#barely comes up for air but that’s okay

[pucksandpower]

I’m a Feminist

Franco Colapinto x team principal!Reader

Summary: everyone knows that Franco has a thing for older women, okay … so when his team principal turns out to be a (stupidly attractive) older woman, he can’t be held responsible for his actions

Franco sprawls in the chair, arms crossed over his chest like he’s holding court instead of facing an emergency meeting. His grin is wide, cocky even, and wholly unapologetic. Across the desk, you pinch the bridge of your nose, willing patience to come like some kind of divine miracle.

“Explain,” you say, voice flat, your tone giving nothing away. You refuse to let him see how utterly exhausted you already are by this conversation.

“I sneezed,” Franco says with a shrug, “and liked all your pictures. Really, it was — how do you say — an accident.”

You stare. No, you glare. "And commented damn mommy on all of them?”

Franco falters — barely. There’s a half-second where his grin wavers, his bravado cracks, but then it’s gone, replaced by another shrug. “I-I have the flu?”

Your exhale is sharp, just shy of a growl. “Franco.”

“What?” He leans forward now, feigning innocence. “Is it so bad? You look muy guapa in your photos. Should I not celebrate my team principal’s beauty? This feels sexist, no?”

“Sexist?” Your eyebrows climb so high they might leave your face.

“I’m a feminist,” he announces, as if that explains everything.

“Do feminists call their bosses ‘mommy’ in the comments?”

“Only the hot ones,” he shoots back without missing a beat, then quickly adds, “Joking! I’m joking.”

You slam your palms down on the desk, the sound sharp enough to make him flinch, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. If anything, it widens. “Do you even understand how unprofessional this is? I have sponsors asking me if I’ve been hacked! The CEO of Dorilton Capital called me himself this morning!”

Franco’s face lights up like you’ve just paid him a compliment. “Darren! He likes me. He said I was charming.”

“He said you were a walking HR violation!”

His grin falters again, but there’s something annoyingly endearing about how quickly it returns. “Well, at least he talked about me.”

You sink back into your chair and drag a hand through your hair. God, you’re tired. “Do you even know how this looks? You went through every single photo I’ve ever posted. Franco, that’s-”

“Dedicated?”

“Obsessive,” you snap. “Creepy. Insane.”

“Romantic,” he offers, leaning back again like he’s just solved a puzzle.

“You are twenty-one years old!”

“And you’re …” He trails off, letting the sentence dangle in the air like bait.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

He smirks. “I was going to say timeless.”

“Franco, enough.” Your voice is sharp enough to cut through his bravado, and for the first time, he looks a little serious. “Do you have any idea what kind of position you’ve put me in? If this gets out-”

“It won’t.”

“It already has! You didn’t think people would notice when every post I’ve made since 2016 suddenly has your username in the likes and comments?”

Franco shrugs. “I’m a fan.”

“A fan?” You throw your hands up. “What are you even a fan of? My press conferences? My sponsor meetings? My ability to yell at you when you ruin your tires on lap seventeen?”

His grin returns, this time with a little more sheepishness. “How sexy you look doing that last one, mostly.”

Your head falls into your hands, and for a moment, there’s silence. You think — foolishly — that maybe he’s finally run out of things to say.

But no.

“You never answered my DM,” he says, voice lighter, teasing.

Your head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

“Last week,” he says, tilting his head like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I sent you a DM. Very respectful. Very sweet.”

“I don’t even check my DMs!”

“Well, now I’m offended.” He places a hand over his heart like he’s genuinely wounded.

“I’m going to lose my job,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Franco says, waving you off. “You’re too good to lose your job. Everyone knows that.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s dramatic! I can’t believe I’m sitting here having this conversation right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re not flattered,” he counters, leaning forward again. “I thought women liked grand gestures.”

“Grand gestures?” You bark out a laugh, humorless and sharp. “Franco, this isn’t a romantic comedy. You don’t win me over by cyberstalking me!”

“Cyberstalking?” His mouth falls open, mock-offended. “That’s harsh, no? I think of it more like … research.”

“Research?”

“Sí. I’m just a very dedicated employee.”

“Dedicated?” Your laugh this time is louder, more incredulous. “I swear to God-”

“Would it help if I apologized?” He interrupts, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering.

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, watching you in that unnervingly focused way he sometimes has, the one that makes you feel like he’s cataloging every detail of your expression. “You wouldn’t believe me, though. Even if I apologized, you’d think I was lying.”

“Because you would be lying.”

“Touché.” He grins again, but this time it’s softer, less of a weapon and more of a shield. “Okay, so maybe I’m not sorry. But I didn’t mean to cause problems for you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter.

“I mean it,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something like sincerity in his voice. “I thought it was funny. I didn’t think-”

“That’s the problem, Franco. You didn’t think.”

There’s a beat of silence. For a second, you think you’ve finally gotten through to him. His expression shifts, the grin fading into something that almost looks like remorse.

Then he says, “But if I had thought about it, you’d still be mad, so really, why bother?”

“Franco!”

He laughs, bright and unrepentant. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. I promise. No more liking your pictures, no more comments, no more DMs. Contenta?”

You eye him warily. “You swear?”

“On my life.”

“Franco.”

“On my seat,” he amends, holding a hand to his chest.

You sigh, long and heavy, but you nod. “Fine. Just — keep your head down for a while, okay? Don’t give anyone else a reason to call me about this.”

He stands, smoothing his shirt with exaggerated care. “Anything for you … mommy.”

“And don’t call me ‘mommy,’” you snap as he heads for the door.

He pauses, hand on the handle, and glances back over his shoulder, smirk firmly in place. “Not even in private?”

“Franco!”

He’s laughing as he leaves, the sound echoing in the hallway long after the door closes behind him. You sink back into your chair, exhausted, and wonder — not for the first time —if this job is going to kill you.

And if it does, you think grimly, it’ll probably be Franco Colapinto’s fault.

[fushiguho]

✰ pretty boy satoru who is always hard and begging to be touched no matter the where he is because he’s a whoreee :(

“will you touch me, please?” he’d whine, those slutty hips bucking just once against the tangible air, uncomfortably readjusting himself. a thwarted groan leaves him as he continues to beg desperately. “baby, pleaseee it… it hurts. you can’t just leave me like this.”

satoru follows your descending gaze, the both of you peering down at his embarssing bulge at once. the thick cotton of his sweatpants strains against his hardened cock and truly, it looks like it hurts. desperately, he reaches for your hand, pulling it over his achy erection, yet you swat him away. a loud grumble of defeat drags from his dry throat.

dramatically, he crosses his long, narrow arms over his chest, shifting his body to peer out of the sleek window of the barren, swaying train. one of his gaunt knees bounce restlessly, the heel of his foot repeatedly rapping against the floor. he grumbles, “god, you’re so mean.”

“and you’re a whore. why are you hard?”

“becauseeeee!” he whimpers, ivory brows furrowing distraughtly. he throws his hands up in defeat. “i - i don’t know! i can’t help it, okay? i’m sorry.”

he watches as you roll your eyes and it makes his cock twitch. you could do anything to him, he’d let you. if you denied him forever, he’d beg forever and ever and ever. he’d fall to his knees right now if you asked. satoru doesn’t even mind when you call him a whore because he knows it, he may even prefer it.

god, it hasn’t even been one fucking hour since you’ve boarded the shinkansen to osaka and he’s restless. short, snowy wisps of hair fall before his eyes as his hips buck again, a small noise of discomfort belting from his mouth. he peers down into his lap then over at you, silently pleading with those big, begging eyes and your heart swells.

you suck your teeth, caving as an audible huff of air parts your lips. “jesus, come here.”

“god, yes.” he breathes almost too ecstatically, relief dripping from his tongue. “yes yes yes, fuck.”

hastily, he scoots closer, chest heaving in his ever growing arousal. expectantly, his gaze is flickering up, desperately catching your eyes. the prettiest look of longing is etched across his face, his eyes widening in eagerness. a shuddered whimper spills past his lips when you finally touch that poor, weeping cock and his hips stutter.

“f— fuuuck, thank youuu.” he gasps, deliriously lolling his head back to lay against his headrest, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “thankyouthankyouthankyou! oh my god, thank you baby.”

his legs fall open, trembling thighs sprawling obscenely wide like the utter slut that he is. satoru can hardly help the lewd jerk of his hips, mindlessly pushing his clothed cock against the warm palm of your hand, a desperate attempt at relieving the mind numbing ache. a throaty little groan tumbles from his gaped mouth when you begin to apply pressure, squeezing his cock just barely.

you trace around the shape of him, absentmindedly outlining the subtle curve of his twitching shaft. he throbs beneath your touch, that poor, leaking head drooling against the fabric of his briefs, ruining them. a darkened patch of precum soils his tightening sweats. the pads of your fingers creep along the dampened splotch of arousal and it only grows wetter and wetter.

“you’re such a mess,” you hum, a pretty little smile gracing your lips, “my messy boy, huh?”

he can only manage a dumb nod, peering down between his sprawled thighs to observe the way your fingers creep just a little lower, brushing against his heavy sack. his wet lips are parting stupidly, pale brows knitting as one. he really is a mess, thrusting his hips toward the palm of your hand like such a whore, stifled gasps and whimpers of your sweet name falling from his tongue.

“goddd, i’m yours! i’m your m— messy boy, all yours uh huuuhh.” he finally responds albeit woozily, slurring over his words like a drunk. his bottom lip falls between his teeth, saliva pooling against his tongue. “suuuch a fucking slut for you. only you can get me like t-this, i swear… god, i fucking swear.” he swallows thickly, voice quavering as a cry of desperation crackles in his throat.

satoru is adorable but god, is he loud. you’ve only been palming him through his sweats and he’s howling like a bitch in heat, far too overcome by his ineffable lust to even remember where he is in the first place. you shush him, clamping a hand over his mouth and he drunkenly drools against your warm palm.

he mumbles a muffled apology against your hand, promising to shut up, but it’s too late anyway because he’s accidentally cumming in his fucking sweatpants. with a long, stifled whimper, his hips stutter beneath your touch. erratic huffs of air jut from his flaring nostrils, fanning against your skin as you hold his mouth shut. satoru pants breathlessly, peering down at the obscene amount of cum that’s lewdly seeping through the fabric of his stained gray pants.

he gapes, looking up sheepishly. “i… i don’t have extra pants, baby.”

[aajjks]

Hot Eve (m)

synopsis. getting fucked raw by your ex boyfriend stuck in an elevator on Christmas Eve.

warnings. 18+, ëxplïçït sêx, ünprôtëçtëd sêx, nønçøn sêx, stälkër ëx böÿfrïënd jk, yn ïs kïndä mørälïtÿ cørrùpt yn, ëlëvåtør sêx, yândërë thëmës, därk smüt.

note. LAST WORK FOR 2024!!!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MY CHRISTIAN FOLLOWERS! 🎄❤️❤️‍🔥. this year was hard as fuck. I’m not okay but let’s hope I’ll be so much happier starting from next year. enjoy this!!!! share feedback! gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest.

December, 25th. It’s Christmas.

It’s the favorite time of the year for you, you love it, the cold, the sweetness of the blessings of Christmas. The streets are lit up. Merry atmosphere everywhere.

But all you feel is dread.

he’s near..

Your legs are on fire, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as you sprint down the hallway.

The sound of his boots echoes behind you, heavy and deliberate. He's not running. He doesn't need to.

The elevator is so close-just a few more steps.

You slam your hand against the button, frantic, fingers trembling. The soft ding of the arriving elevator is barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears.

Don't look back. Don't look back.

But you do.

Jungkook is there, closing the distance with that infuriating, unhurried stride, his lips curled into a smirk like he's already won.

His black shirt clings to his muscular chest, and his eyes gleam with something feral, like a predator toying with its prey.

The elevator doors glide open, and you dart inside, stabbing the close door button over and over again. You're muttering under your breath, desperate, “Close, close, please just fucking close-“”

The doors start to slide shut, and relief washes over you. But then you see it-his hand. Thick, veined, and steady as it wedges between the closing doors.

The elevator jerks back open, and your stomach twists into a sick knot of dread.

Jungkook steps inside, slow and casual, like he's got all the time in the world.

There's something deliciously pathetic about the way you shrink back against the wall, like you honestly thought you could get away from him.

It's adorable. Pathetic, but adorable.

He lets the silence hang in the air for a moment, drinking in the sight of you.

Your chest is heaving, your cheeks flushed, and those pretty, wide eyes are staring up at him like you're terrified.

Good.

He steps forward, his boots heavy against the floor, until there's no space left between you and the cold metal wall.

“Really?”

You are so fucking dumb, but so cute.

He drawls, tilting his head as his lips curl into a lazy, mocking smirk. “The elevator? That's the best you could do?”

His voice drops, low and biting. “What were you gonna do, huh Ride it to safety? Maybe hide in your little fucking apartment and pretend I don't exist?"

He chuckles darkly, his tongue sliding over his teeth. “Cute. Stupid as fuck, but cute.”

Your throat is dry, and your legs feel like they're about to give out. He's so close now, the sharp scent of his cologne invading every breath you take, mixing with the heat radiating off his body.

“Jungkook, I'm serious. You need to leave,” you manage to say, though your voice comes out small and shaky, utterly unconvincing.

He laughs at you. A sharp, humorless sound that makes your stomach churn.

“Serious?" he repeats, arching a brow as if the word itself is a joke. “You're fucking hilarious, you know that? Acting all big and bad when you're shaking like a goddamn leaf.”

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, and you flinch hard. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “Tell me to leave again. Go ahead.”

You will never… because you can’t.

“Let's see what happens.”

You're trembling, looking at him with those big, frightened eyes, and it's making his cock ache.

He hates how much he loves this— loves the way you run, the way you fight, like it's anything more than a game to him.

He tilts his head, dragging his gaze over you slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring every inch. You're perfect.

So fucking perfect when you're like this.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice low and sharp.

“Standing there all scared and pretty, like you don't know exactly how this ends.”

“You like this shit, don't you?” His hand trails down your side, possessive and unapologetic, and he smirks when you squirm. “Running away. Making me fucking chase you. You get off on it.”

Yes you do.

You try to push him away, your hands pressing weakly against his chest, but it's useless. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head in one fluid motion, grinning when you gasp.

“Stop fucking pretending,” he growls, his eyes darkening as they lock with yours. “We both know you like it when I get like this. You fucking love it.”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. You hate how strong he is, how easily he can overpower you.

But what you hate more-what terrifies you- is that some part of you does like it.

God, he’s so hot..

“Let me go,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a plea than a command.

His grip on your wrists tightens, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against your lips. "

“Let you go?” he repeats, his voice mocking. “That's cute, baby. Real fucking cute.”

His free hand slides down to your waist, gripping hard enough to make you wince.

“Let's get one thing straight,” he murmurs, his tone dropping to something dark and dangerous. “You're mine. Every fucking inch of you. And I'm not letting you go anywhere.”

He's hard as a rock, the sight of you pinned against the wall, helpless and trembling, driving him wild.

His gaze drops to your lips, parted and soft, and it takes everything in him not to devour you right then and there.

“You can run all you want,” Jungkook says, his voice thick with lust and something darker.

“But you'll never fucking get away from me. Never.”

His fingers dig into your waist, his body pressing against yours, caging you completely. He wants to mark you, to ruin you, to make sure you never even think about leaving him again.

Your entire body feels trapped in a vice, his presence suffocating, overwhelming. You hate how he's looking at you-hungry, like he wants

to devour you whole, like he owns you. And maybe he does.

The words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between fear and something darker, something shameful…

Your cunt feels so damp.

You twist your wrists against his grip, but doesn't even flinch.

it's effortless.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice shaky and thin. “This isn't-“

“This isn't what?” he snaps, cutting you off. His voice is low, rough, teetering between anger and lust. “What you wanted? What you've been fucking asking for this whole time?”

His fingers dig into your waist, and you feel the heat of his body press harder against yours. You can't look at him, can't handle the intensity of his eyes burning into you.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze fixed on the wall behind him.

“I said look at me.”

He releases one of your wrists only to grip your chin, forcing your face up until you're staring into those dark, furious eyes.

His pupils are blown wide, and the muscle in his jaw ticks with restraint.

“See this?” he growls, his tone dripping with venom as his free hand grabs your thigh, hitching it against his hip,

“This is what happens when you try to run from me. When you act like you don't fucking belong to me.”

You're trembling under his touch, and it sends a sick, addictive thrill straight through him. He can feel the way your body betrays you, the way your breaths come quicker, the way your thighs press together even though you're still pretending to fight.

“Fucking liar,” he mutters, his lips curling into a sneer. "You say you want me to leave, but you don't mean it. You never fucking mean it.”

Jungkook knows you..

He drags his hand along your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave marks, his body pressing closer, caging you completely.

You're his, every inch of you, and it pisses him off that you even thought you could get away.

“You think I'm stupid?” he spits, leaning in until his mouth hovers over yours. “You think I don't see the way you look at me yn?”

He mocks, licking his lips, his tongue teasing you.

“Fuck baby… you’re making my cock ache.” He groans, biting his lower lip, his hand leaves your thigh to settle on his own zipper.

Your eyes wide because you know what he’s about to do and you want to stop him, but no words come out of your mouth because your brain has stopped working.

All you can think, feel.. and smell is him.

“Fuck yn… I’ve been warning you for the longest time.. you have no idea how horny I am right now…” the way his eyes are clouded with lust tells you everything you need to know.

He looks like a feral animal.

He unzips his pants, letting it fall down and then he presses a button on the elevator, making it come to a halt. You shudder in fear.

“J-Jungkook..” you manage to slip out his name from your mouth, but before you can say anything else, he crashes his mouth to yours.

His tongue forces itself into your mouth as he uses his other hand to usher his boxers off. You whine in his mouth, trying to stop him but—

God, his tongue feels so hot.

Your pussy clenches as you both kiss. He’s not just kissing but he’s devouring you, his free hand cages you in, making sure you can’t escape.

His hard free dick is pressing against your stomach, his other hand hurriedly goes to your skirt, unzipping it he catches the hem of your underwear, he yanks it down, as his tongue completely dominates your mouth.

You moan helplessly.

But he doesn’t let you break the kiss,, you’re already soaking wet.

His teeth nip at your bottom lip as his tongues go to assault your mouth. Then without a warning he shoves his cock inside your wet right cunt.

A guttural moan escapes his throat as he growls into your mouth like a wounded animal.

He’s finally getting to fuck you after so long.

And your knees go weak, like jelly. It’s too late now.

He starts to pound into you hard and fast, your back slamming continuously against the elevator wall, he pulls you up by your hips and wraps your legs around his waist.

After finally breaking the kiss, his thrusts only her more brutal, you scream in ecstasy and pain, burying your face in his neck as you grip on his shoulders tighten.

“Fu-Fuck yn you’re going to make me fucking cum.”

Again, his hungry mouth finds yours, devouring with desperate kisses as he moves his hips, fast.

“O-Oh J-Jungkook…”

•••

Hours go by. You’re fucked out- he’s sweating, you’re actually paralyzed but he’s not stopping, uoure still stuck in the elevator, thank fully the fan of the machine is keeping you alive but the elevator reeks of sex.

What have you done? Getting fucked by your psychotic ex on Christmas Eve.

And he’s about to cum inside your cunt raw.

And you are going to do nothing about it. Like always.

“Merry fucking Christmas my love.”

[gravegoer]

How do you think sevika would react if her partner said the safe word? I NEED TO KNOW PLEASE

And i really love your work, thank you so much!!

Safeword 𓂃۶ৎ

thank you for the ask! and the complement, i dont know what your guys' safe word would be, knowing sevika it would just be safeword, nothing sexy, also funfact i usually write my captions before my fics so idrk if this is gonna hcs or a fic so a mystery for us both ig

masterlist , like 800 words idk i kinda hate this

Sevika had a rough day, and it was obvious through the way she manhandled you that night, teeth marks strewn about your body, as well as light bruises.

You were starting to get more tired by the minute, hands barely grasping her back whilst she towered over her.

The sticky sweat on your body and the heat of the room started to get overwhelming, and you felt as if you might suffocate in the heavy air.

Her thick fingers were sloppily fucking your entrance, making you groan in overstimulation.

You lightly tapped her back, murmuring your shared safeword, before throwing your head back out of exhaustion.

Sevika would hesitate a bit before realizing what you said and coming to a stop. She feels a bit bad for her roughness and reaches to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye. (with not the coochie juice fingers)

Her lips that framed previously gritted teeth were now pressed together in a small pout.

She pulls you into her lap, your head now lulling onto her shoulder she runs a rough hand up your back and through your hair.

Her thick fingers untangle some of the knots she caused.

"Sorry. Are you okay?"

You hum in response, causing Sevika to furrow her brows, pulling your face from her shoulder. She plants a kiss, much gentler than before, to your eyelid.

This is the gentlest you've seen her all week (mostly because you haven't seen her much). Your interactions mostly consisted of a small peck or her ranting angerly about Silco.

Scooping you up, she carries you on her hip to the bathroom, running a wash cloth under warm water to rub down your skin.

Planting kisses down your neck, she mutters apologies into the bruises she left.

If you shiver from the coldness of the counter, she's immediately pulling you back into her, cradling you while she wipes your face with a damp hand.

She's taking her tie out of her hair to secure yours, pulling the uncomfortable stray strands from your face.

Although she does take a moment to admire your state, hair messy and lips swollen, looking up at her through lidded eyes.

Offering you a guilty smile, she carries you back to the bedroom, gently laying you atop the sheets.

Sevika tilts your chin up to pour cool water in your mouth, contrasting the hot kiss that comes after it.

She lets you lay atop her chest, offering her warmth as another apology.

And its definitely her turn to make breakfast in the morning.

very short, whoops writers block threw multiple bricks at me and broke all my fingers so i cant write properly

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @slut4sevika @archangeldyke-all @kylorey25 @sylencr @jinxjinxjinx12 @morphids @aizawasbaeee @ariya13 @tiyawnyana

[arcanefeelings]

SUCKER ! | kamo choso

words: 1k

description & tw: virgin!choso - you give him head for the first time (oral - m!receiving), overstimulation(?), cum eating

notes: he's just so babygirl I can't help myself

masterlist

okay but imagine giving virgin!choso head for the very first time.

he's all flustered and blushing, pupils dark and dilated, gaze fixed on your face as you sink to your knees at his feet. your fingers are hooked into his belt loops as you go down, pulling him down to sit on the sofa behind him as soon as the back of his knees hit the cushion.

a soft huff of air leaves his bitten, swollen lips, when he sits with a small bounce. soft breaths leave his parted lips as your hands move to the hem of his shirt, fingers pushing one corner of the fabric up, up, up, till it's caught between his lips. his torso is exposed for you to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses all over, hands moving back to his pants, nimble fingers undoing his button, then the zipper, as you tap his hips to lift them while you tug them down his thighs.

you're kneeling between his legs, hands caressing his soft hips, lips tracing his v-line, till you move down, down, down. you press your parted lips over the tent in his boxers, kissing in gentle teases and drawing soft whimpers from his lips. choso's hands grip the cushion of the sofa, knuckles turning white while he screws his eyes shut for a moment.

when they open again, theres a plea written in them, something so desperate and needy you can't help but indulge him.

your hands tug his boxers down, freeing his swollen, red cock. there was no way you could have really known before, but he was big. his tip was flushed, red from your teasing and wet with precum, dribbling from his slit. his cock was girthy, and long. god, was his cock long.

you don't realise how you look right now, but choso does. he sees the way your pupils dilate to match his when his cock slaps against his abdomen as you tug his boxers down. he sees the way you nearly salivate at the sight of it, at the sight of him.

and it's all he can do not to whimper when you finally wrap a hand around him, fingers gently squeezing at the base of his cock, wrist turning and tugging experimentally. his teeth clench against his shirt, his hands tightening on the couch cushion.

his gaze is fixed on your hand and your gaze is fixed on his face.

you're taking in every reaction you can, every change in his expression, to see what makes him tick. what makes his dick twitch in your grip? what makes his hips buck harder into your hand? what makes him leak even more? because, as you learn soon, choso is very leaky. he's so aroused by the sight and the feel of you, that his tip is constantly glistening with precum.

that's when you tug slowly, moving your hand up, along with the twisting motions from earlier. you repeat the movement. once. twice. his eyes shut again, tight. its like he's denying himself from making any sounds, his teeth sinking deeper into his shirt. and that's when you change it up again.

you bring your grip higher along his cock again, thumb swiping over his slit and then working your hand back down. and he whimpers.

it's soft, but oh so sweet. and oh, the things you'd do to hear them again.

so you try again, this time, with yet another tactic. your free hand rests on his pelvis, thumb circling over the bone. and then you lean closer, eyes locked on his face through your lashes as your tongue darts out, licking the fresh pre from his slit, and his eyes snap open, a saccharine-sweet moan leaving his lips. the hem of his shirt falls from his lips and you miss the sight of his bare torso for a moment.

