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keigosdear · 20 days

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{bad idea... right? - kuroo t.}

yes I know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?//…I just tripped and fell into his bed.

kuroo x fem!reader smut. exes to lovers. 18+ MDNI please.

in which you and your ex "reconnect" after almost half a year apart, but with so many unresolved feelings, it'll either end up being the best or worst idea you've ever had.

warnings: fem!reader, no physical description (aside from specific genitalia ofc). university setting. smut, mentions of alcohol/getting drunk but no drunk sex, lots of feelings/kinda mutual pining. praise kink, a little bit of voice kink, very brief jealous reader, cunnilingus, body worship, teasing, lots of pet names in lieu of y/n, soft dom!kuroo and sub!reader, very. very. soft, kinda emotional sex, aftercare and fluff towards the end. porn with a bit of plot/build up. this fic is my baby.

a trope I never thought I'd write plus a genre I've never written before? apparently so. it's my first time writing smut, so constructive criticism is welcomed, being rude is not. can you believe I started this over the summer ‘23 and I'm only posting it now?

and lmk if I need to add anything else to the warnings :)

divider credit to: @/cafekitsune

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this truly had the potential to be one of your worst ideas yet.

you weren't even going to be at this damn party to begin with, but your friend finally convinced you to go with her after a week of wearing you down.

"it'll be fun, c'mon!" she begged.

the only reason you didn't want to go was because you were finally done with your first semester of classes and wanted to wind down in peace, not at a crowded house party filled with loud music and sweaty drunk university students.

but of course you relented when she pulled out the puppy dog eyes and played the "but we haven't hung out in months, I miss you!" card.

so there you were by the snacks and refreshments table, dressed up and nursing a drink, talking and laughing with your friends. truthfully, you were having a better time than you thought you would and figured that you had almost a month before classes started back up again to relax.

"soooo? has anyone caught your eye yet?" multiple faces focused their attention on you.

you knew part of the reason your friend had insisted on you going with her was to help you meet someone. she'd never admit it, but it was pretty obvious with the way she was pointing out people left and right, making note of how attractive they were. at one point she had even "accidentally" pushed you into one of her targets, which had made for some very awkward small-talk on your end with someone you had zero interest in and some giggling from her.

it's not that you were opposed to the idea of finding someone, but in all honesty, no one had caught your eye. recently you had gotten out of a long long term relationship, and starting over after that just seemed so... unappealing to you.

it also seemed unfair to start anything new when you were very much not over him. breaking up in the middle of the semester had made it really easy for you to push down any emotions and throw yourself into your studies. but it didn't change the fact that you missed him. even now, the party acted as a good distraction for you.

or so you thought.

you were about to respond when your phone buzzed. you looked down and your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the contact name.

it felt strange seeing it as "kuroo" rather than some version of his given name or a pet name. once you hit the one minute mark of just staring at the text notification in shock, your friend peeked over your shoulder and gasped a little.

"you didn't block him?!"

you snatched your phone out of her hand after she stole it to show your group of friends.

"why would I? it's not like we hate each other."

and it was true- you both ended amicably (though very reluctantly). you only ever wanted the best for each other, and while it was sad, you realized that at this point in your lives with how busy you both were, you weren't able to offer that anymore.

you’d rather this than end things resenting each other.

still, it was a hard pill to swallow, so for now you were just holding it on your tongue, letting the bitter taste of the coating settle instead.

she frowned. "well yeah, but-"

you cut her off before she could bring up the very emotions you were ignoring in that moment and shoved your phone back in your pocket. "c'mon, let's go dance!"

later, though, when you excused yourself to the bathroom, the first thing you did was down your second drink and read the text.

hey.

do you want to come over?

you stared at the messages for another minute, reading and re-reading them over and over again before sighing. being with him for years meant you knew him like the back of your hand, and he wasn't one for casual hook ups or one night stands. you hadn't even heard from him in a few months- this was the first bit of contact you'd had with him since you cleaned out your drawer of clothes at his place.

which meant he was either drunk and missing you or someone was playing a prank and you'd just end up a fool.

seriously weighing the options in front of you, trying not to let your emotions overpower your decision making, you attempted to think about the long term consequences of going over.

no matter how you spun it, it sounded like a bad idea. even if he did send the texts, there was no guarantee he wanted anything out of it.

but you were too tipsy for logic at that point in the night, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were in need of some excitement.

yeah.

I'll send my new address.

wait, he moved?

despite being together for so long, the two of you never ended up living together, opting for dorms and student houses with friends. still, you did spend a lot of time at his old place, and before the breakup you had even talked about the possibility of moving in together after the current school year was done.

you didn't linger on the sour feelings that brought up and instead decided to let your friends know you were leaving. when they asked where you were going, you spun some lie about not feeling well and wanting to head home before you got worse. you didn't really care if they believed you or not.

checking the address he had sent you once more, you made your way out of the house and were pleasantly surprised to realize it wasn't that far of a walk, especially since you were wearing uncomfortable party shoes.

you sipped on the bottle of water you swiped form the refreshment table and tried to sober up a bit more before seeing him. you weren't a hundred percent sure what would happen once you got there, but it was a good idea to be prepared for anything.

eventually you made it up to his apartment, which was in another student housing building off campus, bigger than his old place, and took a moment to compose yourself.

there was still time to turn back and make an excuse for why you bailed.

there was still time to think it through.

there was still time to save yourself from the possibility of more pain.

you took a deep breath and knocked on the door anyway.

not even five seconds later, the door was opening and you were face to face with your ex boyfriend.

you took him in for the first time in months- really took him in. sure, you'd seen his instagram posts since breaking up, but you could only zoom in so far on those. and fine, maybe your friends had tried to set you up with people they had deemed "much hotter", but you never saw the appeal. you couldn't even remember any of their faces in that moment, because kuroo was right there.

his hair was the same as always, slightly messier than usual, exactly how it looked whenever he (or you) would run his hands through it on a particularly stressful day.

had he been stressed about the text? did he regret it?

he was dressed somewhat casually, in a dark red shirt you recognized as part of a birthday gift you gave him one year (you had always liked the colour red on him). he was wearing black sweatpants and his socks were mismatched.

everything about him was familiar, and you hated the way a feeling of ease settled over you when he finished his own analysis of you and gave a boyish, almost giddy grin. "hi."

his voice was warm and gave you butterflies. there was an undertone of excitement in his greeting and it quelled your worries about him regretting the texts.

you decided to smile back, though somewhat shyly (which you inwardly scolded yourself for), and spoke up. "hi."

he didn't let the silence that followed settle into awkwardness. he opened the door a bit wider, and welcomed you in. ever the gentleman, he took your coat and and helped you balance as you took your shoes off. you tried to ignore how warm and gentle his touch was, how it made you immediately crave more.

you made your way into the living room and took everything in. there were empty cans and shot glasses littered across the room, mostly concentrated on the coffee table. you thought you heard him swear under his breath when he looked at the mess as well.

"did you have a party?" you asked, now close enough to smell a bit of alcohol on him.

he shook his head and looked a bit embarrassed. "ah, no..." he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. "my roommates went out with some friends tonight and decided to pre-game here. I went back to my room before they left because I didn't feel like drinking too much and assumed they'd clean up a bit..."

you nodded in understanding. "wishful thinking, huh?"

he chuckled. "yeah, guess so," he said, then gestured to an empty spot on the couch. "sit, I'll just get some of this out of the way quickly."

"oh, I can help-" you tried to offer but he waved you off.

"don't worry about it. I'm the one who invited you into a sloppy apartment, you shouldn't have to clean up a mess that isn't yours."

you snorted and watched as he shoved a ton of cans into the decorative waste bin by the sofa and took some glasses to the sink in the kitchen. "says the one who's cleaning up a mess that isn't his."

you heard him laugh at your words and the butterflies erupted in your stomach again. you hadn't realized how much you missed that sound. suddenly your mind wandered back to the reason behind his invitation. you'd be alone tonight?

once he returned from the kitchen and sat down next to you, you talked for a bit. he caught you up on the moving situation (him and a few friends found an opening for the second semester, so they decided to jump on it and try to stay until grad, hopefully. he made a joke about trying to make friends with the landlord). you listened closely, trying not to make it obvious you were hanging off his every word.

when he was done, you caught him up on your life and how you were at a party when he texted. he apologized for interrupting and you told him a little too fast not to be, which he seemed pleased with.

after a while, he asked if you wanted to watch a movie. you agreed, though you were starting to get impatient. you knew he wasn't the type of guy to ever expect anything from anyone, but the curiosity was eating you alive. you couldn't help but finally ask him about it halfway through the movie.

"hey... why did you invite me tonight?"

he didn't seem surprised by your question, which told you he was probably expecting it. (it was silly of you to think he couldn't tell when something was on your mind after years together and only months apart.)

he took a deep breath in and looked down at his lap. while he didn't look outwardly nervous, you knew him well enough to know what his tells were. he picked at a thread on his pants, trying to compose himself before dropping the bomb.

"because I missed you." he looked you in the eye and then continued. "a lot. and you can take that however you'd like. I'll let you decide."

you blinked at him. he'd let you decide? the way he said it implied that he missed you, missed you. not just missed having you in his life, not just as a friend- he missed you.

you would be nothing but a liar if you said you hadn't missed him too. and you knew that the feeling of security and familiarity you experienced earlier wasn't just nostalgia or your own unresolved feelings. if that were the case, you wouldn't be feeling this comfortable on the couch with him. you wouldn't be able to pretend things were normal between you as easily as you had been all night.

kuroo still very much felt like home, and you didn't want to let him go ever again. there was only one way for you to take his declaration.

"can I..." you looked into his eyes and tried not to drown in them. "can I kiss you?"

he looked relieved at your words and eagerly nodded. "please."

you leaned forward and feverishly crashed your lips against his as soon as the word left his mouth. he raised one hand to cup your cheek and pulled you closer to him by your thigh with the other, not once breaking away from you.

soon you were straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, quiet noises releasing into the air around you both. you moved a hand up the back of his neck, into his hair, and he groaned slightly into your mouth.

you giggled into the kiss, happy to see you still knew what got him going.

as if either of you could forget- it was muscle memory at that point. just like you'd never forget how to ride a bike, you'd never forget how to make the other feel good.

eventually you both had to pull away and fill your lungs again, but you were close enough that your foreheads touched and your breaths mixed.

it was quiet aside from some light panting, so you decided to break that silence with a confession of your own. "I missed you too, tetsurou. so much."

now, you weren't sure if it was what you said or how you said it, but as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt something hard pressing against the area between your legs and gasped a little.

your eyes opened and you pulled your face away just enough to look at him properly. your eyes met his and his face was tinged pink. "I- I'm sorry... we don't... if you don't want to..." he mumbled, not sure how to gage your reaction to this sudden development.

you kissed him again, softer this time to reassure him, and smiled a bit when you pulled away. "I want to, tetsu."

he let out a relieved sigh and smiled at you in turn, then glanced over at the door. "I have no idea when they'll be back... do you want to continue this in my room?" his eyes slowly and hopefully made their way back to yours.

you nodded and squealed a bit when he suddenly scooped you up in his arms, smile growing wider as he made his way to his bedroom.

and that’s how you got here- cutting to when he gently sets you down on the bed, and you scoot back a bit to lay down comfortably. quickly following, his body covers yours and he begins kissing you again.

your arms instinctively move, one wrapping around his broad shoulders, the other cupping his cheek as you move your lips against his. his own hands, now free due to the fact that he’s propped up on one of his forearms, caress your waist and the the top of your head respectively.

after a few minutes of him focusing on your lips, he starts making his way down your neck. they’re feather light kisses at first to make you giggle, but eventually he finds the sensitive spot he always loved to mark up and the sweet sounds turn into shallow, shuddery breaths.

you whine as soon as he starts sucking on it and you bring your hand up from his cheek to his hair. "mmn... tetsu..."

he pulls away just enough so that you can still feel his lips against your flesh as he trails them up your neck to hover just over your ear. "you have no idea," he breathes out, voice low and far more erotic than you think he intended, "how much I've missed this."

you shudder and turn your face away at the tingly sensation, but the hand on your waist darts up to tilt your chin back in his direction. one thing you always appreciated about kuroo was how tenderly he handled you, no matter the tone of your late night endeavors. he was always gentle with you- not in a way that made you feel fragile, but rather in a way that told you he truly cared for you, treasured you, adored you.

the idea that this is still the case turns you on even more and makes your brain go a bit fuzzy.

when your eyes met his once more, you could see that adoration pooling in them. “look at me, sweetheart.”

you nodd slightly in his firm, yet still very soft grasp and keep your eyes trained on his. you could feel yourself getting wet as they trail over your face, and you swear your entire body feels warm as he gives you a rare type of smile only reserved for times like these.

he leans in to kiss you again and his hand moves from your face to toy with the lower hem of your dress. “you look absolutely gorgeous in this, baby, but do you think can we take it off?” he’s still speaking in the low, sultry tone that always drives you wild- you’re certain that you’d do anything he asked of you with that voice.

you sit up a little and move to unzip the dress, but he takes your hands and gives you a look. “ah ah- let me, pretty girl, you don’t have to move a muscle.”

it’s almost jarring how easily you both fall back into it. as soon as your dress is off, his shirt follows and he’s back to hovering over you. it really feels as though no time has passed since your last time with him.

just more proof that this is right.

he wastes no time in ridding you of your bra and himself of his shirt before pushing you back down onto the bed.

the room is once again filled with sounds of soft moans and gasps as he kisses your chest and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. he alternates between swirling his tongue around it and sucking. kuroo didn’t let your other breast go unattended for long, though, as he begins teasing the hardened bud with his fingers.

“aah, tetsu… please…” you gasped out.

the man on top of you chuckles, and in between switching sides he looks at you from under his eyelashes. “still so sensitive, hm? it’s cute.”

you resist the urge to hide your face and instead opt for throwing your head back when he suddenly sucks on the other nipple.

heat continues to build inside of you until he eventually he trails his kisses down the valley of your breasts, across your ribcage and down to your tummy. he spends a little extra time there, and you have to gently tug on his hair and whine about him taking too long for him to break away from your skin.

“let me worship you, angel. missed your body so much.” his voice is barely audible, the words murmured as though he was in a trance. you feel your pussy clench around nothing at his confession and bite back a whimper.

his lips curl upwards while pressed against your stomach and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. “keep your eyes on me, baby. don’t ever want to be away from you again,” he commands.

he rests his chin on your pubic bone and traces the elastic band of your panties with two familiar fingers. “you wore my favourite.”

heat rushes to your face and you do turn away this time, but he makes a disapproving noise you’re all too familiar with. “sweetheart, what did I just tell you?”

you bite your lip and force your eyes back to his.

he rewards you with a tender kiss to your belly and a “there’s a good girl, knew she was in there…” before he pulls your panties off.

you grow nervous, though you know you don’t need to be with him, and close your legs. his eyes soften significantly at the action. you're not sure why exactly the nerves get to you now of all times, especially considering how much you like his stricter side, but they do and he sees it.

he drops the strict act and rubs reassuring circles to your inner thigh. you've always preferred your softer sessions, anyway. “hey, it’s alright. I’m gonna take good care of you… missed my girl so much, just want to make you feel good, okay? we’ll save that for another time. it’s just you and me now, baby.”

you nod and a wave of calm washes over you at the reassurance. you let him pry your legs apart and gasp as he dives in.

he starts with wet kisses working their way up your thighs, to your slit and then up to your clit before he takes the bud into his mouth and sucks on it. you let out a soft moan and buck your hips into his face.

"mmn," he pulls away for a second and holds your hips down. "don't thrash, princess, just let me do all the work."

and he does. once he really gets into the groove of eating you out, you're a mess on his bed- legs shaking over his shoulders, cunt clenching around his tongue and whimpering out little thank you's when he makes you cum for the first time that night.

but he doesn't stop there. "tastes so good, baby, need more," he says in between licking your juices from your folds. "c’mon, just one more. you can do it," he picks up the pace again, and before you know it you're begging for more, too.

"tetsu- ah~!" you moan when he exchanges licking for sucking on your still sensitive clit again. you feel like you're on fire as he draws you closer and closer to reaching your second high.

you tangle your hands in his hair and he groans, sending vibrations throughout your core. you cry out and arch off the bed, spilling into his mouth.

this time when he pulls away, he slithers back up your body and kisses you. "see how good you taste, baby? best in the world, haven't I always told you that?"

your stomach twists from the praise and you turn your head to the side bashfully, trying to stabilize your breathing. he holds himself up above you and strokes your cheek with his knuckles, watching you fondly. it does nothing but make you more dizzy with affection.

when you've calmed down enough, he whispers "do you still want to-"

"yes." you cut him off and he chuckles.

"okay baby," he crawls off of you and reaches for his nightstand. he opens the drawer and-

your stomach sinks when you see an open box of condoms. the thought of him being with other girls makes you feel green with envy which you suppose isn’t fair considering you’ve been broken up for months, but you’re still a little fuzzy and too high on your own emotions right now to care.

he looks between you and the box and immediately catches on when an unexpected tear falls from your eye.

“oh, baby no-“ he takes one from the box and quickly returns to your side. “I haven’t been using these,” he cups your face and strokes his thumb under your eye.

“you haven’t?” you sniffle and he shakes his head right away.

you pout. “but then-”

kuroo cuts you off with a roll of his eyes. “one of my roommates got them for me as a joke for my birthday. I only opened them because he kept asking to borrow them.”

you digest his words and slowly look up at him. he’s already looking at you and you can’t keep your eyes from watering some more. the thought of him being intimate with someone new when you’ve spent the past few months rejecting everyone your friends forced your way.

“I haven’t even looked at anyone else since we broke up,” he murmurs against your hairline. “missed you too much.”

you nod, finding no traces of dishonesty on his features. “I haven’t been with anyone either… I wasn’t over you. I didn’t want to be,” you admit, voice soft.

he smiles and presses kisses from your scalp down to your cheeks. “such a sweet girl I have, hm? how about you help me out here?”

he tugs off his sweats and your attention is drawn to the tent his boxers. you bite your lip and reach for the band but he takes your hand and places the condom on your palm.

you blink up at him, confused. “you don’t want me to-“

he shakes his head and tugs his boxers down. his cock springs free and you gasp a little at the sight of his tip- red and smeared with pre-cum.

“no, angel, I need to be inside of you. just help me put it on.”

you make quick work of tearing the wrapper off and rolling the condom over his length. he groans at the feeling of your knuckles grazing his skin, but as soon as you pull away he’s flipping you on your back and lining himself up against your entrance.

he knocks his forehead against yours. “ready, baby?”

you nod and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. he leans down for a kiss and slowly pushes into you as your lips connect.

you whine a little at the stretch and he pauses everything. “you’re okay,” he reassures you, giving you time to adjust.

you nod when you feel ready for him to keep going and he bottoms out with a strangled moan. “you’re unreal, you know that?”

his praise pulls a giggle from your throat but it quickly turns into a breathy sigh when he starts moving.

he starts off slow, but soon enough you’re both lost in the moment and his pace picks up. within the next few minutes, his room is filled with sounds of pleasure and sweet words exchanged between lovers.

“you’re perfect,” he says, angling his lips closer to your ear. his hips stutter when you clamp around him at his words.

his thrusts reach deep enough to get you crying out for him. “tetsu, faster! please!”

“ah- there’s a good girl, love hearing you beg for more.” he nibbles the spot just below your ear, soothing it with his tongue.

“I love you,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.

kuroo groans at the sensation and goes a bit harder. “you needed this just as bad as I did, hm? it’s okay, I’ve got you now, pretty girl. just relax.”

you hide your face in his neck and try to stifle your moans, but he doesn’t appreciate that one bit. “stop that, let me hear you,” he commands and you immediately pull your head back.

he grins down at you and kisses your nose. “sound so pretty when you’re falling apart on my cock, you know better than to hide those noises from me.”

you nod and find yourself unable to look away from his face, as if you were in a trance. he’s absolutely gorgeous on top of you- why would you want to look away?

“you close, baby?” he asks after your walls tighten even more.

