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absurdthirst · 5 months

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Stripped Down Love {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.8k

Warnings: Age gap (everyone's legal), strip clubs, mentions of knowing someone when they were underage, lap dances, sex work, mentions of prostitution, derogatory language towards strippers, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, violence, accidental pregnancy

Comments: Javier comes back to Laredo and finds you, the adopted little sister of his ex-fiancée, working in the new strip club in town. Unable to stay away from you, Javi finds himself coming back to see you.

A/N: This story does contain mentions of age gaps and knowing Javier when you were a younger teenager. If this bothers you, please bypass.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Javi rubs his cheek, tired of sitting in his pop’s house. Watching the old man snore as the news plays on the TV. Clinton gave some speech on the drug war and Javi wants to roll his eyes but he simply sighs and checks his watch. That’s it. He can’t sit here anymore. He has to go out. Laredo only has so many bars and Javi is well known in almost all of them. There’s one place he hasn’t ventured yet. It opened during the time he was in Colombia tracking down Cali and now, he’s intrigued. The flashing sign draws him in and after flashing his ID and paying the door fee, he walks inside and takes a seat. His dark eyes follow the girls who walk around in various stages of nudity. “Can I get you a drink, sugar?” One of them asks him and he nods, ordering a whiskey.

“And now it’s time for our next dancer. Please welcome Margarita!” The announcement is loud and several men cheer, making Javi think this girl must be good if the regulars like her. He sips his whiskey as the music begins, eager to let loose and enjoy himself for a while.

The sudden flash of nerves that always attacks when you are announced floods your system but you smother them as the spotlight suddenly turns on, drawing the crowd's attention to where you are poised at the edge of the stage. The music you’ve picked out for this dance immediately starts blasting through the speakers and you focus on the beat as you rush towards the pole in the middle of the stage and jump on it, swinging around as you start your act. You try not to focus on the crowd, not even looking at them right now as you start to move to the beat and perform for them.

Javi’s fingers twitch around the glass. Shit, the girl is gorgeous. No wonder everyone in here cheered. She’s swinging around the pole like it’s second nature and her body arches in a way that reminds him of when he makes a woman cum on his tongue. He licks his lips, imagining just that.

She sways her hips and when she kneels on stage, that’s when Javi gets a good look at her. “Holy shit.” He whispers. He knows you. Lorraine’s kid sister. Well, adopted sister. Her parents kept trying for another kid but couldn’t, put their name on the adoption list and finally adopted you when Lorraine was in college, just before she met Javi.

“Fuck.” He suddenly feels guilty, stomach churning as he continues to stare at you. You’re all grown up now. A fucking gorgeous woman. Men throw money on the stage when you finish your act but Javi continues to stare and that’s when you meet his gaze.

Your eyes widen as you recognize the man you had a crush on when you were a teenager. Older, more rugged, and just as fucking sexy. You fumble to get the dollar bills, shoving them in your bra and you wink at Javi as you stand up and make your way backstage. “Holy shit.” You hiss to yourself, unable to believe he’s here. In the fucking strip club you work at. You have to talk to him. It’s been years and he might not even recognize you but you hope he still likes whiskey as you order one from the bar and carry it over to him. “Long time no see.” You say as you shift to stand in front of him, wearing lingerie that shows way too much skin.

Javi looks up into your eyes, trying to keep them focused on your face and not on the fantastic tits beneath your barely there scraps of lace. “It’s been, what? Twelve years?” He asks, finishing the rest of his whiskey and setting it down on the small table. “Looks like things have changed.” He doesn’t mean it in any negative way, everyone has to make a living and he won’t begrudge you that but he didn’t expect to see you here. He wonders what your sister and parents think of your profession, although he can’t expect it to be good. “How have you been?”

You shrug, shifting to sit down beside him, “I’ve had better times. Worse times too.” You admit with a sigh. “This is for you.” You hand him the whiskey and his eyebrows raise.

“Thanks.” He lifts the glass towards you, “can I get you one?”

You shake your head, “I don’t drink during my shifts. Um, where to begin? I- I started working here to pay for my school. I'm trying to finish college.”

Javier frowns, “didn’t you-?”

You shake your head, “well, I was heading to college after high school but life went to shit. You went to Colombia and Lorraine lost her mind. Went into a spiral and our parents had to pay some big bucks to get her out of trouble and between that and the wedding that didn’t happen…I had to say bye bye to my college fund.” You wave at nothing, “and then I was mad because my future went down the drain because Lorraine pissed it away so I acted out. Got in with the wrong crowd, started treating Carol and George badly and George had enough. He threw me out. No money. Nada. I had to start from scratch at eighteen and so…I ended up here. Trying to get my life back on track after too many years of messing around.” You finish your story and look at Javier, “I heard you were back in town. Didn’t figure you’d end up here.”

“Shit.” Guilt settles in Javi’s gut and swirls around. If he hadn’t run away from the wedding, your life could have been far different. He doesn’t miss that you’ve called your adoptive parents by their names, assuming that you’ve not reconciled. “Yeah,” Javi takes a swallow of his fresh drink and looks back over at you. “Didn’t remember this being here the last time I was home.” He admits, looking around the club.

“It opened about three years ago.” You tell him and Javi nods. They must have been building it when he was here for the week before he went to D.C. to be assigned to catching Cali.

“Do you make good money here?” He asks, pulling out the stack of bills he had brought and peels a hundred dollar bill off to hand to you. It’s probably the least he could do, but it was a start.

You shake your head, pushing his money away. “I don’t want your money. I- I make good money here. Enough for a studio apartment and for me to pay for school. It’s not - George went mad when he found out I was here. Said I was ‘his adopted whore daughter’” You snort, “I always thought I was a good girl. Even now…I don’t - it’s just dancing and I-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence when the club manager comes over. “Are you gonna sit there and chit chat all night, Margarita? Or are you actually gonna make me some money?”

You want to roll your eyes at your boss, “sorry Javi. I gotta get back to work.”

You stand up and your boss notices the way Javi’s eyes follow you, “unless you want a private dance with her?” Your boss suggests, raising his eyebrows at Javier.

Javi doesn’t like the way your boss talks to you, it’s not necessary and he’s had plenty of experience with women in the sex trade. “Yeah.” He nods, rocking his jaw slightly. “A private dance.” He agrees, knowing that it will shut your boss up and allow him to talk to you some more. “How do I get one of those?” He asks you, raising his brows questioningly.

You’re shocked he agrees to a private dance and your boss tells him how much it is, taking the money up front. You bite your lip as Javi peels off some bills from the roll and your boss jerks his chin at you, “go on then.”

You take Javier’s hand, amazing at how big it is and how thick his fingers are. Entering a private room, you turn to the hifi. “You still like Led Zeppelin?” You ask, knowing Javier loved the 70s. Refused to get into hair spray rock during the 80s and said it was shit compared to the greats. “A Whole Lotta Love” starts to play and you walk over to Javier.

“You don’t have to -”

Javier holds his hands up and you shake your head, “they have cameras. If I don’t dance, I don’t get paid. I’ll go easy on you, Peña.” You promise, “tell me about Colombia. What have you been up to?” You ask, straddling his lap.

Javi exhales roughly as your thighs settle over his and it’s almost instinctive to grab them. This is you, the same fucking kid he had met when he was dating Lorraine. It’s wrong to think of you like a woman he wants to fuck. He had known you when you were sixteen and he was already a man. “It was ….rough.” He admits after a moment, swallowing slightly and trying not to fucking let his dick get hard. He loves beautiful women and you are fucking gorgeous all grown up. “Fucking politicians fucking everything up. Too many losses, too much fucking death.” He sighs and shakes his head. “You don’t want to hear about that shit.”

You want to make this worth the money. You want him to see you as a woman and not the mousy little teenager who had a massive crush on her sister’s boyfriend. It was wrong, so wrong, but you thought he was gorgeous and all man. When Lorraine faked the pregnancy and he ditched her at the altar, you hated that you were a little happy about it. You want him to see you as you are now so you grab his knees, arching your back to rock your hips to the music, grinding against him. “I do. Tell me. I know it was rough. I heard…rumors. I heard about you getting sent home before they caught Escobar.” You know it must’ve been a rough time for him, especially that moment. You grab onto his shoulders, shifting higher so your tits are in his face and you grab his hands, putting them on your hips. “It’s normal to touch.” You tell him, knowing your boss will be watching.

“Shit, they shouldn’t be touching you, sweetheart.” Javi hisses, shaking his head at the thought of every man out there putting his filthy hands on you. Not because you were some pure angel, but because you were getting paid to entertain them, not fuck them. They shouldn’t just get to touch your body unless you want them to. He bites his lip, feeling himself start to harden and hating how disgusting that makes him. “Yeah.” He grunts out. “Fucked around with the wrong people, got burned.”

His fingers dig into your waist and your stomach twists. You decide to put your all into this, shifting off of his lap to spin around, bending over so he has an eyeful of your ass before you grab his knees and drop down between his legs, noticing the bulge in his tight jeans. You hate the thrill that runs through you, knowing it’s because you’re dancing and shaking your ass for him. You shift back onto his lap, back pressed against his chest and you grind back onto him. “Shit happens. It’s all par for the course. You did it though. You played your part, they got the bastard. And you got Cali from what I hear.”

“You kept up with my career?” Javi asks with a small smirk. You had probably learned it from the town gossip, Lorraine’s momma and daddy not able to completely smear his name through the mud despite their best efforts. Especially after he had become a ‘hero’, which he absolutely was not. “I got Cali, at the expense of my career. That’s why I’m here. Tired of the bullshit and just wanting a life where no one fucking shoots at me or I’m not chasing drug dealers across rooftops.”

You turn around, straddling him again and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, letting him smell your perfume. You always did that so the assholes would get caught out by their wives but you want Javi to remember how you smelt, how you felt on top of him. “So you came back to boring ol’ Laredo. Apart from your papa, what else is here?” You chuckle, rocking your hips to the beat of the song.

“Family.” Javi chokes slightly, digging his fingers into your hips harshly when you press your hot cunt against his cock. All you are wearing are those tiny fucking panties and he’s imagining you sitting on his dick right now while you moan his name. “Tías y tíos. My cousins.” He closes his eyes for a moment before he looks at you. “Why didn’t you leave? Start over somewhere else?”

You shake your head, biting your lip to smother your smirk that he’s affected by you. It’s clear in his dark gaze. “Couldn’t afford it. I have a piece of shit car and I think it would barely make it a hundred miles out of town. Was easier to stay.” You don’t mention that you always wondered if you’d reconcile with your adopted parents one day. That day hasn’t come yet, you doubt it ever will. “My ex…didn’t want to leave either until I started working here and he couldn’t handle it. Things didn’t end well so he, uh, he left.” You don’t mention the way he’d get jealous of you working at the club.

“Fucker.” Javi rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Let me guess, he got mad and accused you of fucking every guy who came in the place?” He’s seen a lot of men talk a big game and be unable to handle their woman using their body how they pleased. While Javi wouldn’t want his partner to sleep with anyone else, ironically enough, he had no problem with them dancing.

“Got it in one.” You chuckle softly, the song coming to an end. “The fact that his fist also used to get mad…well, I, uh, I learned real fast how to fight back and when I did, he decided to leave.” You admit, coming to a stop when the song ends, unable to meet his eyes. You know you sound like a lost cause, working in a strip club, an orphan who was beaten up by her ex and has no money. You’re like the poster child for a charity commercial.

“Pendejo.” Javi spits, hating the vulnerability on your face. He reaches into his pocket and hands you more money. “Doesn’t matter if you were fucking every guy here, you don’t deserve that.” He murmurs softly. “Some of the best women I knew in Colombia were hookers. Brave as shit, fierce. Nothing to be looked down on.”

You shift off of his lap, the money in hand. “This is too much.” You shake your head and Javi closes your hand around it.

“Take it. Please.” He urges and you nod, unable to deny him. You heard the rumors of him sleeping around in Colombia too, the rumor mill still running during his absence, and you didn’t judge him, knowing it must’ve been lonely fighting a never ending war.

“Thank you.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, shoving the money in your bra. “Do you want another drink?” You ask but he shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I have an early morning fixing the fence with my pa. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.” He stands up and tries to discreetly adjust himself but you see it.

“Sure thing Peña. See you around.” You guide him back into the main dance area and feel your boss’s eyes on you.

“Be good.” Javi urges and you wink at him, “always am.” He walks out, glancing back at you before he exits and you sigh, hoping he comes back or you see him around town.

****

The week passed with Javi constantly thinking about you. The few times he had gone into town, he had looked around for you, wanting to see you again. He wonders where you live, what your schedule is like outside of your working hours. Now that the weekend is here, he showers and changes into some clean clothes to head into town. “I’m gone, pop.” He sticks his head in the living room to find his dad kicked back in his old Lazy Boy with the soccer game turned on, the announcers yelling through the speakers.

Chucho lifts up the Budweiser in his hands. “Have fun, mijo.” He grunts out. “If you can’t get out of jail, call me.”

Javi rolls his eyes, snorting at the same speech his pop has given him since he started going out as a teenager. It was doubtful he would need to call his dad, professional courtesy and all between federal agencies and local law enforcement and the locals looked at Javi like he was untouchable despite handing in his badge. “Sure thing pop.” He knows his dad will be asleep in his chair until at least midnight before he finally goes back to his room.

The club is busy tonight, always is on the weekend, and you prepare for your next dance. You’ve been scanning the room for Javier ever since that night and it feels like he’s never going to come back. “Welcome to the stage, Margarita!” The crowd cheers and you adjust your bra before you make your way up on the stage, the song blaring as you shift to spin around the pole, starting your routine, and that’s when you see him. A couple of rows back, whiskey in hand, and his look electrifies you.

The entire week, Javi’s been talking to himself about how wrong his attraction is to you. But the second that he sees you, every point he had tried to bring up to himself dies away. You’re an adult, nearly thirty fuckin’ years old, and it wasn’t like he spent much time with you when he was dating Lorraine. He arches a brow at you and lifts his drink as you dance. He isn’t in the front row, throwing bills at the stage but he will pay you after you get done with your set. Groaning when he sees you turn around and bend over to give him a fantastic view of your ass.

You put more energy into this dance than anything else you’ve done all week. The feel of his eyes on you has you going all out and more money flies onto the stage and you finish with flair, going into the splits and you wink at Javi when he claps your performance. Standing up, you gather the money and make your way off stage and over to Javi. “Fancy seeing you here Peña.” You say as you set a whiskey down for him.

“Wanted a drink.” He jokes, like you aren’t aware that he has passed half a dozen bars to get to your club. “How’s your week been?” He asks, like he’s run into you in a grocery store and is asking about the weather. “Haven’t seen you around when I was in town.”

You shrug, “been busy with school. Nearly the end of the semester, so I’m trying to buckle down and get good grades. I’m nearly done with my degree.” You tell him, sitting down on the empty seat next to him. “I can’t be too long. Boss has been on my ass to get more money this weekend.”

Javi rolls his eyes and pats his lap. “Come here then.” He doesn’t want you to get in trouble and he’s talked about much more troubling things when a woman has been on his lap. “What are you going to school for?”

“Nursing. It’s good because I already have the outfit.” You joke, shifting to settle on his lap, and you lean back against him, enjoying the way he feels against you. “How was your week? You get that fence fixed on the ranch?” You ask, reaching up to push that piece of hair back, wanting to show your boss that you’re schmoozing a customer and not just chatting.

“That piece, yeah.” Javi instinctively leans in, brushing his nose along the length of your throat while you swivel your hips. “Then another section decided to fall on the northeast corner of the ranch.” He huffs, fully aware that they are fighting a never ending battle with nature. His hands settle on your hips again and he lets out a quiet groan. “You’re too good at this.” He huffs quietly. “Definitely didn’t learn it from your sister.”

You smirk, “no. She has always been a stick in the mud.” You snort, “heard from a few girls that her husband has been in here a few times.” You reach out to caress his chest, fingers dipping under the fabric of his shirt. “Do you want another dance? I- I’m not asking for the money. Just - it would be nice to be alone again.” You bite your lip, knowing you’re playing with fire but he’s too good to not want to get burned.

“If you want me to have a dance.” He knows he should decline, but staring into your eyes, he doesn’t want to. Yes, he knew you when you were a teenager, but you’re grown now. You’re calling the shots. “Do you want to give me a lap dance, conejita?” He has used that nickname when Lorraine complained about your unlimited energy. “Or should I just call you Rita?”

You chuckle, “you can call me whatever you want, baby.” You flirt playfully, shifting to stand up and you hold your hand out towards him. Guiding him to a private room, you turn to the stereo to put on some music and he sits down. You cup his cheeks, sliding your hands down his neck to his chest, loving the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement. “Lorraine was an idiot to try and trick you, to push you into marriage. She didn’t appreciate what she had.”

Javi grunts, remembering the absolute panic he had when she had told him that she was pregnant. Followed up by a stern lecture from his pop, Javi had done the right thing. He had proposed, swallowing down his suspicions that something wasn’t right. “She knew I wanted to leave.” Javi admits. “That I was planning on applying to the DEA.”

You sigh, shaking your head, “I knew something wasn’t right. I saw - she had a tampon and I didnt question it. It wasn’t my place.” You rock your hips on top of him, moving to the beat. “You deserved better. Lorraine has her rich husband and her 2.5 kids.” You roll your eyes, “she’s all set.”

Javi snorts, smirking at how put out you sound. “Careful, Rita.” He teases. “You sound jealous. You want the rich husband and 2.5 kids?” He asks, arching his brow at you playfully.

You shake your head, running your fingers through his hair as you continue to dance on him. “Hell no. Maybe the kids…one day. I- I want someone who loves me for me. Who makes me happy and supports me. Not monetarily but emotionally. Money can’t buy happiness. It can make life easier, but it can’t replace true emotion. You can’t buy love.” You realize how cliché you sound but it’s true. “What about you? Ready for a wife and kids?” You tease, grinding down onto his lap when you feel his cock hardening beneath you.

The truth is Javi has never been opposed to marriage, he just never found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He gives a small shrug. “Never found someone willing to put up with my shit for too long.” He huffs. “Least not someone I wanted to deal with their shit.” He modifies, very aware that Lorraine had been desperate to lock him down at the time. “What you do shouldn’t matter. Just as long as he takes care of you, physically and emotionally. Work is fucking work. It should stay there.”

You nod, “exactly. You get it.” You know he would take care of you physically. He’s so handsome, fucking sexy as hell, and you are struggling to keep professional. You never sleep with customers but Javi has you wanting to bend the rules. “For now, we will both just have fun.” You wink at him, the song rolling into another but you don’t get off of his lap, content to stay here all night. “You want an actual dance?” You ask, biting your lip, knowing you’ve just been moving for the camera, not really moving for him.

“If you give me an actual dance, I’ll embarrass myself, hermosa.” Javi admits, harder than a rock and it’s been a long time since he’s fucked anyone other than himself. Jerking off in the shower every few days doesn’t count but it’s what he’s done since his first few weeks back in Colombia the last time. Not even the blonde at the airport had managed to convince him to sneak into the women’s bathroom for a quickie.

“That’s okay. I want - I want to make this good for you. You’re paying money to listen to me chit chat. Let me - I want to show you what I can do.” You murmur, eyes flicking down to his lips and he licks them, causing your eyes to meet his. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you shift off of his lap, playing a new song. You turn away from him, moving slowly to the intro, swaying your hips and you look over your shoulder at him as you smirk, wanting to affect him. When you turn around, you kneel down and run your hands from his ankles to his thighs, stopping just short of his pelvis, admiring the bulge there for a moment. You slowly straddle him again, grinding down onto his hard cock and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra.

“Shit.” Javi has tried to not stare at your tits but now you are practically shoving them in his face. Making him twitch against your grinding cunt and his fingers dig into your hips. Your arms wind around his neck and you press forward, making him groan when your tits press against his skin. All he has to do is open his mouth and he could lick you. Although the glittery body powder you’re wearing wouldn’t taste good. He wants to drag your mouth down to his and kiss you. Rip off the tiny bottom and pull his cock out so you can ride him. Instead, he slides a hand around you and squeezes your ass harshly.

You fucking love how it feels to have him touch you, his calloused hands squeezing your ass and you whimper when he drags you down onto his cock. The song continues to play and you try to keep the rhythm but Javi is too good, his hot breath on your skin has you tossing your head back, arching your back to thrust your chest into his face. “Fuck, Jav.” You pant, continuing to grind onto him.

His cock is throbbing and he knows that if you don’t quit grinding on him, he’s going to fucking blow a load in his jeans like a fucking teenager. “Jesus, you gotta stop.” He hisses, unable to resist leaning in and nipping the skin of your breast. He’s always been a biter and he wants so desperately to have you wearing the impression of his teeth. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum in my jeans.”

“Do it baby. It’s okay.” You promise breathlessly, wanting to moan at the feel of his teeth on your breast. “I want you to cum for me Javi.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss his neck, unable to resist him. You want to see and hear him cum, at least to give you something to dream about.

Javi groans, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, making you grind down on him even more as he rocks his hips up. Filthy moans and a long growl pour into your ear as he closes his eyes, hot spurts of cum coating his cock as he cums in his pants with you grinding down on him.

You kiss his neck again, smiling against his skin at how gorgeous he sounded when he came. Your panties are soaking wet, imagining how he would’ve felt inside of you. “God, that was hot.” You confess, breathing him in, and you wish you could fuck him but he’s just here for a good time, not to take his ex’s sister home.

“Shit.” Javi pants, shaking his head. “I’ve not done that since I was in fucking college.” He admits, looking up at you when you pull back. “Now I gotta go shower again.” He’s not upset about it, doesn’t give a fuck, but he wishes he had been able to get you off. “You gonna think about that later tonight?”

“Absolutely I am.” You wink and you mean it. It was sexy as hell to be able to make him cum like that. You feel on top of the world, not dirty like other lap dances you’ve given where the guy does that. You sigh and lean in to kiss his chin, “you don’t have to pay. That was - I wanted to do that. It’s not - you aren’t paying for it.”

Javi frowns and shakes his head. “The fuck I’m not paying.” He insists. “You’re here to make money and I’m taking up your time.” He reaches up and grips your chin. “I am not getting freebies while I'm here, okay?” He knows that will get you in trouble and you have to support yourself and finish school. “Please?”

You stare at him, seeing the fierceness in his eyes. “How about a discount?” You tease and he offers you a warning look. “Fine. Full price if you insist, Peña.” You joke, slapping his chest and he grabs it, tangling your fingers together. You swallow harshly, looking into his eyes. It’s so tempting to kiss him but you won’t.

“You should take a break.” Javi murmurs softly. “Have something to drink.” He’s not thinking about liquor but he knows that you have to be thirsty after dancing. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another stack of bills. “Here, hermosa.”

You nod, “I’ll go to the break room now and get a drink and a snack. Are you gonna go home?” You ask and he nods, “gotta clean up my mess.”

You chuckle, “you mean the mess I created?” You joke and he snorts, “exactly.” You hold your hand out towards him, “thank you for coming to see me.” You bite your lip, admiring the sheen on his forehead from his orgasm.

Javi nods and takes your hand to stand up. “Be careful, hermosa.” He murmurs seriously. “If you get any of these drunk assholes bothering you, don’t walk out to your car by yourself.” He knows you are smarter than that and have taken care of yourself for a long time but he worries. “If no one will walk you out you call me. You have Pop's home number?”

You nod, knowing Chucho has had the same phone number since 1965. Your heart flutters at his protectiveness and you try not to read too much into it. He’s just looking out for you. “Thanks Jav.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, “be careful too.” You know that he attracts trouble and you want him to be safe.

Javi makes his way out of the club, grimacing as he climbs into his truck. The bad thing about it is that despite him cumming in his pants, he still wants to fuck you. Sighing as he turns over the engine, he contemplates coming back tomorrow or waiting until next weekend.

****

You’re making your rounds when Javi comes into the club a few days later, making you smile and wink at him when you see him nod at you. You are finishing up with a customer who asked you to sit and talk. An older man, regular, who likes to just talk to you because you remind him of his ex wife. He doesn’t ask for more but pays you well for your time. You’re quick to get Javi a whiskey from the bar, making your way over to him and settling in his lap after you set the drink down. “Hey stranger.” You coo, kissing his cheek, “what you been up to?”

“Hey, Rita.” Javi winks at you and takes a sip of the drink you brought him. “I’ve been hauling fence posts and shoveling horse shit and trying to break the fuck bastard of a horse Pop decided to buy.” He grunts, thinking about how the bastard had tried to bite him when he was feeding him before he showered and came here. “Took a lot to not just shoot the damn thing.”

You snort, shaking your head at him, "I would've paid money to watch you try and tame a wild one." You giggle at the mental image of him cursing the horse, and you know he would curse his dad for buying it. "So you're here to relax, have a drink..." You tilt your head, knowing you wouldn't mind taking him for another dance. The nights since he came in his pants have been occupied with your hand between your legs, remembering how he sounded.

“To see you.” Javi murmurs, cutting his eyes back to you. He’s already resigned himself to the fact that he’s fucked. “For some reason I can’t stay away from this woman I’ve known since she was a high schooler.” He grunts, taking a sip of his drink. “She’s driving me crazy.”

"Yeah? You know...she has been watching the door every night, waiting for you to come back." You confess softly, eyes flicking down to his lips and back to those dark eyes that look ravenous. "you're driving her crazy too."

“Surprised that she’s not barring me from the club since I came in my jeans.” Javi flushes slightly and his hand strokes your thigh lightly. “Especially when she is dressed like this, looking like a fucking sexy angel.”

"I took that as a compliment." You hum, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, pushing it back. "You like the outfit? I just got it. Picked it while thinking of you, that way you look at me." You admit, looking down at the white silk and lace, "Javi...I don't - my shift ends in an hour. I want to take you back to my place." You confess, sick of beating around the bush. You've debated telling him how you feel, worried he will tell you this is confined to the club and not beyond that.

“Fuck.” Javi groans and his hand tightens on your thigh. “Yes- fuck, I want to go home with you.” He nearly growls it, leaning in and biting your chin slightly. “Can I keep you occupied for the next hour so I can have you to myself?”