"cho," you whisper, lashes fluttering up at him, and he nearly comes right there, "you can hold my hair." your hand on his pelvis moves to one of his hands on the couch, gently prying his fingers from the cushion and guiding them to your hair. they thread through the locks, gripping them tight as he groans softly.

"you look so pretty like this," you whisper, hand going back to his hip, thumb once again tracing circles. you hear the way his breath hitches, see the way his eyes widen fractionally.

and then your lips wrap around him, suckling the mushroom tip, and his head falls back with a whine, hips bucking into your mouth as he cums down your throat. whispered apologies leave his lips, a few drops of hot cum seeping past yours as he holds you in place by your hair, whimpering as he rides out his orgasm.

"'m sorry - hah - baby," he chokes out, "nngh - sorry-"

but you moan, swallowing every drop you can, gagging around his length as your eyes roll back, watery and hazy, but trying to focus on his. his cock twitches at the sight, the wet, clumped lashes sending another rush of blood straight to his cock as he spurts the last of his cum down your throat, panting.

he whimpers under his breath as he collects himself, apologetic and embarrassed for cumming so soon, and you can't help the way you find it all so utterly cute.

because, truth be told, you had been surprised. but you were not put off, by it, quite the opposite. it was pretty attractive. not to mention, he came a lot - it was a rather hefty ego boost.

he gently loosens his grip on your hair, muttering softly, and while he may be done, but you aren't. you'd never given anyone head before, but you were sure that him cumming in your mouth the second you took him in wasn't the 'full experience'. and you were oh so willing to help him get that - a little too willing, in fact.

so you pull away from his cock with a string of saliva mixed cum attaching your lower lip from his tip, licking your lips and then cleaning him up, ignoring his whines of surprise and overstimulation when you move from his trimmed base to his ruddy tip.

only to wrap your lips around him again while he grips your hair tighter, at war with himself about whether he should make you stop, or let you go ahead.

but he was powerless under your mouth - this time you were determined to suck him off properly and then drink his cum. or keep trying till he let you.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Just How Fast The Night Changes.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist.

in which, your out at a christmas market with your friends, you end up hurting yourself on the ice rink, resulting in you going to the hospital, where your fiance is doing the night shift.

word count - 3.1k

authors note - hi everyone! hope your all doing okay, just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who wished me well, im feeling much better and couldn’t wait to get back to writing for you all. enjoy huns. 🩵

Winter Wonderland was one of your favourite places to go to.

The air was crisp, nipping at your cheeks, and fairy lights are strung above like a canopy of stars, casting everything in a soft golden glow.

There’s the faint sound of Christmas carols playing somewhere, blending with the delighted shouts of children and the soft murmur of conversations.

The smell of roasted chestnuts and sweet cinnamon drifts through the air, and the ice rink is at the heart of it all, glowing an icy blue under the lights.

You’ve never been ice skating before,so you don’t know why you let Lauren talk you into taking part.

Your fingers are clutching the edge of the rink like it’s a lifeline, knuckles white as you attempt to shuffle forward. Your legs wobble beneath you, and your skates feel like they’re made of jelly instead of blades.

"Come on, you’re doing fine!" Lauren says, her voice full of encouragement. She’s gripping your hand tightly, her fingers warm despite the cold.

She’s only slightly steadier than you are, but at least she’s moving without needing the barrier.

“I am not doing fine,” you reply, your voice shaky as your foot slides unexpectedly and you lurch forward. Lauren pulls you back upright, laughing.

“You’re still standing. That’s a win,” she says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Her laughter is warm, and somehow it makes you laugh, too, despite the fact that you’re fairly certain you’re about to end up on the ice any second.

The ice rink is alive with movement around you. Experienced skaters glide by effortlessly, spinning and weaving through the crowd like dancers, their scarves trailing behind them.

Meanwhile, a group of kids to your left are shrieking with laughter as they tumble over each other in a heap, only to scramble back up and try again.

You look down at your feet, trying to muster the courage to let go of the side.

“How are you not falling every two seconds?” you ask, eyeing Lauren suspiciously.

She grins.

“Years of rollerblading as a kid,” she admits. “But trust me, I’m no pro. Just don’t overthink it—bend your knees a little, and try to glide.”

You nod, trying to follow her advice. Your knees bend slightly, and you release the edge for a split second. It feels like flying—for exactly half a second—before your foot slips and you grab the barrier again, your heart pounding.

Lauren’s laugh rings out again, but it’s never mean.

“Okay, okay,” she says, steadying you.

“Baby steps. I’ve got you.” She pulls you gently forward, her grip on your hand solid.

Somehow, with Lauren’s guidance and a lot of laughter, you manage a few shaky steps away from the edge.

You’re still wobbling, your arms flailing like a baby bird trying to take flight, but you’re moving.

The world around you feels magical, even with your nerves and the ache already forming in your ankles. Snowflakes begin to fall softly, catching the light as they drift down. You glance at Lauren, her face lit up with joy, and you can’t help but smile.

“See?” she says, beaming at you. “You’re doing it!”

“I’m barely surviving,” you reply, but you’re laughing now, the kind of laugh that feels like it comes straight from your chest.

And just like that, your left foot slips out from under you, and suddenly you’re falling backward.

It happens so fast that you don’t even have time to brace yourself. The cold, unforgiving ice meets your arm and hip with a jarring thud, the shock of it knocking the breath from your lungs.

Pain shoots up your arm immediately, sharp and searing, and you can feel tears springing to your eyes before you can stop them.

“Are you okay?!” Lauren is beside you in an instant, dropping to her knees on the ice. Her hands hover uncertainly, not wanting to hurt you further as you cradle your arm. “Talk to me—what hurts?”

You wince, sucking in a shaky breath.

“My arm. It—oh, it really hurts, Lozza.” Your voice is trembling, a mixture of shock and pain making it hard to focus.

A concerned voice interrupts.

“Do you need help?” It’s a passerby, a woman in a red scarf who’s skated over to check on you.

She glances over her shoulder and waves for someone. “I’ll get an ice marshal.”

Everything feels blurry after that, the sounds around you a mix of laughter and skating blades against ice, clashing with the sharp ache radiating from your arm.

Lauren stays right by your side, her voice soft but firm as she reassures you. “It’s okay, help’s coming. You’re going to be okay.”

An ice marshal arrives within moments, dressed in a bright yellow jacket that makes them easy to spot.

They crouch beside you, their expression serious but calm.

“Hi,” they say, their tone professional but kind. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I—I fell,” you manage, the words catching in your throat. “Landed on my arm. It hurts a lot.”

The marshal nods, their gaze assessing as they look at your arm, though you’re still clutching it close to your body.

“Okay, I see you’re in a lot of pain,” they say. “We’re going to get you some help. I think we need to call an ambulance to check this out, just to be safe.”

Hearing the word “ambulance” makes your stomach flip, and the tears spill over, unbidden. Lauren immediately scoots closer, putting a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she says softly, her voice steady and warm, like an anchor in the chaos. “They’re just being cautious. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

The ice marshal steps away briefly to make the call, and you can hear them relaying details to the dispatcher. Meanwhile, Lauren stays with you, her knees probably freezing against the ice, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“I feel so stupid,” you mumble, the tears still flowing.

“Don’t,” Lauren says firmly. “This could happen to anyone. Besides, you were doing amazing—I mean, up until this part.”

She gives you a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. It works, if only a little.

The waiting feels both endless and too quick. People around you keep glancing over, their curiosity clear, but Lauren glares at anyone who stares too long.

“Nothing to see here,” she mutters under her breath, making you snort despite the pain.

When the paramedics arrive, they move with practiced efficiency, asking questions, checking your arm, and gently placing it in a makeshift sling before helping you off the ice and onto a stretcher. Lauren is right behind you, her hand never leaving yours until they load you into the ambulance.

Harry was sitting at his desk in the bustling emergency department, pen in hand as he worked through a stack of paperwork.

The hum of the hospital surrounded him—phones ringing, monitors beeping, and the occasional burst of hurried footsteps.

He was focused, brows furrowed in concentration, when a nurse approached him.

“Dr. Styles?” she said, her tone gentle but urgent.

Harry glanced up, his professional demeanor shifting slightly at the nurse’s expression.

“Yes?” he said, setting his pen down.

“It’s about your fiancée,” she began, her voice careful. “She’s just been brought in. A suspected arm injury from a fall. She’s stable, but she’s in a lot of pain.”

His heart stopped for a moment, then kicked into overdrive. He was on his feet before she even finished speaking. “Where is she?”

The nurse motioned down the hall. “She’s in Room 14. I’ll take you to her.”

Harry turned to the head of the department, who had been standing nearby, observing the exchange.

“Go,” they said with a nod, understanding immediately. “We’ll cover for you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quickly, already moving to follow the nurse.

As he walked, his mind raced. He knew this hospital inside and out, every corridor, every turn, but now the route to Room 14 felt impossibly long.

The thought of you being in pain, of you lying there alone and scared, made his chest tighten. He was usually so composed, so steady under pressure, but this was different.

This was you.

His darling.

The nurse glanced back at him as they neared the room, her pace slowing.

“She’s alert and talking, but she’s shaken up,” she said. “An x-ray has been done we’re just waiting for the results, but the arm looks like it might be fractured.”

Harry nodded, his jaw clenching as he processed the information. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needed to be calm for you, reassuring, even though his heart was pounding in his chest.

As they reached the door to Room 14, the nurse stepped aside, motioning for him to go in. Harry hesitated for half a second, his hand resting on the doorframe. He could hear the faint murmur of your voice inside, and the sound sent a wave of both relief and worry through him.

He pushed the door open, stepping inside.

You’re sitting on the hospital bed, your good arm clutching the blanket draped over your lap.

A nurse is patiently trying to insert an IV into your injured arm, but you keep squirming away, your breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

“Please, no, I can’t,” you say, shaking your head, your voice trembling. “I hate needles—I really hate them.”

The nurse, clearly used to this sort of reaction, gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s scary, but this will help with the pain. We’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“No,” you insist, pulling your arm back again despite the throb of pain shooting through it. “I—I can’t. Just give me pills or something. I don’t need the IV.”

The door opens suddenly, and your heart skips a beat when you see Harry stride into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His hair is slightly messy from a long shift, and his brow is furrowed with concern.

“M’love,” he says, his voice soft but urgent as he crosses the room in a few quick steps. “S’going on?”

The nurse straightens up and explains, “She’s scared of the IV, Doctor Styles. We’re trying to administer some pain relief, but she’s very nervous.”

Harry’s face softens as he looks at you, crouching down so he’s eye level.

“Hey, s’okay. M’ here now,” he says gently, reaching for your free hand. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “The IV’s going to help. I know it’s scary, but you’re so much stronger than you think.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I can’t, H. I really can’t. It’s too much.”

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly but lovingly, leaning closer. “I promise it’ll be over before you know it, and I’ll be right here the whole time. You won’t even have to look at it, okay? Just look at me.”

His free hand comes up to rest gently against your cheek, his touch grounding you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his green eyes searching yours.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I trust you.”

“Good,” he says, his lips twitching into a small, reassuring smile. He straightens up and glances at the nurse. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll keep her calm.”

The nurse nods and moves closer again, preparing the IV. Harry shifts, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you gently against him so your head rests against his neck.

“Just focus on me,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. His fingers thread through your hair in soft, repetitive strokes. “You’re doing so well, love. You’ve got this. Deep breaths for me, yeah? In…and out.”

You close your eyes, your tears soaking into his shirt as you follow his lead, breathing in time with him.

“Almost there,” the nurse says, her voice calm. “You’re doing great.”

Harry keeps talking to you, his voice a steady stream of comfort. “Remember that time we went to the beach, and you got all excited about finding those tiny crabs in the tide pools? You weren’t scared then. You were brave. You’re brave now, too.”

You let out a shaky laugh despite yourself, clinging to the warmth of his words. Before you know it, the nurse says, “All done.”

“See?” Harry says, pulling back slightly to look at you, his fingers still in your hair. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

You glance down at your arm, surprised to see the IV already taped in place. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Harry confirms, a smile tugging at his lips. “Easiest thing in the world for someone as tough as you.”

You manage a small, sheepish smile, leaning into him as the nurse adjusts the IV drip. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could’ve,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But you don’t have to do it alone. That’s why I’m here.”

And in that moment, despite the pain and the fear, you feel safe.

The nurse finishes adjusting the IV drip and gives you both a warm smile.

“All set. The doctor will be here shortly with the results of your X-ray,” she says. “I’ll give you two some privacy in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, nodding at her as she steps out of the room, pulling the curtain half-closed behind her.

As soon as she’s gone, Harry pulls the chair closer to your bedside and takes your uninjured hand in both of his. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles over your skin, his eyes scanning your face.

“Okay,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “Now, tell me what happened. And don’t say, ‘It’s nothing,’ because you’re here with an IV in your arm, and that’s definitely not nothing.”

You let out a small sigh, your voice still shaky. “Lauren and I were at Winter Wonderland, and we decided to try ice skating.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Ice skating? You’ve never been ice skating in your life.”

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “That’s why it went so badly. I was clinging to the side the whole time, but then I tried to let go, and my foot slipped. I landed on my arm.”

Harry winces, his hand tightening around yours for a moment. “That must’ve hurt like hell.”

“It did,” you admit, your voice quiet. “But honestly, I think the embarrassment hurt more. Everyone was staring, and Lauren was trying to help, but then someone called over an ice marshal, and—”

“Wait, an ice marshal?” Harry interrupts, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “That sounds way too official for a skating accident.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Tell me about it. Anyway, they called an ambulance, and Lauren stayed with me the whole time. She was amazing, but I just kept thinking how ridiculous I must’ve looked.”

Harry’s expression softens again, his humor giving way to a deeper concern. He leans forward, his voice low and steady. “Hey, listen to me. You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Accidents happen, especially when you’re trying something new. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse—and that you’ve got good people like Lauren looking out for you.”

Speaking of Lauren, she was most likely speaking to the paramedics that brought you in, she definitely found him good looking.

You nod, biting your lip. “I still feel a bit stupid, though.”

“Don’t,” he says firmly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You’re human, love. And now I have a good excuse to keep you off the ice forever.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile that forms. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan of ice skating either?”

“Not even a little,” he admits with a grin. “But I would’ve held your hand out there, just like Lauren did—though I probably would’ve fallen right along with you.”

You laugh softly, the warmth of his words easing some of the tension in your chest. “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

The curtain pulls back, and the doctor steps in, holding a clipboard. She’s wearing a calm, reassuring smile as she approaches.

“Hello,” she says, glancing between you and Harry. “We’ve looked at your X-rays, and I’ve got some answers for you.”

You sit up a little straighter, your stomach twisting nervously. “Okay…”

“You’ve got a hairline fracture on your radius,” she explains, tapping a spot on the diagram attached to her clipboard. “It’s not severe, but it does mean you’ll need to have your arm in a cast to protect it while it heals. We’ll get that set up for you shortly, and it should come off in about six weeks.”

You let out a long sigh, slumping back against the pillow. “Six weeks?”

The doctor nods sympathetically. “I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s important to let the bone heal properly. You’ll need to avoid heavy lifting, and we’ll give you instructions for keeping the cast dry and comfortable.”

You nod, but your mind is already spinning. “So…that means I’ll have a cast over Christmas?”

The realization makes your heart sink a little.

You picture yourself struggling to wrap presents, trying to cook with one arm, and navigating all the holiday traditions you love with this big, awkward thing on your arm.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor adds, noticing your reaction. “A lot of people find they get used to it faster than they expect. And six weeks will go by before you know it.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Harry says, his voice steady and polite.

As the doctor leaves to prepare the materials for your cast, Harry turns back to you, his green eyes sparkling with determination.

“Alright,” he says, pulling his chair even closer. “This is not a big deal. In fact, we’re going to make it fun.”

“Fun?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “How is having a cast fun?”

Harry leans forward, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Because I’m going to be the first to sign it. Big, bold letters, right across the top.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite your frustration. “And what are you going to write?”

“Oh, something sentimental,” he says with a mock-serious tone. “Like, ‘To the most amazing ice skater I know.’ Or maybe just, ‘Next time, use bubble wrap.’”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now, the weight of the situation starting to feel a little lighter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am,” he agrees, leaning closer to kiss your temple. “But I’m also going to make sure this is the best Christmas you’ve ever had—even if you’re stuck with a cast.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap protectively around you. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Always,” he murmurs, running his fingers through your hair again. “Now, let’s get this cast on, and then we’ll figure out how to turn it into a masterpiece of modern art. Sound good?”

[gothcsz]

December | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 6 of Unscripted Desire | ~16k wc | Series Masterlist | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Your winter getaway with Javier.

Tags: alternating pov, javi is having an identity crisis, established relationship, fluff (i cringe), romance (still cringing), smut (no longer cringing), jealous!javi, oh no the triple frontier boys are here, oral (m&f), p in v sex, once again: javi is clipped, filming a sex tape, dirty porn talk, hot tub sex, pussy/dick pronouns, javi puts you in a headlock (i've been influenced by all the headlock fics also stream headlock by imogen heap), breath control play, squirting, clit stimulation, no use of y/n, reader has some vague physical descriptions (mid-sized, curvy, hair that can have fingers run through), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay thx.

A/N: happy holidays ❄️ i wanted to do something fun for the season and to thank everyone who has supported this story so far! i love you guys 🩵 as always, thank you @persephone-girl for reading over bits of this and being my emotional support hehe

You’ve barely shut the door when a loud, frustrated “Fuck!” echoes through your apartment, followed by the unmistakable clatter of things hitting the floor. Your brows knit together as you toss your keys into the bowl by the entrance and hang your bag on the back of a kitchen chair.

The sight waiting for you confirms your suspicions: your very hot, very frustrated boyfriend is pacing in the middle of the room, his broad shoulders tight with tension. Scattered across the coffee table and floor around him are puzzle pieces.

“Javi,” you say, crossing your arms as you take in the scene. “What’s going on?”

He stops mid-stride, scowling down at the pieces as though they’ve personally insulted him. “The fucking puzzle is broken,” he gestures angrily toward the mess.

You blink at him, biting back a grin. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point. You have to put it back together.” Your voice lilts with playful teasing, hoping to lighten the mood he is in.

He shoots you a look that’s equal parts annoyed and sheepish. Stepping forward, you place yourself squarely in his path, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He’s got no choice but to halt his pacing, and after a moment, his arms drop heavily around you. You can feel the frustration draining out of him like air from a balloon.

“Estoy volviéndome loco, nena.” His chest rises and falls in a heavy exhale, hands instinctively finding their place on your lower back. 

You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. It’s hard not to get lost in his good looks—those dark, soulful eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair falls perfectly so, no matter how much he’s been raking his fingers through it.

He could be pissed at the entire world, and he’d still be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He told you he was done with porn, and he meant it. It didn’t happen all at once, he stuck to solo work until he lost the passion for it entirely before finally cutting ties with his agent and declaring himself “retired.”

The checks will keep coming, sure, but they aren’t a permanent safety net. That left your boyfriend at a crossroads, staring down the daunting question of what came next.

“Fuck, I don’t know. What else am I even good at?”

Now, Pornstar Javier Peña is just… Javi. Without the glitz and veneer of his former life, he’s a bit of a mess, honestly. A hot mess, sure, but a mess all the same.

He spends most of his days drifting between your apartment and his place, and more often than not, it’s your bed he ends up in. Sometimes he’s sprawled on the couch, lazily surfing through the channels, other times he’s fast asleep, limbs tangled in your sheets, his brow furrowed even while dreaming.

It’s like he’s waiting for the pieces of himself to fall into place but has no idea where to start.

You have, actually, tried helping him find new interests, with mixed results.

Cooking classes? A bust—too many rules and timers for someone who likes to work off instinct. Hiking? Not his thing, and you’d barely made it halfway up the trail before he declared he needed a cold beer and a hot shower. Pottery seemed promising for about five minutes before a poorly shaped bowl sent him muttering a string of Spanish curses under his breath and he quit then and there.

It’s not that he’s… bad at these things, necessarily, but none of them feel true to him.

“Baby, you’re not going to figure out who you are overnight. It takes time,” you murmur, tilting your head up to press a kiss to the tip of his chin, the roughness of his stubble brushing against your lips.

He grumbles. “I’m impatient.”

“I noticed,” you tease, a giggle slipping out as your hands sneak under his shirt. Your fingers trail along his ribs, stroking the warm, solid muscle there. The quiet hum of satisfaction you let out isn’t for his benefit—it’s for you. He feels so damn good under your touch, like he was built to be admired.

Javier shifts slightly, straightening up as if your hands have hit a reset button on his mood. “How was your day?”

You started a new job with the camera crew on an actual film set, and it’s a sweet gig, the opportunity kind of landing in your lap out of nowhere. Someone you knew from college reached out, and the pay was too good to pass up, even if the work itself wasn’t all that different from what you’ve done on porn sets.

Less dicks and tits, but the same technical work. When you’re not on set, you’re still clinging to the comfort of your shifts at Lucky’s. 

You shrug lightly, nuzzling into him. “Same as always. Nothing too exciting. But I’m glad I don’t have to work the bar tonight. Maybe I can help you with that puzzle.” You tease.

“Or…” His tone shifts so quickly it’s almost dizzying—warm and doting one second, low and sinful the next. His hands drift south, firmly gripping your ass and giving it a harsh squeeze

“Or?” you repeat, your arousal flaring.

That’s all the invitation he needs.

In no time, you find yourself naked and sprawled against the coffee table, the surface pressing into your back while scattered puzzle pieces stick to your damp skin. But none of that matters—not when Javier is between your legs, his broad shoulders holding you open like a prize only he gets to claim.

His mouth is buried in your pussy, wet and eager tongue moving with a purpose that has your thighs trembling. He laps at you expertly, each flick and thrust inside your cunt dragging whimpers out of you, your body singing under his touch.

Javier groans, the sound vibrating against your pussy. “You taste so,” kiss, “fucking,” lick, “good,” suck. Your back arches and you sob his name loudly, eyes fluttering close at how good he is at eating you out.

No matter how many times he does it, he somehow manages to surpass the time before. Men like Javier are a rare thing, and you’re annoyed at yourself for not succumbing to him earlier. You just had to prove a fucking point.

He pulls back just enough to lick and bite at your inner thigh, trying to control himself from devouring you whole, before diving back in. His hands keep you pinned to the edge of the table as you shake uncontrollably in his grasp.

Every obscene noise he makes is matched by the wet, filthy sounds of his tongue working you over and you feel the pressure winding tighter and tighter. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling as you gasp his name, and the pleased growl he gives in response sends you careening over.

He doesn’t stop, not until your body shudders and you’re left panting, your limbs heavy and boneless. When he finally lifts his head, mustache damp and lips glistening, he’s looking at you with that satisfied smirk you’ve grown accustomed to seeing.

“Fuck, I could stay down here for hours.” His voice tapers off into a groan and he doesn’t wait for a reply before pressing soft kisses along your drenched folds, letting his teeth scrape ever so lightly against your sensitive flesh. Then his tongue, broad and sinful, drags a slow, torturous stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“You could… if you wanted to,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper as your body gears up for even more pleasure. You pull him closer, grinding your hips against his face, feeling the delicious pressure of his nose pressing against your swollen nub.

Javier lets you take what you need, his large hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady while his tongue thrusts back inside, exploring every fluttering inch. His curved nose rubs against your clit with each motion, sending you into a fucking frenzy.

You’re shameless, unabashedly humping his face, chasing the high only he can give you. And he loves it—thrives on it—his tongue relentless as it maps out every curve and crevice of your pussy. The slick, creamy mess makes it easier for you to move, his grunts and your mewling cries swirling together.

“Javi, I want to come on your cock—oh fuck!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and his answer is a wicked nip of his teeth against your labia, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“You will, nena,” he murmurs, his voice slurred with lust as he adjusts your legs, planting your feet at the edge of the table. He spreads you open obscenely, his dark eyes gleaming as he takes in the sight of your wet pussy laid bare for him. “But first, you’re gonna come all over my tongue again. Puta madre, you’re so fucking hot.”

His tongue flicks over your pearl rapidly and your back arches off the table as euphoria courses through you. You glance down, locking eyes with him, and the pruriency in his gaze sends you tumbling over the edge.

