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highvern · 9 months

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Teach Me VI

Final

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

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[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM]

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings.

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish.

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible.

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount.

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin.

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh.

You hate it.

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him.

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions.

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor.

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available.

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions.

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things.

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number.

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to.

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers.

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom.

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them.

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much.

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!”

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back.

“Sorry, let me help you.”

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet. “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk.

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting.

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up.

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain.

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous.

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea.

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown.

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes.

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know?

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend.

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together.

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms.

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?”

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

—

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room.

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks.

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution.

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh.

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively.

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you.

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe.

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you.

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession.

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?”

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all.

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze.

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.”

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #🫡 highvern

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javierpena-inatacvest · 11 months

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Chapter 16- The Lone Star State

Summary: You and Javi head to Dallas for the weekend to make good on his Christmas present to the Stars vs. Blackhawks game. While you're there, you run into someone from your past that sets the weekend in a different direction.

Word Count: 15.7K (I'm genuinely so sorry except I'm not)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) strap in y'all... unprotected p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink, praise kink, oral (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, light bondage (aren't we glad Javi brought his work tie?!), multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, dom/sub Javi AND Osita (omg y'all), Javi being a whining, WHIMPERING mess (it deserves its own warning) violence (Javi punches someone), alcohol/being tipsy, food/eating, I'm not even gonna lie everyone... This chapter is really just hockey and sex LMAOOOOO

A/N: Trick or Treat! Here's a lil Halloween something for all of you being so patient and waiting for me to finish this unexpected monster 🫣 I swear, I thought I was gonna struggle to make this chapter long enough, and now here we are, with the longest NTL chapter to date 🥴 SO EAT UP AND ENJOY 🤪 Shout out to @endlessthxxghts for listening to my horny ramblings about this chapter ILYYYYYYY

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Your teacher guilt had never been good at letting you take days off. You had gone to school with sore throats, stuffy noses, fevers, hell, you had gone to school with what you were convinced was the plague because you felt so bad leaving your class with a sub. So when it came to taking personal days, it was safe to say, you felt even worse. That’s why Javi knew when he had planned your Christmas trip to Dallas with a Friday night game for the Chicago Blackhawks vs. the Dallas Stars, he was going to need plenty of backup support from your co-workers to convince you it was okay to take a Friday afternoon off to do something for yourself to enjoy.

“Okay, and just make sure that the substitute knows that all of the worksheets for math are on my desk next to-”

“MIJA. Dios Mio. Yes, yes, yes, I will make sure the substitute knows where everything is. It is a Friday afternoon, all she needs to do is keep them alive. Don’t worry about a thing, I promise I have it covered. Now go! Tu futuro esposo te está esperando! (Your future husband is waiting for you!)” Maria waved her hand at you, practically shooing you out of your own classroom, trying to get you to stop explaining your very detailed plans you had left behind that you had already told her 4 different times leading up to today, in addition to leaving an extra copy on her desk, just in case something went wrong.

“Okay, okay! Thank you Maria. You’re the best.” You laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder, starting to make your way down the hall to the front office.

“Yo se. Ten un buen fin de semana! (I know. Have a fun weekend!). Not too much fun, if you know what I mean.” Maria winked, waving goodbye as she walked the opposite direction back towards her own classroom.

“Maria!” You grimaced, your face turning bright red watching her cackle in delight as she closed her door behind her. You took a final breath as you headed down the hallway, convincing yourself that your class would be just fine for their substitute, and even if they weren’t, well, that would just have to be Monday’s problem.

“Man, you’re really sexy for a taxi driver, you taking people to the airport, hottie?” you giggled, hopping into the passenger’s side of Javi’s truck, tossing your school bag into the backseat with the rest of your suitcases. Like most people’s jobs, Javi’s work at the sheriff’s department didn’t require him to leave behind detailed instructions of how to keep 25 8 year olds alive and educated when he wanted to take time off, so he had offered to leave work early to pack up all of your things so you could head right to the airport from Alma Pierce Elementary. “Oh my god, and you got BLT’s from Alejandro’s, too? Sexiness and bringing me sandwiches? This is the best cab ride I’ve ever had.” The two of you laughed as Javi rolled his eyes at you, passing you over your sandwich as you headed en route to the Laredo Airport.

“You’re such a weirdo. How was your day, Osita?” Javi asked, reaching over to place his hand on your leg, gently tracing circles in the denim of your jeans as you chowed down on your sandwich, finally getting a chance at a bite of food for the first time since breakfast.

“Better now that I’m with you. And that you brought me this delicious sandwich. I’ve been so distracted all day because I’ve been so excited for this weekend.” You beamed through bites of your BLT, reaching down to give Javi’s hand a squeeze.

“Me too, Hermosa. I’ve never been to Dallas before, so I’m glad my first trip is with you.”

“Seriously? I guess I forget how big Texas is. It’s probably like what, a 7 hour drive from Laredo?” You shrugged, taking another bite of your sandwich, trying to calculate the distance in your brain.

“About 6 and a half. Which is exactly why we’re flying, and not driving.”

“What? You don’t wanna spend 6 and a half hours in the car with me?” You smirked, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow before crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, I don’t wanna spend 5 hours and 45 minutes by myself driving while you sleep the whole way.” He laughed, elbowing you back, the both of you knowing you made the worst road trip partner for any drive longer than an hour, since you’d be sound asleep in the passenger’s seat as Javi drove.

“To be fair, you’re always the one driving.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at his jab, knowing he wasn’t wrong.

“Because you refuse to drive my truck, and I’m convinced if you drive your car anywhere more than 10 miles at a time, it’ll collapse.”

“Hey! Woodstock can make it at least a good 50 before I start to get genuinely concerned. I trust him more than I trust the metal death trap we’re about to ride in. I think you just like watching me suffer while we fly because you know how much I hate it.” You sassed, giving him an unseriously stern look that had you on the verge of bursting into laughter.

“I think the bones in my hand would beg to differ, Hermosa. After the past two flights to Chicago, I’m surprised I have any left considering the death grip you have every time we take off and land.” Javi chuckled, nudging you back.

“Like I said Jav, you’re the one who booked the flight, can’t blame this one on me.”

To neither of your surprise, you couldn’t help but find your hand tightly wrapped in Javi’s for the hour and a half flight from Laredo to Dallas. Although he refrained from giving you any shit as you sat only partially paralyzed next to him on your trip, his “I told you so” look as the two of you got off the plane was all he needed to do to have you rolling your eyes, knowing as long as the two of you flew together, he would always tease you for crushing his hand, but you and him both knew he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Your cab ride from the airport to the hotel was a quick trip, Javi picking a hotel downtown close to fun bars and restaurants for the two of you to try, and to Reunion Arena where you were headed in a few hours to watch the Stars and the Blackhawks play. You both unpacked your bags from the taxi, Javi insisting that he carry your bag too. It didn’t take long into your relationship for you to give up on trying to persuade Javi that you could carry your own bags, open your own doors or go get things yourself, his response always being “I know you can, Hermosa, but I want to.” While the stubborn part of you always wanted to fight him on it, there was always a part of you that couldn’t help but smile every time he insisted on doing things for you simply because he wanted to, for no other reason than the fact he loved you.

“Hi, we’re checking in. The name should be under Javier Peña.” Javi smiled at the woman at the front desk of the hotel as the both of you strolled up hand in hand.

“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Peña it looks like we’ve got you checking in tonight and then checking out on Sunday, is that correct?” The woman nodded back at the two of you, clicking away at the keyboard in front of her to gather the rest of your room information. You and Javi paused for a moment, quietly looking at each other with smug grins on your faces, feeling no need to correct her mistake.

“Yup, that’s us.” You chimed in, giving Javi a little nudge under the counter, still smirking at the thought of hearing your last name as his.

“Perfect! We have you staying in room 403. If you take a left down this hallway, the elevators are right that way. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” The woman grinned, handing over your room keys and gesturing down the hallway, the two of you nodding back, giving a polite thanks as you grabbed your bags and headed off towards your room.

“Didn’t feel the need to correct her on that one, huh?” You giggled, playfully poking at Javi as the two of you waited for the elevator.

“Absolutely not, Mrs. Peña.” He grinned, grabbing your bags as the two of you stepped through the open doors of the elevator, glad to find it empty as you pressed the button to ride up to your floor. “Fuck, I can’t believe in a few months you’re actually gonna be my wife. God, I can’t wait.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, butterflies swirling in your stomach as you looked up at him, soft smiles spread across both your faces. “Me neither. Crazy to think the next time we stay at a hotel together it’ll be on our honeymoon.” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, biting down on your lip. Javi shook his head, running his hand over his face almost in disbelief before pulling you in closer, reaching his hand down to grab a handful of your ass as his voice rasped in your ear.

“Fuck me. Better make sure we put this hotel room to good use and get some practice in before we go then, huh?”

Before you could respond, you could hear the ding of the elevator doors sliding open, Javi quickly pulling away, noticing several hotel guests standing on the other side of the door, grabbing your bags and getting off the elevator. You let out a deep sigh, trying to compose yourself as you excused yourself through the small crowd, giving Javi a goofy, stern look as he laughed, carting your bags behind him as you made your way down the hall towards your room.

“You cannot just be saying stuff like that, you menace. You know we do not have time to do anything before we have to leave, and you’re gonna get me all hot and bothered.” You grimaced, playfully swatting at him as he set down your things to grab the room key out of his pocket.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Osita. I would never do that.” Javi joked, a boyish grin growing between his cheeks as he pushed open the door, hauling your bags inside. “Plus, you know I could make it quick, we could have time if you really wanted to.” Throwing your bags down on the ground next to the bed, Javi smirked as he sat down on the edge, giving you the sweet brown eyes he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Oh bullshit you never would, you dork.” You rolled your eyes, making your way over to Javi, slotting yourself in between his legs as you ran your hands through the soft brown curls of his hair, pressing a tender kiss on his lips before pulling away, cupping your hand around his cheek. “Believe me, I know you could, but the game starts in an hour and a half and we still have to eat dinner and get to the stadium. You spent all this money on me to take me here to see the game and we’re not missing it because you can’t keep it in your pants, mister.”

“When you’ve got a future wife as hot as you, can you blame me?” Javi shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist, reaching his hands down to grab your ass again, tugging you hard enough to make you fall over on top of him, making you giggle as you landed on his chest.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? Believe me, once we get back, my future husband can have me any way he wants me. But right now, we have a hockey game to get to, Mr. Peña.” You grinned, biting down on your lip before giving him another quick kiss and pushing yourself off the bed, leaving Javi still laying down wide eyed and worked up as you rummaged through your suitcase, pulling out a Blackhawks jersey for you, and one from Charlie’s extensive collection for Javi to borrow, tossing it on the bed next to him. You shuffled out of the sweater you had worn to work, leaving you in just your bra and jeans as you searched through your bag to pull out a crewneck to wear under your jersey.

“Any way? You’re not making this any easier on me.” Javi huffed, beginning to shed his own jacket to change, undressing you with his eyes faster than you could have undressed yourself.

“Well you’re not about to make it any easier on me once you put that jersey on either.” You sighed, watching Javi throw on his jersey over his shirt, your jaw immediately going slack at the sight. “Jesus Christ, you’re so hot. God, I can’t even look at you. C’mon, we gotta get outta here before we miss this whole game.” You laughed, overdramatically shielding your eyes from Javi, marching your way over to the door to avoid any temptations. Javi chuckled, grabbing his jacket and following behind you, opening up the door for you, outstretching his arm toward the hallway.

“After you, Mrs. Peña.”

Someway or another, the two of you managed to make it out of the hotel, deciding on a barbeque restaurant down the street from the stadium for dinner. The two of you decided to get ribs to split, leaving Javi equal parts shocked and impressed at the speed you demolished your dinner, realizing you were much hungrier than you had anticipated. After finishing your dinner, the two of you walked over to Reunion Arena, perhaps feeling a little like the odd ones out in your red and black amongst a sea of green and gold, but the feeling of being back in a stadium to watch a live hockey game filled you with a sense of comfort and content even if you were far from your home arena in Chicago.

“I haven’t been to an NHL game in so long. You seriously have no idea how excited I am for this, thank you so much, Jav.” You beamed, squeezing his hand as the two of you made your way into the arena, working your way through the sizeable crowd, considering how well the Dallas Stars had been doing this season. “I feel honored to be the first one to take you to your first professional hockey game.”

“Of course, Osita. I’m excited to be here with you. If it wasn’t for you, I would have gone my whole life without ever watching a hockey game.” Javi smiled, gripping your hand a little tighter than usual as you navigated through the sea of fans, trying to find your seats.

There hadn’t been many instances where you and Javi had found yourselves in large crowds of people, but whenever you did, you could always sense the slight shift in Javi’s demeanor- While it didn’t make him uneasy, you could always tell he was a little more on alert and on edge. Your brothers had been the same way when they had come back from active duty whenever they were in crowds, and you could understand why Javi felt that way, too. But what Javi was that your brothers weren’t when you found yourselves in these situations was overly protective of you. Holding your hand tighter than normal, shielding your body with his whenever you had to walk through a crowd, giving guys who looked in your direction a little too long a death glare he hoped you wouldn’t catch- Javi would never admit it, knowing the stubborn and independent woman you were, but you knew just as well as he did that he got just a touch more possessive whenever the two of you went out, and tonight was no exception.

Javi had tried to chalk it up to the fact that you stood out because of your opposing jerseys, but he couldn’t help but notice the looks that you had been getting since the minute you had entered the stadium, the wandering eyes of groups of guys with their buddies silently nodding to each other with subtle smirks on their faces as you unassumingly walked by. And while he was never worried that you would do anything about it, he couldn’t help but feel a little heat start to burn in the pit of his stomach as men looked your way a little too long, especially as the two of you walked hand in hand through the arena, the men glancing in your direction knowing you were off limits because you were his. While he wouldn’t say it, and was going to try his damndest not to show it, Javi couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

After a quick walk through the arena, you and Javi found your section, practically dragging him down the steps towards your seats in excitement to know your seats were right up against the boards at center ice, which, to you, were the best seats in all of hockey regardless of where you were watching. “Javi, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, these seats are amazing, I have never had seats this good at a hockey game ever! You sure these are our seats? Like, we actually get to sit here?” You squealed, pointing to the pair of empty seats in your row, practically bouncing in excitement.

“Yes, actually.” Javi laughed, beaming at your pure joy and excitement as you plopped into your spots, watching you take in the sights and sounds of the pre-game excitement. You were like a little kid on Christmas, even giddier than you were when you first saw the tickets on the day as your present, filling Javi’s heart to know his gift had brought you such genuine happiness.

Looking up at the scoreboard, you figured you had just enough time to go to the bathroom and grab the two of you a beer before the game started, shooting up out of your seat and giving Javi a quick kiss on the cheek as you scooted past him. “Where are you going?” Javi asked, looking at you with confusion as you made your way down the aisle.

“I gotta pee and I’m gonna go grab us drinks before the game starts.” You gestured up towards the stairs and then back at the game clock ticking down towards zero. You were equally as confused as Javi started to stand up too, looking like he was getting ready to follow you. “You need to pee, too?”

“No, I was uh- I was gonna go with you.” Stuck halfway between standing and sitting, Javi paused, trying to silently convey to you that he didn’t mind going, for his own sake to know that no one was going to try and bother you on your trip.

“Jav, I’m good, it’ll be like 5 minutes, don’t worry.” You nodded reassuringly, giving him a little shrug as you made your way up the steps to the entrance of your section.

“O-okay.” Javi half smiled back at you, watching the whole way you went up before you disappeared into the crowd, leaving him anxiously tapping his fingers against his jeans as he waited for you to return.

The one benefit of being a female hockey fan was that you seemed to come few and far between, making your trips to the bathroom at any game much shorter than the average women’s bathroom line, happily speeding in and out before making your way over to the concession stand. You stood in line, peeking your head over the other people waiting with you to try and see what your beer choices were on the menu above the cash registers, when you noticed familiar flashes of red and black jerseys a few lines over. Out of curiosity, you stood on your tiptoes, peering through the crowd to see who else had Blackhawks jerseys on all the way out in Dallas. Taking a few steps forward with your moving line, you were able to get a better look at the group of guys chatting amongst each other, only able to see the backs of their heads and the player’s jerseys they were wearing, until one of them turned around towards you making your gut sink and your heart stop.

There’s no fucking way.

You immediately turned around, hoping the group hadn’t seen you staring, visibly shaking your head to try and clear your thoughts. You quickly looked over once more, only able to see the backs of their heads again, making it easier to convince yourself you must have just been seeing things.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you ready to order?” A woman called out from the cash register, trying to get your attention as you stood frozen in disbelief, staring at the ground.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Sorry. Um, can I uh- I can I just get two Miller Lites, please?” You asked, pulling out your wallet and handing over a few bills and your ID, nervously bouncing your leg while you waited for her to return with your drinks, stuffing your change back into your pocket and grabbing your beers. You tried as best as you could to book it back to your seats, praying that if who you thought you had seen was really there, you had made it out fast enough that they hadn’t seen you.

You had made it back just in time, the lights in the arena now beginning to dim, the crowd roaring as the Blackhawks and the Stars skated out of the tunnel to greet the crowd and warm up before the game started. You had hoped that the darkness of the arena would be enough to hide your rattled expression from Javi as you snuck back to your seat, passing his beer off to him as you sat down with yours, taking a long swig before setting it down in your cup holder. While the lack of lights may have been enough to hide your face, it wasn’t enough to make up for your silence as you sat down next to Javi, now looking over at you with concern. “You okay, Osita?” He asked, reaching down to wrap his hand around your knee that you had been trying to keep from anxiously tapping since you got back to your seat.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m good. I just- um, I just thought I saw someone that I knew here but I don’t know how the hell it would be them or why they would be in Dallas, so it must have just been someone who looked like them. Sorry, it was just weird.” You shook your head again, trying to use any rational part of your brain to convince yourself of your words, and not let it ruin the rest of your night. “I’m good, I promise.” Leaning over the edge of your seat, you planted a soft kiss on Javi’s cheek, giving him a reassuring smile before letting out a big cheer as the announcer began shouting out the names of the Blackhawks starting lineup through the arena.

Thankfully, it didn’t take much for you to forget about your unsettling observation at the concession stand- the excitement and energy of the game quickly took over, cheering and screaming as the puck dropped and the first period began. The seats that Javi had picked out were incredible, giving you a close up on all of the action, including a few body checks pressed up against the glass right next to you as the two teams battled on the ice. You had always told Javi whenever you watched games on TV that you never expected him to care or be nowhere near as invested as you were, but knowing how important it was to you and how much you loved it, he had made an effort to try and learn as much as he could to keep up, leaning over to your seat every once in a while to ask you questions or try and point out something he noticed. It warmed your heart to see how much Javi wanted to show that he cared, and made you even more thrilled to see that he was just as into watching the game as you were, now yelling and clapping along with you opposite the crowd filled with Dallas Stars fans. Anything you did with Javi made you happy, simply because you got to be with him, but you really owed it to him for making this one of the best hockey games that you had been to in a very, very long time.

As the second period came to a close, the Blackhawks were up 2-1, the two of you so excited by the game that you hadn’t realized you both could go for another beer refill and another trip to the bathroom. You made your way up the stairs, Javi following close behind as you parted ways at the entrance to your section, agreeing that you would go get your drinks and meet him at the concession stand, since your trip to the bathroom was probably going to be much shorter than his. After a quick run through a nearly empty bathroom, you shot back over to the concession stand, standing back in the same line you were before, completely forgetting about your observation from your last trip.

Grabbing both of your beers, you leaned against a pillar next to the concession stand, waiting for Javi to come back from the bathroom, when you heard the faintly familiar voices nearby, your stomach starting to turn once again, looking out at the crowd to see if you could find where they were coming from. You peered your head the opposite direction of where you came, feeling a sense of relief with no black or red jerseys in sight, cautiously tiling your eyes back the other way, only to feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach with the group of guys now standing in front of you. Your chest began to pound, squeezing your eyes shut, somehow hoping it would make you, or better yet, them disappear, but it was no use.

“I told you it was her! How’s it going, Ice Princess? Long time, no see! I can’t fucking believe this. Paul! Paul! Get over here, I told you it was her, you motherfucker!”

Letting out a deep breath, you reluctantly opened your eyes to see your ex-boyfriend Paul and his obnoxious group of friends standing in front of you, snickering and pointing like middle school boys in your general direction at your absolutely flabbergasted face. “You gotta be fucking kidding me…” You muttered under your breath, clenching your jaw and tightening your grip around your beers as the group approached you, pushing Paul front and center, as if you needed it to be any more obvious that his presence had been known.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped, glaring at Paul’s tall and lanky figure, his short blonde hair spiked up in the same way you absolutely hated, cocky grin stretched across his face as he approached you.

“Damn, nice to see you too, Princess.” Paul laughed, his group of friends joining in and cackling behind, giving each other playful slaps.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You growled, giving him a deathly glare, now anxiously bouncing your foot, wondering where Javi was and what was taking him so long. “You didn’t answer my question, asshole.”

“Calm down, Princess, Jesus. We’re here this weekend for an accounting conference downtown. Work paid for us to fly down today so we figured we’d catch the game since the Hawks were playing tonight. What the hell are you doing here?” Paul crossed his arms, giving you a condescendingly smug smirk, as if you were supposed to be happy to see him.

“I live here? Remember that thing where you were a complete dickwad and cheated behind my back for 2 years and told me my brother deserved to die so it became incredibly clear to me that there is no one else on the fucking face of this earth I would rather be with less than you? Or is that too much for your idiot brain to remember?” You were practically snarling at him at this point, nostrils flared and jaw clenched as the angry pit in your stomach grew heavier and heavier each second you looked at Paul. God, where the hell was Javi?

“Ouch…” One of the guys grimaced behind Paul’s back, the rest of them frowning in agreement, almost impressed by your brashness. “Told you this wasn’t gonna go over well, dude.” Another mumbled, giving Paul a little nudge.

“Shut the fuck up, Eric.” Paul retorted, rolling his eyes at his friend, trying to save the little dignity you had just spared him. “Okay, okay, point taken. I did some not so great shit, sorry. Don’t need to be such a brat about it.” Holding up his hands in defense, Paul shrugged, giving you the most unapologetic look you had ever seen. “Listen, one of the guys said he saw a hot chick in a Blackhawks jersey, it sparked my attention, turns out it was you. Figured I’d come say hi, let you know you still look real fuckin’ good. See if maybe you wanna go get a drink or something after the game and catch up?”

You were so heated and filled with rage locked in your sinister staring match with Paul that you hadn’t heard Javi come up behind you, making you flinch and spill some of the beer you had been holding as he quickly grabbed them out of your hands, setting them down on the ground before instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist. Even though you were still fuming, you felt a sense of relief wash over you to see that not only was Javi finally back, but that he had clearly also picked up on the fact that you did not look happy to see whoever had been talking to you.