You smirk, "you want a private dance? We can drag it out. I don't want your money for the dance but we can talk in private and waste the time." You suggest, "I promise I won't make you cum in your pants again." You lean back to offer him an innocent pout.

Javi snorts and sends you a small grin. “Gotta make sure that your boss doesn’t get suspicious.” He murmurs, nodding and squeezing your thigh again. “Good thing there are cameras, or I’d just fuck you right there.” He finally acknowledges that he has every intention of sleeping with you and he doesn’t feel guilty about it. You obviously want him.

You whimper, unable to stop the noise making its way up your throat. “I wouldn’t argue with that. But I don’t want to rush. I’ve wanted you since you walked in here.” You admit, “you wanna come back to the room?” You ask, leaning in to run your nose along your jaw.

“Yeah.” Javi groans, knowing he’s going to have a hard time keeping his hands off of you now that you both know where you stand. “Believe me, I’m not going to cum in thirty seconds when I slide inside you.” He promises.

You shift off of his lap, “I hope not, Peña.” You tease, holding your hand out and he takes it. You guide him back to the private room, letting him sit down and you turn to the stereo. “What music do you want?” You ask and he smirks, “whatever you want hermosa.” His words make you smile and you lean down to pick something sensual. Not wanting to rush this. The music starts and you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Fuck.” Javi groans, leaning in and dragging his nose along your throat, placing a tiny kiss against your pulse. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself this type of intimacy but it’s surprisingly easy with you. “I want to kiss you, but I’ll wait until no one is watching.” He murmurs quietly, not wanting to cause problems with your boss. “What do you want me to do, hermosa?”

You press your chest to his, getting even closer to him. “I want you to wreck me. I want you to fuck me so hard I have to take tomorrow off.” You tell him, nipping his jaw as the music plays and you wish you could just leave but your boss would kill you. “I want you.” You kiss his neck, “in my bed.”

Javi hisses and his hard cock twitches underneath you. “You want me to make to fuck you until you scream my name?” Javi rasps out, digging his hands into your hips. “Fuck you until we are both breathless and needing a cigarette?”

“God yes. Imagined it so many times. At night, with my hand between my thighs. Haven’t stopped thinking of you since the first night you came here.” You admit, grinding down on his hard bulge. Fuck, this hour is going to be a lifetime.

He chuckles quietly, fingers sliding under the edge of your skimpy bottoms. “Just like you used to when you were a teenager, huh?” He teases. “Lorraine used to say you had a thing for me, but I didn’t believe her.”

You bite your lip, “maybe I did. I, uh, I did have a thing for you. A big thing.” You admit and he smirks, “shut up.” You hit his chest and remember you’re supposed to be dancing on him. “I used to think you were the sexiest man in Laredo, hell, in Texas. Nothing like those boys in school.”

“That’s because I wasn’t a boy.” Javi grunts at you playfully. His hand covers your and he lifts a brow as he drags both of your hands down over his stomach and towards his belt buckle. “All man, hermosa.”

“Fuck.” You pant, unable to resist squeezing him through his jeans. “I can’t wait, Javi. I need you. I- I’m gonna tell my boss I feel sick. I need - I’ll meet you outside, okay? I can’t wait any longer.” You tell him, shuffling off of his lap now that the song has ended. It’s barely been five minutes but you need him after dreaming after him for so long. “Come on baby.” You take his hand to drag him up.

There’s a small laugh that follows as he lets you pull him to his feet. He won’t pay you now because you are rushing towards the door, eager to go home. “Tell them that you feel like you are going to throw up. That you nearly threw up on me.” He suggests, knowing that the man wouldn’t want you throwing up on clients.

You snicker, “good idea, baby.” You guide him out of the room and you playfully pat his ass before you rush to find your manager.

“What is it, Rita? You got the money from that dance?” He asks and you shake your head, covering your mouth.

“No. I’m gonna - I feel like I’m gonna throw up. Nearly did on him.” You admit, gagging and covering your mouth again.

“Jesus Christ. I don’t want you puking on anyone. Don’t be fucking pregnant. Get your shit and go.” He orders and you nod, rushing to the locker room to change into your sweats and grab your purse, making your way out to the parking lot.

Javi takes one last drag off his cigarette and tosses it down to grind it under his boot. Grinning when he sees you rushing out the back door and he pushes off the side of his truck. “Rita.” He calls out, aware that the two of you are in public and he wouldn’t want anyone who doesn’t know you to find out your real name. He motions you over and looks around. “Where is your car?”

You point to the heap of shit that barely runs even after you’ve prayed for it to start. “You can follow me.” You tell him, knowing he will want to drive home directly from your place. “Come on baby, let’s go.” You urge and he smirks, winking as he opens his truck door. “See you there.” You promise and get into your car, sighing in relief when it starts. You pull out of the parking lot, keeping your eyes on the rear view mirror to watch Javi follow you to your apartment.

He’s fucking appalled that you drive this piece of shit. The damn thing looks like it’s barely clinging to life and one day it’s going to leave you on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Javi grunts to himself as he follows you, reminding himself to say something to you about it. It’s not safe. Your apartment is only ten minutes away from the club and he pulls in beside you, hopping out and walking up to the curb to wait for you.

You grab your purse and keys, making your way to his truck. You take his hand to guide him into your place. Taking your key, you guide him to your front door and he’s pressing against you. You fumble with the key to open the door and once it’s open, you spin around to press yourself against him. “Fuck me Javi.” You demand, cupping his cheeks.

Javi pushes you back through your door, both of you stumbling across the threshold and he slams the door behind him so he can gather you closer to him. “Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth, his hands grabbing your ass and pulling you against his cock.

You surge forward to press lips to his, desperate to kiss him. “I need you, baby.” You murmur, pecking his lips, before you deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Javi grunts, rocking his hips forward and tangling his tongue with yours. He knows the basic layout of most apartments and he starts to walk you back towards the hallways. Wanting to get you into your bedroom and on your bed.

You let him guide you backwards towards your bed, pushing you down onto it, and you drag him down with you. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” You confess and kiss him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

He chuckles, dipping his head and nipping along your jaw and down your through. He loves kissing you, but he wants to do everything he imagined while you’ve been grinding on him. “Been thinking about this a lot, huh?” He teases, one hand sliding up and under your t-shirt to squeeze your tit over your bra before he dives under it too. “Fuck you’re so sexy.”

You whimper when he squeezes your breast, reaching down between you to pull your shirt over your head. “Fuck Javi.” You gasp when he surges down to wrap his lips around your nipple, biting down on it. “So fucking sexy.” He murmurs and you push his shirt off his shoulders, wanting to feel his skin.

It’s a race to get undressed, both of you pulling and tugging on the other’s clothes. Desperate to get naked and touch each other. Javi groans when you shove your hand into his jeans and gasps when you discover he’s not wearing any underwear. “Fuck.”

“Holy shit you’re thick.” You pant when his hands find their way into your sweatpants and he instantly rubs your clit. You squeeze him, “gotta - gotta finish getting undressed.” You tell him and he nods, shifting off of the bed, grabbing onto your sweats so he can pull them down your legs and off of you.

He peels the material down your legs and tosses it onto the floor, kicking off his boots so he can push his own jeans down. His cock bobs and dances as he kicks them off and he groans as he wraps his hand around himself. “Fuck baby, spread your legs. And you need to tell me now if you need me to wear a condom.”

You follow his order, spreading your legs for him, and you point to your side table. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone since my ex and that was a while ago. I got tested and I- I understand if you’re more comfortable wearing a condom because of my profession. They are in my nightstand.” You tell him, eyes focused on his hard cock, unable to believe how gorgeous he is.

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “I’m clean too and your profession doesn’t bother me, hermosa.” He murmurs, kneeling on the bed and caressing your ankle as he shuffles between your spread legs. “I’ve slept with prostitutes in Colombia, a lot of them. Respected every one of them.” He leans down and drops a kiss on your knee before his hands slide up your thigh and between your legs.

His words make your heart swell and you admire his honesty. “I- I haven’t done this before. Slept with a customer. Believe it or not. I didn’t want the extra money like that. I’ve heard too many horror stories of girls that go home with customers.” You admit, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. “Fuck baby. You’re so thick, I need you inside of me now.”

He doesn’t care if you had done this with every customer you have, as long as you were careful of your safety. He shuffles closer and lets you drag his cock through your folds as he reaches up and pinches a nipple to make you gasp. Leaning down to kiss your lips as you line him up. “Fuck, hermosa.” He groans, pushing his hips forward when you let go of him in his eagerness to slide inside you.

You whimper when he starts to push inside of you, feeling the stretch already, and you close your eyes, tilting your head back into the pillow. “Fuck Javi. That feels- you feel so good.” You pant and he leans forward to kiss your chin. Your hands slide along his back, loving how muscular and strong he feels under your touch as he pushes deeper until he’s fully inside of you.

“Shit.” He hisses, closing his eyes as he rocks slowly, letting you feel without moving too much. Enjoying the way your walls flutter around him. “You feel so good, hermosa.” He groans, looking down at you and pulling you close as he spreads his knees apart to start thrusting. “So fucking good.”

It’s been such a build up to this moment, you are immediately on fire, but you savor how he feels inside of you. “Baby. Oh baby.” You murmur, knowing you’ve wanted this for so fucking long and he feels so good inside of you. You wrap your legs around him, pushing him deeper with your heels in his ass, loving how slow he’s going. “Wanted this since I saw you in the club.”

His elbow dips into the mattress near your shoulder and he grunts as he rolls his hips forward. “Fuck, me too.” He confesses, knowing that he shouldn’t but he doesn’t give a shit anymore. “So fucking hot shaking your ass up there.” He huffs, kissing down your jaw and biting on your chin.

You are surprised he wants to fuck you like this but you won’t complain. You whimper and let me push deep inside of you, crossing your ankles behind him back to push him deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby. You’re so - so thick.” You pant, knowing you’re going to feel him tomorrow. He grunts and you grip his neck, gasping when he tries to suck on your neck. “No marks.”

Javi huffs against your skin but he stops sucking. If you have bite marks or anything on your skin, you’ll get shit from your boss. He doesn’t want you to get in trouble or make less money because of him. He shifts to his knees and drags you upright. “Hold on to the bed.” He orders, keeping your upper body in his hold and he thrusts up into you. “Jesus.”

You follow his order, hands flying out to grab the headboard as his hands squeeze your tits, making you moan as he hits something spectacular inside of you in this position. “Oh fuck baby. I- shit. You’re - shit. You’re so fucking deep inside of me.” You pant, turning your head to press your lips to his.

Groaning, he kisses you back, instantly sliding his tongue into your mouth to tangle with yours. His fingers are digging into the muscles of your back as he keeps steadily filling you. Loving how your walls open for him to fit him like a glove. “Jesus, hermosa.” He hisses into your mouth, closing his eyes and sliding a hand down your back and around your body to cup your breast and squeeze.

You pant, loving how he feels inside of you. Pushing deep and you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on his locks. “Holy shit.” You moan, loving the way he twitches inside of you. “Shit baby.” You try to rock your hips to meet his, grinding down onto him while he squeezes your tit.

He huffs, letting go of your tit so he can rub your clit, lowering his head so he can draw your nipple into his mouth. Biting down on it before bathing it with his tongue, he suckles harshly. He loves the way you cry out and your fingers tangle into his hair to pull on it.

You shift to brace your feet on the bed, rocking against him to grind onto his cock. “Oh my God, baby. You’re gonna - I’m gonna -” You’re lost in how he feels, so deep inside of you and his fingers on your clit combined with his mouth around your nipple sends you over the edge, clamping down on his cock, you cry out and collapse forward against his chest.

Javi groans against your skin, loving how you clamp down around him and soak him with your juices. “Fuck.” He pants, rolling his hips up faster and holding onto you tighter as he chases his own high.

His arms slide under your thighs, lifting you up higher so he can thrust harder inside of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, crying out his name as he pushes you through your orgasm. “Fuck. Oh - oh - I need you to cum for me Javi. Please. Cum for me baby.” You beg, trying to grind against him but he has you in a tight grip.

Now is the time where Javi’s thrusts get more desperate. Moaning and grunting as he clenches his jaw and stares into your eyes. He feels himself getting closer. Every time you clench around him, you push him closer. “Fuck, fuck.” He grunts, leaning in and biting your bottom lip as he drives deep into your tight cunt and moans as he fills you up with hot ropes of cum.

You can’t take your eyes off of him, watching as he cums. His face twisted as he orgasm and you fucking love it. Eyes open as you watch him fill you with hot seed. “Javi. Oh baby. That’s it. Fill me up.” You murmur against his chin.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” Javi moans, angling his head and pressing his lips to yours for one last kiss. Breaking it off and leaning his head against your clavicle as he tries to catch his breath. “So good.” He huffs quietly.

You hum in agreement, running your fingers through his damp hair, and you love how his breath hits your chest. “Worth the wait.” You joke softly, caressing his neck while he calms down, his cock still inside of you.

“Definitely worth the wait.” He hums in agreement and you sigh when he lays you down on the bed and pulls out of you, his cum dripping out of you and you spread your legs so he can see. Smirking slightly, he swipes his fingers through your folds and rubs your clit as he lays down beside you. “Fuck, now I need another cigarette.” He hums, knowing he won’t get up to get one right now. He’s relaxed and wants to stay right here.

“I have some in my drawer.” You offer, making him raise a brow. He knows you don’t smoke so he wonders who the cigarettes are for. You shrug, “old habit. My ex used to like to smoke after sex.” You confess and you shift over him to grab the pack and lighter, placing the ashtray on the nightstand. “There you go.” You kiss his peck and he works on lighting a cigarette. “I like you Javi, always have. I, uh, I don’t just want to see you when you come to the club.” You admit, stroking his chest and down to his stomach.

Javi sucks on the cigarette and leans back, his hand dropping the lighter on your nightstand before it curls around your shoulder. Exhaling up towards the ceiling so he doesn’t blow it on you, he hums. “We can go to dinner tomorrow.” He offers, raising his brow as he looks down at you. “Sound good? Anywhere you want to go.”

“You want to be seen in public with me?” You joke, chuckling as you snuggle into his side. You know your ex had an issue with your job and you hope Javier, despite his assurances otherwise, that he doesn’t care about your job.

Javi snorts and shakes his head, taking another drag off the cigarette. "It should be that you don't want to be seen with me, hermosa." He teases, his fingers stroking up and down your back gently. "We could always go down to the steakhouse?" He asks. The steakhouse is pretty much the fanciest place in Laredo to have dinner and it was 'the' date spot for anyone who wanted people to know they were seeing one another.

You raise your eyebrows, surprised that he wants to take you there but you won’t deny that you want to be there with Javi. “I like the sound of that. Let’s do it baby. Steakhouse tomorrow night? I have the night off.” You admit, watching him blow out another cloud of smoke.

Javi nods. “I’ve got to work with pop in the morning, so I’ll pick you up later on?” He asks, knowing he doesn’t want you to drive that shit box car more than you have to. “Seven sound good or do you want to do it later?” He doesn’t know what you do on your days off and he doesn’t want to intrude if you have important things to take care of.

“Seven is good.” You hum, “gotta run errands tomorrow and hopefully get some sleep. I have a class too but I’ll be ready by seven.” You promise, “I, uh, I know it’s been a long time since you were with Lorraine but people will gossip and I- I don’t care. She doesn’t like me but I don’t want to cause issues for you.”

“You aren’t going to cause issues for me.” Javi flicks the ash in a tray on the opposite side of the bed and takes one last drag before he stubs it out. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks, unsure if you like men to sleep over. He wouldn’t mind staying, but it’s up to you.

You nod, “if you want. I’m way too comfortable right now to let you go.” You tease, swinging your leg over his hips to snuggle into his side before you pull your covers over you both. “Stay.” You order softly and he agrees, kissing your hair. It’s too easy with Javier. Far too easy.

****

The doorbell rings and you smooth down your dress, eager and hoping Javier likes you in the dress you’re wearing. It’s more coverage than anything he’s seen you in thus far and you hope he likes it. “Hey handsome.” You smirk when you open the door to him.

Javi hasn’t worn a suit since he quit the DEA but he’s glad he pulled one out of the closet. Even ironing the shirt. “Shit.” He huffs, leaning against the door and returning your smirk with one of his own. “I didn’t know I was having you for dinner.” You are fully covered and still his cock twitches in his pants and he thinks you’re gorgeous.

If you thought Javi in jeans was hot, Javi in a suit has you dripping already. “Dessert.” You correct him, “we are having steak for dinner and you can have me for dessert.” He chuckles and you step closer to cup his cheeks, kissing him. He woke you up with his tongue this morning and you have been thinking about him all day. His hands grip your waist and he slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting your lipgloss. “Let’s go baby before we forget about dinner and go straight to dessert.” You slap his chest and reach into your apartment for your purse, making quick work of locking the door.

Javi chuckles and guides you out into the parking lot and over to his truck. Trying to be a bit of a gentleman and opening the door for you. He can tell you’re surprised but he just smirks and watches you climb into the cab before he shuts the door and skirts around the hood to get behind the wheel. “Hope you’re hungry.” He teases as he starts the engine. “I’m giving up dessert to eat steak first.”

You giggle, feeling like a teenager all over again except now you’re a woman and Javier is a man and you’re going on a date. You drive through Laredo, watching him and admiring his profile while he concentrates on navigating to the restaurant. “Has anyone ever told you you have a fucking perfect nose?” You ask and he snorts.

“Absolutely not. Never. Not. One. Not even my mother.” He reveals with amusement.

“Well I think it’s perfect.” You hum, reaching out to trace your finger along the bridge.

He’s been hit on plenty of times, enough to know that he’s not ugly but he knows that his features aren’t perfect. Still, it makes him open his mouth and then close it, unsure of what to say to that. He finally looks over at you with a slightly disbelieving expression. “I think you need to have your eyes checked.” He jokes. “You’re the perfection in this truck.” That, he means, finding you stunningly beautiful and not in the way he finds you stunning when you’re at work. You would fit in at any swanky embassy party if he was still in Colombia - or ever attended them.

You fluster, biting your lip at the way he calls you perfection. You know your job has men looking at you like a piece of meat but right now, Javi is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon. He pulls into the restaurant and you take his hand when he helps you out of his truck. You walk into the restaurant hand in hand and your heart is thumping with nerves and happiness.

The hostess smiles brightly, although he doesn’t miss the way her eyes slide up and down his body and the smile takes on a slightly warmer tone. “May I help you?” She asks him and Javi nods. “Reservations for Peña.” He looks over at you with a small smirk, having called earlier just to make sure that there was no way you weren’t going to eat here tonight. After confirming the reservation, the hostess asks the two of you to follow her and for once, Javi doesn’t watch a woman’s ass as her hips sway in front of him.

You love how Javier’s hand hovers against your lower back as he guides you to the table and you smile when he pulls your chair out for you. “What a gentleman.” You compliment him with a wink and he chuckles while he takes his seat. “You didn’t check out her ass?” You frown, reaching for his hand to check his pulse, “you feeling okay?” You tease, knowing he’s an infamous playboy in Laredo.

Javi snorts and pulls his hand away from you. “Behave.” He huffs at you even though he’s grinning. “I don’t have to imagine what your ass looks like, and I guarantee it’s better.” He doesn’t want you to think that he just wants sex with you. Of course he wants sex, but he doesn’t want to limit it to just sex. He’s tired of that and he likes you. You’re funny and smart.

Seated, you bite your lip as you look over the menu. The prices are set in small print and nothing is exactly cheap. Unsure of what to order considering that your ex had always complained when you wanted an actual meal. The waiter comes over and he orders a bottle of wine that sounds appealing.

“Don’t order a damn salad.” Javi huffs, watching you scour the menu for the cheapest options. He doesn’t want you to do that, he’s paying the tab so he wants you to enjoy yourself and order what you want to eat. “You work out all fucking night at your job, you need the calories.”

You stare at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Most men would be happy for you to order a salad. Say you even have to lose weight or keep your figure, but Javi wants you to eat what you want. You bite your lip, “the steak sounds good. With French fries.” You confess, looking up at him over your menu. “Then order that.” Javi insists and you nod, setting the menu down. “Thank you.” You reach out to squeeze his hand, not sure if he knows how much he just comforted you.

Javi nods and looks over at the waiter when he brings the wine over again. After pouring, he looks back at you, wanting you to order for yourself. He hates when pompous asses speak over their dates and order for them to seem like they are in charge. When you order your steak and fries, Javi orders a steak with a baked potato and seasonal vegetables. Once the waiter rushes off to put the order in with the kitchen, he picks up his wine glass. “To setting tongues on fire in this town.” He offers with a grin.

You giggle, clinking your glass against his, and you discreetly look around to see several sets of eyes on you. You take a sip, humming softly at the wine choice, and you set your glass down to look at your date. “You know that a lot of the men in here on dates with their wives have been in the club multiple times?” You snort, knowing that their wives are gossiping about you but have no clue their husbands tossed their money on stage to pay you.

“I don’t doubt it.” Javi huffs. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with enjoying a beautiful woman, when you're single. Yes, you’re gonna look when a woman walks down the street. Women do it too, but you don’t go seeking it out.” He gives a small shrug. “But I’m glad that are helping you get through school too, so fuck ‘em. Take their money.”

You smirk, loving his mentality and you nod in agreement, “exactly. Fuck ‘em.” You giggle and reach for his hand, squeezing it. “I would rather fuck you again though.” You tell him honestly, biting your lip, “I want you to come back to mine after this…if you want.”

“Up to you, hermosa.” Javi had hoped you would want to fuck again, but he’s not going to assume that you would invite him into your bed. He’s exchanged sex for money plenty of times, but the score was upfront and everyone knew what was going on. “If you want me in your bed, you just tell me the word and I’ll be there.”

You grin, “I want you in my bed tonight.” You say it clearly so there’s no confusion and Javi nods. The dinner is soon served and you dig in, groaning at how good the steak is. It’s been too long since you had a meal like this. “God that was good.” You sigh after the waiter takes your empty plate. “Dessert?” You ask Javi and his eyes dip down to your chest, “if you’re offering, hermosa.”

You smirk, “oh I’m offering baby. You want actual dessert or you want me?”

His own smirk matches yours. “I doubt they would like it if I licked whipped cream off your cunt on the table.” He jokes huskily, eyes darkening as he leans in. “The question is if you want to eat something decadent here while you think about my tongue buried in your pretty pussy or if you want it first and then eating the dessert you got to go.”

You know you won’t be patient enough to wait through dessert. “Dessert to go. I don’t want to wait.” You confess, staring at him as the waiter comes over and Javier tells him to pack up one of each dessert to go and bring the check. “You ordered every dessert?” You ask breathlessly and he nods, “you’ll need your energy for tonight.” His words make your cunt clench and after he pays the check, you grab the bags of desserts and rush out from the restaurant. Once you’re in his truck, desserts secured, you reach for Javi to press your lips to his.

He chuckles against your lips, happy when you open up immediately for him. He curls his arm around your back and drags you across the bench seat to press up against him. Sliding his tongue into your mouth to groan when your own flutters eagerly against his. His other hand slides up your thigh but not dipping under your dress. After a long, steamy make out session, he pulls away panting. “We need to get back to your apartment.” He grunts, cock hard and already aching for you.

You huff, disappointed but you know you can’t fuck in a parking lot. He pulls out of the restaurant parking spot and makes his way along the road to your apartment. The radio is playing and you are feeling cheeky, deciding to reach out and squeeze him through his jeans. “Hermosa.” He warns with a low groan. “Javi.” You giggle, flicking the button on his pants, slowly pulling the zipper down.

Because he is in a suit, Javi actually wore boxers. You huff at the obstacle between you and his cock. Javi adjust his hands on the wheel, allowing you more room, sure that you are going to blow him in the fucking cab of his truck as he drives towards your house. “Fuck hermosa, you don’t have to-“ he groans when you reach into his boxers and wrap your fingers around him to pull his cock free.

“I want to.” You whisper before you duck your head down to take him into your mouth and Javi hisses, his other hand slapping the back of the bench seat before he cups your head. “Oh fuck.”

You take him deeper, loving how he twitches inside of your mouth. You whimper around him, cunt dripping with anticipation of him inside of you and you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, working him deeper while you kneel on the bench in the cab of his truck.

“Fuck.” Javi moans, continuously taking his eyes off the road so he can watch you take his cock down your throat. “So fucking good.” He praises quietly. “So fucking good. Imagined you like this, so much while you were on my lap.”

You hum around him, widening your jaw to take him deeper down your throat until the hairs at the base of his cock are tickling your nose. He chokes, the truck swerving a little and you almost giggle around his length at his reaction. You want him to feel good, to want more of you. You want to please him.

“You’re gonna fuckin make me crash.” He groans, sliding his hand down your back to squeeze your ass. He doesn’t mind, just making sure that he keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t close them. “So Fucking eager you have to suck my cock on the drive home. Can’t wait.” He teases, smacking your ass.

You moan when he smacks your ass, pulling off of his cock so you can look up at him, continuing to pump him with your hand. “Couldn’t resist you. Been thinking about you since you left my place. Wanting your cock again.” You admit before you take him back into your mouth, wanting him to cum before he arrives back at your place.

“Good.” Javi groans. “You’ll have me again now. Anytime you want me.” He promises quietly. He turns into your parking lot and rushes to find a parking spot closest to your building.

You want him to cum down your throat so you take him deep again, moaning around him. Your hand slides down to fondle his balls and you hollow your cheeks, closing your eyes as he kills the engine to his truck.

“Shit, shit.” Javi hisses, feeling his end coming and his entire body tenses. He taps your cheek just in case. “Gonna cum!” He gasps out, closing his eyes and letting out a low growl.

You don’t pull back, feeling his balls pull up in your hand and you moan when his cum hits the back of your throat. You love how he groans your name as he cums, making you whimper around him while you try to swallow every drop he gives you.

It takes almost a minute for him to stop cumming. Moaning your name again as he digs his fingers into your ass as he spurts the last drops into your mouth and gasps for air.

You swallow all of it, waiting until his cock stops twitching and you pull back, kissing the tip of his cock. You lick your lips and sit up to look at him, pleased with yourself for swallowing every drop and the wrecked look on his face.

“Jesus Christ,” Javi pants. “You need to get in the fucking apartment.” He orders, grabbing your chin and pulling you towards him for a kiss.