“mmhm,” you whimper and lean up for a kiss.

“me too,” he whispers and tugs one of your hands away from his shoulder. he intertwines your fingers and presses is above your head against the pillow. “needed this just as badly as I did, hm? it’s okay, I’ve got you, baby.”

doing so good for me.

you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

you feel so fucking good, princess.

all of his praise sent shockwaves throughout your body and soon enough you’re tipping over the edge. your back is arched, head thrown back and a loud cry of his name is drawn from you as you cum for the second time.

he follows soon after and you feel his whole body shudder when he spills into his condom.

your breaths mix together as you both come down from your highs. it’s quiet for a few moments before he carefully pulls out and disposes of the soiled contraceptive in the trash next to his bed. he rolls back into bed, facing you.

he strokes your cheek with his knuckles and smiles at you when you open your eyes and turn to face him as well. “hi pretty girl, you okay?”

you take a deep breath and curl into his chest. you still feel slightly too light and any thoughts not related to him are muddled. you’re overcome with an intense wave of affection for him.

he must notice, because when you manage to peek up at him again, he snorts. “yeah, I don’t know what I was expecting.”

he knows better than to try and leave the bed right away (memories of you whining and clinging to him when he did attempt it early on in your relationship flash through his mind and he smiles), so instead he wraps his arms around you and presses kisses to your hairline.

you savour the familiar feeling of being wrapped in his arms and nuzzle into his bare chest. the most comfortable feeling in the world.

eventually he does get up to grab a damp cloth and some water, and he informs you that you can use his bathroom for whatever you need.

you’re both following the same routine you had when you were together as if you hadn’t broken up at all.

now that you’ve regained some clarity, you start to worry about what exactly that means.

you’ve both admitted to missing each other like crazy, but you assume you’ll need to have a serious conversation with kuroo about whether or not you should get back together.

you ponder over this on his bed for a bit longer before he interrupts your thoughts. “we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he starts. “we can talk about it tomorrow morning if you would prefer, but…”

he pauses like he’s not sure if he should continue. you nod encouragingly, curious as to where this is going (thought you think you know). “but I meant absolutely everything I said tonight. um, before and while we were… uh. busy.”

you giggle a little at his shy demeanour before considering the weight of his words. “we could talk about it tomorrow morning, but I think we both already know what we want from this right?”

he doesn’t need to nod, but he does anyway. “I definitely have an answer already.”

you knock your forehead against his. “so… are we officially back together then?”

he offers you the widest grin he’s thrown your way all night. “I think we are, sweetheart. We’ll make it work this time, I promise.”

“I promise,” you repeat.

the rest of the night is spent cuddling under covers, sharing kisses and secrets you’ve missed out on sharing these past few months.

“I love you,” you say, before you finally drift off for the night.

you don’t hear him, but he’s quick to return the sentiment. “I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

the following morning, you wake up to your phone ringing. you groan when you see it’s your friend and realize you never texted her back last night to tell her you’re okay.

you look over at kuroo, still sound asleep beside you, and answer as quietly as possible. “hello?”

“oh thank goodness you’re alright, why weren’t you picking up? we all called you a million times!”

you check and see a ton of missed calls from more of your friends who saw you leave the party last night. “I’m sorry, I was asleep,” you say sincerely, only twisting the truth a little bit.

you feel slightly bad about it, you mentally promise her to tell her everything later.

before she can respond, your boyfriend sits up (when did he even wake up?) and says into the phone, “sorry, it’s my fault. but I promise I took good care of her,” he smirks at you.

you flinch when she shrieks into your ear. “YOU WERE WITH KUROO?!”

glaring at him, he snickers and takes the phone from you. “she’ll call you back later, we’re still catching up.”

“no, wait-“ he hangs up the phone and tosses it onto his sheets.

you pout at him. “tetsu, c’mon.”

he kisses your cheek. “I really didn’t meant for it to come off as rude, I swear. I just wanted a relaxing morning with you before you have to leave.”

you sigh and fall back into the soft comfort of his pillows. “it’s okay,” you say. “I really didn’t feel like giving her the rundown first thing in the morning, anyway. you really tired me out last night,” you peer up at him.

he laughs. “oh really? we’ve gotta build up your stamina again, pretty girl. I wasn’t lying-“ he crawls over and hovers a few inches above you. “we still have a lot of catching up to do.”

you mentally pat yourself on the back for answering his texts. definitely not your worst idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I swear I’ll get better at writing smut, folks 🫡

but for my first time writing it, I don’t think it’s horrible. if the ending feels a bit rushed, it’s because I’ve literally had this sitting in my drafts since miss olivia rodrigo released the music video for this song last august and I wanted it out 🙃.

tagging @nyctophilicroses bc I remember you commented on the original post I made asking abt exes to lovers with kuroo 🥹

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsurou x reader smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader

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finbrosfinance · 2 years

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authorhjk1 · 7 months

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Idol Competition

IU X Kang Seulgi

IU sits on the couch in her apartment, her phone in her hand. It's 9:55 am on a Monday. The fourth of December to be exact.

Five more minutes. She has five more minutes until her deadline. IU wonders if she is able to still pull it off. It's quite cold outside, so she expected her to not go through with it. But the other woman sounded more than confident.

Lee Ji-eun checks the chat history on her KakaoTalk app. No picture to proof her accomplished mission yet. IU smirks. Four minutes left.

Is this it? Is this going to be the moment she wins this competition? It has been going on for months now. The two women come up with new challenges almost every day.

Kang Seulgi had two days for this one. IU sees the six turn into a seven. Three more minutes. Even if she could do it in the cold, she would still need to find someone to do it with her. IU wonders who could be crazy enough.

But then again, it's Seulgi. She is a famous woman. And really pretty. There is no doubt that someone would say yes.

Two more minutes.

IU is already thinking about the prize. Although you could say that every mission was a prize itself already.

Her phone vibrates and Ji-eun sighs in disappointment. She clicks on the picture Kang Seulgi send her just now.

The younger woman is kneeling on a blanket. It's visibility windy, her hair flying in all directions behind her. The waves of the ocean are captured on the left side of the picture.

It could have been a normal picture of a woman on a beach. Except for the fact that Seulgi is completely naked. And that it looks like she just good a facial.

IU zooms in on her face. She licks her lips as she sees how well someone came on her competitor's face.

Seulgi is smiling into the camera, hands behind her back, pushing her tits a little forward.

"How often did you get caught?"

IU bites one of her nails as she sees the notification that Seulgi is typing a response.

"Twice. The second guy even stayed and watched while I got my face fucked."

IU moans at the thought. She remembers the challenge from two weeks ago.

Seulgi made her go shopping without her credit card. When she wanted to buy something, she had to convince the seller with something else. It didn't matter if it was a man or a woman, IU did her best to buy as much as she could. In the end, she got caught by a young couple in the isle of some store, her face a mess while the seller was abusing her throat.

"Was it very cold?"

"It was alright. Sex makes you warm real quick."

IU chuckles at Seulgi's message.

"Do you already have something in mind for me? Or do I need to wait?"

Ji-eun's eyes widen when she sees Seulgi's next text.

"Go to SSHS."

That's Seoul Science High School.

"Find a student who is younger than 20 and give him the best school day of his life."

IU can't help but let her hand slide underneath her shorts. Being over thirty years old already, she recently discovered that this is somewhat a new kink of hers. Younger guys who are almost half her age. Legal of course, but young. This could be her chance to freely enjoy this kink of hers.

"Deal."

"You've only today. Should be a piece of cake for a slut like you."

"I love you too."

IU teases her back, before getting off the couch. What to wear for her visit to high school?

Ji-eun walks towards her closet. Should she dress up as a teacher? Or a student?

She can feel how wet these thoughts make her pussy. The idea of letting some young man fuck her, forces IU to move her hand back into her shorts. She let's herself sink into her bed, while looking at the opened closet. Her head falls back as she starts to finger herself.

IU nervously looks around, before reaching inside the bookshelf. Now that she is here, she is way more cautious. It was surprisingly easy to get inside the school building, considering that strangers are not allowed.

Wearing her mask, Ji-eun was able to pass as a teacher while walking through the hallways. She is now standing in the library. The perfect place for her challenge in her opinion.

Now that she has placed her phone inside the bookshelf to record the proof, she is looking around to find the right guy.

"Ms. Lee?"

IU turns around on instinct, her heart sinking. Did she actually get caught already?

"I apologize. I thought you were our homeroom teacher."

The young girl apologizes. She doesn't seem to recognize her. IU takes a deep breath, relieved that she is fine.

"It's alright. Can I help you anyways?"

She tries to act natural, hoping the girl won't catch on.

"Yeah. Me and my boyfriend are looking for the right textbooks for our research. I'm not old enough and he lost his library card. We wanted to ask Ms. Lee for help."

Ji-eun nods. Does that mean her boyfriend is at least eighteen? She knows you have to be over eighteen to borrow specific books from the library.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you with that. You better ask Ms. Lee."

"Thanks, teacher."

The young girl bows and walks towards a table. A guy, who seems to be her boyfriend, is waiting for her there.

IU can't help but bite her lip. The first guy she finds looks quite handsome as well. She doubts he could resist her. After all, relationships in high school aren't serious anyways.

She watches the girl leave the library, before walking over.

As expected, it only takes a couple of words, before IU takes the boy's hand and leads him towards the bookshelf. He just turned eighteen four months ago. Just the right age to fulfill this fantasy.

She can feel his stare on her legs as she walks in front of him. Ji-eun deliberately chose this outfit. It's not too revealing, but it highlights her long, flawless legs.

Once the pair reaches the shelf where IU put her phone, she turns around.

"I will make sure that you enjoy yourself."

She gets on her knees in front of him.

IU expected him to not last very long, but here she is. Her face pressed against books about biology as she gets fucked from behind. The recording must be ten minutes long already, plenty of footage for Seulgi to enjoy later on.

Ji-eun was able to stay mostly quiet up until now. The guy's pace keeps increasing as he starts to reach his limit. She feels his young cock in her wet pussy, enjoying the fact that he is barely older than half her age. She never doubted herself. She knew every guy wants to fuck her. Whatever their age.

"Turn me around."

IU is close to her own orgasm herself. The student does as she says, turning her around to face him. She leans against the bookshelf, staring at the one across the isle. That's where her phone is hidden. Her dark, lustfilled eyes are glued to the camera as he starts to thrust into her again.

Her small Gucci shorts are lying at Ji-eun's feet. She wasn't wearing underwear, knowing she would have to take it off anyways.

"You fuck me so good."

She whispers into his ear as she places her head onto his shoulder.

His hands hold her small waist, pounding her into the shelf full of books.

"Fuck!"

IU is unable to not moan loudly, when she finally cums. Her pussy contracting around the young guy's cock, making him orgasm as well. She can't believe how good this felt. How good it still feels.

This was a better fuck than what she expected. Not just because he is way younger.

As he let's his cock slip out of her, IU watches his cum drip out of her pussy. She can't blame him. Her pussy is just so incredibly tight when she cums.

"Oh fuck."

Seulgi sighs as she cums on her fingers. Her phone is in the other hand, her screen showing IU's new video. Seulgi knew she could pull it of, but never expected it to be this hot. The way Ji-eun looked at the camera while she got railed into the bookshelf....

Seulgi tries to collect herself as she hears her members walk around. Yeri and Joy both seem to be in a very good mood today.

With shaky fingers, she starts typing on her phone.

"What do you have for me?'

Seulgi is genuinely curious. At this point the two of them did pretty much everything. She doesn't even know what task she should give IU after this one.

"The two of us have a music show soon, right?"

"Yeah."

"If that hot camera man is there again, I want you to suck him off, while I watch."

Seulgi remembers the face fucking on the beach mere hours ago.

"Deal."

"Why don't you cum on my pretty face, hmm?"

Seulgi kneels in front of the young man, stroking his cock. IU is sitting on the couch behind her, watching and getting herself off. IU's dressing room looks like it has become a scene of some dirty movie as Seulgi wraps her lips around the man's cock once more. Her head bobs up and down, making him groan and take a fistful of her hair.

Seulgi's pussy feels even wetter than usual, probably because she has someone watching. She wants to prove to IU that she is the better one at sucking cock.

"Are you enjoying your reward?"

IU sighs as she looks at the guy, who's eyes are glued to Seulgi's face. He nods, unable to understand how ge got himself into this. When he started working, he never expected someone like Seulgi to walk up to him after the show, asking if he wants some head.

She is now doing her best to make him cum, her slow blowjob proving enough for the guy eventually.

While IU has her hand rub her pussy, she watches how he starts cuming on Seulgi's face. Rope after rope of his cum stains her skin, some of it getting into her eyes.

Seulgi let's out a satisfied hum as she starts to clean his cock.

"You taste delicious."

She gives his tip one last kiss, before he starts to pull up his pants. There is another group about to perform.

As the two women watch him leave, Seulgi takes some of the tissues from the small coffee table and starts to clean her face.

"Anything else?"

Seulgi shakes her head.

"I can't come up with a good idea."

IU sighs as she licks her fingers clean. She enjoys the taste of her pussy just as much as the guys who eat her out.

"Me neither. I was afraid this would happen."

"So what now? Do we end this in a tie?"

IU raises and eyebrow.

"Do you think you are better slut than me?"

Seulgi shrugs her shoulders.

"Let's just say I got two faicals today. What about you?"

IU shakes her head.

"We can't end it like this."

The notification sound of Seulgi's phone interrupts their conversation. The younger woman unlocks her phone, before scrolling around.

"What are you doing?"

She sees Seulgi bit her lip as she seems to read something.

"There is another smut fic about me."

"You actually read those?"

"They are hot. I like how my fans think about me."

She gives IU a wink, before she keeps reading the new post.

The wheels in the older girl's mind start to turn.

"Do you think they would do this to us in person? What they write?"

"Unnie..."

Seulgi looks at her.

"I like how you're thinking."

"We should invite some of the writers so they have more inspiration for their stories."

The two of them laugh.

"That's a good idea."

Seulgi scrolls through her phone.

"But there are so many. If we would try to fuck them all, our careers would be over before we got to all of them. We don't have so much time."

"Who says we have to fuck them individually?"

IU's smirk makes Seulgi chuckle.

"I like where this is heading."

"But how are we going to get them all in one place? They probably live all over the world."

Seulgi ponders for a moment.

"How about we send them dms and pictures of us? It should work. Especially when we tell them that we are inviting others as well. This way they can communicate with each other, making sure we aren't trying to scam them or something."

"Sounds like a plan. What could go wrong?"

IU regrets those words as soon as she opens the door of the practice room. Two weeks later and here they are. The two women look at the fully packed room. Seulgi tries to count the guys who are here. They messaged about twenty guys, but it now looks more like thirty or forty. It seems like word has spread.

"Is this a good or a bad sign?"

IU looks around as well. She had a threesome before, but this is quite different. Even if Seulgi and IU get used at the same time, there are still gonna be at least fifteen guys for each of them.

"Are you backing out?"

IU shakes her head.

"Why would I?"

Seulgi chuckles. She is nervous, but tries to hide it.

"Let's make another bet. Whoever makes the most guys cum in 15 minutes wins. The other person is going to be a free use for everyone."

Ji-eun likes the idea. She imagines all those guys taking turns on her and Seulgi, using their bodies as fuck toys.

"Sounds like I'm gonna win."

The older girl is confident. The high school boy is proof of the fact, how tight her pussy can become when she cums. No one survives that.

"But no fucking."

IU looks at Seulgi.

"What?"

"No fucking. Only your mouth and hands."

"Hey, that's boring."

Seulgi scoffs.

"You are not up for that?"

IU rolls her eyes.

"Fine. Watch and learn."

She walks inside, all heads turn towards her as Seulgi follows quickly after.

"Hi, everyone!"

IU waves.

"I guess the two of us don't need to introduce ourselves. You all know, why you are here?"

She sees everyone nod their heads.

While IU talks, Seulgi let's her eyes roam the room once more. Now that she is inside, she can count properly. She stops at 31 as her eyes falls on to a man, who is standing further back. He is a little taller than most of the guys in the room. She sees his biceps underneath the sleeves of his shirt, the bulge in his pants visible, without him even having a hard on.

Seulgi licks her lips. This is going to be a fun evening. Because she zoned out for a couple of moments, she didn't catch what IU was saying.

But when suddenly all of the guys start walking towards them, Seulgi immediately feels her panties getting damp. This is it. In the back of her mind, she still has a little bit of doubt left. It vanishes soon though as the first guy reaches her.

She sees IU kneeling down next to her, Seulgi does the same. The sound of ten guys opening the zippers of their pants almost makes Seulgi drool. She watches the first guys pulling their pants down, taking their cocks out.

Seulgi glances at the clock, about to start their bet. But IU is already reaching forward, taking hold of the first man's cock.

"Are these all for me? So nice of you."

She coos as she holds another man's dick with her other hand.

Seulgi doesn't want to fall behind. She reaches for the man nearest to her, pulling him forward by his cock.

"If everyone is gonna be as big you...."

She trails off, feeling the guy getting harder in her hand.

Seulgi decides to use her mouth early. She takes the man's cock into her mouth, savouring the taste. At the same time, the other guys around her make her use her hands.

By now, pretty much all the guys have gotten rid of their pants and are standing around the two women. IU is starting to suck off her first guy as well, both her hands busy with stroking two other men.

Seulgi closes her eyes as she hears everyone moan, occasionally switching cocks. There are five guys directly standing around her right now. More than enough to enjoy herself.

She is excited as she feels everyone's stares on her. This is something entirely different than singing and dancing on stage. And yet, it makes her equally happy. That rush of adrenaline makes her suck the guy's cock even faster.

IU takes another man into her mouth, savouring the new taste. Wearing this this suit might not have been the best idea, because they guys can't have easy access. But she still feels someone from behind sneaking his hands around her waist. She moans around the cock in her mouth as she feels someone rub the fabric over pussy.

Seulgi is starting to suffer the same fate as IU. The guys around her start touch her body, making her squirm underneath them. All the attention makes her wet as hell, wishing they would fuck her already. Why did she make that bet with IU?

She regrets it now as the first guys let's his hand sneak inside her shorts. His strong fingers make Seulgi moan around the cock in her mouth. The man who she is blowing puts his hand onto her head, unable to resist the urge to cum in her mouth much longer.

IU has driven one of the guys who stand around her to a similar level of arousal. He is pushing her head onto his cock, while her two hands are still busy, stroking the four guys on her sides, switching occasionally.

Seulgi let's out a surprised gasp when she feels the first man cuming. But it's not the cock in her mouth, but one of the guys on her right. She was stroking his cock up until now. His warm cum hits her pretty face, making her moan around the dick in her mouth. It makes that guy cum too. He shoots his load down her throat. Seulgi feels like she is in heaven. The warm sperm on her right cheek makes her sigh in pleasure as she turns towards the next guy, ready to suck him off.

IU is keeping up with Seulgi, making the first guy cum in her mouth. She swallows all of it immediately, ready to give another guy head. The guy on her left is trying to take her jacket off, which makes it harder for her to use her hands. Eventually, she gets rid of that useless piece of clothing, feeling two hands unbuttoning her shirt.

Seulgi feels someone's hand dip a finger inside her pussy. She has been unable to keep her hands off herself for these last two weeks and yet she melts at his touch.

Ji-eun keeps sucking off the guy in front of her, until she feels someone cuming on her hand. She looks to her right, letting his dick fall out of her mouth. She licks her hand clean, before taking the guy who just came into her mouth. His cum tastes delicious as she cleans his cock, hoping she can make him cum again soon.

Seulgi feels a pair of hands groping her tits underneath her grey top.

Still with another man's cock in her mouth, she turns her head towards him. With a seductive stare, she eggs him on to slide his hands underneath the fabric.

Seulgi let's her tongue swirl around the top of the cock in her mouth as she feels her nipples being pinched. The other man is now inserting a second finger into her wet snatch. This was supposed to be a competition on how many guys they can get off, not how many guys can get her off.

Either way, Seulgi tries her best to outcompete IU as she feels several hands on her body.

The older woman feels how the fingers on her covered center now start to make her pants wet. Her panties are already drenched, this many men around her too much for her mind to handle. Ji-eun never felt this good.

Someone is now letting her white shirt slip off her shoulder, exposing the lack of a bra. Her upper body is only covered by her tie, which doesn't hide much. Multiple hands make use of her newly exposed skin, some pinching her nipples, while others let their hands wander over her body.

The sight of the naked celebrity in front of him makes the guy in her mouth climax. IU feels his cum paint her mouth as she gulps it down, already looking for her next victim.

"Oh fuck."

The guy in front of Seulgi groans as she pulls him out of her mouth.

"Oh yeah. Paint my face."

Seulgi closes her eyes and sticks her tongue out. Two quick strokes later, she feels his cum staining her skin. Some of it hits her nose, but most lands on her lips and tongue.

"Good boy."

Seulgi winks at him as she cleans her lips with her tongue, making sure she doesn't waste a drop.

Once she opens her mouth again, she is surprised when two guys thrust into her at the same time. Seulgi never sucked off two guys at once, her competitiveness showing as she starts without hesitation. She is going to win this bet and she is going to humiliate IU, until she admits that Seulgi is the bigger slut.

At the same time, IU has another man cuming in her mouth. She almost chokes at the amount of cum he forces down her throat. Once she let's his cock fall out of her mouth with a loud pop, she feels a hand roughly grabbing her tie. Still on her knees, she gets turned around, faced with another hard cock. The guy's hand is still holding her black tie as he pulls her towards him, making Ji-eun take his cock.

Seulgi is unable to speak or do anything properly with her mouth as she tries her best to keep the two dicks inside of her. Only her tongue is able to swirl around their tips occasionally. The two guys keep thrusting into Seulgi's mouth with no intention on stopping anytime soon.

IU's mouth is being used as well. The men in the room starting to grow more confident. You don't have a lot of chances to get a blowjob from Seulgi or IU.

That being said, the guy in the older woman's mouth uses this rare chance to finally cum in her mouth. This must already be the third time she is swallowing someone's load. IU is barely able to keep up with counting. Her hands are slowly starting to get tired after stroking so many guy's cocks. She glanced at the clock. Seven minutes to go. How can she win this bet? She sees Seulgi sucking off two guys at once. Needy slut. IU watches for a moment as they both cum inside Seulgi. They make the younger woman choke as they fill her throat.

Once they are done and take a step back, Seulgi breathes heavily, some of their jizz got onto her face. As she wipes it off, she sees someone else standing in front of her. The guy she noticed earlier. He seems even taller, now that she is kneeling.

Seulgi scoops up some of the cum on her face with a finger, before licking it off with her tongue.

He hasn't taken his jeans off, but Seulgi already knows how big he must be. She reaches forward, fumbling with the belt. A guy on her right starts rubbing his cock all over her face, which makes her stick her tongue out. Seulgi keeps eye contact with the guy in front.

"Come here."

IU whispers towards one of the guys to her left, before starting to get rid off her pants. Seulgi said she is not allowed to use her pussy. No one said something about anal. The guy is not the biggest, which makes him perfect for this. As much as IU is used to have a cock up her ass, she always needs to adjust at first.

"Fuck my ass. Cum in me."

She slips off her grey panties, throwing them to the side. They are heavy and wet with her juices. She sees one of the guys pick it up and wrap it around his cock, before stroking himself with it.

IU feels a familiar tingle inside her body as she lies on her back. All the guys above her look down on her. The man who is supposed to fuck her is now kneeling between her legs, another above her head. The latter pushes his dick down, making Ji-eun take him into her mouth.

The guy between her legs rests his tip against her puckered hole, before slowly starting to push forward. IU moans around the dick in her mouth as she feels how her ass is getting stretched out.

"Fuck. You are so tight."

Seulgi turns to her left after hearing the man groan.

"Yah! Unnie!"

The younger woman stares at IU, who is lying on her back, getting her ass fucked. Her mouth is too full to answer.

Seulgi is about to say more as the big guy in front of her grabs her head and turns her towards her. He got rid of his boxers while she was distracted. Seulgi only manages a gasp, before he pulls her onto his cock.

With one forceful thrust he is already halfway down her throat. Seulgi gags and chokes. Even if she would've been prepared for this, she couldn't have taken so much at once. She feels her jaw getting heavy as the guy fucks her face. He uses her throat like a fleshlight, pounding a way like there is no tomorrow.

Seulgi feels her throat starting to get soar as tears start rolling down her cheeks. She is realizing that this is one of the roughest face fucks she ever had. But definitely not the last one.

His big cock keeps hitting the back of her throat, making Seulgi struggle for air. But he doesn't let go of her head, which means she can't back away.

The fingers in her pussy curl upwards, making her lower body tingle with pleasure. The combination of getting face fucked and fingered pushes Seulgi towards her limit. She never expected to be in this situation. On her knees, surrounded by almost ten guys. All of them stroking their cocks to her getting her throat bruised and her pussy played with.

Seulgi has to close her eyes, tears keep falling from underneath her eyelashes. They mix with her make up and the cum from earlier, turning her once flawless face into an absolute mess. The mixture starts to drip down her skin. Together with her saliva that spills out of her mouth. She is unable to close it. Her body feels numb as she is on the brink of orgasm as she gets the face fucking of her life.

IU's cheating has left her mind a while ago, her brain empty except for the pleasure she is feeling. And how soar her throat is. Seulgi doubts she is able to sing tomorrow. Or even the whole week if this continues.

She hears IU's voice over her own gags, but her own mouth is too loud to hear what the older woman is saying.

"Fuck, yes! Give me your cum!"

Ji-eun moans as she sees two guys on both her sides, stroking their cocks, ready to cum. The guy in her ass keeps her mind in a weird state of bliss as she feels like she is in heaven. The man who was fucking her mouth is replaced by another, who starts where he left of.

How many guys did she already suck off? Five maybe?

IU moans as around the new cock in her mouth. The two men start to cum all over her body. They cover IU's skin in warmth. Her chest, her tummy, her throat. All of it.

While IU keeps getting fucked, Seulgi feels someone from behind, who is starting to pull her shorts down.

Because the guy who is fucking her face is taller, she had to get on her knees to reach his cock. That means her white shorts can be slipped off easily.

Seulgi feels a pair of hands tug at her pink thong. The rubbing of her clit pauses for a moment, almost making Seulgi climax untouched.

The man who is holding her head in place gives Seulgi a second to relax. He pulls about halfway out, letting his cock rest on her tongue. She takes heavy breaths, trying to prepare herself for the next face fucking.

Another hand begins to play with her pussy as she feels the cock in her mouth starting to move again. This time, he doesn't fuck her fast. It's one slow, forceful thrust after another. It makes her head rock back everytime, before he pulls her onto his cock again.

Seulgi reaches the same state of pleasure as she did before. Hanging on the edge of her orgasm, she takes the face fucking like a champ, trying to keep eye contact with the man who is mercilessly using her.

Seulgi feels a pair of hands grope her butt. She is excited at first, but then, she feels someone's cock touch her rear entrance. She tries to shake her head, but the hands on head won't let her. She was never really the anal type. Plus, she doesn't want to cheat like IU does.

She doesn't have a choice. As the men around her see her struggle, they take holds of her wrists and guide her hands towards their cocks. Seulgi is unable to defend herself.

The cock down her throat, the fingers inside her pussy and now the tip of some man's cock in her ass. It all proves too much for Seulgi. Her shriek is muffled by the man in front of her as she cums around someone's fingers.

Seulgi's body shakes as she practically gets spitroasted. With every thrust into her mouth, she gets pushed onto the cock in her ass. With every thrust from the man inside her ass, she is getting forced to choke around the cock in her mouth.

She realizes how hot this must look for the others as she feels someone nutting on her grey top. His cum stains the fabric and Seulgi is reminded of the bet.

For a moment, she lost sight of the goal, just enjoying these men, having their way with her. But as much as Seulgi likes this situation, she still needs to make more guys cum than IU.

"Yes! Fill my ass up!"

Ji-eun moans loudly as she feels the cock in her ass starting to throb. In that moment, the guy above her climaxes, cuming all over her face. IU gasps as the unexpected facial hits her.

Before she is able to clean her face with her tongue and her fingers, the man between her legs cums inside of her.

"Oh fuck!"

Another moan escapes her cum stained lips as she feels his load paint the insides of her ass.

"Fuck! Please slow down!"

Seulgi screams. Half in pleasure, half in pain. The guy who is fucking her ass is the same guy who fucked her face so good a couple of minutes ago. He left a huge facial on her face, before giving others the chance to enjoy her mouth. Now, he is standing behind Seulgi, after getting her off the floor.

Her legs feel like jelly as she takes his pounding from behind. Her hands are useless by now, just loosely wrapped around two guy's cocks.

Another guy now steps in front of her to shut her up.

"You are too big for my ass."

She whines, hoping he would slow down, before another cock pushes past her lips.

Seulgi needily sucks on it, trying to blend out the pain in her ass. She has been used by so many guys now. She lost proper count a while ago. And if she would've looked up to check the time, she would have realized that the fifteen minutes were over fifteen minutes ago.

But Seulgi is too busy getting stuffed with cock from both ends. The black hairband she used to make a ponytail is barely holding up. Her hair looks like it's in a messy bun by now. Drops of white cum decorate her black, silk like hair.

IU is taking two cocks at the same time, too. But she is in a different position. She is placed on all fours in a circle of about ten guys. They all take turns fucking her ass and thrusting into her mouth.

The guy who is currently using her throat holds her tie in his hand, making her choke, whenever he gives it a light tug. The fact that she is getting choked makes IU even hornier. It would be something worthy of exploring later. Is she into getting choked?

Her thoughts are interrupted, when the man in her ass shoots his load. Ji-eun can almost feel how her body becomes heavier. This is the fourth time they came in her ass. If she counted correctly, she made them climax around 23 times already. There is more than enough proof all over her body.

A couple of minutes ago, someone used her still soaked panties to tie her hair back. Someone came on them beforehand. But instead of being disgusted, IU wonders if that counts as making them cum.

"I'm gonna gonna cum in your ass, bitch."

It's the first time the man behind her talked to Seulgi. Her dripping wet pussy craves his cock as he keeps fucking her ass. Because her mouth is closed, Seulgi can't answer. She feels someone's hand now rubbing her clit.

Another hand slaps her right ass cheeks. She doesn't know if that was the guy who is fucking her or someone else. The sting causes her to moan around the cock in her mouth.

"Fuck!"

The guy behind her groans, before he pumps Seulgi's ass full with cum. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as her legs almost give out. His warm cum in her ass makes her see stars.

After he leaves her freshly fucked hole, Seulgi does her best to recover. She remembers that she set a time limit on their bet. She checks the clock on the wall. They have been doing this for over thirty minutes now?

"Unnie! Time's up!"

Seulgi's voice sounds hoars after she removed the cock out of her mouth.

IU tells everyone to stop what they are doing. Seulgi has to kneel down again, her legs too weak to carry her.

Ji-eun slowly walks over to her. She feels cum leak out of her ass. Everyone is staring at the pair, waiting to find out who lost.

"So?"

Seulgi looks up at IU. The older woman is still wearing her tie, her hair now held back by her panties. Her body is covered in cum, wherever you look. Her face, her tummy, her chest, her feet.

Seulgi looks similarly used. Her back is still warm from the load of cum she got, while someone fucked her ass from behind.

"25 now."

Seulgi's eyes widen. She didn't expect it to be this close.

"Wow, unnie. You are no slouch."

Ji-eun raises an eye brow.

"Why do you sound so happy?"

"27."

"What?"

"I made them cum twenty seven times."

Seulgi feels someone's cum drip out of her freshly fucked ass and onto her legs. She grins up at IU, who is looking at her with anger and surprise written on her face.

"You know what that means, right?"

IU nods hesitantly.

"Let's tie her up boys."

Seulgi chuckles as she sees someone grabbing IU's wrists and holding them behind her back.

"What-?"

She tries to struggle against his grip, but Seulgi shakes her head.

"You can't run away, unnie. You are now officially a free-use whore."

Before she can reply, someone already stuffed her mouth with a piece of silk. She only realises a moment later that she has Seulgi's pink thong in her mouth. Someone is covering her mouth, so she can't spit it out.

IU's tie is finally gone too, now being used as a way to tie her hands together. She tries to resist, but the guys around her are way taller and stronger than her. Ji-eun sees someone getting a chair from one of the corners of the practice room.

Seulgi suggested this location. It's Red Velvet's former place of learning choreos, when they were rookies. They used a second room outside of the SM building. No one uses it anymore.

When someone sits her down, IU stares at everyone around her. The about forty guys wait for Seulgi's first move.

"You two,"

Seulgi points at two guys on her left.

"Suck on her tits."

They do as she says, both stepping on either side of IU. The older woman moans into Seulgi's panties as she they lean over her. They both wrap their lips around her nipples, sucking on them. The occasional bite makes her squirm in the chair.

"I feel like the gag is now making her too quiet."

Some of the guys nod in agreement.

Seulgi reaches forward to take her panties out of IU's mouth.

"Don't forget, you still have to admit that I'm the better slut."

IU would've stuck her her tongue out, but is currently unable to do so. The two guys working on her tits make her sigh and mewl.

Ji-eun's eyes widen in surprise as she feels Seulgi working on her pussy. It feels weird as she tries to look down, wanting to know what's going on. The guys' heads are blocking her view.

Her head sinks back as she feels Seulgi pushing her thong into the older woman's pussy. A deep moan escapes her lips, once the piece of silk is completely buried inside of her.

"You always bragged about how tight your pussy is. Let's see if that's still the case."

She turns around.

"Guys, I want you to stretch her out like crazy."

IU moves her head to be able to see what's going on. The first guy is already standing in front of her, his cock in his hand.

"Wait. First pull out-Fuck!"

IU moans loudly as he pushes half of his cock inside her with one thrust. She can't tell yet, if Seulgi's panties make her feel better or not. But IU can't help but squirm even more as the man starts to fuck her.

She feels fuller than usual as the guy pushes fully into her stuffed pussy. Together with the two guys who keep playing with her chest, he makes Ji-eun see stars.

She realises this is only the beginning, when another guy steps forward. He grabs IU's ponytail, forcing her down. She automatically opens her mouth, ready to suck his cock. It has become an instinct for her by now. Without even thinking about it, she starts to suck him off.

The two men stop sucking her tits as they both watch how the new guy makes her bob her head up and down on his cock. He and the guy who fucks her stand side by side.

Seulgi looks around them, trying to see what's going on. She feels a pair of hands wrap around her waist. She looks up, seeing the man who just came in her ass.

"You still don't have enough?"

Her cheeky grin makes him chuckle.

"I never expected you to be such a whore."

His cock is now resting between her cheeks. Now that she feels it again, Seulgi can't believe how his dick fit in her ass.

"And this is probably the only chance I'm ever gonna get. So I want all of your holes."

Seulgi leans her head on his chest.

"Take me then."

She feels him aligning his cock with her pussy. He slowly pushes inside, making Seulgi moan. Her half open eyes see, how the guy who is fucking IU is cuming inside her pussy. She hears the older girl's moans as he pulls out and leaves. A moment later, the next guy stands in front of her.

Seulgi can't believe what she has done. What she is still doing. What would her members say to this? She chuckles as she thinks about Yeri's nature. The maknae would probably follow her example.

Her smile is wiped off Seulgi's face as the man behind her increases his pace. His thick cock makes her body heat up as he almost hugs her into his chest.

Seulgi is almost standing on his toes, only his hips working overtime. He has his face in her neck, kissing her skin.

IU moans as another man walks forward. The man who just came in her mouth already left, leaving her throat all sticky. She would've begged for a break, but she knows that Seulgi won't give her one. Although the younger girl is currently occupied with getting fucked, IU dismisses the idea.

She invitingly opens her mouth, before the guy even reaches her. Instead of pushing his scock into her mouth, he takes a hold of her ponytail. Only now, IU realises that he has been stroking his cock while he approached her. His cum is now painting her face, leaving another layer of jizz.

IU moans as the warmth hits her face. At the same time the man in her pussy cums as well. He shoots his load into IU, giving her a second cream pie within a couple of minutes.

"Just... Just give me a second."

Seulgi breathes heavily, almost missing her chance to humiliate IU even further. Slowly, she manages to get of the guy's chest she was leaning on. Standing in front of the older woman, Seulgi reaches down. Her freshly fucked pussy already oozes with cum. She has to fumble around a little, before finally finding her own thong deep inside Ji-eun's cunt.

IU whines as Seulgi slowly pulls it out. There is no sign of the fact that the silk was pink once. It's stained with IU's juices and the other guy's cum.

"They are gonna fuck you for real now."

IU shakes her head, knowing what Seulgi is planing. But because her hands are tied, she can't defend herself.

Seulgi pushes her thong into IU's mouth. The older woman tastes the mixture of her own juices and two loads of cum.

"Take it like the whore you are, unnie. I don't want to hear any complains, once I'm back."

She turns around, taking the hand of the guy, who just fucked her.

"Come with me."

And with that she leaves IU alone with the forty guys. Bound to the chair, unable to yell after her. She sees some of them start to walk towards her.

"Seulgi!"

Her muffled screams stay unheard as Seulgi and her special friend enter the practice room next door.

"I have two more hours until I have to be back at the dorm."

She slings her arms around his neck, grinding her naked center against his cock.

"I want you to fuck me until then."

How long has it been already?

IU can't tell, the clock is hanging on the wall behind her. 30 minutes? An hour?

She would've thought the guys would stop at one point, but she is proven wrong. This is their only chance to fuck Lee Ji-eun however they want. They can use every single one of her holes.

Korea's number one celebrity isn't even sitting on the chair anymore. They started to take turns with sitting in the chair, making IU sit in their laps.

She never experienced having all three of her holes stuffed with cock. But that's the case right now. The man who's lap she is sitting on is thrusting upwards into her ass. The man in front of her is fucking her pussy. Another has placed both of his hands on her head, forcing her to lean to her left.

IU doesn't know how long it has been since she was able to talk. There are still three guys standing in line behind the guy who is fucking her face.

She also doesn't know how often all of them came, since Seulgi left. Probably all of them at least once or twice. Maybe even more. That would make at least forty to eighty times.

That could be the reason why about fifty percent of IU's skin is covered in cum. Her tits and her midriff are full with it, but they still don't compare to her face. She feels like she has several layers of make up on. Her hair probably wasn't spared either.

And how many cream pies did she already get? At least a quarter of their loads. She must have swallowed so much cum by now. Probably more than a liter or two.

Ji-eun moans around the cock in her mouth as she climaxes once again. Her pussy pulsates around the cock in her, making the man cum in her snatch. She even lost count of how many times she came.

Where the fuck is Seulgi?

"Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!"

Seulgi mumbles and moans. She is lying on the sofa in the corner of the second practice room. The man she took with her is fucking her missionary style. His hand is in her hair, forcing her upper body to lift off the couch.

"Gonna cum!"

Her warning is almost too late. Seulgi climaxes right after the last word leaves her mouth. Her pussy grips onto his cock as he keeps fucking her through her orgasm. Her body is covered in sweat and cum. How often did he make her cum already?

Seulgi moans as she is taken toward another high. She feels his cock suddenly leave her pussy, before he pushes against her puckered hole. The young woman moans and whines as he starts to switch with every thrust. First her pussy, then her ass hole and then her pussy again.

Seulgi can't do anything but lie there, feeling her holes getting used in such an unholy manner.

She is a mumbling mess underneath him, feeling his cock in her ass and then in her pussy again.

Her eyes rest on his sweat covered body as she feels him trying to hold back his climax. As they lock eyes, they both know that this is the last one. The pair is too drained to go on much longer.

"On my face. I want it on my face."

The man nods, unable to form words. Seulgi's ass too tight for him to think straight.

He manages to switch between her holes for a couple of times, before he finally pulls out once and for all.

With awkward movements, Seulgi manages to push herself off the couch. Her limbs feel like pudding, her energy barely enough to keep her eyes open.

He strokes himself to climax as he stares at Seulgi in front of him.

How is she still able to look this cute?

That thought rushes through his head, right before he orgasms. His load isn't as big as it used to. Seulgi's pussy has claimed more of it for itself already.

It's still enough to make her sigh with pleasure though. The warm cum covers her nose and cheeks.

IU opens her eyes. She looks around the room, realizing that she is the only one. And a moment later she recognizes her bedroom. How did she get here?

She hears someone in the kitchen, fumbling with the pans.

Ji-eun tries to get up. Her body feels soar all over. She feels like she has been hit by a truck. Her body seems to be clean on the outside, but not on the inside. She can feel someone's cum in her pussy and ass. Her throat is still sticky, making it hard to breathe.

IU can't even remember how many guys came in her throat as she reaches for the glass of water on her night stand.

Her feet barely lift off the ground as she stumbles into the kitchen, only wearing a robe.

Seulgi seems to be making egg fried rice.

"Hello, sleepyhead."

Seulgi chuckles at IU's perplexed look on her face.

"I brought you here after you passed out. Do you know how long it took me to get all of that cum off your skin?"

IU shakes her head.

Seulgi pours the rice into two bowls.

"I have good news."

Ji-eun is only able to sit down at the counter, waiting for Seulgi to hand her a spoon.

"I found someone knew to compete with us."

IU looks up. Her eyes still look sleepy and tired and exhausted. And yet, Seulgi is able to catch a glimpse of lust in them.

"Who?"

"She should be here any minute."

In that moment the doorbell rings.

"She and her members had a similar competition. Like the two of us. She won and is looking for women, who are on her level. I told her we got fucked by forty guys at the same time."

Seulgi says as she walks towards the door.

"I-I'm not sure if I can start having sex again immediately. Maybe give me a couple of days."

IU's tired, hoarse voice makes Seulgi chuckle.

"Don't worry. Me and Jennie already have something planned for the two of us."

She opens the door.

"Hi Seulgi!"

Jennie and Seulgi hug each other.

"Ready to go to the movies?"

"Yeah, just let me eat dinner."

"What?"

Only now IU realises what time it is. She slept the whole day.

"Hi, unnie."

Jennie waves at her. The older woman takes a look at her outfit. She immediately knows that watching a movie will not be the only thing they do in the cinema.

---------------

(Alternative ending)

Hi everyone!

I hope you enjoy the first story of the December special.

I haven't written something like this before, so I'm not sure how well it turned out. I did my best to write a good build up, because I didn't want to jump straight into the main part.

Have a great day! See you next week for the second one!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #lee jieun #seulgi #seulgi smut #red velvet #red velvet smut #red velvet seulgi #jieun #iu soloist

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sepherinaspoppies · 6 months

Text

after hours - modern! aemond targaryen x reader

summary: she receives a late night call from her needy boyfriend, aemond.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f and m masturbation, phone sex, use of sex toys for reader, and I think that's it?

wc: 2,387

masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a very small drabble lmao. anyways this is kind of unedited. oops

She sits on her bed, a plate of yesterday’s reheated pepperoni pizza laid across her lap while the television played rerun episodes of Gilmore Girls when her phone rang unexpectedly.

At such late hours she decided to let her phone ring, for if she answered whoever it was calling on the other end would know she was awake and she did not want that. It was probably one of those scam calls that were going around tricking people to give out their credit card information for their own benefit.

Though, she wondered if they knew that she had only ten dollars currently sitting in her bank account after she had spent the last of her savings on pizza.

She sighed happily once her ringtone slowly faltered down but it wasn’t long before it started ringing again and again. And on the fourth ring she sadly set down her pizza to the side before snatching off her phone from the power socket.

Her eyes widen in horror as she views the bold letters of the caller ID. She immediately accepts the call, rushing to turn off the television to give her full attention to her caller.

“Angel.” Aemond greeted in a low hum, sounds of metal clanking could be heard from the background.

She appreciates that he doesn’t sound angry for her lack of response. In the past few months she had the pleasure of knowing Aemond, she had come to learn very quickly that he was not a very patient man. If Aemond wanted something, whether it’d be something materialistic or sexual, he wanted it now in any way possible.

“Hey Aem, sorry I thought you’d be asleep.” She apologizes, setting a few pieces of loose hair behind her ear.

In the other line, she hears Aemond acknowledge her by singing another low hum, something Aemond regularly did that frustrated her. At first she thought Aegon was just joking around when he first set them up on a blind date, that Aemond was a man of a few words and only humming out his responses. But as she got to know him more throughout their dating phase, she realized that Aegon was in fact not joking. It took her months to break him out of his shell.

“So, how are things down south?” She asks, quickly changing the subject to that of his work status.

Aemond worked in the field he always wanted to be in; as a high school history and philosophy teacher. Aemond loved his job even if they were students who made it tough for him to educate those who did take their studies seriously. He loved the challenge. He loved being up on his feet teaching the histories of how Westeros came to be or educating the famous ideologies of the greatest philosophers that made Aemond fall in love with the subject.

You could say Aemond was a workaholic. There was no denying that. What some teachers considered the best part of teaching was the summer vacations, Aemond absolutely despised it. However that problem would soon resolve after she had called up her uncle Oberyn, who taught gender and sexuality studies at Sunspear University, if there were any positions available for Aemond’s area of degree during the summer. To her delight, her uncle informed her that the university was looking for someone who was fluent in High Valyrian to teach a beginner course.

Aemond immediately emailed his resume in and within a few days after his students left for summer break Aemond got on a plane to Dorne and began to work in his new position in a new city.

Which was about a month ago.

“Hard,” Aemond breathes as he licks his lips.

“Aw, my love—” She tried to comfort him before she was cut off. “Hot,” Aemond corrects himself, standing up from his own bed to retrieve his laptop.

“Well Dorne is known to be quite hot. Especially during the summer.” She informs in a matter of fact tone as she toys with the thin strap of her nightgown. “Besides, I thought dragons prefer the heat.”

A low chuckle came from the other end. She can practically imagine the corners of his lips curving up to a smirk. “We do prefer heat but we are not immune to it as you think. I even purchased three fans to keep myself cool. Though, they do not work for shit which leaves me, as of right now bare.”

She paused, straightening up from the bed. “When you say bare—”

“I mean bare as when I came into this world”

A long silence came afterward, and she could hear the beat of her own heart thumping against the screen of her phone. She looked at her Charlie Brown calendar hung above her nightstand. Once she confirmed that today was in fact the weekend, it became evident why Aemond was calling at such a late hour.

Heat began to seep into her lower belly down between her thighs at what she could surmise would happen next.

It had been some time since they were last intimate. Forty-two days to be exact; the day before his departure to Dorne.

Aemond and her spent the whole morning, afternoon and night tangled within each other going round after round in different positions and different rooms of their shared cottage saying their goodbyes until she passed out from the many orgasms Aemond gave her. The following morning Aemond threw himself into fits of giggles when she could no longer stand up from their bed to drive him to the airport, feeling sore and bruised from the intensity of the night before.

“Angel? Have I lost you?” Aemond asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She replied with a shaky no before Aemond began to speak again. “Hmm then accept my facetime call.” Her eyes locked with her laptop which she did not realize it had been ringing and nervously pressed the green button.

Through the low lighted room she could see the silhouette of Aemond. His laptop perched on top of his stomach, his bare and freckled chest full on display. She so desperately wished she was there to roam her hands all over him. And she stifled a moan when she noticed Aemond’s silver hair was pulled back into a braid just as how she liked it.

“There you are my beautiful angel,” Aemond purrs, giving his hardened cock a good squeeze from the base. His eye roams over her clothed figure, taking in her sheer white nightgown that leaves nothing to his imagination.

Heats spread to her cheeks, his compliments never tiring her.

“You don’t know how much I miss you, angel. Your hands—” On cue her hand slowly waves itself down between her thighs, pushing her lacy panties to the side as her fingers come into contact with her arousal on the way to her clit.

“Stroking my cock while your lovely mouth sucks me off.” Aemond imagines it all like it was yesterday and his cock pulsed so hard it ached. It wasn’t any better when he saw her chest rise and fall with wanton little pants escaping her lips.

She was touching herself. Something Aemond warned her not to do in his absence. He wanted to reprimand her for such an act but instead Aemond let her continue as he wanted to watch her unfold and peak especially for what he had in mind.

“Oh, Aemond, I miss you too.” She whines, throwing her head back into the pillows, struggling to keep her laptop perched ontop her knees. Waves of pleasure move throughout her body, his words going straight to her core.

She hears Aemond groan.

“Your tongue on my cunt and- and—” Her words stammer and she feels the tips of her ears flush with embarrassment for her next confession. “Go on, angel.” Aemond encourages as he gazes at her reddened state. He finds it endearing and if he was there right now, he would pull away her hand until she confessed.

“Your nose.”

“And what about my nose?” He hums using his thumb to circle the tip of cock.

“I-I love your nose on my clit.”

Aemond’s one good eye widened and felt the intense pressure in his lower stomach increase. It was no wonder why whenever he went down on her she screamed the loudest when his nose brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Aemond continued watching her touch and lose herself in pleasure. Intensely watching as her fingers vigorously circled her clit with sweat above her brow. He moaned sweet nothings through his laptop and just as he sensed she was about to peak, Aemond stopped her.

She did as she was told and she couldn’t help to let out a few tears of frustration.

“Get your buzzy out, angel.” Aemond instructed. Instantly her mood shifts into an excited and eager one.

“Which one?”

“Oh you know which one.”

She definitely knows which one. Her hand reaches for the drawer of her nightstand where inside lay rows of different forms of vibrators as well as different sizes and shapes of dildos Aemond purchased within their relationship. Their favorite being a dual pink vibrator that was made to stimulate her g-spot along with her clit. It was also remote and app controlled with multiple levels of speed and vibrations that made her come in less than five minutes. Which was good since it took her a while to come.

“Good. Now be a good girl and undress in front of me, angel” She eagerly nods at his words and sets her laptop in front of her. “Look at me while you bare yourself to me.” Her eyes snap up meeting his darkened violet eye that was full of passion and concentration as her fingers lift the hem of her nightgown.

She sees him bite his lower lip once her breasts are revealed. Aemond nods for her to proceed to take off the next piece of clothing and she does so, tossing it somewhere across the room not caring where it lands.

Having laid together multiple times, she swallows the need to cover herself and spreads her legs apart just enough for Aemond to gaze through the camera at how wet she was for him. Aemond inhales the desire to stroke his cock into completion. He wanted to see her fall apart first.

“Now place the buzzy in your cunt, slowly.”

She rubs the silicone against her slick gathering some of her juices before sliding the thicker part of the vibrator inside. She sighs in relief at the sensation, it wasn’t as big and delicious of a stretch like Aemond’s cock but it was just right to feel some satisfaction.

She then bends the longest part of the silicone gently against her pulsating clit with needy whines and pants waiting for further instructions.

Seven fucking Hells. Aemond curses to himself wishing nothing more than to book a flight back to King’s Landing and have her sit on his face licking away her juices. Aemond remembers that in a month that will happen soon.

Aemond’s fingers swipe through the different kinds of vibrational settings through the blue hearted app and settle for one with the lowest speed to get her started.

Once Aemond hears a series of surprised cries and gasps, he gives up on trying not to touch himself. He starts stroking his cock at a languid pace as he watches his lovely little angel struggle to keep her legs still and open through the camera.

“You’re doing so well baby,” She hears Aemond praise. “Tell me does that feel good? Are you close? Answer me, sweet angel.”

She fervently nods her head.

“Use your words, angel.”

“Y-yes.” She says, barely being able to control words out through the pleasure. “Yes, what?” Aemond taunts before he lets out a hiss when the fat head of cock starts to ache more. He knew he wasn’t going to last long as he hadn’t touched himself so intimately in forty-two days, wanting to also keep good on his promise.

“Yes, Aemond, it feels so good. I need more please.” While vibrations felt so indescribably good it wasn’t sufficient to send her over the edge. She knew Aemond set the vibrator in level one. And in their lovemaking, Aemond usually set the speed at level five which was neither too fast nor too slow. Just right to see stars followed by another round.

When Aemond set his laptop to the side, giving her a full view of his proud length standing straight against his stomach, she nearly lost it, clenching the silicone tightly inside her walls. Gods she really did miss him. All of him.

She groans loudly when Aemond sets the speed she likes, making her eyes roll at the back of her head, pinching both of her nipples for some extra stimulation but what Aemond says makes her halt and glance at his disheveled state.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” He moans as she watches his hand stroke his cock vigorously while long ropes of his seed spurt all across his chest and hand. Series of whines and growls leave his lips all while his hips buck upwards at the intense pleasure that makes Aemond cry. Literally cry.

She watches all in awe.

Saying he looked beautiful was an understatement. No, Aemond looked so godly and ethereal and she understood now the reference that Targaryens were closer to gods than men.

Once Aemond steadied himself, the words left her lips without thinking.

“That was quick.”

And before she had time to explain, the air in her lungs left quickly like her words as she felt the most intense and deep sensation between her legs. She let out incoherent noises to which she could not describe. Were they moans? Groans? Cries? She did not know.

All she did know was the tightness in her lower belly finally snapped and her orgasm washes all over her like a tide.

After a few minutes, she heard Aemond laugh through the screen. “You were saying?” He teases as he waves his phone around the camera.

She feels too tired to reply. Her body automatically feels relaxed and stress-free.

“Oh, angel, don’t get too comfortable. I’m not done with you yet. I’m still very hard.”

Oh shit….

im gonna go hide under my bed now lol

general taglist: @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost

empty is who I could not tag im sorry!

if you like to be on my general taglist click here

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #modern! Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #modern aemond x reader #modern aemond x you #aemond fanfiction

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

The batfam as teacher comment section in report card.

Dick: Mr. Grayson brings a contagious energy to the class and his enthusiasm is well-appreciated. However, he tends to channel that energy very physically and while that may benefit his learning, it's a disruption to other students. This is a frequently recurring issue that I would like to discuss with a parent or guardian.

Translation – Is this kid ADHD because he won't sit the FUCK down

Jason: Mr. Todd has displayed remarkable attention to detail and a love of literature that I can only attribute to positive reinforcement at home, and he's always a pleasure to have in class. As much as I appreciate seeing him apply his lessons outside of school hours, I believe there are more productive avenues of discussing Shakespearean playwriting with his peers than what he has been reportedly doing.

Translation – Stop biting your thumb at people

Tim: Mr. Drake continues to exceed expectations in his schoolwork, but his attendance and participation may become a detriment to his overall grades if unaddressed. I have caught him sleeping in class on multiple occasions but he has yet to provide me a reason why he is so tired. Additionally, last month one of our monitors caught him loitering in the bathroom with a note that I did not recall writing.

Translation – Get some sleep and also you can't make your own hall passes

Damian: I have had the privilege of teaching the Wayne family through my decades at this institution and I believe that Damian takes after his father the most in more ways than expected. His grades are stellar and he is well-organized, but I'm noticing familiar and concerning traits in his attitude and social interactions. I am requesting a meeting with his parent to understand the full context so I can devise a plan for out how to best support him.

Translation – Forget falling, the apple is still on the damn tree

Duke: Mr. Thomas has been a pleasure to have in my chemistry lab and is always willing to help classmates who are struggling. However, after last week's minor combustion reaction mishap, I think it would be worthwhile to review the lab safety packet that all students received at the beginning of the year.

Translation – How did you set water on fire

Cullen: Mr. Row displays a passion for transformative literature and demonstrates a clear understanding of modern media culture that has helped him synthesize a lot of our complex readings. However, I'm concerned about his laptop being a distraction, especially with numerous incidences of him looking at non-academic material.

Translation – Quit reading fanfics in class

Stephanie: You should be pleased to know that Miss Brown consistently keeps the well-being of her peers in mind. This semester, she launched a meal initiative for students whose needs could not be met by the school cafeteria. While we value her good intentions, she has been causing hallway obstructions and there are some regulatory concerns that we need to discuss.

Translation – She sold pancakes in the halls without a permit

Cassandra: Although Miss Cain is relatively quiet in class, she continues to blow me away with her breadth of knowledge not just on class materials, but also interpersonal details. While this is a good skill to cultivate, we ask that she dial it back especially with our faculty. Additionally, please remember that the teacher's lounge is a staff-only space and students should remain in the common areas.

Translation – She knows too much

Barbara: Miss Gordon is easily one of the best AP Computer Science students I've seen in my twenty years of teaching. She even went above and beyond the scope of our class to apply what we've learned to a greater school context. While that is deserving of credit, I'd also like to remind her that, in the future, certain ideas should be subjected to careful consideration before actions are taken.

Translation – She hacked the lunch menu to make every day French Fry Friday

Harper: Miss Row has a remarkable aptitude for the engineering process that exceeds beyond what students her age can typically grasp, and she is very inventive in her own right. That being said, I would appreciate it if she followed our lesson plans more closely and reviewed our guidelines for woodshop safety so everyone can continue to have a positive experience.

Translation – She made a working crossbow out of popsicle sticks

Carrie: Miss Kelley is a bright student who brings positive energy that is very much needed, especially in morning classes. However, she's been falling behind with several missing assignments at this point, and her explanations for why she cannot finish her work don't seem to be sufficient.

Translation – "Killer Croc ate my homework" Yeah and I'm Batman

Kate: Miss Kane seems to be very eager to move forward to the next stage of her life, as evidenced by her Career Day presentation. While I believe young people should be free to explore their passions, I also think that Kate would benefit from some workshops outlining more feasible options.

Translation – "Get bitches" isn't a career goal

Alfred: Mr. Pennyworth is easily one of the best students this institution has seen, both in his academic record and extracurricular activities. He recently expressed interest in the sharpshooting team, which I will not discourage him from, seeing how highly accurate he is. As of this year, I will be retiring as the coach for the team, but I wish him all the best.

Translation – I'm not about to get on his bad side

Selina: Miss Kyle's resourcefulness continues to astound me. Earlier in the semester, she forgot her locker combination and quickly improvised a mechanism to safely unlock it using only the materials around her. The speed and accuracy with which she did that will surely benefit her in the future.

Translation – Did... did she just pick a lock with another lock?

Bruce: No further comments.

Translation – whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—

2K notes · View notes

thelastofhyde · 2 months

Text

you cut your hair, and take some space (2)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 2 of 3! (part 1)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation ( please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries ), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, policeofficer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), pedro-ception aka there's a small cameo of another pedro boy, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, reader is described to have hair and celebrates christmas ( but no mention of the reader's religious beliefs )! smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 14.3k

hyde’s input. hey... hey... how y'all doin'?🧍remember when i said part 2 would be posted a few weeks after part 1? yeah, that was a fucking lie. and, remember when i said it would be 2 parts in total? that was also a lie! the universe is praying on my downfall ( i had a fun mental health episode and fell into a black hole for a few months <3 ) unfortunately, i am very much still alive and kicking, so this is me trying to get the ball rolling again when it comes to posting fics. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it + tumblr will not allow me to post it as a whole due to it's paragaph-count limit, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

if you see any typos, no you didn't 🫣

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of. “huh?” “this. us. it could be casual, y’know?”

Golden boy, you dropped the ball I am Annie fucking Hall

The year moves too fast.

It’s like you blink, and suddenly it’s Thanksgiving.

Leaves turn brown. Pumpkins are carved only to rot upon front porches. A gathering of friends, young adults getting their first taste at hosting a thanksgiving meal.

You’re put on dessert duty, which culminates in stressful tears and your mother’s hand rubbing soothing circles into your back, reassuring you that it’s okay, everyone burns their first pie.

No one at the party needs to know the pumpkin pie you brought was a product of your mother’s gentle care.

Then there is actual Thanksgiving, which you celebrate, as always, at your aunt's.

The highlight is, and forever has been, the road-trip out of state, your father making it his mission to deafen you and your mother with his horrific singing.

As they drop you back at your apartment, your father has no qualms leaning out the car window and calling after you.

“I expect to see you cheering me on at the Thanksgiving Touchdown event!”

Which brings you here, to said event, sweater sleeves tugged over cold fingers and a wandering pair of eyes who refuse to comply with your wants.

You want to focus on the ongoing football match- Fire Department vs Police.

Your eyes prefer to follow him, striding up the field, his hair soaked in sweat and his t-shirt long removed.

You’ve no valid reason to roll your eyes at the other women who seem to prefer spectating the sport of Javier Peña. You’re no better than them.

Yet, as one of them let’s out a joyous shriek as he takes a pass at the ball, your eyes roll.

"He’s a show-off, that boy.”

At least you have company. An older gentleman, who you caught struggling to pick his wallet up from the floor. He’d smiled as you returned it, and conversation had flowed easily from there.

As the whistle blew, commencing the final match of the local community services’ football league- or, Thanksgiving Touchdown, as your father so aptly named it-, he’d patted the empty seat next to him.

“Hmm?”

He points, and you follow the direction, realising he’s speaking about Javi.

“Him,” he says it with a teasing tone to his voice. It’s like he’s mocking the agent. “Think’s he’s God’s gift, takin’ his top off like that.”

The more you sit with the older gentleman, the more you enjoy his company.

On the field, your dad bellows something at Javi. He replies with a curt salute, and shoots off down the length of it.

He’s fast, agile, stealthy.

A force to be reckoned with, keeping pace with rookies half his age.

The vision of him, gun strapped to his leg and a tact vest on his chest, speeding down streets in the columbian heat conjures in your mind.

You wonder how it felt to know him then, if worry kept his companions awake.

It had certainly kept you awake in recent months, and that was with him safe, in Laredo, cooped up in some bachelor pad.

“Surprised he’s not thrown his top to the crowd of screaming ladies!” The gentleman continues his mocking, and it rouses laughter out of both of you.

A whistle is blown, your eyes return to the field and, though he’s quick to look away, you catch the tail end of Javier’s eyes on you.

Fifteen minutes pass, in which you do your best to not stare at him.

You’ve made worse attempts in the past.

Eventually, the man next to you coaxes you into getting him a lemonade from the food truck.

You oblige, of course, and deny his attempts to hand you cash, insist it’s on you.

He’s kept you smiling on a rather gloomy day.

You tell him you’ll be right back, smile, and realise you don’t know his name.

“Chucho,” he tells you, and waves you off.

You join the queue, keep your head down, ignore the gossiping women three spots ahead of you, claiming to have each shared an encounter with Javi.

You don’t need to know what he’s been up to.

You don’t want to know who he’s been up to it with.

It happens when you’re finally being served.

There’s no longer a queue, just you, smiling as sweetly as possible. The service industry is rough enough, nevermind on holidays.

You order successfully, both Chucho’s lemonade and a hot chocolate for yourself.

The guy working the truck- young enough, a bit too traditionally good-looking, with coiffed hair and a shaven face- he’s talkative.

Friendly.

Too friendly.

Till it crosses the border into flirty.

You’re not interested.

At all.

But it’s flattering, to feel wanted.

Even more so after a something that means nothing yet everything ends out of the blue and you’re left reeling over whether or not some part of you is to blame.

So you let him shoot you his dashing smile, and throw in unnecessary pet-names that just feel forced into every sentence he speaks to you, and write his number on the paper cup of your hot chocolate.

“Here you go, pumpkin,” he winks. The pet-name feels a little too on the nose for the season. Couldn’t he have called you sweetheart instead? “A sweet treat for that sweet smile.”

You wonder if he’s allowed to gift the free donut he slides your way.

Your stomach growls and begs for sugary release before you can fully bring yourself to care.

An awkward thanks. Hands reach up to grab the to-go cups, three fingers curling up the bagged donut.

He helps you get a grip on the beverages, placing them in your hands.

His touch lingers, more than necessary, fingertips brushing over your knuckles as if trapped in slow-motion.

“So, a pretty girl like you got a boyfriend, or are you gonna let me take you out to-”

Gasps fill the air.

Half the crowd boos.

Your father screams one name, loud and clear, down the pitch.

“Peña, get your head out your fucking ass and pick up the ball!”

Turning on your heal, the scene unfolds.

The ball, abandoned on the ground.

The players, scrambling to grab it before one another.

Javier, frozen in place, face an unreadable maze of emotions, eyes staring right at you.

They follow you all the way back to your seat, even as the game picks up again.

Even as you congratulate your dad on another victory for the police department, now the four-time consecutive champions of the Thanksgiving Touchdown.

Even as you head off to your father’s car.

Even when you’re home, curled under a blanket and watching a televised copy of Annie Hall, you feel his eyes on you.

The look of betrayal on Javier Peña haunts you even once you fall asleep.

If you don’t love me, What was April?

You’ve always been organised.

Everything has it’s place, from the books that line your bedside table to the memories inside your mind.

You compartmentalise.

Tucked deep into the right side of your brain, there’s a box.

It’s contents, memories you’ve yet to process.

Moments you know that, if you wish to move on, you’ll have to relive.

Caution tape holds the lid shut.

Fragile stickers cover every corner.

And, scribbled in bold red marker, April ‘99.

A late night.

You, wide awake, laying on your back and mapping out stars in his ceiling.

Javier fell asleep hours ago and now snores softly against your neck, muscled arm curled around your waist as his legs entangle your own.

The agent is a fiend for cuddling, and so often wraps himself around you like a vine.

You find yourself nestling your hand in his hair, and take note of the sharp breath he intakes.

Go still.

Worry you’ve woken him.

Relax when you feel him snore and press himself even deeper against your naked skin.

He’s tired. Exhausted.

Work was getting to him as of late.

He hadn’t told you that, but he didn’t need to.

You know him. You can read him.

Can tell in the way he moved slower against you.

In the way he let you take the lead, resting back against the couch to watch how your hips wound down on him.

In the way he got even clingier than usual, dragging you into the shower with him just to have you near, holding you from behind as you washed up the plates he’d used to serve you dinner (a trade-off he’d reluctantly agreed to months ago: he cooks, you clean), laying his head on your lap as you curled up to watch some cheesy horror movie- one you’re bound to fall asleep during and he’s counting on it, glancing up till he spots you slumped over and eyes closed, granting him the perfect excuse to carry you to his bed and nestle himself in beside you.

Unlike other nights, you’re trapped awake.

Something feels off, makes you queasy.

There’s something nagging at your mind.

It’s like you’ve forgotten something, misplaced something, and can’t even figure out what it is.

You just know its absence is wrong.

Javi mumbles something, dreaming away, and you feel the subtle press of his lips against your skin.

Fingers curl tightly into the fabric of your (his) shirt.

He can’t get you close enough, it seems.

Playing against his wants, you pull back, slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

There’s a pinch between his brows, furrowed in worry.

It’s not fair, you think.

Sleep is usually where you see him at his calmest.

It’s a selfish act, born purely from your own desire, but you find yourself pressing a kiss against his forehead.

His grip loosens, though slightly.

It gives you enough time to feel a stir between your thighs, a calling coming from your bladder.

So you do your best to slip out his hold.

It’s a struggle that leaves you topless and feeling a pinch of cruelty, standing over the bed as you watch his hand grabbing at the vacant spot you once occupied, your scent and shirt the only traces you leave behind.

You don’t bother turning on a light, make your way to his bathroom with practiced ease.

Pad your way across the cold linoleum floor, sink down onto the porcelain seat- he’d stopped leaving it up when your overnight visits became more frequent. You hadn’t asked- didn’t need to ask-, he’d simply done it.

Closing the door over, yet not enough for the hinges to squeak and the handle to lock, you pray the wood muffles noise of the flushing toilet.

When it stops, you wait a few seconds, until you’re sure there’s no rustling coming from his bedroom.

Then, you open the tap.

The water is barely a trickle, yet you tell yourself its enough.

Lather your hands in soap, sit them under the constant drip of cold water till you feel the suds wash down the drain.

It’s hard to stop yourself from sneaking a glance at the mirror, just as it’s hard to recognise the version of yourself you see.

Your hair frames your face, though messy.

Your eyes are bloodshot, yet carry less bags.

Your cheeks are rounder, fuller.

You look different.

You feel it too.

Yhen come the thoughts of Javier, and how he sees you.

Has he noticed a change?

Is he the reason for it?

Does he feel different, too?

Your stomach flips.

He’s not said anything. Or done anything, to make you notice a change.

But, then, Maybe it’s been subtle, slow, dragged out long enough it’s not drastic enough for either of you to take note of.

You eye the spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom, and try to remember when it became yours.

You don’t remember.

One moment, his toothbrush sat alone. And, the next, you were standing side by side, laughing as you raced to see who could make a foamier mess of the toothpaste.

Corazón, you look like a rabid animal, he’d called you once, laughing through tears as he wiped away the white suds dripping off your chin. You’re lucky that you’re just so cute.

You can recall, even now, how quickly his mouth had found yours that night, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in the minty taste of one another.

The stir in your stomach becomes more intense.

Eyes refocusing, you find yourself in the mirror again.

Only, sweat lines your forehead and your face seems drained of colour.

You make it only two steps back before you’re hurtling across the bathroom floor.

Your knees crash down first, harsh and unforgiving against the tiles.

The first wretch burns, has you coughing over your own gag.

In the dark, it’s hard to see what exactly comes out of you, but you know where it came from.

Your stomach.

Another wave of nausea hits, this one harder, and you’re gripping at the sides of the bowl, spewing into the water below.

A splash meets your cheek, but you’re too out of it to care, wave after wave of nausea leaving you a coughing, gagging, crying mess.

You feel lightheaded, only managing a moment to catch your breath before another wave hits.

It feels like you’re suffocating.

It’s in your throat, in your mouth, in your nose, in your hair.

It feels like it’s never stopping and you’re doomed to spend the rest of your days submitting to the horrors of throwing-

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” warmth, against your naked back.

It’s a nice warmth, not like the one that has you covered in a cold sweat.

There’s a soothing motion over your skin.

Up, down, up, down.

You try to follow it, match your breathing to the tactile comfort.

“That’s it, baby,” cool air meets your neck, the hairs that stuck to your skin now pulled up and pushed back. “I’m right here, I got you.”

Eventually, all that’s left is the burning of bile at the back of your throat and the dull ache of eyes gone raw with tears.

You’re pulled into a solid mass, naked chest pressed to naked chest as you go slack upon the bathroom floor.

You’re exhausted, and covered in your own sweat, tears and vomit.

Javier doesn’t care, pulling you tighter against him and whispering sweet words you don’t quite pay attention to.

“Woke up and you weren’t there, corazón. Don’t do that again,” even in his attempts to chastise, he’s gentle, brushing the remaining strands of sweat-slicked hair off your face. You must be an awful sight, yet his expressions don’t give way. “You wake up, you wake me up too. ‘Specially if you’re gonna hurl, okay?”

You glance at him, swallow back a lump and deal with the realisation that dawned upon you ten minutes earlier, as you sat hunched over the toilet’s bowl.

“Javi,” he smiles at the way you call his name.

You feel sick all over again at the thought of that changing, everything changing, as you build the courage to speak.

He calls your own name back to you.

“I’m late.”

You await the sharp inhale.

And the unwinding of arms.

You imagine he’ll stand up, pace the floor.

Run his hands through his hair, rant over every thought he has.

Ways to get rid of it, the dangers of your dad finding out.

Then he’ll turn the blame to you.

That’s what men do, right?

He’ll ask why you weren’t safer, why you forgot to take that morning-after pill, why you played so fast-and-loose with your body.

None of it arrives.

He stands, yes, but only to pull you up with him, tired limbs leaning into his strong build as he drags you both under the heat of a warm shower.

You watch the remnants of your own vomit wash down the drain, and question how he can stand there, not disgusted with you.

He dries you off, delicate drags over your skin.

He’s rougher with himself, scarcely drying properly before he’s carrying you back to his bed, a replay of hours earlier as he lays you down, crawls in behind you and tucks you both under the soft comfort of his worn-out sheets.

Only, this time you’re wide awake.

He so easily nestles himself behind you, dragging you back against him and committing himself to the role of big-spoon.

His hands have always felt large, their touch always electrifying, but nothing compares to the feeling of him splaying one across your lower stomach, a subtle press into where part of him could be growing within you.

“Javi,” you whine, fighting off the sleep your overwhelmed body so badly needs. “I’m sorry.”

You say it because you feel obligated, like it’s your place to be apologetic.

After all, the blame is yours, surely.

“No seas boba (Don’t be silly),” there’s a fresh set of tears already sliding down your cheeks by the time he replies. “Don’t need to be sorry, baby.”

“But I-”

“But, nothing,” his tone feels final, one that tells you you’ll get nowhere arguing against him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, corazón.”

You fall asleep, eventually, soothed by his gentle breathing and the repeated motion of his thumb stroking over your belly.

Yhe next time you awake, there’s a crack of sunlight creeping through his blinds.

Javi’s still in bed, only he’s propped up on his elbow and staring down at you.

His smile stretches a little wider when he spots your open eyes.

Lips press against your own, soft and subtle.

A quiet greeting, a wordless goodmorning.

“I gotta go, corazón,” is met with a protest from you, rolling over to curl into his solid chest.

Expecting it, he wraps you up tighter in his arms, presses an array of chaste kisses to your head.

You don’t want him to leave this bed.

Or this apartment.

You don’t want him out, in the real world, where the hours you’ve spent cooped up together become more scandalous than the peaceful nature of them.

“I know, I know. Don’t wanna go either, baby,” you wonder if you spoke your thoughts aloud, or if Javi simply knows you so well.

Eventually, he peels himself away from you.

You watch him dress.

Tell him which tie to wear.

Help him tie it, the comforter pooled around your naked waist as you sit criss-cross-apple-sauce and Javi’s at the side of the bed, legs bent at the knee.

He thanks you with a kiss, then asks you to pass him his cologne.

It’s on the other side of the bed- his side of the bed- and you lean over to grab it.

You don’t bother handing him it, spraying it directly onto your own wrist and dabbing it into the skin of his tanned neck.

He lets you, a gentle smile on his face and eyes that pull you in for a hug, burrowing himself between your naked breasts.

He presses a kiss between them, hums in enjoyment.

“You’re gonna smell like me all day, cariño (darling),” he tells you.

“Good,” you reply.

Another hum, this time of approval, and a squeeze to your hip.

When he pulls back, he looks even more reluctant to leave.

Reality rears it’s ugly head, but he pushes it out your mind with the pressing of his hand against your stomach, the same spot he’d held onto all night.

Leans down, brushes his lips against it.

Your hands instinctually curl in his hair, and you like to think you leave it a little messy, enough to ward off any of the women he works along side, hopeful eyes hoping to get a taste of the handsome, unmarried cop.

“Stay,” he mumbles against your skin, as if you’re the one who’s about to leave. “Don’t go, ok? I’ll call around lunch.”

He keeps his word.

Calls you, a few minutes past two, interrupting whatever daytime TV you were pretending to watch.

Answering leaves you feeling lightheaded, like you're trapped in a daydream.

Listening to him croon down the line while your finger anxiously tangles in the phone’s wire as you stand in his apartment, it feels domestic, like you’re waiting for him to come back home, a place you share together.

The thought has you pressing a hand against your womb.

“How bout you, corazón?” He knows how to make you melt, picturing him smiling at his desk. “Have you ate yet?”

With a grimace, you admit you haven’t.

“You need to eat, baby,” you don’t like the fact he uses that pet-name, not right now. “There’s plenty in the fridge. Could make yourself a sandwich, or some toast. Might even have some of that pasta left over. You know, that one you said you liked? Oh, wait, maybe don’t eat that, don’t think uncooked salmon is good for pregn-”

You don’t want him to say the P word, so you cut him off.

“I’ll probably just have toast.”

He says ok, then you hear him take a bite of whatever his lunch is.

The call goes on a little longer.

It’s mostly him talking.

He tells you a quick story, something about one of the younger guys accidentally stapling his tie to an arrest warrant.

That rouses a laugh out of you, makes you forget all about the massive P word he almost said.

“I’ll be home soon, okay?”

That sounds nice coming from Javi.

Home.

Not his home, just home.

A place he feels his soul at rest.

A place he’d begged you to stay this morning, safe and tucked away.

“Was thinking we could drive out to the clinic, find out for sure if we’re pr-” he cuts himself off this time, like he knows you’re not ready to hear that word. “Then we’ll take things from there, okay? Whatever you decide you wanna do, corazón, you call the shots.”

He keeps his word, again.

Comes home barely three hours later.

He walks through the door and welcomes the way you coil yourself around him, humming in delight as he peppers a few kisses over your face.

“Still smell like me,” he says it with approval, takes a purposeful whiff at you as he pulls you tighter against him.

You still smell his cologne on him too, buried beneath a few layers of sweat and cigarette smoke.

Near clinging to one another, it’s a miracle you two make it out his apartment and down the elevator.

An arm around your waist, he guides you over to his car.

Pulls the door open for you, stops you from bumping your head on the way in.

He practically runs round the car’s hood, jumping into the driver’s seat and thrumming the engine to life with the turn of a key.

“You remember to eat?” He asks as he pulls out onto the street.

You nod, then audibly reply.

Tell him you did in fact eat toast, leave out the part where you spewed your guts again twenty minutes later.

The drive is quiet.

Not uncomfortable, just relaxed, with the radio playing gently and his window rolled down enough to let in some air.

At some point, his hand slides over the console and rests against your thigh.

You welcome it, covering it with your own.

As you watch out the window how he drives past the turning for the local hospital, he must catch your questioning gaze.

“They, uh,” he clears his throat, rings his hand over the steering wheel. A small stain of sweat marks it. “Know your dad pretty well in there. And me. Figure you’d rather he not find out about us like that.”

He’s right.

So you relax back into your seat, accept the fact you’re both driving out of town together.

At some point, the beginning notes of your favourite song play through the stereo.

You instantly perk up, sitting up straighter in your seat and tap your foot a little to the beat.

Javi says nothing, simply peels his hand off you to turn the volume dial up.

Seconds later, he turns his head and throws you a look just asking if he’s done good.

You smile, and thread your fingers between his own.

A soft squeeze before he pulls them up to his lips, eyes back on the road.

The clinic is bright.

And squeaky, each step you take making you a little more nervous than the last.

Javier, by all accounts, is solid as a rock, signing you both in, picking up a few pamphlets, buying you a can of soda, all while you curl up in some plastic chair and just focus on not spewing your guts out.

You only relax once he’s sat beside you, helping you get a sip of the sugary drink and wrapping a protective arm around you.

You don’t mean to but you fall victim to sleep, the past 24 hours getting the best of you.

You come-to likely not much later, but to the sound of a childish giggle.

Cracking one eye open, just slightly, you notice you’re slumped into Javier, head on his shoulder.

There’s a giggling little girl in front of you both, in purple overalls and with two pigtails to hold her curly hair.

One of her hands is on Javi’s knees, using him to keep herself standing.

“First time?” You snap your eyes shut as a stranger’s voice fills the quiet bustle of the clinic.

A confused sound leaves Javier.

“Yeah, could tell from the look on your lady’s face,” the man continues. “Same one my own wife had during our first visit.”

You want to pay attention to Javi’s response, but you’re a bit busy dealing with the fact he’s not correcting the man, telling him you’re not his lady nor his wife.

His thumb soothes over your hip, and you wonder at what rate you’ll melt away into a pile of nothing thanks to his soft touches.

“You hoping for a boy or a girl?”

You tell yourself to try harder, to actually pay attention.

You succeed, catch as Javi replies, “a girl.”

“Yeah?” the stranger seems genuinely invested, it almost makes you want to open your eyes, see him for yourself.

But you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Wanted a boy, myself,” that same little girl giggles again and you can’t fight the temptation to peek once more, catch as she crawls into her faceless-father’s lap. “Doc told us it was gonna be a boy, too. Then this one came along and, wouldn’t ya know, not a boy.”

“Surprise!” the little girl squeals, and you feel Javi’s shoulder shake under your head.

God, you want to look at him, see if he’s looking at her with the same adoration that’s festering in your heart.

“Yeah, baby, you’re my little Sarah-Surprise,” the man coos and, despite his rough accent, it suits him. Like he was only ever meant to speak with gentle words and a soft heart, all for his precious daughter. “It’ll get easier, on your lady, just so ya know. Less scary, more exciting. ‘Bout to welcome our second one, and I’ve never seen my wife so happy.”

Javi’s still not correcting him.

It makes you nauseous for a whole new reason.

“Mr. Miller?” A voice calls out.

A nurse, you imagine.

A chair squeaks as pressure is taken off it, the stranger standing.

You peak your eye open in time to see him picking his daughter up, her little legs dangling off his hip.

He takes a few steps, till Javi interrupts him.

“What,” he clears his throat, and you wonder if it’s of emotion. “What are you hoping for this time?”

“A girl.”

Eventually, it’s your turn.

You’d pretended to wake up to Javier’s coaxing.

Shuffled into some room, reluctantly separating from Javi.

A smiley nurse handed you a cup, talked you through what you needed to do for your tests.

Took your blood pressure, complimented your earrings, and stepped out the room to give you privacy.

A short while and a reunion with Javi later, you sat in a doctor’s office, both a nervous wreck as you clasped each other’s hand.

“Mrs. peña,” again, Javier does not correct the doctor. And you realise it’s because he filled out the forms, he signed you in. He wrote you down as Peña. “You and your husband are not pregnant.”

What should have followed was a sigh of relief, from both of you.

But all you felt was led drop in your stomach and Javier’s grip tighten on your hand.

“You are, however, displaying symptoms of acute food poisoning, likely salmonella.”

The doctor continues on, detailing a prescription you’re being given.

But it falls on deaf ears, the world around you gone blank as you wrestle with conflicting emotions.

You’re not pregnant.

You should be elated. Jumping, and cheering, and dancing all over the place. Instead, you’re silent, letting yourself be guided back into the car by Javi.

This time, the drive is silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

You watch him drive past the turning into your street.

He doesn’t explain that he’s taking you back to his place.

Getting you back in his bed, switching off the lights, he curls himself in behind you and splays his hand over your stomach.

Over your empty womb.

For some reason, you find yourself sobbing into your pillow, unaware of the tears from him that stain your neck as he tries to hush you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” the irony of him repeating those very same words last night is not lost on you.

It’s hard to move on, when every month there’s a stabbing pain in your abdomen and a trickle of blood staining your underwear to remind you of April.

And so you keep it locked in it’s box, slapping another caution tape over it’s lid as you groan and roll out your own bed, trudging your way into your bathroom to check if the wetness between your thighs is your monthly visitor.

You played a game But I run the table

You’re avoiding your dad’s calls.

It’s not because he’s done anything to warrant your rejection, but, rather, it’s the forthcoming actions he’ll be guilty of.

See, you know why he’s calling.

Your mom let it slip, over brunch and a few too many glasses of wine.

He’s hosting another poker night.

He wants you there, as always.

Some baseless theory of you being his good luck charm.

Or, at least, that’s what you were until the last poker night he’d hosted, way back in March.

He slips away, phoned by your tipsy mother and obligated to drive three towns over to go pick her up because she misses him.

“Fill in for me, will ya, kiddo?”

It was less a suggestion, more of a pleading, his hands already scraping the seat back and awaiting you to plop yourself down.

He leaves you with his hand, his winnings so-far, and a kiss to the top of your head.

“Watch out for Peña,” he whispered, as if you hadn’t been keeping an eye on the agent all evening, clouded by his own cigarette smoke and sitting looser each sip of his whiskey, no ice. “His poker face is dangerous.”

He turns out to be no threat.

None of the officer’s are, really.

Rounds end and rounds start, and you father’s pile of winnings grow more and more.

It’s an ego boost, taking money from these cocky men who look at you as though surely you have no clue what cards you’re holding.

But, taking from Javi?

That’s something else, entirely.

Each time you win, he gets more agitated.

Flinging down cards, muttering curses, shoving his cash across the table.

All whilst glaring, at you, eyes black with ire.

And intoxication.

And something else.

Something you know all too well on Javier.

Lust.

Nearly an hour’s past since your father left, someone else leaves the table.

Says he needs the toilet, you point him in the direction of it.

You all call for a break, and then you graciously offer a refill on drinks.

It’s what your dad would’ve done, kept them all drinking and lowering their inhibitions, their focus disappearing alongside it.

“I’ll help!” One of the officers exclaims.

He’s on the younger side.

Practically a rookie, it’s only the second poker night he’s attended.

He’s sweet, with his large-framed glasses and his nervous smile.

You both make your way out of the basement- refurbished to be your dad’s man-cave- and head towards the kitchen.

You open the fridge, grab however many bottles of beer you need.

He heads to the liquor cabinet, pulls out a bottle bourbon.

You beat him at grabbing the whiskey, an unvoiced need to be the one who refills Javi’s glass.

Maybe, he’ll offer you a sip.

Conversation flows naturally between you, in spite of him being a near stranger.

He asks about college.

You ask about working with your dad.

You both agree on the fact he’s a pain in the ass.

He tells you about a new bar, downtown.

You tell him where to go to get the best club sandwich.

It’s light, it’s easy, it’s friendly.

You’re enjoying his company.

nNeither of you can tell who causes it, but one of you mispronounces a word and you both wind up in a pile of giggles, falling over yourselves and banging into counters.

His hands grip his sides.

You’re clutching your chest.

Through wheezes, he repeats the phrase that left you both in this state.

You laugh harder, louder, warn him to stop before you lose control of your bladder.

Something thuds in the hallway, your eyes shoot up to the kitchen entry and you swear you see Javi’s retreating figure.

Blink a few times, realise there’s no one there.

You both gather some decorum.

He grabs as many of the beer bottles he can manage, and looks at your empty hands in question.

You tell him to head back without you, that you just need to go to the toilet.

Parting ways, you find the both the downstairs and upstairs bathrooms occupied.

Sigh in frustration, only to remember your parents en suite.

It’s empty, because of course it is. No one would feel comfortable enough invading the privacy of your parents' bedroom.

You do your business, wash your hands, fix yourself in the mirror.

Decide your lipstick needs a little touch-up, your clothes need straightening out.

And, when you’re done and ready to head back down to the poker table, you hear a thud.

Pull open the bathroom door, expect to find your father struggling to put a tipsy, giggly, clumsy version of your mother into bed.

Instead, there is only a brooding look and disapproving grunt.

A firm grip, on your arm, dragging you right back into the bathroom.

The door slams shut, a little harsher than you’d like, the sound of it surely reaching the ears of those regrouping for the next dealing of the cards.

He doesn’t pounce, like he so usually does when he’s wearing that look of frustration.

He’s simmering in it, teetering on the edge of boiling anger as he smooths a hand over his chin, visibly clenching his jaw, swallowing back whatever it is he wants to say to you.

He takes one step forward, and you go one back.

Then two steps, which you also match.

Your hip smacks into the sink’s counter on your fifth step backwards and it’s enough to finally put his hands on you.

He tugs you right into his chest, one hand soothing over where you’d banged your hip.

It’s alarmingly gentle for his stoic features.

When he speaks, you nearly melt into a puddle, the heat of him invading your space, face inching close to your own, enough to have you questioning the sanctity of your parents en suite.

“What’s going on with you, huh?”

“Could ask you the same thing, officer,” you make the fatal mistake of giggling, but you’ll blame it on the fruity cider you’d helped yourself to.

He clearly finds no humour, not even as you fiddle with the top button of his shirt and shoot him your best look of innocence.

“Think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you?” His hand, warm and imposing, grips a hold of your face.

It’s almost painful, but you like it, squirming a little at the blunt stab of his nails and the way he smooshes your cheeks, forcing a pout onto your lips.

You try shake your head, his grip won’t let you.

“Sitting in a room full of men, making yourself the centre of attention,” he huffs a breath out of his nose, and you can’t help but compare him to an angry dragon.

He’s worked up, frustrated, angry.

And it’s hot. A turn-on.

“What’s the matter, Javi? Jealous you’re not the centre of all those men’s attention?” You’re poking the dragon, teasing him, and it’s an act that may leave you burned and scarred.

Or, as you’re hoping, it’ll win you the ride of a lifetime.

He doesn’t even grace you with a verbal response.

No, he scoffs, as though he’s in physical disbelief at the words you’re saying.

Spins you around, pins you to the sink’s counter, tugs your hair till you’re forced to stare at your reflection.

He’s right behind you, seething in anger, fire in his eyes.

His head dips between you neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your pulse point.

“Not all of us are attention whores like you,” it’s fleeting, and he’ll deny it if you dare mention it, but he smiles.

Just a second, but you feel it, see it even though he tries so hard to turn his face into your neck.

It’s what lets you know he’s playing, teasing, egging you on to push him over the edge.

“I’ve been with real whores, corazón,” he confesses a sin you already know, eaves-dropping one too many times on your dad fishing stories of Colombia out of him. “Fucked them so often they started doing their nails in colours they knew I wanted to see wrapped around my cock.”

Involuntarily, your back arches, brushing your ass against him and providing him the perfect access to wind his hand up between your heaving breasts, all the way up till his fingers curl round the base of your throat.

In the mirror, the image is one of ownership, of Javi seizing your bodily autonomy. A whore and her gentleman caller.

It’s arousing to think about, Javi and his whores.

You wonder what positions he put them in.

How many rounds he lasted with them.

How often he made them cum.

“And not one of them took half the money you’ve taken from me tonight.”

Oh.

So that’s what this is, his pretty ego, bruised at the hands of you?

Poor Mr. Javier Peña, humiliated in front of all his peers round after round, hundred bill after hundred bill.

You almost taunt him for giving into the temptations of the fragile male ego, but you’re stopped in your tracks.

By him, hands squeezing at you a little tighter as he grinds the unmistakable outline of his hardened cock against you.

That single action changes the game, entirely.

Because this isn’t about you stealing his money and his ego.

No, this is something far filthier, that has your panties growing wetter beneath the skirt of your dress.

“I’m worth every dime though, aren’t I, officer?.”

The grip tightens.

He shoves you harder into the counter, so hard a tub of your mother’s moisturiser topples off.

The hard outline of him is still there, ever-present.

“‘S that what you like, huh, taking my money? Wanna be Javi’s personal little whore?”

Every ounce of feminism evaporates within you.

Who could deny such a tentative offer?

Certainly not you, reflection mimicking the way you eagerly nod, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hold back a grin.

Javi notices- of course he notices- and takes his victory, hips rocking even deeper into you.

There’s too many layers between you, a feat on which you both agree, yet neither of you do anything about.

You just savour the friction, instead, pushing and pulling one another to the axis of pleasure.

Your panties, soaked.

His jeans, tight.

“What’s it gonna cost me to get you bent over and stuffed full of my cum, corazón?” One hand leaves your body. The mirror snitches on him, exposing how he’s reaching into his back pocket. “This?”

He smacks something down, into the bowl of the sink.

It’s his wallet, and you watch the worn leather of it shine with the residue of water on the linoleum.

The hand at your throat pulses a squeeze, his knee nudges you from behind.

“C’mon, don’t be shy.”

His mouth, right by your ear, lips tickling you with the subtlest of brushes against it.

His hand guides your own, down into the sink, flipping the wallet open and putting it’s belongings on display.

Bills, some placed neatly, others stuffed in forcefully, edges spilling out the pockets. There’s less in there than when he arrived, courtesy of you.

There’s a few miscellaneous cards. A library card, an ID slip you’re sure he uses for something in the sheriff's station, a loyalty card to some record store.

The picture of his mother sits centre stage, radiant smile and loving eyes grabbing the attention of any who dare open it.

He has his mother’s eyes, you notice.

And then you notice something else, peeking out from behind his mother’s picture.

You dive into temptation, dart your nosy fingers over to tug at the object, till you realise it’s another picture.

A picture of Javi, and you.

Taken on a polaroid you found under a box of his belongings, you remember the day clear as ever.

The two of you had messed around, captured your sins on film with the promise of destroying it after. It would be too risky a thing, to allow image evidence of the intimate ways in which you knew each other’s bodies.

Javi’s fingers on your skin, your nipple in his mouth, his cock’s outline bulging within your lower abdomen.

There was no point risking your father ever finding it.

But this picture, this one you do not remember.

Fully dressed, eyes fixed on his television, your head lays in his laps while his fingers card through your hair.

It’s captured from above, as if Javi’s own eyes had made a permanent record of his view.

The sweetness of this living on, of Javi taking something sacred for himself to keep hidden in his wallet distracts you for a moment.

He does good to bring you back into the room.

“Take how much you think you’re worth, corazón,” whispered into your ear, as he rips a few of the notes out his wallet.

They sit in the sink, growing wet.

And you are too, frozen on the spot.

You glance down, count over the different bills.

Five dollars.

Twenty dollars.

Hundred dollars.

With each bill you count, your internal price shooting up within your head, you try picture his reaction.

In the mirror, he’s watching.

Not the sink bowl, no.

You, your face, looking at your expressions in a way that reminds you it’s his job to read people.

You decide to be bold, dig into his wallet and, even though your insides twist in anxious turmoil, hold up your hand to present him with your answer.

Resting neatly, between your fore and middle finger, a shiny credit card.

The gleam in Javi’s eyes just about match it, blackened and blown out with lust.

The card is plucked out your hand.

The hand on your neck leaves, in search of your waist.

The fabric of your dress bunches, wrinkling and creasing as his fabric-straining grip inches it’s hem higher and higher.

You feel sexy like this, face heated and breathing heavy.

It’s an effect he has on you, has had on you, forcing you to look at yourself in new lights, in new angles, admiring every out-of-line trace of you for what you are.

Desirable.

And attractive.

And pretty.

And smart.

And every other word under the sun that Javi whispers into your skin with innocence as his body commits sins within you.

At the bottom of the mirror, you watch as the white cotton of your panties comes into view.

Wet, as you both expected, the thin fabric now turned almost sheer, exposing the delectable view of your cunt hugged cutely by the cotton’s tight seams.

Javi hisses, muttering something to himself.

There’s a strain to his voice, one that would have you worried he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way you’re watching as his face contorts with lust.

His eyes are dark and you study them like he studies his card, contemplating something.

A few seconds pass.

Tension is puffed out his chest with one exhale, through the nose.

You feel the air tickle your skin.

He nods curtly, to himself, and flickers his gaze back to meet your own in the mirror.

It’s unwavering, even as he brings the black plastic down and smacks it against your mound.

You squeal, he hushes, and you both know he doesn’t mean it at all.

He likes when you gift him noise, a private aria only he has tickets to.

Just as easily as the first time, he snaps the card against you again, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight through your clit.

Just as loudly as the first time, you squeal, a jolt back into his warm, steady, hard embrace.

“What’re you running from, hmm?” His face turns, burrowing itself in the tresses of your hair.

A shallow sniff, and you wonder if he notices the smell of his shampoo on you.

There’s a pressing of lips, against your scalp, and it’s far too gentle of a juxtapose to the imagery of his fingers pulling your panties to the side, exposing your pussy to the bathroom’s cold air and the two pairs of hungry eyes in the mirror.

“You say that this is what you’re worth, and then you don’t want to take it?”

The third spank of the card against your bundle of nerves is harder, louder, echos in the confined space. A moan, minuscule and muffled, slips past tightly shut lips, a look of fear flashing through wide eyes.

Javi’s quick with his reassurance, gentle with his comfort, a hand stroking over your collarbone.

“Don’t worry, no one’s gonna hear you. You just be as loud as you need, hermosa, they’re too busy encouraging that boy-cop to ask you to dinner.”

There’s a tint of jealousy to the way he says boy, and you’re reminded of the image of him in the kitchen doorway.

Smack!

The card strikes down, once more, this time eliciting an open-mouthed gasp.

He doesn’t let up, repeating the action twice more.

It hurts, in a way that makes your core throb and your toes curl, squirming aimlessly in a grasp he knows you don’t truly want to escape.

But he mocks you, with a hushing noise in your ear and gentle it’s okay, corazón, Javi’s got yous against your neck. His thumb swipes through your folds, coating it in your wetness and dragging itself up to your clit, soaking it in soothing rubs.

His gentle nature lasts mere seconds, his wrist flicking back only to smack the credit card down again. This time, it’s a pattern of three, repeatedly crashing down on your sensitive nerves one after the other.

In the mirror, you watch him observe as he twiddles the card between deft fingers, contemplation on his mind.

The room’s quiet, apart from your shortened breaths and his deep inhales.

You hear a cheer.

From the basement.

It must have been a loud cheer, for you to hear them all the way up here.

And, suddenly, the stakes feel higher than when you were sat at the poker table, counting Javi’s coins with every passing round.

If you can hear them, they could hear you.

This doesn’t seem to cross Javier’s mind, who merely twists your head away from the bathroom door and back to the mirror, to where his hungry eyes await.

All contemplation is gone, he’s decided in what he’s going to do, and so you watch as he takes the card and swipes it through your cunt.

It’s not a pleasurable act, in itself.

In fact, it’s rather uncomfortable, the solid plastic hard on your delicate skin.

It’s the arousal of him doing it that gets you weak in the knees, to have him perform such a mundane act- the swiping of his credit card- in such a crass, dirty, wrong way.

Like he’s paying for you, committing a physical transaction in exchange for your body.

It doesn’t matter that he could have you for free, has had you for free.

He wants to pay, wants to reward you in a way that aligns with the capitalistic world.

“Javi…” You whimper, softly, head lulling back against his shoulder as he swipes the card again.

Your eyes, slowly slipping shut, shoot right back open as you feel the rounded corner of the card prod at your opening, as if trying to notch itself within you.

“Think she could take it, corazón?” Javi bites at your ear, teeth clamping down and pulling at it’s lobe. The card sinks in, not even an inch. You nudge back into, your cry circling the room around you both. “I know, baby, I know. It’d be a wide stretch, but ain’t that all pretty whores like you are good for, hmm?”

It’s automatic, the way you bend to his every whim, head nodding without direct orders from your brain, every part of you, conscious or not, ready and willing to prove you could fit his card inside of you.

For him, you can do it.

“Fitting big things in your little pussies?”

Surprisingly, the hand between your thighs retracts and you watch as he brings the card up to your mouth, glistening with your arousal.

“Open,” the directions are unnecessary, your mouth already dropping open for him in an act of muscle memory.

He hums approvingly, yet his eyes are still fury filled as he slots the card between your lips, lathering your tongue in your own taste.

“You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you, corazón?”

The statement rings true, both ways: as much as you’ll take anything, he’ll give anything.

You don’t tell him that, though, finding it much easier to rest your palms on the countertop, backing your sopping core into him, enticing him with the wiggle of your hips and whines from your lips to take you already.

“Shh, shh, don’t you worry that pretty head. Javi’s gonna feed this greedy little cunt, ok?”

The unbuckling of a belt.

The unzipping of teeth.

The shucking down of-

Something smashes, in the basement, and it’s enough to have you flinching.

Javi’s touch soothes you, a hand running over the curve of your shoulder as he presses yet another kiss into your neck.

“S’okay, probably just a beer bottle.”

He doesn’t move another inch, not till he sees you nod, melting back into him.

You hear, more than you see, the way he tugs his trousers down, just enough to free his hardened cock from its jean-clad confine. The risky business of a quickie in your parents’ en suite calls for clothing moved aside, and not removed.

Much to your annoyance, his all-encompassing warmth drifts away as he moves back, hands clamping down on your hips.

He tilts them to the angle he wants, the angle he knows gets him brushing all your sweet-spots.

He tugs the skirt of your dress up, and then readjusts your soiled underwear.

You hear him draw a deep breath and watch his eyes in the mirror, glued to that spot between your legs, entranced.

The drag of his cock over your folds is familiar, the way he smacks the head of it against your clit is welcomed.

He spears you no gentle coaxing, no stretching around his fingers first, coming undone just for him to fill you right back up, this time with his cock.

No, this is a vengeful touch, the kind that’s meant to display his irritation, his fury, for reasons you’ve yet to confirm yet you’re more than willing to accept.

A man like him, so unfairly selfless, taking something in this world for himself, how he wants to and how he likes to.

You’ll be his vice, so long as he grants you his virtues.

Javi fills you with a single thrust, grunting low into your ear as you feel the way the air is physically knocked out both for your lungs.

He’s still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he works on steadying his breathing, giving you time to adjust to the delicious stretch.

You whine out some version of his name, feel yourself pulse around him.

A hand, reaching up to cup your cheek.

A kiss, gentle and longing against your mouth.

He’s making you wait for it, you think, torturing you with an impending paradise.

He’s savouring the feel of you, he thinks, taking advantage of the few moments alone he wins with you.

"Javi,” he barely lets you part from him to speak, chasing a trail of kisses down your jaw. “This isn’t the time to develop patience.”

The snide remark earns you a bite, his teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin of your earlobe. You squeal, try remind yourself to be quiet, only to squeal louder when his hands tickle at your waist.

“I’m a very patient man, corazón.”

You scoff.

“Just not when it comes to you.”

His hips roll back, slowly, but it’s better than nothing, better than when he wasn’t moving at all.

Still, he makes you squirm a little longer, moan his name a little louder.

Only then does his fake resolve snap and he’s fucking into you at a brain melting pace in the blink of an eye.

Javier does his best to keep quiet, at first, biting down on his lip and your neck just to contain all those melodies he usually makes.

You can’t say the same for yourself as, despite your efforts, broken moan after broken moan tumbles out your mouth and into the sink, filling and filling and filling it in sync with how Javi your cunt.

You wonder how long till it all spills over the edge.

“Joder (Fuck),” he groans as you unconsciously squeeze him tighter, pulling him deeper into your walls. serves him right, for the teasing and the torturing. “Tienes el coño más lindo en todo el mundo. (You have the prettiest cunt in the whole world.)”

You feel lightheaded.

Warm, sweaty, covered in the fingerprints of a lover you shouldn’t be with.

The bathroom fills with an array of sounds. The slapping of skin against skin, the broken cries of an agent’s name, the mindless rambling of a man drunk on pleasure.

“So good to me, baby. Always so fucking good to me.”

“Gonna stay here forever, fuck. That sound good to you, corazón, hmm? Full of my cock always?”

“Look at yourself… Pura belleza (Pure beauty).”

He consumes you, mind, body and soul.

There’s no worrying about the happenings around the poker table, no listening out for your father’s car pulling in the driveway, no worrying about your tousled hair or sweating skin.

There’s just Javi.

Beautiful, gorgeous, deserving Javi.

“Please, please, Javi-“ The words all melt together, pleads becoming his name, his name becoming pleads.

You’re not sure what you’re begging for.

It’s okay though, Javi always knows what you need.

“I know, amor (love), I know,” he murmurs into your skin, butterfly kisses so gentle you wonder how they come from the same man that’s pistoning his hips into you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. “Let go, c’mon. Show me how much you love this cock, how much you love-”

He’s cut off by his own groan, you cunt fluttering around him as you inch closer and closer to the edge of euphoria.

Hands hurry off your waist, slipping between your thighs.

It brings a welcomed cushioning, shielding you from repeatedly bumping against the marble of the countertop.

Your legs part further, eagerly, an easy pathway for his yearning fingers to seek out the wonders of the female body as they brush over your clit.

The gentle tactile that he strokes over your bundle of nerves, partnered with the repeated brushing of his cock against that spot that makes you weak in the knees, drool out your mouth, it’s becoming too much.

Eyes glancing in the mirror, you wonder if yours is the same image of the whores who’d warmed his Colombian nights: sweat soaked skin, hooded eyes, messed up hair, wrinkled clothing.

He tilts your hips, a deeper angle to fuck into you that has you perching up onto the tips of your toes, fighting with the chance of losing balance.

He’d catch you, if you fell.

Wrap you up in an embrace that’s more familiar than your own.

“I’m gonna- Fuck! Corazón, need you to cum. Now, please. Please. Need to feel you-”

He’s babbling, losing composure and revealing the side of him you pray he never showed those other women: the side that needs, the side that longs, the side that begs to see you cum before he allows himself to, before he’s able to.

“Javi,” it’s a struggle to speak, but you endure, fighting off your orgasm and holding back tears. There’s something you need from him too. “Cum with me. Wanna be full of you, all of you-”

“¿Sí? (Yeah?)” He pleads back, thrusts already getting a little sloppier, hands a little shakier in the way they touch you. Much like his poker face, you know how to read the face he wears moments before he falls apart. “¿Eso es lo que quiere mi corazón? (Is that what my sweetheart wants?) Want me to cum in you, hm?”

“Yes, oh god yes! So bad, Javi, I want it so bad!”

“Ay, bebesita, no llores. (Aw, baby girl, don't cry.)” He coos, a condescending lilt to his words that has you falling into a bigger mess. “Shh, don’t worry, baby. Gonna fill you right up, so my cum’s dripping down your thighs when that poor kid asks you for your number. Thinks he’s got a shot with you cause he made you laugh, poor boy wouldn’t know how to deal with all the noises I get out of you.”

Javi divulges into a spine-tingling rant of burning hot jealousy, the kind that leaves your cheeks burning and your heart scorching, lit under a flame of your desire for more of him. To have him, equal parts physical and emotional.

You try warn him of the bubble that’s about to burst, the feeling in your loins building and building till it’s seconds way from toppling over.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze my cock. Lemme feel it,” He urges, heart pounding out his chest against your back, hands tightening their grip on your hips. “Need to feel you cum, ‘s all I want.”

You both crash and burn, together.

You fall first, a chaos of unfinished words, crying out for Javi.

He follows close behind, body pressed against your own like he’s willing you to fuse together, to become to entangled in one another that all possibilities of separation become void.

“Take it, cora-” He’s in your ears, in your head, in your heart. Inside of you, consuming you, as eagerly as he’s willing to be consumed by you, fingerprints on hips and teeth-marks in necks. “Take it, take it, take it.”

Arms envelop you from behind, crossing over your chest to pin you back against him.

He’s nearly stagnant, nothing but the twitch of his cock and the shallow thrusts he fucks you deeper with, filling you with another, another, another pump of his cum.

“So good,” Javi’s voice persists, teeth gritting as he bites back the need to be loud, to be heard, to lay a claim on you so blatant no one could deny hearing it. Your relationship with your father is the only thing that holds him back. “Good to me, baby. Always… Good… Díos. (God.)”

Craning your neck to the side, you manage to pull him in for a kiss.

It’s something he accepts easily, lips parting and melting into a dance against your own.

One of his hands falls over your jaw, twisting your face even closer to him.

The kiss dies slowly, with each of you refusing to truly part, pecks being splattered messily against the other’s mouth.

“Was I,” Javi interrupts you with another kiss, his free hand smoothing up and down your side, his hips still slowly rocking into yours, a delicious sting of overstimulation biting at your core. “Am I worth it?”

He pulls back, tired gaze warm as it takes in your messed features.

With the smile that stretches over his lips, however, one would think you were the prettiest creature in all the world.

He calls your name, calmly, slowly, like he’s trying to memorise the shape of it on his tongue. “You’re worth everything I could give, and more.”

There’s something behind the ways he says it that makes you believe him.

With little will to do so, you peel apart from each other, his hands moving quick to adjust your underwear as his cum starts to leak out onto your folds.

He exits the bathroom first, a final kiss placed on your cheek before your left alone, forced to confront the wrecked version of you that will never see your parent’s en suite in the same light.

Your dad arrives back just in time to see you slipping back down to sit at the poker table, no seat left for him to take but the one between his sweet daughter and his loyal best friend.

If only he knew he was placing you both where you most wanted to be when he suggested Javi give you a ride home, waving you both off through the car window with no idea Javi's cum sat dripping out your cunt, staining the car seat.

Your phone buzzes to life in your hand, slipping you out of your memories.

Your father’s contact name reads clearly on the screen.

Hitting decline one more time, you roll over and try ignore the gathering slick between your thighs.

Damn Javi and all the memories he haunts you with.

Mr, I don’t want a label You made me a little miss unstable (And it)

Days grow colder.

Nights grow longer.

You change your bedsheets, stuff a comforter back inside.

Pick out a tree, synthetic, and lump the box up the countless stairs to your apartment.

Try not to think of how he would’ve insisted on helping, refused to let you carry it.

Even if it culminated in him doubled over in pain, clutching his lower back.

Lights, baubles, action.

The tree’s smaller than you expect, barely reaching your hip, but it’s green, tree-shaped and festive. It’s enough.

Your decorations are minimal, a few inconsequential things you picked out your parents’ stash. There’s a Santa hat, frayed with time. A few cracked baubles, with string so thin you suspect they’ll snap off. A gingerbread man ornament, a glass snow-flake. A crooked star, missing one of its points, tops the tree.

A homemade snowman, one you’d gifted your parents after a busy day in nursery. Neither of them had the heart to tell you you’d made its nose a rather phallic shape.

And then there's the red phone-box, nestled somewhere in the middle, an etching of LONDON brandishing it as a reminder of your trip.

You’d picked it up in a tiny bookstore, right next door to The Distillery Club.

The winter season has never felt so lonesome, tucked away in your grown-up apartment.

There’s no fireplace to warm your hands, no hot cocoa boiling on the stove. No cheesy hallmark movies to laugh at with your mother, no racing past your father to grab the last slice of dessert.

It’s just you, alone, with only your wandering mind as company.

Sometimes, more often than not, it wanders to him. To if he’s alone.

To if he’s filling his heart as easily as he fills his bed.

To if he’s finally bought a second seat for his dingy balcony.

“Is this some tactic of yours?”

He hums, brows furrowing, lips pouting, smoke dragging into his lungs.

The cigarette sits perched between two fingers of the hand resting on your knee, his other curled around your waist.

“Some what?”

“Tactic,” you repeat. Watch him blow a puff a smoke, taste his ash at the back of your throat. “Only having one chair, so pretty girls have no choice but to sit in your lap.”

He lets his gaze wander away from the streets below and up to you, sitting pretty in his lap. Like a cat, draped over his thighs.

Nothing but his own rumpled, inside-out shirt to cover your skin.

Bare legs, messed hair, smudged lipstick.

Fingerprint bruises littering your hips, bitemarks etched into your collarbone.

“I gave you a choice,” he speaks with a reservation he didn’t have before, when he’d offered you a ride home from the bar. There’s an etching of something that’s diluting his expressions, sinking him deeper and deeper into his own pensive mind. “You were the one who insisted on sitting on me.”

“You weren’t complaining earlier.”

Nails pinch at your thigh, causing a squeal out of you.

A few birds fly off a nearby wire, a head or two turn in the street below.

They don’t see you, or Javi, or the lack of clothing that sits between you.

“Neither were you. In fact, you were a little busy fucking my fac-”

“Stop!” Your sudden modesty feels unearned, yet that does nothing to stop you from placing your hand over his mouth.

He licks at it, you grimace, he licks again.

Then takes another breath of nicotine, as you wipe the remnants of his spit onto his naked thigh.

When he offers the cigarette your way, you hesitate.

Picture your father, disappointed to see you smoke.

The whiff of Javi’s post-sex smell- muted cologne, matted sweat, burnt ash- steals your senses, reminds you you’ve already done enough to disappoint your father, a cigarette can’t do much damage.

So you let him hold it up to your mouth and inhale it’s poison.

You and Javi were never meant to happen.

Sure, the line had already been crossed weeks ago.

But that was supposed to stay in Vermont, tucked between snowy slopes and wooden cabins. Existing in a timeline separate from your reality, where you are your father’s precious daughter and Javi is his trustworthy colleague and friend, that is where it should have stayed.

And it had, for two weeks. Sixteen days, specifically.

You’d returned to classes, to sharing lunch breaks with your father in his office, to slowly moving more of your things out the family home and into your new apartment.

And Javi, from what you heard, had returned to keeping civilians safe, to sharing a drink or two with your father at the end of the work week, to flirting with every secretary within a mile radius.

Neither of your crossed paths and, when you nearly did, the other made the effort to turn a corner, shut a door, hide behind a wall.

Until tonight.

Until you ditched your mediocre date, some lame excuse of having a last-minute paper due.

Until you’d gone to console yourself over your failing love life, unknowingly sliding into a bar stool right next to the most desired cop in town.

Until he’d turned to you, tilted his head, and asked “d’you wanna get out of here?”

He’d offered to take you home.

The drive was quiet, tense, until his hand drifted over the gearstick and you dragged it down onto your thigh.

He squeezed.

You inched it further up, till the tips of his fingers brushed at the edge of your dress.

He took the invitation, took a turning towards his own place.

Brought you into his apartment, drowned you in his fountain of kisses, begged you to sit upon his face. He’d made you see stars beneath a roofed sky, eyes rolling so far back they threatened to get stuck there.

With barely a moments recovery from a third blinding orgasm, he dragged you down the expanse of his body, sat you down on his cock and refused to help your overstimulated, puddle-brained self ride him, grinning cunningly with his back pressed against the mattress as you struggled through shaky legs.

Eventually, he tired and launched himself, arms tangling behind your back, feet planted flat behind you, hips fucking up into your battered cunt until you both came to a haltering crescendo.

He’d layed you down to rest, cleaned you of any mess, and then wandered out to his balcony, inviting you to join him when the feeling returned to your legs.

Which brings you here, fifteen minutes later.

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of.

“Huh?”

“This. Us. It could be casual, y’know?” Another puff of smoke slips right through his lips. “If that’s what you’re worrying about… your dad, and all that other stuff. I don’t need a label, not if it means I get to have… We could keep it casual, if that’s what you want.”

It takes a few moments for you to fully register his words, and then a few more to formulate a response.

“Is that what you want?”

He shrugs.

Pulls in another breath of his cigarette.

Stubs it out on the arm of the chair.

And says nothing.

You assume it’s a yes.

Because what else could Javier Peña, notorious womaniser, want with you if not a casual, no-strings-attached permit to sleep with you, as many times as he sees fit, without the risk of losing his job or, worse, his best friend?

Silence falls upon you both.

You twist in his lap.

He tightens his hold.

Within a half’s hour, he’s got your hands white knuckling as they grip the metal bannister of his balcony, his own hands busy pulling your hips back to meet each of his desperate thrusts, not even the cool air of the night enough to soothe the flaming desire that burns between you.

Your stomach twists, your mouth dries, your eyes water at the thought of him out on that balcony now.

Somebody else, some new body sat in your spot, upon his lap as they exchange smoke rings and warm mouths.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think i’m alright

The Laredo sheriff’s department is known best for three things: its lack of parking, its swoon-worthy ex-DEA agent, and its office holiday parties.

Each year, it’s the same.

The station, decked out in decorations.

A Christmas wreath, mistletoe hanging from every doorway, egg-nog and mulled wine.

It’s not just Christmas.

It’s menorahs, and ficus trees, and a statues of different gods.

Each piece of culture, tradition, holiday that makes up the people that inhabit the station, day in and day out, behind desks and in cop cars, filing paperwork and fetching coffees, represented in some way, celebrated.

Each member of staff is encouraged to bring their friends, their family.

Their spouse, their mothers.

Anyone, and everyone, is welcome.

Then there’s the gift exchange, a Secret Santa system, optional for each member of staff.

It’s the part you look forward to most.

Crowding your dad the minute he gets home on the first of December, poking and prodding till he lets it spill who he’s got.

Fishing out a pen, some paper.

Drawing up a list, made of details and anecdotes your father remembers of his target.

Dragging your shop-avoidant father down to the mall, for a day of gift hunting and sweet-tooth indulging.

Getting to watch your father’s coworker open their gift, eyes lighting up as you once again knock the ball out the park and gift them something perfectly tailored to them, winning your dad the spot of top gift-giver year after year.

This year, there was none of that.

No list of pros and cons for each gift option.

No trying to crack just what exactly your dad should gift his person.

No waiting with baited breath to watch them open it, heart racing with that little fear of them not liking it, of you failing.

No, the moment that name fell from your father’s mouth, you knew what he needed to get.

Hinted at it, slightly.

Claimed you’d smelt it on a friend, thought it would be a good idea.

Sipping on some wine and picking at the buffet, you watch him pick up his gift.

Hold it up to his ear, shake it.

Look down at the box, confused, then tear into the wrapping paper.

The whole room stops.

Not really, but it feels like it does, as somewhere across the room Javier Peña holds up a bottle of that damn cologne.

And, when his eyes instinctively find yours, it feels like everything else fades away.

Fades to grey.

It’s just him, and you. The only two within the room, holding a secret too heavy on the tongue to ever speak it aloud.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

Knows you’d watched him spray it on his skin, day in, and day out.

Knows you’d worn it on your own, sunk it deep into your pores after intertwining your souls upon wrinkled sheets.

Knows you’d watch its contents decrease over time, time you’d spent with him.

That bottle of cologne reminiscent of a timer on you both, that morning before the hospital trip becoming the last few sprays he got out of it.

Colour returns to the world that surrounds you as your dad steps into view.

He’s hugging Javi, pathetically tipsy and ignorant to the lipstick stain on his cheek, no doubt ingrained to his skin with how hell-bent he is on having your mother kiss him beneath each mistletoe.

They’re exchanging words you don’t hear, slapping one another on the back.

You turn on your heel, insides twisting as nausea overcomes you at the scene.

The next time you see Javi is hours later.

You’re trying to leave, tempted to take the good old Irish exit and just slip out a back door.

But your parents- ne, your father- are so busy show-ponying you around the room, that you fail to take a single step that goes unnoticed.

“There she is!” Your father calls out, somewhere behind you, as you slip your hand into the arm of your coat. This act sparks outrage, a frown birthing onto his face. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving too.”

You say you’re tired.

He boos, loudly, like he’s not the chief of police and a whole grown adult.

Grabs at you, lovingly, trying to pry the coat out of your hands.

The effort is minimum, and you know he’s only messing around.

You can leave, if you want to, even if he’d rather you stay.

“It’s not even midnight and you two buzzkills are leaving!” He wails, all the while he’s reaching around and helping you slip your other arm into the coat.

That’s when Javi’s face comes into view, over the arch of your dad’s shoulder, sporting a smile and a pair of keys dangling off one finger.

You try your best to counter his smile with your own, though your throat feels dry and your cheeks feel tight.

“I can’t believe I’m being betrayed like this by two of my favourite people!” The smile slips before you can catch it, eyes widening at your father’s words.

Words you’d spent months agonising over the thought of hearing. Picturing the circumstances in which he’d find out. Imagining the horrendous fallout, a red slash over Javier’s reputation. Swearing you’d quit it, quit him, and then winding up tangled in his sheets again, head pressed to his chest, eyes closed in the soundest of sleeps.

Javi plays it cool.

Nudges your dad’s shoulder, shakes his head and tells him to “quit the dramatics, viejo (old man).”

“I gotta head out to my pop’s first thing in the morning, he’s wanting me to help him rewire some of the fences.” Comes out as his excuse, one your dad can’t really argue against.

He knows better than anyone that Javi drops everything for his dad.

Well, better than anyone but you.

Your excuse, however, falls a little short, a consequence of the last minute conjuring of the lie.

“I’ve, uh, got an early class. Don’t wanna flunk out in my last year, right?”

Your dad stares at you.

Your mum stares at you.

Javi stares at you.

And that’s how you know you’re screwed.

“Class? I thought you were on winter break.”

Javi takes the momentary distraction to shrug his coat on, over those broad shoulders.

Shoulders that twist with the rest of him, as he makes space for you in the doorway, nodding you over. Here, he’s saying without really speaking, escape with me.

So you do, tiptoeing past your parents as though, the slower and quieter you move, the less they’ll notice your approach to the exit.

“Oh! Yeah, I- Sorry, I meant that I-”

“The library, it’s still open for the graduate students,” Javi swoops in effortlessly, dragging the spotlight off you.

He takes hold of your jacket, too, slipping the zip into place and dragging it up the length of your torso, over your chest, till it rests snuggly at your sternum.

A little too snug, making each new inhale deeper, harder, practically heaving the air into your lungs.

At least that’s the reason you give yourself.

You don’t get to dwell on it too long, fortunately, for your mother lets out a gasp.

She points, eyes a little widened by excitement, at the both of you and nudges at your father.

“Look!” She tells him, and you watch in confusion as he displays her same reaction, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Then comes the laughter, straight out the depths of your dad’s belly and right to your weak heart, a melody that reminds you so much of easy Sundays and curling up next to him on the sofa, watching kids’ shows that seemed to entertain him more than you.

“Oh that’s just,” he takes a laugh break, doubling over slightly, his own finger joined in pointing at you two, beneath the doorway. “Too perfect!”

Before you can inquire on either of your parents bizarre reactions, Javi’s eyes are staring into your own and pointing upwards.

Wrapped with a red bow and barely hanging onto the door frame with a single strip of tape, a mistletoe stares down at you, two white berries like mini eyes.

When you glance at the agent once more, it’s hard to read what he’s thinking.

His shoulders are tense, his lips are pursed, his brows are furrowed. But, his eyes.

His eyes burn you with an unspoken intensity, a look he should never possess in front of your parents.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You mom, camera in hand, urges you both, a wide grin cast upon her face.

You dad is in no better state, rushing forward to squeeze you both closer, one hand clasped over the back of Javi’s head.

When the once-agent exhales a nerve-striken breath, the warmth of it, of him, hits your neck.

“Dad, c’mon, stop-” you’ve never imagined yourself stuck like this, your mother and father both urging you to kiss a man you spent months tossing and turning in bedsheets with behind their back.

The creatively deviant part of your brain tells you this is how it could be, maybe, in some other life.

Some other life, where Javi’s not a cop, you’re new in town, and you both bump into each other at the grocery store.

Both of you reaching out for the same apple, or box of cereal, or bottle of milk.

Your hands, brushing.

Your eyes, meeting.

He’d charm you, easily as he always has.

Get your number and then, the next day, a date.

One date leading to two, three, four, more dates.

Till you bring him home to meet your parents at last, squeezing his hand tighter when he tries to pry it away as the door opens to your father’s stern face.

It would take a while, you reckon, for your dad to see past the difference in years.

Your mother wouldn’t care, wouldn’t spare a second thought to it, not when she notices how much he makes you laugh and how he can’t keep his eyes off of you in any room you occupy.

This could be your first Christmas together, your parents begging for one sweet photo of you under the mistletoe, before you both head off to spend the rest of the holiday season with Javi’s father.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“C’mon, it’s bad luck not to!” Back in the present, in reality, your dad’s found his way over to your mother’s side. “Peña, just kiss the girl on the cheek for Christ sake, I ain’t gonna bite your head off for it this one time!”

His lips brush your cheek like an autumn breeze.

Gentle, a hint of warmth, a tickle from the wisps of his well-groomed moustache.

“Get a bit closer, you’re not fully in frame!”

The flash goes off on your mother’s camera, and the two give a little cheer, and Javi wraps an arm around your back, squeezing you a little closer.

When all is said and done, your mother’s forcing you both to stare at the camera screen, a perfect picture of the most doomed couple to ever grace this Earth.

Such dramatics in your thoughts reminds you of the copious glasses of prosecco you’d downed throughout the night, and of your intentions to get yourself home before you done something stupid.

Like stand under the mistletoe with your former casual lover, the very same man your father calls for golf matches and March Madness debriefs.

Javi offers you a ride home, an idea your father approves of.

“I’m heading that way anyway, gotta pick up a few things before I drive out to the ranch.”

A part of you thinks he’s lying, wanting any excuse for a moment alone with you, but then that’s the kind of delusions you shouldn’t be feeding into.

You and Javi don’t spend time alone anymore.

You and Javi do not exist together anymore.

Maybe you never did.

“It’s okay, I already called a cab.”

You part ways at the door, your father watching you from inside.

Javi calls your name, before you can take more than a few steps.

For a second, he just looks at you.

Then his arms are pulling you in, and he’s got you right against his steady chest, and he’s resting his head atop your own, arms squeezing tightly at your sides.

“Get home safe.”

He walks away before you can tell him to do the same, the door slamming to his car the last thing you hear as you pull out your phone and call a cab.

It takes twenty minutes for it to appear, in which the rain starts and your clothes get soaked, but all that and the fifteen dollar fare are a cheaper price to pay than the torture of letting Javier Peña drive you home.

Crawl up the stairs, unlock the apartment door, drop your clothes onto the floor.

You find sanctuary under the shower, soap suds and boiling water, a dynamic duo that scrub off any remnants of his skin against yours.

Even as you step out, fully cleaned and towel wrapped around yourself, you catch a hint of his cologne, the very same one you’d made sure your dad picked out for him.

And as you pick your coat off the ground, a distant voice that sounds much like your mother scolding you for leaving such a mess, you notice it.

First, just a little extra weight.

Then, scratchy paper as your hand dives into the left pocket.

The wrapping is haphazard, with an uneven bow tied atop it, but that’s not what matters.

You tear away at it, let the paper fall to the floor at your feet.

Then you’re met with a small box, which you tear open too.

And find it sitting neatly among balls of yarn, the prettiest, most delicate looking glass bauble.

It’s ribbon a deep green, and it’s centre an image of mountain slopes, backed by a green forest and a valley full of wooden lodges.

It shakes in your grasp, and you spy the snowglobe-esque white foam that dances around within it.

In it’s centre, in bold, italic and green, Vermont.

One more glance in the box.

There’s a note, tucked at the bottom.

You fish it out in one breath, hold it up to read what it says.

Corazón, For your tree. I hope there’s still space.

#javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña oneshot

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

The Younger Kind Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As a single dad trying to start dating again, Bradley feels like he's constantly running in circles. Hiring a twenty-four year old student to babysit should have made things easier, but no matter how hard he fights it, you're too irresistible to stay away from.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hands as he leaned against the bar. He hated being interrogated like this. He knew it was coming eventually, but he really wasn't expecting it today.

"You need a babysitter?" Nat asked with vivid interest. "Who are you going on a date with?"

He groaned. "What makes you think I need a babysitter so I can go on a date? Maybe I just need a couple hours to myself."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Because when you need an hour or two to yourself, you always ask me if I can come over and stay with Noah. And I always oblige, because I am the best person you know. So this must be something else. Who is it?"

"Rebel asked me out," Bradley murmured, looking at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"Rebel! She's only been at Top Gun for a week!" Nat said, eyes wide as she examined his face. "She literally arrived from Lemoore seven days ago, and she already made a move on you? Damn, some of these pilots are quick."

"She just asked me out for coffee. I only said yes, because you keep telling me I should start dating again!"

"Well, you should start dating again. But I figured you'd download an app, find some cute women and get your rocks off. Not go on a date with a coworker!" Nat said, exasperated.

Bradley just gaped at her as Penny dropped off two more beers. "I haven't done this in a while. Forgive me for not knowing precisely what you intended for me to do here, Nat," he said with a massive eye roll.

She turned her nose up at him. "You're forgiven. But you need to give me your phone," she said, holding out her hand.

"For what?" he asked skeptically.

"Just gimme."

Bradley handed it to her and she entered his passcode from memory. "Just don't order anything on my Amazon account, okay? I like my Hawaiian shirts just fine, and I donated all the shit you charged to my credit card last time."

"I'm not ordering you new clothes," she scoffed, tapping away on his screen. "I'm solving all your problems. Now look at me and smile."

Bradley glared at her instead as she snapped a few photos. "These look terrible," she mumbled under her breath as she switched to her own phone. "I have one where you look halfway decent... oh, here it is."

Then she was back on his phone again, and he just gave up trying to understand half of what she did when she wasn't in the air with him.

"Nat, I just don't know that I'll ever get serious with anyone again. Meredith kind of ruined that for me."

Nat was scrolling along on his phone as she said, "Meredith was a flaming asshat. I never liked her. The best thing she ever did was get pregnant with Noah and then dump you."

Bradley was back to cradling his head in his hand. He did not like thinking about the fact that his ex bailed on him and their son when he was just a few months old. It made him feel sick. And now he was partening alone, which was harder than anything he had ever done.

"Shit," Bradley said, checking his watch. "I need to pick Noah up from daycare. Give me my phone," he said before finishing the last sip of his beer.

"I'm not done yet," Nat mumbled, a frightening grin creeping across her face. "Just one more minute."

Bradley thought about texting Rebel and canceling their tentative coffee date. Nat was probably right about dating another aviator. He didn't even know her actual first name, and she only ever called Bradley Rooster. What the hell kind of weird date would that be like? Talking Super Hornet specs? Comparing tales of punching out and parachute deployments?

He listened to a rapid string of alerts from his phone. "Is someone texting me?" he asked, reaching for his phone. "That's a lot of alerts. Is it Noah's daycare?"

But Nat was holding his phone tight and grinning. "Not texts. Women. Women who think you are cute and like your dating profile."

His eyes went wide. "What the fuck did you do?" he asked, his voice deadly calm.

"Got you about ten dates if you want them. You're welcome," she said, handing his phone back to him.

He scrolled through all of the profiles on his screen. "What am I looking at exactly?"

"Well, here's your profile. I used the only decent photos of you in existence. And that's your bio."

Bradley squinted at the screen. "All it says is that I'm 36, a naval aviator, and I like working out. And I have golden retriever energy? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're energetic. They'll take that to mean in the bedroom."

"Jesus, Nat. Shouldn't I disclose important things? Like the fact that I'm a dad?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. That's second date material. They are going to want to size you up and see if you're a daddy before they need to know that you're a dad."

He shoved his phone in his pocket as he stood. "I don't have time for this," he grunted, pulling out his wallet and waving at Penny. "If I don't find a babysitter, none of this is going to make any difference anyway."

Penny took his credit card and then paused. "You need a babysitter for Noah? Mav and I can watch him if you need a break, you know that, right?"

Bradley sighed. "Thanks Pen. Yeah, I know that. I'm just looking for something a little more regular. Gonna try dating again," he said, glaring at Nat out of the corner of his eye.

"I might know someone who would be interested," Penny said, handing the card back to Bradley. "She's a student in her early twenties, I guess. Really smart and seems sweet. Noah would probably like her. She's in classes during the day, but she was looking to babysit at night."

"How do you know her?" Bradley asked, already hesitant to leave his kid alone with a stranger.

"She's renting a house on my street. I ran into her a few times, and we got to talking. She fed Luna, watered my plants, and got the mail when I took Amelia sailing."

Nat placed her hand on his arm. "I know this is a big step, but you could meet her first before you offer her the job."

Bradley stroked his mustache. "Any chance she would come over and meet me and Noah? So I can make sure she's not creepy?" he asked Penny.

Penny just laughed. "She's not creepy. How about I give her your number if she says she's interested in watching Noah."

"Sounds good," Bradley replied quickly, barely listening to Penny now. "I need to go pick him up. Bye, Nat."

"Don't forget to swipe through all your matches!" she called after him.

He just waved and made his way to his Bronco. Bradley always felt like he was running all over the place. As much as it bothered him to take Noah to daycare on a Saturday, he felt like he was losing his grip on his life. His friends rarely ever remembered to invite him to the Hard Deck, correctly assuming he wouldn't be able to go. But it would still be nice to be invited.

Everything felt impossible on his own. He wasn't getting enough sleep. As soon as Noah went to bed, it was a race to try to get every chore finished. Then he had to wake up an hour earlier to insure he had time to get Noah ready and dropped off at daycare on time. Every day was a damn marathon, and he really wished he could get some help.

He would never ever admit it to Nat, but he was lonely. Just the idea of getting to spend an evening eating dinner with a woman practically had him popping a boner. Having the chance to get to know someone again, get to have sex again? He couldn't think about it too long. He'd been spending so much time with his right hand and his imagination.

As he pulled into the daycare parking lot, he sighed. This was the reason he had forfeited dating. His son. His adorable, perfect son.

"Ready to go?" he asked, and Noach climbed up into his arms.

"Yep, daddy," he said, and Bradley carried him out after thanking the daycare staff.

"Let's get home and eat dinner," Bradley said, pushing Noah's dark curls away from his forehead and kissing him.

And this was the reason Bradley would only ever consider dating someone who liked kids and didn't mind dating a single dad. In spite of the daycare schedule, and the exhaustion and loneliness, Noah was his top priority.

-------------------------

You were just getting back from class and unloading your books from your car when you saw Penny waving to you from her mailbox. As soon as you waved awkwardly with your arms full, she was heading your way.

"Hey, Penny," you said as she walked up your driveway.

"I wanted to chat for a minute. Is it a bad time?" she asked, eyeing up everything in your arms.

You nodded toward the house. "Come inside so I can set everything down."

She followed you in, already going on about someone named Bradley. "He's sweet, and he has an adorable three year old son named Noah. They are looking for a reliable sitter, and I know you mentioned an interest."

"Oh," you replied, dumping everything onto your couch. "This Bradley guy? He's not creepy or anything, right?"

Penny laughed. "He asked the same about you. He's very hesitant to let a stranger watch Noah, but I told him I'd give you his number if you wanted to contact him. Maybe you could just go meet them one day. He's not creepy. He works with Pete. And I swear Noah is irresistable."

You sighed. You really needed some extra income. And you loved kids. And you'd probably be able to study after Noah went to bed for the night. As long as this Bradley wasn't giving off weird vibes, you'd probably want the job.

"Okay, I'll take his number," you said, and soon you were adding Bradley Bradshaw to your contacts. "Thanks, Penny. Hopefully this will work out."

You got lost in your research for the rest of the day on Saturday, and purposely avoided returning texts from Greyson. He only wanted to see you when you were too busy, and he never wanted to see you when you had time for him.

"He's being a douchebag," you whispered as you scrolled through the idiotic things he was sending you.

Then you opened a new conversation and typed out a draft to this Bradley guy.

Hi, I got your number from Penny Benjamin. She told me you're looking for a reliable babysitter. Any chance you have some free time so I can meet you and your son?

It was late, so you decided to let it sit in your drafts until the following morning. But apparently it wasn't too late for Greyson, who was now asking if you wanted him to send you a dick pic.

You switched your phone to do not disturb mode after telling him that you would really appreciate it if he didn't send you one. Then you went to bed and dozed off fantasizing about dating a guy who acted like an adult.

It was so late when you woke up, you decided to skip breakfast and just make yourself lunch. When you switched your phone back to receive messages, you were flooded with a bunch, mostly from Greyson. Luckily there was no dick pic to speak of, but he'd sent you a bunch of nonsense while he was probably drunk or high.

Then you noticed the draft to Bradley Bradshaw, so you hit send on that one. You had a reply from him before you were even done making a sandwich.

Bradley Bradshaw: Yes, I am looking for a sitter for my son Noah. Penny highly recommended you. I can make time to meet you whenever you are free. Just to be clear, I want to make sure Noah and I are both comfortable around you before proceeding.

You rolled your eyes. A grown adult man should not be as concerned about you as you should be about him. But, you could see where he was coming from about the prospect of letting a stranger stay with his son. So you replied and started eating your sandwich.

I could stop by this evening to meet you both if you're free.

He wrote back quickly again.

Bradley Bradshaw: That would be great. Anytime after 4. I'll attach my address.

If this guy was creepy or if his son was weird, Penny was going to be hearing about it for the rest of the year.

---------------------------

Bradley was just cooking dinner while Noah sat in his high chair coloring, when he heard his doorbell ring. "That might be your potential babysitter, bub," Bradley told him, kissing the top of his head as he grabbed a dish towel and headed for the front door while drying his hands.

But Bradley almost dropped the towel when he opened the door and got a look at you. As your wide eyes drifted up his body and landed on his face, you smiled up at him.

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

You were stunning. Beautiful, and so fucking young. He swallowed against the saliva pooling in his mouth. Oh shit.

"Uh, yeah. Hi," he managed, moving out of the doorway so you could step past him and into the living room. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem," you said with a shrug. "I'm looking forward to meeting Noah." You brushed past Bradley, and he closed his eyes. Your lip gloss was distractingly shiny. You smelled like beach grass or wildflowers. You looked like you were barely old enough to drink.

"He's in the kitchen," Bradley rasped, trying to pull himself together. "Back this way."

You followed Bradley through the house, and as soon as you saw his son sitting in the high chair, you went right to him.

"Hey, Noah! What are you coloring?"

"Dinosaurs," Noah told you, holding out a pink crayon.

"Cool. I love pink dinosaurs," you replied, starting to color a pterodactyl on the page next to the one he was working on.

"Me too. I like pink and blue dinosaurs the best," he replied.

Bradley watched you interacting with Noah. You seemed sweet, coloring each dinosaur the color he requested. When Noah mispronounced your name, you just laughed and told him he could call you that.

When you bent down to retrieve a yellow crayon as it rolled across the floor, Bradley got an excellent view of the backs of your bare thighs as your sundress rode up. He dropped the spatula into the pan, nearly burning himself. He was also nearly burning his dinner.

"Shit," he mumbled as you turned to smile at him before handing the crayon back to Noah.

"What else do you like to do? Besides color?" you asked.

Noah started telling you all about drawing with chalk and playing with bubbles outside. "I like snacks and movies. And hiking."

Bradley laughed. "By hiking he means walking around the block if I make it home from work before it's dark out."

"Oh," you said. "I can take you on a hike one day, Noah. I like hiking around the block, too. Maybe we can collect some things like rocks and leaves."

Bradley listened to Noah tell you about some particularly good rocks he had found last week, and you somehow responded in just the right way.

"You're in the navy?" you eventually asked Bradley, shrugging out of your denim jacket in the hot kitchen, giving Bradley a view of even more of your flawless skin. "Like Pete?"

He cleared his throat, mixing everything in the pan on the stove. "Yeah, I work with him. I'm an aviator."

"Do you want me to call you by your rank? Instead of Mr. Bradshaw?"

Bradley had to press his lips together, a little scared to know what hearing you call him Lieutenant Bradshaw would do to him. "You can just call me Bradley."

"Okay, Bradley," you said, and unfortunately that did something to him too. "You've got a cute kid. I think Noah and I could have a lot of fun together."

"How old are you?" The words were out of Bradley's mouth before he could rethink them. He almost sounded accusatory, but really he needed to know how bad it was that he couldn't stop looking at your legs.

"Twenty-four," you replied casually.

Jesus. He was twelve years older than you. But you looked even younger than that. Sweet. Too innocent.

"I'm in grad school for nursing," you continued. "I'm certified in CPR, and I can treat injuries. I know how to swim. I'm free every day starting at 4. You can run a background check on me if you want to."

Noah looked up at you and asked if you wanted to build blocks with him, and Bradley knew he already felt comfortable enough to leave his son with you while he went on a date with Rebel.

He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He hadn't taken the time to figure out how to use the dating app that Nat installed, and he was being inundated with matches and messages. He also hadn't given Rebel, whose first name was Grace, a solid answer about when he could get coffee with her.

But for some reason, in spite of the laundry list of women from the app who were interested in going on a date with him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Bradley asked as you built a block tower with Noah on the high chair tray.

"Oh, no. That's nice of you to ask, but I don't want to crash your meal," you told him over your shoulder. "Here, put this little block on the top. Let's see if we can make it stay," you told Noah, keeping your hands around the sides of the tower until he successfully set down the last piece. Then you tossed your hands into the air and cheered.

Noah turned and looked at you in surprise and you just laughed. "You're good at coloring and blocks?" He just giggled, and soon you were both knocking down the tower and starting over.

As Bradley scraped his half burned dinner onto a plate, he felt a little disappointed that you were grabbing your jacket and getting ready to leave. Noah looked a little sad, too.

"Well," Bradley told you, watching you gracefully shrug into your jacket, "you're hired if you think you can put up with the two of us."

You laughed and took a step closer to him. "Noah? He seems like an angel. You on the other hand?"

Bradley's eyes went wide, and you just laughed harder.

"Only kidding! I'm sure I'll be able to put up with both of you if you think you can put up with me."

You were young and beautiful, and for some reason Bradley wanted to feed you dinner, even though the food he made looked barely edible.

"I don't think that will be a problem."

---------------------------

I hope you enjoy your Daddy Rooster and babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls !!

PART 2

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