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nezuscribe · 8 months

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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything.

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights.

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to.

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore.

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you.

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back.

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three.

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed.

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything.

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up.

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you.

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans.

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him.

not that it mattered now.

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip.

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry.

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away.

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else.

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left.

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer.

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up.

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity.

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from.

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples.

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone.

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged.

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies.

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle.

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak.

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife.

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long.

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say.

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you.

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it.

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features.

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show.

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk).

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.”

the truth.

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up.

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were.

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms.

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms.

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position.

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.”

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind.

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy.

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him.

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position.

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door.

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway.

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself.

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected.

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered.

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury.

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.”

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside.

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating.

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen.

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate.

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such?

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you.

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement.

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away.

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking.

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless.

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite.

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic.

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.”

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind.

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly.

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this.

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it.

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you.

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around.

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile.

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response.

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!”

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.”

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch.

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other.

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh.

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you.

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature.

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded.

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance.

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl.

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions.

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls.

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat.

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you.

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him.

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress.

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down.

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead.

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other.

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo.

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased.

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation.

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.”

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either.

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables.

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words.

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.”

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it.

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck.

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you.

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so.

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him.

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door.

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else.

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door.

you didn’t answer, still, waiting.

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door.

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit.

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table.

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing.

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day.

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy.

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time.

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned.

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down.

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks.

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet.

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you.

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis.

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders.

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing.

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window.

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw.

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance.

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her.

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had.

“are you alright?”

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being.

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either.

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly.

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you.

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.”

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you.

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.”

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable.

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three.

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure.

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back.

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man.

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint.

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks.

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.”

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self.

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you.

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint.

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw.

“what do you mean?”

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin.

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?”

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form.

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing.

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.”

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement.

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks.

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.”

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words.

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you.

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations.

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face, twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-”

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull.

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-”

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.”

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones.

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago.

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.”

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it.

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face.

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself.

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.”

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters.

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided.

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours.

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined.

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love.

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness.

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you.

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder.

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again.

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin.

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name.

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could.

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them.

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did.

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one.

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours.

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago.

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it.

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips.

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move.

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give.

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch.

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds.

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin.

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face.

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him.

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down.

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this.

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you.

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most.

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.”

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye.

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck.

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be.

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall.

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response.

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more.

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more.

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit.

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision.

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo.

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over.

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces.

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest.

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you.

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.”

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you.

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that.

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?”

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face.

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs.

“and then?”

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.”

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking.

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain.

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves.

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader fluff #gojou x reader

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carminessteaks · 28 days

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like to kiss his bald head reblog to kiss his bald head

#i love how happy frank looks in the middle one :D #it's always sunny in philadelphia #iasip #frank reynolds #.anna

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 months

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the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids.

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.”

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them.

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen.

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button.

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit.

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs.

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms.

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared.

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot.

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue.

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip.

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more.

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt.

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you.

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees.

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north.

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips.

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge.

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core.

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head.

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull.

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?”

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants.

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk.

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso.

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.”

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high.

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity.

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his.

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you.

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick.

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion.

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise.

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width.

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge.

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths.

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.”

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen.

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be.

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.”

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?”

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in.

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you.

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud.

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again.

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil smut

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thegreatestsandwich · 2 years

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Baby, all at once, this is enough (Namor x f!reader)

(Still obsessed with him, don’t judge me)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 574

Summary: You gave him one of the gratest gifts he could have ever asked for.

Warning: Nothing to be honest, just the must pure of purest fluff, I think.

A/N: What can I say? I love him so much that I will write for him to the day I die

Translations:

In yakunaj - My love

Jats'uts - beautiful

In reina - My queen

Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj. - You have given me more than I could ever ask for, thank you my love

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!

Namor enter quietly to his quarters, not wanting to disturb you if you were resting. He remembered the moment he saw you laying on his bed, so pale and weak, that the thought of loosing you terrified him. He just couldn’t stand seeing you like that. He couldn’t. You were everything, his strength, his heart, his soul. He was a changed man because of you.

You opened your eyes at the sound of him, a smile immediately forming on your face. “Hi.” You whispered.

“In yakunaj.” He kneeled at your side, his hands quickly grabbing yours, kissing your palms. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

You laugh. “I have everything I could ever need at the moment.”

Namor smiled, even after all this time, he waiting for you to ask anything, you would always deny that offer. “You are glowing.” One of his hands left yours and brush away the few strands of hair that glued to your face thanks to the sweat. “Jats'uts.”

“So you are saying I was not beautiful before?” You said, the smile still on your face. Namor shook his head in amusement. “Have you seen them?”

“Not yet.” He kissed your forehead. “I wanted to see you first, needed to make sure you didn’t leave me.”

“As if I could leave you alone.” You whispered back.

As if on cue, Namora entered smiling, two little bundles tucked on her arms. “K'uk'ulkan.” She nodded at Namor, turning quickly to you. “In reina.”

Namor left your side for a moment, walking towards Namora, gently taking away one of the babies. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his son, cradling him as gently as he could. You had given him so much more than he ever expected to have. Much more than he deserved.

Namora soflty place the baby girl on your arms, her fingers tracing the features of the infant with so much wonder before taking her leave, leaving both parents to bond with their children.

He walked to you, sitting on your side. Your head rested on his arm, as he watched both of his children. “Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj.” He kissed your forehead, making you close your eyes. Namor couldn’t help the tears that began falling down on his face, looking back and forth between his children. “I vow to protect them, to protect you.”

You hummed, a bit tired from everything. “You don’t have to vow anything, I know you will do it regardless.” Your tired eyes watched how your husband brushed his hand over your son’s bald head. At that moment, you love him even more than you had before.

“The others want to meet them soon.” Namor whispered against your hair, noticing how your eyes began to close. “I manage to appease them for a little bit, but I am afraid that they will demand to know them soon.”

“I know, Namora didn’t leave my side until they were born, I think she even threatened the midwife when she made a mistake.” You laughed, your eyes finally closed.

Namor hummed in approval. “Remind me to thank her later.” He put his son on the basket, the one that the old women from Talokan had given him before, repeating the action with his daughter. “Rest, in yaakunaj, you have earn it.”

“Stay.” You muttered against his chest.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

#namor x y/n #namor x you #namor x reader #namor fluff #tenoch huerta #namor #kukulcan #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #K'uk'ulkan #namor imagine #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #i still love this man #he is so precious #and my life #namor baby i love you #im still waiting for you baby

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aventvrines · 1 month

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repost from old acc! reblogs are appreciated<3

anytime, anywhere ; megumi fushiguro x reader

wc ; 574 | content ; femcoded(?) gender neautral reader, swearing, kissing, ooc, multiple scenarios set in one universe, suggestive positioning, can be read as a standalone or a part two to this

summary ; growing up with sae itoshi isn't quite what you'd expect

when yuuji finds out that you and megumi are together, he almost screams. he's raving like a madman–saying everything from i’m happy for you! to what the fuck do you mean you're dating now, so i spent like three hours worrying for nothing?

by the time he finishes, megumi has an awkward smile on his face, and you're laughing bashfully. but yuuji has to admit that side by side on the couch, the two of you do look cute together. he leaves soon after, saying something about giving the newlyweds space. maybe he also feels guilty about the fact that he accidentally told you about megumi's terribly intense crush on you.

and when you're finally alone, megumi lifts your linked hands and shyly kisses yours.

you yawn, pushing yourself upright on your desk. there's still a considerable amount of time until class ends, but you're pretty sure you're gonna pass out before it does. glancing behind your shoulder, you look for your boyfriend, megumi, only to find him staring back at you. he looks tired too, but when your eyes meet his face breaks out into a lazy grin–one that leaves you weak in the knees.

as soon as your teacher leaves the classroom, students pour out of the large classroom. you wait, and so does megumi, until the room's almost empty. it's then that he approaches you, picking up your bag with one hand as you get up. intertwining your fingers together, he kisses the side of your head gently.

“so, what's for lunch?” he asks.

before you can answer, though, he's shutting you up already. “coffee isn't lunch, baby.”

you pout, leaning into his touch. “whatever.”

you flop down on the bed beside megumi, glaring at nothing in particular. you've been ignoring him for over an hour now, but he's just not getting the hint. you cough loudly. he still stares at his phone, typing something on it. you cough again, in a way that's clearly fake. this time, he bites.

“what's wrong?”

you frown back at him, silent. megumi raises an eyebrow curiously, turning to you. within a second, he's maneuvered you into a position where he's hovering over you, and you're on your back beneath him.

“oh-” you gasp, surprised, but he cuts you off.

“everythin’ okay?” despite your position being inherently sexual, both his voice and his touch are soft. you stare at the tv playing behind you, resolute in your mission to ignore him. he tilts your head up so that you're forced to look him in the eyes.

“hmm?”

“what date is it?” you demand.

“what?” he's confused.

“what date is it?” you repeat.

“the fourth of february?”

“and?”

“and the 14th?”

“oh!” he falls back onto the bed beside you with a wide grin on his face. “should've just told me, pretty.”

you pout. “i tried.”

“naaah,” he draws out the singular word, twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. “telling me and ignorin’ me are two different things.” [im so sorry if ur bald]

you want to move away from his touch, but there's just something that keeps you from doing so.

“so,” he smiles lazily, “you gonna be my valentine or what, baby?”

the way he says it is just so damn attractive, and you can't help but blush as you nod. and when he pulls you into his arms, you hear the the words he whispers into your hair. “was gonna ask you soon anyways, sweetheart.”

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joelalorian · 1 month

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots in love

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crumbledcastle28 · 6 months

Text

Javier Pena: Blowing Off Steam

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: During one of the most important meetings of his career, Javier is relentlessly distracted by the drive over.

Excerpt: "That's the spot, isn't it hermosa?" he said into your ear. The smell of your sweat mixed with your perfume as well as the small groans you were releasing only spurred him on more. "Think you're in control, thought you had me."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your jaw began to tremble, digging your nails into his bulging biceps seemed to be the only thing giving you any sort of relief.

Neither of you heard the partition clicking shut.

He smiled at your state, kissing the crown of your head. "You do have me, cielo. But tonight I have you."

Warnings: making out, heavy touching, smutty smut smut, dirty talk, my attempt at Spanish, unestablished relationship, swearing, italicized=flashback/past, I am positive this doesn't actually work with canon, Javier is a simp.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I don't really know what to say besides I missed this with every part of me. Please enjoy this brain rot that has gotten me through the last three months.

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

General Masterlist

(gif from pinterest you cannot convince me that isn't a hickey on his neck bfibrifbiri)

Javier's taste buds were coated with a delightfully devilish mix of Cheval Blanc and red lipstick as he sucked in your heated breaths.

Your thighs fit so fucking perfectly in his hands as he gave them a squeeze. Your bare, sweaty skin squeaked against the leathered seats in response.

"Javi," you whined, and he shushed you gently. The streetlights passing by illuminated your smooth skin like music, and he was tempted to pull away only to stare at you.

Another whimper from your swollen mouth persuaded him against it.

He moved his teeth down your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He could feel the heat of your core against him as you began to grind into him slightly, god did it make his lower stomach pulse.

He switched to the left side of your neck, pushing you against the car door ever so slightly as he cut his vision to the driver. The man's bald head had remained facing forward, his skin a deep tan. He figured limo drivers had to deal with this sort of bullshit all the time. A part of him enjoyed the fact that another man was learning just how liquid you were for him.

A bigger part of him fucking hated it.

It was this millisecond of inner turmoil that gave you the upper hand - pulling his mouth from your throat and bringing it to your own, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, sliding your hand down his pants, tracing his happy trail as your fingers cupped him so fucking flawlessly -

"Agent?"