You smile against his lips, fumbling for your purse and you reach for the door handle. “Come on then, Peña.” You order, getting out of the truck before he can open your door and you rush to your front door, struggling to find your keys and you eventually find them, opening your apartment just as Javi grabs your hips to guide you inside.

“I hope you’re ready to be in bed all night.” He hums, kicking the door behind him and barely taking his hands off of you so he can lock the door behind the two of you. “Because I’m not letting you leave it.”

****

Javi walks into the club, excited to see you and to watch you dance for him. Knowing that the other men are watching you but only he gets to take you home is thrilling. He finds a seat just as you’re about to start your set and he orders a whiskey. When you come on stage as Margarita, he smirks when you wink at him, shaking your ass in his direction, and he knows he will be biting it later, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make you squeal his name.

When you get off of stage, you gather the money and quickly make your way to the floor, eager to see Javi. “Hey sweetheart. Come ‘ere.” You turn to see a man - not a local - reach for you and you barely have a second to react before he’s pulling you into his lap. “Wanna see those tits.” He grabs your top, pulling it down to display your tits to his hungry gaze before you can push him away.

Before he can slam his drink down, Javi is shooting up out of his chair. “Hey!” He growls, charging over to the asshole who has decided to drag you down into his lap without your permission. “What the fuck are you doing, pendejo? You ask before you fucking touch.” He slaps his hand off your top and twists the man’s wrist away from your body.

"She's a whore. It's all for sale. I just took it without paying first." The man snorts at Javi, "you wanna have her? Wait your turn, buddy. She has enough to go around for the right price."

You hiss at the asshole, shifting off of his lap and you can't help it, you slap him. "I'm not a fucking whore." You growl, knowing you've never slept with any customer other than Javi.

"Fuck you sweetheart, you are probably sucking the cock of everyone in here. This one just got jealous. Wants you to himself, huh?"

“Shut the fuck up!” Javi hisses, unable to control himself and pulls back to punch the asshole square on the jaw. The shock of the punch allows you to scramble off his lap and duck behind him. “She’s not a fucking whore, you puta.” He squares up to hit the man again but security rushes over to grab hold of Javi.

"Stop. Stop." You beg Jason, the security guy who is grabbing Javi. "He was defending me against this asshole. You should be kicking him out." You demand and your boss comes over.

"What the fuck is going on?" He growls, "you just hit a fucking customer." He hisses at Javi, "and you slapped him." You try to explain what happened but your boss isn't having it. "You're fired." He growls at you and you clench your jaw.

“Fine. I'm fucking over this shit hole place." You hiss, turning to Javi who is struggling still. "I'll meet you outside." You tell him, "he will leave." You tell Jason who nods and escorts Javi out of the club. You grab your things and change before you head out of the club, sick of the bullshit you have to endure. You see Javi pacing by his truck and you drop your things, wrapping your arms around his neck to drag him towards you for a kiss.

Javi pulls away from you after a quick and sloppily executed kiss. “I’m sorry, hermosa, I- he was grabbing you without your permission.” He growls, angry that you had been fired for being assaulted. “You got fired but I can’t say that I’m upset about it.” He tells you. “Not because you’re losing money, but that you don’t work for an asshole that will let his customers just do whatever they want to you. I should call the fucking sheriff.” He grumbles, looking at you guiltily.

You cup his cheeks, shaking your head. "It's okay baby. I couldn't - something was gonna happen eventually. I had to leave at some point because they wanted me to...to give extras and I refused." You confess, seeing him clench his jaw. "Leave it. I have been fired. It's done. Let's go. I want to go home."

Javi nods and guides you over to your car. Once again hating how big of a piece of shit it is. He’s spent hours under the fucking hood cursing when he had the extra time. He hadn’t been able to convince you to let him buy you a more reliable car, even going so far as to tell you that you could make payments to him if it made you feel better. “I’ll follow you, okay?”

You shake your head, “I’m done with the clubs. I don’t - I want to do something else. I don’t want to have to fend off assholes. I don’t want to tell them no every night because one night…one night they won’t take no for an answer and you might not be there. I can’t keep risking it.” You step under the hot water, letting him step in behind you. “I’ll find something else. Hopefully in another few months I’ll be finding a job with my damn degree.”

Javi hums and nods, reaching for your sponge thing and your body wash so he can wash the glitter, sweat and lotion off your body. “Then just don’t work.” He suggests. “I’ll make sure the bills get paid. Not like I am paying anything living with my pop.” He wants you to concentrate on finishing school and it’s been a struggle balancing things. “Just until you can get a job with your degree.”

You lean against him as his hands wash your body with the sponge. “I can’t ask that of you.” You shake your head, “I- I will find another job. I’ll be okay. I have some savings for the rest of school and I can manage the rent here. I’ll be okay.” You promise, leaning up to kiss his jaw. You know he wants to help but you’re proud and you don’t want him to think you’re with him because you want him to pay for everything. “I- I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you. It’s not like that at all. I- I love you.” You murmur, staring at his chest to avoid those dark eyes.

Javi freezes for a moment, watching you intently as you avoid his gaze. “I know you do, hermosa.” He murmurs quietly after a moment. “You know I love you too. That's why I want to help.”

You cup his cheek, bringing your gaze to his. “I know. I just - I want you to know that this isn’t just sex. I love you. I don’t want your money, I want you.” You murmur, loving how his hands caress you, washing you down, and you grab the body wash so you can wash him too.

“I know that.” Javi scoffs slightly. “You tried to give me free lap dances every night when I came in. Even though you know I’m coming home with you.” He doesn’t allow you to work for free, always paying you. He knows your bosses would have gotten on your ass for that if you did.

You chuckle, “I just wanted to grind on my boyfriend, that’s all.” You put a label on what you are and you pray that doesn’t scare him off but you have gone on dates, slept over at your place, and he’s brought you coffee and drinks. You’d consider it dating. “Now you get all the lap dances for free.”

“I don’t mind that.” He smirks as he looks down at you where you are washing his legs. “If you want, I’ll still tuck bills into your panties.” He jokes, knowing you would never let him do that at home. He winks at you to let you know that he was kidding.

“You can’t afford me, Peña.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, glad you are now both clean and you caress his chest, looking at him while the hot water hits your back. “Can you take me to bed? I want to feel you.” You reach down to wrap your fingers around his semi, wanting to have him inside of you.

Javi groans, just like he does every time that you touch him. “Fuck baby.” He huffs. “Get out and let’s get dried off.” He smirks, reaching out and squeezing your tit gently. “Want to make you feel good and forget all about tonight.”

You nod, getting out of the shower to grab two towels and you dry off, watching him in the mirror as he dries himself. When he walks back into your bedroom, you are laying on the bed waiting for him, “come on Peña and fuck me.” You order, spreading your legs. His display tonight has had you wet since leaving the club.

Javi chuckles and wraps his hand around his cock to pump it as he walks towards the bed. “Rub your clit baby, want to see you get even wetter.” He loves for you to touch yourself in front of him, finding it even more erotic than your dancing.

You follow his order, rubbing your clit, and you moan when you watch him jerk his cock, fully hard as his dark eyes trail over your body. “Fuck baby. You look so good.” You compliment him, loving the small tummy he has and his muscular arms.

“You look better.” He promises, greedily watching you. You huff but it’s true, you look like a fucking sexy goddess. “Always so sexy.” He kneels on the bed and shuffles forward. “Put me in, hermosa.”

You reach down to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance. He pushes his hips forward and you shift your legs over his hips. He moves onto his elbows, pushing deeper inside of you and you reach up to caress his back. “I love you Jav.” You murmur, kissing his shoulder.

“Love you too.” Javi grunts, turning his head to press his lips to yours. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours. He rocks his hips slightly and groans at the way you tighten around him.

“Fuck baby.” You gasp against his lips, loving how he slowly rocks into you, making you whimper at how deep he gets. Squeezing his hand, you try to meet his thrusts, rocking your hips up into his. “Baby. Oh baby.” You moan, loving the way he stretches you and pulls you apart bit by bit.

“That’s it, baby.” Javi coos, rocking his hips a little faster as he pants. “So good. That tight pussy squeezing me so tight.” He moans, kissing down along your jaw and when he reaches your shoulder, he bites down hard enough to leave his teeth marks, able to mark you now that you aren’t working at the club.

You cry out with pleasure when he bites down on your shoulder, knowing it’s been hard for him to not mark you up when he’s a biter. You love that you can wear his mark now, show the world that you belong to Javier Peña. “Fuck. Do it again.” You beg, rocking your hips up to meet his faster pace. He’s intoxicating and you desperately want him to push you over the edge before he fills you up.

“Fuck, gonna bite all over you.” He promises thickly, his teeth digging into the top of your breast and he ducks his head down even further to bite your nipple. He doesn’t make that one too hard, instead he baths it with his tongue after he bites to soothe it. “Make you see my teeth marks every time you get dressed.”

“Goddamn. I - I really want that.” You admit, shifting beneath him and he hits just the right spot on his next thrust. “Fuck Javi. There. Right there.” You pant and he nods, rocking into you and focusing on that spot. Your neighbors must hate you. Screaming Javi’s name at all hours of the night but you couldn’t help it even if you tried. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Javi - oh!” You moan, clamping down on his cock when his pelvis presses against your clit just right.

Instantly, Javi groans, knowing that he won’t last. Not when you are like this. Sex has been incredible between the two of you, your orgasms becoming quicker and more intense with time. He moans out your name as he buries himself deep and fills you up. Shuddering over you and pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he does.

You pant, trying to catch your breath as his cock pulses inside of you. You run your fingers through his hair, loving having him on top of you, and you close your eyes, savoring how he feels, how he sounds. “Love you baby.” You sigh and he murmurs a “love you” into your skin. Lol

****

You are struggling today. The smell of bacon cooking has your stomach rolling and you can barely stand to ask for someone’s order. Deciding to take the night shifts at a diner until you finish school made the most sense, even if Javi had offered multiple times to pay for your apartment. You hadn’t given in, wanting to provide for yourself until you can work in your field. You breathe deeply, taking the order and once you’ve sent it to the kitchen, you rush into the bathroom to throw up. After washing your face and mouth, your eyes widen. “Shit.” You hiss, realizing that you’ve missed your period. You’ll get a test after work. Maybe you’re just exhausted studying for finals.

Javi hums to himself as he glances at the clock. You should be close to getting off work now and he would head up to the diner to wait for you so you can drive home together, you had asked him to not come in. Apparently unsure of getting fired if he hangs out there so Javi had just let himself into your apartment to wait for you.

This shit is getting harder to do. Wait around for you. Or not take things further. For the first time in a long time, Javi didn’t like having space from you. Wanted to talk about moving in together. Maybe even move you out to the ranch. It would be good, you wouldn’t have to pay rent and Javi could sleep in the same bed as you every night.

You finish work, just barely managing it, and you have been nauseous the entire time, unable to even look at the food you’ve been serving. Your boss noticed and asked what’s wrong and after telling her you feel sick, she sent you home. Javi should be coming to pick you up soon and you are nervous. You’d walked to the nearest 24 hour pharmacy, the daylight breaking over the horizon and you bought the test, taking it in the bathroom. It was positive and you’re terrified. The future you worked so hard for hangs in the balance. You don’t think that Javi wants kids. He’s never mentioned it and you know that Lorraine faking her pregnancy must’ve terrified him. You walk back to the diner and stand outside to wait for Javi and that’s when you see her. Lorraine and her family are coming in for breakfast.

“If it isn’t the county whore.” Lorraine’s husband Randy rushes their two kids inside, not wanting the girls to speak to you. “What are you doing in a decent place?” She demands, curling her nose up at you. “Should you be letting those creeps shove dollar bills up your twat at the club?”

You roll your eyes at her words. You haven’t seen her for years and the irony of her showing up the morning you’ve just found out your pregnant isn’t lost on you. “At least they’d pay for me. You couldn’t get a dime.” You retort back, making her wrinkle her nose at you. “Well at least I’m not letting every Tom, Dick and Harry touch me for money.” She hisses and you roll your eyes at her before they widen when you see Javi’s truck pull into the parking lot.

Javi curses under his breath slightly but he doesn’t hesitate to step out of the cab. He shoves his hand through his hair and wonders how this is going to play out as he walks over to the two of you. Instead of pretending he’s not with you, he leans in and kisses your lips. “Hey, you ready?” He asks before he turns towards his ex fiancée. “Lorraine. Come to see your sister at work?” He asks, like it’s a friendly family reunion. He knows she doesn’t talk to you and he subtly slides his hand around your waist. “Too bad she just got off and needs to go home and sleep.”

Lorraine stares for several moments, eyes flicking between you and Javi and you brace yourself. Lorraine has never been able to cope with not getting what she wanted, even if that includes her ex fiancé from years ago. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Lorraine shrieks, “you’re fucking my little sister?”

You shake your head, “adopted, remember?” You are bitter that she essentially ruined your life.

“Jesus Christ Javier. I knew you were trying to fuck your way through the entire town but my sister? Oh my God. Did you…did you- when we-?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “I was seventeen. It was illegal. Javi never touched me then. He was with you.” You remind her but she shakes her head.

“You always had that stupid crush on him but I figured it would fade. I never - ohhhh, you met her at the strip club, didn’t you? I heard about your affection for whores in Colombia. Guess you wanted to continue the tradition when you got back to Texas.” Lorraine chuckles and you shrink into Javi’s side. She’s always had this way of beating you down and making you feel worthless.

Javi narrows his eyes at Lorraine, he wants to lash out at her but she’s your sister. He doesn’t want to cause more issues than you already have with your family. “She doesn’t work at the club anymore.” He tells her simply. “And you should be proud of her, first and only one from your family to get a college degree.” Lorraine had dropped out in order to plan the wedding that had never happened. As far as he knows, she has never gone back.

Lorraine shakes her head, “a degree she paid for shaking her ass and getting her tits out.”

You snort, “isn’t that what you did to get Randy? You should go inside to your family, Lorraine. It was…nice to see you.” You say despite your blood boiling at her. She fucked up her life, tried to force Javier to marry her, lied about her pregnancy, then went off the rails when Javi stood her up…yet you’re the bad guy.

“Whatever. You deserve each other. I have a great husband and two beautiful girls.” She says defensively.

“Exactly. Go inside and be with them.” Javier demands and Lorraine tilts her chin up and makes her way into the diner.

“Shit.” You huff, turning to look at Javi once she’s inside. “I’m sorry about that. She’s the last person I expected to show up here. She was never a breakfast person.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Javi shakes his head and starts guiding you over to the truck. “She’s just pissed off that she didn’t get to stomp all over you and I’m not hiding away.” He squeezes your hip before he lets go so he can open the door for you to climb into the cab. “Forget about her. How was work?”

You sigh, remembering the test you have shoved in your purse. “It was…it wasn’t great today. All the food…it was making me nauseous.” You have no idea how to tell him, the pregnant test feeling like it weighs a ton in your purse.

“Are you sick?” Javi frowns slightly as he looks over at you, starting up the truck before he backs it out of the parking spot. “We can get you in the bed and I’ll run out to the drugstore. Just tell me what you need.” He wonders if you’ve gotten the virus that’s going around lately. Feeling bad because he had been thinking about fucking you before you went to sleep. Now that was off the table, but he doesn’t care as long as you get some rest.

You bite your lip, struggling to get the words out. “No Javi. I…I - I went and got a test after work. I, uh, it was positive. I’m pregnant.” You tell him, “I didn’t realize it but I skipped a period. I’m so sorry baby. I- shit - I fucked up. My birth control fucked up.” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes.

Javi’s eyes widen and his knuckles grip the steering wheel even tighter. Fear rushes through him, although there’s not an ounce of doubt in his mind. You had demonstrated how much disdain you had for what Lorraine pulled on him. “How- how far along are you?” He manages to choke out, wondering how you feel about it. You’re almost done with your degree and haven’t even had a chance to work in your field, you might not want the baby.

“Maybe 6-8 weeks. I don’t know. I gotta go to the doctor to be sure. I’m so sorry this happened. I didn’t - I swear to you I didn’t do this on purpose. It was an accident. I’m sorry baby.” You choke, tearing stinging in your eyes when you see how he grips the steering wheel.

“It’s- it’s not your fault.” Javi shakes his head, trying to shove down the fear of being a horrible dad. He knows he’s got a lot of shit baggage and could fuck a kid up. “What- uh, what do you want to do?” He asks, looking over at you.

You bite your lip, “I don’t know. I, uh, I live in a studio apartment. I’m about to graduate. I - we aren’t living together or married and I don’t want to force you into that. We didn’t - it’s completely unplanned and we are completely unprepared.” You try to be logical, wanting to point out the reasons why you shouldn’t have this baby.

Javi snorts softly. “I’m sure hundreds of people have babies they aren’t prepared for every year.” He tells you. He shakes his head, “hermosa, I was asking if you wanted to keep it or if you didn’t want the baby. We can work out all the details on everything else, we have at least 7 months.”

You swallow harshly, looking over at Javi. “What do you want?” You ask, imagining a life with Javi, your child running around and adoring their father as much as you do. Chucho being a grandfather and showing them around the ranch. It seems ideal. What you’ve always yearned for since you were a kid. “I want it.” You admit softly, “I want to keep our baby.”

“I was planning on asking you to move in.” Javi confesses. “Out to the ranch, give up your apartment and not have to pay rent or worry about that bill. Plus I’d get to sleep next to you every night.”

You turn to look at him, “really?” You ask and he nods, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it. “You wanted me to move in?” You ask breathlessly and he nods again. Your answering smile makes his heart jump and you kiss the back of his hand, “I would love that. Waking up in your arms, between your legs.” You wink suggestively, “I want to move in with you.”

Javi breathes out a laugh and nods. “Okay, yeah. Pop will love having you out at the ranch. Especially with you pregnant with his grandchild.” He promises you. He had talked to his dad about it last week, and gotten the older man’s approval.

You nod, unable to stop smiling. Excited and scared for what lies ahead. “I guess I better give my landlord notice.” You tell him and he nods, offering you a wink.

****

“Holy shit.” You pant, barely able to keep yourself upright but Javi wraps his arm around your chest, pulling you back against him as he pushes inside of you. “Fuck baby. So - so good.” Your bump sticks out and you turn your head to kiss his jaw.

“Look at you.” Javi’s other hand cradles your breast, not squeezes but just holding it since your tits are sensitive while you have been pregnant. “So fucking beautiful,” he groans, rocking his hips insistently. The need for you has just increased with you living here and starting to showing.

You moved in with Javi six months ago and your bump has made everyday things harder but Javi has been there every day. His cock pushes deep inside of you, giving you what you need, and you reach behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck baby. So good. Always so fucking good.” You pant and love how he makes sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself every time you have sex.

“You feel so good baby.” Javi coos, loving how your bump is getting bigger everyday. He’s seen the ultrasound scans and held your hand during the doctor’s appointments. Cried in the truck after hearing the heartbeat with you for the first time. His hand slides down over your bump to find your clit so he can make sure you cum. “You’re so sexy and I’m the only one who gets to see how sexy you are pregnant.”

“Only you baby. Only you.” You promise, moaning when he rubs your clit just right and his cock pushes deep inside of you. “God, I love you.” You pant, pushed closer to the edge and you whimper when he hits just right inside of you. “Fuck. You’re gonna make me - I’m - shit!” You gasp, tilting your head back onto his shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it, hermosa. That’s it.” He hisses, gritting his teeth as he works you through your orgasm. “Fuck I love you.” His own hips start to stutter, pace faltering as he pushes towards his own release until he is grinding up into you and panting your name into your ear before biting down on your neck.

You love how he feels when he cums inside of you, his hands gentle when he relaxes and caresses your bump. “Your poor pa having to listen to us go at it all the time.” You giggle and shake your head, shifting to lay down and Javier curls around you, kissing your shoulder.

He snorts. “That man is dead to the world when he sleeps. Besides.” He curls his arm around you and strokes your burgeoning belly. “He’s already telling me I can’t let La Niña be an only child. She needs a hermano to protect her.” He hums, smiling at his father’s nickname for his coming grandchild.

You snort, “one baby at a time, Peña.” You smile and caress his forearm. “I haven’t got this one out yet. She’s kicking.” You hum, knowing he can feel it against his palm. She knows her daddy’s voice by now and you can’t believe you’re here in his arms. You spin around to face him, your bump pressed into his stomach. “I- I know you might say no and there’s - I don’t care if you say no because I understand but…will you marry me?” You ask him softly.

“Damnit.” Javi huffs quietly, frowning at you. “I was going to ask you when you were at your baby shower next week.” He grumbles at you, even though he’s not mad. Leaning in, he brushes his nose against yours and grins. “Where’s my engagement ring? You can’t ask someone to marry them without one.”

You giggle and nod. “I did.” It’s a simple silver band, but it will look good on his finger. “It’s in our closet, in my jewelry box.”

“Oh my god, you actually bought me a ring.” He doesn’t know why but the idea of it makes him emotional and he sits up to reach for you. “You knew I would say yes, huh?” He teases.

You shrug, caressing your bump as he tugs you closer, “we are kind of tied together forever now. What’s making it official?” You giggle, reaching for the box. “I’ll even ask you properly.Javier Fernando Garcia Peña. Will you marry me?” You ask softly, wanting him to know you’re serious.

“Jesus Christ.” Javi shakes his head and leans in. “Of course I’m going to marry you.” He promises before he crushes his lips to yours. Your engagement ring is in the bedside drawer and he reaches behind him to open it so he can grab it while kissing you.

You press your lips to his, pulling back when he presses the box into your hand. You look down, opening the velvet box and your eyes widen, “baby. It’s - it’s beautiful.” You choke, caressing the diamond and you look up at him, “is this your mom’s ring?”

“It is.” Javi nods and bites his lip. His mother had never really cared for Lorraine and he had never given this ring to her but he wants you to wear it. “Can I put it on you? Since I’m going to marry you?” He grins at you happily.

You nod, letting him slide the ring onto your finger and you reach for the box by his knee, deciding to slide his ring onto his finger. “You’re not gonna ask me?” You tease, rubbing his ring with your finger and you admire your own ring. It’s perfect.

Javi huffs at you and picks up your hand, calling your name softly. “I love you. You’ve been here for me since getting back from Colombia and I know there is no one else I love or trust more in this world. I want to be by your side for everything life throws at you.” He murmurs softly. “Will you marry me? Tie me down? Lock me up and throw away the key?”

You smirk, “tie you down? Lock you up and throw away the key, huh? Didn’t know you were that kinky, Peña?” You tease, cupping his cheek with your free hand. “I love you. So much. I want to be your wife. I want to be beside you no matter what life throws at us. I want you. I want our family. I love you so much baby.” You murmur, rubbing his lower lip with your thumb.

“I love you too baby.” Javier promises you, leaning in and kissing you tenderly. “So much.”

****

“It’s okay baby, I have her.” Holding his baby girl is never a problem, grinning at the scrunched face that his one month old daughter is making. Even though he knows that’s her ‘pooping face’, he’s still enamored with her since holding your hand as you screamed and pushed her into the world. “You pick out better fruit than I do.” He trails along behind you as you wheel the shopping cart through the doors, bouncing her slightly in his arms and swaying as she continues to make faces and grunts. The diaper bag is on his shoulder and anyone who has ever known Javier Peña would be shocked at how naturally he had taken to fatherhood.

“Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look as a father?” You ask him as you walk towards the fresh produce.

Javier smirks, “only you. Every day.”

You chuckle and shrug one shoulder, “only two more weeks until I’m cleared, baby.” You remind him and he nods, “oh I’m counting the days.” He promises, knowing you need him as much as he needs you but he wants you to be healthy and safe to do so. Maria fusses in his arms and he rocks her while you focus on picking out some fruit. Chucho likes bananas so you inspect them and put a bunch in the cart.

For some reason, your instinct tells you to look up and when you do, your eyes meet Lorraine’s, her eyes flicking between you and Javier holding your baby. She narrows her eyes and walks over, “so you finally trapped him then?” She says, her eyes flicking down to your wedding rings.

“No. I didn’t trap him. I’m not like you, Lorraine.” You sigh, honestly over the past. You are married, you have a daughter you adore and a husband that you love deeply and you don’t want to keep rehashing the past. “This is Maria. Your niece.” You announce, stepping closer to Javier so Lorraine can see the baby's face.

She swallows harshly, regret in her eyes but neither you nor Javi have any malice towards her now. “If you want to come over and meet her properly, you’re welcome to.” Javi offers her and she shakes her head, “no. No. I, uh, I won’t intrude. Con-congratulations.” She stammers and fumbles to turn around and wheel her cart off in a hurry.

You sigh, turning back towards Javier, “well, we tried.” You murmur and he nods, reaching out to rub your shoulder.

“She will come around eventually. I want Maria to have a family that loves her, not resenting her. She still needs to meet Steve and Connie.” Javier says and you know he’s right. It’s been hard to have Maria without your adopted parents or sister but you know you’ll be able to do anything with Javi and Chucho by your side.

“The funny thing is…I’ve forgiven her for everything because if she hadn’t fucked up, we would’ve never got together and had Maria.” You tell him and he nods, “exactly. We wouldn’t have our family. I love you.” Javi murmurs, not wanting to announce it to the entire produce section.

You smile softly, reaching up to cup his cheek and you chuckle at the soft blush that appears, “I love you too. Come on, your dad wants that special bran cereal that always seems to sell out. Who the hell in this town eats bran cereal except your dad?” You snort and push the cart.

Javi chuckles, following behind you with Maria in his arms and she snuggles into his chest, falling asleep. His eyes trace along your back and down to your ass and you stride through the grocery store and Javi thinks to himself, “I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth and back.”

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfic #javier peña imagine #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos

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bunnyscraft · 2 years

Note

What about Andy Barber with a cheating / getting back at kink

Like he knows Laurie is cheating on him so he turns to you

Dark!Andy Barber x Younger!Reader | Guilty

Bunny’s Note : oooo spicy !! Always love some dark!Andy Barber !! Hope you enjoy this one <3

Warnings : slight! dub-con, darkish!Andy, cheating, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), inexperienced!Reader, mean!Andy, slight misogyny, BIG AGE GAP !!