“Javier, oh shit!” You’re left helpless against the onslaught of his mouth, gushing all over his handsome face as he keens in satisfaction.

You collapse back against the table, your body spent and your mind still buzzing. Javier wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning smugly down at you, his girthy cock hanging heavy between you, droplets of precum squirting from the slit and drizzling down the heated shaft.

Pros of dating a pornstar: He can fuck. Cons of dating a pornstar: He can fuck.

It’s like being in a constant state of delicious ruin, where your needs—both romantic and sexual—are met in ways you never thought possible.

But damn, this man knows how to wear you the fuck out.

Sometimes he gets a little too ambitious. Twisting, bending, and pulling you into positions that make you pause and remind him, between panting breaths, that you’re not as flexible as the women he’s been with before.

“Practice makes perfect, baby,” he always says with that infuriatingly charming grin, right before fucking you so thoroughly that you forget how to breathe.

This time is no different. Javier hovers over you with the kind of dominance that makes your pussy clench, his strong hands gripping your body like he owns it.

Somehow, he’s managed to maneuver you on the awkward height of the coffee table, one leg slung over his broad shoulder while keeping your opposite thigh spread wide.

Then, with a sharp thrust, his fat cock splits you open, stretching your pussy in a way that’s so brutally perfect.

The force of it knocks a loud yelp from your lips, your forearms press against the table for balance. You can’t look away from where your bodies meet, watching in filthy fascination as your sticky folds swallow him whole and spit him back out, his cock glistening with the rich evidence of how turned on you are.

“My fucking god,” he growls, words laden with desperation, “you feel better than you fucking taste.” He spits the words out, literally, a thick bead of saliva falling from his lips to land on your cunt.

Without missing a beat, his thumb moves to your clit, pressing down and swirling in tight circles.

The pressure makes your entire body tense, a strained cry of his name tearing from your throat.

Your tits bounce wildly with every rough thrust, and his dark eyes flicker between the hypnotic sway of your breasts and the lewd sight of your pussy stretched tight around his dick.

Your mouth hangs open, brows furrowed as helpless sounds spill out while his cock punches deep into that one spot that has colorful dots blotching your vision. Your toes curl as the overwhelming feeling builds, your body on the verge of complete surrender.

“Right there, baby—oh fuck me, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You sound wrecked, like you’ve been possessed by the pleasure he’s giving you. Your back falls flat against the table again, your hands reaching up to squeeze your tits, pulling at your nipples as you let him use your cunt however he wants. 

He deserves it.

Loose curls fall over his face, making him look so sexy while he fucks into you with everything he’s got. His tongue pokes out in concentration, his fingertips dimpling the plush skin of your thighs as he holds you steady. The poor coffee table groans beneath the brutal rhythm, creaking with every hard snap of his hips.

It doesn’t take much more—your body seizes up as you come hard, the orgasm crashing through you so violently that you’re certain you’re going to pass out. Your pussy clamps down around his shaft, milking him for everything he’s worth.

“Fuck, take it,” he groans, his pace faltering as he spills inside you, thick ropes of cum filling your pussy until you swear you can feel it gurgling in your throat. The vicious, overwhelming sensation makes you shudder, your body twitching as his weight settles against you, his cock still buried deep inside your quivering walls.

You feel pulverized, your body humming in content, but all you can think is: God, this man could fuck me to death, and I’d die happy.

Immediately, your calf seizes, the muscle knotting painfully as a piercing cry slices through your throat. Your body jerks involuntarily, hands pressing against Javier’s chest to push him off you.

“Shit, stop— cramp!” you gasp.

Javier freezes, his face instantly morphing from focused lust to deep concern. He pulls out of you carefully, hissing at the feeling, his touch tender as he lowers your trembling leg from his shoulder. “Where? Here?” He’s already massaging the rigid knot in your calf with his strong, calloused hands.

“Yeah—fuck, ow! Right there.” Another pang shoots through you, and you wince, clutching at the edge of the coffee table for stability. “I keep telling you I’m not fit for—ahh, ow!—your crazy-ass positions.”

He huffs a little laugh, though his hands never stop their steady kneading. “It wasn’t that crazy,” he mutters defensively, but one warning glare from you is enough to shut him up.

Once the cramp begins to ease, your body relaxes against the table with a long sigh. Javier’s touch softens, his thumbs now sweeping soothing circles over your calf. He leans down and presses a kiss to the tender muscle, murmuring, “Sorry, nena. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your heart swells at his care, and you can’t help but grin as he kisses his way up your body. His lips trace a slow, reverent path—your pelvis, the softness of your belly, the suppleness of each breast, the hollow of your throat. By the time his mouth meets yours, your annoyance is completely forgotten, replaced by a lazy, bubbling affection.

This is the first real kiss he’s given you since you got home, and it’s the kind that melts you from the inside out. You hum against his lips, your tongue tracing the curve of his mouth, savoring the way he tastes like sex and something inherently Javi.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both sit there for a moment, naked and tangled together, his cum still slick between your thighs and smearing against the surface of the table.

“I’ll try to be more considerate next time,” he says, almost teasingly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. “You better, or I’ll start vetoing these gymnastic stunts of yours.”

He chuckles, his eyes dropping briefly to where his cum is trickling from you. A rueful grin spreads across his face as he reaches for the shirt he’d discarded earlier and uses it to clean the mess between your legs.

The simple domesticity of the act makes your chest ache in the best way.

As he finishes, you stretch your arms over your head, your muscles still warm and loose despite the cramp. “I need a shower, some real food... and maybe another round later.”

“Only maybe?” He raises an eyebrow, his dimpled, teasing smile returning.

You hum thoughtfully, your gaze tracing the defined line of his jaw as your finger follows. “If you think sex is gonna be a distraction from the mess in your head, think again.”

“It’s the best distraction,” he mutters. “Would rather make my girl feel good than deal with everything else.”

“And while I’m flattered, baby, it’s not the healthiest thing you can do.”

His expression falters, the cockiness slipping away like a mask being gently peeled back. “I’m fuckin’ terrible at this. Always have been,” he mutters, his hands roaming your body as if touching you might patch together all that’s unraveling inside him.

His palms are warm and firm, one cupping your breast in a gentle squeeze, the other sliding down to rest at your hip.

He kneads and caresses you, almost like you’re the one who needs the comfort instead of him. “I’ve spent so much time doing what I thought people wanted from me. Now I don’t even know what I want.”

“There’s no rush to figure it out, you know. No one’s expecting you to and I promise you’re not the only person that feels this way.”

“Feels like I’ve got nothin’ to show for myself, though. Just a pile of bullshit and a broken puzzle.”

You sit up, drawing his focus to you as your hands grip his toned biceps to steady yourself. “Hey.” Your voice is soft but insistent. “You’ve got more than you think. And I happen to like this version of you—even if he’s a grump.”

A faint smirk breaks through the inner struggle that clouds in his eyes. “Yeah? Even when I’m bein’ a lazy ass?”

“Even then,” you tease, grinning back at him.

His gaze lingers, drinking you in with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. You’re weightless, floating in the way only Javi can make you feel when he kisses you like this.

“I don’t deserve you, you know that?” he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

“It’s always nice to be reminded.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, his teeth catching your lower lip in a gentle bite before he finally lets you go. He stands, offering you his hand to pull you to your feet.

As you wobbly get up, a few puzzle pieces that had clung to your skin fall to the floor, catching both your attention. Javi chuckles, a little more relaxed than before. “Should’ve cleaned those up before spreading you open like that.”

“I feel like there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.”

He turns you gently so he can pluck off the remaining pieces, his hand lingering to deliver a playful slap to your ass which makes you giggle.

“You know,” you say after a beat, glancing at him, “this puzzle thing could be good for you. Builds patience.”

He arches a brow, skepticism written all over his face. “Once again, that isn’t exactly my strong suit, cariño.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Your grin is infectious as you nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “But maybe that’s what you need right now. Something slow. Something that’s just for you. And something that isn’t…” You trail off, eyes darting to the box abandoned on the couch. “A hideous horse puzzle. God, Javi, what even is this? I’d be pissed trying to put it together too.”

A scoff escapes him, sharp and playful, his brown eyes narrowing as he straightens. “First of all, it’s vintage,” he says, the mock defense in his tone making you laugh.

“Vintage? That’s not an excuse.” You’re already stepping back when you see the shift in his stance, the way his hand twitches toward you. “Don’t even think about it.”

But it’s too late. His fingers dart out in an attempt to pinch your side, and you squeal, darting out of reach. The sound of your laughter fills the room, loud and unrestrained as you scramble to keep distance between the two of you. He’s, unsurprisingly, quicker, his footsteps closing behind as he chases you down the hallway.

Just as you reach the bathroom door, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body. You’re both breathless, his warm breath fanning against your ear as he holds you close. “Gotcha.”

Your heart pounds, your laughter subsiding into soft, breathy chuckles as you twist to face him. The sparkle in his eyes is undeniable and you let him walk you backwards into the bathroom with the intention of piping you down again before finally letting you shower.

The late afternoon light filters through the half-closed blinds, casting warm, golden stripes across Javier’s bedroom. You’re sprawled on his bed, your legs stretched out, absently flipping through a magazine. 

The quiet creak of the bedroom door catches your attention, and your eyes lift to meet his.

He leans against the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His white t-shirt clings to his torso in a way that makes your thighs rub together, the fabric stretched taut over his solid build. There’s a small grin on his lips as he watches you.

“Hey,” he drawls, finally pushing off the door and crossing the room.

“Hi.”

Without hesitation, he climbs onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress beneath you. He crawls toward you, settling his head on your lap and nuzzling against your stomach. You can’t help but laugh softly, moving the magazine out of his way and onto the bedside table.

“You’re comfortable,” you tease, your fingers threading through his thick hair, twisting a few strands absently around your finger.

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest. “Can’t help it. I’ve got the best pillow.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “Can I help you?”

He opens one eye, peering up at you with a smirk. “I have a gift for you.”

Your brows lift, curious. “A gift?”

“Mm-hmm,” he mutters against your skin, peppering your jawline with lazy, affectionate kisses. The bristle of his mustache has goosebumps curling over your skin. “Tis the season.” He punctuates the sentiment with a playful nip at your neck, making you squeal softly before he pulls away.

“Come on,” he tugs gently at your hand and coaxes you off the bed.

You let him guide you into the kitchen, your bare feet padding against the cool floor. He pulls out a barstool, gesturing for you to sit as he reaches for something on the counter. With a small flourish, he places a travel magazine in front of you, flipping it open to a glossy spread.

Your eyes land on the page, and your breath catches. The images are of a stunning ski resort, nestled in snow-dusted mountains with cozy lodge interiors and breathtaking views of the slopes.

“You didn’t…” you whisper, your voice caught between disbelief and excitement.

His lips tug into a wolfish smile, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he watches the realization dawn on your face.

“You didn’t!” you exclaim, jumping up from the stool and throwing your arms around his neck.

Your momentum nearly topples him, but he steadies the both of you with a low chuckle.

You’d mentioned it what feels like ages ago—a casual, offhand story about that ill-fated trip to the mountains with your college friends.

Everything about it had gone wrong. The busted gear, the unexpected blizzard—but through all the chaos, you’d confessed how badly you still wanted to cross skiing off your bucket list.

And Javier remembered. Not just the story, but the way your eyes had lit up despite the unfortunate circumstances. Now here he is, ready to give you that second chance—the best do-over of all time, with him.

“I had to,” he murmurs by your ear. “Spending a week on a winter retreat with you seems a lot more fun than going home this year.”

You don’t press about his family, knowing it’s a tricky subject. Instead, you let the moment settle, your heart swelling with gratitude for his thoughtfulness.

“You’re the best,” you say between a flurry of kisses, peppering his face until his deep chuckle vibrates against your palms. His eyes crinkle at the corners, happiness radiating from him as he gazes down at you.

“The best for you,” he replies softly. “You deserve this, nena. Workin’ so hard all the time… I just wanted to give you somethin’ special.”

You shake your head, grinning so hard it hurts your cheeks. “Do you know how impossible it’s going to be to top this?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t get my man a gift?” You’re already racking your brain for ideas. It has to be something meaningful—something that feels right for him, not just a wallet or some cologne.

He pulls you onto his lap when he sits on the barstool, going over the details. 

Everything’s covered, he explains—all you have to do is pack and show your pretty ass up. Your excitement bubbles over at the thought, visions of cozy lodge nights and snowy adventures filling your mind.

“Guess I need to go shopping,” you say, already making mental plans to call Connie for help picking out the perfect wardrobe.

Javi chuckles, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Just don’t forget to pack a swimsuit.”

“A swimsuit? For a ski trip?”

He grins, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Hot tubs, nena. Trust me, I plan on having a lot of fun with you while we’re away.”

The resort feels like a dream you don’t want to wake up from. It’s only been a few days, and you’re already dreading your departure.

Javier really hadn’t held back, booking a private cabin with sweeping views of the snow-kissed mountain horizon.

A real Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of the living room, next to the fireplace, its lights twinkling softly against the glassy expanse of the giant windows that line the walls.

Despite the openness, the space feels warm and intimate, like it was made just for the two of you.

And then there’s the hot tub. Nestled in the patio area overlooking the gorgeous scenery, it practically beckons you to defile it, steam curling up against the chilled glass. 

You’ve been biding your time, waiting for the right moment to unveil the gift you have for him. It’s actually kind of genius and the perfect way to help pull him out of his post-porn funk. 

For now, though, you’re content to let the days unfold naturally, filled with skiing lessons, childish snowball fights outside your cabin, and lots of great sex.

The lift sways gently as it carries you and Javier up the mountain, the cool air biting at your cheeks, though you barely notice.

Your attention drifts to him, as it often does—his profile sharp and striking against the backdrop of the rising sun. The golden light casts a glow over the snowy peaks, painting the scene in colors too beautiful to let slip away.

You shift closer to him, the insulated fabric of your jacket brushing against his as you tilt your head to rest on his shoulder. His arm instinctively drapes across your lap, steadying you, his gloved hand giving your thigh a light squeeze.

“Take a picture with me,” your voice is eager, breaking the quiet hum of the lift.

Javier turns his head, a brow quirked beneath the edge of his snow goggles. “Now? On this thing?”

“Yes, now.” You’re already moving to pull the small camera out of your pocket. “The view is perfect, and I want to remember this.”

He chuckles, leaning back slightly to give you space to situate the camera. “Alright, but if you drop it, don’t start bitching at me.”

You roll your eyes, holding the camera up and adjusting the angle to capture the two of you against the sprawling mountains bathed in warm hues, making the snow sparkle. 

You make sure to move both of your goggles so they’re resting atop of your head, your faces on full display.

Javier tilts his head closer to yours, his hand slipping to your waist to pull you snug against him.

“Smile,” you say, though you know it’s unnecessary—he’s already grinning, that playful smirk you’ve come to adore on his pouty pink lips.

The camera clicks as you take a few photos. Smiling, him kissing your cheek, and you quickly check the screen once you’re finished, heart warming at the sight of the two of you.

“See? Perfect.” You declare, showing him the pictures.

He glances at them, mirroring the same doting expression you’d just made. “You make ‘em look perfect, nenita.”

As the lift continues to ascend, you find yourself watching him more than the scenery. 

It’s hard not to marvel at the layers to this man who had once driven you up the wall. You think back to when you first met him—how easily you’d pegged him as cocky and self-centered, someone who wore his charm like a defense mechanism.

It feels surreal now, knowing how wrong you were. Javier wasn’t just the confident pornstar that could command a room with just a look or a smile. He was thoughtful, protective, and deeply giving in ways that made your heart stutter. You can’t fathom how someone like his ex would ever think about cheating on him.

Lost in thought, you don’t realize you’ve gone quiet until he glances down at you, brows knitting slightly.

“What’s on your mind, cariño?”

“You really surprise me, you know that?”

His expression shifts, the teasing edge softening into something more earnest. “Surprise you how?”

“I thought I had you all figured out when we first met.”

His mustache twitches as he bites back a knowing grin. “In your defense, I didn’t let you see more than that.” 

“Yeah, I know...” You laugh lightly, shaking your head. “But I couldn’t have been more wrong. You’re… so much more than I gave you credit for.”

He’s quiet for a second, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Guess I should thank you for giving me a chance to prove you wrong.”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, nose scrunching as the hairs of his mustache tickle you. “You’ve done more than just prove me wrong, Javi.”

The lift jerks slightly as it approaches the landing, but neither of you move right away. The world feels quieter here, suspended between earth and sky, just the two of you and the golden light.

“You’re going to make me fall for you talkin’ like that.”

You feel warmth spreading in your chest at his words, wondering if it’s too soon to start catching feelings like this.

You smile against his mouth, not saying anything yet not needing to, before pulling back to move your face covering up and adjust your goggles back over your eyes in preparation to go down the snowy hill.

Your shoulders ache slightly from today’s falls, but it’s the kind of soreness that feels good—earned, but nevertheless annoying. Like now, as you pick yourself up from yet another fall, calling it quits.

“You held out a lot longer than I expected.” Javier teases, his voice muffled by his face covering but still carrying that low, raspy timbre that makes your stomach flutter.

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re glad he can’t see the smile tugging at your lips.

You take him in—bundled up in his blue snow suit, goggles perched perfectly in place, his broad shoulders and confident stance somehow still exuding that effortless magnetism he carries everywhere.

Even out here, in the freezing cold, with his face obscured, he manages to look unfairly sexy.

Something about him always pulls you in. Maybe it’s the way his energy feels like gravity, anchoring you to every little thing he does. Or maybe it’s how even the simplest acts—like standing on a snowy hillside—become more vivid, more fun, more everything with him.

Your boots crunch through the snow, the skis clumsy but manageable. He’s watching you, his stance casual, hands resting on his poles as if he’s been doing this his whole life.

He had picked up on this activity much quicker than you. The instructor even called him a natural—but you’re certain she was only saying that because she was attracted to him… which, honestly, fair.

“This is your thing,” he says as you approach. “You’re the one who wanted to cross this off your little list. I’m just here for moral support... and to check you out in that suit.”

You burst out laughing, nearly stumbling again as you try to grab the poles you’d dropped when you fell over. “You can barely see anything in this suit,” you shoot back, gesturing to the thick layers of waterproof fabric that make you feel more like a marshmallow than a person.

“Baby,” he drawls, stepping closer, “I could make out those tits and that ass under anything.”

You shake your head, warmth blooming across your cheeks. “You’re such a fucking flirt,” you say, though your voice softens as his gloved hand reaches out to pull you to him.

“And yet, here you are,” he murmurs, leaning just close enough that you catch the mischievous glint in his eyes through the reflective goggles.

“Here I am.”

You’re back at the general area where you’d first gotten your ski gear, adjusting your snow boots while Javier deals with returning your equipment. 

The air is warm inside the lodge, a stark contrast to the crisp chill outside, and the hum of other skiers and snowboarders unwinding after their runs fills the space.

You’re so focused on fastening a particularly stubborn buckle that the sound of your name catches you off guard.

Your head snaps up, brows furrowing, and there he is. Frankie.

He’s making his way toward you, his strides familiar, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and that lazy, warm smile plastered on his face like it hasn’t been forever since you last saw him.

Your surprise must show because his grin widens slightly as he stops in front of the bench you’re sitting on.

“Frankie, wow, hey.” Your voice is polite, if a little flat.

He wastes no time, dropping down onto the bench beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The sudden weight makes it creak, and though you subtly shift a little away, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Small world.” He’s looking at you with an easy kind of interest, eyes warm and familiar. You have a type. “Didn’t know you were into skiing, hermosa. How have you been?”

Your stomach does a little flip at the damn nickname but you keep your expression neutral, returning your focus to lacing your second boot. “Great, actually. I’m trying it for the first time. Been taking lessons since we got here.”

His brow lifts, amused. “And how’s that going for you?”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you tug off your gloves. “I’ve wiped out more times than I’d care to admit.”

He chuckles, stripping off his own gloves, clearly in no rush.

“So what brings you here?” The question feels innocent enough.

“Trip with the guys,” he answers, nodding his head in the direction of a group near a counter. You glance over and sure enough, you see the familiar faces from his circle, all caught up in their own conversation.

“Sounds fun,” you offer, “How’s Elliana? Not too happy her daddy’s missing Christmas, I’m sure.” You smile teasingly, meaning no harm, but the flicker of something on his face makes you pause. His jaw tenses ever so slightly, and the way he drops his gaze feels telling.

“She’s great. Actually, on a trip of her own with her mom and her... uh, new boyfriend.”

You catch the faint cringe he tries to hide as the explanation comes tumbling out. Your chest tightens in an uncomfortable way, not out of sympathy for him, exactly, but more at the reminder of why you two had split up to begin with.

Looks like his effort to “work things out” hadn’t exactly panned out.

“Good for her,” you reply softly, though the exchange feels a little awkward now, like neither of you knows quite where to steer the conversation.

Frankie opens his mouth to say something else, maybe an apology for oversharing or another attempt at small talk, but before he can, you catch a glimpse of Javier weaving through the crowd.

Your heart lifts instantly, as if the room somehow brightens at the sight of him. His tall frame stands out, eyes scanning the lodge, clearly searching for you.

You don’t give Frankie the chance to drag things out any further.

You quickly gather your things, standing as casually as you can. “I have to get going,” you announce, shouldering your bag. “Enjoy the rest of your stay, Frankie.”

He hesitates before he gives you a small nod. “For sure. You too, hermosa. See you around.”

You give him a brief wave before turning and making your way to Javier, your boots thudding lightly against the floor.

His face lights up when he spots you, his gloved hand resting gently on your lower back once he pulls you to him.

“You all set?” he asks, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. The simple affection melts away whatever oddness you felt lingering from your run-in with Frankie.

“Yeah,” you reply, glancing up at him. He looks so effortlessly attractive, his cheeks pink from the cold and brown hair tousled from being under his hat. “I’m ready to get all cozy by the fire.” You purr the words a little, blinking up at him, and it works like a charm.

That sweet smile of his shifts into something sultry, and you don’t miss the way his fingers curl slightly against your back.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” His voice slipping into that seductive, honeyed tone that makes you wish you could fuck a voice. “Lead the way, nena.”

The cocktail table feels like your personal island amidst the ebb and flow of the crowd, the muted hum of holiday music weaving through the air. Warmth blooms across your cheeks from the drinks you’ve nursed through the night, and the haze only amplifies the rich sound of Javier’s laughter.

His hand rests on your lower back, fingertips brushing over the smooth, exposed skin where your dress dips low. The heat of his touch sears into you, enticing enough to have you arching into him.

You giggle as he leans in closer, his breath grazing your ear as he whispers something puckishly suggestive. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re not makin’ it back to the cabin without me pulling this dress off you.”

Your thighs press together instinctively and you bite down on your lip, tilting your head to look up at him, your eyes swimming with the shared heat between you. “Don’t tempt me into letting you do it,” your words are a bit slurred from the alcohol, saturated with desire.

“Oh, I’m not looking to tempt you,” he murmurs, his hand sliding an inch lower. “I’m promising you.”

Your stomach flips, and the idea of staying out any longer feels suddenly impossible, the phantom touch of his hands and lips on you eclipsing all reason.

If there wasn’t an audience, you know you’d already be on your knees with four inches in your mouth, trying to fit the other four like the needy little thing he reduces you to when he gets you all horny.

“Sit tight, nena,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. “Gotta hit the restroom. When I’m back, we’ll settle up and get out of here.”

You nod, though your brain barely processes the words as your eyes follow him weaving through the throng of people, his presence polarizing even in his absence. 

As you sip the last of your drink, your gaze shifts to the large windows lining the restaurant. 

Even at night, the resort resembles something out of a postcard. The twinkling holiday lights outside illuminating the snow in festive tones. You let yourself sink into the magic of it all, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your glass, a serene moment settling over you—until it’s promptly shattered.

“Look who it is,” a voice cuts through the ambient noise, pulling your attention.

Your head turns, and there’s Frankie, his easy grin and brown eyes locked on you. He’s not alone, three more figures flank him—Santi, Benny, and Will, each wearing varying degrees of amusement on their faces. The sight of them, clearly under the influence and rowdy, throws you a little.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Frankie quips, his voice carrying that raspy drawl you once found charming.

Your eyes narrow, your posture stiffening. “You keep finding me, wouldn’t necessarily call that meeting,” you acknowledge curtly, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“Once he told us you were here, we couldn’t pass up the chance to say hello,” Benny adds, his grin wolfish as he scans you from head to toe, and you can practically feel his gaze lingering on the dip of your dress. “We miss having you around.”

You know these men. You spent enough time with them while dating Frankie to be able to place them all.