Javier sucked in a breath. His palms had practically soaked through the menu in his hands.

"Ye-yes?" he said, clearing his throat.

The Colonel scoffed. "Your head is not where your heart is, Peña."

"Fuck off," he whispered back, and stuck his nose back into the menu.

Carillo had called a meeting about a possible promotion for Javi, suggesting he was "too acquainted" with the night life of Colombia to be sitting at a desk all day. He felt Javi was needed on the ground, working within the system than around it. A true DEA agent, rather than a glorified secretary.

Hence whatever the fuck this dinner was.

Javi was surrounded by his superiors, men and women he had never seen nor met before, as well as what had to be hundreds of dollars in booze. The menu before him had words he had never even heard of before, as well as prices that seemed to stretch off the page if he unfocused his eyes.

He was the furthest out of his comfort zone that he could have ever imagined, while consecutively borderline emotional at the favor Carillo was doing for him. He was dealing with more emotions than he had allowed himself to in years.

You had looked too pretty that night not to blow off some steam.

-he could have come right then and there. He felt your smile against his lips as he jumped at the feeling, before practically melting into your hands. He could barely kiss you through his panting.

"Sensitive," you whispered as you dragged your teeth down his jawline, paying particular attention to the crease between his bone and his neck. The two of you had done this enough for you to know all his weak spots.

He gripped the fabric of your dress as you did before sliding his hands underneath it, resting his hands on your ribcage. You sighed at the feeling.

"I'm sensitive?" he whispered, moving his hands all the way up to cup your breasts. You tucked your face more into his neck as he did, but continued to trace his head and dick. This flipped the switch on him once again, chills etching themselves down his spine, and a renewed heat boiling his organs -

Javier came back to a woman whose name he had long forgotten asking him a question he absolutely did not hear.

But, he flashed his charming smile anyway.

"Yes ma'am," he said, and despite the woman's efforts, a faint blush crawled up her neck.

"And what makes you say that?" she said in reply.

He could feel Carillo's smile.

"Just a gut feeling," Javier said, and to his surprise, she smiled.

-that finally caused something in him to ignite. He felt out of body, watching himself as if from he was a fly on the ceiling remove his dominant hand from your breast and bring it between your legs. He only took a few seconds to enjoy the wetness that had culminated there before he teased your opening.

Your jaw fell open, giving him ample opportunity to stick his tongue down your throat as he finally fingered you up to the knuckle.

Your body convulsed against him, any and all air escaping your lungs the very second he began to pump in and out of you. It was messy, it was desperate, but god was it everything -

"And how exactly was that handled, Agent...." the man paused, before snapping his fingers in recognition. "Peña. Agent Peña."

Javier swallowed. "Well, we could never have pulled it off without the Colonel, as well as our other agents."

Javier had never spoken so out of his ass in his life.

"I was just a puzzle piece," he said before taking another sip of his bourbon.

The man appeared partially pleased, but unconvinced.

"And how exactly do you plan on being less of a puzzle piece going forward, Mr. Peña?" The man said this as he leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands onto the table.

Every eye at this goddamn table was on him, and for some reason, it made him think of you once again. The way you would whisper in his ear. Your unwillingness to appear afraid. You had told him once you couldn't afford to look afraid in a city like Bogotà.

"It's better to look stupid than afraid. It would eat me fucking alive," you had said.

He decided to take a page out of your book for once.

"I plan on being the person placing the pieces, sir," Javier said. "I can only do that by being more active in the streets. Fieldwork, groundwork, whatever you want to call it."

Javier leaned forward, mimicking the man's position almost exactly.

"How else can I see the full picture?" he asked.

The man's skin was as red as his wine, while his colleagues were as shined as gold.

-and more, prompting Javier to do what he seemed incapable to avoid doing whenever he was with you: lose complete control of his mouth.

"That's the spot, isn't it hermosa?" he said into your ear. The smell of your sweat mixed with your perfume as well as the small groans you were releasing only spurred him on more. "Think you're in control, thought you had me."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your jaw began to tremble, digging your nails into his bulging biceps seemed to be the only thing giving you any sort of relief.

Neither of you heard the partition clicking shut.

He smiled at your state, kissing the crown of your head. "You do have me, cielo. But tonight I have you."

You rocked up and down onto his fingers, whining into his ear as he used his middle finger to pump, and his thumb to caress your clit. He took the one he had around your neck down to your thigh, tracing the muscles, invigorating what you were already feeling between your thighs. It rose up and up to your breasts, forcing you to cup and play with them.

He smiled again, removing the hand from your thigh to bring it up to one of your breasts. He fondled one, while you fondled the other.

"Didn't know you could get this bothered from just my ha-"

"Shut the fuck up," you said and kissed him so hard your teeth clashed -

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Agent Peña," said the blushing woman from before. "I look forward to working with you in the future."

Javier was no dummy. He could very easily read between the lines of what she was implying. However, due to how much he could not get his mind off of you - despite the fact that he finally got the job he had been dreaming about since he was a little kid - he had a feeling that he would only disappoint.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, and shook her hand firmly.

He said his goodbyes to his superiors before following Carillo outside the restaurant. The two men sat there, waiting for their individual limos to arrive.

Where the DEA got the money for shit like this, Javier had no idea.

Carillo patted Javier on the back in congratulations, which was more affection that Javier had ever seen the man give to his own wife, and Javier gave him a nod in return.

It was then that Carillo began to chuckle.

"Cual es tu problema?" Javier asked, slightly aggitated.

Carillo shook his head. "You could have at least attempted to hide your way of blowing off steam, Pena," he said, gesturing to his own neck.

Javier must have reddened, because Carillo only laughed harder.

-so hard he was shocked one didn't chip. The two of you stayed that way for some - grinding and kissing and pulling at each other - before the limo finally pulled up to his destination.

You pulled away from him as you felt the limo lurch into park. You looked behind him, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the restaurant Javier would be dining at. You then smiled at him, wiping at his face and his hair, as well as straightening out his lapel.

"You should have warned me," you said to him, "I would have gone easier."

He smiled. "No, you wouldn't."

You smiled back, giving him one last kiss. It was deep, but deep in a way that meant more than goodbye. He couldn't afford to look more into it than that.

"Good luck," you whispered, and he nodded before exiting the vehicle. He saw you wipe at your own face through the window, as well as give the driver your address.

He watched you drive away, his heart shifting from a delightful flutter to an anxious one.

He watched his limo pull up behind Carillo's, sucking in the last of the chilled night air.

"Good luck, Peña," Carillo said as he walked to his car, a slight slur in his voice from all the bourbon. "Go and fucking celebrate."

Javier grinned as he opened his limo's door, exhaling in relief at his prayers of having a different driver being answered. The driver didn't even turn around as he said in a thick Colombian accent, "Where to?"

Javier knew exactly where he was headed.

He was going to fucking celebrate.

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know :)

@lovesbiggerthanpride @paintlavillered @xocalliexo @c4psicle @joelsflannel @thesmutslut @untitledarea @daphne-turner @queerponcho @leahkenobi

#javier pena smut #javi #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #din djarin x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Kissies and Waxed

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Short!Shy!Wife!Reader

summary: Y/n gets all shy and adorable with her grumpy husband on their wedding night, letting him enjoy his waxed present(Dom Henry) (requested by anon)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Come on sugar, no need to be shy, m’your husband now. Seen your pretty pussy a handful a’times” Henry grumbled tugging on the laced back of his wife’s wedding gown, his lips dragging themselves down her neck and exposed shoulders. His larger hands coming round to subtly cup her breasts, giving them a light squeeze and jiggle.

“D-do I havta get butt naked?” She cutely whispered out, wrapping her arms around her smaller stature, her french tip nails highlighting their elegance. Having dated for a few months then eloping, Henry had definitively manoeuvred his way into her sweet tight pussy repeatedly; but for some reason tonight she was feeling shyer than normal.

“I mean i’d love to see ya, but it’s up to you” Henry chuckled, already pulling down the top of her dress, even with his words. “But you can trust me honey, don’t you trust me? love me?” Henry frowned furrowing his brows, making eye contact with her wide eyes through the mirror, the poor woman not noticing his manipulative tone.

“W-what! Of course I do! I promise I do Hen! Please forgive me” Y/n whimpered turning around in his arms, instantly feeling at ease when his burly arms wrapped around her short frame, his head resting atop hers. “I know you do sweet pea, I know” He whispered kissing the top of her head, he thought she was absolutely adorable and sexy at the same time, God he loves her so much; even if he shows it a different way than most..

“Can I take this off you sweets?”

Nodding into his chest, his fingers skilfully removed all the lace, his fingers tracing down her bare back and noticing that she was wearing nothing under the heavy gown. “No underwear? How naughty of you baby” Henry smirked softly smacking her ass softly, rubbing it with his palm afterwards.

“S’too warm n’ was too sensitive” Y/n whimpered rubbing her thighs together desperately, her face tucked away from him. “Sensitive? Why?” Henry asked confused, he hasn’t seen her since two days before the wedding for tradition, unless she had played with herself like she wasn’t supposed to.

“S-Stephanie brought me to get my private parts w-waxed” She whispered not knowing how he’d react, looking at the gown which had now pooled around her freshly painted toes, hearing nothing but his breaths starting to deepen. “So my pussy, is bald?”

Letting out a giggle at his stupid words Y/n stepped back a bit, doubling over in a giggle fit as he simply chuckled and smiled back. “What? Im serious, let me see my bald pussy” He smirked stepping forward, his eyes travelling down to see the bush that was usually on her mound, was now fully gone; instead showing off her soft smooth looking skin.

“Jesus baby, did ya do it for me?” His finger came under her chin so their eyes could meet, his lips coming closer to press a small kiss to her chin. Her hands holding on tightly to the waistband of his briefs, her lip held tightly beneath her teeth. “Yeah, wanted to be pretty for you!” She said naively smiling up at him, showing off all her beautiful pearly whites as she batted her lashes at him.

“So sweet, but you’re already so sweet n gorgeous sugar, s’just an extra present for me huh” He nuzzled his cheek against hers as he slowly walked her backwards towards their now shared marital bed, filled with new cotton sheets and velvet blankets to keep them warm during this harsh winter.

“R-really ya think so?” She whispered as he crawled on top of her, gasping as he left kisses all over her neck and chest, his lips tugging and licking at her pebbled nipples. “Oh baby trust me, I know so” He growled moving downwards to come face to face with her wet centre.

An excited smile coming onto his face as he nuzzled his face into her smooth pussy, lightly kissing its lips almost as if it was her mouth.

“s’smooth honey, still miss my woman’s bush though” He smirked keeping each hand on her breasts, his nose nudging against her engorged clit teasingly, breathing in her vanilla scent. “ill keep that in mind for next time b-bear” She whispered nodding her head seriously, Henry loved how his wife would do absolutely anything just to keep him happy, and he’d make sure she was looked after.

“Course you will sugar” Henry said more to himself, dipping his tongue in between her sticky folds, humming as he tasted her sweet self on his tongue. Not even giving her a second to adjust before his mouth is ravaging her centre like crazy, causing her upper body to sit up, her thighs clamping onto his head to keep his mouth on her. “T-too quick, oh-oh my” She whimpered out meeting Henry’s icy blue eyes, noticing the darkened lusty look in them, telling her he was nowhere near done tonight. He spat right onto her mound, making it shiny and slippery with his tongue before delving back into her hole again

Feeling her hole clench around his thick tongue, he pulled it out, giving her pussy one last tongue kiss before crawling over her; a smirk on his face as he watched her whimper and whine out. “Gotta love on my favourite pair of lips” He whispered against her lips, kissing it softly, the wetness on his lips transferring onto hers and letting her taste herself.