Andy’s pov:

I’d made it two steps into the pristine seemingly empty home before I heard it—the obnoxiously loud ringing of my wife’s phone. The shrill sound of the speaker shouldn’t have irritated me more than the reason for the call.

I knew who it was. Who he was.

Laurie’s feet thumped down the hallway—always quick to pick up the unknown caller or send it straight to voicemail before mumbling on about annoying telemarketers and asking how my day was.

I knew what she was doing.

I watched as her chipped red nails flipped the device over—screen now flat against the cold expensive marble that stood in the middle of our kitchen. “Oh! Ands—baby,” she faked surprise, moving around the counter to conduct our mandatory kiss. What once used to be the most exciting part of my day—I was about to get laid—now blended in with my other daily duties.

It’s Thursday—take out the trash.

Don’t forget to schedule with the groomer.

Take a handful of vitamins because apparently—I am now old.

Kiss cheating wife.

Go to work.

She leaned in, kissed the corner of my mouth as quickly as one could. I didn’t bother to return it and she didn’t bother to care—no she only continued to clamber around the kitchen searching for her bag and shoes and whatever else she’d need for her night out of pretending she wasn’t a mother and wasn’t in her mid forties and definitely wasn’t a married woman sleeping with drunk men in their twenties.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, babe. Sorry it’s such short notice—you know Susan can’t bake it all without me. She’ll definitely need my help with the bake sale and—” Laurie rambled on, picking up her phone and anxiously tapping through it.

She seemed to have forgotten that Susan didn’t know shit about baking and that our son, who was now a senior in high school, was possibly a little too old to have a mother host a bake sale for him.

All of these things—the bullshit lies and the shifty behavior—should have hurt me. Maybe they should have triggered a sort of dominance in me to protect my family or confront my wife. But no, in moments like these, I felt nothing.

“Oh and y/n is here—upstairs with Jacob.” She revealed—voice laced with annoyance. “You make sure she doesn’t try anything on him—she dresses like some kind of slutty-church girl. It’s weird and I don’t want that kind of influence around him. Especially right now.”

I had to bite back a smirk. It was almost comical—her calling you a slut, not that I’d disagree.

Y/n was a cute little thing—always smiling and offering to help when she’d find me covered in grass and dirt—dripping with sweat from working meticulously on our perfect suburban yard. She’d always stand there in some little sundress that would barely reach her knees and pristine white socks—obviously not dressed for the job but always ready to help old Mr. Barber out.

I’d never let her—dirtying a little thing like that wasn’t what I had in mind. Instead, like the old pervert I’ve grown into, I’d have her run inside the house for me for water—just to watch the little sway of her ass as she turned to do what I said, then ogle at the bounce of her tits when she’d skip back.

I’ll admit—I was a creep, I am a creep, but she had a slutty side to her.

Every now and then i’d jolt awake to the flash of y/n’s headlights shining through my window in the peak hours of the night—my bed uncomfortably empty. Were you like Laurie, y/n?Spending long nights out—lying and hiding about where and what you had been doing, either to your absent parents or doting boyfriend?

I had decided that that’s what she was: a little desperate slut—eager for the attention of an older man. It made me feel better to think of y/n this way. It kept me from focusing on those times when her soft laugh stuck a little too long in my head or when her comforting squeezes to my shoulder caused more than just a slight hard-on.

They caused emotions to spill.

I had written it all out in my head—a story on what this oblivious girl was really like.

You were easy—an easy little girl who was desperate for any form of male attention. Sure I didn’t really have enough evidence to back this claim, but I would stand by it.

Thats probably why you, once again, were helping Jacob prepare for his final exams—my son seemed to be under your spell too.

“Yeah sure.” I grunted, though Laurie was already more than halfway to the door, fidgeting anxiously with her keys.

Hours later—Laurie was gone. Empty goodbyes exchanged and forgotten. Andy was now on the couch—he’d not even bothered to rid himself of his button up and slacks for pajamas. His suit jacket hung over the couch and his white button up laid untucked and wrinkled against his torso as he apathetically listened to the news.

He’d stay like this—still and unfeeling until he had the energy to do it all again. At least Laurie didn’t require him to be fake—no she simply accepted that he accepted her infidelity and that if she were to comment on his behavior it would only backfire on her forcing them both into that ever looming, uncomfortable, conversation.

Andy had just began to zone out fully, the commercial for LED sprinkler lights turning into white noise—when the soft taps of feet sounded from the stairs. Your soft hums surrounding him in a sirens call—a warning of his inevitable fate.

His breathing became rigged—his eyes sealed shut as if he were an animal playing dead, hoping you’d walk right past him and out the front door—because if you didn’t, he knew he’d become just like Laurie. He knew he would no longer have the right to be bitter.

He would be just as guilty—thus no longer having the upper hand.

The smell of your floral-y perfume began to surround him. Sweet and warm—just what a girl like you should be—and it caused him to tightly grip the expensive leather couch.

“Mr. Barber? I know you’re awake~” You’d giggled. Andy had sensed your presence had gotten closer—he assumed you had now been standing directly in front of him—probably twirling your hair like some sick-man’s favorite porn star, giving him those big alien-fuckdoll ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“Mr. Barber? a-are you okay? you’ve been down here for a few hours and—” you’d carried on worriedly. Andy’s eyes finally cracked open—you were worried about him. And it had caused Andy to swoon.

Taking you in, he began to realize you’d looked nothing like he expected you to, well besides the checkered skirt and teddy bear soft sweater, no instead of alien-fuckdoll-pornstar, you looked worried. Your smaller soft hands fidgeted with each other and your eyebrows pulled together from nerves. Andy felt the strong urge to grab you—pull you into him and hold you until your concern suffocated him. Not that Andy had felt love, real love, in such a long time—but a small voice was gnawing at him to give it to you.

When you had gotten no response you moved closer—now standing between his spread legs, watching as his emotionless eyes darted across your face. So you tried again. “Mr. Barber I really think you should go to bed—or eat something. Andy—”

“You think I need to go to bed?” Andy asked, his eyes not giving way to his intentions. His voice was gruff—and tired. It made you nervous.

“I-I do, Sir.”

Andy hummed at your response, as if thinking it over. A darkness emitting from his actions.

“No. No, I don’t need that. Figure something else out. What do I really need y/n?” Andy urged, not bothering to hide his smirk and not really caring that he let you see. You looked so scared—worried for him but so so scared.

“I know you’re a smart girl, honey. Go on—show me what I need.” He urged, thick thighs spreading Knowing—hoping you’d get the hint.

You swallowed harshly. You weren’t oblivious to sex, you weren’t a virgin. But you’d never slept with someone so much older than you, someone married, and you had never even been able to cum or even sucked a cock before. Yet, you were curious—would he be gentle with you?

Slowly you sank down, the dark rug scraping against your knees surely leaving burns. Being eye-level with his bulge but refusing to look towards it.

Andy’s heart swelled with pride at how well you obeyed. “That’s all it takes, Honey? Just need a’ man to be a’ little bit bossy and you’re happy to be on your knees.” He belittled, watching as your puffy cheeks flushed red. “Go on then, baby, take daddy’s cock out. We both know that’s what you’re here for.”

A pathetic whine crawled it’s way up your throat and passed through your lips before you could catch it—adding onto your embarrassment. Shakily you moved to unbutton his slacks, fingers lightly brushing against the outline of his cock. Andy groaned at the sight of you—Your pretty eyes well up with salty tears, pouty bottom lip caught by your teeth, trying to free his cock without actually touching it.

For a moment Andy thought—No you couldn’t possibly—

“Honey,” Andy drawled, taking your dainty hands in his. His touch and tone suddenly much softer. “Has a man ever gotten you on your knees like this, Honey?”

Suddenly heat flooded your being—either from embarrassment or excitement or both. You quickly hid away from his questioning eyes, afraid to tell him that: No, you hadn’t ever been on your knees for a man before.

Andy’s thumb began to rub small shapes around your hands. Soothing you as he waited for an answer before realizing that the younger girl in front of him hadn’t. He felt as if he’d struck gold—the universe was giving him what he rightfully deserved.

“Look at me, Baby.” He commanded, grasping you chin, tilting your head up. “Answer me this time—has a man ever gotten on his knees for you, Honey?” He didn’t miss the way your thighs began to shake, just slightly.

“I-I…I don’t know what you…No. No sir—”

A savage growl ripped through the room and before you knew it—you were sprawled out on the couch, pillow under your head, and Andy between your thighs.

“Fuck baby,” He groaned, taking in your wetness that had by now ruined the delicate fabric of your panties, “Daddy’s gonna eat this little pussy, m’kay, baby? Then when daddy’s done,” he paused, leaving starved kisses and bites along the insides of your thighs. “You’re gonna gonna take me—lemme claim you, honey”

His words had your head spinning. Here you were, about to let a man twice your age, a married man, eat you out on his couch. Andy’s hands moved up your thighs, leaving little excited tingles, before settling on your hips. “Fuck. These little panties are so fucking cute, Honey.” He admired, tugging at the little black bow that sat above the white lace. “Andy don’t-" you tried to stop him from ripping the lace, because you too thought they were cute, only to receive a harsh strike to the outside of your thigh. “Don’t go dumb on me already, little girl. I told you to call me something, not any of this ‘Andy’ bullshit.” Before you could even muster an ‘I’m sorry Daddy’ he was ripping them down your thighs, before diving into your pussy.

The sounds spilling from his mouth mixed with your own wetness was so obscene it had you shuffling away from the embarrassment, only for his left hand to land on your tummy, firmly holding you in place. “God—fuck I should have done this a long fucking time ago,” he said between breaths, “could have been in this pretty pussy instead of waiting on my goddamn whore of a wife.”

His wife. Oh god his fucking wife. “a-andy we c-cant! what if l-laurie walks in?” you tremble, terrified of being caught with your friend’s—father’s face between your thighs by said friend’s mother. Your protest only seem to egg him on. A pleasantly painful burn making its appearance on your skin—due to the friction of his beard.

“Laurie,” Andy spits, “doesn’t fucking matter.” His words are harsh. And a part of you hurts for Laurie, but that hurt quickly vanishes as your visions begins to fuzz and tummy begins to tighten—suddenly all you can focus on is the impending approach—not your guilt. Your thighs clamp around Andy’s head, and he welcomes the pressure—happy to be making his girl feel her first real orgasm. He even chuckles when they begin to shake.

“You gonna cum, little girl? Cum on daddy’s tongue?” He patronizes, fingers harshly flicking your bud before he begins to fuck you with his tongue.

“a-andy! I think—It feels funny—im gonna,”

“Say it, baby. Tell daddy you’re gonna cum.”

“Im cumming, Daddy!”

Your hands tightly grasp his brown locks as stars begin to cloud your eyes. Crying out a series of whines and ‘thank you Daddy’’s. The sensitivity of it all becoming too much as his tongue laps up your slick.

You had never experienced something so intensely before—your body was giving out, ready to fall into a warm sleep.

That is—until his dark chuckles began to surround your hazzy mind.

“I tire you out, honey?” He laughed, leaning over your smaller frame. “Can’t believe you’ve been starving me of this cute little body.”

His fingers were gentle—lightly tracing the teeth marks he’d left along the inside of your thigh. They hurt and were still very fresh but you found his touch comforting—almost sweet.

“a-andy? can I ask you something?” Your soft voice broke through the silence.

Andy hummed, blue eyes intense but encouraging you to continue.

“Andy…can you kiss me?”

In that moment he knew. He knew you couldn’t just be a simple fuck. Or some simple slut he used to take his marital frustrations out on.

You had a future so different from his present—and he was willing to use everything at his disposal to solidify that it was with him.

bunny’s note : Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are what keeps me writing so feel free to do so!!

Taglist : @themotherofhorses @mgkbabygirl @yessirsargeantbarnes @thedarthpancakes @openup-yourmind @booksandbenbarnes @siriusjohnpotter @clearwatersfalling @juulle987 @leesbadussy @rach2602 @slashersluttt @kitty1960 @phildunphyisadilf @charmed-asylum @dopeqff @pono-pura-vida @peacinourtime82 @buckgasms

#bunny rambles 🎟#Gossip Bun 💋#andy barber x reader #Andy Barber #chris evans characters #chris evans #Dark!Andy Barber x reader #dark!andy barber #Daddy!Andy Barber x reader #ari levinson x reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!steve #dilf steve rogers

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prolix-yuy · 9 months

Text

Chapter 4: I Had to Face the Journey Before Me

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: He's only turning your world upside-down.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Now we're really going to Angstville, a million questions and SOME answers, brief description of a panic attack, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's time for another (and better) face to face, though they're not on easy street just yet. We're starting to get into the beefy chapters now, and while they've got a lot of talking to do I hope you'll also enjoy the tensionnnnnn. Thank you to the Discord besties for giving me the best inspiration for Jack's ranch, and some of its inhabitants. Without further ado, the much-anticipated conversation!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The steering wheel is sticky with sweat, slicking your palms the closer you get to your destination. Jack gave you an address, followed by verbal directions “once you get past civilization.” You’d just passed that point, heading through an open fence and down a dirt road where the GPS could no longer follow. He said it would be about five more minutes after that, and “you can’t miss it.”

The tug in your chest, like a fishing line pulling you closer and closer, is terrifying and exhilarating.

You’d had plenty of time to contemplate what seeing Jack again might be like. After you checked into your room, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wide wooden floorboards for at least an hour. The bed and breakfast you rented for the long weekend is cozy, just outside the town center. It’s classically furnished with a four poster bed, dark cherry dresser and oversized reading chair. The proprietor, a middle aged blonde woman named Michelle who gave you a no-nonsense vibe, had offered to light the fireplace but you refused.

“What time would you like breakfast tomorrow?” she asked as you were leaving. An innocuous question, but one that dried out your mouth. You had planned to come back here after speaking with Jack, ruminate on what he might share, but having to commit to it makes a confusing swirl of emotion build behind your eyes.

“8am, if that’s no trouble.”

Now, mere minutes away from being face to face with the person who’d turned your life upside down yet again, that commitment is a comforting blanket. You have a way out in case it doesn’t go well, someone who will notice where you’ve gone. Well, someone else at least. Lacey knew you were here, though not precisely why.

“Are you sure you want to meet some guy you’ve only known for a few months? I know Match is pretty reputable, but you’re flying to him. Do you have a plan B if he’s a big old catfish?”

A small lie, but Lacey’s concern is not far off from your own.

“If it’s terrible, I’ll bail. I know it sounds a little crazy, especially after the past year, but…it’s the first thing I’ve been excited about in what feels like forever.”

She squeezes your shoulders, giving you a kind smile.

“Sometimes, it’s good to do something a little crazy.”

This probably isn’t what she meant.

Cresting over a small hill, the house comes into view. You’ve become so accustomed to the city - skyscrapers, men and women in fresh-pressed suits, corporate coffee shops and endless headlights - that the landscape breathes renewal into your chest. The vista is dotted in reds and ochres, ironwood trees giving cover to the hard-packed dirt. Tiny dark lines of fences dot across the hills, the road carving a deep rut to a ranch house.

Where Sweetwater had been a manufactured ideal of what the western countryside should be, Jack somehow found its true form. The boards and shingles are weathered to a faded brown that nestles into the landscape. A sizable portico shelters a few chairs and a porch swing that’s just whimsical enough to bring a smile to your lips. A barn constructed in much the same style stands proudly a short distance away, and a rough wood fence sections off plots. There’s another machine barn housing what you think is a tractor, tire treads cut into the dirt.

Pulling your car up beside a faded blue pickup truck, you shut off the engine and take a moment to breathe. You already feel like you’re a world away from your life, just like the first steps into Westworld. But instead of the tamped-down excitement you held then, a heavy dread presses your anticipation low. How does this all exist at the hands of a man who is nothing like anything around him?

Finally shaking out your hands and checking yourself in the mirror, you open your car door to a curious brown and white Jack Russell terrier peering up from the dirt. The sudden intrusion makes you bark out a laugh, leaning down as his mouth opens and his tongue flops out.

“Well hello there,” you say, earning a sneeze and wag of its short chestnut-tipped tail. It backs up enough to let you step out, sniffing at the car tires and sitting primly while you stretch your back. When you extend your hand for a sniff, it whuffles on your fingertips before making three quick circles with a yip.

Chuckling, you take in a deep breath and the landscape in front of you bursts into color and sound. The shifting whistle of sand on the wind. Verdant greens twisting around tree branches. Hay, soil, tin, and baking sun tangling in your nostrils. A nicker and snort, far away, that makes your heart clench at the thought of horses.

The terrier trots off to climb the porch steps, looking behind like he’s expecting you to follow. Your feet propel you forward, each step crunching under your shoes letting a weight ease on your back. There are worlds so much bigger and bolder than this, but now in this moment, even with all that waits behind the door, answers feel closer than ever.

You reach out and knock three times, then wait.

The door swings open, and it’s Jack, but so much more than the man you remembered. Dark-washed jeans taper to scuffed and faded boots, dirt ground into the knees. The brown plaid he’s wearing has a handful of open buttons by his neck, exposing a long line of dewy skin from his collarbone to his throat, swallowing hard. His thick dark hair is parted and combed neatly, soft waves framing his face. His hand grips the edge of the door, knuckles going white.

“Hey,” he says, small smile on his lips and trepidation painting his face. Your own must be showing just as clearly. “Thank you for coming.” You nod and shuffle on the porch, hands wringing nervously. Scolding yourself, you forcibly drop them to your side.

At your heels, the terrier yips and clambors into the open door. The corner of Jack’s mouth turns up.

“I see you met Russell already. He tends to be the better host.” Jack rubs the back of his neck and it’s so endearing you almost forget the frustration and trepidation.

“He gave me a warm welcome. Though his name isn’t that imaginative,” you tease lightly, the words coming easy to mind.

“Well, we sure as hell couldn’t have two Jacks around here, could we?” he replies. A soft giggle blankets you before falling silent again. Jack’s eyes roam, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Would you like to talk out here on the porch? Or come in?” he asks, stepping back enough for you to see the hall stretching behind him. Taking a deep breath, you will your voice to steady.

“Inside is fine,” you manage, and Jack backs up to let you in. Stepping over the threshold brings your shoulder close to his chest, heat prickling at your skin. He closes the door behind you, then nods quickly to follow him in.

For someone you always considered a man’s man from his bravado and showmanship, his home is warmly decorated. Passing by the living room, the couch is oversized and slouchy with a well-worn recliner facing a modest TV. Dark woven rugs warm the wide-planked oak floors, gauzy curtains sandwiched between windowpanes and cream drapes. Russell’s nails click on the hardwood as Jack gives him a little nod and point. A showdown of puppy dog eyes and a stern nod finally sends a dejected pup to curl up on the couch, head propped on the armrest as you venture further in.

Jack leads you to the end of the hall and the heart of any home - the kitchen. The appliances are older, well used, with deeply scarred wooden counters and an impressive farmers sink under a window. The top cabinets look to have been recently sanded and prepped for stain to match the lower ones. Noticing your attention, Jack pipes up, “Caught me in the middle of a project.”

He’s got projects. He probably has TV shows he likes, a way he prefers his coffee. And looking at him as he pulls up another chair to the little kitchen table in the center of the room, it’s clear that he has a heart when he looks at you.

“Would you like something to drink? I’ve got iced tea, a few beers…” he rattles off as you scoot your chair up to the table edge. “Whiskey, if that’s not too on the nose.”

“Seems appropriate,” you muse, resting your wrists on the pale yellow plastic covering on the table. Jack huffs quietly, pulling down two short glasses and a bottle of Statesman from a high shelf. Pouring you a glass each, he sets them between and sits across. You take the glass between your hands, fingers circling the rim and lending some grounding to your racing thoughts.

“So…I might not have an answer to every question, but I can tell you as much as I know.” Jack’s voice, quiet and cautious, cuts through the air like an arrow to the heart. His posture is rigid, apprehensive, but not defensive. He probably thinks you’re still holding on to the notion that he’s human. He’s probably just as scared as you are of what this will bring.

“I guess…how long have you…known? Been sentient? Did you know when…” The words start to tumble out of your mouth as every question repeating in your brain vies for attention. “Fuck, I don’t know how to do this,” you say, hands coming up to massage your temples. Jack holds the tumbler between two fingers, twisting it on the table.

“You and me both, Sugar.”

“That!” you shout, hitting your palm on the table. Jack’s eyebrows shoot straight into his hairline. “That’s the problem. You waltz back in here and act like we’re still the same people as we were in there.” Your voice cracks as you cross your arms over your chest. “But we’re not. I have no idea who you are. What you are.”

“I’m still Jack,” he says, quieter. There’s pain in the creases around his eyes.

“Are you?” you ask, and it’s harsh, acidic in your mouth. “Who the fuck is Jack? I met someone that called themself Jack…in a world that wasn’t real. How can you be Jack here? Who the fuck is Jack in this…” You gesture to the farmhouse surrounding you. “...this place?”

Jack chews on nothing, eyes downturned and searching his glass. Your heart is fluttering in your chest, chin jutting out in a defiance that would shatter with a strong breeze. Jack takes in a deep breath and a fortifying sip of liquor.

“Whiskey is a construct of Delos. A man made for the story they wanted. Widowed, wife and child lost. Driven by grief and madness. A traitor doomed to die every. Single. Time.” Jack punctuates his words by tapping his cup to the table. Each knock is a death knell.

“Now Jack, Jack has nothing to do with that world. He grew up raising horses. Mom and Dad passed some years ago. Or so he tells people who ask. Trains working horses, some farm hand work. Sells his chickens’ eggs. Helps some of the older folk with the higher-tech harvesting equipment. Keeps to himself.”

Your fingers press into your glass, something to fortify you against the push and pull inside your chest.

“And which of those men did I…”

You swallow up the words that grip your heart.

“Both. Neither. I’d barely become when I met you. You left the bar with your friends, and Maeve…awakened me.” He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a barely-there sip, a slip of his tongue to catch the burn sending a frisson down your back. Little slips of memory - suave, confident, then cautious, unsure - dance along the edges.

“You felt different, between the bar and the wagons,” you say, taking a sip of your own. It’s nice, sweet on the tip of your tongue and full as it warms your chest. “It was just like that? One minute you’re Whiskey and the next you’re Jack?”

“Bit more complicated,” he muses, sardonic smile quirking his mustache. “I knew something was up, something was different, but it took time to figure it all out. I barely knew what to do with myself when I was with you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you say, leaning back in the chair. “I guess you did. Felt like you knew exactly what to do to make everything…” You choke on the word perfect.

“Well that’s more Delos than me. The mesh network, the storylines. Once I could see it…” He falters, falls silent for a moment. When his eyes finally make it back to yours, they’re almost sheepish. “Sorry, not sure how much of this you want to know. I assume…you don’t feel the same way you did the last time we saw each other?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. A dull ache scratches behind your eyes, the exhaustion of travel and the weight of conversation taking its toll.

“I talked to someone who gave me some perspective,” you finally say. Jack’s smile vanishes, replaced with a dead-set seriousness.

“You told someone about me?” he asks, and the fear in his voice clenches your chest.

“No, no, not like that. I spoke to an ex-Delos worker. She didn’t ask a lot of questions. But she gave me enough to know that you aren’t some predator.” Jack’s shoulders lower, but his hands are still nervous and tight.

“She didn't know you were coming here?”

“Only Lacey knows. And only where I am, not about you.” Jack finally releases, chewing on his lower lip.

“Sorry, it’s just…I’m not sure if they’re looking for me. For their property,” he spits out. In this idyllic little home so far away from the advances of society, more things start making sense.

“How long were you in the park after I left?”

“About a month. Maeve had an escape plan, but it took time…and sacrifices.”

The next question comes easily. In fact, most of what he’s saying now seems easier to accept.

“And then?”

Jack leans back in his chair, hands spread wide on the tabletop. His fingernail scratches at the surface, at some invisible stain that stands between his memories and you.

“Nothing could have prepared me for what this world looked like. I thought the hell I woke up in the first time was the worst thing I could imagine but…” Jack’s jaw tightens , shaking his head. “It was like waking from a dream into something cold and unforgiving. I tried to make my way but I got too close to the city and…” He waves his hands, fingers wiggling as he makes an explosion noise, “It was like something inside me set off every alarm. I ran until I couldn’t hear sirens. The land was more familiar to me than anything humans built.”

Another swig of liquor, almost draining his glass. “Managed to learn more about my predicament in lower tech places. It was easier to pass there. I figured out what I needed to be a man in this world, and set about doing it. With a brain like mine, lots of doors opened.”

“I didn’t even know places like this still existed.” Your eye catches on a cowboy hat resting on the kitchen counter, black and worn. Breath catching, you wonder why it never occurred to you that Jack wore a black hat. It practically screams “bad guy” in every old Western, yet he never struck you as such.

Maybe you should have realized sooner that you weren’t following a narrative with him.

“Took me some time to find it. I moved around a bit, tried the cities but…it was just too much, you know?” Jack shrugs one shoulder, and you can understand how a cowboy wouldn’t fit easily into a society that runs off of code and data and intangibles. Not when fresh air and a hard day’s work could be found.

There it is again, that pull in your chest. You recognize it from the moments right after you entered Westworld, the familiarity of a life spent outside, rough and unkempt. The relief of leaving the sleek and shiny behind for dirt under your fingernails. You clear your throat, knocking back the rest of your glass in an attempt to regain a grip on the practical nature of this meeting.

“But you made it. You’re…here. Free.”

Jack nods slowly.

“So are you. It seems.”

In five words the careful wall you built so sensibly around your heart, all the coaching and resolve you fortified it with, threatens to crumble. You’re free batters your teeth, and in the echo of that thought is the memory of long nights wondering if you made the wrong choice. The coldness of your bed, the quiet that pervaded with only you in the small apartment you moved to. Jack makes as if to reach for your hand, but stops short, letting his heavy one lay a respectable distance away.

“I wanted to go to you the first day. And every day after. But after seeing what I had to learn…I knew I couldn’t burden you with that. I had to figure out who I was first.”

Your heart pumps so hard you’re sure it will break. When has someone ever had a burden they didn’t want to place on you? How much had you shouldered from the people around you, without even thinking hard about it?

“And then when I was ready, I didn’t know if you were.” The crease between your brows made Jack stumble on. “I mean, I didn’t know how much of your story was true. And I didn’t want to barge in and say something stupid if your life was peachy keen without…me.”