“These guys bothering you?” Javi asked, digging his fingertips into your hip, shooting Paul a menacing glare. Before you could say anything to try and explain what the hell was happening, Paul was scoffing at you and Javi, giving you a disgusted look as he pointed at him.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Javi snapped back, his tone becoming increasingly harsher with the way Paul had responded to his presence.

“A friend from Chicago-”

“A friend from Chicago?! Shut the fuck up, Paul.” You groaned, jaw dropping in shock that he had the audacity to try and play it off to Javi like he was an old acquaintance you were happy to run into. “This is my fiancé, asshole.”

“Fiancé? Yikes, talk about needing a fucking rebound, huh?” Paul laughed, his friends joining in behind him

“What’s that supposed to mean, motherfucker?” You growled, lunging toward Paul, Javi grabbing you by your waist to keep you from getting any further, pulling you back towards him. The sight of Javi having to physically restrain you from trying to go after him only made Paul laugh harder, shaking his head and letting out a deep, satisfied sigh before speaking again.

“God, you’re just as much as fucking mess as you were when we broke up, aren’t you? The boys always said I liked ‘em hot and crazy so guess we’re fuckin’ two for two, aren’t we, Princess? Good luck with this one, man. You got your fucking hands full.” Looking you up and down as you tugged against Javi’s grasp, trying to free yourself, Paul let out one last huff of amusement before beginning to turn around and walk away, only to be stopped by a large hand yanking at the back of his jersey, forcing him to back around to meet Javi’s broad body looming over his. While you were full of rage and on the verge of trying to punch Paul’s teeth in, Javi had let go of his grasp with a look like he was ready to kill as he stepped towards Paul, jaw clenched and fist drawn as his grip on Paul’s jersey shifted from his back to under his neck, the fabric balled tight in his hands as he pulled Paul towards him.

“Don’t you ever fucking talk about my future wife like that again or I’ll fucking kill you, you understand?” Javi threatened, his voice low and ominous as he drew Paul closer to his face, making sure he heard every word coming through the snarl of his gritted teeth.

Oh.

Javi knew you had no problem standing up for yourself. He knew you probably could have taken Paul down yourself if he’d let you go at him. But if there was one thing Javi knew for god damn sure, it was that he wasn’t above beating the shit out of anyone who threatened to even look at you the wrong way, let alone deliberately insult you. Just as well as he knew that, you also knew that Javi wasn’t the type to get in pissing matches with other guys just to assert his dominance.

But the way he had stormed after Paul with no hesitation, hoisting him up by the collar of his shirt and threatening him with the dangerous rumble looming in his voice had the pounding in your chest quickly fading from anger to arousal at the way Javi’s instincts had gone into overdrive to protect you- and that, that was something you were not expecting to make you as hot and bothered as it was.

“Jesus, okay man, okay!” Paul moaned, preemptively flinching and wincing his face as Javi leaned in towards him before letting him go and shoving him down, making him stumble as he tried to regain his balance. You would have thought that would have been plenty to get Paul to run off, tail tucked between his legs in embarrassment, but you had forgotten what a wonderfully delightful douchebag your ex was, always needing to get in the last word in any argument just to prove a point. “Fuckin’ have her man. Good fuckin’ riddance, bitch.”

And just like that, without a second thought, without even a hesitation, hearing Paul mumble that last sentence under his breath was enough to have Javi’s hand balled in a fist, immediately winding up to punch Paul square in the face, instantly knocking him to the cold, hard cement of the arena floor in a sobbing, whimpering heap.

Taking a step back to shake out his hand and admire the pitiful mess Paul had become, Javi let the slightest smirk slide across his face before immediately turning back to you, gently cupping your face, melting you with his sweet brown eyes filled with concern- A stark contrast from his stone cold demeanor only moments ago. “Are you okay, Hermosa?”

“Are you okay? Javi… holy shit.” Grabbing Javi’s hand from the side of your face, pulling it down to examine his red knuckles, you darted your eyes back and forth between him and Paul, still writhing on the ground, blood dripping down his nose. You couldn’t help but feel your eyes go wide, butterflies swirling in your stomach as a tiny grin curled between your lips looking down at what Javi had done to your ex. You had never seen Javi get aggressive like this, and despite everything you’d ever thought about not needing a man to come swoop in and save you, it was taking everything in you not to pounce on him right then and there by how turned on you were by the fact he had just easily decked Paul to the ground in your defense.

“Fuck you, motherfucker, I think you broke my nose!” Paul whimpered, wiping away blood with the back of his hand, trying to press himself back up to stand. “Security!”

“Don’t even bother. We’re leaving. Fuck you too, Paul.” You scoffed, grabbing Javi’s hand as you tugged him away, proudly flipping Paul off as you passed by, pushing your way through the small audience that had formed around you from your tussle, several people giving you and Javi silent nods of approval after watching what had happened. Once you had dragged Javi far enough away, he paused, stopping in his tracks, forcing you to turn back towards him.

“Osita. Baby, fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t want us to have to leave because of me, we came all this way to watch the game and I, fuck- I don’t- I don’t know what got into me, but there was no way I was gonna fucking let him talk to you like that, I-”

“Javi. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t care if the Blackhawks win, I don’t care if they lose, I don’t care if we get blown out 75-0, if you don’t take me back to our hotel room and fuck me right now, I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.” Taking a few steps back where Javi had froze, you placed your hands on his chest, grabbing two big fist fulls of his jersey before pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a hot, wet kiss on his lips, biting down on your lip and raising an eyebrow at him as you pulled back.

“Fuck, okay. Hermosa, are you sure?” Javi smirked, gently brushing away a stray piece of hair from your face, resting his hand around your jaw.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything. Take me back to our room and fuck the shit out of me, Javier Peña.”

It was then Javi’s turn to drag you off through the arena, immediately grabbing your hand and working through the crowd, practically running back to your hotel, your limbs immediately intertangling the moment you found yourselves alone in the elevator. Your hands ran along each other’s bodies, your kisses frantic and desperate down the empty hallway to your room, Javi barely able to pull away for long enough to tug his room key out of his pocket. Your back was pressed against the door, trapped under Javi’s body towering over you as he finally was able to slide the card in the door, the pressure of your weight pushing against it forcing it open as it unlocked.

Your hands roamed needily as your mouths met with an electric intensity, stumbling towards the bed with faltering steps before your back hit the plush mattress, Javi leaning over you with hands planted on either side of your head, his kisses now trailing from your lips to your neck, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as his hands slid under your shirt, palming at your bra and digging his fingertips into your soft flesh. Your hands began to roam too, traveling from the tight grip they had around Javi’s jersey as you pulled him closer to you towards his jeans, reaching out to tug at the denim waistband before feeling Javi’s grip wrap around your wrist, pulling both hands above your head and pinning them to the mattress under the width of his broad grasp.

“Nuh uh, Hermosa.” Javi tutted, a devilish smirk growing across his face as his eyes darkened, squeezing your wrists in his hand, arms still raised over you. He dipped his head down, placing slow, tender kisses along your collarbone before working his way up your neck and jaw, catching the breaths of your moans in his mouth as his lips pressed against yours. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me make you cum as many times as I want first, understand? This pussy’s all fucking mine.”

Oh fuck.

You could feel your stomach swirl with arousal from the growl in Javi’s voice, his words sending a shiver down your spine, eyes wide as you quietly nodded in agreement. Javi was a lot of things when the two of you fucked- tender, attentive, god, even when you wanted him to be rough with you, you could tell there was a part of him that always held back, because the thought of ever doing something that would come even close to hurting you was something he would never do. But the tone of his voice was something that you had never heard from him before- it was demanding, possessive, and holy fuck did it turn you on way more than you would have ever expected it to.

Barely getting out any coherent verbal response to coincide with your head shaking in compliance, Javi let go of your wrists, standing back up, his body hovering over yours at the edge of the bed. “Good girl. Take your clothes off, baby.” Javi rasped, taking a step back to watch as you sat up, quickly pulling off your jersey and crewneck underneath before working your way down to your jeans, shuffling them down your legs and kicking them off your feet, leaving you in your bra and underwear, frantically trying to shed them too before Javi stopped you again, tilting your chin up towards him as his thumb traced along your jawline. He looked you up and down, his smirk widening across his face at the cute matching bra and panty set you had worn, knowing it was one of his favorites and that he’d enjoy your little surprise. “You wear this for me, Hermosa?” Javi asked, his thumb now gently dragging down your bottom lip as he bit down on his own.

“Mhmmmm.” You grinned, giving him a little wink, scooting yourself closer towards the edge of the bed to try and grab at his jersey and pull him close enough to work your hands under and run them along his stomach, sneaking them down to unbutton his jeans. You had only outstretched your arms halfway before his hand was around your wrist again, shaking his head in a playful disapproval.

“So needy. What did I say, baby? Not until I say so, remember? Needy girls still have to be patient, don’t they?” Dropping your wrist, Javi turned around, taking a few steps back before bending down to unzip his suitcase by the end of the bed, shuffling around through his clothes before pulling out the blue and gold tie you had gotten him for his birthday and had worn to work earlier this morning. You cocked your head to the side as you watched him rummage through his clothes, your face still slightly confused when the only thing he pulled out was his tie, until your brain quickly put two and two together. “Maybe this will help you remember. Give me your hands.” Javi paused for a moment, his demeanor shifting back to the sweet and soft man you usually got in the bedroom, his puppy dog eyes staring at you for approval as he quietly mouthed “Is this okay?” to you as he ran his hand up and down the length of his tie. Fuck, did you love this man.

Your jaw hung open in delighted shock, his suggestion going straight to your pussy, your underwear already soaked from the thought of what he was about to do. Feverishly, you nodded, sticking out your hands, wrists pressed together in front of you for Javi, smirking up at him with heavy lashes.

“If it’s too much, or you want me to stop, just-”

“I know. Do your worst, Peña.”

With that, Javi’s sweet facade quickly shifted, taking the silky fabric of his tie and knotting it around your wrists, making sure to leave enough room to keep you comfortable as he wrapped his hands around your hips, picking you up to scoot you further back on the bed, caging his body over yours. He palmed at your bra, freeing your breast to roll your pebbled nipples between his fingers, the sensation making you writhe and moan beneath him, and he hadn’t even touched anything below your waist.

“So fucking pretty. Wearing this just for me, knowing I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, that no other man gets to have you like I have you.” His words were hot and heavy against your skin, making your breath hitch as his hand slid down your soft skin, snaking under the waistband of your underwear and running two fingers through your folds, dripping with your arousal. “Knowing that I’m the only one who makes you wet like this. Why is that, sweet girl? Whose pussy is this?” Javi mewled, dragging his fingers along your slit, collecting the slick pooling between your legs, watching you squirm under his touch.

“It’s yours Javi. Fuck- Fuck baby, it’s all yours.” You whined as Javi’s now soaked fingers snuck out of your panties, bringing them to your mouth.

“Suck.” He grinned, watching you open your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tangy taste lingering on his digits. “That’s right it is. All mine, forever.” Pulling his hand back, he replaced it with his mouth, crashing into you, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip with a passionate ferocity before sliding down your body, bringing himself face to face with the delicate lace covering your dripping heat. Hooking his fingers around the waistband, he slid your underwear down your legs, gently kissing around your thighs, already fighting against the silky fabric tied around your wrists, trying to reach down to tug the dark curls of his hair and pull him closer to you. His kisses traveled closer and closer to your core, his nose barely brushing your clit, making you moan.

“Javi… Baby, please.” You whined, wiggling your bottom half against the cool, crisp sheets, needing for Javi to touch you, taste you, do something besides tease you like this.

“Please what, Osita? Words, baby.” Javi smirked, slowly inching his way towards your center, wrapping his arms around your legs, gripping them in place.

“Touch me, eat me out, fuck me, anything, fuck- please, please, I-”

Before you could plead anymore, you gasped, feeling the broad stroke of Javi’s firm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit, finally easing some of the ache of how worked up you had been since the moment you had watched him knock Paul to the ground. Unlike just moments ago, Javi began lapping you up like a man starved, feverishly flicking his tongue along your sensitive bundle of nerves, the pattern of his movements making you buck your hips towards his face, fighting against his strong arms holding you in place.

Latching his lips, he sucked at your clit, the newfound sensation making the tingle at the base of your spine already begin to grow, the inside of your thighs covered with the shiny slick of your arousal and Javi’s saliva as he worked ferociously at your heat. Your whimpers and groans became more and more labored, an all too familiar creeping sensation sliding up your legs and building in your belly with each movement of his mouth. Your heart began to pound and vision started to blur, arms tugging at the tie placed around your wrists as you felt your orgasm form.

“Oh fuck, fuck Javi. Right there baby, holy shit- fuck, I’m so close, I- I- Wa- wait, wait, what?” Only moments away from feeling pleasure rush though your body, you were left breathless and shocked to feel Javi jerk his mouth away, looking up at you with lust filled eyes and a satisfied grin, opposed to your confusion. “Javi, what? Baby, I was about to-”

“You don’t cum until I say so. Be a good girl and ask nicely and maybe I’ll let you. Try again.” Javi replied, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow at you, smug smirk still stretched across his face.

You could almost hear the gulp traveling down your throat as your jaw hung open, your breathing heavy and low, watching Javi watch you, patiently waiting for you to follow his request. “Please let me cum, Javi. Please baby, please, I need you to make me cum so badly.”

“That’s more like it.”

Diving back between your legs, Javi drank you up, his tongue quickly accompanied by two of his thick fingers, easily pushing into your entrance and bumping the soft, spongy spot inside you. You could feel your pussy begin to flutter, already so close before Javi had left you on edge, now finding yourself even closer with his fingers curled deliciously in your hilt. Again, the coil in your belly began to tighten, Javi’s fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you down on the bed.

“Fuck, Javi. Don’t stop. Please, baby, please- shit- please let me cum, I’m so close, I’m so clo-ahhhhhhh.” Relief and euphoria flooded through your veins as your orgasm crashed over you, expletives and Javi’s name rolling off your tongue as you reached your high. But instead of letting you come back down, Javi’s mouth stayed pressed against your cunt, his hand still thrusting in and out of your heat as you clenched around his fingers, now realizing he wasn’t about to ease up any time soon.

You could feel your legs trembling as Javi relentlessly licked and sucked, his fingers fucking into at an unforgiving pace, making your moans and whimpers even louder as squirmed, desprate to grab on to something while your hands fought against the buttery softness of his tie wrapped around your wrists. Already so worked up, it didn’t take you long to feel your second orgasm building, making you cum even harder than you had just moments ago, crying out as you gushed again around Javi’s fingers, the sweet sensation almost becoming too much with how feverishly he had been working to make you cum again. Finally, Javi detached his mouth, his chin and mustache glistening with your slick, a sly smile and lustful look in his eyes as his fingers stayed curled in your cunt, the lewd noises of your wetness coating the walls as he pushed against your g-spot. Your breath hitched, legs shaking as held you down with his free arm, draped across your stomach while you writhed under him.

“Baby, it’s so much, fuck- I don’t think I can cum again, please, I-”

“First you're begging me to let you cum, now you want me to stop? Don’t get to have it both ways, Osita.” Javi tutted, only intensifying the pace of his fingers curling inside you. “I’m making you cum as many times as I want, remember? You’re gonna give me one more on my fingers and then that pretty little pussy is gonna soak my cock while I fuck you, okay?” You were so worked up you could barely think straight, your clit still throbbing and cunt clenching around Javi’s hand, mind going blank as he hit the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “Answer me, baby. Tell me what you’re gonna do?”

It took every ounce of brain power to try and find any way to respond, your head nodding frantically while you babbled. “I’m gonna cum again, please, please I will.”

“That’s my good girl. God, you’re so fucking tight. Give me one more baby, I know you can. I can feel how close you are.” With only the lightest press of his thumb on your clit, you could feel yourself on the edge again, only needing a few more thrusts of his fingers before you were crying out again, tears welling in your eyes from how hard you came, every inch of your body feeling spent as Javi finally pulled out his hand, absolutely drenched in your arousal, bringing it to his mouth and sucking the juices clean, pridefully watching you sprawled out and spent on the bed. “Tastes so fucking sweet. Did so good for me, Hermosa.” He mewled, coming up to kiss you, the tangy taste of your arousal still lingering on his lips. “Bet that fucking asshole Paul could ever make you cum like that, huh? No one else gets to make you feel this good, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Jesus Christ, no. No one’s ever made me feel like you do. You make me feel so good, Javi.” Javi’s mouth caught your moans in his as he pinned your tied arms above your head, nipping at your neck as he used his free hand to begin to work at his jeans, quickly unbuckling his belt and shuffling his pants and boxers down his legs.

“Bet none of them could ever fuck you like I do either. Only your future husband gets to have you like this.” Javi freed his other hand, reaching over his back to tug his jersey over his head, leaving him just as bare as you. Grabbing your hips, Javi lifted you up, turning you over so your stomach lay flat on the bed with your arms splayed in front of you, guiding your lower half so you were on your knees, ass up on display for him. His hands kneaded at the soft flesh before reaching down to guide the tip of his painfully hard cock through your folds, collecting your slick as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Only one who gets to see that pretty pussy dripping just for me.” He smirked, headfully pushing his length deep inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix as he bottomed out, digging his fingertips into your hips as he pulled you back towards him, the stretch and fullness making you whimper. “Only one who gets to fill you up like this.” Slowly pulling back, he watched the shine of your arousal covering his cock before slamming back into you, repeating his methodical strokes. “Only one who gets to fuck a baby into you.” He grinned, his pace now quickening, planting a smack of his hand against your ass cheek, massaging the red mark it had left. You whined into the pillow, very much loud enough for Javi to hear, knowing damn well he had a way with words that made you lose your mind. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Hermosa? Getting you pregnant, carrying our baby so everyone knows you’re fucking mine?”

“Yes, oh my god, fuck- yes.”

Javi was now pounding into you, his pace relentless as his length punched deep in your hilt, the angle he was fucking you letting you feel every inch of him splitting you open. Even with how full you felt, you couldn’t help but press your ass back into him, needing to feel all of him inside you. Reaching an arm underneath you, he thumbed at your clit, rubbing back and forth as his thrusts became more frantic and sloppy, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. You could feel your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, fisting at the bedsheets in front of you, desperate to grip at something while your hands were bound.

“I know you’re close, Hermosa. Let go, baby. Cum all over cock before I fuck myself so deep inside you and fill you full of me.” You could feel your heart begin to race again, your vision going white with each frantic thrust, the coil in your belly tightening further and further, the sounds falling from your mouth almost borderline pornagraphic. For the fourth time tonight, the tingling in your legs and stomach had built to a breaking point, feeling your orgasm crash through you like a tidal wave, cumming so hard it felt like your soul was leaving your body. Knowing you had reached your high, Javi found himself chasing his own, each thrust more frantic than the last, his thighs slapping against your ass relentlessly as his words fell incoherently from his lips.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Fuck, I’m close too. Mierda- God, you’re so fucking perfect. Tu eres mio para siempre. Mi amor, mi vida, fuck, te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden decir. (You’re mine forever. My love, my life, fuck, I love you more than words can say). Jesus, fuck- Oh fuck, Osita, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, I-” With a loud groan, Javi came deep inside you, spilling every last drop, coating your warm walls with his spend. Even after he had finished, Javi stayed buried in your cunt, watching the mix of your spend drip down your legs before slumping into you, his chest resting on your back as you melted into the mattress beneath him. The two of you laid there for a moment, your breaths rising and falling in sync, finally breaking the ragged silence with a little laugh to yourself, causing Javi to finally pull out so he could get a better look at you. “What’s so funny, Hermosa?” Javi chuckled, watching you roll over onto your back, revealing the blissed out grin stretched across your face.

“Javi… that was so fucking hot. Holy fuck. Where the hell did that come from?” You giggled, playfully poking at him as he laid down next to you, reaching over to untie your hands and pull you in to rest your head on his bare chest.

“It was okay? I don’t- I don’t know, I knew you told me Paul was a piece of shit, but seeing him treat you like that-It just set something off in me, I guess.” Javi sighed, almost reluctantly, gently stroking the ends of your hair as he held you, feeling a little embarrassed at how possessive he had gotten, knowing the perfectly capable and independent woman you were.

“Was it okay? Javi, I never want to see Paul again, ever in my fucking life. That being said, if I get to watch you sock him in the face and then have you fuck me like that…” Your voice trailed, sarcastically snickering, giving Javi a little nudge as the two of you laughed. “You’ve done a lot of very hot things since I’ve met you, Javier Peña, but I do think knocking Paul out without hesitation is pretty high on the list. I am a little sad I didn’t get a swing in, but we’ll call it good.”

“He fucking deserved it. No one gets to talk to you like that, ever. I know you don’t need me to protect you, and that you can handle things on your own, but I-”

“Baby, I know that you know. I appreciate you saying that. It doesn’t change the fact that watching you get all protective over me was really fucking hot.” You smirked, pressing you hand against his chest to push yourself up, meeting your lips with his, running your hands through the dark curls at the nape of his neck. “And also…” Your grin grew wider as you reached down on the bed, picking up Javi’s tie, gently swinging it in your hands, “looks like we’re gonna have to get you some more ties, huh?”

The two of you woke up the next morning, bodies intertwined together between the crisp hotel sheets, soft sunlight spilling into your window over the Dallas skyline. From the first night he had slept in your bed, you had come to learn there were few things in this world that you loved more than being wrapped in Javi’s arms, your sleepy bodies still warm and lazy as you curled closer between the sheets, feeling like there was no one else in that moment that existed besides the two of you.

While you and Javi had plenty of lazy mornings together, something about being away for the weekend had both of you relishing in the syrupy slowness of your Saturday morning- sweet and soft sex tangled between your sheets, a long, hot shower where Javi insisted on letting you relax while he washed your hair, followed by curling up in the obnoxiously fluffy hotel robes while the two of you dried off, watching Sports Center and planning out the rest of your day.

You had decided to spend your afternoon exploring downtown, starting off at a sandwich shop near your hotel, and while both of you agreed that your sandwiches were good, they were no Alejandro’s. You spent some time after at the Dallas Museum of Art, with equal time spent with you making sarcastic commentary about some of the more interesting paintings and sculptures, trying your best to make Javi laugh, and Javi admiring you admire the various pieces of art, thinking to himself that you were more beautiful than any picture or statue he could find inside.

After your tour through the museum, you and Javi meandered through some of the stores downtown, both of your favorites being the pastry shop with the most delicious cupcakes you had ever tasted in your entire life, and although you insisted you didn’t need to get any extras, Javi knew you well enough to know that you were going to want one later, and ordered two more to take back with you to the hotel.

Since last night’s dinner had been more causal to try and make sure you got to the game on time, you had agreed to pick somewhere nicer to try for dinner tonight and then go out to a bar or two after for some drinks. While you were already enough of a chronic overpacker, trying to decide on an outfit for tonight had taken up the majority of the real estate in your suitcase, your options now spread out across the bed as you stood wrapped in your towel post-shower, contemplating what to wear.

