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illyrianslut · 1 day ago

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Spymaster's mate - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is away on business for the Night Court, but Y/N needs satisfaction while he is gone. He senses through the bond what his mate is needing and winnows home.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut, overstimulation, breeding kink, spanking, masturbation. I think that's it..

Author's Note: I don't write smut a lot, so please be kind xD Ao3 Link

You had known it was going to be another long lonely night at home without Azriel to keep you company, but that didn’t make coming home to your empty town home any easier. It had been a rainy, dreary day in Velaris but you’d made the best of it deciding to visit Feyre and Nyx at Feyre’s shop surprising them with treats from their favorite bakery.

Even after spending time with you little nephew the ache of missing your mate consumed you once you were alone. Of course you understood that Azriel’s job as Spymaster for the Night Court was an important one, and one that often stole him away from you for days at a time, it didn’t ever take away the ache of being away from him or not knowing if he is safe.

Throwing your things in a pile beside the door, you enter your home and make your way to the kitchen to begin making something for dinner. Much to your surprise, there is a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table, a card with your name on it is sitting beside it.

You look around your home, feeling that your mate isn’t there causing you to wonder how the flowers got into your -locked- home. The note was clearly written in Azriel’s handwriting, confusing you further. You give a small tug on the mating bond you share with him, but can tell instantly that his walls are up and there is no chance of you getting through to him.

Y/N,

I wanted to apologize for leaving you home alone for so long. You know how it kills me to be away from you. Rhysand needs me to stay here longer, I can explain more when I get home. I am so sorry for being away my love, I will be home as soon as time allows. I love you, Az.

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips, it wasn’t the first time his job kept him away longer than anticipated, and surely wouldn’t be the last. You know not to take it to heart, but that doesn’t take away the sting of missing him.

You give up on the idea of dinner, just wanting the day to be over. Sleep sounds much nicer anyway. You give the flowers a quick sniff and smile, he had always known your favorite flowers to get. But you’d still rather your mate be home than have flowers.

Tomorrow would be one week since you saw him, one week since you felt his calming pretense, and felt him inside you. Your core aches at the thought of your last morning before he left, as always he made sure to satisfy you fully before leaving. You get to your bedroom and throw on one of his shirts and crawl into bed, still thinking about that morning.

He had woken you with his lips wrapped around your clit, and hands on your hips to hold you in place while he devoured you.

You move your fingers to your needy cunt, and begin rubbing slow circles on your clit, remembering the feel of your mate.

“Az.” You moan running your fingers through his hair, hips bucking to meet his tongue that is currently lapping at your entrance as though it’s his last meal.

“Good morning my beautiful girl.” He says, moving to slide a finger inside you. “How many times shall I make you come for me this morning?” He questions, adding another finger.

You can’t help but sigh deeply at the memory of his fingers inside you, tossing your head back moving your fingers faster.

You hum in response to his question, but can’t find any words as pleasure is coursing through your body. He begins sucking on your swollen clit, making a knot form in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum.” You clasp a hand over your mouth to hold back the moan rising in your throat. But he stops, taking away the pleasure he’d been giving so freely moments before.

“Don’t you dare hide those beautiful moans from me, princess.” He pulls your hand away from your mouth and holds it with his free hand, then goes back to lapping at your core. “You come for me, baby girl. Come all over my face.” His words are your undoing, your release hitting you all at once. Your legs clench around his shoulders and you let go, cumming on his tongue as he keeps licking, and pumping his fingers inside you quickly.

A tug is sent from the other side of the bond, a satisfied grin plasters itself on your face knowing that Azriel can feel the please you’re giving yourself. You drop what little shield was left to you, letting him in fully, letting him feel the orgasm you’re close to giving yourself.

“Please, I need more.” You beg him, not feeling fully satisfied, needing his cock inside you.

“Beg for it, Princess.” He commands, placing rough kisses up your body, sucking once he gets to your swollen nipple. “Beg for my cock if you want it so bad.” His hand reaches up to play with your other nipple.

Your body can’t help but respond to his deep, lust filled voice. “Az please, I need your cock inside me. I need you to fill my pussy.” Your voice comes out in a desperate whine while you take in the assault on your nipples.

“Good girl.” He praises you, lining his beautifully long cock up with your desperate cunt.

He doesn’t take but a moment before pushing his entire length inside you, earning a lust filled moan from both of you.

A brief rustle beside you brings you back to reality. You can’t help but startle seeing a dark figure in the corner of your bedroom, but once you recognize the shadows of your mate you continue flicking your fingers over your clit.

“You dirty little slut.” Azriel growls, stalking over to the bed and gripping your ankles to pull you to meet him.

You laugh excitedly, knowing that you’re in trouble, but also knowing the punishment will be well worth it. “What did I do?” You ask innocently, eyes raking down the man before you. His cock bulging through his leathers, wings fluttering as they always did when lust overtook him, and his eye narrowed on you.

“You know exactly what you did.” He leans down, grabbing the hand that had just been rubbing your clit and pulled you to a sitting position. His lips are close to yours, but instead of kissing you he lifts your hand to his mouth and sucks on the two fingers covered in your wetness. “Take off the shirt.” He commands, leaving no room for argument.

You do as your told, and toss the shirt you’d taken from his dresser across the room. He stood above you not breaking eye contact, he loved to hold the power over you in the bedroom, to be in control. “Get your ass in the air.” Another command, causing your needy cunt to clench looking for something to fill it.

You turn yourself around so that your ass is in the air, and shake it for him. A hard smack lands on your left cheek, a moan from you as you savor the punishment. “Please Az, I need your dick inside me.” You beg, wishing more than anything that cock was filling you up like it had before he left.

He sucks gently at your collarbone, sure to leave a nice purple bruise after he’s done. His hips pull out of you teasingly slow before he shoves his cock back into you so hard your body pushes up. He repeats his thrust again and again, earning pleasure filled cries from you. “That’s right pretty girl, take my cock like a good fucking girl.”

You clench around his cock at his words, digging your fingers into his shoulder. “Good girl, clench that pussy around my dick. That’s right, take it just like that.” Another thrust into your aching pussy.

Smack. Your right cheek stings as he slaps it bringing you back to him. “Dirty slut, distracting me from my work.” One more slap to your left cheek and he pulls away, a whine leaving your lips. “Take my dick out, and if you’re a good girl maybe I’ll fuck you.”

You sit up quickly, facing him on the bed and begin undoing the leathers between you and his cock. A satisfied hum comes from him at your eagerness, earning you a soft caress on the cheek. As soon as you’ve undone his leathers and hauled them down you take in the beauty that is his length. Pre cum is spilling out of the tip, you lick your lips before getting to your knees in front of him, licking his entire length.

He groans your name, and puts a fist in your hair tugging at the roots. You open your mouth wide to fit him inside, and dip down to take as much as you could, using your hand to pump the remaining length. “Fuck, just like that princess.” He praises, keeping his grip in your hair while guiding you in sucking his cock.

A glance up at him shows you his eyes closed tightly, and lips parted slightly as his soft moans fill the room. You use your free hand to cup his balls and he stiffens immediately, eyes shooting open to look down at you. “You are my good girl, aren’t you?” He grabs both sides of your head and thrusts into your mouth several times, making your eyes fill with tears, and gag as his entire length is shoved down your throat. Just when you think you aren’t able to take more he stops, and pulls you up gently. “Aren’t you?”

You nod, wiping at the tears that had filled your eyes from the face fuck, and reach behind him to run a gently finger across the base of his wings. “Do you think you deserve my dick?” He questions, shuddering at your touch.

“Yes baby.�� Your words sound like a plea. You can’t help but grind against his cock, needing the friction, your dripping pussy aching for relief.

He leans down to your shoulder placing an all too gently kiss there before wrapping his arms under your ass and picking you up. Instinctively you wrap your legs around him, and lull your head to the side as he sucks at the soft skin.

Before you know it, your back has hit the wall, and he crashes his lips to yours. “You are my good little girl.” He lines his tip up with your entrance and without another word, thrusts into you. “Who got your pussy so wet angel?” He asks, pulling out and thrusting back in quickly, his balls slapping against you while he fucks up into you.

“You did Az, my pussy is soaked only for you.” You moan, taking his cock up inside you, grinding as much as you can to create more friction on your clit.

He hold you up with one arm, still fucking you when he reaches between you and uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit. A red hot ball begins to form in your stomach, lewd sounds leaving your mouth as you try to form words around the ecstasy that you’re feeling.

“I’m g-gonna.” You try to get out, but just as the orgasm is about to take over you he pulls out and sets you on wobbling legs. “Az-” You beg, looking up, legs shaking as you’re unable to hold yourself up at the let down from you ruined orgasm.

“Not yet you’re not.” He drags you over to the bed, holding you up as your body comes down from the disappointment. “You’re coming on my mouth first, sweet girl.” He tells you, laying you down and kneeling before you.

His cock is being fisted in his hand as he pushes you down and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “You don’t cum until I tell you to. Is that understood?” His mouth is hovering over your soaked pussy, but he refuses to give you pleasure until you acknowledge his words.

“Yes baby.” You confirm, hips rolling looking for any sign of satisfaction.

He leans in and immediately starts lapping at your soaking cunt “You’re so beautiful.” He says into you, sucking and slurping sending lightning bolts of pleasure rushing through you. Your ruined orgasm coming back, full force.

As though he senses the oncoming orgasm, he tears his hand away from his cock so he can put two fingers inside you, pumping quickly while he continues sucking on your clit. The pleasure is about to burst out of you, and you know you need to ask before you come. “Please let me cum.” You beg, hips bucking to meet his finger thrusts.

“Come for me princess.” With those words you come undone, your pleasure fulled moans filling the room, mixed with the slurping of your pussy in Azriel’s mouth. “Mmm, good fucking girl.” He praises, as your body convulses, letting the orgasm run through you.

You moan his name and a string of curse words, running your fingers through his hair. “Now it’s my turn, and I’m going to cum in that little pussy of yours.” Another wave of pleasure consumes you as he lay over you and thrusts inside before letting you come down from your first orgasm.

He fills you so completely, stretching your cunt to the limits filling you with the most beautiful feeling. His large hand finds your throat, and squeezes just enough to send more pleasure through you, his pace quickening as he fucks into you harder.

You reach back and play with his wings, and close your eyes enjoying the feeling of his hand around your throat. “I’m gonna cum in your pussy and fill you with my seed. You little fucking whore.” His thrusts are becoming sloppy, he releases his grip on your throat and hold himself over you continuing to pump into you.

Your second orgasm burst out of you when he took your nipple in his mouth, the sensation overtaking you. You knew he was close, and the stimulation was becoming too much for you to bare, “Please cum inside me, I want you to put a babe in me, Az.” You knew the words would be his undoing, he’d been attempting to get you with child for years.

Just like that his weight was on top of you in the most loving way and you felt his cum filling you up. Your name continuing to fall off his lips as he kept thrusting to push his seed further inside. As he finished his hips pressed into you, creating an overstimulated cry leave your lips.

As he realized what caused the cry, he began grinding against you harder, a devious grin spreading across his lips. You try to push his weight off you, feeling another unwelcome orgasm creeping up inside you “Az it’s too much.” You beg, your hips betraying you and grinding into his.

The orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, another cry escaping out of you. “You have one more in you, I know it.” He slides down your body, and holds your hips in place while he attaches his lips to your exposed cunt again.

“Azriel!” You cry out, the overstimulation crashing into you, tears falling from your eyes and your cunt clenching trying to hold back an orgasm.

He nips at your bundle of nerves and that is your undoing, your final orgasm leaving your body like an exorcism. Cries of pleasure and pain fill the room as your cunt aches from overuse. “That’s my good girl” Azriel walks away for only a moment before coming back with a warm cloth.

He kneels before you, as your body is trying to regulate itself. “I’m going to clean you now princess, and you need to let me.” He instructs, you can’t do anything but nod as your adrenaline lowers. As he gently wipes at your dripping and aching pussy you want to pull away, but he holds you there getting every drop off you.

You can’t move in the aftershock of your orgasms, so he wraps his strong arms around you and brings you to the head of the bed, tucking you in. “Come love.” He whispers, pulling you close to him, letting you rest your head on his check.

“You were so good for me, you’re such a good girl.” He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. “And who knows maybe I will have finally put a babe in you.” He smiles lovingly at you, and you can’t help but swell with love also at the idea of carrying his child.

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel smut #azriel fanfic #acotar smut #acotar x reader

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almostfoxglove · 7 hours ago

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ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart.

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction.

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt.

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee.

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.”

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration.

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become.

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body.

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance.

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak.

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you.

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves.

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in.

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code.

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur.

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine.

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience.

Deep down, you know.

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it.

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita.

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional.

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing.

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later.

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief.

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes.

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose.

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely.

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell.

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person.

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him.

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made.

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about.

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him.

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces.

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood.

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific.

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son.

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling.

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore.

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely.

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times.

He was done, he wanted out.

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

#read #bookshelf #angst fic #ficrec #fics i love #almostfoxgloveangst2 #angst challenge shelf #javier peña fic #SCREEAAAAM

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luvismenu · 3 days ago

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Only When It's Us — JJK

you can’t wait to show your boyfriend the lingerie you bought — kinda nsfw

— drabble based on this ask !!

wc: 2.4k+

note: i’m so sorry it took me this long 🥲 but yay, it’s finally here!! wanted to keep this a little shorter, like 1.5k-ish words but i js couldn't help myself write a little more hehe— enjoy the silly, sexy moments <3 check the ask for warnings if you need them lolol love all of my owiu readers out there !! 🤍

ever since you started dating jungkook, life has felt... lighter.

it’s not that the stress is gone, there are still challenges ahead of you, but one thing that keeps you grounded is knowing your boyfriend will always be there for you.

like today, when he insisted on taking you out because you’ve been working so hard lately.

you’re out with jungkook and a group of your friends; yoongi, jimin, taehyung and his girlfriend hina, and jin with his wife da-eun. these are the people you’ve grown close to, thanks to jungkook encouraging you to meet them. you didn’t have many friends before, but now you do who you're thankful for.

and you’re especially grateful for hina and da-eun. hina, the same age as you, is a bundle of energy, while da-eun, a few years older, is a calming presence. even tho they're different than you, they still, just.. get you.

the day started at a museum; jin and yoongi’s idea. it was calm and peaceful, exactly what you needed.

jungkook stayed by your side the whole time, his arm draped around your shoulders or your waist, leaning in to whisper sweet things to you. and okay, maybe he sneaked you into an empty storage room for a heated makeout session, but that’s beside the point.

it was still peaceful.

next came the arcade, a suggestion from jimin and taehyung. while the guys, especially jungkook, went wild with the games, you and the others enjoyed watching. yoongi’s consistent losing streak provided endless laughs, and the chaos turned into pure fun.

when jungkook noticed that the guys had been dominating the day’s plans, he suggested letting the women choose the next stop. naturally, hina, da-eun, and you all agreed on shopping, much to the guys’ amused groans.

now, you’re at the mall, wandering through the shops. the energy of the place, with its bright displays and bustling crowd, somehow lifts your spirits.

“i literally don’t want anything,” jimin says, stifling a yawn.

“i might grab something,” taehyung adds, his eyes darting to the plushie section. you can’t help but think it’s for hina. she told you loves collecting them, even showed you her collection.

you, on the other hand, have just one plushie from childhood, but you get the appeal. plushies are adorable.

“i really wanna buy some cute clothes!” hina exclaims, her excitement contagious as taehyung pulls her close with a chuckle.

“me too,” da-eun says with a smile, glancing at jin, who nods in agreement.

“what about you, babe?” jungkook asks, looking down at you with that soft gaze of his.

“me three!” you grin, and the group laughs.

“well, let’s head to the women’s section i gues—” jimin begins, but hina cuts him off sharply.

“men are not allowed.”

the guys blink in confusion.

“huh?” they say in unison.

“why can’t we come? it’s just a clothes section,” taehyung protests, crossing his arms.

“because we’re having girls’ time, right?” hina says, looking to you and da-eun for backup.

“absolutely,” da-eun replies without hesitation.

you nod with a smile.

“but i thought i could help pick something for—” jungkook starts, his hand still on your waist, but da-eun interrupts him.

“girls’ time!” she declares, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards her. jungkook is left standing there, sulking like a kid whose toy has been taken away.

“i’m okay with that,” yoongi says, almost like a deadpan. “plus, i need to sit down. my legs are killing me.”

“same here. you girls enjoy,” jin adds, planting a kiss on da-eun’s forehead.

“all right, grandpas, let’s find you a bench,” jimin says with an eye roll, leading yoongi and jin away. taehyung pauses to kiss hina on the cheek and whispering ‘have fun’ before following them.

jungkook stays rooted in place, looking like he’s waiting for something.

you cup his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “see you later, babe.”

he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out just a bit, and you chuckle before turning to join the girls. behind you, jungkook slowly trails after the guys, shaking his head with a smile.

now it’s just you, hina, and da-eun in the women’s section, sifting through racks of clothes and chatting about everything.

“i am so glad we can take our time now and let the boys wait. i don’t even like museums,” hina huffs, sorting through a pile of clothes alongside you and da-eun.

you and da-eun chuckle, shaking your heads.

“look, this is cute. it matches your aesthetic too!” you say, holding up a light pink mini dress.

“and it looks like it would fit you perfectly,” da-eun adds with a smile.

hina’s eyes light up as she takes the dress. “i’m gonna try this on right now!” she squeals, rushing off which makes you both smile.

you and da-eun continue browsing. she picks out a few outfits while you grab some comfy clothes and a few dresses. as you glance around, your eyes land on the lingerie section nearby.

one particular set catches your attention; a lacy, red, and very explicit set that makes your cheeks warm just thinking about it. it’s the kind of thing you’d love to wear for jungkook.

you blink, trying to shake the thought, but da-eun’s voice from behind startles you. “you should buy it.”

you flinch a little and chuckle nervously. “what? no, i was just looking.”

da-eun smiles knowingly. “do you not like it?”

you look at it again and you sigh, giving in. “i love it,” you admit.

before she can respond, hina comes bounding back with the pink dress in her hands, her face glowing. “you guys were right, it fits perfectly, and i love ittt!”

you and da-eun smile at her.

“i sent a pic to tae, and he’s already drooling.” she chuckles before continuing, “what about you, da-eun? are you gonna get that pretty, sexy dress you were looking at?” hina teases with a laugh.

“obviously!” da-eun says with a grin. then both of them turn their attention to you.

“what about you, ___?” hina asks excitedly. “did you pick anything... spicyy?”

you glance awkwardly at da-eun, who grins mischievously and subtly points hina towards the lingerie display. hina gasps dramatically, her eyes widening.

“that is so fucking hot! oh my god, you should totally get that, ___. please, please, please!” hina exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes.

you laugh, hiding your face in your hands, a little flustered.

“i’m getting that one.”

“oh my gosh, i missed food!” jimin gasps dramatically, stuffing a bite into his mouth.

the eight of you are seated in a cozy restaurant, wrapping up the day with dinner after hours of fun. the table is alive with chatter and laughter, everyone enjoying their meals. the couples sit side by side, exchanging sweet moments, which jimin predictably calls out.

“ugh, get a room, all of you!” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“honestly, yes, get a fucking room. you’re all just rubbing it in that i’m single,” yoongi adds with a dry chuckle, making everyone laugh.

you’re beside jungkook, his hand intertwined with yours under the table. his thumb lazily rubs soft circles on your skin while he chats with yoongi about something. you’re barely paying attention to their conversation because all you can think about is how ridiculously fucking good he looks right now.

he’s not even trying, just sitting there in a simple shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and yet he’s got your mind wandering to... other things.

speaking of other things, you think about the clothes you bought earlier, the lingerie and a few silky nightdresses that were too beautiful to resist. the thought of showing them to him makes your heart race.

gently, you slip your hand out of his hold and place it on his thigh. his conversation falters as he glances at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s silently asking, ‘what’s wrong?'

you shake your head, smiling softly. his lips curve into a small, confused smile, but he goes back to talking.

you wait for the right moment, checking to make sure no one’s paying attention, and then let your hand slide a little higher.

that gets his full attention.

his gaze snaps to your hand, now dangerously close to a place you know will drive him insane. his jaw tightens, and you can see the realization in his eyes— he knows exactly what you’re doing.

leaning in, he brings his lips close to your ear, his voice low and deep. “if you keep doing that, i might have to take you home right now.”

you smile teasingly, leaning closer to whisper, “what are you talking about, jeon? i’m doing nothing.” your hand retreats, as if you’re completely innocent, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

you pick up the drink infront of you, sipping on it with a teasing smile.

he shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips, but you can tell he’s trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head— thoughts about exactly what he wants to do to you later.

. . .

soon, the evening winds down, and everyone begins saying their goodbyes.

“this was fun. we should do this more often,” taehyung says, and everyone nods in agreement.

as you’re saying goodbye to hina and da-eun, you notice the way they giggle at you, their eyes glinting with... mischief. you smile knowingly, already guessing what’s on their minds.

“what? what’s going on?” jin asks, looking at da-eun curiously.

she simply smiles at him and says, “just girlie things.”

jin frowns slightly, still confused, but lets it go with a soft laugh.

“okay then, let's go home.”

the door barely shuts behind you before jungkook has you pressed against it, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so desperate it leaves you breathless. his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his body presses against yours.

you kiss him back with equal intensity, your hands wrapping around his neck pulling him down, but then you pull away slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“wait,” you whisper, your breathing uneven.

“wait?” his voice is low, and he looks at you like he’s already losing his patience.

you nod, smiling as you try to calm your racing heart. “i want to show you the clothes i bought today.”

he groans, throwing his head bacm dramatically. “right now?”

“you’ll like it, i promise.” you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom, pushing him gently onto the bed

“stay here,” you instruct, pointing at him before disappearing into the closet

he watches you go, running a hand through his hair, still trying to cool down.

a few moments later, you step out wearing a long, dark purple dress that hugs your body in all the right places. the fabric flows down gracefully, and the color makes your skin glow.

jungkook’s eyes widen slightly, his eyes raking over you with awe. “you look... fuck.. wow. so pretty.”

you twirl slightly, letting the fabric swish around you. “you like it?”

“baby, you look so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, sitting up straighter.

smiling, you step back into the closet and reappear moments later in another dress— this time, it’s a bit shorter, hitting just above your knees, with a soft floral design. jungkook grins, biting his lip as he watches you show it off.

“okay, this one’s cute,” he says, his eyes never leaving you.

you keep going, the dresses getting shorter and more... bold. when you step out in a sleek, silky black mini nightdress that barely reaches mid-thigh, jungkook groans, leaning back on his hands like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses, his voice low and rough, his eyes locked onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“what?” you ask innocently, moving a little, the skirt of your dress swishing just enough to tease him.

he watches you, his gaze following your every move, filled with love— and something much darker, much hungrier. “do a little twirl for me, baby,” he says, his voice dropping even lower.

you smirk and twirl, biting your lip when you see the way his jaw tightens.

“are you done yet?” he finally asks, his tone laced with desperation. “because if i don’t touch you soon, i might fucking lose my mind.”

you laugh softly, walking over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “one more, please?”

he grabs your waist in an instant, pulling you close until you’re straddling his lap, his warm hands settling on your hips. “fine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, “but only after you give me a kiss.”

you tilt your head down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft but full of promise. after a few seconds, you pull back, grinning. “you’re gonna love this,” you whisper before slipping off his lap and disappearing into the closet again.

jungkook leans back on the bed, exhaling, trying to control himself. but when you don’t return right away, he shifts impatiently, standing up to pace the room.

when you finally walk out, he’s stops mid-step. he freezes, his eyes widening as they take you in.

you’re wearing the red lingerie set, the delicate lace barely there, with rope-like straps wrapping around your body. small red heart-shaped details covering the parts he really wants to see right now.

he stares at you, his lips parting slightly, his breath catching in his throat.

“oh.. fuck.” he mutters, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

you walk towards him slowly, swaying your hips just a little. “what do you think babe?”

he doesn’t answer right away, too busy drinking in the sight of you. when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “i think i just died and went to heaven.”

you stop in front of him, chuckling softly as your fingers trailing up his chest. “i told you you’d love it.”

“you’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, his grip on you firm as if he’s trying to stop himself from losing control. “c'mere”

you smile, letting him pull you closer.

“all this for me?” he asks, his voice low and raspy as his hands trail down to your ass, gripping the soft flesh in his large hands, pulling you even closer.

“all for you,” you whisper, your lips barely hovering over his, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

that’s all it takes for him to snap. his lips crash into yours fiercely.

and this time, there’s no holding back.

a/n: ...wish i can show yall the lingerie pic but idk if it's allowed habahabaohw

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @minaateez @myjungkookthighs

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #fanfic #jungkook smut #bts fanfiction #jungkook x reader

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kumkaniudaku · 1 day ago

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Worship

Summary: Patrice needs to know how Terry feels about her changing body.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, Smut (18+)

MASTERLIST

“Do you still think I’m pretty?”

If one question could suck all of the oxygen out of the room and put it all back in a gust of disorienting, bitter wind, that was it. Patrice hadn’t intended her inquiry to be an abrupt interruption to an otherwise calm evening, but she couldn’t allow the thought to torment her any longer.

Patrice watched Terry from the large mirror in front of them, her bottom lip trapped beneath her top row of teeth while she watched him lean over and spit toothpaste out of his mouth into his sink. Sympathy flashed across his face as he looked back at her. “Of course I do. I think you’re beautiful.”

“Are you still attracted to me? And not just in theory or what you remember about my body from five months ago. I mean, right now. Pregnant, showing, and all. Am I still sexy to you?”

“Patrice…”

Closing her eyes, Patrice shook her head and lifted her palm to stop Terry before he jumped into a diatribe for what she considered a cut-and-dry question. “Please, don’t do that, Terrence. Answer me. Do you still see me as a woman worthy of your sexual attention? Yes or no?”

“Yes, baby. You are.”

Hearing his answer sent a rush of sadness coursing through Patrice’s veins. She wasn’t sure what she hoped to hear, but that wasn’t it. That only created more uncertainty and a slew of questions she wasn’t sure were still worth asking. Still, she persisted, letting her inquisitive nature take over when she wished she could be quiet and go to bed in blissful ignorance/

“Then why,” A painful lump grew in her throat as tears pricked her waterline. Patrice swallowed it back to try and muscle through her interrogation without allowing her emotions to derail. “Why haven’t you touched me? It’s been three months of nothing. What you’re saying to me doesn’t match your actions.”

Strained silence blanketed the bathroom, competing with the humidity responsible for lingering droplets in the air for which one could douse the embers of reconciliation the fastest.

Physical and mental changes had thrown Patrice into a loop. Every day, her insides were shifted and stretched to what felt like capacity, bringing a bevy of brand-new feelings that rocked her with every unexpected mood swing. Rays of joy reminded her she’d be meeting a life she helped create intermingled with tormenting thoughts of her attractiveness or lack thereof, keeping her lips glued shut for fear that she’d sound bonkers to her husband. So, she kept them all inside or in the privacy of weekly chats with her girls, hoping the kinks would work themselves out, and they could return to the love she recognized.

“I’m not trying to put the blame on you or me,” she tried to explain when she wasn’t greeted with a response from Terry. “I just…I noticed we’ve slipped away from each other. We barely touch outside of a kiss or a hug. The little comments are gone. We’re flirting less. We haven’t been us, Terrence and Patrice, since we saw this baby on that machine a few months ago, and I’m the only one who seems to notice!”

He sighed and furrowed his brows. “I notice, Treece. I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what to do or how to be. This is my first time.”

“It’s mine too, Terry! But what does that have to do with who we are! What happens when the baby gets here? Is this going to be our life forever? Is this just it?”

Terry didn’t know what to say. The raging winds of life had blown him to and fro as a husband and father-to-be. Where he thought he was balancing both responsibilities with impeccable efficiency, he missed the signs of his wife’s distress. He couldn’t recount where he went wrong to rectify his misgivings. What’s worse is that he didn’t see an avenue to admit his confusion, fearing he’d sound crass and uncaring in the face of Patrice’s concern.

So, they stood there in silence, letting unspoken words snuff out the already dying flames of intimacy.

The stench followed them into a new week marred by disjointed interactions and tight lips. They existed like passing ships in the night, exchanging pleasantries typical of a couple who’d long let go of the rope, not one still possessing the will to fight but lacking the how.

Sounds of children playing and birds chirping filtered through the open kitchen window as Patrice sat at the kitchen table, clicking through pages and pages of baby items to fill their shower registry. Terry watched her from the entryway, quietly admiring how glistening sun rays gave dimension to her fresh dye job and highlighted glowing skin. Her belly curved beneath one of his long-sleeved t-shirts, clothing her and their heir in his presence even though they were still on the outs. The soft smile gracing her face while she undoubtedly occupied her mind with color schemes and furniture layouts made him grin before he could stop the corners of his lips from creeping upward.

He missed her. The notion of missing someone he slept next to every night felt as alien as wearing two left shoes, but it was the truth. It was a starting point. And, as long as he had a starting point, he could map his way back to where they belonged.

“Can I do something for you, Mr. Richmond?”

Patrice’s question startled Terry out of his thoughts and set him on a path toward the kitchen. “How’d you know I was there?” He asked before stopping short to rest his hand on her upper back. The habit made her lean into his touch and the lingering kiss he held against her temple.

“Heavy feet, remember?” Their stilted chuckles synced into a familiar cadence, slowly releasing the valve on latent tension. She looked up at him and smiled. “You okay? Need something?”

“Actually, yeah. Mind if I sit down?”

“It’s your kitchen table, too. Sit wherever you want.”

Curious eyes under long lashes watched Terry round the table to drag his usual seat closer to hers. An inner battle made him look into the backyard from the window when they locked gazes, biding him time to gather his thoughts until he felt satisfied with their direction. He looked back, bathing her in a soft, doting gaze. “You are unbelievably attractive to me, Treecey. There’s not much you can do to turn me off.”

“So, what’s stopping you? Is it something I’m doing?”

“No, no, no,” Terry rushed to reassure, gently placing his palms on her thighs for a squeeze. “Can I be honest?”

Patrice nodded back at him, praying that what existed on the other side of his extended pause wouldn’t act as a wrecking ball on her wavering self-image.

Terry scooted closer until Patrice’s knees fit perfectly between his before lacing their fingers together. His eyes didn’t waiver as he spoke the only truth he knew. “I don’t know how to interact with this new version of you. After all these years, you still make me nervous. I was nervous when we started dating again. I was nervous on our wedding night. Now, your body is changing, and I’m more nervous around you than ever,” He admitted. “I’m afraid I might hurt or bother you when you’re tired and trying to catch a break between all you have going on. But, I guess I let being nervous keep compounding until I made you feel like you aren’t the most beautiful woman in the world at all times.”

Patrice’s resolve had long morphed her first dose of hot tears for the day, the sensation coming in so quick that a few slipped past her fingers when she tried to tame them. “Am I, really?”

Moving forward, Terry brought his hands up to rest on Patrice’s cheeks. “You’re gorgeous to me, baby. I’m so sorry I ever made you think you weren’t.”

Patrice closed her eyes to feel the feathery caress of lips across her nose and cheeks. He’d run out of words. All he had left was desperate pleas in the form of physical affection to atone for all his sins.

She accepted each one with no pushback, melting into his touch as the weight of untold battles began sliding down her heavy shoulders.

“It wasn’t just you.” Patrice’s confession came with a deep breath to settle herself. “Every time I step out of the house, someone is commenting on my body or touching me. ‘Oh, you’re carrying high!’ or ‘Girl, you gettin’ big fast!’ It’s too much. I thought I was strong enough to validate myself because that’s what I’ve been doing, you know? But I couldn’t. So, when it felt like you were pushing me away for the one thing I can’t control, I spiraled. I shouldn’t have let it get that far, but I didn’t know how to speak to you without losing my shit. These hormones are kicking my ass.”

Loud, harmonious laughter meshed to heal aching souls navigating their first storm as parents-to-be. Terry watched Patrice’s face light up like stars over the countryside and smiled as he reached up to dry unshed tears gathered in her eye’s inner corners. “That’s okay. Lose your shit every once in a while. Now’s the perfect time.”

Patrice sighed before reaching for Terry’s wrist to anchor her racing thoughts. Her eyes bore into familiar green pools that always regarded her with love that felt almost too overwhelming to absorb. She watched him mouth a sincere ‘I love you’ that made her skin tingle from head to toe. She gripped him tighter, hoping he could feel the effect he had on her.

“Listen, baby, I’m five months pregnant, not dead,” Patrice laughed, earning a bright smile from Terry. “I still want my husband. I still want to be wanted by you, too. Because your validation means a lot to me. Especially while I’m changing like this.”

Terry dropped a hand to make space for an incoming round of kisses, each deeper than before. “I want you, Piggy,” he spoke before pressing another kiss to her lips. “I’ll always want you. We’ll be 90 in the nursing home, and I’ll still be chasing behind you with my walker and calling you my girlfriend.”

“Good,” Patrice giggled, tickled by the imagery of a distant version of themselves still head over heels with time winding down on their time together. Static passed between them. Touches became magnified. Pupils dilated with an incoming flood of endorphins. She bit her lip before finishing her thought. “Because if I’m half as horny at 90 as I have been for the last few weeks, we’ll have to keep the nurses on speed dial.”

“It’s been like that,” Terry questioned, his eyebrow arching.

Patrice moved his hand closer to the meeting of her thighs, hoping he could feel the throb matching her increasing heartbeat. “It’s been like that.”

Terry let his eyes wander across Patrice’s face to linger on her lips before looking back at her with drooping eyelids. His voice emerged from beyond his lips, sounding like hot chocolate on a winter morning. “Let me fix that for you. Show you how much I want you until you tell me to stop?”

An offer she couldn’t and wouldn’t dare refuse. Permission granted with a short nod and shallow breaths set them on a path down the hallway and into their bedroom, where the sweet symphony of early evening lovemaking was poised to reclaim its space in their lives.

Patrice lay in wait, lower back and hips lifted off the mattress by a throne of pillows arranged for her comfort near the edge of the bed while she watched Terry arrange scented candles on the dresser in all his naked glory.

At some point, she’d find time to thump the back of his head for using her expensive stuff to set the mood. But tonight, she chose to focus on the sensual shadows dancing across his body as he stepped between her legs and leaned forward to see her face under dim candlelight.

“Comfortable,” he asked as his hands roamed from her knees to her thighs and back in an effort to soothe his bubbling nerves. “Google says I should have a wedge for you, but I hope that’ll do.”

Patrice sank deeper into her cocoon and nodded. “This is perfect. I’m okay.”

“You promise to let me know when you aren’t?” He waited for Patrice to respond verbally in the affirmative before gingerly lifting her right leg to bring her ankle to his lips for a slow kiss. “What’d Mookie say in Do The Right Thing? Thank God for the ankles?”

He dropped a kiss against her calf before nuzzling the spot. “Thank God for the legs.” He inched further to suckle Patrice’s fleshy inner thigh, drawing a soft sigh from her as a reward for his good deed. “Thank God for these thighs. I love them so much.”

He set his sights on the swell of her growing belly, rounding day by day with the promise of a little bundle of joy made in their image. He kissed his way past her belly button and up to her breasts, lingering on his name written in slanted script before moving again. “Thank God for the left nipple and the right.”

Patrice let her eyes flutter closed as he directed her hands to the back of his head while expertly pulling one of her nipples between his teeth. Terry lavished each areola with attention from his tongue, letting quiet moans serenade him until he backed off to say more.

“Thank God for all this gorgeous skin.” He rubbed his nose up her sternum into the crook of her neck. “Thank God for the way you smell. Nothing in this world compares to how it drives me crazy.”

Patrice arched into the kisses Terry left along her neck until her core ached for his attention.

Every sensation, every lick and practiced nibble at the hands of the only man to satisfy the nooks and crannies of her womanhood, and then some felt intensified ten times over.

The second trimester had done a number on her. Her best friends and OBGYN all confirmed that the gnawing, insatiable sexual appetite she’d developed was normal and meant to be harnessed before her libido waned on the way to the final stretch.

“Men used to fight wars for women like you. And here you are, giving me chance after chance to get it right.”

She whimpered into his ear. “Baby.” Her nails lightly scratched at his shoulder blades, begging for a touch only he could provide. “Please, Terrence. Don’t make me wait.”

How could he deny her? She’d asked so nicely and waited so patiently to have him joined to her at the waist. He owed her swift pleasure after all he’d put her through while the stress of growing ten fingers and ten toes reigned down new emotions every other day.

Terry didn’t tarry on his way to granting her wish. He stood flat-footed before her, slightly bending his knees to deepen their kiss as they reveled in the feeling of his tip gathering wetness at her opening.

“Tell me when to stop,” he breathed against her mouth. “I know I can’t go too deep. Say when.”

Their lips remained connected throughout his measured re-introduction to her body until a shared gasp turned two breaths into one. Patrice’s jaw dropped as he inched closer and closer to her limit. He watched her with intense focus and a furrowed brow, waiting for her to make the call.

A little deeper. A little more. Almost. So close. “Right there,” she called out, her hands gripping his biceps to maintain her tether to reality. “Mm, right there.”

He rolled his hips in a fluid, intentional back and forth, letting the tug from her walls set his start and endpoints. He lifted a hand from its space beside her hips to guide one of hers back toward the mattress for their fingers to interlock.

Terry murmured variations of ‘I love you’ while Patrice allowed him to gently rock her through rolling waves of pleasure until moans turned into screams trapped in her throat. Strong legs acted with equal parts power and restraint to coax her into the release she deserved.

He carefully leaned forward to rest his weight on his forearms and speak against her mouth once she felt her getting close to the promised land. “Look, this beautiful body carrying my baby. I was an idiot for wasting all this time when you needed me most. You forgive me, Piggy?”

“Mhmm,” Patrice managed to whine as the coil in her body began to tighten in preparation for her orgasm.

He shook his head, needing more. “Say it. Tell me you forgive me.”

“Yes!” She answered, tossing her head back to revel in the euphoria spreading across her limbs. “Yes! I forgive you!”

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered as he thrust into her, feeling the tips of her nails turn his skin into her personal emery board. He blinked away the mix of pain and pleasure to finish showering Patrice in praise. “You always have been.” He could feel her tightening around him, spurring a falter in his stroke that quickened his pace. He panted to match her deep breaths, turning a simple sentence into one he had to grit through clenched teeth. “You always will…be. Fuck, I’m…fuck.”

Ninety days of pent-up emotions and withheld affection came with an orgasm strong enough to push Terry up on his toes while he listened to Patrice marvel at what he’d gifted her with his hard work.

They heaved until heaving became delirious laughter, then ‘til laughter circled back to needy kisses missed during their time apart.

Patrice pulled Terry close, cradling the back of his head to speak into his ear while leaving budding markers of his love under her earlobe. “I don’t want you thinkin’ that’s all for tonight.” Terry slowly released her skin from his lips and pulled away to answer with a quizzical look. Patrice pushed up on her forearms to nip at his bottom lip.

“Come on. Get me off my back. It's your turn to be worshipped.”

--------

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

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#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 2 days ago

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Permission Denied

Pairing: Dark Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You’re bored – stuck inside the house while it’s sunny and nice outside. Aizawa doesn’t care about that.

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping; Captivity.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊

From your spot on the couch, you steal a glance at the black-haired man that sits on the table, surrounded by piles of paper. Midterm exams, he said.

It seems like a boring task, but Shouta doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike you, who’s getting restless by the minute.

There’s nothing for you to do.

Your hobbies are fairly limited, only granted when Shouta is feeling generous enough to notice your boredom, which hasn’t been the case lately.

He’s too busy between the Hero course class and patrols, which inevitably results in neglecting you. There are no new books for you to devour and the TV’s control remote is still “missing”.

The kitchen is off limits, which means no cooking or baking.

There’s nothing to do!

Perhaps you’re not being as sneaky as you believe yourself to be because Shouta’s suddenly looks up to meet your gaze, catching you off guard.

“If you have something to say, then spill it.”

You look at him, eyes still round with surprise.

“Well, I…” The words stammer when coming out and you tautly twist your hands. “I’m bored.”

Shouta looks at you.

“Yes, I have noticed.”

It’s a bit disheartening when he goes back to marking papers, leaving you at that.

“So…I don’t know. Maybe…I could go to the garden?”

He pauses his scribbling, and you rush to add, “I wouldn’t be alone, of course! You’d be there too, you could grade the papers on the outside table, right?”

His eyes are sharp when he looks back at you, the neutral expression on his face making it harder for you to decipher his true thoughts.

“I could.”

Your heart positively jumps at that, and almost fool yourself into believing that you’ve successfully convinced Shouta to do something for you. You’re wrong.

“But I won’t.” he denies your request just like that, barely batting an eye as he crushes down your hopes.

Feeling so upset over it makes you feel stupid, but then again, you haven’t left the four walls of Shouta’s home in weeks.

You’re so tired of being here, trapped in the bland ugly house. Tired of him and his insensitivity. Tired of the obnoxious boring routine that has been forced upon you. Tired of everything.

“Why not?” you burst, even if it comes out more as a demand.

Shouta’s eyebrows raise at the intensity of your words, and you inhale a small breath, calming yourself down.

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“Because at this moment I have a task at hand. I’m sure you can see that.”

"But I’ve been good. You said that yourself.” your nails leave half-moons in your palms, an attempt to keep your anger at bay. If there’s one thing you’ve learned over these past months is that Shouta doesn’t appreciate hysterical displays of frivolous emotions.

Useless and energy-consuming – that’s how he calls them.

“You have.” he pauses for a moment, tone slightly softer as he sets the pen down. “I’m not denying that. You have been exemplary these past weeks.”

Even when you don’t ask it, the question lingers in the tense air. Then why?

Aizawa answers it.

“It’s got nothing to do with your present behavior.” his reassurance does little to soothe your bubbling frustration. Aizawa seems to sense it, semblant turning somber and stern as he stares at you.

“However, my priority is your safety, not your happiness. Perhaps you still remember the last time you were allowed outside? Or of the … incident that occurred?”

He grimaces at that and so do you.

The incident meant the one-single time Aizawa took you on a late evening walk, where you ended up bumping into one of his neighbours – an overly enthusiastic blonde man – and in the moment of heat, you ended up taking the poor decision to reveal your hostage situation, hoping for help.

Only for said neighbour to turn out to be Aizawa’s close friend, someone Shouta had asked to test you.

Needless to say that you failed his loyalty test. Hence the house arrest.

You glance away from him, opting to ignore his question. Aizawa sighs, taking his sweet time cracking his neck from side to side.

“Like I was saying,” he resumes the conversation, “I’d prefer to reduce that sort of risk from the root. Perhaps one day, if your behavior remains ideal, we can have this discussion again – in a few months.”

Aizawa looks at you with red-streaked eyes, taking notice of your well-concealed frustration as well as blatantly ignoring it.

Picking up the pen, he continues to correct the papers, marking the end of your little discussion and leaving no space for argument.

Leaving you back in the reign of boredom.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark content #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere x you #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere eraserhead #yandere eraserhead x reader #yandere shouta aizawa

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paradlselost · 2 days ago

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ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ ONE MORE NIGHT ۪ ֹ ᮫

the salesman x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬SORRY THIS ONES KINDA CRAZY 💔 i wrote this in like an hour after seeing mettatons_highheel ‘s headcanons about him on tiktok so please don’t kill me over any spelling mistakes . and yes i’m still working on national anthem ! i’m just taking a quick break from phosphorus because squid game is consuming my life . also one more night by maroon five is so great i wish adam levine wasn’t a horrible person .

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ probably the worst smut i’ve written so far ! mentioned / described abuse , degrading kink , pet names ( puppy ) , slapping , biting ++ marking , mentioned blood , oral ( f receiving ) , overstimulation , cnc sorta ? vibrator , punishment , hate sex ! ! fingering ( f receiving ) , choking . dacryphilia , the salesman just being a fucking freak in general

“You’re a fucking psycho.”

He doesn’t reply, his hand wrapped tightly around your neck if only just to watch the tears that stream from your eyes. His head tilts to the side, mocking, condescending. That stupid smile plastered on his face as you spit in it.

“Shhh. I don’t keep you around so you can push my buttons, puppy.”

His wrists are bruised and bleeding, you scratch at his skin and tearing it up, getting him under your nails. Under you, on top of you, inside you. What’s the difference? He doesn’t flinch; doesn’t move. If anything his grip tightens as black floods the corner of your vision, cutting off your peripheral.

You’re a scared dog under him, tail tucked between your pretty legs that his knee spreads, digging between your thighs. It’s hardly the first time this has happened - you couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times you said you’d leave him. The amount of times you claimed it was the last.

But god, his knee brushing against your core felt so so good, and you’re so so weak for him.

It’s easy to tell yourself that it’s over between the two of you when he isn’t home. When he leaves you for days so the next time he opens the door you’ll crawl to him; begging for him. It’s easy to argue over the phone, but your mouth feels dry and words get stuck in your throat when he’s around.

He fucks you till you’re stupid. Brain dead and pliant for him, pressed against his sheets and inhaling his scent. You’ll babble for him, words jumbled and incoherent between wanton moans and whimpers. Sometimes, if you think hard enough with that brain he turns to mush you can manage to say his name til he shoves his fingers in your mouth.

“Oh shh, you poor baby. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t realized tears were streaming from your eyes till he pointed them out, mocking you as he went to move the hand that wasn’t pinning you to the wall to wipe your tears. Your grip, however, kept him there; nails digging deeper into his flesh. A soft tsk falls from his lips before he simply moves to lick the salty tears from your cheeks.

Your breathing turns shallow, chest heaving as you attempt to suck in the air around you. It’s futile, his hands only tightening more. His tongue laps at your skin before his lips travel down, tracing your collarbone before biting down harshly against your shoulder.

If you had any air left in your lungs you would’ve screamed, his teeth drawing blood from your flesh as your back arches off the wall. You can’t even pretend to hate it, to hate him. He knows it, too, relishes in how you squirm and writhe under him; desperate to simply breathe again.

He’ll loosen his grip when he notices you begin to fall limp, reaching up to slap you, bruising your tear stained cheeks and causing you to jolt forward. It only serves to turn him on more, how he can play with your life in his hands. That at any moment he could snap that cord and kill you and he’d get away with it, too. His teeth graze over your neck, humming.

You suck in a few breaths, allowing air to fill your lungs once more as your feet touch the ground again. His knee presses against you more, rubbing against your clothed cunt and drinking in the way you grind back against him. A needy slut, all for him. It’s how he knows you’ll never actually leave him - who else could treat you the way you liked? Your head rests back against the wall as you hear the clinking of his belt.

Within a moment the leather is pressed between your teeth, a makeshift gag as he sinks to the floor in front of you. You can only watch, tilt your head down at him as he works your pretty skirt off your hips. His fingers trail over your panties, circling the wetness that pools against the fabric.

“Just can’t control yourself, can you puppy?” He grins, fingers hooking around your underwear and pulling it off as well. He hums in contentment, slipping them into his suit pocket. It would be almost attractive if not for the slap to your folds that followed right after.

Once more, you find your back arching off the wall - moans muffled by the leather belt gagging you. He’s not gentle in the slightest, not kind or sweet as he slips his fingers into your cunt, thrusting harsh enough to make your legs shake while his lips wrap around your needy clit.

The dark kitchen of your shared apartment is filled with gushing, wet noises that echo from you. You’d be ashamed if not from the assault he was laying on your body. His hands grip at your sides roughly, just above your hips and leaving bruising marks in their wake. You’re nothing more than a doll for him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Please please… fuck-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

Your voice is muffled by the gag, though the words that manage to be comprehendible are cut off by his snapping. He doesn’t want to hear your voice, doesn’t want to hear you speak as he’s focused on the noises your cunt makes. Needy and gummy walls tightening around his fingers. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to spill for him.

He doesn’t miss the way your legs tremble as your cunt pulsates around his fingers into rhythm with his thrusting. His tongue laps over your swollen clit as your fingers press against his shoulders, holding yourself up as your legs fail you. He doesn’t stop even as you begin to cry once more, begging him through the belt to stop.

Your legs shake even more violently, one hand moving to trace up and down the back of them. He relishes in how you fall apart, how you go from playing tough with him to a broken doll he needs to glue back together. Your hands feebly push at his head, trying to get him off.

When he does stop, he stands in front of you and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. His fingers trailing up to your lips before slipping inside your mouth, making you taste yourself. A smug smirk plays on his face, one that reminds you that after all this he’ll be gone again and you’ll go back to hating him.

But for now, he leads you to your bedroom despite your legs that refuse to work - practically dragging you there and throwing you onto the bed. He’s quick to reach underneath the frame, pulling out a box and rummaging through it before he finds what he was looking for.

He pushes the buttons on the black vibrator he holds in his hands now, the toy drumming to life under his touch, much like you. He looms over your shaky body, grinning down at your form.

“Open your legs again, puppy.” The hand not on the toy kneads your thighs apart, humming at the slick that paints your flesh. “There we go, just like that. Because of that mouth you have on you were not going to stop til you’ve given me everything you got. Okay doll?”

#the salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #the salesman x you #the recruiter X you #the recruiter squid game #the salesman #the salesman squid game #the recruiter #squid game #squid game s2 #x reader #CRAZY SMUT SORRY

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rhiannonsknife · 2 days ago

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— BUT I’M A CHEERLEADER (part 4)

— summary: the party at lottie’s & its aftermath.

— warnings: friends to lovers. lots of fluff. the highly anticipated nsfw content. mdni. (this takes place in their last year of school. all characters in this are 18+!!)

the ‘post game hangout’ at lottie’s is in full swing by the time you and nat arrive in her car.

you half expect it to be a repeat of cheer squad gatherings: loud music, sharp glances, and judgment lurking behind every corner. but as soon as you step into lottie’s house -a massive place, bigger than any party you’ve been to before- it becomes clear this is a completely different world from what you’re used to.

it’s also much more of a party than just a ‘hangout’, but neither of you minds.

“lottie really knows how to throw a party, huh?” you say, glancing around. nat grins, giving you a playful side-eye. “she’s got the biggest house, so she kinda has to,”

the sound of music and muffled laughter spills from inside as you approach, punctuated by the occasional cheer or shout from someone already a few drinks deep.

“we don’t do small, cheerleader!”

“i can see that,” your eyes sweep over the pristine lawn and the line of cars already parked in the long driveway. nat gestures towards the door. “ready?”

you nod, even though you can feel the nerves bubbling up inside you. it’s not the party itself that unsettles you, it’s the fact that you’re walking in with nat. for all the teasing from the yellowjackets earlier, the lines between what you feel and what you’re allowed to feel still seem blurry and fragile.

the inside of lottie’s house is just as impressive as the exterior already gave away: the foyer opens into a sprawling living room that’s packed with people lingering in groups, red plastic cups in hand, the atmosphere buzzing.

nat nudges you with her elbow while you’re still busy taking it all in. “come on,” she says. “let’s find the others!”

just like that, you let her lead you through the crowd. there’s no weight of curious stares and whispered commentary you expected and nobody minds as you two make your way through the living room. when you finally reach the kitchen, it’s no surprise to see van perched on the kitchen island, a bottle of something strong-looking in her hand, while taissa leans against the counter next to where van’s legs are dangling, caught up in a conversation with jackie.

“hey, look who decided to show up!” van calls out, waving at you both.

nat rolls her eyes. “you just saw us on the field an hour ago,”

“yeah, but this is different,” she teases, hopping down from the counter to greet you. “field nat is all serious and intense. party nat’s a lot more fun. and hey-“ she leans in conspiratorially toward you “she’s even more fun when you’re around!”

nat shakes her head, but you can see the faintest hint of color creeping up her neck. “i’m grabbing drinks!” she announces to the group, shooting you a quick glance before disappearing toward the living room.

you’re left standing awkwardly near the doorway until jackie waves you over to join them. “c’mon, don’t just stand there!”

you hesitate but ultimately follow her lead, perching on the edge of the counter while van leans in, her grin mischievous.

“sooo…” she begins, drawing out the word. “how long’s this been a thing?”

you blink, caught off guard. “what?”

“when did you and nat figure this thing out?” taissa chimes in.

“i don’t- there’s no- what thing?”

jackie gives a soft laugh. “come on, don’t play dumb! nat’s been acting like a completely different person lately. more focused, less grumpy. it’s cute, really!”

tai leans in, her voice low but teasing. “it’s pretty obvious. she’s been head over heels for you since, what? the arcade?”

your cheeks heat as you stammer, “we’re not- she hasn’t- there’s nothing going on!”

jackie exchanges a knowing look with the two. “if you say so,” she mumbles teasingly over the edge of her cup.

van, on the other hand, doesn’t let up. “c’mon, it’s fine! we’re just saying it’s nice to see her like this! she’s, i dunno… softer? it’s not a bad thing!”

you laugh awkwardly, unsure how to respond. before you get the chance to tell them that there really isn’t anything going on, nat returns, drinks in hand. the others exchange more looks as she strides over.

“there we go,” she says, handing you a cup, her fingers brushing yours briefly in the process. even as you take it from her, your mind is still reeling from what van, jackie and taissa just said. nat, head over heels for you?

“so,” she asks. “what did i miss? what are you guys talking about?”

“nothing,” van says innocently, her grin suggesting otherwise.

“right…” nat says, slowly lifting her cup to her lips.

the conversation shifts after that, the others diving into lighthearted banter about the game, but your mind lingers on what they said.

you glance down at nat once, catching her watching you out of the corner of her eye. she quickly looks away, taking a sip from her drink, but the small, almost shy smile that follows makes your pulse quicken.

all throughout the conversation, you’re hyper-aware of nat’s presence below you, standing close enough to where you’re perched upon the kitchen counter for you to smell the faint scent of her cologne and feel the warmth that radiates off her even though she’s not quite touching you.

the others are deep in their talk, laughing about some ridiculous inside joke that you don’t quite understand but can’t help smiling at. you feel lighter than you have in weeks, lighter than you ever did amongst the cheerleaders, like you’re finally where you belong.

still, your gaze keeps drifting back to nat, the reason why you’re here to begin with, why you get to belong like that.

it’s the shift of the music in the background, a louder, more fast paced song, snaps you out of your thoughts. a few people filter onto the makeshift dance floor that lottie has cleared in the living room, swaying awkwardly at first before finding a rhythm as a larger group gathers.

you glance back at nat as an idea begins to take shape.

“do you wanna dance?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended but still enough to catch only her attention. nat freezes mid-sip, her eyes widening slightly as she looks at you like you’ve just suggested something completely outrageous. “dance?”

your nod, grinning despite the nerves. “yeah, you know…where you move around to music. it’s kind of a thing people do at parties?”

her lips twitch into a smirk and she sets her drink down on the counter. “i know what dancing is, smartass. i just don’t…do it!”

“why not? scared you’ll look stupid?”

she scoffs, crossing her arms. “i don’t look stupid. just don’t like it. it’s not my thing,”

“come on!” you plead, now drawing the attention of the others as well. “just one dance! for fun? for me!”

for a moment, nat looks like she’s about to argue again, her brow furrowing as if she’s searching for an excuse. but then her eyes meet yours, and whatever she sees there makes her hesitate.

“show us how it’s done scatorccio!” van interrupts her train of thought, already urging her forward.

“fine,” nat mutters, pushing herself away from the counter, then waiting for you to hop off after. “but, i swear to god, if i step on your toes, it’s on you!”

you laugh, grabbing her hand before she can change her mind. “deal,”

you don’t need to turn your head to feel the eyes of all three girls on you as you make your way across the room.

leading her to the dance floor, you notice the way her hand lingers in yours, her grip firm, like she’s still not sure what to do with herself. the two of you find a spot near the edge, the lights dim and the music low, and you turn to face her with a grin.

“see? not so bad, right?”

“you haven’t even started yet!”

you turn so your back is to her front, already swaying to the rhythm of the song. nat hesitates for a beat before resting her hands awkwardly on your waist. it’s stiff and a little awkward at first, but the warmth of her touch sends a pleasant shiver through your body.

“relax,” you tease, moving against her. “you’re not being graded on this!”

she huffs out a laugh, her shoulders loosening just a bit. “easy for you to say. you’re probably great at this! you’re a cheerleader!”

the two of you settle into an easy rhythm, and while nat is still clearly out of her comfort zone, she starts to relax, her movements becoming less stilted. you can still feel the eyes of her teammates watching from the kitchen, but for once, you don’t care who sees. it’s just you and nat.

at one point, she leans in just a little closer. her voice is low and her fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans as she murmurs, “this isn’t terrible,”

you laugh, your heart skipping at the new proximity. “told you so!”

the music flows seamlessly from one track to the next yet nat doesn’t leave the dance floor after the first song like you half expected her to. instead, she stays, her presence warm behind you, her fingers gentle on your waist.

even as the upbeat tempo shifts to something a little slower, you’re quick to tug her hand, keeping her on the floor so she won’t flee from you.

“not letting me off that easy, are you?”

instead of replying, nat spins you gently, making you laugh as you end up face to face, more suited for a slow dance like this. instinctively, you drape your arms over her shoulders and lace your fingers behind her back.

nat’s body seems much more relaxed now, her grip on your waist softer, her movements less self-conscious. you’re still swaying together, but there’s something gentler about it now, something intimate, with the soft glow of the lights playing across her features.

at this point, you’re hyper-aware of her hands on you and how close she’s standing. so close her hair brushes your cheek when she tilts her head, so close you can feel the shudder in her breath, sending a shiver down your spine that you hope she doesn’t notice.

“you’re getting the hang of it,” you mumble.

“don’t push it. this is already way more than just one dance,”

“it’s called making up for lost time,” you counter. “you’re doing great!”

nat snorts, shaking her head. “dont lie! i’m terrible at this!”

without hesitation, you tighten your grip on the back of her neck, pulling her gaze back to yours. “nat,” you say softly, catching her attention. “nat, seriously, you’re really not,” you insist, meeting her eyes.

the room seems to shrink as the two of you sway to the slower rhythm. the din of conversation and laughter fades into the background, leaving just the soft hum of music and the warmth of her presence in front of you. you glance up at her through your lashes, heart racing at how close she is. her gaze flickers down to meet your eyes, then drops lower, to your mouth, and for a moment, the world feels like it tilts on its axis.

the song begins to fade, and before either of you can move, someone takes over the stereo. the slow melody is abruptly replaced by an upbeat, fast-paced track that jolts you back to reality.

nat groans dramatically, stepping back with a shake of her head. “that’s my cue to get off this death trap!”

you laugh, reluctantly letting her slip away. if it wasn’t already, the party is in full swing now, with people around you shouting and singing along to the lyrics.

you follow nat, intending to tease her about her endurance, but something else catches your eye as she brushes her hand over her face: the faint smudge of black along her lower lash line, where the eyeliner she always wears has started to smear.

“wait,” you stop her just before she reaches the comfort of the kitchen the other yellowjackets seem to have claimed. “your eyeliner’s all smudged!”

“what?” nat frowns, her hand flying up to touch her cheekbone, wiping at her eye in an attempt to fix it. “are you serious?”

“stop,” you chuckle, reaching out to still her hand. “you’re only gonna make it worse! come on!”

“i can do it myself,” she protests, though she doesn’t pull away.

you tug her down the hallway, weaving through the crowd toward where you assume the bathroom is. even though she grumbles something under her breath about not caring how she looks, she doesn’t let go of your hand.

you close the door behind you, and nat stands just inside, her posture uncertain.

“sit,” you order, pointing to the closed toilet seat. “i’ll take care of it.”

she blinks before sitting down, knees pressed together, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap.

nat watches you, tracing every movement you make as you open your purse and pull out the small makeup bag. “do you really carry all that around with you?” she asks, her gaze meeting yours in the reflection of your mirror.

“hey! it’s for emergency touch-ups! comes in handy now, doesn’t it?” you laugh. “i could also leave you to look like a raccoon, if you want?”

nat huffs, shaking her head. “fine, fine. just get it over with.”

you turn around and step in, your knees brushing lightly against her legs. carefully, you move your fingers, steadying the eyeliner pencil.

“don’t make it weird,” she mutters.

you lift her chin gently to get a better angle, brushing her cheek with the pads of your fingers. “i’m not, i promise,”

nat doesn’t flinch when you trace her waterline, her eyes looking up as she stays still, her breath catching just a little as you work. there’s an undeniable pull now, an electric charge that shoots up your spine every time you glance at her.

you try to focus on the task, try to steady your hands, but it’s hard to concentrate when nat is so close. your heart beats louder than the soft scratch of the pencil on her skin.

“almost done,” you murmur.

when you finish, you lower the pencil and meet her touched-up eyes. they're wide as they turn to meet yours, her lips slightly parted. you don’t step back like you probably should. you don’t even remove your hands from her cheeks, where they still sit firmly.

there’s only the two of you and that undeniable pull. you’ve tried pushing it away, you’ve tried ignoring it. you’re tired of pretending like it’s not there.

you inhale deeply, your fingers tightening on her face and nat’s eyes fall to your lips. this time, it’s not a stolen glance either. it’s there, right in front of you, with neither of you bothering to hide it.

you’re about to close the space between you, when the door suddenly bursts open with a loud bang.

“guys!” van’s voice bursts through, full of energy and excitement. “you’re not gonna believe this, but-“ she stops mid-sentence when she sees you two, the scene frozen in place. for a beat, all three of you stand there, the room suddenly feeling much too small. van blinks a couple of times, clearly processing the intimate scene she’s interrupted, then grins from ear to ear.

“randy lost a bet and is jumping in the pool fully clothed!“ she announces. “but i guess you guys are…busy in there. i’ll leave you to it”

she’s already turning on her heel again, clearly not wanting to miss out on it. “remember to use protection kids!” she calls as she rushes down the hall. “don’t want any surprise bets on the way!”

you pull away just slightly, your heart still thudding loudly in your chest.

“uh, yeah,” nat says, clearing her throat, the moment slipping away from you. “we’ll be out in a minute!”

the second the door clicks shut, you and nat both exhale, as if you’d been holding your breath this entire time.

“i-“ nat starts but, for once, she doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“uh- i guess we should-“ you gesture over to where van had gone.

“yeah. yeah, definitely.”

you both stand in silence for another moment. for one last second, you think she might reach for you again. but she doesn’t. instead, nat takes a step back toward the door.

“wouldn’t want to miss out on that,” she says with a slight, uncertain grin, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

randy, true to his words, does make the fully-dressed dive into lottie’s pool, which earns him laughter and applause from the spectators surrounding the scene. the water splashes high as he emerges, dripping wet and grinning like a madman.

you don't catch half of it, too preoccupied with watching nat from across the yard, laughing with the rest of her teammates. you should have kissed that smiling mouth when you had the chance.

by the time the party begins to wind down hours later, only a few yellowjackets remain. the energy in the living room is mellowed but still full of warmth. van and taissa are the last women standing, still swaying to the beat of some toto song that's playing from the stereo. on the couch, shauna and jackie are curled up together, their heads close, their low murmurs barely audible over the fading music.

you stand near nat, a comfortable silence between you two as you observe the scene.

“guess it’s time to go,” nat says quietly, fiddling with the carabiner on her jeans as she searches for her keys. “lottie!” she calls, catching her attention from where she's chatting with laura lee -the only one of the group who’s still completely sober.

nat untangles the keys and holds them up. “i’ll leave the car here for the night, alright? just move it if it’s in the way!” she explains, setting them down on the table.

“you two heading out?”

“yeah, just walking home,” you tell lottie, nudging nat with your elbow.

“alright,” she hums, waving goodbye. “good night,”

“night!” you both call out to the group before turning to leave.

the cool night air is refreshing after hours in the suffocating warmth of lottie’s place and the streets seem quieter, the house fading in the distance as you walk side by side.

her hand brushes against yours every now and then, but neither of you makes a move just yet. the streetlights flicker above, casting soft golden light on the pavement ahead. you don’t speak right away, both of you settling into a comfortable silence as you walk.

the distance to your house is surprisingly short, but every step feels like it lasts a little longer than it should, like neither of you is ready for the night to end. it’s strange how just walking with nat feels like it could stretch into infinity, and you’d be content with that.

when you do reach the front porch, you stop, hand resting on the railing. nat lingers at the bottom of the stairs behind you, her own hands shoved in her pockets, not in any hurry to leave. you turn to face her, your pulse quickening in the stillness of the night.

finally, you find your voice: “thanks for tonight, nat,” you say. “i…i had a great time!”

for a beat you stand there, frozen in place, wondering if there’s more you’re supposed to say. your eyes meet hers again. you could say goodbye. you could walk inside, end the night, and pretend like there’s nothing more to it. but the moment feels too big, too full of things unsaid for you to walk away from it.

you turn fully to face her, your heart racing just a little. before you can second-guess yourself, you stumble down the stairs and grab the collar of her jacket. nat doesn’t have time to react, her eyes widening just as you pull her toward you, and in one swift motion, you press your lips to hers like you’ve been dying to all night.

everything pauses. the kiss is unexpected, quick, and electric. a mix of everything unspoken between you two. all the tension that’s built up over the weeks, all the doubts and fears, dissolve in that single, raw moment. nat’s body goes still, as if neither of you can quite process what’s happening.

then, almost as if waking up, she finally responds, her hands gently cupping your face. her lips move against yours with a softness that you hadn’t expected from nat: she’s slow at first, cautious as if she’s waiting for you to change your mind. but you pull her in closer, deepening the kiss without thinking.

the moment shatters only when you hear the faint sound of a car driving by down the street. you both jump apart then, but not far enough to break the connection. breath comes a little quicker now as you stand there on the porch, eyes locked, saying nothing.

the car drives by, leaving you invisible in the shadows of your house.

a beat.

you don't even register jumping back into motion, but suddenly, you're both stumbling back toward the door, lips locked again, hands moving instinctively, pulling each other closer. your heart beats faster with every step, every touch. you can't get enough of her.

you reach the lock, fingers fumbling with the key for a moment before it finally turns, letting you slip inside. the door closes quietly behind you, carefully pulled to avoid a sound. inside, it is quiet and dark, the house hiding you as you stand there, just breathing. nat’s forehead rests against yours, both of you too lost in the moment to speak, but the tension is still there, palpable.

nat breaks the silence first, her voice low, barely a whisper. "are we...doing this?"

you smile, your thumb brushing across her jaw as you pull her back into another kiss, slow and deliberate, like you're both savoring every second of it. you don't pull away at all this time. instead, you guide her to your room, the distance from the door to your bed feeling like miles.

you stumble against furniture and walls on the way there, giggling into each other’s mouths as you try to find your way.

when you finally make it to your room, you're both panting heavily, your hands still holding onto each other as if afraid one of you will slip away if you let go.

all the past weeks have come down to this.

nat leans down to kiss you again, even slower this time, her hands coming to rest on your waist, her fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. you press yourself against her, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as though you both can't help yourselves anymore.

“we have-“ you murmur against her lips between kisses. “-to be quiet!”

nat smiles softly, nodding, her mouth brushing against your ear as she murmurs, "i think we can manage,”

you grin in relief. carefully, you make your way to the bed. the only sound is the soft rustle of clothes being discarded, and then the warmth of her hands against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“i’ve never-“ you begin as you toss nat’s leather jacket over your chair. your teeth dig into your lower lip nervously, both because you’re admitting this to her and because you know what’s still to come.

“hey,” nat nudges your chin so you’re looking back up at her. her hands reach for your cheeks, the cold metal of her rings pressing against your skin. “it’s okay. you’re okay”

you nod on a shaky exhale and nat’s smile softens, mirroring your expression.

“we don’t have to-” she starts, but you're already cutting her off.

“no!” the word comes out too eager, too rushed, and you feel your face heat. “no. i want to!”

no matter how appreciative you are of her patience and assurance, you do feel ready. you had been the minute she’d first kissed you under the porch light (perhaps even long before that), when her chapped lips started moving against yours slowly.

nat nods once, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and your eyes fall to her mouth, helplessly transfixed. “okay” she says quietly. “okay...”

she's on you in seconds, her lips capturing yours again, her weight pressing against you until your back hits the mattress.

your arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer, and she hums into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. nat’s fingers skim your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, her nails dragging lightly over your skin. goosebumps rise in their wake, and you shiver involuntarily when her rings brush your bare side.

nat pulls back, her lips grazing yours as she grins. “cold?”

“a little,” you admit, breathlessly.

nat's teasing smirk only grows as she sits back on her knees, perched over your legs. her hand rests flat against your lower abdomen, just above where your shirt has ridden up, while the other ghosts over your ribs.

you reach for the one pressing against you, your thumbs circling her wrist to pull it in. you hold her hand up between you, examining the metal bands on each finger for a brief moment before leaning forward. one by one, you kiss the tips of her fingers, your lips hovering over the cool metal as you move lower.

above you, nat sucks in a sharp breath.

you glance up, and her wide, surprised eyes meet yours.

your finger brushes over her knuckles as you tug one ring free, then another. nat’s gaze follows every movement, and when you press another gentle kiss to her now-bare fingers, a tremor runs through her. you set the rings down on your bedside table and turn back up to look at nat.

the tension between you hums like a live wire, but it's not overwhelming. it's something else entirely, something that feels right.

nat swallows hard, her lips twitching upward. “better?” she asks.

“yeah,” you rasp. “way better.”

you sit up to meet her halfway this time, giving her room to peel your shirt off and toss it aside. it lands on the floor by the side of your bed softly, leaving you in a plain black bra. still, her eyes rake over your chest both hungrily and with an adoration that’s softer than anything you’ve ever seen playing out on nat’s features.

“you’re so-“ she says, her fingers twitching like she’s resisting the urge to reach out. once again, you take nat’s hand in yours and guide it to cup your breast. you both exhale simultaneously, adjusting to the new sensation. she must feel your hardened nipples through the fabric, judging by the way her gaze drops and she bites her lip.

experimentally, nat’s thumb flicks the pebbled nipple, instantly drawing a shuddered moan from you.

“nat, off,” you manage, head lulling back already.

thankfully, she complies: nat reaches around your back and smoothly unhooks the clasps. while holding the eye contact, she pulls the fabric off, exposing your bare chest to the chilly night air. she discards it carefully, letting it join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“you too!” you urge, fingers impatiently reaching for nat’s tank top. she smiles but helps you get it off and throws it aside, revealing the red bra she’s wearing underneath. the sight takes your breath away, and you’re stunned into silence. unlike nat, you can’t help yourself but blatantly stare.

“you’re so pretty,” you finally whisper, leaning in to kiss the swell of her breasts that spill from the bra.

nat’s now bare fingers tangle in your hair as she guides you, letting you have this. you mouth at the fabric eagerly, yet before you can pull it down, nat pushes you back into the sheets.

you don’t feel exposed like you thought you would in this position, even though you evidently are: with your hair sprawled out around your head on the pillows, your nipples hard and on full display, and your chest heaving rapidly. you can feel the wet patch in your underwear.

nat leans over you and begins kissing down the expanse of your upper body. her mouth trails down the valley between your breasts, leaving the faintest marks in the places where she sucks on your skin just a little harder.

“so pretty,” nat mumbles absentmindedly, her calloused fingertips roaming your sides. they fall to your pants next. with both eyes closed and your head thrown back into the plushy pillows, you nod.

“please,” you whisper into the space between you. a space that’s yours and nat’s only. “please!”

“i got you, cheerleader,” nat says teasingly. you blink an eye open to see her staring down at you. her hands spring into action, skilled fingers unbuttoning your jeans before unzipping them and peeling them off your legs. you kick them down the edge of the bed, leaving you completely bare except for the thin, soaked fabric of your underwear. nat must see the stain on the fabric from where she’s sitting between your knees.

her palms press flat against your legs, brushing up their length until they land on the flesh of your inner thighs and nudge them apart. if she hadn’t seen your arousal before, the pleased smile on her face when her eyes land on your crotch speaks volumes.

“holy shit,” she mutters, her voice husky and low.

you want her, you realize, more than you’ve ever wanted anything else before. you want her fingers, her mouth, whatever nat is willing to give you. you tremble with the force of allowing yourself to feel this kind of want, to let it take over you without any attempts or reasons to oppress it.

“nat,”

her eyes flick up and her fingers instinctively reach for the waistline of your panties, a silent question hanging between you.

“yes!” you nod. “yes please!”

instead of taking them off right away like you had expected, nat begins kissing up your inner thighs, occasionally letting her tongue dart out to lick over your skin.

“can i…?” she husks when her nose practically nudges the crotch of your underwear.

too impatient to deprive yourself of it any longer, you hook your fingers into the hemline yourself and push them down past your knees.

nat smiles up at you softly before she lets her eyes drop to your naked form. you can feel all the places where your wetness is sticking to your thighs, the air making you hyper-aware of all the wet spots.

“god,” she groans, her fingers running through her bleach blonde hair. “look at you…” she brings her other hand up to gently spread you open and take in the sight of your body bare before her.

you spread your legs a little wider for her, gasping when nat’s thumb brushes your clit for the first time. your soft moan makes her crawl up your body, her lips meeting yours in a searing kiss to hush you, her fingers gliding through your arousal.

“nat,” you moan against her mouth. “nat, inside.”

thankfully, nat understands. your body tenses when she slides them into you with a soft moan of her own, then immediately relaxes when she smiles against your lips. you feel yourself fluttering around her as you take nat in greedily.

“good?” she breathes, motionless until you nod erratically. that’s when she begins to move.

immediately, she’s drawing obscenely wet noises from between your thighs that echo from the walls around you. you gasp at one particular good thrust against your walls, her fingers curling against a spot that causes your eyes to roll back in your head.

you moan as your head falls back against the pillows and your mouth hangs open against nat’s. you cling to her body breathlessly, reaching around her back as her fingers work themselves deeper into you.

“mhm, i know,” nat gently whispers, “i know, that’s it, i got you,”

all her praise goes straight to your cunt, sending another wave of pleasure surging through your body. your hand finds hers through the haze and you lace your fingers together. you need to feel her, need to know that she’s still there.

“you take my fingers so well,” she praises, each word accompanied by another thrust. you nod once again, her voice sending you spiraling and gushing more arousal all over her fingers.

“i’m gonna put my mouth on you now, is that okay?” she asks.

“yeah!” you instantly assure, eyes turning to the ceiling above, mentally bracing yourself for the sensation of her lips and tongue on your pussy. “yeah, please!”

she doesn’t kiss your body as thoroughly this time for the sake of reaching her destination faster: only brushes her lips over your stomach briefly before getting comfortable between your spread legs.

your hands curl up in her hair tightly in anticipation and nat hums in response before her mouth closes around your clit and sucks. nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the actual feeling of nat scatorccio's mouth.

you can see her eyes through her sweaty bangs, catch the way they roll back in head at the first taste of you.

“oh, nat!” you moan, louder than you should, but neither of you cares. you arch your back off the soft sheets, grinding yourself against nat’s broad tongue until you feel your stomach coiling and tightening in pleasure. there’s an unrelenting tension building up there, one that’s just waiting to snap. she lets you chase your orgasm, allows you to move however you please.

“are you close?” nat murmurs against you, her fingers sliding back into your cunt so suddenly you shudder. it seems harder for her to thrust into you now, with your walls tightening around the digits.

“i think so” you manage breathlessly.

nat, spurred out by this, doubles her efforts and dives right back in, flicking your clit with her tongue and curling her fingers against your g-spot. it’s so much. it’s not nearly enough. it’s perfect.

nat sends you over the edge in mere seconds.

“that’s it,” you hear her praising.

with a cry of nat's name, you cum against the feeling of her mouth and fingers. you can still sense her voice talking you through it, but it feels distant with the pleasure rushing through your veins.

her hand squeezes yours through the orgasm, grounding you as you tremble with pleasure. not once does she take her eyes off you as you ride out the waves of your height.

only when your body stops shaking, nat pulls out, clearly not wanting to push you to a point of overstimulation. someday, you think to yourself, you might ask her to. but not tonight. tonight you want to enjoy the new experience with her and the tenderness of nat’s touch.

the next time you open your heavy lidded eyes, nat is lingering above you. she’s watching you recover through wide, curious eyes.

“hi,” she whispers when she notices.

“hi,” you chuckle, still breathless.

“was that…” nat trails off, biting her lips. “okay?”

instead of a verbal response, you cup her cheeks and crane your neck to gently kiss her lips. you can taste yourself on them and have to fight back the urge to lick your arousal from nat’s mouth.

“more than okay,” you whisper then.

you’re spinning her around before you know it, kissing nat with newfound determination as you press her into the mattress.

there’s a long night ahead of you.

the room is dim now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the streetlight outside. nat is perched on the windowsill, the cool night air blowing in through the open window. she exhales smoke, the grey tendrils curling lazily in the air before disappearing into the darkness, and you watch her.

“can i ask you something?” nat’s voice is soft, her eyes lingering on the street outside.

you nod, drawing your legs closer to your chest you as you sit beside her. “of course,”

she turns to you, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “what does this…what does it all mean for us? i mean, after everything with your ex, i want to be sure, you know? i don’t want you to feel like you have to rush into anything or that i’m, like, pressuring you,”

you can tell nat is trying to be careful for your sake, but it’s obvious her mind is already on what’s next. you want to reassure her, to let her know this is what you want, something that feels right in a way nothing ever did with your ex.

“nat,” you begin “it’s okay. i do want this. i want you. i’m not going anywhere!”

she blinks at you, her gaze softening as the words settle between you two. she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke drift out of her mouth with a sigh. then, she sets it aside on the sill, her fingers tracing a light path along the window frame.

“i just want to make sure I’m doing this right,” she murmurs. “i mean, i kinda jumped into it with you. and, look, i’ve never really been one for...all of this, you know? i want to take my time with you. show you that i want this!”

your eyes widen just slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. “you want to take your time with me?”

nat looks away for a second, clearly flustered. “i know, i know. it sounds fucking ridiculous, but…yeah. i do. i’ve never really done this right with anyone before, and i want us to take this slow!” she glances back at you. “not because i don’t want you! god, i do! it's cause i really do want to…swoon you properly”

you laugh, a light sound, your heart swelling with affection. “you’re really something, you know that?”

“a hopeless romantic,” she jokes, but you can tell there’s none of her usual sarcasm behind it.

you pull nat a little closer, your fingers brushing against her hand. “i’d love that,” you whisper, meeting her eyes. “i’d love for you to…” you grin, making a vague gesture. “swoon me”

before she can say anything else, you kiss her. it’s slow, sweet, the kind of kiss that feels like it could go on forever if you wanted it to. eventually, you do have to pull away to catch your breath.

“i’m not going anywhere either,” you assure. “take all the time you need, nat. i’m right here!”

she grins, a little sheepish but undeniably happy, and leans in to kiss you again, this time with more certainty, more trust.

“deal,” she murmurs. “but, for the record, i do want to be your girlfriend. if that’s…something you want, too?”

just when you thought this evening couldn’t get any better...

“yeah” you confirm, smiling so widely your cheeks ache from it. “that is something i want,”

weeks later…

the air is warm, bordering on too hot, a hint of summer heat creeping into the car despite the ac as the engine hums quietly. the smell of fresh grass and the distant sound of chatter from the graduation ceremony echo outside, but inside, it’s just the two of you.

you and nat are in the backseat, both of you in your graduation gowns, caps discarded carelessly on the passenger seat. the gowns, those stiff, awkward, and uncomfortable outfits, are crumpled around your bodies as you make out.

your girlfriend’s lips are warm against your own, her hand tangled in your hair as she urges you against herself. her laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you break the kiss just enough to look at her, eyes practically sparkling with mischief.

“we’re going to be late,” nat murmurs between soft kisses down your neck, her voice teasing. “they’ll be looking for us, and then we’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

you laugh, a soft, breathless noise that blends with the hum of the engine, and shake your head. “who cares?” you press your lips against hers again. “i’d rather be here with you!”

nat grins, a little breathless herself now. “yeah, me too.” she leans in again, but pulls back just as quickly, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. “we’re literally getting our diplomas in, like, 10 minutes. and we’re in the back of my car, making out. that doesn’t exactly scream ‘responsible graduates,’ does it?”

you both burst into laughter, the sound of it filling the space of her car. “let’s just skip the ceremony and do this all day,” you tease, your fingers brushing over her gown, feeling the fabric slide beneath your touch.

nat laughs again, pulling away to look at you with that same fond, playful expression she always has when she’s teasing you. “we could,” she says, “but i think the others might kill us!”

you chuckle, then glance out the window briefly. the ceremony is happening just outside the school, with enough room for all your classmates to gather for one final moment together.

you know this is it: this is a chapter closing. but for now, it doesn’t matter. all that matters is this moment. with nat and the heat of summer beginning to settle in around you.

her fingers brush your cheek, pulling your focus back to her. “we should really get out there,” she says, though there’s no real urgency in her tone. it’s clear that she wants to stay here with you just as much as you do too.

“i know,” you reply softly. then, after a pause, you add: “in a second!”

“in a second,” nat parrots, her voice full of affection. “just a few more minutes…then we can go face the world together, as graduates, yeah?”

you nod, your heart racing as her tongue briefly slips past your lips, deepening the kiss. her hand cups your cheek and her thumb brushes your skin, the free one creeping up beneath your gown, pushing your bra up and…

suddenly, there’s a loud knock on the window.

you both freeze, breaking apart so fast that nat accidentally bumps her head against the roof of the car. “shit!” she mutters, rubbing the back of her head as you whip your gaze toward the window.

outside, van is standing with a huge grin, tapping the glass with her knuckles. the rest of the team is waiting right behind her, all of them smirking knowingly.

“hey, lovebirds!” she calls, loud enough to make sure you both hear through the glass. she leans down so her face is level with the window, cupping her hands to block out the glare of the sun. “you two realize we can see you, right?” she says. “pretty sure the rest of the parking lot can too!”

nat groans, dragging a hand over her face while you stifle a laugh. she opens the door and climbs out, glaring half-heartedly at van. “ever heard of knocking quietly?” she grumbles.

“oh, i did,” van replies, her grin widening. “you just didn’t notice. wonder why…”

nat flips her off, more playful than anything. “you’re so annoying!”

“yeah, yeah.” van waves her off, completely unbothered. “let’s go, casanova!”

you climb out after nat, smoothing your gown and trying not to blush too hard under the knowing smirks of the yellowjackets gathered around.

jackie and shauna have their arms looped casually around each other as they exchange a look. “about time,” jackie says. “thought we’d have to drag you two out ourselves!”

nat snorts. “i don’t think either of you could’ve managed that!”

“don’t tempt us,” shauna fires back with a grin. “we’ve wrestled worse!”

“anyway,” taissa cuts in, grinning as she straightens the yellow sash draped over her blue gown. “can we get moving before we miss the ceremony?”

nat mutters something under her breath as she adjusts her own gown. you glance down, realizing the fabric is slightly askew where it had bunched up in the car.

“here, let me-” you step in closer, smoothing out the material over her shoulder and down her arm. your hands linger a second longer than necessary, and when you look up, nat’s gaze is soft.

van groans loudly, dragging out the sound and snapping you out of it. “oh my god, you two. we get it! you’re gross and in love! can we please go now?”

nat ignores her this time, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers together under the loose fabric of the gown sleeves as she tugs you toward the others.

by the time you reach the staging area, you've all settled into an easy hum of excitement. parents and relatives of your classmates chatter nearby, camera flashes going off as the graduates start lining up.

nat pulls you aside, letting the others shuffle ahead for a moment.

“everything okay?” you ask, your voice low.

she hesitates, glancing at the bustling staging area where the rest of the yellowjackets have gathered. then her eyes return to yours. “yeah, it’s just…this is it, huh?”

you tilt your head, smiling softly. “graduation?”

“no, i mean…this. us. life after this,” she says, her voice dipping quieter. “it’s all gonna change!”

your chest tightens at her words. things with you have been going well these past weeks. great even. life after graduation had been something you always purposefully avoided. you didn’t want to ruin your last weeks of this by worrying about what would come after.

now, before you can let the thought spiral, nat squeezes your hand. “not in a bad way,” she says. “i just…i want you to know, whatever happens now, wherever we end up, you’re it for me. you know that, right?”

it’s such a simple thing, the way she says it, but it hits you like the sweetest punch to the gut. you smile at her, your chest full of a warmth you can’t quite describe. “you’re it for me too, nat,”

before you can process what’s happening, the words tumble out of nat. “god, i love you!”

it’s barely above a whisper, but it’s there: raw and real and so perfectly nat. your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening as the weight of her confession sinks in.

she freezes, clearly realizing what she’s just said. “i- i mean-” she stammers, her cheeks flushing as she starts to backtrack. “you totally don’t have to say it back or anything! i just-“

“i love you too!” your voice cuts off her rambling. relief washes over her face, and she lets out a breathy laugh. “you do?” nat asks, like she’s scared she misheard.

you nod, stepping closer until the space between you is nearly nonexistent. “yeah, nat, i do”

she grins, her hands coming up to hold your face as she leans in. you kiss her back just as eagerly, forgetting for a moment that you’re supposed to be at graduation, that there’s a whole crowd of people right around the corner.

only the sound of a camera click jolts you both back to reality. you pull apart, turning to see jackie standing a few feet away with a polaroid camera in hand and a smug grin on her face.

“oh, come on!” nat groans, her hands falling from your face as jackie waves the photo in the air.

“this is going on the fridge,” she teases, holding it just out of reach.

“give it back!” you protest, laughter bubbling out of you as nat starts toward her. “come and get it!” jackie taunts, taking off toward the rest of the group.

you glance at nat, who’s already chasing after her. without thinking, you follow.

van watches the scene unfold, shaking her head with a grin. “they’re never gonna make it on time,” she says.

“totally worth it,” taissa replies, smirking as you and nat disappear into the crowd after jackie.

somewhere across the field, the cheer squad is frantically fixing their hair and makeup, their voices filled with nervous chatter. you don’t even notice. for the first time in what feels like forever, they’re the furthest thing from your mind.

the only thing you can think about is nat: her laughter, her smile, and the way her hand feels in yours as you chase after jackie.

and as you run, breathless and alive, you realize that all of this was supposed to happen. that you are exactly where you're meant to be.

— a/n: thank you all so much for reading! this was my first actual fic “series” with multiple chapters, so i hope i did a decent job covering everything 🐉 anon requested!! i appreciate your support & feedback so so much! thank you, thank you, thank you!! <3 (also the last sentence might be a chapter 1 reference…)

#˙💌 ̟ !! ─ my works #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x female reader #nat scatorccio x fem!reader #nat scatorccio x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x female reader #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni

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cherryswisherz · 2 days ago

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KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER V

✷WARNINGS: cursing, pining??, farrah mentioned, xavia lore dropping, angst ✷NIYAH SPEAKS: computer fixed ayeeee!!! imma get to yalls requests now i pinky swear. idk when they'll be out but i gotchu

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

“So, Ms. Johnson,” Paige smiles at me from her spot on the ground, “What does one do for Christmas in LA?”

The original plan for tonight was for our whole group to hang out before we all left to our hometowns. So it was KK, Azzi, Yanna, Jane and I.

But of course, nothing ever goes to plan around here. Yanna and Jane went back to our place so Jane could finish packing. Azzi had to ‘take a phone call’ but she’d been in her room for almost an hour. And KK was supposed to be picking up the food, but she had been gone longer than Azzi.

So it was just Paige and I, her on the ground building LEGO’s and me on the couch scrolling. It was a comfortable silence, but a silence that was begging to be broken. I guess Paige decided to be the one that broke it.

“Well, Christmas is different in my house than it would be for your average Californian.” I set my phone down before folding my hands and sliding them under the blanket. “It’s more of a production than a holiday.”

I make it a point to never talk about my family’s dynamic with anyone here. I try my hardest for those two worlds to never meet, but for some reason, I trust that Paige will understand my situation better than anyone. I think to some extent, her life is as complex as mine is.

Paige seems ultimately unbothered by what I said. “Is your family one of those weird ones that has a 90ft tree and uses rare cloth to wrap presents?” She asks without ever taking her eyes off the project she’s working on.

“Uh, kinda,” I start, “My parents are both surgeons and all four of my grandparents were doctors. My grandpa make like, a life changing discovery before my dad was born, and my grandma on my moms side was a pioneer for black women in the medical field,”

“Sound like some shit off Grey’s,” Paige chuckles and I can’t help but to join her, because it really does sound like some shit from Grey’s.

“So obviously they were very successful and raised my parents to be just like them,”

“Of course.”

“So naturally, my parents are just like their parents and my grandparents are very proud of them, as they should be.” I throw my hands up, to let Paige know that I’m also proud of my parents, “But then they had me. And it was my parent’s turn to shape and mold their prodigy.”

“Right.” Paige nod’s her head like she’s following, still focused on the LEGO’s.

“Except I hate blood, and science has always been my weakest subject.”

She freezes for a second before turning her head to me, now paying full attention.

“So instead of a prodigy, they got a humanitarian who protests the cost of health insurance.”

Paige winces at my words, like she understands that there’s career shaped canyon between my parents and I. “Ouch,”

“Yeah so, back to Christmas,” I take a deep breath and let it out before answering her original question, “Every year, my parents throw this big party every year, bigger than the Thanksgiving one, and it’s filled with rich people who talk about making themselves richer.”

I decide to leave out the part about me playing the piano and how a piece of me dies everytime I strike a chord.

“Everyone asks me how school’s going and if I’m still majoring in Sociology and when I tell them ‘yes,’ they remind me that ‘the money isn’t great in social work’, and I have to pretend like I don’t want to scream that if I cared about money then I would still be using my parents money instead of busting my ass to pay my rent and keep my grades up so I don’t lose my scholarship.”

Realizing that I’ve started rambling, I take another breath, closing my eyes and counting to three before I release it. And Paige doesn’t say anything. She just allows me this moment for myself, regardless of any questions she may have, and I appreciate more than she realizies.

“Nobody gets why I don’t use my trust fund, or why I work when my parent’s would pay for everything.” I open my eyes and allow them to find Paige’s.

She looks empathetic and confused and it makes me want to run away and never see her again, but also tell her all my secrets, hopes and dreams at the same time.

Funny, right?

“Why don’t you?” she asks.

I think about my answer for a second, trying to put it in the best way I can. How do you explain to someone that if you wanted to, you could have everything you wanted, but to get everything you want, you have to be everything you never want to be? How do you explain that you know from firsthand experience that money doesn’t buy happiness?

“Because then they’d have control over me.” I speak slowly, not sure if it makes sense to me, let alone Paige. “They’d hold the money over my head so that I would have no choice but to be exactly who they want me to be. And I’d rather live the life that I do, than pretend to be something I’m not.”

The irony in my statement isn’t lost one me.

Rich girl want to change the world by refusing to take Mommy and Daddy’s money.

Cliche, I know. But I don’t want to change the world by not taking their money. I’d gladly accept the help from my parents, and I know I’d make much more of a difference if I had money they were always trying to force feed me. But the cost isn’t worth it to me.

How can I, in good conscience, fight to make life easier for the middle/lower class if I’m rubbing elbows with the very people who are making their lives harder?

Paige’s response shocks me to my core. “I wish I was as brave as you.”

I don’t know why I said that. I meant what I said, but I stil have no fucking clue why I allowed myself to say it.

Because now, Xavia is looking at me like she’s waiting for me to go further. Waiting for me to give her and explanation that I can’t give her.

I think about where this conversation would go if I was honest about it.

I’d tell her that I admired her ability to be honest. That I lie to everyone about everything and I think the guilt is gonna kill me before I make it to the league, which is the reason I’m doing it in the first place. I’d tell her that I wish I was strong enough to do what I want without caring about the repercussions.

My first thought is that if I were to say all that, she’d for sure think I’m insane. I wouldn’t blame her. How can I play the victim in this situation when at the end of the day, it’s my choices that got me here?

But my second thought is that Xavia would take a second. Close her eyes and take a deep breath, and I’d stare at her lashes as they brush her cheek and hope that one falls so I can brush it off her cheek. And after that second, she’d open her eyes and tell me everything I need to hear. She’d come up with a solution to all my problems and when I tell her that I’m scared to be honest about everything, she wouldn’t make me feel like shit. She’d assure me that she’d be there when my world crumbles due to my lies.

None of that can happen for two reasons.

I’m for shit sure not gonna chance Xavia and I’s friendship by telling her my secrets.

If my second thought is correct, I’d be forced to admit to myself that I never stopped liking Xavia. I’d be forced to admit that it might not be a like anymore. That it might possibly be something deeper and complex than wanting what I can’t have.

So instead, I feed her bullshit.

“Uh, just-” I clear my throat, “If I had the choice to go to school on someone else’s dime, I’d take it, regardless.”

The way Xavi’s face drops makes my heart do the same. I literally watch the light in her eyes that I love so much, disappear. Her brows furrow and she tucks her lips before sticking her neck out as if to telepathically say, ‘are you dumb?’

And I’m not.

I fully understand her mindset. And I support her choices to be independent. That sentence was just the best I could come up with at the moment, but clearly it’s done more harm than good.

“Did you not hear everything I just said?”

“Uh-”

She cuts me off, “Because if you did, then you would have heard the part where I explained why I’m not doing that.”

“No, I know why you’re doing things your way, I just wouldn’t do the same.”

The baffled look on her face tells me she’s not pleased with my attempt at damage control, “And why not?”

There are countless answers to that question, and running them over in my mind makes me mad, more at myself than anyone else. All the excuses are my own fault.

I’m too scared to fail.

I made promises I wouldn’t be able to keep on my own.

I don’t have the confidence within myself to trust me with my own life.

And of course, like the fucking moron that I am, I said none of that to the girl who’s now standing up front the couch, legs unfolded, bare feet barring into the carpet.

“We all have to make sacrifices to make Xavia, and you choosing to struggle and cause a rift with your parents doesn’t seem worth the cause.” I shrugged, leaning back on my haunches, craning my neck to see her.

She cuts her eyes at me before inhaling and exhaling. ‘Bye, Paige.” And now, she’s sliding into her shoes and grabbing her back, “Tell KK I’ll Apple Pay her my part for the food.”

I’m speechless as I watch her hips sway to my front door. I watch her arms swing the door open and I watch it close with a soft click.

It isn’t until I watch her Uber drive off with her in it that I realize what the fuck just happened, and when I do it takes everything in me to not fall to my fucking knees.

I just stare at the door, like if I hope hard enough Xavia will come back and have magically figured out everything I wanted to say.

But she doesn’t come back. The front door doesn’t open again until KK barges in with bags of Chick-Fil-A, asking where Xavi and Azzi went.

I can’t even bring myself to answer.

I just close my eyes and force the tears back into their ducts before wordlessly going to my room and it isn’t until I’m in my bed with the lights off that allow the tears to fall.

I allow myself to shake from the force of my regret. I let my lungs empty themselves out into my pillow with every sob. I allow this one time to be honest with myself because no amount of ignoring or denial will trick my brain into thinking that being Xavi-less is worth it..

So the rest of the night, I cry until there’s no tears left, and then I cry some more just because I want to.

It’s not even the fact that Xavia walked out on me. It’s not abou the fact that she’s mad at me, though that doesn’t sit well either.

It’s the fact that, for years I knew exactly how my life was gonna look. I knew I was going pro. I knew I was gonna be the #1 draft pick and I knew that in order for these things to happen, I had to make sacrifices. I had to pick the right girl, wear the right clothes, talk a certain way and dedicate myself to my career. I had to be absolutely fucking miserable and become a version of myself that I wasn’t proud of.

And for all this time, I told myself that all this loneliness and misery was going to be worth it when I put that hat on. Because then I’d have done it. I’d have done what I’ve wanted to do since I was 10.

It didn’t matter that I was a liar. That I was keeping a girl I loved (as a friend) from being with someone who could give her everything she deserved. It didn’t matter I’d never enjoy sex again, or that the guilt of my decisons was probably gonna give me ulcers. Didn’t even matter that I’d probably go to Hell for all the sins I’d committed.

But now, I can’t stop my brain from telling me that the WNBA isn’t worth Farrah’s happiness. It isn’t worth the light in Xavia’s eyes. It isn’t worth Azzi’s peace of mind.

It isn’t worth my soul.

The next morning, I ignore my alarm. I ignore the knocks on my door and the texts from my team and the calls from Farrah. I just lay there in my bed, wrapped in a blanket that smells nothing like coconut oil, and try to get my shit together,

I wrack my brain and force myself to remember why I’m doing this.

WHY THE FUCK AM I DOING THIS?

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lifenconcepts · 1 day ago

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I absolutely agree with that and am SO happy to find someone similar to me!! I’ve never been one to hate on the shit another finds good but the popularised versions of identities being this half which is just sunshine and rainbows always feels a little unjustified for how much those same people which say ‘embrace the weird! Be yourself! Love others!!’ and say they support those which unapologetically go against what social norm has been formed, suddenly go from all kind to ‘yuck! How can you say that? That doesn’t seem right.. you’re not one of us!’ the very moment you mention you support real fur instead of faux, that hunting and genuinely mauling your food with your hands is okay, feel angry when another animal marks your home or vehicle, or any other variation of not being the ‘aesthetic therian’ others so believe is the ‘only’ way of being alterhuman.

The exact definition that’s been burned into our brains like a branding has gotten boring! There’s no right way to be yourself, because you’re the only one who knows what you actually look like! And no matter how much I see ‘alterhumanity is different for everyone’ I still tend to think that not all really get that into their brains. They take in the words but not the MEANING behind them. I want others to just blatantly face the facts that some find it nice, prefered in fact, to just want to be able to think and act like an animal. None of that explanation of why and how. (I love to find meaning behind everything but that’s simply because my soul craves knowledge) I too sometimes believe it to be great for the simplicity of a creature’s mind. You can enjoy harming another life without some twisted sense of pleasure (although that’s also fine. Huntings dogs were bred to hunt. Ofcourse they will be happy to hunt), to go where you walk simply because it’s what feels right (why must you understand the journey or destination in mind when birds migrate simply by how it feels and where is better? They don’t think ‘oh gee! It’s the 8th of September! I must get going to Portugal otherwise I may not survive the cold!’ Their minds subconsciously gather the temperature change and just vaguely understand they need to fucking go some place warm), and it feels irritating to fight for this in a community that claims to support and understand eachother alot- BUT ANIMALS DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN THEMSELVES! They don’t! They don’t decide to just casually start feeling some way and try change to be that, no! They feel a way, and so they are that. And that may change, it may be wrong, but who cares!? Emotion is emotion and sensation is sensation. Whatever feeling comes along then it’s that feeling which is invoked. This makes more sense with examples but I just had to get it off my chest.

You won’t find a flying squirrel explaining to another ‘look, I just don’t feel enough like a rodent enough because I’ve seen the air like the birds and bugs, perhaps I’m not made for this body because I love the air as must as the trees. Is it so wrong?’ No. It’s just living as it fucking needs to, eats shits walks and floats, and will die when it needs to. Our human minds allow for a lot more to do and various things to come of it, but they also are just so much of a plague of questions that assault simple activities. Ah- I could go on for hours, but everyone needs to know that an alterhuman will be alterhuman even if they don’t explain themselves. Maybe someone misunderstood themselves but to what extent does it even matter? Maybe it’s chosen maybe it’s involuntary but why are you policing another? Is life showing any sign of rules? Sure, patterns exist, and there may be exceptions for moral wrong doing, but in the end it’s always up to subjective perception to decide what is right for you. We already have human-made rules, it’s called the law. Don’t kill or abuse others, don’t steal and destroy another’s property, and the rest is up to your grubby little hands to decide (some laws are idiotic I will admit). And I needed to get this out for a long time but damn it- ALLOW others to exist without a label! Allow yourself to go unlabelled! It’s a common practice but it’s not as neccesary! Do you know how much agony you’ll be spared if you stop going ‘well how much of a Therian am I? What counts as Otherkin? Have I experienced any symptoms of So-and-so in the past month?’ And rather spot what makes you feel better in your body, what brings happiness, and what you do often. The cause ain’t even all that neccesary to understand unless you want to. Just focus on what you feel like and what you want to see in yourself and then you can go all ‘let’s find a word for this’. Honestly. The English language has already so many words, and that’s not even taking into account those which grown lost with time. You really think newly-made terms don’t hold as much value? Or that a single word must explain your own mind and body? Your soul is boundless, but able to be gazed upon at times. So why limit yourself to fit into a new box just to claim you ‘escaped the system!!’ as you once more alter yourself and grow bound to mere words and a fear for others judging you.

Okay that’s a bit off topic now, thanks for the opportunity to ramble, but yeah. Let animals be animals. And animals don’t need to explain themselves, they can blatantly do whatever feels good or right at the moment without it having define their entire existence or life. Animals can be dirty, mean, confusing, nasty, dangerous, scary, but still have nice qualities. And even if not, it is not their fault.

Never ever mistake me. I am not just in favor of the uwu romantic version Being An Animal. It's not all moodboards and waxing poetic about tails/wings/etc and running in the forest wild and free. All of that stuff is GOOD and FINE and a nice outlet for all flavors of nonhumans, please do not stop engaging with that sort of thing. I'm talking about me also wanting to embrace the gross and so-called ugly and less fortunate aspects of animality. like when you're wrestling a large prey animals into submission so you can eat that day but it fuckin Gets You with a claw/antler/horn/hoof/beak/etc and suddenly you're hurt real bad. Lost an eye, a toe, half your tail. Got a permanent limp from being stomped so hard that will make hunting difficult so you may not live your full natural lifespan. dying of severe cold or heat and then your body decomposing slowly, being food for other things. scent marking with piss, shit, musk. being young and inexperienced so you go without food for days cuz you can't hunt for shit.

there is no part of animality that is something I don't desire. I want it all, because all of me is animal. does it suck to downgrade from human sized complex brain to smaller wolverine brain? No not really! I am not mourning the loss of things I never asked for in the first place. sure I could say that woo, less complex brain means less capacity for things to go wrong, but that is a very human lens to look through. does a wolverine know it's "lucky" that it cannot have certain human mental illnesses because its brain may not be that complex? no, and that's why I'm not worried. I could turn into one fully physically overnight and then die stupidly 2 years later and that would still be ideal. sure I also may romanticize some things in ways that are not really Natural for my species, like how I think places that feel like Home just seem so beautiful to me, but no damn animal is perfect. I am allowed a couple flaws. several, in fact, lmao.

I Crave It All

#Therian #Therianthropy #Therianthrope #Nonhuman #Otherkin #Alterhuman #divine Illumination #my eepy ramblings

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janeyseymour · 2 hours ago

Text

Overheated

Summary: sometimes you faint. a certain someone is always there to catch you.

WC: ~2.3k

“Melissa, I’m fine,” you grumble as you roll out of bed that day. “Just PMS.”

“And you know how that shit knocks you out,” your wife mutters, although she does allow you to get up. She knows you’ve already used your sick days earlier in the year when you caught the flu.

“Well, it can’t today,” you grunt and groan as you change into your work clothes. “I can’t afford to not get paid, and I don’t want Mr. J as my sub again.”

“I told you, we can survive without one day of your pay if you really feel as shitty as I think you do,” Melissa tells you as she snakes her arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

You turn slightly in her arms to kiss her softly. “I know, but I really don’t need Mr. J teaching my kids that the moon landing was fake.”

“You know my thoughts on that conspiracy theory,” the redhead chuckles softly as she lets you go. When you grimace in pain, she mumbles to herself, “Can’t forget the heating pad and Midol today.”

“And Excedrin,” you whine.

“Hun, if your head is pounding too,” Melissa looks to you with sympathy.

You stand strong though. “I’m going. I’ll just teach with the lights off and from my desk today.”

“Stubborn as a Schemmenti,” your wife rolls her eyes. “I swear.”

“I am a Schemmenti now,” you quip with a smirk before you feel a shoot pain that causes you to wince.

“And I am so thankful for that,” Melissa promises you as she kisses your head again. With that, the two of you head down the steps for breakfast.

Your breakfast is, while painful, a wonderfully quiet and warm haze. Your wife all but forces you to sit at the table while she prepares the coffee and meal, along with handing you the hot water bottle for you to hold to your abdomen.

As you leave for work, you would venture to say that you feel slightly better than you did when you first woke up. Still, you know you probably shouldn’t push yourself too hard. You vow to yourself (and your fiercely protective spouse) that you’ll do everything you can to teach from your chair today.

For whatever reason, your students are completely out of hand today in every single way. From the second they step into your classroom, you can tell it’s going to be a terrible day- a day where no matter how much you want to resign yourself to sitting in your chair, you simply can’t. You find yourself hovering over your students no matter what their assignment is, pacing the aisles that you’ve created in your classroom. It’s terrible- completely and utterly horrid. You can’t sit with your heating pad, you didn’t even bring a hot water bottle, your head has started to pound again with the class’s volume. It’s absurd.

When lunch time comes around for your students, you practically drag them down- hopeful for a full lunch period of peace and quiet in your classroom; you’ve already decided that you aren’t making it to the staff lounge today. Instead you’ll take your wife’s teasing at the fact that you are so unwell that you couldn’t even fathom coming to have lunch with her.

But of course, because as the universe decides, you don’t get to treat yourself to a quiet lunch. No, instead, you’re running around like an idiot trying to make sure that you’re students all have lunch, and when you think you’ll be able to go for the last ten minutes to eat your lunch in silence, you’re pulled into an issue surrounding your student who hasn’t had lunch money for the past two weeks (a problem unknown to you).

You go in circles with Shanae for a few minutes before you finally roll your eyes and fork over the money in order to get him a lunch and placate the irritable lunch lady.

“Coulda done that in the first place,” she grumbles as she snatches the money from your hand and begins to count it.

At this point, you only have about five minutes left of your lunch time. There’s no use in going to back to your classroom- not when you would just have to turn right back around. So instead, you sit in the hallway for the last few minutes before leading them back down to your classroom.

You think to yourself that you’ll just eat while your kids have their special, only to realize that you indeed do not have a special. You lost the only time to yourself today. You sigh as you instruct your students to get out a book for five minutes while you collect yourself again.

Hastily, you reach for your phone, hoping to convince your wife to bring you your meal from the staffroom. Upon the device lighting up, you see quite a few concerned messages from Melissa.

You coming down for lunch?

Hun?

I’m coming to your room.

Did you leave early?

And then a few minutes later, the last text comes in. Saw you in the cafeteria. Love you.

Sorry, you respond. Had an issue with Taijon’s lunch and left my phone in the classroom. Do you think you have a few minutes to bring me my lunch?

I can’t, your wife texts. I don’t have prep today- with the gym teacher out. I’m sorry hun. Are you okay? I can have Barb head down during her prep?

No, no, don’t bother her. I’ll be fine.

Are you fine?

I will be, you send before setting your phone down and starting class again.

It turns out, as luck would have it, that you are indeed not fine. Despite the Diet Coke that you put into your purse this morning for an extra jolt of caffeine, your head is still pounding, you’re absolutely exhausted, and your cramps are only getting worse. Whether they’re getting worse because your period is incoming or if it’s because you haven’t eaten anything other than the few bites of breakfast you could manage because of your nausea, who can say.

Your wife sees how pale and slightly green you look while you’re dismissing your students. She knows that tonight is going to be an early night, one with a heating pad pressed against your abdomen, and in turn, hers because you’ll be laying on top of her.

“How’re you feeling?” she still asks you as she makes her way over.

“Fine,” you grumble. “Just want to get home.”

“As soon as all of the kids are gone, we can sneak out. Yeah?” You can only nod.

It’s a few minutes later that all of your kids have left the school grounds, and you sigh in slight discomfort as you make your way back into the school. You’re starting to feel warmer and warmer, and the redhead has an arm around your waist the entire walk down to your classroom, where she gathers your things for you and slings them over her shoulder. And then the two of you are making your way down to her classroom. And while you really did think you were fine- that you just had to make it home before collapsing onto the couch and staying there until it was time to retire for bed- but it turns out you aren’t. You start to stumble just slightly as a wave of dizziness hits you to accompany the hot flash you seem to be in the middle of.

“Hun?” Melissa’s eyes quickly dart to you as she feels just the slightest shift in weight.

You’re able to catch yourself on her doorframe. “I’m good. Just a little-”

And then you go down. Melissa’s one arm isn’t strong enough to hold you up as you faint in her arm. To her credit though, your wife does try to grab you with her other hand. Unfortunately, she’s not quick enough, and her engagement ring manages to catch on the skin of your cheek as she flounders to reach for you and cuts you.

“Fuck!” your wife yells out loud enough to attract the attention of the teachers who have also come inside. Barbara is the first one to run to Melissa’s room- only to see you on the floor with a bloody cheek that is now spilling onto the carpet.

“Oh dear God!” the kindergarten teacher sputters as she kneels down beside you and the redhead. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know,” Melissa mutters as she lays you down on your back. “She hasn’t been feeling well, but I-”

You open your eyes groggily, only to groan at the florescent lights hitting you. You screw them shut again.

“Mi amore,” your wife mumbles as she presses a tissue to your cheek. Then she turns to look at Barbara. “Can you grab me her bottle of water?”

No sooner is your water bottle straw being brought to your lips as Melissa props you up, and you take a sip quickly. And then you’re trying to sit up on your own and pull the tissue catching your blood from your face. Strong hands just keep you on the ground though.

“Lis, I’m perfectly-”

“Did you want to finish that thought?” the redhead interrupts you. “Did you want to finish blaming that you’re perfectly fine? Or are you going to faint again?”

You jut out your bottom lip as you succeed in pulling the tissue away from you cheek. “Be nice to me,” you pout. “I’m injured, and not feeling well.”

Green eyes are rolled with such love. “Oh, so now you admit it? There’s blood on my floor.”

“I’ll clean it up.” You go to move, but once again, you’re glued to the woman holding you in her arms.

“Like hell you will,” Melissa mumbles as she presses a kiss to your unmarked cheek. “What you will be doing is laying on the floor for a few minutes while I clean it up, and then we’re going home.”

“Dear, why did you faint?” Barbara asks as she switches places with the redhead. “Did you eat today?”

You hum softly as you take another sip of water. “I had a few bites of breakfast this morning, but that’s all I could manage.”

“No wonder you passed out. Why didn’t you eat lunch?”

You shrug.

“Or ask one of us to bring it to you?”

Again, you shrug. “Didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Next time,” both older women grumble. “Be a smaller bother than fainting after school.”

“Noted.”

It’s only a few minutes later that you’re feeling well enough to sit up on your own. And when you go to stand, you find that you’re instead being swept off your feet and into the arms of your wife.

“You’re not fainting again,” Melissa tells you sternly. She whisks you out of the classroom and in the direction of your cars, leaving Barbara to follow along with all of your belongings.

“Guys,” you grumble, although you do wrap your arms around Melissa’s neck and lean into her slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Fine my ass,” Melissa huffs as she sets you down in the passenger seat. She turns to the kindergarten teacher and takes both of your belongs before sighing. “Thanks for the help, Barb.”

“Anything for family,” the woman smiles sweetly, although then she turns to you with a stern look. “I do hope that you won’t be making a habit of this though.”

You turn red under Barbara’s steely gaze. “I won’t.”

Since that first incident, you’ve been a lot better about taking care of yourself- although you do have to admit that sometimes you’re only remembering to take care of yourself because of your wonderful wife (and Barbara, at times). You don’t end up fainting at school again- thank goodness.

Well, that is until you’re attempting to hide the fact that you’re pregnant. You and your wife had only recently discovered that you were with child.

It’s May- an unusually hot month that you’re sitting in a school without air conditioning. You can feel the flush in your cheeks as you’re sitting in the staff room with your coworkers, your wife’s hand resting warmly on your thigh.

“Off,” you mumble as you practically throw her hand off of you and begin to fan yourself with your hand.

The redhead looks at you, clearly confused, but then she sees the red in your cheeks, and she knows you’re going through a hot flash- one of the few symptoms that you’ve had of this pregnancy so far.

“Are you-” and then you go down.

Melissa, who had dealt with this a few times (the first time being when you had passed out and she forced you to take a test), moves in a calm and purposeful manner. She has the lollipop to help with the nausea that is bound to overtake you, your water bottle, and then she’s down by your side quickly.

“She’s eating!” Barbara shouts in disbelief. “How could she faint?!”

When you come to a few seconds later, you let out a heavy sigh. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“If you knew you were getting overheated, you should’ve asked for an ice pack like you do at home,” you wife tuts.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you take a few sips of water.

“This isn’t good for you or the baby,” Melissa sighs, entirely forgetting where she’s at in the moment. The only thing she cares about is you.

“The what?!” Jacob practically shouts, being the first one to hear this news and let it sink in.

“You’re with child?!” Barbara cries not a moment later.

You bite your lip and look to your wife, who is about as red as her hair. “Uhm… surprise?”