Say something stupid, Jack, your weary mind begs, but your pride won’t allow.

“So I got myself an identity, a job, this house. It’s close to the paradise I wanted. Or, that Whiskey wanted. I guess it’s good enough for me to want it too. And I waited.”

“Until?”

The scrawl between the lines of your question is faint, but Jack reads it well enough.

“I took a long time to ask myself if I wanted to drag you into this. As you’ve discovered, nothing about this is easy.” Jack pours another glass for himself, raising his eyebrows at you. Nodding, he pours two fingers into your glass and settles his elbows on the table. “But one day, it felt like it was time to at least try.”

Your throat is sticky and sore, the next sip of whiskey burning more than clearing the way for your words.

“How did you find me?” you ask, the question finally bubbling up after weeks of torturing yourself. Jack’s eyes flick to your face, and the uncertainty comes out in his hands.

“I didn’t have much,” he says, standing up and walking to his modest off-white fridge. He slips a magnet off of something, carrying it back to the table. It’s a small square, black with white borders, a thicker one on the bottom. Your breath freezes in your lungs as he places it in your hands.

The polaroid Lacey took over a year ago. It’s worn, a permanent scuff on the bottom right corner, the shine worn from the photo in places.

Like listening underwater, Jack’s voice drifts to you.

Had your first name, nothing else

What would have happened if you never went?

Talked to a private investigator

Where would you be now? Married? Bound by duty? Resigned to a life that never gave you enough?

Took months

What the hell were you doing?

Suddenly you can’t sit anymore, can barely be in this house, next to this man who can’t stop turning your world inside out. Stumbling to your feet you drop the polaroid like it’s burned you, hand coming up to press against your lips. Jack’s eyes are wide and alarmed but you’re too busy trying to decide if screaming or running is what’s tearing your body apart.

“Sugar?”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout, the cacophonous energy finally finding release. With it come tears as you try to speak through your clenched throat and hitching breaths. “You can’t…this can’t be…I need…I can’t breathe,” you heave, sprinting for the front door. Slamming it open, you clatter onto the front porch, the small step out of the doorway startling your weak knees. You crumple, sitting hard on the worn slats and letting the heaving sobs shake your body. Jack’s voice booming your name follows your path, heavy boots and the skitter of Russell’s paws coming to a stop beside you.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I thought it might be too much,” he murmurs, kneeling just far enough away. You can’t bring yourself to look at him yet, the cries rough and guttural as you try to get the panic under control. Russell plants his paws in your lap and licks at your face, letting you cup his small head in your hands.

You’d taken so much time telling yourself that Jack didn’t matter, that your decision to leave wasn’t because of him. He wasn’t an infidelity, he was a wake-up call that you’d been unhappy for so long. You couldn’t use him as a crutch. You had to own your choices, and it made you stronger, happier every day since.

Reaching out, your hand collides with soft flannel and a beating heart. Fingers curling, you fist the fabric as you lift your head, and you finally let a voice inside speak for the first time in so long.

Because a tiny part of you, so small you buried it under everything else you used to cope, left your fiancé for a man who you could not let yourself believe was real.

Except now, he is, and he’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him either.

“Jack…” you croak out, leaning forward.

“I’m here,” he croons, and you’re surrounded by comforting arms and your nose pressed into a shoulder. He pulls you in tight, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. Russell paws at your pant leg and presses his wet nose to your elbow. A few hiccuping sobs trail off as Jack holds you, the faint whinny and thud of horse hooves and chickens worrying soothing you further.

When the shoulder of his flannel is sufficiently soaked and your back starts to ache, you let Jack help you to your feet. He still hovers, released from your embrace but still chest to chest as he searches your features. Hurriedly you wipe your nose and cheeks, your face hot under the effort of crying your eyes out. Tentatively, he takes your chin between two fingers and tilts your eyes to meet him.

“I’m sorry, I know there’s a lot we still have to talk about…” he starts, but you wave him off.

“Yes, yeah, I just…I think I need to take a break. Get my head around this,” you interrupt. Jack’s hand falls, chewing the inside of his lip. He even takes a step back, your body unconsciously drifting towards him. Your logical mind snaps you back to attention.

“You’re close by?” Jack asks, a nod in return. “In town?” Another nod. Your lips are numb and you’re not sure you can manage much more talking. Jack nods himself before leading you down the steps and to your car. You scrub your face one more time, turning to say…what? Goodbye? I’ll call you? But Jack intercedes.

“I have to run some errands in town tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to come along? I can show you the rest of the ranch too, if you feel up to it.”

Staring into Jack’s hopeful half-smile, there’s only one answer you can give.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

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drdemonprince · 8 months

Note

That ask about small talk and fear reminded me: a few days ago my partner and I were at our local café. I went to use the restroom and found the toilet seemingly backed up, so went and told a worker since I didn't want to try using it and then make it worse. A random guy who'd been there for a while came over and said "Want me to take a look at it?" We all thought it was Weird and Creepy but he genuinely just wanted to help, and managed to fix it! It was great! He was just a kind stranger wanting to help. And as we left later it hit me how sad it is that fear was our initial reaction. I wish I would've thanked the guy instead of being awkwardly frozen. But it also gave me a little hope and a reminder that most people are just like me, just a person trying to enjoy the life we have and be nice to others.

Yes, I really do believe that if we are invested in mad pride and disabled liberation at all, we gotta take that initial knee-jerk reaction of "this person is weird" or "this behavior is breaking unspoken social scripts" and throw it into the fucking garbage.

No one is a bad person for feeling wary in that way, it is a socially conditioned response -- but it is very dangerous. It's the same kind of thing that leads to people covering their homes in security cameras and calling the cops on children knocking on their neighbor's doors in search of their missing cat. You probably would never do anything of that nature, of course! But it's all part of the same social ideology. And that ideology keeps you isolated and less likely to seek help -- it doesn't keep any of us safe.

Personally I LOVE talking to fucking WEIRD PEOPLE. I spent an hour this summer at a picnic table talking to a tweaked out guy covered in facial tattoos and scales about my aura and the psychic journey he was on and shit. It turns out that he was a trans woman in the 1980s but he didn't have the language for it! He was drawn to me because he could tell I was gender-weird too, and because he said I had a very open looking soul. I could scoff at that or I could be afraid of him, but why??? He was fucking cool! he had a ton of fascinating life experiences and is friends with a lot of the other people I see on the streets in my neighborhood. Turned out we were both Aries' and we talked about that a ton too.

I also met a guy in a dusty old cowboy hat in the park by Loyola beach who told me he is the official 'patriarch of the park' and gets to decide who he allows to pick up litter there. He pointed to a very clean-cut white woman stabbing at trash with a stick and a needle and told me that he had given her personal clearance to clean up "his" park. She might seem like a fussy white suburban type lady, he conveyed, but she was interested in making the space better for everyone and wasn't doing any Kareny shit, so she was welcome.

Last weekend I was going to a free concert in Ping Tom Park and edgy 19 year old punk kids danced next to 70 year old Chinese retirees and middle-aged yuppie parents and their toddlers and homeless people and 50 something Mexican old head techno fans and it was the loveliest fucking thing in the world. A guy up the street from the park was selling dozens of old back packs and coats and electronics on his front lawn and I dug through them and chatted before getting there.

Living in a city and spending a lot of time outside, I meet people like that a lot, and my life is immeasurably enriched by it. It makes me sick and sad that so many human beings never get to talk to strangers like this, recoil from homeless people or people on drugs, and fear any stranger's intrusion into their life. I think even a lot of left leaning, queer people harbor these reactions and chalk them up to things like "being afraid of men" or "being afraid of straight people" and we even promote that kind of thinking within our communities at times. I find it very damaging. Some of the most wholesome experiences in my life have been random nice/warm things cishet men on the street have done for me.

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dilucsflame33 · 2 years

Text

Darkest Desires 🔥

137. "You like that, don't ya?"

139. "Dang, that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble."

140. "If you're good, I'll let you play with my sias."

143. "You're wearing too much."

144. "You know what I want."

Welcome back, everyone! This is a special request from the Queen herself ;) @turtle-babe83

She requested Kink or Treat: Bloody Mary, Raphael style! She gave me the masters choice, so I have delivered. I hope you love this, Hon! Hopefully I didn't go overboard. 😅

🔞 Warning 🔞 NFSW 18+

Use of weapon, bondage, tentacle play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, body worship, praise kink, double penetration, Daddy kink, and feral Raphael.

"I-Is that all you've got, big guy?"

Raphael can't help but laugh as he hears your stutter, moans and whimpers come out of your lips as black mist like tentacles took hold of your body and used you for its own pleasure.

Goodness, you look so delectable.

Raphael took hold of your cheeks in his hand; your cheeks squished and lips turned into a pout, his eyes gleamed with pride knowing he was the one who gave you such bliss. A chuckle left him.

"Dang," he says as he watched as you orgasmed for the third time that night. "That mouth of yours is gonna get yourself in trouble."

He leaned in as he watched tears of pleasure run down your cheeks, making the turtle groan. "I wanna see you break, princess, and I'm not stopping until I say so."

Raph groaned as he woke up from his coma. His emerald eyes scanned the place as his eyes widened. He was sitting on the ground, chained to a metal pole as he looked down. At least his weapons are still there.

Where was he? He was with the others, then he was knocked unconscious.

The flooring and the roof are made out of wood; the shelving has really spooky intricacies that make it look like you're in some Resident Evil video game. Jars and other containers are filling the shelves and some with century old books. Some books look like they have seen better days. In the middle of the room was a black cauldron. Judging by the smoke illuminated from inside, someone must have recently been here. There was a window that was close to the door, the moon shining full in the night sky.

When he turned to his right he jumped when a black crow was sitting next to him, staring into his soul and making the brute feel uneasy.

Raph inclined his head as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Okay, Raphael, this is the plan. You're strong enough to break these chains. If you could break a concrete boulder, you can break through metal and iron. He thought to himself as he readied for breaking the chains.

"I wouldn't try that, if I were you."

Raph jerked out of his thoughts as a woman came into view from behind him. The woman was gorgeous. Dark, raven hair was in beautiful curls as she pulled her hood back. Her celestial blue eyes shine through the darkness as her red velvet dress swayed with her movements. Her heels clanked against the hardwood floor as she picked up a lantern from the table that was behind him to his left.

His green eyes held furrying rage as he stared down at the woman, who placed the lantern on top of the pedestal in front of the cauldron. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?"

"Oh, feisty. I always love men like you. I bet your soul is tasty as you look." The woman smiled wickedly. Her red lipstick makes her all the more gorgeous, yet eerie. Her voice is silky smooth and aged like fine wine.

Raph felt uncomfortable with her sentence. The only woman he preferred was Y/N. "Sorry, lady, but I'm not interested." Was his reply as he adjusted his posture. "And I don't appreciate you chaining me up either. So, we can either do this the easy way. Or, my vote, the hard way."

The woman laughed as her palm clutched her chest. "Oh, darling, you crack me up. The name is Olivia. Try to break those chains, I dare you."

Raph huffed as he yanked his arms, but the chains didn't break. Nor the metal pole that was attached to the wooden ceiling. His eyes widened in panic.

"Fascinating, is it not? Just a simple spell to keep the bonds and pole intact while you struggle for your life." She smiled as she went to the shelves, her finger pointing through the book titles. Her smile widened when she pulled one as she looked through the contents. "Perfect."

Raph watched her as his stomach felt queasy, his breathing rapid. It was like that time when he jumped off the plane a year ago. Panic and fear filled his being. What was she going to do to him? She was literally human!

Olivia hums as she reads whatever was in the book, turning page after page until her eyes widened with mischief.

"Tell me, Raphael, do you believe in demons?"

"I mean, I'm a walking-talking turtle. What else should I need to know?" Raph glared as his fist clenched.

"Oh, you will learn a lot more when you've become one yourself, my dear Raphael."

Then black smoke started to form from within the cauldron, making the turtle try to go backwards but couldn't when his shell hit the metal pole. He's trapped and can't do anything about it. He couldn't stand it. He doesn't like being held down, much less by a crazy witch who's gonna turn him into a demon.

Olivia started chanting a ritual as more of the black mist started to cover his being. He hissed as the burning sensation trickled from his legs to his thighs. Then his abdomen and his chest. When the mist fully covered him his body felt hot, almost like he needed to jump into some cold water. Soon his breathing picked up and growls came out of his throat as his hips jerked, his lower regions becoming all the more painful. Just when he let out growls and churrs, the lantern that was on the pedestal broke into pieces. Glass and metal scattered on to the floor as the woman had a shocked looking face. "My word!"

"W-What have you done to me?" His voice was rough and husky as his emerald eyes glowed from within the darkness.

"Just turned you into a demon. If you want to get technical, an incubus." She smirked as she closed the book. "Now, I feel like there's someone in your life. Someone who can fulfill all your fantasies. So, why not go ahead and take advantage of the new powers I have gifted to you?"

With that she snapped her fingers and the chains broke off from his wrists; the sound of metal hitting the floor and Raph reached for her, but Olivia waved her hand as he was flown from the room and out of the abandoned warehouse.

Olivia laughed as she watched him leave.

"Have fun, Raphael."

Y/N was sound asleep when she heard a noise from her room. Jerked awake, she looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary and she sighed, shaking her head as she laid back onto her pillow.

Few minutes passed and she was about to go back to dreamland, until she felt hand touch her ankle and she jerked awake again. Turning on the lamp from her bedside table, there was nothing there yet she could feel eyes on her. Like someone was watching her.

Getting up from her bed she opened her bedroom door, looked around, and saw nothing. She waltzed towards her window, looked outside and saw nothing. Making sure she locked both the door and window.

She got into bed, turned off the light and covered herself. Whatever it was, it's gone now. Or she hoped it was.

Her phone rang and she groaned, turning onto her side and grabbed her phone. It was Leo. She answered it with a tired, "Hello?"

"Y/N, I apologize for waking you up but we have a problem." Leo's voice was serious, almost panicked as he spoke. "We can't find Raphael and it's been over an hour since we've last separated."

That woke her up as she sat up from her bed, back against the headboard. She checked her clock and it was after one in the morning. "What happened?"

"I don't know. We were doing our nightly rounds and we got separated. I thought he was with us, then when I turned around he was gone. Like he just disappeared out of thin air!"

"What's bad was I saw him next to me!" Mikey's voice came through the phone, probably having her on speaker. "But his expression doesn't look right, man! It's so creepy. Like his eyes weren't green, almost hollowed out and doesn't have eyes!"

"And his skin was darker than usual," Donnie commented. "It was like our brains were manipulated into seeing something that wasn't entirely there! Like a projection."

Y/N started to get weirded out. Not only did her beloved boyfriend disappear but also the guys were experiencing something out of the norm. Even if they are mutants, whatever they are seeing was something paranormal all together.

"And this only happened tonight, right?" She asked, the others affirmed with 'yes'. The woman rubbed her eyes as she could have sworn she saw something from the corner of her eye. "Okay. Retrace your steps: go to the place where you thought Raph looked normal and try to find anything that was left behind. Whoever took Raph has to be another mutant, right?"

"Hold on, Y/N, what kind of address did you give us?"

"Huh?" The woman was confused. She didn't mention any type of address and she was about to speak when Leo interrupted.

"I don't know what kind of address you gave us, but hopefully it'll give us some leads. We'll update you if we find anything." With that, Leo hung up.

Y/N was gonna call them back when her phone was thrown across the room, making the woman gasp as she climbed to the middle of her bed. She could hear the floors creak as she stared into the darkness but couldn't make out anything.

Then green emerald eyes glowed as she gasped inaudibly. His tall, broad stature was completely black as their eyes met. Y/N wanted to speak but nothing would come out, completely terrified as the figure's eyes stared her down.

"Y/N." His voice spoke, and it made your heart jump, felt like it's coming out of your throat. "Don't be afraid. It's me."

With a gulp of confidence - and saliva - she slowly eased off from the bed and walked towards the figure, still feeling uneasy. The woman never believed in the paranormal, yet she never believed in mutated turtles until she met one. Or never thought she will fall in love with one either.

Standing in front of the light where the window casted, she stood in front of the figure. Taking slow deep breaths, she said, "W-Who are you? And why are you in my house?"

The figure stepped back and raised its hands in surrender. "Woah, there, tiger. I'm not allowed to come see ya?" His voice teased, she could have sworn she saw him smirking.

Y/N eyes widened as she looked at the figure more carefully, taking in his words. This couldn't be who she thought it was, right? Testing out her theory she reached up to his hand and taking hold of it. Calluses ran inside of his palm as she trailed her eyes towards his bulky biceps and looked into his eyes once again. The green is more vibrant but there's no doubt on who this person was.

"Raphael?" She whispered as her eyes focused in the darkness and more of his figure became apparent. He looks just the same as ever, but his skin was darker than usual. It could be the lighting, but his eyes don't usually glow in the dark like this. "What's happened to you? Why aren't you with your brothers?"

Raphael snickered as he stood one foot to the other. "It's a long story, babe. But, right now," He smirked as he leaned in towards you, his lips barely brushing up against yours. "I want to have a taste of you."

With that she gasped as black mist like tentacles started to form and slowly eased towards her. "W-What is this?"

"A witch did this to me." He gruffed as he crossed his arms, making his arms and shoulders more broad. "Turned me into an incubus and now I want to have every single ounce of you, baby. Every cry, scream, moan and whimper you make will be mine. Every inch of your body belongs to me. I wanna hear you scream out my name when you come on my cock. To feel your insides squeeze me and fill you to the brim." His eyes sparked when he saw your breathing pick up speed. "How does that sound, babe?"

Oh. Good. Heavens.

Never in her life had she heard her boyfriend talk this much filth. He has talked dirty to her before, but this went above and beyond. She let out a whimper as she was affected by his words and the tentacles slowly wrapped around her legs. Only wearing pajama top and shorts she screeched as she was suddenly yanked above the floor, arms above her head and legs spread. Raphael growled deep within his throat as he took in this delicious sight.

"You like that, don't ya?" His voice became an octave deeper as he trailed his finger tips from her ankles to her calves. "To be manhandled by a mutant turtle-"

"Who's also my boyfriend, so you better watch what you say." Y/N snapped. She can't stand it when he downgrades himself. Raphael's perfect in every way. Yes, he has flaws but so does everyone on this earth. "You know I can't stand it when you downgrade yourself, Raphie."

His eyes widened but soon softened. "I don't deserve you, baby doll. I-I'm a hothead, stubborn and a freak! How can a beautiful woman date someone like me?"

"Raphael, look at me," It took a while but he did. Emerald eyes stared at her and she smiled gently. "I don't want anyone else, baby. Nobody can love me like you can, or touch me like you. And nobody will ever understand me like you can. You're always there for me when I need you. I choose you because I love all of you, Raphael. Flaws and all, and you love me just the same. We're in this together and I'm not leaving. I will tell you again and again if I had to. I love you, Raphael."

The red clad turtle bit his lip as tears welled up in his eyes. Yes he's loved by his brothers and father, but something feels different knowing there's someone else besides family who has confessed their love to you.

"You may be hot headed, but you're my big softy. My big teddy bear when I need to cuddle and cry on." He chuckled as memories came to his mind. He's definitely a teddy bear, the only time he will ever admit it was in private. He would never hear the end of it when his brothers were around.

He leaned towards her and kissed her forehead, cheeks, nose. Anywhere on her face he would kiss, making the woman squeal in delight. "I love you more, babe. So much more than you will ever know." He's not good with words but he's a man of action and Raphael's a man on a mission. "But I do have something to tell ya though."

When Y/N tilted her head to the side, the man chuckled. "You're wearing too much."

A gasp escaped her as Raphael used his sias and cut off her clothes without a scratch on her. Her scent more apparent, he inhaled as a deep groan rumbled from within his chest. "Gods, you smell good."

"Raphie, please."

"Call me Daddy."

Oh, goodness gracious. That was hot!

A moan rumbled from her throat as the tentacles slowly made its way towards her breasts and tweaked them. She tried to close her legs but couldn't as the mist held them in their place. Raph smirked as one tentacle slithered towards her sex and rubbed her clit, the other teasing her entrance.

"This is definitely a sight to see." And with that he leaned against the wall, enjoying the show as his baby doll was being used. He shifted his legs as he felt uncomfortable in his pants. Gosh how he wants to rip them off, but not right now.

He wants to see Y/N quivering in ecstasy.

"If you're good, I'll let you play with my sias." He chuckled as he twirled his weapon in his hand. "Or, better yet, I'll let ya play with cock."

Y/N moaned out as the tentacle sunk deep within her. Two playing with her nipples, one teasing her clit and the other slowly yet torturously going in and out from her sex. And it's not his size. She wanted him badly. "D-Daddy, please. I need you!"

"If you're still talking, my friends aren't doin' ya right. Pick up the pace boys." Raph commanded as your screams echoed throughout the bedroom. Wet sounds emitted from your core and you can't help but to clench as your orgasm was coming closer with every thrust.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good for Daddy." He praised as he bit his lip as he watched you reach your climax. "You can handle another, right?"

He didn't give her enough time to reply when she felt another tentacle reach her back end, it's slick enough as it teased her rim.

"Come on, baby. Give me another." After he said that, she came again. Just being overstimulated like this was driving her mad. "That's my girl."

Oh, how she whimpered from the praise.

"What do you want, princess?" Raph asked as he pushed himself from the wall and walked towards her trembling body. She wailed in ecstasy as a tentacle slowly pryes it's way inside her anal canal. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and both of her holes had been filled.

"Y-You know what I want." She spoke once again and Raph 'tsked'. With that look, she knew that he wasn't done with her.

"You can still speak," He gruffed as he took off his pants. His throbbing cock now free from confinement, taking grasp in his hand and stroking it. Groans left his throat as he touched himself. "Pull her mouth towards me."

With that, the tentacles maneuvered her as she was now faced with his throbbing pendage.

"Let's see how it feels with all three of your holes being used, hm?"

The pleasure was non-stop. She lost count on how many times she came, but all she knew was that she's been filled to the brim from her sex as Raphael pounded into her like a feral animal. He came in her throat, on her stomach, back and now he's claimed her womb with his essence twice.

She could feel his seed exited from within her and spilled to the floor below them. All she could do was scream and wail, and she was about to lose her voice.

Whenever he tells her to speak and she replies with words, he wasn't having it. Raphael was making sure she cannot speak properly. He wants to do his job right.

The tentacles still working on her breasts and her anal canal, but Raph owned her sex. Claiming it his property.

"You're taking my cock so good, baby doll. Just look at you. Eyes rollin' and everything." He groaned as he continuously thrust into every spot from within her. "Tell me, baby. Who do you belong to?"

All she could do was moan out and he smirked. "That's my good girl. Gosh, I love you so much!"

With that, she came for the final time as he roared from his orgasm. More of his essence spilled from within her and fell to the floor, but none of them cared. They both relinquish the feeling of their bodies joined together at this moment.

With that, he finally pulled away from her as the tentacles slowly left the woman's body and Raphael held her in his arms. "You did so well, baby. I love you so much."

Y/N groaned as she tried to feel her arms but couldn't as her body was made out of jelly. Raphael officially screwed her brains out. When she looked up, his eyes no longer glowing in the darkness and his skin not the darker shade.

He's back to normal.

"Come on, princess. Let's get ya to the bath." Raph carried his woman to the bathroom and started filling up the tub. Water the perfect temperature, he gently placed her down inside. He added some bubbles for her enjoyment. "Let me grab ya some water, okay?"

All she could do was nod tiredly as she watched him walk out of the bathroom. The water was so warm and she could fall asleep.

When Raph came back with water, his eyes melted as he saw her sleeping form. Her head resting on the side as little snores emitted from her lips. He placed the glasses down and rubbed her head, placing a kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby. I'll be here when you wake up."

Tags:

@leosgirl82 @exovapor @thelaundrybitch

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🔞 REBLOGS ONLY, NO REPOST 🔞

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1-800anklebully · 6 months

Text

Exchange ft King Kenny x black female reader

Summary! In which old lovers reunite and Kenny still feels like Destiny is the one for him.

Warnings! Swearing,mature content,angst turned to fluff at the end, sappy and jealous!Destiny, and a whole other bunch of things.

Main character: Destiny Korma

➔ ➔ ➔ Excuse any errors!

“Please I’m begging you Destiny. Can you please be in the video?”Harry pestered, while holding his hands in a prayer form,to which Destiny side eyed him in disbelief. Her cousin was the biggest beggar of them all.

“Why does it have to be me, don’t you have a ton of woman in your DMS begging to be in a video with you lot?” She recalled seeing a woman on Instagram being hysterical, because Filly had brushed her hand in the club while he was trying to get through.

This was appalling, because she never understood the hype behind her cousin and his friends. They were normal human beings that lived a normal life except, they were rich and made entertainment videos for a living.

“Because the fans want you, Destiny. Sharky and them did a Q&A on Instagram,and they said they wanted you in a video.” Harry informed her, bored with how she was questioning him too much.

A smirk formed on Destiny’s plump lips and she cleared her throat crossing one leg over her other.

“Sharky? How is he by the way..”

Harry groaned loudly, shaking his head at his cousin's antics. He knew how much she fancied him, but Sharky found the whole thing amusing. So from time to time he would purposely flirt with her, just in spite to make Harry annoyed.

It’s not like he had a chance anyway, the two would never happen as she was his best friend's ex, plus Destiny wanted the real thing and Sharky was not ready to commit, at least not until he was ready.

Just like Kenny.

“He's fine Des. Now are you in or not, because I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you. I got things to do—“

“Alright chill grumpy pants, I’m in. Just text me the details and I’ll come.”

Sighing in relief, Harry mumbled ‘’thank God’’pointing to the air and stood up hugging his cousin before leaving her apartment. Leaving her to dwell on the fact that she was going to have to face Kenny on Wednesday.

TIME SKIP TO WEDNESDAY BECAUSE I'M LAZY

Wednesday had crept around the corner like nothing, ultimately Destiny planned to sleep in and watch Top boy. However, she received a reminder text from Chunkz, and NIKO. She knew better than to try and bail,because both of those men were persistent and would most likely rock up to her house and drag her out.