“You’ll look beautiful in anything, Hermosa.” Javi chuckled, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, back pressed his chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re sweet, Jav. I don’t know, I don’t wanna be too casual, but I don’t want to be too dressy either, can you just pick for me?” You sighed, gesturing to the variety of clothes piled on the mattress.

“You sure you want me to pick?” Javi grinned, placing a soft kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder, giving you a little squeeze.

“Yes, I’m sure, but I’m already 99.9% sure I know which one you’re gonna choose.” You giggled, crossing your arms over your chest as Javi made his way towards the bed, looking through his choices before he picked up a strappy, mid length black dress, raising an eyebrow at you and passing it off in your direction with a boyish smirk on his face. “Vegas wins again, Peña.” Outstretching your arm, you took the dress from his hands, playfully rolling your eyes at your correct prediction.

“What, like you can blame me? You can pick out what I wear too, if you want. I’m gonna hop in the shower while you get ready and I’ll be out in a few.” Javi smiled, peppering ticklish kisses along your neck and collarbone, making you squeal and squirm to not even notice Javi’s hand reaching up to tug at your towel, making it drop to the floor and leaving you naked.

“JAVI!” You shouted, watching Javi shrug his shoulders in satisfaction, giving you a wink as he headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You shook your head, laughing to yourself as you threw the dress back on the bed, collecting your rejected outfits and tossing them back in your suitcase. You looked back over your shoulder, making sure the door was closed before pulling out the lingerie Javi had gotten you for Christmas that had been hidden underneath the rest of your clothes, quickly slipping it on to wear under your dress to surprise Javi with later. You shuffled on the dress that Javi had picked, giving yourself a onceover in the mirror before getting out the rest of your toiletries and makeup to finish getting ready.

You had finished with your makeup by the time Javi had gotten out of the shower, finding yourself in the middle of curling your hair as Javi stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping a white, fluffy towel around his waist, stopping in his tracks as soon as he saw you. “Fuck me…” He whispered under his breath, still just loud enough for you to hear him and turn your head in his direction, blushing over the awestruck look on his face. “Jesus Christ, baby. Fuck, you’re so hot. I’m a lucky fucking man, god damn.” Javi smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you like a puppy with his chin resting in his hand.

“Well, someone did a good job picking out the outfit.” You giggled, biting down on your lip at his reflection in the mirror. “I picked out some stuff if you want to wear any of it.” You nodded over to the other side of the bed, where you had set out a dark wash pair of jeans and a black long sleeved button up shirt.

“Or…” Javi grinned, pushing himself off the edge of the bed to stand, grabbing a handful of your ass and resting his hands on your hips, “You can take your dress off and then we can both put clothes back on later.”

“Your offer is very tempting, but you made reservations for 7:30 and it’s 7:05, mister.” You sighed, turning around to face him, playfully poking his chest. “Believe me, there will be plenty of undressing when we get back. Now go get changed, ya goof.”

Somehow, the two of you both managed to have enough willpower to make it to your dinner reservation on time, you finding yourself to be just as bad as Javi after watching him put on the outfit you’d chosen. While the two of you knew the restaurant was much nicer than the one you had picked yesterday for dinner, you didn’t realize it was going to be this nice. Not that Laredo didn't have suitable restaurants, but to say they had anything fancy was a bit of a stretch, and to say they had anything this fancy would have been an outright lie. The restaurant was dimly lit, decorated with contemporary fixtures, soft music playing in the background, the waitstaff even dressed to the nines as you approached the hostess at the front booth.

“Hi, we should have a reservation for 2 at 7:30. Should be under Peña.” Javi smiled resting his hand on the small of your back under your jacket as the two watched the girl flip through her notebook looking for Javi’s name.

“Perfect, I have you right here. Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Peña.” She grinned, grabbing two menus and leading you through the restaurant. The grip of Javi’s hand on your back as you followed the hostess to your seats only tightened, hearing her accidental slip up. “Alright, we have you two sitting right here, and your waiter will be with you shortly!” Gesturing over to your table, your hostess set down the menus and was on her way, leaving Javi to immediately pull out your chair for you before setting into his.

“Thanks, Mr. Peña.” You giggled, gently tapping his leg with your foot under the table. “We’re two for two this weekend with strangers assuming we’re married. Not that I’m mad about it.”

“I feel like we are. I don’t know, I think of you as my wife already, I guess. I accidentally called you my wife at work the other week and the guys thought we got married without everyone knowing.” Javi shrugged, reaching across the table to grab your hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the ring on your hand.

“We’ll call that one a happy accident. I think of you as my husband too, I don’t know, it kind of feels like we’re married, I guess it’s just a formality at this point. Only 4 more months.” You beamed, giving his hand a little squeeze before letting go to lift up the menu in front of you, your jaw dropping in shock as you read through the options. “Okay, I knew this place was gonna be nice, but 45 dollars for salmon? 60 for steak? Are they covered in gold dust and unicorn tears? I am many things, Javier Peña, but I am not worth a 60 dollar steak, let me tell you that.” You grimaced, now looking through the drink section, mumbling to yourself. “God, do they even have beer here?” Javi laughed, shaking his head as he picked up his own menu, browsing through his options.

“Shut up, you dork. You’re more than worth a 60 dollar steak. Don’t worry about it, okay? You deserve to be taken to nice places like this, whether you agree with me or not. But my guess is no, that they are probably not serving Miller Lite here.”

Despite your sticker shock for food prices, you and Javi had a great rest of your dinner, chatting about wedding and house planning, favorite things about your trip so far, and somehow ending in an argument about the best Star Wars movie after the two of you had a few drinks each in you. Knowing you wanted to go out to a bar or two after dinner, but having no idea where to go, you asked the waitress for her suggestions at favorite places, recommending a bar a block down the street, telling you it was one of the most popular places downtown at the moment. Given her rave review, you and Javi decided to give it a try, tipsily making your way down the street, still continuing your Star Wars argument the entire trip there.

As you entered the bar, you were greeted with the overwhelming sound of loud, upbeat music blasting through the speakers on the dance floor and bright, flashing lights dancing above the crowd in the dark and packed room. “I guess she wasn’t kidding when she said this place was popular.” You half yelled in Javi’s ear, gesturing out to the crowd in front of you, neither of you realizing the atmosphere of the bar was a bit more club-like than either of you had expected. “I don’t think I’ve been to a place like this since college.”

Javi’s grip tightened around your waist as several patrons brushed past you, drunkenly shouting along to the song playing over your voices. “We can go somewhere else if you want to, we don’t have to stay here, Hermosa.”

“I don’t know, it looks like it could be fun. Looks like there’s a lot of people dancing,” you smirked, pointing over to the dance floor, “you really gonna pass up a chance to grind on me in public, Jav? I sure hope that answer isn’t no.” Taking a step back, you subtly pressed your ass into Javi’s crotch, making him let out a quiet groan before pulling away, turning around to face toward him and give him a little shrug.

“Fuck me…” Javi muttered under his breath, an equally intrigued smirk spreading across his face as he looked down at you. “No way in hell I’m gonna say no to that, Hermosa.”

“Then get a girl a drink and take me dancing, Peña.” Grabbing Javi’s hand, you tugged him towards the bar, following eagerly behind you through the crowd. Javi ordered both your drinks from one of the bartenders- a woman who seemed to spend a little to long for your liking touching Javi’s arm to get his attention when his whiskey and your gin and tonic were ready, flashing him a cute smile as Javi handed over the cash from his wallet to pay for your drinks. If you were any taller and able to see over the heads of the people standing in front of you at the bar, you really hoped she would have seen the scowl drawn across your face as you watched her try to flirt with Javi. Javi, seemingly oblivious to the interaction, handed your drink off to you as the two of you made your way to an empty booth on the side of the dance floor, taking a hefty sip before looking back up at Javi. “She seemed nice.” You grimaced, nodding back over towards the bar. Javi laughed, taking a sip of his own drink before setting it down on the table, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Is someone jealous?”

“No… She was just giving you the eyes, and held your arm way longer than I’m sure the average bartender does. I mean, she’s got good taste…” You grumbled, trying your best not to glare back over at the bar. Downing the rest of his drink in a large gulp, he slid his empty drink to the side, reaching out to grab your hand, squeezing it in his. He bit down on his lip, a lustful look pooling in his eyes as he watched you take another sip.

“Why don’t you finish your drink and we’ll go give her something to be jealous of, hm?”

Your eyes went wide at his response, slurping down the rest of your gin and tonic way faster than you probably should have before setting your empty cup next to his, walking around to the opposite side of the booth where Javi sat, grabbing two fist fulls of his shirt while you pulled him in for a long, tender kiss. “I like the sound of that.”

Intertwining hands, you worked your way out to the dance floor, tangled between humid, hot bodies and the thumping of the bass to whatever upbeat pop song was blasting in the background in time with the flashing colorful lights beaming across the crowd. From the moment you found yourself deep enough in the mix of people, Javi’s hands were instantly all over you, working their way down your sides and landing on your hips, digging his fingertips into the fabric of your dress to turn you around so your ass was pressed against his jeans, grinding into the denim. At this point, the both of you had enough alcohol in your systems to not be concerned about anyone else around you, your hips rocking to the rhythm of the music, pressing your ass further into Javi’s crotch with each sway, only forcing his grip to tighten, feeling his bulge beginning to grow in his pants. Playing into the sensation building between both of you, you brought one of your arms up, reaching up to grab the hair at the nape of Javi’s neck, his curls feeling more defined from the sweat radiating off the dance floor. You could feel his head buried in your shoulder, feeling his hot breath against the sheen of your skin.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy, Osita. Feel what you do to me, baby? Bet if I reached down and felt that pretty little pussy she’d be dripping for me, too.” Javi rasped, letting his hands slide down your hips towards the front of your thighs. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you that had lowered your inhibitions so much- maybe it was the one too many gin and tonics, maybe it was the heat of the crowd moving to the music, maybe it was feeling how hard Javi was pressed against your ass just from dancing. Whatever it was, it was enough to have you turning around, throwing your arms around Javi’s shoulders, pressing up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“Touch me and find out.”

Your preposition had Javi’s jaw practically dropping to the floor, taking a moment to compose himself before looking back down at you to make sure he hadn’t misheard what you had said, but the lustful grin between your cheeks was all he needed to know he had heard you loud and clear. With one hand on your ass, the other snaked between your bodies, tugging up the hem of your dress, his palm gliding across the soft skin of your inner thighs before cupping your pussy, wetness pooling in the lacy fabric of your underwear, making his eyes grow even wider, not only from how wet you were, but from the feeling of his fingers grazing over your panties, knowing the texture meant you were wearing something out of the usual rotation, something you’d worn on purpose to get his attention.

“Fucking soaked, sweet girl. Gonna let me take you back to our room and let me ruin those pretty panties even more? What’re you wearing under there, baby?”

“Why don’t you take me back and see.”

Yesterday, you were convinced you couldn’t have walked any faster back to your hotel room after the hockey game, but the pace at which you and Javi were speeding down the sidewalk had you questioning if your speed could even qualify as walking, not sprinting. Unlike your luck yesterday, you shared your elevator ride back up to your room with 2 other strangers, making the tension of your trip up to your floor almost palpable as you used every ounce of restraint from pouncing on Javi right there in the elevator.

As soon as the door sprung open and no one was behind you, the two of you crashed down the hallway, once again fumbling with to find your room key, the added element of your tipsiness only making it more difficult. One way or another, your door unlocked, your bodies dancing in a tangled mess towards the bed, pausing for a moment as Javi’s open suitcase caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Your brain spun for a moment, reeling with the memories of last night, a looming question now racing in your mind as you spotted Javi’s blue and gold tie peeking out of his bag.

Would Javi let you tie him up?

“You okay, Hermosa?” Javi asked, cocking his head in confusion as he watched you stare at his suitcase. You could see the wheels in his head turning, a lightbulb going off after a few moments, grabbing your chin and tilting it up towards him. “You want me to tie you up again, sweet girl?” He smirked, his voice low and gruff as he gripped around your jaw. Gently, you began shaking your head, Javi’s face immediately dropping in confusion, letting go of his grasp.

“What if I told you…” You paused, grabbing his shirt and walking towards the bed, “I wanted to tell you what to do. See if you can be a good boy for me or maybe I’ll have to tie you up, too.” Giving Javi a little nudge, you pushed him to sit down on the bed, leaving you standing in front of him, rubbing your hands up and down the denim covering his thighs, watching your words go straight to his cock as his bulge strained against the zipper of his jeans, and a breathy moan escaped out of his mouth. Javi’s eyes went wide, jaw agape as his tongue darted out between his lips as you threw your leg over his lap, straddling his hips.

“Is that okay?” You whispered, nipping at his ear, making him let out a low groan. He nodded softly in silent reassurance, almost too stunned to speak, slowly working his hands up your ass and thighs, trying to push up the hem of your dress. Grabbing his wrists, you stopped him in his tracks, pulling back slightly with a playfully scolding look on your face. “Nuh uh. I didn’t get to touch last time, you don’t get to touch me until I say.”

“Fuck me…” Javi whispered under his breath, carefully drawing his hands back to rest on the edge of the bed, his eyes desperately filling with need and want. Reaching down, you tugged your dress over your head, revealing the cute, red and lacy lingerie set Javi had gotten you for Christmas. As if Javi’s jaw couldn’t have dropped any further, it was now practically through the floor, finding himself absolutely gawking at you in admiration. “Holy fuck.” Javi gulped, trying his best to keep any ounce of composure he still had. He couldn’t help but spring his hands towards you, running them up and down your sides and over the delicate fabric, left with utter shock and disappointment as you swung off his lap, standing at the edge of the bed with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What did I just say, baby? Only good boys get to touch, remember?” A devilish smirk spread across your lips watching how flustered Javi had already become, biting down on his finger to try and relieve some of the tension of not being able to touch you.

“I’ll be good, baby. I promise.” He groaned helplessly, staring up at you with pleading eyes.

“I don’t know, Javi, seems like you’re having a hard time with pretty simple instructions.” You tutted, very purposefully bending down with your ass in his face to pick up the tie dangling from his suitcase. “Guess we’ll try one more time to see if you remember, but if you can’t, maybe this will help.”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?” Javi rasped, shaking his head, running his hand over his face.

“You’re a big boy, you’ll be okay.” You winked, tossing his tie next to him before going back to straddling his lap, running your hands up and down his chest, slowly working your way down his shirt, one button at a time, planting a hot kiss on his skin with each new button that came undone. “Promise you’re gonna be good?” You smirked, tugging the shirt off his arms and letting it fall on the bed.

“Promise.” He sighed, voice trembling, feeling the muscles in his body tense with your question.

“Good.” You began grinding your hips in his, circling slowly over his painfully hard bulge, digging deeper and deeper with each sway of your hips. You slid your hands up his chest, into his hair, gently tugging at his dark curls as you rocked against him. You could tell how hard Javi was trying to control himself, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw as he watched you, the moans escaping from his mouth only becoming louder as you turned around, back pressed to his chest, sitting in his lap. You continued grinding your ass into Javi’s crotch, gently tugging at the straps of your bra and letting them fall from your shoulders, teasing him even further. Slipping your hands behind your back, you unclasped the hooks holding your top together, letting it drop to the floor in front of you, leaving Javi still only able to see your bare back knowing how crazy it would drive him that he couldn’t even see what he was missing, let alone touch. Still facing away, you bent down, sticking your ass towards his face, slowly shimmying the lacy red thong down your legs and letting it pool around your ankles. That was what broke him, his fingers digging into the plump skin making you shoot up and turn back around towards him.

Reaching next to him on the bed, you picked up his tie in one hand, grabbing his wrists with the other, and gently began wrapping the buttery fabric around him. “So much for that, huh? Naughty boys have to learn to follow the rules, don’t they, baby?” You playfully pouted, batting your eyes at him. Good thing I can help teach you, hmmm?” With his hands sufficiently tied, you took your finger, poking his chest and pushing him over, gesturing for him to shuffle further up on to the bed, now laying flat on his back with his hands above his head.

“Osita, please, baby, fuck- please.” Javi whined, his voice ragged and wanting as his brown eyes met with yours, watching you crawl up over him, your hands now working at his belt buckle. The metal clinked as you pushed his jeans down his hips before ever so gently tugging at the waistband of his boxers, already tented from his stiffness.

“Please, what, sweet boy?” You cooed, pulling just enough to let his cock spring free, revealing how painfully hard he was, his tip dark red and leaking with precum that had stained his boxers. “God, you’ve got the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen.” You mewled, barely grazing your fingertips over his bare thighs, making him shutter.

“Osita, please. Please, baby. I need you to touch me, please.” Javi whimpered as you settled yourself on top of his legs, your hands now creeping towards his shaft.

“That’s better. So handsome when you beg. Need me to take care of you? I’ll take care of you, baby.” You wrapped your hand around his cock, thumbing at the precum dripping out of his tip and rubbing it around his head before taking the same hand and running it through your folds, collecting the slick that had been rapidly pooling between your legs and using the mixture to stroke him.

With a few pumps of your hand, you leaned over, letting the spit from your mouth drip down over his dick before bending your head down and letting your tongue graze his head. Your lips sucked around his tip, lazily working your way down his length, taking him inch by inch as you hollowed out your cheeks, nestling your nose in the curls of his hairs at his base, the musky scent of him filling your nose. You began bobbing your head, your mouth engulfing him with each rise and fall, looking up at him through heavy lashes, your eyes almost as wide as his as you watched him crumble under your touch.

“Fuck, oh shit- Oh my god. Fuck, that feels so good baby, Jesus- fuck me.” Javi squeezed his eyes shut, his ramblings becoming more ragged and desperate with each word, almost embarrassed at how quickly he found himself feeling like he was going to fall apart. You could feel his cock beginning to pulse in the warmth of your mouth, only making you pick up your pace, feeling the saliva drool down the corners of your cheeks and tears welling in the corners of your eyes. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck- I’m close, I’m clo- wa- wait, fuck. Fuck, baby, no. Please.” Javi whined, his head popping up to look at you, your mouth hovering above his dick with a smirk on your face.

“What?” You teased, gently massaging his sack in your hands, almost able to see the veins in his cock throbbing as you had left him on edge, unable to finish. “You only said you needed me to touch you. Never said anything about needing me to make you cum.”

“Jesus Christ…” Javi groaned, resting his head back on the pillows behind him, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. Letting out another gulp and deep breath, he raised his head again, his big, brown eyes pleading with you with a ferocious need and longing. “Please, Osita. Please, make me cum. Please, I need you to.”

“That’s more like it. Such a good boy, asking so nicely. I’ll let you cum, baby. But only if it’s inside me and you fill me up so good you’re dripping down my thighs.” You shuffled your body forward, letting your soaking heat graze over his cock, reaching down to line him up with your entrance.

“I will. Please let me, I will. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Fuck, I wanna cum so deep in you, please, Osita. Please, baby.” Javi moaned, struggling against the silk tie wrapped around his wrists, giving anything to feel the soft skin of your body in his hands.

“So needy, sweet boy.” You tutted, the both of you gasping as you sunk down on Javi’s length, his cock bumping against your cervix as you took every inch of him inside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sweet sting of his fullness. “Fuck, you feel so good, Javi. I love feeling you inside me. No one else fills me up like you do. You like knowing you’re the only one who can make me feel like this? The only one I want to fuck me? Marry me? Fuck as many babies as you want into me?”

The groan Javi let out was low and deep, feeling your hands rest against his chest as your hips rolled back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. “Fuck yes, oh fuck Osita. Shit- I can’t wait to marry you. I wanna be your husband. I wanna fuck a baby into you so badly, see you all beautiful and pregnant. I can’t wait to cum inside you knowing I could really knock you up. Fuck meeee.” Javi whimpered, bucking his hips up into you, his thrusts filling you in a way that had you absolutely reeling and breathless, your demeanor quickly beginning to crumble, becoming just as dire as him.

The hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbed deliciously on your clit, the sensation of that, combined with how frantically you were rocking your hips back and forth had your heart racing, so worked up from trying to keep your cool that you could feel the tingle building at the base of your spine rapidly. You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you, all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone. The arousal pooling in your belly continued to build, the lewd noises of your wetness and mixed moans coating the walls of your hotel room as your fingers dug into the skin of Javi’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck- I love you, Javi. Holy shit- I’m so close. I need you to fill me up, baby.”

“I love you too, Hermosa. I’m not gonna last much longer either, so fucking wet and tight, oh my god- I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby. I promise, promise I’ll be a good boy and fuck every last drop in you.”

In all the times you had fucked, you had never seen Javi turn into such a mess, watching him whimper and beg to with such desperation and neediness, barely hanging on by a thread from the moment you had walked through the doors of your hotel room, and god, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You thought that you’d be strong enough to keep your composure, that while Javi fell apart, you would keep it together, but any prospects of that were long gone by now.

The coil building in your belly snapped, screaming Javi’s name over and over again as your cunt clenched around his cock, feeling your orgasm flood your body with pleasure. You braced your hands on Javi’s chest as he quickly followed behind you, thrusting a few more times up into you before letting out a low, ragged groan as he spilled deep inside you, his warm spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop, as promised. You could feel the mixture of the both of you leaking down your legs into Javi’s lap as you sat on top of him, his dick still pulsing as your chests heaved in sync, squeezing your eyes tightly to try and bring yourself back to earth. With a few more deep breaths, you unstraddled Javi, the loss of him inside you making the both of you hiss, crawling up the bed to untie his hands and lay your head on him as he wrapped his newly freed arms around you.

“Holy fuck…” Javi muttered under his breath, half laughing to himself as he ran his hand over his face before bringing it back down to stroke circles along the bare skin of your back.

“Was that okay?” You questioned, almost timidly, looking up at his blissed out face.

“Osita… Jesus Christ, that was fucking incredible. You’re sexy when you’re bossy.” He teased, tickling your ribs, making you squeal and squirm under his touch, peppering you with soft kisses while you swatted at him to make him stop.

“Oh shut up, you dork.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at him, laying your head back down on his chest after finally getting him to torture you with his tickles.

“I’m being serious, Hermosa. You know I think your confidence is so fucking sexy. You can boss me around any time.”

“Any time?” You perked up, mischievous look glistening in your eyes. “So… if I told you to go get me that cupcake from earlier and bring it to me, you’d do it?”

“I thought you said you didn’t need another one, bossy pants.” Javi smirked, staring back at you in complete and utter adoration.

“Well, Javier Jesús Peña, turns out you know me better than I know myself. Sooooo… cupcake? Please?” You playfully pouted, batting your lashes at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” He laughed, pressing a soft kiss into your messy hair before letting out a sigh as he pushed himself out of the bed, nakedly wandering over to the shelf by your door where he had stashed the cupcakes earlier, bringing them over and climbing back into bed with you.