Santi, the smooth-talking charmer who always seems a little too pleased with himself. Benny, the loud, lovable wildcard who you’re sure has never taken anything seriously in his life. And Will, the quiet one with a piercing gaze that could unnerve anyone who wasn’t used to it.

They’re a reminder of why you usually avoid military men. Sure, they’re hot as hell, their confidence and strength undeniably attractive. But beneath that lies a mess of issues—trauma, control, and a certain recklessness that always seems to spill over into their romantic lives.

Frankie had been no different, but he’d wormed his way past your better judgment with that soft charm and rough-around-the-edges allure. And it didn’t hurt that he was real fucking good at eating pussy.

Not as good as Javier, though.

You take a step back, your hand reflexively resting on the edge of the table as though to steady yourself. Their presence feels suffocating, a sharp contrast to the cozy, all consuming warmth you’d just shared with Javi.

“That’s nice of you, but my boyfriend should be back any minute now...”

There’s a beat of silence as your words hang in the air, they exchange looks and you watch Frankie’s expression flicker—something almost smug crossing his features before it’s masked by a crooked smile. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Benny lets out a low whistle, leaning his forearms against the table top. “Didn’t think anyone could tame Fish’s girl.”

“Tame?” You shoot him a glare. “I’m not a fucking animal and certainly not his girl. Not for a while now. So you can all fuck off.”

They laugh at you and that only fires you up even more. Frankie slaps his hand on Benny’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Ease up man, she doesn’t take any shit.”

Benny cocks his head, his eyes gleaming with drunken amusement. “Which I think is hot. Definitely wouldn’t have fumbled you like this asshole did. And you do porn?” Another low whistle and you swear your eye twitches.

Before you can respond, Santi jumps in, his smirk as infuriating as ever. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “Camera woman. Not actually a pornstar. Though,” he adds, now his turn to fuck you with his eyes, “I think you’d be a lot better in front of the camera, hermosa.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, your patience wearing thin. You can’t stay in this conversation any longer. 

Santi raises his hands in false defense, his grin never faltering. Meanwhile, Will leans over to whisper something into his brother’s ear, and you catch the shift in Benny’s expression as he gives you a once-over, his gaze laced with something that makes your skin crawl.

You grip the glass in your hand tighter, seriously contemplating how much damage it could do.

“Things serious with your new man?” Frankie replaces Will across from you and you roll your eyes.

The audacity. “Yes,” you say through gritted teeth. “Very.” You lean forward slightly, your voice dropping into a cutting tone. “If I were you, I’d leave before he gets back… or before I shove the stem of this glass down your throat.”

Their laughter rises again, whistling and being overly obnoxious about your reply, but you ignore it, your focus razor-sharp on your ex.

“We had our time together, Frankie, and you decided to cut it short by going back to the mother of your child. Whatever, fine, shit happens, but now you’re acting like a real jerk. All of you are and I have no interest in continuing whatever the fuck this is, so, leave.”

You can tell your words hit their mark. Frankie has always respected your no-nonsense attitude, but being on the receiving end clearly doesn’t sit well with him. 

Just as you turn to remove yourself from this stifling mess altogether, Javier reappears.

Javier doesn’t expect to come back and find four men crowding you, their broad shoulders and cocky stances cutting into your space like they own it. The sight stops him cold, but only for a second. Then his back straightens, his jaw locking tight as something territorial flares in his chest.

One of them catches his eye immediately—the scruffy, stray-dog-looking motherfucker he’d recognize anywhere.

That damn Malibu shoot, the tipping point for all the change that came after. The memory of Frankie all over you, the obnoxious flirting, how you had played into it.

Then you left Robbie’s crew and he made his move, securing you as his girlfriend, getting exactly what he wanted.

Javier had no right to feel possessive when it happened, even though every fiber of his being had screamed at him to do something about it. Sure, you shared moments that left him restless and aching for more, but it wasn’t enough to stake a claim, no matter how badly he wanted to, and you were so adamant about not wanting anything to do with him.

So, he’d done the only thing he could—told himself to get over it and buried the jealousy under layers of maintained indifference.

But now? Now you’re his girl. The first real, healthy relationship he’s had since Lorraine, and there’s no way in hell he’s holding back about anything when it comes to you. Especially not when Frankie and his action-movie crew are standing there, eyeing you like you’re some trophy to win.

“What’s goin’ on?” His voice cuts through the noise of their conversation, sharp and unyielding as he closes the distance.

He’s met with four pairs of eyes—two amused, one indifferent, and Frankie’s, which narrow slightly in recognition. Javier keeps his focus steady, his gaze hard as he takes them in.

His confidence has grown over the years, forged by his experiences and the praise from the industry. Yet, there’s still that lingering thread of insecurity that twists in his gut as he watches Frankie make his indifference clear.

“We were just catching up. Saying hello,” Frankie answers almost too casually, but his eyes gleam with something else—a challenge.

Javier doesn’t flinch. Instead, he steps closer to you, his hand finding your waist. “Looks like you’ve said it. Time to move on.”

Beside Frankie, one of the men grins as if he’s enjoying the show. “Easy, man,” he says, his tone teasing. “We’re just being friendly.”

Javier’s jaw ticks, a muscle in his cheek jumping as his grip on you tightens slightly. “Friendly looks more like crowding someone who doesn’t want to talk to you.”

While you’ve never gone into detail about what you had with Frankie, the updates Javier had gotten from Steve are enough to stir doubts. Words like satisfied are currently resurfacing to make him question things he knows aren’t true.

These men are something he isn’t. And even though you’re together now, there’s a small, irrational part of him that wonders if one day you’ll realize he isn’t what you want.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you—he does, with everything he’s got. But being cheated on leaves wounds that never fully close, scars that ache at the worst times. And seeing Frankie standing there, beaming like he still has a chance, stirs something primal in Javier.

“No need to get territorial, Peña. We were just having a little fun. Besides…” He trails off, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Javier. “She can handle herself.”

Javier’s blood boils, his free hand twitching at his side. It would take so little—a single punch to wipe that smug look off his face. But then your hand is on his chest, soft and grounding.

“It’s fine. I was just telling them to leave.” 

Frankie’s gaze lingers on you in a look he recognizes all too well because he looks at you in the same goddamn way, and that has his vision tunneling.

“No harm done,” He steps back with exaggerated nonchalance. But then he throws one last barb over at you. “We’ll catch up some other time, hermosa.”

Javier doesn’t think, words slipping out before he can stop them. “No, the fuck you won’t. In fact, if I see any of you bother her again, I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try.”

For a moment it looks like things might escalate. But one of the other men—blonde, with a calmer air about him—steps in.

“Alright, boys,” he says, reaching out to pull his friend back. “Let’s not make a scene.”

Frankie hesitates, his jaw tightening, but he relents with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever.”

Javier watches them retreat, his heart still pounding, until they’re out of sight. Only then does he let his shoulders drop slightly.

“Hey,” you say gently, tilting your head to catch his gaze. “You okay?”

“I didn’t like that one fucking bit,” he mutters, his voice rough.

Your smile is gentle, reassuring, and you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek which melts him immediately. “They don’t matter,” you whisper, your lips brushing his skin. “You’re the only one I care about.”

The words ease the last of the tension, and Javier lets out a breath, pulling you close. “Damn right,” his tone softens as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Let’s get out of here,” you suggest, a small mischievous smile on your face, “Your gift is waiting for you back at the cabin.”

It’s as if the entire confrontation is forgotten at your words and he becomes intrigued immediately. “Oh yeah? Then what the fuck are we doin’ still standing here. Let’s go.”

“Are your eyes closed?”

Javier leans against the armrest of the couch, his lips curving into a small smile as your voice carries from the bedroom.

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting slightly, his eyes obediently shut.

“You’re not lying to me?”

“No.” He chuckles, the deep, easy sound rumbling from his chest.

There’s the faint shuffle of movement, and then he feels you—the subtle electricity that always seems to spark when you’re near.

His hands are cupped in front of him as instructed, his curiosity piqued. He has no idea what you’ve planned, no inkling of what’s coming.

Honestly, he can’t believe you actually got him anything. The trip itself has been more than enough—a week of unfiltered joy, amazing sex, and waking up to you in his arms. If that isn’t a gift in itself, then what is?

Then you’re standing in front of him, placing something in his hands. He feels the cool weight of it, the texture of smooth plastic beneath his fingertips.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

Javier’s eyes flutter open, immediately drawn to the object cradled in his palms. It’s a handheld camcorder, a glossy red ribbon tied around it like the finishing touch on a present. His brows knit together in brief confusion, but before he can ask, you fill in the blanks.

“I want us to make a tape together, Javi.”

Your words hit him like a freight train. No, they hit his cock like a freight train, and the damn thing stirs to life before his brain even fully registers the meaning.

“You naughty little thing,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that gravelly tone that always gets a rise out of you.

You bite your lip, a playful giggle escaping. “I figured it’d be something fun for us,” you say, stepping closer until he can smell the faint traces of your perfume. “Plus… I really like how you fuck on camera. Not that it’s any different from what we do, but…”

You trail off with a small, breathy moan that makes Javier’s restraint snap. He sets the camera carefully on the couch before pulling you closer, his hands gripping the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric in his fists as he pulls you between his knees.

“But…?” he prompts, his lips finding the curve of your neck. He kisses, nips, and licks, each touch of his mouth drawing little gasps from you. You taste divine, every inch of you always does.

“But it’s different,” you breathe, your fingers digging into his biceps as his teeth graze your skin. “I want to experience what all those other stars do when shooting a scene with you.”

His lips crash against yours, the kiss heated and possessive. He can taste the remnants of the cocktails you had at dinner, but more than that, he tastes you.

The memory of those old sets pales in comparison to the thought of filming with you.

“I’m all yours, nena,” he growls against your lips, his hands slipping lower to slap your ass then gripping onto the flesh. “This is a brilliant fucking idea. I’ve been telling you how hot you’d look on camera. How do you want to do this?”

Your smile is roguish, your confidence intoxicating. “I want us to take turns filming... directing… Wanna get some good shots of me sucking your cock.”

Your hand trails down his arm, skimming over the muscles there, then lower to pinch his hip before you palm his erection through his pants, his hips jerking involuntarily as he grunts.

“And I definitely need footage of that tongue of yours working my pussy,” you add, your tone sultry. “We’ll figure the rest out as we go. I want to start in the hot tub.”

Javier swears under his breath, his head tilting back slightly as your touch sends a fresh wave of desire through him. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, voice thick with need.

You smile, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away, leaving him half-dazed and completely aroused. “Get changed and take the camera outside. I’ll join you once I put on my costume.”

“Costume?” His brows arch in curiosity as his eyes track your retreating form.

“Costume might be pushing it. It’s something to set the tone for the amateur vibe I want this to have. Even if we know what we’re doing.”

“Whatever you want,” he’s so desperate to take you, “I’m going to tear you the fuck up.”

You blow him a kiss, your giddiness as palpable as his. 

Javier watches you disappear into the bedroom, letting out a long breath as he stands and moves to his bag which you had purposefully, he realizes, brought out before leaving for dinner.

He pulls out his swim trunks, quickly changing and grabbing the camera again. He can’t help the simper pulling at his lips as he removes the ribbon and flits through the settings, familiarizing himself with it.

Javier slides open the patio door, the soft scrape of the glass breaking the stillness of the night. A cool breeze rushes in, sharp against his skin, but it’s a refreshing contrast to the heat coursing through his veins.

The glow of the string lights overhead reflects off the rippling water of the hot tub. They frame the scene perfectly, tiny stars encircling what already feels like a secluded slice of paradise.

He steps out onto the wooden deck, the chill biting at his bare chest and legs. A small shiver runs through him, but it’s chased away the moment he dips into the steaming water. The heat rises to meet him, coiling around him like an inviting embrace.

Javier lowers himself deeper into the tub, the warmth spreading instantly, soothing muscles. The jets hum to life with the press of a button, sending gentle ripples across the surface. Another tap, and the colorful lights beneath the water bloom, shifting from deep blue to vivid green, then a lurid red.

He leans back against the edge, one arm stretched casually along the rim, the other cradling the camcorder.

The setting is perfect—intimate, cozy, and alive with the kind of cinematic allure that’s been a part of his life for so long. Only this time, it’s personal. This time, it’s with you.

“Alright, I’m coming out,” your voice calls from inside, and Javier’s pulse spikes as if his body already knows it’s about to be wrecked. 

He shifts in the water, the tent in his briefs straining beneath the surface. His fingers move automatically, adjusting his grip on the camcorder, raising it to eye level, his thumb brushing over the small record button.

“Ready whenever you are,” he says, his voice a little lower, raspier.  

Through the steamy glass, he tracks your shadowy movements, catching fleeting glimpses of red that tease him to the point of madness.

The condensation and reflections blur the details, but it only adds to the attraction. He can feel his heart thudding against his ribs, a primal drumbeat that matches the ache in his cock.  

And then you step out, framed by the sliding door like a vision he couldn’t conjure even in his wildest fantasies.  

“Fuck me.”

The red bikini bottoms sit high on your hips, the delicate ties framing your curves like artwork. That vivid, sinful shade of red makes your skin seem to glow, the contrast leaving him weak.

In one hand is a bottle of champagne, the other holding two flutes, and his tongue pokes against his cheek at how festive you’re being.

He zooms in with the camera, starting at your legs then capturing every dip and swell of your thighs, the plushness he knows so well.

The lens follows up, slowly drinking in the soft curve of your stomach, lingering over the way your tits press against the satin ribbon wrapped around them like a present he’s dying to open. The bow tied between your cleavage looks precarious, like it might unravel at the slightest tug.

The silky fabric is no match for the chill in the air, your hardened nipples poking through in a way that makes his tongue twitch in his mouth at the thought of flitting it over the stiffened peaks. 

But then his gaze—and the lens—finds your face, and it’s game over. Your lips are parted, plump and glistening as you lick them, the slight haze in your eyes a telltale sign of the alcohol still swimming in your veins. Your lashes frame your eyes perfectly, their sparkle teasing him as if daring him to lose control.  

His mind is already racing ahead, imagining the way those lips will part as you take his cock into his mouth, the way your head will tilt back when he suckles at your clit, or how your eyes will roll into your skull when he’s buried deep inside your tight cunt.

“You look so fucking good. Shit,” he breathes, his voice shaky. The camcorder threatens to tremble in his hand as he refocuses on you, watching you strike playful poses against the doorframe, snowflakes getting caught in your hair.

Each one is more tantalizing than the last, and when you bend over to show him your sweet ass, he zooms in on how the red fabric outlines your pussy.

“Thank you,” you purr, your voice smooth and syrupy as you turn and saunter toward the tub, setting the drink and glasses aside. You exaggerate the sway of your hips, fully aware of the effect you have on him, and it’s almost too much.

He’s never had a woman make him feel this way.

Javier keeps the camera trained on you, his years of expertise blending seamlessly with his overwhelming desire to immortalize this moment.

The way the light dances off your skin, the ripple against your flesh as you move sensually, your smile—it’s all so perfectly you.

For a moment, he forgets the camera is even there. Every inch of you seems made for him, like a custom design he never dreamed he’d be lucky enough to have.

When you finally join him, stepping into the steaming water, his restraint frays to a thread. He’s gripping the camcorder like it’s the only thing keeping him from lunging at you.

“You’re teasing me, baby,” he rasps as he films you lowering yourself into the tub.  

“I know,” you reply with a flirty smile. “But don’t you love it?”  

“Too much,” he shifts his legs to relieve some of the pressure at his crotch, though it’s futile. He’s already undone, and the night’s only just begun. 

“Keep posing, like you did by the door,” Javier instructs while his dark eyes remain fixed on you, not the viewfinder. Capturing this for later is one thing, but experiencing it now is something he wants seared into his memory for the rest of his life.

“Flirt with the camera using those beautiful eyes, nena.”

You bite your lip, your lashes lowering as you tilt your head, blinking slowly at the lens. You know exactly what to do, and he guesses this comes from watching the other stars do it on set.

The result is undeniably erotic. Knowing that you’ve never done it before like this, yet exude such natural talent, makes the moment infinitely hotter.

The water kisses your skin, glistening under the string lights and making every curve gleam like a jewel. You shift your weight, cocking your hip, arching your back—it’s fluid, seductive. Droplets of water run over your tits and how badly does he want to reach out and lick at them.

He will, he just wants to get enough footage of just you being so damn sexy.

You move with languid grace, tilting your head just so, and then giggling as you reach for the champagne. The sound is rousing, making his cock twitch.

You curl your finger, beckoning him closer, and he obeys without hesitation, the camera steady in his hands as he floats toward you. 

You pour the golden liquid into your glass, bringing it to your lips with a playful flick of your tongue along the rim, a teasing preview of what’s to come.

When you tilt your head back, letting the bubbly glide past your lips, your throat moves with every swallow and he makes sure to let the shot linger there, fixated.

“Mmm,” the sound is a decadent hum that has his teeth sinking into his lower lip. “Tastes so good.”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he growls, his large hand reaching up to cradle your jaw. His thumb brushes over your cheek, warm and damp under his touch, before sinking his fingers into the soft skin. “Look at how gorgeous my girl is.”

He angles your face toward the camera, showing you off like a precious work of art. You go pliant under his touch, your eyes locking on the lens as you bring the glass to your lips again, deliberately spilling the champagne, letting it cascade over your jaw and his waiting fingers, trickling down his wrist in a sticky, sparkling trail.

“Oops,” you say, your tone dripping with false innocence. Lowering your head, your tongue darts out, tracing the line of champagne from his pulse point up to his fingers.

You take the tip of his finger into your mouth, sucking lightly, swirling your tongue around the pad before releasing it with a wet, lingering kiss.

“Dios mío,” Javier groans, his hips shifting as his swollen cock brushes against your thigh. The soft gasp that escapes you only feeds his need. “Pretty and dirty. A real fuckin’ star.”

His hand trails lower, abandoning your face to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the damp fabric before tugging at it, unraveling it completely. 

The cool air kisses your skin just before his touch follows, warm and possessive. He doesn’t ask—Javier never does when it comes to adoring you; he just takes, knowing how much you love it.

Especially when he plays with your tits.

You shake them playfully, the soft, bouncing motion making him snarl, the sound rumbling low in his chest.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hand kneading your flesh, his thumb brushing over your nipple before he pinches it just hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips.

His eyes flicker to the viewfinder, ensuring the camera catches every detail as he lavishes attention on you, pinching and rolling your puckered tips between his fingers until you’re squirming against him.

“Give me the camera,” you breathe through soft whimpers, reaching for it. He hands it over without a second thought, his hands lingering on yours as he relinquishes the device. 

The power shifts, and you waste no time, pointing the lens at him. “Suck on my tits, Javi,” you coo, each word laced with seduction, and his reaction is immediate.

He pulls you against him, your bodies slick with the heat and bubbles of the water, his hard cock pressing insistently between your thighs. His mouth finds your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucks it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you whine.

Your free hand tangles in his damp hair, guiding his head and angling his face for the camera as he lavishes attention on you. The viewfinder captures everything: the way his lips move, how his tongue circles your areola, the glistening trail of water droplets and his spit on your skin.

His mouth moves to your other breast to do the same, sucking harder this time.

“So good, baby,” your voice trembles with pleasure. “You’re so good to me.”

He chuckles low against your chest, relishing in your praise and how he’s able to make you react.

His large hands slide up, cupping your breasts as he pushes them together, burying his face between them and motorboating you. The deep, playful groan he lets out makes you laugh breathlessly behind the camera.

“Pass me the champagne,” Javi murmurs, his lips brushing your collarbone.

You loosen your hold on his hair, reaching for the bottle. The moment it’s in his hands, he tilts it back for a quick swig, the liquid catching the light as it drips from the corner of his mouth.

He pours a generous stream over your chest, the cool champagne trickling down the valley of your breasts. His tongue is quick to chase it, licking and sucking every drop, his movements rougher now, hungrier.

You adjust the camera, your arm stretched out to capture the way his mouth trails up to your neck, nipping and kissing as if he can’t get enough.

The wet, desperate sounds of your kisses fill the air, drowning out the gentle hum of the hot tub jets.

It’s messy, all tongue and teeth, as if he’s trying to consume you entirely.

Javier takes the camera back without breaking the kiss, adjusting the angle to film the way your lips move against his. His free hand grips your waist, guiding the both of you backward until his body presses against the tub’s edge. 

Snowflakes drift in on the breeze, clinging to your hair and his, melting instantly against your heated skin.

“You gonna be a good girl and show the camera how much you love my cock? How good you are at taking him down your throat?” he asks, his voice thick with lust, his lips brushing against your ear.

He zooms in on how your mouth parts in an eager smile.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding with unrestrained excitement.

Javier lifts himself onto the tub’s edge, the chill in the air biting at his skin, but he doesn't care, not with the way his excitement overrides any of his discomfort. His legs remain submerged, spreading wide to give you space.

You move between them, the warm water lapping at your waist as your hands trail up his legs, your fingers kneading the firm muscle.

“I’ll make it extra good for you today, baby,” you promise, and he knows you mean every word.

He lifts his hips up to help you pull down his trunks, his erection bobbing free from its constraints. Javier hisses as the cool air hits him, but it’s quickly soothed when you wrap your fingers around his shaft and he groans, your softer touch feeling like fucking heaven.

You stroke him a few times, and the visual of you jerking his cock while the bubbles from the jets flutter around your bod has him tightening his grip on the camera.

“You’re everything,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, snow falling lightly around you.

But he means it. Every damn word. And as he watches you, he knows—he wouldn’t change a single thing about what got you here.

Not the fights, not the doubts, not the messy way you two stumbled into this, because every moment led to this one.

And this? This is fucking perfect.

You hum, looking up at him through your lashes, giving the camera a flirty wink before your tongue darts out to kitten lick at his weeping tip, his skin flushed a devious red.

You start slowly, teasing the sensitive skin of his spongy head, swirling around it and tasting the saltiness of the precum that beads at the slit. He sucks in a sharp breath, his free hand tangling in your hair to guide you closer.

“So fucking perfect.”

Your eyes twinkle at the praise, taking him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. The camera captures every second—his cock disappearing into your mouth, the way your cheeks hollow as you suck, the slick sounds of your efforts filling the air.

Javier’s hips jerk, unable to hold still as you bob your head, your tongue working him over. Drool slips from the corners of your lips, mixing with the water from the tub as you take him as deep as you can, gagging, the messy display making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his voice breaking. “You’re so goddamn good at this.”

You moan around him, the vibration making his grip in your hair tighten. You pull back to catch your breath, your hand stroking him while your tongue laves attention along the underside of his shaft, tracing every pulsating vein.

“Messy little thing,” he murmurs, the camera focusing on the spit shining his cock, dripping from your chin as you smile wickedly up at him.

“I like it messy,” you reply, your voice a foxy, hoarse purr before you take him back into your mouth, sucking harder, faster, the wet, obscene sounds driving him closer to finishing.

The camera feels heavier in his hand as he adjusts the focus, trying to capture every detail of this moment, but his heart beats faster when he realizes the truth: no recording, no photo, nothing tangible could ever truly do justice to what he feels right now. It’s more than physical. It’s more than lust.

It’s her. She’s it. She’s everything.

As if reading his mind, your gaze flicks up to meet his, and you fucking smile with his cock in your mouth.

He exhales a shaky breath, barely holding on to his composure when you release him with an audible pop and trail your tongue down his length. The hand pumping him doesn’t slow, but your mouth finds his inner thigh then his balls, licking and biting just enough to make his leg tense under you.

“Where do you want to come, Javi?” Your voice is a soft, breathy rasp, and his whole body reacts to the sound of it. Your hand moves faster, and he’s unable to form an answer before you stop abruptly, making him curse under his breath.

“In my hand?” Your grip tightens around his cock.

“Goddammit,” his frustration turns to a low, guttural noise when you lower your mouth and tap the tip of his cock against your tongue.

“Or on my tongue?” The slick glide of your lips as you tease him is pure torture, but you’re not done. You push your chest forward, letting his dick slap against the humps of your tits.

“Maybe all over these?” Your voice is sweet, almost playful, but your intentions are anything but. The sight of his cock glistening against your skin, the jiggle of your flesh under his weight, makes his vision blur for a second.

“Or are you going to hold it in and fill my pussy?”

The way you say it, so casually filthy, sends a jolt of arousal through him. He bites down hard on his lip, every muscle in his body tightening. You’ve always had a mouth on you, but this—this is something else entirely.

Your confidence, the way you’ve grown into yourself since being with him, sends a surge of pride through his chest. 

“Baby, I’m going to fuck you so full of my cum you’ll be tasting it for fucking weeks.”