His tip was already prodding at her wet hole, his body knowing hers like the back of his hand. Remembering all the times he had taken her in the back of his truck, during a picnic, at the drive-in cinema and of course right on their front porch.

“A-ah” Y/n moaned out feeling Henry slowly start to inch into her extra sensitive pussy, his rough pubes scratching onto her newly waxed skin. “So sexy baby, my sweet wifey” He moaned bottoming out inside her, his heavy sac smacking against her rear softly. Wrapping her hands around each bicep Y/n felt hot tears build up in her eyes, Henry’s nestle of curls had rubbed against her clit, his balls had slapped her pussy and his fingers were toying with her nubs.

“F-feel you everywhere, I love it” She gasped out hanging her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her mouth sat agape. The tip of her tongue found itself being sucked by Henry, his mouth needing to taste her even more, he was addicted to her. That’s why he needed her, just as much as she needed him.

“Now that you’re my wife, gonna make sure you’re full of me every single day sugar, ya like that? Have ya walkin’ around our cabin drippin like a broken faucet” He growled letting go of her tongue, his mouth directly whispering the filthy things into her ear, in turn her moans were echoing in his. Her nails scraping against his back while his hips smacked into hers, her pussy being slapped continuously simultaneously.

“Fuck your pussy is going to make me cum sugar, your sweet honey pussy is going to make your husband cum” He said almost whimpering, his thrusts growing erratic and rough as he clawed at the sheets by her head, her own voice sore and hoarse as she squirted all over his messy cock.

“S-squirted?-“ Y/n looked down shocked, an embarrassed look on her face,

“Maybe this bald thing is the way to go then huh?” Henry teased before thrusting one more time, his hips still slightly grinding against her poor clit as his cum spurted in waves inside her cavern. Both of them breathing out tiredly, Y/n peppering Henry’s face with kisses, muttering out small words of ‘i love you’ ‘you deserve some kissies’ ‘my husband’

“Aw baby lemme give you a kissy since you love ‘em so much” He smiled rubbing his lips against hers, his fingers cupping her jaw enough for her mouth to pucker open, his tongue licking into it lewdly before spitting into it. A smiley look on Y/n’s face as she hugged him to her chest, giggling and squeezing him tightly, a sense of love overfilling her. Only letting go once she realised that Henry had actually fallen asleep, her big hibernating bear

———

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wayfaringhoax · 1 year

Text

Plans

Summary: Javier Peña is slowly but surely becoming a thorn in your side. He just can't seem to leave you alone at work, and you're coming to realise that dismantling your plans is his top priority.

Word Count: 15k

SLOW BURN! You have been warned ...

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Trope: Opposites Attract (work acquaintances that bicker like crazy)

Rating: Explicit. 18+ MDNI

Warnings: explicit sexual content (dirty talk, oral sex f-receiving, p in v), swearing, consumption of alcohol, mention of drug-related violence and death, angst, mention of overworking, bickering at work, bribing/trading favours at work, discussion of insecurities, talk of previous sexual partners. Slight dub-con with an unexpected kiss (on the cheek).

Author’s Note: This fic features a reader/OFC blend. She has a defined job and a particular personality, but she has no pre-assigned physical appearance.

I really hope you enjoy this! Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you liked this fic. It would mean the world to me !!

You have a method for these types of calls. The ones where an embassy associate or some other government official refused to accept what you were trying to tell them. It’s all about the tone of voice used; you must appear agreeable with a hint of ditsiness, just enough to remind whatever balding senior on the opposite end of the phone that you were a woman, and so, it was expected that things weren’t getting done properly. If it weren’t for misogyny, you’d have been yelled at more times than you could count.

God, and the pet names. It was as though these men believed sweet talking had the power to override all scheduling conflicts and put their names at the top of the list. You swear they are the reason why you never like when men call you “baby”, or “sweetheart”. The only thing it aroused in you was disgust.

As the American Ambassador to Colombia, your boss was in high demand, and as his personal assistant, you were extremely protective of his diary. And well, Crosby was revered for his expertise and military history, which caused all the other WASPs in your sector to swarm to him; eager to share a drink and talk politics with an American hero.

Despite the fact your boss had no time to indulge them, having his hands full with more pressing matters - such as the alarming rise of drug-related violence in South America - they still blew up his phone constantly. Did these men not have wives to annoy, instead of you?

You lift your head at the sound of someone entering your office.

“Need your old man to sign this paperwork.”

Not now.

Javier. The man lives in his own little world, it seems. Can he not tell you’re currently occupied?

You raise a finger to your lips to shush him, before pointing at the phone pressed to your ear.

“What?” He mouths, moving closer to you.

Rolling your eyes, you make a shooing motion with your hands.

It doesn’t work, as he places the forms down in front of you, and when you think that’ll be it, you notice he’s leaning over your desk; eyes looking at you expectantly.

You look up at him in disbelief. He’s grown far too accustomed to getting his own way with the women around here. You’ve seen the way he smolders; dipping his head down so his eyes appear irresistible when he gazes up at them, and of course, you couldn’t help but scoff at how he’d undo a few more buttons of his shirt, too. Sometimes, if he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, he’d even resort to the sluttiest thing a guy could do: rolling the sleeves up. But, it hasn’t failed him yet.

Poor Colleen. She was about ready to hand over the embassy’s entire criminal database when Javier held her hand to admire her manicure. But it’s not going to work on you.

You pull the phone away from your ear and press it to your chest, giving him a look that could kill.

“Javier, I’m on the phone.” You hiss. “You’ll have to wait.”

He huffs in annoyance before sinking back into the chair opposite you. You’re doing your best to stay focused as you rattle off a list of alternative dates, but Javier’s taken to toying with your belongings that are laid out on your desk. When you notice him holding a frame next to his face, raising his eyebrows as he points to the photo of your cat, you’ve just about had enough of his impatience.

You attempt to snatch the object away from him, but he’s too quick for you; putting it back in its place before seizing your planner.

“Mr. Cassidy, I can assure you. As soon as your funding is cleared, the ambassador will be in touch to discuss moving forward with the project.” You say whilst frantically making grabby hands at the man sitting across from you, hoping it will entice him into returning your most prized possession.

You have no such luck, as Javier appears perfectly content to browse the pages outlining your meticulous schedule, stopping every so often to nod his head or hum in amusement. You feel your ire rise at the country attache’s brazen presumption, but somehow, it doesn’t reach your voice, allowing you to continue the call as normal.

Javier’s taken aback at how unaffected you seem, so he decides to ramp up his efforts.

Reaching into the pocket of his sand-coloured blazer, he pulls out a cigarette, and when he lights it, he observes how your eyes flash with a hint of something. Something he doesn’t see often.

Could it be quiet rage simmering beneath those doe eyes?

You were a people-pleaser; always pleasant and professional. So Javier’s surprised at the way you’re glaring at him. Proud even. Knowing he’s the one to bring it out of you.

As he makes himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other and reclining back into the chair, you flash him an exaggerated smile. But Javier knows that it’s not meant for him, rather, it’s directed at whatever schmuck has been hoarding your attention for the past five minutes.

“Thank you for your patience, I’ll be in touch shortly. Alright, take care now.”

Finally. You end the call and immediately lean forward to retrieve your planner.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask. “Are there no drug kingpins that need incarcerating?”

He stares you down with a slight pout on his lips before repeating his earlier request; as though he didn’t even hear what you just said.

“I need this signing. It’s urgent, is he around?”

“Everything’s always urgent with you, huh?” You grumble.

“It’s not like there are lives at stake or anything.”

You don’t appreciate his sarcasm, especially after how he barged in and disrupted your work.

The smirk he’s masking is beyond infuriating, and you’re sure he’s exhaling the smoke from his lips in slow motion, purely to rile you up further.

Every little thing he’s doing seems to annoy you, though you’re not entirely sure why. You put it down to the fact that you know you can’t get rid of him. Not easily, anyway. And not until you give him what he wants.

“The ambassador’s engaged all day, I’m afraid. Try again tomorrow, perhaps?” You tell him with a sickly-sweet smile, holding his forms out towards him.

Javier realises he may have pushed you too far, so he quickly scrambles to sit up straight; hoping a different approach will work on you.

“Sweetheart-” He begins, leaning closer to you. Cigarette now forgotten in favour of working you over.

You cut him off. “Don’t call me that. I’m not one of your girls, Javier.”

He sighs, retreating back in defeat. It’s hard to believe that you didn’t even look at him when you spoke those words, but your tone alone suggested it would be wise to back off. And so, Javier does just that, whilst he scratches his head for a new strategy.

“How about you fast-track these...” He suggests, holding the papers up again. “And in exchange, I’ll buy you a drink.”

You can’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, that seems fair.” You jest. “That would also require me going to a bar with you, outside of working hours.”

You don’t need to elaborate. He knows you’d never willingly do such a thing.

“You see.” He drawls. “That’s where you’re wrong. A few little birdies on the third floor told me you’ve got plans this evening. If I just happen to be in the area…well, I think our arrangement can still be fulfilled.”

Your ears heat up in embarrassment. You didn’t like the thought that this man knew what you got up to outside of work. In your head, colleagues were colleagues, not friends. You liked to keep your work life completely separate from your personal life, and frankly, you didn’t want him trying to weasel his way in there. But something told you he wasn’t going to let this go.

It wasn’t like you’d advertised your plans. The women from communications had hounded you in the break room when they noticed you’d had your hair done. It would’ve been unprofessional to ignore them, so eventually, you’d let it slip that a few of your friends from home were visiting, and you all planned to head into town for some drinks.

They had fussed over you like you were a newborn. Of course, you assumed it was because you typically kept to yourself at work, and it simply gave them something to gossip about; someone’s life to pry into where they could.

When did you get so cynical?

Snapping out of the memory, you busy yourself with organising your desk drawer.

“Let me guess.” You say dryly, preoccupied with the task at hand. “You’ll be drinking alone?”

He raises his eyebrows in good humour. “Not if you’re there.”

“Fast-track’s gonna cost you more than one drink, Peña.” You tell him, your voice taking on a singsong quality as you avoid making eye contact.

“And I’m not drinking with you. I have friends, believe it or not.”

“What will it take?” He asks, looking somewhat intrigued; he didn’t think you’d budge.

“Well, there’s six of us. So three bottles of something should be about right.”

Javier sighs. Why does it cost money to get anything done around here?

“Wine?” He asks you.

“Am I that easy to read?” You say incredulously. There goes yet another thing he now knows about you.

Yes, he thinks. But he wouldn’t dare tell you that, too scared to poke the bear since you were so close to giving him what he wants. Javier stays silent, opting to give you a knowing look instead.

Finally, you look his way, and your eyes pierce into him. He’s not quite sure if he’s turned on or scared shitless. Or perhaps he’s both?

Taking the papers from his grasp, you dangle them over the tray marked as “priority”, and his eyes lock on the movement of your hands like a cat chasing a laser.

“If this means you’ll leave me to work in peace …” You say, looking to him for confirmation of your agreement.

Javier raises both of his hands at that, holding his palms out in surrender. You squint at him in apprehension, before dropping the forms into the tray.

As he makes his way out of your office, he turns back to address you, and you’re not at all surprised when the DEA’s country attaché winks at you.

“I’ll see you there.” He tells you.

“Unfortunately.”

***

The bar isn’t as crowded as you hoped it would be. Which means you spot him as soon as he enters. He’s still wearing his dress shirt, but he’s slipped his signature leather jacket over the top, and as cliché as it sounds, it screams bad boy; giving you yet another good reason as to why you should stay away from Javier Peña.

Javier, however, is pleased by the lack of patrons this evening. There’s enough empty space for him to have the perfect view of you from where he’s perched at the bar, nursing his whiskey neat. It’s an intriguing view, he thinks, as his eyes soak up the sight of you, very much out of your element, as you leave your circle of friends to get a drink.