“Thank you, you’re the best.” You giggled, giving him a little nudge as you took a big bite of the cupcake, letting out a content sigh. “On another positive note, I definitely think that we’ve given this hotel room a run for its money before we break in our one on the honeymoon in a few months.”

“Well…” Javi grinned, gently kissing at your neck, up along your jawline, rubbing his hand up your thigh and circling his fingertips at the soft flesh, “A little extra practice never hurt anyone.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 7 months

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Swing | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Wanting to make up for missed birthdays, you give Wanda quite the present

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (18 + MINORS DNI), language

Word Count: 1.9K

Masterlist

You anxiously paced around the living room of your shared house with Wanda. She was en route back after dropping the boys off at Vision’s for the weekend. The quiet hour you had to yourself was spent setting up the latest in a long line of birthday gifts for your girlfriend. It was your way of making up for all the ones her ex had forgotten: how anyone could ignore Wanda on her birthday was incomprehensible. She insisted that you didn’t need to spoil her, arguing that you didn’t need to make up for Vision’s shortcomings. You ignored her. It was the first time in your life you had a woman to spoil and you were planning on taking full advantage of that.

The gifts started small: cooking her favorite dinner on Monday for no reason, surprising her with her favorite flowers on Tuesday, the new end table she’d been talking about for months on Wednesday, and a long after dinner massage on Thursday. Wanda wasn’t used to such thoughtful displays of kindness. Yet you were determined to make sure she had the best birthday yet, which is why you saved the best for last. This was the present you knew she wouldn’t be expecting at all. It’s the one she mentioned in passing once not realizing how you’d cling onto it for the last few months. It was the most expensive of the gifts. And it was the most…scandalous…of the gifts.

The sound of the front door unlocking snapped you back to reality. Your heart pounded in your throat, threatening to explode out of your body entirely as seconds turned to minutes turned to hours as you waited for Wanda to walk down the hallway.

“Virginia’s over for the weekend. She brought the kids with her, too. I know Billy gets along with Vin well enough, but Tommy really doesn’t care for him or Viv. And I don’t understand why the V names. Could they not come up with anything else?” Wanda frequently voiced her disdain for her ex-husband’s new girlfriend and her kids. While you knew that she was happy and secure in your relationship, you also knew that the topic of her failed marriage was a sore subject.

“The boys’ll be fine, Wands. It’s just for the weekend.”

“I know.”

“They’ve gotta get used to being around Virginia and the kids.”

“I know.”

“That means we have the weekend to ourselves.”

“I know,” Wanda smirked.

“I have a present for you.”

“Y/N, no. You’ve already gotten-” “It’s downstairs.”

Wanda’s mouth snapped shut abruptly as she looked at you, a curious expression painted on her face.

“Follow me?” you asked as you offered her your hand. You smirked knowingly as Wanda sighed, dropping her hands into your outstretched one.

“You know, you don’t have to spoil me like this just because it’s my birthday. Really, it’s okay.”

“I want to make up for all those ones that Vision missed or forgot or whatever…plus this one is for both of us.”

“What do you mean-oh.” Wanda’s eyes widened as she stared at the hanging mess of nylon and leather straps hanging from the heavy bag hook on the ceiling. “Oh my god.”

“You like it?” you chuckled, giving Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Oh my god,” she repeated. You felt her hand slip from yours as she carefully made her way over to the middle of the room. Wanda brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed the set-up with a keen sense of curiosity.

“Now if you really don’t want another gift, I can always take it back,” you teased, cheekily shoving your hands in your pockets, watching Wanda stare awestruck at the swing in the middle of the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Wanda warned. “Where on earth did you find one of these?” she asked, reaching up to run her fingers through the straps.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

She gave you a look.

“The internet. Some website. Google suggested it.”

Wanda’s look turned into a smirk. The nylon straps danced through her fingers as she continued to examine her newest present. You felt your heart slowly creeping up your throat the longer you stared at the straps twirling through your girlfriend’s fingers.

“You remembered.”

“Wanda, how could I forget?” Your heart threatened to burst out the side of your neck as blood rushed through every part of your body.

“And this is why you wanted the boys to stay with Vision this weekend?” “Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to try it out?”

Her lips crashed into yours before you could get another thought out. Instinctively your hands found their way to her waist, pulling her body flush against yours. She sighed into your mouth, her soft hands gently tugging at your hair. No matter how many times you did it, kissing Wanda never got old. Each kiss was a new experience, a new sensation that you perpetually craved. She was the most entrancing woman in the entire world and she was all yours.

“So how does this work?” Wanda asked breathlessly as you nibbled on the sensitive spot under her jaw.

“Dunno,” you mumbled between kisses, your grip on Wanda tightening as soon as you felt her swoon ever so slightly. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“This won’t fall down, right?” she asked. Her hands trailed down from your head to the buttons at the front of your shirt. You shook your head, recoiling slightly as you felt her cold hands brush your chest as she tore at your clothes.

“Hope not.” You undid the button on her jeans, your fingers slinking inside the waistband.

“Hope not?”

“I mean it should be good. Don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

Wanda chuckled as she shook her head. She knew that you would’ve double and triple checked to make sure the swing wouldn’t fall down the second she got into it.

“So how do I get in? Do I just-?”

“I think you just sit back into it and put your legs in the straps,” you replied, stepping out of your jeans and boxers and kicking them behind you.

Wanda, now in her long sleeve shirt and panties, carefully looked behind her as she grabbed the leather support straps and allowed herself to sink into the swing. She fell back with an emphatic oomph, tentatively repositioning herself as the two of you prayed she wouldn’t immediately come crashing down.

“How is it?” you asked, slinking over to the swing and positioning yourself between her legs.

“It’s actually pretty comfortable,” she observed. “Can you help me get my legs up?”

“Yeah, but let’s get these off first,” you replied, teasing the palm of your hand between her legs. Wanda whimpered at your touch, a jolt of excitement running through her body as her hips bucked into your hand. You smirked at her as you pulled off the lace garment, tossing it over your shoulder. “Leg.”

Wanda lifted her leg up as you grabbed the extended stirrup, guiding her foot through the loop so that her leg sat bent against the swing. You gently grabbed her other leg unprompted, guiding it to the same position.

“I am definitely going to feel that tomorrow,” Wanda joked. She reached one hand forward and grabbed your cock.

“Oh yeah?” you stifled a slight groan as she began to pump her hand up and down your length.

“I’ve already got that bad hip, Y/N. Let’s see how much more damage you can do.”

You felt yourself twitch under her grip, hardening as you rocked into her hand. Luckily you were able to grab the metal bar at the top of the swing to steady yourself.

“You okay there?” she teased. You groaned in response, leaning forward to capture her lips between yours. She smiled into the kiss, knowing full well the intoxicating effect she had on you.

“You gonna keep distracting me or are you gonna let me-?”

“If you don’t put that inside me soon I may actually die.”

“Somebody’s dramatic.” “It’s my birthday, I can be as dramatic as I want today.”

“Is that so?” You grabbed the base of your cock, positioning yourself against her entrance.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded.

Instead of pushing yourself inside her, you rubbed your head against her folds, coating yourself in the wetness that was pooling between her legs. Wanda threw her head back and groaned. She gripped the straps tightly as you teased her, dipping the tip inside briefly before pulling out and sliding around her clit.

“Is this what you wanted, Wands?”

“Y/N, please,” she pleaded in a tone that was uncharacteristically whiny.

With little warning, you pressed yourself into Wanda, her slick folds parting with ease as you buried your length inside her. The feeling of her warm, wet walls around you elicited a groan from the deepest part of your core.

“Oh my god,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as you entered her at an entirely new angle for the first time. “Baby, oh my god.”

“That okay?” you asked.

“Move,” she ordered as she screwed her eyes shut.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Taking a firm grip on the straps, you rolled your hips into her. The moan that erupted from her lips was pornographic. Her body strained and tightened as your cock rubbed against the most sensitive part of her walls. She squeezed against you as you thrust in and out, forcing you to work harder than normal.

“Fuck,” you gasped, biting your lip as Wanda’s wetness engulfed you over and over again.

“Right there, Y/N, don’t stop,” Wanda begged. Her hand came up to rest against your stomach as you picked up your pace, pounding into her slick pussy as you pulled the swing toward you.

“You feel so good, Wands.”

“I love the way your cock feels inside me, baby. You always-fuck, that’s the spot right there-” Wanda let out a groan, unable to finish her thought as you pulled against the swing, changing the angle ever so slightly.

“You like that?” you gritted through clenched teeth, attempting to stave off your impending orgasm.

“I’m close,” she whimpered, arching her back against the swing. “Keep going, just like that.”

“Wanda, I’m gonna cum,” you whined. “Should I pull-”

“Inside. Please. Fill me up. I want to feel you finish inside me.”

Wanda’s words drove you over the edge. You groaned loudly as you came inside her, painting her with your seed. The sensation of being filled with your cum sent Wanda over the edge, too. She moaned your name over and over as you filled her up, squeezing every last drop from you.

The two of you came down from your highs in a sweaty tangle of naked bodies and leather and nylon. You collapsed on top of her, panting into her chest as your legs buckled under the ecstasy of your orgasm. Wanda leaned back, rubbing her hands through her hair as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Best birthday present ever,” she panted. “I am so sending the boys to Vision’s more often.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I don’t think it’s possible for us to use this quietly,” you chuckled. “I’ve never heard you moan like that before.”

“That’s because you just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“So what I’m hearing is I need to cum inside you more often.”

“What you’re hearing is I need you to have your way with me in this swing more often.”

“Round two then?” you quipped.

“You’re on.”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

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little-diable · 6 months

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There's just something about you – Professor!Austin Butler (smut)

Well well well, ofc I {as somebody who has a massive prof!crush} had to give in and write this. I think this has potential for a part 2, so please tell me how you feel about that. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader works as Professor Butler's teaching assistant. The two are about to take a trip with his class when she gets sick. While staying with him for the weekend the two finally give in to the pull keeping them chained together.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), professor x TA relationship, quite fluffy

Pairing: prof!Austin Butler x fem!TA!reader (3k words)

picture credit to the original owner

“Alright, listen up!“ Professor Butler’s voice echoed through the room. His words were followed by instant silence, forcing all eyes towards the handsome professor. She stood close to him, not enough to feel his body heat clashing against her, though just enough to hyperfocus on the scent of his expensive cologne – a scent she’d always pick up on, no matter where she was at.

“As you all know, we’re leaving for our trip next week. (Y/n) was kind enough to take over the bookings, but we need you to find one or two people to share a room with. Please send (y/n) an email til Monday, so we can avoid any confusion when we check in. If you have any further questions about the trip or concerns, feel free to reach out to one of us.”

She had joined the faculty as Professor Butler’s PhD candidate and teaching assistant a while ago, slowly having to adjust to being around a man like him. At first, (y/n) had struggled to focus, fighting against the urge to stare at him at any given chance, but slowly she had gotten more and more relaxed around him, actually getting to enjoy her interactions with the young professor.

“Please don’t forget your homework, alright? I’ll see you all next week.” The room was filled with loud noises as he ended the class, forcing the students to their feet and out into the hallway. (Y/n) busied herself with his notes, rechecking them before she allowed her gaze to find his bright eyes. “You did good today, (y/n), if you feel comfortable enough you can gladly do next week’s class on your own.”

“I don’t think I feel ready to do this without you yet.” His big hand found her shoulder, leaving her torn between focusing on the feeling of his thumb softly stroking the fabric of her blouse, and the intense eye contact he now held with her. For a second, neither of them spoke, leaving (y/n) to wonder what he was thinking about.

“Alright, but you’re by far better than me at catching their attention, I hope one day you’ll realise that.” Professor Butler’s raspy chuckle had an addicting effect to it, leaving her to avert her gaze as he took a step away from her. “Chinese takeout while we grade the essays?”

……

She woke with a pained whine as her hand reached for her phone, trying to read the time. It was Saturday morning, two days before they’d go on their short trip, but her body was clearly fighting against all plans, making her suffer from a sore throat and a blocked nose. Curses wanted to claw through her, cursing fate for pushing her into her misery.

(Y/n) had been looking forward to the trip for a while, excited about spending some more time with Professor Butler outside of his office and the room he was teaching in. Secretly she had hoped for some more calmer moments where they could go back to sharing information about one another that had nothing to do with their research or their university work. Hopes that were now evaporating into nothing but cold air.

For a moment, (y/n) pondered over her choices, but her fingers had already started to move before her mind could protest, opening the email app. With a few quick words she sent her professor a small warning, telling him that she was sick and would most likely not be able to join on Monday. She felt pathetic for the wave of hurt and exhaustion flushing through her, leaving her trembling body to search the warmth of her bed.

It didn’t take long for her phone to go off, forcing her glassy eyes to read his reply. Simple words told her to give him a call with his added number to the email. Perhaps it was the fault of her cold, perhaps it was the fault of her hazy thoughts, whatever it was, it stopped (y/n) from overthinking, clicking on the number before her anxiety could get the best of her.

“Morning, (y/n).” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, momentarily letting her eyes flutter close. She repeated the greeting while internally cringing at the raspy sound of her voice. “Oh sweetheart, you sound horrible.”

Heat rose to her face at the pet name, having to forcefully stop herself from gasping. She could only let go of a hum, not trusting herself to speak coherent words he could easily pick up on.

“Are you still living alone?” A while ago (y/n) had told him about her struggles to find a roommate, unsure who to pick as she had high priorities she didn’t want to let go of. Once again she hummed, wondering where he was taking this conversation. “Alright, I want you to pack a bag. I’ll pick you up in a few, you’re spending the weekend with me, I can’t go on that trip without you. We’ll get you back to your healthy self in no time.”

“Professor,” she sat up as she tried to protest, having to drown out the sinful thoughts instantly flushing through her mind. “I don’t want to take up any of your space, and you could also get sick. I’ll be alright here, don’t worry.”

“No, you’re staying with me. I won’t accept any protests, (y/n). What’s your address?”

It hadn’t taken long for them to end the call, for her to take a quick shower and to pack a bag. Her heart kept racing in her chest, urging her to move, to be smart about the things she packed. She barely got any time to overthink as he had arrived at her place rather quickly, but now as she was sitting on his couch, wrapped in a blanket, (y/n)’s thoughts finally caught up with her.

Austin – as he had asked her to call him – was all too gentle with her, tending to her every need with worry tugging on his features. (Y/n) could only guess that she looked as horrible as she felt, tired eyes barely managing to stay open, and yet she didn’t want to miss a thing, cherishing the chance to be so close to him.

“How about we watch a movie before I make some soup, huh?” Austin plopped down next to her, tugging on her legs to place them in his lap. (Y/n) allowed herself to study him for a few seconds, his blonde hair had that slightly unruly touch to it, blue eyes focusing on his TV. He wore a simple white shirt that perfectly stuck to his muscles, paired with blue jeans that gave him a different touch to the version of him who always wore suits in class.

“Sure, I’m good with whatever.” He shot her a quick smile that left her trembling, having to calm her racing heart with her grasp on the blanket growing stronger. She barely managed to pay the opening sequence of the movie any attention, getting lost in her thoughts as his thumb stroked the soft skin of her ankle, holding onto her as if he was scared she could slip right through his fingers.

For the first time in years, she felt an unfamiliar kind of safety wrapping itself around her, clinging to her like a second skin made to protect her, to cherish her, to perhaps even love her.

……

Quiet steps carried her towards the big kitchen, engulfed in darkness as (y/n) started the kettle, hoping that another cup of tea could finally lull her to sleep. She was too deep in thought to notice his approaching figure, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his naked chest.

“You alright, sweetheart?” (Y/n) jumped at the sound of his raspy voice, pressing her hand to her chest as she turned towards him. A laugh clawed through Austin, guiding him closer to her with slow steps. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.”

(Y/n) had to turn from him, trying to focus on the almost boiling water as he came to a halt behind her, reaching for another cup. His naked upper body was pressed against her back, one of his arms found its way around her waist to keep her close to him. Goosebumps covered her limbs, silently whispering to her, guiding her hand to find his.

No words were spoken between the two as she poured the hot water into the big cups while Austin reached for the teabags. He loosened his hold on her as if he was begging her to turn around, to get lost in the bright eyes that reminded her of warm summer mornings spent at the beach, getting lost in daydreams that felt more real than memories of things she had lived through. Her body urged her to move, to lean against the counter with her eyes finding his features, wandering over his handsome face.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, (y/n)?” She didn’t trust her voice, knowing that she’d most likely make a fool of herself, but the two hands finding her waist, keeping her caged between his tall frame and the counter, encouraged her to part her lips. (Y/n)’s eyes focused on his neck, on the golden necklace he wore, dangling from his neck like a pendulum about to give her a glimpse into her future.

“I,” a shaky exhale left (y/n), trusting her mind and heart to guide her. “I keep thinking about how comfortable I feel here. Thank you for letting me stay with you, Austin.”

She expected him to shoot her his signature smile, to pull away from her to reach for his cup. But he kept close to her, hand slowly moving up to her face, cupping her cold cheek. He forced her to look up at him, making her breath hitch in her chest as she watched his gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips.

“I tried to stay away from you, but you’re not making it easy for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) got no chance to reply, silenced by the feeling of his lips finding hers. Ever since she had joined his team, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, wondering how his lips would feel pressed against hers, how he’d hold onto her as they got lost in their kiss. But this was so very different to all these daydreams, more intense, more exciting even. With his hands finding the back of her thighs, he helped her onto the counter, allowing himself to stand between her thighs as they kept kissing.

“Now you’re definitely getting sick for sure,” (y/n) mumbled the words against his lips as they parted to catch their breaths. Austin’s raspy laugh echoed through the kitchen, bright eyes burning her skin as if she was caught in a wildfire, about to burn to the ground.

“For you I’ll gladly take on the struggles of being sick.” His words left her heart roaring, lips finding his once again. Their tongues met in a teeth clashing kiss, wordlessly managing to communicate their longing, the desperate need they had fought against these past months. “I need you to be honest with me, do you want this? I don’t want to pressure you, sweetheart.”

“Take me to bed, professor.” (Y/n)’s smirk grew wider as his pupils dilated, picking her up without another warning. She had her legs wrapped around him, face buried in the crook of his neck. Within seconds they found themselves in Austin’s bedroom, he didn’t give her much time to take in the big room, the pictures gracing the walls, fully focused on him as he pressed her down on the mattress.

Austin kissed his way down her throat as if he was following the trail of a treasure hunt, high on the adrenaline of the search. (Y/n) trembled beneath him while her fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck before moving down to his muscular shoulders. Somehow it felt as if they had done this numerous times before, knowing exactly how and where to touch one another.

He parted from her to pull her shirt over her head, focus instantly drawn to her naked chest. The way Austin was staring at her made (y/n) feel as if he was marvelling at a masterpiece, a creation of old times the human mind barely managed to understand. Carefully he cupped her breasts, groaning at the feeling of her soft skin pressing against his. They held eye contact as he brought his lips back to her skin, sucking on both nipples before kissing his way down her stomach.

“Austin,” (y/n) choked on his name, begging him to keep on moving, to touch her where she needed him the most.

“Talk to me, sweetheart, what do you want?” His voice grew lower with every spoken syllable, pushing heat down to her core. She felt her walls clench around nothing, begging him to finally fuck her.

“You, all of you. Please, I need you so badly.” Without speaking another word, he ripped her panties from her hips, letting his fingers explore her arousal-covered folds. His name rolled off her tongue, she arched her back at the careful touches, trying to shuffle even closer. Austin could do whatever he wanted to her at that very moment, she was putty in his hands, his to toy with, his to use for his own pleasure. Whatever he wanted, she’d do it, if he kept on touching her like this.

“Will you let me taste you? I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” (Y/n) could only nod her head, letting go of a breathless gasp the second his rough tongue brushed through her folds. Austin moaned at her taste, he wrapped one arm around her thigh, keeping her pressed to him while the other hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with his fingers. Within the first seconds of him touching her, (y/n) had known that she wouldn’t be able to hold on for long, overstimulated by his touches.

No longer could she spare her hurting throat any attention, no longer did she struggle to breathe on, all she could do was focus on him, on the way he dipped his tongue into her tightness, how he added more speed to his movements, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“You taste so sweet, I could stay like that forever, if you’ll let me.” She moaned at his praise, fingernails scratching at his skin to try and hold on. Her legs were trembling from the strength she used to curl her toes, unsure how much longer she could stop herself from giving in to an intense orgasm.

“It’s alright, cum for me, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.” Austin’s words pushed her into the open arms of her orgasm, calling out his name as he kept circling her clit with a smirk glued to his lips. He watched her every move, every micro-expression he could pick up on, fully mesmerised by the beautiful woman he had wanted to pull closer for months.

“Oh god,” (y/n) panted the words, drawing gleeful chuckles from Austin as he let go of her. Her glassy eyes watched him undress, gaze wandering down his muscular upper body, past his six-pack to his sweatpants. His cock sprang free as he stepped out of his clothes, a sight that pushed heat straight down to her cunt, needing to feel him buried inside of her. “I need you to fuck me now, I can’t wait any longer, Austin.”

“Mhm, such a desperate girl, we should teach you some patience one day.” He reached for a condom, rolled it down his cock and positioned himself between her thighs. With her hand finding the back of his neck, (y/n) pulled him back down for a kiss, distracting herself from the slight pain as he pushed into her, having to adjust to his size. For a second, they held still, clinging to one another to let go of a few deep exhales, fingers interlaced to try and keep themselves grounded.

“Move, please, professor.” Austin let go of a growl at the use of the title, building a comfortable rhythm that allowed one another to get used to the sensation. He was careful with her, not daring to hurt her when she was still sick, not fully able to guide her body. But the blissful expression tugging on her features was enough to calm his racing heart, finding enjoyment in the way she clung to him, how she seemingly felt the same pull he did.

They were a mess of tangled limbs, of moans blurring together, of hearts beating in sync, a match so perfect neither of them wanted to break out of their very own bubble. Their bodies met with every thrust, bringing them closer and closer together, while their eyes found back together.

“My pretty girl, I don’t want to let you go again.” He murmured the words against her lips, luring a soft chuckle out of (y/n).

“Don’t let me go, don’t you dare.” Her head rolled back as his cock nudged her swollen spot, leaving him grinning in success. Austin kept staring down at her, trying to burn every passing second into his mind, praying that he won’t ever forget about this night.

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock, sweetheart.” With a gasp leaving her, her fingers found her pulsing clit, moving quickly to give her the needed push. He fucked her through her second orgasm, letting go himself as she relaxed beneath him.

Austin clung to her as they both tried to catch their breaths, only parting as they managed to break through the hazy fog wrapping itself around the two lovers. He threw away the condom before he returned to her, cupping her now warm cheek to pull her in for another kiss.

“How about a bath?” She could only nod as he picked her up and carried her into his bathroom, while making the silent promise to cherish her for as long as she’ll let him.