Your breathless giggle is music to his ears, and when you lean in to kiss his cock, licking over the tip, his control shatters.

“C’mere,” he sneers, pulling you up into a heated kiss. His mouth is desperate, his teeth scraping against your lips. He adjusts, submerging himself back into the water, being mindful of the device, and pulling your back flush against his chest.

He angles the lens to capture the way your bodies press together, the steam from the water curling around you both. The viewfinder is flipped and shows your damp hair sticking to your face, his lips dragging over the curve of your neck.

“Look at how good we look,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp against your ear as his hand palms your breast, squeezing roughly.

A smile splits your face, drunk on the taste of his cock and the alcohol. Slowly, you shift on your toes, bending forward just enough to tease him with the curve of your ass, playfully wiggling it as you rub his cock between your cheeks.

“Come fuck me, Javi.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, bringing the camera lower to capture the way the bubbles skim over the curve of your body. He smacks each cheek, the sound sharp against the steady hum of the jets, and you huff, arching even more.

When he pulls at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the fabric fall away, he curses under his breath. “Mierda,” he hisses, his hand kneading your supple flesh before gripping the base of his cock and slapping it against your skin. 

He can’t help but grin as he shows off for the camera.

When he slides himself along your slick folds, he groans, feeling how wet you are for him. “Damn, suckin’ me off gets you this turned on, nena?” he asks, breathless.

You let out a needy whimper, nodding as your hips push back against him.

He doesn’t make you wait, sinking into you with a grunt that’s half your name and half prayer. The way your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, makes him swear under his breath as he sets a rhythm that sends water spilling over the edge of the tub.

“Oh, Javi, oh fuck!” Your voice is loud, shameless, and he loves every filthy syllable of it.

“You like that, huh?” he growls, slowing his thrusts to drag his cock out of you torturously slow, the tight suction of your pussy making him grit his teeth.

“Gorgeous fucking pussy doesn’t want to let me go,” he mutters, angling the camera to capture the way your body takes him so perfectly, the wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you echoing around you.

He licks his lips, the phantom taste of your tangy sweetness haunting them, and the thought of you spread out while he loses himself in eating you out burns through him like fire.

The way you whimper in protest when he pulls out is enough to make him consider sinking back into your tight, sopping heat, but he reins himself in. Instead, his hand comes down on your ass, the sharp crack echoing in the chilled night air.

“None of that. Let’s move this party inside. I need to taste you.”

You bite your lip, shivering from the combination of his words and the cold air biting at your damp skin. 

Both of you are dripping water as you climb out of the hot tub, the biting chill of the night air wraps around you, sending goosebumps racing across your skin.

Javier notices, of course he does, and he drags his hands over your arms, a fleeting attempt at warming you before snagging the nearest towel.

“C’mere, nena,” he mutters, pulling you close. The towel is large, but his hands are clumsy as he rubs it over your body. The motion is both tender and hurried, his fingers lingering on the curves of your hips, your nice tits, and the slick heat between your thighs. “Can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?”

You giggle, your teeth chattering as you take the camera from him as he brings you inside. You stumble over the threshold, recording every imperfect second.

The contrast between the icy air outside and the inviting heat of the cabin is immediate, the crackling fireplace casting a golden glow across the room.

Javier wastes no time, pulling you toward the plush rug in front of the flames. You lay on your back, taking a moment to admire your boyfriend.

He’s a masterpiece carved by desire, every part of him sculpted to make you ache.

You handle the camera in your hands, the viewfinder framing Javier like the sex god that he is. You’re practically purring as the lens lingers on his thighs and how they flex subtly when he shifts his weight.

The camera pans higher and you feel that insistent heartbeat at your pussy.

His cock stands heavy and proud, the firelight casting shadows along his delicious length and girth. He’s gorgeous—thick veins trailing up velvety skin, the head angry and eager to punch into your cunt, his balls heavy with the load he’s already promised to fill you full of.

Continuing your digital ascent, you capture the sharp planes of his torso, his golden-brown skin glowing in the warmth of the flames. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths.

Finally, you settle the shot on his lips, looking plush under that sexy ass mustache. They have ruined you time and time again with words, kisses, and the way they dote on every part of you.

“He’s so fucking good at using those.” You whisper to the camera.

“You done admiring?” He asks with playful arrogance, as if he hadn’t been absolutely eating up every reaction you had given to the body he’s sculpted into a living, breathing fantasy

“Never.”

He leans down to kiss you, sticky precum brushing against your lower stomach. Slyly, he takes the device from your hands, now his turn to marvel at you.

His lips part slightly as he looks at you, the flames illuminating every curve and dip of your body, painting you in shades of gold and amber.

“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks heated under his gaze. Javier adjusts the angle, zooming in on the way your thighs press together, craving him again.

“Spread your legs for me, nena.”

You hesitate, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze, but he makes it impossible to deny him when he looks at you like this.

Slowly, you part your legs, exposing yourself to him fully.

“Goddamn,” Javier growls, his free hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, his calloused fingers trailing to where you’re still sticky with arousal from how he’d taken you outside. He uses his thumb to spread open one of your pussy lips, revealing your pretty cunt to the camera, his thumb pressing down on your clit, smearing your juices around.

“You know how perfect you are?” he asks, his voice low as he sets the camera down at the perfect angle to capture what he’s about to do next. “Every fucking inch of you drives me crazy.”

Javier leans over you, his lips trailing down your neck to the hollow between your breasts. His hands spread you open further, his breath hot against your skin as he settles himself between your thighs.

You shudder as his lips press against your inner thigh, sinewy fingers keeping you spread open so the camera gets a good view of his tongue doing what it does best between your legs.

The fire crackles beside you, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his mouth as he begins to devour you, his tongue and lips coaxing soft moans and gasps from your lips.

He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, savoring every sound you make, every tremble of your body. He pulls back briefly, some of your slick clinging to his lips, just long enough to grab the camera again, angling it to capture your flushed face and the way your body arches toward him before handing it over to you.

You almost drop it from how fucking lightheaded he’s left you, but manage to hold onto it, doing your best to record this handsome man going down on you.

“No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

The possessiveness in Javier’s voice is laced with an edge of jealousy, a dark fire stoked by earlier moments that now claw their way back into his mind. Flashes of other men crowding you, eyeing what’s his, swirl in his thoughts, blending with images of you and Frankie tangled in your sheets. 

The thought ignites a growl deep in his chest. His fingers grip your thigh harder, nails biting into your skin as he buries his face between your legs with renewed intensity. 

His tongue swirls and flicks over your clit, his lips sealing around the swollen nub with a pressure that makes your toes curl.

He’s punishing those images, driving them out by proving how thoroughly you belong to him.

“Just you, Javi, no one else,” you gasp, your back arching off the plush rug. With one hand on the device, your other lets its fingers twist into his thick brown hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt against your slick heat.

The vibrations ripple through you, sending you closer to the edge, your walls fluttering with anticipation.

You’re close—he feels it in the way your thighs shake, the way your breath stutters. Determined to pull you over the edge, he buries his face deeper, his nose nudging your clit as he shakes his head back and forth.

The scratch of his mustache against your tender flesh only intensifies your pleasure, and when his lips seal around your swollen clit and he sucks harshly, it shatters you.

“Oh my God, Javier!” you scream, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you, the camera shaking violently in your hand. The heat of the nearby flames amplifies your euphoria, sweat beading on your skin.

“Pussy tastes so fuckin’ delicious,” his voice is muffled but heavy with want. Javier has always loved going down on women, but there’s something about you—your taste, your scent, the way your body responds to him—that drives him wild. 

His cock thrums painfully, desperate for relief. He’s grinding against the rug without even realizing it, his need to claim you consuming every thought.

Even as your thighs twitch in the aftermath of your orgasm, he laps up every drop, greedy for more, his tongue sweeping over your oversensitive flesh until you’re gasping and squirming beneath him. Only then does he pull away, his lips and chin glistening with your essence.

Taking the camera again, he points it at you, capturing the sight of you sprawled across the rug, utterly spent. Your chest rises and falls, your eyes half-lidded with bliss.

“¿Todo bien, nena?” he asks, gingerly yet smugly satisfied.

“Mhm,” you hum, stretching languidly under his touch. “Just need a minute.”

He strokes your face, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips and you kiss the rough pad softly. 

Wordlessly, he adjusts the lens, zooming in on your face, capturing the blissed-out expression that is all his doing. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does, bending down, his lips brushing yours in a smoldering liplock.

“Such a good kisser, Javi.” You chase after his mouth when he pulls away, bringing your hands up to cradle his face to keep your lips on his. He lets you, lost in the feeling in the same way you are, that poor camera idly recording the blur of your moving heads.

When he does finally pull back, he moves with purpose, setting up the camera on the coffee table, his fingers steady despite the heat thrumming through his veins.

He flips the viewfinder to showcase the two of you, positioning it to capture the perfect scene: the crackling fireplace, the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, the snow-kissed mountains visible through the frosted window, bathed in the silver moonlight.

The setup is a masterpiece, the kind of shot you’d call pure art. You’ve teased him about this before—how his talent for making things look so effortlessly beautiful extends even to his most smutty creations.

When Javier returns to you, his breath hitches. You’re stretched out on the rug, naked as the day you were born, your skin kissed by the soft illumination of the Christmas lights. You look up at him with a cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten and his cock throb.

“Hey, baby,” you say, your voice teasing yet soft, inviting him closer.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, his own lips shifting into a smile that mirrors yours.

He lowers himself to you again, cradling your jaw as if you’re the most delicate, precious thing he’s ever touched. “You havin’ fun?”

“So much,” you reply with a laugh that’s pure music to his ears. Your teeth catch his lower lip playfully, and your hand sneaks down between you, wrapping around his pulsating cock. The sound he lets out vibrates against your lips, and the look in his eyes is molten.

“Now fuck me full, Javi,” you whisper, your words bold and needy, a demand he’s more than eager to fulfill.

His hands are on you in an instant, pulling you up and shifting your body until you’re perfectly centered in the shot.

You look like a vision, his personal angel.

Javier kneels behind you, his strong hands gripping your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin just hard enough to leave marks he’ll admire later.

His cock teases your entrance, the slick head gliding over your swollen clit, and you mewl, your body quivering with anticipation. He watches, mesmerized, as you arch your back for him, offering yourself up completely.

Slowly, he sinks into you, savoring the way your walls envelop him, the tightness making him hiss through his teeth.

His grip tightens as he thrusts deeper, the stretch and fullness making you sob. The sound shoots straight to his cock, and he growls low in his throat, his hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt.

Your cries rise in pitch as he sets a brutal rhythm, each powerful thrust sending your tits bouncing uncontrollably. 

Javier leans back slightly, angling his body just so, ensuring the camera captures every detail—the way your pussy clenches and drips around his cock and how obscene the sounds of your bodies joining echo in the cabin.

His nose skims the side of your neck, his breath hot against your damp skin. He bites down gently, soothing the sting with his tongue, before whispering filthy promises into your ear, each word making you tighten around him.

“You were made for me,” he declares, “This tight pussy, fuck, no one else gets to feel how perfect she is. Just me. All mine.”

Something about being inside you triggers this untamed passion in him, an insatiable desire that no amount of good fucking can quench.

He’s relentless, taking and taking, chasing the pleasure that only you can give him. The thought of you creaming all over his cock, screaming his name, and begging for more while teetering on the edge of oblivion has him thrusting harder, deeper.

No one else has ever felt like this—like home and sin wrapped into one. Fucking you is better than anything he’s ever known.

It doesn’t even have to be elaborate or kinky—though he certainly doesn’t mind. He loves it all, from nights like this to the slow, sleepy mornings when he wakes you by sliding his cock into your warm, welcoming body, loving the way you melt against him with soft sighs.

Now, though, it’s anything but slow. His hips piston up into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, and you’re crying out his name like a prayer.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice rough in your ear as his pace falters momentarily.

You’re too lost in the haze of bliss to respond right away, your whimpers spilling from your lips in broken waves. Javier slows, grinding into you, letting the friction bring you back to him.

“I said, do you trust me?” he repeats, his tone firmer.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, your voice a breathy plea as your pussy clenches around him.

A dark, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “I’m gonna put you in a headlock, baby. Keep you right where I want you while I tear this pretty pussy up like I promised.”

You mewl, the sound making his cock twitch inside you. He nips at your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. 

“If it’s too much, tap me three times, okay?” His voice softens slightly, a thread of tenderness weaving through the raw desire.

You nod eagerly, your voice trembling as you beg, “Please, Javi.”

When you turn your head to look at him, the vulnerability and trust in your eyes make his heart clench. Fuck, I love her.

Without another word, he surges forward to kiss you messily, his lips claiming yours as he loops a strong arm around your neck. The position pulls you flush against his chest, your back arching as he adjusts his knees, locking you into place.

“I’ll start slow, get that pussy purring,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear.

His cock drags against your walls, unhurried, and you shiver as he finds that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

“Right there,” you gasp, your voice hitching as your body tightens around him.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he groans, his arm tightening just enough to make your head swim in the most delicious way.

With a growl, he picks up his pace, pounding into you with enough force to get your body jolting against his. The rug beneath you rubs raw at your knees, each wet slap of his cock driving into your soaked pussy sending ripples of heat through your core.

Javier watches the way your body reacts to him from the viewfinder across the way. “That’s it, nena,” he clenches his teeth, his own release building as he claims you over and over again. His large fingers move from your hips down to toy with your clit. “Take it all. Take every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your hands shoot up to grip Javier’s arm, manicured nails biting into his flesh and leaving streaks of angry red lines down the muscled curve. The sting only fuels him, a feral satisfaction curling in his chest as you claw desperately for purchase.

Drool slips from the corner of your lips, pooling in the crease of his elbow, and he can’t help but smile smugly at the camera, his ego swelling alongside his cock. He’s unraveling you, making you fall apart so completely that you’re losing control—going stupid for his cock.

The slick sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, drowning out the crackling fire. You’re soaking him, your pussy so wet that the coarse hairs at the base of his cock are drenched, shining with your mixed juices.

He tightens his grip around your throat, your voice reduced to breathy, incoherent gasps. The pressure is perfect, the lack of air sending your senses spiraling as he pounds into you with reckless abandon, fingers relentless against your puffy clit.

It’s enough to coax your submission further, and he feels your slick walls start to quake around him. Your pussy flutters, gripping him so tightly it takes everything in him not to lose control right then.

“I—” You try to speak, but your words dissolve into an unintelligible cry as your orgasm slaps you right in the face.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Javier growls, his voice low and rough. He drives into you harder, faster, the head of his cock hitting that devastatingly deep spot that only he has been able to touch. Your eyes roll back, your cunt clenching him like a vice.

Your body trembles on the edge of euphoria and exhaustion. You lift your hand to tap out, but before you can, his own climax barrels through him like an angry bull.

His hips snap wildly as he spills into you. Hot spurts of cum fill you, thick and endless, his curses mixing with your cries as your body trembles uncontrollably.

The second he loosens his hold on your throat, air rushes back into your lungs, and with it comes a blinding, second wave of pleasure.

“Ah—fuck me!” you yelp, your body spasming as an intense pressure bursts inside you. Liquid heat sprays out of your pussy, soaking his lap and the carpet beneath you.

You fall forward, about to collapse, but Javier catches you, holding you close for a moment, his own body shaking as he fights to catch his breath.

The sticky warmth of your release and his cum pooling between your thighs has him grinning like a devil. “Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he pants, pulling out slowly, hissing at the tight drag of your walls around him.

Gently, he lowers you forward, your cheek pressing against the soft carpet. He goes to caress you, but your body twitches, still caught in the aftershocks, and you let out a weak, incoherent whimper.

“Too much. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.”

He laughs, a low, heady sound, still lightheaded from his own climax. “Whatever you say,” he mutters, reaching for the camera. He adjusts the viewfinder, pointing it at your wrecked body bent over in front of the fireplace.

“C’mon, nena,” he coaxes. “Roll over for me. Gotta get a good shot of my cum dripping out of this perfect pussy.”

His vulgar words make your clit tingle but you know you can’t go for another round right now. Or any time soon, really.

With a soft huff, you roll onto your back, spreading your legs wide despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs. Tears of pleasure still cloud your vision as you gaze up at him, your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

The camera captures everything—your swollen, glistening folds, the obscene trail of his cum trickling from your hole, evidence of how thoroughly he’s claimed you.

A lewd gurgling sound fills the air as the thick, creamy fluid bubbles out of you, sliding down to smear across your puckered entrance.

Javier is transfixed, his cock twitching despite his exhaustion. The urge to stuff his spend back into you with his fingers is almost overwhelming, but he reels it in. You’ve tapped out, and he respects your limits.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs, his voice reverent as he watches. “Blow a kiss to the camera, baby.”

You smile weakly, giggling through your exhaustion. Licking your lips slowly, you pucker up and blow a kiss toward the lens, finishing with a playful, fucked-out wink.

The action is pure lust and sweetness combined, and he lets out a satisfied hum before finally stopping the recording.

“My girl, you did so well,” Javier murmurs, his voice soft and full of admiration. His praise seeps into your skin like balm, soothing you with the warmth of his presence.

He reaches for the couch pillows and the throw blanket, crafting a cozy nest right there on the floor by the fire. 

He doesn’t care that you’re both sticky with sweat and the remnants of your passion— all he cares about is making you comfortable.

Feeling the fog of pleasure begin to lift, you roll onto your side, your body aching in the best way possible, reaching for him instinctively.

Javi doesn’t hesitate; he scoops you up with ease, settling you on his chest. Your head rests between his pecs, rising and falling with his steady breaths. His calloused fingers trail up and down your naked back, a calming rhythm that lulls you into serenity.

“I can’t believe I squirted,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. “Isn’t that…you know…piss? Shouldn’t we be in the shower right now?”

The question pulls a laugh from deep within him, a sound so rich and full that it vibrates through his chest and onto your cheek. “Eh,” he says, shrugging lazily. “Doesn’t really matter. What I do know is that I’m so damn proud of you, baby. I know the tape is goin’ to be fuckin’ gold.” His tone drips with adoration, each word laced with pride.

“But if it makes you feel better, we can always get back in the tub.”

You hum in response, nuzzling into the curve of his chest and letting your lips wander, pressing soft kisses over his golden skin. “That sounds really good, actually,” you murmur, your voice still laced with a dreamy haze. “But I don’t think I can walk.”

He lets out another laugh, his arms tightening around you. “I can carry you,” he offers, ever the gentleman, even now.

“Or,” you counter with a playful grin, trailing kisses up to his collarbone and then his jaw, “we could stay here, take a quick power nap by the fire, and then…” You pause, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I can ride you.”

Javier groans, the sound low and full of mock exasperation. “You’re definitely trying to kill me.”

Your laughter mingles with his as you capture his lips in a kiss, slow and unhurried. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined by the warmth of the fire. His hands cradle your face as yours slide into his hair, fingers weaving through the dark strands.

The kiss deepens, turning languid and exploratory, a perfect blend of tenderness and desire.

With you in his arms, he feels whole, like every piece of you was made to fit into his. Time seems to stretch and stop, the crackling fire and the soft hum of your breaths the only soundtrack to your moment.

Here, in his embrace, you’re not just his lover; you’re his everything.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @thundermartini . @auteurdelabre . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @yourmommycallsmemommy . @larascorneroftheworld . @letsmeetintheafterglow . @lunatiquess . @myownwholewildworld . @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch . @xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @guelyury . @doblasftcisco . @ashhlsstuff . @kluvspedro . @goodvibesonly421 .

[greengoblinswifey]

A Christmas To Remember—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— Nicholas is away filming and tells you he’s flying to his family for Christmas, leaving you alone. But when you’re on the phone, crying over spending the holiday by yourself, he shows up at your door at midnight, determined to make this Christmas one to remember.

warnings— slight angst, crying, unprotected sex, praise kink, creampie, fluff, perfect christmas ending <3

a/n— lmk if you guys want to be on my nicholas tag list cuz I just tagged people I thought would be on it!!

It was Christmas Eve, and the air was colder than usual, both outside and in your heart. The phone was pressed to your ear as you sat curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the Christmas lights doing little to comfort you. Nicholas’ voice came through the line, warm but distant, just like he was.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said gently, regret in his tone. “I’ve never spent Christmas away from my family before. It wouldn’t feel right not seeing them.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I get it, Nick. I really do.”

But you didn’t. Not entirely. You understood his love for his family, but this was supposed to be your first Christmas together. You’d envisioned mornings spent in pajamas, unwrapping presents under the tree, and nights filled with laughter and love. Instead, he was across the country, and you were alone.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he added, his voice hopeful.

Your voice cracked as you replied, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. Just- just have a good time with your family.”

Nicholas sighed. “I love you. You know that, right?”

You closed your eyes, tears spilling over. “I know. I love you too.”

The call ended, and the silence in the house became unbearable. You tried to hold it together, but the loneliness hit you like a wave. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing quietly. Your family was out of state, and it was too late to book a trip to see them. This was supposed to be a joyful holiday, but instead, you felt completely alone.

Hours passed, and midnight came. It was officially Christmas, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift. You wiped your face, deciding to head to bed when a knock at the door startled you.

You froze, your heart racing. Who could possibly be here at this hour? Another knock came, louder this time. You slowly approached the door, hesitating before unlocking it.

When you opened it, your breath hitched. Standing there, suitcase in hand and snow dusting his coat, was Nicholas.

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” he said softly, his lips curving into a sheepish smile.

“Nicholas?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What—what are you doing here? I thought you were—”

He stepped inside, setting his suitcase down and wrapping you in his arms before you could finish. The cold from his coat bit at your skin, but his embrace was warm and safe. “I couldn’t leave you alone,” he murmured against your hair. “I thought I could, but the moment I hung up the phone, I knew I made a mistake. I caught the last flight out.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. You pulled back slightly, your hands clutching the front of his coat. “You’re really here?”

“I’m really here,” he said, his hands coming up to cup your face. “I didn’t want you to spend Christmas alone. You’re my family now too.”

A sob escaped you as you threw your arms around his neck. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He chuckled softly, brushing your hair back as he looked into your eyes. “I think I do.” Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, slow and tender, filled with all the love he couldn’t express over the phone.

You pulled back, laughter breaking through your tears. “Your mom is going to kill you.”

“She’ll get over it,” he teased, kicking the door shut behind him and shrugging off his coat. “Right now, this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Taking your hand, he led you to the couch, pulling the blanket over both of you as he nestled close. “Come on,” he said with a soft smile. “Let’s do Christmas the right way—together.”

The two of you sat there, wrapped up in each other as the Christmas lights blinked softly around the room. The ache in your heart faded, replaced by a warmth you hadn’t felt all night.

Nicholas glanced at you, his hand lacing with yours. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered, leaning into him. For the first time all night, everything felt perfect.

Nicholas adjusted the blanket around both of you as the two of you nestled closer together on the couch. The twinkling lights on the tree reflected in his warm brown eyes, and his hand found yours, holding it tightly.

“You’re really here,” you murmured again, still trying to process it.

“I’m here,” he whispered, brushing his lips softly against your temple. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he added, his voice low but full of admiration.

“Nick,” you said as your breath caught.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss, like he was savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured. “I can’t believe I almost spent Christmas without you.”

Tears stung your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of happiness. “You’re going to make me cry again,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

The kiss deepened slowly, his hands gently finding your waist as he pulled you closer. You didn’t stop him, feeling the heat of his touch and the love in every movement. The weight of loneliness and the ache of missing him melted away entirely, replaced by warmth.

Nicholas pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. “You okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern and love.

You nodded, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “More than okay.”

He smiled, leaning back against the couch and guiding you to rest against him. His arms wrapped around you protectively, and for a while, you simply lay there, enjoying the comfort of being in each other’s presence.

“Can we stay like this forever?” you whispered, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“I’ll stay here as long as you want me to,” he promised, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “But—” He paused, his voice dipping into a playful tone. “Maybe we should make this Christmas a little more special.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, his hands sliding to your hips as he lifted you slightly, adjusting your position so you were straddling his lap. His gaze softened, full of adoration. “This is your chance to tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he said quietly, his thumbs brushing small circles on your sides.

Your cheeks flushed, and you buried your face in his neck, suddenly shy. He chuckled, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers.

“Hey,” he whispered, his tone serious but tender. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, then met his gaze, your heart racing.

“Tell me what you want,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you finally said, “I want this.”

His eyes darkened slightly, but his smile widened. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

He stood, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Let’s take this upstairs,” he murmured, kissing your forehead as he carried you to the bedroom.

He set you down gently on the bed, your legs still loosely wrapped around his waist, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Are you sure?” he murmured against your mouth, his hands steady on your hips.

