#I had him sing for her to calm her down and now I’m going to have to come back to this moment later
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a-land-lacking-sleep · 2 years ago
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Oh no with a single fucking paragraph I put into chapter 12 of Electric Trains, I feel like I’m going to have to explore Akari’s connections to everyone once she returns in a separate fic. Fuuuuck.
Like she still has Ingo, her uncle that’s she adopted and made a part of her family. But I just realized that Laventon would never let her feel unwelcome and would’ve adopted her as his niece well beforehand and fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
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hairenya · 2 years ago
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One of my colleagues and I are fighting (because she’s a bitch) and she framed it as wanting to be concerned with my teaching abilities which is hilarious because the student body absolutely adores me and hates her. Like motherfucker I am the Princess Diana of this middle school I will end your entire existence do not fuck with me.
#jlktalks.#she just bought a house and I don’t have any bills so like#the consequences of her getting in trouble are much more severe than mine lmao#old ass bitch with her Kurt Geiger bag like I don’t own Versace purses#this is me calmed down a Xanax and several hours later btw#I was 100% going to fight and her and even asked the SRO if he wanted to come watch#he said yeah btw but her pussy ass never showed up to ‘have a discussion with me’#she’s mad because she made the kids sing happy birthday to her and wrote up those that didn’t#and I told them she couldn’t actually do that#and then she said it wasn’t the first time she had heard about her name being mentioned negatively in my class#like bitch I wasn’t trashing you but I’m sure af gonna start now#she’s also mad I told them they had a constitutional right not to stand for the pledge of allegiance#shout-out to my mentor for talking me out of telling her I don’t like her#she said it looks like I was taking their side like yeah bitch cause I am??#the current advice from my mentor is to avoid her (I’m great at that I once went a year without talking to a teacher as TA)#(​like in her class everyday) and to say ‘we’ll have to agree to disagree’ if she says something#also shoutout to my new mentor he’s so sweet and so kind and gives such good advice and it actually works because I listen to him#the only reason I listen to him is that I have a crush on his married ass and I am nothing if not a sub#but hey whatever works#rant#adventures in teaching#‘I’m old school’ nah bitch you just old#she was talking too about how she had been in good spirits prior to all this#like I hope I ruined her birthday and I’m lowkey thinking about putting a spider in her room if I can catch one without freaking out#but she’d probably kill it which isn’t fair to the spider#she just got actual braces at 40 like you can’t afford actual invisaligners and you’re gonna try and tell me what to do???
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gracexthoughts · 4 months ago
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Māzigon arlī naejot issa.
(Come back to me)
jacaerys velaryon x betrothed!reader
warnings; talk of injuries and blood, canon divergence, angst ending with comfort summary; reader was sent to rook’s rest and when she returns injured, jace nearly looses his mind  a/n; reader is targaryen and in my head she is maybe rhaenyra’s cousin but i didn’t feel like fleshing out a whole family for her so you can use your imagination. 
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Jacaerys has been going mad. The Lady Y/N has been gone for hours, and every second more that the Prince was ignorant of her fate was a second closer to him flying off in search of her. She’d volunteered to fly to Rook’s Rest and face Cole’s army herself. Her dragon, Silverwing, is the largest dragon with a rider second only to Vhagar, but she’s been gone too long for the prince’s liking. He’d begged her not to go, begged his mother to send him instead, and neither had listened. He couldn’t deny the logic of the choice, but the longer she stayed at battle, the more images of her broken and bloody flooded her betrothed’s mind. 
The Prince and the Queen stand on the balcony off his chambers. Queen Rhaenyra has tried calming her son, but to no avail. The sun nears the horizon, setting the sky on fire in shades of gold and red, but Jacaerys only watches for signs of his betrothed. 
“I’m going after her,” Jacaerys blurts out, unable to contain himself any longer, pushing off the stone half wall. 
“No,” the queen says firmly, moving to block her son’s path. Ever since the death of Prince Lucerys, the queen has kept her eldest son close, refusing to send him out on dragon back. 
“She should have been back by now! I will not just sit here and await news of her fate,” the prince argues, his voice strained and fraught. The Queen’s heart aches at the panic in her son’s eyes. 
“Y/N is a fierce dragon rider. I am confident she will return soon,” she says placatingly, reaching up to cup his cheek, but Jacaerys pushes her away. 
“No, I can’t just sit here. She’s to be my wife; I’m meant to protect her, not sit safely by in a castle while she risks her life protecting my birthright!” The prince exclaims and pushes through the doors to his chambers, but a dragon’s shriek stops him in his path. He whips around, his eyes scanning the skies for the sight of his betrothed. And then he sees her. 
Jacaerys sprints through the halls of Dragonstone, his steps echoing against the stone as he makes his way out of the castle. He should feel relieved, but the prince cannot shake the fear clutching at his heart. 
As Jacaeryrs reaches the mouth of the Dragonmount, all his fears come to the forefront. Y/N isn’t in the saddle; instead, she’s clutched in the silver claws of her dragon, her arm hanging limply down. Silverwing sets her down gently before landing herself, and Jacaerys swears he can see the sadness in her massive silver eyes. “No, no, no,” Jacaerys mutters, dropping to his knees next to her body, tears blurring his vision as he pulls her body to him. Her clothes are covered in blood and singed, an arrow lodged in her shoulder, and a gash on her side. Her silver hair is dark with ash and crimson, but breath still moves through her lips shallowly, a small beacon of hope. Without any thought but her care, he scoops her into his arms, cradling the body of his betrothed to his chest and running as fast as he can back to the castle. 
“Call the master!” He bellows to the first guard he sees, his voice fraught and cracking, the princely tone he maintains forgotten in his panic. “Hold on, my love.”
As he pushes his way through the doors of the castle, the Grand Maester and the queen, followed by Ser Lorrent, rush towards the pair. “Help her!” The prince shrieks at the maester, all manners forgotten, and his expression is wild with fear. Used to such behavior, Grand Maester Gerardys simply nods and inspects the body in the prince’s arms. 
“We’ll take her to her chambers. I’ll meet you there,” he says and turns, hurrying off to gather supplies. Ser Lorrent steps forward, his arms outstretched, to take the girl from the prince, but Jacaerys pushes past him, following after the maester up to the stairs and hurries to her apartments. 
As they reach her chambers, the prince lays her down gently on her bed, not caring for the state of her bedclothes. He stays close to her side as the maester gathers his things, watching her closely to make sure she stays breathing. Soon, Geradys comes to her side. “Excuse me, my prince,” he says softly to the young prince, but he doesn’t seem to hear. Rhaenyra steps forward, her hand wrapping around her son’s shoulder. 
“Darling, let the Grand Maester work,” she says softly, pulling Jacaerys back a few steps. Rhaenyra tries to coax him away to wash and change, as he is now covered in his betrothed’s blood, but he refuses. 
“No, I won’t leave her,” he says, pulling against his mother. 
“We won’t; just give him space, my darling,” she coos, pulling him to her and wrapping her arms around her darling son, whose body is shaking. He relents to his mother’s pull, allowing him to be held like a child as he watches the maester struggle to keep the love of his life in the world of the living. 
Nearly an hour later, the maester turns to the prince and queen, blood staining his front and hands and his eyes weary. “I’ve done all I can, your Grace, my Prince. It is up to her spirit and the gods now. But she is a fighter, if ever there was one,” the Geradys says, his eyes soft for the Prince of Dragonstone. The Queen thanks him, but Jacaerys isn’t listening, moving forward numbly. He kneels next to the bed, his shaking hands reaching for hers, the ash and blood washed clean by the maester. He presses a gentle kiss on her skin, gripping her hand tightly between his own. 
“Y/N, my love,” the Crown Prince whispers, reaching up to brush a strand of silver hair from her brow. “You have to fight. Please, you can’t... I can’t lose you as well, please. Kostilus, māzigon arlī naejot issa. Ko-Kostilus,” he begs, his throat closed tightly as tears slip down his cheeks. Please, come back to me. 
***
It’s a full day before Y/N wakes, and Jacaerys has refused to leave her side. Late afternoon light shines into the room, beams of light cutting the air and washing it in an amber glow. Amethyst eyes flutter open, blinking in the brightness of the room. 
“Jace?” She mutters; her voice is rough and her throat is burning. 
“Y/N!” Jace gasps, jumping up from his seat in the center of the room to kneel at her side, gingerly taking her hand in his. “You’re awake!” he laughs in relief, his vision blurring with tears of joy. He drinks her in, her weary smile, and the lilac swirls in her eyes he thought he’d never see again. 
“How long-?” She begins groggily, attempting to sit up by the wound in her abdomen, causing her to grimace. Jacaerys gently pushes her back down to the pillows.
“Don’t move, my love. Silverwing brought you back one evening past. You were,” the prince swallows, his throat constricting at the memory, “badly wounded. Gods, I feared you’d not wake.” He reaches for her, his calloused hand cradling her head. 
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, my prince,” she smiles. Even wounded and weak, her humor remains. Jacaerys laughs through his tears, moving to sit on the bed and covering her face in kisses, making her giggle until it causes too much pain in her stomach. 
“What happened?” Jace asks, sitting back and holding her hand tightly. 
“Aemond was there, and Aegon. It was a trap,” she sighs, grimacing. “We were engaged with Sunfyre when Vhagar appeared... I had to fly close to the ground to get out from between the pair, and their archers took advantage.” 
“Gods, I will kill both of them for laying a hand on you,” the prince says, his voice crackling with anger.
“I’m alright, Jace,” she coos, reaching up to cradle his beautiful face in her hands. His anger subsides at her touch, her gentleness soothing the fires raging inside him. 
“You’re wounded; you nearly died. If you’d arrived minutes later, you would have been passed by the time you returned to me. My love, Icouldn’t bear it if you-”
“Jace-”
“Promise me. Please just promise me you’ll be more careful,” the prince implores, his amber eyes fierce and wide. 
“I promise, Jace. I do, and I will,” she says earnestly, their eyes locked for a long moment. “Come here,” she whispers, pulling on his hands to bring him closer. “Lay with me?” 
“I don’t want to hurt you.” 
“You could never. Please?” Y/N’s eyes plead with the prince, and he forgets any notion of courtly manners or what is proper for two betrotheds as he comes to lay in her bed. Careful of her injuries, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her frame into his, and she rests her head against his chest, sighing in relief at returning home to him. There they lay, the future king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms, basking in each other’s warmth and thanking the gods for another day of safety in this war.
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lewisvinga · 7 months ago
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his lucky charm | carlos sainz x fem! reader / daughter
summary; even during the most stressful moments of football, carlos needs his good luck charm, his 6 month old daughter, in his arms.
word count; 630
warnings; ? idk pero hala madrid siempreeee
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03
note; [requests are closed] I HAD TO DO THIS😫 i’m weak for madridista carlos and i saw a video of a guy holding his daughter while watching benzema score a penalty and it reminded me of carlos ! but also, el clásico win tdy w bellingol winner tho🤭🤭🤭
masterlist !
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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“Carlos, you know you can set her down in her crib, right?” Y/n asked again for the second time in 10 minutes, looking at the sleeping baby in her husband's arms.
“Ahorita no, mi amor.” [not now, my love] Carlos quickly shushed his wife as he kept his eyes on the screen.
Sometime around the second half, he had picked up little Catalina in hopes it would calm down his nerves over the Real Madrid and Manchester City match. However, when the match went into overtime, his nerves just became worse.
He was so nervous that he couldn’t help but rock back and forth which made his daughter fall into a deep slumber in his arms. It made Y/n laugh to herself. She was a fan of the Madrid-based team but not to the extent of Carlos who lives and breathes Real Madrid.
Her father-in-law even made a joke once that the Sainz’s bleed white, the team's official color. Sure, she was nervous because it was a knockout match for the top competition of club football but not nervous to the extent of her husband.
“Carlos, I really think you should put Catalina down before-“
“She’s my good luck charm!” Carlos exclaimed, holding the 6-month-old close to his chest. She even was wearing the white Real Madrid kit his father gifted them when she was born, making her even more of a ‘good luck charm’
Y/n playfully rolls her eyes at her husband's antics. She gets up to go to the kitchen to grab her phone and a bottle of water. When she walked back to the living room, she saw him biting his fingernails and kneeling on the floor instead of sitting on the couch.
“Carlos, what are you…” Her voice trailed off. She wore a confused expression as he held a now awake Catalina in one hand and the other hand kept running through his hair.
“Penalties, mi amor! Penalties!”
Y/n sat back down on the couch and held her phone up so she could record his reactions. They were down to the last penalty, the 5th one. If Real Madrid made it then that means they would pass.
Even Catalina, who doesn’t even understand what is going on, was focused on the screen as #22 for the Madrid-based team took his spot. Y/n noticed her husband holding his breath as the player swung his leg back and kicked the ball. The ball makes it in causing her husband to let out a cheer.
Carlos immediately stands up to his feet and holds Catalina out. “Mi gatita! Ganamos! Vamos a los semifinales!” [my little cat! we won! we’re going to the semifinals!] He loudly exclaimed to his 6 month old daughter who gurgled in reply. “Te dije, Y/n! [i told you] She’s our lucky charm!”
He holds her close and leaves kisses all over her chubby cheeks. Catalina squeals at the sensation of her father's beard scratching her face. She plants her hands on his face as he continues to kiss her, letting out fits of giggles.
Y/n’s heart melted at the interaction between her husband and their daughter. She knew he’d make the best girl dad the moment she found out she was pregnant. She was right, he is the best girl dad.
She couldn’t help but burst out into laughter when she heard Carlos start to sing the anthem of Real Madrid to Catalina who kept gurgling at her father's antics.
Y/n stood recording and quickly uploaded the video of her husband and daughter to Instagram, captioning it ‘a Madridista and his lucky charm🤍 hala madrid!’. She knew people would immediately fawn over their favorite driver cheering to his daughter, but for now, she was just enjoying the show he was giving with his not-so-perfect singing.
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kquil · 9 months ago
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REMUS LUPIN | NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER PRT.3
REQUEST : hii! i jus wanted to know if your remus lupin, “not so secret admirer” was gonna continue with more than two parts? i’m really enjoying the story 😽 ⏤requested by anon
TAGS. : casanova remus makes an appearance ; good news for reader ; date at the three broomsticks ; oversized sweater sharing moment ; remus is a gentleman ; most of the time ; he's so dreamy ; and flirty ; and a tease! ; you're too cute for him ; he thinks you're absolutely precious! ; lowkey idiots in love ; it's finally happening! ; you both have an effect on each other ; making it official hehe~ ; final part~
LENGTH : 1.8k
← PART ONE | PART TWO
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Sirius whistles a sharp, short tune and wiggles his brows at Remus, “look over there, Moony~” Sirius sings as he gestures towards you from across the field, “your missus wants you to go over and give her a big ol’ smooch,”
“Shut up, Padfoot,” Remus laughs and playfully hits his best friend on the shoulder as he passes him on his way to you. He doesn’t care much for all the teasing; he’s been counting the days, and now, he’s counting his steps —the closer he gets to you, he starts to run. Remus doesn’t care if he looks stupid or overly eager, not when you’re smiling at him so beautifully; he wants to see you smiling from closer up. Just as he’s a few meters away, he hears you call out to him and his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 
“I got top marks!” 
From where they were scattered around at the base of the ancient tree arching over the black lake, the Marauders eye their tall, love struck friend as he runs to you with, suddenly, open arms. 
“Looks as happy as a Niffler with all that treasure in his arms,” James laughs as their rambunctious group grins, snickering at the sight before them. Remus shouts in joy, his elation heard from across the field as he picks you up by the waist, only to pull you close moments later for a prolonged embrace. The sight warmed their hearts despite their determination in denying it. 
“He should really just kiss ‘er already,” Peter whines, his impatience drawing more snickers from two of his best friends. 
“You read my mind, Wormtail,” Sirius laughs, throwing his arm across his ratty friend’s shoulders, “wanna place your bets on when he’ll finally grow the balls to kiss ‘er?” all the boys share a wide grin and start placing their bets, Peter offering his treasured sweets, James, his full allowance for Hogsmeade weekend and Sirius, his recently concocted potion for a devious prank. 
“You sound like you’ve run a marathon to get here,” Remus throws his head back slightly, eyes shining with fondness as he lovingly caresses your warm cheek with the back of his hand. 
“I—” you take a moment to catch your breath, giggling briefly from your own embarrassment but the warmth ins chestnut-brown eyes calmed you down, “I thought you were in the library,”
Remus’ brows fly to his hairline from surprise as you hide your face in his sweater; a feeble attempt at sheltering away your sheepishness. You had been running about Hogwarts castle for him? The tall brunette doesn’t know whether he should laugh in good humour or kiss you stupid. 
The urge to kiss you was undeniable, however. Especially when you were being so adorable, hiding your sweet face in his chest like that. His long arms wrap around you, pressing you further into his warmth and comforting scent. The motion makes you sigh dreamily only to stutter when you feel a soft pair of lips press a kiss to the crown of your head. 
“Congratulations…” his soft, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. The sentiment was whispered with such sincerity, it made you swoon. Only you were allowed to hear his praise and your entire form lifted like a weightless cloud. You felt floaty and light. You want him to praise you more, you want him to kiss you more too. The last time he kissed you was the day before your exam - it was torture waiting for your exam to get marked. But he made the wait worth it, “How about that date? Huh?” 
Pulling away, you tilt your chin to peer up at him with a timid flutter of your lashes, “I was promised a butterbeer too…” 
The mix of your mischief and undeniable cuteness had Remus’ heart racing a mile a second; he couldn’t help but release the tension in a short laugh, “you can have as many butterbeers as you want!”
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Hogsmeade weekend couldn’t come sooner enough. However, as soon as the awaited date had arrived, your excitement was turned into dread. An entire afternoon spent with Remus. You can imagine yourself already making a mess of things and, knowing how clumsy you get when you’re nervous, you’re sure it isn’t long before you’re tripping over air and making a spectacle of yourself. 
“Easy there,” Remus coos at you softly when you jump in surprise from his sudden actions, “sorry about that but you were shaking like an autumn leaf, sweetheart,” he flashes you an apologetic smile before his expression melts into adoration at the sight of you in his oversized grandpa sweater, “is that better?”
You manage a timid nod, avoiding his beautiful eyes as you slip your arms into place, adoring the familiar comfort the warmth and smell of his sweater brought you. It was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. This was Remus; he wouldn’t do anything to make you feel bad or embarrassed just because of a silly mistake. You peek up at him from beneath the cover of your lashes. He’s so tall and handsome and just so… perfect. A gentle giant, topped with messy brown hair, soft eyes and covered in mysterious, faded scars but remains ever kind. This is why you fell for him, why he has such an effect on your heart, why he has such a pull on your entire being. He is safety and comfort and love all moulded into the beautiful gentleman that he is. 
With a surge of bravery, you inch closer and closer to your Hogsmeade date’s side until you’re practically pressed into him. Remus smiles at you but tries to hide away his blushing cheeks by keeping his gaze forward as he leads you down the path to the Three Broomsticks. It isn’t until he feels your small, soft hand slip into his much larger one that he finally glances down at you. The two of you meet eyes once more before you’re hiding your embarrassment away by burrowing your face into his bicep. 
For the love of Merlin, could you stop being so lovable and precious?! Girls like you were his number one weakness — you were going to kill him at this rate!  
“If you keep at this cuteness act, I’ll have no choice but to wrap you up in my arms and run back to the castle so I can have you to myself forever, little dove,”
Was he just playing around or was he being serious?
You look up and stare into his eyes — you couldn’t quite tell… 
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As promised Remus treated you to as many butterbeers as you wanted, not that you wanted much anyway. Not only that but the butterbeer does a good job of warming you up and you didn’t fancy having to take off Remus’ generously offered sweater so you’ll stick to your second butterbeer for now. 
“Are you sure you don’t want anymore? I did make a promise,” Remus urges gently but when you politely shake your head ‘no’ and wrap your arms around yourself to burrow your nose under the stretched out collar of his sweater, he instantly knew your reasoning. You make it so easy to fall in love with you, “Is there something else you’d like then? Maybe a dessert? I don’t feel like I’ve rewarded you enough for a job well done on that test,”
Without a moment’s hesitation, you blurt out, “Being with you is reward enough,”
…did you think he was joking when he told you his intentions on the way here? 
“I wasn’t joking, little dove,” he hears you softly hum in curiosity, asking him to elaborate, “I will keep you all to myself if you don’t stop being so adorable,”
“I-I don’t mean to—” he laughs at your flustered state and picks up your hand to kiss your knuckles. 
“I. Don’t. Care,” it was a threat but one that was lovingly spoken into your skin as he kept your hand raised to his lips. Your eyes meet his over the bumps and grooves of your knuckles. He was being very sincere. 
“…how—“ you hesitate, biting your lip and avoiding his eyes momentarily, “how about a compromise?…” bargaining for your freedom — this wasn’t something you expected the afternoon to turn into. Nevertheless, you’re willing to play along, bearing in mind the serious undertones of your conversation. 
“I’m listening,” he hums and he almost sounds like he’s purring; a familiar glint of mischief reflecting in his eyes as he focuses his gaze onto your hand. You watch as he admires the way his fingers interlock with yours, forming an intimate hold where his larger hand appears to devour your smaller one. He looks into your eyes again, a small prompt asking you to continue with the proposal. 
“How about we promise to see each other every day at lunch?”
“Not good enough,”
You nibble on your bottom lip and miss Remus’ lingering stare, “breakfast and lunch?”
“Still not good enough,” he’s smiling —no, he’s smirking at you. What happened to your gentle giant?! He’s supposed to be kind and sweet, not a tease! You’re dangerously close to having a heart attack and he’s showing no mercy!
“D-dinner too, then?”
“Your suggestions are not satisfactory,“ his words are that of a professional, “and I’m getting very impatient, my dear,” you’re speechless as he holds up your hand and rolls the long sleeve of his sweater down your arm, exposing your skin where he begins to pepper a light trail of kisses down. 
In between your flustered state and racing mind, you don’t know how your panic managed to translate your thoughts so articulately, “How could I possible work out a compromise with you then?!”
“You’re a smart girl, you know what I want,”
“No, I—”
“What I want is what you want…”
His words make you pause. For a moment, you can hear nothing but your racing heart pumping blood past your ears, see nothing but Remus’ smirking lips and piercing brown eyes, feel nothing but his lips on the skin of your arm, taste nothing but the lingering alcohol on your tongue. It takes one big inhale to muster up enough courage, furthered by your earlier two frothing tankards of butterbeer, “be my boyfriend then…” you sound like a shy but demanding, spoiled child. One that Remus would happily pamper to your heart’s content. 
“You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart,” his kind smile makes your heart race and an elated grin slowly grows on your lips before he’s leaning across the table at lightening speed, your hand still held captive in his, “Lets seal it with a kiss, shall we?”
You expected him to kiss your forehead. But no. No, this kiss was so much better. 
He tastes like chocolate and buttery, foaming beer.   
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A/N : Goodness did this take a long time, im so sorry my darlings! i don’t know why i consistently kept getting writers block when it came to writing this fic. i think it’s partially to do with the fact that i never really intended to continue the original timestamp hehe~ nevertheless, it’s here and i hope you darlings enjoyed the read!
NAVI. 
TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @veryberryjelly @th3-st4r-gur1 @sousydive @rosalyn-s @thelastbrainceliishere @littleshadow17 @b-i-h-i @babiely @nickkie99 @hehehhehexd @imdoingbetternow @regulusblacksposts @nicassie @lovelyygirl8 @onedaysoonyoullsee @jennieasfrance @onlyfredslibrary @soradragon @idli-dosa-reblogs @remusparkers
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4unnyr0se · 6 months ago
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pookie pls can you write for gojo where reader and him are coworkers at jujutsu high and have a dynamic similar to utahime and gojo? and like yaga is always making them work together even tho they don’t like eachother, but Gojo lowkey gets off on reader being annoyed at him so there is *tension*? 🥺🥺🥺
❥ whole lotta attitude | satoru gojo
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warnings: enemies to lovers, gojo is a dickhead but it's okay because he's gojo, fem! reader, unprotected sex, office sex (im a slut for office sex), multiple orgasms, wall sex, roughness, one hickey, spanking, oral sex (m! receiving), making out, filthy filthy words are spoken, hella sexual tension, reader hates gojo but gojo loooooves her, gojo gets slapped once, degrading, praise, hair pulling, hate(?) sex, gojo texts like a super senior, a little bit of a textfic but not rlly, fluff at the end
MDNI | 18+ content
word count -> 3.6k
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Jujutsu High was quiet today. That wasn’t unusual because most of the students were either out on missions or in Shokos’ office experiencing whatever the hell she called “medicine.” The quiet was nice, strangely calming, and reassuring. Being a jujutsu sorcerer yourself, calm was a foreign feeling. The cool breeze blew your hair softly in the wind, the songbirds tweeting a melody that was most becoming on this quiet say. You took a deep breath in as you leaned against a wooden pole, admiring how clear the sky was. Everything was simply perfect. If tomorrow was your last day alive, today would be the most wonderful send-off.
“Hey there princess! I missed you!” 
And just like that, there was no more peace. No more tranquility, no more sing-song bird crap. There’s only Satoru Gojo and his humongous ego that crushes anyone within a 50-foot radius. 
His deep voice was laced with a sickly sweet playful tone that made you want to grab his collar and punch him right in his perfect nose. God, you fucking hated him. He was the bane of your existence with his smug attitude and that stupid infinity that he only turned off when you were around. Did he seriously think you were that weak, and he didn’t even need to use infinity because he could defeat you within a millisecond? Stupid fucking handsome bastard, you hated him with every fiber of your being. 
“What, you’re ignoring me now? Don’t be like that, it’s not nice!” Gojo laughed and practically teleported to where you were sitting, his eyes no doubt sparkling under that black blindfold he always wore. 
You groaned and rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and looking away from the smug bastard. “Fuck off, Gojo. I was having a perfectly peaceful afternoon before your very existence ruined it for me.” You pinched your temple with your index finger and thumb, rubbing the stressed skin. “I was calm for once in my damn life. You really do have a talent for making me wish I was six feet under.”
Gojo playfully pouted and shifted himself to your other side, taking your hand off your temple. He cradled it with his own, royally pissing you off in the process. “Why are you always so grumpy all the time, huh? Is it because your students are always out on missions instead of keeping little ol’ your company?” He mocked slightly, letting go of your hand. His blue eyes sparkled beneath his blindfold, filled with mischief. “I could keep your company, you know that right? Or is Little Miss Grumpy Pants too high and mighty to give me a shot?”
“I would literally rather make out with Jogo than spend more time with you than I’m legally required.”
“Ouch, that hurt.”
“Too bad, so sad.” You smirked, shoving him away. If anyone else had seen that they would have been shocked. The mighty Satoru Gojo, pushed to the ground by a grade two sorcerer. You rose up from the wooden desk and dusted yourself off, walking away as quickly as you could in your tennis shoes.
“I always look forward to these meetings you know!” Gojo yelled at you in the distance only to see the faintest image of your middle finger wiggling at him. Gojo smirked and put down the hem of his blindfold, his hair returning to its usual upright position. 
You stormed back into your office and locked the door shut, sliding down against the mahogany doorframe in exhaustion. How was it possible that just being in his presence absolutely drained you of all resolve? Was he really that strong, or was he just super fucking annoying? You had no idea, no one ever had any idea when it came to Satoru Gojo. 
The beautiful day finally came to an end and you got back to your apartment, collapsing onto your couch. Most jujutsu sorcerers had house provided to them by their clans, but that was not your case. Your neighbors thought you were a teacher at some religious school deep in the country side. It was the best excuse you could come up with for being gone for practically days at a time. Maybe the only bus to the train station broke down or something, any old excuse like that in order to keep the nosy (and mostly elderly) fellow tennents off your back.
“Fuck my life…” You groaned, placing your head in your hands as you stumbled over to your cozy bedroom, it’s warm environment almost giving you a hug in its own way. You slipped into your pajamas and curled up under the covers, setting your alarm on your phone for the next morning. Just as you were about to close your eyes, your phone started to buzz. At first it was just a single vibration, probably a text from your mother or something. But the buzzes and vibrations kept coming until your phone was practically moving itself off the bed.
You groaned in annoyance and turned over, checking the notification center to see who the hell had the nerve to text you nine times in a row. And sure enough, sporting the contact photo of a .5 that he took of himself when he stole your phone that one time, Satoru fucking Gojo had spam texted you at 11:41PM.
“What the actual hell?” You whispered, unlocking your phone to see what could possibly be this important. Nothing was ever this important past 10PM, not even if your apartment building was on fucking fire.
The messages plagued your screen, his smirking face in the contact photo made you even more angry. And yet a faint blush found itself creeping up against your face. Maybe it was the sheer excitement of a man texting you at night, or maybe deep down you actually liked Gojo. You smacked yourself lightly on the cheek, trying to erase that thought from your sleep-ridden mind.
Worst person alive: heyyyy
Worst person alive: r u up???
Worst person alive: theres no way u actually went to bed, omg ur such a grandma
Worst person alive: im bored talk to me
Worst person alive: megumi wont answer my texts :(( i think he hates me
Worst person alive: i know ur awake, u were active three minutes ago on insta
Worst person alive: ik u blocked me on their but jokes on u i have 5 other accounts
Worst person alive: pls pls pls pls talk to me im dying over here princess
Worst person alive: btw yaga assigned us on a mission tmrw mwah
Your eyed widened at the last message, your hands gripped the phone with white-knuckle strength. “Fucker!” You yelled, turning off your phone before melting under the covers. Why did Yaga have to do this to you? You and Gojo together was torture enough, but now you had to do actual work with each other? Gojo was grossly incompetent at anything that didn’t involve exorcising cursed spirits. 
You sighed and closed your eyes, silently praying that a curse would somehow break into your bedroom and murder you right then and there. But unfortuanly, you woke up to your alarm blaring in your ear the next morning.
Gojo and yourself were sat in Yaga’s office, Gojo smirking at you the entire time. You blushed under his gaze, hands gripping the edges of your seat as you waited for Yaga to tell you what the assignment was. Was Yaga being late on purpose just to mess with you? Did you manage to piss him off somehow? A million questions were flying through your mind and there was no answer in sight. 
“I saw you read my messages princess.” Gojo finally spoke, leaning forward. He was significantly taller over you, his towering muscular frame intimating you. “Why didn’t you respond? I was really bored. It’s rude to ignore your friends.” He spoke, that same sticky and syrupy voice coming back to haunt you.
“Maybe that’s because we aren’t friends, Gojo.” You scoffed, flipping your hair behind your back. “Could you please just shut up until Yaga gets here? If I have to listen to you mock me again I might actually explode.” Sighing, you placed your face in your hands.
“Actually,” Gojo purred, getting up from his seat only to sit down in Yaga’s velvet office chair. “Yaga doesn’t have a mission for us, princess.” He kicked his feet up on the desk, taking off his blindfold. His snowy white hair fell into a beautiful mess, with his painfully gorgeous blue eyes lighting up his already hellishly handsome face.
You looked up from your hands to raise an eyebrow, your face immediately turning a bright red upon seeing Gojo without his signature blindfold. “I’m sorry, what? I don’t follow.”
Gojo tutted and threw the black fabric onto your lap, his eyes still staring at your blushing face. Gojo found it simply adorable how you would always get so flustered, so annoyed in his presence. How you would always deny being attracted to him, how you swore up and down that he was put on this Earth to make your life a living hell. But he noticed that you would always squeeze your thighs together when he spoke. It was precious, really. How you thought you could hide your painfully obvious desire for him.
“Ae you hard of hearing or something, princess?” Gojo purred, leaning forward to he could grab onto the collar of your navy blue work uniform. With just a snap of his wrists his face was mere centimeters away from your own, the tips of your noses were pressed up against each other so perfectly. You felt your breathing quicken, the atmosphere in Yaga’s office so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. “I said that Yaga never gave us a fucking mission. I just wanted to see you again.” He breathed out, his steaming air causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. His grip on your collar tighten, his eyes were filled with desire. Desire for you that’s long overdue to be broken.
Your brows furrowed at you gripped onto his wrist, trying your best to pry his hand away from your uniform collar. Twisting and turning his wrist every which way turned out ot be fruitless, causing you to grow ever more angry and flustered. Fuck Gojo and his superhuman abilities, fuck him for being the strongest. 
Instead, your hand came flying at his face. Your palm collided with his flesh, the cold stinging sensation snapping Gojo out of his lustful trance. His spare hand crept onto his cheek, rubbing the mark softly. You gulped, nervous to see how the strongest jujutsu sorcerer would react to getting slapped across the face by a grade two. 
He smirked and threw his head back slightly, a dark chuckle emitting from his throat. He looked back down at you, his grip on your collar so strong that you started to choke. “God, I was hoping you would fucking do that.” 
In an instant his lips were on yours, roughly clashing against each other. It took every fiber of his being to not rip all your clothes off right then and there, to bend you over Yaga’s desk and fuck you senseless. Oh how long Gojo had waited to feel your plump lips being ravaged by his own, and how deliciously rewarding it was to play the long game. Finally your lips were melding perfectly with each other, his tongue picking up just the faintest taste of peach chapstick. 
Gojo pulled away from the kiss after about a minute, a thick strand of saliva connecting your lips. He sighed in pleasue as his eye landed on your flustered face, your mouth still agape like a slut.
“So fucking pretty like this,” he muttered, stepping out from behind the desk. He pulled you out of your chair and trapped you against the wall, his muscular torso being so easily felt under the think fabric of the uniforms the school provided. “Been wanting to kiss you since forever, y’know.” He mumbled, dragging his callosued hands up and down the clothed snatches of your wasit. “Your lips taste even better than I imaged, sweetness.”
You blushed at his sultry words, the faint glim in his ocean blue eyes only making your knees evern weaker. Slowly but carefully, your arms wrapped themselves around his broad shoulders. “You’re still on my shitlist,” you muttered, standing on the tips of your toes to meet his eyeline.
“And you’re as stubborn as ever, princess.” Gojo purred picking you up by the bottoms of your thighs, Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, making it look like a scene straight out of a movie. “Such a pretty mouth, you gonna let me fuck it?” He whispered, rubbing circled on your bare thighs. The modest jujutsu skirt you wore covered your legs quite nicely, so you never really felt the need to wear tights. And that drove Gojo fucking wild.
“Depends, what’s in it for me?” You smirked, tugging lightly on the baby hairs at the back of his head. Gojo hissed in pleasure, kind of proud that you were being equally as bratty to him as he was to you. 
“The best fuck you’ll ever get, plus some more.” Gojo let go of your thighs, letting you drop onto your knees. You looked up at him, gulping in anticipation as you saw the imprint of his throbbing erection covered by his pants. “You gotta get me prepared first, princess. Or else I might not fuck that pussy as good, got it?” His voice was dripping with desire for you as his expert hands pulled down his pants, tossing them aside along with his boxers. His cock tapped against his shirt, leaving the smallest precum stain.
You bit down on your lip at the sight of his cock, moving yourself foreward. Ever so carefully, your right hand gripping onto the base of his cock. Tongue falling out of your mouth, you took his cock in your wet cavern slowly, your cheeks hollowing out to accommodate his girth and length.
“Shit princess, just like that. Yeah, I knew you would be good at suckin’ dick.” Gojo praised, offering you a slanted smile as your hands stroked what your mouth couldn’t fit. His large hand tangled itself into your messy hair, tugging on the roots ever so gently. His hips bucked into your mouth ever so slowly, almost painfully slow. He treated you like you were so fragile, sharp contrast to when he had you pinned against the wall with his tongue shoved down your throat.
He groaned in pleasure as his cock his the back of his throat, his hips driving his member down your throat even faster. His grip on your hair tighten, causing a small pool of tears to well in the corner of your eye. A singular droplet ran down your pretty little face, which Gojo thought was just the cutest little thing.
“Oh, is my princess crying? What, my dick to big for your slutty little mouth?” His hips stopped snapping into your face, pulling your mouth off of his member slowly. “Well, if you can’t handle my dick in your mouth,” He grabbed your arm, throwing you against the desk. His pushed you down so your face was against the hard mahogany wood, with your ass up and on display for Gojo to smack. “Then maybe your pretty pussy will be able to handle me, hm?”
He shoved your skirt above your ass, the blue material bunching the divet in your waist. His hand ran over your soaked panties, shoving them aside to expose your soaked core to the cold office air. “So pretty f’me…” Gojo mumbled, gathering up some of your slick on his thumb and popping it inside of his mouth. “Delicious too, maybe you’ll be my dinner one day. Wouldn’t you like that, princess?” He teased, his hand cracking against the supple flesh of your perfect ass.
“Fuck!” you cried out, your hands gripping onto the wooden desk for dear life. You grew increasingly frustrated, especially knowing that Gojo was taking immense pleasure in making you wait tt get fucked. “Dammit Gojo, just fuck me already!” You demanded, your eyes being slightly covered by your mess of hair falling in front of them. 
He smacked his hand across your ass again, alighting his cock with your sobbing entrance. “You sure got a whole lotta attitude, princess.” He purred, teasing your hole with his mushroom head. “I’ll be sure to fuck it outta you, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”
He shoved his cock inside of you, hissing as your tight walls enveloped his member. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, having never experienced someone as big or as girthy inside of you. Sure, you had slept around before but this time he might actually make you cum. You wouldn’t have to fake an orgasm just for it to end.
“Shit, Gojo!” You screamed, lifting your head up from the desk to meet his gaze from behind. “Y-you’re too fuckin’ big, you know that?”
Gojo smirked and started to slowly thrust himself in and out of your weeping cunt, the sound of his groans mixing with your moans of pleasure filling the chilly office. “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Squeezing me already, princess? Good fuckin’ slut.” He grunted, pulling your hair back so your neck was against his mouth. His hips were now snapping furiously at your ass, his balls clapping against the skin. “You won’t mind if I give you a little mark, right? Gotta make sure you remember being bent over like this, pretty thing.”
His sharp teeth bit down onto your neck, sucking a nasty purple circle right where your jugular would be. The stimulation was utterly overwhelming, your mouth was agape and your throat was starting to hurt from all your cries. “Fuck, such a good slut for me.”
Gojo’s rough and callosued hands reached under your top to grope one of your tits, his fingers pinching and rubbing your nipple under the thin fabric. He could feel your orgasm was fast approaching the way you squeezed onto his cock, almost like your body was trying to suck him in even deeper inside of you. “Gojo, fuck! T-Too fucking handsy!” You managed to moan out, your brain slowly starting to turn to mush as the coil in your belly threatened to snap at any minte. “Fuck, gonna fucking cum!”
Gojo smirked and smacked your ass once more, slipping his hand from behind you to rub on your sensitive clit. “Cum all over this cock baby, f-fuck. Be a good fucking girl.” He demanded in your ear, his fingers now furiously rubbing themselves on your clit while his cock hit every place it needed to.
With a wanton gasp you threw your head back onto his shoulders, your orgasm washing over you like tsunami or a tidal wave. Wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over your every nerve, your eyes feeling fuzzy as you swore you could see stars.
“Fuck, holy fuck! Gojo, oh my fucking God!” you sobbed, your bottom lip trembling as you came down from your high. Gojo sighed and began to kiss your neck gently, his thrusts becoming faster and desperate as he felt his own euphoria approaching.
“Shit, gonna cum princess. Lemme cum inside of you, yeah? God you’re so fucking warm and tight, fuck!” He moaned into your neck, the movement of his hips becoming staggering and sloppy as his hot ropes of sticky cum coated your insides, filling you up so nicely. “F-fuck, oh my god…”
Gojo pulled out of you, smirking to himself as he saw his cum leak from your sloppy pussy. “Fucking amazing, princess.” He bent down to pick up his boxers and pants, putting them on quickly. 
You got up from leaning over the desk and turned around, your face flushed and your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Your hands still gripping onto the table, your pretty lips slightly agape. “Holy shit…I think that was the best sex I’ve ever fucking had.” You breathed out, brushing the sweaty babyhairs out of your face.
Gojo smiled and bent down slightly, kissing your nose with a gentleness that was the complete opposite of how he fucked you. “I’ve been wanting to do that sicne I met you, you know.” 
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, adjusting your stretched-out shirt collar. “Stop lying, you already fucked me. No need to lie anymore, Gojo.”
He frowned and grabbed onto your hand, his thumb carefully rubbing onto the back of it. “I’m not lying, you know.”
Raising an eyebrow you looked into his blue eyes, curious as to why there wasn’t a hint of deception swirling around in his oceans of blue. “Gojo…are you being serious?” You whispered, a blush once again covering your face. It wasn’t a blush of desire but a blush of shyness, like you were sixteen years old and just got confessed to.
“Satoru,” he spoke, bringing your hand to cup his pale face. “Call me Satoru, please.”
You smiled and rolled your eyes once more, your hand gently petting his flushed face. You took a step towards him, allowing Gojo to wrap his other hand around your waist. You two held each other in Yaga’s office, the scent of sex and passionate still filling up the otherwise stiff air.
“What are you gonna call me then, Satoru?” You softly spoke, standing on the tips of your toes so your lips were hovering against his once more. Gojo offered you a gentle smile, pecking your lips tenderly.
“I’m gonna call you mine.”
514 notes · View notes
7brownsuga7 · 1 year ago
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Can you write a fanfic of yandere jk or taehyung with reader as their daughter in law whose husband can't get her pregnant because he is suffering from Azoospermia (low sperm count) but their family is really strict about continuing their family line, as he is their only son so jk or tae decided to take matter into their own hand. Please consider this!! I am really looking forward to it.
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Hey!! Omg I found writing this so fun, I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it! I couldn’t decide on Jk or Tae lol I’m indecisive as fuck.
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Tae|JK
Word count: 2k +
Genre + warnings: smut drabble- minors DNI. Smut, angst, unprotected sex, breeding, daddy kink, yandere, infidelity, taboo, forceful, dominance, praise kink, he kind of takes advantage of her??? But consensual
Updated: pt.2 here
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“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”
You would have never thought you’d hear those words come out of your father-in-laws mouth, matter of fact you never thought he’d be fucking you in the same room you share with your husband.
When your husband told you about his situation, you couldn’t help but to feel overwhelmed with so many emotions. You sat on your bed crying your eyes out at the situation you and your husband were in. Although it was a personal situation between you and your husband, it also meant that his family line had a low chance of continuing, and you knew how strict his parents were about that. You was currently somewhat home alone, your husband having stormed out and wanting some alone time and his mother out for a dinner with her friends. His father was probably somewhere in his office like he is most of the time.
You muffle your cry with your hand, tears staining your burgundy night dress as you lay back and let your cries sing you to sleep.
During the night after a long and stressful phone call with his son does your father-in-law walk into your room to see you asleep in your dress, bare thighs exposed for his wondering eyes to see. His cock hardens just from the sight of your ass peaking out from under your dress.
You look so innocent and sad. Hurt and lonely. If only you knew of the things he could provide for you. He’d never let you lay here alone, tears staining your cheeks.
He was already furious with his son, yes the situation not being his son’s fault at all, but now he had to take things into his own hands for the sake of continuing his family line. He would never admit it was also a reason to fuck you. Something he’s been longing for since his son brought you to their home. He had an infatuation with you. He’d touch himself just thinking about your pussy wrapped around his cock. The fact that you was so innocent and oblivious to his intentions made him all the more crazed. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fuck you, it was a miracle waiting to happen.
He reaches the bed, your below him unaware of his cock that hardens in his black slacks. His large hand caresses your leg, feeling the goosebumps that appear instantly. He smiles when your eyes flutter open, his hand coming up to your cheek to softly stroke it.
“I’m here” he coos, sitting down next to you on the bed.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do” you admit. Your eyes watering again just from the mention of the situation. You stare up at him with your wet eyelashes, and all he can think about is how you would look watching him as he shoves his cock down your throat. He knew he’s being insensitive towards the situation, but he can’t help himself to think these thoughts when he’s around you.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll sort it out” you sniff at his reassuring words. It’s as if you’re talking to your husband right now. The resemblance is so uncanny. The tears that stream down your face are wiped away by his fingers, his suggestive words of, “I know, I know” and “come here” calm you down a bit.
You scoot closer to him, unaware of his intentions as his hands creep up your dress towards your bare pussy. You sniff, holding back a moan as his fingers brush against your wet folds.
“Let me make everything better” his lips brush against your neck. You nod, biting your lip as his finger enters you.
So tight and wet, just as he expected.
His finger works its way in and out of you, his eyes on you as you continue to breathe heavily at the use of his fingers. As much as he wants to continue this, his main goal is to fuck you. To breed you matter of fact. He can’t wait to fill you up, to feel your bare pussy wrapped around his cock as he fucks you. He was pissed that his son had gotten to you first. But he’d be the actual one to breed you and that was more than he can ask for.
“Lay back for me love” he urges, too eager to stretch you out with his cock.
You comply, dress bunched up as you scoot back on the bed. His tall frame leaning over you as he watches you in awe. Your bare pussy open for him to see. It glistening under the dim bedroom lights from your wetness. What he would do to taste you, but he knows he has priorities. Hopefully another day.
His hand moves your legs apart, properly exposing you for his hungry eyes to see. He eagerly unbuckles his belt and allows his cock to breathe from the tight space it was in in his slacks.
He strokes his cock along your folds, collecting your juices before he lets his tip enter your tight pussy. It’s like the air is sucked out of you when the rest of his big, hard cock enters you. Stretching you out just like he wanted. It pushes into you and you lay there wondering how much more of him is left, you can barely take what is left inside you.
Tight.
So tight.
Every inch that pushes into you, stretches you out so gracefully you’re a whimpering mess. He grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. His strokes becoming more hard and fast as you adjust to his size.
“I’ve been waiting for this for so long” he coos.
He can’t believe how good you feel. Your walls closing around him with every stroke. Your tight walls gripping around him has him ready to risk it all. He never knew just how addicting you could be. He’s so eager to fuck you. As each whimper leaves your lips, his hips move at a more forceful speed. He’s unable to hold himself back and he’s not even ashamed of it. He’s not sure if this is the only time he’ll get to fuck you so he wants to make the most out of it before this night comes to an end.
“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”
Your breasts fight to spill out of your dress as his thrusts cause your body to jolt.
You cry.
You cry because of the sting you feel caused by his cock stretching you out. The pleasure you feel making it almost unbearable for you to take any more. His strokes so precise and officiant that your moans turn into cries all together.
You cry because you feel guilty, but it’s too good to stop now.
He sees you cry and wonders why. He’s aware that he’s taken advantage of your weakness, you being fragile has allowed him to take advantage of this situation, and he’s happy that he did. His dreams and fantasies coming true.
“It’s okay, daddy’s got you”
His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away your tears before he leans down and grabs your thighs, lifting you up with his cock still inside you.
“Please ugh” you choke out as his hands grip onto your ass, lowering you down his long hard length. You try to lift yourself up, unable to take him, but he just lowers you back down at a quicker speed.
“P-please I can’t” his cock continues to penetrate you which leaves you gasping for air, tears still running down your cheeks as he completely takes over.
Your pussy is soaking, running down your thigh and onto his pelvis. The slushing sounds you create prove that.
“Look at how you take my cock so well” his neck bends down slightly to capture your breast in his mouth as he sucks on it. You let out a moan, your pussy clenching around him causing his moves to falter.
“Fuck you’re so tight” he nips at your nipple which causes you to yelp in surprise, especially when he slaps your ass.
He throws you back on the bed. Your dress barely covering your body anymore as your breast spill out from it, the dress bunched up around your waist exposing your lower half to him. You’re a panting mess, not knowing what he’s going to do next as he slowly walks over to the bed, dark eyes watching you like you’re his prey.
“Lay on your stomach and arch your back for me princess”
If only he could have you in every position known to man, he would in a heartbeat. He wants to fuck you in every position his son has had you in. However, time is of the essence.
But when you lay before him, face down ass up, your head resting on your silk bed cover and hands placed helplessly in front of you as he enters you from behind, does he battle with himself to risk everything. Your bare pussy and ass exposed for him to see, and oh was it a sight. He’d only imagined what you’d look like bent over for him, but now he has the honor of having you for the night. His strokes are slow and precise. He’s managing to hit every spot so gracefully it already has your knees ready to give out. His large hands rest on each side of your ass, guiding your ass towards his hard length.
You whimper when he enters you again and again with more force. The way his fingers dance along your bare back have your toes curling and you wonder if you’ll be able to recover from tonight. He readjusts your dress so that it slightly covers your ass, but it only slides back down your back with every move he makes. The way you feel wrapped so tightly around him has him ready to risk it all, your juices coating his cock with every stroke while you grip around him.
“You’re such a good girl, hmm?” He bites his bottom lip as he watches his cock go in and out of you, your pussy gripping onto him in ways that make his head spin. His cock can’t even go all the way in, he chuckles to himself at the thought of you whimpering when he hasn’t even got all of him in you. Your moans and whimpers are like music to his ears, encouraging him to fuck you recklessly.
“Such a good girl letting daddy fuck you like this”.
Your arms stretch out in front of you grasping onto your covers in a somewhat pathetic attempt to relieve yourself from his thrusts. You try to escape, moving your hips forward but with his firm grip on your hips, you’re not going anywhere.
“Don’t run, show me that you can take it”
You’re sensitive and overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving, with the added force it’s a whole new experience for you. You’ve never been fucked like this, even by your husband. You’re unsure if you should even be thinking about him right now with his father fucking you as recklessly as this.
Your moans are muffled by the bed covers , your grip on them tightening as you can feel him in your stomach. Your orgasm is quickly approaching with each thrust. It’s when he grunts and slaps your ass that has you weak, but when he rubs your puckered hole with his thumb, that’s when you lose what’s left of your composure. You start mumbling your words, edging further and further up the bed as you try to escape his cock that continuously rams into you. Pussy clenching as your orgasm subsides, you yelp out when you become overly sensitive.
“Please please please, i”
He pushes you down by your back, forcing you to lay on your stomach, his hand grabs your hips adjusting them so your ass is slightly up. You’re silent as he slowers his pace, providing you with slow strokes that have you lost for words. You’re sure you’re going to cum again. He watches as his cock disappears in you. He can watch you take him all day.
“You’re so wet sweetheart, look at you” you feel his hands grabbing your wrists and holding them in place as he is positioned on top of you, him sliding into you from behind. You’re so fucked out you can’t utter a full sentence, just mumbles and whimpers. He’s so big and he’s stretching you out completely. You’re tired and are surprised that you’re able to take him let alone take him for this long. You collapse on the bed, knees giving out causing you to be laid flat out on the bed. He holds his cock, guiding it in and out of you, watching as your juices mix with your cream coating the base of his cock.
“Fuck y/n” he looks up at the ceiling trying to prolong his orgasm that he knows is approaching. He doesn’t want this to end just yet, but the way you lay in-front of him, your sensitive pussy stretching around him, he knows he’s close.
You both continue in that position, his grunts continuing as he uses both arms to keep himself up. A slap to your ass is delivered before he tells you to turn around. You comply chest rising as you watch him guide his cock along with your entrance. He watches you with low eyes, as you watch him back. Your breaths in sync as you wait for him to slide it back in. And he does, so slowly it’s almost agonising. You both watch as he enters you, you can’t believe how big he is. He stops when he’s mostly inside of you, his hand holding the rest of his length as he guides it in and out. He closes his eyes for a moment, unable to watch your eyes and your lips and the way your face is still stained in tears. You’re intoxicating.
He lifts your legs up so they are both in the air, allowing him more excess to your pussy. What a sight it is, the way it’s swollen and glistens before him. The way it wraps around him so perfectly he’s sure your pussy was made just for him.
He watches you with so much intensity that your eyes flutter closed. “Open them for me, I want you to watch” you nod watching him before you look down and watch each thrust.
You know he’s close when his thrust become more intense, he shoves his cock deep inside you not caring about your sensitivity. His skin collides with yours, creating no room for you to escape his thick length. You can’t believe that your orgasm is approaching again, you don’t know how much more you can take, you’re already fucked out.
His eyes never leave yours, the intensity and lust behind them, and the way he’s buried deep inside you causes shivers to run down your spine as your legs shake. “Good girl, let it out, let it out” he coos as he strokes your cheek.
It all becomes too much for you, your words and breath stuck in your throat. You feel everything so intensely.
“Shh, you got it. Im almost there”
And with a few more strokes, he is because you feel his cock twitch and a warm liquid engulf you. “Fuuuck”. He continues for a moment, riding out his orgasm. Eventually he pulls out, and you both watch as his load drips out from inside of you. He hold his dick in his hand and allows his red sensitive tip to rub against your hole, his cum coating his tip. “Look at that” he smirks.
“I told you I’d make everything better”
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homeofthelonelywriter · 3 months ago
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Of Cupcakes and Skulls | Part 1
(A/N) Aaaaaahhhh, I loved the prompt by @lunamoonbby and I'm so glad they allowed me to write a whole fic about it. Will probably write a second part because this is just too cute!
Pairing: single dad! Mafia! Simon x baker! Reader
Warning: lots of fluff
Synopsis: Based on this post by @lunamoonbby
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
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A deep sigh escaped your lips when the door closed behind the last customer. It had been a long and tiring day, your legs had started hurting five hours ago, and all you wanted to do was finish closing the bakery and head home. But there was a lot to do before you could, so you put on some music and got started.
Quietly singing along, you disappeared into the kitchen, where you portioned the cupcake dough you had made earlier into the baking trays and slid them into the oven, setting a time on your phone before you started cleaning. As quickly as possible, you washed all the bowls, whiskers, and anything else that had gotten dirty that day, the thought of your bed ever present in your mind. Once you were done with that, you quickly vacuumed the floor and were about to wipe it, when a familiar sound stopped you.
The bell that hung above the door to the bakery rang out and you cursed at yourself. Had you really forgotten to lock the door after the last customer left? With another sigh, you walked into the salesroom, an annoyed ‘We’re closed’ almost leaving your lips before your eyes fell onto the little girl who had walked in. Her eyes were big and round, shining with unshed tears while her lips trembled.
“Oh dear, are you okay?”
You rushed to her side and knelt down in front of her, reaching out to gently grasp her shoulder.
“I…I l-lost da-daddy.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears began to stream down her cheeks, her little shoulders shaking with every hiccup as she tried to suppress the sobs. Without thinking, you pulled her into a hug, her little fingers immediately curling into the fabric of the shirt you were wearing.
You stayed like that, hugging the little girl until she calmed down a bit, her body still shaking with hiccups. But you pulled away, gently swiping the tears away, as you gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s going to be okay, we’ll find your daddy, yeah?”
She nodded, though she didn’t seem too confident. Convincing her would take some work.
“Okay, let’s start with your name, hm? Can you tell me that?”
“Mi-Millie.”
Your smile pulled into a grin, that you hoped looked proud.
“Great! Now, what’s your daddy called?”
Millie looked at you, confused.
“Daddy.”
You should’ve expected that answer. After all, she looked to be about four. What four-year-old knew their parent’s actual name?
“Oki dok. Do you know any way I can reach him? His phone number?”
She shook her head, a pout forming on her lips as she glanced at the floor. You hesitated for a second, but you didn’t know what else to do.
“Okay, let me just grab my coat and we’ll go to the police station nearby. I’m sure he would go there to look for you.”
But before you could rise to your feet, Millie reached out and stopped you, a panicked look on her face.
“No! We…We can’t go to the police. They don’t like daddy.”
Her statement confused you, but with the way she looked at you, you couldn’t force her to go either. While you were contemplating what to do, the timer on your phone went off and you got an idea to at least keep her busy until you came up with something. With a smirk, you looked at her.
“Do you like cupcakes?”
Millie looked confused but nodded. You rose to your feet and held out your hand, offering it to her.
“Want to decorate some while we wait for your daddy? You can even decorate one for him.”
A bright smile spread across her lips and you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. She nodded full of enthusiasm, her worries gone for at least the moment. So, after helping her out of her jacket and with her hand in yours, you led her to the kitchen and sat her down on the counter. You were just glad that the kitchen had a window front to the street. That way, if her father came along, he would be able to see her inside.
“Wait here for me, okay?”
She nodded and watched as you carefully pulled the hot trays out of the oven and placed them on a counter, far away from the little girl. You then checked the fridge, to see if there was any buttercream left, but there wasn’t. So you grabbed all the ingredients and walked back to Millie.
“Do you want to help me make some buttercream? We can even color it.”
Her eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously. After you put an oversized apron on her, you showed her a simple buttercream recipe, Millie snacking on it the whole time while you made it. Once it was done, you portioned it into different small bowls.
“What colors do you want?”
“Pink! And purple and blue and green and also yellow.”
You chuckled and nodded, pulling the needed food colors from a shelve. As you slowly placed them with the bowls, Millie reached up and tugged on your sleeve.
“Can we also make some black? Daddy really likes black.”
You again nodded and retrieved the last color. Together, you colored the buttercream, Millie whisking away at the pink one, while you quickly finished the other colors. Once you were both happy, you showed Millie how to put all the different colors she chose into the same pipe, so that it would be a colorful swirl when put onto a cupcake. She watched, her eyes wide and sparkling as if you were showing her how to create magic dust.
Once the cupcakes had cooled enough, you brought three over, one for each of you and one for her dad. While you carefully guided her hands, showing her how to use the pipe, you watched her as she poked her tongue out in concentration. A soft smile spread on your lips as adoration for the little kid overcame you.
Once all three cupcakes had buttercream on them, it was time for sprinkles. Millie of course wanted a lot of sparkles, hearts, and bows. While she was busy combing through the different sprinkle containers you had, you retrieved a large chocolate heart from the fridge. You used it to decorate cakes, but you thought Millie would love it. But for the moment, you decided to hide it, only wanting to reveal it when they were done.
“Did you find something you like?”
Millie nodded, while still looking through the containers.
“Do you have skulls?”
It took you a moment to realize that she was still talking about sprinkles. Once you overcame that initial shock, you nodded and retrieved another box, the one you kept the seasonal sprinkles in. You handed the little girl a container filled with small skulls, pumpkins, and spiders and she smiled.
“Daddy really likes skulls.”
You smiled as you stored that information. Black and skulls and not on good terms with the police. Sounds dangerous.
For the next few minutes, you decorated the cupcakes. For your own, you decided to go with your favorite sprinkles and a bit of glitter. Millie truly overdid her own and her father’s cupcake, but you couldn’t help but smile as you watched her concentrate, trying to find a free spot where one more skull sprinkle would fit.
Just as she found the spot and pressed the white form into the buttercream, the bell above the door rang out again and you could hear fast footsteps approaching. Both you and Millie turned to look toward the door and you couldn’t help but step in front of the little girl, shielding her body with yours. But then you heard it.
“Millie!”
A large man burst through the door, wild eyes finding yours before they jumped to the girl behind you.
“Daddy!”
With a relieved sigh, he fell to his knees, opening his arms as his little girl bolted toward him, almost stumbling over the apron on her way. She crashed into his chest, wrapping her short, little arms around his neck as best as she could. A soft smile tugged on your lips as you watched the duo. His brows were furrowed, but not in an angry way. No, he looked scared and desperate, but at the same time so very relieved.
Not picking up on her dad’s whirlwind of emotion, Millie immediately began talking, telling him all about the cupcakes. The man glanced up at you as his daughter pulled out of his hug and rushed back to the counter. As soon as your eyes met his, you felt a shiver run through you. You couldn’t explain it, but the way he looked at you felt…intimate.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look what we made.”
Millie quickly had his attention again, as the man joined her at the counter, his eyes landing on the cupcakes.
“We made them. There is one for me. And one for you. And one for her!”
He smiled - good god did he look stunning when he smiled - as he watched Millie point out all the details.
“Well done, munchkin. Why don’t you finish up so we can go home, hm?”
Millie nodded, not reacting when he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before he turned to you. Oozing confidence, he took a few steps toward you, only stopping once he was close enough that you could smell his cologne. Another shiver ran through you at the proximity, as you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes.
“I’m Simon. Thank you for…well, for taking care of her.”
You smiled, and for a moment Simon stopped breathing. The moment he spotted you through the window front he knew you were beautiful, but smiling up at him, you were just stunning, his fingers itching to reach out and feel you against him.
“It was a pleasure.”
Your eyes left his and landed on Millie as she poured more sprinkles onto her cupcake.
“She is amazing. Told me not to go to the police, because they don’t like you.”
You chuckled, expecting him to do the same, but he avoided your eyes as a light blush dusted his cheeks.
“She’s not wrong there. I-”
He was interrupted by Millie calling for him. And with an apologetic smile, he joined her at the counter. While the two were busy, you decided to quickly clean whatever you could, the rest you would do the next morning. Once you were done, you grabbed a box and the heart you had hidden, before walking up to the pair. Millie was showing Simon how you had put all the different colors into the piping bag, as he reacted with ‘ohs’ and ahs’ at exactly the right moments. You smiled as you watched, quickly catching Simon’s attention, as he glanced at you with a crooked grin.
“Millie?”
The little girl stopped and looked up at her dad, who gently motioned toward you. As soon as she saw the heart you were holding on a napkin, she started bouncing with excitement. Carefully, you handed it to her and watched as she stuck it into the buttercream on her cupcake, a big grin on her face.
After a few moments of her admiring it, you convinced her to let you box up the cupcakes, so she could leave with her father. While you did that, Simon carried his daughter to the sink, where he helped her wash her hands, before he dried them for her. With the box, you met them in the salesroom, where Simon was helping his daughter into her jacket. You knelt down and carefully handed the box to her.
“Don’t drop it, okay?”
She nodded and grinned, watching as you rose back to your feet. Simon was standing beside her, his wallet in his hands. Before he could say anything, you shook your head.
“No, it’s fine, really.”
“But-”
“I insist. It was a pleasure to spend time with your daughter.”
He smiled, and before you could protest, he shoved a few notes into the tip jar on the counter. You inhaled, ready to protest, but when you looked at him, you knew that it was futile, so you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up.
“Thank you.”
The intensity of his gaze was too much, and you quickly found yourself glancing at the floor, jumping slightly as you felt his lips press to your temple.
“Thank you for taking care of her.”
He pulled back and you glanced up. Simon easily picked Millie up, before bidding you goodbye and walking out of your bakery. Millie waved at you the whole time until they were out of sight. A soft smile spread across your lips, as you turned towards the corner, curiously pulling out the tip Simon had left you. But when you counted the bills, you couldn’t believe it. You counted them three more times, before accepting the fact that he had left you $300.
But what caught your attention even more, was a black business card in the middle of the folded notes.
Simon Riley.
Simon.
Riley.
Riley.
Riley.
Riley!
A gasp left your mouth as you realized who you had just dealt with. Simon Riley, the local mafia boss, feared by everyone, hunted by the police. No wonder Millie didn’t want you to go to the police. As you continued to stare at the card, a shiver ran through you, wondering if you’d see the mafia boss again.
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wheresarizona · 2 months ago
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Learning to Live Part 34
summary: It’s time to celebrate your nuptials with your friends and family, where they’ll witness some of your firsts as husband and wife—first dinner, first dance. Hopefully, they won’t notice your first time sneaking away to fool around. 
rating: E (18+!! This is very horny. No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, sneaking around, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, vaginal fingering, car sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, wedding ring kink, getting cockblocked (multiple times), singing “Lay All Your Love On Me” by ABBA as foreplay, oral sex mention (f receiving), accidental voyeurism | overheard spit kink, overheard degradation, overheard mention of choking (spoiler - it’s Robyn and Seb fucking) | feelings, first dance, second dance, father-daughter dance, Javier being so in love, body insecurity, anxiety, Javier being cute with kids, Chucho wanting to be an abuelo so bad, Javier going into protector mode (with a gun), special appearances by Daphne and Velma)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader
word count: 24k
a/n: I apologize for how long this took, but I’m happy to finally share it with you! There’s a lot of music referenced in this chapter, and instead of listing out each song, I’ve made a playlist of ALL the music mentioned in the wedding chapters. Huge shoutouts to @devineconjuring and @kilamonster for betaing! You are lifesavers!!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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It was strange. 
The man you married was a bit of a local celebrity, known by everyone in Laredo for the good and bad things he’d done in his past. With the town’s obsession with him came their intrusive interest in his personal life, which led to fascination when the chronic bachelor began dating you. It was a regular occurrence to be gawked at or to hear hushed whispers and constantly find yourselves as the subject of town gossip. Yet, all of that attention never bothered you—it was annoying, for sure, but it never made you nervous being in the spotlight as the other half of Laredo’s most talked-about couple. Frankly, you ignored it all and went on living your best life with the man you loved.
The thing you found strange was, that attention out in public from strangers? Not a problem. But when you were the center of attention amongst your friends and family on the happiest day of your life? Apparently, it was anxiety-inducing.
Why? If you had to guess, it was probably them seeing you so vulnerable—you weren’t masking what you were feeling; those at the ceremony watched you cry and heard you bare your soul to the love of your life. Now, everyone here was going to witness the first hours of your marriage: your first meal as husband and wife, your first dance, the two of you being so sickeningly in love that at some point tonight, your best friend Robyn will fake gag and call you both disgusting even though she was a hypocrite who had it just as bad for her boyfriend. 
You weren’t nervous when you first got to Chucho’s to fix your makeup—the nerves hit when you saw the almost ninety people under the tent, and you thought about all the eyes that’d be on the two of you basking in your newlywed bliss.
And Javi knew you so well, he clocked your anxiety practically right out of the gate—he didn’t miss a beat giving you the reassurance you needed that you looked fine, he didn’t complain when you busied yourself with fussing over him to get your mind off the crowd, and he distracted you with his sweet singing and loving words. You had to admit, he was knocking this whole husband thing out of the park.
He had calmed you down, and knowing he would be with you every step of the way made it easier to walk to your table and made the attention much more bearable. 
The clapping continued with the occasional whoop and holler, your entrance music still playing in the background, and the excitement was palpable. When it hit you that this tent full of people supported your relationship and were genuinely happy about your marriage, it choked you up, and it took everything in you to hold back your tears. 
These were your real family and friends. 
Javi’s lips were still at your ear after offering you an escape if you needed it, and you kissed his cheek, resting your hand on his bicep—emotion had your words coming out thick when you said for only him to hear, “I love you too, and thank you, babe. I’m so fucking happy we’re married; you’re literally the best husband in the entire universe.” 
He was smiling when he straightened to meet your gaze, his large hands rubbing along your bare arms. “I’m really fucking happy we’re married, too. This is the greatest day of my life, and I’m so lucky ‘cause you’re the best wife in the entire goddamn universe.”
His response made you grin, circling your arms behind his neck, but he caught you off guard when you went in for a kiss—he pulled you into him, his arm around your torso like a band of steel, and as your lips met, he turned you, dipping you back while you kissed, his mouth swallowing your surprised sound. 
There was an uptick in noise the first time you locked lips, but this time? It was downright thunderous with the combination of applause, whistling, and cheers; so many people were taking pictures that you’d think strobe lights were turned on from all of the bright flashes of light. 
You held onto him for dear life as your mouths melded together, questioning in your head if his other hand on your ass was actually for support or if he was just copping a feel; it didn’t matter, though, because as quickly as he tipped you back, he was raising you, your lips separating for only a second to have you standing in front of him again and then he kiss kissed you. 
It was one of those kisses that made your toes curl and your head go dizzy. Everything around you faded away until all that remained was you and Javi—nothing else existed except him. As he held you close, hugging you to his body, your lips touching and tongues intertwined, you ceased being two separate people and became one—one heart, one soul, one future. There was no you and him; it was you both together from this day until the end of time.
Unfortunately, the kiss had to come to an end, and you chased his lips when he broke away from you—Javier chuckled, the sound warm to your ears, and you smiled when he pecked the tip of your nose, then nuzzled it with his own, those baseball mitts he called hands holding your upper arms. 
"I love you," he said. 
"I love you, too." 
You could feel the air move as he pulled back. 
"You ready to sit down?" 
Your eyes blinked open to find his tender gaze on you with a sweet smile beneath his perfect mustache. 
“That’s probably a good idea; you have me feeling a little wobbly after that kiss.” You winked. 
He smiled, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “Of course, mi amor.” He moved around you to pull out your seat, and you sat down, Javi pushing you in. He took the chair beside yours, and the moment he was seated, he made you giggle as he scooted, chair and all, closer to you until he was right against your side, his arm going over your shoulders—you were each drawn to the other, leaning into him as he leaned into you, looking at one another with smiles, sitting in your little bubble. 
The sound had died down, and the music had ended. Diego spoke through the microphone, reading from a piece of paper, “Los novios quieren agradecer a todos los presentes por compartir este día tan especial con ellos y quieren agradecer especialmente al padre de Javier, Chucho, y a sus tías, María, Rebeca, y Lupita por toda su ayuda para organizar esta increíble fiesta. (The bride and groom would like to thank everyone present for sharing this special day with them, and especially want to thank Javier’s father, Chucho, and his aunts María, Rebeca, and Lupita for all their help organizing this incredible party). ¡Démosles un aplauso (Let’s give them a round of applause)!”
Everyone, including the two of you, clapped. 
When you went to dinner with Chucho on Javi’s birthday and told him your wedding plans, your father-in-law insisted on paying for everything, which you both declined right away. This led to a bit of a heated argument in Spanish between your husband and his dad, where you discovered that in their culture, traditionally, the groom’s family paid for the wedding since he was the one to propose. 
The only way Javi could placate his dad and later his tías, who were also gung-ho about paying for everything, was to let them all plan and put the event together on your dime—which was a great idea, given how perfectly it turned out. 
“Y ahora (And now),” Diego continued, “es el momento de comer—for the English speakers in the house, that means it’s time to eat!” 
The food was set up buffet style on the opposite side of the room, and people started getting up. With everything going on, your only meal all day had been breakfast that morning with your father-in-law. The rest of the time, you snacked and sampled the dishes being served; now that you were thinking about it, you realized you were hungry, your stomach growling in confirmation. 
When you tried to push back your chair, Javi stopped you, and you looked at him confused. “Don’t get up,” he said. “I’ll get you food, mi amor.” 
“I’m capable of getting my own food.” 
“I want to get you food.”
An exasperated breath left you. “Fine. Thank you.” At your acquiesce, he smiled and quickly kissed you before getting up and heading across the room. 
It was odd sitting at the table alone, and you took a second to see who all was here. Chucho and his sisters were the first to fill their plates because they were guests of honor. Almost all of Javi’s cousins were here, and a majority of the men were staying at their tables with their kids while their wives went to get food, including Danny, who had his toddler daughter, Sofia, in his lap and his four-year-old son in the chair beside him, their six-months pregnant mother standing in line. 
The Murphys were over there, Connie carrying Nate on her hip and strategically holding a plate; Stevie stood between her and Steve, the father getting food for himself and his son, and Olivia was ahead of them all serving herself. Sebastián was taking a much-deserved break from recording, standing in line behind Robyn with his arms wrapped around her middle and whispering something in her ear that had her flushing and giggling. 
You spotted your other friends from work, Gil and Luis, the latter coming with his wife Cat and their four kids, all under twelve. Javi’s old friends from high school, Anna, Benito, and Ken, were here with their families—Anna did all of the baked desserts. There was the family that ran El Mercadito, all five members present, and Sheriff Arturo with his wife. His and Javi’s assistant, Joy, was here, too, and she brought her roommate, a lovely girl named Jamie who drove a Subaru—something rare in Texas—and was wearing a stylish pantsuit with a shirt that complemented the color of Joy’s dress; they were such cute best friends. 
People were patting Javi on his back and congratulating him, seeing his bright grin each time he looked back at you as he made his way to the opposite side of the room. You watched him beelining toward his tías and father, who were at the end of the buffet with their plates full of food, to speak to his tía María for just a moment; whatever she said made him chuckle and kiss her on the cheek. Then he walked to the back of the line, politely refusing anyone who told him to cut in front of them. He ended up between one of his tíos and Mrs. Pauletta Moore, who you first met at the Farmer’s Market when you started dating; every subsequent time you went to the market, you’d stop by her stall to chat because she was fun to talk to and you found it amusing that Javi got flustered when she inevitably brought up how handsome he was—you never made him suffer long, though. You always got him out of there after a minute. 
What she was saying right now made him blush and glance over at you from across the room every few seconds with a polite smile, his big brown eyes screaming, ‘Help Me.’
His gaze was locked on yours, his mouth moving as he spoke to the older woman.You started to get up to save him, but he slightly shook his head at you, and you frowned, sitting in your seat again. 
Things got better once it was his turn to get dinner. Minutes later, he returned to your table with two plates and immediately left to grab a couple of beers for you both. When he was finally back for good, he sat down and once again scooted himself as close to you as possible, his arm going over your shoulders again. 
When it came to choosing the food for tonight, you and Javi only had two requests: you wanted there to be little BLT finger sandwiches, made how you liked them—swap out the mayo for garlic aioli, use arugula instead of lettuce, and add avocado—since the tomato for a BLT is how you met; the second request was that they used his mother’s recipes, which his tías happily agreed to. 
The plate in front of you was loaded with a little of everything: a tiny BLT, three street tacos made with fresh, homemade tortillas, each filled with a different meat—Al Pastor, barbacoa, and carne asada—roasted pig, chiles rellenos, enchiladas mole, elote, a mini queso Oaxaca quesadilla, spicy rice, beans, a few extra tortillas, and some homemade salsas in little plastic cups.
“Thank you,” you told him, pecking him on the cheek. 
His head turned to press his lips to yours, and he smiled into the kiss. “You’re welcome—I love you, my wife.”
You matched his expression. “I love you, too, my amazing husband. God, I love calling you that.” Your mouth left his, and you looked at him, his eyes on yours. “Can you believe we’re married?” 
His free hand reached to grab your left, lifting it to kiss your rings. “I keep looking at my ring to make sure it really happened.” A happy sigh left him, and the expression on his face showed how much he loved you, the intensity of it making you go so soft there was a chance you’d melt like ice cream in the hot sun. “You’re my wife,” he said. “I have a wife. I’m your husband. And, shit, last week was our first shot at making a baby. I’m already on cloud nine, but imagine if we were successful.” He let go of your hand to put his palm on your stomach, and your heart squeezed at how excited he was about being married and potentially having a child—you really hit the husband jackpot. Javi kept speaking, “We could have a baby by the end of the year. Even if it doesn’t happen, this has been the best year of my entire fucking life because you married me.” 
“Oh, Javi.” Your upper body twisted in his direction as your hands gently held his face, pulling him in to crush your lips to his, wanting him to feel your happiness, your love, and your hope that he was right about the addition of a tiny Peña by the end of the year. You agreed that even if a baby wasn’t in the cards for 1999, this had also been the best year of your entire fucking life because he married you. 
When you broke the kiss, Javi’s cheeks were tinted pink, and he was smiling so big, his dimple was showing. After exchanging ‘I love yous’ once more, you both dug into your plates. 
As expected, the food was incredible, and there was no way you’d be able to finish the plate, but you tried a little of everything, loving it all.
A comfortable silence fell between you two as you ate, and once the hunger in your belly subsided, you wiped your mouth with your napkin and asked, “What was Mrs. Moore saying that was making you uncomfy?” 
He groaned around a bite, and as soon as he swallowed, he avoided looking at you, using his own napkin to clean his mouth. He answered, “She went on and on and on about how fantastic I looked and told me that if she were your age, she also would’ve snatched me up and married me as quickly as you did after the engagement.”
You giggled. “I’m sorry. I know you hate when she talks about how handsome you are.” 
He sighed. “It’s fine, and I corrected her that I was the impatient one who wanted to get married so quickly.” He looked over at you and smiled. “She also congratulated us and said we’re a great match and a wonderful couple. She’s loved seeing our relationship grow and can’t wait for us to have kids, which she says will happen sooner rather than later.” 
“‘Cause you’re such a hunk, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you?” You gently knocked your shoulder against his. 
“With how you can’t keep your hands off of me? Apparently, I’m the biggest hunk in the entire fucking world.” 
“Wow, your ego has been fed way too much today.” 
He laughed and kissed your cheek. You felt his hot breath as he whispered in your ear, “Nothing to do with my ego, Cielito. I’m stating the truth; you can’t keep your hands off me, and you know what? I can’t keep my hands off you—when she said we’d have kids sooner rather than later, I agreed because it is my fucking mission to get you pregnant.”
Something about his determination had arousal igniting in your gut. 
“Why do I find that so sexy?” 
He kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you trembled. “Because you married a hunk who can’t keep his hands off you.” 
You giggled, turning your head to kiss him. “I married a ridiculous man,” you said into his lips, your eyes closing. 
His response was muffled. “A ridiculous man who loves you.” His lips left yours, and the tip of his nose nuzzled yours. “Mi amor?” he rasped. 
“Yes, husband?” 
His fingers slid along your thigh. “After the dances,” he said, “when they open the dance floor, sneak away with me to the laundry room—” It was at the end of the same hall the guest bedroom was down and secluded. “—I need you so fucking bad.” 
“After the dances, I have to change dresses...” 
“That’s not a no… Can I join you? Your clothes will already be off, and I can put you up on the bathroom counter or against it and slide right in. Imagine getting filled with your husband’s cock—the cock that belongs to you—and how it will stretch your perfect pussy—my wife’s pussy. We’d be quick; I’d fuck you hard and fast. I’ll probably have to cover your mouth to keep you quiet, and all of these people will have no fucking clue that while they’re drinking and dancing, my wife’s soaking my dick in her come, and I’m stuffing her full of me.” 
The proposition made you squirm in your seat and had your skin heating.  
Now that you were at the party, your nerves had settled, and his words had gotten to you—you did want him inside you, and god, to feel him stretch you open; the fingering in the truck was good, but nothing compared to how Javi fucked you, and the thought of doing it with so many people on the property had your inner exhibitionist frothing at the mouth. 
“Sold.” 
It was truly adorable how he giddily chuckled, then smothered the sound by kissing you, his hand leaving your thigh to press to your cheek. He’d been eating an Al Pastor taco before you interrupted him, the sweetness of pineapple and spiciness of chiles lingering on his tongue as he licked into your mouth, giving you another one of those toe-curling kisses that made your brain stop working—either you were just insanely horny for your husband and you couldn’t wait to be alone in a room with him, or some baser, primal instinct was telling you to go right that second to make a baby. 
There were wolf-whistles again, and you couldn’t make out what Olivia asked, but you sure heard her father’s answer. “If you must know,” Steve said, “yes, I do kiss your mother like that, but not in front of you or your brothers—those kinds of kisses are between two adults who love each other and should only happen in private.” The girl made another comment, and Steve replied, “Well, your tio loves your new tia very, very much, and getting married is one of the happiest days of someone’s life—they’re just so happy, and in love, they keep forgetting there’s an audience.” 
Your mouths separated, Javi pressing his forehead to yours as he sighed. He quietly said to you, “I’m aware there’s an audience, and I don’t give a fuck because we’re not doing anything inappropriate—it’s just kissing for Christ’s sake.”  
You pushed your fingers into the hair at the back of his head. “He’s being an overprotective dad. When we have kids, you’re definitely going to be overprotective, but not when it comes to affection because it’s normal for us to be all lovey-dovey—our babies will be used to their parents being disgustingly in love.”
“Yeah, they will.” 
His hair is soft to the touch, and you lovingly scratch your nails against his scalp. “Something that I love is that your parents shaped your view of what a healthy, loving marriage should be like, and we’re gonna do the same for our children, so when they’re all grown up, they’ll hopefully have something like us and their abuelos (grandparents).” 
You didn’t have to see his face to know he was frowning when he spoke. “I don’t want them to grow up… I want them to be my babies forever.” 
“Oh, babe.” You pecked his lips. “They’ll always be your babies, and this is a reminder that when we finally have one, we need to savor every moment because they're gonna grow so quickly, and I know you’ll hate that.” 
Seconds passed, and he didn’t speak, which meant he was in his head, thinking deeply about something. You pulled back to look at his face, his eyes closed, his eyebrows cinched together, and you stroked your fingers along his cheek. 
“Where’d you go?” you softly asked him. 
He blinked open his eyes. “Nowhere,” he answered, turning his head to kiss your palm. 
“Are you okay?” 
He gave you a little smile. “I’m fucking amazing.” 
“Good.” 
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“¡Bien, todos (Okay, everyone),” Diego announced, “démosle la bienvenida a la pista de baile los novios para su primer baile (Let’s welcome the bride and groom to the dance floor for their first dance)!” 
Applause sounded, and Javi got up from the table first, offering a hand that you took to rise, and he led you out onto the dance floor. The intro for “I’ve Been Waiting for You” by ABBA began, the soft hum of a synthesizer sounding as Agnetha Fältskog sang with feeling about how she never thought she’d love again, but the right person has come along now and brought back the feeling.  
It wasn’t hard to figure out what Javi was thinking with how intensely he looked upon you; his loving gaze burned as it met yours, his close-lipped smile beneath his perfectly trimmed mustache making the edges of his eyes crinkle, and there was not a single doubt that it was you on his mind, consuming all of his thoughts. Before he pulled you close by your hand in his, he took you in, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip as his gaze trailed up your body appreciatively. When his chocolate-colored eyes locked onto yours, his love for you was evident, but so was his desire—he clearly wanted you, and it made heat creep up your neck. 
His free hand found its home on your waist, or more accurately, the top of your ass where it met your waist, while your own held onto the back of one of his broad shoulders, and you danced as you had so many times before in the kitchen as you cooked together; the familiarity of the steps, Javi guiding you as you swayed to the music, eyes on each other and only each other, the rest of the world disappearing. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said for just your ears. 
All you could see was the truth on his face, and it made you smile. You replied just as softly, “Thank you. You’re so fucking handsome—ten out of ten, would bang.” You winked, and he chuckled, the two of you slowly moving to the song. 
“You know how much I love you in that dress, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.” 
“A few more songs, and you’ll get to.” 
He grinned, his dimple appearing. “I really fucking love you.” 
“I really fucking love you, too.” 
The song’s chorus played:
“You thrill me, you delight me You please me, you excite me You're something I'd been pleading for I love you, I adore you I lay my life before you I'll have you want me more and more And finally, it seems my lonely days are through I've been waiting for you.”
He pulled you close enough to touch his forehead to yours gently, his hand holding your smaller one against his chest over his heart. He was gazing lovingly into your eyes, softly smiling. 
“I gotta say, this is a good song choice,” he told you. 
When the discussion about music for today came up, immediately, this was the song that came to mind for your first dance—it was about thinking love would never happen, then the surprise at finding it, and the overwhelming feelings that come with finally having it after longing for so long; the immense adoration, and deep commitment, it being so unexpected that it felt like destiny, ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ It captured the essence of your relationship with Javi perfectly, and it made you happy that after playing it for him, he agreed—he’d never heard it before and thought, by the end, it fit well, too. 
He also sought your approval for his song choice that you walked down the aisle to, except his pitch was having you listen to all of side one of his Fleetwood Mac Rumours record that “Songbird” was the last track on… In bed… While making out through the first five songs leading up to it. Apparently, in college, he’d invite girls to his dorm room to ‘listen to a record with him’—not always Fleetwood Mac—and they’d fool around. Another discovery you made was that side two of Rumours was the one he fucked to since it was the longer of the two sides, running just shy of twenty minutes. Yes, your husband had a system where he dedicated the first side of a record to foreplay, then the second for the main event. 
“Right?” you responded to his comment. “The devotion and being all in—it’s so us.” 
The song continued, and Javi moved his head beside yours to quietly sing along to a few verses in your ear when the chorus played again:
“You're something I'd been pleading for I love you, I adore you I lay my life before you I'll have you want me more and more.”
It had you sucking in a breath, your eyes rounding because you were under the impression the one and only time he listened to this track was when you introduced him to it. 
You leaned back to see his face. “Wait, how do you know the lyrics?” you asked. 
His eyebrow raised, giving you a look like it was obvious. “Cielito, you chose this for our first dance,” he said. “Of course, I listened to it a handful of times after you showed me it-—it’s a pretty song and perfect.” 
Tears were starting to blur your vision at how sweet that was. 
“You love ABBA.”
He huffed in amusement. “My wife loves ABBA, and if she loves them, then I love them, too.”
“Uh-huh, right—we’re married, babe. You don’t have to keep pretending you’re too cool to love them.”
He sighed. “Their shit is just so catchy.”
His admission had you smiling. “Finally, you admit it. God, I really fucking love you.” 
He gave you another dimpled smile. “I really fucking love you, too.” He moved to have your temples touching as you swayed. “I wanna tell you something.” 
With the music so loud and the two of you staying in the middle of the dance floor, you doubted anyone would be able to hear your hushed conversation. He was still slowly leading you around; talking and dancing was something you were both used to.
“Okay.” 
“When I finally came home to Laredo for good, it’d fucking get to me seeing all the pictures of how happy my parents were or listening to my dad talk so fondly about my mom. Hearing and seeing how much they loved each other killed me because I’d never have anything like what they had. Then you came along and, Jesus Christ, am I so fucking thankful you came along—” The relief was evident in his voice. “—because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’ve given me the life I always dreamed about, and more. So, you are something I’d been pleading for; I love you, I adore you, and you know I lay my life before you—it’s yours, it’ll always be yours, and I’m gonna do my damndest to make you want me more.” You could hear his smile. “I’ll have to up the hunkiness.” 
You laughed, continuing to dance with him. “I don’t think you can get any hunkier.” 
“I think I can.” His cheek touched yours to whisper in your ear, feeling the hot breath of his words, “Like how after the dances, I’m dragging your ass to the bedroom, getting you naked, and I wanna bury my face in your pussy.” You gasped. “I know you want me to eat it, and I’m fucking dying to taste my wife. I’ll get you off with my mouth and the fingers you love. Then I’m pressing you back against the wall—I know I said bathroom counter earlier, but I need to kiss you—so, your back is getting pressed against the wall, and you're gonna taste yourself on my tongue while I fuck you hard and fast. I’ll keep you quiet so nobody knows you’re getting your husband’s good dick, and when I come inside you, you’re gonna keep it all in for the rest of the night because you know if you’re my good girl, I’m gonna give you anything you want when we get home.” 
“Javier,” you breathed. He had your skin feeling hot and your heartbeat thudding between your legs, so unbelievably turned on by what he said. You had to clear your throat and say, “Sir, the way you’re making my pussy throb—I am so upset that I can’t drag your ass to the bedroom right this second to have my way with you.”
“Yeah?” He kissed your cheek. “I’ll make you feel good the first chance I get, and fuck, I can’t wait to get you home so that I can take my time. Quiero hacerte el amor (I want to make love to you). Quiero dártelo despacito y hacer temblar tus piernas (I want to give it to you slowly and make your legs shake). Quiero oírte gritar mi nombre decirme lo bien que te estoy chingado (I want to hear you scream my name and tell me how good I’m fucking you).” 
“Okay, okay, okay, you are the hunkiest hunk to ever hunk, and I’m gonna need you to tone it down because I am extremely horny and so close to saying fuck it and running away with you while everyone watches.”  
You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling. “I’m sorry for getting you worked up, mi amor.” 
“That’s a dirty fucking lie, and you know it.” 
With your bodies pressed together, you felt the rumble of his chuckle as the song came to an end. The two of you slowed to a stop naturally, and Javi straightened in front of you, looking at you once more; he was just as affected by the things he said if his darkened eyes and the pretty pink flush painted across his cheeks were anything to go by—and maybe it was his sultry words, or his sweet confession, or simply that his plush mouth looked so kissable, whatever it was had you gripping the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, and tugging him to you to smash your lips against his, kissing him. His arms wrapped around you, one hand anchored at the back of your head, the other squeezing your ass, your mouths passionately fused together, turning your body to putty and your brain to mush as you melted into him. 
During his vows, Javi said his life didn’t begin until the moment he met you, and you understood exactly what he meant—what felt like so long ago, yet was only mere months, he entered your sphere, and suddenly, you felt alive; he made you feel alive. He was the sun shining after a gloomy, rainy day. He was the spring blooms after a frigid, snowy winter. He brought life to your world, love, and made everything better, and now he promised you his forever, sealing that commitment with the gold band on your finger. 
He was yours, completely, always yours, and you were his. 
Honestly, it was a miracle you heard a single thing Diego was announcing over the speakers. “La siguiente canción es una petición especial del novio (This next song is a special request from the groom). Mrs. Peña, Javi quiere dejarte saber que él siempre será tu pez (Mrs. Peña, Javi wants you to know that he will always be your fish).” 
That had you abruptly ending the kiss, Javi’s mouth chasing yours. You pressed a hand to the center of his chest to hold him back. 
“What song?” you asked him. “What does it mean that you’ll always be my fish…?”
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His eyes opened to look at her, and he smiled, engulfing her hand on him with his larger one to hold over where she had to feel the thud of his heartbeat, his other resting just below her waistline on her ass, loving how soft her dress was under his fingers. He didn’t get a chance to answer because Diego started the song, and he knew she recognized it immediately from the familiar piano and twang of an acoustic guitar filling the air, followed by bongos and a man singing the opening line:
“Tengo un corazón…” 
She started laughing, and warmth spread through him at how delighted she was. 
“Burbujas de Amor” by Juan Luis Guerra was one of their favorite songs that played on the Spanish radio station they liked to listen to as they cooked. It had a good danceable beat while also being a romantic ballad, and the lyrics were… Interesting. The first time his wife heard it was early on in their relationship while they were making lunch together; she couldn’t believe what was being sung to the point she kept double-checking with him that what she was translating in her head was correct. 
“Wait, did he just say he wants to be a fish so he can touch her fish tank with his nose…?” she asked. 
“Yeah.” 
“I didn’t understand the next line.” 
“Y hacer burbujas de amor por dondequiera—and make love bubbles everywhere.” 
“And then he really sings that he wants to stay up all night, soaked in her?”
“Yeah, and it makes sense to me ‘cause I wanna stay up all night soaked in you.” 
She grinned. “You want to be the fish to my fish tank.” 
“Quiero ser tu pez, quiero ser tu novio, quiero ser tu todo (I want to be your fish, I want to be your boyfriend, I want to be your everything). Need me to translate?” 
“Nope, I understood you perfectly.” 
The ABBA song was their choice for the first dance, but when they were picking the music, she joked about how funny it’d be if they used “Burbujas de Amor.” It amused her so much that he thought it’d be fun to surprise her with it as their second dance song. 
“I can’t believe you requested this,” she said, clearly amused. 
“We love it—” He shrugged. “—and I wanted to dance with you to it.” He gave her hand a quick kiss before letting it go to do this thing she found sexy, where he kept his attention on her while undoing the buttons on his suit jacket one-handed. He continued speaking as it came undone, “Dance with me—really dance with me.” 
Javier loved the intimacy of slow dancing with her—the two of them close together in their own little world, swaying to the music and having an easy conversation; it was one of his favorite things to do. But there was nothing like giving in to the rhythm of some great music with someone you had a deep connection with, someone who loved you just as intensely as you loved them and shared in the intimate knowledge of how your bodies moved together. 
It was incredible.
Their connection made everything exhilarating, and it was the same with sex. Out of the many partners he’d had in the bedroom and out on the dance floor, nothing compared to doing either with his wife—she was hands down the best he’d ever had in bed or dancing. 
And to be completely honest, she wasn’t as good of a dancer as him—she was much better now than at the start of their relationship, and his toes were thankful for that; none of it mattered, though, because her confidence and willingness to even try, along with how fun she was, made up for her lack of skill. Plus, they had such great chemistry she did an excellent job of following his lead, which was the only time she let him be in control 100% of the time, every time. 
“Okay,” she replied, stepping into him and wrapping her arm around his neck. She held up her other hand that Javier happily took firmly into his much bigger one, holding her close, his knee slotting between both of hers and a second later, he was moving them to the beat, literally moving her where he wanted by her hand in his—backward, forward, a turn here, a turn there, his wife relaxed and dancing in sync with him, their hips shaking a bit with each step.  
Though they usually danced like this to cumbia music, he thought it was the best choice for this situation since he’d do all the work while she followed, because he knew, even if she was hiding it, that she worried about fucking up in front of everyone. Like this, he had complete control of them—how fast they went, where they were going; he was so in tune with her, so familiar with how she moved, they were dancing so seamlessly and effortlessly like it was a choreographed number they’d rehearsed a hundred times before.
He loved her giggles when he twirled them around, and he couldn’t stop smiling at how good it felt to move them to the music with hardly any thought or care aside from keeping them stepping to the rhythm; they were just having fun, enjoying each other and the vibrant energy of their love and happiness. 
They were between choruses, the guitar, piano, and bongos still playing to keep the beat, while a trumpet had a solo. 
“Javi?” she said. 
“Yes, Cielito?” 
He spun them in a complete circle and continued on another lap around the dance floor. 
Her face was beside his, and she sang dramatically along with Juan Luis Guerra that she would like to be a fish so she could touch her nose to his fish tank and make love bubbles. Javier chuckled, which only egged her on to keep singing.
They didn’t stop moving, Javier humming along to her serenading him, and he was thinking about how much he loved this woman who made him laugh so easily and constantly amused him—she was sunshine, all bright, happy, and full of life, and the complete opposite of what he’d been before meeting her. 
There was that old saying, ‘Laughter is the best medicine,’ and he was pretty fucking sure it was true with how much better he was with her—she relaxed him, she’d crack a joke, and all of the tension melted away from his body. Her silliness brought him joy, and he felt so good after she told him a funny story, he always wanted her to keep talking. It sometimes felt like she was trying to make up for all of his laughless years before her, and when he thought about it, she had made a point in her marriage vows to promise to keep making him laugh and smile for the rest of their lives; it was a promise that she’d keep making him happy and that his life would never be miserable again. It was the greatest promise anyone had ever made to him, and for as long as he lived, he was going to worship the ground she walked on—he was wholly and undoubtedly hers and he would ensure she was aware of that fact every single day for the rest of their lives. 
When the song ended and they came to a stop, he let go of her. His hands held her beautiful face, rubbing his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks, her eyes shining in adoration, and he wanted to kiss that smile on her lips—he was so focused on her that he barely registered those in attendance clapping. 
"Javi?" she said. 
"Yes, mi vida (my life)?" 
“Do you remember the first time we listened to that song?” 
He smiled. “Yeah, you were making me my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich while I was cutting apple slices for lunch, and you kept wondering if you were hearing the lyrics right.” 
“Good, then I want you to know that eres mi pez, eres mi esposo, y siempre serás mi todo (You are my fish, you are my husband, and you will always be my everything)—I love you."
The tears he was keeping at bay were making his eyes burn, and it could be heard how choked up he was when he replied, "I love you, too." 
And to stop himself from crying in front of his wife and the almost hundred people watching, he hugged her to him in a tight embrace, welcoming her arms that held him just as tightly. A content sigh left him as all of the muscles in his body went lax, soaking up her warmth and comfort, the calm washing over him like a cool balm on a hot summer day. 
Something about Javier was that, even though he was raised Catholic, he didn't believe in God or any other almighty higher being somewhere out in the ether. It was easy to lose faith when someone had seen the things he'd seen and been through the shit he'd been through. He did, however, believe in fate and that everything happens for a reason; he thought that no matter what choices were made—good, bad, right, or wrong—they’d all lead to the same end result. 
For a long time, he questioned the purpose of all that he’d done in Colombia and what his sacrifices were for when, in the end, it felt like it was all for nothing, and in one aspect, it had been a pointless endeavor; everything he did, didn’t end the war on drugs, and there wasn’t anything that could. But those grueling years he spent wading through unimaginable hell and loneliness were the long and rocky road that brought him to the woman he loved—all he went through wasn’t for nothing, because it led him to finding heaven, his Cielito, his wife. This person who was his entire world, who he loved more than anything, whose presence gave him peace, and whose words touched his soul. She made all of the blood, sweat, and tears he’d shed over the years worth it, and he’d happily do it all again since he was fated to find the woman of his dreams and experience today, the best day of his entire life.  
It was still hard to believe she said, ‘I do,’ and he found himself unwrapping her left arm from around him and leaning away enough to bring her hand up, delicately holding her fingers in his own. He stared at the two rings, the proof she did marry him. The diamonds on the engagement ring glittered beneath the string lights above them, his thumb smoothing over the new gold band below it that matched the one on his finger. He kissed the modest-sized princess-cut diamond nestled between a pair of smaller ones on either side of it and felt so fucking happy he thought he might combust—he had a wife, he was a husband.  
Neither of them were able to get out another word before Diego’s voice was heard over the sound system, “La siguiente canción fue elegida por la novia para el segundo hombre más importante de su vida, quien la recibió en su familia con los brazos abiertos y es el mejor papá que cualquiera podría desear (The following song was chosen by the bride for the second most important man in her life, who welcomed her into his family with open arms, and is the best dad anyone could wish for). ¡Es hora del baile padre e hija (It’s time for the father-daughter dance)!” 
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Growing up, you weren’t like most other girls who fantasized about their dream wedding. Of course, you hoped one day you’d meet the love of your life and get married. Still, in terms of the wedding itself, you knew from a young age your controlling parents would be heavily involved in the planning to ensure it met their standards and made them look good, so you didn’t see any point in thinking much about it. 
Then, you moved thousands of miles away to escape their control and live your life the way you wanted, and on Friday, June 12th, 1998, you fantasized for the first time about what your wedding would be like when you married Javier Peña—not if, when. 
It was the evening after he asked you to be his girlfriend, and you were cuddling on your couch, watching a movie—the entire pizza you’d ordered for dinner was eaten, the box sitting closed on the coffee table with a couple of empty cans of Coca-Cola on coasters near it. The two of you were too exhausted from hardly getting any sleep the night before to do anything more exciting than make out a little after eating. Honestly, it was nice how comfortable it was relaxing together. Since Javi was allergic to clothes, he’d been lounging in only his jeans, and when he got up to use the bathroom, you admired his back as he walked away. Ogling his front on his return to the living room, taking in the broadness of his chest, your spine tingling at seeing dark marks you sucked onto his golden skin—you’d wanted to kiss all over his soft belly and scratch your nails down the tantalizing trail of hair that disappeared below the denim’s waistband. He’d been so amused by you blatantly checking him out he stopped paying attention to where he was walking and managed to slam his toe hard into one of the coffee table’s legs, which had him yelling ‘FUCK,’ and lifting his injured foot to awkwardly hop on the other, hissing a string of what you now knew, for sure, were Spanish curse words. Immediately, you jumped up to make sure he was okay and checked the damage to his big toe; it was mostly his ego that’d been bruised, and when you sat back down on the sofa, you made him lie across it with his head in your lap to play with his hair, to cheer him up—apparently, you’d been so tired that a few minutes later you forgot to filter your thoughts and accidentally said out loud: 
“Sure wish I was your big toe.”
He had twisted to look up at you, his face showing apparent confusion when he asked, “What?” 
Once again, what you were thinking spilled from your lips, “So you’d bang me on the coffee table.”
It’d been unbelievably stupid, yet it made Javi laugh so hard that his eyes practically disappeared with how thinly they slit together and adorably crinkled at the edges while he gave you a huge, blinding smile; his glee was infectious and had you both laughing until you cried—that was when you knew he was The One™️.
This was the first person you ever truly felt like you could be yourself with, and you knew, without a doubt, that he liked you for you and appreciated your silliness. And everything had seemed so easy with him—talking, dating, and how comfortable it was to spend hours on the couch watching TV while going long periods in silence. The familiarity between you two had made it feel as though you’d always known him, and it was crazy that your personalities and backgrounds were so vastly different, yet you meshed so well together—he understood you, and you understood him; you complemented one another. It hadn’t mattered that you were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man and never had a single codependent bone in your body; when Javier Peña would leave your apartment or even just the room you were in, you missed him—it was mind-boggling to like someone so much that your chest ached when they weren’t near.
Strangers who heard how quickly your relationship became serious liked to comment on how fast you fell for each other. Falling implies it was by accident, and there was uncertainty about where you’d land when, but in reality, there was no falling, no uncertainty; you were simply two parted souls who were reunited and had finally come home. 
So, the evening after he asked you to be his girlfriend, while you both laughed with tears streaming down your cheeks that hurt from smiling so big, it was cemented in your brain that you were going to marry him—a life you could see that would be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.
The wedding you imagined all those months ago was close to how it turned out—a small, intimate ceremony only attended by a select few with a party afterward. Javi wore the black tuxedo you pictured, and his dad and Robyn were there, as you expected; however, it wasn’t your father who gave you away like you thought it’d be, and your mother wasn’t there to watch or even help you get ready. Back then, so soon after starting your relationship, you didn’t know that your parents would disapprove of Javi, and naively you had assumed they’d be happy for your nuptials—you knew they’d hate the wedding you planned, but they still would’ve come with the caveat of complaining the whole time, and there was no expectation for your brother and his family to be there due to how challenging it’d have been to travel with their gaggle of young children. You promised your best friend that you wouldn’t think about the people you used to share a last name with, and you were trying not to. There were simply moments when they came to mind, and you’d feel a pain in your chest like an invisible stab to the heart that tried to ruin this wonderful day. 
Frankly, your wedding was turning out better than you initially imagined it. All those who witnessed your ceremony loved it, and everyone at the reception was truly happy for you both. The best part, though, was the man who gave you away wasn’t related to you by blood. Still, he loved you more than those who did—he was genuinely proud of you, he supported your happiness, and would fight for you without a second thought; he was a real father, and you lucked out that he chose to be yours, loving you unconditionally as you always deserved. 
There was no one else in the world you wanted to have a father-daughter dance with more than your newly titled father-in-law, Jesús ‘Chucho’ Peña. 
As you stepped away from Javi after giving him a sweet departing kiss, you set your sights on your new dad sitting at the table with the Murphys and Robyn—Seb was back to work recording with the camcorder. The song began, starting with the dulcet tone of a violin and an entire orchestra backing it, the whimsicalness of the intro sounding as if it could’ve been pulled from a fairytale movie; “Amor Eterno” by Rocío Dúrcal was a breathtakingly beautiful ballad about grieving someone you loved. 
Chucho’s camera was atop the lavender tablecloth in front of him, and he had a hand over his mouth in shock, his eyes glistening with tears beneath the lenses of his glasses—he hadn’t known about the dance, as it was a surprise to show him what he meant to you. 
A smile formed on your lips, and you held out your hand toward him, walking his way. Steve was grinning beside the older man, giving him a pat on the back as Chucho stood and you approached. 
“Me?” he asked when you were close, pressing his fingertip to the center of his white-dress shirt-covered chest. 
You gently poked him over his heart. “You, Pop,” you said. “The best damn dad I’ve ever had, and I’m sorry for springing this on you, but if you’re willing, may I have this dance?” 
His eyes rounded, and he took your palm into his, smiling as he answered with a nod, “Yes, Mija. I apologize if I’m a bit rusty. I haven’t danced with anyone since mi Amor.” 
“Don’t stress,” you replied, swatting his apology away with your free hand. “We can just sway to the music. That’s always safe.” 
“Okay.” 
With that, you led him to the middle of the dance floor and faced him, Chucho holding your one hand up while your other was on his shoulder, his free palm resting on the center of your back. You easily followed his basic steps that had you sticking to a small area. 
His eyes were on yours. “This is one of my favorite songs,” he said. 
You smiled. “I know—it came on the radio the first time we made tamales together, and I remember you telling me it was one of your favorites.”
His face softened. “That’s what’s so great about you; you care, you really care, and not a day goes by without me thanking God for bringing you into our lives—it fills my heart with joy to see my Javi so happy, and I can breathe easier knowing that he finally found his media naranja (soulmate). We’re truly blessed to have you join our family, and I am lucky to be able to call you my daughter because you are my daughter.”
“Oh, Pop,” you said, holding back tears. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mija.” And the truth was shining in his eyes. 
“God, I’m trying so hard not to cry.” You took a deep, shaky breath, the two of you still slowly moving, swaying in a circle. “I’m lucky I have you and Javi—you’re such a great father, and you raised an amazing man.” The emotion was heavy in your voice as you continued speaking, your bottom lip wobbling, “I’m so unbelievably thankful and happy. I’ve never been this happy in my entire life.”
He gave you a happy smile. “You deserve it—now, let’s talk about something else so your beautiful makeup doesn’t get ruined by tears.” He lightly squeezed your hand in his. 
You huffed in amusement. “Thank you.” 
“Did I tell you mi Antonia loved the album this song was on?” he asked as you continued dancing. 
“You didn’t,” you answered with a shake of your head. 
"She played it all the time when it came out while she cooked or cleaned, and I'd come home to her beautiful voice singing along." It was obvious on his face that he was remembering fond memories. “She loved Juan Gabriel’s songs.” He was the writer of this song and an amazing Mexican singer-songwriter who collaborated with Rocío Dúrcal on many albums. “She had all of his albums, and she’d tell me to be quiet when he came on the radio.” He chuckled. “If we were home, and music was playing, any music, I’d just pull her into my arms, and we’d dance wherever we were in the house; it didn’t matter if we were in the living room, the kitchen, the hallway, or our bedroom, we’d just take a few minutes to ourselves and dance together.” You smiled, thinking about how Javi was the same way; if you put on a record to clean the apartment or turned on the radio to cook, it was a guarantee that he would make you stop and dance with him for at least one song. “That was something we did from the start of our relationship,” he continued, “until…” He swallowed thickly. “Until the very end.” His expression turned solemn, and you could tell the memory that came to him in that moment was painful to recall, your heart breaking for him that he lost the love of his life. He cleared his throat and tried to smile, but the pain was still there behind his eyes. “I see a lot of me and mi Amor in the two of you, and that’s how I know that what you have is real and that it’s gonna last.” 
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” He nodded. 
The chorus began, Rocío Dúrcal beautifully singing:
“Amor eterno (Eternal love) Y inolvidable (And unforgettable) Tarde o temprano estaré contigo (Sooner or later, I will be with you) Para seguir amándonos (To continue loving each other).”
Listening to the lyrics, it made sense that this was one of Chucho’s favorite songs—it perfectly captured someone’s grief and their longing to be with the person they lost again. It was rare, but it was known to happen that couples who loved as deeply as your father and mother-in-law did, passed away close together, with the second succumbing to their broken heart. It showed Chucho’s strength that he managed to survive after losing a part of himself—his soulmate—and you were thankful he was strong for your husband. You thought there was a possibility his wife told him he had to keep going for their son’s sake because she knew Javi, just as you did, and had he lost both of his parents, he would’ve self-destructed and been even more reckless in Colombia; it pained you to think that he probably wouldn’t have made it home alive.  
The thought of his mother’s possible dying wish and the strength of his father had your vision blurring with tears. You were so unbelievably grateful that Javi had parents who loved him so dearly and that he loved just as fiercely. 
Concern showed on Chucho’s face. “What’s wrong, Mija?” 
“Nothing.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m just happy—really happy.” 
His lips turned up. “I’m happy—really happy, too, and—” His smile evolved into a full-blown grin. “—excited. Now that you’re married, I know mi primero nieto está a la vuelta de la esquina (my first grandchild is right around the corner).” 
He made you laugh. “Yes, Pop. We’re hoping we’ll have a kid by the end of the year.” 
His eyes went wide. “Really? The end of the year?” 
“That’s what we’re trying for.” 
It always weirded you out how freely people announced they were fucking raw or, in PG terms, trying for a baby. With how much Chucho yearned to be a grandfather, he’d be beyond happy to know you were trying to make his dream come true, and you were right. 
As the song came to a close, he pulled you into him, hugging you tight, and you embraced him in return. “My son got married to a wonderful woman, and there’s a possibility I might be an abuelo (grandpa) by December. This is the best year of my life since Javi was born—thank you.” 
“No, thank you for raising an incredible man that I can’t wait to have a family with.”
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What he wished most was that he could share this amazing day with his wife. 
Chucho knew for certain Antonia would’ve been over the moon with happiness right along with him and would agree that this was turning out to be the best year of their lives since the birth of their son. 
What he would give for her to be here standing next to him, holding his hand, and getting a chance to hug her tight as they both cried from being overjoyed that their Javiercito was happy and married to a woman they loved. 
If his media naranja (soulmate) were here, he’d hold her in his arms and say, “Nuestro hijo a crecido, mi Amor (Our son has grown up, my Love). ¿Puedes creer que finalmente se casó y que podemos tener un nieto para fin de año (Can you believe he finally got married, and we may have a grandchild by the end of the year)?”
“¡Si dios quiere (God willing)!” she’d answer. “¡Es un sueño hecho realidad, mi Alma (It’s a dream come true, my Soul)! Criamos a un buen hombre, que sé que será un esposo y padre maravilloso (We raised a good man, who I know will be a wonderful husband and father).” He’d agree wholeheartedly and seal it with a kiss. 
As they grew older, Antonia’s reason for why Javi needed to hurry up and marry went from her wanting him to give them grandkids, to giving them grandkids and so she’d still be able to do a proper mother-son dance with him since her joints had started aching. Oh, how Chucho would’ve loved to see her dance with that good man they raised. 
He wished she could see with her own eyes that Javi was finally home and living the life they had always dreamt for him: having his own family with someone who truly cared about him, loved him, and made him happy. Chucho hadn’t seen their son thrive like this in almost twenty years, and Antonia’s heart would’ve burst with joy, like his did, every time she saw Javi’s big smile. 
There was no way for his Amor to be here in person, but she was with them in spirit. Tomorrow, he planned to take the camera film he used today down to the one-hour photo kiosk in the mall parking lot. After the pictures were developed, he’d go visit his Antonia to share them with her and tell her everything that happened; he may have lost her eight years ago, but he could still perfectly picture the beaming smile she’d give him upon hearing the news. 
The image in his mind lifted the corners of his lips—he missed that smile, as he missed her, especially today. 
He was excited to tell her how their new daughter had surprised him with a father-daughter dance to a song with special meaning. He found comfort in “Amor Eterno,” and for some weeks after his wife’s passing, that album she loved was all he listened to—it took years for him to be able to hear the song without crying. Now, he had a happier memory attached to it, which he appreciated.  
With the absence of the bride’s parents—who were unwelcome anyway and were not allowed to step foot on his property—Chucho had assumed there wouldn’t be a father-daughter dance or a mother-son dance, since his Amor couldn’t be there. He was touched that Javi’s Cielito thought so highly of him that she’d honor him with the dance. 
He welcomed her into their family the first time they met and had been ready to be a father-in-law to her, but when he heard about how her family treated and disrespected her, Chucho had no problem stepping up to be a father-figure if she so wished, and she did. This poor girl was so kind and truly wonderful; it saddened him that her parents didn’t love her as she deserved or supported her life choices. By no means were he and his wife perfect parents—there were things they wished they could’ve done differently with Javi, but they sure loved the hell out of him and supported him. A parent should want their child to be happy, healthy, and successful; as long as they’re happy and healthy, it shouldn’t matter what they decide to do with their life that they consider success. 
Swimming made Javi happy, and they did whatever they could to encourage him. 
They knew their son wasn’t happy in Colombia, but he was passionate about his job and wanted to get it done, so they continued cheering him on and were there for him whenever and however he needed them to be as best they could from home. 
Chucho was damn proud of the things his new daughter had achieved in her life, and he’d still be proud of her no matter what she did for work because the only thing that mattered was her happiness.
He knew her father was a well-educated man with many fancy degrees. Still, Chucho questioned the other man’s intelligence because he couldn’t seem to comprehend something so basic as caring about his kid’s well-being and loving them unconditionally. 
Frankly, Chucho was glad she was no longer under her parents’ scrutiny, and it felt good that she thought so highly of him as a dad that she honored him with the dance. 
Another surprise that warmed his heart was his son taking the time to dance a whole song with each of Chucho’s sisters. Javier went from oldest to youngest, starting with his tía María, to the song “¿Y Cómo es El?” by José Luis Perales, then his tía Lupe—who had him laughing while they moved around the dance floor—to “Sergio el Bailador” by Bronco, one of her favorite songs. Now, he was dancing with his tía Rebeca to “Piel Canela” by Eydie Gormé, the two slowly moving from side to side and talking. 
He stood at the edge of the dance floor taking pictures of his son and his baby sister; his sobrino (nephew), Sebastián, was beside him with a video camera, recording what was going on. 
“Hey, good lookin’,” Robyn said as she approached them from behind. 
Chucho lowered the camera from his face with a smile, his upper body twisting to the right to look at her. “Hola, Pajarito (Hi, little bird).” 
Seb interjected, “Sabes que ella estaba hablando conmigo, Tío (You know she was talking to me, Uncle).” He addressed the woman, “Hola, hermosa (Hi, beautiful).” The younger man had the camcorder held up but turned his head to accept a quick kiss from his girlfriend, who had to rise up on her toes to meet his mouth. 
She broke away, grinning, and replied, “No, I was greetin’ Chucho.” Her attention turned to him. “You’re lookin’ mighty handsome tonight, and I gotta say, it was lovely watchin’ you dance with my girl.” 
“It was lovely that she asked me.” 
The bride was sitting over at the table with the Murphys in his empty spot, the love clear in her eyes as she stared at her husband—it was sweet.
“What are you doing over here?” Seb asked her. She turned his way and stepped to have herself against his side. She wrapped her arms around his middle and tilted her head to meet his eyes. 
“You were standin’ here lookin’ like sex on legs, and I needed to come remind you that I’m takin’ your ass home tonight.” 
Chucho chuckled. It was easy to see why Robyn and his daughter were instant best friends the first time they met—neither had any shame and said what they were thinking. It was incredibly amusing. 
The younger man wore a little smile. “Yes, you are,” Sebastián replied. “I didn’t forget. You wanna stay with me? This is the last dance I have to record, and then I’m all yours.” 
“I think I will—if that’s alright with you,” she directed at Chucho, looking over her shoulder at him. 
He smiled. “You go ahead. I think I’ll head back to the table.” 
His knees were sore, and he needed to sit down for a little while. Just as the song was ending, he turned toward the table and saw that his new daughter was already standing at the corner of the dance floor, waiting for her husband. Javi gave his tía a quick hug, and Chucho smiled at how, the moment his son’s arms left Rebeca, he was zeroing in on his wife. 
Chucho wouldn’t say they hugged upon reaching each other; hug was too tame of a word to describe their intimate embrace, which almost had him blushing—and because he was a father whose sole purpose was to give his child or children a hard time, he lifted his camera, and snapped a picture so that he could tease them relentlessly later on. 
Wolf whistles sounded, people cheered, and he chuckled at the fact there was no denying Javier was his son—Chucho couldn’t keep his hands off his wife either, and if things had been different, if life was a little kinder, they probably would’ve had at least ten kids. He was more than happy with his one, though; su bendición (his blessing), who’d grown into an incredible man he couldn’t be prouder of. With all the good that had happened to Javier over the last year, he believed his son would have much better luck when it came to having children, and Chucho loved the idea of ten nietos (grandchildren) to spoil rotten. 
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The white satin hugging her ass was silky smooth beneath both of Javier’s palms, his tongue in her mouth, tasting the sweetness of powdered sugar and hints of the buttery nuttiness from a Mexican wedding cookie she’d eaten. He loved how her fingers tangled in his hair, and he wanted to drown in the scent of her perfume that had him feeling heady with its fruity, woodsy notes, Javier already half-hard in his pants.  
He was happy his father and tías had a chance to be honored with dances after all they’d done for him and Cielito, but the closer he got to finishing his last dance, the more his anticipation grew to be alone with his wife—it was taking everything in him not to drag her away right this second, but he was waiting for—
Diego spoke into the microphone, “¡Damas y caballeros, es hora de festejar (Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to party)! ¡Quiero verlos a todos en la pista de baile (I want to see you all on the dance floor)!” 
The whine of an accordion, accompanied by a quick beat, came over the speakers—it was the beginning of “La Chona” by Los Tucanes de Tijuana, and with the excited cheers and whistles, people were doing as his primo said, moving onto the dance floor. This was when the newlyweds could make their escape. Javier reluctantly ended the kiss, his hand latching onto her smaller one. 
“Come on,” was all he said, quickly leading her away from the party and out of the tent, her giggles trailing behind him. 
He was on a mission, hurriedly thanking those they passed by who congratulated them and getting her into the house, managing to make it through the kitchen to the entryway that his old bedroom was off of without his tía María noticing as she stood at the kitchen sink. Javier tugged Cielito into the room, pushing her back against the door he closed—his lips crushed onto hers in a searing kiss while he turned the lock on the doorknob and flicked on the light switch. 
All night, the tension had built to this moment that found them alone, behind a locked door, and both so desperate for the other that it was a frenzy of messy kisses and fumbling hands to get their clothes off—his tuxedo jacket was first to go, his tie next, her fingers popping open a few of his top shirt buttons; then he was hauling her away from the door, turning them so he was walking her backward into the bedroom, his digits deftly pulling down the zipper at the back of her dress. They came to a stop, the kissing continuing while he carefully pulled the straps off her arms, the silk wedding dress cascading to the floor to pool at her feet. 
Before the ceremony, when he snuck over here to talk to her as she got ready, she let him feel what she was wearing beneath the dress, and now he got to see. Javier held her fingers in one hand, unable to stop touching her, and took a step back to drink her in, his cock already throbbing and straining against the zipper of his dress pants. 
His eyes stared at her beautiful face and moved downward—he loved her with or without makeup; he didn’t have a preference since he always thought she was gorgeous, just as she was now, all dolled up. His gaze moved to her chest, seeing the white, lacy strapless bra for the first time, and his fingers itched to undo it to see her perfect tits. Lower, she had on stretchy spandex like her bicycle shorts that went halfway up her abdomen and midway down her thighs—her reasoning for wearing the Spanx was so she didn’t look ‘lumpy’ or have panty lines in her dress that tightly hugged her figure; Javier wasn’t a fan of them hiding her belly, or the idea that she felt self-conscious enough to hide it, but they made her feel comfortable, and that was all that mattered. Plus, he knew if she turned around, he’d love how good the spandex made her ass look. He would’ve had her show him, however, his attention was stuck on the blue garter wrapped around her thigh, sitting just above her knee. 
The strip of satin was dusty blue, with a bow made from the same material placed in the center over an overlay of ivory floral lace. The wedding tradition was to have the groom remove the garter and toss it into the crowd like the bride does with the bouquet, but Javier didn’t like the idea of getting under her dress in front of a tent full of people. It was something he wanted to do alone with her, because there was no way he was only removing the garter if he had a chance to get under her dress. 
Her beauty, her smell, that damn blue garter, and the fact that once it was off, he could strip everything else she was wearing from below the waist from her had him hitting his breaking point—he needed her so bad, he thought he might go insane if he didn’t have his face buried in her pussy within the next two minutes. His lips landed on hers, kissing her hard and swallowing her moan, relishing her fingers sliding back into his hair. Their tongues were entangled, and with his hands on her waist, he spun them to the left, moving her backward a few steps, to press her spine against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest, arousal curling in his gut, and his breaths panted when his mouth left hers to nip at her chin. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, kissing a wet streak along her jaw. “So fucking beautiful.” His lips made a journey down her throat, sucking on her pulse point; she gasped, her hands pulling his hair harder, Javier groaning at the pleasurable pain. 
He spoke his words into her skin as he kissed along her chest, “You’re my wife, my beautiful, sexy wife.” His head dipped, and Javier lightly sunk his teeth into the top of her breast. 
“Javi,” she moaned. “Oh, god, why are you so hot?” 
He soothed over his bite with a kiss and said when his face lifted, “Because I’m the hunkiest hunk to ever hunk.” Javier smirked.
She giggled, grinning at him. “You’re a sexy dork, is what you are.” 
“Your sexy dork.” 
“Yes, you are.” Her hands pushed down on his shoulders, and he understood immediately, starting to lower himself, kissing her body as he went—her neck, her chest, her tits, her stomach; Javier chose to ignore his joints popping when he took a knee.
He removed her thin shoe as he lifted her foot to rest on top of his thigh. Keeping his eyes on hers, he took the garter’s silk between his teeth and slowly pulled it over her bent knee, going lower until it fell freely down her calf to her ankle, where he took it off. Javier slid the soft, smooth fabric over his hand and up his arm to wear it on his bicep for everyone to see. 
She was smiling down at him, her eyes darkened. “I am so in love with you.” 
“I’m so in love with you,” he replied, kissing the side of her thigh. He set her foot back onto the ground, their gazes locked while he took off and pocketed the golden cufflinks from his wrists, speaking as he began rolling up his sleeves, “I’m going to make you come with my mouth,” he said, finishing one, and starting on the second. “Then, as I told you earlier, I’m fucking you against this wall—” He nodded at the one behind her. “—while you taste your pussy on my tongue.” Both of his sleeves were rolled up his forearms. “Any requests?” he asked and got his fingers under the waistband of her Spanx. 
“Yes.” She nodded and cupped his cheek with her palm. “After you come deep inside me, where I promise to keep you all night, you’re going to tie your bow tie around my arm—if you're wearing my garter, then I'm wearing your bow tie." 
Javier wasn’t a possessive man, yet knowing she’d wear so many things to show she was his, and only his, had his chest swelling up with pride and happiness vibrating under his skin—like her, he wanted to broadcast to everyone that he was hers, and hers alone, and the ring on his finger wasn’t enough for him tonight. 
The sound he made was practically a growl as he tugged the stretchy fabric down her legs, revealing that she was wearing nothing beneath it. He couldn’t help himself and shoved his face between her legs, deeply inhaling her while freeing her foot from the shorts, her hands clutching his hair. Javier’s mouth was watering at the thought of tasting her, and he became impatient, raising the leg he freed onto his shoulder to give him room to work with—two of his fingers spread open the lips of her sex, seeing it glistening with her need for him. 
“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he said, and he meant it. Javier licked his lips, and he was unable to wait for another second, leaning in—
Knocking sounded on the bedroom door, his head whipping toward the noise. 
“Hey,” his dad’s muffled voice said, “when you’re finished getting ready, I told Connie that Nate can sleep in Javi’s old bed—the poor little guy can barely keep his eyes open, and the music is too loud for him to sleep out there. If only the nursery were finished, we could’ve had him give it a test drive.” Chucho chuckled. “Oh, and Mija, Robyn wanted me to tell you she requested one of your favorite songs.” 
Javier loved his dad a lot, especially how he cared about his friends’ family, but the man had the worst timing. Frustration had him wanting to pull his hair out because there was no way he could continue what they were doing when his sobrino (nephew) needed a place to sleep; that was more important than Javier getting his dick wet. He looked up at his wife to commiserate over their bad luck, and his stomach dropped at seeing her hands hiding her face in embarrassment—it reminded him of the first time he’d brought her out here to meet his dad and how mortified she’d been when the elder Peña knocked while Javier was inside her. Her discomfort had his arousal fizzling out, guilt and concern replacing it; he needed to make her feel better, so he slid a hand up the outside of her bare thigh to rub comforting circles on her hip. 
“Amor,” he whispered for just her ears. “Pop would be teasing the fuck out of us if he knew what we were up to—he doesn’t know.”
Her palms lowered, and her expression said she wasn’t sure if she believed him. 
“Give us ten minutes, Pop!” Javier said, loud enough for his father to hear. 
Her eyes rounded. “We are not fucking,” she hissed. 
His eyebrow arched, speaking quietly, “I know, and I’m no two-pump chump. We’d need more than ten minutes to fuck, baby.” He gently got her leg off his shoulder. 
“I’ll let Connie know,” Chucho said. “And I’ll make sure they don’t play the song until you’re out there.”
“Thanks, Pop!” Cielito replied. 
“You’re welcome, see you soon.” 
Javier used his hands on his knee to push himself up to stand, grunting as he rose to his feet in front of his wife. He rubbed his palms along her upper arms, then lifted her chin with his finger to make her look at him. 
“Are you okay?” he asked. 
She was frowning. “The risk of getting caught? Hot. It really gets me going. Actually getting or almost getting caught? Mortifying, and I’d rather the earth swallow me whole than experience it.” 
“Lo siento, mi amor (I’m sorry, my love). I know you hate when it happens. I get it if you want to hold off trying anything else before we leave. But, if you still wanna fool around while we’re out here, we’ll have better luck in the laundry room, or I can grab a lantern from the barn for the hayloft.” 
It was on her face that she was weighing his suggestions, and the fact that she was even considering had excitement thrumming inside him. He, of course, was fine with waiting to fuck until they got to the hotel room he was surprising her with tonight, but holy shit, was he unbelievably horny for her. 
“I’m not feeling the scratchiness of hay or getting my cute white dress dirty,” she responded. “I’d be down for the laundry room, though—you’re right, location-wise, it’s perfect.” 
He smiled big, happily chuckling as he kissed her. When he broke away, he nuzzled his nose against hers. 
“I really fucking love you,” he said. 
“I really fucking love you, too.” 
Javier pressed his large palm to her cheek and gazed into her eyes, the expression on her face just as happy as his. “Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo de poder llamarme tu esposo (I am the luckiest man in the world to be able to call myself your husband).” 
Her eyes softened. “La afortunada soy yo (I’m the lucky one). Tengo el honor de ser tu esposa (I have the honor of being your wife)—” She poked him in the chest. “—y tener a tus bebés lindos (and having your cute babies).”
The happiness and excitement of all she said being true had him wrapping her up in his arms, her feet coming off the ground as he spun them around in place, making her laugh. When they came to a stop, he was panting, the two of them wearing matching grins, and Javier couldn’t think of another day in his entire life that he’d ever been as happy as he was today—it indeed was the happiest day of his life, and what made his eyes start misting was knowing this was the first of many happiest days of his life that were yet to come. 
It was she who kissed him this time, her hands grabbing his face to pull him into her as she smashed her lips against his. Javier leaned further into her, hugging her tightly to have as much of them touching as possible. He loved how their bodies fit so perfectly together—the softness of hers giving way to the hardness of his own. 
They wore big smiles when they separated, Cielito giggling at him playfully smacking her ass as she moved away. He turned to watch her approach his old full-size bed, unable to keep his eyes from roaming over her body from behind. 
God, she was sexy—how’d he get so lucky?
The dress she was wearing to the party was laid out atop the mattress, and he was so focused on checking her out that he missed what she picked up from beside her outfit. He wasn’t in the dark for long, though, with her purposefully keeping her back to him while pulling on a white lacy thong—he was still hard, and the sight had his dick twitching, a groan tumbling from his throat. Javier’s hands went to the front of his slacks to adjust himself, trapping his hard-on under the waistband of his pants. 
She looked at him over her shoulder, her pretty eyes sparkling with mischief, her lips lifted in a smile that told him she knew exactly what she was doing. “I wanted it to be a surprise for when we got home,” she said. “But, I kinda like you knowing what awaits when you get under my dress.” She winked. 
His feet were moving of their own accord. “Fuck, are you trying to kill me?” he asked, and as he got closer to her, he could see the lace lining the tops of her asscheeks that went around her waist had a floral design—sunflowers, to be exact. Before he could reach her, she spun around to face him, putting up her hand to keep him back; it pressed against his chest as he stopped.
“No touching,” she quickly told him with a smirk, his own lips turning down in a frown. “And kill you? No.” She shook her head. “Torture you? Maybe a little.” Cielito shrugged. 
“Torture your new husband? That’s pretty fucking mean, mi amor.” 
Her palm moved to caress his cheek. “Can’t a girl love it when her husband is needy for her?”
Javier took her hand and pressed it against the front of his pants, over his hard cock. “Feel how needy your husband is for you, how I want you more than anything, and am dying to be inside you—your ass in that fucking thong is all I’m gonna be able to think about until I get another chance alone with you.”
She squeezed him, and it had his mouth going slack, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped. 
"Good—that's exactly what I want." She pecked him on the lips and let go of him, her upper body twisting to grab her dress off of the bed. "Now, stop distracting me. I’m in a hurry," she said, pulling the garment over her head. Her arms went through the spaghetti straps, and she turned away from him again, holding the front of the dress to her chest, the back gaping open along the bodice. "Can you zip me up, babe? Pretty please." 
"Yeah," he answered and did as she requested, carefully zipping her up and managing to kiss her bare shoulder once before she faced him again. 
The day she bought the dress for the party, she showed it to him when she got home and even modeled it for him. At that time, he still had it in his head that he was going to do things right by her and wait to consummate their marriage until he got her to the hotel. When he saw her in the tight, white satin that went down to her knees with a goddamn slit halfway up her left thigh, Javier knew his strength was going to be tested tonight; he really did hope he could hold out.
Unfortunately, his resolve was thrown out the window the night before when he had to spend it alone, thinking about the sexy woman in front of him, and Jesus Christ, was she so fucking sexy—he could see now that it was a shorter, sexier version of her wedding dress with the neckline V-ing to accentuate her tits, while the buttery soft fabric molded to her curves perfectly like the other dress. 
“Do I look okay?” she asked, and his attention went to her face, seeing she was looking down at her body with a frown, which made him match her expression.  
Javier hated when she doubted her beauty, and he wished she could see from his perspective just how perfect she was. 
He lifted her chin with his finger to make her meet his gaze, and he smiled. “You look more than okay, Cielito,” he reassured her. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” 
“Yeah?” 
“Yes,” he very confidently replied. 
His eyes moved down her form again, taking in her beauty, and he wet his bottom lip, silently cursing that they couldn’t stay in this room alone and uninterrupted for a quickie. His gaze reached hers one more, and amusement was clear on her face. She kissed his cheek as she walked around him to put on her shoe. 
“What?” he asked, turning in place to look at her. 
She kept her balance with a hand on the wall while fitting her flat back onto her foot.
“You’ve got ‘fuck me’ eyes,” she replied, setting her shoed foot on the ground and moving toward the door. 
He started heading her way. “I have ‘fuck me’ eyes?” he retorted. He was glad she was over her moment of self-consciousness. “Baby, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy all night, giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes.” 
She stopped to bend over and pick something up off of the floor, his gaze stuck on her ass, picturing the white lace he knew was under the satin.
“And I’m gonna keep giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes until you fuck me, Javier.” She straightened and spun on her heel to look at him. 
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you think I’m not trying hard enough?” 
“I think you’re doing the best you can in our current situation, and I know, without a doubt, you’re gonna use that big, sexy brain of yours to find us a way to fool around uninterrupted. I mean this lovingly,” she continued, reaching out to touch his arm with her palm. “You’re a stubborn man and horny stubborn Javi cannot be stopped—we both wanna fuck, and you’re gonna figure out a way for us to fuck, because you are a wonderful husband.” 
Javier loved hearing her call him a wonderful husband. 
He smiled. “You really think my brain is sexy?” 
Her eyebrow lifted. “Javi, baby, all of you is sexy, including your brain, and you are aware your intelligence turns me on—like how when we go stargazing, you nerding out about the stars makes me wet and is a very effective form of foreplay.” 
That was true—they always end up fucking when they go stargazing. Javier couldn’t stop his chest from puffing up a little that his wife was turned on by how smart he was. 
She rolled her eyes and kept talking, “It seems your ego has been stroked enough.” She held out his bow tie to him. “Here. Take this. We need to get going.” 
His brows furrowed—he thought they were adjusting their outfits to be more comfortable when they went back out to the party. He didn’t understand why she’d want him to put his tie back on. 
“Really? I’ll wear it, but you have to tie it.” 
His fingers started re-buttoning his shirt, and Cielito batted at his hands. “Stop that—you’re not wearing it, you’re tying it onto my arm. Remember?” 
She still wanted to wear his bow tie, which made his heart so happy it could burst. Javier grinned, accepting the long strip of black fabric. 
“I do,” he said, and she turned to give him better access to her arm, choosing the same side he had her garter on. He lifted her limb by the elbow and ducked his head to kiss a spot midway down her bicep, then looped his bow tie around where he kissed, tying it like he’d tie shoelaces. 
Before they left, they picked up their discarded clothes, hanging up her dress and his tuxedo jacket in his old closet, her Spanx getting put into her overnight bag, which she’d brought with her the previous night when she stayed over. His lips found hers one last time, then he took her smaller hand into his and led her out of the room.
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Music blared outside the house, but inside, it was dampened aside from the pounding bass that could practically be felt. They found Connie and their dad sitting at the kitchen table, Chucho holding the Murphy’s youngest and feeding him a bottle while he quietly chatted with the mother. 
Yeah, it sucked that Javier and his wife were interrupted before things could get good, but seeing the look of relief and gratitude on their friend’s face when they told her the room was hers completely washed away any bad feelings they had. See, since he and Cielito were trying to start their family, babies were on both of their brains, and they could put themselves into Connie’s shoes, wanting to help out the mother in any way possible; after she left the kitchen with Nate, his father explained that Steve had the two older kids back at the party eating cake, and Chucho happily volunteered to give Connie a hand even though she vehemently protested. He told her he wanted to get some practice in being an abuelo, and she thought that was so sweet she let him make the bottle—which he knew how to do from when Javier was a baby and from the bottle-fed calves on the ranch, like Daphne and Velma—and try to get Nate asleep by feeding him, an endeavor he succeeded in doing. 
Chucho was pretty fucking proud of himself. 
He told them he picked Connie’s brain about what he should get for the nursery because things weren’t as simple as they were back when Javier was born—he somehow figured out a way to write down a list while feeding Nate, and at the top of it, ‘Diaper Genie’ was underlined twice, and circled. 
They loved their father’s excitement over becoming a grandfather. Even with the pressure sometimes stressing them out, Chucho meant well, and they appreciated the extra support. 
Minutes later, the newlyweds found themselves under the tent and on the dance floor.
Javier knew which song Robyn requested the moment he heard the opening synthesizers—if his wife ranked her favorite ABBA songs, “Lay All Your Love On Me” would take the top spot, and her ear-splitting squeal as it came on confirmed as much. 
His hands were on her hips while her arms were around his neck, and up until this point, her eyes had been closed as they moved to the rhythm of the previous song; now they were open, and the expression on her face showed her pure delight, which made him smile. She threw her hands up when the drums kicked in, bouncing on her toes to the beat. 
She sang along with the track:
“I wasn’t jealous before we met…”
If it wouldn’t ruin her performance, Javier would tell her after each of the lines that there wasn’t a single woman on the entire planet that was a threat to her, and he liked that she was a little possessive of him; that he was the only man she wanted, and she staked her claim that he was hers. 
The following line had her miming taking a drag of a cigarette, and it made him chuckle before a tingle was moving down his spine at her palm pressing to his cheek as she stared deeply into his eyes. With the time since they left his old bedroom, Javier had calmed down to the point that he wasn’t hard anymore, something he didn’t think would last. 
“But now it isn’t true.” 
Her hand moved to rest over his thudding heart. 
“Now everything is new
And all I’ve learned has overturned I beg of you.” 
She had both of her palms on his chest, their gazes locked, and he knew he was fucked. 
“Don’t go wasting your emotion—”
As she sang, her darkened eyes stayed on his as her body lowered, her hands following, dragging them down his abdomen, over his stomach, his waist, his thighs, to the tops of his knees until her head was at the same level as his crotch. With how she was looking up at him under her eyelashes and how close she was to his dick, his mouth went dry, the blood rushing to his groin. He had to hold back his groan at the thought of how she would’ve nuzzled the front of his pants if they were alone. He needed to touch her and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. 
She continued singing:
“—Lay all your love on me.” 
His wife rose, rubbing her palms back up the way they came, and it was embarrassing that he was so pent up that just her touch was fucking him up. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead; she had him feeling hot enough that he had to undo another button on his shirt. 
Cielito faced away from him, grinding her ass against his half-hard cock, and she rolled her head back onto his shoulder, reaching a hand behind her to thread fingers into his hair. His hands fell to her hips, pulling them back into his, and when he turned his head to look at her as she sang that ‘a grown-up woman should never fall so easily,’ she was giving him those damn ‘fuck me’ eyes—he loved her so fucking much, but she was going to be the death of him. 
He let his body move with hers and thought it wasn’t fair that he was the one getting worked up—two could play this very dangerous game. Javier ducked his head to kiss along the skin of her shoulder and up to her neck, where he sucked over her pulse. The way her voice faltered for a second only encouraged him. 
He grazed his teeth across the pounding pulse point, ending with a nip to her jaw. 
“—Fuck,” the last word was moaned, and he smiled, feeling her entire body shiver. 
His wife caught onto what he was doing and spun away from him to end up at his back with her front pressed to his spine—her arms went around him, singing while her palms started at his belly and trailed up his torso to his pecs where he grabbed them. He raised one of her hands, rubbing it against his smooth cheek, and then kissed the center of her palm. 
This wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this, and Javier didn’t know what it was about this song in particular that riled her up so much. When “Lay All Your Love On Me” came on while they were by themselves at home, her antics were even hornier, and she usually made him sit back on the couch while she gave him a fully-clothed lap dance. Her kryptonite, though? The thing that made it a 100% guarantee they were going to fuck after the song? Was him singing it. He loved that the simplest things turned her on, and if it got her to disappear to the laundry room with him, he had no problem exploiting her weakness. 
He turned in her hold, slotting his knee between both of hers, his hand gripping her hip while the other grasped her palm, and he started moving them to the music in the little space they occupied. His lips went to her ear, and she immediately went quiet as he softly crooned along with the song:
“‘Cause everything is new
And everything is you
And all I’ve learned has overturned
What can I do?” 
“You can kiss me,” she said, breaking her hand free from his to grab his face with both of hers to kiss him hotly. 
He gave as good as he got, wrapping one arm around her middle, his free hand cradling the back of her skull. She sought entrance to his mouth with a swipe of her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he eagerly opened to tangle his own with hers. 
How they knew each other so well had happiness swelling inside him. She was his best friend, the love of his life, and there wasn’t anyone else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  
The two of them were breathing hard when their lips detached at the song’s end, both smiling. She was giving him that look that told him she was on the same page as him for where they were about to go. 
“You wanna get out of—” His question died when someone clapped him on the shoulder. 
“Hey, Jav?” Steve said to get his attention, and Javier couldn’t help his glare when he looked at the other man. His friend’s expression pinched in confusion. “Why the hell are you giving me that look?” 
Javier took a deep breath and slowly let it out, schooling his features to hide his annoyance. “What did you need?” 
“It’s getting kind of late for the kids, and Olivia was looking forward to dancing with you. Can you dance to one song with her? It’d mean a lot to her, and to me ‘cause it’ll get her to stop talking to that boy, Efraim.” Steve jutted his thumb back toward their table where Olivia was laughing at Efraim, who was one of his primo’s kids and about her age. Chucho was over there, too, with Connie, a baby monitor in front of her, and both adults watching Stevie, the three-year-old playing with his Ninja Turtle action figures on the table next to them, the woman saying something to his dad. His friend was frowning. “I’m not ready for my baby girl to like boys, and I don’t like that he’s making her laugh so much.” 
The reminder that he promised Olivia a dance was like having ice-cold water poured over him, his stomach dropping to the floor that he’d forgotten. He took in what Steve said, and he wanted to be annoyed with the older man’s overprotectiveness, but once again, he could step into the parent’s shoes. He also wouldn’t be ready for his nine-year-old daughter to like boys—if he had a daughter, he wouldn’t be ready for her to like boys at any age, even though that was irrational, and he knew it’d happen at some point; hopefully when she was twenty-five, or better yet, thirty. 
“Efraim’s a sweet kid, Steve,” Cielito said. “Olivia is just making a new friend—you weren’t complaining earlier when Javi was dancing with his tías, and she was playing with all those other children.” Most of Javier’s fourteen cousins had more than one kid, and that meant there were a lot of children running around.
“That was a group,” Steve replied. “I’m not big on this one-on-one stuff.” 
Javier could see this heading into an argument between his wife and best friend, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that, so he’d nip it in the bud. 
His attention turned to Cielito, rubbing his palms along her arms. “Hey,” he said, and she looked at him. “I’m gonna go dance with Olivia. I promised her I would, and I’ll feel like shit if I don't keep my word.” He leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. “Don’t wander off—as soon as I’m done, you’re coming with me, and I’m getting you out of those panties.” To punctuate his sentence, he grabbed a handful of her ass, making her giggle. 
“You better.” She winked, and he smiled, giving her a quick kiss. 
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Past-you deserved a high-five for thinking to fool around on the drive back to Chucho’s. The thought of how insanely grumpy Javi would be right now if you hadn’t was enough to make you shudder. Steve should honestly thank you for saving him from getting his head chewed off when he derailed your sexy laundry room plans. 
Having your two attempts at horny rendezvous interrupted wasn’t great, and you were starting to develop whatever the woman equivalent of ‘blue balls’ was. You couldn’t be mad at Pop or Steve, though, because they had good reasons: Nate needing a place to sleep away from all the noise? Understandable—the living room couch was taken by a couple of Javi’s cousin’s babies, and since Chucho gutted the guest bedroom to turn it into a nursery, Javi's old bed was the only option for the Murphy’s one-year-old. Steve, reminding your husband that he promised Olivia a dance? A good reminder, because if they left while Javi and you were busy fucking, your husband would’ve been really upset with himself for letting her down; he already worried about her feeling like she was less important to him with all of the changes in his life, and forgetting the dance would’ve been devastating for them both. 
What this highlighted was how much of a family man Javier was. His desires came secondary to his family’s needs, and that showed what a wonderful husband he already was.
You married a good, good man, and dear god, he was so hot. 
Diego was playing another track by Los Tucanes de Tijuana with a quick beat, “El Tucanazo.” Olivia was laughing as Javi made her twirl with a grin on his flushed face and pulled her back to him. With their height difference, his arm was fully extended to hold her shoulder, her small palm resting on his elbow, while his other hand kept her tinier one up to lead her in simple steps that involved a lot of him twirling her—she was absolutely loving it. 
It had you imagining Javier dancing with your future daughter, and what really gave you the warm fuzzies was knowing he’d start dancing with her as a baby in his arms—he’d dance with all of your babies. 
What a wonderful husband and future father. 
“Spin, tía!” Stevie yelled in your arms.
Right. When Javi asked Olivia to dance, the three-year-old felt left out and got upset, so in order to stop him from having a total meltdown—it was past his bedtime—you offered to dance with him, as his new tía and the wedding’s bride. You had him on your hip, holding his little hand in yours, and you accidentally got distracted by your husband’s hotness. 
“Sorry, kiddo,” you replied, bouncing with him to the music’s rhythm. The child giggled each time you spun, going one way, then the other, and pausing every once in a while so you didn’t get dizzy. During one of those pauses, you happened to catch Javi’s dark eyes staring at you, and it made you feel pretty incredible that he was just as distracted by you.
When the song ended, Connie and Steve decided it was time to get their children back to their hotel. They weren’t accustomed to these parties that went on for hours like your new family was, and they didn’t want to mess with boys’ sleep schedules too much. Goodbyes were made outside of the tent, with the promise to Olivia and Stevie that you’d all eat an early dinner together the following day at their hotel’s restaurant before their flight home. After watching the Murphys walk back into the house to get Nate on their way to their SUV out front, the two of you were alone, Javi holding you from behind with his chin on your shoulder. 
“Five minutes?” you asked, “Or should we play it safe and wait ten?”
“Five minutes isn’t enough time,” he spoke in your ear. “Connie will have everyone use the bathroom before their drive back into town. We add in Nate maybe needing a diaper change, and we’re looking at a minimum of ten minutes before they’re out of the house and on their way.” 
You hugged his arms to you, smiling. “Look at you having the family-with-small-children math down,” you said, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “What do you wanna do while we wait?” 
“We could make out?” 
“That sounds like a good time.” 
Diego came over the speakers, announcing, “Bien, vamos a frenar las cosas (Okay, let’s slow things down).” Selena’s “Dreaming Of You” started playing.  
“Or,” Javi started, “we could slow dance…?” 
“What a romantic man—may I have this dance, Mr. Peña?” 
“You may, Mrs. Peña.” He kissed a spot behind your ear, then moved to take your hand, leading you back into the tent to the dance floor that was occupied by many other couples. 
When he suggested slow dancing, you imagined it’d be like how you danced your first dance, and at home in the kitchen many times before, with him leading you by one of your hands while the two of you slowly moved. You weren’t expecting him to loop your arms around his neck or for him to pull you into him with his big palms midway between your waist and ass to have you dancing like a couple of teenagers at prom. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck where he dabbed some of his spicy cologne, and the two of you swayed back and forth while Selena sang about there being nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than in her room, dreaming about herself with the one she loved. 
This was the first moment all day where you felt relaxed—there were no more worries about setting up the party, the ceremony was done, and so were the dances. Now, you were just another pair on the dance floor, slowly moving to the music. There was no need for talking. Both of you simply enjoying the other’s company without everyone’s attention on you. 
When the song ended, you still needed to kill another handful of minutes, and that was how you ended up camped out by the house’s backdoor, sharing a slice of your wedding cake—it was vanilla cake with lemon curd filling and raspberry buttercream icing. Like all of Anna’s baked goods, the cake was incredible. You each had your own plastic fork while Javi held the small paper plate. Your husband kept peeking through the door’s window, trying to keep out of the way of the few people going in and out of the home. 
A disappointed sound came from you when, in the middle of taking a bite, Javi suddenly tossed the rest of the cake into a nearby trashcan along with his fork and grabbed your hand. 
“Let’s go,” he said, and you only had a split second to toss your own fork into the garbage before you were getting tugged along into the house. 
The backdoor led down a hall to the kitchen, and just inside the door to the right was the staircase that went up to Chucho’s room. If you walked a little further down the hallway, the guest bathroom was on the right, and another hallway was to the left, which would take you to the guest bedroom—soon to be nursery—and the laundry room. 
Anticipation swelled inside you, arousal burning in your belly again now that you were on your way to finally having your husband alone and uninterrupted. The two of you were being as quiet as possible so as not to draw any attention to you, and once you entered the darkened hallway to your destination, you found yourself getting pressed back against a wall and Javi’s lips claiming yours—this wasn’t a chaste kiss; it was filthy with how his tongue plundered your mouth, feeling his desperation and need to have you. Your fingers clutched at the front of his dress shirt, and with his strength, he pulled you along by the hips, Javi walking backward while your lips stayed fused together. 
The bass of the track Diego was playing could be heard, but the closer you got to the laundry room, there were other muffled noises, one staying on beat with the song and another—
“Harder,” Robyn moaned on the other side of the door, and the dull smacking sound got louder. 
You and Javi came to a sudden stop, his mouth breaking away from yours as his head turned at breakneck speed toward the obvious sounds of your best friend and his cousin fucking in the laundry room. 
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” your husband quietly growled. 
From where you were standing, you could make out Sebastián grunting as he continued to thrust, “You’re mine, aren’t you? You’re my good little slut—say it.” 
“I’m your good little slut,” Robyn breathily whined. 
“That’s fucking right—open your mouth.” There was the unmistakable sound of the other man spitting, and you were stuck in place, eyes wide. “Swallow—that’s it, mi petirrojito (my little robin). You gonna come for me? You need my hand around that pretty throat?” 
Now, you and Robyn had discussed your sex lives at length, so you were aware of her kinks, but knowing and hearing were two different things, and she was really making you wonder if there was some merit to her calling you and Javi ‘vanilla.’ Your husband had apparently heard enough and took your hand once more to lead you back outside. 
From how tense his body was and the way he practically stormed out of the house with you in tow, you could tell your husband was pretty ticked off. He only stopped when you were in front of Daphne and Velma’s small metal-fenced corral, where the two calves were let loose—they were lying down together and got up when they saw you two making your way over. 
“Stay here,” Javi ordered. He let go of your hand, but you grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. 
“Wait.” He looked at you, anger that you knew wasn’t directed at you etched on his face. “Where are you going?” 
His features softened the longer he gazed at you. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, perching his palms on his tiny hips. “I’m sorry, mi amor—I’m just—” He looked around to make sure no one was nearby and quietly continued, “—really fucking horny—”
“You’ve got blue balls,” you interrupted. 
He huffed in amusement, smiling a little. “Yeah, I’ve got blue balls, and I think I might go insane—”
“If we’re cockblocked again?” 
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Yes. Three fucking times—three!” he harshly whispered, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “Over my dead fucking body will we be cockblocked a fourth time, so I’m getting us some goddamn privacy away from all of these people—I love them all, but I love you, my wife, more, and I’m dying to stick my dick in you. I need you to stay right here. That way, I’ll know where to find you after I get shit arranged.” 
That sounded like he was ready to go. 
Grabbing his left hand, you pulled his arm toward you and angled your head to read the silver Rolex watch on his wrist under the light of the string lights above. “It’s not even ten, babe. We’ll get so much shit from your family if we dip this early.” Your eyes met his. “They’ll be partying til two or three in the morning at minimum, and we’re gonna leave at 9:42?” 
The fingers of his free hand pressed to his forehead, and he sighed again. “If you really wanna stay,” he grumbled, “we’ll stay and wait to leave closer to midnight.” His tone said that was the last thing he wanted to do, and you understood where he was coming from. 
You reached to caress his cheek. “I’m fine with leaving, Javi,” you told him. “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t the horny talking, and you understand we are going to get absolutely roasted at tía María’s next Sunday if we leave right now.” Every Sunday after his family got out of church, they went to tía María’s for good food and to catch up on what happened over the week. 
His hand lowered, and he looked at you with hopeful eyes. “Are you okay with getting teased at tía María’s next weekend if we leave right now?” 
You gave him a reassuring smile. “Oh, yeah,” you replied, nodding. “I’m dealing with the lady equivalent of blue balls, and I’ll accept all of the teasing if it means you’re gonna fuck me very soon.” 
Once again, it was adorable how his face lit up, and he giddily chuckled. “Christ, I love you so fucking much,” he said and framed your face with his palms, Javi leaning in to kiss you tenderly. 
When his mouth left yours, he was still smiling, and he lifted your left hand, keeping his eyes on yours while he kissed the diamond on your engagement ring and then the smooth gold of your wedding band. “I’ll be back,” he told you, and didn’t let go of your fingers as he started heading toward the tent, your arm extending all the way before his hand and himself slipped away from you. 
If you had to guess, Javi wanted you to stay in this spot so your bovine daughters could keep you company, which they were, the girls sticking their snouts between the corral’s bars for you to pet their heads. What your husband failed to think about was your location meant that, when Robyn and Seb came out of the house a few minutes after he left, you had no choice but to talk to them. For you, it was awkward pretending like you didn’t hear them fucking as you tried to convince your best friend to go enjoy the party with her boyfriend instead of staying with you while Javi was gone. Luckily, Sebastián was able to lure her away with promises of drinks and dancing. 
The remaining minutes you waited for your husband’s return were spent with the two calves. You scritched behind their ears, and they licked your arms as you told them how much you loved them and their dad and shared your excitement over them eventually becoming older sisters to a human sibling. 
Chucho had gifted you and Javi enough land for the home you were building that Daphne and Velma could live with you—a barn would be built, and you’d have a couple of pastures for the girls to roam. There was room for the garden you always dreamed of, a greenhouse, and even a chicken coop; your husband also planned on buying you a horse. Living out in the country was never something you imagined in your wildest dreams, yet now it seemed perfect for your life with Javier. 
When your husband found you, he held up what you knew was the key to his father’s prized ‘68 Ford Mustang, and he had to be excited, even if you couldn’t tell from his expression. In the over thirty years Chucho had owned the car, Javi had never been allowed to drive it—Chucho let you drive it, though, many times, which your husband was extremely jealous about. His dad made him a deal that when he married you, he could finally get behind the wheel, and you’d been waiting all night for Chucho to hand over the keys. 
Javi walked over to the fence to address the two calves in the sweet voice he saved for them, scratching each of the girls under their chins, “Lo siento, mis preciosas, pero necesito robar a tu mamá (I’m sorry, my lovelies, but I need to steal your mom). Me ha estado volviendo loco toda la noche, y es hora de que la lleve a casa y la vuelva loca (She’s been driving me crazy all night, and it’s time for me to take her home and drive her crazy) Las amamos y las veremos en un par de días (We love you and we will see you in a couple of days).” 
The moment he finished speaking, he looked at you with a smile on his handsome face. 
“Sorry it took me so long,” he said. “Pop gave me a long-ass lecture about the car and made me promise to be careful with it. He was acting like he wasn’t the one who taught me how to drive around the ranch when I was ten years old in the old work truck.” 
“Of course he lectured you. The Mustang is his baby.” 
His eyes darted away, sticking his hands in his pockets. “That he always lets you drive,” he mumbled. 
See, extremely jealous. It made you giggle. 
“You need some peanut butter with that jelly, Mr. Peña?” 
His attention came back to you, and this time, he was frowning.
“No.” He shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, baby. You know it bothers me how easily he hands over the keys to you, but I only get to drive it this once. Or at least not again until we have a kid.” 
Chucho would definitely let Javi drive the Mustang again if you had a child. 
“Did he tell you where you could and couldn’t take it?” you asked. 
His eyebrows creased. “No… He had a lot of rules about the type of terrain I could drive it on, but as long as I bring it back tomorrow with a full tank, I can drive you anywhere.” 
Stepping forward into his space, you rested your palms against his chest, his arm automatically pulling you closer. “He trusts you more than me.” 
“Why do you say that?” 
“Because I am only allowed to drive it if he’s in the car with me, and I can only go where he tells me to. He trusts you enough to let you borrow the Mustang and go wherever you want without him present—he trusts you more. Now, Mr. Peña, how about we make a quick pit stop at the bathroom to wash up, then we blow this popsicle stand so I can blow your popsicle on the drive home?” You wagged your eyebrows, Javi chuckling. 
“You can blow my popsicle later, but yeah, let’s get the fuck out of here, Mrs. Peña.” 
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With it being winter in southern Texas, the temperatures had cooled, but at this time of night, a coat wasn’t required when one went outdoors. Javier still kept the top up on the Mustang and turned on the heater to keep his wife warm since all she was wearing was that cute little dress that he hiked up enough to grip her bare thigh as they drove. 
Cielito was confused when they pulled out of his dad’s driveway and started heading in the opposite direction of town. She figured he’d take her straight home, and Javier thought her faith in him to hold out another thirty-plus minutes to drive them to their accommodations for the night was sweet. He, however, could not wait any longer and took them fifteen minutes up the road and through a gate that he had to get out and open, to the field they usually parked his pickup in to stargaze—driving off-road was on his father’s list of terrain he was not supposed to take the Mustang on, but this was a desperate time that required desperate measures, and what his father didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him. 
Javier was going slow over the uneven ground, his eyes scanning everything in the path of the headlights for any animals—thankfully, this time of year, a lot of the creatures considered dangerous were hibernating or in a state close to hibernating, and his family, who worked on the ranch, did a good job of keeping predators off his dad’s land. He was still double-checking to ensure his wife was safe, even if he wasn’t worried about them running into anything. 
“Javi?” She squeezed his hand on her thigh. 
“Yes, mi amor?” 
“I know I said stargazing was a very effective form of foreplay, but with how horny I am, all I need is a little bit of kissing and I’m good to go—there’s no need for you to woo me with your knowledge of the stars.” 
“We’re not stargazing,” he replied, bringing the car to a stop and putting it into park. He looked over at her face, which was slightly illuminated by the Mustang’s lights in front of them, and smiled. “A little bit of kissing for me and I’ll be good to go, too.” He turned in his seat toward her, taking her chin between his index finger and thumb to gently pull her forward, and he met her halfway, his lips crashing into hers. 
One kiss and the dam broke, all of their pent-up need for the other flooding their systems, his wife growling when she deepened it, sliding her tongue against his. Blood rushed to his groin, and Javier moaned when her hand pressed to the front of his pants to stroke over his thickening cock. Her tongue in his mouth, her palm between his legs, the scent of her perfume—she was driving him crazy, and he wanted her to feel the same; he got his hand under her dress, ghosting his fingers along her inner thigh to the heat at her center. His fingertips felt her arousal seeping through her panties, and he groaned at the fact she was ready to go. All he’d have to do was push aside the fabric, and he could slide right in—and he did just that with his fingers, moving the lace out of the way to press his middle and ring fingers into her sopping pussy, soaking his gold wedding band in her juices. He swallowed her shuddering moan, his crooked digits easily pumping in and out of her.  
When he decided to bring her out here, he had a plan: he was going to sit her on the hood of the car and finally eat her out, then he would’ve fucked her on it. His plan changed when he felt how wet she was for him, and now all he wanted, no, needed, was to get his dick inside her. 
He removed his fingers, Cielito chasing his lips when he pulled away, turning his attention to the steering wheel and the controls beside it. Squinting his eyes, he tried to find what he was looking for in the dark and pressed a button that made the roof begin to open. 
“Thank fuck,” he whispered under his breath. In the time it took to get the top down, Javier undid his seatbelt, pushed his seat back as far as it would go, and reclined it all the way to have it almost flat. He didn’t have to say a word when he gently tugged her arm; there wasn’t a center console between the seats, just a low column, so it was easy for her to unbuckle and crawl over into his lap while he laid down. 
Arousal was simmering in his gut and threatening to boil over. It didn’t help when she lifted his left hand and leaned down to suck his ring finger into her mouth—she hummed appreciatively at tasting herself, the sensation of her sucking his digit causing his cock to twitch, his heart pounding in his chest. 
“Turns you on that I’m wearing the ring,” he rasped. “You love that people can see I’m yours.” 
She came off of him, raising her head with a smile. “Yes,” she answered. “It’s so fucking sexy—now, it’s time to get that pretty dick out so I can sit on it.” 
He smiled at her impatiently opening his pants, getting his belt unbuckled and undone, then popping open the button and pulling down the zipper. She rose, and so did his hips, Javier shoving his slacks and boxer briefs down enough to free his throbbing length and sat once more. 
She was looking down. “The prettiest dick,” she said, and he watched her lick her palm, his mouth falling open as she took him in hand, giving him a couple of strokes. Christ, he could feel the metal of her rings and was so worked up that just her touch had him close to coming. Sweat was forming on his forehead as he tried to focus on his breathing and not blow his load all over her fingers. “If you come immediately,” she started, her other hand moving her underwear out of the way for her to notch him at her entrance. Javier swallowed hard and grabbed the meat of her thighs for something to hold onto. “It’s totally okay,” she continued. “I know you’ll make it up to me later.”
She meant what she said, and he appreciated her understanding, but he really wanted her to come first, and he was going to try his hardest to make that happen. 
Cielito didn’t give him a chance to respond before she was sliding, agonizingly slow, down his shaft, her hot, tight walls enveloping him, taking him inch by inch. He couldn’t help the pained sound he made or how his back arched, his fingers digging into her soft skin. She had her palms on his chest for leverage, her eyes fluttering closed, her head thrown back as she let out a long, drawn-out moan that lasted until she met his thighs, and he was buried to the root in her.
“Nothing feels better than you inside me,” her words were breathy. 
Javier was fighting for his life—a fire was blazing in his belly, and he was balancing on a razor’s edge to not fall over and come immediately. He gripped the soft curves of her hips to hold her flush against him because he didn’t know how much friction he could handle. 
His breaths were coming out heavier, and he gulped, telling her through clenched teeth, “Don’t move.” 
She looked at him, the soft glow of the stars high above allowing him to make out her features, and her expression said she was delighted he was so close. He was pretty sure she was the only woman on the planet who took it as a compliment when a man came way sooner than he intended. 
“I said it’s okay if you come.” She wiggled, and Javier hissed. He used more strength to keep her completely still. 
“I’m not coming before you.” 
The Mustang​​ was a little cramped, and in order for her to fit on top of him, she had to strategically place her knees on things that weren’t the seat, like the low column that the gear shift was in and a ledge on the door used for an armrest. 
“You are a stubborn man, Javier Peña,” she said. 
“I’ll show you how stubborn I am,” he replied, and she squeaked in surprise when he pulled her forward to kiss him. His hand went to her back, unzipping her dress, and she understood what he wanted, getting her arms out of the straps while he undid her strapless bra that fell into the dress’ bodice. 
Javier had her sit up again, and he stared at her above him, thinking how gorgeous she looked; she was always stunning, and he thought she was even more beautiful now that she was his wife—he couldn’t believe she had married him. He got to fuck this perfect woman for the rest of his life, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He was hard inside her and pulsating, the muscles in his stomach clenched tight with all of his effort being put into not coming. 
“Stay still,” he ordered. 
“Yes, Papí,” she sweetly replied. Her answer made him groan, his cock jerking. 
“Don’t,” he said and smacked her ass, which only made her giggle. Javier licked the pad of his thumb, then pressed it to her clit, and he loved how her breath hitched. “I’m gonna make you come,” he stated, circling the bundle of nerves. She tightened around him, and he grit his teeth, clearing his throat before he spoke again, his voice low, “I’m gonna make you come,” he repeated. “Then I’m going to fuck you, and we both know I won’t be able to last long, and that’s fine.” It was getting wetter where they were joined, her arousal dripping down to coat his balls. “Because after this—” His other hand reached to fondle her breast, her eyes squeezing shut when he rolled her nipple between his fingers. “—I’m taking you to the hotel I rented us a room at.”
“Javi,” she gasped and looked at him. 
He smiled, speeding up the pace of his thumb. “I plan on fucking all night, and I don’t want to be interrupted by Mrs. Hernandez banging on the wall because we’re being too loud—so, a hotel room—La Posada downtown.” It was the nicest hotel in Laredo and much better than the Motel 6 off the highway. “The Presidential suite, top floor. I’m gonna fuck you in the king-size bed, I’m gonna fuck you in the whirlpool tub, I’m gonna fuck you in the two-person shower, I’m gonna fuck you out on the balcony overlooking the Rio Grande, I’m gonna fuck you on every single surface in that room over the next two nights.” 
Her eyes widened. “Two nights?” 
“Yes. For everything I wanna do, one isn’t enough, and the first thing I’m doing when we get there is throwing your ass onto the bed and eating you out—my come and all—for an hour.” 
Her head fell back as she moaned. 
His fingers continued pinching and rolling her stiff nipple. Her inner walls were fluttering, and he knew she was close with how she was unable to keep quiet, the soft sounds spilling from her lips and going straight to his cock. 
“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked. “Are you gonna come for your husband? Once you go, I’m going to come deep inside your perfect pussy, and I’m going to keep you stuffed full of me—if you aren’t already pregnant, you will be.” 
Shit, that last bit almost got him. Javier’s jaw was clenched, his heart beating a mile a minute. 
It didn’t take much more to have her falling over the edge—her entire body seized up, her cunt choking his dick, as she shattered with a cry of his name. 
“Fuck,” he panted. She was spasming around him, and the moment she went lax, he grabbed her ass, lifting her enough to thrust up into her. His feet were planted on the floorboard, and he started fucking into her rapidly, grunting with each stroke. 
She fell forward and began mouthing at his neck.
“Oh, fuck,” he whined, closing his eyes. 
After getting worked up so many times tonight and now being able to give in, he was hitting the point where he couldn’t stop himself from coming in record time even if he wanted to. It felt like his heart would beat out of his chest, and his wife was now nibbling on his earlobe, which wasn’t fair. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, pleasure welling up inside him. 
The muscles in his belly were winding tight, the fire now an inferno that would explode at any second. 
Her lips pressed to his ear. “Come for me,” she whispered. “Come inside your wife. Put a baby in me.” 
She was a siren, and he was a sailor at the mercy of her call—his balls tightened up, and he pulled her ass down, sheathing himself to the hilt inside her, coming with a guttural groan. His dick jerked and pulsed with spurts of his spend gushing into her inner depths, euphoria taking over his entire being. Everything went quiet, his mind going blissfully blank and his body relaxing.
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The air was cool against your skin, yet you were warm, wrapped in Javi’s arms as you laid atop him, your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck. Here in the afterglow was when time ceased, and it felt as though you were the only two people in existence. Your body was all nice and relaxed; the need to get off had finally subsided… for now. 
Learning that your husband booked you the Presidential suite at the fancy, old historic hotel downtown and the promises he made of all of the places in it he planned to fuck you already had arousal stirring low in your gut.
Javi’s breaths had evened out, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, and though he wasn’t snoring, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was asleep right now with how hard he came. The Mustang was still running, a low rumble amongst the peace of a Texas winter’s night. 
Rustling in the grass outside the car had your ears perking, and suddenly, your husband was bolting upright with you on top of him. Your back slammed into the steering wheel, the blaring honk of the horn causing you to scream. Javi quickly got something out of the glove compartment before he pushed you to the side and down across the center column, the man wheezing when you accidentally kneed him in the dick. You were lying halfway on the passenger seat with your hands covering your head since you had no idea what the danger was while your heart pounded. 
Seconds later, a large palm pressed to your naked back, Javi’s voice a little higher than usual, “We’re safe.” He cleared his throat and spoke in a deeper tone, “Just a fucking armadillo—are you okay?” 
“Please tell me you scared the shit out of me and got hit in the dick for a giant, rabid, man-eating armadillo.” 
He huffed out a breath. “No, it’s a regular one, and from the looks of it, we scared the shit out of it—it rolled up into a ball.” 
That was something you wanted to see. You awkwardly crawled to get all the way into your seat beside him, seeing out the windshield in the light of the headlights that there was an armadillo rolled up into a ball. 
“Worth getting kneed in the groin?” you asked. 
“Nothing is worth getting kneed in the dick.” 
His answer made you snort. You needed to clean up the mess between your legs and remembered the little pack of tissues Chucho kept in the pocket of the driver’s side door. You looked over at Javi. “Can you pass me the—why the fuck are you holding a gun?!” you exclaimed, your eyes going wide. In his hand was some kind of revolver he was pointing up at the sky. 
His expression showed his confusion. “To protect us..?” 
That was obvious. You asked what you actually meant. “Where did you get the gun?”
The look on his face didn’t change. “The glove box…?” He nodded toward it. In front of you, it was still open. There wasn’t much in there, just an envelope with papers stuffed in it and a box of bullets that you assumed went with the revolver. 
Shoving your face in your hands, your voice was muffled when you spoke, “Why does your dad have a gun in his car?” 
Javi let out a long sigh and put his free hand on your back to rub soothing circles. “Baby,” he began gently, “we live in Texas—Pop lives out in the middle of fucking nowhere Texas. There are coyotes out here, mountain lions, bobcats, snakes—” You could hear him cringe with the last one; he wasn’t a fan of the reptiles. “—we have to carry around guns for our safety. You really think I take you out on Pop’s land without protection?” 
“With your aversion to condoms, I figured you like to live dangerously.” 
He huffed in amusement again. “You are the only woman I have an aversion to condoms with. In the past, I always wrapped it up because I didn’t like to take risks.” 
That had you turning your head to meet his eyes. “Why me?” 
“Why you, what?” 
“Why were you willing to take the risk with me?” 
He crookedly smiled, his hand moving to hold your cheek. “Because I trusted you. Two dates and you managed to gain my trust and steal my heart—you had me head over heels.“ Javi leaned, softly grunting as he put the gun back into the glove compartment and shut it. He kept talking, “I want you to know I’ve always been aware birth control isn’t 100% effective—“ His attention went to his door to grab the tissues that he handed to you, and you took. “—and when it crossed my mind that I could accidentally knock you up, I didn’t feel dread at the idea of raising a kid with you. It wasn’t like how I felt with—”
“She-who-must-not-be-named on our wedding day,” you interjected, not wanting to mention his ex Lorraine. 
“I won’t—you know who I’m talking about. I didn’t feel dread when I thought about having a kid with you. I mostly just worried if it happened, you’d find out about my past and wouldn’t want me in your or our child’s life.”
That was utterly heartbreaking. “I’d never keep your kid from you or kick you out of my life.”
He was softly smiling. “I know that now, but you remember how fucked up my head was before I told you about Colombia.”
That was true. He believed you would leave him when you discovered what happened during his time with the DEA.
“It fucking kills me when I remember how hard you were on yourself.” You dropped the tissues into your lap and took one of his hands into both of yours. “I’m happy you’re better now, and guess what?” 
“What?” 
You grinned. “We’re married, and I’m going to have all of your babies—all of them, every single one, and I really can’t wait to see you become a dad, ‘cause you’re gonna be amazing, and our children will be so loved.” 
His eyes were misting, and his smile matched yours. He freed his hand from yours to caress your face in his palms and kissed you. With how hard his lips pressed to yours, you could feel his love, his devotion, his happiness. This truly was the best day of his life, and it made you beyond happy to share it with him. 
Your stomach growled, and Javi pulled back to look at you. “Are you hungry?”
When he brought you the plate of food earlier, you only tried a little bit of everything, and you didn’t fill up because you were nervous about the dances. Now that all of that was done, the hunger was catching up to you. 
“Yes, can we stop by McDonald’s or something for a quick bite on our way to the hotel?” 
“No,” he replied, and you frowned. “I had Steve and Connie take a bag of leftovers that tía María put together for us back to our hotel room because I knew you wouldn’t eat enough at dinner—I figured it’d be nerves.” He shrugged. “And yes, there’s a big ass slice of cake,” reading your mind as always.
The Murphy family was staying at the same hotel and hopefully on a very different floor than your room.
His response had you smiling big. “Not even twenty-four hours married, Mr. Peña, and you’re already husband of the year.” 
He smiled and leaned in, pecking you on the lips. “Good,” he said and nudged the tip of his nose against yours. “I gotta make sure I keep my title as the hunkiest hunk to ever hunk.” 
You bursted into laughter, and he joined. 
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bluesidez · 7 months ago
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GymRat!Miguel Part 8
content warning: fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI, thigh riding 😙, thigh fucking 🤪, public indecency??? exhibitionism???, katoptronophilia aka mirror sexy time (thanks for the word jelly 🪼), just overall a really good time
word count: 4.4k, not proofread (we're only gearing up to what I assume will be another giant chapter 😷)
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GymRat!Miguel who does some sets of push-ups, sit-ups, and leg raises in place of the gym. You watch him while you wait for room service, encouraging him from the side. Your presence was especially needed during the sit-ups when you sit at his feet, holding them down and giving him kisses when sits up.
GymRat!Miguel who sings loudly in the shower after his workout. You have to answer the door with an apology as the server laughs at Miguel belting out Britany Spears.
GymRat!Miguel who finally decides to respond to his texts. He’s had enough time to cool off and your presence was like a calm breeze, kissing away at his skin.
He discards his empty plate, placing it back on the cart. You’re still chewing away at some fluffy pancakes, enjoying the views of the high-rise hotel as the default channel played soft jazz.
GymRat!Miguel who lays in your lap while you eat some fruit. He has his phone in his hands ready to type, but he opens his mouth, silently begging for you to feed him grapes and pineapple chunks.
He hums to himself happily when you comply, combing a hand through his hair. He felt so peaceful like this. Serene.
GymRat!Miguel who sighs as he opens the message app. Here we go.
Abuela 💕:
“Abuela I’ll call you tonight”
“And there will be no babies. Not now”
“There better not be!”
Pa:
“Gracias pa”
“I’m glad you were able to meet her”
“She means a lot to me”
“I can tell”
“Mijo you pack a big punch!”
“Uno más!!!”
“You got that from me 👍🏽”
“Sure did pa 😭”
Gabri 🤡🤏🏽:
“You’re such an instigator”
“It’s not instigating. It’s reporting 😌”
“‘It’s reporting ☝🏽🥸’”
“Shaddap”
“You think I’m letting a member of the robotics team bully me?”
“You have perfect pitch and play the saxophone”
“You’re not winning this battle”
“Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining my girl? 🤨”
“Direct this clown act to her”
“Not sure how she puts up with it but I’ll free her soon”
“Stfu”
“A real man would be doing OTHER things but I digress”
“Did you really have to send a pic”
“You hate me”
“It’s clear to me now”
“Anyway what’s this about Tyler punching things”
“OHHHHH”
“He got him good”
“Square in the face”
“A bloody mouth to match his nose”
“TWINEM”
“Good”
"Pa said he granted me the ability to punch"
“He can dream on about that”
“Because where tf is my strength 😒”
"He punched Tyler before"
"Your time will be soon"
"😕"
"Also Ik about Nancy cheating already"
"Tyler told me in high school"
"I didn't want to be the one to tell Kron"
"Ur better than me"
"I would have told him that after that punch"
"YOUR MOM IS A HOMEWRECKER!"
"That's not what that means but ok"
Dana:
“Does your bf know you’re lusting after others?”
“Not if you don’t tell 😙”
“….I don’t think I want to give you her number”
“You’re perfect for Gabri”
“You’re both unbearable”
“What’s unbearable is I’m not talking to your gf rn”
“It’s too many O’Haras”
“Too much testosterone”
“SAVE ME MIG’S GF”
“MIG’S GF SAVE ME!!!”
Dad….Tyler:
“It’s ok. For what it’s worth, I can tell that you had good intentions.”
“Gabri told me what happened”
“I apologize for acting out of order and punching your son, but I couldn’t let him disrespect my girlfriend and my mom. No matter how difficult she may be, I’m the one who should tell her about it. Not him.”
"I completely understand that. You did what you thought was right, and that's far more admirable than what Kron did."
"In another reality, you and Kron could get along. For now, I will aim for cordial. I will make sure that he apologizes to you, your girlfriend, and Conchata."
"I don't want an apology if it's not genuine."
"Let's move on from that. You said you wanted to make it up to me? I saw that you added more dates to the hotel. Thank you for that, you didn't have to."
"Yes! If you are willing, I would love for you and your girlfriend to meet with me. I actually arranged something for you, Gabriel, and your girlfriends. I want to hear your input before I finalize the details."
"Sure thing. Is this afternoon ok?"
"That's perfect. I'll see you then."
Ma:
Read: 11:10 AM ✓✓
“Ugh,” Miguel groans, shutting his phone off and closing his eyes.
You stop rubbing his hair and look down, “What’s wrong?”
Miguel grunts as he moves your hand to continue, “My mom wants me to come home. Not sure if I want to do that right now. Not unless I know she’s ready to be accountable for once, which I highly doubt.”
You hum in understanding, “She’s still your mom, though. You’ll have to see her eventually.”
“My mom or not, she had no right to talk to you the way she did,” Miguel said reaching his hand up to your face. “It was cruel and…strange coming towards you. She doesn’t know you. Not yet, anyway.”
It’s not like she was trying to know you, either. Miguel seemed to understand this in your silence.
“I have to go grab some clothes so she might just get her wish,” Miguel says, turning his head towards your stomach.
You look down at him, “You don’t have to. Today is my last day here.”
“Well, lucky for us, Tyler extended the stay for a few more days,” he grinned. He started to move your shirt to fondle your skin.
Your stomach twitched as his breath brushed your skin. He started to kiss along your front, head disappearing under your sweater. He hummed as he started to tug at your underwear with his teeth.
“Hey,” you say, watching his head moving around through the material. “Stop that and finish talking.”
You pulled your sweater up to reveal him, his teeth still holding the band of your panties and eyes like a cat that got caught.
He let the band go close to your stomach so it wouldn’t snap, “This visual is making me forget everything.” His eyes are heavy and wandering.
You look to where he’s looking to see that you’re essentially flashing him.
You drop your shirt in embarrassment, letting out a sound of panic.
“No, no, baby let me see.”
“No, you’re at such a weird angle.”
“All art must be viewed up close and personal.”
Miguel sat up from your lap. He watched as you huffed and pinched the neckline of your sweater, moving it for air.
"You're so confident from afar, but when I'm near you like this, you get so shy. Even in public, you can be so bold. It's just you and me here."
"It's just," you watch Miguel as he crowds your space. His mouth goes behind your ear to press his lips into your skin. "I don't know. It feels like...more when it's just us. More real."
"Does it not feel real when we're in public?"
Miguel sits back, eyes wondering to yours. There's a pinch in his eyebrows, so faint you almost miss it.
"It does! That's not what I mean."
"Then, what is it? Tell me. Talk to me."
"I want to do more with you."
"But?" Miguel holds your hands in his, stopping you from picking at the loose threads of the sweater. He rubs them with his thumbs, itching to pull you closer.
"But, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could pass out. I get overwhelmed and nervous. I don't want to say or do anything stupid. It gets harder to control myself. I feel crazy."
Oh.
Oh.
"Then there are moments when my brain fools me into thinking that you don't like me in the way that I like you. Moments when that girl from not so long ago comes back, ashamed of herself and her body. A small part of me that thinks you could date anyone else and you're settling."
Miguel takes a moment to process your words.
He takes a breath, then opens his mouth.
"You really don't understand how much you affect me, do you?"
Miguel pulled you in his lap, fed up with this charade.
You grip his shoulders, steadying your balance with how fast he grabbed you.
"Miguel-"
"I don't know everything that your last boyfriend did to you and I don't know everything that you've experienced because of your body. Baby, I don't even know what you've seen all this time to make you think you're not worthy of love and respect, but I'm here to squash it."
"I meant it when I said that I love you. I'll learn it in a hundred languages just to remind you. I'll even tattoo it on my forehead for you to be reminded of it every single time you see me."
"I don't think you need to go that far," you say, eyes warm.
"No, I think I should. Anything for you to understand me. Anything for you to see you like how I see you."
"Letting out my deepest darkest secrets here, but do you know what I did when we first met?"
You shake your head, curious.
"I had a dream about you that was so good, I fell out of my bed. Peter never lets me live it down."
"A sweet dream?"
"Now, you and I both know it was more than that. Two cold showers should answer your questions."
You hide your face in his neck, heartbeat drumming through you, "Did you really?"
"Hand to heart. I understand your feelings. I acknowledge them too, but I need you to understand mine as well. Trust me when I say that you are unbelievably sexy. I love you and your body. My eyes caught your appearance before I came to know your personality. Anybody would be lucky to have you, but I'm the luckiest because you chose me."
Miguel hugged you close and kissed your head.
"Now let's rewind. You said you feel crazy when you're close to me?"
You groan in his neck.
"Uncontrollable? Heated?"
"Miggy, stop."
"My girlfriend is head over heels for me," Miguel hummed as he rubbed his hands down your naked legs. "She wants to ruin me."
"No, I don't."
"She's still wearing my clothes with nothing underneath but her panties and is leaning all over me. Her thighs are around my waist and she just told me that she wants me."
"You put me here," you lean up and stare at him. Your cheeks were hot and your eyes were dewey.
"She's looking at me like she's upset, but now I know that her heart is going crazy. I want to kiss her."
"Then do it," you whisper.
The kiss is sweet, the taste of fruit and syrup still on your lips. You finally relax in his arms, body melted against his. His hands slip under your sweater, dancing over your back. Your skin is soft and warm, a blanket over Miguel's figure.
The time where you two connect extends deeper and longer. You let your hands venture further than the nape of his neck, roaming until you brush across his chest. Miguel's breath hitched as your nails raked his nipple, chest jumping at the impact.
You break for a second, wanting to get air, but Miguel leans back in, desperate. He's whining, groping your body all over. His noises go straight to your core, twitching above him. He matches your pace, dragging your hips across his, reveling in how fast your body was reacting to him.
When he leans back, there's a string of saliva connecting you two. He's breathing hard as he watches you.
"Can I take this off? Please," Miguel grips the bottom of your sweater, eyes pleading.
You bite your lip and slide the sweater over your head, dropping it to the bed. You bring your hands over the top of your chest, arms framing your breasts.
You can't look Miguel in the eyes, too shy, "Is this fine?"
Miguel's eyes almost turn as he watches you, so shy but so seductive. He reaches out to cup your breasts in his hands, groaning when they plush through his fingers.
"You're so," Miguel rubs his thumbs across your nipples, enjoying you twitching and gasping in his hold. "Fuck."
His gaze burned into you, hungry as you lapped his tongue around your nipples. You let out a whimper when you feel him pull your skin in, mouth hot. It doesn't beat his pleased hum, voice like a man finally getting relief.
He massages your vacant breast, movements getting harsher. His grip is like a vice making it harder for you to second-guess yourself.
You hiss and rake your hands through his hair, "B-baby, be careful."
"Lo siento, mi amor," Miguel says, kissing across your areolas. "'M sorry."
You find your breath, fighting to steady your voice, "You're on me like we didn't just do something earlier."
Miguel paused and placed his cheek on your chest, "Baby, I'm a virgin and a man, not a prude. With practice, I could go all day."
The thought of that has you tightening your legs around him, hips stuttering. Miguel shifts to pull you over his left thigh.
"Does that excite you, baby?" Miguel smirks.
You close your eyes and nod, hips rolling over his thigh, keening high as he hikes his thigh closer to your sex and grips your waist. His muscles feel so good against you, the sounds getting wetter and wetter with each swipe.
"God, you're so pretty like this," Miguel sighs. "My gorgeous girl."
Your movements are becoming more frantic, Migiuel's voice in your ears spurring you on. He was sucking into your neck, growling as you scratched against his shoulder blades.
"That's right, baby. Keep going. Use me to get off," Miguel helped your hips keep a steady pace, pulling at your briefs to a makeshift thong. The tightness of your underwear combined with his thigh and his voice sends you into overdrive.
"Miguel!" you sob, hands gripping his hair. Your body trembles as you squeeze your thighs around him, cunt pulsating around nothing but your underwear, release leaking onto his leg.
Miguel cooed as you dropped your weight against him, body limp and hips fluttering with aftershocks. You panted as you kept your head on his shoulder, willing yourself to calm down.
"Are you ok?" Miguel asks, kissing your temple, your ear, your cheek. He feels you nod into his skin, blissed out.
"I like how you called me the needy one and you're the one who came three times today," Miguel mumbled, laughing as you swatted at his pec.
"I already confessed what you do to me. This shouldn't be shocking."
"Didn't say that. 'M just happy you feel more comfortable around me. It's what I want." One last kiss to your face seals his joy.
You lift up on shaky knees, hands holding onto Miguel for dear life. Your thighs were still shaking and your underwear was ruined. Miguel's cock twitched at the essence that seeped onto his leg, watching as sticky lines dragged from his skin to yours.
He grabbed you by the waist with one hand and wiped at your slick with another.
He's about to swipe at it with his tongue until you stop him.
"Miguel! Don't do that," you say, flustered.
"What? I'm just enjoying the fruits of my labor," he pouts as you grab some napkins and clean off his hands and thigh.
"So close to eating you, yet so far," he sighs miserably. "One day."
You ignore him and look down at his erection, taking a knuckle and lining the side. It was your first time really paying attention to him down there, now that you weren't distracted by his advances.
"What about you?"
He twitched as you walked along his clothed shaft, pre-come leaking through the fabric.
"As much as I want you to continue, we have to get ready for today," Miguel jerks as you continue your ministrations with a pout on your face. "And, I need condoms if you want to take this any further."
"Not even a blowjob?" you peer at him with your deer eyes again.
Miguel took a deep breath, "I was right. You are trying to ruin me."
GymRat!Miguel who lets you know that Tyler wants to meet you both after you both have changed clothes for the day. Something about a surprise.
"I love surprises!" you say turning to Miguel with a smile on your face. "As long as it's nothing like last night. I think it'll be ok."
Miguel matches your smile and presses his lips to yours.
GymRat!Miguel who stops at his home briefly, trying to get in and get out. He manages to fill up his travel bag, drop off his laundry, and give Gabriel a heart attack all before his mom notices he's there.
"Where are you going?" Gabriel asks with his hand over his heart, headphones lopsided around his neck.
"None of your business, nosy."
"Uh, it kind of is my business. You think you're grown when you're really not."
Miguel rolls his eyes. He didn't really want to tell Gabriel, but sometimes he couldn't say no to him.
"We're going out to see Tyler. He has a surprise for us. He also said he arranged something for us including you and Dana."
"Oh shit! Ok. And if mom asks where you are?"
"Tell her I'll come by tomorrow. I'm spending the next few days with my girlfriend."
"Alrighty," Gabriel sing-songs, placing his headphones back on his head. "You kids be safe. Don't scare my girl away."
Miguel smacks Gabriel across the head and runs out the door before he can catch up.
GymRat!Miguel who just laughs at your face while you frantically unlock the car to let him in.
"Baby, what's wrong?" you ask, voice in a panic.
"A string bean is trying to attack me," he responds, giggling as Gabriel runs out of the house.
"I'm getting you back for that you oaf!" Gabriel yells as Miguel backs out of the driveway. He stops his anger to wave at you, which you return with a sweet smile.
"Baby, you're encouraging him."
GymRat!Miguel who guides you through the doors of a cafe that Tyler recommended. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his stark white hair and light clothing. The only semblance of color on him was his silver jewelry.
He sat there, typing away at his phone, oblivious to the people around him who found familiarity in his form.
"Dad," Miguel said, the word funny on his tongue. He tried to make an effort to refer to him as his father in public, something Tyler appreciated greatly.
"Son!" he got up and engulfed him in a hug, giving you a softer version afterward. "It's good to see you both."
"It's lovely to see you again as well, Mr. Stone," you say, giving Miguel a smile when he pulls your chair out for you. "Thank you so much for thinking of us after all that's happened. Thank you for paying for my stay as well, the hotel is very lovely."
"Anything for Miguel's loved ones," he smiles in a way that has a hint of Miguel. You feel better going into the rest of this meal.
GymRat!Miguel who almost chokes on his coffee before Tyler can finish his sentence.
"A yacht?!"
"Is it too much? I can do something else to your liking," Tyler frets, wiping his hands on his slacks. "I'm not sure what all kids your age like nowadays."
"I've never been on a yacht. so I don't even know how to react," Miguel responds.
The two of them are sporting the same deer-in-headlights look.
"I'm sure it would be a great experience for all of us. If everyone doesn't mind, I'm sure we can get together and have a great time," you say, helping the two of them out. "Something nice to start the summer off."
"That's great! I will have everything ready by the beginning of next month then," Tyler says, mood lifting immediately. He was a lot like a golden retriever. "With that in order, I'd like to grant you this."
He takes his wallet out, reaching in to grab a card.
As he slides it across the table, your eyes grow big.
It's a black card with T. Stone pressed across the bottom.
"What's this for?" Miguel asks, staring at the card with building curiosity.
"You all need clothes for the trip, don't you?" Tyler asks. "And I'm sure you need more clothes to wear this week. Please take this, I don't mind. I trust you not to go overboard. I'll let you know when to give it back."
Miguel took the card in his hands, the weight of it heavier than any of his own.
"I guess it's time for a shopping spree," Miguel said, a smile growing on his face.
GymRat!Miguel who drives you straight to the mall. The windows are down as you both laugh and sing to the song on the radio. Miguel wishes he could record this moment, but for now, he dials it back to replay in his memory.
GymRat!Miguel who is happy to carry your bags and encourages you to buy more. Whenever you start to feel like you've gone overboard, he just whispers "black card" in your ear like a devil on your shoulder.
GymRat!Miguel who convinces you to walk around the name-brand stores. He did have Tyler's card, but he was also thoroughly watching what you gravitated towards. He locked away so many gift ideas for later.
GymRat!Miguel who joins you in the mirror of a shades shop. The both of you take pictures with coordinating glasses and you giggle as Miguel makes silly faces in some of them.
GymRat!Miguel who becomes your doll as you pick out outfits for him. He's smiling down at you as you put different shirts up to his body, mumbling to yourself as you make decisions. So pretty.
GymRat!Miguel who waits while you try on some clothes, giddy whenever you show him a new outfit. You managed to find clothes that coordinated with his and you're super excited about it.
"Close your eyes!" you yell through the door.
He does so and listens for you to walk out. After you take a while, he opens his eyes a little.
"Baby, no peeking," you chastise.
He huffs and waits a little longer.
"Ok. 1, 2, 3, open!"
His eyes land on you in a dress that hugs your curves like no other. Your chest fills out the top perfectly and seeing your stomach through the front is driving him mad.
"Do you like it?" you turned around, giving Miguel a grand view of how your ass was sitting in the dress.
"Do the dressing rooms have a time limit?"
You blink at him owlishly, "No? Why?"
GymRat!Miguel who drags all of your bags and you back inside of the dressing room with lightning speed. As soon as he locks the door, he's attached to your lips, kneading at your ass and hips.
You gasp in his mouth, shocked at how fast he's moving.
"Miguel, what- oh," you sigh as he leans down and pulls your dress up, face buried in your neck.
"You look so good, mi amor. I can't help it."
GymRat!Miguel who almost cums when you pull his dick out. Your eyes grow along with his erection, watching as he twitches in your hold. You've never taken anyone this big and from your hesitance, Miguel can gather this much.
"We don't have to do anything. In fact, you don't have to do that here," he pants.
"You mean take you down my throat?" you ask, running your thumb over his head, watching in awe as liquid seeped out. Miguel bit his hand to quiet his moans. "I'll wait until we're somewhere more private and less noticeable that I'm on my knees for you."
Miguel looks at the open space under the dressing room door, "Yeah that's probably for the best."
GymRat!Miguel who places you in front of him, both of you facing the mirror. Your dress is bunched up and Miguel is rocking his cock in between your thighs.
He's bent down, biting lightly on your shoulder so that he doesn't shout. Your thighs were so warm and plush against him and his pre-cum was spewing out of him like a fountain.
"You feel so fucking good, baby," he moans a little too loud after a few minutes.
GymRat!Miguel who watches you in the mirror. Your tits were so close to slipping from the top of your dress, the impact from his hips jerking your entire body. He grabbed at both of them, watching as you moan at the contact. His slaps got louder and louder, milky fluid running down your legs.
GymRat!Miguel who is overcome with need when you turn and run your tongue across his earlobe. He convulses as his release spurts across the room, landing on the mirror. He grips your hips and breathes hard into your skin, the tempo of his heart moving quick.
You pat his head and praise him, heavy eyes following your hand as you rub his tip that's still rubbing through your thighs. He whines, sensitive, but not moving away from you.
GymRat!Miguel who wipes you down carefully with some wipes you have in your purse. Luckily you both haven't ruined yet another pair of underwear.
He kisses you softly when he finishes, little confessions of love traveling from his lips to yours.
GymRat!Miguel who checks the dressing room one last time, making sure he's gotten any evidence of his removed from the area. Your green dress is in his arms and you've changed back to your outfit.
The area is clean, but there are fresh hickeys on your neck, something he got carried away with.
GymRat!Miguel who walks out like nothing happened. You on the other hand, hand over some extra clothes you didn't like to a worker in slight embarrassment. He eyes you both with a look of horror.
GymRat!Miguel who feeds you Auntie Anne's in the crowded food court. You hum happily after each bite. He dusts cinnamon off the corner of your lips with a smile.
GymRat!Miguel who moves from dusting to leaning across the table to lick the crumbs off when a table full of guys keeps eying you.
"What was that for?" you asked, oblivious to the hound dogs around you.
"Nothing. I just love you, baby."
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dividers by: @plutism 🩵
a/n: I got a very useful lesson on condoms and BJs while writing this chapter. It won't ever be applied to this fic, BUT it was still kinda fun nonetheless.
HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! Leave a like, a reblog, and COMMENTS if you did!!! 🩵
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lovecla · 2 months ago
Text
IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.
chapter eight:
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<last chapter> <next chapter>
➴ warnings: none!!
➴ word count: 3.6k
➴ author’s note: don’t you guys love when people kiss and make up?
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liked by jennaortega, arianagrande, elblue6 and 1,698,928 others
sophiamontenegro thanks for having me, new york 🎅🏻
View all 8,646 comments
mtv JAW IS ON THE FLOOR
trevorzegras you should’ve come to anaheim
sophiamontenegro trevorzegras and u should fuck off
user1 sophiamontenegro trevorzegras I wanna know the beef between them so bad someone put me in soph’s close friends list
user2 user1 im pretty sure its just Trevor who doesn’t know how to take a hint…
arianagrande i love you
morgan.grace you’re so fucking hot Sophia the hell
user4 PROUD TO SAY THAT I WAS IN THAT CROWD
user5 damn how did Jack fumble this 😂
— ♡
DECEMBER always brought more work than you’d like to have but for the first time since you started working as a singer, you were grateful for it.
You had so many appearances, so many fans to see, so many concerts to do. You were grateful singing was your favorite thing to do because time passed and you didn’t even notice it.
But, now some of the fuss calmed down and you were able to spend time doing things that weren’t related to your career, like;
“Sophia, come on, you’re gonna be late!” Grace shouted from the living room and you laughed, pouring the butter flavored popcorn into a bowl. “Sophia!”
“Jesus, Grace, calm down,” you shouted back, looking for napkins. “It’s not like we have to be there or whatever.”
Today the Devils were playing against the Blackhawks and Grace asked you if you both could watch it at your house.
“We don’t have to if you think it will make you sad, but i really wanted to watch Nico tonight.” Grace smiled, not even trying to hide how she was head over heels for him.
“It’s okay, Grace, I swear. I want to see Nico too,” you smiled, trying to hide the fact that you’d secretly been watching all of their games, desperate to catch a glimpse of Jack’s blue eyes. “We can do a girls night.”
“But you’re losing all the good shit,” she whined. “The Blackhawks players are fine, too. That Bedard kid is a cute, little honeybun.”
You chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and sitting on the couch beside her, putting the bowl on the table.
“He has a girlfriend, y’know. He dates his teammate’s sister, Ellie I think.”
“Oh, I think I saw a picture of them together at a party last month,” she tapped her chin with her index finger. “They do look cute together.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, watching as the commentator introduced the players. “Who do you think is going to win?”
“Girl, I don’t like to tell anyone my predictions because what if I jinx it?” She stared at you, like you were crazy just for asking.
You rolled your eyes. “Ever since you and Nico started fucking you became awfully surpersticious.”
“Sophia Montenegro!” She raised her arms, kicking you with her feet. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your sister.”
“Which gives me permission to say that you and Nico are fucking. Who cares?” You kicked her back, starting a kicking fight.
You both just stopped when you were both out of breath and the game was starting. The first period was going surprisingly smooth for the Blackhawks, which made you— secretly— worry.
Jack has probably seen better days. You would always say that he’s the number one player in the team because for you he absolutely is, but even someone who didn’t know anything about Hockey could tell that he was lacking.
You bit your lips and squeezed your thighs because, even after everything, Jack looked so fucking good. Especially with the black Devils uniform. He looked handsome and you knew that he was all of that, and he’d always be.
Sometimes you’d think about how good the sex between the two of you was, and you’d wonder if you’d find anything like that ever again.
At the end of the first period, the scoreboard read 2-1, the Blackhawks winning. You and Grace were in the middle of a discussion about how her ex looked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo when the commentator started showing the celebrities who showed up to the game.
“Who even cares about the celebrities who showed up?” You threw popcorn at the screen. “Or even better, since when do they show celebrities? Aren’t they supposed to be interviewing the players or whatever?”
“You know a lot for someone who doesn’t watch the games,” Grace teased you, and you just pushed a handful of popcorn inside your mouth. “And sorry to say this, sweetie, but if people didn’t care about celebrities, you and I wouldn’t have a job.”
You rolled your eyes, paying attention to the TV again.
“So, tell me, Nat, I’ve heard that we have some pretty famous people here today.” The announcer talked to the reporter who was standing in some kind of expensive room Sophia didn’t know the name of.
The black woman just smiled, nodding her head and bringing the microphone closer to her face.
“That’s right, Shaan. Some well known people blessed us with their presence here today…”
“I hope it's Ariana Grande or some shit like that.” Grace muttered beside you.
“Oh remind me to call her later, I need to visit her next time I’m in LA,” you replied mindlessly, still watching the sports channel.
“…And among all of these people, we have the one and only, Harris Dickinson and his girlfriend, Chloe McGill!”
“What?!” You heard Grace yelling beside you, which confirmed that what you were seeing wasn’t just your head trying to play games with you.
There he stood, in all his glory, with the cocky smirk that once gave you butterflies and was now making you sick, with his arm wrapped around a girl’s waist.
“Am I tripping or that girl looks awfully like you?”
You looked at the scene in front of you, where the reporter was now interviewing Harris with an enthusiastic smile. The girl beside him, Chloe you think, indeed looked a lot like you.
“She… she looks just like how I did when I started dating him,” you concluded, feeling sick all over again. “Even the fucking bangs, Grace.”
She put her hand on your left arm, caressing you. “I’m so sorry, bubba. Do you want me to turn it off?”
“No, ‘course not,” you reassured her, trying to smile. “I’m fine, I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”
“Okay,” Grace whispered. “Okay.”
“…I’m just happy to be here, y’know?” Harris stated, still showing his pearly white teeth. “I’m a huge Devils fan, just like my girl here.”
“That’s the biggest lie he’s ever said,” you laughed, feeling sorry for how pathetic he is. “He deadass couldn’t even stand the thought of Hockey, or any sport for that matter. What the hell is he even saying?”
“Well, apparently that little girlfriend of his, is the daughter of one of the Devils’ coaches,” Grace promptly replied, and you looked at her, ready to ask how the hell she knew that, but seeing the phone in her hand. “They’re like, rich as fuck.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Harris’ type to me.” You mumbled, praying that the second period would come faster.
And maybe God did hear your prayers because not even five minutes later, the Devils and the Blackhawks were back on the ice. The game was nerve wracking, your nails and eardrums long gone from how much you’d bitten them and how loud Grace screamed during the game.
Jack was smooth on ice, the best you’ve seen him playing all season, even before you and him fought. It was satisfying to watch him doing what he loved and you were happy that he was finally getting back on track.
Two hours later, the game ended; the Devils won. Grace cheered and jumped around while you laughed at her, happy to see her happy. Even if you didn’t understand much of hockey and even if you didn’t care about it, you were also thrilled, because you knew Jack would be happy.
You kinda hated your mind for always thinking about him but you couldn’t help it. Not when you saw how handsome he looked and not when you still loved him. A lot.
The same reporter from before, Nat, continued to talk, interviewing some of the players from the team. Grace whined about being hungry and you rolled your eyes, getting up to cook for her.
“What do you want?” You asked, opening your cabinets. “I can make pasta for us.”
“Ugh, yes, please,” she fake-moaned and you laughed. “If I’m going to fuck Nico tonight, Imma need all the carbs in the world,”
“You’re disgusting. I hope you know that,” you answered back, putting the water to boil.
“For Nico Hischier? Hell yes I am!”
You cut the onions and garlic, before putting olive oil on a separate pan and adding them. Grace continued to yap about the game, pointing out all the best players and who she liked best, while you just nodded and cooked.
“Ooh, they’re having a fancy celebrating party tonight!” She yelled from the living room, even if you could still see her and the TV because you had an open kitchen, grabbing your attention. “Is it a gala? I hope it is, Hockey players look so fucking good in suits.”
“And they say I’m the horny one…” you mumbled, putting the tomato sauce inside the pan.
“Can this woman give us some information we actually want to hear? I don’t care if they have points or not, I just want to see them in suits!”
“She’s just doing her job, Grace, stop being a whore.”
Moving around the kitchen, you finished Grace’s dinner, and grabbed a plate for her, not after filling up a glass of cold water and grating some cheese.
You went back to the living room, placing everything in front of her, while she hugged you from behind, giving you neck kisses.
“I am going to wife you up, baby!”
You giggled. “Shut up and eat, weirdo,”
She just let you go and sat on the floor, swallowing the pasta like it was her last meal.
You both watched as they showed the party, all of the players there, people laughing and smiling for pictures. Jack wasn’t interacting with the reporters, and you thought it was weird, even if you knew he low-key hated them.
“…so, yeah, I’m definitely happy we won tonight but we still have to work hard—” Mercer suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence, leaving the woman— Nat— beside him confused. He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “Is that Jack fighting someone? That’s sick! Film that, baldy!” He asked the cameraman.
You and Grace stopped talking and stared at each other. The camera suddenly changed angles and showed a body you knew way too well on top of another body you, unfortunately, also knew well.
“Jesus, Jack is punching Harris in the face!” Grace announced, like you weren’t watching it yourself.
The angles weren’t good because you’d bet money the cameraman wasn’t expecting to record a fight tonight, but it was still pretty damn clear that Jack was punching Harris’ face repeatedly, while his girlfriend screamed and cried and the other players tried to get him off Harris’ face.
Harris fought back, but even though he tried, he wasn’t used to fighting. Unlike Jack, who threw every punch with force and precision.
“It seems like our number eighty-six, Jack Hughes, is having a fist fight with the actor Harris Dickinson!”
“Stop trying to state the obvious, bitch, film the fucking fight!” Grace yelled.
“Grace, calm down.” you whispered, watching as the camera focused on Jack again, this time him being dragged by Nico and Nathan while he shouted at them to let him go.
This was bad. Like, bad, truly bad. They focused on Harris’ face for just a second, and it was enough— his face was all bloody and he was probably going to have a black eye for a week, with how swollen his eye was. Jack had most likely broken his nose and shit wasn’t looking good.
“Oh my God, why did he do this!” You got up from the couch, pacing around the room. “Fuck, does he know what this is going to do to him? Harris is dating the Coach’s daughter, what the hell!”
Grace was also too stunned to speak, something that did not happen often. You could tell she was just as distressed as you.
“Harris Dickinson is going to the hospital with his girlfriend Chloe and his father-in-law, Coach Ryan McGill.”
“What the fuck, this is bad,” you put your hands on your head, trying to figure out what to do. “I need to do something.”
Grace sighed, loudly. “I should be the brain in our friendship but… yeah. I mean, I know you guys are out of contact right now but this… he definitely did this for you…”
“Yeah, Grace, make me feel worse, go ahead.” You hissed.
“I’m not trying to make you feel worse, baby, you know why he did that!” She raised her arms. “You should talk to him. This obviously isn’t working for any of you.”
“Grace—”
“No, you will hear me now!” She talked on top of you, also getting up. “I’ve watched you put on a fake smile and pretend you’re fine and I didn’t say anything because I knew you had to figure it out yourself, but I can’t do this anymore. You’re drowning yourself in work, you spend half of your time at your studio and the other half at John’s studio. You don’t go out, you don’t live.”
“Grace.” You tried again.
“And usually I’d say something like: ‘get over that fucking asshole’ or ‘he isn’t worth it’!” She walked back and forth. “But the worst part is that Nico told me Jack is just like you!”
That made you stop. “What?”
“He’s not at parties, he’s not hanging out with the team, he’s not goofing around. All he does is sleep, eat and go to practice. And, fuck, Nico doesn’t know what to do because Jack never acted like this before.”
“Grace, what…” you breathed, almost yanking your hoodie with how much force you were holding it. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it’s so fucking obvious you both love each other yet you won’t do anything!” She lamented, staring at your eyes. “I can’t watch you fall apart like this. You have to tell him that you want to be with him.”
“Grace, I can’t— I can’t do that.” You stuttered, trying your hardest not to cry.
“Sophia,” she whispered, grabbing your hands. “That man loves you. He just punched your ex-boyfriend on national television, with everyone watching. I stand with what I said back at that dreadful Halloween party, I’ve seen how he looks at you. And he loves you. Jack Hughes loves you, Sophia.”
You let her words sink in, nodding once. Grace was bossy, delusional and a bit insane too but she was right. You needed to do something.
“Okay,” you agreed, holding her against your body. “What do I do?”
“Shit, I didn’t think you’d agree with what I was saying… I don’t know?”
“You’re such a dumbass sometimes,” you laughed and she pinched your butt. “I think… I think I’m going to his house.”
“That’s a bald ass move and so right. Want me to go with you?”
“No, I’m good. I don���t even know if he’ll hear me out but I’ll try?” You stepped back, grabbing your car keys and purse.
“Call me if anything goes wrong,” she blinked, going back to the couch. “If you don’t, I’ll call you and risk interrupting your fuck.”
“Like I’d ever pick up,” you joked, leaving the house.
Jack lived thirty minutes away from you, and alongside with that, it was a Friday night in Newark— of course the streets were filled with cars. It took you an hour to get there but even so, Jack’s car wasn’t parked in front of his garage like it used to.
You turned your car off, and waited. You could wait outside but with how cold it was, it was safer for you to wait inside. You couldn’t risk getting sick.
Seconds turned into minutes and when the one hour mark came, you sighed.
“Maybe he isn’t coming home tonight,” you said to no one, tired of waiting. You knew you could call him, but you weren't entirely sure he’d pick up. “Maybe it’s just traffic.”
You decided to wait a little bit more, half an hour. If Jack wasn’t there by the end of it, you’d just come back tomorrow. Fortunately, shortly after that, Jack’s car was parked outside of his house.
You watched as he got out of it, opened the back door and grabbed his duffel bag. Taking a deep breath, you left your car and closed the door silently.
Walking to his porch with fast steps, you called him. “Jack!”
He stopped immediately, turning around to face you. He had a bandage on his eyebrow and one on his cheek. Your heart tugged on your chest.
“Soph?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.
You stepped closer, smiling awkwardly.
“Hi,” you said, softly, putting your hands inside your pockets. “Can we… hum… talk?”
He stared at you for a second, before nodding and turning around again, opening his door and letting you inside the house first. You thanked him and stepped inside, taking in the sight you missed so much, his home.
You both stayed quiet for a while; he put his things away and you stood there, weirdly. You didn’t know how to start the conversation, so you just stared at him. He looked tired, dark circles adorning his face, hair messy and face a bit swollen. Even if he looked hurt, he looked ten thousand times better than Harris, who was probably in the emergency room at the local hospital.
“Jack,” you started, noticing how his body went stiff and he stopped moving. “Why did you do it?”
You didn’t give him a chance to reply, stepping closer and putting your hand on his face, feeling the hotness of it, and realizing you missed him more than you knew.
“Jesus, Jack, do you even realize what you did?” You whispered, moving your thumb up and down. “He’s dating your coach’s daughter. He’s a powerful man, baby.” The pet name slipped out of your tongue, but you didn’t want to take it back.
“Fuck,” he breathed, grabbing your wrist and kissing it. “Say it again, Soph.”
Maybe someone else would need him to clarify it better, explain further. But not you. Not when the love you felt for him ran deep inside your soul.
“Baby,” you whispered again, watching as he closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Sophia, fuck, what did you do to me?” His voice sounded so tender, you could feel your body wanting nothing more than to melt inside his arms. “I can’t— Fuck.”
“Jack, you need to understand that what you did, baby, it could cost you a lot—”
“I know. Soph, I know that. And I still would break his asshole’s nose again and again.”
“Why did you do it?”
He stepped away, and you immediately wanted him to come back. “Why did I do it? Isn’t it obvious?” He laughed, humorlessly. “Sophia, I am in love with you. I love you.”
You felt your cheeks getting wet, and only then did you realize you were crying.
“I didn’t understand it sooner because, hell, I have never loved a woman before that wasn’t my mom, and even then, it’s not even close to what I feel towards you,” he ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think being in a relationship was for me, I didn’t even want it. But now I look at you and—” he looked at you, blue eyes brighter than you’d ever seen. “I look at you and I realize you’re all I want.”
You were fully crying now, the tears running down your face like models on a runway. Your hands were shaking, and you wanted to scream at him.
“You’re it for me, baby,” he stepped closer, gently putting his hands on your waist, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I know that you’re upset, and I know this isn’t easy for you. We all got bags full of shit that we don’t want, but I will unpack them for you, baby. Just… just let me.”
“Jack,” you sniffled, trying to stop crying. “I need you to know that I love you, too. But,” you pressed your lips together, organising your thoughts. “You need to know that sometimes it’s going to be hard for me. I don’t trust so easily anymore and I’m sorry for it but that’s just who I am.”
You could swear you could feel his smile, while he held you tighter. “It’s okay, Soph. When I tell you that I want you, I don’t mean only the good parts. I want you whole. I want the bad, the good and the in-between,”
“What if,” you hold him impossibly closer. “I don’t want you to get tired of me.”
“Tired of you?” He chuckled. “I want to marry you.”
You stepped away from his like he was on fire. Frowning, you raised your finger.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Hughes. Besides that, you’re literally twenty-two.”
“I don’t mind you being my old sugar mommy,” he shrugged, smiling.
“Call me old again, Jack Hughes, and I promise you will never hear from me again.” You smiled too, and for the first time in probably two months, it felt real.
“Yes, ma’am,” he stopped smiling, stepping closer to you again. Holding your wrists to his mouth, he kissed the right first before moving onto the next. After he was done, he placed them on his neck, grabbing your waist.
You stood on your toes, trying to stay face to face with him.
“Can I be your boyfriend?”
You smiled. “I guess you can.”
“You guess?” He bickered back, plastering his white teeth for you. “Can I kiss you, baby?” He whispered, kissing your cheeks. Then your nose, then your forehead. Always gentle and steady. “Soph, sweetheart, can I kiss you?”
Instead of answering, you just glued your lips together, moaning because you had missed this so much. His lips felt like the sweetest thing in the world and when he touched your tongue with his, you were sure you had turned into butter and was now melting.
Maybe your forever wasn’t so distant at all.
215 notes · View notes
rklve · 1 year ago
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RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART TWO
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summary: your life choices left not only yours, but jeon jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around you forever.
➣ genre/au: exes to lovers; angst; slow burn; fluff; smut.
➣ pairing: chef!jk x veterinarian!reader
➣ 8.9k words
warnings: e2l. oc broke koo's heart :( but she did not mean it. they both overthink too much. jk is such a pet dad (BAM IS HERE YAY). oc is a mess. mutual pining. a lot of angst (sorry!). jungkook is a simp, head over hells crazy about oc. fluff bc why not. drinking. jk has a big dick. teasing. cursing. orgasm denial. fingering. breast play (jungkook is weak for tits). clit play. squirting. multiple orgams. hand kink. choking kink. oc loves tattoos, oral (f. receiving). unprotected sex (don't!!!). spitting. lots of prasing. confused feelings.
I can feel your touch, I remember your kiss, 그 말은 아팠지 and I miss you
part one | part two | drabble one
You run to the car once he gets inside and unlocks the door. Immediately you turn on the heater and the radio at the same time. It all feels natural, like riding a bike. The start might feel rusty, but once you get your feet on the pedal, your brain will take you to memory lane. It’s like you’ve always been there. Like you’ve never left.
Jungkook just stares, and then you realize what you’ve just done. “I-I’m sorry. Just thought you’d be freezing. And… old habits.” you stumble over the words and looks straight ahead with your eyes growing bigger from embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
“‘S’fine.” Jungkook cuts you off before you start babbling again. Won’t admit he wanted you to do that. This is one of the things he misses the most. Ordinary stuff. You, taking care of him. You, choosing one of your favorite Justin Bieber's songs on his playlist so you two can sing it all loud on the way home. Just you. Being there.
“I’m at my parents tonight, by the way.” His stomach drops. he expected it, but it still hurts. It’s a bad sign. You’re leaving again soon. Just like you did on Christmas last year. Spent 3 days with your family and went back to Australia like nothing happened. At least that’s what he heard from Taehyung, ‘cause he wasn’t here to witness it. He had travelled with his parents back then. But now he‘s here, and he can hear his heart start cracking again just by the thought of it. He’s dumb. So fucking dumb.
“That’s the reason I didn’t want to bother you.” you sigh “I wanted to surprise them but they went to my aunt’s today. Some family celebration I’m not aware of.” you continue as you look past the car window “I found out when I got there and everything was locked up. So I decided to go to Lola’s but found out she was out with Jin for the weekend too. So I just left my baggage at her door and came to the cafe to spare some time ‘till my parents get b— I’m sorry, I’m just babbling shit as usual”
“Just go on, I’m listening” he says. Usually he’s the one talking thru his elbows but knows you do that when you’re nervous too. 
“Right. So, you can drop me off at my parents and I’ll get my stuff tomorrow at Lola’s, if that’s okay.” you look back at him now “I’ll wait till they come back home.”
“Have you lost your mind back in Melbourne?” he says looking at the road with a big frown displayed “Not gonna leave you alone by your parents door. In this fucking weather. I’d never do that.” he sighs “You know me better than that, Bee.”
You freeze as you hear him calling you that. Just like he did minutes ago when you called him by his nickname. It’s bellow the belt and he knows it. Probably the reason he said it at the first place. Or not. Maybe it’s just force of habit and he doesn’t even care about that nickname anymore.
“We’ll get your baggage and head to mine. You can stay and call your parents. Wait ‘till the rain calms down and I can take you there.” he says and waits to hear a no from you. But you stay quiet. “Or you can call an uber. Whatever you want. Okay?”
“Okay.” you say, still a little bit unsure. Doesn’t want to bother him. Mess with his plans for a friday night. Your parents house is kinda far from here. You say nothing anyway, ‘cause you also think it’s the safer way out of this situation right now.
He helps you pick up your stuff at Lola’s and head to the other apartment complex two streets away. The ride back to his house is quick and calm. It’s a one-song-away route. A route that is very known by you. You’ve been there so many times, it’s tattoed in your brain. Think you could find your way back there even if you’re blindfolded. 
Finally the two of you reach to his door, and you can already hear some sniffing on the other side. A few more seconds and an aggressive scratching follows. Jungkook opens the door and gets in with your bags. 
“Hey, buddy. Dad’s home.” You see the now giant dog lick his owners hand, then he looks at you and it’s pure euphoria. He runs fast and puts his big paws in front of you. The next thing you know you’re with your ass on the floor, feeling how much he missed you as he continually licks all over your face swaying his tail from side to side.
“I know baby, I know.” you giggle “I missed you too!” 
“Bam! Behave” Jungkook says startled by the way the puppy reacted to you. Quickly leave your bags on the corner of the living room and comes to your rescue. “You can’t just hoop on people like that, man. You’re too big!”
“It’s okay, he’s just a giant baby.” you say as you get up again and start caressing his plain caramel fur. 
“You okay?” he asks looking you up and down to see if you hurt yourself.
“Jungkook, I’m fine. You know I deal with animals all the time.”
He softly nods. Yeah, of course he knows. It’s the whole reason you left him anyways. For a fucking job offer. At some big ass veterinary hospital five thousand miles away. Out of the blue. Like he meant nothing to you. And just like that, everything goes back to him and he gulps away his anger. Doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable right now. You just got here. Can’t be okay with the idea of you leaving already.
So he just calls Bam and leads him to his separated room, where his food and little house are, alongside all of his toys. “Stay here a little bit, buddy. I’ll bring you out later okay?” 
It’s like Bam understand every word he says, as he goes inside his little house and lays down “Good boy.”
Jungkook decides to put some dry clothes before he goes back to you. Takes a little while to choose one, but denies it’s because he wants to make a good impression. Ends up with a plain black t-shirt anyways.
He’s back to the living room and sees you looking around the house with curiosity. It is quite different, you think. Not in a bad way. It’s more sophisticated. The new furniture gives that vibe. All grey-ish. You like it. Matches him and his Chef persona. His kitchen is gorgeous as well. So many more pans that before. One of each size. You still don’t know the bare minimum about it. They all do the cooking and that’s all.
“You hungry?” he asks, realizing you stopped your inspection at the kitchen but never left.
“Kinda.” you say, and right away your stomach growls loud and calls you by your lie. “Okay, very hungry.”
You both laugh and Jungkook starts to pick up his utensils. One of his biggest pans. A big ass spoon. A cutting board. You lost count of how many things he puts on the table.
“Need a hand?” you say, just to be sure. You both know you’re terrible at the kitchen. But you’re at least able to cut some vegetables.
“‘S’fine. You’re probably tired from the flight. Go take a rest.” he says already on multiple duties over the kitchen. You have no idea what he’s cooking, but trust him anyway. He knows what you enjoy like the back of his hand. Knows what you love to eat, and knows you love his food more than anything else in the world. 
So you just hum, silently agreeing with him.
You sit up at the couch, and realize it’s a new one too. It’s a big one, and still has that smell like a recently unfolded present. You turn on Netflix. Wonder if you’re too comfortable at this house when you shouldn’t. Are you two going to be friends now? Did he forgive you? Or is he just being kind? 
Trying to clean your head for a little bit you pick up your favorite tv show: School of Chocolate. It’s kinda addicting. You know Jungkook claims to hate it but secretly loves it. He always used to argue when you put it in and ended up seated alongside you mesmerized with those big ass sculptures. 
“Fuckin’ waste of chocolate.” he suddenly says back in the kitchen. He is able to see the tv from there as well, but he’s concentrated on cutting some bacon anyways. “And some of them can’t even do the easiest tasks. Ends up looking like dog’s poop”
“Are you spoiling me? I didn’t watch this episode yet!” you scream looking back at him “Can’t believe you watched it before me” you giggle “I’m probably the biggest fan of the show.”
“It came out yesterday” he quickly replies “you’re such a fake fan.”
You just puff, feeling insulted by his words.
“Just admit you only watch it ‘cause you think the Chef’s hot”
“Amaury is not my type” you pan back instantly but quickly regret it. What the fuck are you thinking, flirting with him? God, you’re so stupid. He must hate you right now. Definitely will kick you out hungry and cold on the street at any minute now. But Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Maybe he didn’t hear it. If he did, he just plays dumb. Continues to prepare whatever he is cooking and leave you to watch it.
On the kitchen, Jungkook’s heart is beating thru his ears. Can’t believe he heard you. Heard you flirting. If it was a year ago, he would drop the dinner and go towards you. Kiss your smart mouth and laugh with you. Say you better not adore any Chef more than you adore him. Pull you back to the sofa. Kiss your pretty waist and take dessert before dinner is even served. 
But he can’t do that. ‘Cause you’re not his anymore. You’re not part of this reality anymore. His reality. You live in a whole new country now and he wouldn’t survive letting you in again knowing you’d leave him anytime soon. So he just shuts it down. Pretends he didn’t hear anything, ‘cause it’s better this way.
A couple of minutes later dinner is ready. He made your favorite dish. Coincidentally he had some vegetable broth ready-made in the refrigerator from Wednesday and the idea came up in his mind. He’s finishing the details and hears you entering the kitchen.
“Where do you put the plates now?” you softly say looking up at him.
“Above you, on your left.” he points out and you go for it right away. Picks up the cutlery and puts everything on the dinner table. His chest pangs, ‘cause it’s just like old times. You used to do this a lot together. Almost every weekend. Or whenever you crashed up at his. He loves to spoil you with his food. Kinda his love language, he figures now. 
He grabs the wine from the refrigerator. One of your favorites. He remembers this too. You’re not a big fan of wine but this one is so sweet you can’t refuse. You’re a sweet tooth after all.
“Mmm. Red wine. The sweet one. What are we celebrating?” you play around as you sit. Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. Won’t admit he bought it thinking about you. Thought he would drink a whole bottle and you’d disappear from his mind like magic.
You didn’t.
“This one was sitting for a while here, gotta get rid of it. Swear nobody likes this shit but you, Bee.”
You try to ignore the nickname again. Tell yourself he only said it as a joke. The wine is sweet. You like sugar. You’re like an annoying bee. Everyone gets it. You’re just like any other bee. Not his Bee.
“Right. I’ll take this one with me then” you giggle softly.
Jungkook now is back with the huge pan and puts it in the middle of the table. By the smell of it, you’re guessing what it is. Your stomach too, as it growls again even louder than before.
“Are you starving yourself?” Jungkook jokes when he hears your hungry system.
“Haven’t eaten properly since I left home.” you giggle a little embarrassed but you can’t bring yourself to care much. Every once in a while you just forget to eat. You know it’s a bad habit and you’re trying to change that. Jungkook used to be your reminder. You used to eat so well when the two of you were together. Your rough routine made you have cookies for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch. Quick things to match up with your quick schedule. But Jungkook took care of you. Sent messages thru the day reminding you to buy something. Drink water. Often sent food to your job. Sometimes he would cook himself and leave on the refrigerator so you could take it with you on the next day. You miss being taken care of. You miss being with him.
“You mean you haven’t eaten real food for more than 15 hours?” he says, now upset. “For God’s sake, Bee. You can’t do that.” 
You could get sick. Could pass out in the middle of the street. Could hurt yourself. He can’t bare the thought of you getting hurt, and it really upsets him.
You sense the change in his aura so you quickly change de subject. “Fuck off! you made risotto?”
Jungkook just hums, pouty. Still angry at your self-destruction actions. Angry he can’t do anything about it. Puts a good portion for you and for him in the plates. Beautifully arranged just like he does at the restaurant. Knows you like to take pictures so he follows your concept blindly. Guess you’d like to save in the memory lane.
And he guessed it right. You grab your phone instantly and take a couple of pics, but you won’t post it. Will keep it just for you.
“Where’s your glass?” you say after observing he only brought one glass to the table.
“I said I would take you to your parents, dummie.” he plays around, but he’s serious. He won’t drink and drive. His mom would cut his balls out. Your father too.
“Shut up, I can take an uber later. Get yourself one.”
“No, I really don’t mind.” he says stubbornly.
“If you don’t drink, I won’t drink either.” you pouty say and he wonders. Flips his piercing with his tongue for a second. Doesn’t want you to go home with an uber late at night. He will figure something about later. Maybe he can drink half of a glass and then sober up so he can drive you. Just know he can’t resist that face of yours right now, so he gives in a heartbeat.
“You’re the devil.” he chuckles and grabs a glass for himself. Pours a little bit for the two of you. “You’re lucky I like this wine with risotto.”
Then you two start eating. You make your silly little dance with your shoulders. Always do that when you enjoy the food. Jungkook thinks it’s the cutest thing in the word. Best reward he could ever get. Would cook every day and every night to see you this happy.
“This is so good.” you hum away “you’re the best of the bests. The most talented chef in the world. You’re gonna be a superstar someday.”
“Ani.. Stop it!” Jungkook shyly says, his two hands on his face hiding the bunny smile you know he’s carrying. 
“I mean it. You will be.” you take a sip of the wine and continues. You know he likes to downplay himself. “I’m talking 3 Michelin stars restaurant.”
“One sip and you’re already talking nonsense.” he giggles. Knows it’s your way of thanking him for the meal but he just can’t take complements like a normal person. Is too shy, even with you. 
“Shut up. I’m a big girl now. I could drink this bottle up and still rap to an Eminem song.” You laugh away and Jungkook just follows. Both of you know it’s bullshit. You’re a terrible drinker. Two glasses in and you would be giggling every 3 seconds. 
The two of you just stay like this. Talking nonsense. Bickering. Laughing away. Jungkook doesn’t know what time is it, but the rain is still pouring outside. A little bit less angry now, but still. The bottle is almost empty. He doesn’t know when you both stoped counting how many glasses you’ve drank. Doesn’t care anyway. Just wants to spend more time with you like this. Like there’s no real life outside that door. Like you’ve never left. Like you never will.
Eventually Jungkook takes the now empty pan and the two glasses to the sink. Hears you picking up the plates and seconds later you’re by the sink as well. He goes out to pick up the empty bottle of wine to throw it in the trash. When he comes back to the kitchen, you’re already washing the dishes; Drunk and hapilly humming the song you eventually put in between the dinner. Swaying away your perfect molded hips. Jungkook’s mind is fuzzy. Can’t think straight. But he knows damn well he can’t blame it on the wine. He would be like this even if he had no alcohol. You’re the one intoxicating him.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs softly behind you, just above your ear. You can feel his hot breathing and it makes your skin instantly hot too. The damn butterflies you feel every time he’s near are awake again. They’re anxious. Excited. 
You turn half of your face to him and say “I’m helping you, silly. I know you hate this part.” 
Jungkook gets a little bit closer. Doesn’t touch you, but he can smell your perfume more clearly now. Takes another step and he is able to smell your shampoo too. Strawberries. He loves it so much. Always have.
He can’t hold you, otherwise he won’t be able to let go. So he puts his hands around you, grabbing the corner of the sink. “You don’t have to, baby” he husks “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
You’ve got goosebumps, but you pretend. Pretend hearing him call you that didn’t almost give you a heart attack. Pretend you did not listen to his complains too, and keep washing everything. You’re almost finished. Then you can sit down. Maybe talk. Tell him everything you couldn’t a year ago. Tell him everything you need to tell him now.
But then, you feel his nose on your hair. Caressing throught it. It’s an old habit of his. You know he likes your shampoo, and you’ve never changed it. 
“You smell so good, Bee.” your mind is going wild. Don’t know what you should do. You can’t fake it anymore. Blame it on the wine, but the last thing you want to do is to have a conversation right now.
You finish the dishes. Clean your hands and tries to think straight. Gives up.
“Jungkook…” you softly say.
And just like that, he comes a little bit closer. His buffed chest on your back now. “Mmm?”
He can’t hold it back. He misses you like a fucking junkie and you are the drug on display. Right at his face. 
Meanwhile, you lean into his body. Your eyes are closed like you’re trying to get out of your foggy mind. Trying to do the right thing. He thinks this is the right thing. Does not care about breaking his heart tomorrow. He can deal with it later. His heart needs you now. He can just pretend for a little and everything will be fine.
So he closes the little gap that still exited between the two of you. Grabs you by the waist and looks down at your face. Waits for you response. You open your eyes instantly, and all he sees is red. Lust. Passion. Need. He knows those eyes. And he knows that’s what you’re feeling, ‘cause he feels it too.
But he’s still careful. His hands roam all over your body when he kisses your cheek softly. Feels his lips tingling with the sensation. Takes it to your neck. Knows exactly where your sweet spot is, and that’s what he aims. Takes a little while there now. Sucks a little bit. Your skin feeling hot under his lips. He drags his tongue slowly over the same spot. Hears you hissing and feels proud. Feels his cock throbbing too, happy with the sounds you make.
Jungkook softy turns your head and your lips are almost touching. You’re so close you can feel his breath like it’s your own. Your lips are begging you to go forward, but you’re scared to screw things up. So you bite your lip back.
“Fuck it.” he says and takes the first step. Holds your face with his palm and crash your lips together. It’s like you’re both starving for years as you sigh relived when your tongues meet. The kiss is passionate. Your lips molding each other, dancing together like they’ve never stopped. Like they’ve always done. Like you’re made for each other. You can’t get enough of him. He can’t get enough of you. So many feelings flowing thru a simple kiss. So you just go on and on and on. Deepens it, if it’s possible. Arms wrap around his neck, your fingers lost on his soft locks. Want him to know how much you care about him. How sorry you are. How much you miss him.
And he gives back. Kisses you like it’s his final act on earth. Kisses you like a starved man. Kisses you like you’re everything to him until he feels his lungs failing him, so he backs up a little to catch a breath.
“I think—“ you start saying, but suddenly you stop. His tattooed hand grabs your throat. Doesn’t strangle you, just puts it there. Caresses it. Let you know that he has made up his mind. That he knows all your weaknesses — that being one of them. He knows how to make you feel good and he’s silently now begging you to give in too.
“Don’t.” he husks and now squeezes your neck. Just enough to make that little spot in your brain tell you’re pleasured by the action. You gasp and let out a broken moan as he continues, now adding little love bites on your shoulder. His bulge growing behind you. So you finally do what you’ve been craving for the whole night.
Jungkook feels you start to rub your ass on his crotch slowly, but firmly. “Shit, baby.” He moans. Feels so fucking horny. Can’t remember the last time he was this hard. Thinks he will nut his pants like a fucking virgin if you keep this up. But he doesn’t care. Wants more. Wants you. So he starts to roll his hips too, meeting you halfway.
“Jungkook” you say with that pretty tone of yours. He knows you. Knows what you want, but he needs to hear it.
“What is it, baby?” he whispers against your ear now. The hand that was in your throat now travels south. It teases you. Goes around your breast. Acts like he will, but does not touch it. He wants you needing. Wants you begging.
“Please.” you say unquiet.
“Use your big girl words, Bee.” he plays around. Sucks your ear lobe. “Say it.”
“Want you to touch me.” you finally say.
“Good girl.” he husks, then turns you over. Grabs you by your waist and sits you on the counter. Puts himself between your thighs. Pulls you closer. Looks at you with his pretty big eyes. Wanting. Expecting.
“Kiss me.” you say and he wastes no time to do so. Kisses you again. Even more fervently than before. Wants you to remember. Bites your lower lip and sucks your tongue. Knows it drives you crazy. You moan into the kiss and he mirrors you. Feels pleasure seeing you this turn on. Wants to keep doing it till he’s fucking six feet under. Feels so blessed seeing you like this after all this time.
You grab his thick hair, pining it like you know he enjoys and he hisses into your mouth. His fingers dig deeper on your skin and you know it’s gonna leave marks.
“You drive me fucking insane.” he says as you pull away, looking at you with half his eyes open, lust exhales from all his pores. You give him a little smirk in return. Loves seeing him like this. All needy. All yours.
He takes back the control. Now he’s the one pulling your hair and you let out a loud moan from the pleasure. You love this. Your core is aching, pussy clenching around nothing trying to get some relief, so you know your body loves it too;
His mouth quickly follows your now exposed throat and kisses it. Sucks. Bites. Leaves tiny nips all over. Does whatever he wants with it, ‘cause he knows it gets you soaked up. Just thinking about it makes him needier so he starts to unbutton your pants, looking back at you to make sure you’re okay with this and you give him silent nods with that pretty little smile on you face.
He wants this moment to last forever, so he takes his time. Looks down on you ‘cause it feels like forever since he last saw you like this. You’re wearing a pretty lacy pink underwear. It’s like you want him dead. “Fuck you.” he says, still looking at your covered pussy with the cute underwear. You giggle a little bit. Knows he loves pink on you, says it enhances your skin color.
The hand that was on your hair starts to explore, travels across your throat and gives one final squeeze as he kisses your lips, bites it down, lick the swollen lip as the hand continues to go down. Takes a little step back and pulls up your shirt. Quickly gets back where he belongs and his lips are on you chest. Little pecks all over it. Teasing. Savoring. Jungkook claims himself a butt guy, but he swears he could happily die between those tits.
Both of his hands are on your covered breasts now. He cups them and starts to salivate with the view. Needs to suck it or he will die. So he takes off your matching bra and instantly puts his lips around your nipple. Sucks it like an obsessed man. Growls as he feels it harden against his tongue so he bites it. Wants to hear you scream from pleasure and so you do.
“Jungkook! Fuck!” you say as you arch your back, giving him more access to your tits. One of your hands grab the corner of the sink for support, the other is pinning his dark locks like your life depends on it. With his right hand Jungkook rubs the neglected breast. Slaps it and pinches the hard nipple across his thumbs. You let another loud moan and you can feel your pink underwear sticking. “Koo..”
And then he looses it. Can’t hear you all needy, calling him that. Does something to his mind and his dick. Knows it is rock hard under his pants right now. He has to do something about it, but the only thing he can think of is you. Giving you pleasure. Make sure you remember how good he is to you. Make you never want to leave again.
So with that in mind he kisses his way down. Kisses your pretty belly. Get on his knees and open your legs. Kisses your inner thighs. Looks over and you’re biting down your lips, looking like a fucking sex goddess. He’s crazy about you. Thinks he might as well fucking die if he can’t get this view for the rest of his life.
He goes a little further, aiming to the sweet spot between your legs. Put his nose on it so he can smell you. “Fuck. Missed this pussy so much.”
You whine at his words. You missed having him like this too. Heart thrums against your ribs when you sense his face closer into the warm of your cunt. He puts the underwear aside and licks your dripping folds just once. Slowly. Wants to savor you like fine wine. Groans when it hits his taste buds. “Swear this is the sweetest thing i’ve ever put my mouth on.”
You giggle, ‘cause you know he’s exaggerating. Such a Jungkook thing to do. “That’s big coming from you, Chef.” he looks back at you and smirks. “You don’t believe me” he leaves one bite on your thigh as a retaliation for not believing his words. Then gets up again. Grabs the back of your head and kisses you. It’s all messy. Wants to show you how sweet you are on his tongue. How addicting it is.
Suddenly he breaks the kiss and looks at you. Puts his fingers on your lips. “Open.”
You love his dom persona, so you obey immediately. Take his fingers like you know will get him imagining things. Licks it, slowly. Shows him what you could be doing on another part of his body. He takes this as a challenge. “You’re a tease, aren’t you?”
He won’t let you get away, tho. Finally strips you out of the underwear and takes his wet fingers down your cunt. Presses your swollen clit, rubbing his thumb over it painfully slow and suddenly you don’t feel like playing anymore. “Jungkook, don’t tease me.”
And for once he does as you ask without second thoughts. Puts his fingers inside your tight pussy and starts pumping inside you. You meow like the pretty kitty you are. “S-shit.. so good…”
He takes his pace, goes faster and his dick twists on his sweatpants with the sloppy sounds the movements take out of your pussy. His fingers are soaked up as he feels you start to milk them, chasing your high.
“P-please don’t stop. Oh my g-good!”
And then he does. Kinda feels wicked when you open your now teary eyes as he pulls out but he swears he will make it up to you. “I hate you.”
He just giggles and gets on his knees again.
“Want my dessert now.” he huskily whispers.
Before you notice, your thighs are on his shoulders and his face is on your pussy again. He’s eating you out like a literal dessert. Licks your folds with his hungry tongue and gets you moaning like crazy. “Could eat this pussy every fucking day.” he says, then puts his tongue flat on you clit. You know the drill. Have done this so many times before and just the thought of if gets you dripping even more. “Ride my face, baby.”
And so you do. Grab his hair with both of your hands and hold him on the perfect spot. He starts to move the tip of his tongue on your nub and you match his movements with your hips. Both of you get more and more turned on as you grind yourself further into his face.
“So good, baby. Shit…” you whimper and he moans into your clit when he hears your words. Puts his lips around it. Bites it. Suckes like his life depends on it. You don’t stop your hips from chasing your high, nudging at his nose and it’s the final act for you to come undone. “Jungkook, fuuuck!” you scream and pulls his hair tight when the pleasure wave washes you. You keep riding his face slowly and he gives your pussy kitty licks prolonging your high. You sigh relieved. He keeps drinking your sweet slickness till the last drop. Moans tasting your juice like it's the very first time. Takes his face back and he’s all covered in you, from his nose to his chin. It’s the hottest thing in the world.
He cleans himself with the back of his hand and suddenly picks you up bridal style, heading to his bedroom. You're taken by surprise, but you love when he manhandles you.
"What are you doing?" you ask still a little big foggy with the afterglow.
"Taking you to inaugurate my new bed" he giggles a little bit.
"Jungkook! That's disgusting!"
"I want your smell on it, what’s wrong?" he says naturally, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You don't want to get your hopes up 'cause you still haven't talked, but he's not making it easy for you.
You look up at him and just can't hold your stupid smile back. He's so gorgeous. The most beautiful man you've ever seen. His pretty little dimples are peeking 'cause he has a little smile on his face too. You realize you love every little detail there is about Jungkook. His beautiful moles; the one on his chin, on his neck, on his cheek. The tiny scar he got from a silly fight with his brother. His bunny teeth. His big, beautiful starry brown eyes. Yeah, you're never getting over this goof. It's humanly impossible.
So you just accept your fate. Whatever this night might bring, you’ll go for it. Heartbreak or healing. There’s no going back now.
Jungkook puts you down on his bed and just stares at you by the end of it. Still fully clothed, also wears that silly smile on his face. Gosh, he’s so fucking perfect.
You just grab him by his t-shirt and pull him closer. He almost falls over you but uses his arms to hold his weight. Towers over you but keeps staring. The previous smile washed away from his face now, and you’re scared he’s already regretting everything.
It’s intense, the way he looks at you. Got you curling your toes in excitement. In fear. In anticipation.
So you just avert your eyes to his pretty pillowy pink lips. Specifically to the mole under it, and you feel like kissing it like you used to.
In the meantime he starts undressing. Takes off his t-shirt and you gasp as you realize he has some new tattoos. One on his chest and more on his shoulder. All of the old ones are colored too. More alive. It’s so pretty.
“You colored them.” you say softly, letting your fingers go across all of them.
“Needed to put some color in my life somehow.” he responds quietly. Like he wanted to say more, but choose to hold it down.
You look back at him and the atmosphere is fuzzy again. There’s no going back from this, really. Not when he’s this close to you. Not when you feel your heart thrumming so fast it might explode. Not when you’re back here again, in his arms.
So wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You need to be sure. “Do you want me?”
You’re so close you can feel his broke sigh when he says, “More than anything.” And then kisses you.
Not like a hungry man now.
Worst, like a man in love.
Kisses you awfully slow, twisting his tongue perfectly with yours. Sucks the life out of you. Got you moaning when he pulls out and licks your under lip as well. He grabs the back of your head and guides you into delicious positions for the kiss. It’s dreamy. It’s fulfilling. It’s everything you missed.
Jungkook can’t take it anymore, so he pulls himself down on you. Instantly feels your excitement wetting his sweatpants and his dick throbs for more of it.
He starts to grind against your fully naked pussy and you meow into the kiss, still feeling sensitive. Feels so good tho, so you start grinding back on him. What’s left of your cum mixing with arousal, making it even more satisfying for the both of you.
“So greedy…” he husks “Can never get enough, can you?”
You just nod, biting your lips. Feeling even more turned on by his low voice talking shit right now. You need him as soon as possible. So you keep going. Your both taking a pace now. “For god’s sake, take these off”
Jungkook feels his cock aching, burning, wanting. His balls might be petrified right now. Need you or he might die. So he just obeys. Backs off and throws it all away. Goes back to you instantly.
Starts to kiss you again, ‘cause he can never get enough of that sweet taste of yours. It’s like heaven on earth. His body grows hot and electrified as he feels your pussy clenching when he puts his hard dick between your folds. Keeps teasing, just cause he can. Wants to make you suffer a little bit more.
You break the kiss and whine into his ear. “Don’t be mean.”
He giggles and bites down on your left shoulder.
“I won’t, baby.”
His body says otherwise tho, as he slowly eases into you and and stops with just the tip inside. The feeling of his dick intruding your small hole is enough to make goosebumps rise all over his body and his breath to falter “Shit.”
“Koo..”
“Patience is a virtue, y’know.” he says, trying to command his heart to function like a normal person’s organ again.
“I don’t care about virtues right now, nerd” you joke and hear him tsc.
“You’ll never learn to not be sassy when you’re under me, will you?”
He doesn’t wait for your answer, though. Fills you up abruptly and you gasp with surprise. It’s so fucking delicious that got both of you moaning in sync.
“Fuck, you’re just as tight as I remember” he says “You okay?”
“Yes,” you say desperately with a broken voice. You need him to move.
And so he does. Suddenly picks up his pace and starts to bottom you out. Fill you up. Repeat. His big dick stretching you out deliciously even better than you remember it did. Your mind did no justice to his talent at all. It’s like he was made for you. Understands your body and soul perfectly. Fits you perfectly. Makes you want more and more and more.
He grabs one of your legs and puts it over his shoulder, getting both of you in a nasty position that got him growling and you drooling.
Oh, he knows perfectly where your sweet spot is.
“Fuck, that’s it, Jungkook.” He smirks when he sees you loosing your mind. Knows it won’t take a while for you to come undone since he’s hitting your most sensitive point right now. With his other hand he puts a hand on your throat and squeezes it. Feels you milking his dick and moaning low.
“My baby likes to be strangled, huh?” he murmurs “Such a dirty girl”
You moan even louder as you feel him going faster. His endurance is crazy and you know it. Got you crawling up the walls every time.
“Tell me,” he says in between the thrusts “Tell me how good it is, Bee.”
“So fucking good, baby” you pan back, completely lost in pleasure right now. Your eyes are closed, all you see is the red starts he makes you see with every sweet thrust in your throbbing cunt.
He let down your leg and comes closer to you. Gives your neck little pecks and goes back to face you.
“Look at me.”
And so you open your eyes. He’s looking at you that same way. The loving way.
You can’t take this. Your heart can’t take this. Him, looking at you like that. Him, being the most precious human being there is. Him, being the greatest decision you’ve ever done. ‘Cause that just reminds you how you’ve ruined everything.
It’s like he feels your swipe of feelings so he slows the movements and gives you one sweet kiss before pulling out. Grabs you by the hips, putting you on top of him. You’re on charge again. It’s your decision, he’s silently saying.
With both of your thighs strangling his body and your hands around his neck you stop in front of him. Don’t do anything. Just admire him. Want to keep this moment bottled in your brain forever. His sweet, loving eyes. His pretty dimples. His chin’s mole—your favorite mole. Every detail there is about him.
Your pull him closer and slowly go for your aim. Put your lips on the pretty mole like you wanted to since you first saw him tonight. Keeps it there and sense his broke sigh. You sigh back. Your chest pangs. Your throat hurts and it’s not in a good way. Your start to feel your eyes watering and pulls back.
“Baby…” he says softly, looking at you with slightly frowned eyebrows, stroking your hips with his fingers.
You know he wants to say something. Something important. Probably something that you two should’ve said before any other thing that happened tonight. But you don’t want to ruin this moment. Not now. Not ever.
So you just shut him up with your lips. Savor him one last time before everything breaks down. Kiss him as if his taste is the oxygen you need to survive.
And he gives it to you right back. Almost as he’s fearing the same thing too. Almost like he doesn’t want to ever let go.
So you just climb up and position your needy pussy above his dick with his help. Delicately easing him into you, stretching you open deliciously till he’s bottomed you up and you can feel how good it is to wrap yourself around him.
“Shit” you moan, feeling so good after good knows how long. “You fill me up so good.”
You start moving up and down, feeling everything there is to feel, giving yourself up to him.
“Pussy was made for me.” he whispers to your lips. “Just for me.”
He moans when your walls clench around his dick, dripping arousal with his words.
“Fuck.” he husks “That’s it, baby.”
You do it again, now on purpose ‘cause you know it makes him insane. You need him like that.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Jungkook holds you in place and starts bulking his hips up, cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again.
“Mmm, too good…” you whimper when he begins a pace that has you seeing stars.
He sighs when he looks at you. His dick is socked with your arousal. Fills you up perfectly, like his body was designed to connect with yours this way. The way it goes in and out drives him mad; but when he looks up at you, closed eyes, full lips trapped between your teeth, hands squeezing those perfect tits. Got him gooshing. Got him head over heals all over again. Got him fucking screwed.
“Fucking perfect.” he moans “Look fucking perfect being dicked down by me”
He feels your walls tighten even more so he slows it down. Wants to make this last more. Wants to make you feel more. That’s not enough, can’t be enough.
So he stops his pumps and holds you down. Just like second nature, your arms wrap around his neck again and you start moving towards him, now rubbing your pussy in sweet movements that he knows will treat your swollen clit well. Knows you love this position, so he helps you out. Spits on one of his fingers and drags it down to your sweet bud. Massages it. Pinches. Makes you whimper, just ‘cause he likes the sound of it.
“Shit, shit, shit, Jungkook!” you say as your hips follow your needs, bulking against his pelvis now. It’s so delicious you think you might go crazy. His dick rubs the perfect spot inside you as your clit gets the perfect friction to set you off.
Jungkook pulls your hair to guarantee his access to your neck, leave tiny love marks all over it. Got you hissing against his shoulder.
“I got you, Bee.” he husks softly.
It’s frightening how fast your climax approaches. You feel the hot waves coming back, building up that frizzing feeling again.
Goosebumps all over your body, you back up to look at him.
You both stare at each other, hips trying to meet the perfect pace now. A sweet pace that has you two building it up together. Feeling together. Giving in together.
His hands are on your ass cheeks, guiding your deep movements, making your cunt take his dick just the way he likes, too. He feels you milking his cock with your walls and his eyelids are tattooed with stars.
“Shit, Bee.” he whimpers “Swear I could die right here and now.”
You giggle and just continue the intense pace. It’s inevitable, to not get emotional. ‘Cause you know you could have this forever. You’ve had everything you could’ve ever wanted. Yet, you let it go.
He opens his eyes again and you’re there. Looking at him with big doe eyes. Loving eyes. Teary eyes. Realizes he loves the shit out of you and cannot think about letting you go again. He will do any fucking thing. Go thru long distance. Take how many flights there is to take. Move to fuckass Australia. Whatever it takes. Just knows you two can’t be separated again.
So he makes love to you. Wants you to remember how it is to be loved. To be loved by him. Tries to show how electrified he feels right now. Needs you to feel the same way.
He guides your hips to continuously make those movements that got him curling his tip toes. One of his hands go down to you clit again to make it even better for you. Knows it will get you cumming in a heartbeat.
“Ah, fuck!” you moan when he intensifies the rubbing on your harden button. “M’gonna cum.”
“Cum for me, baby.” he husks teasingly. That’s all he wants right now. You, coming undone because of him. The thought itself makes his own climax approach as well, mixed with you cunt stimulations and the sweet sounds you make: that’s the perfect receipt for —his— disaster.
Your body seems to obey him, as he starts to give in and the electric feeling of the orgasm tingles from you head to toe. “Koo, fuck!” you scream, eyes rolling backwards so hard you don’t think you’ll be able to see anything but starts for days.
Jungkook tries to prolong your feeling as he turns you over. Spits directly on your cunt, fucks you rough thru your climax.
“Koo, it’s too much.” you meow, eyes closed with goosebumps all over your body.
“C’mon baby,” he whispers “Just one more, you can take it.”
So he starts the circled rubbing on your clit again. Grabs your hip firmly in a position that got you curling your tip toes.
“Be a good girl and cum for me again, pretty baby.”
Tears rolling down your cheeks, you feel everything amplified right now. It’s like you’ve been electrocuted all of the sudden. It’s like you need to cum or you will die.
Jungkook feels your dripping walls throbbing around his dick again and increases his pace, getting himself there too. “Fuck, that’s it, Bee.” he moans. Keeps rubbing your clit meanly till he feels his hand muscles hurt. “Gonna cum on this pretty pussy.”
“Koo…” you whisper and he feels your final spasms. Suddenly his dick and his hands are washed with your squirt. You fucking squirted on him. Jesus. He can’t hold himself back anymore.
“Fuck baby, fuck!” he says and increases the pace. The new wave of climax seems to be just what he needed to fuse his own orgasm. Everything that was building up now crumbles down when you spasm from your head to toe, body shaking and pussy as tight as ever, making him spill hot shots of cum all over your walls, filling you up, finally staying where it belongs.
He slows the movements now, pumping his every seed inside of you. Needs every part of him on you. His body, mind and soul are yours.
"So pretty dripping with my cum." he smirks.
You whimper with the nastiness of it all. You love it, and he knows it.
He gives you one last peck, strolls to the bathroom to pick up a towel to clean you up and eventually crumbles down next to you. Your heart is in a race, thrumming so hard you think it might break your bones now. You don’t know what to do. What’s next. Where this got you two.
Jungkook’s in no better place. The wave of afterglow is slowly fading and his mind is everywhere. He looks at his bedroom ceiling. Wants to say the right thing. Nothing comes to mind. So he turns sideways. Looks at you. Finds the courage he needs when he sees those pretty eyes.
“Bee.” he whispers. Comes closer to you, like he’s about to tell a secret. Keeps a little distance tho, just enough to look at your eyes. Wants to see your reaction. Wants to see the true feelings in them when he says, “Don’t leave me again.”
Your gasp is audible, eyes two sizes bigger as the tears you’ve been holding back all night now roll down your cheeks.
“Please” he says, voice cracking too as if he’s expecting the worst. Expecting you to make the wrong choice again.
“Jungkook—“ you whisper, trying to find the right words.
“Baby, I’ll do anything.” he nervously says “We can try long distance. I have enough money to travel at least once a month.” he starts babbling out.
“O-or if it’s to hard for us, I’ll try to find a restaurant in Australia. I’ll move out with you.” he says with his chest hurting, seeing you taken aback again. He can’t loose you. “Fuck, I’ll literally drop anything there is for you.”
He closes his eyes now. Turns over again. Doesn’t want to see the rejection in your eyes. Doesn’t want you to see the tears on his. He’s too weak for you. Too weak for his own good.
“But I understand i-if..” his voice trails off in hurt, his throat tightening “I understand if you don’t have feelings for me anymore.”
“Koo…” you softly say, giggling with teary eyes. You climb up on him. He keeps his eyes closed like he’s scared of the world outside his eyelids. “Look at me.”
He slowly does, and the trapped little tears fall over, his perfect nose is pinkish, and you just want to melt away.
“I’m not leaving.” you softly say, wiping out his beautiful cheeks.
“W-what?” he stumbles over his words. He can’t believe he heard you right. That can’t be.
“I’m not leaving. I came this time to stay.”
“Are you fucking with me, Bee?” he abruptly stands up and almost got you falling off the bed. He holds you tight on his lap, tho. “Be serious right now.”
You laugh out loud now. Can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe he wants you after all this time. After everything that’s been thru.
“Jeon Jungkook. I swear on Bam’s life” you say with a bright smile on your face.
“Hey! Don’t swear on Bam’s life!”
Like he was waiting for the perfect time, the puppy shows up by the end of the bed, swiping happily his tail with his big eyes looking at both of you.
“Nobody called you here, man.” Jungkook jokily says. Wants to have his private time with you now, and knows Bam will be all over both of you if he stays. “Go back to your room, big boy.”
The puppy stubbornly stays. Looks at you, like he wants the words to come from you now.
“Go, Bamie. We’ll play with you later.”
And so he does, like that’s all he needed to hear to obey.
“Fucking joke.” Jungkook cuffs “Even the dog is head over hells for you.”
"So..." you say with a stupid grin all over your face you might as well apply for a role as the joker. "You're head over hells for me, hm?"
"So..." he immitates you. Knows it tickles the shit out of you. Bickering with you is his love language, too. "You're not going back to Australia?"
"Uh-hum." you giggle, playing with his dark locks.
"What happened? Kangaroo kicked your head over there?"
"Missed my Koogaroo" you pan right back.
"Oh, shut up." He lets out one loud laugh and turns you over in bed, tickles all over your body until your crying.
You both just stare at each other, big smiles spread out in your faces. Happinees flowing thru and between you. That's it. That's where you belong.
"I really missed this." you say softly.
Jungkook towers over you again. Kisses your lips softly. "Missed," your nose. "You," your forehead. "So much." all of your face.
"I love you, Koo." you say softly, staring at him. Staring at his soul. Hoping he believes you. Believes you never stoped loving him, not now, not ever.
"I love you too, Bee."
AND THAT WAS IT! what do you guys think? I struggled so much on the smut parts wtffff why is it so hard hahaha
I was thinking about doing some drabbles of the story since I loved the couple sm! they're so sweet, right? also thought about developing her friendship with tae, maybe after jk/oc are back together, his reaction and apologies ??? or maybe the background of oc/jk's f2l, the day she left aahhh there's so much i could do!
again, i'm sorry if there are any typos! please leave comments if you like the story, i'll accept requests too <3 promise i'll come back soon
taglist: @kooliv @serendipity713 @5seos @pointofviewyugyeom @glitterybreadtimemachine @olimpiiaa @kooklovee @coffeewkth @valwnn @tae-hibiscus @skzthinker @lazyyhooman @sharkipoonis @kiylasstuff @kissyfacekoo @spicxbnny @cookysstuff
tysm for supporting my ff, i hope you enjoy :) xx
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beforeimdeceased · 1 year ago
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CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT3
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pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.
synopsis: she’s the same ellie she’s always been.
a/n: am i building up tension so they can be genuine enemies to lovers? maybe…
why’d you have to make a record ‘bout me?
masterlist.
“what the actual fuck ellie?” you storm into the dressing room, startling jesse and dina, who’d been sitting on the couch. jesse jolts up to walk over to you but you jerk your body away and rush at the laughing girl. “you wrote a fucking song about me?”
“why are you so pissed?” she rolls her eyes. you take a deep breath before turning around to face jesse and dina. “can you guys tell her why i’m pissed? if i do she’ll be leaving with a disfigured face.”
“i’d love to see you try to fuck me up.” ellie chimes in. you’re about to turn and yell at her when jesse grabs your arms and leads you outside. dina shakes her head, walking towards ellie, looking displeased. the last thing you hear before jesse closes the door is ellie’s crude laughter.
“did you know she was gonna do that?” you furrow your brows. he shakes his head rapidly while pulling you in for a hug. “no, i’m so sorry. if i did i would’ve never let her onstage.”
you’re sobbing now. tears of embarrassment pooling from your eyes and onto his shirt. memories of the moment flash before your eyes. her ridiculous and crude lyricism. the smirk on her face as yours fell. her making it painfully obvious that she was singing to you. about you. and not in a good way.
jesse pats your back while shushing you, repeated apologies falling from his lips. he catches their manager walking by and calls out to him. “hold on i’ll be right back. i’m gonna talk to jace about this.”
you nod, slumping down on the floor as he walks away. it takes you several deep breaths to not burst through the door and bash her head in. then you hear her talking nonchalantly on the other side. “dina it’s not that big of a deal. seriously. she’s such a fucking crybaby.”
you’re reminded of the night you’d cried into ellie’s lap. the next day you showed up apologizing profusely with a new pair of pants for her. her telling you that it’s fine. inviting you in. offering you a snack. a bottle of water. asking if you wanted to watch videos with her about space.
how could such a sweet person be such a fucking asshole and barely show any remorse? how were you meant to just get over everything she’d done? how could you let that person kiss you? see you in your most vulnerable state? call you a crybaby?
before you know it, you’ve stormed back into the room. ignoring dina’s calm and soothing voice, to punch ellie in the face. you’re hyped on adrenaline until the pain settles in. your knuckles burning and her nose bloody. what had you done?
“i’m gonna fucking kill you. so you better choose your last words carefully.” blood was spilling into her mouth. the overflow of iron settling thick in her throat. dina steps between the two of you holding her hands up. “ellie, why do you always do this shit? your nose should be permanently broken from all the fights you get into. just let it go.”
“not too good to fight with me now, huh?” ellie talks over dina’s back. her words are muffled by her hand over her face. you hit her hard as fuck, and a secret part of you hoped it knocked some sense into her. the rest of you felt an overbearing sense of guilt. lashing out was her thing. fighting was her thing. blood was her thing. you had been trying so hard not to get caught up in all that. you even had hope that she was really changing for the better.
it seems you were wrong.
“i’m so-“
jesse bursts into the door, anger all over his face. he whispers something under his breath before looking up and taking in the scene. “fucking hell, what happened?”
you lower your face in embarrassment. “i don’t know what came over me. i’m so sorry ellie-“
jesse throws up his hands. “you know what, let’s not worry about this right now. we have to perform in five minutes.”
dina scrambles to grab her leather jacket off the couch and follows a frantic jesse out of the dressing room. you shake your head as you hear ellie burst into laughter. she’s hysterical, damn near falling out of her chair.
“jesus williams, what’s so fucking funny?”
“nothing—“ she chokes back more laughter attempting to speak. ��it’s just— you know how to throw a fucking punch.”
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pookalicious-hq · 1 month ago
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kunigami rensuke with a cute hyper fem gf...
now playing: tell me by fifty fifty
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she ties bows all over his things; on his water bottle, cleats, even in his hair sometimes (he never takes them off).
Kunigami reached into his bag, pulling out his cleats and tossing them aside without a second thought. Stretching always came first in his routine. His muscles flexed as he bent down, the familiar routine calming his mind as he focused on the upcoming practice. But when he straightened up and glanced at his cleats again, something stood out.
A small, baby pink ribbon had been tied neatly onto his laces. Two perfectly formed bows, delicate and unmistakable, sat right at the top. Kunigami blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he recognized the handiwork immediately.
It was her.
His girlfriend, always leaving her subtle touches—on his things, in his life. She found joy in these small gestures, and somehow, they never failed to brighten his day. The bows weren’t just ribbons; they were little reminders of her affection, woven into his routine in the softest, quietest way.
With a quiet chuckle, he slipped the cleats on, ribbons and all. He could already imagine the teasing he’d get from his teammates, but it didn’t bother him. If anything, the bows felt like a badge of honour.
They were pretty fashionable, if he did say so himself.
she drops him off at practice in her pink beetle convertible that he barely fits in.
In her car, the rule was set in stone: Kunigami was only allowed to queue up music from her driving playlist. Today (his personal favourite), Tell Me by Fifty Fifty played through the speakers, and she was singing along, completely engrossed in her own atmosphere. The bedazzled steering wheel shimmered in the sunlight, its light bouncing off the pink disco ball hanging from her mirror. The reflections danced around the car, lighting up her smile as she belted out the lyrics.
Kunigami watched her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He was used to this by now—the bright, pink car, the music filling the small space, even the tight squeeze as he tried to get comfortable in the passenger seat. It was all part of their mornings together, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
As they reached the field, she pulled to a stop, still humming the last notes of the song. Kunigami unfolded himself from the car with ease, with a quick kiss to his cheek, she gave a cheerful goodbye and drove off.
He turned, ready for practice, but Otoya’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“Kunigami... were you just in a Barbie car?”
Kunigami paused, raising an eyebrow. “Barbie car?”
“Yeah!” Isagi pointed to where her car had just been. “Which toy store did you steal it from?”
Bachira jogged over, grinning. “It’s got the heart wheel rims and everything! I didn’t know you rolled like that.”
Kunigami blinked, glancing back down the road. It was just her car to him—pink, sure, and decked out with shiny accessories, but it never crossed his mind as anything more than that.
With a shrug, he turned back to his teammates. “Belongs to my girlfriend. It works.”
Isagi shook his head, chuckling. “You’re down bad, man.”
Kunigami just smiled, unfazed. It didn’t matter what they thought—those mornings were his favourite part of the day.
she always gets him to do tiktoks, they go viral for the trend where they tied a bow around his bicep and she squished her face between.
"Babe, hold still, please."
He was about 99% certain he had been completely still this whole time, but if she asked for it, he'd do nothing to deny her. Kunigami glanced down at his girlfriend, who was kneeling beside him on their velvet pink couch, a pink silk ribbon in her hand. Her focus was intense, her brows furrowed in concentration as she tied the ribbon around his bicep.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m not sure a bow suits my vibe.”
She paused, looking up at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Of course it does! You’ll look adorable.”
“Right, adorable,” he replied, trying to suppress a grin. “Just remember I’m a soccer player, not a model.”
“Mm, you're right, too bulky. Though you do have the tiny waist for it,” she teased, giving the bow a final tug before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “ M'kay perfect.”
A slight blush dusted his cheeks as she found her way into his lap, positioning her head in the crook of his elbow. He couldn’t help but laugh, his heart warming at how effortlessly she could make him smile.
“Okay, ready?” she asked, her voice muffled as she shifted her phone into place. Right before the audio—some Lana Del Rey song—started playing, Kunigami began to flex his bicep. A surprised yet embarrassed laugh escaped her lips, a rosy blush dusting her cheeks.
If Kunigami was being completely honest, he wished she had suggested this trend sooner. The sight of her bright smile, the way her eyes sparkled with delight, sent his heart racing. It was as if the world faded away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of happiness. Not to mention, the way she looked at him filled him with an exhilarating boost of confidence.
“Three, two, one—” she called, her voice brimming with excitement as the music filled the air, wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.
He held his flex, muscles taut and ready, as she leaned in, playfully squishing her face between his arm and the pink bow. The silly intimacy of the moment made him chuckle, a warm glow of affection spreading through him.
From his perspective, he could only see a portion of his hair in the frame, while the rest of the screen was dominated by her blushing face, framed perfectly against his (MASSIVE) bicep. The contrast was hilarious, and for a split second, he wondered how this had turned into a moment worth capturing.
“Wait. Why is this hot?” she blurted out, laughter bubbling from her chest. She looked up at him, her cheeks still rosy, and they both burst into fits of giggles.
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a/n: i love this man sm, lmk if you have any other characters you wan me to do this with, send the archetype along with the paring <3
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itsnevercasual · 9 months ago
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Sweet Creature
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harry styles masterlist
pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader
summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.
warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.
harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?
his mother.
his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.
“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”
and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.
but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.
“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”
“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”
“she got an accent?”
“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”
“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”
“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”
“i’ll come visit soon.”
and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .
except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.
alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.
so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.
and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.
all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.
and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.
her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.
she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.
and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.
gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.
“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”
she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.
he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.
she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.
“you really are jumpy, huh?”
“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.
he almost laughs.
“it’s my room.”
and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.
“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“
the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.
“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“
“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”
“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“
“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”
“i feel bad.”
“well, don’t.”
he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.
“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“
“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”
“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“
“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.
“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.
“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”
anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.
who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.
“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”
he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.
the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.
she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.
once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.
when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.
“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.
he muttered something she didn’t understand.
“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”
“i noticed.”
he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.
“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”
“it’s yours. i’m fine.”
“are you—“
“i’m sure.”
rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!
harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.
he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.
his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.
“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”
“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”
“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”
“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”
“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”
a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe
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misserabella · 4 months ago
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two geniuses (one sacrifice)
spencer reid x reader (enemies to lovers!)
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masterlist this is chapter 4! go check out the rest!<3
synopsis;; things have gone sour in between spencer and you after that kiss. but you need to make a decision and accept that everyone… is a sinner. and sinners make pretty sacrifices.
cw;; tobias hankel episodes (E15,16 S2)!!!, ANGST!!!!!, usual reid vs reader behavior, kidnapping (reader), used of y/n (i know i’m sorry but i cannot use nicknames yet), shots being fired, ‘this is calm and it’s doctor’, death of characters, usual criminal minds stuff, weapons, branding (ouch), religion themes, fighting, beating, blood, drowning, pretty much torture, crying, drug use (reader gets drugged), spencer losing it, comfort at the end, mental health disorders (did), a lot more but i can’t remember!!!…
«and i looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was death. and hell followed with him…»
after your kiss with spencer, things had taken the wrong turn. you couldn’t stop thinking about it. about how soft his lips had been, the wine on his tongue, his rough hands cradling your body, taking your cheeks as he devoured your mouth like a man starved. couldn’t stop thinking about his heavy breathing, about his needy eyes, his words when you’d told him to slow down… ‘i can’t’. every time you remember the need in his voice, the feeling of his hard cock against your thigh it sent shivers down your spine. but now… now he was acting like a dick.
“you had him in front of you and you still missed?!” he frowned, infuriated, his jaw tightened, teeth grinding.
“he wasn’t in front of me, he was in front of you! if you hadn’t been on the way i could’ve gotten him!!”
the arguments had gotten worse. the hatred had gone up a notch. he was insufferable.
“so you thought the best thing to do was step in front of me and take a bullet?!” you groaned.
“you’re welcome!” you rolled your eyes at him. the paramedics were taking off your perforated fbi vest to look at the damage. by the way it hurt to breathe you were sure one of your ribs had cracked.
“‘you’re welcome’? ‘you’re welcome’?!” he scoffed in disbelief. “do you know that actually the vests aren’t bullet proof? what if the bullet had gone through it? what if it perforated one of your lungs?!”
“well next time don’t make me step in front of a bullet, reid!” you groaned. your head was starting to hurt.
“oh this is my fault now…?!”
“yes! yes it is your fucking fault! you were distracted!” he sighs and you groaned in pain when they took out your vest. under your shirt there was a nasty bruise growing darker by the minute.
“distracted? i wasn’t distracted.” he defended himself, ‘cause if he was distracted then right now he was out of his mind as you unbuttoned your shirt, your simple white bra displayed for his hazel eyes. he gritted his teeth, looking away at the flashing of your memories together in the hotel, the beach… that kiss.
“but you were! you didn’t even notice he was pointing at you until it was too late! in your position he would’ve got you, reid. you were down on your knees and he was pointing at your head!” he looked exasperated once his eyes found yours again.
“so stepping in front of me and getting shot was best?!”
“yes! if it means you get to live then yes!”
“looks like we’ve got a fractured rib.” the paramedic said. “but nothing too serious. you’ll be alright.”
“she’ll be alright? she needs a full body scan, what if it has punctured her lungs? she could be bleeding internally!” he babbled, and the paramedic tried to slow him down.
“there’s no sing of it. her breathing sounds fine, her heart beat is stable, calm down, agent.”
“this is calm. and it’s doctor.” he sternly said back and you sighed.
“reid. y/l/n. enough.” hotch stopped the two of you. he took a glance at spencer and his stern look told him everything he needed to know. spencer stepped away, fuming, his fists clenched. you sighed. “are you alright?” your boss inquired you.
“i’m fine. it’s just discomfort.” he nodded.
“alright. but if you feel faint or just off, tell me.” you nodded and he stepped away to finish talking with the sheriff, leaving you with emily and jj —who had been watching your interaction with the other genius from afar— as the paramedics put on some numbing ointment and wrapped your torso.
“what was that?” emily’s eyebrows were raised, her arms crossed over her chest.
“what was what?” you inquired.
“that. all of this. what’s going on between you and spencer later?” jj clarified, waving his hands around in the air, as if she could physically feel the tension and heaviness in the air even after he was gone.
“he’s just being a dick. nothing new.” you shrugged. “thank you.” you said to the paramedic who welcomed you with a smile and wished you a quick recovery as you buttoned back up your shirt.
“yeah but lately you two have been fighting non-stop.”
“we always have.”you frowned.
“not like this. it’s been worse since you two…” jj trailed off and your eyebrows raised.
“since our last case. since you two kissed.” emily finished up for her and all color left your face.
“what? nonsense.” you spat, but your micro expressions were enough to betray you. goddamn profilers.
“y/n…” emily tried and reason with you, but before she could jj’s phone was pinging.
“we have a new case.”
saved by the bell.
-
tension is tricking down your skin under spencer’s gaze as the team surrounds the table. jj has the remote in hand, ready to give out the information about this last butchery.
“georgia. the kyles, dennis and lacy, were murdered an hour ago in their suburban atlanta home.”
“an hour ago?” hotch frowned.
“the police were on scene unusually fast.” the blonde clarified the doubts that arose inside the room.
“why?” morgan inquired.
“one of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.
“you’re kidding.” derek scoffed and jj shook her head.
“from inside the house.” eyebrows rose. “according to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there because the other, who they both identified as raphael was about to kill the ‘sinners’ that live there.”
“sinners?” hotch replied just to make sure and jj nodded.
“the 911 center is going to send garcia a copy of the tape.”
“how fast was the police response time?” spencer inquired and your response eyes smoothed over his curls, his pointy small nose, high cheekbones and perfect jaw as jj answered.
“four minutes, 26 seconds. during which time raphael managed to do this.” images of the crime scene filled the screen and emily whistled with impression. “mr. kyle is a dot-com millionaire. his company is one of the largest employers in the community. there’s gonna be media coverage. also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”
“revelation, chapter 6, verse 8.” you muttered. “they’re killing ‘sinners’. this is a mission.”
“and mission-based killers will not stop killing.” spencer nodded, taking in your words.
“this is a bad one, isn’t it?” emily asked and morgan sighed.
“unsubs with a cause are never good.”
“even less if they’re religious.” you muttered. “violence is perpetrated for a wide variety of ideological reasons, and religion is generally only one of many contributing social and political factors that may foment it.”
penelope perked up with a ping of her computer. “pets? i just got the 911 call from the georgia state police.” she informed as she played it for the whole team.
the voice through the other side was soft, silent, wobbly as he explained that the people at that house had too much stuff, possessions, from raphael’s perspective, who was cutting in with a shape ‘that’s enough’ that rendered the submissive male silent.
“well, unsub one definitely sounds frightened, maybe he’s doing this against his will.” emily pointed out but gideon shook his head.
“i doubt it. he whispered.”
“he could have called out to save them instead of calling 911.�� hotch agreed.
“not if he had a gun to his head.” morgan chirped but you rectified him.
“if he had a gun to his head, why would he have dialed 911?”
“the second unsub said raphael was going to kill someone. is there a third?” jj inquired and spencer answered.
“referring to oneself in the third person is not uncommon for an unsub.” you nodded, stepping into his rambling.
“an example of it is ted bundy. he gave detailed accounts of his murders but he never admitted to doing it. he would just say ‘the killer’.” he looked at you with something hidden behind his eyes. fury, proudness? who knew?
“i’ll run the name through our system.” garcia said.
“we have a killing team on a mission in rural georgia. we know what that means.” hotch talked through the silence that came with garcia’s keyboard clacking.
“they’re not going to stop until the mission’s complete.” morgan said as he inspected the photos of the crime scene.
“but is there an ending to the mission? there will always be more ‘sinners’ to be taken care of.” you sighed and spencer chuckled.
“of course not. these unsubs are guided by a misunderstood point of view of a religion with shaky foundations. their reasoning is beyond cure. they’ll kill anyone who doesn’t fit the epitome of pure.” your eyes clashed against his at the condescending of his tone. you wanted to punch his jaw shut.
“then we need to hit the ground running. we need an inside picture of the victims. victimology can be critically important in a mission- based spree.” you talked to the group and spencer clapped his hands.
“you came up with that alone? brilliant deduction.” your eyebrows furrows as his eyes rolled in annoyance.
“what’s your fucking problem?” you gritted through your teeth, tension building in your body and in the air surrounding the two of you as you took a deep inhale of air that had your cracked rib throbbing.
“enough.” hotch cut short your quarrel for the second time around that day. “once we get there, prentiss, go where the bodies are. examine the wounds. they managed to kill two victims in four and a half minutes. we need to know how.” emily answers with a ‘you got it’. “i’m going to the atlanta field office and go over case files. it’d be unusual for a first kill to be this efficient.”
“reid, y/l/n and morgan come with me to the crime scene.” gideon ordered and you could almost feel the migraine that sharing space with the genius would bring you.
“wheels up in 20. we’ll land in less than an hour. so, everybody, try to get some rest.” hotch notified and all of you nodded, getting up from your seats and getting ready for this case.
-
“i’m tired of people using religion to justify the terrible things they do…” you sighed as you took a look at the blood stained carpet of the crime scene.
“you’re saying these killers are on a mission?” one of the officers of georgia asked.
“these unsubs believe they’re either on a mission from god or that the bible is somehow guiding them.” reid stepped up.
“sounded to me like only one of them was into the mission.”
“it’s usually more complicated than even that. in the case of dick hickcock and perry smith, perry was the subservient personality, basically against even entering the clutter home, yet he was the one who almost single-handedly slaughtered the entire family.” he explained in a messy blurb of words.
“huh.” was all that the agent said in response.
“how many times was mr. kyle stabbed?” gideon asked.
“stabbed isn’t exactly the word. they were slashed through the major arteries. they were made pretty much at the same time.”
“like an animal at slaughter…” you muttered.
“exactly like an animal at slaughter. you cut the throat first then sometimes open other major arteries to assist on draining the carcass.” reid added and you looked at him.
“so maybe a hunter?”
“or a farmer.”
gideon and morgan looked at the two of you. and in their eyes there was something you already knew. you could not like spencer, but the truth was that you two made the perfect team. and there was nothing that could change that fact.
“this unsub was good. they didn’t stand a chance.” gideon said and morgan stepped up to the other side of the room.
“okay, i know my partner called 911. the police are on the way, so i don’t have a lot of time. now, assuming unsub one didn’t actively participate, i gotta believe i entered the bedroom from here.” he pointed at the bedroom door to his left. “i see mr. kyle on the other side of the bed. so i approach him.”
“and you cut him first.” you nodded.
“how do you know that?” the agent asked you and you hummed.
“a blitz attacker neutralizes the greatest threat first. in this case, it would be the man.”
“plus, the 911 call, a woman screamed.” gideon added.
“you can’t scream with your throat cut.” spencer pointed out and you rolled your eyes.
“genius.” you whispered, winning a pissed off look from him and his hazel eyes.
“shut it.” he whispered back.
“make me.” your tongue betrays you with your witty come back before you can think it through and his face changes to a one of shock for a second before he relaxes once again into his hatred. but you’ve seen it. that look in his eyes. and you’re sure his mind has drifted back to your kiss. when you had shut him up for good. you almost smirk. ‘cause that little flash has made him gone quiet.
“so mrs. kyle sees her husband murdered, she runs back into the bathroom.” morgan continues with his reading of the room, completely oblivious of your bickering and tension as he enters the bedroom, taking the door with his gloved hands. “she tried to close the door behind her. i force my way in… and i kill mrs. kyle back here in the bathroom.”
“we checked that smudge for prints.” the agent points to the blood on the door beside morgan. “nothing. looks like he wore some gloves. not with any pattern. like latex maybe.” you shook your head.
“that doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“it doesn’t?”
“unsubs suffering from a psychopathy, a delusion like a message from god, are what we would classify as being disorganized. they don’t generally clean up after themselves.” reid explains for you. always meddling into your business, of course.
“maybe unsub one, the frightened one, made sure they did.” you argue with him and his eyes are piecing as he looks at you, but the ringing of morgan’s phone snatched both your attentions away.
“yeah, talk to me, baby girl. yeah.” he looked around the room after garcia inquired him something. “if a settee is a little couch. what? what’s wrong? a viral what?” you frown in curiosity and from derek’s own frowning. “garcia, is there some point to all of this?” he steps forward towards us. “garcia. there’s a video of this murder on the internet?” the three of you are perplexed under his gaze, and then he’s looking from side to side as he ends the call before stepping towards a computer in front of him.
“they’re watching us.”
-
«the armies of satan shall not prevail.»
tobias hankel. it was the first time you heard his name. a witness to an unknown prowler that hotch had asked spencer and you to ask a few questions to help recognized the aforementioned.
tobias. hebrew. meaning ‘god is good’. under his facade. his sweet, nervous eyes you might think lives a good man that resembles the meaning of his name.
and yet, the devil was looming over his shoulder.
“hi. mr. hankel?” i inquired after my knocks and the screeching of his opening door.
“uhmm. yeah?” he looked innocent. pure even. how could you haven known? they say you can sense it. smell the rotten. but this rotten second mind taking over hankel was so well hidden that you couldn’t even sniff it.
“mr. hankel. fbi. i’m agent y/l/n. this is doctor reid.” you two showed him your badges and the man frowned.
“fbi?”
“may we come in?” spencer inquired, and tobias looked over his shoulder into the safety of his home.
“i’m sorry. i don’t let anyone in the house.”
“actually, i really have to, you know, go.” spencer awkwardly said and you gritted your teeth. seriously?
“you do?”
“yeah. for like thirty minutes.”
“why didn’t you say something in the car?”
he completely ignored you and looked at tobias once again.
“do you mind?”
“i’m sorry. my father doesn’t like it.”
“father? you’re like, 30.”you almost elbowed him on the stomach.
“at what age should one start disrespecting the wishes of their parents?” he inquired seriously to the genius behind you and you stepped into the middle of the conversation to fade away the discomfort brewing in between them.
“you witnessed something a few months ago that might be very helpful for us.” you kindly said.
“i did?”
you nodded. “you saw someone go over a wall into a yard. you called the police?” he frowned.
“me?” you copied his gesture.
“you didn’t?”
“sorry.” he shrugged and spencer hummed in thought.
“is there another tobias hankel here?” you inquired.
he shook his head. “just me and my father, charles.”
“there’s a report on file that lists you as calling 911. you were walking a dog…” he cut you off.
“no, that’s wrong. i don’t have a dog.”
“oh.” you muttered. “all right. well, sorry to brother you, sir.”
“sorry. have a good night.” tobias said before closing the door and leaving the two of you alone.
“that’s weird…” you said as you started to walk down the front steps of the porch. “why bother calling the police in the first place if later you’re just going to pretend you didn’t?” spencer seemed to connect something inside his mind then, because he looked at you with widened eyes.
“to gauge the response time.”
“what?”
“if you were going to kill somebody but you wanted to call the police first, what would you need to know?” he inquired you and your eyes widened the same way his had.
“how long it takes them to get there.” you nodded and he quickly ran around the house. “reid!” he looked into one of the windows and found what he was looking for, screens, almost 15 of them over one another showing live feed of people lives. when tobias spotted him, he started to run. spencer called after you. “get back here! he’s the unsub, he’s in the barn, come on!” you took out your weapon and trailed behind him towards the barn. “he’s in here.”
“are you sure?”
“have you ever seen me pull out this thing is i wasn’t?!” he pointed at his gun and you rolled your eyes. always the same. “call hotch.”
“we’re in the middle of nowhere, reid, we have no cell service.” you stated the obvious with a. ‘seriously’ look on your face and he groaned.
“great. of course we have no service.”
“okay. let’s do this. i cover the front you go around back. hotch knows we’re here. he’ll come looking for us, we’ll just wait him out.” you stood up and he shook his head.
“no, no, no, y/l/n.” but you had already gotten into the barn leaving him behind.
“tobias hankel! fbi!” you called out, pointing your gun to your surroundings as your eyes tried to get used to the dim —almost inexistent— lightning. you toon out your flashlight as you stepped further in, taking in the interior of the barn, the chains handing from the ceiling��� until something splashed below your feet, and when you looked down… blood.
next you hear? the snarling of three bloodied dogs. yellow eyes under the light of your flashlight as they bared their teeth at you, their fur so black you were sure they were more than dogs. hell hounds. ready to devours you as they already had devoured your last victim.
you gun fired at them just in time to dodge their fangs and avoid the tearing of your skin in a shriek.
your heart is pounding out of your chest as you run out of the barn to scape the third dog, that haunts you down to the back of the barn and plunges at you with hunger in his eyes, you fight, even though the fall against the dirt has left you breathless and your torso hurts due to your fractured rib. the barrel in his mouth as he nips at the metal before you push it aside and end with his fury with a shot to the head. nothing has ever made your heart break more than the whimper of pain that leaves the hound’s mouth as he falls.
you’re panting as you scramble backwards away from the body. that’s until you hear spencer’s scrambled voice.
“wait. wait. wait.”
along with tobias’ and the other unsub’s voice.
you quickly press your feet back onto the ground as you followed the sound.
“i could have stopped him by myself!” tobias shouts.
“okay. okay.”
“i tried to warn everyone.”
“just relax, mister hankel. all right?”
“shoot him!”
and then there was a mess of voices.
“no! i don’t want to!”
“i said. shoot him you weakling, he’s a satan!”
“he didn’t do anything!”
“i won’t tell you another time, boy. shoot him!”
“tobias hankel!” you pointed at him with your gun, your eyebrows furrowing when you only find the two of them, alone, no other unsubs.
spencer’s gaze falls on you. he’s on the ground, hands up.
“another devil! told you to get rid of the first, boy!” the voice of raphael that you’d only heard on the 911 recorded phone calls leaves tobias’ mouth and your frown deepens before you understand what was going on.
“raphael?” you inquired and the man looked at you with an stern despised look.
“how dares a devil call my name?” he grumbled and your whole body froze when the finger he had on the trigger twitched. he was pointing straight at spencer’s head.
your mind quickly tried to find something. anything. anything that could take the man’s attention away from the brunette. he was shaking his head at you but you’d already made up your mind. you knew what to do.
“i need to confess my sins” you looked at the genius, his brown puppy eyes on the unsub, who kept pointing at him. one mere twitch of a finger and he’d be gone.
“talk child” raphael ordered, and you swallowed.
spencer called out your name. “don’t.”
“silence!!” the man yelled, the barbell pointing at his head, to what you quickly yet calmly spoke.
“i’ve been lustful raphael. i’ve let the devil inside of me.” you quickly spoke. “and it felt so good.” the tone on your voice seemed to haunt him, his teeth gritting against the other. you knew what this man, these men, despised, and you were gonna take advantage of it. “i’ve been greedy. so greedy, raphael. i only took this job for the money, for the power. and i’ve killed innocents, i’ve killed believers like you. i fear the devil who has possessed my body has turned me into one.”
“you need saving. dirty devil whores like you need to be expunged!!” he spat. “i can save you child. i can make the forgiving loving god take you in between his arms once again.” you rose up your hands, in a quick motion of your hand throwing your weapon aside, leaving you at his grace.
“i would like that. and i know i don’t deserve it. but as a last undying wish, please, let this man be. take me and save me instead. he’s as pure as they can be.” you looked at spencer, whose eyes only read fear. maybe for his life. maybe for yours. you feared yours didn’t have saving anymore. “let my sinful life lead to the saving of the pure ones.” he looked at you, pondering. you only wished he would fall into your words, that spencer’s blood wouldn’t fall onto the hay.
“thank the lord i’m as forgiving as him, boy.” the unsub said with one last step and look in his direction, before hitting spencer in the head with the gun, making his vision turn blurry as he fell onto the floor. “now come child, let’s make you pure again.” he ordered, and with a flicker or your eyes towards the profiler, who in between merely conscious babbles called out for you with ‘don’t’s’, watched you go by the hand of who could possibly be your ending.
-
you didn’t even strain against the ropes that tightly kept you sat on the wooden chair, your eyes taking in the looking like basement in which who you had recognized as charles had dragged you to. he was messing with metal around a fireplace, and even though you wanted to think that it was all a mistake, that in reality it couldn’t be possible, you deeply knew what would happen next.
he took the bar out of the fire, the iron red in heat. “you know what this is?” he inquired, showing you the cross branded at the end
of it, a cross that will surely burn your skin and brand you for the rest of your life. “it’s god’s will.” you gasped when one of his harsh hands took a hold of the front of your shirt, tugging at it and making the buttons pop, exposing your chest to his dark eyes.
“you don’t have to do this.” you tried, although you knew it would fall on deaf ears.
“i’m just an instrument of god. and you my dear, are a devil i need to eradicate.” your fear coated eyes watched as he slowly approached the cross to your exposed skin, the warmth of the iron making your skin prickle. and even though you fought against the restrains that bounded you to your fatal fate, you could not scape his will.
a scream ripped from your throat at the searing pain of the branding, the smell of your own skin melting away making you feel sick in your lightheaded state.
“stop. please stop.” you cried out, tears falling from your eyes as he pulled away the iron from your skin, throwing it aside.
“i though you wanted this. you came to me, to us! i can see it in your eyes, you want to be saved!” he maniacally talked.
“no…” you shook your head, your vision turning white for a moment at the harsh smack he left on your cheek, making you turn away.
“that’s just the devil inside you talking, dear. don’t worry. i’ll take care of it.”
“i’m not a devil!” you begged. “i’m not a devil, i’m a woman.” but he wouldn’t believe you.
“the devil lies.” he muttered as he undid the ropes tying you to the chair, although you were still immobilized as he dragged you by your hair.
“i’m not lying! i’m not, please!”
“the devil lies.” you watched as he dragged you to a tub filled with water. “and for that i shall baptize you in the father’s holy water.”
“no, no, you don’t have to do this…” you pleaded.
“oh, but i do…” you took a forceful deep breath before cold ice water was hitting your face and head, drenching you down to your chest and new searing brand. you fought against his hold. but he was too strong. you choked on the water, trying to grasp a bit of air with every pull and tug out of the water as he practically tried to drown you, although you were becoming dizzy, on your mind the thought of dying here consuming you. you could catch fragments of his praying as he drowned you, an “amen” falling from his lips as you lost consciousness and let your body plummet into the ground.
maybe this was the end.
and strangely enough, the last thing that went through your mind before you fell onto the darkness was spencer.
-
you woke up with a gasp, back at the chair, the door of the little cabin closing behind the unsub, who carried in between his bloody arms a skinned animal.
he looked at you, and you knew this wasn’t raphael, or charles, what made you slightly sigh.
“you need to eat.” he said, putting the animal aside.
“what’s your name?” you inquired, softly, your throat sore by the cold water you had accidentally swallowed. you needed to make sure this was the man who had greeted you at his door and not the shadow taking over his mind when he wasn’t looking, or another unknown alter.
“tobias.” he answered and you nodded.
“who was here before?”
“it was probably my father.” he said, and then took on your disheveled aspect. your drenched state and the red skin-melted cross on your chest. “i’m sorry he hurt you.” he sincerely said, although you quickly panicked when you saw him walk towards you while taking off his leather belt.
“what are you doing?” oh god, please no, you through as he made quick work of pulling up the sleeve of your shirt and harshly buckling it around your arm. “no. no. please don’t.” you begged.
“it helps.” he promised as he took out a needle and a crystal little bottle. “don’t tell my father. he doesn’t know they’re here.”
you watched in between sobs as he injected the needle on the bottle, getting a shot of whatever drug it was to guide it to your arm.
“please. i don’t want it. i don’t want it. please.”
“trust me. i know.”
“please, don’t.” you whimpered, hissing in pain as the needle breached your skin, your body jolting as the drug filled your veins.
“it helps.” he muttered. “what are you doing boy?” raphael’s voice cut through. the man in front of you was splitting again. “i was just trying to help.” “help a devil?” a smack was given to his own cheek. “you’re weak! they don’t deserve help. they deserve saving. justice!!! and i’m gonna give it to her.”
“you ready, girl?” the man, now charles, tugged on your hair.
“ready for what?” you grunted.
“my weakling son thinks god gave you to him for a reason. let’s see if we’re both right.” he said letting you go to turn around your chair, pulling a camera in front of you.
-
“spencer! we already told you you can’t be here. you should be with the paramedics!” jj said, trying to stop spencer from coming into the house. where the team was trying to find out your location.
“any luck?” he inquired, ignoring the blonde, to what hotch shook his head.
“seems like the kid self-medicated with heroin. we contacted rehab and they told us they have no idea where he could be, but we found out that hankel has a serious drug problem.” prentiss said.
“that could explain the psychotic fracture.” hotch said.
“what are you talking about?” jj inquired.
“tobias is living as at least three different people.”
“himself, his father and raphael…” spencer muttered. “so we have nothing? we’ve seen what this man is capable of and we have nothing?”
“spencer…” gideon tried to stop him.
“no. you… you don’t understand. she saved me. and god knows what she could be going through…”
“we have something.” the police officer entered the house. “this could be bad news. a computer store was robbed in the middle of the night. a suburb outside of atlanta. thief got away with four laptops, external hard drives and a satellite.”
“if its tobias, it puts him right back in business.” hotch said.
and just as he muttered those words morgan was calling out for the whole team.
“guys! guys, get in here!” he yelled, guiding them to the computer’s room.
prentiss gasped at the sight of you on the screens. “she’s been beaten.”
spencer could feel all air leaving his lungs at the sight of you. drenched clothes, bleeding chest, bruised cheek and hazy eyes.
“can’t you track him?” jj inquired in a rush.
“hankel’s only streaming this to his home computer.” garcia said.
“this is for us. he knows we’re here.” gideon said.
“i’m going to put this guy’s head on a stick.” morgan cursed.
“he branded her.” spence couldn’t help but choke on his words. “oh god. this is my fault. if only i had…” his hands were on his hair, his hazel puppy eyes frantic.
“spencer, look at me. look at me!” morgan stopped him, taking his shoulders. “we’ll find her, alright? we’re gonna find her.”
“why can’t you locate him?” hotch asked garcia, to what she started typing.
“he’s rerouting to a different IP address every 30 seconds. i can’t track him.”
“there’s must be something you can do. anything!” spencer begged, while on the other side of the screen, the killer was giving you a choice.
“you really see inside men’s minds?” hankel asked, you didn’t know if you were talking to raphael or his father, charles, walking in front of the monitors. “see this vermin?” you looked at the people on the screens he had pointed at, who unknowingly lived their lives. “choose one to die. i’ll let you choose one to live.”
you shook your head. “no…”
“i thought you wanted to be some kind of savior.” he frowned walking towards you.
“i already saved someone who deserved saving.” the man grunted, tugging at your hair.
“choose.”
“you’re a sadist in a psychotic break. you won’t stop killing. your word is not true.”
he looked at the camera that recorded you.
“the other heathens are watching.” you looked at the camera. so your team was watching you… “choose a sinner to die, and i’ll say the name and address of the person to be saved.”
“i won’t choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.” he tugged harder onto your hair, smacking you and making the whole team gasp.
“you really see into my mind, girl? can you see i’m not a liar? choose one to die, save a life. otherwise, they’re all dead.” he pushed you against the chair and you closed your eyes tightly. your cheek was on fire. and surely bruised by how badly it hurt.
“alright.” you swallowed. “i’ll choose who lives.”
“all the same.”
you looked at the screens. pondering. did you have a choice? could you save them all?
“far… far sight screen…” the killer looked at that screen.
“marilyn david. 4913 walnut creek road.”
“you got that?” morgan inquired to garcia and gideon was quick to call the saved woman to warn her about the recording computer.
the screen that was recording her turned black, and when the man turned you recognized that look in his eyes. “raphael?”
“you’ve done your part. now it’s my turn.”
spencer caught on your hand moving by your side, your fingers signing words.
“guys look. she’s trying to say something.”
“what is she saying?”
but before you could finish the camera was turning off, and they lost you on the darkness.
along the lines, he knew what you were tying to say.
‘it’s not your fault.’
-
the next time you woke up a murder had taken place. and you couldn’t help but think it was your fault. you couldn’t save them. they were slaughtered because of you… and he had left you there with the screen on for you to see as he slaughtered them.
“tobias?” you inquired as the man next to you fumbled with your shirt and the leather belt on your arm.
“yeah. sorry i had to leave for awhile.” he muttered.
“you can leave again and you can take me with you.” you offered, watching him prepare another shot of heroin. your mind was still scattered due to the last one.
“my father would be angry.”
“not if he can’t find us.”
“he always finds me.” he sighed. it was as if he had been sentenced to a slow painful death. a fate he couldn’t scape.
“if you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us.” you promised.
“we can’t be saved…” he said as he looked at the needle, slightly flicking it with his finger.
“we can. we can, i promise. if you tell me where we are, i’ll save us both.”
“listen to me.” he cut you off. “it’s not worth fighting. tell me it doesn’t make it better.” he said pointing at the needle. you sobbed as he punctured your skin once again, making your consciousness start to slip.
“we can be saved. we can be saved…” you promised yourself as you felt the drug taking effect.
in the unsub’s screens suddenly pops up a red window saying that the video of the last murder he had uploaded was a virus “no!!!” you knew it had to be garcia to try and trace his IP. “they’re trying to silence my message.” gritted raphael.
“i can’t control what they do, i’m not with them. i’m with you.” you slurred.
“really?” he scoffed, clicking on the keyboard to pull out of his video an image of gideon. his voice filled your senses. he was calling out your name.
“if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this. you understand me? he’s perverting god to justify murder. you’re stronger than him. he cannot break you.”
“you think you can defy me?” he inquired to you after turning of the screens.
“i don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“you’re a liar!” he suddenly took your arm, pulling up your sleeve to show the marks of the multiple needles that had breached your skin and his face changed. it was charles. “you’re pitiful. just like my son.” you sobbed as he turned on the camera back up. “this ends now. confess your sins.” he ordered with a new smack to your face. your team was watching through the other side of the screen.
“we need to find her.” reid said. “we need to find her now!!”
“i haven’t done anything.” you cried, to what he gave you a harsh punch, splitting your lip. “tobias help me!” you begged to the man incarcerated in his own body.
“he can’t help you. he’s weak. confess!”
“tobias…” you whimpered as he slapped you across the face.
“confess your sins…” he ordered as he tugged on your hair, making you look at him.
“no…” you shook your head, all breath leaving your lungs as he pushed you down onto the floor. you started gasping for air, your body convulsing due to the drug intake and the poor oxygen that was getting into your lungs.
“oh my god he’s killing her!”penelope sobbed, the whole team in shock, spencer’s soul withering. it was his fault. your blood was on his hands. and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
he saw your eyes close. your chest stop rising. and he swore his own heart had stopped just at the same time yours had.
“she’s dead. she’s dead.” she muttered, her hands on her hair.
“and that’s the devil vacating your body…” the man said to you as he watched your life leave your body.
spencer could almost feel it himself. your body losing warmth, your limbs becoming stiff.
hankel disappeared from the screen a couple of minutes as morgan took his shoulders.
“i killed her morgan. i let him take her away and now she’s dead. it’s my fault that she’s dead…”
“spencer.”
“i killer her…” his eyes seemed empty. “she sacrificed herself for me. i could have saved her, i could have…”
“guys!!” garcia called for them at the sight of what it seemed to be tobias giving you cpr. spencer clenched his fists on the chair’s back, begging, praying for you to breath again.
oh god, please, please don’t let it be the end…
relief was short for the feeling that succumbed his body when he saw you cough.
in your dizziness you caught a glimpse of what it seemed to be the stone of a grave.
“whoa…” garcia sighed, and spence almost fell on his butt if morgan weren’t holding him.
“wait when was the video of the last murder posted?” prentiss asked, suddenly and urgently remembering something.
“9:23” garcia responded.
“and what was the time of death?”
“the 911 call came in at 9:04 and the murder must have been moments later.” hotch answered.
“that’s only a 19-minute difference.” jj said.
“how long would it take to post the MPEG?” morgan inquired.
“two, three minutes.” garcia said.
“well, let’s call it two. you figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area. that means hankel has to be within a 17-mile radius of the crime scene.” morgan realized.
“garcia, can we see it on a map?” hotch asked.
“yeah.” she nodded, circling the area described.
“call farraday. i want that area locked down like it’s martial law.” gideon ordered.
“you came back to life…” raphael talked to you as you took your breath.
“raphael…”
“there can only be one of two reasons.” he wondered.
“i was given cpr.” you weakly tried to joke, more for yourself than anything, but he ignored you.
“there are no accidents. how many members are on your team?” he inquired.
“without me… seven.” you said.
“the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. the first sounded and there followed hail and fire mixed with blood, and they were thrown to earth.” he recited.
“he thinks it’s revelation. the seven archangels versus the seven angels of death.” hotch muttered.
“tell me who you serve.” raphael ordered.
“i serve you.” you responded, no thoughts in your head. you were playing chess with the devil himself and you had the make him belief he was winning… for now.
“then choose one to die.”
“what?”
“your team members. there must be a real devil in between you disguised as an angel. choose to die.”
“kill me.” you weakly offered, but he shook his head.
“you came back to life. you mustn’t be the devil.”
“i lied.”
“your team has seven other members. tell me who dies.”
“no.” you shook your head, and watched him as he took out of his pocket a gun, turning the cylinder of the gun to later on point at your head.
“choose and prove you’ll do god’s will.”
“no.” the trigger clicks. and you’re still here. the gun cocks again.
second round.
“choose.”
“i won’t do it.” the trigger clicks once again, just as the gun cocks.
“life is a choice.”
“no.”
once again.
“choose.” you hesitate, thinking, until your lips
part and you speak.
“i choose spencer reid.” the team freezes. “he’s a classic narcissist. he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team. i despise him.” you said. “genesis 23:4. ‘let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for this shall be his recompense.’ “
spencer after hearing you quickly left the room, just as raphael cocked the gun and fired the bullet that would have blown your brains out on the wall. you shiver.
“he’s the devil you want.”
you watch him take another bullet and put it in the cylinder. “for god’s will.”
the team follows spencer onto the kitchen’s table. he’s got a bible in between his hands. “i’m not a narcissist.” gideon sighs.
“come on. look, you can’t take anything from that. she’s not on her right mind, reid.”
“that’s not what i’m saying. stop. okay, everybody right now, what’s my worst quality?” they all fell silent. “okay.” his lips tugged in this thin line be always managed to do. “maybe i’m a little bit narcissistic. but i’ve never put myself above the team. cause i don’t. ever. y/n and i argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and she knew that i would remember that. and she also quoted generis 23:4. read it.” he babbled before giving the bible to jj.
“ ‘i am a stranger and a sojourner with you, give me property for a burial place among you that i may bury my dead out of sight.’”
“she wouldn’t get it wrong unless it was on purpose. i know that.” reid said. “she’s a genius.”
“she’s in a cemetery.” morgan said and they quickly went back in their steps.
“i don’t see a cemetery.” prentiss said looking at the screen once the whole team was back with penelope.
“call up the first time we saw her.” gideon asked the blonde, who put on the video of you, in which you said ; ‘i won’t choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.’
“check to see if there are any reposts of poaching in the last couple of days.” hotch said.
“okay…” penelope typed. “a farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property.”
“where are we talking?” morgan asked. the screen focused on an even littler portion of map in walton.
“what’s that patch of green there?” jj inquired, and garcia focused on marshall parish.
“marshall parish. i think it’s an old plantation.” hotch wondered.
“wait. tobias wrote in his journals about ‘staying clean’ and ‘keeping away from marshall’” emily pointed out.
“guys. there’s a cemetery on the grounds.” penelope said.
-
you slurped up as much water as you could, your eyes meeting his face.
“tobias? is that you?” you inquired.
“yeah.” he nodded, giving you more to drink, which you gladly took.
“thank you.” you breathlessly said. “you saved my life.”
“i’m sorry.”
“why?”
“he’ll win in the end.” he muttered, putting aside the glass of water.
“tobias, i need to know something. it’s important. are we in a cemetery?”
he nodded. “i used to come here to get high.”
“i was right.” you smiled to yourself as he got you ready for another shot of heroin.
“no one bothers you here. i never told anyone about it.” he said as he buried the needle on your skin and pressed. he let you be as the drug took its effect on your body, his personality shifting once again.
“i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…” you sobbed, your mind dizzy. every time you closed your eyes, there he was. with his brown caramel curls, hazel eyes and pretty smile. you only wish he had given you one before you’d die…
“why are you sorry, girl?” raphael inquired you and you cried.
“i didn’t notice. i couldn’t have. he was right in front of me, and i… i… i pushed him away. i couldn’t help it.”
“is that a confession?”
you nodded, sniffling. “i confess.”
“being sorry won’t save you now, girl.”he walked towards you and took away your bounds. “grab a shovel.”
you followed his orders, and let him lead the way towards a part of the cemetery, where he pushed you to your knees and ordered you to start digging.
“i ought to bury you alive in there. give you time to think about what you’ve done.”
“i know what i’ve done…”
“don’t talk back to me!” he kicked you harsh in your side, and if your rib wasn’t broken before, you were sure that it was now. “dig.” you sobbed in between gasps of air, complying. “dig faster!”
“i’m not strong enough.” you muttered in a frail voice.
“you’re all weak.” he scoffed, taking off his jacket. your eyes caught lights behind him. it was your team. “get out of there.” he looked at where you were looking, and once he had turned, you grabbed the jacket he had tossed onto the ground and took ahold of his gun, pointing it at him. he pointed at you with his knife. “only one bullet in that gun, girl. you better not miss.” he growled as he stepped closer and you fired it. you thanked god as the bullet hit his chest. you crawled towards him once his body had hit the ground, tossing away his knife as he looked at you. “you killed him…” it was no longer his father.
“tobias?”
“there she is!”hotch exclaimed.
“do you think i’ll get to see my mom again?” he inquired you.
“i’m sorry.” you whispered, watching the light leave his eyes.
you heard spencer calling your name, feeling his warm arms caging you against his chest and pulling you away from tobias. “you’re alright. you’re alright…” he muttered, his hand on your messy locks, holding you close. you’d never felt safe in your life. until now.
“i knew you’d understand…” you smiled, your body weak and falling limp against his. “you’re a genius, spencer…” you somehow managed to babble as your eyes started to close.
“hey, come on, stay with me. stay with me y/n, please…”you could muster out his soft voice calling out for you, shaking you. “call the medics! someone please call the medics!!!!”
-
a/n; this took so long to write…😫 but i’m so happy with it! finally some angst!!<33
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