Your pristine black mary-janes have been swapped out for a pair of electric-blue strappy heels, and your modest silver stud earrings are nowhere to be seen. Instead, your ears are adorned with an elaborate, colourful pair of drop earrings, and Javier can’t help but want to pull your hair back so he can get a better look at them. Not that you’d ever let him that close to you. At least not before you tore him a new one, that’s for certain.

And the dress. His eyes can’t decide where to settle, as his gaze darts between each visual spectacle you’ve curated for him.

Well, he knows you most likely didn’t dress up for him, but he doesn’t stop himself from indulging in the thought for a brief moment. The knowledge that you’ve been hiding all this underneath those pencil skirts and stockings is a pleasant surprise to him. One his brain can’t seem to compute just yet.

Sure, he thought you were beautiful. After all, Javier wasn’t blind; he could spot a pretty woman from a mile away. But you always dressed so modestly. So he’s not quite sure what to think when he sets his eyes on the exposed skin of your shoulders in that halter neck, as well as the way the glittery fabric hugs your curves just right before it flares out slightly when it reaches the top of your thighs; giving your ensemble a flirty, playful touch.

He also can’t help himself from staring at the supple skin of your legs as they draw his eyes down, feeling as though he’s been hypnotised. Besides, you’d made an effort tonight, and it would be criminal to let all your hard work go unnoticed.

Was there someone you were trying to impress? Surely not.

Javier knew you weren’t the type to give any man who didn’t meet your exceptionally high, and oddly specific standards the time of day. If they weren’t going to play into your five-year plan, then they were of no use to you.

Perhaps you have yet to notice him, he wonders. Stubbing out his cigarette, he heads to the bar, ignoring the bartender’s sceptical look when he orders three bottles of red wine for the table of young, attractive women over in the corner. Women who look like the last thing they need is to be bothered by this man, drinking his sorrows, alone on a bar stool.

Amused, he watches you all fuss over the complimentary booze, chuckling to himself when he sees your friends dive right in to fill their glasses. But you don’t seem to be drinking any of the wine you haggled for back at the office. Instead, you stay sipping your margarita in the corner of the booth, seeming perfectly content to sit this one out.

Javier’s perplexed, and slightly exasperated at your cheek. His wallet is feeling significantly lighter in his jacket pocket as of right now, and here you are; shunning his generous offering.

He walks over to you, preparing to turn on the charm.

Wearing a winning smile, he approaches tentatively. He's playing the part of the handsome gentleman with nothing but pure intentions, and he doesn’t miss the way your friends’ eyes light up at his arrival. You, however, don’t seem so impressed.

He hunches over slightly, holding himself with a cocky air and chewing his gum as he catches the attention of the rest of the table.

“Ladies…” He begins. “Apologies for the interruption, but I need to borrow your friend here. It’ll just be for a few minutes, then I promise, you can have her back.”

You take a moment to consider what he might want, but nothing sensible comes to mind. Therefore, you conclude that he must’ve come over here for the sole purpose of vexing you.

“What’s the matter?” You ask him warily.

“Embassy business.” He tears his gaze away to wink at your friend. “It’s confidential, of course, so I can’t say any more.”

“Who’s this?” Your friend asks excitedly, and the rest of the group appears to share her enthusiasm, judging by their wide eyes and straightened backs. You couldn’t fault them, as the men back home were nowhere near as handsome as him. Javier had that whole rugged cowboy appeal; wild and headstrong, a little rough around the edges, with just enough charm and chivalry to make the panties drop.

Did you really just acknowledge that you find this infuriating man attractive?

You’d asked the bartender to go easy on the tequila, but perhaps he’d done the opposite. As there could be no other reason as to why you’re currently indulging in such absurd thoughts.

Of course, Javier’s thrilled at the prospect of flashing his badge to the group of beautiful women currently looking up at him like he’s some kind of god.

He holds it up to them. “Javier Peña, DEA.”

“Again, I apologise, but it really is urgent.” He says, looking at you expectantly.

You sulk out of your seat before you walk straight past him to a more secluded section of the bar.

He gets a little too close to you, as when you abruptly turn to face him, he’s hit with a mouthful of your hair. “What is it?” You grit out.

Meanwhile, Javier’s taken aback at how sexy you are when you’re mad like this. At the embassy, you kept it subdued; hiding behind your persona of professionalism with pleasant smiles and jovial handshakes. But right now, you look as though you might actually slap him.

“Bonita-”

Again, you cut him off at the use of another pet name. Holding your hand up as you roll your eyes in frustration.

He tries again. “You clean up nice…” And at that remark, you turn your body to face the bar, not wanting to give him another opportunity to check you out.

“You’re not drinking?”

You gesture to your margarita whilst you take a healthy sip.

“You know what I mean.” He says. “What? You rinse me out for nothing?”

Taking advantage of your apparent shyness, he’d managed to slip in closer, so you’re surprised when his next words are spoken into your ear.

“You waiting on someone else, huh? Got a better offer or something?”

“God…” You groan. “I just don’t like the idea of you buying me a drink, okay?”

“You’re from work.” You tell him as a matter of fact.

He raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“The problem is … ?” His words trail off, searching for your reasoning.

“The problem is.” You say. “Is that it’s not appropriate.”

Javier watches your eyes fix on something behind him, ultimately giving you away. He turns his head to see what’s caught your eye, finding what he could only describe as a rather gormless American tourist, sharing a beer with another fellow statesman, as they stick out like a sore thumb. A pair of gringos, if he wanted to be particular.

He can feel the mirth rising in his throat as it hits him. You had eyes for this plain-looking man.

And he liked the look of you, too, it seems, as Javier notices him rise from his seat, clearly heading in your direction.

“Oh, it’s funny is it?” You ask, your tone low.

He’s taken to ignoring you now; staring straight ahead at the bottles of liquor lined up behind the bar, finding your irritation to be quite the source of entertainment.

The sight that greets you next is Javier, taking a swig from his drink whilst his eyes peer at you over the rim of his glass, inciting you to do something. You ball your hands into tight fists, before shuffling down the bar slightly to put some distance between the two of you.

The tourist is now in front of you. He fluffs his hair as he leans against the bar and greets you, and Javier silently sniggers at the man’s mediocre efforts to flirt with you. You, however, don’t seem to mind it, judging by the genuine smile on your face. Oh, so this is your type. Meek, predictable and incredibly dry. Each to their own, he thinks.

He knows he should probably leave soon, not wanting to spend another weeknight wasted for no good reason, but he can’t tear himself away from eavesdropping on what might be the most boring conversation he’s ever heard. He’s listened to hundreds of wiretaps on sicarios’ phone conversations, and although he wishes those shitbags were dead, their chats were far more engaging than the one he’s currently privy to.

“So, what’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple.” You tell your admirer, overjoyed at the mundane nature of your conversation.

Mundane is safe, and safe is good. Good is what you need in a husband and potential father of your future children. Good pays the bills. Good doesn’t spin your world off its axis and force you to question everything you thought you knew about yourself. Good, was good. And this man had all the right qualities, so far.

Another question. “What do you think of lasagne?”

“Yeah, I like it.” You reply, and Javier can’t actually believe how into this you are.

Well, perhaps he could believe it, actually, if your planner was anything to go off. You even penciled in when you planned to consume alcohol.

He had nothing against your love of a routine. But he most definitely wanted to see how far he could push you; see how you’d react to spontaneity.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you place your hand on the American’s arm and lean in closer.

And for Javier, it’s the final straw.

His resolve snaps. Unable to tolerate any more of the painful scene unfolding right beside him, he makes his way over to where the two of you are standing, and in typical asshole fashion, he makes sure to accidentally bump his shoulder against the other man when he reaches you.

“Pérdon, amigo.” He says, hand on your date’s shoulder in a faux apology, before he mutters something else in Spanish. His voice low enough that you didn’t catch what it was.

You hazard a look up at him, and …

Fuck. You realise he’s only just getting started.

The tourist had been so kind as to order you both another drink, but before either of you could get your hands on them…

“Thanks, baby.” Javier coos, looking right at you as he takes a sip from one of the drinks; specifically, the one your date had been reaching for.

Stunned at his bold use of yet another pet name, it’s a few seconds later when you react. You turn your head so fast, that if he wasn’t a government agent, he would’ve missed it, but luckily for Javier, he senses you’re about to call him out when he sees your eyebrows raise, mouth open and hand poised, ready to point a finger in his direction.

So, naturally, he shuts you up before you can ruin his fun. And he does this in the way he knows best.

He kisses you.

Or at least he tries to, but you somehow manage to swerve him just before his lips meet your own, causing it to land on your cheek.

It’s only a peck, but it does the trick, as you are well and truly dumbfounded.

If the eyes are the window to the soul, then you hoped Javier could gauge just how close you were to throttling him by looking into yours. What the fuck was he doing?

Your ‘date’, though you weren’t sure you could call him that anymore, is just as shocked as you are, backing away from you slightly. You sense he’s not wanting to step on any toes, but he can tap-dance all over Javier Peña’s toes if he likes. In steel boots. You’d most definitely find joy in that.

You size him up, trying to work out how to get yourself out of this situation before this asshole escalates it. Conflict was the last thing you wanted; it didn’t fit into your schedule for the evening.

“Javie-” You try.

“Sweetheart…I think you’ve bored this man for long enough, don’t you think?” His arm snakes around your waist, pulling your body into his as he stares blankly at the other man, waiting for him to scurry.

And, well, you were also hoping he’d leave. However, your reasons were different from those of Javier’s. Whatever they may be.

You simply didn’t think you’d be able to contain your anger at the agent’s shenanigans for much longer, and you didn’t want to flip your lid in front of the stranger.

Cutting his losses, your tourist sees himself back to his table, and you notice he’s quick to grab his jacket and tuck in his chair. Javier’s getting comfortable on the stool next to you when you see your admirer leave, and the tight-lipped smile he gives you on his way out has you cringing; mortified at the example that’s been made of you tonight.

When you’re sure he’s gone, you let some of the facade drop.

“What was that?” You ask Javier, voice as sharp as a thousand knives.

He simply twirls the glass around in his hand, not taking his eyes off the amber liquid for a second.

You push again. “What could you possibly have gained from that?”

But still, no answer from the DEA Country Attaché.

“You know what…nevermind.” You exclaim before attempting to return to your friends over in the booth.

Before you make it past him, Javier holds his arm out to stop you in your tracks. Offering you the second of the two drinks, he gestures for you to take it.

“Sit down.” He tells you. “At least until you’ve finished your drink.”

Simmering is no longer the most apt word to describe how you’re feeling right now. You are boiling; the heat in your veins ready to spill over at any moment.

Yet somehow, you are so overcome with outrage that your body feels stiff, and you’re unable to move, or even get more than a few words out. So, not quite able to comprehend what’s just transpired, you sit down, waiting for him to offer up some kind of explanation.

After a few more swirls of his drink around the glass, Javier breaks the silence.

“I was doing you a favour. Trust me, he was dull. You don’t want that.”

You deserve better than that, is what runs through his head, but that’s a whole other emotion, so he squashes it before it can fester into something more potent.

He continues. “Your kids would’ve been called Randy and Bob or some shit like that.”

“Yes.” You grate in response. “And we could’ve lived in a cushy house in a nice neighbourhood, bought a couple of cats, and travelled once per year.”

“You want that?” He asks you dubiously.

“And how could you know what I want, Javier?”

Sensing your control isn’t wavering, he turns to humour. “Well, uh…he didn’t seem like much of a cat person, I’m afraid.”

Well, he’s got you there. But you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d successfully picked out one of the man’s flaws. You couldn’t let Javier Peña of all people get the better of you.

“And you don’t seem like much of a diplomat, but here you are … Mr. Attaché.”

That one was a bit too on the nose.

A sullen look grows on his face; telling you it’s time to go.