#Austin Butler smut #Austin Butler x reader #professor fic #Austin Butler imagine #professor crush

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madhatterbri · 3 months

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Home | D.M.

Summary: "You may kiss an Irishman, but it's the Scotsman you'll take home,"

Author's Note: Take from a pic I found on FB. Happy MITB Saturday, babes. ❤️

Drew McIntyre Masterlist

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @mrsarcherofinfamy

Pure Fiction

Drew McIntyre looked at the smaller Irishman next to him. His blood was boiling. Finn Balor, with his piercing blue eyes, didn't look at the angry Scotsman. This wasn't his idea. It's just a storyline creative made up to finish off Liv once and for all from Judgment Day.

"You think it's funny, don't ya?" He asked. Finn peered at Drew. His hairy chest is in line with his vision. "Think I won't beat ya again if ya start to get funny with my lady?"

"I...I," Finn cleared his throat. He wished they had picked anyone else in the locker room, but Y/N. Now, he was to deal with an angry Drew every Monday. "I would never mess with your little lass. We are going to kiss and part ways. I promise,"

Before Drew could speak again, Finn ran from the situation. Drew watched him leave. His anger wanted to boil over. This was one storyline he couldn't wait to see end.

The segment ended with a kiss between Finn and Y/N. It was believable, at least. The audience ate it up. She was sure that it would hit thousands of views in no time. Finn ran like a scared puppy the moment they made it backstage.

Y/N walked to the locker room and changed. She loved it when they booked her to be a part of the main event. Then she could change and make it to the hotel. Her locker room door was open when she made it.

"Hello?" She asked. Y/N wasn't aware of any other storyline. Maybe creative decided to come up with something last minute. She turned on the lights to see Drew sitting on one of the benches alone.

"Thought I'd wait for ya so we could drive to the hotel together," he offered. It almost seemed innocent. Perhaps a little too innocent.

"That would be great. Let me just shower since I'm disgusting," she accepted the offer. Y/N walked to the showers with her bag. She left it on one of the benches. Her ring attire was taken off, and she stepped in the showers.

The cold water felt great against her sore muscles. She sighed in content and rubbed her hands over the back of her neck. The sound of the water drowned Drew's footsteps towards her.

Y/N jumped when she saw him in her shower stall with a pair of shorts. He stalked over to her. Lust is the only emotion she could see in his eyes. Drew turned her around and pressed her against him. His hard on pressed against her.

"You may kiss an Irishman, but it's the Scotsman you'll take home," he whispered in her ear. She gasped when his wet shorts hit against the tiled floors.

#wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #drew mcintyre x y/n #drew mcintyre x reader

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kingofthecotas · 16 days

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ivy

post-aragón, vale & pecco & the ever-present spectre of marc | ~900 words

hi hello i write things sometimes

———

Valentino doesn’t call until Monday, when the heat of anger has faded and the dust has been washed from his hair, seven hours behind and six hours spent on track—one of Marc’s tracks, irony of ironies.

(Sometimes he wonders if he can ever extricate himself from this, from them, from the noxious tendrils that have wound themselves into the sport’s neurones and synapses, an incurable infection of the central nervous system.)

Pecco almost hesitates to answer—still afraid of disappointing him, even after all this time—but his shoulder throbs when he reaches out to pick up his phone and he suddenly wants the sound of Valentino’s voice, even if it carries judgment.

“Hello?” he says, cautious.

“Are you okay?”

“Sore. Will bruise, but fine. I’ll be okay for Misano.”

Valentino hums. “Good.”

Pecco searches for something, anything, that doesn’t remind him of gravel crunching, his head snapping forwards as one hundred and fifty kilos of aluminium and rubber collided with the back of his helmet. “Sorry about your race. It was going well.”

“It was. It was fun.” He can almost see Vale waving his hand. “I have already complained to Maro. I want to make sure you are okay.”

“Fine.”

There’s a pause, silence loaded with something Pecco can’t quite identify. “And Álex?”

Ah. “Fine as well. We both got checked over.” Pecco swallows. “I, ah, spoke to him. Or—he asked to speak to me, in private, so we did. I—I am still pissed off, but it was not deliberate. I know that now.”

Valentino hums again. “But you said it.”

So this is what he really called to talk about.

“I was pissed off. Martín—”

“I know,” Valentino says, and there’s something there, not quite the disappointment Pecco feared but something like it. “Be—just be careful, Pecco, yes? If you are going to start this, be ready for where it might take you.”

“I am not starting anything.”

Again, it’s, “I know.” Then, “I know it is hard when you are hurt and angry, and there are points slipping through your fingers. But think about what you are saying.”

“Yeah.” Pecco would be more annoyed if this wasn’t coming from experience.

“Ah, maybe you do not need my advice anymore—”

“Of course I do,” Pecco interrupts, chest fluttering at the mere idea of Valentino ever becoming superfluous to him.

“Get into it with Marc all you want. He is expecting this. The team are expecting this. He will give it back to you, and somehow, he will be ready to forgive.” Valentino pauses. “Do not make his brother part of it. That—that is where there was no coming back for us, truly.”

Pecco’s breath catches, because Vale sounds—unsettled. Sad, even. “I—”

“Do you understand?”

He does. “Fucking—the week before Misano, as well. It will be messy.”

“Not too messy. Not yet.” Still fixable, is what Vale doesn’t say, but they both know anyway. “But—you can handle it. You will do better than I did.”

Quietly, Pecco thinks there couldn’t have been many worse ways to handle it all. There are certainly better ones. He can’t remember when that thought first came to him: maybe when he’d won, that first time, Aragón of all places, the king of Marc’s castle, and Marc had been—disappointed, yes, but still there with a smile and a congratulatory word. Not what Pecco had been expecting, from everything Vale had said. Maybe Vale had been wrong.

Marc has done many things to Pecco since then, but that first doubt, the first fallacy of his god, was the most earth-shattering.

“I should speak to Marc—”

“Don’t make it about him.”

“I already have.” It’s like pulling a barbed thread out through his throat, admitting that, reminding himself what he said to the cameras and microphones when he was aching and exhausted and too hot with it all to think about the consequences. “They already have, because if it is me and Álex then it is you and him.”

The silence is long this time, presses in, a storm cloud rolling over before the heavens open and lightning shatters the sky. Pecco almost stutters out an apology, except Valentino must know, because he was the one who wanted to talk about it in the first place.

When Valentino sighs, it hisses in Pecco’s ear. “It will always be about us somehow, Pecco. You will have to hold it.”

And here is what Vale did not tell them when they vowed to carry his legacy, unmistakable yellow in their young faithful hands: it would always be entwined with the ivy-choke of Marc.

Us, Valentino still says, not me and him. If he has still not managed to free himself, what hope does Pecco have?

(He knows the answer. He never will. But he can hold it, can hold the vine-twisted history alongside the bright yellow heritage.)

There’s a lot he could say. He swallows it down, sits on it all. “Are you coming on Wednesday?”

“Of course.”

“See you then. Put the weekend behind us.”

“Get ready for Misano,” Vale agrees. “One of your favourites, and you have raced there already this year. Maybe you do not even need to train, hm?” A laugh, so Pecco knows he’s only joking. So Pecco knows Valentino believes in him. “Ah, they are calling for the plane. I will speak to you soon.”

Pecco doesn’t say so you still think he is forgiving. You still think he can forgive you. He doesn’t say he’ll be in a good mood today, if you called. He closes his eyes, says, “Safe flight. See you on Wednesday.”

#i actually wrote most of this before pecco did his little apology tour #and now i’m wine drunk so fuck it we ball #i’m posting this on mobile pls forgive anything that might be wrong #rosquez #pecco bagnaia #valentino rossi #MotoGP #marc marquez #cara.fic #ivy

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silencesscreams · 1 year

Text

be my mistake

steve harrington x f!reader (smut)

“steve, how could i avoid you? it’s impossible, you’re everywhere i look!“

a/n: also i slipped in a little amy march reference in the discussion part, its my steve fic, sorry in advance if you dont like it and its shitty!! english isn’t my first language so sorry about any grammar mistakes

warnings: angsty-ish, best friends w the scoops troop (i love them so muchhh), afab reader, crying, swearing, kissing, praise, oral (f receiving), begging, a bit of degradation, penetration, unprotected (do not do this pls.),

MINORS DNI

you could say that working at the local family video had its perks.

specially when your two closest friends worked with you but, of course, none of them knew about your recently resurfaced crush on one of them.

steve was not the same guy he was when you met him, sure, he flirted with a lot of girls, and with you, but he was nicer. he was sweet to customers, he even occasionally 'babysit' (that was how robin called hanging out with the kids he was friends with).

recently, steve had become more touchy towards you, he was constantly giving you hugs, he even held your hand at the movies once! sure, you and steve had become best friends, but did he know the effect he had over you? he must know. you blushed whenever he barely touched you, and you felt like your feelings were pretty obvious, you never knew how to hide them properly. he must know, right?

something else, which robin had noticed and commented on with you, was that steve hadn't flirted with any girls in a while now. sure it was weird, because thats basically the thing he did the most, but you didnt really bother, it actually made you a bit less insecure.

you, steve and robin started to watch movies every late monday, since you had less customers on those days, so you'd usually 'work late' and get some takeout and watch some shitty movie you'd probably talk through and make very bad jokes about later.

“ladies! im going on a second date tonight!” he said, barging in with a smile on his face. you could feel your heart fall to the ground, you didn’t even know he had a first date with someone recently.

“what? with who?” robin asked confused.

“her names camila, she goes to state college, i think”

“hm, and did you tell her you have no dreams for the future and work at a family video?” robin teased him.

“oh please, i have a lot of dreams!” he complained, putting on his vest.

“sure you do, stevie” you commented, rolling your eyes playfully. why were you feeling so stupid?

you could feel your stomach fall to the ground, god, that hurt.

it was not like you ever even kissed him. so that meant he was just flirting with you for the fun, then, god, that hurt even more.

and plus, it was steve harrington.

you wouldn’t want to ruin your friendship ever, specially not because of some crush you had, if you could even call it that.

it lasted so long it was probably a free fall at this point.

and so steve went on the date.

and with that, steve had a new girlfriend.

and you hated every single cell in her body.

camila was mean, evil, sick, twisted, a bitch, disgusting and she had this god awful breath. her perfume left you with headaches. and did i say she was mean? because she really was.

but you couldn’t help to not be at least a bit angry at him, and so you found yourself avoiding him at all costs. mostly because he was always with camila and you found her insufferable, but it was also because, yes, you were hurt.

then steve and camila broke up.

so you found out, you had no excuse not to hang out with him anymore. you had no excuse to skip movie sessions, outings, or anything else.

and so whenever a hang out would come up, you suddenly had a sore throat, a headache, a fever. and you don’t know why, but robin wasn’t judging you for it.

you told her about your crush and told her that was the reason you weren’t hanging out with them outside of work, and she understood. she didn’t even question it, and that made you feel worse about it.

“okay, whenever you’re ready to hang out again, feel free to come over, alright?” that was all she said. and it hurt deeply, because you missed your best friends.

but being around steve was unbearable.

and you still, gave it a shot.

monday came around, and robin invited you to hang out at steve’s and watch friday the 13th. for the first time in 2 months, you said yes.

punctually, you were at steve’s, it was 7pm and that was half an hour later to what robin scheduled with you, but her car wasn’t on the driveway. that definitely made you nervous. one thing was hanging out with steve AND robin, the other was hanging out with steve.

took a while for steve to answer the door, once he did, he was standing there in all his glory, wearing grey sweatpants and shirtless. you could feel all your dignity (which was very little) leave your body. you were feeling your body get hotter by the second and the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy.

“hey, come in” he smiled awkwardly, looking around his house nervously.

“sorry i didn’t answer the door earlier, my family’s out of town and i forgot and assumed someone else would answer it.” you smiled at him.

“no problem” you said, trying so hard not to look at him.

“hm, i’m gonna put something on, sorry about that. feel free to sit on the couch, eat, whatever you want to do is fine”

“okay” you smiled, heading over to his living room. there was popcorn on the coffee table, the vhs tape on the table and there was a half filled dr pepper bottle on the floor. you thought it was sweet steve put this together, why aren’t you that mad at him anymore?

when he came back, he was wearing a old t shirt, stained with something that looked like ketchup. he was smelling good. had he put on perfume? god, you missed his smell.

“you wanna start now?” he asked, putting the tape in the vcr.

“maybe we should wait for robin, right?” you asked, fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“she’s not coming. didn’t she tell you? she got caught up with something at work.”

“oh, right.” she didn’t tell you, and you were sure that was written all over your face.

“y/n?” he called.

“yeah?” you looked at him, your ears flushed.

“have you been avoiding me?” oh shit.

“what do you mean?” you decided to lie shamelessly was just the way to go.

“you know what i mean. you never go out with us anymore, and now i’ve just mentioned robin isnt coming, i realize its because of me.” oh shit.

“what?” you laugh anxiously. “no, i just wanna see the movie, its not like that.”

“stop it. you havent been able to look at me for weeks now and i dont get it. goddamn it! im your best friend!” he sighed, rubbing his eyes the way he did when he was nervous.

“steve, how could i possibly avoid you? you’re everywhere i look!” you blurt out, he was looking at you now. “you’re at my job, you’re near my house, you give me a ride home, you’re in my fucking friend group!”

“i just wanna know what i did, because i never meant to hurt you-“

“steve, stop it, you’re being mean.” you were looking at his hairline, not actually being able to see his eyes in that moment, you were about to do it. “you know how i feel about you and you always have.”

that was probably it, that was the death of the friendship.

“what?” he lowered his head, trying to get something out.

“you dont get to do this to me, okay? you don’t. not when you desperately flirted with me for months just to get a girlfriend. not when you tricked me into thinking that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same. not when i’ve been in love with you since middle school.” you felt like you just had a knife shoved into your stomach because of the way he looked at you. brows furrowed, eyes empathetic, but not looking at you directly.

“im going home.” you managed to get that out, with eyes watery and cheeks flushed. you got up, trying so hard not to look back at him, counting your steps to the door.

one,

two,

three,

four,

five,

six,

seven.

you felt a hand gripping your shoulder.

“stay.” he whispered.

“what?” you turned around, looking up at his hazel colored eyes.

“stay.” his hands were on your waist.

“okay.” you answer, looking directly into his dark pupils and that was probably it for you. someday this man might just kill you, your heart was beating faster than ever and you could feel your stomach knotting and knotting and knotting, it was so silly. you felt so incredibly silly.

until he pulled you in. until he was just a few centimeters away from your lips.

it all happened way too fast.

his lips were touching yours, his hands all over you. you ran your hands through his hair, your mouth parted as his tongue slides into your mouth, licking over yours. his hands on your waist.

your hand goes under his shirt and he felt so warm, until he pulls away. you look up at him, doe eyed and he smiles at you.

he doesn’t even have to say anything, and neither do you.

he takes you up to his room, his hand pressed against your lower back, leading you upstairs with the biggest smile on his face.

he opens the door for you, as you head in you notice he’s just looking at you, blushing and shifting from foot to foot. he gives you a look you had never seen before and it makes your heart pound faster than ever. you can’t bear to hide a smirk.

he stood still in the doorway, but he quickly steps forward once you go up to him and peck his lips, giving him a perfect view of your bra.

holy fucking shit.

then, like it didn’t drive you insane, you pull away, grinning at how he went forward with you.

you were sat at the edge of the, bed legs crossed and eyes observant as he locked his door.

with a speed that drives you crazy, steve lifts you and pulls you into his lap, so you’re straddling him. he does that so quickly, it makes you yelp once you land comfortably, instinctively grinding your hips down, making him groan, the low tone of his voice making heat shoot between your thighs.

“such a tease.” he was toying with the hem of your skirt. “this is hot.” he whispered, voice thick as he lays his left hand on your overexposed thigh.

you go over to kiss him again but stop in the middle of the way, liking the way he looked at you. you lift his hand, from the fabric of your skirt up to your mouth, kissing his knuckles. the action feels so intimate and sweet it makes him smile a bit (he also gets a bit hard but that’s not the point).

you look down at him from where your sat, eyelashes batting as you stop kissing his knuckles when he pulls his hand from you, slipping his fingers between yours and gripping your thigh with the spare hand. you kiss down his neck and he can’t stop thinking of how pretty you looked, really.

that shirt, that bralette he knew was under it.

its not fair you looked like that. he just couldn’t help himself at the sight of you.

his hands coast up your bare sides under the shirt, that made you shudder and rock a little in his lap, the relief of the friction ended suddenly as he grabd your hips and pins you down firmly onto him, so you can’t move.

it was useless to try to roll your hips, specially with his hold pinning you down.

he hums, hand sliding further up your top and squeezing just below your tit.

you can’t help but moan a little as he palms your skin, his voice low and thick as honey,

“you look like…” your head tips back at the feeling of his hands on you and he takes that as an opportunity to trail soft kisses along your neck “like you’re mine.” you mewl weakly as his hand cups your breast, his touch clouding up your brain.

“you’re mine, right?” you nod eagerly, pushing up against the hand tucked under your shirt. he clicks his tongue and rolls your sensitive bud between his fingers, “not an answer, hun.”

he had barely touched you and you’re already shaking, breathing heavily and face flushed.

he started kissing your neck, nipping at it.

“answer or you’re not cumming tonight.” the timbre of his voice was incredibly low once he said that, it made your eyes round and your hips buck into air.

“steve, yes, i’m yours. i’ll be so good, please.” you whined.

he squeezes your breast in approval, humming at the way your eyes shut when he touches you.

“good girl.” he lifts you up, manhandling you as you’re being laid down on the bed, his hand leaving you and making you whine. you can feel him moving downwards, trailing kisses down your neck, stomach, before arriving between your legs.

he chuckles ad you whines, trailing soft kisses down your body.

“don’t be greedy.” he looked up at you from where he’s kissing, the waistband of your skirt, eyes wide as he takes in your already fucked out and needy expression.

“my greedy girl” you nod at that, head tilted up as your back arches up a bit, his mouth still pressing messy kisses to the inside of your thighs, “practically begging for me, huh?”

he’s mocking you, nipping at your inner thighs, marking up anywhere except where you need him. his hands are gripping and rubbing soft circles into your thighs, feeling you go lax and needy under him.

“steveee” you say, blushing at how desperate you sound, “please.”

you feel him smile against your inner thigh, looking up at you, “what it is it, princess? can’t even speak and i’ve barely done anything to you, huh, so needy.” his head drops down as he sucks another hickey into you hip, “use you words.” you grind upwards and he pins your hips down, tutting. he looks at you expecting something and you know he wont give you shit until you beg for it.

“steve, please,” your voice tapers into broken whines as your hips move on their own accord, missing his mouth. “need you in me, please, i’ll be so good for you. need you so bad, please.”

“that’s all you had to say, baby.” with that, his fingers push the fabric of your skirt up, showing your lace panties. he groans at the sight.

“shit, you’re so pretty.” he presses a kiss to your clothed core, making you moan, “gonna fuck you with these on, okay?” you nod lazily, the feeling of steve mouthing over your panties makes speaking very difficult. he grins,

“so fucked out.” he flattens his tongue over you, pushing your panties aside as he swipes his tongue over to your wet heat, lapping from your slit to your swollen clit, “haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re practically soaking.”

your hand has gone to his hair, your grip tightens. he knows that your pouting at that, even if he’s not looking.

steve pushes your legs farther apart, pushing your thigh up slightly as he lapped messily at your pussy.

your hands are tugging on his hair, stirring him on as he flicks over your clit in quick strokes that leave your legs shaking around his head. he looks up at you, your head thrown back slightly, shirt hitched up showing your bralette. he reaches up with one hand, helping you take of the shirt.

once its off, he sees your lacy bralette fully, straps falling down as your back arches. it’s probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

he lifts your hips slightly, pressing two digits to your slick entrance, watching how you try and push against them, hips pinned down as you buck down mindlessly,

“steve!” you mewl, voice wrecked. he hums, flicking over your clit with his togue. “aw, doll, is that all you can say?” he gently fucks his fingers into your tight heat, feeling the way you clench around him as you let out another mewling main, legs thrown over his shoulders as he crooks his fingers upwards, pushing up against the sweet spot inside of you. your legs tighten on either side of his head, fingers fucking faster into you, “so fucked out, its cute.”

you blush red, eyes shut and lips parted in soft whines of his name. he liked the way you said it.

his fingers curl against your g-spot, fucking into you in tune with the quick movements of his tongue.

“fuck, steve, ju-just like that, please” he’s placing sloppy kisses over your clit, his fingers thrusting into you, picking up their pace as you clench around him, dripping over his hand.

“fuck, so pretty for me, baby” he groans as he kisses your clit, “such a pretty pussy, can’t wait to fuck you, gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” he watches how you nod weakly between your choked moans of ‘yesyessteve’. you clench around him, his fingers fucking rapidly in and out of your cunt. you were just about to scream once he leaned forward, taking you clit in his mouth, lips latching the sensitive bud and sucking hard, fingers still curling up against your overworked spot as you grind upwards into his mouth and hand, his palm grinding against your entrance.

his fingers fuck into you fast and rough, his free hand reaching up to palm your breast through the fabric of your bra, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer to your climax.

“i’m gonna cum, oh my god, i’m gonna cum don’t stop please-“ you moaned as your words turned into mostly incoherent nonsense. your thighs were clenching around his head, your hands curling in his hair as he lapped at you clit, his fingers hooking against your heat, watching how you fell apart at his touch, hips bucking as you chased your high.

“steve- fuck- you’re so fucking good” you can barely finish a sentence, grinding against his mouth desperately.

he loves you like this, whimpering and so needy, talking through broken little whines. the way you’re begging has him working over you faster.

he groans, feeling the was you clench around him, your slick walls contracting around his digits,

“fuck, you like that, don’t you? being mine? only good for me, huh?” any coherent answers get lost in your pleas of yes, please. he chuckles, fucking his fingers harder into you.

“ohmygodsteve” you’re a moaning mess, legs spread wide and shaking, his tongue circling your clit after his hand dropped, gripping your hip to lift you up slightly, fingers fucking into you slightly deeper. you’re praising him breath;essay, making his fingers move faster, sucking harder on your clit. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, the sight of you making him impossibly hard as he ground his hips into the mattress, taking in the way your head was tipped back, how your mouth was parted in soft moans of his name, how your fingers are gripped at his hair, grinding into his mouth and hand.

“aw, are you gonna cum already?” you nod as best as you can, his fingers are moving roughly in you, pulling you towards your finish. you try to hold off when he murmurs, flicking your clit with his tongue.