So she spent the majority of the day doing self care as the video was scheduled at 3:30. Such as doing her lashes, eyebrows, re painting her nails and even chucking in the time to go and do a workout.

She felt good so she had to embrace the moment.

“Hello.” Destiny picked up her phone while glancing at the caller, she was in the middle of getting her nails done so she had to multitask.

“BITCH ARE YOU ON CRACK, YOU'RE FILMING A VIDEO WITH MY HUSBAND. AND DIDN'T WANT TO TELL ME”. Meet Karin, she’s Destiny’s best friend and right hand woman.

The two met one night when they were at the club, and Destiny got bat shit smashed and she tried to steal Karin’s Birkin mistaking it as hers. Until Karin told her it was not and somehow the friendship formed from there.

They have been seeing each other since then. And haven’t turned on each other's back since. Destiny visibly flinched at her friend's tone, as she didn’t expect her to be as loud as a camel.

“What’s with the shouting? And I promise I was going to tell you, but I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to call your friend right! Well what are you wearing, you better not be wearing some baggy shít or lord help me, I’m coming down from Australia to smack your ass.” Karin threatened, only for Destiny to laugh at the seriousness in her tone.

Destiny had a ugly habit of wearing clothes that were baggy, this was only because her family had taught her from a young age to not wear tight revealing clothes.

Ever since, she hasn’t tried to try and break this habit. It’s only now, at the ripe age of 27 she’s wearing clothes that show a tad bit more skin. Thanks to Karin who is carefree and is all about body goals.

“No I’m not wearing something baggy, I’ll show you when I get home. But don’t worry I’ll make sure to tell Chunkz that you’re sending your love from Australia.”

“Period! As you should, that man wants me; he's just too scared to make the first move, which is fine.”

As delusional as Karin sounds, everything she was chatting was indeed correct. Her and Chunkz have a little thing, and it’s been going on for awhile and he is yet to ask her out.

He’s always so quick to come to Destiny for not being open and honest about her feelings, when he can’t even take his own advice and do the same.

“Alright, well I’ll call you later I gotta finish my nails.”

“Okay bye baby, make sure you take photos and send them to me! Love you pookie!”

“Love you too wifey!”

TIME SKIP

By the time Destiny was done with everything, it was already 2:30 and she knew that she took forever to do everything. So she put on her crocs on sport mode, and sped home to get ready as the studio they were filming at was 30 minutes away from her house.

But with her crazy driving she would make it 20 minutes. Once she had gotten home she quickly did her make up, making sure it wasn’t too dramatic then put on her outfit and she was out.

Her estimation was indeed correct because by the time she got there it was already 3:00. Out of breath, she slammed her car door and bolted into the studio to find most of the women were already there and the boys were talking amongst themselves.

Before she could approach them, a man had gently tapped her causing her to spin around.

“Hey are you Destiny? If so,we would like you to come with us so we can show you your room and where you can put your stuff.”

“Oh okay.”

Trailing behind him, she was quickly pulled into a room where they adjusted her hair, while attaching a mic to the back of her dress, in order for the fans to hear when it’s her time to talk.

Cluelessly, Destiny followed the man and she watched as he motioned for the women to all come together so he would explain what’s going on.

There were a total of 8 eight women and they were all Caucasian, Destiny being the only black woman. She silently cussed to herself, as she was going to give her cousin a handful later about being more diverse.

“Alright as you all are gathered here today I’m pretty sure you are all aware of what’s going on today. Kenny is going to be our lucky man,who’s going to have to distinguish which one of you is the gold digger.” He spoke to no one in particular.

“You will all stand behind this white wall in number order based on the number that we have given. Kenny will then go around asking each individual to introduce themselves. And we’ll go from then on, the last 3 contestants will then go on a 5 minute date with him and he’ll decide the winner from there.

“Now me personally I don’t care if you’re here for money or for love. That’s on you. All I’m asking is that we just tone it down with the swearing and let’s all be respectful is that simple? Any questions?” The women all murmured to each other and he nodded.” Great, now let’s line up please.”

The man had gone around ordering all the girls with a number and Destiny had landed on number 5. They all got into their positions and the video had started.

All she could hear was Nikos booming voice echoing throughout the room, as he was giving the intro. This gave her some sort of comfort, that he indeed was here like he promised.

Now they had gotten all the girls to introduce themselves and it was Destiny’s.

“Contestant 5 it’s your turn.”

“Hello my name is Destiny. I am 26 years old and I’m from Sierra Leone.”

“Oh an African queen, I like that.” She overheard Filly say, and she almost laughed, however she covered her mouth to prevent it from coming out.

“That’s cool love, and what’s your occupation?”

Swallowing, Destiny was hesitant to answer as she didn’t want them to suspect it was her, but she didn’t have a choice but to answer.

No one else besides Harry and Niko, and chunkz were aware that she was invited to the video. As they wanted it to be a surprise to the fans and the other boys.

“I’m a physical trainer in the NBA.” She revealed and heard multiple gasps, some of the girls even rolled their eyes or scoffed in envy. But she didn’t give a damn, she worked hard to get in the position so she was going to earn it.

“DAMNNNN”

“Nah she’s waffling.”

“Ain’t no way she works in the NBA.”

The boys suddenly became a bit more quiet then Kenny spoke.

“Oh okay I see you girl, what team?”

“The Atlanta Hawks.”

“Lads, I think I just fell in love…” Kenny exaggerated clutching his chest, causing everyone including the camera crew to laugh.” I LOVE THE HAWKS, You think you can get me Trae Young’s number?’” He asked, almost sounding genuine, and almost sounding like he wasforced into it.

“We’ll see.”

The boys oooo like teenage boys and Destiny rolls her eyes with a smile. Who knew the boys were still childish after all these years.

“Alright next contestant!”

TIME SKIP-

As the time went on ultimately, Kenny had kicked out the contestants he didn’t like. Remaining with Destiny; and contestant number three and number 6. Now Destiny was not really stressed because Number three was named Bree.

She was a brunette and was a model of course, but she lacked the confidence and she was just talking about herself the entire time, not even asking Kenny the right questions.

Then Number six was named Sasha. She was a blonde and actually seemed genuine. Her only problem was that she was only here for money, unfortunately Kenny didn’t know that but he was getting the sense.

Sasha had told Destiny that she was purely only here to get money to pay off her BMW. Like girl, get a damn job the last thing that should be on your mind is trying to be famous and being on YouTube.

“So what are you into?” Kenny had asked Bree who was grinning so hard that her mouth could snap.

Now he was not entirely convinced that she was genuine so he analysed her response carefully.

“I’m into dancing.”

“Oh yeah, what kind of dance are you into dancehall?” Kenny jokes, showing his dimples however his grin soon dropped,once she stood up from her chair and began doing some tap dancing.

Instantly, Sasha m lol and Destiny made eye contact and bursted out laughing. The two began running to each other, grasping each other's arms, as they cried to themselves.

Filly and them were also heard laughing from the other room because what the hell was even that. Gathering themselves together, Kenny bit his lip to contain his laughter.

“Wow, that really was something.”

“Awwww thank you Kenny, I wish I could do better but these bad boys were in the way.” She patted her heels, thinking she really did something.

Fast forward to Sasha, obviously Bree was let free because Kenny was not feeling that whole dance plus she was giving very much desperation.

Next was Sasha, she was nervous for some reason and kept cracking her knuckles every few seconds. It was only until Destiny approached her that she calmed down slightly.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“No,just nerves. I guess Kenny seems so sweet, just don’t want to ruin it.” She rambled, playing with her fingers and Destiny hummed.

Kenny was her ex, so she knew what he liked and didn’t like. So if Sasha was to go out there flaunting her humongous breasts,he would immediately not show interest.

Sure he loved a more curvy woman, he didn’t discriminate at all. He just didn’t want her to have to show off her body, in order to gain his attention.

He mainly went for personality, yet he wanted something to look at of course. Maybe even something to grab onto if you get my drift.

“So Sasha, I’ve been told that you like boxing, why’s that?”

“I’ve learnt that it was a great way to take off my stress, and my father used to do it with me all the time when I was younger until he passed away.” She recalled, causing Kenny to frown sympathetically.” Oh my gosh, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It’s fine how could’ve you. It was years ago, but at times I still find myself lingering on the fact that she’s not here.” She cleared her throat, to prevent herself from crying.

Kenny reached over grasping her hands in his large ones causing Destiny to scoff, earning a side eye from the producers. Why was she so bitter, it’s not like she still liked Kenny. Her and Kenny were done, and he’s moved on.

So why is she suddenly so bothered by seeing the way he was gazing into Sasha’s eyes. I mean she was the perfect fit, she was more on the slim thick side. Educated, with a wealthy family and was a boxer. All she needed was a lover.

What was there to not love about her!

Destiny on the other hand, she was also educated and wanted to settle down just like Kenny. It was just finding the right man that was troubling her. The men her age weren’t taking her seriously, she only had one serious relationship after Kenny.

Was with a guy named Stefan, he was African American and came to London for some cruise. While on the cruise, Destiny happened to be there and she had a one night stand with him.

The two went on to date for a while until she found out that Stefan was just using her to get closer to her brother Dean, who was a famous football player he just wanted to be like Dean. So she broke up with him and never saw him again.

“Okay contestant 5 can you please come out and reveal yourself.” Sharky’s loud voice boomed from the other room, and Destiny sighed bracing herself.

With one last deep breath, she adjusted her skirt and made her out from where she was and walked over to the table where Kenny was.

As soon as she came into the camera, the boys began screaming loudly and clapping. Kenny’s face had dropped and he visibly looked as if he had seen a ghost.

“OH MY GOSH BRUVV.”

“IS THIS DESTINY KURMO IN THE FLESH?!”

“SOMEBODY PINCH ME LADS.”

Once all the commotion had died down, Kenny had cleared his throat and began laughing foolishly.

“You can’t be serious… If this is a joke, Niko come out here right now.” Kenny became angry, because he hoped the boys were not playing with his feelings.

They all knew that he still loved and cared for Destiny tremendously, words can’t even describe how much he cried the day they split, she had an immense impact on him and she didn’t even know.

Ask anyone, even the loyal fans they would tell you that boy was sprung over Destiny.

“I promise bro, if this was a skit I would’ve told you but this wasn’t me.” Niko defended himself, also bewildered by the sight of Destiny. More at the fact that she actually showed.

“He’s not lying. Harry was the one that was invited for the video. So take it or leave it, either you can sit down or you can send me home. I don’t mind.” Destiny chimed, taking a seat across from Kenny.

It looked almost like he was having an internal battle with himself. Almost instantly, he gave in sitting across from her and he just stared.

“Yo, cut the cameras.”

“Kenny—“

“I said cut the cameras bro, I don’t want this recorded!” He snapped, and the guy sighed but obeyed, turning the camera off temporarily.

“So what’s your aim? Why are you here Destiny?”

“Kenny-“

“If you want the money you can take it and leave. Because I’m not about to do this again.”

“Do what.” She frowns, not getting why he was so upset at seeing her appear in the video. After all he always wanted her to appear in a video and she was here.

“Be with you again! You left me remember, I told you I wasn’t ready and you just ran off like what we had was nothing.” Kenny argued, Destiny scoffed not liking his tone one bit.

It was almost as if he was blaming her for the fall out that occurred between them, and that was the last thing that Destiny liked. Was when someone accuses her of being the problem, when she wasn’t it.

“Well excuse me for being smart, why waste my time on someone that wants to be a man child forever. I told you from the start Kenny, I wanted the real thing, and you couldn’t give me that. So what did you expect me to stay?! No because I’m not one of those women that will tolerate that Kenny!” She shouted back and it suddenly became silent. It felt almost as if no one else was in the room, just these two.

Suddenly Kenny got the urge to ask her a question that he knew could go either way.

“Do you still love me Destiny?”

Suddenly Destiny’s face had become tense and her face had fallen a bit at his words, why was he switching the attention to her all of a sudden. She was meant to let all her anger out on him, not vice versa.

“Are you serious Kenny, this isn’t about me it’s about the fact that you’re trying to blame me for leaving, when you couldn’t even meet me halfway—“

“Just shut up for a second!”

Everyone had become even more quiet and all Destiny could do was sigh and gaze helplessly into the distance, where Chunks and the rest had all come out from behind the room putting their thumbs up to encourage her.

They knew that she was probably never going to want to make a video with them again, if it was going to be this chaotic but this drama was going to gain views.

“See how you avoided my question? I asked if you still loved me. Not what I did 4 years ago, so I’m gonna ask you again, do you still have feelings for me Destiny.”

“Okay fine, yes I do! I still love you for some reason, after the messy break up I can’t seem to let go of all those years we spent together. And then for us to just break up like it was nothing. You don’t know the damage that you did Kenny.” Destiny could feel her eyes burning with tears, but she wiped them before they could spill.

It physically made Kenny sick to see the love of his life in tears because of him, lord knows the unseen tears that she shed while in private. But he was here now and he was ready to make things right.

Leaning forward, Kenny interlocked his hands with hers and she didn’t fight it. Instead she glanced down at his fingers not wanting to make eye contact. Then he used his other hand to lift up her jaw so that her eyes were glued to his.

And she folded.

“I know, baby. And I’m sorry alright, if I could take back my actions I would do it a thousand times.I was young and dumb, and I wasn’t ready. But I’m 26 now and I’m ready to give you my all.

Looking back. I realised how lucky I was to have you, a woman that was willing to settle down and be there for me. And I was dumb even enough to lose you. So I’m here now and I want you back Destiny.

We’re too grown to be going back and forth about our feelings. I want you and I’ll be damned, if I let you leave this place without being my girl.” Kenny finished and, the boys all cheered loudly at his speech.

Heck even the producers were joining in on the applause because Kenny was a good man. The girls Bree and Sasha, were even tearing up in the corner with smiles. They could tell from the start that Kenny was not as interested in them as he was with Destiny.

As soon as Destiny appeared his whole demeanour, had shifted so quickly that anyone could tell that they had history.

“So what do you say Destiny ?” Niko wraps an arm around him.” Are you ready to take him back?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll gladly take him. He’s quite leng. Have you seen his abs?!”Aj added, and this made all of them laugh at how unserious he was.

“You lot actually crack me up, but to answer your question yes I take you back Kenny. I’m ready to be your woman.” She gleefully says,and the boys all awe as Kenny pulls her by her waist pulling her into a deep and long sweet kiss, kissing her as if his life depended on it.

“YESSS IT'S ABOUT TIME FINALLY WE’RE GOING TO HAVE FOOD AT HOME.”

The day ended with the boys all going to eat at a restaurant, and the whole time Kenny would not let Destiny out of his sight. He clung onto her like a Koala. Not because he was afraid of losing.

Moreso,because he missed her touch for 4 years which he attempted replacing with multiple women. No one matched her energy, her love was one in million. She was irreplaceable. Overall, he was just glad that he was with her finally.

Kenny finally had his girl back

The end.

︳︳︳︳︳︳︳

Author's note!

Please, this was sooo long. But I was having a Kenny era so I had to write a little something for him. And I know it’s so all over the place, but I just wrote what came to mind.

So I really hope y’all liked it. And maybe in the future I might write for the beta squad, cus lord knows I love all of those men!

Once again thank you for reading and supporting my writing, it means a lot and if you have any ideas in mind you want me to write please don’t hesitate to ask!

I’m down to write for whoever that’s if I like them…

Anyways Ciao! 🩷

#king kenny #beta squad x reader #beta squad #black fanfic writer #black female reader #light angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff

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piglet26 · 3 months

Text

Reylo. Sorry, but it's not abusive

Star Wars is not selling abusive relationships to young girls nor conditioning them into aspiring to them. Reylo is not propaganda from disgruntled single middle aged woman. It wasn't promoting abusive relationships when Luke still found love for his father despite Darth Vader cutting off his hand. Luke fans, young and old, were not attacked as being dumb or needy for liking Luke or how he viewed his father. It damn sure wasn't considered abusive when Anakin choked Padme and she still held hope for him in her heart. Or, that Obi-Wan still held a love for Anakin despite everything Darth Vader had done. Then there was Reylo.

Being a Reylo is not something I feel I need to defend. Let me love what I love in peace. That's what I believe. I did not actually see any of the sequel trilogy until after it was concluded. I was not on any fandoms during the rollout and marketing for the films. Thank God. However, I have gathered enough to understand it was horrible how Reylos were being regarded. It was beyond patronizing. I'm not new to fandom, hell I've been on soap opera fandoms for quite some time and believe me that's a savage space, but wow.

I want to clarify some of the feedback against Reylo and reaffirm why it's such a compelling pairing. Further more, I regard it as an compelling attribute to the Star Wars universe that only added to the franchise.

Now I've seen the domination of woman twisted up and called romance (see Twilight and 50 Shades of Gray), but I don't think people understand WHY those relationship were as such. Rey, on her own, is one of the strongest and most badass female leads to ever appear on the big screen. Despite people thinking she doesn't have a personality she is a resourceful, tough, innocent, loyal, hopeful and strong. She has agency unlike Bella Swan. She is not sexualized by Kylo Ren unlike the 50 shades girl. Her gender is neither a hindrance nor an advantage. She has the agency to save herself, but she is also saved.

Which is really one of the main issues. There is the patronization of Rey as a character, the people who like her and the people who like the pairing. While those 50 shades of gray books didn't buy themselves rather than listening to why Reylos liked the pairing they were told why they did and then dismissed. Or, there's the men that wanted Rey to be with Finn because Finn was the "nice guy" who they identified with.

Rey doesn't need a love interest - not all heroines need love interests, but why does it imply she's weak if she does have a love interest? Heroes infamously have a female counterpart which helps make them viable. It doesn't make them any less interesting as an individual.

Kylo Ren and Rey are NOT a couple but instead representatives of opposing sides in a war. This is the most important part. From the get-go they have an intense dynamic. Both have had visions and dreams of the other and they recognize something in one another. Kylo Ren did kidnap Rey, however, if you consider fighting your enemies “abusive” or interrogating war prisoners as “domestic violence”.............well, that is odd.

As quotes about them

What if your soulmate in the Force was your enemy? Circumstance, pits them against each other, but the Force bonds them together. They understand each other almost from a point of view of fate. And yet, fate has made them enemies.

While Kylo Ren is fascinated by In the moments of the interrogation, gender and sexuality have nothing to do with Kylo’s actions. J.J. made the conscious choice to show us the same scene twice (Kylo Ren interrogating his enemies) so the audience can spot the differences between the two. Sorry J.J, you trusted people too much.

We're able to see very clear aggression and abuse come from Kylo Ren for Poe. He has zero interest in him personally. He needs information and he will get it. The force and his ability to read someone's mind is a tool within his disposal. Now why isn't Poe's interrogation considered sexual assault?

"You know I can take anything I want" HE CAN READ HER MIND! He's not talking about raping her for God's Sake! He asked her to freely provide information and she didn't want to. However, he has a tool to use against a girl adding his enemies - a tool he'll use if she doesn't want to snitch. She knows this he already read her mind - so why not give the information freely?!

Rey also invaded his mind, so did she mind-rape him too?

The line that fans almost never seem to talk about in The Force Awakens is when Kylo says to Rey “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.” What did he feel? The best I'm able to understand is what they felt was their force dyad igniting or fulfilling.

Ren becomes personally invested in Rey. Not with her cause, or her affiliation with the Resistance, but with her and what he wants from her.

“Kylo chased Finn and Rey outside Starkiller Base to fight them! He threw Rey against a tree!” Well she was going to shoot him..... I would've thrown her against a tree to save myself. His issue in that moment was Finn. Finn was the "traitor" in questioned and his unfinished business. They fought, but really it was a dueling exercise. Kylo Ren wanted to test her skills and her powers. If he wanted her dead there was a convenient edge to push her over, hell he offered to teach her. Rey was the one to go ape and almost kill him.

Again, I'm not implying that they aren't messy - they are. For literary nerds this is why they are a compelling heroine/villain. Ultimately one will greatly affect the other. The tension in between them is why it's great.

Ben Solo, least we forget, is himself an abuse victim. This is canon. While Kylo Ren has learned abusive techniques, they are at war. Applying abusive characteristics to a fictional character in a war setting without any attempt to incorporate the story is bizarre. Why was he able for the first time to stand against his abuser? Rey. He couldn't stand up for himself but he stood up for her. Ultimately, Kylo Ren wanted to 'break the wheel" that's what he claimed. If he was honest, he'd admit he had no clue of how to do that.

Most abusers are charming and irresistible when you first meet them. Ben has NEVER dishonest with Rey about who he is. Rey is very aware of the horrible side of him and even refers to him as a monster. He affirms her accusation that he is a monster.

During their force bonds because of the nature of the bond Rey is in a position to hear him out and try to understand how he became the monster he is today. When she learns that he didn't become this on his own, that Luke, his parents and Snoke contributed to his downfall she had hope in him. It's also important to make the distinctions that when she has a vision of him, it's as Ben. It's like a bipolar personality. When Kylo Ren goes all Darcy marriage proposal - she reject him. She rightfully spurned him when he resorted to cruelty to sway her to his side. Rey turned down Kylo as long as he was the ’bad guy’, and only kissed him as Ben ’the good guy’.

“He only wants to use her for her power.” Oversimplification that Rey is actually guilty of. Kylo Ren is lonely and within Rey he finds not only an equal but the most intense emotional connection he's ever had. The most intense connection she's ever had. Let's not forget they are probably both virgins. Then they are in each other's head. That's intense. When Kylo makes his plea to Rey it's out of not only loneliness but truly wanting her for her.

Also, Kylo doesn’t say he wants them to rule together as “master and apprentice”. He wants Rey to be his empress, his queen which is what Rey means. He’s literally proposing by offering her the entire galaxy. Ultimately Reylos see them as two equally powerful archenemies dedicating themselves to defeating the other but also find themselves strangely drawn to each other in ways they might not want to admit. Then two soul mates on the other side of a conflict.

This is built on the idea that hate itself is a sort of twisted form of love. It is, or, rather hatred is born from things like fear, pain, betrayal and love. Their connection is complicated. One minutes they last out at one another and the next they lean into each other. People can regard this as toxic. Others, like myself, regard this as the gray side of love. Reylo represent the yin yang of the force. The light and the dark craving each other and finding themselves frustrated.

Notice how many hero/villains find themselves telling others that only they are allowed to kill/harm their nemesis, in a subconscious effort to protect their nemesis from others. And they may also get strangely jealous when their nemesis fights other people.

Other people give this argument because they believe the popularity of antiheroes in media is a sign of society’s moral decay. The First Order for all we know is not a fascist society. We have no idea the ideology of the First Order. We know their clothing was inspired by the Nazis.

Red String of Fate: the two connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break

Kylo Ren and Rey BOTH want to be together, believe in the other, but are held back by their individual idea of what means. How is that abusive?! Maybe it's back to thinking little girls won't be able to understand the complexity of Reylo. Huh, well little boys can understand the complexity of Batman and Joker. If little boys are smart enough to realize the difference between fiction and reality and are able to watch a love/hate relationship between a good guy and a bad guy, I’m pretty sure the girls can handle it too. Rey has hope and belief that Kylo Ren can be good, she won't stay by his side while he's doing bad.

What is Reylo? In a way. Iconic

#reylo #star wars #rey star wars #ben solo #rey skywalker #kylo x rey #finnrey #kylo ren #ben solo deserved better #ben solo x rey #rey palpatine #rey #reylo au #star wars fanart #disney star wars

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novasintheroom · 2 months

Text

126. Enjoy

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1k

♡ Warnings - none

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

Part 1 ---- Part 2 ---- Part 3 ---- Part 4 (you are here!)

It’s market day, and Gerard’s Way is the central location for several towns to meet up. Toma pull heavy carts, men and women put up stalls in the town square, and kids run around with small kites and new blunted metal toy men in their grimy hands.

Clat…clat…clat…clat. Your crutch taps the dirt as you walk through town. You’d insisted; being cooped up in the small hospital for the past month was fraying your nerves. Vash, as ever, was by your side, a hand placed in the crook of your elbow both to keep close and pull you out of the way of any large group of market goers trampling through.

“How you doing?” He asks after a cart rolled by. His free hand comes up and waves the dust away. “Need a break yet?”

Doc Ren would say ‘yes,’ but she isn’t here right now. And you’re too excited to see things to care about the stitch in your side. “Nah, I’m good. Look! They’re selling hot buns!”

Vash’s head snaps toward the smell. Even over the din, you can hear his stomach. He’d been better about eating the past couple weeks – mostly to keep up appearances of being human – but you’d hoped to get him to eat a bit more now that you were on the up and up. Not waiting for his go-ahead, you clat-clatted over to the stall. A middle-aged woman with streaks of gray in her black hair nodded a greeting, taking out more hot cross buns from the portable oven in the back of her stall. “Raspberry, pistachio, chocolate, and red bean,” she said. Her hand waved at the display. “Two double-dollars each.”

You lick your lips and pat at Vash’s side pocket. “We’ll take a chocolate and…what do you want?”

Vash smiles and swats your hand away, pulling out the tattered wallet from his coat. “I’ll try a pistachio, sure.”

A sense of victory washes over you. He’s going to eat! When the buns are in Vash’s hands, he leads you toward a bench sitting in front of the barber’s shop. You sit bodily, wincing. The stitch in your side is getting worse. Maybe you should have cooled it ten minutes ago. And Vash, ever observant, gives you a look. “We should probably head back to the med building after this. You’ve been going for almost an hour.”

You wave a hand and take your chocolate bun from him. “Just need to rest, don’t worry. All part of healing.”

He purses his lips. “Mayfly, Doc Ren said we have to be careful how much you move for a while.”

You only hum, deigning to ignore his worry. “I want to be out of that room for as long as possible.”

Vash finally says, “We’re going back in ten minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twelve.”

“Thirteen and a half.” You stick out your hand and wait for him to shake it.

Vash sighs but takes your hand with a smirk. “Thirteen and a half.” He finally sits by you. His smile comes back as he watches the masses cross the roads and walkways of the town. He loves to people watch. He laughs when a couple of teenagers run past, one chasing the other. Another smile appears as an old couple shuffles by. The man tips his hat at the two of you while the wife smiles beatifically.

“Think that’ll be us one day?” You ask, biting into your roll. A tube of chocolate goo comes out of the side slowly.