You nodded, your heart racing as your fingers slid into his soft hair. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He smiled, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “Then let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

He eased you out of your bottoms before he kicked off his, the heat from both your bodies creating a warm, intimate moment. You bit your lip in anticipation as he stroked his hard cock, spreading the pre cum that oozed from the tip. He dragged it along your folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it as your pussy quivered.

“No teasing Nick,” you whined, “I need you right now, I’ve missed you so much.”

He smiled and put your legs over his shoulders, lining up the tip of his cock with your entrance.

“Ready baby?” he asked and you nodded in response.

Slowly, he eased into you, his cock already making you feel full and he was barely in. You groped your boobs, lost in pleasure as his cock bucked inside you and he finally began rutting into your pussy, steadily.

“There we go, you’re taking me so well, princess,” he whispered, kissing your foot on his shoulder.

Your back arched from the bed as the head of his thick cock slammed against your g spot and making your toes curl.

“You’re so beautiful like this, taking it so well, baby,” he said.

He increased his pace, bringing down your feet to wrap around his waist. He leaned down, kissing you all over your face as your body jolted upwards from the new intensity of his pace. Nicholas took his time, making sure you felt cherished in every moment. He praised you endlessly, calling you beautiful, perfect, and everything he’d ever wanted. The intimacy wasn’t just physical, it was a deep emotional connection that solidified just how much you meant to each other.

“Oh my God, baby, I need you to cum with me, please,” he gasped as he felt your pussy clamp around him.

You nodded frantically, wrapping your arms around him as an intense orgasm took ahold of you, causing your entire body to shake. You felt him fill you up at the same time, his warm cum making your pussy flutter and throb.

“Good girl, that’s my beautiful girl,” he cooed, pressing kisses all over your face.

By the time you finished and he had cleaned you up, you both lay tangled in the sheets, your head on his chest, his arm around your waist and nothing but love surrounding you. Nicholas kissed the top of your head, his voice soft as he said, “Merry Christmas again, baby.”

You smiled sleepily, tracing circles on his chest. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You woke to the smell of hot chocolate and the faint sound of Christmas music coming from the living room. For a moment, you stayed under the covers, savoring the warmth of the bed and the realization that Nicholas was really here.

Curiosity got the better of you, though, and you slipped on one of his oversized sweaters and padded into the kitchen. There he was, standing at the stove in plaid pajama pants, humming along to Last Christmas. His messy hair and focused expression made you smile.

“You’re cooking?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

Nicholas turned, grinning when he saw you. “Good morning, beautiful. And yes, I am. Don’t look so surprised.”

You laughed, crossing the room to peek over his shoulder. “You making pancakes?”

“Attempting to,” he admitted, flipping one with surprising skill. “It’s not going to win any awards, but I figured you deserve breakfast in bed.”

“You’re already winning awards for effort,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

He turned his head to kiss your forehead. “Sit down. Let me take care of you for once.”

You sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen, watching him plate a surprisingly fluffy stack of pancakes. He set them in front of you, along with hot chocolate and syrup, looking far too proud of himself.

“Taste test,” he said, sitting down across from you. “Be honest.”

You took a bite and smiled. “Nicholas Chavez, you’ve officially passed the boyfriend breakfast challenge.”

He smirked, reaching out to steal a piece. “Told you I could pull it off.”

After breakfast, the two of you settled by the Christmas tree you’d put up weeks ago. Nicholas sat on the floor, his legs stretched out, while you curled up on the couch, your hands wrapped around your mug.

“Okay, gifts time,” he announced, pulling a small box from behind his back. “This one’s for you.”

You eyed the neatly wrapped package, already touched by the care he’d put into it. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Nicholas. You being here is already the best gift.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m not letting you win this argument. Just open it.”

You unwrapped the box slowly, your breath catching when you saw the delicate gold bracelet inside. The charm dangling from it was small but meaningful—a tiny, intricate star.

“Nicholas,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the charm. “It’s beautiful.”

“I saw it while I was filming,” he explained, his voice soft. “It reminded me of you. A little star, shining brighter than everything else around it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you let him fasten it around your wrist. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Okay, next one,” he said, pulling out a larger box.

Your brows shot up. “There’s more?”

“Of course,” he replied.

Inside the box was a gorgeous, plush blanket in your favorite color, embroidered with your initials in gold thread. “For all those nights when I can’t be here to keep you warm,” he said, watching your reaction.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “This is perfect.”

“And one more,” he said, sliding a smaller package over.

You unwrapped it carefully, revealing a hardcover book with a handwritten title on the front, Our Story. You opened it to find pages filled with photographs of the two of you, ticket stubs from your first date, and little notes he’d written about the moments you’d shared.

“You made this?” you asked, tears threatening to spill over again.

Nicholas nodded. “I wanted you to have something to remind you of how special you are to me. Every page is another reason I love you.”

You threw your arms around him, holding him tight. “You’re incredible.”

“Well, don’t cry just yet,” he teased, brushing a tear from your cheek.

You reached behind the tree for the stack of gifts you’d carefully wrapped. “Okay, this first,” you said, handing him a small box.

He opened it to reveal a sleek black watch. “Wow,” he murmured, running his fingers over the face. “This is beautiful.”

“I noticed your old one was scratched up,” you said. “I thought you could use an upgrade.”

Nicholas leaned over to kiss you. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“Wait, there’s more,” you said, grinning.

Next, you handed him a framed photo of the two of you from your first trip together, laughing and holding hands. “I figured you could take this with you when you travel,” you explained.

“This is perfect,” he said, his voice soft.

Finally, you pulled out a handmade scarf in his favorite color. “I knitted this,” you admitted shyly. “It’s not perfect, but I—”

He cut you off with another kiss. “It’s perfect because you made it. I’m wearing it everywhere.”

You spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch together, watching Christmas movies and sharing the cookies you’d baked. At one point, Nicholas pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as he buried his face in your neck.

“I don’t ever want to spend Christmas apart from you again,” he said, his voice muffled.

You turned to look at him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You promise?”

He nodded, his gaze earnest. “I promise. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

Later that evening, the two of you bundled up and went for a walk through the snow-covered streets. The Christmas lights strung along the houses sparkled like tiny stars, and Nicholas held your hand the entire time, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

When you stopped under a particularly festive display, he turned to you, his expression soft. “Thank you for making this Christmas perfect,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you replied, smiling up at him.

He shook his head. “You’re wrong. You’re the reason it’s perfect.”

As he leaned down to kiss you, snow began to fall, blanketing the world around you in quiet magic. It was a Christmas you’d never forget.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Taglist: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69

[sencrose]

— ENCORE!

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: exhibitionism, established relationship, toys (vibrator), idol AU (reader's an idol), praise, multiple orgasms, overstim, dacryphilia, clothed/floor sex, pet names (angel/sweetheart/princess), satoru being a wee bit possessive/mean, reader’s kinda tsun

wc: 4.6k

summary: your boyfriend wants you to put on a special show for the night, and your audience is none the wiser.

a/n: happy holidays! let's completely ignore canon together <3 i'll be free from idol AU bs one day. today is not that day. i got a tag on my blog for any idol!reader stuff involving gojo at #iettoru! if it piques your interest! special thanks to @angelbunsx and @surpassing-morning for looking over this for me <3 dividers by @/adornedwithlight

❥ ao3 link here

This was a horrible idea. Well, it still is a horrible idea, but you went along with it anyway. At the end of the day, you only really have yourself to blame, even though you would really like to split it with your boyfriend.

It took a bit of convincing, maybe a bit of guilt tripping, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a vibrator stuffed inside you as you walk onto the stage. Everything feels more intense than usual– the brightness of the stage lights, the stuffiness of the venue, the cheers of the crowd.

You inhale deeply but the words that follow come out shaky, “T-thanks for coming, everyone!” It catches you off guard, but not enough to stop talking. Your group members, however, give you a worried glance. You can’t afford to make them worry about you, not when there’s nothing worth worrying about other than your boyfriend’s perverted fantasies. So you continue, yelling into the mic as a way to hide your unsteady breathing, “We have a great show planned for tonight, so we hope you enjoy it!”

The crowd cheers, as per usual. Though this time it rumbles through you, intensifying the already overwhelming vibrations stirring you up. You don’t have much time to think about it. The start of the backing track catches you off guard, as you rush to catch up with your members’ formation. Everything feels hot, and you’re not sure what it is, the embarrassment of a rare mistake, or the vibrations rushing through your body with each step.

And though you’re struggling to keep up with the routines you’ve practiced dozens of times over, Satoru doesn’t seem to be phased. He’s business as usual, a sun bright smile plastered on his face as he yells and waves his penlight in the air. He might even be cheering louder than usual, the bastard.

Every move feels risky, like taking a block from an unsteady tower of jenga. The world’s worst game of flipping the coin. Either the vibrator will adjust inside you, press against somewhere that might make you moan, or maybe it’ll move around enough and slip out. Thinking about the latter is too much for you, so you surrender yourself to moving a bit less than usual. Focus on shining that dazzling smile to the crowd and hope they won’t see how it falters with every shift of your body.

And thankfully, it works for the first performance. You’ve never been so grateful to hear the crowd whoop and holler. Even more so that you’re not introducing the next song.

But that moment of relief is cut short. The vibrations pattern changes to something more intense, staccato pulses that make you wince with each throb. It catches you off guard, a soft moan escaping your lips before you try to cover it up with a cough, though you’re not sure it’s that convincing.

“You doing okay over there?” Your member’s voice barely registers in your ears as you rush to put on a fake smile.

“S-Sorry, I’m doing okay! Just recovering from a cold,” you reply with a shaky chuckle. Everyone seems to be content with your answer, though Satoru seems exceptionally proud of himself. It takes every bit of self control to keep your breathing steady, as your members banter amongst themselves before introducing the next song. Their speech feels like it’s going on for ages until they finally get themselves in position.

Thankfully, you’re not caught off guard this time, though the choreo’s a lot more complicated for this song. You don’t have the safety of being hidden in the back, being front and center for a good chunk of the performance. Though the audience cheers, you can see some concerned faces interspersed between the sea of penlights, some murmurs and whispers beyond what you can hear. It’s not hard to imagine what the conversation would consist of.

Even on a good day this routine would leave you breathless, but it’s on a whole other level now. It’s hard to keep your muscles clenched, terrified of having the toy slip out of you from your frenzied movements. And seriously, who thought adding this many jumps was a good idea?

But with each hit of a drum, you jump anyways, though a little less enthused than your members. Then, as if it’s a punishment for not giving enough effort, the speed of the vibrator increases. Your eyes dart to find Satoru in the audience, but he’s cheering innocently as usual, though one of his hands is dug deep in his pocket.

You’re going to kill him later.

With each move, it’s getting harder to ignore the tension building in your core. But you just have to get through this song and another before the buppan period. It’s only another ten minutes max, you can keep it together till then, you think.

Satoru plays more with the settings and you can feel him pushing the buttons for each one, carefully watching your reaction to see which is the most effective. Unfortunately for you, it’s written clearly on your face when your smile breaks and your eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment, just enough for Satoru to hone in on it.

You’ve vastly overestimated your ability to stay calm and collected. The buzzing inside you is erratic now, each pulse getting you closer to the edge. But the song is so close to being over, maybe if you just move a little less, catch a small break where you can focus on standing still, you can make it through. Though, it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel a pool forming in your underwear, the wet cotton sticking to your skin wherever you go.

It’s as if you can feel yourself developing a fever in real-time, heat boiling beneath the surface of your skin as you struggle to keep up with your members. It doesn’t help that Satoru keeps changing the vibrations to a pattern that doesn’t match the rhythm of the music, yet another added distraction. It demands your attention as if it’s a living, breathing being, gnaws and claws at your core until you finally give it what it wants.

The vibrator wins over your self-determination.

You at least have the self control to fake a cough over it, but not before your knees give out on you, trembling as you try to hold yourself back up. With every pulse, ecstasy courses through your body, small choked moans escaping your lips.

Your group members, sweet as they are, immediately come to your side to help you up, and you’re rushing back to coughing to hide the truth.

“H-Hey, you really don’t have to push yourself, you know,” she whispers to ensure the audience doesn’t hear.

You do your best to swat her away without actually hitting her, afraid she’ll be able to feel the toy vibrating through your skin and discover your dirty little secret.

“N-No, I’m fine, I can do one last song,” you get out, enunciating each syllable carefully to not spur any suspicion.

“You sure?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s just one more,” you assure her.

“Okay…” Hesitantly, she lets you recollect yourself, watching over you until you stand, give her a smile and a thumbs up.

“Sorry about that everyone, I’m okay! But this will be our last song of the night,” you announce into the mic, swiping the dust off your skirt.

You get a bit of your spirit back now that you got that out of your system. That doesn’t make the vibrations any less incessant.

Unbeknownst to the audience, it’s not a performance anymore–it’s a competition. To show Satoru you can hold it out till the end.

And with the start of the instrumental, you’re off to the races.

A thread of melodic synths weaves its way through the room, and the crowd fires off their usual chants during the introduction. It’s a nice distraction to hold you over until it’s your turn in the center. When it’s your time, you beam and sing sweetly into the mic, like it’s just your average performance. Satoru doesn’t let you go that easily, adjusting the attack pattern to diminish and swell in a way that catches you off guard.

And though it’s hard, it’s not the worst of the night. You hiccup on a note for a split second, but it seems to go unnoticed by the audience, considering how hard they’re waving their penlights. That’s one third of the song out of the way.

Even when you’re out of the spotlight, Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you, nor does he take his fingers off the remote. Every move is an opportunity to see you break, even if it’s just a little. He does his best to find a rhythm, one that pulses with the beat of the music, and you feel it reverberating through you with each step. It’s not quite enough to make you break, but it’s enough that you’re hyper aware of it.

A frenzied mix of bass and synths meld together for the bridge, and the crowd takes it as their cue to do the appropriate chants, their yells rattling your chest almost as intensely as the vibrator. It’s bad timing to feel the heat in your core swell as you take your spot center stage for your solo with the instrumental toned down. The crowd quiets down too, a rush of soft claps pattering like butterflies filling the room. On a regular night, this display would be cute, heartwarming even. But now it only serves as a reminder that all eyes are on you, and only you.

Don’t mess up.

So you take a deep breath, gripping onto the mic like a vice. All of your focus is on the lyrics, singing them as softly and sweetly as you can. Even though the night was off to a rough start, you think you’ve redeemed yourself with this, hitting every note just right, even with the vibrator doing its best to pull your attention back to it. Back to Satoru.

You can take it easy now. It’s almost over. Just repeat the dance you've already done twice over from the other choruses.

And for once, it’s just as simple as that. The vibrating is incessant, but you’ve gotten used to it at this point, even with the occasional change in pattern. Your chest rises and falls harder than usual as you hold your finishing pose, your skin covered in beads of sweat you aren’t accustomed to.

Despite everything Satoru attempted to throw at you, you made it, and that’s all that matters. The performance is over.

For now. —

The buppan period is worse than you thought it was going to be. To your surprise, Satoru didn’t do his usual frenzied ticket buying spree and now you’re left to face the masses he usually doesn’t let you see. You don’t recognize the fan in front of you, can’t even determine if he’s a first time fan or if you’ve met him so long ago the passage of time has done your memory in.

“H-Hi, thanks for coming!” you exclaim, taking his ticket and placing it on the table.

“Thanks for the performance! I really hope you’ll feel better soon,” he remarks. The way he scratches his neck tips you off that he’s nervous.

“Aw thank you! I’m already feeling better for the most part, I’m just coughing a little here and there,” you do your best to assure him, lying through your teeth.

“Despite it all, you still did great today,” he says, whispering towards the end of his sentence.

“Thanks,” you smile, and you don’t want to admit it but you are a bit touched by his words. Quickly, you shake the thought away. Maybe you understand why Satoru monopolizes your time now. “So, did you have a pose in mind?”

“Yeah, just a hand heart, if that’s okay,” he offers, a bit hesitant, shakily playing with his hands to show you the gesture he’s thinking of.

“Sounds good!” You give him a thumbs up before leaning in a bit closer to him, just enough that your fingertips are touching. Look into the camera with your usual smile, and count down from three.

As soon as the flash of the camera dissipates, you’re hit with a rush of pulses to your core. It’s almost enough to make you keel over, a sliver of a groan escaping you as you bend over to grab your stomach.

“A-Are you okay?” he asks, his hands hovering over you wanting to help, but unsure if he should touch.

You don’t think you deserve his kindness.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, just,” you sigh, barely able to keep it together. Each pulse takes the wind out of you, gets you closer on that precipice you don’t want to experience here, not this close to a stranger, much less a fan. So, you wave the white flag for now, gritting your teeth to get the words out between deep breaths, “I think I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit.”

–

Your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. If anything, this is probably what he had in mind, push you to your limits until you just can’t take it anymore. By the time you barely have a moment to collect yourself, he’s already found you on the floor of the green room. It’s pathetic, letting him see you like this–breathless, panting, and desperate for relief.

The way he hovers over you paints him in a surreal, hazy light, as if he’s an angel coming down to save you from your strife, when he’s really the demon who put you in this scenario to begin with.

“My angel loves the attention, doesn’t she?” he asks, sickly sweet.

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you bite back, but you don’t stop him when he bends down to shuts you up with a kiss. It’s impossible to keep your voice back when he splits your legs apart with his knee, pressing up against your soaked panties while the vibrator continues to hum inside you. It’s more overwhelming than you thought, finally getting what you want and letting yourself melt into his touch. Satoru doesn’t let you savor it for too long, pulling away with a shit-eating grin.

“Feisty. Did I make you wait too long?” he sneers, pressing his forehead against yours.

You don’t give him a response, too embarrassed at the mess he’s made of you, at the way your wet underwear clings to your sticky folds.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the attention you need,” he coos, sliding his hand up your thigh to pull down your shorts and underwear.

Satoru takes his sweet time because he always enjoys seeing how restless you get over him. The way you look up at him, the hint of tears forming on your waterline while pawing at him as you silently beg for him to take care of you. He could never get sick of it. So, he gently massages your inner thigh, fingers creeping up closer to your pussy until you’re nearly crying, pleading for him to do something.

“P-Please, take it out ‘Toru,” you whine, sniffling a bit because you’re so close to being overstimulated.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers soft and low, “since you asked so nicely…” he trails off, lithe fingers pressing into your soaked cunt, but not before he has some more fun with you. Satoru takes his sweet time, letting out a little “oops” to pretend the toy is slipping from his grasp, only for his fingers to go deeper than the vibrator.

The moment you part your lips to ask him to stop is the moment he finally shows mercy and slowly pulls out the vibrator. The sudden loss of sensation is a contradiction, both welcome and not. It’s strange to have nothing inside you, it almost makes you wish something else was in there to take its place.

One thing that catches you both off guard is just how wet it is, nearly dripping with your arousal.

“Wonder if any fans noticed you’re practically leaking,” he says before licking a long stripe off the vibrator, “not that it matters, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“It’s just sweat,” you retort, looking off to the side because you can’t stand to inflate his ego when he gets like this.

“Sure it is. Were you thinking of me up there?” he asks, following your gaze.

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Huh? What was that?” he perks up, bringing a hand to his ear for dramatic effect.

“Toru, just put it inside already,” you huff with a soft pout.

“Wooooow,” he comments, drawing out the vowel for dramatic effect, “needy today aren’t we?”

“It’s your fault anyways,” you say, an attempt to throw the blame back at him. Still, you wrap your fingers in his shirt before pulling his body closer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take the blame as always. For what it’s worth, you’re just as bad as me,” he comments. His fingers slide against your slick folds and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

Satoru savors every moment he has with you, drinking in the sight of your cunt practically dripping arousal onto the floor. The more he stares, the more your face burns. No matter how many times you’ve done this, you can’t get over how attentive he is.

He sinks in a single finger, and it’s already enough to have you groaning at the sensation, to have your hips bucking into him.

“What kinda idol runs off to the green room in the middle of an event to get fucked?” Satoru teases, his finger pressing into you harder.

“Y-You’re being mean, ‘Toru,” you whine.

“You like when I’m mean,” he quips back before pressing in another finger with little resistance.

Satoru does what he always does–starts slowly, listens carefully to the way your breath hitches as he curls his fingers to find that special spot. When he gets there it’s hard not to relinquish control, as you lean back and let him take care of you. As much as he loves to listen to your moans, he likes swallowing them up too, feverishly kissing you without letting a single one slip from your lips. Satoru only pulls away from a moment to tease you.

“C’mon angel, you gotta let me know if it feels good,” he coos before picking up the pace. It’s too much, embarrassing to hear the wet squelches leaving your pussy the more he fingers you.

Every part of you runs hot as the tension that’s been simmering in your core builds to a roaring boil. Desperation overrides any rational thought as you find a rhythm and ride his fingers, nearly drooling as you feel your muscles tensing up. You’re so close, and he knows it too, because Satoru’s kisses always get messier when you get close to cumming.

“T-Toru, please,” you whine between moans, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“I know, I know,” he coos before giving you a soft peck on the cheek, “let it all out for me, sweetheart.”

It’s as if he knows your body better than you as the tension in your core finally snaps as you cum on his fingers. Satoru being the fiend he is, continues fucking you through it, pushing his fingers in harder when you inevitably clench around him.

“Too much, too much, ‘Toru,” you cry, attempting to grab his wrist but he simply pushes himself deeper into your cunt.

“One more? I know my princess wants another,” he teases before kissing you to cut off of any chance of a response. It’s not like you would be able to give him an answer anyways, not when his fingers play with you so easily, his lips greedily stealing every one of your breaths and moans for himself.

One thing about Satoru is that he likes to overindulge. Likes when you’re extra loud and needy for him, seeing the pleasure written plainly on your face when he fucks you, whether that’s with his fingers, his tongue, his dick, or anything else he can get his hands on. But that makes him insatiable in some aspects, when he makes you cum on his fingers multiple times before he’ll even entertain the prospect of fucking you properly.

Can you really blame him? He just wants to feel all your love for him dripping down his cock. Maybe even make you cry a little because you just look too cute when you do, and even cuter when you sniffle as he wipes your tears and kisses them. It sets off something in him.

But it’s also hard to keep up with him. When you grip onto his hand and try to pull his fingers out because it’s too much, he simply wraps his arm around your waist and keeps you from escaping. Satoru’s determination is a wild animal that can’t be tamed, especially when it comes to you.

It always pays off for him, but that means it pays off for you as well. Though, you’re in tears when he rips another orgasm out of you, your moans too deafening to quell with a kiss. Your legs involuntarily squeeze close as Satoru gets you near the edge of ache and overstimulation, but he uses his other hand to split them open, watching closely how your pussy convulses and flutters around his fingers as you come undone. Only when you finally come down from your high does he slow down, examining just how much you soaked his hand.

“You didn’t have to go so hard, Satoru,” you scoff when he finally gives you a break.

“Just gotta make sure you’re all prepped for me,” he mewls, pulling out his fingers from your messy cunt. They glisten under the fluorescent lighting, before Satoru shamelessly sucks on them before releasing it with a pop.

“Don’t have to go all above and beyond on me,” you mumble, a bit embarrassed at his shamelessness even though it’s just the two of you in the room.

“But my angel only deserves the best,” he says, voice low and sultry. Hastily, he’s stumbling over himself to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before palming himself over the fabric. That doesn’t last long before he finally frees his cock, already hard and raring to go.

Satoru pulls up your skirt to your waist before slotting himself between your legs. Even still, he teases you, tapping his cockhead on your slick folds and letting out a whistle when a thread of your arousal sticks to him before thinning out and breaking.

“T-Toru, please,” your voice breaks with each tap of his cock against your cunt, the desire to be filled up driving you to the edge of tears.

“Please what?”

“Put it inside already,” you beg with a pout.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he coos before pressing the tip of his cock against your hole, and both of you moan when he bottoms out quicker than usual, thanks to all his hard work. Satoru holds your head in his hands as he pumps into you with a steady rhythm, each stroke punctuated with a hard snap of his hips.

“Fuck, you really are made just for me, aren’t you?” he pants breathily, before planting a wet kiss on your neck.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, not that he really needs one. With his mouth elsewhere, your lips are free to spill all the moans it wants, and they’re abundant. It’s music to Satoru’s ears, as he hums in delight while biting down on your shoulder.

“Can’t be so loud angel, the others’ll hear you,” he teases, as if that isn’t his dream come true. His lips press into yours, and you don’t hesitate to give him the opening he wants. Satoru kisses you sloppily, spit and drool mixing with yours before spilling from the sides of your mouth.

“Is that what you want? Want your fans to know what a pervert you are?”