“cum for me, let me feel you squeeze my fingers with that thigh pussy.” you cum hard on his tongue, his digits still fucking into you, drawing you out of it. your climax crashes over you in waves, the feeling of being fucked open when you came making you whine.

you’re whimpering as he pulls his fingers out of you. steve reaches up and pins your legs up to your chest, kissing you hard and rough. he nips ate your lips and murmurs,

“still need me, baby?” he’s rubbing your cheeks and you can’t help but push against his touch. your voice is broken and whinny,

“yes, please, need you so bad.” he kisses you again and you can feel his hair brushing over your face,

“good fucking girl.” you practically preen from his praise, as he sits up, taking off his shirt and lowering his sweatpants, he takes a moment to dip his hand below his waistband to palm himself through his boxers,

“fuck, need you so bad,” you whine in response, as he pushes is boxers down, his erection hitting up against his stomach. you moan then, seeing him stroke his cock at the sight of you, he chuckles, running his hand down his shaft at the way you’re whining for him.

“needy little slut, aren’t you?” you feel the blunt head of his cock nudge against your slick entrance as he lines himself up to you.

“your needy little slut” you say, grinding against his tip, your slick coating him. he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his voice low as he presses himself closer to you, stretching your cunt around him.

“of course you are” he’s spreading your legs and kissing you. he rocks his hips forward, not fucking you, but enough to make you moan, “tell me if you want to stop, okay?” with that, he pushes into you.

pushing his thick length into you in one stroke, the sudden stretch making you moan breathlessly. he groans into the crook of your neck, biting down on that soft spot,

“still so tight” he wastes no time starting to ove, shallowly rolling his hips up to you. “fuck, feels so fucking good” he kisses your neck, cooing at you. “pretty girl, look at you, taking it like such a good little slut.” he’s pulling your bra down, the flimsy lace pushed back. he fucks you harder, your tits bouncing with each hard thrust into you. you’re moaning lewdly as he thrusted forward, his cock stretching you open. it feels so good, the feeling of him filling you up. you cried out and gripped at his arms, each hard thrust fucking you into the mattress.

“fuck, steve, harder” he cocks an eyebrow, then pulls out to the tip, you whine at the lost.

“you asked for it, doll” he thrusts forward roughly, filling you up with his cock, you feel him even deeper this time, the press of him against your walls making you whine louder as he thrusted harder. “can you take this?” he fucks into you rapidly, mocking you, pushing you against the headboard. “you said you wanted it harder, didn’t you?”

your cheeks burn at the way he degrades your his relentless thrusts making the heat in your abdomen start to build. you’re moaning soft chants of ‘yes, please and steve’, babbling nonsensically through your moans. his thrusts are hard and deep, pushing against your walls, filling you in perfectly.

the rapid slap of skins fills the room as his hips pick up pace, slamming against yours with each thrust, the base of his cock grinding at your clit, the friction making you moan.

“fuck, taking me so well” he’s kissing your neck and playing with your tits, “you were made for me” he groans.

“oh my god” you moan as his cock pushes into you faster, the brutal snap of his hips making you cry out, you start babbling again, chasing your high. he feels so good inside of you, the roll of his hips bringing you closer to the edge.

he can tell you’re close, from the way your hips have started bucking upwards excitedly, grinding on his cock, the way your hands are gripping the nape of his neck. you yelp as he throws your legs over his shoulders, fucking you deeper as he angles his dick perfectly against your g-spot, ramming against it with every thrust.

“please, need it so bad” you beg, steve hums, his pace unflattering as he pounds into you,

“need what, baby?”

“need to cum” your voice sounds destroyed, “please-! please, need you to make me cum, steve” he grins, grabs your hips and lifts you up, fucking into you faster than before.

“only i can do this, huh?”

“you! only you, steve!” you moan out, trying desperately to press yourself against his his harsh hursts. you clamped around him as you felt your high building again. he must’ve felt it, reaching down between you two and pinching your clit, thrusts getting faster as you cried out.

“i want you to cum” he says, fucking you onto his cock, “cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

his thumb rubs your clit faster, moving in time with his rapid thrusts, hips pistoling into you, fucking you hard as you came with a loud cry of his name, this one harder than the last. walls clenched hard around him as you gripped the back of his neck. seeing you, head thrown back in ecstasy, face screwed up in pleasure as you cry out his name, has him groaning. head dropped into the crook of your neck as his thrusts get faster and sharper, the overstimulation drawing out high keening noises from your throat, his cock nudging against your cervix as he spills inside of you.

“fuck, so good for me, honey” he kisses your shoulder. “such a good girl” he murmurs. he pulls out slowly and takes you in his arms, laying you down.

he starts getting up and you tug gently at his wrist. he kisses your forehead smiling.

“don’t worry, i’m just gonna get some things in the bathroom”

when he gets back, he throws you an old shirt, which you quickly put on.

“i can go, if you want to.” you mutter, looking down at your hands.

“what? no, are you crazy? stay. come on, lets watch that movie” he smiles at you, opening the tissue case.

“okay, i will then.” you couldn’t help but smile.

“hey, about that thing you said earlier” he looked into your eyes. “i love you too.”

tag: @nix-rose

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kusakabesimp · 2 months

Text

KUSAHIGU : ONE WEEK

By: kusakabesimp - also on Ao3 [here]

[MDNI] Summary: Kusakabe and Higuruma find themselves sharing a room for a week. What starts as an awkward arrangement soon turns into something more. [notes /credits / love at end]

-- MONDAY ---

Kusakabe was utterly exhausted. He let out a heavy sigh, wiping the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his gi, feeling every muscle in his body ache and scream for relief. Although he had no problem matching Itadori's energy during training sessions, his body wasn't as young as it used to be, and the physical strain was taking its toll on him.

The building they were staying in was run-down, with creaky floors and peeling wallpaper, but the prospect of a hot shower and a horizontal surface to lie on made it seem like a palace. He trudged down the hallway to his room, rotating his shoulder to ease the soreness, hoping the sounds he heard were the old wooden boards underfoot and not the final groans of his body giving out.

He nudged his door open, expecting familiar silence and emptiness. Instead, he saw Higuruma standing motionless at the foot of the bed with an oversized suitcase clutched in his hand. Kusakabe had only exchanged a few words with the lawyer since his arrival a few days ago, so he needed to figure out the best way to approach this situation. But right now, the discomfort of his gi clinging to his clammy skin took priority over everything else. He sidestepped Higuruma and began collecting his things for a shower, the soft padding of his feet against the tatami the only sound in the room.

"More sorcerers came in today," Higuruma remarked, a discernible hint of frustration in his voice. "They've had to shuffle rooms to accommodate everyone. I've been assured that this is a temporary arrangement, maybe a week at most."

Kusakabe didn't bother to look back as he pushed open the bathroom door and peeled off his gi. "S'fine with me," he said with a shrug. "Make yourself at home."

Higuruma continued to stand at the foot of the bed, his gaze fixed on the wall as he stewed in silence. It wasn't so much the choice of roommate that bothered him as it was the idea of sharing the room itself. Although staying with the other sorcerers was the safest bet for survival, he couldn't find it in himself to trust any of them. Jujutsu society was riddled with the same pervasive corruption as the legal system he'd left behind: unwilling to reform, content to let the most powerful people thrive at the expense of everyone and everything else. The thought of letting his guard down with someone, even for a week, made him uneasy. But he resigned himself to the fact that there was no other option and reluctantly released his grip on his suitcase.

=================

"Right or left?"

Higuruma didn't respond to Kusakabe's question; he was focused solely on wrestling his bulky suitcase under the bed. After several failed attempts, he sighed and gave up, leaving the case awkwardly wedged under the corner. Frustrated, he flopped onto the bed and gave the case a final angry kick with his heel. "Right or what?" he grumbled.

"Do you want the right or the left side?" Kusakabe asked.

As Higuruma shifted his attention towards Kusakabe, his breath hitched in his throat. Despite his practiced self-discipline, his eyes seemed to take on a life of their own, tracing the lines of the other man's body with an involuntary curiosity. Kusakabe was toweling his damp hair, his spiky locks softened and gently falling over his forehead. There was a faint scattering of freckles across his broad shoulders.

"Snap out of it, Hiromi," Higuruma chided himself, trying to get his attention back under control as his eyes continued to drift. The contours of Kusakabe's chest were covered with a soft veil of brown hair, a few droplets of water from the shower still clinging to it.

Kusakabe's deep, baritone voice pulled Higuruma back to reality. "Oi. Oi, Earth to lawyer."

Higuruma quickly regained his composure, his face resuming its usual steely expression. "Right side is preferable," he answered sharply. He snatched his pajamas from the edge of the bed and walked towards the bathroom, trying his best to hide his eagerness to escape the situation. As he shut the door behind him, he leaned back against it, trying to forget what he'd seen, but knowing his photographic memory was already burning it deep into his consciousness.

"It's only one week," he whispered, trying to convince himself it was just a momentary slip-up. "One week."

As Higuruma emerged from the bathroom, he found Kusakabe reclined on the left side of the bed, book in hand and still bare-chested. The thought of striking up a conversation with him made Higuruma uneasy, but he was also worried that his own silence might inadvertently reveal something significant. He made his way to the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Much to his relief, Kusakabe was engrossed in his book and oblivious to his discomfort. Unsure of what to do with his work clothes, Higuruma hesitated before tossing them next to his suitcase.

Left with no other distractions, he climbed into the bed and nestled under the blanket, snuggling it up under his chin. Lying there with his back turned to Kusakabe, he wondered how long they'd keep pretending to ignore each other.

The other man's voice finally broke the silence. "Is my reading light going to bother you?" he asked quietly.

"No, it's fine," Higuruma responded. Another silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. "But thank you."

--- TUESDAY ---

The first rays of morning pierced through the half-broken blinds, casting thin beams of sunshine across the bed. Higuruma stirred beneath the covers and let out a heavy groan, pulling himself upright, still half-buried in the folds of the blanket. As he blinked away the remnants of sleep, memories of the previous night flooded his mind with a whirlwind of emotions.

"Oh, good. You're up." Kusakabe said, poking his head out from behind the half-open closet door. With a casual flick of his foot, he nudged the door shut and started to make his way around the room as he buttoned up his shirt. Grabbing his tie from the dresser, he shot a quick glance at Higuruma and motioned toward an open drawer. "I cleared out the second one in case you need it."

Higuruma felt his gaze drifting again, drawn to the other man's hands as they looped one end of the tie over the other.

"There's an extra towel in the bathroom," Kusakabe continued, settling the knot of the tie against his collar. "But fair warning -- the hot water in the mornings is pretty unreliable." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a lollipop, its wrapper crinkling as he unwrapped it.

Turning to face Higuruma, he saw him cocooned in the blanket in the center of the bed; his tousled curls flattened on one side from resting on the pillow all night. Kusakabe found the contrast between this and Higuruma's usual demeanor incredibly endearing.

"I train Itadori-kun in the evenings," Kusakabe said. "Harnessing cursed energy is pretty straightforward, but hand-to-hand fighting requires a different kind of skill. Getting a grasp on it will make it easier to work with those flashy techniques of yours." His tone had an underlying warmth, a subtle invitation masked by practicality.

Another silence lingered in the air, and again, Kusakabe took the initiative to break it. "Well... I'll see you later," he said, tucking the lollipop in the corner of his mouth before striding out the door.

Higuruma threw off the blanket and shuffled across the tatami to the dresser. He stood there fixated on the open drawer. Kusakabe's simple gesture had no weight or explicit intent behind it, but Higuruma analyzed it anyway, dissecting it for some underlying implication. Logically, the dresser was just a piece of furniture. But the act of sharing this space, of someone granting him access to a part of their world, felt strangely intimate.

He was probably overthinking it.

=================

The dojo was filled with sharp claps and heavy thuds as Higuruma and Itadori exchanged blows. Kusakabe grew up in spaces like this, nose bloodied and body bruised, but never imagined becoming a teacher himself. Mei Mei always said he was too gentle and soft on his students. But every attempt to adopt a harsher approach felt forced and unnatural. He showed the kids how to fight, but his deeper purpose was to teach them that they weren't just sorcerers; they were humans, too, with the same emotional needs as anyone else. For Kusakabe, love was the most important lesson.

He'd given Higuruma and Itadori some brief pointers, but now they were teaching themselves, pushing each other to the limit. With a sudden burst of speed, Itadori launched a powerful kick at Higuruma's midsection, but the lawyer anticipated it and countered with a flurry of hand strikes. Catching the sleeve of Higuruma's gi, Itadori drove him backward into the wall. Refusing to back down, the lawyer raised his fist, sparking with the telltale crackle of cursed energy. Kusakabe rushed over to intervene, quickly grabbing both their collars and separating them before the situation escalated any further.

"Oi, that's enough," Kusakabe's voice cut through the tension, firm but without any anger. "If you want to use cursed energy, do it outside my dojo. I think we're done for today."

Despite his initial instinct to pull away from the touch, Higuruma allowed the hand on his collar to linger. He registered the warmth of Kusakabe's hand seeping through the fabric and every subtle shift in pressure. It was a simple, ordinary touch, but it ignited a profound response: an urge to lean closer, tempered by a keen awareness of the vulnerability that might come if he allowed even the smallest form of contact. He casually shrugged off the touch as he reconnected to reality, trying to conceal his emotion behind a mask of indifference.

But Kusakabe noticed the lawyer's slight hesitation. He'd been in enough fights to recognize an adrenaline surge and the body's instinctual reactions afterward. What intrigued him was Higuruma's deliberate restraint, the conscious effort to hold his breath. There was a complexity to this reaction, and his eyes swept over the lawyer as he tried to decipher it. If Itadori noticed this silent exchange, he didn't say anything, offering Kusakabe a respectful bow before leaving the dojo.

Higuruma and Kusakabe's eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded into nothingness. But as quickly as the spell had been woven, it was shattered as the lawyer abruptly walked away, leaving Kusakabe standing alone in the empty room, wondering what might have happened if he had dared to break the silence.

=================

Despite his best efforts, Kusakabe's mind stubbornly drifted back to Higuruma, consumed by thoughts of what happened in the dojo. As he stepped into his room, he saw the lawyer standing by the dresser. The collar of his gi had slipped down his shoulder, revealing a glimpse of his slender frame, and Kusakabe's gaze traced the line of his collarbone. Their eyes met again, and another heavy silence passed between them, but now with a shared recognition of the chemistry simmering just beneath the surface.

Seeking respite from the heat building inside him, Kusakabe retreated to the coldest shower he could stand. He let the icy water run over his skin as he leaned against the tiled wall, but he knew the relief was only temporary. The numbing sensation dulled the ache, but the fire still burned.

--- WEDNESDAY ---

Higuruma's eyes slowly opened, and he felt the comforting weight of the blanket wrapped around him. Then, a sudden surge of awareness hit him, and he realized that the pressure he felt was from Kusakabe nestled against his back, with an arm casually draped over his waist. The warmth of the other man's breath against his neck sent a shiver coursing down his spine. Despite his training in law school to dissect and analyze every thought, there was no framework or precedence for the rush of emotions triggered by this type of contact.

"Kusakabe," Higuruma whispered. There was no response, just the sound of the other man's deep, measured breathing. "Kusakabe, wake up," he urged, but still nothing. Higuruma got anxious and gave him a firm nudge in the chest with his elbow. "Kusakabe, wake up," he repeated, his tone carrying much more insistence this time. Finally, Kusakabe took a deep breath and began to stir, squinting against the early morning light. Rolling onto his back, he used his arm to prop up his head on the pillow as he stretched and absentmindedly scratched the hair on his chest. With a satisfied yawn, he finally opened his eyes.

Immediately, Higuruma sat up in the bed, the blanket trailing behind him, trying to put some distance between them. The lawyer had a seemingly calm expression, but Kusakabe noticed him fidget with the edge of the blanket, his fingers anxiously twisting and turning it. As Kusakabe replayed the last few seconds in his mind, the pieces fell into place, and the memory of Higuruma's body pressed against him reignited the fire with new intensity. But he masked it, using his playful nature as a shield against the feelings threatening to break through.

"Ah, sorry about that; I toss and turn a lot when I sleep," Kusakabe said casually. "You're pretty comfy...maybe I thought you were my pillow," he added, trying to lighten the mood.

Drowning in emotions, Higuruma turned to the familiar comfort of logic. "That would imply you were consciously aware during REM sleep," he said, trying to sound detached. "But the frontal cortex is inactive, inducing atonia — a transient paralysis. Only the muscles controlling breathing and eye movement remain active."

There was a moment of silence as Kusakabe processed Higuruma's response, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "Are you seriously trying to lawyer me right now?"

Higuruma tried his best to keep his feelings in check, but the subtle tension in his facial muscles gave him away. "I'm simply pointing out that your excuse lacks credibility; what you're suggesting isn't possible. You can't move like that when you're in a deep sleep."

Kusakabe shifted his arm behind his head, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Says the man who's stolen the blanket two nights in a row."

Higuruma's eyes momentarily dropped to the blanket, the fabric wound tightly around his shoulders. He felt a twinge of embarrassment and a rush of heat creeping up his neck. When he looked back to Kusakabe, he was met with a sly smirk and a raised eyebrow — a silent declaration of victory.

Flustered and red-faced, Higuruma hastily cast the blanket aside. Clinging to the remnants of his composure, he grabbed a crumpled dress shirt from his dresser drawer and silently retreated to the bathroom.

=================

Kusakabe keeps an old photo in his wallet - a moment frozen in time, where he and Takeru are flashing peace signs, the young boy comfortably perched on Kusakabe's hip. He can't help but imagine the life his nephew could have had: he pictures him graduating from college, his eyes shining with pride and excitement. He imagines Takeru falling in love, starting his own family, and experiencing the ups and downs of being a parent.

This old wound still refuses to heal; he remembers his nephew's laughter and the warmth of his tiny hand clasping his own. As Kusakabe's feelings for Higuruma grew, he worried that history would repeat itself; he worried that opening up to him would inevitably lead to heartbreak. But he can't deny the connection between them, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he is tired — tired of allowing fear to control his life, tired of playing it safe, and tired of not taking the leap.

--- THURSDAY ---

The first light of dawn cast a gentle glow over Higuruma's sleeping face. Standing beside the bed, Kusakabe was filled with emotions that words could never fully express, but then, words had never come easy to him. He showed affection for those he loved in other ways: late-night drinks and hanafuda cards with Hakari, playful arm wrestling matches with Yuji, a reassuring hand on Miwa's shoulder -- it was through these small acts that he spoke with his authentic voice. So, in the stillness of the morning, Kusakabe spoke in this voice with a tenderness he reserved only for those closest to his heart. He gently tucked the blanket around Higuruma's shoulders, weaving strands of love and affection into every crease and fold.

=================

Higuruma woke up wrapped in the soft embrace of the blanket. Shifting in bed, the space beside him felt unnaturally empty, and he realized he was growing accustomed to Kusakabe's familiar warmth. But the other man's presence still lingered in the quiet corners of the room: the typical mess of crumpled shirts in his dresser drawer were stacked and neatly pressed, his ties carefully rolled, and a fresh towel lay on the bathroom counter. Then he saw the tiniest detail that stirred something deep inside him; he noticed the sunflower on his suit jacket was intentionally pinned slightly askew. In Higuruma's morning rush to get ready, he never took the time to check the mirror and straighten it, something only Kusakabe would notice. Higuruma ran his fingers over the pin, and for the first time in years, he felt a soft smile tug at the corners of his lips.

=================

Leaning against the auditorium wall, Kusakabe stifled a yawn as the meeting dragged on with all the excitement of watching paint dry. He tried his best to pay attention, but his focus shifted back to Higuruma. The lawyer sat with his hands clasped in front of his face, fingers intertwined, looking every bit as disinterested as the other sorcerers. Then, Kusakabe felt a change in the room's energy, and glancing over, he caught Higuruma's eyes drifting over him.

A soft voice broke through the moment, pulling Kusakabe's gaze away and jarring him back to reality.

"He seems to have put in some extra effort today," Mei Mei said.

"Mhmm?" Kusakabe mumbled absentmindedly. He squared his shoulders and settled against the wall, glancing down at her.

Mei Mei let out a playful laugh. "I mean Higuruma — he looks really nice today. Don't tell me you haven't noticed; you're always so observant, Acchan," she teased, peering up at him from behind her braid. "His shirt is so neatly ironed, so crisp...like someone took special care with it."

"Lawyers are sticklers for detail," Kusakabe said defensively, "and considering how late he was to the meeting, he probably ironed it right before he left." He propped his leg against the wall, hands tucked into his coat pockets, trying to appear calm and deflect any further scrutiny.

Mei Mei tapped her finger to her chin, a playful glint in her eyes as she pretended to weigh Kusakabe's explanation. "Hmm...maybe. But isn't it interesting that there are stays in the collar of his shirt? You don't often see those, especially on men in our line of work." She paused and then added, "Come to think of it, you're the only man I know who uses them."

"Tch," Kusakabe clicked his tongue and looked away. "You're reading too much into it," he said, trying to mask his embarrassment but failing to conceal the faint blush coloring the tips of his ears.

Mei Mei's tone softened, her usual facade melting away to reveal a genuine warmth. "I know it's your way of showing him how you feel." She reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm. "I'm happy for you, Acchan."

=================

As moonlight filtered into the room, Kusakabe and Higuruma settled into their usual routine: Kusakabe reclined on the left side of the bed, lost in the pages of his book, and Higuruma nestled on the right, wrapped up tightly in the blanket. Neither of them brought up what happened in the auditorium; instead, they buried it under layers of familiar shared silence. This time, it was Higuruma who took the initiative to break it.

"Do you..." the lawyer's voice wavered slightly, a soft tremor betraying his nerves, "Do you mind if I borrow a book?"

"Go for it," Kusakabe said casually, his attention still fixed on the pages. "Shelf's by the desk."

Higuruma shifted out of the blanket and shuffled across the room, crouching down in front of the shelf. His fingers danced over the worn spines of the books as if searching for something in particular. "Kakinomoto, Chiyo-ni, Issa... I didn't know you liked poetry," he said with surprise.

Kusakabe nodded but remained focused on his book. "Poetry's always been a part of my training; Sensei required it," he replied. "Sword drawing is all about rhythm and flow; each move is like a small verse that builds up to a larger work."

Higuruma picked up a volume and flipped through the pages with a concentrated expression. Kusakabe stole a glance in his direction, a warm smile spreading across his face before he turned his attention back to his reading. Nestling back under the blankets, Higuruma positioned himself to face Kusakabe, a subtle but significant shift in their usual dynamic.

=================

The sound of turning pages from Higuruma's book gradually faded away, and the volume slipped from his hand before landing gently on the bed. Kusakabe carefully retrieved it and adjusted the blanket around Higuruma's shoulders, knowing he'd inevitably steal it anyway. As he settled back onto the pillow, his hand lingered on the light before finally turning it off.

The world outside was in chaos. Tomorrow wasn't promised, and he realized he couldn't afford to wait. Higuruma deserved more than just simple gestures and heated glances; he deserved to hear the truth.

--- FRIDAY ---

Kusakabe worked at the counter alongside Miwa and Yuji in the dimly lit kitchen, the comforting aroma of nori and fresh sushi rice filling the room. He did his best to piece together some kind of 'normal' for them, someplace Miwa and Yuji could be themselves, just like any other kids. In this makeshift kitchen, using ingredients scrounged from convenience stores, they could pretend everything was okay, at least for a little while.

Miwa crossed her arms tightly over her chest, staring at Yuji with an aggravated look. "I'm telling you, you don't add cucumber to toru-taku rolls," she insisted. "I learned how to make them in first-year cooking class!"

Yuji flashed her a hopeful smile and pointed to the ingredients on the counter, "No, I mean...I get it, but sushi can still be creative. Can't we at least try it?"

As the debate escalated, their voices grew louder, accompanied by exaggerated eye rolls and dirty looks. Kusakabe propped himself against the counter and watched the exchange with amusement, knowing that any attempt to intervene would only add fuel to the fire. When Yuji playfully grabbed a wooden spoon and twirled it in his hand, Miwa's expression shifted instantly, and with a flick of her wrist, she grabbed another spoon and closed the gap between them. She danced in and out of Yuji's reach, leaving him flustered and off-balance.

Watching Miwa confidently hold her ground, Kusakabe felt a surge of pride. "That's my girl," he smiled to himself.

Yuji stumbled backward, and Miwa gave him a playful smack on the wrist with the wooden spoon, causing the boy to raise his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay! No cucumber!" he relented, and then Miwa's seriousness melted into a grin.

=================

The finished toru-taku looked more like abstract art than traditional sushi. Still, Miwa and Yuji smiled proudly, their earlier disagreement now forgotten. With practiced precision, Kusakabe drizzled soy sauce and sprinkled a handful of sesame seeds over the rolls before placing the platter on the table. As he reached for a few pairs of chopsticks, the bickering started again, this time over who would sit next to Kusakabe at the small table. But just as the argument was getting heated, it came to a sudden stop.

"Ah! Higuruma-san! Come eat with us!" Yuji called out cheerfully and waved.

Kusakabe's head snapped up, maybe a little too eagerly, to see the lawyer standing at the doorway. Higuruma blinked a few times, slightly surprised by the unexpected invitation. Kusakabe reached for an extra plate to set another place at the table. When he turned around, he found Miwa and Yuji sitting together on the opposite side, grinning from ear to ear.

"We'll sit over here," Miwa beamed.

Kusakabe pulled out the chair beside him. Higuruma settled in, and their knees grazed against each other under the table, sparking a mix of nerves and excitement in the lawyer. Briefly exchanging glances, Kusakabe's expression softened before he turned his attention back to the kids. He smiled affectionately as he passed around small dishes of wasabi, dodging the kids' chopsticks as they eagerly tried to grab the rolls they wanted.

Higuruma had developed a deep fondness for this side of Kusakabe -- the Kusakabe who filled the room with infectious laughter, the Kusakabe who had the kids hanging on his every word, and the Kusakabe who ensured everyone had enough to eat by quietly sneaking an extra roll onto their plate. Their knees brushed again, and Higuruma leaned into the contact, pressing their legs together. In response, he felt a warm hand settle gently on his knee, and Kusakabe continued chatting with the kids as if the touch was just a normal part of their connection. Through the rest of dinner, Higuruma sat quietly content, a subtle yet undeniable smile on his face.

=================

Tangled black curls spilled out from under the mound of blankets as Higuruma snuggled up with his book. Kusakabe lay uncovered, having surrendered any hope of ever reclaiming the blanket. The lawyer had edged closer than the previous night, lying in the middle of the bed, just a few inches away from Kusakabe's side. The shared silence felt warm and comforting, as if reading together in bed was a natural part of their routine. Peeking over his book, Higuruma looked at Kusakabe's face, illuminated by the gentle glow of the lamp. The book he held appeared well-loved, with a tattered cover and creased pages.

"More poetry?" Higuruma asked softly.

Kusakabe glanced up from his book. "Mmhmm, it's Ono no Komachi," he replied, his fingers tracing the edge of the pages.

Higuruma watched as Kusakabe slowly extended his arm across the pillow, inviting him to come closer on his own terms. There was no pressure or expectation, just an offer of space and acceptance. So he cautiously leaned in, torn between a desire for closeness and the vulnerability of touch. Aware of Higuruma's sensitivity, Kusakabe gently wrapped his arm around the blankets, allowing the lawyer to relax into his embrace and rest his head on the broad curve of his shoulder.

Higuruma's voice trembled slightly. "Do you have a favorite?" he murmured.

Kusakabe paused to think about his response. It felt more like an invitation than a question, an opportunity for him to share something deeper, something personal. He turned his attention back to his book and flipped through the pages. When he found the passage he was looking for, he shifted his position and pulled Higuruma closer to his chest.

Was I lost in thoughts of love when I closed my eyes? He appeared, and had I known it for a dream, I would not have awakened.

The verse trailed off, and Kusakabe's heart thudded against this ribcage. He'd promised to tell Higuruma the truth, but when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice failed him, and the words slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. So, he drew Higuruma closer, wrapped his arms around him, and tucked the lawyer's head under his chin. He buried his face in Higuruma's soft curls, breathing in the scent of home and belonging.

Time ceased to exist as he held Higuruma in his arms — for minutes, hours, an eternity.

"Hiromi, I...." he started to say, but when he looked down, Higuruma had already drifted off to sleep.

--- SATURDAY ---

Kusakabe was already awake before sunrise, listening to the steady rhythm of Higruruma's breathing, his fingertips tracing small circles on the lawyer's back. He craved more mornings like this, where they could be together — two souls in their own little world, where nothing else mattered. But he knew if he didn't tell Higuruma how he felt, moments like these would be nothing more than dreams, forever out of reach.

=================

Kusakabe tugged the t-shirt over his head and adjusted the arms to fit his broad frame. He could hear the lawyer shuffling behind him, opening and closing drawers.

"You're out," Kusakabe called over his shoulder.

Higuruma continued to rummage through the dresser, only half paying attention. "What?" he mumbled.

"Shirts. You're out," Kusakabe said, holding a t-shirt out to him. "Just use one of mine; I'm about to do laundry."

Higuruma hesitated, prompting Kusakabe to raise an eyebrow, patiently waiting for him to decide. Finally, he gave in and accepted the shirt. While Kusakabe gathered Higuruma's scattered clothes from the floor, the lawyer took advantage of the distraction and quickly swapped his crumpled pajama top with the t-shirt.

Kusakabe turned to steal one last glance before heading out. "I'll be back in a..." he stopped short as he caught sight of Higuruma, the oversized shirt hanging loosely over his slender frame. God, how he wanted to freeze this moment in time, to capture the image of Higuruma in his shirt, in their room, and replay it endlessly in his mind.

The lawyer's cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink at the intensity in Kusakabe's expression, and he nervously toyed with the hem of the shirt. "Does it look bad?" he asked.

A warm smile tugged at Kusakabe's lips, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "No, no," he reassured, shaking his head. "You look beautiful."

Kusakabe's hand hovered in the air, a silent pause of thoughtful consideration for space. He brushed aside the neckline of Higuruma's shirt and trailed his fingers along his collarbone. With a soft sigh, the lawyer closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation, leaning into the touch. Spurred on by this reaction, Kusakabe's hand continued to explore, traveling up the curve of Higuruma's neck, and as he threaded his fingers through the lawyer's soft curls, he felt him shiver in response.

Looking down into Higuruma's eyes, he saw a reflection of his own desire but also a subtle ache, silently begging him to let his guard down and break through the final barrier.

Why was this so hard? Why was it so hard to tell him?

"Stay here and relax," Kusakabe whispered as he pressed a soft kiss on top of Higuruma's head. "I'll be back in a bit."

=================

As the echo of Kusakabe's footsteps gradually faded, Higuruma's mind was flooded with emotions he didn't understand. He'd always seen physical intimacy as a transaction, a calculated exchange with no emotional connection, just a means to an end. Even during sex, he kept his partners at arm's length, guarding himself from getting too close.

But Kusakabe was different. Higuruma craved his touch, not just for the physical sensations but for something deeper, a connection he'd spent a lifetime avoiding. His heart ached for validation, desperate for reassurance that what they shared was more than superficial attraction. Higuruma scrutinized every word and tender touch, questioning if his desire for something more had clouded his judgment.

As time went by, he couldn't shake the feeling that Kusakabe's silence was an answer in itself.

=================

It was a lazy Saturday morning, and Kusakabe lounged on the couch, lost in his book. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted into the living room as Higuruma walked in, offering him a cup. Just as his fingers touched the handle, the lawyer teasingly pulled it away. With a knowing smile, Kusakabe pulled Higuruma towards him for a sweet kiss before finally claiming his coffee.

Miwa's voice seemed to echo from a distant place. "Sensei. Senseeeeeeeeeeeeeei," she called urgently. "You're burning Higuruma-san's shirt."

As Kusakabe snapped out of his daydream, he was hit with a sharp and unfamiliar smell. Confused, he glanced around and finally noticed the look on Miwa's face. As he followed her gaze, he saw wisps of smoke rising from the iron clutched in his hand. He winced when he noticed the charred pocket on the shirt.

With a heavy sigh, Kusakabe set the iron down on the board with a loud thud. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his hand wearily over his face.

Miwa sat on the edge of the counter, her feet dangling freely and swinging in the air. She watched Kusakabe's face closely, and her movements slowed when she saw his reaction. "Are you going to tell him?" she asked.

Kusakabe gave her a deadpan stare and held up the shirt. "I think it's pretty obvious with the missing pocket.", he said dryly.

Miwa leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. "Sensei," she pressed, her voice soft but insistent, "you know what I mean."

Kusakabe ignored the statement and turned his focus back to the burned shirt. Taking his time, he folded the sleeves and smoothed out the fabric, trying to convey his unwillingness to participate in a conversation he was clearly trying to avoid.

Miwa hopped off the counter and stretched her arms above her head. "I know when I'm struggling, you always said there's different ways I can find strength." She straightened up, resting her hand on her hip as she mimicked Kusakabe's deep voice. "Miwa-chan, before you swing the katana, think about the people you love. If they're important to you, they're worth fighting for."

As Kusakabe's eyes lingered on the damaged shirt, he felt like a hypocrite. He'd spent countless hours teaching Miwa that true strength came from embracing vulnerability, that love wasn't just an emotion but also a lesson in bravery. He wasn't just failing to follow his own advice; he was failing the person he cared for the most, denying them both a chance for something more.

Turning towards Miwa, Kusakabe raised his eyebrow in exaggerated surprise, hoping to keep his true feelings out of sight. "Oh, so you were listening during our training sessions," he teased. He grinned as he pulled the lollipop from his mouth, pointing it towards her. "I'll remember that the next time you decide to conveniently forget a kata sequence."

=================

Kusakabe paused in the hallway, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He took a deep breath before nudging the door open, and what he saw made his heart sink like a stone. Higuruma stood motionless at the foot of the bed, clutching his suitcase so tight that his knuckles had turned pale with the strain. Kusakabe closed the door and made his way across the room with purpose. There was an urgency now; no time for hesitation and no room for doubt.

Tears streamed down Higuruma's cheeks, his body shaking uncontrollably as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "There's a spare room now," he faltered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They said I can move if I want to." He lifted his head, his lips moving silently for a few seconds before he choked out the words. "But I want to stay," he pleaded. "Please...tell me that you want me to stay."

Kusakabe reached out and placed his fingers over Higuruma's hand, releasing his grip on the suitcase and guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down to meet the lawyer at eye level and cupped his tear-stained face in his hands. "I want you to stay," Kusakabe said softly. "I'm not saying that because I have some sense of obligation or because of the spare room." He paused, brushing away Higuruma's tears. "I want you to stay because I want you here, with me."

With an infinitely tender touch, he lifted the lawyer's chin, encouraging him to meet his gaze. Every hope, every dream, and every thought of Higuruma pushed him forward, and he finally said the words he'd guarded for so long. "Hiromi," he whispered, "I love you."

With a subtle tilt of his head, Higuruma extended an invitation, and in response, Kusakabe moved forward with a gentle determination. Closing the distance, he brushed his thumb across the lawyer's cheek, seeking his permission with a soft touch. A shared breath passed between them, and Kusakabe leaned in, his lips capturing the sweetness of Higuruma's surrender.

Higuruma had felt Kusakabe's affection before, but this was profoundly different. It wasn't the warmth of his touch or the softness of his kiss; it was the care and devotion poured into it. This was Kusakabe's love — slow, measured, and infused with a tenderness that took Higuruma's breath away. As he leaned into the kiss, a lifetime of self-restraint melted away, replaced by a hunger unlike anything he'd ever known.

A warm hand pushed up the edge of Higuruma's shirt, searching and teasing -- wildfire trailing along his skin. And then the gentle pressure of another hand slipped up the back of his neck and threaded through his curls, and he was drawn irresistibly closer, kissing him deeper, eager to let Kusakabe consume him completely. He reached out, sliding his hands along the broad expanse of the other man's shoulders and winding his arms around him.

Kusakabe's arms circled Higuruma's waist as he gently lifted him into his embrace, cradling the lawyer against his chest. With each step, he pressed a soft kiss - on Hiromi's lips, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. Carefully, he eased Higuruma onto the pillows and settled in beside him, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze was filled with affection as he traced the contours of the lawyer's face, sweeping away the stray curls from his forehead and tenderly caressing his cheek.

"Atsuya...," Hiromi whispered.

Of all the times Kusakabe had heard his given name, it had never sounded more beautiful or made him feel more alive than when he heard it float off Hiromi's lips. He wanted to hear him sing it, moan it, say it softly before he drifted off to sleep — he wanted to hear it again and again and again. His fingertips trailed a delicate path down Higuruma's jawline, guiding him closer. Leaning in, he lightly brushed his thumb across Higuruma's lips and whispered, "I love you, Hiromi," against his skin.

The once-difficult words flowed effortlessly now, each "I love you" heavy with devotion, assuring Hiromi that now and forever, he was the center of Kusakabe's world.

As he felt Atsuya's breath on his face, Higuruma's eyes drifted shut, the warmth sending shivers down his spine. Lips hovered so close, so teasingly close, and he let out a quiet sigh before he was pulled into another slow kiss. Every sensation was amplified — the heat rushing through his body, his racing heartbeat, the firm press of Kusakabe's touch.

Kusakabe's tongue swept across Higuruma's lower lip, silently asking for access. Without hesitation, he granted it, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. There was an undeniable pull, as if Atsuya was gently tugging at the thread of his desire, coaxing it to unravel. So, he gave into the pull, feeling the tension build until it finally snapped, and he heard himself whine into Kusakabe's mouth.

Despite Higuruma's efforts to quicken the pace, Kusakabe remained unhurried and teasingly gentle. He shifted his weight to the right, straddling Hiromi and resting his elbows on either side of his head. As he planted a trail of kisses up the side of his neck, the lawyer tipped his head all the way back in response, leaning into the sensation of the heat on his skin.

"Hiromi," Kusakabe whispered, his breath warm against the shell of Higuruma's ear, "I love you."

Kusakabe felt an insistent tug on his shirt, trying to pull him closer, but he remained unmoved. He nuzzled softly against the curve of Higuruma's cheek, moving his fingers under the hem of his shirt. Every smooth inch of skin was slowly catching Kusakabe on fire, pushing the heat lower in his body. As he ran his hand up Hiromi's abs and chest, he nudged the fabric aside with his fingertips and leaned down to graze his lips over the lawyer's collarbone.

Higuruma moaned softly as he tangled his hands firmly in the other man's hair, pressing his head down into his chest. Kusakabe smiled against his skin, willing and eager to please. Slowly, he dragged his tongue along Higuruma's pecs -- the taste was so sweet, like warm honey. Sweet Hiromi, his Hiromi.

"Atsuya," Higuruma whined, attempting to urge Kusakabe along, and this time, he conceded.

Warm hands slowly slid Higuruma's shirt over his head before tossing it on the floor. As Kusakabe settled back on his knees, he looked down at Hiromi's chest, his gaze wandering over every curve and contour. With a gentle touch, he took the lawyer's hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on each knuckle.

"You're absolutely beautiful," Kusakabe whispered. Turning Higuruma's hand, he pressed a kiss to his palm, feeling the slight curl of his fingers in response.

With Kusakabe's gaze holding him captive, Higuruma paused briefly before his hand gave a determined tug, pulling the other man in. In that moment, all logic and reason crumbled, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to be touched. He grabbed at the back of Atsuya's shirt, pulling it over his head before he could even raise his arms, running his hands along every bit of exposed skin.

A low, deep rumble came from Kusakabe's chest as Hiromi's hands wrapped around his shoulders, pressing him even closer. He began a slow descent, kissing his way down Higuruma's body. The lawyer's muscles twitched under his touch, chest pulling up and down rapidly as his lips brushed across Hiromi's stomach.

Teasing along the soft skin at Higuruma's waist, Kusakabe's fingertips skimmed just under the top of his pants. Pausing, he lifted his gaze, as always, gently seeking consent without any pressure or expectation. A deep blush spread across the lawyer's face and chest, and he answered the unspoken question with a shy nod. Kusakabe smiled, kissing down Higuruma's stomach as he tugged the pants below his hips, earning a soft moan.

Every nerve in Hiromi's body came alive as the fabric was eased off his legs, his skin humming with electricity. The touch was slow and gentle, warm fingertips trailing back up his bare leg and gently caressing under his knee. As Kusakabe stretched out over him, the lawyer trembled, his body reacting to the broad hand settling on the inside of his thigh.

Kusakabe gazed down at him, desire glinting in his eyes, yet tempered by a tenderness that was undeniably his. Leaning in, he brushed his lips down Higuruma's jaw, his voice deep and husky as he whispered in his ear. "Let me know if it gets to be too much."

His hand moved softly along Hiromi's thigh, tracing up the underside of his shaft with just the slightest brush of his palm before gently closing his fingers around it. Then, with a slightly firmer touch, his hand slowly inched back and forth, and he noticed Higuruma's hips begin to twitch.

It was a new and intoxicating feeling for Hiromi to surrender himself so completely, to lose himself in someone else. His breath hitched in his throat, his pulse racing with each deliberate stroke from Atsuya's hand. A particularly slow drag sent his head snapping back onto the pillow. He felt the hot press of the other man's lips travel along his neck, kissing him in time with the smooth rhythm of his hand.

"Hiromi," Kusakabe said softly, nuzzling against the lawyer's cheek. "My sweet Hiromi."

Each word pushed Higuruma closer and closer to the edge. A surge of desire danced down his spine, and his hips instinctively chased after Atsuya's touch. He let out a low whine as heat burned through his body, fingers clenching tightly into the sheets as he found his release.

Gradually, Kusakabe loosened his hold, moving to interlace his fingers with Hiromi's, silently encouraging him to let go of the fabric. He was acutely aware of the trust Higuruma had placed in him by allowing this level of intimacy into his personal space, and he wanted to honor that trust with the utmost care. With a tender touch, he tilted the lawyer's head and eased the tension in his body with a slow, reassuring kiss.

Kusakabe carefully shifted his weight, supporting the curve of Higuruma's neck in his hand as he adjusted the pillow under his head. Running his fingers over the lawyer's damp curls, he delicately swept them aside before placing a lingering kiss on his temple.

"I'll be right back," Kusakabe said softly, getting up from the bed and crossing the room.

Higuruma let out a contented sigh as he relaxed into the bed, basking in the blissful afterglow. The faint sound of running water floated in from the bathroom, and moments later, he felt a warm towel circling over his skin as Kusakabe gently cleaned off his stomach. A small smile played over Hiromi's lips; as always, every simple gesture was a powerful expression of Atsuya's love and unwavering devotion.

Kusaskabe set the towel aside and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over to caress the lawyer's cheek with the back of his hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Good," Hiromi murmured. "I feel…good". His voice trembled slightly as he turned his head, trying to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks. "But what about you? Didn't you want more?" He met Kusakabe's gaze again, his expression a mix of vulnerability and desire.

In response, Kusaskabe took the lawyer's hand and intertwined their fingers. "That's something we'd share together," he said gently, his eyes reflecting warmth and understanding, "but your choice is what matters most to me. You decide if and when it's right."

Higuruma tightened his fingers around Kusakabe's hand, seeking reassurance and finding it in the tender squeeze he received in return. "It feels right. With you."

"If that's your wish," Kusakabe said, his voice filled with respect as he bowed his head slightly, "then I would be honored." Leaning in, he rested their foreheads together. "We'll go at your pace, okay?" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of the lawyer's nose. With a small nod from Higuruma, Kusakabe smiled and slipped out of his pants, letting them fall off the edge of the bed.

As Higuruma drew a slow, deep breath to center himself, he heard the soft click of a drawer open and close and then the rustle of fabric as the other man shifted on the bed. Without realizing it, Hiromi's eyes had drifted shut, and as he opened them, he found Kusakabe settled back between his legs, those molten amber eyes looking up at him. With deliberate slowness, Atsuya leaned down, leaving a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses along the lawyer's hip as his broad hand gently guided his leg open.

A slick, wet heat trailed down Hiromi's thigh, and his jaw went slack as he felt the slow press of Atsuya's finger. It stretched and dragged against his walls, searching inside him before being teasingly pulled back. Kusakabe observed every shift in the lawyer's expression, saw how his brows furrowed and then gradually relaxed as he adjusted his movements to a rhythm Hiromi seemed to enjoy.

"How does it feel?" Atsuya asked, continuing a gentle back and forth. Hiromi whined softly and covered his face with his arm, attempting to hide the overwhelming feelings that were bubbling to the surface. Leaning in close, Kusakabe kissed up the lawyer's torso, his breath grazing along the sensitive skin. "Hiromi."

"You already know the answer," Higuruma managed to choke out, his voice catching in his throat as his body trembled under Atsuya's touch.

Kusakabe's lips hovered near the lawyer's ear. "I want to hear it from you," he said softly, his deep voice filled with tenderness. "I want to know you're comfortable and that this feels good for you." He paused and looked down at Hiromi, letting his finger come to rest as he waited patiently for a response.

Having someone so fully focused on his pleasure made Higuruma's head spin. He was so used to being an afterthought; his needs constantly pushed to the sidelines in favor of someone else's desire. But this — this was different. It sparked an entirely new sensation, a visceral response to the raw emotion flowing from Kusakabe's touch. "Atsuya, it feels," the lawyer's voice trailed off as he slowly lowered his arm, a rush of warmth spreading across his flushed cheeks. "...really good."

Kusakabe leaned in and pressed a kiss to Hiromi's forehead, lingering for a moment before he met his gaze with a gentle smile. Moving back down the lawyer's body, Atsuya softly rubbed across his waist and hips with a steady touch, helping to keep him present and relaxed. He gradually changed the angle of his other hand, his finger drawing slow, languid circles around Hiromi's walls as it moved slightly farther in.