Tomorrow’s a new day, and if you see him, it will be at work. He can’t get away with this shit there.

Right?

***

Clearly, Javier does not know how to respect your personal space.

The next day, at 12:15 pm precisely, you head to the break room for lunch, and by the time your coffee cup is filled, he’s there too. Loitering behind you like a lost puppy, but not the cute, innocent kind. Javier Peña was the yappy, irritating kind of puppy.

Crosby had often considered him a thorn in his side; always waltzing in with some grand scheme that threatened to derail everything he had been working towards for years. And now, you were beginning to understand just how your boss felt.

He waited for you to acknowledge him, but after seeing you potter about the communal space; tidying, reorganising, anything to look busy, he realised that you were stalling.

And you were. You were hoping he’d get bored of watching you be so mundane, and eventually, he’d leave you alone.

He makes himself a cup too, before leaning against the unit next to where you’re currently refilling the sugar.

“Good night?” He asks, his usual mirth now present again.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Lunch break.” He grins.

“Oh, excuse me. I thought your diet consisted of cigarettes only.” You tease.

So quick, he thinks. And he doesn’t give you a response, hoping this little victory over him would somehow weaken your guard.

“You never come in here. What’s special about today?” You ask.

He shrugs in response before straightening up slightly, subconsciously hoping to get a little closer to you. He’s fascinated. As far as he was concerned, you eat, sleep and breathe work. So seeing you use your break time, like everyone else, feels strange. It feels new.

What would you do? He found himself studying you like you were a rare specimen; your behaviours, motivations and fluctuations a complete mystery to be unravelled.

However, as he readjusts his posture, the collar of his shirt slips a little. Previously, the garment had done well to hide it, but now it’s plain to see.

A hickey.

This man has a hickey, just above his collarbone, and due to your proximity, you can see it as clear as day.

And for some reason unbeknownst to either of you, it incites you.

You’re not jealous.

You’re impressed. He’d spent a good portion of his evening derailing yours, and yet he still had time to secure a hookup. Well, the man was determined; you had to give him that.

“Good night?” You repeat to him, eyes locked on the offending mark.

Javier follows your gaze until he realises what you’re referring to. He looks around the room to check for eavesdroppers, before lowering his voice.

“Yeah, it was actually. It doesn’t compare to sitting at a bar discussing fucking lasagne, or all the different shades of purple that exist… but I’d say it was alright.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t my finest hour. But at least I ended the night with some dignity.”

“Oh, I had plenty of dignity by the end of the night.” He says. “You should try it sometime. It’s good stress relief.”

Stress relief. God, this man was ignorant if he didn’t realise that the majority of your stress recently has been caused by him.

Him, and his insistence on aggravating you, getting under your skin and sinking in deep, all for some twisted type of power play.

You must’ve been the only woman at the embassy who wasn’t throwing their panties at him as he walked by their station, which made you a challenge. Just like Escobar, you were a target that needed to be worked. He saw you as a conquest, and that’s what brought him to the break room just now: he was doing his reconnaissance.

Moving to the far side of the room, right where the refrigerator stood, you try to put some distance between you before replying to his quip.

“Thanks.” You tell him dryly, your eyes looking at anything but him. “But I’ve got my own form of stress relief that works just fine.”

He holds in a chuckle. You were probably one of the most highly-strung people he’d ever met, so he seriously doubted your words. If this was you with well-managed stress levels, he couldn’t imagine what you’d be like on a bad day. And yet, some part of him wanted to see that. Wanted to be the one that drove you to that place. Not out of malice, of course, but out of curiosity.

Javier wanted to work you up, right up to the point where you’re at the edge of what your body can handle, only to see you spiral down. All your rational thoughts lost to the physical, as you fall over the precipice, into a sea of baser instincts. It would be beautiful to see, he thinks.

But the sound of your heels drags him out of his fantasy, as he sees you heading towards the door. You were on your way back to your office, by the looks of it, and Javier can’t help but follow you, though he kept a safe distance so as to not spook you too soon.

When he sees that you’re at your desk again, comfortable, he quickly sneaks through the door.

You’d anticipated that he wouldn’t leave it alone without getting the last word in, so you weren’t exactly phased by his intrusion. Typing away, you get on with your business as though he’s not there.

Standing beside your desk, to any onlooker it appears as though he’s just running something by you, as he picks up a document from your desk that looks somewhat related to his sector. He rakes his eyes over it sporadically, not at all paying attention to anything it contains. Rather, he’s debating whether to let a certain thought of his loose. Would it be too much?

“What is it that you do then?” He asks. “For stress relief?”

He looks up from the piece of paper he’s holding to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t meant to be sexual, but you couldn’t deny the shift in the atmosphere. Javier felt as though there was something unsaid between you. Something festering in the back of both your minds.

Your ire now subdued, you drop your pen to look up at him. “Organisation. Cleaning, moving things around my apartment, filling out my planner…” You say, tapping your nails against the wooden surface in thought.

Javier feels something light tug at his chest. Fascination, for sure. But could it also be admiration he feels? He can see that you’re getting swept up in a daydream of your own making, drifting towards a sweet fantasy; your eyes lighting up in pleasure, and he wants so badly to call it fascinating, but something tells him it’s a little closer to endearing.

The document long forgotten, he asks you. “Your planner, huh?”

You nod in response. “It’s sacred.”

A delicate smile makes an appearance on your face, and Javier’s trying his hardest not to indulge in the sight.

“I bet. You use it to plan out every part of your life?”

“That’s what it’s for.”

“Even when you fuck?”

That renders you speechless. Javier had expected you to lash out, call him filthy or heatedly demand that he get out of your office. But nothing comes.

It’s at this exact moment when he realises he’s struck a nerve. Your shoulders have dropped, you’re nibbling on your bottom lip, and under the desk, he can see your feet have stopped their usual tapping. You look sheepish, almost.

He knows he can’t take it back, so he figures he might as well push forward. After all, he’s got nothing to lose. Except for his eyes, and any other vital body part, should you go back to being mad at him and claw them out.

“Right.” He drawls, waiting for you to elaborate.

Usually, when Javier Pena provokes you, he expects you to give it back to him. But not this time, it seems.

Laying back into your chair in resignation, you sigh. “Not quite. Let’s leave it at that.”

It’s clearly a lie, you denying that your sex life is dictated by a schedule. Javier knows you’re just the kind of woman that wants to exercise control over every aspect of your existence, even your carnal pleasure. You’re not giving much away, and he wants to crawl deeper; draw out a confession and claim a victory over you.

“Leave it at that...” He parrots.

“DEA interrogation 101, never deflect. Good job you’re not a criminal, huh?” He jests, his laugh seeming shakier this time.

Still unwilling to budge, you give him nothing.

Again, in classic Javier fashion, he leans down, hands planted firmly in front of yours on your desk, crowding your space as his eyes beg yours for contact. “Bonita.” He coos.

That does it, snapping you out of your mildness.

“Javier!” You admonish, voice firmly raised, though not enough to draw the attention of others.

“I know, I know… no pet names. Apologies.”

All he receives in response is your glare. Scathing and defiant.

Straightening up, he exhales whilst flexing his fingers. “Just tell me. Then I’ll leave it alone.”

But you’re not prepared to give this man any ammunition against you, not of your own volition, anyway.

However, he decides to adapt his strategy. He swipes the sacred object. Your planner, and holds it behind his back; beyond the extent of your reach.

You don’t react at first. Not until you hear his next words. “I think I’ll take a quick look-”

Darting out of your seat, you go to stop him, reaching over your desk for the stolen object, before he slams it back down in front of you. His wide palms pressed firm against the fabric cover, holding it down in a show of his dominance. You shouldn’t find that sexy, you think, cursing yourself silently for allowing yourself to become affected by this man.

As this is nothing short of an act of war, leaving you bristling and agitated. Rising to your feet, you gravitate towards where he’s holding your planner hostage. “You’ve had more than enough fun terrorising me over lunch break, I think it’s about time you get back to work.” You say.

“Tell me, and you can have it back.” He affirms, though he doesn’t need to move an inch. He knows, and you most definitely know, that your strength is no match for him. He’s an agent, for crying out loud. You’ve got no chance of getting your planner back without one of two methods: manipulation or seduction.

The latter was certainly off the cards, so you went with the former option. But you couldn’t deny your body’s reaction to Javier’s physicality. The way he stood firm in place, challenging you to come to him, all the while knowing he has the power to wrangle you wherever he sees fit. And to you, that was undeniably sexy.

You would never indulge in such a fantasy, of course, liking your men docile, as they were less likely to cheat and screw up your five-year plan. But you could allow yourself this one forbidden thought. Just for a second longer.

“There’s nothing to tell. Give it to me and I’ll bump your meeting with Crosby to tomorrow instead of Friday. Heard you need a sign-off… urgently.” You try smirking. “Something about a Cali operation and a chicken van.”

His own grin falters. Huh…he must really need the ambassador’s approval.

But he tries to play it off. “It’s alright, these things can’t be rushed. I think I’ll hold onto this a little longer.”

“What do you want, Javier?” You ask, your voice unimpressed and impatient.

“Tell me. Tell me that you actually plan when you get laid. Then you can have this back.” He holds the planner above his head, and when you reach for it again, he snatches it back behind him.

“Come on…” You groan.

He moves closer to the door, daring you to let him leave with your most prized possession. But you’re running out of plays, you’re getting tired, and you remind yourself that Javier’s most likely going to get screwed later on, in some way or another, by the Colombian government, and that thought alone brings you comfort. Enough comfort, that it outweighs the distaste of having to give in to him.

Stepping closer, you huff out. “Okay! Fine! … I follow what Vogue magazine suggests. Orgasms at least every two days, and-”

“And what?” He taunts.

“Eating saffron regularly, a-and drinking red wine, too. Aphrodisiacs … you know?”

Javier’s grin is smug as shit, after drawing out your admission, and you want nothing more than to wipe it off his face. But right now, you just want him gone. Somewhere where he can’t see the blush flourishing in your cheeks.

“Are you done?” You ask, arms crossed against your chest in an attempt to regain the appearance of power. Something you had forfeited whilst chasing the DEA Country Attaché, who held your planner hostage, around your office like a child chasing a butterfly.

The man in front of you softens at your tone, understanding that he’d pushed you quite far, and that he quite possibly got carried away. He couldn’t resist the way it felt; getting swept up in teasing each other, evoking a lightness in his chest that doesn’t come around often.

“Do you ever do anything simply because you want to? When you want to?” He asks you. “Impulsively?”

All you can say to usher him out of your space is his name. “Javier.” You call, until you somehow manage to form a few more words. “Time’s up. Out, please.”

Sensing you’re at the end of your thread, he stalks towards the door. But when he reaches for the handle, he turns back to look at you. And the look on his face is unlike any of the ones he’s sported around you previously. It’s genuine.

He calls out to you, voice almost quiet enough to sound sincere. “Hey, uh- if you ever wanna ditch the planner and let loose sometime, let me know, yeah.”

And with that, he’s gone. Leaving you reeling from the implications of his parting words.

***

The following day, Javier seeks you out on his lunch break, hoping to ask for another favour. But you’re not there.

When he asks around in the break room for you, he finds out that you’d gone out for lunch today. Avoiding him, perhaps?

Now left with twenty-five minutes of free time, and a reluctance to head back upstairs and do some actual work, Javier goes snooping. He already had his excuse, having brought down another form for you to sign off on, so he’s not worried about looking out of place. But still, he’s considered a hero nowadays; a reputation to uphold, so he quickly checks for prying eyes before he pushes open the door to your office.

That’s when he sees it.

Your planner. Sitting pretty, waiting for someone to come along and peek inside. Well, today, that someone was Javier Peña. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a huge violation of your privacy, and if you found out, you’d surely have Crosby fire him. But as his feet carry him forward, he tells himself it’s harmless.

You work in an embassy, and you weren’t the type of person to have anything incriminating on your person whilst in a building filled with the top brass, not to mention various military and police officials, so there couldn’t be anything too intimate in there.

He picks it up, and as soon as his fingers touch the first page, he becomes frantic; possessed by the need to soak up as much of you as he can through these slightly worn pages, before he gets caught.

Javier studies your schedule like a classified file. He tells himself he’s searching for some dirt on you, something juicy that will become ammunition for his future torment. But that’s not the whole truth. At least, the fondness in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Mondays: no caffeine until 12 pm… Wednesdays: senator’s conference, dinner with Damon, laundry (whites) … Saturdays: allowance of 500ml wine …

The last one causes his eyebrows to raise, though the discipline it showed was certainly true to what he knew about your character.

However, as he’s about to investigate what you had planned for this Saturday night in particular, he hears the click of your heels getting closer, followed by your laughter. There you were, on your way back to the office, Crosby close behind as the two of you partake in light-hearted conversation. Huh, so that’s what you look like when you’re happy.

Luckily, for Javier, the ladies from your floor latch on to you, dragging you into their conversation and buying him some valuable time whilst you discuss last week’s department meeting.

It all happens so fast. He darts out of your office and makes a beeline to the elevator, his shoulders slacking only when he’s back in the sanctuary of his own workspace.

Pulling open his desk drawer on the right side, he shoves your planner inside and almost slams it shut; the closure somewhat symbolic of his hesitancy to confront what he’s just done.

Oops.

***

It was when he saw you working late one evening, on a Friday nonetheless, that Javier considered it might be time for him to return your planner. He hadn’t looked inside again, not since that day in your office when he’d come looking for you during lunch, but there was a reason he didn’t want to give it back just yet.

The planner tied him to you. It gave him a reason to not have to leave you alone. Of course, you weren’t aware that he had it; as far as he could tell, but for as long as he held it, he’d matter to you. This little piece of stationery gave him a place in your world. Just for now, but now was enough for Javier, at least until he could make sense of these incomprehensible feelings you were eliciting from him.

Feelings that were causing his stomach to churn, currently, as he observes the way your hair falls in your face, whilst your hand moves elegantly over the page. However, he notices that the usual swiftness of your writing is absent. It appears as though you’re tired; wrist flexing far too often, and the strokes of your pen somewhat sluggish at this time of night. And to top it all off, there was a cup of coffee beside you; the rim kissed by the pink of your lipstick, teasing him with phantom sensations of what your lips would taste like.

Javier got the sense that for you, drinking coffee after 7 pm was practically illegal, and yet the proof was right in front of him. It must’ve been a tough day if you were willing to disrupt your immaculate sleep schedule.

He steps inside, and you’re not even alarmed by him violating your privacy again. At this point, you’d come to expect his presence, despite how troublesome it always seemed to be for you.

“Sweetheart…”

Devoid of the energy needed to accost him for his choice of words, you settle for a scowl. But it’s a tired scowl, and he can tell you’re most likely not in the mood to bicker with him like you usually are.

You don’t lift your eyes when he sits down in front of you, but you should’ve done. Because if you did, you’d have seen the unmistakable furrow of concern on his face. You would have seen his empathy. Unadulterated, earnest and afflicted. It was the kind of expression one can only offer to another when they’ve experienced it themselves.

After all, Javier had plenty of experience in overworking himself to the point of physical and mental burnout. Unable to ever switch off, even, and rather than fall deeper into his vices, he considered it better to channel the ambivalence he often felt into more work; that way he’d feel like he was doing something good. Even if all he was doing was searching for minor leads; needles in a haystack that Uncle Sam didn’t have the funds to clean up.

Hoping to obtain more of your attention, he lets out a rough cough to stir you from your tired musings.

When that doesn’t work, he asks. “What are you still doing here?”

“It’s fine.” You tell him. “It’s not that unusual.”

“For you, it is. Trust me, I do this often and I never see you here. What is it?” He questions, gesturing to the forms you’re working on.

“Crosby needs all this done. He’s headed back to Oklahoma for the weekend to see his family, and well, there are four networking events next week, and it’s down to me to organise it all. Nothing I can’t handle, but he only dropped this on me when he called earlier, at 4.30 pm.”

Javier knows that by the way you punctuate the time, you’re not a happy bunny for having your schedule thrown into disarray. Like clockwork, you left the office at exactly 5 pm every day, so at 8.53 pm, you’ve had almost four hours off track.

“So what … you’re gonna sleep here for the weekend until it’s done?”

Exasperated, you say his name in a warning. “I’m not in the mood for your-”

“I’m not in the mood for you, right now.” You tell him, wanting it to come across with absolute finality. But there’s no certainty in your voice, and it pains Javier to see you like this.

He knows it’s not his fault - the cause of your stress - but the way you’re trying to exile him sends an anxious quiver through his veins. A part of him longed for you, and hearing that you wanted him to leave caused an uncomfortable urge to fight; to prove to you that he could fix it all for you.

He calls your name in a plea to get you to stop, just for a moment. Perhaps so he can talk you round? Fuck knows. He doesn’t know what to do, but he figures he’ll try to buy himself some more time.

You look up, and he can see the whites of your eyes are tinged red; strained. The way you look so unsure of yourself has him crippled. Never, had he ever anticipated seeing you like this, as you were always so driven, confident in the trajectory you were following for yourself.

He says your name again. And it’s a white flag; a temporary truce whilst he helps you through this stump.

“What?” You ask. You’re not annoyed, however, as there’s a trace of laughter in your voice; the kind of laughter that comes when something slips. It wasn’t exactly a facade, but you’d definitely loosened up now that you had gone past your “working hours”. To Javier, it seemed as though you’d given up on trying to impress others. Trying to please everyone, as you did constantly throughout each day at the embassy. And shit. Javier liked the way it looked on you.

Authenticity.

“You should head home, it’s late. Crosby would never get rid of you if you didn’t finish all this shit.” He says with a soft smile.

“Well…” You huff. “It’s easier said than done. Besides, you said it yourself. You’re always here late.”

Of course, he was the pot calling the kettle black, but this was you. And you didn’t deserve this.

He doesn’t have an answer to that. “Yeah, well …”

“What about this?” He says, picking up your stress ball from your desk. He holds up the squishy cat, before holding it out to you.

“Here. Give it a squeeze … Problem solved.” He jokes.

You take the toy from him before giving it a few good squeezes in your hand, and Javier can see some of the tension in your muscles evaporate at that.

And he’s almost floored when you smile sheepishly at him. Do it again, he begs in his head, wanting - no, needing - to see this purer side of you.

Standing from his chair, he coaxes you up too. “Come on … pack up your shit and you can let me give you a ride home.”

You shake your head almost instantly. “I’m good. I can call a friend.”

Javier sighs and perches on the corner of your desk. Leaning down closer, he tries again. “Well, Brenda left hours ago. You caught a lift in her with her, right? Come on, it will save you and your friend the hassle.”

He’s greeted by your vacant expression. Well, this is going great for him.

After a pause of deliberation, you try to get your words out. “But-” Is all you manage.

Sensing your concern at this new advancement in your working relationship, he tries to reassure you.

“What, huh? Your planner won’t let you?”

And as soon as Javier mentions the planner, he regrets it. Considering it was currently in his possession, and he had planned to return it to you tonight, he probably shouldn’t be putting the thought of it in your head. Thankfully, you’re too exhausted to pick up on it.

“Come on …” He groans. “Be a little spontaneous for a change. Who knows? You might like it.”

“I don’t wanna owe you any favours, Javier.”

“No favours …” He assures you. “I’ll even do you one. If you let me drive you home, I’ll leave you alone from now on.”

You pretend to believe him. “Right. It’s not like you haven’t told me that several times already. I’ll believe it when I see it, Agent.”

Fuck, why does the thought of that hurt him?

“This time I mean it.” He announces.

And in that moment, a pool of unease treads between the two of you.

You should be glad of his promise to leave you be. Perhaps, you are. But you love routines and consistency, so you can’t deny that the thought of such a change unsettles you deeply.

Feeling both anxious and safe with Javier in this moment, you accept his offer.

***

Riding in Javier Peña’s car was not where you thought you’d be on Friday night. And you’re sure he can tell by how strangely you’re acting.

You’ve got your knees locked together tightly, with your hands resting in your lap. Whilst you tense and flex your fingers repeatedly, Javier’s trying his best to keep his eyes on the road. But at the stop lights, he’s able to get a proper read on you, and once again, he’s bemused by what he sees.

It’s awkward. Or at least, you’re behaving awkwardly. There’s no sass, no feisty determination …

Just you, not knowing how to act around him now you’re alone together.

“Lighten up, would you?” He says. “You look like you’re riding in a funeral car.”

And that snaps you out of it. Slightly.

You swallow and unclasp your hands before you speak next. “Sorry, I’m not used to this.”

“What, you don’t take DEA agents home often?” He teases.

Javier predicts your eye roll before it comes. “What do you think?”

He looks away from you then, but you spot his grin in your peripheral vision.

It’s silent for a short while, until the man beside you can’t help but speak his mind.

“Look, I uh- I completely get it, you know. Not trusting people, not wanting to let them in. But it’s not all bad. Having someone to talk to, someone to have fun with, someone to touch. I meant it when I said it’s stress relief. And you deserve to have that.” He says with utter sincerity.

“With whoever you consider worthy, of course. If anyone can even make it that far, right?” He jokes.

And you can’t help but laugh at his teasing this time, but the awkwardness is still very much present in your body.

“Thanks …“ You mutter, voice trailing off in uncertainty.

Javier uses the lull to change the subject. “So how long have you been living at your place?”

“Around two years. Not all of us got upgraded to the premium apartments. We can’t all be heroes, you know.”

Your pitch rises at the end to convey your amusement, and Javier finds himself mirroring your soft smile.

“Don’t know about a hero, Princesa. But I’m El Jefe now … guess they needed to give me a swanky new apartment to distract from the fact I’m pretty fucking useless these days.”

Princesa.

That one was new. But for some reason, it was fitting.

And it doesn’t even bother you, right now. You know Javier Peña is a notorious womanizer. But just for a moment, you let yourself indulge in it. The moment that feels so much like a fantasy; you’re alone with him, in his car, and he’s calling you Princesa. It’s the funniest thing, how exhaustion has completely unravelled all your judgements.

“Wh- what do you mean? Crosby wouldn’t keep you around if you were useless, Javier.”

Fuck. The way you say his name like that, so hopeful, and without a trace of expectation. It makes him want to tell you everything; all of his fears, regrets and deepest insecurities.

Some were rooted so deeply they almost felt physiological, and perhaps, they’re what cause him to say. “Every lead’s always one step ahead of you, and by the time you manage to get somewhere, someone’s already dead. When it matters, the people in charge won’t do shit, not until the narcos embarrass them enough to knock them off their asses.”

Your heart flutters at his raw admission.

“Fuck, and when things are good. When people aren’t getting killed, it’s because the government’s in bed with the fucking bad guys, paying them off with Uncle Sam’s money. Meanwhile, the narcos are raking in more cash than ever before.”

“Javier…” You exhale.

Unsure of what to say, you try to reassure the troubled man beside you.

“It’s enough. What you’re doing is enough. That’s all you can do. The system isn’t changing anytime soon.” You tell him.

The question is on the tip of your tongue. “I’ve heard things, and well … there will always be people like Stechner, pulling the wrong strings. Why put yourself through all the pain, when it’s never going to change? What’s in it for you, Javier?”

Does he even know why?

“One less body. One less overdose. One less finca destroyed … I hope to God that somehow, the scales are tipping. Even if it’s only a little. I hope something good comes out of it all, once in a while.” He says.

Silence soon comes to feel like a friend. At this moment, neither you or Javier know what to say, but you don’t feel the need to fill the quiet just yet. After all, that would mean acknowledging the prominent development in your relationship, and you were both too afraid to call it what it was. Afraid that acknowledgment would cause everything to dissipate all at once.

“Thanks for lending me your ear … uh, I guess it’s a good thing I said I’d leave you alone. Means you won’t have to hear me whine like that again.” Javier tells you, his apprehension somewhat obvious to an outsider. But not to you.

“Yeah … it’s a good thing, huh.”

Nothing else is said for the remainder of the journey. The day had ground the two of you down, and you had collectively reached your limit.

As you enter your apartment, you can’t help but replay the drive over in your head. Dropping your heels on the way to the living room, you curl up on the couch, processing. Would Javier really leave you alone?

Yet the most pressing question remained unanswered. Is that what you wanted?

***

When Javier vowed to leave you alone, you expected it would bring relief.

However, you haven’t seen the man for five days now, and you can’t shake the sense that something is missing.

His daily annoyances had become a part of your routine, and without them, your office felt a little too quiet. Ghastly, almost. It was devoid of the warmth his mirth would bring, as he’d saunter in bargaining for favours with that artful charm of his.

Files he needed you to fast-track. Stationery he’d tamper with on your desk. His legs crossed in your chair. Even the curls of his cigarette smoke filling your office. All these things were simply no more.

To the best of your understanding, you’d always thought you hated him. He was everything you were not. Scared of commitment, brazen and sometimes rogue, Javier was a lone wolf.

Whereas you were reserved, organised, rigid in your ways and a pathological people pleaser. A goody two shoes, to be frank.

He was everything you thought you hated, but perhaps, he reflected everything you were scared to be.

For the longest time, you believed you needed someone just like you. A mirror, to be exact. Someone who validated your existence, because they lived in the same skin as you.

And now, you’re not so sure anymore.

Having somehow misplaced your planner, time had seemed quite blurry, lately. You made a mental note to buy another when you head into town at the weekend, yet part of you wondered what it would be like to be without it. After all, you’d survived the last week. Would it be a disaster? Or would it be freeing?

There was a deep yearning within you to break the monotony and try something new. You longed for the taste of spontaneity and recklessness that Javier had fed you; bit by bit until you’d become addicted to the thought of it.

You weren’t naive. This didn’t mean you wanted to run away with him, ask to go steady, and pray he’ll change his biology. Pray he’ll commit to you, and you only.

No. The thought of that made you feel sick, even. You’d never want to be the sacrificial lamb who tries to change the wolf, all because she thought there was a chance he could love her, in a different life.

Rather, you longed to give up control to him. You longed to have him knock you down a peg, make you question everything you ever knew about yourself. You longed to see the version of you that complimented him; all rough edges and dark clouds.

But a leopard can’t change its spots - not overnight, anyway - and you didn’t possess the courage needed to make a move. So, ultimately, you got back to work, allowing these new desires to fade into the background.

Perhaps, in the need to catch another kingpin, desperation alone would bring him to your desk, and he’d sweet talk you round to get things moving faster. And you’d flirt back with him, or at least try to, and he’d be surprised; eyes wide and smirk strong.

Such a thought sent a shudder through your body. Perhaps.

***

Javier Peña couldn’t remember the last time he went over to a woman’s place, without the intention of sleeping with them.

But here he is, standing outside your door.

He hasn’t seen you in a while, having stood by his word to leave you alone. And although he tells himself he’s just here to return your planner, at last, that doesn’t explain why he decided 9.27 pm would be the best time to come over.

It also doesn’t explain why he wore that same leather jacket from the night at the bar, when he’d ruined your chances with another guy. Or why he made sure to lock all the car doors and windows, as though he expected to stay awhile.

He knows his chances are slim. But Javier wants to test the odds.

His knock startles you, and you scramble to fix your appearance, not having expected any visitors this late in the evening.

When you open the door, you’re met with the last person you expected to find there. He’s uncertain, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous. But Javier Peña doesn’t do shy. Reckless and haphazard, perhaps, but not shy. Not like this.

Why is he here? Did Crosby die, or something? You couldn’t imagine why else he’d be here right now.

“W-What happened? Is he alright?” You ask, stuttering in your panic.

He holds his hand out to steady you, firm fingers clasped firmly around your delicate wrist. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry. I just came to return this. I uh- found it in the break room, beneath a pile of magazines.”

He holds up your planner. But he doesn’t hold it out to you, too scared of you kicking him to the curb once you’ve got it. Before he even has a chance to figure out why he’s here.

“Oh my God! Really? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.” You say, shaking your head in disbelief, still coming down from your earlier panic.

“Yeah.”

He looks up to the ceiling, not quite sure how to handle the fact you’re quite underdressed; the top buttons of your blouse are undone, revealing the way your breasts are barely contained by the thin satin adorning them. And underneath your skirt, your legs are bare too, a sight that had haunted Javier’s dirty dreams since he first saw them that night with your friends.

When you’d opened the door, your sweet little gasp of surprise caused his cock to stir in his jeans, and now he’d set his sights on your body, he wanted to hear it again, as he held your thigh against his chest whilst he fucked you deep into the bed.

Shit. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you; feel what it’s like to hold your attention completely for a while. Feel you clamping down on him as you said fuck expectations and succumbed to the chaos of carnal pleasure. Pleasure that he was desperate to give you.

You weren’t a conquest. Not at all. It was just that Javier knew how much you were holding back and holding out on yourself, and he wanted to be the one to show you what it could be like to let loose. To let go and be a little kinder to yourself.

Leaning in closer, he coerces your eyes to meet his, and the intensity of his stare has slick pooling between your thighs. He didn’t even need to touch you. You’d give him anything he asked for.

“So, uh … what’s on the agenda for tonight, then?” He asks, testing the waters.

“Nothing.”

Your eyes peer up at him. Your want, need and craving staring back at him. It has to be now, he thinks.

“Fuck!” He curses, before his body’s moving yours, walking you back into your apartment with his hands on your hips.

“Javier! W-what?” You ask, but you don’t get the chance to reply when his lips on yours successfully quiets you.

“Javier! We should … We should- shouldn’t be-”

“Shouldn’t be doing what, huh?” He counters, his tone laced with amusement.

You don’t have an answer for him, instead your hand grips the back of his neck to pull his mouth back to yours, and in return, you feel him smile through his kisses.

When you reach your bedroom, you situate yourself on the bed whilst pawing at Javier desperately. His belt. His hair. The leather covering his broad shoulders. Your hands reach for whatever they can get.

“Sweetheart.” He exhales, his voice trying its best to hide his impatience.

His eyes unable to get enough of you like this, you watch as they roam up along your bare legs, taking in the rare sight of you sans stockings as you lay back on the bed, your supple skin the perfect contrast to the crisp white sheets beneath you.

His gaze having soaked up enough of your body to drive himself crazy, he eventually moves it upwards to admire your face; the innocence mixed with pent-up frustration divulging how much you need to be touched. How much you need someone to unravel you from head to toe.

“I need-” You begin. “I need it, Javier.” It being every unspoken desire you harbour for this man. Everything you want him to do to you, but you’re too scared to admit.

“I need more than that. Words, baby. What do you need?”

“I-I need you to show me. Show me what it’s like to let loose … like you said.” Your voice trembles slightly, not used to acting on your wants.

That’s all Javier needs to hear to give him the green light. Then, he’s back on you, mouth latching to any inch of skin he can reach. Trailing kisses down the v of your cleavage, stopping only when your blouse cuts off his access to the heaven below, he moves off the bed to stand beside it.

“Take your clothes off. I need to see you.” He tells you.

“Are you seriously asking me to strip for you?” Your voice is hesitant, worried you’re not going to match up to his other girls if that’s the level of sexy he expected from you. “Is this what it’s always like?” You ask. “With the others?”

“No, fuck I- … I’ll mess up the buttons on your pretty shirt if I try. Maybe you should-”

You cut him off. “Yeah, that’s good.”

He watches you unfasten each button, one by one, and you’re taking too long for his liking. It’s not deliberate on your part, it’s just that you’re wearing satin and the garment had to be handled delicately. By the time he’s removed his leather jacket and his shirt, you haven’t even made it past your tits.

It’s not enough. There are still too many parts of you concealed from him, and Javier decides that messing up the buttons wouldn’t be that bad after all, as he replaces your nimble fingers with his own rough hands, opening your shirt with a few harsh tugs before wrangling it over your head.

When he’s gotten it off, he tosses the somewhat wrecked garment aside before hiking your skirt up to pool around your tummy, and his rough touch has you moaning loudly.

“Javier…” You whine.

“Javi, baby. You call me Javier when I’m getting on your nerves at work.” He gives you a cheeky smile, relaxing you. “This is different.”

You try it out, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue. “J-Javi …” You moan, deciding it tastes good in your mouth.

“There you go, baby.” He praises, his face lighting up at your submission, but also at the fact you seem to be enjoying yourself, as that’s all he wants out of this; for you to feel good.

He kisses and nips at the soft skin of your belly whilst he tugs your panties down your legs. They stick to your pussy, at first, due to how much slick has gathered within them, but you lift your hips eagerly to help him, and Javier’s taken aback by just how vocal you’re proving to be. How pretty the sounds you’re making are.

However, he doesn’t know that you’ve already written this off as being a one-time thing. You figured that If you were only going to be able to have him once, you might as well go all in and enjoy yourself. Right?

Having stripped you of your panties, he quickly pockets them in his jeans, but not quick enough for it to escape your notice.

“What are you going to do with those?”

Your expression is guarded, concern causing you to shift back up the bed slightly. Javier’s stomach drops as he sees you slip away from him slightly, and he’s consumed by the need to reassure you.

“Nothing you don’t want me to do.” He says, hand gently working your calf to relax you. “Do you trust me?”

You probably shouldn’t, but you do. “Yes.”

“Good.” He taps his pocket with your underwear inside. “A precaution. You’ll have to speak to me again after this. If you want these back, of course.”

It’s the way that even his filth is somehow laced with sweetness that comforts you, and you settle closer to him on the bed, allowing his hands access to your body again. His experience now blatantly obvious to you, Javier swiftly slips your bra off, mouth instantly latching on to your nipple as he teases it with his tongue.

“Javiiii … “ You whine, writhing under his touch. Hand caught in his soft curls, your fingers press his head closer to you, which is frankly impossible, but still, you try; unable to get enough of him.

“What, baby? What is it, huh?”

Arching your back as his tongue swipes at a particularly sensitive spot, you mewl. “Touch me, please.”

He lifts his mouth from your tit with a wet pop. “What do you mean?” He asks with a smirk. “Looks like I’m already doing that, no?”

Javier’s greeted with a cute, yet frustrated grumble from you. “Touch me there.”

“Where?” He knows you won’t explicitly tell him where, but he continues to tease it out of you.

“You want me to touch your pretty cunt?”

“Oh my God …” You cry out. “You’re so dirty.”

Taking your words as praise, he finds himself needing to prove to you how dirty he can be.

He flips you onto your belly, and as you go to raise yourself up on your forearms, he beats you to it, pulling your ass up and causing your back to arch. Shoving your skirt out of the way, he leans over you for a moment, tangling his hand in your hair as he massages your scalp, subtly pushing your head further into the pillows. It’s a signal. It says relax, I’ve got you. But it also says don’t move, this is exactly how I want you.

You lose it when his mouth latches onto your pussy, tongue licking thick stripes through your folds as you open up for him.

“Fuuuck!” His lips suckle and kiss your hole in a wet frenzy, as you squeal before quietly cursing yourself for being so noisy.

Javier watches you plant your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your sounds of pleasure. He reaches a big hand back into your hair to turn your head sideways, as he urges you. “Don’t hide from me, baby. This sweet little pussy deserves to feel good.”

His words are made even filthier by the sounds of him mouthing kisses on your cunt. You moan for him, louder this time. “It tastes so good, too, just like honey. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” You beg.

Javier stops. He lifts his mouth from your centre, only to spit on it. A mixture of your slick and his spit runs down, past your hole and onto the sheets below you; the lewd sound of his fingers toying with your combined juices has your shoulders digging further into the bed. He’s driving you wild.

His fingers nudging at your entrance, you call out to him. “Javi … m-maybe we should slow down, we’re getting the bed all wet.” Your hands fist the sheets, hoping to draw his attention to the soaked fabric as your eyes plead with him.

Pausing the exploration of his fingers, Javier moves his head to the side to check your expression. You look embarrassed. Ashamed of feeling this good, and he can’t have that. He’s not used to women who are so stubborn in receiving pleasure.

But then again, you weren’t most women, and that’s what drew him to you in the first place.

“Sweetheart, you say the word and we’ll stop.” He reassures you, and you shoot him a grateful, yet timid smile in return.

“But you shouldn’t ever feel embarrassed about this.” His thumb finds a pearl of wetness pooling at your entrance and he drags it up, smearing it everywhere, and you feel it too, as the cool air hits the slick now covering your ass cheeks.

“This, is so fucking sexy, princesa. And it’s going to get messier, still, when you come on my mouth.”

Princess, he calls you again. And the way your pussy clamps down on nothing tells him you like this pet name, after all.

“Ah!”

“You good?” He asks, his concern genuine.

“G-Good.” You squeak in reply, before stretching out on the bed again.

And with your affirmation, he ducks his head down to bury his face in your pussy, again. But this time, he’s increased his force; his tongue darting inside your hole whilst one hand grips your thigh tightly. The other finds its way back into your hair, caressing your scalp and gently tugging to coax you further out of your shell.

“J-Javi!” You moan his name again, liking the way the sound of it moves through your body. Like it was yours to keep, for just one night.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” He goads, mouth never leaving the paradise between your legs as his nose nudges your swollen clit. You feel every syllable vibrate through you. “You like getting your cunt eaten?”

“Javi, please.” You whine, volume no longer a concern of yours.

He knows you’re close, can feel you throb against his tongue, and your thigh shakes underneath his hand. He moves both hands to spread your cheeks, allowing him to dive even deeper and tongue-fuck you even harder.

“That’s it princesa. Sweet girl. I’ve got you. Give it all to me.” He coos, lapping at your clit to draw out your orgasm.

You come in a symphony of whines, mewls and cries. Your pussy soaking his face, as well as the sheets, just as he promised you.

And Javier works you through it, drinking up your nectar and prolonging your orgasm until your body falls flat on the bed in exhaustion. He figures it had been a while for you, so it was no surprise that you looked as though he’d just fucked you to sleep.

Now pliant in his arms, he moves his hand back to your head, petting you as you come down. “That’s it, baby. So fucking good for me. You did so well, huh?”

“Javi … “ You groan, voice hoarse from all the noise you made. His grip on your hair is firm enough that you feel yourself leaking again, already, and you reach behind yourself to feel him.

“Shhhh, baby. I’m right here. What do you want?”

Everything you have.

Such a thought scares you, and so you turn onto your back to tell him. “It’s fine, I-I’m all good now … you should-.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what you want.” So stubborn, he thinks. Can’t you see he needs you just as bad?

The sound that comes out of your mouth is just above a whisper. “You, Javi. I want you.”

You sound so sweet, beckoning him to you like that, and he pushes your legs apart before pushing a finger into your sopping heat, soon adding another when you purr for him.

“Well, you’ve got me, alright. You didn’t even need to ask nicely.” He smirks at you, and you would’ve rolled your eyes had he not been taking you apart with his fingers so good.

Reaching for his belt, you coo to him. “I want to touch you, s’not fair …”

And, well, Javier would be a fool to deny you. He makes quick work of his belt and zipper before pulling his jeans off, and then he’s kneeling on the bed. Right in front of you, where you can see him; throbbing, the tip flushed red, aching for the touch of a woman.

He gives himself a few firm tugs, before groaning out as his strokes get faster. His gaze locks on you. Your eyes blown wide, lips parted and tongue peeking out in thirst, as you arch your hips up towards him.

“Fuck.” He leans forward to capture your lips, but your hand on his chest stops him halfway.

You look up at him in expectation, your eyes unsure of what it is you’re asking for.

“What is it? Are you okay?” He asks in earnest.

“I … I want to see you … touch it.” You say, voice as soft as a kitten.

And Javier groans. He settles his legs on either side of you as his hand returns to his cock. You can see that he’s teasing himself, playing with the tip and smearing his precum down the underside. Is that for your benefit? It’s somehow become more than a little friendly stress relief between colleagues; he’s showing off for you.

“Baby!” You whine, hands grabbing at his forearms to stop him.

Well that was unexpected. But he liked it. Liked the way you were getting into it enough to call him baby. Releasing his cock from his grip, he looks at you. You reach for his soft brown curls again, pulling him down to your lips.

Between kisses, he taunts. “Thought you wanted to watch, princesa. Huh?”

“I’ve seen enough. I need you to … “

“Need me to what?” His expression plays at being serious, but his tone tells you he’s teasing.

He knows you don’t want to say it, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“I need you to … “ You begin, but you can’t say it. “I need you …” You beg, instead, wrapping a leg around his lower back in an attempt to get his cock inside of you.

Javier chuckles at this. He should’ve known you wouldn’t be willing to admit what you’re about to do. With a wrecked sigh, he grabs your thighs and pulls your sweet cunt onto his cock.

The sounds you both let out excite each other further, and as Javier opens you up on his hardness, you mewl at the stretch. It stings perfectly, reminding you, once again, that your experience is no match for his. You squirm on the bed desperately as he gives you more of himself.

“So tight.” He grits. “Doing so good, princesa. Taking me so well. Look at that … “ He marvels, looking down to where your pussy is stretched out around him. He pulls out slightly to show you how your juices have soaked him. “Already, huh?”

You let out a high pitch, girlish sound at the depraved sight. There couldn’t be any doubt. That was you. Your body taking his, and it fills you with a peculiar sense of pride.

He pulls out again, teasing your clit with the tip; tapping it against your nub until he’s satisfied that you’ll have to throw these sheets out with how wet you’ve gotten them. It catches on the rim of your hole a few times as he pushes it back inside, eventually getting tired of his own teasing and pushing in all the way.

“Fuck, yesss.” You praise, your hand fumbling to hold his. Javier gives you one of his hands and you intertwine it with your own, resting it atop your hip. His other hand, however, holds your leg, spreading it wide as he fucks into you deeply.

He’s on his knees, his back straight as he drives forward, and your hips are raised, almost as if you’re perched on his legs. Javier fucks you until you’re both spent, and as you both near your peaks, he crawls up to lean over you; mouth pressed to your ear, tongue licking at your skin whilst he fills your ear with pure filth.

His change of position has you practically bent in half, your hips lifting off the bed as he pounds you down into the mattress.

“Princesa …” He rasps. “Need you to come on my cock … show me how much you like it.”

“J-Javi … “ Your hands tug at his hair roughly, cunt clenching down on his thickness.

His thumb rubs your clit faster now, as you get louder. “How much you like the way I fuck this sweet little pussy like it’s mine. Always so uptight, huh? Turns out you just needed to get fucked like one of my girls-”

You cry out as your orgasm hits you, and as you come all over him, Javier talks you through it. His thrusts now slower, but deeper.

Again, you roll your head to the side, hoping to drown your cries in the pillow, but Javier quickly sets it back in place, needing to hear it all come out.

“That’s it. There’s my feisty princesa … let it all out.” He coos.

And he wants to sneak a glance at where you’re soaking him, but he’s taken by the innocent look in your eyes as you let go for him.

Forehead now pressed against yours, he kisses your face whilst soothing you with his soft gaze. And the way you’re looking back at him reassures Javier that his last comment didn’t offend you.

Who knew you secretly liked his filthiness?

Satisfied you’re finished cumming, he pulls out and begins jerking himself over you.

“Javi, baby.” You coo. “I want to see you. Want to feel you on my skin.”

It’s the gentleness within your voice that sends him over the edge and Javier comes in spurts, painting the skin above your mound with his seed. Some of it spills onto your pussy, too, and he feels another wave rush over him as he watches his cum coat your puffy hole.

“Fuck.” He curses, nose nuzzling your throat before he collapses beside you.

“Yeah … “

He places a quick kiss on your lips. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You nod, trying to curb your enthusiasm by biting your lip. But Javier can see through it, considering he’s an agent.

Or was it because he’d gotten better at reading you?

“Thanks.” You offer awkwardly.

“Jesus Christ … “ A large hand palms his face. “Please tell me you didn’t just thank me. I’m not an escort, no matter what you might think.”

That has you giggling, quietly.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Javier.”

Javier.

So you were back to that, huh? Javier feels himself tense at the change of address.

Deciding to give himself a moment, he tells you. “I’ll be right back.” Before getting up and heading into the bathroom.

He returns a moment later with something to clean you up. As he softly swipes the cloth over your sensitive folds, he searches for something in your expression. Something he can’t seem to define.

Leave it alone, he reminds himself as he settles back on the bed, next to you. You feel his chest press against your side as he hovers over you, hand caressing your hip, whilst his eyes avoid yours.

“Well, um … I guess that’s it. Wow … “ You say, dazed, as though you’d never truly experienced pleasure before.

Without asking you, of course, he lights a cigarette. “Well, you know where to find me … “ He says, voice trailing off in implication.

“That won’t be necessary.” You chuckle.

“I should probably get back to searching for a husband.”

“You know, I’ve got a five-year plan waiting on me.” You breathe, and Javier notices that you almost look unsure. “What about Van Ness? He’s one of your agents, right?”

“What about him?” He replies.

“I see him around the office … he’s cute. Is he single?”

“Princesa … “ He groans, and you cut him off.

“I thought we were done with that whole thing now.” Your eyes dart around the room, suddenly shy.

He hums in thought. “Never had a woman talk about another man whilst she’s in bed with me.” Tutting, he pretends to appear offended.

Yes. Pretends.

You give him another girlish giggle, and it warms his blood again.

“Well … Is he single?” You repeat, eyes alight with hope.

Huffing out, he reaches over to the ashtray on the nightstand. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“You haven’t thought it all through though. Not properly.” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, where do you want to live when you’re married? Colombia?”

You shake your head.

“Van Ness is DEA. We’re the kind of guys that find it hard to settle down in one place. I can’t see him leaving Colombia just yet, not whilst the action’s still here … “

He’s got a point, though you hate to admit it.

“Whatever.” You groan. “No DEA guys then.”

“Except me.” He interjects, smirking at you.

“Including you!”

Stubbing out his cigarette, Javier moves his body over yours, looking down at you with a gaze so intensely affectionate, it renders you speechless.

But then his signature, winning smile returns. “What I’m hearing … princesa. Is that your search is futile, right now. As long as you’re in Colombia, anyway.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, and you can’t help but open up for him. It seems as though he’s unlocked a new weapon to torment you with; his touch. As, currently, you’re unable to resist even the slightest sensation: a featherlight graze of his fingertips on your body.

“The way I see it. You might as well enjoy yourself some more. Marriage is always going to be there.”

He winks at you, and you want to throttle him. Like that day in your office, when he’d interrupted your call.

But you end up doing something else.

You close your lips around his thumb, sucking him further into your warmth, whilst simultaneously staring daggers into him.

Always so stubborn, Javier’s reminded.

“There’s my feisty girl, huh?”

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed it. <3

Taglist for this fic: @gracieispunk @queerponcho @darkerskylines @soaringcloud @kirsteng42

Shoutout to the bestie, @gracieispunk for helping me out with this and for taking my initial ideas to the next level with your genius. Eternally grateful for your support! <3

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