (the two most important figures in his life 🥺). Will walk you home/keep you close to him in crowded situations. He always wants you to feel safe when you’re with him (you absolutely do like how could you not?).

Kayn

So this is based on both appearance and reputation. Obviously Kayn has quite the reputation from his last band (as well as being kicked out of it.) Appearance-wise, he’s not super tall, but he’s tall enough. Not to mention the piercings, tattoos, the fact he’s also in excellent shape (I mean we all saw those abs 😏), has vibrant dyed hair, a very bright red eye, and he is a total metal head. He can also, um, travel through WALLS. (Small detail lol.)

DO I EVEN HAVE TO MENTION RHAAST (even as his stage alter ego)???? Kayn can be pretty impulsive and sometimes acts first, thinks later. (He’s currently working on that with Yone, it’s fine.) Someone would be a damn fool to fuck with him or you. He just gives me very loyal guard dog vibes. (I mean he did wear the damn leash in the mv so….😝)

Yone

There is no one (let me repeat: NO ONE) I’d want to fuck with less than Yone. This man has quintessential resting bitch face (RBF), is like 6’ 2-3” (unconfirmed), in very good shaped (based on the lovely titty window of his outfit. Thank you, Riot designers) and is able to (mostly) wrangle the rest of the group. Also (hella obvious but) HE’S AN INTROVERT (INFJ specifically). People are NOT his thing (fucking MOOD).

Yone is the one who gives the most similar vibes to the TikToks I’ve seen that show cosplayers at Cons with their scarier-dressed friends/partners following behind them keeping them safe. (For Yone, it’s the RBF/air of mystery that really sets the tone.) He gives me such mature gentleman vibes as well. He’s always going to walk you home especially at night, or he’ll stay by your side in a crowd and you are just going to feel really safe with him. Top-tier scary boyfriend privilege right there.

Most

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ok so the least and most intimidating were extremely obvious to me. It was everyone else in between that made things difficult. This was really fun to write though, even if the concept is a bit silly! 😂

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel fluff #Heartsteel ranking #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel sett #heartsteel yone

218 notes · View notes

therealcocoshady · 2 days

Note

Hi, coco!

You could make a third part of Eminem x Young Actress Reader, where the reader accompanies him to a game in Detroit and the cameras can't stop focusing on them because Em has never been seen so smiling and affectionate with someone. For the rest you can add what you want. By the way, I love your work and I love that you write about Eminem since almost no one does.<3

Family Game

Eminem x Younger Actress Reader

Part 1 : Daddy’s Spaghetti

Part 2 : Red Carpet Appearance

AN : thank you for your request ! I hope you liked it. I added my own little twist to it 🥰

Ever since your remarked outing at the Oscars, everyone knew you and Marshall were dating, much to your delight. Sure, you would gladly do without the press coverage, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a tiny bit satisfying to have everyone know that Eminem, hip hop’s most eligible bachelor was spoken for, by yours truly, no less. After all, you were not the first (nor the last) public figure to thirst over him and it felt nice to have the “competition” know that they should back off. Especially when you were in a long distance relationship : him in Detroit, you in LA. Sure, you trusted each other and often traveled to make it work but, still, it’s easy to get jealous, especially when both parties are public figures. Marshall was well aware of your status as Hollywood’s rising star and, since he had been your crush for years, you knew for a fact that he has tons of ladies throwing themselves at him.

In spite of the distance and a couple of jealousy episodes, the two of you managed to make your relationship work, however. Marshall frequently flew out to LA to record with Dr Dre and other artists and to visit you and, whenever you weren’t shooting a movie, you joined him in Michigan. Your relationship was now in the serious state of « we’re both hope at each other’s place ». Your living room table was full of CDs and notepads and his living room was made cozy with your favorite crystals (which he always made fun of), scented candles (which he secretly loved) and fuzzy blankets (which he stole whenever you weren’t around). The whole relationship, despite trials, felt cozy and domestic. And it was made even better by the fact that Marshall had finally managed to ease up. You tended to blame it on the good critical reception after the Oscars : as soon as the two of you had been spotted together, holding hands, Marshall happily gushing about you to the press, both your fans and his had showered you with love and showed nothing but support. Whenever you were positing, fans (most of the time, respectfully) asked about him and they seemed truly overjoyed by the relationship. From what you gathered in the social media comments, they were also dying for the two of you to be spotted together again. Marshall was pretty much an hermit and not the kind to go out and about when he knew he might be spotted but, on one occasion, he had to oblige the fans.