“No, no, no,” you protest, shaking your head with a tinge of guilt in your chest. You can only imagine the shock your fans and members would have if they ever knew about this happening just a handful of meters away. But that concern disappears as fast as it came when Satoru turns on the vibrator again and plants it against your clit. Your body writhes from the simulation suddenly being introduced again, but Satoru is unrelenting, keeping it right against the sensitive bundle of nerves no matter how much you move.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep your secret,” he says softly, almost gentle, contrary to the position he currently has you in.

Satoru adjusts and presses your legs as far back as he can before he starts building a merciless pace. The weight of his body against yours is suffocating, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he hits your deepest parts from this angle.

“Fuck, you’re getting close, aren’t you? Can tell from the way you’re squeezing me,” he groans, his voice getting breathier with each word, “you wanna cum, sweetheart?”

“P-Please make me cum, ‘Toru,” you pant out.

Satoru answers by frantically thrusting his hips into you, hitting your deepest points at a pace that’s dizzying. Words are the last thing on your mind, too fucked out and crying from how good it feels. You don’t even protest when Satoru bites down on your neck, even harder than before. All you give him is a drawn out whine as he sucks on the skin and with how intense he’s being, it’s definitely going to leave a mark.

It doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is tightening your muscles, preparing yourself for your fourth climax of the night. Satoru is merciless, thrusting into you like an animal functioning on a base desire to breed. The sound of skin-to-skin slapping fills the room, nearly muffling your own babbled cries as you get close. The tension in your core builds and builds until it snaps and crashes into you like a tidal wave, deep and full-bodied.

Your nails dig into his chest when he continues to fuck you through it like he always does, thighs trembling as your walls convulse and flutter around his cock. Satoru curses under his breath as his pace slackens, your orgasm being a precursor to his own. Despite him making a mess of you, he’s just the same as you when he’s cumming, maybe even worse–desperately humping into you and repeatedly whispering “I love you” and moaning until his hips finally give out.

Satoru digs himself deeper into you as he cums, making sure you can feel all of his love for you in the hot ropes of white that paint your insides. After he’s emptied all that he can inside of you, he finally dismounts and gives your body the chance to recover.

You barely take a moment to recollect yourself, still panting and sweating from the intense orgasm when Satoru uncharacteristically rushes to get his clothes back on.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still out of breath.

“Going back out. I still have these to redeem,” he says matter-of-factly. Satoru rummages through his pockets before brandishing a handful of cheki tickets, all with your likeness smothered on them. Before you can even offer up a response, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “You’re not going to keep me waiting, are you?”

[wolvietxt]

Hey hey! Could I request the panic attack prompt with Logan??

LOGAN looked to his side to see you clutching the counter, your face pale and your breaths coming too fast. his book dropped to the couch as he stood, his movements slow and deliberate, like approaching a skittish animal.

“hey,” he said softly, his tone low and steady. “what’s goin’ on?”

your eyes darted to him, wide and unfocused, panic tightening your chest like a vice. you opened your mouth to answer, but no words came, just a shallow, gasping breath that only made the dizziness worse.

“okay,” logan murmured, stepping closer but giving you space. “you’re okay. i’m right here.”

your legs threatened to give out, and logan closed the distance in an instant, his hands gentle but firm as he guided you down to sit on the floor.

“look at me,” he said, kneeling in front of you. his hands settled on your shoulders, grounding you. “breathe with me, alright? in through your nose. nice and slow.”

you tried, but the air caught in your throat, and a sob slipped out instead.

“that’s okay,” he reassured you, his voice unwavering. “just try again. listen to me. in…” he inhaled deeply, exaggerating the motion so you could follow. “and out.”

his calm, steady presence cut through the chaos, giving you something solid to cling to. you mirrored his breaths, shaky at first, but gradually, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

“there ya go,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “you’re doin’ good.”

your hands clutched his arms like a lifeline as the world slowly came back into focus.

“i - i’m sorry,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face.

“don’t,” he said firmly but gently, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. “you never gotta apologize for feelin’ something, huh, baby?

the sincerity in his voice cracked something inside you, and fresh tears spilled over. logan didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. instead, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest.

“you’re safe,” he murmured, his chin resting lightly atop your head. “ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you while i’m here.”

his warmth and the steady beat of his heart against your ear anchored you, and for the first time in what felt like hours, you felt like you could breathe again.

logan’s hand moved slowly up and down your back, the repetitive motion calming. neither of you spoke for a long moment, letting the quiet settle around you. your breathing evened out, though the ache in your chest lingered like an aftershock.

“thank you,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice muffled against his shirt.

he tightened his hold on you, his gruff voice softening. “always.”

as the trembling subsided, you pulled back slightly, embarrassed by how tightly you’d clung to him. “i - I didn’t mean to…”

“stop,” he said, cutting you off but not unkindly. “you ain’t gotta explain yourself.”

you nodded, chewing on your lip as your eyes darted to the floor. logan’s hand cupped your chin gently, tilting your face back up to meet his gaze.

“you good now?” he asked, his voice quieter but still carrying that steady assurance.

“i think so,” you said, your voice still shaky. “just… i don’t know what happened. it came out of nowhere.”

he nodded, understanding flashing in his dark eyes. “happens sometimes. your head gets the better of ya.”

you blinked at him, surprised by how easily he seemed to understand something you could barely articulate yourself.

“you ever feel somethin’ like that again,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, “you come find me. don’t try to fight it alone, alright?”

you nodded again, this time more firmly, and his lips quirked into the faintest of smiles.

“good,” he said, sitting back on his heels but not moving far from you.

the two of you stayed there on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. your head rested against his shoulder as you focused on the rhythm of his breathing, each inhale and exhale steady and grounding.

“you’re gonna be alright,” logan said after a while, his voice breaking the silence but not the peace that had settled between you.

“i feel kind of silly,” you admitted, glancing up at him.

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “ain’t nothin’ silly about it. everybody’s got their thing.”

you gave him a small, tentative smile, the weight in your chest easing further.

“thanks for not… i don’t know, making a big deal out of it,” you said.

logan shrugged, his arm resting lazily across your shoulders. “you ain’t the first person i’ve had to talk down like that, and you probably won’t be the last. but you’re the one i care about, so…” he trailed off, a gruff tenderness in his tone.

your heart swelled at his words, the warmth chasing away the last of the lingering panic. you leaned into his side, letting yourself relax completely for the first time that day.

logan didn’t move, didn’t complain, just sat there with you, his presence solid and unshakable.

and somehow, that was enough.

ᰔ logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[trulyy-yourzz]

𐙚𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠

♡smut – b.e x fem!reader

A/N: I came up with this randomly while I was out, but i hope you all enjoyy😚

Edit: Should I make a taglist... I will, but only if you guys would want me to 🙂

"Billie.. you can't be serious, " you giggled, nudging her shoulder, slightly shoving her away from you. She grabbed onto your waist, pushing you back against the professors desk. Your heart raced at her touch and the mischievous glint in her eyes. "What? Come onnn, you know you want to." She said. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

You two were reckless. Mostly billie who had a heavy influence on you. But you were just two college girls making the most of what it was like to be young and dumb. Emphasis on the dumb.

The classroom was empty, safe for you and Billie. The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the desks and blackboard. It was the perfect opportunity for you and your girlfriend to have a lesson of your own.

"We really shouldn't be doing this here," you whispered, even as your body arched into hers.

"Nobody will catch us.. It's the end of the day. Everyone's gone home." She said with the intent of persuading you. And of course, like every other time. You complied.

Grabbing onto her collar, you pulled her impossibly closer to you, glaring directly into her icy blue eyes. "Okay. But I swear Billie.. if we get caught-" She just chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. "No promises, sweetheart." And without another second to spair, her lips were connected with yours. Kissing like there was no tomorrow. Ravishing eachother. Tongues fighting for dominance.

Billie purred, the sound low and seductive. The vibrations run through your body. Straight to your core. Causing your knees to buckle and instantly granting Billie dominance.

Billie pulls back, a single string of saliva connected to your lips. "No one's around. It's just you and me." Her hands slid lower, teasing along the hem of your jeans. "This is so bad." You breath, rolling your eyes. "But so fun?" A sly smirk creeped across her face.

She lifted you up, placing you on the professors desk as random trinkets rolled off the desk and fell onto the floor. "You're unbelievable." You scoffed. "You love it."

Billie stepped back for a moment, drinking in the sight of you. Her eyes were full of dark lust, her chest heaving with each breath. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for the hem of her own shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside.

Your breath caught in your throat. Mesmerized by her toned body, your eyes lingering on her pert breasts. She smirked at your obvious appreciation. "See something you like?" You nodded your head, your gaze still stuck on the curves that sculptured her body perfectly. She was gods perfection.

"Your turn." She walked back over to you, grabbing at the hem of your own shirt and yanking it over your head. Doing the same as she did with hers and tossing it aside. "Just beautiful."

The air was thick with anticipation as Billie's hands roamed over your hips, her touch electric against your skin. Sending shockwaves of lust and desire through every skin to skin contact.

You moaned. Her teeth nipping and her tongue tracing patterns at the skin of your neck. "15 minutes Billie." She smirked against your neck, bringing her head up. Billies eyes piercing through your skin.

She snaked her hand down to the buckle of your jeans. Unclasping them as she slid them down your thighs, but not completely taking them off. Just leaving enough room to take care of the mess between your legs.

"Only 15..?" You nodded your head. Your back arching and arms instantly wrapping around her neck as she pressed a finger against your seeping cunt.

"I can make it work."

°

°

°

Notes: Thankfully, this one didn't delete 🥲 and a special thanks to @tan1shere for helping me out 🙂‍↕️

𐙚Masterlist

[lunarmothim]

safehouse - simon riley x reader.

You don't need to know how to read him to understand what you're seeing in his eyes, the dark edge of want that makes your breath catch in your throat. He must see it in yours too because he takes all of two seconds to roll his mask up to his nose, dipping his head to kiss you.

word count: 1.6k tags/warnings: smut my dudes. barely foreplay, just a quick crack of the pressure valve. afab reader. piv, brief oral (m receiving).

The safehouse is quiet. Dark and cold, the air conditioning unexpected after the wet, swampy humidity of the air outside. You won't complain, anywhere to lay your head and all. It's better than nothing.

"Exfil is twelve hours out," Ghost tells you, his voice a low growl as he drops his pack on the threadbare couch.

"Okay," you reply simply, dropping your own pack on the tiny kitchen island, digging out a couple of MREs. You toss one to him before hopping up to sit on the counter, ripping the package open with your teeth. Your canteen thuds onto the laminate beside you, half-empty. The first bite of the meal- chicken and dumplings, you think- is about as awful as you'd expected, and you can't help but make a face. You'll eat it anyway, but you won't enjoy it. You wonder what you'd given him.

Your eyes track over him, searching for injuries now that you have half a second to breathe. "You broken?"

"Solid," he answers, dropping onto the couch next to his pack. He doesn't look up at you, entirely focused on the brown packaging of the MRE you'd thrown his way. "You?"

"Solid," you echo, taking another bite. You hadn't been so sure there for a minute- things had gone tits up not long after you'd landed, your stealth infil clearly not as stealthy as you'd planned for. But you'd come out of it in one piece, mostly. Surprisingly. "They knew we were coming."

"They did." The empty package crackles slightly when he crumples it in one fist, eyes searching the room for a trash can. You almost envy him for the way he can inhale an MRE, like the taste of them doesn't bother him. "Problem for another day. We'll get outta here, regroup. Go from there."

"Hate this." You can't help the way your voice cracks slightly on the words, looking down into the package still in your hands. You don't feel so hungry anymore. "Konni always seems to be one step ahead of us. Like they're mockin' us."

"They are." Ghost says it so simply it makes you feel sick. You reach behind you to drop your MRE packet into the sink, unable to stomach it anymore. You hear his body shift, the creak of the floorboards followed by heavy footsteps, purposefully loud. He stops in front of you, and you inhale sharply when his gloved knuckles nudge under your jaw, tipping your head back until you meet his eyes. "We'll get 'em anyway."

"You sound so sure about that," you breathe, staring up at him. His eyes are dark, unreadable. As someone who wears your heart on your sleeve, you almost envy that about him. His ability to keep it close, to compartmentalize. "We haven't yet."

"But we will." His hand shifts, fingers curling around your jaw. His hold is loose, his eyes boring into yours. Calm. Sure. He sighs, and your eyes close when he tilts forward, resting his forehead against yours. It's the last thing you're expecting, but it feels nice. "We have to. Too much at stake if we don't."

"I know." Your hand curls around his wrist, fingers shaking. It's as close as either of you can get to a promise that everything will be okay.

You stay there like that for a long minute, just breathing each other in. Quiet reassurance. It's not enough, but it'll do for now.

He murmurs your name under his breath, fingers flexing around your jaw, and you open your eyes to meet his. He's staring right back at you, so close you can't tell if it's your heartbeat or his you can hear pounding in your ears. The edge of his skull plate digs into your forehead, indenting the bridge of your nose.

You don't need to know how to read him to understand what you're seeing in his eyes, the dark edge of want that makes your breath catch in your throat. He must see it in yours too because he takes all of two seconds to roll his mask up to his nose, dipping his head to kiss you.

He clearly didn't think it through, though, the skull sewn to the balaclava bumping awkwardly into your nose.

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters, voice a low growl of annoyance that has you giggling. He reaches up, ripping the mask off his head without a second thought before coming back in to kiss you again. You don't expect it, but he doesn't give you a chance to think about it- not when he's singularly focused on yanking your tac pants down your legs, leaving them dangling around one ankle. Your left boot is gone, chucked somewhere across the room, and you can't help a gasp when he practically scruffs you, keeping your head exactly where he wants it while he devours your mouth.

If it's meant to distract you from his hand between your thighs he's not doing a very good job. You're very focused on his fingers, the perfunctory way they drag through slick folds, the barest hint of his thumb teasing against your clit. It's a promise of exactly what this is going to be- something quick and rough, a pressure valve in desperate need of cracking, driven by adrenaline and pent up energy. He's not going to take his time with you, he's not going to build you up and drag you over the edge, you might get one orgasm out of this if you're lucky. It's fine is a surprising thought to have, but you need this just as badly as he does, if you're honest, and if quick and dirty is all he's gonna give you, you'll take it without complaint.

You groan into his mouth, low and filthy, when his first finger slides in to the first knuckle, bucking into his hand. The second has you keening, thick and scissoring you apart in a way that has you wondering just what it is he's packing- it's still not much but it's more preparation than you're used to, thick digits working you open. He grunts at the sting of your teeth sinking into his neck, fingers crooking in a way that has your eyes rolling back, the fingers of his free hand tattooing his prints into your hip.

"That's it," he hisses into your throat, dragging a soft gasp out of you when he pulls his hand away, lining himself up at your entrance. His fingers press wet into your thigh, slick with your arousal, and you choke at the first prod of him, thick and hard and endless. "Good girl, good fuckin' girl-"

When he bottoms out you're sure you've died. That's the only explanation for how you feel right now, split open and so fuckin' full. He's pressed so deep you feel him in your throat, the vibrato of his voice rumbling against your shoulder when you drag your nails down his back. You're not entirely sure God is real but you pray to Her all the same when Ghost draws back and punches right back into you so hard it hurts.

"Fuck," you choke out, voice raw and broken, clutching at him like he's your only lifeline. He groans when your nails dig bloody crescents into his shoulders, a noise you swallow greedily when he finds your mouth again, the taste of tobacco and the MRE heavy on his tongue. You suck his lower lip between your teeth and revel in the way blunted fingernails bite into your ass cheek, dragging you closer. You think you hear the sound of the radio in the background, someone checking in, but you can't bring yourself to care right now, not when Ghost is splitting you in half around him.

"Not gonna last," he growls into your mouth, dragging a raw cry out of you when he drives into your cervix, painful and bruising. His hips stutter when you clench around him in response. "Fuck. Fuck, you feel so fuckin' good-"

"Gonna come for me?" you croak it out between ragged breaths, ruined by the way your voice pitches up. He shudders all the same. Your nails bite into his neck, digging in to the arc of your teeth impressed into his skin. Your eyes meet his, holding his half-lidded gaze, pupils blown wide. "C'mon, want you to come-"

You've barely tipped over yourself before he's ripping away from you. You can't help a startled yelp when he suddenly yanks you down off the counter, your knees slamming into the floor with enough force to bruise. He's quick to silence you with his cock- he doesn't seem to care much when you gag around him, burying himself to release down your throat.

Your palms hit the floor when he releases you, sucking in a ragged breath. You can still taste him, thick and salty, can feel the weight of him on your tongue. You look up at him, hazy through the sheen of tears in your eyes, and the way you see him looking back at you… fuck, you're not expecting that, his vulnerability on full display across his exposed face. Dark eyes peer down into yours, his mouth stretched into a thin line. Every scar is on display, the nose you've imagined buried between your thighs as crooked as you'd expected.

You want more. Fuck, you want more.

You know you won't get it. Not when the radio crackles again and he steps back, the metaphorical mask already back in place even while the physical one still sits on the counter behind you. This had been a one-off, pressure relief.

And you'll just have to be okay with that.

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune line divider by @/gildui

[user1smvtysturniolo]

"Quiet" night | Chris Sturniolo

Pairing: dom!Chris x sub!Reader

Summary: you had a crush on Chris since you became friends with him in middle school. One night, of winter break. You decided to have a come over at the triplets house with some friends. This was pretty usual, because you hung out with them almost everyday. But this time, you wanted to watch a movie. Well, turned out you and Chris went out for some "fresh air" and somehow you guys ended up...

Trigger Warning: unprotected sex, praise kink, nipple playing, p in v, pet names, semi-public sex

It was a chilly winter evening when me and Nick decided to spend a cozy night in with his brothers, Chris and Matt and couple close friends. You guys settled onto the plush couch in the living room, blankets draped over our laps as Nick popped in a Christmasy movie. As the opening credits rolled, you unconsciously snuggled closer to Chris, feeling his warm body press against yours.

The first act of the film played out uneventfully, with the occasional laugh and whispered remark exchanged between me and Nick, and some other people. Matt, however, seemed to be struggling to stay awake, his head nodding forward every few minutes. Matt, after half an hour of the movie, Matt had succumbed to sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath his hoodie. We decided to pause the movie for a break, Nick and a friend went to the kitchen grabbing more snacks and the other friend went to the bathroom. While Matt went to his room to sleep.

I was left alone with Chris. Finding myself growing increasingly aroused, by having him by my side. I squeezed your thighs together, seeking some friction to alleviate the throbbing ache between your legs while thinking about an excuse to leave this uncomfortable situation. Unbeknownst to me, Chris noticed the subtle movement and the flush spreading across your cheeks. He turned to face you, a subtle smile on his face.

"Y/n, do you wanna go out and have some fresh air. I feel like you're kind of nervous." He said as he checked your face to understand your expressions. "Oh! Totally. I'll go, I-I'm okay" I said nervously avoiding his eyes, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "I will go too" he said as he put a hand on top of my shoulder trying to calm me down. I finally got courage to look up at his blue eyes and we both left the house, going to a private park near by.

We sat on a bench and he took my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. "Come on, y/n. Do you think I don't notice?" He said as he licked his lips. "W-what?" I asked way too nervous to express my feelings to him. "Do you think I don't notice this". He quickly said as he finally kissed me. I got on top of him in the bench and started kissing him back. His fingers began to wander, tracing the curves of your breasts through the thin fabric of my sweater.

"You're so cute when you get turned on," Chris murmured against my lips. His hot breath sending shivers to my spine. He tweaked and twisted your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. I bit back a moan, not wanting anyone near the park to hear us. Chris's hands grew bolder, sliding under my sweatshirt to cup my bare breasts. He kneaded them gently, rolling the sensitive peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.

My breathing quickened, and a dampness began to form between your legs. Chris seemed to sense my arousal, his touch becoming more insistent. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and tugged, urging you to stand up. With a dazed look in your eyes, you complied, letting him strip off your pants and underwear in one swift motion.

Chris laid you back down on the bench, his gaze devouring the sight of your naked body. He knelt between your spread legs, he bit his lip holding back a groan . "Damn, you're so hot," he purred, leaning in to lick a slow trail up your inner thigh.

Your hips bucked involuntarily at the contact, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Chris chuckled, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. He reached the apex of your thighs and circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, savoring your taste. Chris's ministrations soon became too much to bear, and you found yourself writhing beneath his skilled mouth. Just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, he abruptly pulled away, leaving you panting and aching for more.

Before you could protest, Chris flipped you over onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. He gave your ass a firm squeeze, and a few strokes to his dick. And then pressed the swollen head of his cock against your dripping entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you. A loud moan tore from your throat, muffled by your hand clamped over your mouth. The sensation of being filled so completely was overwhelming, and you fought to stifle further noises that might awake the whole neighborhood around the park.

Chris's grip on your hip tightened as he began to move, his thick shaft pistoning in and out of your clenching heat. "Fuck, you're so tight" Chris groaned, his pace increasing as he drove deeper into your willing body. You could only manage to respond with low gasps and whimpers, your mind consumed by the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

Chris's praise only served to heighten your arousal. "Y'doing so well, y'moans sound so sexy. Fuck" he praised with low groans, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. His words sparked a new wave of desire within you, and you pushed back against him, meeting his strokes with equal fervor. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in the silent park, mingling with your muffled moans and Chris's grunts of pleasure.

As Chris's thrusts grew more erratic, you could tell he was close to climax. "Gonna fill you up, m'love..." He warned, his voice strained with impending release. You braced yourself for the onslaught, your inner walls fluttering around his pulsing shaft. With a final, brutal thrust, Chris buried himself to the hilt and held still, his cock throbbing inside you. A guttural roar escaped his lips as he came undone, his hot seed spilling deep into your womb.

The sensation of his warmth flooding your depths triggered your own orgasm, and you cried out silently as a gush of fluid erupted from your core. The intensity of your climax caught both you and Chris by surprise, and you collapsed forward onto the bench, spent and trembling.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing. Then, Chris's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tender embrace as he peppered your neck with gentle kisses. Seconds later, I put back my panties and jeans. I sat down besides Chris in the bench, too shy to even look at him in the eyes. Chris after a few minutes finally broke the silence.

"God, so... you're really into me?" He asked as he stared into the sky while thinking about everything that happened in the last 20 minutes. I looked at him, grabbing his cheek, being centimeters away from him. "Chris, I've loved you since middle school" I bit my lip. He got closer and finally kissed me fully.

When we got back, we were holding hands and really close together. Everyone in the room turned to look at us. They knew my crush on him, and now they know we're in a relationship after all these years. "Y'all are back, we got really worried for you, guys. Didn't even pick up the phone, and now that I see you guys like this I don't even want to know what happened" Nick said jokingly as everyone chuckled at his comment.

Should I do part 2? Comment ideas down below about what the part 2 could be!!

Divider by: @bernardsbendystraws. Taglist: @ccxsturns @xoxo4chrisss @madisonb44r @courta13 @kenzieeluby @mattsfavginger @luvs4chrs

[buzzinrusso]

second chances?

Where ex lovers run into eachother.

Word count : 3k

The snow falls softly, dusting the cobblestone streets and clinging to rooftops like powdered sugar. Christmas lights twinkle above the market stalls, casting warm glows on the festive scene below. The air smells of pine, roasted chestnuts, and cinnamon, and everything feels like it’s straight out of a holiday movie—a perfect postcard moment.

But for you,it’s not perfect. Not anymore.

You pull your scarf tighter around your neck, the chill creeping into your bones. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t come here today, but something in you—something stubborn and nostalgic—had drawn you back. The market was always your favorite part of Christmas, and for a long time, it was something you shared with Lena. The two of you used to come every year, hand in hand, sipping mulled cider and picking out ornaments that you never really needed but bought anyway.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on the present, to stop the memories from swallowing you whole.

It’s been months since Lena left.

Months since she walked away from you and everything you thought you had.

And now, standing in the middle of the busy market, you realize just how badly you’ve been pretending to be okay. You should’ve stayed home, away from this place, away from the past. But you didn’t. The weight of the memories is heavy on your chest, and you feel like you might break under its pressure.

And then you see her.

You freeze. For a moment, you’re sure it’s a trick of the light. But no—there she is, standing a few feet away, bundled in a dark coat and scarf, looking exactly the same and somehow completely different. Her hair peeks out from beneath the knitted hat, and her eyes meet yours before she blinks, like she’s not sure she’s seeing you either.

Your heart jumps in your chest. You want to walk away. You want to turn around and pretend this isn’t happening. But you can’t move.