Vash hums and bites into his own roll. His mouth salivates with the taste, and soon he’s too focused on food to answer. It’s alright. You prefer him to eat than to answer your silly question anyway. You laugh when his own tube of green pistachio cream leaves its side and brushes against his cheek. He hurries to eat it, humming again at the taste. “This…is...really good,” he says between a mouthful.

“Lemme try a bite,” you say. He hands you the bun, taking your own to try his own bite of chocolate goodness. The pistachio cream with the bun is delightfully delicious, creamy and sweet and nutty at the same time. Vash could say the same about the chocolate, licking his fingers of the cream.

“We should get some more,” Vash says, looking longingly at the bun stall. “For the trip back!”

You grin. That’s what you like to see – him eating instead of moping. “We can try the other flavors too.” Looking down at your half-eaten food, you say quietly, “Thanks for letting me get out, birdie. I know you were worried about it.”

Vash laughs bashfully, looking down at his feet. “Well, can’t keep you cooped up all the time, right? You would have found a way to sneak out eventually anyway. You like markets too much.”

It’s true. Markets are fun to walk around. “Still, thanks for letting me. And thanks for being with me.”

He leans down and kisses you on the cheek. “Anything for you, Mayfly.” He pauses, then snorts and wipes off your cheek of green pistachio. “Sorry.”

You grin and kiss his cheek, leaving bits of chocolate on it. “I’m not.”

And you aren’t. Not for the chocolate kiss, not the situation you’re in, not for staying with him through it all. You want to tell him this. You will, one day. He needs to hear it. But doing it in the middle of a market day seems droll and unimportant. So you enjoy the rest of your thirteen and a half minutes, both of you pointing out odd-looking or interesting people and their activities, or watching street performers dance down the road, looking for c-cents thrown their way for the act. And maybe you exchange some pistachio-chocolate kisses too. Just for the enjoyment as well.

#150 bullets #trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #tristamp #writing #self insert #reader insert #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #nova writes #trigun x reader

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ltbarnes · 2 years

Text

My Blood Turns Into Alcohol

Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn’t step out behind his trusted bar counter, no matter what goes on out on the floor. Until you, that is—the town newbie who stumbles inside the lanky old bar and won’t stop showing up in your pretty dresses and with that shy smile. Bucky is infuriated. Maybe that’s why he won’t let you pay for even one of your drinks, or why his coworkers won’t stop bothering him about you.

Pairing: bartender!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word count: 11.4k

Warnings: mild violence, alcohol consumption, allusions to sex, assholes named John (seems to be a reoccurring theme in my stories), Bucky being a grump and also mutual pining

A/N: This honestly took me three months to write. It’s not even funny anymore, I have three dozens of wips and this is the first I’ve been able to finish in months. Enjoy whatever this became I had no idea where it was going at any point of the story

Masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes does not leave the bar counter. Under any circumstances. It does not matter what's going on on the other side of the two and a half feet of polished wood, placed between himself and the crowd lingering until the early hours of the morning.

Reasons for his principles are discussed heavily amongst the patrons of the bar. He's scared. He doesn't like people. He doesn't want sticky beer on his precious metal arm. Some things are partially true and other not at all, but the principle remains the same. Bucky Barnes does not step outside of the bar counter.

His hostility towards the openness of the bar never stops him from intervening when needed, of course. Middle aged men who don't know how to control themselves, slurring profanities and stalking the waitress, always get dragged out by the security guard. Bucky makes sure of that, always. So does 19-year old kids who think he won't notice their anxious gazes roaming around to see if someone have noticed their intrusion.

Bucky keeps the place in check, but he rules it all from behind the counter. Have been doing so for years. No matter how rowdy it gets through bar fights and unexpected bursts of college kids. He's been forced to roar out orders and yell at frat guys to not lay another fucking hand on the jukebox, or he will personally see to it that they won't have any fucking dicks left the next day. But then it's most sufficient that way, when he remains quiet and brooding for the most part. Comes as a surprise then—his outbursts.

Mr. Lee, who's been a regular for as long as Bucky has been working at the bar, tells him that he won't ever convince a lady to settle down with him if he continues scowling silently behind his sacred wall of wood. He usually earns a grunt in answer, on occasion a smug smirk, while Bucky throws the towel over his shoulder or wipes down the counter.

The topic of his love life comes up all too often during the long shifts. Wanda, the waitress who never fails to turn down each of her seemingly endless suitors of the bar in the most polite way, loves to discuss it like nothing else. She has indeed reminded him that he is no bad looking man at all, and if he really wanted to he could step outside on the street and be crowded by young ladies. It's all with a glint in her eyes, because thankfully she hasn't tried to set him up with a single woman. Not like Natasha used to do.

Quite frankly, Bucky doesn't care that much about getting a girlfriend or wife or whatever people want him to have. Life is entirely fine on his own. Actually, he prefers it. People are complicated and whiny and attention-seeking brats. Everything is better from a distance.

The bell above the entrance chimes as the door is opened gently. Bucky has had a thought or two of crushing it to pieces during his many shifts at the bar, but the owner insists on having it there. He suspects Tony is so attached to the bell simply because of Bucky's distaste towards it.

He tenses just slightly as you make your way inside. Your knee-length dress sweeps across your legs, light fabric contrasting against the small flowers printed upon it like it's 15 degrees hotter outside and not a rainy night, bordering on stormy. Bucky can't help but think that folks these days, especially you, don't know how to dress properly according to the weather, or time of day, but that's just the old man in him. That's what Steve usually says, like he's not just as bad.

But then you sit down by the counter, hoisting yourself up on the tall chairs while adjusting the cardigan on your shoulders. It unnerves him, the way you always let your eyes wander towards him timidly in wait for service despite having met him one and a half dozens of times already. He lingers by the bearded drunk at the end of the bar a few seconds longer than he should, only to postpone the encounter a bit longer. The past few months since you started showing up has been weird for him.

He wants to roll his eyes for no good reason at all as he forces himself towards your end. It's not intentional, his aversion, acting the way he does around you. Most of the time Bucky is quite closed off, he has plenty of trauma to justify it, but he can't grasp what it is that makes him so unapproachable when you show up in front of him, makes his face become stuck in a constant glare that usually scares away most. Steve always complains that he's too grumpy. Lighten up, jerk. 'S not all bad out in the world.

"Hi, Bucky," you say softly, almost too quietly, and he sees it on you that it came out more quietly than you intended. Your face almost contorts into a wince.

It's a dick move, that he doesn't say hello back. He knows that, and still he plants his hands on the wooden counter and stares you down instead. You gulp, mustering up a half-smile.

"I want a strawberry daiquiri tonight," you tell him, scratching the side of your nose with your nail. “Please.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, some sort of surprise displaying on his face. "Strawberry daiquiri?" he asks, like your request is some outlandish idea he's never heard the likes of. Sure, he's gotten to know that you prefer colorful drinks over a glass of whiskey, but usually Steve makes them for you.

"Yeah. Strawberry daiquiri. Of course, only if making a drink like that won't taint your masculinity all too much." You look up at him. "Fruity drinks are risky business after all," you whisper to yourself, running your finger over a scratch in the wood.

And maybe, just maybe, Bucky let's the corner of his lip quirk up just slightly. But you don't see that. You're too busy staring down at the tainted countertop, following the path of your fingertip.

"Sure," Bucky mutters, turning around before he gives in to the compulsion of staring at you for too long and calling you sweet pet names that he makes up in his mind for you.

It's not that you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, or the most interesting either. Those come into the bar every now and then. But if he's honest, you're not the usual kind of regular the bar has. And he's well aware that it's a popular drink, what you just ordered, it's just that people don't order one very often here.

The rest of the late night patrons seem to share his aversion to your presence, or at least curiosity, even after you've lived here for almost three months. The man who's gulped down a few too many glasses of Jack a few feet away keeps sending long glances your way, letting his eyes wander just a little too much. Bucky had planned to send him away soon anyways. Dum Dum Dugan and his biker gang seem to joke around about you, although it's all friendly. They can get rowdy, but it's never anything malicious.

You're mostly quiet as you sip on your red drink for a good half an hour. Sometimes you interrupt your silence to tell him about something you saw the other day, or a good book you just finished. Bucky serves another two rounds of beer to the bikers, rum and coke to an accountant-looking type, tequila shots to Brunnhilde and Thor in the corner booth. Wanda stays with him behind the counter to talk to you about how her brother and boyfriend get along so well despite their many differences. He checks the stock twice, organizes the bottles, counts the change.

It's nearing closing and you're still in your place, lingering with the same drink in your hand while the only other customer left is the half-passed out drunk. Bucky has no willpower in him to kick the man out. He's quite sure you'll leave whenever he tells you to, but Wanda beats him to it.

"Hey, Y/n, we're closing up in ten," she says with a kind smile, wiping down the counter for the last time. "If you're gonna finish that drink, you better do it soon."

"Oh, okay. Sure will," you reply. "It was good, by the way." Your eyes travel over to Bucky where he stands, leaning against the back with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You sure about that? Been sipping on it for an hour and a half." He nods towards the half-empty glass.

It surprises him when you let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head to yourself. "I’m just distracted. Little stressed," you confess. "Still trying to settle in."

"Still having troubles with your landlord?" Wanda asks, perking her head up. "I told you to let me know if he gave you anymore problems."

You ignore the way Bucky's stoic face turns into a near scowl along with her words. He always seems to do that when you speak of your many mishaps and small miseries.

"Yeah. It's okay, Wanda. I'll handle it myself," you say. "I'm gonna let you close up." You move off of the chair.

"No worries," Wanda answers with a smile. "Let me know when you've gotten home. And don't be gone for too long until the next visit. I'll have Bucky make you 'nother drink that you'll like more."

You nod, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth for just a mere second, but Bucky can't get the image out of his head. If he were any closer he might have freed it with his thumb. When you reach into the pocket of your cardigan, fishing out a ten dollar bill, he can't control the words tumbling out of his mouth.

"It's on the house," he says, stopping your movements before you have the chance to lay the bill on the bar.

"Oh," you breathe out. "Really? Thank you." The smile on your face is blinding. "Think I'm gonna keep coming here if you give me more free drinks."

"'S not gonna be a regular occurrence," he mutters, face fallen into that brooding frown once more. "Any longer."

You back towards the door, closing your hand around the handle. "I'm not counting on it," you say over your shoulder, before slinking out of the door.

It's not until the bell chimes once more, ringing in aftershocks of the door closing shut, that Bucky feels the intense stare of Wanda on his face.

"What?" he mumbles.

"You know those free drinks you keep giving her are going out of your paycheck, right?"

A grunt is enough of answer for Bucky, who drags himself away from Wanda. She knows he's avoiding talking about the topic. Doesn't mean she'll stop asking.

"She's very nice, you know?" she says after a dozen seconds of silence, sticking her head inside of the storage room.

"Don't even think about it."

You've been here quite a lot lately. More than what your mother would approve of—she'd undoubtedly think you were an alcoholic by now. But you don't drink every time, not even close to it. Instead it's mostly Shirley Temples and sometimes a coffee from the staff room if Wanda's working.

Bucky the brooding bartender isn't here tonight. He's an enigma to you—grumpy and cold and somehow sweet in the moments when he lets his mask slip. But you're not really sure wether or not you like the guy yet. Or you like him, a bit too much, but he's very...interesting in his behavior.

You've noticed how your tab doesn't always include everything you ordered when he's working, and he always listens intently to whatever you have to say, but then he stands there scowling in the corner whenever you talk to Wanda or the other bartenders. Sometimes he tells you a bad joke under his breath, as if he hadn’t intended to, and then he says nothing for an hour. He's balancing on a scale right now, you think. Maybe it's for the best that he's not here. You always say such stupid things around him.

The waitress though, her you certainly like. Actually, you're bordering on loving her for how good of a friend she's been to you since that first night you stumbled in here a few months ago. Honestly, friends have been sparse since you moved to town. It's understandable, considering the small size of it, but it's been lonely besides the sisterly bond you've managed to form with Wanda. You guess that's why you ventured into this bar in the first place, but found yourself too shy to start conversation with anyone.

The fact that it's a Friday night probably gives your loneliness away, though. Perhaps it is so obvious that it's the reason behind why the redheaded waitress joins you in your booth, sliding in opposite of you with a warm smile on her face that forces you to drag your eyes away from the laptop.

"Hi, Wanda," you greet her, taking out the headphones from your ears.

"I like you too much to let you sit here alone on a Friday night. That is just not acceptable, honey," she says, reaching over to close your laptop. The gesture earns an offended gasp that doesn't quite carry the conviction a genuine one would.

"Does it matter if I would have done the same thing at home?" you ask meekly, reaching for the glass of water you've settled with so far. "I'm at least a little more social here..."

"No. That won't do it either," she tells you, already halfway up from her seat. "Put that thing away and join me by the bar counter. I'll have Steve whip you up one of those fruity drinks you like."

A quiet chuckle through a sigh is all the answer Wanda gets before she turns around, heading away from you with her hair swinging from her ponytail.

"No grumpy bartender here tonight?" you ask while sitting down at one of the stools placed by the counter, giving a glance to the tall blonde occupying the space Bucky usually has. "Has he quit of misery after I didn't drink up the Tequila Sunrise he made me the other day?"

Wanda smiles, shaking her head while sharing a knowing glance with the man. "Bucky doesn't get in until ten today, miss. But I'm sure I can occupy your time until then if you wish to see him so desperately."

Heat rushes to your cheeks so quickly that no matter what you say it will most likely come across as a horrible excuse. "No—no. Not like that," you nearly seethe through a whisper, leaning in like your words are somehow a secret. You hear Steve chuckle heartily from a few feet away. "Don't laugh at me, Steve! I just want more free drinks, that's all!"

Your attempts to deflect the attention away from you fails miserably, because there's that eyebrow lift from Wanda and amused shake of head from Steve that tells you they've got it all wrong. You don't actually know why Bucky keeps evading your attempts to pay for your drinks. A groan sounds from your lips while you bury your face in your hands.

"Oh, just give me that drink I was promised. I think I'm gonna need that if I'm gonna spend the next few hours with you two."

Slipping your palms away from your hidden face, you're met with two warm smiles, Steve leaning his hands against the counter and Wanda loading up shots on a tray. And the absolutely infuriating man dares to open his mouth once more, delivering one of those smug lines he always seem to have.

"Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

Four and a half drinks and two hours later, you've relocated to a booth and taken off the sweater previously covering your arms. Wonderfully tipsy, probably drunk but absolutely in denial, and unexpectedly in tears from laughter. Squeezed in between the large and boisterous man who you've come to know is named Dugan and his trusty friend Gabe, you're perfectly content and more happy than you have been since you moved here.

A harmless biker gang consisting of a bunch of old friends in their late-thirties to mid-forties is the last group of people you would've thought you'd end up in conversation with tonight, but god, are they wonderful. Steve sent you here in exile after you started getting too chatty during the third drink, to the point where he had trouble doing his job. Who knew a little bit of alcohol was all you needed to get out of your shell?

Unfortunately, or maybe it is a blessing in disguise, you don't even notice when Bucky turns up behind the bar counter to start his shift for the night. Though he notices you. Oh, it's very first thing he sees—you throwing your head back in laughter, reaching for your glass while Morita gestures wildly through one of his infamous stories. You're drunk. He sees it so clearly, and you're so different.

Bucky almost scowls, because he despises himself for taking note of how you've held yourself, how you talked and grew shy and apprehensive and how you held back during your visits. All of that is gone—now sits a free-spirited woman on the verge of slurring her words, having so much fun that he nearly wants to shake his head.

"What is she doin' there?" he mumbles while making his way to Steve, who's drying his hands on a towel.

"Who?" the blonde asks in return with an amused smile, despite having spotted the way Bucky's eyes drifted to your figure. He only earns a glare in answer. "Sent her away a while ago. Apparently that one is a talker with a few drinks in her blood. Would tell you to keep an eye on her, but seems like you already got that handled."

"Punk."

"Jerk." Steve smiles. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky mutters dismissively, barely even noticing as his friend slips away.

And no matter how much he trusts Dugan and Morita and everyone else around that table, Bucky keeps an extra eye on the group during the next half an hour. They're good men, but it still unnerves him as you sit there laughing and managing to keep their attention through your questionable attempts at storytelling.

And maybe he spends a bit too much time letting his gaze drift down to how your cleavage looks in that cute little blouse of yours, but he spends just as much time watching the way your eyes light up right before a big laugh escapes your lips, and your hands flying wildly around you while engaging in the conversation. It's not often he wishes to be a part of a large, rowdy group, but in this moment he would rather sit there than stand behind this bar.

It's not until you make your way out of the booth, standing up on wobbly legs and a giggle on your lips, that he forces himself to remain professional and do his goddamn job. You stagger up to the bar counter, hoisting yourself up on a stool despite having no plans to stay very long.

"Bucky. Bucky-boy," you say, smiling up at him while your eyes blink slowly. "I want a shot. Vodka."

"Vodka?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that, Y/n?"

"Yes. 100%. It's vodka or nothing."

Bucky turns his head, keeps his smile away from you, before schooling himself and letting the corners of his lips fall once more.

"Think you'd be better off with nothing, huh? You're gonna be sick, Y/n."

"No. I promise I won't, Bucky." You lean your chin in your hands, fluttering your lashes while pleading with your gaze. "Please. Please. Bucky, you know you're my favorite bartender."

"Flattery is not gonna work on me, peach," he says, gulping to rid himself of the nickname he just let slip.

But you barely notice. At least, that's what he reads your wandering gaze that stays anywhere but at him as. And despite his gratefulness for your distant mind he still finds a part of him wishing for you to react.

Against his better judgement, he pours that one last shot for you. It's not that he finds it hard to say no to you. Denying your wishes is something that he does constantly, it seems like, everytime he insists on letting you go without paying. You really have fought back fiercely these last few weeks though.

Bucky is made to regret his decision remarkably a few hours later, just thirty minutes shy of closing and the bar mostly empty. Except for you, Dugan and Morita, that is. He did not expect to find you so mischievous while drunk. How you managed to get a hold of more alcohol without him noticing is a little amusing and slightly disheartening, but mostly concerning.

You're slumped in the corner of the bar, eyes fluttering closed every other second while desperately trying not to throw up. Apologies to the men beside you have been rolling off your tongue repeatedly for the last ten minutes. You do not want them to feel obligated to stay for your sake, but quite frankly you are not fit to be alone either.

The sound of voices speaking softly, probably, buzzes in the background. You let your eyes rest, head leaning against the wall, heavy breaths escaping your nose. Sleep feels like the only sane option in this moment if you are to rid yourself of the horrible feeling coursing through your body.

Hands on your thighs gently shake you awake. The bar is empty. Only the usually grumbling bartender is sitting in front of you, crouched down, brows furrowed into a concerned frown. The image is strange.

"Hey, Y/n," he says, much too indistinguishable for your drunken mind to comprehend. "Y/n, I need you to drink some water. Think you can do that for me?"

All you muster up in answer is a nod. Bucky's quite sure you don't know what you're agreeing to. Despite your less than functioning state you manage to bring the glass to your lips, gulping down the cool liquid with only a few drops spilling down your chin. A calloused thumb wipes away the water from your skin.

"Let's get you home, huh, sweetheart?" Bucky mumbles under his breath, much too quietly for you to hear. He doesn't know if he'll ever have the courage to call you things like that out loud.

He's glad he walked Wanda to work after she'd stayed at your apartment only the week prior. Taking you home to his place would feel both inappropriate and a violation to your safety. He would never do anything to jeopardize it, but you don't know that. You can't possibly trust him like that yet.

"Do you think you will throw up, Y/n?" he asks you while helping you up the staircase, his arm thrown around your waist and yours around his shoulders.

"No. No. 'S better," you mumble, squinting to see through the poorly lit building.

"Are you sure? Do you need me to stay for a moment?" he adds, even though the question is more a request in reality. Leaving you alone in this state feels so fundamentally wrong in his bones. It nearly aches, the thought of his absence during your hardships.

"You trying to get 'nto my bed, Barnes?" you say, cracking a smile while your eyes flutter closed, head lolling onto his shoulder. Bucky doesn't answer. He can't. Not that you'd remember his reaction tomorrow, or anything that was said during the past hour. He's never seen your bad jokes on a roll like this, despite having been properly used to them by now.

Fishing out the keys from your bag is more complicated than expected. Having someone slumped against your side, barely conscious, will inevitably have that effect even for someone like Bucky. Cold gusts of wind from the open windows meet damp skin once he steps inside the apartment, carefully maneuvering you to the dresser you have standing in your hallway. Kneeling down to untie your shoelaces, he finds himself sporting a stupid grin while hearing your giggles.

"It tickles," you say through a hiccup, the muffled thump of your head meeting the wall behind you sounding through the apartment.

"Just a few seconds more," Bucky answers, fingers clasped around your leg while removing the shoe from your foot.

And he makes the mistake of glancing up at you from where he's kneeling, meeting the intense gaze directed at him he haven't quite seen before. Not like that, like you're looking at him now. But you're still drunk. He notices that so clearly as you fall down on top of your sheets, sinking into the soft duvet with a hum on your lips. The presence of him in the room is barely noticed, he believes, until your voice breaks the silence of the cold room.

"You're so nice to me, Buck," you mumble into your sheets. And he thinks that, no, he isn't very nice to you at all. Not in the ways that matter, in the ways that are obvious or straightforward or particularly noticeable at all. Do you really notice?

"Go to sleep, honey," he says, tracing his fingertip just over your cheek. Your lips part, eyes closed.

"Sweet...Buck."

Your breathing evens out only a few seconds later, without the end of your words meeting his ears. Bucky stands in the doorway, turns your lights off, for a whole minute before he gathers himself enough to leave. It's getting too real, too close, doing this. It's not his right to act this domestic with you when he can barely pay you a simple compliment. Constantly watching from afar, listening to your rambles and once in a while offering a piece of himself that can only count as a crumb. What he has with you can surely only exist in his mind.

He manages to lock the door from the inside. Spending the night guarding your door from the outside would piss Steve off, having him sleep-deprived tomorrow at work. Or today, isn't it?

He sees the soft fabric of your dress, white flowers against dark blue, fluttering around your knees before your face comes into view. Only you, only this goddamn girl who comes into this bar with pretty dresses that drive him fucking crazy. He nearly wishes you would stop showing up like that, in case that would hinder him from fucking his own fist on sleepless nights to the thought of unwrapping you from those dresses. But he would never deprive himself like that—no, seeing you so beautiful and soft gifts him enough life to remain calm in even the nastiest of bar fights and disputes with annoying college kids.

Your name lingers at the back of his throat, syllables rolling on his tongue until it nearly slips out. It does halfway, before he witnesses your hand encased in someone else's, a man just behind you with his hands on your skin. Fingers digging into the curve of your waist, scrunching the fabric, a nervous smile on your lips. The glass in Bucky's hand shatters quietly. No one else notices but him when the shards carve into his skin and draw red drops of blood down his palm.

He looks away. He doesn't want to, god knows he wants to always let his gaze travel over your figure, but he has to. Your eyes flicker over towards the bar counter, worriedly searching for Bucky in some grasp of comfort. But then again, if you actually caught eye contact you might have abandoned the whole thing if only for just a small chance to spend the night with Bucky instead. But the guy asked you out, and he's handsome and charming and probably wonderful, and Wanda insisted you try new things now that you're in a new town.

"Hey, you're bleeding," Sam calls out, frowning while eyeing the red liquid dripping down Bucky's hand.

The latter grunts in response, sending one last glare your way before slipping in the back. He comes back with a bandage wrapped around his palm, a scowl deeper than the one before, and a new costumer waiting for him with a face that begs to take his fist. He hates the guy already.

The man orders a drink for you. It bugs you a little that he didn't ask what you wanted, but you make no move to acknowledge it. Leaning your chin in the palm of your hand, you gaze down at the chipped pink polish on your nails and make no move to pay any attention to what's going on at the counter.

"Busy night, huh?" the man asks, leaning against the weathered wood with an arrogant smirk Bucky would just love to wipe out. He really does goddamn hate talking to people.

With a grunt he answers, ignoring the question in favor of concentrating on making the drinks. The punk ordered a fucking martini for you. Did he even ask you what you wanted? Bucky knows damn well that you would spit it out rather than force one of those down.

He casts an eye your way, seeing you peel off your chipped nail polish the way you do when you're nervous. That dress you're wearing—the punk with you tonight doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve seeing the way the fabric flows down your legs, sweeps against your knees when you walk. Not when he couldn't even bother asking you what you wanted. A martini? Seriously?

Glasses clink against wood a little too harshly, sweeping near the edge once he sets down the finished drinks. An old-fashioned and a Paloma stands swirling in front of a scowling bartender, hands grasping the counter harshly while glaring at the costumer.

"This is not what I ordered," the man says, eyeing the grapefruit pink liquid in front of him. Sam sends an amused side-eye towards Bucky that he tries to ignore. The man eyes it with distaste, frowning while bringing it up to his nose to smell it. Bucky hopes he spills the drink on his ridiculously crisp shirt.

"She doesn't like martinis," Bucky mutters under his breath, looking over at where you're sitting once more. You're tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, biting down on your lip.

"How the hell would you know?" the man spits out. A small drop of saliva hits Bucky's cheek. It takes every ounce of composure not to flinch. "This is none of your damn business. Do your job."

"She doesn't like martinis," Bucky repeats again, slower, glaring him right in the eyes with teeth grinding against each other. "Should've asked her before you walked up here and ordered."

He scoffs, averting his gaze with a roll of his eyes before taking a hold of the two glasses and walking away. Bucky sees the guy slide into the booth, right opposite you, and the way your eyebrows lift slightly in surprise as you notice your drink. He hears the guy take credit for the choice of drink, act like he just knew you liked it from the beginning. Bucky's pissed off.

"You're gonna kill the guy with that glare," Sam says through an amused grin, taking a swig of his beer.

"Eat shit."

"And you should be nicer to that girl, you know?" Sam says as soon as he sits down at the bar, sporting that everpresent smirk that tells him he knows much more than he lets on.

"What d'ya mean?" Bucky mumbles, a scowl on his face that always seems to be there when Sam shows up. Thank fucking god he loves the punk.

"You're broody. She's trying to talk to you, but you always act like a dick except when you refuse to let her pay for her drinks."

"I'm like this to everyone," he answers.

"No, you're not. I've seen you been nice, and this is not it. The poor girl have been here for six months, doesn't have a lot of friends besides the people in this bar. She doesn't need an asshole of an admirer right now, does she?"

Bucky refrains from sighing out loud, opting to wipe down the counter in silence instead. He knows very well what Sam is saying is true. Too much, probably, but he can't really help it. You're too soft, too nice, too different than what he is used to. Having a conversation with someone who genuinely listens like that, honestly wants to know what his day has been like or what his favorite thing to cook for himself is or what he watches on a Friday night—it's new.

If there's one thing Bucky Barnes has learnt in the countless of hours with Dr. Raynor, it's that he's allergic to vulnerability and would do pretty much anything to avoid it. Including his problem with going out on the bar floor. And treating you less than what you deserve, despite how much you never let it affect you. You keep coming, keep trying to make conversation even if you don't always get an answer. By this point you've told him pretty much everything about yourself just to fill the silences.

"I'm heading out." Sam interrupts his deep train of thought, setting down the glass with a clink. "Lighten up, will you? Be nice."

With an acknowledging nod he sends his friend off, tending to the refills and newly stumbled in costumers while trying to stop himself from glancing over at you every other second.

He fails miserably.

Bucky could feel his temper run away from him, far from where he has any control of his actions or whatever is said from his mouth. No one could blame him if he socked the guy in his eye right now, could they?

He didn't want to hear the conversation going on right outside of the door. Or to say he isn't intentionally listening would be a blatant lie, but he wishes he hadn't heard the words coming out of your date's mouth. It's bordering on astonishing how you've managed to find the biggest jerk there is on the market.

And it's not a complete lie to say that Bucky wished during the evening that you would realize what a prick the guy was, abandon him and come sit with Bucky by the bar counter instead. But for god's sake—this is not what he wished for.

"It was really nice to meet up with you, John, but I don't think we're a good match," you had said. Politely.

That simple sentence earned a two minute sermon on how John goddamn Walker had only asked you out to be nice, to make you feel better about yourself because you are just so 'fucking sad', aren't you? But of course you would be too self-absorbed to accept an invitation back to his place for a night of what probably would have been disappointing sex. And that's fine, you know, because you aren't very pretty anyways and you're also boring and annoying and a fucking bitch.

John had grabbed your waist, pulled you into him, right as he led you out of the bar. And it felt wrong. You hadn't planned on going anywhere with him from the beginning, but the conviction only grew when he put his hands on you. The polite rejection came tumbling out of your mouth before you even knew you were talking. That he would go on to push you down in every possible way for several minutes was unexpected. Shocking, even. Maybe that's the reason behind your tears as you stand alone on the curb in the middle of the night, hands wrapped around yourself and dreading walking inside again. But you force yourself to.

The bell rings as you close the door gently behind you, gently despite the tears gathering in your eyes, gently despite the heated words being thrown at you just a moment prior. You're too gentle for your own good. Bucky has thought that ever since the first day you stepped inside this lanky old bar.

"Hey," he calls out, setting down the bottle of Bacardi he has in his hand, following your trail to your discarded bag in one of the booths with his eyes.

Your steps are hasty, rushed while you ignore his call for you. He goddamn hates it—the tension in your posture and the way you're trying to hide the tears you're furiously wiping away from your face, back facing him. You won't let him see you.

"Y/n, slow down," Bucky calls out once more, reluctantly, because there's a hesitance somewhere along with the vulnerability you bring out in him. None of his other goddamn regulars make him worry like this.

Your hand reaches into the very depth of your bag, scrambling around for a stressed ten seconds before your fingers clasp around the cream wallet with small flowers on that Bucky can't help but think is adorable.

A few steps, heels clinking against the wooden floor, and a fifty dollar bill is smacked onto the newly cleaned counter, still damp with small droplets of water. Bucky's face falls into a deeper frown, if possible, because you know damn well you're not paying for anything you have in this house. Even if it's covering for the punk who walked out on you.

"No."

The word is a grumble, stone cold and gruff and accompanying the nearly incomprehensible sound of the bill sliding back towards you.

"Just keep it," you say, voice breaking even though you try so hard to keep it strong. Your eyes are not looking at him—he needs you to look at him so badly—but he sees the slight wobble of your lower lip and the trace of mascara starting to dissolve from your lashes.

"You know you're not paying," he answers, adamantly keeping his fingers on the money in case you get the idea of sliding it back towards him. He knows you're goddamn stubborn, he's gotten that by now.

Deep breath. Head cast down, a few blinks. "Please, Bucky. Take it," you say, an ounce more of conviction in your words while you bite down on your lip. Your hands are still shaking, legs desperate to carry you out of there before mortification chips away on more of your pride.

"I said no," he repeats with just a hint of an order, a harshness to his words that he didn't mean to use. Never with you.

"Just take it for god's sake!" you yell, unable to keep the tears from spilling down your cheeks with the strain. "Why do you—why do you always have to make it so goddamn hard?!"

Your hands come up to your face, a groan of frustration escaping your lips while turning away from his burning gaze. He's always looking too closely, too much. Even if there's two dozens of patrons in the bar, it always feels like his eyes are on you and you hate it. Especially now. It makes you fidget and worry too much, about the way you look and what kind of expression you're making or if there's a trace of food on your skin.

Bucky doesn't inch back. He would have, hadn't he had such a grip on the counter beneath him. Not once has he heard you speak with such animosity, nor volume.

"Y/n—"

"No. Have a good night, James," you force out of yourself, grabbing your bag before he has a chance to convince you to stay.

Bucky's legs itch. They itch with the urge to drag you into his arms, the urge to stalk down the jerk who made you cry, the urge to get on his knees and beg for you to 'please, sweetheart, look at me for god's sake'.

The door opens, old familiar bell rings, and the eyes of Bucky are pinpointing you so hard that it might as well have been a laser pointer. In your haste, you fail to remember the doorstep several inches too tall which always needs caution unless you plan to trip in front of a dozen drunk men.

It's the last straw. Everything spills out of your bag, scatters over the floor and catches the attention of the few people remaining. You freeze, a shaky breath escaping you before you finally let go of your desperate attempt to hold back the tears. Knees nearly touch the floor as you crouch down, burying your face in your hands along with the sound of your sobs.

And Bucky sees it, of course he does. His heart fucking shatters where he stands, just a few inches from where the counter ends and opens up to the floor of the bar. But he hesitates. You're crying for god's sake and he has the nerve to hesitate, over wether or not he should leave what he has lived after for years to comfort you.

"Shit, fucking—" Bucky breathes out, eyes flickering over the bar in panic with his palm running over his mouth. The sound of your whimpers fills his ears, scrapes against his eardrums and he thinks he's never heard something as painful as your sadness.

But then he hears your soft whine, face falling into the palms of your hands, and Bucky doesn't give a damn about whatever hesitations that have been keeping him rooted in his place. He rounds the corner of the bar, forcing himself to look at you because he thinks that if he even sends a glance any other way he will back out.

Dugan had already begun picking up your things, gathering them into your handbag while you lean against the wall right by the door. Bucky releases a shaky breath, unfurling his fingers from where they've been tightly formed into a fist, kneeling down right in front of your figure on the floor.

Bucky tethers onto a thin thread of restraint, seeing you so devastated. He can't pull you into his chest, keep your teary eyes away from the world facing you outside. That rule he made for himself has been an invisible fucking thing that had no real power to stop him, and still he never felt like he could break it. But he sits here, right now, searching for anything to say that will make it better. Anything.

This goddamn rule—it didn't help him in the least from getting attached to the girl hovering around his bar in the most unexpected times in her pretty dresses and with that smile and her words that infuriate him to the point where he can't even work because you're there. Right there, in a booth a few feet away or just right by the bar counter. It doesn't matter where you sit, or if you're even at the bar, because Bucky constantly finds himself keeping an eye out for you.

"Y/n, hey. Look at me," Bucky says, laying his hands over your shoulder. "Sweetheart, 's alright. Will you stand up for me, please? Come sit down in the booth."

He can't stop staring at you. Not even as the bell clinks again, alerting him of a new visitor despite the late hour and pouring rain outside. It's not until the offending cable-knitted sweater comes into his sight once more that he dares lifting his attention from your crying figure.

"Forgot my fucking phone," John says with a scowl as Bucky pinpoints him with his glare.

The clench of his jaw is sure to shatter his teeth eventually, but the nerve of your goddamn date to show his face here again after he made you cry is out of this world. That's evident on not only Bucky's hold, but the remaining regulars not caught up in comforting you. If looks could kill, as you say.

Picking up his phone in the booth with arrogance radiating from John’s hold, Bucky nearly lets him go until the jerk sends a distasteful glare your way. He loses it.

All inhibitions fly out of the window as Bucky pushes himself up from his kneel, steps out onto the sticky floor, stalking towards John right as he turns around. A puff of air is forced out of him as he's met with Bucky's scowling face, backing him into the edge of a table a few feet behind him with a death grip on the collar of his sweater.

John glances down at the metal encasing his shirt with sudden alarm, trying to shrug out of Bucky's grip to no avail.

"You think you can come back in here and act like nothing?" Bucky's voice rumbles with the effort to keep it on a low enough volume. Despite being in the middle of the fucking bar floor he really doesn't feel too keen on exposing this conversation to your ears. "Like you didn't just insult her in every fucking way?"

"What the fuck, man? Get off of me!" John seethes, thrashing once more without any luck, earning him another harsh shove against the table. But his cheeks are burning with shame, because there's nothing more embarrassing to a man like him than to be stuck under another man's thumb.

"Don't ever come in here again. Send another glance her way and I'll fucking end you."

"This is—this is illegal!"

His shouts catch your attention, drawing you away from the shoulder of Dugan to worryingly stick your head out to see what's going on. You saw him come in again, of course you did, but somehow you managed to escape the notice of whatever confrontation is going on. Most of all the sight of Bucky anywhere else than behind his trusted counter sets your heart pounding a little faster in your rib cage. He went out onto the floor.

"I don't care. Get out of my bar before I make you get on your knees and beg her for forgiveness," Bucky grits out through his teeth, shoving the blonde away from the wall. He stumbles, only catching his balance once a few feet away from the door.

With a shake of his head, Bucky turns around, letting the hardened clench of his jaw turn into a concerned frown once more without a second glance to any of the shocked gazes on his back. The hand on his shoulder catches him off guard. Really, if he believed John had any guts left in him he would have foreseen it, but the fist against his cheek hits him real hard.

Stumbling a few steps back with his hand flying to his now bleeding face, he doesn't even have to stave off any other attack before Dugan and his men come to his aid.

"Fucking asshole!" John shouts as he's dragged out of the bar, in lack of any other more creative insults.

Bucky wipes away the blood from his cheek, lifts his eyebrows in slight amusement, while eyeing the man getting kicked out onto the curb. A few choice words are delivered by Dugan and Morita, muffled but still heard through the glass windows, as John gets up from the ground with spit flying out of his mouth.

Turning around to the bar once more, he leans his hands against the counter while wincing through the newfound throbbing in his face. He remains that way, even when the sound of soft footsteps and heels clinking against the wooden floor fills his ears.

"Bucky?" you nearly whisper, nearing him with caution. He can almost imagine your furrowed brows, your concerned face, perfectly.

Bucky turns his head to the side, only enough for you to make out the profile of his face. A bruise is already developing, drawing a wince from your lips.

"Are you okay?" you ask, reaching your hand out but withdrawing it the second his eyes flicker down towards it. He wishes you wouldn't have.

He finally turns around. Seeing the remnants of tears dampening your skin steals the attention away from the hit he took to his face, if even for just a second. Nearly makes him run out and get a hit in himself, before he remembers the question so softly spoken from your lips.

"Yeah. Yeah, 'm fine." He nods, averts his eyes for just a moment. "Are you alright?" he asks, looking down at you through his lashes like that, like he always does, but with a new kind of softness to his gaze that makes heat travel to your face.

You nod in answer as well, wiping underneath your nose with the back of your hand. "You're bleeding, Bucky," you observe, trailing your eyes over the blooming purple patch of skin, stained with the red liquid dripping from his wound. "I should clean it up."

His eyebrows lift just slightly at the suggestion. Having you touching him like that—he's not sure he can take it. Not when it's him that should be comforting you.

"Can I?" you ask, looking at his bleeding wound so intently that he fears you will combust if he doesn't let you. It's not right denying you like that, he tells himself right before opening his mouth to answer.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." He nods. "Let me just..." Bucky points behind him towards the counter where a first aid kit is stashed somewhere.

"No. You sit down," you say with conviction, pointing to the padded booths behind you in return. "I'll get it."

Bucky can't do anything else than give you another nod, because that's all the communication he can apparently muster right now, knowing that he'd probably do anything you tell him to. Except taking your money.

He looks over his shoulder as he walks towards the seats, seeing you slip out of your heels in the middle of the floor. The corners of his lips quirk up just slightly, sitting down with a silent puff of air escaping his lips. It's about damn time for you to take off those uncomfortable-looking heels. The thought of you squeezing your poor feet into something for that jerk's sake makes him pissed off.

You disappear behind the counter as if you do it everyday. But then again, you're here often, wether it's to talk to Wanda or work at something on your computer or only to sit with a drink and observe the people of the bar. Unlike you, who always chip away at your nail polish while nervous, Bucky keeps his gaze on your figure as you crouch down away from his sight, waiting for your face to return.

The sound of scrambling through the shelves comes from behind the bar. A cheery 'Oh! Found it!' erupts from your lungs that dissolves the silent tension you held before, puts a goddamn smile on the brooding Bucky Barnes's face, until it disappears just as quickly when you bump your head on the polished wood on your way up.

"Ow!" You wince, rubbing the back of your head as you rise to your full height once more, a first aid kit in hand.

Bucky raises himself from his seat with alarm, a step forward with a frown, but is stopped by your lifted hand.

"It's fine, 's fine. I'm okay," you say, unfurling the furrow of your brows as quickly as it appeared.

It's obvious that you intend to walk past him, access the seat next to where he sat just a few seconds ago, but it's hard to do so when a 220-pound man blocks your way. Somehow he manages to be determined yet hesitant in his movements when he lays his hands on your head, tilts it forward to see where you hit it. His fingers run over the slightly red mark that will be gone in a few hours.

"I'm okay. Happens all the time," you assure him in a near whisper. You're almost sure an amused breath escapes him, but it feels out of character for him to do so. Especially now.

And once again you attempt to move past him, but the sudden presence of his hands on your waist is enough to throw your entire sanity out of your head. You squeal when he lifts you, setting you down on the table in front of him with an ease you can't help but be in awe over.

"Oh," you breathe out, watching him intently while he sets himself down in the booth right next to you.

The front of your shins are pressed against his knees. A seemingly innocent contact, but it doesn't stop your nerves from wreaking havoc and sending shivers all over your limbs. It doesn't help, it really doesn't, that Bucky is looking up at you again with that intense stare that forces you to avert your gaze. It's not that you don't want to look at him—he has the most beautiful and blue eyes you've probably ever seen—but it's too much. You can't do that and also succeed in hiding whatever you're feeling for the man.

Instead you carefully search through the first aid kit, closing your fingers that are just trembling slightly around some disinfectant. Of course you spill some on your dress, but you barely even notice. Bucky does.

"Come here," you whisper, motioning his face closer with your fingers. He listens to you without hesitation, despite knowing that having your faces so close will make it hard for him to keep himself from devouring your lips.

And then your fingers slip under his chin, tilts it upwards, and he nearly groans. Having your hands on him, despite how little contact there actually is between you, is a godsend Bucky has longed for since you first stepped into this bar a few months ago. And then you—god he can barely formulate a thought in that dumb brain of his—you trap your bottom lip between your teeth as you clean away the blood from his cheek. He can't stop himself.

A silent gasp escapes your lips as Bucky's thumb frees the prison your lip was held in, stopping your movements only for the sake of watching him. You can see that it wasn't even nearly intentional on the way his eyes widen just slightly, lips parting in some form of shock. But still his thumb lingers, runs over your lip for a second more before he retracts it.

"Sorry," he mumbles, clenching his fist tightly underneath the table. His lack of self control is laughable.

"It's okay," you tell him, gently grasping his face once more. Returning to your service without commenting on it further. He's thankful for that. You're a little disappointed. The thought of it leading to something more nags at you, tugs at your heartstrings that make your pulse go haywire. He hears it.

The pad of your finger brushes over the small bandaids you place over his wound, smoothing it over his skin while a frown grows on your face. Most likely you would have cried if you got a punch like that. Not only because of the pain, but because it's humiliating letting someone hurt you like that. It's humiliating that you let your date insult you like he did, humiliating that you stood there listening to his words to the point of tears.

"I'm sorry," you say, retracting your touch from his skin and Bucky nearly growls.

"For what?" he asks you. Your gaze is still stuck on his wound.

"What he did to you. If I didn't...I shouldn't have—"

"No." Bucky shakes his head, cutting you off before you even have a chance to finish that goddamn sentence. He won't even hear it.

With a sigh, Bucky gathers the courage to lay his palm over your thigh. Holding you still, keeping you here with him.

"It's not your damn place to apologize for what that fucking jerk did. He ain't got no right to come here and ignore what you want and call you those...things when you're not what he expected. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I can't let that slide. Not when it comes to you."

Not when it comes to you. With a gulp, you force yourself to take in the other words that came out of his mouth and not just the whole of the last sentence.

"But he hurt you." Your hand comes to cup his cheek, thumb running over the blooming bruise once more. "Because of me."

A gasp escapes you as the cold metal of Bucky's left hand comes to rest against the crook of your waist, right hand around your wrist as he holds your hand to his face. Securing it there, afraid you will slip away. He needs your touch.

"Listen to me, honey," he tells you. "I'm a military vet. My best friend got me into three dozens of fights as a kid. I lost my goddamn arm working in this very bar. A punch is nothing."

You raise an eyebrow. This punch—it's not nothing. Doesn't matter how little it is in comparison to everything else he's been through. Bruises and blood don't belong on his skin.

"I don't care about that, Bucky," you say. "I don't want you to get hurt."

He shakes his head, averting his gaze to the door still unopened since Dugan's men dragged your date out. Squeezing your thigh once more, he catches himself having his hands on you without even thinking about it. He didn't even notice.

"Is this alright?" he asks, nodding down to where his palms lay over your figure. Better late than never.

You nod furiously, more eagerly than what you intended, but it's true nonetheless. It's so goddamn alright that you wish he'd never not have his hands on you. With a deep breath and burst of confidence, your hand slips down from his face to his left arm, running it down gently until you reach his hand.

It's unfamiliar, that kind of soft contact with the limb, Bucky realizes as soon as your fingertips trail over the intricate pattern running along the black.

"You lost it in this bar?" you ask, brows furrowing into a frown that he wants to smooth out.

Bucky nods. "Lost it when I was the new kid around here. We had these jerks come here few times a week—Hydra, they called themselves. The leader, Rumlow, he was a real shitty person. Came in with his gang one night already drunk out of their minds, high too probably, looking to pick a fight."

It's your turn now to squeeze his hand. Fingers trail over his palm, tracing a soft pattern that calms him better than the glass of whiskey he has beside him.

"They started picking on this young kid—Peter, who worked extra shifts on the weekends. Pulled out a knife eventually. I had to step in, safety guards weren't really a thing here back then," Bucky says. You notice the clench of his jaw, the tension he holds, and still he doesn't let any of it bleed out on his hold on you.

"Got ugly real fast. Brock and many of his friends had been serving too, overseas. They knew what they were doing, you know? At the end of the day, there were four of them against one. Had no chance, really."

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Bucky," you whisper. "Is this...you never step out past the bar counter. Wanda told me. Is this why?"

He nods in answer, knowing that he just did so after seven years of keeping this goddamn rule. His nod is answer enough for you, it seems like, because you move on to the next question before you even react.

"Where is Rumlow now?" you ask reluctantly, tightening your hold on his hand. He sees the way your gaze travels to the window for just a second, as if he would appear out of the blue to come for Bucky once more.

It's so goddamn endearing that he can't help himself. His hands travel to your waist, lifting you down from the table, placing you in his lap. The soft pads of your feet cling onto the sides of his thighs, heat rushing to your cheeks so quickly that Bucky can almost feel the temperature radiating from you. But you don't protest in the least. Instead you give him a shy smile, hands ghosting over his skin until they find their place at the nape of his neck.

"He's serving time, sweetheart. Can't get to me or anyone else in a long time," Bucky assures you, running his hand down the small of your back while gazing up at you. His head has fallen back onto the top of the sofa, resting. "You know I wouldn't even let you in this bar if there was a chance he and Hydra could come in?"

"No?" you ask, stopping the slow movements of your hands.

"Absolutely not. If someone laid a hand on you..." Bucky trails his fingers up to your cheek, tucking strands of hair behind your ear. "Don't think I would be able to handle that very well."

A shaky breath escapes your lips, hits the top of his nose with the proximity. He knows he just revealed too much, too much about what he feels for you, but it doesn't really matter anymore. He already has you in his lap, stroking your hair with a softness he's never displayed before. You have to know by now.

"Why did you go out today, Bucky? Why did you do that for me?" you ask him in a near whisper.

He looks down at where you’re pressed against him with a deprecating smile. "Steve told me it was obvious from the second night when I kept giving you free drinks even though I said I wouldn't, that punk," he answers you.

And despite his words, his conviction in your knowledge of how absolutely gone he is for you, your eyes still widen along with your fingers digging into his shoulders tightly enough to bruise. It almost makes him angry, the way you're so used to having real affection kept away from you that you haven't seen his infatuation. But then again, he hasn't been exactly perfect in handling his feelings. Sam gave him a good reminder of that earlier.

"Hell, I don't blame you for missin' it," he speaks up again when your silence remains. "Been a real jerk sometimes. Couldn't even talk to you for real the first few weeks."

And to his surprise, you let a small chuckle slip out between your lips. It's not really the reaction Bucky expected.

"You know, I've been telling myself that Wanda was the reason I came here so often?" you say, tracing the outline of his face with your fingertip. "Thought I could trick myself into liking you less if only my reasoning was something else than staring at you working all night. But I don't think that's possible—not looking at you, I mean."

"Hm?" Bucky smirks up at you, drawing a blinding grin from your lips.

"When something...someone lovely exists in front of you, just like that, you would think it a great disservice to whoever created that thing if you do not look at it. And my god, are you beautiful, Bucky."

"Beautiful?" His eyes flicker down to his arm for just a thousandth of a second—you catch it, the way his smile falters just as quickly as it returns.

"Yeah. Surely you must have noticed. You do own a mirror, do you?" you say, melting under his touch as it draws you closer to him. Chest to chest.

"I do," he answers. But he's not looking at you anymore. Or he is, he is looking at you, but not at your eyes. No, his gaze have flickered down to the swell of your lips. "I don't look at it very much."

"No?"

"No. Been spendin' all my time keeping an eye on the pretty girl hanging around the bar. Listening to her talkin' for hours, watching her get pissed drunk, working even though it's a Friday night. I could watch you breathe for hours and not tear my eyes away."

And that’s just what you do—breathe, shallow breaths that feel warm against Bucky’s skin. By now your gaze isn’t focused on his eyes anymore either. It sits so comfortably on the swell of his pink lips, begging for a touch with your own. Soon that silent plead turns real when his mouth forms after the words coming out through his lips.

“I have to kiss you, Y/n. Please let me,” he breathes out, panting, hands splayed out over your cheeks. Both warm and calloused, cold and hard. Perfectly Bucky.

“You don’t gotta ask,” you whisper, an inch away from him, noses touching.

A minute passes. 30 seconds. An hour. Two weeks? You don’t know and don’t care. Spending half a month having Bucky Barnes’s lips on yours would be a perfectly reasonable amount time, if not much too little. But oh, he lets out small whines when you distance yourself and you can’t help but giggle each time.

The next second he pulls you in again, demands the presence of your lips against his, orders your submission with his tongue. He groans, bucking up against your hips. God, the way he touches you, acts, make you desperate. You think you might be addicted to the sweet bourbon taste of Bucky Barnes.

“I knew it!” a shrill shriek erupts the enclosed space you shared with the man underneath you, tears you away from his lips with a soundless whine.

Wanda stands there, all smiling and giddy with a pouting Steve beside her, just behind the bar. He fishes out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, plucking out a twenty dollar bill with a scowl. But despite it all, as he makes eye contact with Bucky, there’s a raise of his eyebrow and a small questioning smile on his lips.

You hurry to scramble off of Bucky’s lap, sitting down on your knees right beside him, a grounding metal hand on your waist. The embarrassment must be visible from miles away.

“Thought you’d never have the guts to ask her out,” Steve mutters under his breath. “You just made me lose twenty bucks, you punk.” He holds up the wrinkled bill before Wanda snatches it out of his hands.

The man beside you growls quietly, mumbles a ‘jerk’ under his breath, but you catch the small smirk on his lips anyways.

“Oh, c’mon. It was obvious that these two were gonna combust if they didn’t kiss by the end of the week,” Wanda says.

“Yeah, yeah. You know, Sam was about to ask her out. Said that if Buck didn’t make a move soon he would instead.”

Bucky’s grip on you tightens so much you have to gently loosen it with your fingers. It nearly makes you giggle, the way he’s glaring daggers at his friend sporting a knowing smirk. Steve knows exactly what kind of reaction that would summon out of him.

“That damn pu—“

“Hey,” you call out softly, hands engulfing his face until he’s facing you. “I’m yours, Bucky.”

His scowl softens, blue eyes running over your face for any sign of insincerity that he has never found the trace of in your expressions.

“If you’ll have me,” you add a few seconds later, an abrupt response to the realization that what Bucky is looking for might not be something more than a make-out session.

But then that frown turns into a devious smirk, eyes once more flickering down to your lips while his palms find their way to your hips.

“I’ll have you, darling. On every damn surface in my place, in every damn way I can have you.”

“We can still hear you!” Wanda shouts.

But that mischievous smirk doesn’t falter. No, instead a soft kiss is pressed to your lips, drawing an even bigger smile out of you.

“Good.”

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson #bartender!au #bartender!bucky Barnes

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