His beloved Detroit Lions were playing your Los Angeles Rams at Detroit’s Ford Field Stadium and there was no way in hell you would miss the occasion to attend. Knowing how protective of your relationship he could be, you made plans to attend on your own, with a couple of friends who would fly in for the occasion, but Marshall surprised you by actually requesting your presence.

Don’t you want to go with me ? He asked.

You mean… on a date ? You clarified.

I mean there would be other people around, like family, friends and shit but we could be together, he said with a smile.

You mean you would agree to being spotted with me ?! You asked jokingly. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in Lions apparel !

What I mean is that I’d be proud to hold your hand, even if you’re wearing that stupid Rams hoodie, he grinned.

Ok, you giggled. As long as I’m not forced to cheer for your team !

You ended up attending the event in a private suite with a lot of other people. Of course, his children were in attendance, as well as a couple of D12 friends. You had met everyone previously. A couple of months into the relationship, Marshall had organized a dinner for you to officially meet his daughters and everything had gone smoothly. You absolutely loved them, and same went for the friends he had introduced to you on different occasions. At the game, you were also joined by a couple of your friends, that you not so secretly planned on setting up with some of his. In your mind, there was no doubt that Alicia and Porter were meant to be and the Game seemed like the perfect occasion. It was joyful and everyone was really happy to be here. You were donning your favorite Rams apparel, much to Marshall’s dismay, but that didn’t prevent him from casually holding your hand.

For how much would you wear Lions apparel ? Your friend jokingly asked.

Nobody in this room can afford it, you replied with a grin.

Oh really ? Marshall asked with a smirk.

How about if you guys get married ? Porter asked. Would you be willing to support the Lions ?

That would require a HUGE rock, you giggled. But yeah, sure, if we ever get married, I’ll wear Lions gear for all games, except the ones against the Rams.

Your friends erupted in « oooohs » and « aaaahs ». The rivalry between your two teams was enough to fuel a dozen of conversations but, other than that, everyone around you had to agree that you were kind of the perfect couple. Your best friends always pointed out that Marshall was good at keeping you grounded and reminding you of the things that mattered - besides all the LA glitz and glamour - and Marshall’s circle seemed happy that you encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone.

He was usually stressed out whenever there were tons of cameras around. It was unsettling to you, at first, because it was part of the job, but as your relationship progressed and he came with you to some events, he seemed to ease up. Still, he wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his company nonetheless and you didn’t need him to kiss you in public or even hold your hand to be happy to be with him. In settings like football games, though, he was himself - the man you knew and loved in everyday life. He could be seen clapping, shouting, cheering… a far cry from the stoic face he arbored on red carpets and magazine covers. And you absolutely loved to see him enjoy himself and have fun. You were enamored with his smile and happy demeanor and you didn’t care too much about the 60 000 other people, you only had eyes for him. Obviously, though, as a Detroit native and global superstar, he was one of the centres of attention when Lose Yourself started playing before the game and everyone started singing/rapping along to the lyrics. Everyone in your group watched Marshall, who was definitely in a good mood. So were you, to be honest, and you couldn’t help but rap along, this song being one of your favorites ever. As the song ended, you could see Marshall sitting right next to you, trying not to laugh.

You’re adorable, he chuckled.

What ? You asked with a giggle. It’s the ultimate stadium song ! And my boyfriend is the one who wrote it !!!

I love you, he simply said before cupping your face and placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

That was the last tender moment the two of you shared before the end of the game. When your two favorite teams played each other, there was no romantic involvement anymore. It was all betting, taunting and calling each other names. For the first two quarters, the Rams seemed to dominate, which you gladly shoved in your boyfriend’s face, but when the Lions ended up winning, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Despite it all, and in spite of you being a sore loser, Marshall behaved like the perfect boyfriend and pecked you on the cheek, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exited your suite. His team winning always put him in a celebratory mood and he was more affectionate than usual, not giving a damn what people would see or think. He even went so far as to kiss your lips.

Of course, in the following hours, the Internet went absolutely crazy over the pictures of the two of you at the stadium. While some accounts were raving about your outfit (because you did put some effort into making that Sports apparel work !), most of them were gushing about Marshall’s display of affection and how in love the two of you looked.

« Look at his smile 🥰 » commented one, or « Look how in love he looks when she’s rapping his song 😭❤️ » were a few of the comments you could see under the videos of the event. It was extremely cute and, in moments like these, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth. However, a swarm of other comments started to appear, focusing on… Marshall’s daughters. The three of them were sitting on the row just behind you and they could be seen laughing at your nonexistent rapping skills (all fair, really) and mocking their father’s display of affection. You didn’t take offense at all - you’d been there yourself and you knew how icky it could feel, seeing your parent being affectionate with someone in public, but the press and social media accounts seemed to turn it into a family feud. If the headlines were to be believed, neither Alaina, Stevie or Hailie approved of the relationship and thought you were too young for Marshall. They apparently despised you and saw you as the most evil and wicked stepmother who was more than likely after their Dad’s fortune. Of course, reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Whenever you were in Detroit, you spent a great deal of time with Marshall’s daughters and you considered as friends. So much so that you even made plans of your own, that did not include him. It wasn’t rare for the four of you to have dinner or go shopping. On occasion, they even visited you in California and you soon planned to go on a girls’ trip in Morocco. So, when Hailie showed you the headline on your phone, everyone burst out laughing.

« Evil stepmother », Stevie chortled. That’s hilarious.

Is that because of the face you made, Hailie ? When Y/N was rapping ? Alaina chimed in.

I was making a face because they were corny ! She laughed. Look at Dad’s face on the video. He’s all cute and lovey dovey. Of course I wanted to puke !

Marshall rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to his kids making fun of how in love with you he was but, honestly, he didn’t care. For the first time in forever, he was happy and thriving in a relationship. A healthy one, at that. Whenever you were around, he could barely contain his joy and good mood and he often thought he would do anything to make you smile. He hated public attention but he simply loved showing you off and enjoying life with you. However, he had to admit he was a little annoyed by the comments involving your relationship with his daughters. He knew there was no truth to it whatsoever but that didn’t make it less annoying. First of all, he hated seeing his kids’ names in the media, especially if it was negative and, secondly, he hated the idea of lies involving all of you, the people he loved the most on this earth. However, the four of you were grown women and he knew better than to say something so he figured it would be best to wait for it to die down.

Unfortunately, though, the rumors did not die down and the whole thing got blown out of proportion. It wasn’t only on social media : press and other media outlets got ahold of the story and even dug up some obscure social media posts and took them out of context. They really made it seem like there was hatred between the girls and you were a mean gold-digger who wanted to estrange Marshall from his children. Nothing could be further for the truth though, and you even celebrated the holidays together. After years spent in the public eye, you tried not to let it get to you but it was hard. Even if some of your past relationships had been publicized, this one was on a whole other level and you had a hard time dealing with the scrutiny. Especially when some people were starting to wish for the end of your career with comments like « What a b****. Hope no one casts her ever again 🙄 » or « Hope she enjoys her Oscar because she won’t last much longer in Hollywood 💀 ». You tried not to let your feelings show. Marshall was already annoyed and you didn’t want things to get worse. After all, you knew how overprotective he could get over the people he loved.

A few weeks went by and the attention seemed to die down around the holidays. You had been with Marshall for a year and a half and it was your first time celebrating together. You would spend the days leading up to Christmas in Michigan, go back to your family in California for the holidays and then jet off to a private Island lent by a friend for some vacation time just the two of you. Marshall would even join you in LA to spend some time with your family who was definitely approving of him. They absolutely adored him and considered him a part of the family.

In the week leading up to Christmas, you were on Christmas tree decoration duty with the girls while Marshall was letting you do your thing. Hailie had come up with some ornaments as merch for her podcast and you thought it would be cute and funny to take a selfie with one of them that said « Shady or Nice ». You posted it to your Instagram account with some cheesy caption and didn’t pay it too much attention. When you checked the comments, a day or so later, you were surprised at the reaction. What you thought would be a cute nod to your boyfriend and his daughter’s podcast ended up in a shitstorm, with people basically accusing you on sucking up to Hailie to get to Marshall. In their mind, you were a master manipulator. Of course, these were just a bunch of people commenting and the rest seemed rather supportive and happy to see you acknowledging your relationship, something you rarely did on your social media account. Still, you were a little bugged off when you went to bed.

What’s up, babygirl ? Marshall asked as he laid next to you.

Nothing, you shrugged. Just these mean trolls.

What are they saying now ?

That your daughters hate me, you summed up. And that I’m trying to suck up to them.

That’s stupid, he scoffed. The girls love you and you know it.

And I love them too, you know ? You replied. But I don’t know… I don’t like people getting the wrong idea. And I see people commenting about me in their posts and it breaks my heart.

It’s not your fault, he said before kissing your forehead. Let’s not think about that, ok ? Just focus on the holidays and the great time we’re going to have.

I’m going to miss you for Christmas, you pointed out.

Three days, he chuckled. And then I’m joining you in California. And after that… you, me, a private island and your tiniest bikinis.

You nuzzled his neck and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, making you forget all of your worries. The next day, you were set to hop on the jet to go back to California and enjoy some family time with your brother and your parents. Before that, you enjoyed one last brunch at Marshall’s place, with his daughters. Hailie got everyone matching ugly Christmas sweaters and you were absolutely moved that she got one for you. You took corny pictures in front of the Christmas tree posing with your boyfriend’s daughters while he was rolling his eyes at your dumb poses. You even got Marshall to pose with you. He wasn’t big on taking pictures but he knew how important these were for you and the girls so he obliged with a smile on his face. A few hours later, you were on the jet, scrolling social media and noticed that Alaina had posted the picture of you, her and her sisters in front of the Christmas Tree with the caption : « Happy holidays from our FAMILY to yours 💕 ». You thought it was the sweetest thing ever that she considered you as family. Of course, trolls were still in the comments, but you tried to stay positive. A few hours later, Hailie updated her last podcast episode of the year, with Stevie as guest.

So, before we begin this episode, we wanted to address something, she began.

Family matters, Stevie specified.

Right, Hailie nodded. You guys have been commenting a lot on last episode’s video and on my Instagram account…

All our accounts, her sister corrected.

Yes. Everyone’s account. It seems like Internet is going crazy about a certain video that was taken at the last Lions Game, so I thought… we thought we should clear things up, Hailie said. I understand that there are always going to be rumors about our family, and we can’t help it at this point, but it’s the Holidays and I don’t my mood to be ruined by negative attention and lies. So… Stevie, do you want to comment on the video ?

Basically, we were at the game, enjoying some family time and people filmed our reaction to Y/N… our Dad’s girlfriend, rapping Lose Yourself, Stevie explained. And kissing afterwards. And what really sparked the whole thing is the face Hailie made.

Yeah, I pretended to puke, Hailie giggled. And no, guys, it’s not because I hate Y/N or anything like that, it’s just… we’re a normal family, guys. Whenever you see your parents being cheesy and corny, you want to puke, right ?

Right, Stevie giggled. So, let’s not dwell on this but for the record : we love Y/N and she is not what people make her to be. We see her as family, you know ?

Yes ! It’s the Holidays, it’s a family time and we all know I love Shady stories but… nothing Shady here. It’s all love, Hailie chuckled.

Too much love, Stevie joked.

This warmed your heart even more. The girls absolutely didn’t have to jump to your defense but the fact that they did warmed your heart and you couldn’t wait to spend some time with them again. You sent texts to thank them and wished them happy holidays, saying you were looking forward to seeing them soon. You also texted your boyfriend, telling him how amazing his kids were and that you loved him and his family.

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall was eating dinner with his daughters when he got a text from Y/N that immediately put a smile on his face.

You girls are amazing, he said with a smile.

No idea what you’re talking about, Alaina said with feigned innocence.

I think you do, he replied with a grin. Seriously, you didn’t have to do that but… thank you. It means a lot to me.

We weren’t going to let people think we hate her, Stevie said.

Not when she is actually about to become our stepmother, Hailie said with a smirk.

Marshall immediately let his fork fall on his plate, a look of surprise on his face.

I… erm… wanted to talk to you about it first, he said. How do you even know… ?

I found the ring sketches in your office last time I went there, Stevie said. I was searching for one of your old CDs.

And you had to go yapping to your sisters about that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Are you really going to propose ? Hailie said with excitement.

I mean… I’ve been thinking about it, yeah, he admitted. I wanted to make sure you girls were ok with it first but, if that’s fine with you, I’d like to propose to her over the holidays.

The girls erupted in cheers and immediately gave their blessings, commenting on how they never thought this day would come. Of course, they quizzed him about his plans.

Were spending a couple of days with her family before going on vacation for NYE, so I was planning on asking for her father’s blessing, he explained.

Isn’t he like… almost your age, though ? Stevie chuckled.

It’s a matter of respect, he shrugged. I appreciated when Matt and Evan asked for my blessing so I thought I’d do the same. Can’t hurt to have your future father-in-law on your side.

And… as for the proposal ? Alaina asked.

I know it’s not super original but I was thinking of doing it on the private island, over a nice dinner on the beach, at sunset or something like that, he said.

It’s so cute ! Alaina said. I love it.

I think my Dad’s gone corny, Hailie joked.

You think it’s corny ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

Oh definitely. But she’s just as corny so she is going to love it !

One question though, Stevie said. If you guys get married, she’ll move to Detroit, right ?

That’s sort of the plan, yeah, Marshall said. She’d move for work quite a bit, depending on where movies are shot, but she’d live with me. Why ?

So… she’d have to turn into a Lions fan eventually, right ?

I’m counting on it, he said with a smirk.

Is that why you’re proposing ? Alaina joked.

Maybe, he chuckled. I swear to God, I’m putting a ban on Rams apparel in the prenup.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine #daddy's spaghetti

72 notes · View notes