Time seemed to blur as Higuruma lost himself to the blissful rhythm of his lover's touch, quietly murmuring Atsuya's name. He felt Kusakabe's finger curve upward, grazing a sensitive spot, and his breath hitched before a few calming strokes on his side settled him back to slow, measured breathing. When the pressure of Kusakabe's finger began to pull back, Hiromi's hips subtly canted towards the touch, and an impatient whine escaped his lips.

Easing all the way out, Kusakabe watched the rise and fall of the lawyer's chest, and as he took a deep breath, Atsuya gently slid two fingers back in, drinking down the euphoric moan he received in return. He curled and uncurled his touch as he edged further in, watching Higuruma's leg gently fall open to grant him better access. Pressing against a sweet spot, Kusakabe felt a hand tangle in his hair and another grabbing at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back up. He kissed up Hiromi's torso as he stretched back out over him, exploring all the dips and ridges along the way.

Looking up, Higuruma was met by Kusakabe's affectionate smile, brimming with love and a silent pledge of understanding and patience. Slowly, hesitantly, the lawyer raised his hand, fingers trembling as they hovered in the space between them. Atsuya leaned in slightly, his soft, steady gaze fixed on the lawyer's face. After a brief pause, Higuruma reached out, gently brushing the other man's cheek. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Atsuya... I want... you."

Kusakabe pressed a tender kiss to the bridge of Higuruma's nose. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Hiromi replied back, tilting his head to lean into the contact.

Nuzzling against the lawyer's cheek, Kusakabe closed his eyes briefly, savoring the moment. With care and tenderness, he reached for the spare pillow from the head of the bed, and then, with a supportive touch, he guided the lawyer to raise his hips, delicately tucking the pillow underneath. After Hiromi was comfortable, Kusakabe settled back on his heels and picked up the condom packet he'd grabbed earlier, tearing it open with his teeth and then rolling it on in one smooth motion.

Kusakabe leaned forward to settle between Higuruma's legs, gazing down into the lawyer's face. His heart swelled with a mix of emotions—love, desire, and a deep-seated respect for the lawyer's boundaries. "Hiromi," he whispered, "Are you sure?

Higuruma felt a gentle heat rise to his cheeks. "You don't have to ask," he murmured.

Atsuya took the lawyer's hand in his own, bringing it tenderly to his chest, close to his heart. He drew closer, locking eyes with him, and spoke in a quiet, sincere voice, "Yes. I do."

Holding Kusakabe's gaze, Higuruma gave a slight nod, his soft brown eyes darkening to a deep, almost inky black. Atsuya planted a kiss on the back of the lawyer's hand and lowered it to the bed. He lined himself up and pressed in slowly, gradually easing down, and as their hips met, he paused, allowing Hiromi time to adjust. A rush of sensations washed over Higuruma as his eyes fluttered shut, and as he blinked them open, he was met by the other man's warm smile.

Atsuya gently pulled out before sliding back in again, keeping a steady, reassuring hand on the lawyer's waist as he began to move inside him. With each careful roll of his hips, Kusakabe kept the same gentle rhythm, relishing the feeling of the smooth velvet around him. Watching Hiromi's expression, he noticed his head tilt to the side, the lawyer's gaze attentively tracking his every movement. A subtle blush crept up on Higuruma's cheeks, and Atsuya smiled to himself. "Sweet Hiromi — truly beautiful. Nothing short of perfect."

Reaching down, Kusakabe cupped Hiromi's cheek in his hand while the other hand gently guided the lawyer's waist back towards him. Higuruma's breath hitched in time with each press, losing himself in the slow grind as he rocked up to meet the pace they'd both set. Their bodies moved reflexively now, every motion perfectly in sync.

As Higuruma felt the rhythm of their connection, a deep certainty settled in his soul. Love, a concept he had always confined to logic, now burned in him as a living, breathing force, and for the first time, he felt the full weight of what it meant to love someone. Higuruma's neurons fired more rapidly than he could process, and as Kusakabe hit his sweet spot, the dam inside him broke. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and overcome with emotion, he hid his face in his hands. "Atsuya..."

Without hesitation, Kusakabe leaned down and wrapped his arms around Higuruma's shoulders, lifting the lawyer up towards him. As they settled back, he drew him close against his body. Taking Hiromi's hand in his own, he gently pressed the lawyer's palm against his chest, allowing him to feel the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'm here," he whispered.

Higuruma buried his face in Kusakabe's chest. He took deep breaths and let his muscles relax, focusing on the comforting warmth of the hand moving in slow, soothing circles on his back. Higuruma wound his arms around the other man's broad shoulders. His voice wavered as he looked up at Kusakabe, his heart laid bare in his gaze. "I love you, Atsuya."

Kusakabe's smile lit up his entire face, causing his eyes to crinkle at the edges. "And I love you, Higuruma Hiromi."

Feeling the embrace grow tighter, Kusakabe leaned in, meeting the lawyer's waiting lips with a soft kiss. He gently shifted their position and lowered Hiromi against the bed. Then, with a loving touch, he slid an arm under the lawyer's waist, easing his hips back up onto the pillow as he kissed away the last of his tears. Still inside Hiromi's silky warmth, Kusakabe eased himself down just as gently as before, then started to move slowly, in and out in small drags.

Hiromi let his hands wander, fingertips trailing down through the soft brown hair along Kusakabe's chest, the skin flushed pink and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He craved more contact, more everything, and he tugged the other man closer. In response, Atsuya tilted his hips, inching deeper, and the lawyer let out a gasp that melted into a soft moan. Higuruma's back arched up off the bed, the added pressure amplifying the fullness inside of him, but a warm, reassuring hand on his hip grounded him and brought his senses back online.

Their rhythms synced again, each roll of their hips flowing seamlessly into the next. Every gentle press and each slow pull from Atsuya sent pure bliss cascading down Hiromi's spine, fueling the fire in his core. He slipped his arm between them, reaching down for himself, and was met by a tender touch on his wrist. Kusakabe took Higuruma in his hand, tracing along the curve of his shaft and brushing his thumb gently over the tip as he continued to move inside him.

Atsuya pressed forward, gradually increasing the pace with each glide. There were no words now, only a connection that felt timeless and unbreakable. Higuruma's thigh inched up off the bed, and Kusakabe caught the cue, softly sliding his hand underneath it and drawing the leg up over his shoulder. He settled back, his amber eyes growing darker as he took in Hiromi's beautiful blissed-out expression. Shifting his hips, he began to move in longer strokes, pulling almost all the way out before easing back in again.

Higuruma was so close, and a quiet moan fell from his lips as he locked eyes with Kusakabe, a silent request to take him fully over the edge. He felt Atsuya press deeper, rolling his hips until Hiromi arched his back, one of his hands gripping the sheets, the other tangling in the brown tufts of hair on the other man's chest. The heat burned through him, and his legs shook as he spilled over Kusakabe's hand. Atsuya followed quietly after, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the leg draped over his shoulder.

Kusakabe gently guided Higuruma's leg down and leaned in close, resting their foreheads together. As their gazes met, a smile slowly spread across Higuruma's lips, and he sighed, relaxing back into the mattress. They lay there wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the peaceful comfort of each other's presence.

Shifting his weight, Kusakabe moved to the edge of the bed, reaching back to brush his fingers lightly against Higuruma's hand. "I'll run us a bath," he said softly.

A flush crept up the lawyer's cheeks. "Atsuya, you don't have to--," he started, but the other man just hummed, a warm smile on his lips as he walked towards the bathroom.

=================

Kusakabe reached for the nightstand, skimming his fingers over a stack of worn books until he found the one he wanted. Opening it to a marked page, he drew Higuruma closer and settled back into the pillows. Hiromi nestled against him, soothed by the deep, calming baritone as Atsuya began to read. Tonight, there was an added warmth in Kusakabe's voice, a tender cadence that brought the words to life as they floated off the page.

Never enough time, Never enough words to say, Yet our hearts still know.

"That's beautiful," Higuruma whispered, tilting his head to look up into Kusakabe's face. "Which poet is this?"

Atsuya smiled warmly and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of Higuruma's nose.

--- SATURDAY ---

It was a lazy Sunday morning, and Kusakabe was busy in the small kitchen, adding the final touches on breakfast. As Higuruma stepped into the room, Atsuya's face lit up at the sight of the lawyer wearing his oversized t-shirt, his hair still tousled from sleep.

With a hint of nervousness in his eyes, Higuruma looked up and softly said, "All I could find was instant coffee; I hope that's --." Before he could finish, Kusakabe gently took the mug with one hand and, with the other, drew Hiromi into a sweet, affectionate kiss.

Atsuya found himself caught in a dreamlike state, wondering if the gentle warmth of Hiromi's lips was real or just a beautiful illusion. He thought about the journey that led them to this point: the stolen glances, the moments of doubt and hesitation, and the courage it took to bare his soul to the one he loved. But now, as he held Higuruma close, the weight of that journey seemed to melt away.

This was no longer a fleeting dream or a hopeful wish — it was a beautiful, breathtaking reality.

This is a gift for my bestie @jjk-eugie for all her unwavering support and constant encouragement while I struggled to write this. The beautiful banner is by @tsukimefuku, who was also kind enough to offer advice and input and even more emotional support. The KsHg community is truly the best thing in existence.

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goldenempyrean · 1 year

Text

Natasha Romanoff Does Not Get Sick

〚 Notes - I started writing this a while ago but honestly I lost motivation and I just ended up finishing it last night instead of sleeping :p enjoy :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Natasha Romanoff does not get sick. It’s as simple as that. She’s the Black Widow something like this wasn’t meant to effect her - only it did. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 3100 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Natasha Romanoff does not get sick. It’s as simple as that. Never once in the 5 years you’d been married had you seen her sick and never once in the 3 years prior to that too. Sure, she’d get the occasional headache or stomach cramps but those were mainly due to her inability to rest and take breaks when training.  

The file for her sick days at SHIELD was completely blank - just an empty folder sitting on a shelf. Hell, her only days off were the times she’d been so injured that it almost unable to walk but even she’d still insisted on coming in, it was only after you’d firmly put your foot down that she’d agreed to stay home.

It didn’t matter how many countless germs she had been exposed too; she simply just did not pick anything up. No cases of the sniffles, no upset tummies. Not even the occasional sore throat. So, you could only imagine her confusion when she woke up that Monday morning and with an uncomfortably dry feeling settling at the back of her throat. Strange.

She blinked groggily, her eyes adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. She shifted in bed, feeling an unusual heaviness in her limbs. As she sat up, the dryness in her throat intensified, causing her to cough lightly. It was a foreign sensation; but one she just couldn't quite ignore.

Beside her, you were still snoozing away, your messy bedhead sprawling onto the pillow beneath you as you slept. Cute. Natasha smiled a little as she moved some off the hair from your eyes and pressed a soft delicate kiss to the top of your head. Her pretty darling.

Glancing over to her phone, the screen lit up revealing the time. It was almost 6:45. Alright, just enough time to shower and train, she thought to herself before tucking you up in her side of the blanket as she got out of the bed.

Oddly, the room felt colder than normal. The soft carpet beneath her feet felt different, like it was harder than usual. It made her joints feel funny as she wandered into the bathroom.

Natasha turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her body, hoping it would ease the strange sensations she was experiencing. As the steam enveloped the bathroom, she stood there for a moment, allowing herself to relax under the soothing flow.

But as the water hit her skin, she realised something was wrong. The warm droplets which usually brought her much comfort now felt akin to icy pin pricks against her sensitive flesh. The widow shivered involuntarily, feeling a chill that seemed to seep deep into her bones as the small droplets continued to bash against her skin.

Not only that but her arms felt heavy? If that was even possible. As she lifted her arms to reach up for the soap, she could feel them straining and aching. Similar too how they felt after many hours of lifting and training. Whatever, it didn’t matter now. Nat finished up her shower, she shivered again as she turned off the water and stepped out the tiled floor despite the warm steam still lingering around the room.

Wrapping herself in a towel, Natasha stood in front of the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. She noticed the pallor of her skin, a stark contrast to her usual vibrant complexion. Her lips were slightly chapped, and there was a faint flush on her cheeks. She reached out to touch her reflection, almost expecting it to be an illusion, but the cold sensation against her fingertips confirmed that this was real.

Her body felt sluggish, her movements slower than usual. Even the simple act of drying herself off seemed to require more effort. Once finished, Nat let out a soft sigh as she tried to brush off the strange sensations and feelings.

As she quietly crept back into the bedroom, she could see that you’d gone from being in a cuddle huddle on the bed to sprawling across the whole thing, looking rather like a starfish. Nat found herself giving a small chuckle at this but quickly winced afterwards, bringing up her hand to rub at the outside of her throat. The feeling wasn’t just uncomfortable, this time it hurt. 

It seemed to disappear though just as quickly as it came and Natasha let herself forget about it as she surveyed her wardrobe looking for something to wear. Eventually she settled on a pair of gym leggings and one of her designated work-out tee’s.

Quietly, she made her way out of the room and carefully closed the door behind her, trying not to disturb you as you slept. And she made her way down towards the communal kitchen to get her daily cup of coffee and to make her usual pre-work-out shake.

The kitchen was empty, to no-one's surprise. She was usually the only person up and active at this time of day, well, other than Tony who was usually tinkering with some form of gadgets in his lab. 

Nat grabbed her cup and began making her shake as she waked for her coffee but the usual hum of the coffee machine and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, didn't bring the same comfort they usually did. The scent seemed muted, the taste lacking its usual richness and depth. In fact, in all honesty, she could barely smell it at all.

As Natasha leant over the countertop, sipping her coffee, she couldn't help but notice how everything felt... off. The normally comforting warmth of the mug against her hands felt distant and cold. The drink tasted bitter and bland, failing to provide its usual energy boost. She pushed the mug away; the appeal of the drink being lost all together.

It was then that the Widow felt a sudden tickle in her nose, followed by an intense urge to sneeze. She scrunched up her face, trying to suppress the impending sneeze, but it was futile. A forceful sneeze erupted from her, catching her by surprise. It was followed by another, and then another… and the another.

“God, what is wrong with me today.” Nat mumbled to herself as she reached across the counter to tear roll a piece of kitchen roll, intending to blow her nose to get rid of whatever had tickled her so much. Much to her annoyance though, the action didn’t provide much relief and instead only served to make the edges of her poor nose feel like they had just been scrubbed with rough sandpaper. Ugh.

Whatever it wasn’t like she could fix it, maybe she just needed to sweat it out for a bit. Work up her heart rate and clear her head. So, she abandoned the kitchen and set out for the gym.

However, with every step she took, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. Her normally agile and graceful movements felt sluggish and heavy. It was as if her body was protesting against the physical exertion, she was subjecting it to.

She reached the gym and glanced around at the familiar equipment and training area. The sight that usually filled her with motivation and excitement now seemed daunting. She sighed heavily and decided to start with some light stretching to warm up her aching muscles. But as she reached down to touch her toes, a wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to stumble and catch herself on the nearest exercise machine.

“Shit.” She paused to gather herself, she swallowed and was unable to ignore the scraping feeling that had followed immediately after. Nat coughed thickly; the raspy sound muffled slightly by the back of her wrist as leaned against the exercise machine for support.

She should’ve stopped there but in her true, stubborn fashion, Nat forced herself to push through the discomfort and continued with her training routine, determined not to let whatever this was slow her down. She started with some light cardio, stepping onto the treadmill and setting a moderate pace. But with every stride, her legs felt heavier - like somebody had attached a heaving weight to her ankles - and her rasping breaths grew shallower and shallower until it felt like she could no

longer breath at all.

Thick beads of sweat formed on her forehead and Natasha could feel her body temperature rising. But this was different, it was not the subtle heat coming from over worked muscles, this was something else. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, only to realise her palm was clammy and hot against her own skin.

But she refused to give in. An irresponsible move at the time but it was the only thought she thought to do. She increased the intensity of her workout, thinking that pushing harder would somehow make her feel better - oh, how wrong she would turn out to be. Nat dragged herself from the treadmill and over to the weightlifting area, grabbing dumbbells that felt immensely heavier than usual. The strain on her arms felt horrible but still, she continued to ignore it.

As she attempted a bicep curl, her trembling arm faltered, and the weight slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor. Natasha's heart sank as frustration mixed with exhaustion. She had never felt so weak, so vulnerable. Tears welled up in her eyes, a combination of physical pain and emotional frustration.

Just as she was about to push herself for one more rep, a wave of nausea crashed over her as she began coughing uncontrollably. Reality finally hit her when black spots crowded her vision. The light above seemed to flicker rapidly, twisting and convulsing in sharp rays as the room span around her. She couldn't ignore the fact that something was seriously wrong with her now. She’d had pushed herself way past the breaking point, and her body had finally rebelled.

Her tired body convulsed with a sudden sneeze, her entire frame jolting forward. The force of it surprised her, causing her to stumble and clutch onto the weight rack for support. Her nose tickled with an intense sensation, and before she could even react, another sneeze erupted from deep within her.

It was a violent, explosive sneeze that wracked her body, sending sharp jolts of pain through her chest and abdomen. The sneezes came in quick succession, each one more powerful than the last, leaving Natasha feeling drained and dizzy. She brought her hand to her nose, which was now red and raw from the constant rubbing and wiping.

“Oh fuck…” Now Nat knew this was sickness - she wasn’t an idiot. She’s seen girls from the red-room get ill and be dragged off to God know’s where only to return as empty, broken shells. That’s if they ever returned at all. But how could this be. She was the Black Widow. A merciless killer. Natasha Romanoff does not get sick.

Yet here she was.

Finally giving in, Nat mustered all her strength to stand up, intending to leave the gym and find solace in the comfort of her own bed. But as she took a step forward, her legs wobbled beneath her, unable to support her weight. With a sigh of resignation, she lowered herself back down, sprawling on the cool floor.

Lying there, the cold, lonely tiles provided some relief to her feverish body. The gym around her faded into the background as she closed her eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control over her deteriorating condition. The room continued to spin and warp around her, and she felt the sweat-soaked fabric of her workout clothes cling uncomfortably to her blazing skin.

Her feverish mind raced with thoughts of the consequences of her reckless behaviour. She had pushed herself too hard, ignoring the signs of fatigue and pain until her body had reached its breaking point. The Black Widow had always prided herself on her physical prowess and resilience, but now she found herself helpless and vulnerable.

Each breath she took felt like a struggle, her chest constricting with each inhalation. Coughs continued to wrack her body, the violent spasms sending jolts of pain through her weakened frame. The sound of her coughs echoed in the empty gym, a harsh reminder of her own mortality.

A sense of frustration and anger surged within Natasha. She was used to being in control, to relying on her strength and skill to overcome any obstacle. But now, she was at the mercy of a relentless illness that she couldn't simply fight or defeat. It was a humbling experience, one that forced her to confront her own limitations. 

All she wanted was you. She craved your comforting touch; the soft alluring sound of your voice was all she’s need. But it felt as if you were so far away, a place she’d never be able to reach, not here from the tiled floor anyway. Maybe she could just close her eyes for a moment to regather herself. Then she’d pull herself up and come back and fall into your loving hold. That was the plan.

But as Natasha's eyes fluttered shut, her body succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion that had been building within her. Sleep enveloped her like a heavy blanket, pulling her deeper into its embrace. The gym and its surroundings faded away, replaced by a dreamscape where she could find solace and healing.

In her dreams, Natasha found herself in a serene garden, surrounded by vibrant flowers and the soothing sounds of a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and pain that had consumed her waking hours. She felt a sense of peace and tranquillity wash over her, easing the tension in her body and mind.

As she wandered through the garden, she came across a small pond shimmering with crystal-clear water. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she knelt down beside it, dipping her fingers into the cool liquid. The sensation brought a momentary relief from her fevered state, soothing the heat radiating from her skin.

In her dream, time seemed to stand still, allowing her to bask in this tranquil oasis. She closed her eyes and focused on the rhythmic sound of her own breath, allowing it to guide her into a state of deep relaxation. The weight of her illness seemed to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and strength.

In this dream state, Natasha felt a familiar presence drawing near. She turned her head, her heart skipping a beat as she saw you standing there, your eyes filled with concern and love. You reached out a hand, and without hesitation, she reached for it, intertwining her fingers with yours as hoards of blood red butterflies suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere and everywhere, the crashing sound of their rapidly fluttering winds was almost overpowering as she clutched your hand desperately

But then something else came, the butterflies thunderous flapped quietened down and the touch of your hand had sent a wave of warmth surging through Natasha's body, as if your very presence had the power to heal her. She leaned into you, seeking the comfort and support she had longed for. Your voice, soft and soothing, whispered words of reassurance and love into her ear.

It wasn’t until she stirred, feeling a deep cooling sensation dabbing over her face that she realised you weren’t in her dream talking to her. You were sat over her, an anxious expression of worry plastered across your face as you pressed a wet washcloth to her face.

“Y/N?” She croaked out, her voice barely louder than a whisper. It took Nat a few moments to register that she was no longer laying on the cool floor of the gym but the soft welcoming embrace of her mattress.

Nat’s brows furrowed as she tried to recall the events leading up to this moment. The dream still lingered in her mind, the garden and the pond, the butterflies and your comforting presence. But now, reality had taken hold, and she found herself grateful to be in the familiar comfort of her own bed, with you by her side.

"You’ve burning up with the flu sweetheart, why on earth did you go and train like this," You sighed softly, pressing the cool cloth against her forehead as you tried hard to keep the lecturing tone out of your voice. There was definitely going to be a discussion about her reckless at some point or another but right now taking care of her took priority.

"How did I even get here?" Your wife asked weakly, only having the energy turning her head away before setting off into a series of thick, raspy coughing.

"You passed out in the gym," You explained gently, your hand coming to trace soothing circles on her back. "I found you and carried you back to your room. You've been out for a few hours now.

Natasha nodded weakly, her throat raw and dry from the coughing. She felt a mix of gratitude and guilt, grateful that you had found her and taken care of her, but guilty for putting yourself in a position where you had to worry about her well-being.

"I'm sorry," she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to worry you."

You leaned in closer, your voice filled with concern. "It's okay, Nat. I'm just glad you're back and that I could take care of you. You don't have to apologise. I'm here for you."

Tears welled up in Natasha's eyes, her fevered state making her emotions feel raw and overwhelming. 

She reached out and grasped your hand, holding it tightly as a mixture of gratitude, love, and vulnerability washed over her.

"I needed you," she admitted softly, her voice filled with a mix of longing and exhaustion. "I thought about you when I was lying there on the gym floor. I wanted your touch, your voice. I wanted to feel safe in your arms."

You squeezed her hand gently, your touch grounding her and providing the comfort she craved. "I'm right here, Nat. I'm not going anywhere, just let me take care of you."

With your reassurance, Natasha allowed herself to surrender to your care. She closed her eyes, letting the weight of her illness and the fatigue pull her back into a deep slumber. 

This time, she didn't dream of gardens or butterflies. Instead, she dreamed of your presence, the sound of your voice, and the feeling of your love surrounding her, offering her everything she could ever need.

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