Her gaze softens, and she steps forward hesitantly, like she’s testing the waters. Her eyes are wide, filled with something you can’t quite place.

“y/n?” she says, her voice thick with disbelief.

The way she says your name, it breaks something inside of you. You thought you were done. You thought you’d buried it all, that the past was something you could leave behind. But here she is, standing right in front of you, and everything inside you shifts. It’s as if time hasn’t passed at all. The ache in your chest feels as fresh as the moment she left.

“Lena.” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it.

You see her flinch, just for a second, and you hate how it makes you feel. It’s not supposed to matter anymore. She’s the one who left, after all. But still, you can’t help the rush of emotions that hit you all at once. Anger, sadness, relief, longing.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracks. You hate how fragile it sounds.

“Just… looking,” Lena replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” you ask, the words leaving your mouth sharper than you intended. You can’t seem to help it. You’re still angry, still so deeply hurt.

Lena looks down, rubbing her hands together, and the silence between you stretches. It’s thick and heavy, like you’re both too scared to say the wrong thing.

You almost turn away. Almost. But then, she looks up at you again, her eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find the right words.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Lena says, her voice small.

“Me neither,” you mutter, shifting on your feet. You try to move away, but she steps closer, and something inside you tightens.

“I… I should go,” Lena says suddenly, stepping back like she’s afraid you’ll push her away.

And for a moment, you almost want to. But then something else rises up in you, something too tired to ignore. It’s been so long. You’ve spent so many nights missing her, hating her, hoping that she might come back. And here she is.

“Wait,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

She freezes, her hand hovering in midair. She’s looking at you again, searching for something in your eyes. The moment hangs between you, fragile and uncertain.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice faltering. “Just… wait.”

Lena hesitates, looking torn. You know you’ve hurt her—left her when she needed you most. But you can’t stop the words from spilling out, can’t stop the part of you that still wants her.

Finally, she nods, and you both walk to a nearby bench. It’s tucked away from the bustling market, quieter here, but it doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels like the calm before a storm. You sit beside her, close but not touching, like you’re both too afraid to cross the invisible line between you.

“So..."lena says softly, after a long silence. Her voice is shaky, unsure, and it kills you to hear it like that.

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. It’s not easy. You don’t know how to start, don’t know how to face the mess you’ve both made.

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, her voice breaking just slightly.

You blink, surprised. “That’s it?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intend.

She flinches, and your chest tightens at the sight. You didn’t mean to hurt her again. But you can’t help it. You’ve been carrying the weight of her leaving for so long that it feels like it might crush you if you don’t say something.

“No,” she says quickly. “No, it’s not. I just—” She runs a hand through her hair, like she’s trying to find the right words, but they’re tangled up in the same mess of emotions that you’re both holding onto. “I don’t know where to start.”

You nod, your lips pressing into a thin line. “Maybe start with why you left.”

Lena’s face falls. You see the flicker of pain in her eyes, and it cuts you deeper than you expect. She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, you think she might not say anything. But then, finally, her voice comes, quiet and broken.

“Because I was scared,” she admits, and it’s as though all the air leaves the space between you. “I was scared of losing you, of how much I loved you.”

You don’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t the only one who was scared. You were too. You still are.

“I thought I was going to ruin everything,” Lena continues, her voice thick with emotion. “And I couldn’t live with the idea of you waking up one day and realizing I wasn’t enough for you.” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the ground. “So I ran. I left before you could leave me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of all the things that were left unsaid. You can feel the anger rising again, but it’s not just anger anymore. It’s hurt. It’s betrayal. It’s all the years of being afraid to love her because you weren’t sure if you could trust her.

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “But you didn’t have to run, Lena,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “You could’ve stayed. You could’ve fought for us.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice tight. “And I hate myself for it. But I was so afraid. And now… now I can’t take it back.”

You stare at her, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. How do you go back after all of this? How do you forgive something like this, when the wound still feels so fresh?

“I know I hurt you,” Lena says softly. “And I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. But I need you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.” She looks up at you, and there’s something raw in her gaze. Something vulnerable that makes your heart ache.

You want to scream at her, to tell her that she doesn’t get to just show up and make everything better with a few words. But instead, you say nothing. You just sit there, letting her words sink in, letting the silence hang between you.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Lena whispers. “But I’ll do anything. Anything to make it right.”

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the weight of her words wash over you. You’ve spent so many months in pain, convincing yourself that you’d be better off without her. But now she’s here, and all the walls you’ve built are starting to crumble.

“Why did you leave?” Lena asks, her voice quieter now. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight for us?” She’s reaching for something—some answer that you don’t know how to give her. And it makes you feel so small.

You want to tell her everything. The fear. The uncertainty. The way you never thought you could be enough for her. But how do you say those things when your heart is still tangled up in the wreckage she left behind?

You may not have left physically,but you certainly left mentally.

And then, with a deep breath, you say, “I was scared too.”

Lena doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you, her eyes wide with something you can’t name. And for the first time in a long time, you feel the possibility of something else—a chance, however fragile, that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of your words. The words you’ve never said before, the truth that’s been buried beneath layers of pride and fear. It feels both freeing and terrifying to admit it out loud.

Lena’s gaze softens, her lips trembling like she’s fighting against something—tears, maybe, or just the overwhelming flood of emotion that’s been building for months. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out at first.

“I didn’t know,” she says finally, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know you were scared too.” She looks down at her hands, rubbing them together as if trying to ground herself, trying to make sense of everything that’s happened.

You nod slowly, your eyes tracing the patterns in the snow beneath your boots. "I think I was more scared of being left behind, of never being enough. I couldn’t let myself be that vulnerable with you." The admission feels raw, the truth cutting deeper than you expected.

Lena’s gaze is gentle as she watches you, her own pain evident in the way she’s holding herself. "I thought you’d never love me the way I loved you," she whispers, and there’s an edge to her voice now, one that carries the ache of regret. "I thought I had to leave before you realized I was too broken for you."

The cold bite of the winter air seems to grow more pronounced as you sit there, in the space between you two, the distance once again palpable. But this time, it's not about rejection—it's about understanding, raw and real, in a way you’ve never experienced.

"Do you ever think about what we could have had?" Lena asks softly, her voice quiet but steady.

It’s a question that leaves you still, leaves you breathless. Do you ever think about it? Of course you do. You think about it every day—about the Christmases you spent together, about the laughter you shared, the soft moments when it felt like you were a part of each other. It was the kind of love that seemed invincible, until it wasn’t.

"I think about it every day," you answer honestly, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation. "But I also think about how much it hurt when you left. How you didn’t even try to fight for us. How it felt like you gave up."

You can’t stop yourself now. You’ve held it in for so long, and now it all comes pouring out—your fears, your pain, your loneliness. "You left me, Lena. You didn’t even look back. And that hurt more than anything."

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, it looks like she’s about to break. But she doesn’t. Instead, she looks at you with such sincerity in her eyes that it almost knocks the wind out of you.

"I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you," she says softly, her voice low and trembling. "I left because I loved you so much that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I thought leaving was the only way to protect us both."

The way she says it—so fragile, so raw—hits you harder than anything she’s said so far. You thought you were done with her, that you could move on. But as much as you want to stay angry, as much as you want to keep the distance between you, a part of you still feels the pull. That old connection, the one you buried beneath all the hurt, begins to resurface.

You take a shaky breath, the words threatening to tumble out before you can stop them. "I never wanted you to leave, Lena. I just… I didn’t know how to stay in something that felt so uncertain. I didn’t know how to fight for us when I was so afraid of losing myself."

Your withdrawal wasn’t out of a lack of love, but from fear—fear of vulnerability, fear of losing yourself, and fear of an uncertain future with Lena.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The snow falls gently around you, blanketing the world in silence. But it’s not the cold that’s suffocating—it’s the weight of everything unsaid between you, the things you’ve both been holding back, the memories that you’re not sure whether to cherish or curse.

Lena reaches out then, her hand trembling as she brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. It’s a simple gesture, one that used to feel so natural, so effortless. But now it feels like it carries a thousand unspoken words. The moment hangs there, charged with the quiet intensity of everything that has been left unresolved between you.

“I know I hurt you,” Lena says quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “And I don’t know if I can ever make it right. But I need you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. To prove to you that I’m not running this time.”

You feel the vulnerability in her words, the openness that she’s never shown before. And for the first time in months, something shifts inside you. Maybe it’s the way she looks at you, or maybe it’s the tenderness in her voice that pulls at something deep inside of you. But whatever it is, it cuts through the walls you’ve built.

You close your eyes, letting the feeling wash over you, a storm of emotion breaking over the dam you’ve tried so hard to keep in place. "I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whisper, your voice unsteady. "But I want to. I want to believe that we can fix this."

Lena’s eyes search yours, and she takes a deep breath, her gaze intense. "Then let me show you. Let me prove that I’m here to stay. I’ll do whatever it takes."

You nod slowly, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what comes next. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away. The old hurt is still there, lodged in the deepest parts of you, but the possibility of something new—something real—feels almost too tempting to resist.

For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to feel something other than pain. You let yourself feel hope.

"Okay," you say softly, your voice barely a whisper. "But I’m not making promises. I need time."

Lena’s lips tremble, and you see the tears she’s been holding back, the weight of her regret and guilt, threatening to spill over. But she doesn’t cry. Instead, she smiles—a small, tentative thing, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

"I’ll wait," Lena says softly, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten. "I’ll wait as long as you need."

You don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know if this is the beginning of something new or if it’s just another false hope. But for the first time in a long time, you’re willing to take the risk. Maybe this time, things will be different. Maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to each other.

And with that thought in mind, you take a deep breath, let it go, and step forward—into the unknown, into the second chance you’ve both been waiting for.

Christmas Day

The morning of Christmas is peaceful, quiet. The snow has stopped falling, and the world is wrapped in a blanket of white. You and Lena sit by the window, sipping your coffee, both of you lost in the moment.

It’s not perfect. It’s not how you imagined things would be. But it’s real. And right now, that’s enough.

Lena reaches for your hand, her fingers trembling slightly, but you don’t pull away. You let her hold you. You let her in.

And as the Christmas bells ring in the distance, you know that, for the first time in a long time, there’s hope for a future you once thought was lost.

-----

HELLOO!! Merry Christmas my loves <33 this is the first part of my Christmas trilogy 🤶 I will admit this is one of the longest fics I've written and it took me like 2 weeks and I kept having chat gpt spell check for mistakes...

[ashonheavenscloud]

snowflake kisses || c. vernon

warnings: none, it’s all very fluffy and cute😞 || wc: 965

a/n: co-written with @lixiesfreckless over frantic fanfic. merry christmas everyone!! enjoy <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Vernon! Vernon, look it's snowing!”

The man in question barely has a chance to look your direction from his place at the kitchen counter, in the middle of making tea for the two of you, before you've disappeared around the corner. He hears the scraping of the closet door opening and pauses, feeling a smile twitch at the corners of his lips at the same time he cocks an inquisitive brow.

“Babe, it's almost midnight, where are you-“

“Didn't you hear me? It's snowing! On Christmas Eve!” The sound of stomping boots alerts Vernon of your approach before you pop around the corner, tugging on a coat and hat.

“But I made us tea-” you’ve already dashed off before he can finish his sentence, and he shakes his head with a laugh as he sets down his kettle.

At least the two of you will be able to drink it to warm back up.

You hear the sound of the door opening and closing behind you as you stare up into the gray night sky, watching as the streetlights illuminate the thousands of snowflakes drifting towards the earth. The world has been blanketed by a thin sheet of white, and the sounds of the evening are already a little bit muffled in the peaceful wonderland of winter.

Your eyes stay trained upwards until you feel warmth beside you; Vernon slips your hand into his and tucks it carefully into his own coat pocket. You glance at him with a grin, and his heart nearly gives out on him at seeing your excitement.

“You're crazy.” He comments, and you just shake your head and look back at the snowfall.

“If I wasn't, you would have missed seeing this. We both would have.”

Vernon concedes with a hum, and after a moment of silence, he tilts his head to kiss your temple softly, thumb stroking your hand in his pocket. You lean your head against his shoulder and release a sigh along with all the tension of a long week from your body. Despite the frigid air that forms clouds from your breath and the goosebumps prickling any inch of exposed skin, you feel an undeniable warmth fill your whole being as you watch the snow and listen to nothing but silence and the gentle sound of your boyfriend's breathing.

It's all so incredibly peaceful, you kind of don't ever want to go inside.

“Have you ever had a snowflake kiss?” You whisper aloud, and Vernon looks down at you, unsure if he heard you right.

“A…what?”

“You know, a snowflake kiss,” you repeat, turning to look at him. “It’s when you kiss someone as it snows and a snowflake lands between your lips, like it’s kissing you too.”

“Did you just make that up?”

You slap his jacket with your free hand as he laughs, clouds of steam escaping his parted lips as you explain yourself. “No you dork, I read it in a book back in high school.”

“Ahhh, I see,” he nods, appearing deep in thought for a moment before turning to face you fully. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

Your face flushes with heat at his bluntness, and you laugh shyly, with an “alright” that is cut off by Vernon's soft lips finding yours and stealing away your breath. His mouth is cold, and gentle; his hand moves to cup your jaw and tilt your face up to him, and your own braces on his chest. Your other hand is still intertwined with his, and he holds you steady with it as he kisses you, letting time pass as your mind loses focus and your body melts into his.

A minute passes, or maybe more, you're not entirely sure because you're in a daze by the time his lips part from yours. His own brown eyes flicker open with some difficulty as he breathes into the cold, then turns his eyes to the sky. “Come on, just one snowflake. It really cannot be that hard.”

You giggle. “It's okay, it's only special if it takes time.”

“Wow, okay, Socrates.”

You playfully shove him again, but as fast as Vernon stumbles backwards, he steps forward and meets your lips again. “I guess I don't mind waiting like this…” he murmurs against them with a little, teasing smile that heats your cheeks and has your insides doing somersaults. Then his mouth sliding against yours is all you can feel, and suddenly you're praying for the snowflakes to dissipate around you, so you can keep kissing him again and again and again.

But it doesn't take long, this time, for a tiny crystal flake to twirl through the air and land right between your lips, and the sensation is exhilarating. A brief flash of cold that melts out between the heat of your lips, only present for a moment.

At the concept of your high school fantasy coming true, you can’t help but smile against his kiss, absolutely filled with glee.

“I’m guessing you felt it too?” He whispers against your lips, and you nod giddily, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him back in for more.

And almost like magic, another snowflake finds your lips, and another, and another, until your heart is so full of joy that you can’t stop smiling.

And when Vernon looks down at you, eyelashes dusted with snow and cheeks a warm shade of red, he finds that he can’t stop smiling either.

He checks his watch to make sure, and then looks back at you, brushing some snowflakes off of your skin.

“Merry Christmas Y/n,” he says quietly, and you tiptoe to press one last kiss to his lips before falling into his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Vernon.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

seventeen masterlist

navigation

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 002 ; clueless.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (2,097)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (once again; MEEYA KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT CARS, alcohol consumption, profanity, anxious! reader, atsumu + osamu + aran + kita appearance, cops breaking up the race, mention of hinata + kenma, the most words i have written on this account, education major! reader, flirty! suna, party)

You have lost your mind. You’re sure of it. What nice girl from Miyagi attends an illegal street race on their first day being in a new town?

The girls around you look straight out of a strip club. And you’re a feminist, so that’s something you would never say lightly. You feel… awkward, to put it simply. Your arms are wrapped around yourself, attempting to cover your bare body, as you follow Runa to wherever the hell she’s headed.

People stare at you as you walk by, you can feel their gazes burning into your skin. You are out of place. Everyone knows that. You keep your eyes to the ground, following Runa’s shoes.

Eventually, she stops. You look up and three things catch your eye. One; four cars, equally decked out with what you can only assume are illegal modifications. Two; There are four very shady looking guys, beers in each of their hands. And three; Runa is hugging each and every one of them.

You stand a few feet away from her, awkward. You avoid eye contact with them, but, just like when you were walking over here, you can feel their eyes on you.

“And this is Y/n.” You look up just as Runa gestures towards you with her hand. She’s smiling widely, so you return it in a smaller version. “She’s my new roommate, so don’t be mean or crude or whatever, okay? Thank you. Y/n, this is Atsumu, Osamu, Aran, and Kita. They’re friends of my cousins, but I guess I like them a little bit, too.”

They all greet you in the respective order. You nod meekly and smile. “It’s, um, nice to meet all of you. I, uh,” You clear your throat, “I like your cars.”

The blonde one— who you think is Atsumu— glances back at the car he’s leaning against and a cocky smirk makes its way on his face. “Mazda RX-7,” he provides. “Twin turbo, 13-B.”

Your mind blanks. Anything that you’ve ever learned about cars— not much— is wiped instantly. You press your lips together in a smile and nod.

“You don’t know shit about cars, huh?” He laughs out, taking a swig of his beer.

You can feel your face heat up and you look at Runa. She gives you a sympathetic look, then turns to Atsumu and narrows her eyes. “What did I just say? Don’t be a dickhead, blondie.” She huffs and crosses her arms. “Where’s Rin? I want to introduce him to Y/n.”

Aran, you think, nods towards you. “He’s racing that ginger kid for two.” You realize he’s gesturing behind you, so you turn and finally notice the two cars rolling up to a makeshift starting line. “Kozume put the money down.”

Runa hums and takes a few steps towards the crowd that’s beginning to form. She grabs your hand and starts dragging you forward. “Come on, Y/n. You have got to see this.”

You let her guide you through the crowd, apologies rolling off your tongue in mumbles as you bump into people. You break through and you’re inches away a black car. You think it’s an Eclipse, but, then again, what the hell do you know, right?

There’s a woman standing in front of the cars, directly in between them. In one of her hands, a beer, in the other, a red fabric. Whether it’s a bandana or her bra, you’re not sure.

She brings the hand holding the fabric up, pauses to take a drink of her beer, then glances at both the cars, and brings her hand back down. The black car takes off first, the other trailing a bit behind. The whoosh of air that they make forces you backwards a bit and Runa’s steadies you with a hand on your back. She giggles and, when you look at her, her pupils are blown wide.

After what feels forever of intense anxiety, there’s a voice through a megaphone. “As expected, Suna Rintarou has won the race and, in turn, four thousand dollars!” There’s a sound like they’re about to say something, but then they stop. “Cops! Cops!” Everybody freezes. “Y’all better get the fuck outta here before y’all end up in a jail cell!”

A freezing cold shiver runs down your spine. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. Your feet feel like cinder blocks. Runa tugs on your arm and you can’t move. Day one of being in Tokyo and your ass is going to end up in a jail cell.

“Let’s go! Come on!” Even as she shouts directly into your ear, you can barely hear her over the panicked voices and tires screeching against the pavement.

You stumble over your own feet as you finally move. The second you sit down in Runa’s car, she’s pulling out and falling in line with the other cars trying to escape. You finally hear the sirens and you start to sweat. Day one in Tokyo and you’re going to be arrested. Can they charge you for just attending a street race? Maybe they’ll cut you a deal since it’s your first offence.

You zone out as Runa drives. This time, there is no music playing. Runa no longer sings along to it. Only the hum of the engine and the sound of other cars around you. You don’t even notice that you’ve pulled into a driveway until Runa lightly touches your shoulder. When you flinch and turn to her, she’s frowning.

“I’m sorry that your first race was… traumatic.” She winces slightly. “But, to, um, help process that trauma, we can get really drunk.” She smiles, hopeful. “Courtesy of Rin, of course.”

You swallow hard, but nod and follow her out of the car. You’re still in the clothes Runa loaned you and you still feel out of place. You keep your head down as you pass people. You hear their murmurs. You don’t belong here, either. You’re not sure you belong anywhere.

You walk into the house and the warmth that envelops you is welcoming and terrifying. There’s a crowd here, too. Less than at the underpass, but too many people for a house of this size.

Runa shoves a red solo cup into your hands, giving you an encouraging smile. “You can stay by me the whole time, alright? I know you don’t know anyone here, but they’re good people. The guys you met at the underpass? They’re good people. Rin is good people.”

You nod and take a sip of your drink. It tastes bad, but you can already feel it soothing the shaking of your hands. You follow her into the living and spot the guys from before. This time, though, there’s a new addition.

Lidded eyes, eyebrow piercing, tattoos snaking down his neck and arm. He isn’t your usual type— nerdy and shy, like you— but you’d be stupid to say he isn’t one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen.

“Rin!” Runa exclaims, shuffling over to the man. She hugs him, then punches his arm. “You totally abandoned us! Also, good job winning, but that kid had no chance against you. I thought you were against easy wins.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, nice to see you too, Runie.” His eyes dart to you, then down your body and back up to your eyes. “Who’s your tag along?”

“Y/n,” you say quietly, holding his gaze. You don’t know what came over you, but you’re so surprised that your eyes widen a fraction. You clear your throat. “Uh, my name is Y/n. You’re fast. I mean, your car is fast.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, face heating up once again. “It’s impressive.”

He hums, taking a sip out of his cup. He keeps eye contact over the rim of the cup. “Thanks.”

To your right, you see someone tap Runa’s shoulder and start a conversation. You’re left alone again. You don’t belong here, even Runa knows that. You look around, silently judging the people in the house.

“Hey.” You look back at Rin. “Come sit.” He gestures to the now empty spot next to him and, hesitantly, you take a seat. You cross your legs and take a deep breath.

“You grow up around here?” He asks. His free arm is slung over the back of the couch and you’re painfully aware of it.

“Uh, no. I’m from Miyagi,” you explain, avoiding eye contact. “I go to U-Tokyo, though. Runa’s my new roommate. Did you? Um, grow up around here, I mean.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m from Hyogo. Y’know, the Ghetto of Japan.” He laughs, and, surprisingly, so do you. “What are you majoring in?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. You’re surrounded by rugged street racers and you’re about to tell him you’re majoring in education. “Education,” you mumble. “I, um, want to be an elementary teacher.”

“No shit?” Once again, he laughs. Great, you think. He’s laughing at you. He knows you don’t belong here, you know, Runa knows— everyone knows. “My mom was an elementary teacher. She taught fifth grade, I think. What grade do you wanna teach?”

Oh. Oh. He’s interested. You sit up a little bit straighter and finally meet his eyes. “Third, maybe. Or fifth. I’m not really sure yet.” You smile a little bit now. He wants to talk to you. “I love working with kids, though, that’s for certain. I want them to still be in the phase of thinking school is fun, but I still want them to actually be able to learn, you know?”

“Ah, gotcha.” He nods. “What do you want to teach?”

“English, definitely,” you say immediately. You clear your throat and look away. “I mean, I was always good at English. I loved my high school English teacher, she really, um, made the class fun.”

“I was horrible at English,” he snickers out. He takes another drink and you peek over, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down. “My teacher hated me and the twins. We were complete assholes all year long.”

“The twins?” Your mind thinks back to Atsumu and Osamu, and you make an ‘o’ shape with your mouth. “Oh, the twins. Have you been friends with them for a long time? Aran and, um, Kita, too?”

He nods. “Yeah. We were on the volleyball team together in middle school.” He pauses then shakes his head. “We were all kind of nerds. And then Atsumu’s dad skipped town and left his car and…” He trails off, shrugging.

“So that’s how you got into racing?” You tilt your head curiously, taking another drink. You’ve barely even drank half of it. When he nods, so do you. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs again. You watch his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Your boyfriend okay with you being at a party like this?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “Boyfriend?” You repeat, eyes wide. “Um, I don’t have a boyfriend. What, uh, what makes you think that?”

“Oh.” There’s the tiniest but of a smirk as he says it. “I would have expected a pretty girl like you to have a boyfriend.”

You’re going to pass out. Your head is spinning. From the alcohol? You doubt it. You swallow hard. “Well, um, I, uh, don’t. I just moved here, like I said, so I haven’t met many people yet. Just Runa and, well, her friends.”

“Do you like Tokyo so far?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “I went to my first illegal street race. There was a possibility of me getting arrested. Way less boring than Miyagi.” Now, you’re smiling.

He smiles back, chuckling. “That’s one way to put it.”

You’re interrupted by Runa telling you that she’s leaving and, in turn, so are you. She is your ride for the night, after all. You watch her say goodbye to all of them, then do the same but more awkwardly.

“Bye,” you mutter to Rin. He smirks and waves a hand. When you get back in Runa’s car, you find yourself leaning your forehead against the window, watching your breath fog up the window. “I had fun tonight,” you say quietly.

She looks over at you and you can tell she’s smiling with the way she says, “really? Oh, I’m so glad. You can come to the next one, too, if you want. I think the boys really liked you.”

You smile again. You think you really liked them too.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

@mysticstrawberryballoon , @h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr