#holes i still have no idea why i can’t tag you :((

[dykedvonte]

why do you hate Joshua Graham or Honest Hearts so much?

This DLC and character represents a bigger issue with fandom spaces I have but particularly fallout fandom in general.

Fallout tends to tackle a lot of topics controversial and not. The first two games it’s heavy cause they are the most satirical and direct with how anti-war, nationalism and etc… they are. 3 loses this as it’s very clear once you play or learn about all the games that Todd and a bunch of guys at Bethesda just liked the 50s post apocalyptic aesthetic and refuse to actually critique the ideals of the time period like the earlier titles.

New Vegas is the game that really gets back into it a degree it almost seems like it’s taking too much on. There are things done exceedingly well while other things are done horribly wrong . I’ve made posts about it before and plan to make a big series of posts (it’s a lot of writing) but my biggest gripe is with Honest Hearts and all the gross and white savior esque depictions it has of indigenous peoples. The entirety if FNV does not do the injustices faced by indigenous people correctly on any count. My two biggest complaints are with the Khans and the tribes in Zion but I’ll talk about the former on a different post.

Both characters of Daniel and Joshua are the most accurate depiction of white saviors I’ve seen and I hate how the DLC tries to justify and defend them. The DLC treats Joshua like this man who has repented for his past actions when he is just retracing his steps after his cruelty bit him in the ass. He was one of the worst parts of the Legion and it is all but explicitly stated that if you don’t force him to be non-violent he will turn the tribes of Zion into the legion 2.0. The Dead Horses and the Sorrows are horribly infantilized by both Daniel and Joshua who both use them for self serving purposes guised by religious duty. The White Legs are the horrible stereotype of violent and savage indigenous and I personally think a lot of their interlinking with Ulysses, his hair and Ulysses character in general are distasteful and very telling of how BIPOC or POC where involved.

But outside of the game it’s the weird obsession people have with these characters ideologies and trying to make them seem more interesting/philosophical than they are. Tumblr is an echo chamber and many fans of Fallout are not the people on this site. Many people are not educated in the issues these characters convey and how poorly they do or used these characters as a poor introduction for their takes. Contrary to what a lot of people believe in, fallout has a prediomeny white cis male fanbase. More importantly a large portion of the fanbase is white.

You can joke how FNV made you trans or see the numbers on post/fics or diverse headcanons but these are kiddy numbers compared to the millions that consume the franchise and aren’t in those more aware spaces or don’t engage in the spaces the same way someone like me does/has to. Their views shape a lot more than people realize and it’s exhausting to be in a space where people don’t correct the more subtle yet toxic aspects of it but also adopt them into some weird quirky view point on the characters or issues. Some people don’t realize and some people don’t care.

My main issue is just the idolizing of these sort of thing in this fandom space and people try to acts like a game like fallout whose tagline is “War never changes” and has never had a game not revolve around political or militaristic factions issues isn’t that deep or doesn’t relate to real issues. I think it’s mainly caused by how over powered you can become and how you can strong arm your way past these learning moments as majority of people who play this game do play it as a power fantasy where they can do so as they please (which of course, go ahead it’s fun) but never take in parallels or lessons in the story as if it was just another first person shooter.

Also like another personal gripe is Cazadores spawn like hell whenever I’m there and I have not found a mod that works to mod them out so I have to play Indigenous Racism the DLC while getting jumped by giant wasps WHILE helping Mormons. Like I cannot catch a break.

[simpjaes]

HYPER-SEXUAL (s,jy)

If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. or the one where jake is inexperienced, incredibly perverted, and borderline addicted to sex but cannot, for the life of him, land a girl.

leave feedback and reblog to give jake another boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 13.8k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader

CONTENT― smut, inexperienced but pervy and dominant jake, he kind of has an addiction to jerking off, im not joking like he has a boner every twenty minutes it’s probably a medical issue but, reader is really sex positive and lets jake go absolutely insane on her

NOTE― not proof read in the way it needed to be.  disclaimer: this is straight up just porn. it had a plot at one point but i deleted all of it and wrote this instead. also this is posted on my other blog [@ncteez] for mark lee. yes, i wrote it for both of them bc they both fit the shoe ok? ok.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― jake isn’t submissive– just a loser, loads of masturbation, also loads of loads lmfao, jake’s dick is 8 inches in this one, public humiliation, dirty talk, teasing, pussy eating / face sitting, mentions of free use, unprotected sex, wayyyy way too much cum, raw grinding, attempts at deep throat, accidental face fucking, finger fucking, suffocation, riding, squirting, implications to the fact that orgasms are not the end of the fic bc they just keep going, some say they’re still fucking to this day. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Feels so good! Harder! Fuck m-” 

Jake slams his laptop shut in an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, annoyed, fucking horny. 

Always horny. To the point that nothing excites him anymore. Not his hard-on being palmed at by his own hand, not the make-shift pocket pussy he’s made out of household objects, not the porn on page one or on page seventy-three. 

Honestly, even as hard as he is now, it’s arguable that he could just start punching his cock and he’d still remain in this state until something changes. And you know what sucks more than not being able to get off? Being hard so constantly that it’s just a state of living at this point. 

It’s sad. He could be washing caked ketchup off of a plate and his cock would still lend a little jump. A reminder that his hand is no longer enough. A fucking threat that if he doesn’t sink into a pretty hole soon, he might as well just kill himself. 

The idea doesn’t seem too bad anymore, as he lays flat on his back with his cock in hand on his messy sheets. He stares up at the ceiling with another long-winded groan, wondering why he has to have such an insatiable libido and probably twice as much stamina. If he could just get off he’d have at least a little bit of time in his day to feel normal before it takes hold of his brain again. 

It’s the fact that he’s grown entirely numb to his own hand and feels like he’s going crazy because he hasn’t been able to hook-up with anyone in nearly a year. Porn is boring, he swears he’s seen just about all of the good, bad, and bizarre. Post nut clarity barely exists because there is no clarity by the time he finally gets that hard-to-reach nut. Bad luck, maybe. Awful fucking miserable luck? That’s more fitting. 

For the sake of the girls in this city, perhaps it’s good that he can’t manage to land a hook-up. Surely they’d be unable to walk by the time he gets his fill, that is if he manages to get a fill at all. And it’s gotten to the point that Jake has almost entirely given up on finding a girl at all. One that’s willing to put up with his near-constant need to get his dick wet, anyway. 

Almost given up.

A thought crosses his mind as he lazily palms himself with a bored sigh, knowing he’ll end up locked up in an asylum somewhere if this doesn’t stop. The voice of Jay in his head doing little to make his cock soften, which is…not something Jake is proud to admit.

“Dude, you gotta put a stop to this shit. This is your third laptop this year!” Jay had said to him. “It’s only June!”

Maybe Jay was right, and maybe Jake should have downloaded the new app that was mentioned shortly after the scolding rather than immediately going to another, even more, shady porn site. “Heard this one was really good.” Jay had advertised. “Even got Jungwon laid.” 

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to try another app despite the immense amount of failure Jake has already faced regarding previous attempts with other platforms. After all, if it got Jungwon laid, surely it could get him laid too. 

Maybe this one really is better.

And at the end of the day, Jake does download the app. After all, creating a profile is easy, finding a girl though? 

We’ll see.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah. Okay. Nice.

Jake stays glued to his phone all night. He really had no hope that this app would offer him anything more than what the others did. But, oh. 

The app allows specific features, most of which are not aimed towards users looking for a relationship. Dick and body sizes are out in the open, there’s sections you can fill out regarding what you’re looking for in a sexual partner, how often you’re willing to see said partner, and if you’re looking for a regular fuck or a one time fuck. 

Safe to say, Jake’s profile went a little something like this: 

you can call me jake, im 24. just looking for a girl either for regular visits or a one night stand that’s willing to deal with a guy who literally suffers from chronic-boner syndrome.

LOOKING FOR: Female PREFERENCE: One Time Only, Occasional Meetups, On-call, Regular meetups, Permanent Friends-With-Benefits, Secret Meet, Virtual Meet, Audio Meet, Rebound C…[Click to see more] PARTNER REQUIREMENTS: N/A SIZE REFERENCE: 8 ½” hard, 4” soft, 5.6” circumference SEXUAL INTERESTS: Vanilla, Free Use, BDSM, Begging, Breeding, Dom/Sub, Dominatrix, CBT, Role Play, Public Humiliation, Edging, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Virtual Sex, Group Sex, Humiliation, Cock Play, Cum Dump, Religion, Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Androgyny, Genital Piercings, Older Women, Body Art, Wax, Anal, Financial Domina...[Click to see more]

NOT INTERESTED IN: Cuckolding, Voyeurism OTHER: im not very experienced in most of these, i just watch a lot of porn

Embarrassing? Yeah, probably. 

Looks like a lot of women are into that though if his inbox is anything to go by, anyway. With him checking the app every few minutes to find ten new messages? Yeah, they’re feeling him. 

He can only imagine what the fuck Jungwon had on his profile to actually land a hook-up. Couldn’t have been any worse than his own, after all, Jake is desperate and so was Jungwon at one point. 

Apparently girls like desperate guys. 

Message after message, degrading comments and praise, all from either women clad in leather or sweet looking church girls who must have the app hidden deep within their phones. There’s barely anyone in between those two categories, actually. 

“Hi baby boy, you looking for a sugar mama?” 

“ur dick really that big? lol, what do you even mean by ‘chronic boner syndrome’?” 

“you’re so desperate to get laid, might as well just doxx yourself at this point…please.”

Arguably, these women are very forward and he has a great time sifting through the ones he’s interested in. Scrolling through all of these messages….does not help his case regarding his insatiable need to fuck something either so, naturally, he’s also 100% jerking off the entire time he’s doing this.

Still, never quite able to reach the orgasm he needs by this point.

Up until there’s a message that catches his attention. No degrading, no insults, no borderline-too-kinky insinuations. Which, given, Jake probably shouldn’t have selected the majority of the kinks just to pull more girls, but he did. 

And upon reading the message, he almost doesn’t know if this girl is real. 

“High libido, no girls around to help you out, I take it? Rough.”

One look at her profile spikes even more interest. Her sexual interests include a list of things he wishes he didn’t fit. But he does, though he’d never admit it. Inexperienced men, losers, virgins, micro-penis, big penis, praise (receiving), body worship–

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

He responds quickly, already feeling the orgasm within him bubble up as he tries to pretend he doesn’t go on a war path of responding to everyone after you, but still. Your message box with him remains in his mind as he awaits the response to his message of “you looking to help me out?” 

Every ping on his phone afterwards makes his cock twitch more, makes it dribble out little beads of pre-cum with each pass of his palm, only for him to sigh out of frustration that it’s just another person that wants to devour him whole. Which, he’ll take what he can get if his first choice never responds but still. He wants to get off to you.

He finds himself on your profile more often than anyone else’s too, looking at the same three photos you’ve posted, noting how you don’t seem super active on the app, but active enough to find him by some beautiful grace of God. 

You’re kind of perfect, honestly. Fairly mundane compared to most of the women in his inbox, but cool nonetheless. He can tell you have an eye for fashion but it seems to be more geared towards your real life self rather than the secret fetish/kink app you’ve got downloaded.

And that’s the thing. Most of these women, beautiful or not, are dressed in their best sexual attire just to message a possible fuck, while during their daily lives they probably wear conservative dresses and pant suits. Which….arguably that’s kind of hot. Then again, what isn’t hot to him these days?

You though. You have normal pictures posted just like he does. Your tits aren’t out, your legs aren’t open, you don’t have a pile of sex toys behind or beside you and yet still your pictures turn him on more than those who do. Insane how his cock twitches at just these three photos, fucking insane how he grows a near instant obsessed thinking about how you…uh, deal with the losers you seem to be looking for.  

Then again, maybe it’s the mystery of what’s under your clothes, or what’s in your stash of sex toys. Oh, whatever you’re hiding has got be so fucking hot. Naturally, he groans at the amount of sexuality you barely give. Thinking far, far too hard about it all, given the circumstances. 

Don’t get him wrong, he can get down with the hoes. In fact, he very much wants to get down with a hoe. But man, the way you stand out because you’re somehow….boring compared to everyone else?

Please.

Fucking pretty please, let him in between those thighs. 

And just as he scrolls again through your photos, that long-awaited orgasm hits him like a brick.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A mere two days later you find yourself in the inbox with the self-proclaimed boner-god. He’s since proven his size with photos involving different objects beside said penis, and even a video or two of his frantic hands jerking off to you. 

Ah, he’s kind of perfect if you think about it. At first you thought that it was just roleplay for him or something. Where he plays a guy who can’t get enough, though he clearly probably does. It wasn’t until you were woken up at four in the morning with him spamming your inbox that you suddenly realized this dude is actually as desperate as he seems. 

Normally, being spammed awake by your phone pinging consistently would bother you. But goddamn was he needing it. Just three hours before now it was mostly casual conversation with him, albeit about hooking-up, but still. The two of you agreed to determine on the following day if you were compatible enough for a meet up. He said goodnight to you, and you said it back. 

Then you woke up to three dick pics, one voice note with a borderline pathetic apology (only because you could still hear him going at it), and then like fourteen messages of him trying to wake you up intentionally. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You awake?

Dick pic #1. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You’re so pretty, sorry lol

Dick pic #2 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Wake uppppppppppp! 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Please? :(

Dick pic #3, precum smeared across his fingers as he grips it. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Do you already have me silenced?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: I’d let you silence me hahaha….

JAKE_02 sent you a voice memo: “Sorry about all this, I really meant it when I said I have a problem. You should probably just block me because I’m going to end up begging to see you otherwise”

Oh, he has an accent. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: your profile says you like inexperience…..well i’ve only slept with like 3 girls, is that inexperienced enough?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like to tease guys like that? like edge them and stuff? 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: oh damn, that’d be so hot 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like it when guys beg btw? 

Etcetera. 

And, well, apparently he just has a lot to say. It’s cute how embarrassed he must feel basically getting himself off with a one-sided sext session with you as you were sleeping. At least, you hope he’s embarrassed. 

You let his messages simmer for a while, waiting to see if he sends anything else. And when he doesn’t, you respond. 

YOURUSERNAME: that was cute. 

It’s the way he’s instantly trying to respond that really gets you going. You chuckle first, knowing already that you’d probably help him out based on this situation alone. 

YOURUSERNAME: trying to wake me up because you can’t stop touching yourself? :( poor baby. 

JAKE_02: oh god please don’t say that

JAKE_02: im gonna end up awake all night trying to get it to go down again

YOURUSERNAME: that’s good to hear. so you can go for a long time then? 

Yes, you’re teasing him. 

JAKE_02: if you’d let me

YOURUSERNAME: you already got off tonight tho, didn’t you?

JAKE_02: i don’t think you understand just how bad it is. i’m already getting my dick out again

You lend yourself a sly chuckle after a deep yawn, knowing for a fact that you’re about to make him prove to you that he’s either still hard or really did get off only to get hard again by a mere few messages from you. 

YOURUSERNAME: show me?

And he does. Similar to the other three photos, only this time he sends a short video with his shorts pushed down his thighs and his cock raging hard and pathetic against his stomach. Again, he’s big, that much is true, but the fact that such a dick is always ready to fuck? To the point he’s desperate? To the point he’s embarrassing about it?

YOURUSERNAME: how bad do you wanna bury that in me?

Oh, shit. Jake could fucking die right now. You seem so willing, which is truly what he needs at this point in his sexual sickness.  

JAKE_02: i’ll come over right now. 

JAKE_02: let me come over and show you

YOURUSERNAME: let’s wait a bit for that, gotta meet officially before I let you fuck me

And you do intend to make him wait, knowing for a fact that you’re not meeting this guy tonight. There’s too much danger in that. Given how desperate he actually is, you can argue that if you changed your mind upon meeting, he very well may not care. Which, that’s something you need to worry about with any person you meet on such an app, but still.

Public meeting first. 

Always.

JAKE_02: right, right, that makes sense. 

JAKE_02: so can i see your pussy then

You stifle a laugh as if the man can hear you, he’d probably like that though. But yeah, no. As much as you know he’d enjoy that, it’s best to let him experience it for the first time in real life if all of this goes well. So, you settle with tits. 

Meaning, he has to settle with them too. 

And the photo is all but enough for Jake. The ping of his phone was far too exciting with the flash of the image sinking into his eyes. Sure, he wanted to see your hole open for him, he wanted to see your pretty hands spreading your lips for the picture, he wanted to see what he might get to fuck into someday– but…

This is good enough for him, honestly. Seeing your tits alone is hot enough, but it’s the fact that you only barely let him see. The plush skin of your lower breasts are peeking from under the shirt you're wearing, one nipple barely out, the other completely hidden. 

He moans out at it, holding his cock tight and painfully as he glares into the screen of his phone. God, he can almost taste it. 

JAKE_02: thats so hot…but….

JAKE_02: pussy….

JAKE_02: please show me your pussy

Another chuckle at how desperate he really is. You lower your phone just a bit, not at all intending to show him all of it but you do lend a panty shot with your legs spread. He’ll live with it, he doesn’t have a choice. 

And he does live with it because he cums almost instantly upon seeing just your thighs open. He wouldn’t have been able to hit climax so quickly had you already had this photo posted for all to see. It’s the fact that you sent it to him in the dms. It’s the fact that you presumably just took it for him. It’s the fact that he can almost see the outline of your folds, and the lines of your pussy that deserves to fucked open. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you know it was enough for him. Already you’re preparing to roll back over and get some more sleep, but your phone dings again. 

JAKE_02: tht was hot lol….um

JAKE_02: can u come to the mall tomorrow? i work at [redacted store name], u can come see that im actually very normal if u want

You stop for a second through another yawn, thinking long and hard about it. You shrug to yourself because tomorrow is a saturday and there’s plenty of public spaces to meet him in. And despite how fun it could be to tease him for weeks on end before officially meeting him, you, yourself, have been in a dry-spell lately. 

And he fits your interests perfectly. In other words, yeah, you could fuck.

YOURUSERNAME: you sure you’re not gonna take me in the back and fuck me on the spot? 

JAKE_02: ….would u want me to? 

YOURUSERNAME: no, i wanna bring you home if i think you could make me feel good

JAKE_02: hahah damn

JAKE_02: so you’ll come see me?

YOURUSERNAME: yeah, i’ll come see you

JAKE_02: ok cool :)

And then it’s silent for a long while. In fact, you’re nearly asleep again when your phone pings one last time. All you need to see is the notification to know that meeting Jake is gonna be fun. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: for the record…i definitely will fuck you good

Sounds promising. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You knew he was cute but holy shit, he’s like, cute cute.

Fucking handsome and charmingly cute. 

Perhaps even, hot. 

You stand from around a shelf to check him out. That same accent you’ve heard previously rings loud and clear in your head, and his hair is definitely a stylistic mess, the type of hair you can imagine grabbing and tugging to guide a tongue between your legs. His eyes are pretty and piercing yet equally as filled with some sort of wonder. His hands, his body.

 Oh wow. 

On any other day, you’d think he’s just some poser emo-guy working a shitty retail job so he can buy his first guitar and play it totally out of tune. But on this day, you’re aware that this is a man with a need that you very much wouldn’t mind satisfying. 

 Seeing him go about his work tasks behind the counter is another thing. Checking customers out both through the register and with his eyes when they walk away. You know he isn’t aware that you’ve actually shown up, and it feels nice to watch him in his element before he attempts to play himself up as a totally normal, cool dude. Especially now that you can see him secretly be a pervert on the clock. 

Customer after customer, he smiles at them when he hands them their items, he offers small talk and little chuckles that ring in your ears, and every single time one of the pretty ones walks away, his head turns to watch them leave for a few seconds too long.

Anyone can tell he needs it if they watch him for long enough. 

You’re not sure why this guy is getting to you the way he is, but there’s just something about the way that he carries himself in public that turns you on. You already know for a fact that he’s a horny motherfucker. You know that behind those charming smiles and laughs, he’s got a neglected cock needing to be used. 

No one else in this store is aware of it. You’re the only person here who knows he was spamming a stranger last night with dick pics and begging to see her pussy. 

It’s hot. 

And when you approach, Jake nearly doesn’t even know it’s you at first. 

“Hi, did you find everything you–” Jake stops mid sentence. “Oh, fuck. You’re here.”  He adds, trying to primp his hair into a spot that may look a little better than it did already.

You watch as he studies you for the first time, nervously darting his tongue out and against his bottom lip just for a split second before shifting his eyes behind you, and then turning to look around to see if anyone is within ear shot. 

No one is paying attention to either of you, and no one is going to hear what you’re about to say to him. Good.

“Do you wanna see my pussy?” 

It’s a joke, mostly. Kinda. 

You chuckle at his stunned reaction. His hands move to the counter as he clutches it and continuously looks around to make sure no one just heard those lewd ass words from a girl so goddamn hot. Like, oh god, it’s you. You really showed up to see him and already he’s not acting normal. 

No, no. You’re the one acting out of pocket, not him.

“I’m–” He tries to start, but his voice cracks in a very, very, embarrassing way. You hear him clear his throat before continuing. “I’m supposed to be showing you that I’m normal.” 

You tilt your head at him playfully, leaning against the counter and pushing your tits together with your arms. You wore this shirt here for a reason, and boy are you glad you did. You watch his eyes go straight to your chest and stay there. 

“Public Humiliation.” You echo one of his sexual interests to him from his app profile. “Dirty talk.”

Jake swallows around his words in stunned silence, feeling his cock wake up immediately. Fuck, this is the only place he finds peace of mind from…that. Yet here you are, with that soft and pretty voice reminding him of everything he wants but hasn’t been able to have. Standing there like you know he can’t bend you over right now and make you stop talking.

“Eight and a half inches hard.” You continue, leaning in even closer and moving your hand to the collar of your shirt. Tugging down just a little bit. “Five point six inch circumference.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he leans back with a sigh, pressing his hips against the counter for some sort of relief. To think the “boring” girl on the app wouldn’t be like this? God, he knew there had to be a catch considering you were on that app to find him in the first place. 

“Please–” He groans as his ears redden, lazily opening his eyes to look at your tits again. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I can imagine you’d fit it in me just right, wouldn’t you Jake?” You continue briefly, noting the bulge he blatantly presses against the counter. “Can you say ‘please’ again? It’s kinda hot.” 

“Please–” Jake blatantly groans now, his voice sounding hoarse and low. As much as he wants you to keep going, he’s at fucking work. He can’t be doing this. 

“Okay!” You gleefully agree as you switch up like you didn’t just fuck him up, lending him a bright and innocent smile as you lean back and away from him. “So you don’t want to see my pussy then?”

His relieved face falls right back into that of pained frustration as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Right now?” He asks curiously, nodding his head without realizing it. Sure, he’s at work but like….your pussy is also at his work place right now.

“Yeah! Can you show me to the fitting room, actually?” You ask, louder this time in case anyone has moved around within ear-shot by now. Can’t make him lose his job, or whatever.

Jake swallows thickly with a nod, his eyes still narrowed at you but his mind racing a mile a minute at the fact that you’re really here right now, and this is what you’re doing to him? Enjoying his pain? Enjoying his suffering? Making it worse? 

Five minutes ago he was perfectly fine. You’re using his need against him and god, he loves it. Yeah, maybe he will take you to the back and try to fuck you at this point. Even if you said that you wouldn’t let him…what the fuck is this then? 

Really, he expected you to show up with an awkward hello and irritating small talk. He wanted to show you that he’s not always thinking about sex. Except he is, and it seems you want him to. You want him to think about fucking you. 

You really just walked into this establishment and asked him if he wants to see your pussy.

Of course he wants to see it. You already fucking know that. He wants to fuck it too, like, right now. 

And as he walks you to the fitting room, he has to try his damndest to adjust his growing cock. He nods to each customer as he walks by them, hands repeatedly going back to his lap to hide what he’s packing.

“Here it is.” Jake says in an unfocused voice, nearly staring a hole through you. “Now show me.” 

You dip your head in a smile, heading for the room and opening the curtain. Cheap ass store, really, most places have actual doors, but whatever. 

It’s easy to step inside and leave the curtain skewed a bit, knowing that Jake is hovering around the room, knowing that it’s probably protocol that an employee assist this space when it’s in use to prevent stealing and to prevent others from walking in on naked customers. 

You like the way you see him take peeks, trying to be discreet. You like the way he keeps his hands in front of his lap, hiding that you’ve definitely made him a mess of him already. You love the way he whispers a curse to himself when you sit against the bench in this small room and spread your legs wide open. 

You bet he loves the skirt you’re wearing for him today too. Though this wasn’t exactly planned or anything, you didn’t expect to be this turned on upon seeing him act as desperate as he sounds. You wore this shirt so he can look, and the skirt too…but looking this much wasn’t in your mind originally. 

He’s hot though. The way he needs it is hot. 

“Hurry up.” He groans, trying to make it seem like he’s frustrated but you know it’s just because he’s anxiously horny. 

And, well, you’re not actually gonna show him your pussy, but at this point you feel bad because he seems really stiff right now, almost robotic in the way he likely feels uncomfortably aroused in his least favorite place.  

“Jake,” You whisper-chuckle. “If you wanna see it, you’re gonna have to come in here and take my panties off of me.”

You hear him sigh, and see his eyes flick back to you through the small open space in the curtain. 

“You’re insane. I can’t come in there, I’ll lose my job.” He argues with a hushed tone, eyes fixated on the very panties he wishes he could remove. 

Even against his protests though, he reaches an arm in as he looks away. As if on extreme watch of other customers and employees roaming around. Probably pretending to grab a garment that doesn’t work for you, probably just doing normal, good-employee things. 

And, well, it’s pathetic really, the way he hopes for more. The way you offer more knowing he can’t get exactly what he wants. You actually feel a bit bad for doing this, especially because it wasn’t entirely in the plan. 

You really were just coming to meet him. It’s not your fault that watching him work turned you on solely because you know what he needs. So, you stand and walk towards the curtain, grabbing his arm and holding it in place. 

“Well–” You start, pressing yourself against the backside of his fingers, feeling him move his hand slightly against your clit. “Touch it then.”

He goes entirely silent but you feel the way he fumbles his hand, immediately grabbing your panties and moving them to the side just to really feel. And you let him, finding it somehow cuter in the way he doesn’t even ask. He does it like he needs to, like it’s instinctual to touch it. He feels for a second or two, probably closer to about five seconds before you step back. Really, it’s enough for him to know you’re wet, enough for him to suffer, enough for him to want more. 

Jake’s brain is on fire at it. Touching it before getting to see it? Goddamn, you’re so fucking mean.

And it’s silent for a few more moments after that as Jake keeps his hand in place, seemingly searching for a pussy just out of reach when you slide the fabric down your legs and place them directly into his hand. 

“When do you get off work?” You ask slyly now, ripping the curtain open and moving his hand for him, forcing him to shove your panties in his pocket. 

“Uh–” He stutters, swallowing again around his words before clearing his throat of the moan he really needs to let out right now. “Seven– I get off at seven.”

You nod with a smile, leaning in real close before patting his pocket. 

“I’ll text you my address.” 

And you leave without sparing him another glance, knowing that by the time his shift is over, he’ll probably pounce the second you open your door for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake suffers through the rest of his shift aggressively trying not to suck on his fingers. Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad, but to go as low as sucking the remnants for several hours just to hold him over? Truly, he’s at his wits end. 

Mostly because he absolutely does suck his fingers any chance he gets. Tapping his lips with them as he sees a customer off, licking against them discreetly, trying to make it look normal for him to have his fingers in his mouth so consistently. 

It’s not doing anything to hold him over though. 

He keeps glancing at the clock, and then at the message that reads your address. Just one more hour and he can leave. Just one more hour and he can bury his cock so deep into you that you’d never think twice about letting him do it again, and again, and again.

Oh god, really, he feels like he’s going insane as he checks out customer after customer. Every word they say somehow reminds him that he’s about to finally get laid again. 

“Can you wrap this up for me?” One customer said to him, nodding to a set of candles. 

Jake wishes you’d wrap him up in that pussy. 

“Do you have this in a bigger size?” Another customer had said to him as they held up a plush sweater. 

Jake doesn’t think you’d ever need a dick bigger than his. He’ll fill you up just right. 

“69.99?!” One customer argues. “The sign said it was 30% off!” 

Jake would sixty nine you all night long if you asked. He bets you taste sweet, you probably get really wet too. 

And by the end of the night, rain pounding on the roof, his last customer unfortunately has to hear a low groan leave his throat at their comments. He’s very quick to cover it with a cough. 

“Sorry for coming in right before you close, the rain is bad tonight and I forgot my umbrella, thank god you guys sell them! I didn’t mean to drip all over the floor like this, I hope you don’t have to stay late cleaning up my mess!” 

“I didn’t mean to drip all over your floor like this” Replays in his head, over and over again. God, he’d make you drip. He hopes you drip all over the floor for him. He’d get on his knees and lick it right up, god.

He needs to leave. Right now.

“S’all good,” Jake shakes his head after the initial moan and cough cover, trying to remain casual. “It’s my job to clean it up, after all.” He smiles, his brain stuck on the feeling of how wet you were when he touched you. Shiiiit. “Have a good night, stay dry!” 

And finally, Jake can close out his register and lock the doors. That, he does. Performing his end-of-night tasks at lightning speed with a cock throbbing so bad that he worries he might have to get off in his car before making it to your apartment. He genuinely needs to get off, especially knowing these pretty panties are in his pocket ready to be soaked in his cum. 

He doesn’t though, no. He holds off, thrusting his hips up and against the inseam of his pants with every passing second as he drives. He’s practically writhing by the time he gets to your place. Honestly, he moans with each movement because he’s sensitive. It’s so, so fucking sensitive. Everything feels good, he could genuinely cum the second you open your door if he’s not careful. 

Careful isn’t something Jake can be at this moment though, not when he lands a single knock at your door and you’re immediately opening it, looking at him with that same fucking evil smile you gave to him while he was at work. 

He looks at you and instantly lets out a frustrated moan before stepping in without another word. You feel his hands grab you much harsher than you originally thought he would, but you let him as you laugh out in a nervous chuckle. 

“Hello to you too.” You pat him on the back as his arms wrap around your middle. You hear him kick back against your door, slamming it shut before his lips hit your neck. 

He isn’t talking but goddamn you can hear what he needs to say through the way he presses his lips against you. He’s rough with it, kissing all across your exposed skin before slipping his hand right between your legs from the back as if he doesn’t have to chase anymore. 

You were going to jerk your hips back to make him chase, but his grip is too tight and he’s nearly lifting you off the floor entirely to get a feel. You were going to force him to look at you and the outfit you changed into for him, but again, he’s not having it, it seems.  He moans when he moves his lips up and against yours, hot breath desperate and needy as he finally speaks.

“Did it turn you on to torture me like that?” He nearly growls against your lips. “Got me so fucking hard.” 

You’re genuinely surprised with how he’s acting and talking. Then again, he’s desperate, that much is obvious if that monster bulge rubbing against your leg is anything to go by. Perhaps he may be desperate, but you guess that doesn’t always mean someone will end up submissive as a side effect. 

“It did.” You smile against his lips, pushing yourself forward to try and plant your feet back on the ground, chasing the ability to gain control over him. “Did you like that?”

Jake nods before shaking his head, allowing you to push forward, loving the way your hands reach for him and run through his hair before tugging. He did like what you did, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was fucking torture to stand there at work like he wasn’t losing his mind. 

“I’d like it more if we skip all the bullshit,” He starts, hand still attempting to reach the spot between your legs and lips landing at the corner of your mouth. “Could go all night.”

You nod to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him back to your living room couch and spinning him around, only to shove him back. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask, looking at the lazy way he spreads his own legs and rests his head against your couch cushions, eyes staring straight at you and cock twitching in his pants. “You gonna fuck me all night?”

“Yeah–” He breathes as if he’s in disbelief, hand reaching between his legs just to grab himself and squeeze as his eyes trail your body. “You have no idea how bad I need this.”

“Show me then,” You nod your head to his length that’s hidden under his pants. “Let me watch you first.”

Jake groans, rolling his eyes back both out of frustration and arousal, but he does as you say. His palm feels better with you watching, at least. He doesn’t feel so numb to the pleasure with you promising your body to him, at least. He doesn’t mind proving his size to you by shoving his pants down to his thighs and presenting said neglected cock to you either. 

It’s heavy, dark in color due to the blood that’s likely rushing throughout every inch of it. He feels sensitive to even the air in your living room as he twitches and aches to hear you talk again, to see you in front of him watching how he pleasures himself, wishing his hand is yours. 

“You wanna watch?” He says in a low-rumbled voice, tracing his fingers along the head of his cock and seething out a breath through his now, bitten bottom lip. “Wanna know how tight I want you to feel?” He asks now, bold and in the heat of the moment. You watch him when he squeezes the base of his cock tightly, you can almost feel yourself choke at that alone. 

“How wet you need to be to take it?” He continues, dragging his hand back and licking his palm before spitting into it. 

The wetness against his hand is horrifyingly pornographic. So wet when he reaches back down to his length, allowing you to hear it squelch and slip with ease. His breath is hitched while he does it too, which nearly has you seeing him in tunnel vision.

“Yeah…” You tune into him entirely, swallowing around the lump in your throat and feeling yourself drip already. “I can’t imagine how good–” You cut yourself short to moan at the way his other hand holds his pants down while he jerks his hand up faster and faster. “Oh god, you’re–”

“Wanna see how fast I can cum just looking at you?” He continues, hand only moving faster and faster as his grip tightens more, shamelessly grunting proudly over how he could probably cum now if he wanted to. “I told you, I can go all night.”

You pause, because goddamn. You thought he would be embarrassing, pathetic, needy. You thought he would beg, plead, and cry. But…you feel like you’re the one who needs to do that. God, you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck yet be so powerful about it. As if he’s in your face whispering, “You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? You’re gonna love it too, right? You’re gonna let me use you to take care of this little problem of mine, right? It’s what you want, right?”

If he were to say those things to you right now, you’d nod without a doubt. But…he doesn’t. He simply looks at you now, heaving out broken moans that sound too sexy to be considered pathetic. His hips chase each movement of his hand and goddamn does he fuck his fist hard.

Your mind is spinning watching him, knowing that he’s probably going to fuck you twice as hard as he fucks himself. And it’s not surprising to you at least that you can feel your own clit swell and throb for touch too. You easily move your hand between your legs, standing right there in front of him, toying with yourself as if you don’t have the power to ask him to do it for you. 

“Ah, fuck–” Jake groans, thrusting his hips up into his hand one last time before strings of his cum make a mess on his shirt. And it seems to go on forever too, spurt after spurt of it pumping out of him alongside his pretty moans and open-mouthed expression. You can feel your body react to him more than it ever has for anyone else, especially in the way….

“God–” You moan yourself now, watching him spread his legs and slouch more against your couch with a relieved sigh from his messy orgasm. But…his cock doesn’t soften. No, it stays stiff and heavy against his stomach, twitching and dribbling more and more of his cum out in little beads. 

The proof of his issue is right here, he really can and probably will go all night. And you say nothing else to him after that. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to answer you if you did say something simply because you find yourself stepping up onto your own couch, resting your knees against the back of it, and gripping his hair. 

Jake lets out a half-moan-half-hum, as expected, when he feels your hand drag his face under your skirt. You didn’t have to do that, but goddamn does he fucking love it. He loves how he can feel your knees buckle and force you to balance on the couch, loves how your cunt is just as needy as he feels, fucking adores the way you drip all over his tongue when he pushes your panties to the side and starts licking you up. 

It’s the fact that he didn’t even have to ask you to put it in his face. The slight taste against his fingers all night at work is nothing compared to the way you drown him now. He needs to do this for you. Hell, he needs to do this for himself.

“Jesus,” You breathe, rolling your hips on his mouth. He’s truly eating you like his life depends on it. You can hear his muffled hums at the taste, you can feel his shoulder shake as he starts jerking off again, you can feel the way his tongue goes deeper and deeper, licking each clench of your walls, only to pull back and suck the wet from your panties in a deep breath. 

He coos at it too, as if he’s in love with the moment, as if he truly can’t believe he’s finally got a pussy to lick. And he swallows each mouth full of your slick before muttering curses and promises against your swollen little bud. 

“Please,” He moans, nipping and licking against you. “Been so long since I’ve eaten pussy, rub it on me- fuck-” he continues to babble, heat-of-the-moment-talk coming out as far more arousing than cringe if you listen hard through your ringing ears. “Come on,” He continues, now neglecting his own cock and gripping your ass with both hands, shoving you back and forth on his face in painfully slow and harsh grinds. “Come on, harder.”

As if you can function at all right now with how rough he is about trying to pleasure you? Fucking hell, the words ignite something in you as you pull back and away from him. For a split second, you see his blown out pupils and fucked up hair as he licks his lips and presents that shining lower-half of his face to you. 

You don’t look for long though, no. Because you’re too busy pushing him to the side and forcing him to lay back on the couch instead. You resume your position afterwards, straddling the couch on either side of his head with your knees and planting your pulsing cunt right on his eager tongue. 

“You’re too hot,” You moan, feeling his hands go straight back to your ass to force more of those harsh grinds against him. “If you could see yourself right now–” Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel his moaned out chuckle hit you right in the clit. It’s like he knows he makes you feel good, but does he really? 

Does he truly understand how fucking good at this he is?

 “God, if you could feel how good your tongue is–” You continue, now losing yourself in the heat of the moment, feeling his fingers nearly bruise your ass with the death-grip he has on you. 

He nods his head in what little space he has as he spirals into heaven behind his eyes. The smell of you suffocates him, the taste of you drowns him, the weight of you is nothing short of sexy as hell. This is all he could ever want. A pretty girl using and abusing his face, much like he wants to do to you. But oh, there’s so, so much he wants to do after so long of having no one but himself. 

Eat you out, finger fuck you, slide his cock down that pretty little moaning throat of yours, grip that hair and kiss those tits. God, he wants to do everything right now but he can’t bear to push this perfect clit off of his lips. He cannot fathom losing the taste of you and the way you clench around the tip of his tongue. 

Oh fuck.

“Ahh- '' Jake moans open-mouthed against your clit as his brain hits a wall, his cock standing stiff from behind you as he spills out against himself again. Untouched completely, he cums without any effort where as previously it took him hours just to get off because he’d grown so fucking bored of everything. 

You’ve ignited him. His drive is higher than it’s ever been after being neglected for so long. God, he wants to fuck you so full that you can’t bear to leave him. 

“Fuck–” He continues, trying to lend licks between his jerking body to keep your arousal peaked. “See how bad I need it?” 

He finally manages to pull back, feeling you lift from his face just for a moment after noting the way his entire body is shaking. He’s not having it though, as he cranes his neck in chase of your dripping hole once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He adds now, enveloping his lips around your clit again and using both hands to force you right back down on his face. 

There, you feel the way he almost passionately makes out with your pussy. As if he’s thanking you for a second orgasm within the past ten minutes. As if he truly can’t stop wanting to fuck something, someone, anything at all.

Goddamn, what a fucking deal. All hail the hook-up app that brought this insatiable sex beast to your apartment.

“Jake–” You start, grinding down for him and feeling his hands now move to rub up and down your back. “Keep your tongue in me.” You choke out, gripping his hair to hold his face in place as you sit his tongue inside of you, short and jerky thrusts forward to bump your clit against his nose. 

He’s gotten off twice now, it’s your turn. 

And you watch as he drops his arms from you and grips your outer legs through it, letting you use his face until he can’t breathe. Both of you are seeing stars through it, your orgasm bubbling up so quickly that you can barely warn him when your hips halt in a stiffened clench and he’s finishing the job for you. 

Your legs squeeze around his head, your fingers pull his hair, and still he manages to find the space to tilt his chin up just to tongue-fuck you deeper, just to rub his nose harshly against your clit, up until he feels your quivering pussy spill all over his chin, down his throat, stealing any breath or moan he could possibly give right now. 

You’re out of breath by the time you finally slide off of his face, your hands immediately shooting to both of his cheeks as your sensitive clit drags down his stomach for the easy position change. You wince when you lick against his lips at the sensitivity, being sure to seat yourself right against his cock. 

“Hah–” Jake lends a breathy laugh against the way you lick his lips, his hands going right back to your ass and landing a sharp slap to it. “Couldn’t even get our clothes off first.”

You take a second to pull back and look at him, noting the redness against his cheeks and nose, likely from your panties consistently getting in his way and then you chuckle back at him. You’re thankful for the short break the two of you seem to be taking at the moment. Still, you lift up from him just to remove your shirt, exposing your tits in an instant solely because you didn’t wear a bra for this exact purpose. 

He’s still hard, despite two orgasms. You feel him rubbing it against you every few seconds, right up against your saliva and cum-soaked panties which, mind you, are insanely uncomfortable right now. It feels as if they’re slicing through your thigh with the force of how Jake managed to keep them shoved out of his way. 

“Just lay back,” You smile at him, allowing him a longer rest for now as you take it upon yourself to remove the barriers. “Let me take care of you now.”

Jake has hearts in his eyes as he watches you. Normally, a girl would already be falling asleep after all that, leaving him with not enough orgasms and no actual fucking. It’s not his fault he could do foreplay for upwards of three to four hours before going for the finale. Which, arguably, can and will last several hours longer. 

Still, you appear to not be finished either, with your breathless smile and gentle hands. He bites his bottom lip through a smirk as he watches you, tits on full display to keep him satiated for now as you move around on the couch to get his pants off of him. He helps a bit with a little kick, his cock still so sensitive and pathetically weeping for more. He feels lucky to have found you, almost baffled that he may have met his match. 

You lend several glances at his cock, not quite realizing the way he’s blinking at you right now. To be fair, it’s only natural to have your attention on that thing right now. You swallow around your nervousness regarding the size but equally want him to fuck you senseless with it. You already feel entirely fucked out, but…that. Oh, that could change your life, probably. You can imagine he won’t be as gentle as you expected before all of this too. Would probably shove it in all in one go and lose his mind at the feeling. 

He’s probably going to split you open and make it feel good for you too. Somehow. 

Anyway, enough of that. You’ve still got to get his shirt off, your uncomfortable skirt and panties too. 

You make quick work of it, as you stand to your feet and expose yourself entirely to him. Jake just watches, humming and moaning at each new expanse of skin you show to him. He keeps his hands to himself though, likely so used to feeling of them that they’d bring no pleasure at this moment if he were to jerk off to you doing this. And you just…look right back at him.

“Come on,” You smile at him again, lending your hand out for him to grab. “Bedroom will be more comfortable.”

Right. Bedrooms exist.

Jake follows, cock heavy and sensitive against his thigh with each step as he tries to get up close behind you. His eyes stay on your ass as you walk in front of him, and it’s not hard for him to keep his hands on it. In fact, he’s touching you as often as he can, trying to remind himself that he’s with someone right now who actually wants him. 

You seem to be willing to let him do what he needs tonight, and hopefully it won’t be the only time. 

You feel him on you, clinging so closely, hands constantly groping, lips always trying to reach the back of your neck and shoulders, to the point it’s actually difficult to get to your bedroom because you want nothing more than to turn around and shove him against the wall, all to try and take him into your mouth just to see if you can.

He doesn’t really let you think about that for too long though, because the second you get to your bedroom, he’s grabbing you from behind and lifting you in his strong arms. You writhe in his grasp with playful giggles, feeling the strong hold he has on you, keeping you in place against him as he stumbles forward with a deep inhale into your neck.

He’s quick to make his way to your bed, dropping you onto it, flipping you over onto your back, and immediately slotting himself between your legs. He hovers over you for a minute, looking directly into your eyes as his hair falls forward. 

Somehow, you’re more focused on his face than you are of his cock that he’s sliding up and down your core right now. You reach up to his hair, brushing it out of his face and feeling the sticky sweat at his scalp. 

“Could eat you out again.” Jake mentions, hips thrusting against you but eyes calm and level with yours. “Could lock me up in here and just use me all day if you want.” He continues, partially being serious about it, but treating it as if it’s some kinky joke instead. 

Because let’s be honest. If there’s any job Jake could do better than anyone else, it’s be a woman’s fuck toy. Always ready to go, always stiff and horny, always willing to please. 

“Could slide in right now and let you feel how hard I am.” His voice gets breathier as he talks, and you can tell he’s just imagining everything he wants to do. He probably worries he’ll have to go home at some point tonight only to resume his search for potential fucks to keep his need satiated. 

He probably thinks he’s going to exhaust you. 

“Could let you do all of that and more.” You respond, lifting your hips just slightly to press his cock between your bodies, throwing your legs around his waist simultaneously with the way you wrap your arms around his neck. “You want me to lock you up in here?” 

Jake nods with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can imagine it. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” 

He shakes his head with another sigh, focusing on the way you keep humping up against his length, sliding yourself in whatever way you can against him. 

“Maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”

Oh, damn. 

The heart eyes are back. The very thought of being in this room all night and all day tomorrow drives his cock to pulse and twitch. Foreplay can come whenever, fucking can come whenever, he can cum whenever. There’s no need for a to-do list. No need for a specific structure of rules on how this needs to happen. Foreplay, sex, sleep. Not with Jake. 

Sex. foreplay. sex. foreplay. for hours. He’ll keep you up all night if he can, fucking and sucking every part of you, into the morning hours straight into tomorrow night. 

Free use with you from now until you’re tired of him. You can do anything you want to him but for now…

“Yeah?” Jake breathes out in excitement, arching his back slightly to let his cock land against your hole, and then he pushes forward slowly. The bulbous head spreads your lips and stretches out your slick pussy with ease as he continues to speak. “Feel that?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, fingernails already digging into his shoulders at the anticipation as your legs loosen around him. He continues to push forward, inch by inch, painfully slow as if he wants you to feel the burn and stretch even while being as wet as you are. 

“Ah–” He confirms for himself as he watches your face, wincing, mouth falling open. “Yeah, you feel it.”

God, yeah. You do. You feel the weight of his size inside of you, stretching you open so good he probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to hurt. But he does move, he does continue to slide in, savoring every second of your walls quivering and suffocating his cock. 

“Goddamn,” He groans, lifting up on both arms and bracing himself as he looks down, only to find he’s only slid half of his dick into you, and already you’re about as breathless as he is. “Didn’t realize how tight you’d actually be–” 

He chokes when he says it, sliding out little by little before fucking back in, pushing just a bit more into you.

“S’okay.” You try to reassure him, but it’s more for you than it is for him. You really didn’t think a cock could feel so big that it actually hurts, yet, here you are. “I’m adjusting.”

Jake moans at your broken voice, no longer holding himself back to look at your pussy grip him when he pulls out slightly. He looks at your face instead, witnessing how you take all of it in one solid movement from him. All of it, until he can feel his pelvis rest against your clit and your entire body stiffens in a tight hug around his body. 

“Mhm,” He leans back down now, humming against your cheek as he tries to control the urge to fuck. “Taking all of it, aren’t you?”

With those words, he slides out slightly before pushing back in again, trying to force your pussy to relax so that he can stop holding his breath. One hand finds its way to your leg to hold onto, the other holding himself up beside your head, and he just…watches. 

Little by little, he thrusts. Plunging into you in short-tight snaps of his hips just to watch your tits jiggle with the movements, up until he really, really can’t hold back anymore. 

You feel his cock leave you almost entirely, only to slam right back in and cause your vision to go white with a pang of pleasure. Your loud yelp pairs well with his relieved sigh of a grunt, and it appears that this is what breaks him entirely. 

That single, full thrust, lets him fall forward and nuzzle his nose against your neck and his body just goes. Instinctually chasing the deepest parts inside of you, hitting your cervix with each thrust only to drag back and make your toes go numb at the way your g-spot feels entirely too sensitive with this alone.

And god, Jake loves the way you cling through it. The way you moan each time he bottoms out, the way your nails cut into his back and the way your legs continuously fail to stay wrapped around him. He…

Oh no.

“I can go all night–” He breathes out through his relentless thrusts, almost as if he’s pleading with you. “I swear, I’m not done–” He continues to cut off his own words with choked moans as he pulls back and leans up, frantically forgetting to apologize over the fact that he’s already about to cum again.

And you feel him try to slide out, that face he made twice before already alerting you that he really must have so much to pump out of himself at this point. You don’t mind if he’s about to hit a third orgasm, in fact, you’re glad.

Your legs hold him in place as he fights to pull out, his eyes snapping to you in realization after the second time he tries. 

“No fucking way, you– you want it?” His eyebrows fall into that of a relieved release as he, too, falls right back down against your chest and lets his hips fuck freely. 

He’s not controlling it at this point. You feel him stretch you open more through his orgasm, rolling his hips but not pulling out even in the slightest now. Moving back and forth, as if trying to stuff you impossibly full while he releases those thick ropes of cum. It…feels so good even with the way the base of his cock continues to swirl and loosen you up in a painful stretch that almost feels like he’s ripping you open. Still, the pain is gone as he shakes on top of you, in fact, you feel your clit throb at the feeling of how big he is, of how hard he manages to stay. 

He didn’t even fuck you that roughly before this, but it feels like you’re already ruined. Ruined enough to want more. Enough to need more. 

“Bet that feels good,” You chuckle against his hair, feeling each pulse of him and loving the way he pants against your ear. “Not having to pull out, knowing you can fuck me for as long as you want.”

That only pushes his orgasm to hit harder. He thought he was nearing the end of it, but instead, his body goes into overdrive as more pulses of cum shoot out of him at your words. There’s so…so much of it he can give you. And if this is what you want, he’s the perfect man to do it for you. 

“Don’t say that, oh god–” Jake mumbles through the end of his orgasm, keeping himself tucked nice and deep into you as he releases his body weight and makes you feel slightly suffocated under him. “Please.”

Well, he minds his manners well enough, you shrug under him, clenching around his length unintentionally and reminding him that you genuinely can go all night, just like him.

Reminding him that maybe you really will just lock him up in this room all tonight, all tomorrow. He seems into the idea anyway, right? Both of you just free-use sex dolls for the time being…Hell yeah.

And as Jake catches his breath, he finally lifts up, pulling you with him, and sits you directly on his lap now.

“Keep going then, don’t let it get soft.” He nearly whimpers, solely due to the sensitivity his cock is now offering and the fact that after that third orgasm, he truly is gaining the ability to go flaccid between orgasms. 

And you follow his direction, though not entirely how he wanted you to. Instead of rolling your hips, you slip him right out of you and sink your face down between his legs, loving the way his cum spills out of you all the while. You don’t even say anything, not that you’d need to. He watches you, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an arm and throws it over his eyes. 

“Shit, You’re so my type.” He groans out of the sexual frustration that still bubbles within him. You look so good down there with his cock just inches from your mouth. God, no woman has been able to go down on him for too long despite really fucking wishing they would. 

His hips always lose control, they don’t like face fucking, he’s too big to fit, they’re gagging too much, their jaw is hurting. What the fuck ever. Look at you, blinking up at him like you want nothing more in the world than to take it all down your throat. Ah, fuck, if you did that…

His hips buck up on instinct, forcing you to hold him down with your arms as you lick your lips. 

“You really live up to your promise, you know that?” You smile with warmed cheeks as you speak, blowing air gently against the head of his cock. It’s softened up a little, but it’s no longer going flaccid. You’re sure that the second you work it into your mouth, he’s going to be blocking your airways. 

Good. 

“You say that like I’m not overwhelming you with all of this,”  He chuckles as he moves his arm from his face and down to yours. “Most girls would have already sent me home.”

You circle your lips around the bulbous head, tasting the remnants of both you and him as you gently suckle before popping off and licking your lips. 

“Well, Jake–” You look back down and lend his cock a little kiss. “I’m not most girls. Besides, most guys get their nut and leave me hanging. You’ve gotten, what? Three orgasms by now? And you’re still in my bed? Wanting me to lock you up tomorrow too? What a fucking win.”

Jake rolls his eyes because you don’t even know the fucking half of it. If he were a normal guy, he probably would have done the same thing. Maybe not to you, but to others? Yeah. The thing is, he’s not like most guys. And you’re right in saying you’re not like most girls either, considering…your sex drive appears to be just as insatiable as his.

“Fuck, let me eat you out again–” Jake groans now, needing to pleasure you again, aroused by the fact that he’s basically met a female version of himself. Even if he’s just exaggerating and making himself believe such a woman could exist close enough to him. “Let me– Ahh…”

You cut off his words, dragging a loud and sensual moan from him as you sink down. Mostly to shut him up, mostly so you can return the favor for him from earlier before letting him have another lick of you. After all, you truly do appreciate him for all of this. 

“Mmf–” You mumble unintentionally, feeling each inch of his length that you swallow up pressing your tongue further and further down in your mouth. Up until you’re entirely open mouthed on him, gagging yourself when he hits your throat only to angle yourself up on your knees to point it straight down your throat instead.

It hurts, but you close your eyes in concentration, breathing through each gag, ignoring the dribble of saliva that runs from the corners of your mouth and– you swallow.

Mostly because you can’t suck. Again and again, you swallow around him just to stimulate his length, the girth stretching your lips out to the point you feel your jaw could break, but it doesn’t and it won’t. 

Within an instant of taking his whole length down your throat, you feel his hands in your hair. Your ears are ringing, otherwise you would also be listening to him choke on his words at how you’re doing this to him. All of it. You’re taking him in full, not leaving an inch out, seemingly proving that your mouth can be fucked just as good as your cunt.

He’s in heaven, head spinning as you stimulate him through each gag and sputtered out chokes of a moan. He can’t help it when he grabs your hair, he really doesn’t mean it when he pushes your head down while pressing his hips up. Essentially choking you and suffocating you in full with a paused hold. 

You brace yourself on his hips when he does this, squeezing your eyes shut and continuously gagging from the way he abuses your mouth with just that small movement, and then– he pulls back.

“Ahh,” He groans, snapping his hips back and holding you by the hair to keep you from chasing. “You like that?” He continues, letting you breathe but not answer at all before he’s pushing your head right back down, holding you there again and fucking his hips up repeatedly into your throat this time. 

The sounds are pornographic at best, concerning at worst. You, searching for air somewhere between his thrusts, the sounds of wet sputters, drooling, whimpered groans from him, and desperate gasps and gags from you. Truly, Jake is in heaven right now. With you, specifically, you’ve brought him to heaven.

For you, it feels like he does this forever. You’re losing the ability to comprehend what breathing ever was in the first place, thankfully though, Jake can see the tears pouring from your eyes and feel the way you fall slightly limp, letting him do as he pleases before he realizes– he may actually be overwhelming you now.

He snaps his hips back quickly, pulling you up and off of the last remaining inches of his weeping cock before taking a good, long look at your gasped breath and abused lips. Tongue licking out and eyes stained. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I–”

Instantly you press yourself down on him once again, resuming your original position of sliding him in until you can’t stand the feeling in your throat, gagging and swallowing around him time and time again. You feel proud of it, proud of the pain, proud of the suffocation. 

Fucking proud to not be finished with him compared to every other person, apparently. 

“Jesus–” He groans now, his entire body slouching against your bed as he slams his head back and starts petting your cheeks. “It’s like you were born for this. For me.”

You hum around the gags, growing accustomed to swallowing him up and feeling your jaw strain. And just a few moments later, you pull up with a deep breath, a smile, and you start rubbing your jaw. 

“Maybe I was,” You try to talk dirty, wanting to drive him insane. “You taste so good.” You add, dipping down again to lick a long stripe up the underside of his balls up to his tip. “Any girl should be proud to say you’d fuck her mouth like that.”

A twitch, he rolls his eyes back and clenches his jaw. 

“How are you so…” He breathes out, reaching his hands blindly for you, only to feel you shift on the bed and essentially sit your tits into both of his hands. “perfect?”

You shrug when he opens his eyes, you’re now hovering over him, both hands covering his on your tits as you force him to squeeze and grope. 

“Maybe it’s best to not ask questions.” You tilt your head playfully. “Besides, if I’m lucky maybe you’ll stop trying to find other girls to fuck. They can’t take care of you like I will, anyway.”

Oh, you damn fucking right they won’t. 

“You can have it any time you want.” Jake smiles, relishing in your tits warming under his palms, watching the way you hover over him tall and proud on your knees. “Could play with you every day and never get bored.” 

You feel him move his hand from under yours, going straight between your legs and sliding not two, but three fingers into you with ease.

“Still so wet too,” He hums, eyes narrowing at you with that same pretty grin. “You always this horny?”

You shake your head. 

“Not usually, you just turn me on.” 

Jake feels proud of that. He doesn’t feel like the odd ball with a dick that can’t be satiated no matter how many pussies he plows through in a night. Which, again, for the past year has been a total of zero pussy. You getting turned on by that makes him feel…capable. Makes him feel like maybe he can be put to use by a pretty girl. 

Makes him feel like his need is wanted and well taken care of. 

“So, I can keep calling you?” He asks now, fucking his fingers up, loving the warmth and slide, anticipating for when he gets to bury his cock in you again. 

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure of how deep even his fingers reach. Kind of ready for him to stop talking and just focus on what he’s doing to you.

“Even if it’s every single day?” He continues to ask, now using his thumb against your clit. “Even if I need you in the middle of the night?”

Anything he wants if he can keep hitting your g-spot like this. 

“Yes, Jake,” You sigh out of aroused frustration, now wiggling your hips to chase that stimulation inside of you. “I’ll give you the fucking key to my apartment if you want. Just let you walk right in and start fucking me.”

His fingers move faster at the image, the implication of not just free-use, but true free use. Real free-use. 

“Yeah? Wake you up with my cock sliding into you?” He urges you to keep talking, now removing his other hand from your chest and circling it around his cock. “Just walk right in and get my mouth on you while all your friends are here?”

You lend a surprised chuckle, but pay no mind to his words past the arousal it brings to you. You’d tell him about how you have a total of like two friends, and half of the time they’re too busy to show up anyway. Still, the image is hot at the moment. All of it is hot. 

“You’d let me?” He continues pressing every button both physically and mentally, unaware of how easy it is for him to talk as if it’s a normal conversation solely because it’s kind of his general state of living at this point. You, on the other hand, are not used to having a full conversation while your g-spot gets abused. “Even if you’re not home? Let you come home and find me fucking myself for you?”

Oh.

“Fuck–” You groan out at the image, feeling his fingers reach so perfectly, thinking of how it would feel to walk into your apartment just to see this pretty man chasing that tight ring of fingers his fist creates. Probably so turned on and frustrated that you’re not home…so frustrated that all he could do is drop to the floor and start fucking. “God, yeah.”

So that’s what you’re into. You love that he’s that pathetic to fuck. And lucky for you, he’s more than willing to continue to be that fucking pathetic. 

“Does that feel good?” He hums now, watching how you fuck yourself against his fingers, lifting slightly to lick against your nipple. “Can I use my cock again?” He babbles almost, brain on constant loop of you actually giving him free reign of your apartment someday so he can come and–”Please, do this on my cock.”

This is the second time he’s asked you to ride it, and you think that may be one time too many. You almost feel guilty for taking him down your throat first, but then again, you don’t. Your body vibrates knowing you’re about to split yourself open on him again, only this time having full control. 

“You want me to sit on it, Jake?” You smile, thrusting your hips down and sinking his fingers into you so deep that you physically can see his brain malfunction. 

The frantic nod he gives is somehow less powerful than how he lifts his hips, forcing you higher on your knees as his fingers slip out of you and immediately land in his mouth. 

Man, this guy must love the taste of pussy. The image of him doing that alone is insanely arousing to you as you lend him a short nod and slide back, your pussy sucking in the head of his cock instantly as if the two of you move together so well, that it was only natural to not need a guiding hand for it. 

He sinks his head deep into the mattress with the way you try to sink down on him. He holds his breath with those same fingers in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut at how tight you still are, how wet you still are. 

And he’s shocked, almost, at the way you just keep sliding down. Not letting yourself re-adjust to his size, holding your own breath and bracing yourself on his abdomen just to keep balance and you wince through the stretch. 

“That’s it.” Jake soothes your hips as you sit, clenching around each one of his twitches inside of you. “Doing so good.” He breathes out this time, trying to hold back his moan just for a moment as he awaits your moan first.

And it comes quickly when you lean back rather than against him, arms by his knees as you practically present his cock to him buried entirely into you with this position. He lifts his head and stares at it before reaching his thumb to your clit, immediately pressing hard circles against it. 

“Ride it,” He pleads now. “God, please ride it.” He loses his mind at the image, really, as you do start moving. 

Pained whimpers falling from your lips as you circle your hips, fucking just an inch of him in and out of yourself, forcing the deepest part of your pussy to take the abuse more than anything else. And you know he loves it with the way his thumb stops rubbing your clit, with the way he can’t decide on if he should look or throw his head back and fall into the sensation. 

It’s really cute to witness, and you’d lean forward to kiss him if you had the strength to do it, but you don’t. In fact, all the strength you have is currently bubbling up inside of you with a sharp, almost burning sensation. 

You know exactly what this is. You’ve practiced it time and time again alone in this bed. 

“Oh, oh shit, Jake–” You groan as you frantically start moving your hips through the full and splitting feeling of him inside of you. Your voice sounds so panicked, it almost scares him. And honestly? Had he not have finger fucked you against your g-spot previously perhaps you could last longer on him, but no. 

“What– What’s wrong?!” Jake’s voice is broken when he quickly leans up, hugging around you as you continue to ride against him, faster now, chasing, chasing, chasing. 

Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“No, no!” You moan out, shoving him back against the bed and now lifting entirely from his length before slapping your own clit, fast, rough circled motions before each slap. “Oh, shit!” You nearly yell, witnessing it squirt from your body straight against his abdomen and chest. 

Jake just watches, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“Oh–” He stares. “Oh yeah?” 

And you’re not even done when he seemingly takes full control. Allowing all that squirt to fall out of you, ignoring your shaking legs, tipping you straight back and plunging his cock right back into that release of pressure inside of you.

“You just weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?” He grunts against your ear, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your orgasm just keeps coming. It feels too good to speak, too good to breathe. 

Even as it subsides and you’re trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you. He just keeps going, grunting incoherently against your ear, snapping his hips harder than you think he’s probably ever done before. 

Honestly, with each yelp you let out, your sensitivity goes from being unbearably painful to–

“Do it again–” He urges you. “Give me another one.” Babbling, cooing, fucking moaning all over your neck until his lips hit yours. 

Somehow, that gives him exactly what he wants as he feels your legs tense up and fall open around him. Your pelvis slamming into his so hard that it’s, quite literally, splashing out of you in loud and painful sounds. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He nods and whispers against your tongue, sucking it into his mouth before licking into yours, nearly rabid with the way he’s both kissing and fucking you, he can’t help it. He forgot words the second he felt the gush rush past his length, trying to force it out of you only for him to go harder. Like hell he’s not going to feel you literally squirt on his cock. “So fucking messy.”

At one point, you think you might have actually died. You’re not sure but you swear you saw him fucking you in third person for two solid seconds before being slammed right back into your body. The pleasure genuinely is so overwhelming that…well, suddenly you understand why girls probably think he’s too much.

But goddamn he’s…so good. Like, you remember him mentioning his body count through his one-sided sext session with you and you can argue his inexperience probably made this that much better. He’s a fucking natural. 

And as he continues fucking into you, all you can do is lend him a distant smile. You’re definitely not experiencing real life at this moment, and you know he sees it with the way he lifts and keeps his eyes on your zoned out expression. 

“Look at you.” He echoes against your walls. “So, so pretty.” 

And he just keeps doing that, whispering praises, working you through his presumed last orgasm of the night because he genuinely can’t not fill you up with his cum one last time before letting you rest. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The rest didn’t last long, but to be fair you didn’t need it to. All night, and all day. That promise was kept and Jake remained insatiable throughout all the time he spent with you.

To the point you very nearly felt strange about him leaving. Like you’d grown so accustomed to having someone literally attached to you at the dick that you knew the loneliness and silence would hit you a little too hard once he leaves. 

And, well, he does leave in a sense, but not completely. 

Though you never truly meant that offer in the midst of sex-talk, Jake seemed to have clinged to the idea of it. Lock him up, but still give him the key. 

Never in your life would have imagined giving a person the key to your apartment, and yet…there he goes. Backing out of a guest parking spot in front of your building with your spare fucking apartment key in his pocket right next to those fucking panties. 

[angelicpoison12]

insatiable 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

you interrupt Alastor in the middle of a radio broadcast. he decides to punish your needy little hole <3

word count: 1.12K

tags: desk sex, sneaky blowjob, punish fuck, afab!reader, fem!reader, breeding kink, mentions of Alastor's knot, rough sex, p in v, mild overstimulation, crying (in a sexy way)

NSFW, 18+

it was innocent, nothing more. but according to Alastor, it was anything but. 

he was setting up for a radio broadcast, humming along to some random tune, sitting down at his desk. you came bounding in, excitedly shouting,  “Al! Al!”  he looked up at you, that smile still on his face. but it was different when he was looking at you. it was clear he adored you to pieces, and that he wanted nothing more than to protect you from the cruel light of the underworld. 

you were his little lamb. his prey. the mouse in his paws. others were a little worried, going as far as to send prayers your way, when it got out that you were dating Alastor. but if anything, it all turned out fine. Alastor was calmer with you around, and he even found himself letting Angel get away with friskier comments somehow. you were good for him, and everyone knew it.  

today, you were the one feeling frisky. 

“Alllllll? you can’t ignore me for forever,”  you cooed, leaning over his desk. Alastor sighed and kissed your cheek.  “i’d love to snuggle, darling, but i’ve got a radio broadcast to do. everyone is expecting me.”  he told you. you huffed and crossed your arms, then a lightbulb went off in your mind.  quietly, you asked,  “well... can i sit in your lap?”  a soft, yet questionable look came over Alastor. he looked at you. when he saw those big puppy dog eyes, he just had to give in. 

“fine, fine.. come here, my darling.” 

you nearly squealed in happiness. you climbed up into Alastor’s lap, having to squirm a little to get comfortable, but you were snug as a bug in a rug in his arms.  “don’t.. don't move too much, my dear.”  Alastor grunted politely, his claws gently digging into your thighs. you bit your lip, half purring,  “why should i, babe? i was just getting comfy,”  you said, pouting at him playfully. Alastor had been dating you long enough to know your tricks. he whined lowly in his throat, his ears going flat against his head. 

you leaned your head back against his chest, listening to Alastor turn the knob of his radio, hearing him talk. you were still pouty at the fact he wasn’t giving you any attention. you got a little bit of a taboo idea. you knew Alastor was going to want to have his way with you if you managed to pull it off, but fuck it, what did you have to lose? 

you slipped out of Alastor’s lap, going under his desk. he shot you a look but shrugged it off, thinking you were just being a little funny. his movements halted entirely when he felt your hands on the buckle of his belt.   he choked but remained professional for his listeners. he actually scooted closer, closing the gap between his midsection and the desk, giving you more room to work. one of his hands came down as well, his claws scratching against your scalp affectionately in a sense of praise. 

you hummed when you got his cock out. he was already half hard, the tip a soft red, the base already a little swollen with the knot. you smirked, starting to lap at the tip with your velvety tongue. the sensation was enough to make Alastor buck involuntarily, accidentally shoving his entire cock into your mouth in one go. 

“hnn.. stay quiet, my dear, please-”  Alastor nearly hissed, his nails digging into the back of your scalp, making you stay down. your eyes squeezed shut, and you had to force your throat to relax, taking deep breaths through your nose. you began timidly moving your head up and down. you were thankful for Alastor being able to keep quiet, because if you were in this situation, you wouldn’t even last a second.  

your lips suckled around his tip, your tongue caressing his shaft and the underside of his swelling knot. you choked a little when Alastor’s hips bucked under the desk, nearly making your teeth hit his knot. you heard the radio dial turn abruptly, signaling he was done with the broadcast. you had been so caught up in the mess of it all that time seemed to fly past. 

Alastor growled in a primal manner, pulling you up and kissing you, his tongue sliding down your throat. you choked at the feeling, the tip of his tongue cascading around your teeth, claiming you as his own from the inside and out. Alastor whirled you around, pinning you down on his desk, your cheek smooshed into some papers. you’d kill him if any ink stains got on your face. 

you quivered when his hands nearly tore your clothes off, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. he slid in unexpectedly, making you nearly howl in relief. your body had been aching for him for ages it seemed. you looked back at Alastor, watching as he set a relentless, animalistic pace. his pelvis smacked against your ass, and the sound alone was enough to make obscene noises leave your lips.  “Al.. Al, slow down, please, fuck, it's too much-!”  you cried, tears brimming your eyes. Alastor almost cooed at the sight, his cock twitching inside of you at the sight.  “now, now my dear, you begged for this. you could not keep your grubby little mouth off of my cock, even when I told you to. so, now you are going to take my cock like a good girl. understood?” 

all you could do was pathetically whine, allowing Alastor to have his way with you. a small sick, twisted part of you was secretly enjoying this more than you should’ve. you wanted to feel Alastor knot you. you wanted him to fill you up, make you beg for more, and carry his young. you wanted to be his personal breeding ground.  

caught in the storm, you felt yourself spasming, Alastor’s fingers on his clit, his cockhead massaging your spongey g-spot. you sobbed weakly, orgasming. but he didn’t stop. he kept thrusting, his claws digging into your hips, nearly drawing blood.  “Al.. ‘s too much,”  you blubbered, cheeks red and lips swollen. Your cunt was puffy, overstimulated. yet you couldn’t stop sucking him back in, wanting more. your body, your mind-it all wanted more. 

“ah, ah, ah. I’m far from done with you, my little lamb. Just stay still and let me use you to my content, hm?”  you dumbly nodded back at Alastor. he grinned and chuckled evilly. his shadow came out, holding you up so that your back was against his chest. before continuing his pace, he whispered in your ear,  “that’s a good, insatiable, little lamb.” 

- ₊ ⊹♡🐏 -

my sweet little snowflake buddies! @6esiree, @frxstwalker

[syoddeye]

down the hatch / twinkie talk

141 x f!reader | ~1.7k read parts one and two tags: flashback in italics, possibly bad french (sorry french-speaking people, i tried). thoughts about fucking. a/n: i am having a ball writing this goofy story. banner by @/cafekitsune.

you miss some things from the before times. a couple are obvious—fresh food and the internet—but then there are indulgences that haunt your dreams: monster munch, memes, those talking toilets with heated seats, and fresh nails.

then there’s the annoying things you oughta not miss, but you do. mouth breathers. drunk teenagers. the librarian with a one-sided beef over your overdue charges.

it hits like an errant frisbee to the face. what the annoying things have in common. people. yeesh. you miss people. 

but you aren’t sure if the fellas staring you down are the kind of people you miss. they confer, huddling in the kitchen. eight eyeballs glued to little ol’ you, on the floor and tied to a side table. back aching from slumping against the couch. no one’s offered water or one of your twinkies. pilferers. thieves. vagrants.

all this looking gives you ideas. 

first. they’re clearly all fucking. if the shower gargling wasn’t evidence enough, they’re touchy. two of mohawk’s fingers hook through the loop of scragglebeard’s belt. dry bones’s big arm holds ballcap close. and when dry bones presented you to the other three, he got two ass slaps out of it. (you can’t blame them. apocalypse be damned, the guy is keeping himself fed.)

second. scraggle is in charge. the pecking order is like one of those shape puzzles kids play with. you’d be an idiot baby to not figure it out.

third. they’re not afraid of you—why would they be—but they’re wary. it makes you wonder how many folks are upright above ground, and by extension, how many women. you’re not stupid. even if they’re together and experts in gland-to-gland combat, you’re alone in a bunker nobody else knows about. yet, it’s been hours, and they haven’t tried anything.

under different circumstances, you’d be interested. it’s not every day the universe serves up four hunky albeit stinky men. there’s no harm in indulging in fantasy, though, especially if they’re likely to kill you. get your jollies where you can and whatnot. so, you dip your head back and close your eyes, picturing a writhing tangle of limbs and a hole buffet.

some time later, the men break.

you crack an eye, and watch the four fan out, approaching as if you’re the elephant’s foot. scraggle drags the coffee table closer and sits. his ass barely misses the puzzle.

a hiss pushes violently from between your teeth. “watch it.”

his lip quirks beneath his mussed beard. for a moment, he simply assesses. his eyes linger briefly on the jorts, before dragging a breath in through his nose.

“bonjour mademoiselle. parlez-vous…english?”

it's the most god awful french. you think of muzzy. why he’s speaking to you in broken—

oh yeah.

“told ya i was gonna find ya.”

you chomped dry bones’s fingers with as much force as adrenaline could spare, momentarily freeing your mouth from the tyranny of his mean hand. “tu es un artichaut! artichaut!” 

“what the fuck is—” he swore, dodging more teeth as he wrestled you the ground. 

loud, clamoring footsteps announced the arrival of his bleary-eyed comrades. you got a look at their bewildered faces with your cheek pressed to the ground, screaming. “les nains! de jardin!” 

scraggle’s mouth hung open, eyes darting from yours to the man whose knee pressed into your shoulders. he nodded, and something struck your head. light switch, lights out.

they think you actually speak french. titters of laughter burst through your chapped lips. if panic-quoting film is enough to fool them, planning an escape will be no problem. still. maintaining the ruse long-term is not ideal. you chew your cheek, then shrug.

“yeah. i speak english."

scraggle’s eyes pinch. “then why french?”

“because i’ve watched ratatouille and amelie about a dozen times each since i got here.” you explain. “because it’s the language of love and i’m desperately in love with dry bones.”

mohawk snorts. scraggle shoots him a look over his shoulder.

“if i free you, are you going to be good?”

you bat your lashes. “what else could i be—wait, wait!” the jerk rises to his feet, lips pursed. “i’m joking, christ, did humor die with everybody else up there?”

scraggle sighs. awfully impatient for a man with nowhere else to be. “got a name?”

it takes a moment to find it. something itchy and uncomfortable sticks to the base of your throat. nobody’s said your name in months. you haven’t thought about it. it comes out more of a question than an answer.

annoyingly, scraggle repeats it, stupid easy. “are you alone? how long have you been down here?”

no point in lying. “yeah, i’m alone. it’s been three months, i think. since it happened. you gonna free me now?”

scraggle’s chin dips to his chest, studying you for a second time. the patheticness you’re trying to exude must work, because he jerks his head. “gaz, untie her.” 

ballcap—gaz, what a name—doesn’t hesitate, but his frown deepens with each step. he drops to a knee, guiding you to sit straighter to reach the cord. he doesn’t smell as bad as dry bones. probably because he got a quarter of a shower. 

“i know what you did. puzzle interloper.” you whisper into his ear.

to his credit, his nose only wrinkles.

scraggle scratches at his scalp under his hat as your bindings loosen. “did you build this place?”

“hilarious. no. technically it belonged to my neighbor. it’s mine now since he melted.”

“melted?” gaz pauses, pretty brown eyes blinking incredulously.

“yeah. you guys nearly stepped in him. he’s the hardened chunky stew outside the hatch.”

mohawk whistles, shaking his scruffy head. “thought that was sick.”

“and who was he?” scraggle asks, making room for gaz as the younger man stands.

“no idea. he told me once, the, uh, time we spoke.” you rub your wrists, thinking back to move-in day maybe six months ago. the absurdly large man openly stared and talked at you as you carried in boxes. didn’t offer to help. “i just called him ‘austria’. speaking of. do you have names? because i don’t think you’ll like the ones i made up.”

“oh, let’s hear them.”

“that’s not—”

“mohawk. scragglebeard. dry bones. you were ‘ballcap’ sixty seconds ago.”

“very creative.” mohawk sneers, though he looks more offended than anything.

“what the fuck is ‘dry bones’.”

“video game character. super mario, mario kart. skeletal-turtle creature.”

“quiet.” scraggle orders, glaring at you, obviously displeased with how you’ve sent his little interrogation careening off the rails. 

you drag an invisible zipper over your lips.

another long sigh. he points at each of the men, then himself. “gaz. ghost. soap. john.” 

you unzip. “what, too cool for an absurd nickname? or have you not earned one better than ‘scragglebeard’?”

for a second, you think you’ve signed your execution. sped the collapse. then your stomach grumbles loud enough to make four men wince, and that’s how you end up at the kitchen counter with a twinkie. scrag–john, gives you the short and sweet of the situation topside.

bombs. lots of them. thousands dead, possibly millions. difficult to know for sure with the dissolution or retreat of the powers at be and the general, violent distrust between survivors. long-distance communication is spotty. they’re military and emphasize that they’re special ops. you should’ve seen that coming. whatever 'special ops' means. but what raises your interest and your hackles is that they plan to use the bunker as a rendezvous point, if they can reach their friends in kastovia.

“ex-fucking-cuse me?”

“settle down.” john urges with arms crossed over his broad chest.

you jut a finger in his face, nearly touching his unkempt beard. “you broke into my home, my safe spot, and now you’re planting a flag. don’t tell me to settle down.”

“hen, i dinnae—”

“i don’t want to hear it.” you snap at soap, then reel back on john. “pull up stakes and move on.”

“mm, not gonna do that.” john lifts his chin to stare down the bridge of his nose. “first place we’ve come across with stable power. water. food.”

“don’t forget the sterling company.” ghost adds.

you want to hurl a pastry. a knife. a stick of dynamite. you couldn’t miss people, couldn’t want some around. not these dickhead invaders. john’s eyes say it all. underscore their intentions. they’re sticking around and digging in. potentially inviting more fucking soldier types underground.

all your plans to sneak out and lure them to their deaths or dismemberment eddy out of your head. you’ll need time to recalibrate and come up with a fresh strategy. sizing them up again, you chew your lip. 

gaz’s hand rests on a sidearm clipped to his belt. ghost and soap lean against one another, the former’s hand curled in the latter’s shirt like a leash. and john…

he smirks underneath his oily whiskers.

big, mean bastards. strongarming you into letting them stay. 

the fantasies of a fuck bunker dissolve. you’re definitely gonna kill them.

“fine.” you relent, ignoring the twinge of satisfaction from seeing four sets of shoulders relax. “but i have ground rules. conditions.”

john plucks a third twinkie from the box and offers it in an open palm.

“let’s hear them.”

~~

“it’s like bein’ back in th’ barracks.” soap grouses, twisting beneath the thin sheet. “it’s nae fair she gets the bigger bed.”

“it’s what was negotiated, and it’s only right to give a woman a private room.”

gaz scoffs, shucking off his shirt. “the same woman who spied on soap and me in the shower.”

“soap liked it.”

“i didnae like it, lt.”

“s’not what our old collection of tapes say.”

“the three of you, shut it, and keep your voices down.” john groans, sinking onto the edge of the firm bunk, scratching through the fur of his bare chest. “it’s either play nice now and hope she warms up, cooperates, or piss her off and live with what amounts to a rabid dog until—”

“until she needs puttin’ down.” ghost finishes, leaning against the bedroom door. still kitted out, adamant someone keeps an eye on their reluctant host.

“your words, not mine.”

“dog. more like a bloody badger. holed up underground, cushy little life. bad fuckin’ attitude.” gaz grumbles, punching the thin pillow into shape.

“four unshaved, dirty men with firearms broke into her home. did you expect her to throw a parade once we met?”

soap, propped on his side, traces a circle into the empty space beside him. “would have been nice.”

~~

next door, ear pressed to the ventilation shaft, your grin curls. grinch-like. play nice. you can do that. 

tramps. drifters. vagabonds. you will make them regret coming down the hatch.

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 12

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Creampie. oral sex - fem receiving. Angst. Crying. So many feelings. Relationship issues. Eating/food issues. Brief suicidal ideation. Toxic behavior. Complicated dynamics. We're getting close to the end. You make a decision

“Knock, knock.” Your coworker hangs on the door frame, fingers clutching a brown paper bag and soda cup. “There’s a truck out front, for lunch. I guess they’re buying every Friday for the rest of the year?”

“Oh, yeah.” You vaguely remember seeing that email. You think.

“Anyway, they’re just wrapping up now and I didn’t see you go down, just wanted to make sure you knew.” She means well, you know she does. She’s always very kind to you, so you smile warmly and nod.

“I did, thanks.” She makes herself scarce after that, vacating your office with another pleasantry, leaving you to stew behind your desk, trying very hard not to look at what you packed yourself this morning, a lackluster sandwich, a cluster of green grapes. The idea of eating turns your stomach, the feeling piling onto the depths of your uneasiness, pushing you to seek comfort.

You can't bring yourself to eat, but you know you have to. You know you should be, aware you cannot survive on the same three half bites of things alone. 

If they were here... 

You glance at your phone.

Stop this. 

You flip it facedown, turning your attention back to your laptop. Focus, you have actual work to do. 

The bath has gone from scalding your skin off hot, to lukewarm too quickly. It urges you to get out, tells you it’s well past time, that if you headed to bed right now, you’d still be able to manage five hours before your alarm went off.

Fat chance. 

Instead, you drain the tub. The porcelain turns to ice within a matter of moments, and you linger in the shiver, languishing in the discomfort, muscles tense, stomach sour. You nearly let yourself rot in it, knees tucked up close, goosebumps long erupted over every square inch of your skin. 

You close your eyes as the tub refills, steaming water rushing out from the tap, slowly covering your feet, then your shins, until it’s deep enough for you to lean back in again, submerging yourself as deep as possible. 

What are they doing right now? Are they working? Are they at home? Do they miss you? Is there someone- 

No. 

You’re not supposed to be… fixating on this. You’re supposed to be taking some time, thinking about what you want, what you think is best for you. This is what you wanted. You decided this. 

You asked for this. 

Why can’t you detangle yourself from them? 

Everything twists and turns inside your brain, spinning together into a murky morass that you can’t make sense of, but it’s nothing compared to the agony in your heart. An infected, weeping, organ that sits heavy inside your chest cavity, now with a giant hole in the middle. 

You don’t even notice when the first drops of water spill over the side, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You picked this rental for the tub. It’s massive, the biggest you’ve ever seen, and the cost to secure it for the entire month was probably more than you could afford on your own, but… it’s not like you haven’t made bad decisions in the past. 

The water sloshes. 

“Fuck.” You flip off the spigot in a hurry and sink back beneath the water, letting it flow over your mouth, your nose. 

You could- 

You could take a deep breath, fill your lungs with water.

You could turn it off. 

You could make everything stop. You could just close your eyes and… rest. 

“Johnny.” You breathe, surprised. Your heart bellows, begs you to fling yourself into his arms, but warning bells go off in the back of your mind, and you chew on your lip. He shouldn’t be here. They agreed. They promised. “What-“

“Ah had to see ye.” What if something has happened? You look him over, but he seems fine. What if something is wrong with Simon?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong-“

“Then why are you here?” It’s harsh. You cringe at the tone, at how it's so caustic, so careless, and he rubs the back of his neck, shifting unsteadily on his feet. Your resolve starts to melt, turning reticent, falling away into a slick puddle of weak opposition. He’s here. He still loves you. He’s here. 

“I know ‘m not supposed to be doing this.” He mutters, and you nod. “But… we- I miss ye darling, miss ye so much.” His cheeks are red, turning his normally tan skin a deep rogue, and he swallows between breaths. “Are ye alright? Ye look… ye look tired, love.”

“I am tired, Johnny… I’m…”

He steps forward.

You step back.  

It’s like you’re looking in a mirror.

His eyes are rimmed in stress, skin beneath them sallow, and he sags in a way that tells you he hasn’t been sleeping, bones and muscles not doing much except keeping him upright. Tears build behind your eyes, and they burn through the tip of your nose until you can’t hold them back anymore, raw agony in the form of a serrated blade cutting through your sense.

“This isn’t fair.” You cry. “Why are you here? You’re not- you’re not supposed to be here, Johnny.” His face changes, spirals through one hundred different things in the span of a second, half of them you can name. He’s still your Johnny, still the same, and you’ve never felt so homesick in your entire life, eyes stuck on the exposed skin just above his collar.

Johnny.

Your Johnny.

Simon’s Johnny. 

“Please… dinnae cry, darling. I’m sorry, I-“

“You’re so selfish.” You don’t know why you say it. It just comes out, flying from your mouth on its own. His head snaps backwards like you’ve struck him, features shifting into panic.

“No, no I’m sorry-“ A spiral swirls, sucking you in, dragging you under, and you shake your head. 

“Just… just… shut up. Please.” You whisper, fingers stretching out into the space between your bodies, tugging on the edge of his shirt. “Shut up.” The demand has more backbone now, and he blinks, confused. You can feel his heat, warm skin and breath vibrating away from his body into yours, tugging you closer and closer as you’re tipping your head back, heart overflowing with an insane, chaotic mix of emotions. You feel like you could fling yourself off the top of the tallest building in this city, and he’d still find a way to catch you.

He'd always find a way.

They both would.

“Darling-“ He's worried, rife with it, imbued with the sense of a logical man, but you don't care. You can't. You're already on a path, already made a decision, anticipated an outcome. And now... you want it. 

Rules be damned. 

“Kiss me.”

“I understand how you feel.” 

“No you don’t!” You turn your back on him, shaking your head. “You don’t, Simon. You don’t know how it felt to sit there and listen to that doctor call Johnny your HUSBAND! How it was to realize you two are married! It was like… it was like I don’t even exist! Like I’m a footnote, in your story.”" 

"We're not, I told-"

"I know what you said. It doesn't change anything. Married in the eyes of your fucking boss and your entire life is as good as being married." 

“You are not some footnote in our story. You are a part of us, love.” You haul one of the blankets off the back of the couch and try to cram it into the duffel. 

“Darling, we dinnae want ye to leave.” 

“Johnny.” Simon hisses, turning to where the other part of your heart lurks inside the bedroom doorframe. “Don’t talk right now. You’ve done enough.” 

“I’m sorry, I said I was sorry, I wouldnae-“ 

“Stop.” Simon snaps, and Johnny breaks, eyes filling with tears, frustrated fingers tearing into his hair before he stomps off, bathroom door slamming so loud it could rattle the entire flat.

Your head hurts. It throbs, pulse banging around under your skin, and the walls are too close, or too tall, everything is too much. You want to sleep. You want to disappear under a heap of blankets and close your eyes. You don’t want to face this, face either of them. 

You should have just kept walking. Should have stayed outside, shouldn’t have come back. Then you wouldn’t have had to do any of this. 

“Don’t cry.” Simon whispers. “Don’t cry, darling, please. It’s alright.” You hadn’t realized you were crying, but when he steps close, tapping his forehead to yours, strong arms holding you tight to his chest, you feel the wet stain on your cheeks, the heaviness of your lashes. 

“It hurts too much, sometimes.” You whisper, and he nods. 

“I know.” 

“Fuck.” Your mug from breakfast tips over, rolling towards the sink, and you vaguely register the brown trickle of coffee that spills over the side.

“I’ll clean it up,” Johnny’s mouth sucks a mark into your belly, shoving the rest of items that sit next to you away, either to the floor or across the countertop, hiking your knee up in their place. “later. Promise.” He’s still working himself lower, biting and kiss and snarling against your skin, strong, scorching hands spreading your thighs so he can bury his face in your underwear.

“Oh-“

“Darling.” He groans, and you scramble, trying to pull them free, trying to push him closer to where you ache, already wet, desperate and out of your mind. You want him to crawl inside you, stitch himself to your skin and devour you whole.

“Johnny, Johnny.” The world vibrates in a million different colors, and you fist his hair, pushing yourself up to his face.

“I’ve got ye. Gon’ make ye feel good, love.” He does. He does every time, and this is no different, the way his hands cup you, the stroke of his tongue against your clit, the way he buries himself as far as he can, eating your twitching cunt as you lay flat on your back atop your own kitchen counter, begging him to make you come.

Is this wrong? Is it? Are you betraying yourself? Are you betraying him? 

Are you betraying Simon? 

It’s too much. It hurts too much.

You need it turned off. You need your entire brain powered down, need to not think or feel or cry about anything for just a second, for a single second of this almost thirty days.

Johnny moves, teeth nipping at your neck, and you meet his lips with your own, panting against him, holding him in your arms just like you’ve been dreaming about.

“I need you.” You whimper, and he nods, a thumb against your cheek. “Please, I- I want… I want you inside me,” your voice hitches higher, delirious, and insane. “Please, Johnny. Please.” Turn it off, turn it off, turn it-

“C’mere, c’mon, love.” He brings you to the edge of the counter, touching you so sweetly, so gently, like you’re a fragile treasure sort of thing, something to be revered, to be cared for.

You’re none of those things. Not now. Not ever. 

It’s a mess, a tangled, fumbled mess of your mouth and his, your hands and his, clothes, teeth, hair. You claw at his back as he frees his cock, one foot on the corner, spread wide for him, and it takes nearly no time until he’s breaching you, heavy hardness pushing into you halfway, his eyes fluttering shut with a groan.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He takes his time, takes it slow, reintroducing you to a feeling that you could never forget, the pressure of his cock notching against your cervix, the fullness and weight of having him seated inside you. It’s so good, like home, like something you could spend the rest of your life with, or the rest of your life chasing, and you barely register the words he is whispering into the side of your face, spit and sweat and tears all running together.

Something's missing. Something's off. Something is missing, it's missing, it's-

“Move… p-please-“

“F-fuck.” He hisses. “Feel so fuckin’ good, darling. So perfect… missed ye, missed ye so much.” He babbles, pinning your hips in place, tendons in his forearms flexing as he thrusts harder and faster, moving your bodies together. “I love ye, cannae live w’out ye, darling. We cannae do it.” His fingers trace around his cock and then to your clit, where he starts to circle and rub the swollen bud exactly as you like it, muscle memory guiding his touch in just the right way, allowing him to drag you to another impending orgasm, cunt clenching down around him. “Ah fuck, that’s it. Squeezin’ me, ye-“

“Johnny.” You cry, and he kisses you, insistently, deeply, sealing you off from any air that isn’t his own, covering you entirely with his body, grinding his hips.

Your orgasm explodes between the two of you, and he shouts when he feels it, clutching you too tightly, chasing his own with a vigor that makes you stutter. Your legs jolt, closing around him, anchoring him, tying him to you, his body going rigid when he fills you with his cum.

Your kitchen is dead silent except for the echo of ragged breathing, sweat dotted skin and shaky hands still languishing together, aftershocks sizzling through your belly.

"Are ye.. are ye alright?" He kisses you, kisses your cheek, your temple, still holding onto your hand, cock still lodged deep inside of you, his cum leaking out between your legs. 

Are you alright? Are you? 

Your chest feels tight, brain desperately trying to catch up, heart bleeding inside your chest.

"Darling? Hey, look at me." He shifts, cupping your jaw and you blink at him, mouth moving without words. 

You wallow there, in the silence, in the little space that exists in this moment, in the in-between. 

Neither of you speak. He pulls back to cradle your face, and you see the tears again, fat ones that roll down his cheeks, illuminating the brilliant blue blaze of his eyes.

What have you done? 

You stare at each other. Realization starts to form, panic fluttering in the ache between your ribs.

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oh god, oh what did you do, what did you-

The shrill shriek of his cellphone interrupts, forcing both of you to turn to look at the screen that proudly displays the name of the caller.

Simon. 

[heaartzzforcupidzz]

hii!!! omg im so scared to reauest from someone so good at writing as you!!! please dont feel the need to respond!!

can you do a female!cat!reader thats in heat and catnap helps her??? that would be so hot!!!

“Heat.”

Relationship(s): catnap x cat!reader

Warning(s): smut, heat, degradation

You had been acting weird all week. Staying away from the kids, neglecting your duties , not talking for the most part. but you wouldn’t let catnap anywhere near you which pissed him off quite frankly. he was your partner. so what the fuck was so bad, you didn’t want him around you?

catnap had ignored this for the last couple days. just hanging around the children and going to his home, which he had been barely doing ever since you two had got together. one night, he couldn’t take it any longer. he got out of bed and headed to your home. almost immediately he was hit with a strong smell of your scent. not your natural one. the one where you were in heat. so that’s why you’ve been acting like that. why the fuck didn’t you just open your fucking mouth and tell him?

he stormed inside, a wave of pheromones hitting him in the face. he growled lowly as his animalistic instincts were getting harder and harder to suppress. first, he was angry that you didn’t come to him for help. what? did you not wanna have sex with him? did you think he couldn’t help it? or were you wanting to be a slut and wait for someone to find you this vulnerable?

He watched from the doorway. it was dark but he could see and you were too lost in your own pleasure to see him. he watched as you played with what was his. he watched as you fucked yourself with one of his themed dildos. he watched as your cunt squeezed the toy, oh so tightly. and how your hips rutted against the toy, trying to find some relief. he watched as you came, tears streamed down your face as it still wasn’t enough and you began your pace again.

“next time, open your mouth and tell me. or are you too dumb for even that?”

your heart stopped and you looked at the door. Catnap stood there, a grin on his face like the Cheshire Cat. “W—what are you doing here?” You asked, taking the toy and putting it behind your back. “oh, don’t mind me, continue.” you shook your head and looked up at him. You whimpered, pathetically as you sat up. “Please help me, master..”“see? was that so hard, Midnight?”

Catnap had put you in DoggyStyle, he knew you hated it since you couldn’t see his face. you whined as he placed his tip on your hole, pushing in slowly. agonizingly slow. you gritted your teeth as you yelled “god, master, please!” just then Catnap began to thrust his hips against you. his balls hitting the back of your thighs, making a harsh flapping sound as he fucked into you like a beast. “fuck, tell me how much of a good whore you are for me. you can do atleast that, can’t you, bitch?” “such a w—whore for you! make my cunt feel so good~!” “Damn right, I do.”

he pulled your hair and slammed against you harder as you came against his cock. he chuckled and kissed against your ear, biting and nipping. he let out a mix of a moan and whimper as his cum spilt into you, thickly. both your pheromones mixing. that scent was gonna be hard for higher ups to wash out. but you wouldn’t think of that right now<3.

A/N: request done! I know it’s abit short, I just didn’t really have any more idea or detail to say. hope you enjoyed! again, I’m not that good at details but I hope this was still up to standard.

TAGS: @2faced-fairy

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 3

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The third time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — the one that hurts the most.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer

Author’s Note: It's part 3! The tension is heating up, the emotional stakes are rising, and my obsession is only getting worse / better. Let me know what you think! :)

Part 1 // Part 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You step into the darkened club at the height of the company’s weekend party, colorful lights flashing over the dozens of people dancing and chatting across the crowded room, but your eyes are sharpened on the lookout for just one person. Colt Seavers.

You can’t get him out of your head. You’ve spent the last three days doing everything in your power to avoid him on set, from locking yourself in the art trailer to conveniently arranging to work on the still-in-progress train station set. You had entertained the idea that if you could just keep from seeing him for a few days, you could stop replaying every moment of that night in your head.

But even when you’re knee-deep in epoxy or hyper-focused on scoring holes in iron beams, you’re envisioning the way the lamplight accentuated Colt’s features and reflected in his dark blue eyes that night. Try as you may, you can’t forget how absorbed he was in studying your face, or the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to escort you to your hotel, or the way he lingered at the doorway as if he wanted to say something.

And you especially can’t forget the way you thought he was going to kiss you.

But then, of course, you had to ruin it. You obviously came on too strong. You physically cringe every time you remember some of the things you said to Colt that night while you were so delirious you couldn’t even stand up straight.

“I bet the desk clerk thought I was drunk and bringing you home with me.”

“I couldn’t have made it without you.”

The fact that Colt has been avoiding you just as hard as you’ve been avoiding him only confirms your anxieties. In the past three days, you’ve only seen him twice, and both times he’s ducked away before you had to have a conversation. It’s not like anything shameful or immodest happened between you — it’s just that you made your crush on him so painfully obvious that you’re sure he’s trying to spare your feelings. The thought makes your heart ache, but it’s ultimately for the best. You’re not about to make a move when it’s so obvious that he’s not interested in anything serious with you.

However, the fact that you’ve been sleeping curled up with his jacket — the one that has his musky smell embedded into its very essence — has not helped matters in the slightest.

You shake your head as you glance around the dark room and wave at your friend Holly across the bar. You’re honestly an embarrassment to yourself. All your life, you’ve had an iron will that bends to your intelligence, not your emotions. Why does that have to change now, all of a sudden?

Holly makes her way around the bar, a drink in her hand and the evidence of more on her breath. You reach out a hand to steady her before she spills her drink all over herself, and she giggles uncontrollably. She’s a talented cinematographer and a dedicated weekend partier.

“Where have you been the last few days?” Holly asks dramatically, as if you’ve committed an atrocity against your friendship. “I haven’t seen you anywhere.”

“Just working on getting the sets perfect,” you shrug, trying not to give anything away. “Besides, I’ve never been one to hang around the cameras too much anyway. That’s your department.”

Holly gives you a mischievous smile and takes another sip of her drink, peering over the edge of the glass at you knowingly. “You certainly seemed to find ways to be near the cameras when a certain stuntman was on set.”

You stiffen immediately, doing your best to paint an unaffected smile on your face and failing miserably. “That’s all over, Hol. Not a thing anymore.”

Holly raises her eyebrows skeptically, and you know she sees right through you. “What a shame,” she grins. “He certainly only had eyes for you.”

That comment sends a stab of pain through your heart, but you ignore it. “It’s fine. Nothing weird, I’m just keeping my distance. Just trying to avoid a heartbreak, that’s all.” The words are technically true.

“Got it,” Holly nods conspiratorially. She takes another sip of her drink and glances around the room. “Well, he didn’t show up here tonight, so you don’t have to worry about him. You can just have fun!”

The words have barely left Holly’s mouth before her eyes widen to a comical size at something behind you. Somehow, you already know who just walked in the door, and your heart gives another spectacular lurch.

Knowing you need to get this over with, you turn to face him, your heart in your throat. Sure enough, Colt slips through the club door, glancing around the room intently, as if he’s looking for something. Or someone, you can’t help thinking.

His eyes land on you, and he freezes in his tracks. A mixture of emotions — nervousness, embarrassment, surprise — crosses his face. You know it’s going to be awkward after all that’s happened, so you try to break the ice. “Hey, fall guy,” you greet him, instantly regretting it. Too flirtatious, stop it right now.

Colt smiles, something like relief crossing his tense features. “Hey, da Vinci,” he responds over the boom of the club’s music, closing the door behind him and taking a single step in your direction. He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, and you suddenly notice that he’s not dressed for a company party.

“What brings you here?” you ask, trying to ignore the way Holly is pressing into your side and doing a horrible job of hiding her elbowing. “I thought you weren’t a fan of these company parties.”

Colt shrugs, looking past you into the crowd. “Yeah, not really. Just came to drop some stuff off with George for tomorrow’s session.” He swallows hard, as if he’s pondering something, then lets his eyes fall back on you. “What about you? I thought you didn’t like the company parties either.”

I don’t. I came to try to forget about you.

“Oh,” you say casually, “just dropping by. Holly asked me to come.” You squeeze Holly’s hand to signal her for backup, and, intoxicated as she is, she immediately jumps in to help.

“I did!” she exclaims, a little too enthusiastic. “We were actually just talking about — ah, we were just talking about…” Holly hesitates way too long, and you cringe inwardly. “Your stunt!” she recovers. “Your transfer truck stunt!”

“Your what?” Your curiosity is instantly piqued, along with your worry. “I don’t remember a transfer truck stunt in the script.”

Colt smiles a little, the first one you’ve seen since he walked in. “Gordon decided to try it out today. He thought it would spice up the car chase scene.”

Holly jumps in with gusto, clearly excited to have turned you onto a better topic. “Yeah! Gordon came up with it at the last minute. The stunt was originally supposed to just be VFX, but Colt said he could do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Colt shrugs. “Just a jump. One transfer truck to another.”

“The top of one transfer truck to another!” Holly adds for emphasis, sloshing a bit of drink over the edge of her cup. “At top speed, while the trucks are rounding a hairpin turn in the canyon!”

Your eyes widen, and you turn your shocked expression on Colt. “Tell me you’re joking,” you manage.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he amends, obviously embarrassed by Holly’s dramatic retelling. “It’s not like Gordon forced me to do anything. I volunteered and said I could do it.”

“You could have gotten killed!” You’re not sure why you feel so passionately about this; he is a stuntman, after all. But something about knowing that you’ve been avoiding him for three days while he’s been performing death-defying stunts rattles you in a way you can’t ignore. While you’re gathering fire for a rant, Holly backs away into the crowd, an impish smile on her face.

Colt’s smile comes more easily this time, and he takes another step closer to you, ducking his head to look more squarely into your eyes. “Hey, calm down,” he reassures you. “No major injuries. No brushes with death. Just a cool shot.”

You press your lips together, still bubbling over with an emotion you can’t name. “Risking your life for a cool shot isn’t something to laugh about,” you tell him, though there’s no real edge to your voice. You glance down at his hand that’s resting on the bar beside you. “What happened to your hands?” you demand.

Both Colt’s hands are wrapped in bandages that you hadn’t even noticed until he pulled them out of his pockets. His expression shifts again, this time to a kind of bemused concern. “Just a little friction burn, that’s all,” he assures you. He brings one of his hands up to rest on your right shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze that makes your stomach flip in response. “Don’t waste your worries on me, Picasso. I’m a stuntman, remember? Taking risks is what I do.”

Colt’s laid-back tone does calm you a little, and you fight the urge to shake your head at yourself again. What are you thinking? Why are you getting so emotional about this in front of him? Play it cool, explain it logically, don’t make the same mistake you did before.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit, shrugging. “It just seems like Gordon is pushing you harder than he was before. It’s like he’s getting too comfortable putting you in more and more danger for the sake of impressive shots.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Colt tells you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he cocks his head as his gaze flits over your face. “And it’s no different than you going without sleep for three days to finish a setpiece.”

“It is not the same thing,” you begin, but he shakes his head, leaning one elbow on the bar to tilt his head closer to you. You despise yourself for weakening your resolve, but you can’t resist leaning closer to him, too — so close you can feel yourself getting lost in the dark blue of his eyes.

“Sure it is,��� he said softly, his husky voice carrying over the short space between you even with the loud music playing in the background. “I do stunts because it’s what I love to do, even if they’re dangerous. You make the sets look amazing because it’s your passion, even when it means you have to go without sleep. I guess we’re both just too dedicated to our crafts, huh?”

You’re finding it difficult to think of a response, your eyes locked on his. All the resolve you’ve been building for the last three days melts under the heat of his gaze. Something like a magnet is pulling you even closer to him. Your mind unhelpfully flashes back to the night you were wrapped under his arm while walking to your hotel room, his warmth enveloping you.

“Well,” you murmur, trying desperately not to look at his lips, “my dedication won’t result in a broken neck.”

Colt lifts one eyebrow in response, leaning a hairsbreadth forward. “Neither will mine,” he whispers.

You mirror his quirked eyebrow, lowering your voice to match his. “How do you know?”

Colt keeps his eyes locked on yours, but one of his hands reaches up to the side of your face unnoticed. His palms are bandaged, but he uses his fingertips to twirl a strand of your hair. Your breath catches when he tucks the strand behind your ear, his touch searing your skin even in the brief contact, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the best in the business,” he tells you as he finally pulls his hand away from your temple.

You smile at his teasing tone. The distance between you keeps closing, a quarter of an inch at a time, and you can feel the burning heat of his skin the closer you get. His eyes don’t drift from yours, but the tension is so potent that you can barely take a breath.

“The best in the business,” you repeat, a coy smile edging the corners of your lips. “Haven’t you heard that pride comes before the fall?”

“Mmm hmm,” Colt hums, and you feel the sound reverberate in your very bones. Your faces are only a few inches apart now. Everything — the music, the crowd, the flashing lights — is forgotten, consumed by the fire blazing in his eyes. His gaze finally tears off your eyes and slowly, so slowly, steals down to your lips. His own lips part slightly, as if he’s finally about to lean forward and close the tantalizing distance between you.

Suddenly you couldn’t care less about all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

But then, your heart still hammering against your ribs, your skin prickling, your lungs strangled into stillness, Colt pulls away from you.

The abrupt distance feels like a cold bucket of water on your head after the heat of what you just shared. Colt seems to feel the shock too, rubbing both hands over his face and letting out a shaky breath before his casual smirk returns.

“Wow,” he half laughs, shaking out his arms and shoulders dramatically. “Nothing like a club’s vibe to muddy the waters, right?”

His careless comment stuns you even more than his quick withdrawal did. You suddenly realize how much every moment with him means to you, and the stinging pain of rejection is amplified a thousand times by his casual attitude.

He doesn’t care. He seriously doesn’t care at all.

You try to recover some dignity, but you know you’ve already blown that more times than you can count. All you can choke out is, “Yeah,” and then a listless, “See you around,” before you slip past his shoulder and head for the door. You can already feel the hot tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, and you’re not going to embarrass yourself further by letting him see you cry. You throw up a hand at Holly as you hurry out the club door into the chilly evening air, barely registering her questioning look.

What you don’t notice is the way Colt clenches his hands into fists against the pain of his burns, or the way he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the memory of your devastated expression.

All you know is the pain of the rejection, the bitterness of your tears, and the smell of his jacket as you fall asleep that night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Part 4

[snotbuggle]

Omega when she gets to jail and realizes that she now has to big sister four other children. One of which is nowhere near her age.

Going to try and condense some more serious thoughts about these episodes down below so I can avoid spoiling someone as much as possible and not post a dozen times. I don’t want to miss tag any one of those.

Jex/Jek?? I can’t completely remember his name, but the mirialan kid is for sure not going to trust her at all. Can’t say much for the pantoran kid since they haven’t shown much of them so far, but Eva is going to love her.

I think the mirialan kid is definitely going to be skeptical of Omega’s prior knowledge of the facility, Emerie, and why they’re there. Although he might overlook these things hanging on her promise that her brothers will get her, and in turn them, out of there. I can’t help but wonder what Omega and the others will think after about a week and there still not being a rescue. (These two are assuming that she will be placed with the other force sensitive children. Although she may be moved since her blood actually works for project Necromancer)

Crosshair is definitely going to hear it from Hunter. ESPECIALLY after he threw Hunter’s past failure to keep her out of Tantiss in his face. What I think will weigh on his conscience more though is the fact he thinks she’ll be alone this time. In a way she definitely will, but I have no doubt that he realizes he was probably the highlight of her day. He was probably the one thing that kept her hopeful even if he tried to talk down on her and get her to leave. Yes, she had hope that Hunter and Wrecker would find her, but she also needed someone there with her. A familiar face and not someone who just revealed they were your sister out of the blue. Her situation has changed, but Crosshair doesn’t know that. The Crosshair guilt is going to be so real in these last episodes.

Switching gears, CX agents are always a cool and interesting topic for me. While the identity of CX-2 isn’t usually as engaging, I have to say that I’ve drifted from the standpoint of “there’s no way that’s Tech” to “it’s a possibility” over the course of the last two episodes. I’ve seen some fun ideas for who it is otherwise. Personally, I think that they’re probably just another copy paste man with no autonomy anymore.

ANYHOW! I haven’t seen anyone talk about it much, but the scene with Hemlock reviewing the CX agent data and the capsule has me thinking a little harder on their creation/conditioning. The way Hemlock talks about the other operatives as well. “The others aren’t ready to join you” (paraphrasing) seems to show that after the mental conditioning through obviously brutal means, it takes a load of time to physically condition the agents. Seeing as CX-1 was most likely initiated around the same time as Crosshair (I choose to believe that they were near each other’s tables which is why they’re familiar), that took around five months to half a year. In that time span there had to be a lot of soldiers who Hemlock saw fit to be “reprogrammed” but we see very few operatives throughout. This means that if they make it out of mental conditioning, physical conditioning is most likely very dangerous and often times fatal. I’d like to draw attention to the capsules as a part of that physical conditioning. There were several capsules that Hemlock was observing, along with the foggy one that is most likely that new Huyang-lookin-ass operative. If these capsules are the final stage of physical conditioning, it adds meaning to CX-2’s first line, “Why have I been activated?” (Once again paraphrasing). Although the capsules could be for something else entirely.

Also a bit of a gripe, why in the world do you need a new secret-secret operative, Hemlock? You have the commandos, and then the first X troopers, now the CX’s, and what? You wanted a new one? I can’t tell if this man is an overachiever or just way too absorbed into the advanced trooper rabbit hole. Also for you Tech theorists, it’s kinda suspicious that he makes a new version of agents isn’t it? Almost like there’s something…deviant about him?

Completely side tracking here, I really like Phee’s awareness in the station. Yeah she didn’t hear the blaring alarm, but she was in a room where it’d be hard to hear anyways. However, when she got back she felt something was off about the ramp. We’ve seen how slick CX-2 is, so her noticing something is up was a nice touch imo. Also was very appreciative of her caution and readiness with her knife. I love when female characters get to be aware of their surroundings and ready to throw hands if things go south.

In conclusion, thank you for listening to my dump-rambling. I’ve been trying to keep my lips shut so I don’t miss tag anything and spoil it for someone (because I know that I’ll forget to tag everything right). I hope Wrecker is okay. And even if I’m not a Tech CX theorist, I have to admit that I’ve been seeing some fairly strong parallels.

[thefallennightmare]

One Night-two

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: lots of smut(mask play, spit play, bondage, anal, fingering, oral(m/f receiving), chocking, unprotected sex), swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: One night. That's what Noah and Reader agreed to. No questions, no second thoughts, and no regrets. But will one night be enough to fill the hunger they both craved?

Authors Note: This took me three days to write(busy life) so I apologize if some things are repetitive. This is almost 10,000 words so buckle up. Maybe there will be a part three if a lot of people want it.

Tags: @pluviophillics @catj422 @iknownothingpeople @yumikitten @circle-with-me @dsireland86 @a1ex-ba1ex @blackveilomens @iamdesolate @shaydayhere @tearfallpixie @nerdraging4point0 @laris-angels

The door opened and in walked, Jolly, Nick, Folio, then followed by Britt whose hand intertwined with Folio’s. She had a smile on her face until her eyes fell on my flushed face. I did my best to smooth down my shirt and hair, not wanting any of them to realize what they nearly walked in on. Britt, however, with the way her brow raised and the corner of her mouth curled, I knew she had an inkling of an idea.

“What have the two of you been up to?” Britt asked.

Her and Folio sat on the couch opposite of us with Jolly and Nick sat next to me, who was sitting a few inches from Noah.

“Nothing, just talking,” I said.

“Right,” she nodded with the same smile on her lips.

Noah leaned back into the couch with his arm across the back, his fingers so close to my shoulder. I could feel the heat radiating off of him and I could almost smell my arousal on his fingers still. I ran my hands over my thighs with nerves until I hear Noah sigh beside me.

“What?” I asked, my eyes landing on his face.

A face that gave away nothing of what we did. Or what we talked about seconds before everyone walked in.

“Why are you nervous?” He asked.

“I wonder why,” I muttered before turning my attention back towards Britt.

She was watching Noah and I intently however before she could question what we were doing again, Jolly looked at his phone before motioning to the guys.

“We should get ready. It’s almost time for us to go on.”

They all stood, Noah’s fingers grazing over the back of my neck, and as they all moved about the room getting ready, Britt was fast at my side. Her eyes dragged over every inch of my face then crossed her arms over her chest.

“What did he do?” She asked.

“Huh?”

I did my best to play dumb.

“When we came in, you were jumping onto the couch while trying to fix your hair and your cheeks are still red,” she said.

My hands went to my cheeks, and I cursed when I felt how warm they were.

“Plus,” she said again. “Your zipper is down.”

“Shit,” I pulled up my zipper and leaned back onto the couch with a groan.

Britt leaned in closer so no one else could hear. “Did you two hook up?”

“No,” I shook my head. “Well, not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Britt wondered.

I let out a deep breath. “Jacob called me from someone else’s phone and I said some things in front of Noah that made him-.”

My voice trailed off, suddenly embarrassed to say what happened. Britt urged me on with a shake of her hand. I looked to my left, noticing the guys being preoccupied with getting ready for their set, and turned back to her.

“It was brought up that Jacob never made me orgasm so Noah wanted to make me while on the phone with Jacob,” I admitted, playing with a loose strand from the ripped hole of my jeans.

She gasped. “Shut up!”

Her voice rang throughout the room, and I quickly hushed her while looking back to the guys. Noah gave me a look, and my heart flipped at the sight of him in a black cargo pants, black jacket, with his blank tank top underneath. He looked so fucking good and I wanted nothing more than to walk into his arms accepting his offer.

“I can’t believe you and Noah,” Britt said with a small chuckle.

“If I’m being honest, I can’t believe it either. There was something about him from the second I walked in here. I wanted to forget everything for a few minutes,” I admitted.

She patted my knee. “Noah is a great guy, Y/N. And from the way he keeps stealing glances at you, I’d say he’s interested as much as you are.”

As much as I wanted too, I didn’t peak over my shoulder. Besides, I could feel Noah’s eyes burning into my back. It was setting my skin ablaze remembering his fingers inside of me and his lips on my skin.

“Really?” I asked with a small smile playing at my lips.

Britt nodded.

I thought about telling her about the proposition Noah offered but decided against it, only because I wasn’t sure on what I was going to do.

“You guys ready?” Nick asked.

Britt and I both nodded.

“You two can hang out on the side of the stage to watch.”

While Folio and Britt chatted, I stood from the couch to give them some privacy. There was a warm presence behind me and as I turned on my feet, my breath hitched at the sight of Noah. He had pulled a black ski mask over his face and core warmed with desire. I didn’t doubt that my panties were wet because of this.

There was a list of kinks I was in to but this, a man wearing a mask, was a new one.

“So, did you think more of my idea?” Noah asked.

“Um, kind of. I still have a few questions.”

Even underneath the mask, I knew he raised a brow. “Which are?”

I licked my lips. “Where would we do this? Just because I’m considering spending the night with you, doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with you in my apartment.”

He let out a low laugh. “We’re staying in a hotel tonight. We can spend it in my room.

I nodded, the answer to my first question settling my nerves a tad. As I tried to ask my next one, I found myself distracted by the vision in front of me that was Noah. He was dressed in his full concert gear and I thought of him naked only wearing the mask tonight.

“Do you like the mask, Y/N?”

His voice was low and husky, filled with his own desire, and I clenched my thighs together hoping it would scratch the itch in my core momentarily. Before I could stop myself, I was nodding with my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

Noah leaned forward, his warm breath cascading over my ear.

“I could wear it tonight, if you’re a good girl.”

A soft moan fell from my lips which made his eyes darken. Our gazes locked and the longer we watched on another, the thicker the sexual tension built between us.

“What’s your next question?” He asked.

I blinked, remembering what we were talking about.

“Uh-,” I stuttered. “Is there anything off limits tonight?”

Even though I loved the way he looked underneath the mask, I wished he would take it off for these next few questions. I needed to see his face when he reacted to them.

“You’ll have to be more specific, angel.” His finger hooked into the black chocker around my neck.

Fuck.

I don’t think I’ll ever respond like a normal girl whenever he would call me that.

There was no one else around us but I still kept my voice quiet.

“I’m into some things that others might think is weird. With sex.”

Noah hummed. “You’re not the only one.”

A blush crept over my cheeks as excitement filled me.

There was only two more questions I had left to ask, both of which were extremely important. His answers would be the deciding factor if I agreed to this or not.

“If I feel uncomfortable or want to stop, would you?” I asked.

“The second you ask me to, I will,” Noah answered without missing a beat. “Would it make you feel better if we had a safe word?”

My brows raised. “How far are we going to go that we need a safe word?”

Noah sighed while wrapping his arms around my back, pulling me into his embrace. My breath quickened as I looked at the others. Except, we were the only ones in the room again. We were so engrossed in each other that neither of us noticed everyone had left.

“Angel,” Noah gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his brown eyes underneath the mask. “I keep thinking about all the things I get to do to you tonight if you say yes.”

I whimpered, actually fucking whimpered. The only thing Noah has done to me tonight, besides making my heart skip a beat every time he’s near or talking to me, he made me fall apart on his fingers. And that orgasm was mind-blowing, the best I had. Granted ninety-eight percent of orgasms I had were self brought. What else did he have in store for me?

It scared me but turned me on just as much.

“What would the safe word be?”

Noah thought about it for a few seconds before giving my hips a light squeeze. “Mercy.”

“Okay,” I agreed with a nod.

The nerves about tonight were slowly fading, excitement being all I felt.

“One last question. Well, more of an agreement.”

When Noah urged me on with a nod, I took a deep breath.

“Can we agree no feelings are to come out of this tonight? I just got out of a long relationship, the last thing I need is another one, especially with someone who is on the road a lot.”

It was true. The last thing I needed was another relationship after the disaster of one that ended a few days ago. Even if Noah looked like an alternative Greek god covered in tattoos with such a filthy mouth.

“I’m not going to force you into anything, Y/N,” he reassured me.

Alright, that was pretty easy.

“Okay,” I said after a few beats of silence.

I was still in his embrace and sprawled my hands over his chest. His heart beat rapidly underneath my touch.

“Is that a yes?” Noah wondered.

My lips parted to give my answer but rapid knocking on the doorframe caused us to break apart, Jolly staring between us for a few moments.

“You ready?” He asked Noah.

Noah’s eyes darted from me to Jolly while nodding. “Yeah, sorry. I’m coming.”

Jolly turned his attention towards me. “Britt is already waiting on side stage.”

“Side stage? We’re not watching in the crowd?” I asked.

“The crowd can get kind of crazy. Plus, you’ll be able to watch better from side stage,” he said.

Noah’s hand slipped into mine giving it a squeeze then let my hand drop to the side, something I returned without a second thought. A silent answer to his question.

He pulled the hood over his eyes, not before giving me a quick wink, and all I saw peaking out from underneath it was his pink, full lips that I so desperately wanted to taste.

I was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

I thought hearing Noah talk was heaven but hearing him sing then scream his lyrics sounded like heaven.

All four of them had an amazing stage presence that made you dang on your feet and headband along with them. I watched mesmerized not only at Noah but all four of them. I did not expect that voice and those screams to come out of Noah. He continued surprise me and Britt noticed because she kept elbowing my side every time he would look over to side stage, making sure I was still there.

I never gave him a physical answer, so he probably thought I would leave.

That was the plan once morning came. I would leave him, most likely never seeing him again. But after watching him perform in front of a sold-out crowd, I knew it would be painful to do so.

Their fourth song just finished and Noah had lost the ski mask and jacket, leaving him in his blank tank and cargo pants. The way he danced along the stage brought a small smile to my lips. Now an instrumental tune of their next song played while all four of them made their way over towards us for a quick break. I had an unopened bottle of water in my hand and I extended it towards Noah when he stopped in front of me. He took it with a smile of thanks and took two very large gulps.

“Having fun?” Noah asked

I nodded with a huge smile. “I’m glad I stayed.

“So am I.” His eyes twinkled under the stage lights before he leaned in closer to my ear, warm breath on the side of my face. “I can still taste your cum on my lips.”

Noah was gone, back on stage performing, before I could react. My panties were soaked and desire burned hot in my belly. All night, Noah kept me turned on even giving me one orgasm, but I needed more. I needed Noah so damn bad.

I was so fucked.

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride back home? I have no problem dropping you off,” Britt crossed her arms over her chest to keep some warmth.

We were standing outside the back of the venue, waiting for the guys to exit. The show ended a bit ago and we let the guys pack up their things and talk just the two of us outside. The rest of the show was amazing, the way all four of them came alive on stage was almost envious. I was an author, writing my first novel, and while I absolutely loved being able to stay home and do that, something about the artist life made my entire body giddy with excitement.

Britt was going back to her place with Folio and kept reassuring me she could drop me off home beforehand. I kept declining, saying that I can call an Uber. To be honest, I didn’t want to tell her about my decision to spend the night with Noah. I knew she wouldn’t judge me but I wanted the night to happen before I told her about it.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Enjoy the time you have with Folio,” I waggled my eyebrows at her.

Her cheeks flushed with heat as she looked down at her feet for a few beats before she gave me a slight shove.

“I could say the same thing about you and Noah. Don’t act like I didn’t notice the looks you two were giving each other tonight. He looked directly at you when he sang the way you fuck, the way you taste.”

Now my cheeks flushed as I remembered it. Thank god Britt was the only one that noticed it. Noah had a lot of fans and if any of them noticed him singing those lyrics to me, some wouldn’t be too happy.

“It’s nothing,” I said with a wave of my hand.

Britt scoffed. “Right. Well whatever happens tonight, be protected.”

Now I scoffed. “You too.”

We talked for a few more minutes until Folio and Noah walked over towards us, dressed into different clothes. My heart flipped when I saw Noah wearing a pair of sweat shorts and a black hoodie, the tattoo’s on his thighs on full display.

Was he covered in them?

I couldn’t wait to find out.

“Ready?” Folio asked Britt.

She nodded while lacing fingers with him then looked back to me. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”

Noah wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest, which surprised me.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Britt winked. “I’m sure you will, Noah.”

“What time does the bus leave tomorrow?” Folio asked Noah.

“Eight.”

As they did the typical man hug handshake, Britt gave me a quick hug.

“Bye-.”

“Nope!” I held up a hand. “You know I fucking hate that word.”

The guys looked at me with confused eyes.

“Anytime someone leaves that I plan on seeing again, I refuse to say goodbye. To me, it’s always see you later,” I explained.

Some thought of my reasoning as stupid but I had good reason to think like that. The last time I said goodbye to someone, they were ripped away from me in a car accident.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” Britt asked.

I nodded and gave her and Folio a wave, Noah’s arm back around my shoulders now. It was a chilly night but the warmth that emanated from him kept me just as warm as a jacket would.

“You never gave me an answer,” he said while pulling me into his chest.

I looked up at him under my lashes. “I think me staying here waiting for you was answer enough.”

A mischievous smile spread across his face before he began leading me away from the bus and venue. He must have seen the confused look on my face because he nodded in front of us.

“The hotel is right around the block. I figured we could walk there.”

“Aren’t you worried about fans following you?” I asked.

He shrugged with his shoulder that I wasn’t tucked underneath.

“Most of them have left. The ones that are waiting around are hanging out on the other end of the parking lot. They won’t see us,” he reassured me.

After I nodded, silence fell around us but I didn’t mind. Something about Noah brought a sense of calm that I didn’t find with anyone else. It should scare me that I only knew this man for a few hours but I would still let him to anything to my body tonight.

We turned a corner, and the hotel came into view. It was late, nearly midnight, so there weren’t many people in the lobby as we entered.

Seven hours.

That’s all we had left together, and I wondered if it would be too much time.

“Are you hungry?” Noah asked as we stopped in front of the elevator.

I tried not to frown when his arm fell from my shoulder.

“I’m okay.” I said.

Quickly the doors opened and Noah let me step inside the elevator first with him following close behind. We stood so close, Noah behind me, that I’m sure he could hear how fast and shallow my breathing had become. Now that we were heading to his hotel room, it was suddenly set in what was going to happen tonight.

His large, tattooed arms wrapped around me from behind as Noah buried his face into my neck, breathing me in. I rested my head against his shoulder and let my eyes fluttered shut. It was incredible how his touch had calmed my nerves.

“Last chance to say no,” he said.

I shook my head. “I need this.”

Noah hummed into my skin, his lips pressing soft kisses up behind my ear and I shuddered in delight in his embrace.

“Promise me something?”

“Depends on what it is,” I semi joked.

There was no way I would promise something important like my life or soul to him.

“Promise after tonight you won’t go back to that asshole,” Noah breathed.

In the way his words sounded, I knew that if that happened, it would bother him. Maybe even hurt him.

“As long as you don’t go back to whoever cheated on you,” I shot back quietly.

Jolly mentioned it earlier in the night but Noah never spoke of what happened.

“Trust me, that won’t happen.”

I turned in his embrace and wrapped my hands around his neck, my fingers running through the ends of his hair.

“I have one rule for tonight,” I started.

“Besides not catching feelings?” Noah said with a slightly crooked smile.

“Fine,” I sighed defeated. “I have two rules. No feelings and I think in order to help that rule, we shouldn’t kiss tonight.”

Noah’s face fell only for a second before a neutral expression plastered over his face yet again.

“Alright. No feelings and no kissing. But remember what I said, no second thoughts and no regrets.”

The doors opened behind us and without turning me around, Noah walked us towards his room which seemed to be only a few doors down from the elevator. I heard the click of the door behind me and soon; we stood in the darkness of his hotel room. The silence that enveloped us was deafening. There was a golden glow brushing across Noah’s face from the streetlamp outside and my breath hitched at how beautiful he was.

“Nervous?” His voice was quiet.

“No,” I hoped my voice didn’t waver.

“Then why are you rubbing your hands on your thighs?” He dipped his gaze to my hands.

Fuck, he was perceptive.

I quickly clasped my hands together and began bouncing on the soles of my feet.

“You need to relax, Y/N. I’m not going to hurt you,” Noah muttered while closing me in against the wall next to the door. “Unless, you want me too.”

Oh shit.

I swallowed before the words stuttered from my lips. “Ye-yes.”

Noah cocked his head to the side, something glinting in his eyes. “Do you remember the safe word?”

I nodded, voice quiet.

“Good,” his traced a finger down my neck and over my collarbone.

His touch set my skin ablaze and my eyes fluttered shut enjoying the way his strong hands gently wrapped around my throat. The pad of his thumb pressed against my pulse point and the new sensation made my heart race.

My sex life with Jacob was as mediocre as you would think. Missionary majority of the time with the occasional fuck from behind. Nothing different and we never explored our kinks. However, with the way Noah’s hand was around my throat I knew that tonight would be nothing like I’d experience before.

“Lay on the coffee table,” he ordered, voice turning dark.

I blinked rapidly, mouth suddenly dry. “What?”

“Strip out of your shit and jeans then lay on the coffee table,” Noah repeated.

My fingers shook as I pulled my shirt up and over, letting it fall to the floor. My bra wasn’t anything special, a simply black cotton one, but that didn’t stop Noah’s eyes from drinking in the sight. When I slowly stepped out of my jeans, those falling on top of my shirt, in the darkness I could see his pupils dilate, the whites almost not noticeable.

“Fuck, angel,” he licked his lips while hooking a finger into the strap of my red lace panties. “You look delicious in red and I can’t wait to taste you.”

My pussy clenched at his words and I swore he could smell my arousal when I saw his nostrils flare slightly.

“Lay on the coffee table,” he ordered again.

I shuffled my feet over towards the small living area of his hotel room and realizing there was nothing on there; I sat on the edge. It was a sturdy table, so I felt somewhat safe that it wouldn’t collapse on me with whatever Noah had planned.

He stood in front of me, and I looked up at him through my thick lashes. His hips were meters from my face and through the fabric of his shorts, I could make out the hardness of his cock. My mouth watered at the sight. I was only in my bra and panties but that sight was enough to make him hard.

“Lay back, angel.”

Noah gently laid me back onto the table so my upper body was sprawled against it while my hips hung off the edge and feet planted on the ground. He sat on the floor with his back against the couch so his face was in front of my clenched knees. With soft hands, Noah spread my legs wide, hunger clouding his eyes and slid my panties down my legs. I half expected him to toss them over towards my other clothes but he set them down next to him.

“Keep them spread,” he tapped the inside of my knee.

I spread my legs once again and this time, Noah groaned at the sight.

“Beautiful.”

I whimpered, not wanting to wait any longer. I could feel my arousal drip down my legs and we haven’t started yet; well besides what we did in the green room of the venue.

My hips jerked when I felt a warm wet tongue glide over my folds.

“Shit,” I moaned.

This experience was new for me so I feared I would be a bit more jumpy than normal. Hopefully Noah wouldn’t notice.

With his hands gripping my thighs apart, Noah’s tongue flicked over my clit before forcing it between my folds now and we both groaned my back arching off the table as I subconsciously jumped away from him.

“Someone’s jumpy,” he breathed against my core.

I chewed on my bottom lip while staring up at the white ceiling. “I, uh. This is a first for me.”

Noah’s head snapped up from between my legs, a look of shock on his face. “You’re lying.”

Now I was looking at him with a sheepish expression. “No. Jacob never liked the idea of going down on me.”

“Let me guess, he had no problem with you going down on him thought?” He scoffed after his question.

My silence was answer enough.

Now that I was actually talking out loud about things from my relationship with Jacob, I realized how disgusting of a man he was and I deserved so much better.

“I’ll take care of you, angel. After tonight, no one will compete.”

I did not doubt that.

Noah’s tongue was back between my folds, lapping up before circling my clit. He repeated the motion a few times and my breath was coming out short and fast.

Fuck, it felt so good. There was no way it could get better than this.

My hand itched with the need to run through Noah’s hair and it was as if he read my mind because he guided my hand into his hair.

“Pull as hard as you want. I can take it,” he mumbled before going back to fucking my pussy with his tongue.

I was wrong; it could get better.

My hips began to grind against his face, the coil in my stomach heating the growing orgasm. Every muscle in my body tensed as warmth spread at the base of my spine. His name was on the tip of my tongue as his finished faking me then slide up my entire center. When I felt his teeth graze my clit, I let out a guttural groan while yanking on his hair.

Noah’s licks turned into small bites then he was sucking on my clit as he slid one finger into me, slowly pumping it in and out.

“Oh, fuck Noah. Just like that. Don’t stop,” I panted.

One hand was in his dark locks while the other was grasping the edge of the table to keep me grounded.

A white haze danced at the edge of my vision and now the heat spread underneath my skin as it prickled with electricity. My orgasm was so close and Noah could tell because he went back to licking my now swollen clit while his fingers continued to fuck me.

His name fell from my lips like a chant as I finally came, a scream echoing in the room, and Noah licked me through every aftershock until I was a writhing mess on the table.

“Shit,” I breathed.

Noah finally pulled away then got up onto his knees while leaning over the table. He was taller than me so even on his knee’s and me on the table; he loomed over me.

“Open,” his lips barley parted as he gripped my chin.

I obeyed and nearly crumbled in another orgasm when he spit my arousal in my mouth; it had a tangy sweetness to it. The whole action was downright disgusting, and I fucking loved it.

“You taste so good, angel. I could eat you for the rest of my life,” Noah mused.

My chest rose and fell with every deep breath as I finally came down and he helped me to my feet.

“Good?”

I nodded with a dazed smile. “So good.”

Noah brushed some hair out of my face, serious eyes locking with mine. “Am I going to be giving you a lot of firsts tonight?”

“I’m not a virgin so don’t worry about that.”

My voice had a slight edge to it and didn’t know why. He was only wondering there was no need to snap at him. But that didn’t stop me from walking past him, well trying to anyway.

Noah gently grasped my elbow. “I don’t care if I am going to be giving you a lot of firsts tonight, Y/N. I only want to make sure you’re okay with it. I don’t do gentle sex.”

My pussy clenched as it remembered how hard he had bit and sucked just moments ago.

I let out a long breath and nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he nodded towards the bed. “Take off your bra and lay on the bed.”

“I don’t see how it’s fair that I’m about to be naked while you’re still wearing your clothes,” I jeered at him while pulling at the end of his hoodie.

Noah chuckled, and my heart fluttered at the sound.

“Patience, angel. I have six hours and thirty-four minutes with you. I’m going to take advantage of that.”

The room filled with my squeal of laughter as Noah gently tossed me onto the bed, my body bouncing slightly.

“Give me five minutes. When I come out of the bathroom, I want you naked and sprawled out for me, understand?” Noah spoke from the foot of the bed. “Keep this on.”

He pointed to the choker on my neck.

Eagerly, I nodded then watched as he rummaged around his suitcase for something before slipping to the bathroom. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I threw my bra across the room and did my best to get comfortable on the bed despite my nerves. I changed my position on the bed a few times, each time shaking my head at how stupid I must have looked. There was no need to look sexy for Noah. If he wasn’t even a bit attracted to me, we wouldn’t be here.

Eventually I decided on simply laying on the bed while being propped up on my elbows. I let my hair fall across my shoulders and the cool air of the room caused my nipples to perk into hard buds. I also turned on the lamp on the end table, that way we could see each other better.

Not even five minutes later, Noah stepped out of the bathroom and I squeaked out a moan at the sight. He wore a pair of black briefs that were tight, thanks to the hard cock that was pressing against the fabric for release and in one of his hands he was holding onto a black belt.

But that didn’t have my attention. Neither did the many of the tattoos that colored almost every inch of his skin. It was the black sky mask he wore, his dark eyes pinning me into place on the bed. Noah began slowly stalking towards the bed the exact moment I sat up straighter, my senses on high alert. When he reached the edge of the bed, his hands circled around my ankle before dragging me over to him.

My flight or fight kicked in and I writhed against his hold which made him grab my wrists with his free hand and pin them above my head as he leaned over me.

“Remember the safe word?” Noah questioned.

All I could do was nod. Even though my heart was hammering against my chest, I was excited to find out what he had planned. There was no way I would utter our safe word.

“Good girl,” he mused. “Now, on your knees.”

I didn’t even have a second to react to the praise before Noah pulled me off the bed and down onto my knees. He wasn’t in front of me for long because he walked behind me and yanked my hands to my back. I hissed out in slight pain when the leather of the belt dug into my skin as Noah tied my wrists together. Once satisfied with the tightness of them and wasn’t worried I could slip out, he was back in front of me and yanked my head up to look at him. The pain that burned at the base of my skull felt so good.

“You look so fucking perfect on your knees for me,” Noah breathed from underneath his mask.

I licked my lips as his grip left my hair to pull down his briefs, too slow in my opinion. I almost whined in protest.

Noah clicked his tongue on his teeth. “Someone is impatient.”

“Please,” I begged.

He cocked his head to the side and the sight of him like this made my mouth run dry; mask covering his face, tattoo’s glistening in the moonlight that broke through into the room, and briefs halfway down his hips. The base of his cock was the only part visible and from what I saw, the thickness of it, told me I was not ready.

“What do you want, angel?” Noah asked while cupping my cheek.

I kept my gaze on his half shown cock, hoping that would give him an answer.

“Eyes on me!”

They snapped up at him with his demands and I clenched my legs together hoping it would ease the need I felt between my legs.

“Use your words, Y/N. What. Do. You. Want?” Noah slapped my cheek with each word, not too hard but firm enough to leave a bit of a sting behind each slap.

How was it that this man who barley knew me somehow knew some kinks I was into?

“I want your cock,” I whispered.

Noah hummed in approval, and soon I was rewarded with the full sight of his thick cock. The beads of pre-cum dripped out of the slit on the head of his cock and I licked my lips before I realize what I was doing.

“You want a taste?” He wondered.

I nodded, pleading with a small moan.

Noah sat on the edge of the bed then positioned me in between his legs. His large tattooed hand wrapped around his cock and slowly stroked it, his thumb teasing the head and smeared the pre-cum all over it. He groaned while his hips bucked into his hand.

“Open.”

His thumb brushed over my lips and I tasted the sweetness of his pre-cum as I wrapped my mouth around him. I sucked his thumb like it was my last meal, savoring the way he lingered on my tongue. Noah gritted his teeth as he groaned and hastily removed his thumb. His cock was thick and angry, begging to be sucked like I just had done to his thumb.

“Ready?” His voice and eyes were blown with lust and my stomach felt fuzzy inside.

“Fuck yes,” I breathed and opened my mouth wide.

While Jacob was the only man I had sex with, I had given head a once or twice before him so atleast with this; I had some experience. And Noah, by far, had the prettiest cock I’d ever seen.

My tongue glided over the bottom of his shaft as he slipped past my lips and when his head hit the back of my throat, I gagged only a little. His length wasn't something I wasn’t used too, but it didn’t deter me from swallowing every inch of him. I wanted to grab what I couldn’t in my hand but they were still tied behind my back so I bobbed my head up and down while swirling my tongue around the head.

“Fuck, angel. So good.” Noah croaked, his hands pulling at my hair.

He was guiding my head up and down before holding my head down when I took him in deep into my throat and gagging a bit on the thickness.

“Yes, take the whole fucking thing. Gag on it.”

I was slick in between my legs, my arousal coating me as my pussy begged to be touched, so all I could do was squeeze my legs together. I dared a glance up at Noah between my lashes and nearly came at the sight. Noah’s head fell back, lips parted underneath the black ski mask and the muscles in his tattooed stomach clenched as he his orgasm built. I could tell in the way his cock twitched in my mouth.

He looked so fucking breathtaking and moan vibrated against him from my throat which made Noah shiver underneath me, his grip on my hair tightened. Tears brimmed at the corners of my eyes but they were good tears and drool dribbled down my chin, jaw aching, but I refused to stop and complain. I wanted Noah to come apart from my mouth and tongue.

“You’re going to be a good girl and swallow all of it.”

I nodded, mouth full of his cock, and felt it pulse inside before a guttural groan erupted from Noah. His warm cum filled my mouth, and I eagerly swallowed every drop. It tasted so fucking good.

Noah, who had taken off of the mask, lifted me off of him with a pop then began massaging my jaw. “You did good, angel.”

I mewled at the praise and leaned into his touch until he gently lifted me onto the bed. I was on my knees while he sat behind me to undo the binds around my wrists. I rubbed at the red marks. They didn’t hurt but were a little sore. Noah left a small kiss to the back of my shoulder while his hands ran up and down my hips and I reveled in his touch.

His dick twitched against my back, and I smirked.

“Ready for some more?” I teased.

Noah agreed with a hum and one of his hands slide up my stomach towards my breast to palm at the left one. I leaned my head against his shoulder letting out a long breath as his fingers pinched and pulled at my nipple.

“So perfect,” he mused.

With one hand on my breast, his other found my aching clit and began rubbing it in small circles. I jerked with his touch and rubbed my ass against him. His cock slid against my slick folds and I gasped when the head nearly slipped inside.

Then I realized, we hadn’t talked about something kind of important.

“I thought it would be good to know that I have an implant. You know in case you were worried. I mean, we could still use a condom.”

The corner of Noah’s lips curled up in a smile at how fast the words spilled from my mouth and halted his movements on my clit for a few seconds. He buried his face into the crook of my neck.

“I’m clean.” He assured me with a soft kiss to the back of my neck.

I nodded. “So am I.”

“Good, because I want to feel everything.”

Noah bit the skin behind my ear, and I hissed out in pleasure. His hands gripped my hips to lift me up a few inches, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. It amazed me he was hard again after orgasming a few minutes ago.

As he pressed inside, I sucked in a breath at the sudden stretch. Even with how wet I was, it still took some coaxing to push in every inch and when he was finally was, I let out an embarrassing moan of satisfaction. We kneeled there on the bed, Noah behind me as I sat on his lap with his cock buried deep, and I knew after tonight, no one would ever compare to him. He didn’t even start moving yet, just enjoying the way my pussy clamped around him.

“Angel,” Noah strangled, trying to keep himself together.

“Please,” I begged while I began moving my hips against him. I needed some kind of friction, the anticipation was killing me. “I need you to move, please. Don’t worry about hurting me. I need it.”

Those words were what Noah needed because soon, his hips began snapping up into me with no falter. My head fell back onto his shoulder while my hand snaked up into his hair. He pulled out his cock, leaving only the head inside before burying himself deep inside of me. He did this a few times over and my body fell over slightly. Noah’s tattooed arm wrapped around my stomach to keep me pressed hard against him and our breathing synced together, short and shallow.

“Oh yes,” I moaned when he hit that spot, stars dancing across my vision.

His finger pressed against my swollen nub and rubbed up and down then side to side.

“This pussy is mine tonight,” Noah grunted, enunciating each word with a thrust. “Say it.”

I pulled his hair. “Yes, Noah. Yours, it’s yours.”

He stilled his thrusts for a moment, teeth dragging across the skin of my back. “Fuck, I love the way you say my name. Say it again.”

I did, over, and over like a prayer as my orgasm crested.

Suddenly, Noah had switched our position, and I was on my back while he leaned over me, my legs up over his shoulders. The emptiness in my pussy made me almost cry in disappointment and he gave me a sly smirk.

“Don’t worry angel. I just want to see your face when you fall apart on my cock.”

Yes, please.

With one fast snap of his hips, his cock spread me open again, and I screamed out in pleasure. This new angle being exactly what I needed to have my orgasm wrap around me once again. It was so close, I could taste it on my lips.

“Your pussy is clenching around my cock, fuck angel. You’re going to cum,” Noah’s hand smacked against the swell of my ass.

The sudden sharp pain made me yelp, so he did it again, this time harder. And on the fourth slap, it was my undoing as I came with a shout. My body convulsed with the aftershocks and through the haze in my vision, I noticed Noah’s eyes shut when his hips stilled.

I cupped his face and brushed my thumb over his bottom lip, wanting so bad to taste them. It was my rule, no kissing, and at the moment I was regretting it.

“Cum for me, Noah.”

Our eyes locked before he tipped his head foreward to lick and bite at my nipple. With one final, hard thrust, he spilled himself inside of me as the final clenching of my orgasm milked him.

“Y/N,” he breathed against my breasts before gently collapsing on top of me.

I was spent, and exhausted, and as we lay there in each other's embrace, I wanted sleep to take me for a few moments. My head was off to the side where I read the clock. It was just after two a.m.

Five hours left.

My fingers brushed the hair from his face and Noah hummed in delight but didn’t open his eyes. He was also exhausted and despite only having a few hours left together; I let the both of us rest our eyes for a while.

I awoke sometime later with a tongue flicking at my clit while two fingers pressed into me. My head snapped up from the bed and saw Noah buried between them, his hair disheveled.

“Hm, this is a great wake up call,” I moaned arching my back off of the bed.

He pulled away from my core to lean up over me, his fingers still working in an out of me.

“I couldn’t stop myself. You looked so fucking beautiful laying there.”

Every inch of my skin heated in a blush with his compliment and tried to bury my face into the pillow but with a harsh grip to my chin, Noah forced me to look into his eyes.

“Don’t hide from me, angel,” he said.

I didn’t.

We both held each other's gazes as his fingers brought on my fourth orgasm of the night, this one not as loud as the others. My throat was raw, but it still ruined me, my body collapsing onto the bed. Noah pulled his fingers out of me and I bit my lip when I saw them glisten with my wetness as he brought them to his mouth, licking them clean.

“I think you’ve wrecked me.”

I sighed when he pulled me into his chest, and I wrapped my leg around his waist.

Noah chuckled. “We slept for an hour.”

I frowned when I saw it was now 3:15 in the morning. The moonlight brushed across our bare skin from the large window in the room and for the first time since we started this, I actually took in all the tattoos that covered Noah. My fingers traced the floral design on his chest then skidded over the female and male skeleton and traced up to the design on his neck. It was a hand with a snake intertwine around it and an apple with green leaves.

“Did this hurt?” I asked.

His own fingers were tracing over the small design of my back shoulder tattoo. It wasn’t anything like his designs, a simple collection of flowers that wrapped around to my arm.

“Like a bitch,” he admitted.

I looked up at him after tracing over the one on his stomach; it was a reaper that had a sithe and a lantern.

“Which one is your favorite?”

He propped up his leg and pointed to his thigh. It looked like some kind of anime character.

“Which is your biggest?” I asked.

Noah waggled his eyebrows at the innuendo and I playfully smacked his chest. “I mean tattoo, you perv.”

He sat us both up before showing me his back and I sucked in a small breath. It was large, almost taking up his entire back. It was a picture of what I assumed was Jesus with the crown of thorns. I wasn’t a religious person, but I’d admit, it was beautiful.

Noah turned over and crawled over me, his dark eyes staring at me from above. My hand ran up his chest before locking behind his neck and I almost titled my lips up to kiss him.

“Do you want to be a good girl for me?” He asked with a low voice.

I clenched my thighs while nodding.

Noah to the doors that led to the balcony. “Go outside and wait for me.”

“What?” My brows furrowed, not understanding why he wanted that. “It’s the middle of the night. What if someone see’s us?”

“You said it yourself. It’s the middle of the night, no one will be out there. Now, get your perfect ass outside and wait for me.”

Noah crawled off of me and dismissed me with a swift pat on my ass. When I stepped outside, the cool air brushed against my heated skin and my nipples instantly hardened. The street was quiet below and thankfully, no one else were outside on their balconies. Whatever Noah had planned, no one would see.

My hands grasped the railing on the balcony when the door opened behind me, Noah pressing me into his chest.

“Keep your legs straight but bend over the railing,” Noah rasped into my ear.

The pounding of my heart thundered in my ears as I obeyed him, ass pressing into his semi hard cock. His feet kicked mine farther apart while his hand dragged down my spine and stopped at the tight hole between my cheeks and I froze with hesitation.

This was something I never done. It was forbidden, even with fingers or toys.

“Has anyone ever taken you here?” Noah breathed against my neck as he leaned over me.

I shook my head.

His large hands palmed my ass, spreading my cheeks farther apart. “Will you let me?”

My body squirmed in his touch. “Won’t it hurt?”

A soft kiss to my cheek. “I’ll go real slow, angel. And I have lube.”

I turned my head farther to the side and noticed the small clear bottle in his hand. The mere thought of having his cock in that hole made my body shiver with not only fear but desire.

“Okay,” I breathed after a few beats of silence.

Noah’s cock twitched then I heard the pop of the bottle cap opening and a cold liquid coating between my ass.

“You’ll have to relax. I’ll be able to slide in easier if you’re not tensing, okay?” He said.

I nodded.

Noah worked my tight hole with one finger, going about knuckle deep before a hiss fell from my lips. But after a few seconds, the pain subsided to pleasure and as the hiss of pains turned to moans of pleasure, Noah worked in another finger. He fucked my ass with the two fingers until he thought I was stretched far enough open for him. I had my head to the side so I could watch him and once he pulled his fingers out, he spit on his hand then wrapped it around his cock.

Some of my arousal dripped down my leg at the sight of him spitting and I secretly wished he would spit on me.

“Safe word?”

A warm smile pulled at my lips because Noah continued to make sure I was alright with what he was doing to me tonight.

I pushed my ass farther into his hips. “Fuck my ass, Noah.”

“Anything for you, angel.”

His cock slowly pressed into my ass and I did my best not to tense up but the pain ached, causing some resistance. The sound of Noah spitting echoed in my ears as I felt the cold saliva dribble down the crack of my ass and I moaned loudly. So loud I was sure whoever was in the room next to us would have heard.

“You like it when I spit on you?” Noah asked while pressing a little deeper into me.

“Yes,” I hummed when the pain was gone, sheer ecstasy filling my veins.

He rutted against my ass as his strokes were long and deep. I rested my forehead against the cool metal of the railing and my pussy clenched around air, wanting something to fill it.

“Touch yourself,” Noah rasped, gone in his own ecstasy.

My fingers worked against my bud, sparks shooting through me. With one of his hands digging nails into my hip, his other wrapped around my throat pulling me up into his chest. This new angel caused him to go even deeper and my eyes exploded with a white haze.

“Such a whore for my cock.”

The grip on my throat was tight, cutting off my oxygen, but not enough where I would pass out.

“Yes, Noah.” I agreed.

His teeth dug deep into my neck, leaving I didn’t doubt another dark mark. I hadn’t checked in a mirror but from the faint pain I felt after he bit me every time tonight, there had to have been marks left behind.

“My whore. My angel,” He grunted as his hips stilled, cum shooting into my ass.

“Yours,” I called out as my orgasm followed him, body falling slack into his embrace.

The warm water brought a large smile to my face as Noah sat behind me in the large bathtub, rubbing the body wash deep into the sore muscles of my back. After our time on the balcony. Noah dragged me back into the room to fuck me on the couch then ate me out on the bathroom counter before I sucked his cock while he sat and filled up the tub for our bath.

It was now 6 in the morning, the sunrise breaking through the clouds, and we had one hour left together. I did my best to hide my disappointment because while my heart was breaking for leaving him, Noah didn’t seem bothered by it. I mean, this is what we agreed on. We would part ways when the time came, both doing our best to forget each other.

Bullshit.

From the first second Noah’s fingers touched me back in the green room, I knew I was fucked. He ruined me tonight, in the best possible way. No other man could ever compare to him in how sweet he spoke to me outside of sex or the filthy dirty things he called me while having me bent over, moaning.

I could try to have relationships after this but what was the point when all I would do was think of Noah. Everytime I looked at him or traced his tattoos or ran my hand through his hairs so I could get a better look into his dark eyes, my heart would skip a beat while my stomach flipped, butterflies fluttering to life.

Noah made me a promise that I wouldn’t like of Jacob at all tonight and he made very well on that promise.

I cursed when I realized Britt’s advice from earlier had in fact worked.

“They best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

A soft tune hummed deep from Noah’s throat and I leaned closer into him, loving the way it sounded. It almost lulled me to sleep, but I forced my eyes to stay open.

“That sounds beautiful,” I murmured.

Noah wrapped his arm around my stomach underneath the water. “It’s from our second album. It’s called If I’m There. One of the few slower, softer songs we have.”

“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of you guys. It seems like you guys are pretty popular,” I said.

“We really blew up this last year. It’s been a crazy change but neither of us are complaining. This is something we wanted since we formed the band.”

I turned my head up towards him so I could look into his eyes. “Where are you guys headed to next?"

"Portland then our final show is in Los Angeles. Then were home for 5 months before we head overseas for a few weeks." Noah answered while moving the wet strands of hair from face.

"Do you ever get to rest?" My eyes held a hint of sadness.

That life sounded exhausting and couldn't imagine being away from home for that long.

Noah shrugged while placing a chaste kiss on my damp shoulder. "When we get back from Europe, I'll have about three months before another tour starts."

Silence fell between us and as the warm water turned cold and minutes dwindled down to only twenty left between us, Noah lifted me from the tub and carried my back into the room, water dripping from our bodies.

“What are you doing?” I giggled when he tossed me onto the bed.

He spread my legs apart with his knee. “I want one last orgasm from you, angel. Think you can do that for me?”

I was exhausted, bones and pussy aching, but he asked so nicely. How could I deny him?

Noah wrapped my leg around his back while he lined his hard cock against my entrance, brown eyes locked with mine as he filled me to the brim. I arched my chest into his as my hips raised, giving him a deeper angle. This time, his strokes were slow and soft, taking his time with me. His tongue flicked over my nipple, teasing at pulling before he shifted over to the other one, mimicking his actions. The pad of his thumb teased at my clit while his cock pulled most of the way out, my arousal glistening on him.

“Noah, I’m going to-.”

My words fell, my orgasm building and cresting into a crescendo. Bright stars etched in the edge of my vision as my breath became shallow.

“Look at me, angel,” Noah grunted. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

I did, my breath catching in my throat when I saw the look of adoration shinning in his brown iris’. His lips were meters from mine, I could feel his warm breath fanning over them. One rule I set suddenly didn’t matter anymore since this was ending in five minutes so I told myself fuck it.

I crashed my lips to his, finally being able to taste him. Noah didn’t miss a beat, his tongue dancing with my own. His lips molded perfectly with mine, almost as if we were meant to be. Cliche, yes, but that was the only way I could describe it. It was a desperate kiss, teeth smacking against each other, and he bit down on my bottom lip while his thrusts became erratic then with a shuddering scream, we both fell apart together.

We lay there in our post daze of bliss for a long moment of silence until his phone rang loudly, the alarm he had set for seven breaking the glass of the glass house we created to protect us from reality.

Noah pulled out of me and rolled over to silence his phone while I stood from the bed to find my discarded clothes. Tears burned at the brim of my eyes but I quickly blinked them away as I cursed to myself. I didn’t think I would get so attached to Noah but here I was, not ready to leave him yet even though I had too.

Once dressed, I turned on my heels and saw Noah was standing a few feet in front of me, still shirtless, but had his hands buried deep into the pockets of a pair of sweatpants.

“Seven a.m.” He said with a nod.

I bounced on the soles of my feet. “Yep. I don’t know if I should say thank you or something.”

Noah laughed. “Trust me, angel. You helped me just as much I did you so there’s no need to thank me.”

I nodded, not sure what else to say.

“Did you need me to call you an Uber or something?”

“Already taken care of,” I held up my phone.

I had ordered one before I dressed, must to the dismay of my aching heart.

Noah nodded now. “So then, I guess I’ll see you around?”

Letting out a shaky breath, I held my head high while squaring my shoulders. In order to help curb the pain that was stabbing my heart, I knew what I had to do; something I hated and always refused to do. This would never work between us, Noah said it himself he barley had time for himself when he was home, how could we balance a relationship? Plus, this was only a onetime thing; something we both agreed on.

Swallowing thickly, I opened the door and looked back over my shoulder. His bright eyes dulled, probably from the exhaustion from our night and barley any sleep. I stood for a few seconds, waiting to see if he would make any kind of move but he continued to stand on the other side of the room with hands deep in his pockets.

I shook my head with another shaky breath, one lone tear slipping down my cheek and the strongest smile I could muster.

“Goodbye, Noah.”

[kooqitas]

how are we now? ... ★ with: bsk

#pairing: seungkwan X f.reader #synopsis: your best friend show a jealousy towards you after seeing you kissing a random guy... #tags: pwp(!), vaginal sex, friends sex, eating cum, spit as lube, dirty talk, soft dom!bsk, unprotected sex, i little a bit of praise kink? #wc: ~1300 #notes: pls save me boo seungkwan (nd fuck me).

★ m.list | inbox

seungkwan tries to act natural but the truth is that he was freaking out!

he watches you and mingyu getting close and close. actually, seungkwan is not the kinda of guy to show jealousy towards a friend, but being honest, for him you are really more than ‘just a friend’

he has a crush over you for the past two years, since he met you in college. at first he saw you just as a friend, but he fell in love with you…

he bites his own lips when mingyu and you get closer. god, is that possible? the scene is killing him, his breathing heavy.

then mingyu kisses you, in a wild way...

seungkwan's stomach churns, he sees mingyu squeezing your hips, and he can't think. when 

mingyu takes your ass in his hands, seungkwan makes the decision that it’s too much for him to handle. and in the next second, he separates you and pushes mingyu off.

“what are you doing?” you ask.

“nothing, i just… i…”

“just what, seungkwan? are you crazy?”

“you’re drunk, let me take you home!” he looks a pretty angry.

“i’m not dunk, i’m horny!”

seungkwan feels his stomach churning again,mingyu just left when this hole whing started.

“c’mon, you need sleep”

of course he’s lying, you always stayed up late watching movies or playing games when you were at home, it was still early.

“fuck, i hate you, i haven’t kiss anyone like… in months, you ruined it. god, have you seen mingyu?” you yell.

“i didn’t ruin anything… i just…”

“whatever, he’s gone now!”

“good, he didn’t have any right to touch you like… like he was touching”

seungkwan is angry, he feels so jealous that another man touched you, and that fact is clear from the looks on his face.

“but i want a touch”

“then i…”

he certainly wasn’t sober when he started approaching you. that was just the excuse he gave himself.

“you?”

of course the whole scene doesn’t make seungkwan just feel jealous… he is… he is horny.

god, just the thought of mingyu touching your hips touching makes him jealous but… he wants to be in mingyu’s place. and giving the fact that he is not the most sober person at the moment…

“what are you doing?” you ask when you feel his hands touching your waist.

“nothing…” he whispers right next to your ear.

he was very close, and his hand now is touching your hips.

“seungkwan…”

“i just wanted to…”

seungkwan is losing his mind, he could feel your breath.

“what?”

“nothing, i…” he is still close to you. “i just… just… fuck, let me…”

he tries to kiss you.

what’s the surprise?

you kiss him back.

he is surprised, but doesn’t stop. the kiss is getting more and more intense.

“wait. what the hell was that?” you say.

his lips didn’t move away from yours, and his hand is still on your hips, it’s so obvious what is happening.

“i want you, so bad”

“what? since when? seungkwan are you okay?”

“since… two years ago to be honest…”

“is that why you stopped me and mingyu?”

“i can’t accept the idea of some idiot touching you… i want to be the only one doing it…”

it was too much to process, you were still dizzy from the kiss, and fuck, he’s in love with you?

“if i’m being totally honest, i can’t even think properly right now”

“do you… do you want to go to my home?”

“seungkwan…”

“just… let this happen”

maybe is the alcohol? maybe the lust? maybe perhaps the fact that seungkwan is very hot (and a good kisser)? you just don’t know.

the car ride to his house was filled with a lot of silence. seungkwan had his right hand resting on your thigh as he drove, and both your head and his were in a mess at the moment.

when you entered his apartament, you joked about how the house was organized, but he didn't pay much attention, he just took you to the bedroom and kissed you in a somewhat desperate way.

“hey, seungkwan, slow down, i’m not going to run away” you tease him.

"god, you have no idea how desperate i am to fuck you.."

you thought it was a joke, but the next second seungkwan was throwing you on the bed and taking off your shoes

he kisses your ankle, moving up to your calf until he kisses your knee and then your thigh. god, this is crazy! seungkwan’s lips on your body show devotion, and you didn’t even notice that his head, that was once between yours legs, is now close to middle of your leg. he lifts your skirt and kisses your wet panties.

“shit, i lost count of how many times i came imagining that cunt in my face!”

he pulls the lace to the side, salivating at the sight of your pussy exposed to him, it doesn't take five seconds for him to put his mouth there, sucking it as if it were the necessity of life.

you always thought seungkwan was very handsome, but there, between your legs, rubbing his face in your juices, he was the most handsome guy you had ever seen in your entire life.

his right hand pulling your strapless down and when he managed to do so, he rubbed his fingers over your nipple, making you moan.

“i need… god, i really need…” he spits on your pussy.

he took off his own clothes, and you understood, you opened your legs a little wider and let seungkwan penetrate you.

seungkwan on top of you was a sight you would hardly forget, his wet mouth biting and sucking your nipples as he pushed every inch inside… opening you up wide for him.

“you are so wet, fuck, can you feel my fat cock opening your tight hole? my princess being stretched by me?”

when you feels his balls hit your for the first time you moaned so loud that it scared you, and that only motivated him.

and he shoves once, twice, three, and on the fourth time he couldn't keep things slow any longer.

you knew seungkwan was strong due to the gym, but you didn’t expect him to fuck you as hard as he was doing at that moment.

“my pretty princess, you're going to be my toy now, hm? my personal whore”

and then he stimulated your nipple again, making your eyes roll back.

“can i fuck you all day now? please say yes, say that your cunt is mine!”

in all of the two years that you have know him, you never thought that you’d hear him talking in a such dirty way to you, however, it would be a lie if you said that you weren’t enjoying it.

“i want make you cum everyday, with every part of my body, my fingers, my cock, my mouth, my thigh, i will make you cum in every room and piece of furniture in this house”

seungkwan grips your hips tightly, the bed shaking with the speed at which things happened.

“i’m gonna-” you scream.

“oh, wait, please, can you wait? be my pretty girl and wait!”

you didn't understand why seungkwan asked you to wait, because in the next second he removed his fat cock from you and jerked off a few times, cumming on your belly.

he takes a deep breath, his body a little soft, and then he bends down, putting his tongue back into your hole (now opened by him).

“please, cum on my tongue, god, i need feel you so bad”

his arms made a kind of lock on your leg, you could barely move, and that was great because the next minute you were cumming.

“so sweet, so good!” he said as he swallowed every drop of your juice.

〰

“how are we now?” you ask.

“i know you are not feeling things in the same intensity, i won’t force you into anything. but can i at least take you on a date?”

“oh, even two if you want…”

everything would be fine, seungkwan is your best friend… (and future boyfriend, of course).

[thebiggerbear]

Close Enough

Summary: When you'd met the Shaws at the morgue the day before, you thought that had been the end of it and you wouldn't need to see one Shaw brother in particular again. Little did you know that Colter was about to once again ask for your help and not only would you be forced to see Russell again but things were about to change drastically for the both of you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x Female!FBI Special Agent!Reader

A/N: Sequel to So Close. I wanted to follow up and reveal what happened between Russell and the reader in the past but as I was writing it, this idea popped into my head in addition to that and I just had to see where it went. This was the end result lol. Hope it's okay.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I still have not seen Tracker (besides 1x12) because I just haven't had the time for a proper binge yet so if I got some things wrong about Colter and his experience in the show, I apologize.

A little disclaimer: I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Basically, I made shit up.

Songs I listened to while writing: Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye; Easy Loving by Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty; Sweet Dreams by Patsy Cline; Sounds of Someday by Radio Company

Warnings: sanctioned assassination; death; gun violence; graphic description of killing; violence/blood mention; mention of dead bodies; arson; implied sex; a trace amount of smut(ish?); language

Word Count: 16K+

Russell Taglist: @deangirl96 (I hope you don't mind me tagging you in this one; this is going to lead into the series that I mentioned on "So Close"); @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

This work was recc'ed by @winchestergirl2 here.

Your phone started to buzz and you glanced at the screen, rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh before picking up. That wasn’t the normal reaction you would have to seeing Colter’s name pop up on your phone but ever since that mess back at the morgue yesterday, you had been hoping he wouldn’t contact you again. At least not until his brother went back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of. But now it looked like that had been a fool’s hope, on both counts.

“You what?” You hissed.

“We’re about to head to this home in the Blue Ridge Mountains and go in to get Doug,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry, an incredible amount of stupid just sounded in my ear. Can you repeat that?”

“Reenie got me the location and it’s solid intel.” He lowered his voice. “Look, I thought we should get law enforcement involved, alright? But there’s a…valid reason why Russ doesn’t want to call them that I can’t get into right now.”

“Whoops, more stupid. One more time?”

Colter groaned into the phone. “Come on, Y/N.”

“I’m serious, Colter. What the hell are either of you think—wait, scratch that. What the hell are you thinking? Going into a dangerous location like that without any backup? If Carlos Solano found your missing man in a safehouse, do you think he won’t be armed to the teeth? That he won’t have guards patrolling the compound that you’re walking right into? That he won’t see something like this coming? You guys are walking right into a shitstorm.” Christ, you loved the guy like a long-lost brother that you sometimes kept in touch with but if he were in front of you right now, you would’ve delivered one good smack to the back of his head to get him thinking straight. Colter may know his way around a gun, but he wasn’t someone who had formal training or combat experience like Russell did. He didn’t even have your training and you wouldn’t be going in there kamikaze-style like they were.

“That’s why I’m calling you and asking you to meet us there. I’m not exactly calling in law enforcement but we’ll have one more person to watch our backs and help us search for Doug. And who better than a special agent with the FBI?”

You sat back in your chair, shaking your head but thinking it over. This was beyond stupid and you shouldn’t be encouraging it. Russell’s involvement in this idiot plan didn’t surprise you; Colter’s did. He knew better. But you also knew that if he thought he had a chance to get the missing guy back home safely, he was going to take it, no matter the personal risk. If you didn’t go like he asked and anything happened to him or Russell, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Please?” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, your decision made. “Send me the location and I’ll leave now to meet you.”

“Thank you.” You could hear the genuine gratitude in his tone. “I promise I’ll explain everything.”

“You better,” you nearly growled before disconnecting the call. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to tell you but for his sake, you hoped it wasn’t anything close to what you were thinking. But why else would Russell not want to call law enforcement for help in rescuing his friend who had been taken hostage by a foreign criminal? God, you hoped you were wrong.

You let out another loud sigh and before you could stand, your phone started ringing again. When you glanced at the screen, instead of a name, you saw “Blocked”. Not good.

You swiped green, holding it to your ear. “Y/L/N.”

“We have a problem,” said the voice on the other end, one you knew all too well, and it didn't sound happy. Shit.

You watched as Colter’s truck pulled up alongside your car. Colter got out and noticed you leaning against your trunk, arms crossed and a scowl in place. Russell came around from the other side. 

“Either of you boys see two suicidal idiots around here? Oh, wait.”

Russell’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t my idea to call you.” He slid a glare over to his brother. 

“You’re lucky he did,” you snapped. “And since I’m here,” You got to your feet and turned to open your trunk, revealing a smorgasbord of gear and weapons. “We’re going to be doing this my way.” You held out a bulletproof vest to Colter first and he immediately started to strap it on. You held one out to Russell but he shook his head and didn’t take it. You glanced over to find he had already put his own on while you’d been grabbing one for his brother.

“Okay, look,” Russell started, his eyes scanning your makeshift armory and setting your teeth on edge. “This isn’t some FBI raid of some drug gang. This guy, Carlos Solano, he’s the real deal. He’s as dangerous as they come.”

You could feel your irritation turning into anger at the suggestion that you didn’t know how serious this was, and from him of all people. “And what am I? Some part-time mall security guard? A receptionist at the Academy? I’ve dealt with cartels before and they’re as dangerous as they come, too. So take that mansplaining and shove it right up where the sun doesn't shine.”

Russell took a step closer and laid a hand on your shoulder, his eyes burning into you. “Be pissed at me all you want but I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But you’re okay with your brother getting hurt?” You briefly glanced in Colter’s direction. The younger man was watching you two carefully as he adjusted his vest one last time, wisely choosing to stay out of this one. 

Russell’s jaw clenched and he dropped his hand. “I’ve got him.”

You snorted and grabbed a gun, loading it quickly. “And I’ve got both of you. Now, we’ve got a bit of a hike so let’s cut the chit chat and get this over with, shall we?” You motioned for Colter to turn around and you inserted an extra handgun into the back of his belt. “We stick together as a unit. You hear me? No wandering off alone.”

Colter faced you again. “Yes, Mom,” he teased.

You swatted at his shoulder before checking the fit of his vest, nodding in approval.

“I have done this before, you know.”

You knew that already. You’d been there with him a couple of times for such instances. “Good for you,” you quipped. “But for kicks, how about you just humor me?”

He rolled his eyes and you smirked, turning to slam the trunk shut. You glanced up to find Russell watching you, his jaw still tight but his eyes containing a familiar light that you hadn’t seen in a while. “You good?”

“Yep.” And just like that, the light hollowed out, replaced by something far colder yet familiar, but not because you’d seen it in his gaze. You’d seen it often enough in your own when looking into the mirror. 

Pushing that thought away and shifting focus, you began to lead the way into the trees. “Alright, let’s do this and get Doug home in time for breakfast.” Colter flanked you on your right while Russell came up on your left. 

“Let’s rock and roll,” he agreed. 

It hadn’t been as bad as you’d been expecting, even after you’d received the intel Colter had referred to on the phone. One guard and three henchmen. You were annoyed and almost insulted that they had presented so little a challenge considering Carlos Solano was supposed to be this big bad criminal. But when you glanced over and saw Colter looking over Russell’s bloody jacket sleeve, you regretted the thought and gratitude immediately filled you that things hadn’t been worse. Russell had taken a bullet to the arm and thankfully, it had passed right through. 

Before you could shoot the bastard that shot him, Colter and Russell were on it. You watched in awe as the brothers moved as a single unit, almost as if they hadn’t been strained or missed a beat over the years. You supposed you should be happy that they were working together rather than still arguing over shit from a lifetime ago that had torn their family apart. For Colter’s sake at least.

Just then, you heard what sounded like a small plane outside. You hurried to a window and glanced outside, seeing a rapidly descending charter plane aiming for the tiny landing strip in the back of the property. Right on time.

You let the curtain fall and looked back at the guys. “Time to go.”

Doug’s face was ashen while Colter and Russell exchanged glances. Immediately, Russell picked up his gun and got ready to leave the room.

You rushed to stop him. “There will be none of that!” 

“You guys get Doug back to the truck. I’ll handle this.”

You practically jogged around him, planting yourself in his path. “Not happening.”

He glared down at you. “Y/N, I need to close this up. Move.”

You scowled right back. “You’ve been shot.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I have to finish this.”

You refused to budge. “You are not finishing anything. You’re getting the hell out of here, that’s what you’re doing.” 

“Y/N—”

“Guys, not the time,” Colter interceded. “He’s getting off that plane any second now, so what’s the plan?”

“She’s right, man,” Doug added, making both of your gazes snap over at him. “We really need to go.”

Voices suddenly sounded outside and you all glanced towards the window.

“Shit,” you muttered, quickly checking the chamber on your gun. As you were about to head out of the room, a hand grasped gently under your chin and forced your eyes to meet Russell’s. You could see the pleading there but also a stone-cold resignation. “Go with Colter and Doug,” he urged, giving you a brief but strained smile. “I need you to go.” You felt the rough skin of his thumb on your cheek as he moved it tenderly back and forth.

You knew what he was really telling you, what he planned to do, but hell if you weren’t more infuriated with him. You were so sick of the self-sacrificial bullshit. Hadn’t it cost you enough? Cost you both?

You pulled away from him, giving him a glare. “I don’t think you understand,” you said in a tone so cold you were pretty sure you could give the winds in Antarctica a run for their money. “I’m taking Solano in and I am not leaving until I have my suspect alive and in custody.” Russell looked pissed but you couldn’t care less. Better than him being dead in the next two minutes.

You turned to face Colter and Doug so they also got the message. “This case is under Federal jurisdiction now.” Colter glanced between you and his brother who you turned back to face. “I’m bringing him in. Got it?”

Russell went to say something but didn’t get the chance. The sounds of gunfire erupted right outside the room and you all had to duck for cover. 

You secured your handcuffs around Carlos Solano’s wrists that had been forced behind his back once you shoved him into the chair in the room, purposely tightening the metal bracelets past the point of comfort. The man reacted, cursing you out as you smirked up at him. 

Getting to your feet, you focused on the Shaws and Doug. Russell watched you with a glare while Colter waited for you to speak. Doug looked downright terrified. They had helped you to take down Solano’s men who had flown with him — all three of them. Russell aimed for Solano but at the last second, you got in his way and tackled the criminal to the ground. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy with you. Oh well. The feeling was mutual.

Colter placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, so how are we getting him back to the truck? Are we just going to drag him through the woods and hope we don’t come across anybody else he might have coming here? How are we going to work this?”

You slipped your gun back into your holster. “He doesn’t have anyone else coming here and the plan is that you three are going to head back to the truck and get out of here. I’m going to wait for a pickup,” You gestured towards the window with your thumb where the landing strip could be seen. “They’re nearby, waiting for my call, and they won’t take long to get here.” You shook your phone in your hand, indicating you were going to be using it.

Russell glanced around, as if expecting Agents to start popping up out of the woodworks at any second, before his eyes settled back on you. “So you called this in after all?”

You shrugged. “You were going into a fully armed compound to rescue a hostage, a two-man team against a crime lord on the FBI’s Most Wanted list? Yeah, of course, I did.”

He shook his head, chuckling and muttering a curse under his breath. “Of course you did,” he echoed, shooting a look over at his brother. 

Colter’s gaze flickered back to you. “We’ll wait with you until they get here.”

You offered up a small smile. “I appreciate it but not necessary. I’ve got this until they get here and I do the handover.”

“But—”

“Look, you should get Doug out of here.” You inclined your head in the direction of the man who was staring dazedly at the floor. “You need to get him checked out and your brother should get his arm looked at.”

“I’m fine,” Russell interjected.

You ignored him. “I’ll be alright, Colter. Believe it or not, you tend to get experience with this kind of thing once or twice before becoming a Special Agent.” You meant it as a light-hearted reassurance but you could tell that both Shaw brothers were going to be a hard sell. At least Colter’s reasoning was up front and above board.

“I’m sure but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone. Not with him.” Colter gestured towards Solano who spit in his direction.

“I won’t be for long. But you guys need to get out of here. The Bureau can’t know you were involved in this.” You shot him a meaningful look. “For multiple reasons.”

The younger man looked as if he was going to protest again when you held up a hand. “Colter. You may not like it but you need to do as I’m telling you. If the Bureau finds any of you here…” You could tell that he didn’t care so much about himself but you let your eyes briefly flick in Russell’s direction, who was busy glaring at the man you had bound to the chair. You saw Colter’s expression immediately change and you knew you had succeeded in convincing him to vacate the area as soon as possible.

He nodded his head in assent. “Okay.” He laid a hand on Doug’s shoulder, prompting the man to look up at him, and urged him to start moving to the door.

“Okay? What do you mean okay?” Russell huffed.

Colter held up a hand. “Russell—”

“No.” Russell turned a glare on you. “Not okay. He’s a loose end that needs tying up. He knows who we are now, he came after Doug, and the FBI isn’t going to do shit with him.” You narrowed your eyes in a glare but he continued. “That’s not an insult. It’s the truth and you know it. They’re going to what? Get him to talk, to roll over on someone else he has connections to who’s higher up their food chain, and he gets off scot free? No, not happening on my watch.” 

He took a step forward and so did you, in front of Solano. You drew your gun but held it loosely across your waist, your finger on the trigger, ready and waiting should you need it. Russell stopped cold, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the weapon in your hand. Colter and Doug were frozen, watching the scene unfold.

“I told you,” you said in the most deadly serious tone you could muster. “I’m taking him in, alive. If you have a problem with that, well…” You flipped the safety on the gun off. “You’ll have to go through me. And I promise you, my aim is a hell of a lot more accurate at close range than it’s ever been.”

Russell didn’t blink, he just kept scowling at you.

“Russ?” Colter called.

“Don’t make me kill you in front of him, Russell,” you murmured so only the two of you would hear. You were serious as a heart attack. No matter how you had felt about him once upon a time, this was important enough for you to make good on your threat if you needed to.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would and it will be justified by the higher ups as protection of a high-valued target before your body goes cold.” You hated saying the words but it was nothing but the truth that you spoke. You hoped he heard the message underneath your words: walk away, this isn’t worth dying over. “And he’ll be further traumatized,” you inclined your head in Colter’s direction. “Losing his brother right in front of him, just like he lost his dad.” You knew that was a severely low blow but he also needed to hear you. 

As expected, Russell’s jaw clenched and you saw a twitch in the good arm he had, the one that was holding his gun. “Don’t be stupid and do that to him,” you warned. “Walk away.”

That cold look was back in his eyes again. You mentally prepared yourself for what was about to go down. You had hoped he wouldn’t force your hand but then again, Russell Shaw had always been the epitome of stubborn, usually to his own detriment…and yours.   

“Russell?” Colter tried again.

“Russ, come on, man. Let it be for now,” Doug added in, trying to help. “And let’s regroup.”

This time, Russell appeared to hear them both, his gaze breaking from yours momentarily, flickering over Solano behind you, who was laughing and smirking in the former’s direction, clearly enjoying the standoff over him. 

Russell’s eyes met yours again but this time, there was nothing familiar about the green you used to stare into when he’d sway with you on the dance floor to a slow song playing overhead or when you’d both wear matching sated grins and laugh, a pleasant exhaustion overtaking you as he pulled you into his arms in a motel bed. It was almost like staring into a dark void and you couldn’t help but wonder how often that void showed up during war or if the war created it — the old chicken or the egg question. Either way, you knew you’d succeeded in convincing him to leave, but you’d also have to watch yourself. There was no warmth left in those jade-colored orbs when they focused on you. You’d done your work well; you’d crossed a line that you could never go back from.

“Alright,” he capitulated, loud enough that the two men near the doorway heard him. He relaxed his arm and slipped his gun into a pocket in his vest. His face lightened a little and a strained smile worked its way across his face. He glanced back at his brother. “She’s right. We should get Doug out of here.” He turned back to face you, his smile fading. “She’s got this.” He then glanced in Solano’s direction, smirking right back. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised, giving him a finger gun and winking, before his expression became stone once more and he walked away, glaring at you as he did.

You lifted your chin, not reacting in the slightest, until Solano shouted out, “You’ll be seeing me? No, puta, I’ll be seeing you. You’ll never see it coming, you hear me? You’ll never see it co—” You spun a few degrees and pistol-whipped him, causing the jackass to cry out in pain before you turned back to face Doug and the two most important men in your life. “Get going,” you growled out, lifting your phone with your other hand as a subtle threat.

Colter gave you a nod, the concern still there in his dark brown gaze as he led Doug out the door. Russell’s eyes never left you, even when he walked out the door a moment later, following his little brother’s lead. You never looked away even when he was past the threshold. 

You ignored Solano’s yelling threats and kept your eyes on the spot you had last seen the Shaws disappear through a few minutes longer than needed, tense and ready in case Russell decided to double back. Though you highly doubted he’d come at you from the same angle. A part of you was making sure you stayed prepared in case there was an ambush, yes, but another part of you knew your gaze was lingering on the spot because you knew things had now drastically changed between you and Russell forever. He would never forgive your threats and you would never forgive yourself for having to make them. Though that remorse was more related to Colter than his brother. Regardless, when it came to the Shaws now, you were fucked. Not even Dory would want to hear from you, not that she had all that much before, but now it was definitely a no go. And that saddened you tremendously.

Hearing more of Solano’s threats, you recentered your focus on the task at hand and prepared to wait, giving him one more pistol whip for good measure, before you settled in and kept both eyes and ears open for any possible ambush that might come your way before you could finish up here. 

You leaned against the workstation next to the chair, waiting, gun still in hand and your eyes focused on it. You had waited a certain amount of time to allow the boys to get out of the area.

“The soldado was right, you know. They’re not going to hold me,” Solano bragged.

You briefly closed your eyes in annoyance. He had been talking ever since you were left alone with him. He had offered you money to let him go, offered you riches and power that you knew for a fact he had no business offering. He even had the nerve to propose making you one of his new lieutenants, citing your fighting skills and gun handling that he’d briefly witnessed. He knew you would be able to protect him because you had from the asesinos who had killed his brother. He then changed tactics, threatening you, your loved ones, the men who just left…now, he was boasting about how he would walk free and whatever charges were thrown at him wouldn’t stick. You just wished he would shut the hell up already. Needless to say, it had been a long twenty minutes. You now understood why his brother had been the businessman and he was only the muscle willing to do the dirty work. His bargaining skills were for shit, not that it mattered in the scheme of things. No deals were being made today.

“I offer them a little bit of money and they’ll just make the case go away. Just like that.”

You checked your watch. Twenty two minutes now. That was good enough. You slowly got to your feet and moved past him to look out the window. You had purposely moved his chair out of the sight of the glass, in case Russell got any ideas.

“That’s how it works here in America. Everybody knows that. If the criminals have money and power, they don’t stay in jail.”

You ignored him, glancing around to see if there was any movement outside. You didn’t see any. 

“They won’t keep me locked up. They weren’t able to in my home country. What makes you think they’ll be able to here? Where corruption is ripe and anyone can be bought? And then I’ll be coming for you and for your friends. You will wish for death long before I am through with you.”

You made your way to another window, lifting the curtain and looking around. Still nothing.

“There’s no point in bringing me to jail. It will never hold me.”

You lowered the curtain and squared your shoulders, turning to face his direction. You focused on him, staring right into his eyes. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Solano seemed pleasantly surprised for a moment, thinking you were finally stupid enough to take one of his offers, before his eyes narrowed with realization. “No, wait—”

You quickly lifted your gun and squeezed off a round. His head snapped back from the force and the space behind him was spattered with red among other things. One glance confirmed your aim had been accurate; he was dead. Right through the eye. What you’d said to Russell earlier hadn’t been an exaggeration; you were much more accurate at close range than you’d ever been.

You slipped a pair of gloves on that you pulled from your pants pocket and immediately started unzipping the small compartments on the side of your vest where you usually kept extra ammo in a raid, pulling out small white bottles that weren’t sporting any labels. You began to squirt the liquid from inside them all around the room, dousing Solano’s body with a healthy amount.

You continued into the house, having quite a few bottles of lighter fluid to empty out in specific areas that would help achieve your goal. Arson wasn’t your preferred route but it did get rid of pesky little things like hair and DNA, and what it didn’t, it contaminated which would make it harder for not only law enforcement but the justice system to work with. Though you weren’t too worried about either looking at this particular house fire too closely.

You didn’t bother collecting any bullet casings, knowing that your gun and the ones you’d given Colter to use would be untraceable even if they somehow managed to get a hold of any of the weapons (which they wouldn’t). And Russell’s gun…you figured he had that handled. The only thing you did collect were your handcuffs. 

You also didn’t bother staging anything for the scene. There was already enough evidence that pointed to the theory that Solano’s own men had turned on him and a gunfight ensued, resulting in the multiple dead bodies. While an arson specialist would most likely be able to tell that an accelerant had been used, there was no way for them to confirm just who had been present for this battle and who had gotten away. Satellite imagery would be shoddy at best due to the foliage cover (and eventual smoke) but still, you planned to set the fire and make your getaway out the back, crossing over the landing strip so if they went back to look for any heat signatures after the fire started, it would be one person leaving the scene alive, the person they would assume had started the blaze. There were no nearby neighbors to immediately call first responders but that didn’t mean smoke wouldn’t be seen from the sky from miles away or that a fiery orange blaze in the distance wouldn’t be noticed by residents of another vacation home or cars traveling the backroads in the area. Since you planned to go into the deep woods and take the long roundabout route back to your car, you weren’t too worried about your path being followed.

Once you had completed all of your tasks, you used the fireplace to help, moving the grate out of the way, starting a fire, and then knocking a fiery log onto the wooden flooring. You used a lighter to set flammable materials that you could find to add to the flames. Only when the room was nearly engulfed did you finally slip a beanie from your pocket, cover your head fully, and make your way out of the house. Once at the landing strip, you ducked under the plane, making sure you couldn’t be seen from above. 

You watched as the flames consumed the house. Once the smoke was sufficient, flames were ragings out of the windows, and the sound of breaking glass could be heard, you knew it was time for you to vacate the vicinity before the sirens started up. It was fortunate that most people were asleep at this hour but the sun was due to come up not too long from now and you had a long trek ahead of you, so you needed to get moving.

You kept your head down and made your way into the woods surrounding the property line. 

The sun was breaching the horizon and quickly warming the sky by the time you made it back to your car. You were relieved that Colter’s truck was gone and you needed to quickly make tracks as well. Sirens had started up an hour ago and you needed to get the hell out of Dodge before the cops were all over these roads. You tossed your weapons and vest into the trunk and got in the car. You slipped your beanie off your head, tossing it onto the seat next to you, and started the engine.

Just as you had expected, cops were everywhere but thankfully, you had timed it just right and gotten out before they could block all of the mountain roads. Once you were back in town a few hours later and a certain distance away, you pulled a phone out of your glove compartment you kept there for emergencies and turned it on. You pressed a button and it immediately dialed the number programmed — the only number you had saved on this device. 

It rang once before the same voice from yesterday picked up. “Is it done?”

“We’re clear,” you confirmed. “It’s been handled.”

“Shaw?”

Your jaw clenched. You knew that despite how you and Russell had left things earlier, you would do whatever it took to keep him breathing. “He’s a soldier. He follows orders.”

“He wasn’t so willing to follow orders in this situation.”

“You know what they’re taught. Leave no man behind. He got his man so he’ll be fine. Things can go back to how they were. He’s not going to be an issue and he’s clean, just like you wanted.”

And then you were asked the one question you didn’t want to hear. “And the brother? What’s your assessment?”

The knuckles of your free hand gripped your steering wheel so tightly that you could see how white your skin turned from the pressure. “Non-issue. He has no interest in you.”

“He seemed interested yesterday.”

You forced yourself to remain calm and nonchalant. “He’s paid to be nosy when someone goes missing so he can get them found. He found who he was looking for, he was able to keep the promise to the guy’s wife — it’s over for him. The case is closed, it’s as simple as that for him. He’s no threat.”

You waited to hear a response, holding your breath and your hand gripping the wheel even tighter, your body tensed. This would be what decided your fate. Either you would be allowed to go on as before or you’d be going on a mission up against one of the top private security contractor firms in the world which wouldn’t end well for you. But you’d take out whoever you could with you before you were killed.

Another moment passed before the voice replied, “Understood.”

Your body relaxed slightly and your shoulders sunk in relief. Colter was safe. Russell was safe…for now. And you didn’t have to go all Rambo Kamikaze on anyone. Win-win all around.

“I’ll let the higher ups know the situation has been contained. Good work. We’ll be in touch.”

Without waiting for a response from you, the call disconnected. You quickly shut the phone off and tossed it back into its original spot. You let out a deep breath and the exhaustion from the past twelve hours immediately overtook your body. Deciding that returning to your place was not an option for you right now, you headed to another part of town, parked your car on the street some blocks away to the nearest motel, and using a baseball cap to cover your hair along with sunglasses, you hoofed it and then booked a room, paying cash and using a fake name. Once you set up everything you needed to in your quarters, you slipped onto the mattress and got some much needed rest, keeping your gun under your pillow within reach should you need it.

You pulled up to Colter’s trailer, watching as he stepped outside to greet you. You put your car in park, took a deep breath, and got out. You offered Colter a small smile. “Hey.”

He returned it. “Hey.”

You had been surprised when Colter called you a few days later to let you know he was still in town for a bit and invited you to drop by for a beer. Not surprised that he was still around (you already knew that) but surprised that he even wanted to speak to you. Perhaps Russell hadn’t told him what you’d threatened back in the mountains.

You took the beer he offered to you and followed him over to the firepit, taking a seat on one of the coolers. He sat nearby and held up his bottle in a toast. You mirrored him and then you both took a sip. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as the carbonated beverage slid down your throat. You enjoyed the taste and checked the label. “Mmm, home brew…not bad. You got something you want to tell me? Planning on opening some sort of brewery outfit anytime soon?” You were teasing but if Colter really was thinking of doing something else — anything else — instead of his current job, you’d fully support it.

“Not me.” Disappointment flared in your chest, your hope dashed. “Russ was actually the one who made it. I had some left over from the other night.”

The beer suddenly began to sour in your stomach. Well, you supposed it was good that Russell was starting to think of the future, the most important part of that being that there would be one. It still burned a bit, though.

You decided to change the subject so you wouldn’t have to think about that right then. “So, your guy is back home safe?”

Colter nodded. “Dropped him off myself.” Something else you already knew but you had to keep up appearances.

You nodded, biting your lip and staring into the flames. “And your brother?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Colter’s jaw tense for a moment. “Gone.” Though you had an idea that was the case, Colter’s confirmation still stung, like someone poking a finger into an old wound after ripping the scar tissue away. But what else had you expected? This was Russell Shaw you two were talking about after all.

You snorted and shook your head, taking another swig of beer. “Of course he is.”

He turned to look at you. “You know, you never told me what happened between you two.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not worth going into, trust me.”

Thankfully, Colter left it alone and he rolled with it when you brought up a different topic instead. 

“So, how much longer are you here for?”

“Teddi and Velma are working on that right now actually. Hopefully, something pops up soon.” He took another sip of beer, turning to gaze at the flames as well.

“It will.” Fortunately for him and sadly for others, someone would always go missing.

“How about you? Are they sending you somewhere for a new case or are they going to let you stay local for a bit? If it’s the latter, maybe you could get a dog for that place of yours?”

You smirked and ran your thumb down the smooth glass of the brown bottle in your hand. Colter kept teasing you about the residence you maintained nearby considering you were never really there most of the time. He’d then extoll the virtues of living on the open road, not having roots put down anywhere that would grow into expectations, and the unrestrained thrill of it all. The first time you’d had that conversation, you knew then that the desire to keep moving and stay unburdened must be a male Shaw thing. Dory seemed happy where she had settled and you — you wanted a home base. Some place you could come back to where you were still able to connect to yourself again, no matter how lost at sea you might be at times, no matter how much you felt as if every single piece of you was floating away on the wind until only a monster was left standing there, staring back at you in the rearview mirror of your car.

“Right now, I have a few things I need to close up,” you lied. “Then I’ll probably get sent out in the field again to work some cases.” You hated lying to him but you had no choice. His safety came first. As much as you had hated Russell for a time, you could now appreciate the difficult position he was in. Though, he had chosen to be put there, and now, so had you. 

You watched Colter nod, accepting your answer. “I still think a German Shepherd would be a great choice for you,” he teased. “You know, a big dog, trainable, would make a good guard dog. You could take it with you, chase suspects down together...”

“Oh yeah, I could see it now,” you played along. “I’d have to sneak him into hotel rooms, make sure he doesn’t take a shit on the rug… Then we’d go on the job and I could introduce him to everyone, ‘I’m Special Agent Y/L/N but you can call me Turner and this is my partner Hooch.’”

Colter winced. “No, no. You have to give him a name that will strike fear into the hearts of the criminals you track down. Like General or Commando or Killer. Killer! Now that’s a good name. That will make anyone think twice about running from a dog with that name.”

This time, you were the one who winced though you hid it well. Instead, you forced out a laugh. “I am not getting a huge dog named Killer and bringing him to work with me.”

He grinned. “That’s a shame. I would have loved to have seen the look on your face when the dog would sit in the front seat.”

“There would be no front seat sitting. Back seat only.”

“Like a criminal who he just helped you to arrest? That’s cold, even for you.”

“I am so glad that you have this imaginary dog of mine’s back.”

He snickered and took a drink, looking back at the flames. Your smile slowly faded as you did the same. You both sat there, drinking in a companionable silence for a bit.

Eventually, your eyes flickered over towards him. “I need you to promise me something.”

His brows drew together questioningly when he met your gaze.

“Horizon…” You noticed him tense slightly at the mention. “No more.” When you saw the confusion in his expression, you elaborated. “No more digging, no more Reenie asking her contacts about them, no more mention of them period. You got the guy you were looking for. Now, put it to bed and forget that you ever knew they existed.”

His confusion increased. “I did put it to bed the second I dropped Doug off at his door and saw him hug his wife.”

You gave him a look. “Col, I need you to promise me,” you softly entreated. 

His brows arched slightly at the use of the nickname; you didn’t use it often and if you were, then he knew you meant business. He also knew what you were telling him without explicitly saying it; Horizon was dangerous and they were better left alone. It would be better for him to get a case of sudden amnesia about anything related to the organization.

He watched you for a moment before giving you a nod. “As long as nobody else goes missing like Doug did and as long as Russ is okay, they’re forgotten.”

You knew that was the best you were going to get from him and you leaned forward slightly. “And if anything happens to Russ, I’ll be right there with you, knocking on their front door,” you promised. And you would be; no question about it.

The corner of his lips tipped up in the beginning of a smile and after a moment, you couldn’t help but return it. 

The coffee shop you were in was decently quiet considering it was around 8:55 in the morning and most people were making their last minute dashes for caffeine before the working day began. You sat near the window, facing the entrance so you could keep an eye on who came in and out. You had ordered your usual, a soy vanilla latte, and you carefully sipped at the hot liquid. You scanned your phone for the day’s headlines, looking for any updates on the mysterious house fire that started in the mountains a few nights ago.  

You knew you wouldn’t find any and sure enough, you didn’t. Someone was working overtime to squash the case from up above, just like you knew they would. You also knew that some local law enforcement officials didn’t buy the criminals-turning-on-their-boss theory and they actually thought the scene looked like a professional hit. Exactly what you figured would happen when accelerants had been found to be used at the scene. As much as you were sure the cops were looking to sink their teeth into something exciting to happen in those parts in however long, the bottom line was the case would get dropped and no one was going to care what happened to a violent criminal like Carlos Solano. The FBI would actually be relieved to remove one more name from their list, one more file from their desks. One more dangerous bad guy removed from the world that threatened American citizens as well as national security. No one was going to miss the murderous bastard.

You powered down your screen and placed your phone on the table, turning to glance out the window. That was when you saw him. Well, the reflection of him. 

You watched as he walked towards you, still dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and old boots, wearing another t-shirt with a different musician on it while sporting an open button-up over it, and donning that old military style jacket. His eyes were intent on you and you had to wonder how he had gotten in without you seeing him. The answer was in the reflection of someone walking past him to get to the bathrooms in the rear of the cafe. There was no exit located near there, you knew that because this was a local spot of yours, so how did he… Shit.

Even though you watched him in the glass and he watched you back, you didn’t give anything away to alert him that you knew he was there. You started calculating in your head how many people stood in between you and the front door (your only exit at this point), how much force you would have to use to catch him off guard and knock him to the ground so you could make your escape, and how fast you would have to run to your car. You even had a moment to debate drawing your gun and your badge, and making a scene to get yourself out of this mess. But all of that proved to be for naught when he came to a stop near you and announced his presence by asking, “This seat taken?”

You slowly turned to face him, arching an inquisitive brow, but you eventually shook your head. His lips twitched into the beginning of a smirk and he took the seat across from you. His eyes were a lot lighter than they were the other day as they took you in. “Looking good, Y/N. Like always.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Really?”

He shrugged and reached for your coffee, taking the lid off. You hated it when he did this, the whole sharing coffee thing; now you would need to order another one…well, depending on how this impromptu meeting went. “What, I can’t tell my girl that she looks good?” He took a sip and made a face. “How do you still drink this crap? It tastes like foam mixed with shit.”

“And free garbage coffee from the lobby of the latest scuzzy motel you’re staying in doesn’t?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. They have real nice machines now and it tastes the way coffee should. Not like this bullshit.”

You watched as he grabbed a spoon, added some sugar, and began stirring the crap out of what had once been your perfect latte. You thought over what he’d said before. “I’m not your girl, Russell.” His eyes met yours. “I haven’t been for some time now.”

He finished stirring and removed the spoon, lifting the glass to take a sip. “You’ll always be my girl.”

You snorted and lifted a finger in the air to signal to the barista that you wanted another coffee. The kid gave you a nod and turned to make it. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re hooking up with cheerleaders-turned-dental-hygienists in hot tubs?”

Russell pressed his lips together and looked appropriately chastised, not even bothering to deny it. “Colter told you. I should’ve known he would mention it. You two were always close like that.”   

You didn’t confirm or deny that. There was no point in mentioning that Colter hadn’t been the one to tell you, not intentionally anyway. Instead, you leaned forward in your chair. “What do you want, Russell?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” You snapped. You had been on edge, thinking he was here to either kill you or threaten you. Then him hitting on you and making that asinine and incredibly presumptuous statement bothered you more than you cared to admit. Not to mention he pissed you off when he took the latte you’d decided to treat yourself with after a few difficult days (without even asking you might add), knowing how that had irked you anytime he did it when you were dating. It was like the man was begging you to put a foot in his ass.

Russell glanced around briefly before removing something from inside his jacket. It was a folded up newspaper and he slapped it down in front of you. A picture of a burnt out structure stared back up at you with the headline reading above it “House Fire Claims 8 Lives, Sheriff Confirms Arson”. Your eyes met his and in that moment, you knew that he knew.

You refused to give it away just like that, though. If he wanted the truth, he’d have to work for it. He wasn’t getting anything for free, not from you, not anymore. You gave him a smirk. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve finally learned to read, Russ? I’m impressed, really.”

Instead of being insulted, his eyes widened slightly. “You called me Russ.”

You sat back in your chair, pushing the newspaper away from you and prying eyes, waiting for the barista making his way over to you to deliver your coffee. “Slip of the tongue. Won’t happen again.” You smiled at the young kid in thanks when he placed the drink down in front of you and promptly slid your glass out of Russell’s reach. He saw it and immediately worked to smother a smile as the kid walked away.

“So, you got any more interesting tricks I should know about?”

Without any preamble, Russell said, “Solano’s dead,” the exact second you took a sip of your new coffee. If he was expecting any reaction to the news, he was in for disappointment when you didn’t give it.

“Yes, I heard. Quite unfortunate.”

“They’re all dead actually. Even that guard we subdued in the beginning.”

You remembered; you’d been the one to kill him after all. Once Russell and Colter got to their feet after knocking the guard out and started moving towards the house, you quietly pulled a knife and slipped the blade into the side of the man’s head. You’d cut his zip ties, removed them and the gag, and then caught up to the guys — all within seconds. You had made sure to move the guard’s body inside later, right before you’d started the fire, trying your best to get rid of any drag marks you’d left on the ground. You were there to clean up the mess, not leave witnesses, even if they had never seen any of you coming.

You nodded. “I know, I heard that, too. Is there a point here somewhere or can I get back to the nice morning I was having before you showed up to steal my coffee?”

Russell was the one to lean forward this time, lowering his voice even further. “You said you were calling in the FBI for a pickup. Who did you really call?”

You could tell he was trying to give you an out, an opportunity to explain that it wasn’t what he was thinking, and maybe you should have lied your ass off…but you no longer wanted to. You knew Russell; he wasn’t going to let this go until he had an answer that he deemed to be the truth. And while you could give him a distorted version of that truth that didn’t land at your feet, a petty part of you wanted him to know. 

“Y/N?” He pressed. “Who did you call?”

You sat back in your chair, considering him for a moment before you spoke. “No one.”

Russell dropped his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Fuck, I was afraid of that.” He glanced up at you, his eyes full of a sadness you hadn’t seen in some time. You knew he wouldn’t be happy if he ever found out the truth, but not to this extent. “I told you to walk away and let me handle it.” His voice was softer, not as gruff as before. You realized then that you’d accomplished what that vindictive side of you had wanted all along, ever since the day he walked away; you’d hurt him and caused him pain. Pain that you could see clear as day lining his face right now. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. And quite frankly, that pain caught you off guard. After all of this time, this is what it took for him to feel even a sliver of what you’d felt back in the day when he’d left you bleeding, your heart torn from your chest and sitting in pieces on the floor he’d just casually walked over to get to the door?

Not really sure what to make of this development or the emotions it caused to rise up within you, you went into pure professional mode and forged ahead. “The three of you didn’t need to be involved.” You could see the pain getting worse and it made you uncomfortable, something prodding at your chest and itching at your skin that you really didn’t care for. “Besides, last I checked, I don’t take orders from you, Shaw.” You threw his last name in there as a last resort to put even more distance there between you.

His eyes flicked from the newspaper to you. “Who do you take orders from then? Something tells me this wasn’t FBI-sanctioned.” 

You surreptitiously glanced around you before leaning in, lowering your voice.“You know, going to your handler’s house during her kid’s birthday party was a pretty bad idea. Ann really didn’t like that.” You watched as Russell’s eyes widened slightly before his face fell, a dreaded realization filling his expression. He had never mentioned her name to you before and he knew Colter hadn’t mentioned her to you either when giving you the rundown of what they knew before meeting up in the mountains. You sat back, tensed and ready for whatever came next. 

His jaw clenched. “How long?” He ground out.

“Long enough.”

You kept your gaze trained on his and you did your best to read him, trying to assess what he might do, now that the pain was all but absent since your revelation. Would he tell you to watch your back and leave? Would he tell you to stay away from Colter for good? It was hard to gauge from the way he was staring at you right then. You could see anger bubbling underneath but you also caught something coming to the surface that strangely looked like remorse. Considering you hadn’t seen that emotion on him too often, it was tough to be sure in your identification of it. And then something flickered in his eyes right then, something so fast you almost didn’t catch it, but you did. Fear that quickly dissolved into determination. You braced yourself for whatever he would say or do; this was it. This would determine your next steps.

Instead, he surprised you once more. He snatched the newspaper up and slipped it back into his jacket, before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “I’m getting you out of here. Now. Let’s go.”

Stunned, you wordlessly got to your feet but then it hit you, you were about to go somewhere alone with him. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself but he had still been Special Ops once upon a time and he killed people for a living…just like you. 

“Russell, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he growled. “I’m getting you as far from here as I can. I’ve got a buddy who has a cabin in upstate New York. It’s got months-long supplies, power and running water, and a small armory. You’ll be safe there until this whole thing blows over.”

You yanked your hand out of his and grabbed your phone and jacket. “I’m plenty safe here. I have no reason to run, so I’m staying. You want to leave? Go right ahead. We both know it’s what you’re best at.” The sadness was back but you looked away from it. Yes, that had been another low blow but it was also well-deserved. You moved past him, refusing to look over your shoulder even once. There was no way he’d do anything out in the open; he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially now.

You slipped into your car, not surprised in the least when Russell got in on the other side before you could even think about locking the doors.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“What’s it look like?” He clicked his seatbelt. “I’m staying with you until you agree to my plan to get you someplace safe or you explain how the hell this even happened.” He pulled out the newspaper, holding it up for a moment before tossing it to the floor. You could see the determined set to his jaw and you knew he meant it. 

“Russell,” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I do not have time for this.” You blew out a quiet breath and turned to face him. “Now I suggest you get out of my car or—”

“You’ll shoot me?” He shot you a look. Yeah, he was still pissed about the threats you’d made a few nights ago. You supposed you couldn’t blame him but you did what you had to do to get him and his brother out of there. You had regrets but they were slim. “We both know you won’t.”

That infuriated you and had you seething. “You think I won’t?”

“I know you won’t. Just like I know that no matter how much you tell yourself that you hate me, you really don’t.”

You scoffed out a laugh in disbelief. “Wow, you really are incredibly delusi—”

“I also know you would never do that to my brother.” Your glare in his direction intensified. “You’ve always been protective of him. Just like me.” A glimmer of a fond smile worked its way onto his bearded face.

Your jaw clenched and you looked away from him, back towards the coffee shop you had just stormed out of, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. It was true; you’d always looked out for Colter in some way ever since you’d gotten to know him through Russell. 

While the relationship between the brothers had been strained for years, it didn’t mean that there hadn’t been a couple of times where Dory hadn’t attempted to get them into a room together to try to fix what had been broken. In one such instance, Russell had brought you along, after shocking you by asking you two nights before to accompany him. The man had spent over a decade in the military, worked Special Ops, and there wasn’t much he was afraid of, if at all. But when you were wrapping leftovers to throw into the fridge and he’d laid a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him, you’d never seen Russell Shaw look so worried, vulnerable, and damn near terrified in all of the time you’d known him. You’d even felt it when he’d enfolded you into his arms and whispered into your ear that he was due to meet up with his family in the next two days, asking you to come with him. How could you say no to that? You knew of the family’s tragic history and the simmering tensions that still existed between the Shaws who were still alive; Russell had told you everything, even about how his mom had hung him out to dry (though he made excuses for her which made you grind your teeth). And for him to ask you to go, to meet his family, you knew then just how important this was for him. So you went, squeezed his hand in silent support whenever he appeared to need it, and did your best to provide distraction whenever things got a little too tense or heated. Dory didn’t care for you too much; you got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t happy Russell had brought an interloper to a family-only discussion. But Colter…Colter you got along with from the start. 

Colter seemed happier to talk to you than his brother and you could tell that bothered Russell tremendously. He had told you once how much he missed his siblings at times, especially his little brother, and he would never stop hoping to patch things up with them one day. Sure enough, he tried to interject into the conversation a few times with you helping as much as you could, but each time Colter shut him down. It was blatantly obvious that the younger man wanted nothing to do with him and there was definitely some resentment still floating around after years of estrangement. Needless to say, things hadn’t ended well at that dinner and you weren’t surprised that Russell drank a little heavier that night. Nor were you surprised when he grasped at you in the hotel room and pulled you to him, his lips claiming yours as he began unbuttoning your shirt and moving you towards the bed. You knew he was hurting and you let him take solace in you as you whispered loving assurances in his ear. 

After that, Colter surprised you by calling you a couple of months down the road, apologetically asking for your help on a case he had picked up. Though he didn’t know you well, he was in a rough spot and needed a helping hand, particularly a Federal one. You saw the opportunity for what it had been, an opening of a possible door between him and Russell, so you took it. You helped Colter as much as you could without risking being read the riot act by your superior, and you two got to know each other better as you worked together. It happened a few more times and you had even called Colter in to assist on a case of your own that you had snagged. You had gone for beers afterwards each time and you’d tried your best to talk to him, to convince him to give Russell a chance. He hadn’t been interested, was resistant to it even, but he liked you and he was starting to trust you a little more each time. He’d even reluctantly admitted once that he was glad his brother had you, immediately following up with “He better be treating you right, though.” You had simply smiled and assured him that Russell very much was. 

You didn’t mention the odd absences a few times a month (sometimes with little to no warning), the radio silence during these stints, and the avoidance of any penetrating questions upon his return — all of it that had become conditional to your relationship by that point. And Russell certainly wasn’t happy at all to find out you’d been working with Colter once you told him. You both had arguments before like any common couple but nothing like this. You had never seen him so angry and he’d laughed when you told him he had no need to be jealous if that was what he was worried about, you loved him and you were trying to make things better for the both of them, to pave the way for him to be able to make peace with his brother. 

“You just don’t get it.” 

He had shaken his head and glared over at you before he walked out of the room, away from you. From then on, Russell became even more secretive, distant, and cold as ice. Gone was the easy affection, heart to heart talks, and playful banter between you. Gone were the tender touches, gentle kisses, and passionate sex. The love of your life turned into a stranger right before your very eyes. It hadn’t been too long after that when he’d left for good, leaving your heart shattered on your hardwood floor. As time passed, you were surprised he hadn’t just packed up and left in the middle of the night while you were sleeping, without a single word to you and completely ghosting you, since he had been intent on leaving you in his past. It might have been kinder actually compared to the things he’d said to you as a final goodbye before walking away for good. 

So whenever you had dared to think back on it over the last few years, you’d always figured the fight over Colter had contributed in some way to the rapid unraveling of your relationship. Well, that fight and…other things.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Russell urged, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Come on, Y/N, you owe me that at least.”

You turned the most menacing glare on him that was possible for you to give someone. “I don’t owe you shit,” you bit out. How dare he say that? To you of all people?  

His jaw tightened and after a moment, he agreed with a soft nod. “Fair enough.” 

You broke away from his intent gaze a minute later, your decision made as you turned the car on. “You know what? If this will get you out of my life for good this time, then fine. Let’s talk. And don’t be so sure I won’t shoot you afterwards should you continue to piss me off. You’re right, I do care about Colter,” You scowled over at him. “But not that deeply.”

Russell matched your scowl but wisely kept quiet as you backed your car out of your parking spot. You felt an immediate surge of guilt for having said that about his younger brother. You did care about Colter, more than you would ever admit to anyone, even your ex. There was nothing remotely romantic between you two; there never had been and there never would be. But Russell had been right; you were protective of him. Not only because he was a good man but he also reminded you of someone you had lost long ago. You would bend over backwards to keep him safe (as safe as you could given his chosen career), even if it meant putting yourself in harm’s way. He had truly become like a brother to you. 

But you had also meant what you said just now. If Russell continued to irritate you, there was no way he was leaving this time without you putting a bullet in him. Right in his ass before the door could hit it when he turned his back on you for the last time. That or a good old fashioned ass kicking in the form of your right hook. After everything he’d done, he deserved nothing less.  

You pulled up to a local motel that you had booked a room at the last few days, in case you needed to close up shop and haul ass out of town quickly. It wasn’t the same establishment you had gone to the morning of the fire and you still had your place thirty minutes away, but you had learned it was always best to prepare for any eventuality. Especially after a job needing to be done so close to home. You had seen what happened with Doug; who was to say Horizon wouldn’t leave you out to dry, too, should the heat from the fire get a little too close?

You got out and headed over to the door, unlocking it and stepping inside, not looking back to see if Russell was following you. Neither of you had spoken on the ride over (which was probably for the best) and you didn’t glance at him once. Instead, you had done your damndest to tamp down the fury you felt racing through your veins as more and more memories played out in your mind. Now that Russell had a vague idea of the truth of what you had been doing all of this time, everything you had ever wanted to say to him seemed to be trying to rush to the surface as well as all of the pain you had endured.

You slipped your suit jacket off and tossed it onto the bedspread. You heard the door shut behind you and you spun around, seeing Russell’s eyes scanning the room, stopping on the bed, and then lifting to you. You scoffed and unbuttoned the sleeves of your blouse, rolling them up to your forearms. “Not happening so don’t even think about it,” you hissed.

“Wasn’t going there.”

You didn’t believe him. “Right.” You took a seat at the table and impatiently gestured to the seat across from you. “Well?”

He sat down and without missing a beat, dove right in. “How the hell did this even happen, Y/N?”

“Really? That’s what you’re starting out with?”

Russell shot you a look.

You let out an aggravated sigh and sat back in your chair, crossing your legs and getting comfortable. “I was recruited, not too long after you left.”

His jaw dropped. “They approached you?”

Nodding, your jaw tightened thinking back to that time. It wasn’t a memory you liked revisiting. You were at your lowest, Russell having just walked out like the four and a half years you’d spent together hadn’t meant a damn thing to him. He had been it for you. You had put everything you had into the relationship, which proved to be a difficult balancing act sometimes between your career at the Bureau and Russell’s job that he wouldn’t tell you too much about. You both had overcome so much together…all for him to tell you that he simply didn’t love you anymore, give you a shitty apology, and walk right out the door years later. Like you had simply been an amusing distraction, nothing more. Like you had merely been a stopping point in his journey and now he was bored and moving on. The breakup would’ve hurt regardless but the cold detached manner he’d spoken to you with caused more pain than you would have ever been willing to admit. It was a good thing you had already become a Special Agent by then, not stuck to any one location or field office, given how often you were hungover for some weeks there. You had attempted to track him down (which hadn’t been easy) to try to talk to him, to make him see reason; you didn’t believe that he had stopped loving you just like that. But when you had finally located him, he had been holed up in a dingy motel, similar to this one, but he wasn’t alone. That had hurt beyond words and it had taken everything for you not to say anything, not to let him see you, and turn back around, heading home with your tail between your legs and your head hanging in heartbroken defeat. 

None of it made sense to you. How had your life changed so drastically in a single day? Perhaps you had never really known Russell Shaw. Perhaps you only saw what he wanted you to see. But when you replayed the last few weeks of your relationship, even the fight over Colter, something still wasn’t jiving. So you buried yourself in work during the day and as deep into the bottle as you could during the late nights. Until they showed up.

“And you said yes?” He asked in disbelief.

Your eyes flicked to Russell, narrowing. “Why not? You did.”

He pressed his lips together. You had him there and he knew it. “That was different.”

“How?” You snapped. “Exactly how is that different, Russell?”

“I joined them long before you and I met.” Yeah, you knew that now. You knew everything he hadn’t told you the time you’d been together, minus the actual details of the off the books missions he went on. You now knew why Doug had never told Tracy anything either. Not only were they not allowed to, but It was safer that way.

“Well, bully for you, Shaw. You’ve got a few years on me at being a black ops agent and you’ve racked up a few more bodies than I have. Told way more lies, too. Congrats. Do we get you a cake or…?”

He leaned forward, covering your hand with his. “Stop. Just…talk to me,” he pleaded gently.

You hated it when he did that because you hated that it still affected you on some deep level. You rolled your eyes and moved your hand from underneath his, placing it in your lap. “They approached me about six months out from when you left.”

“Who approached you?”

Yeah, you weren’t giving him that. If you did, you knew he’d be on their doorstep in a second and that you couldn’t have. Not after you had just cleaned up the Solano mess and smoothed things over. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” You knew that, could see it in his expression, but too bad. You both were in it now, had signed NDA’s, and details like that were meant to stay confidential anyway. 

“Someone did and that’s all you're getting.” You gave him a meaningful look. “Regardless, they offered me a job and I took it.”

You watched as Russell’s features tightened. “And the FBI thing?”

“Still active, though I’m now kept more as an ear to the ground, providing information and cleanup when need be.” You noticed a slight wince cross across his face. “They’re the ones I answer to and they’ve chosen to keep me there for the time being. I’m more effective in that setup.” Those words from your handler still burned you but over time, you had been able to adapt and utilize their refusal to fully bring you in to your advantage.

“And Solano and his men? Were they cleanup?”

You didn’t break away from his penetrating gaze and gave it to him straight. “You and Doug made quite a mess of things. So, yes, I was called in to clean it up.” He briefly closed his eyes in the same pain you had seen earlier, though you couldn’t fathom why. It had been nearly three years since he’d last professed to give a shit about you. Why would this even affect him? “Horizon wanted you kept clean and Doug was on his own. Then you idiotically showed up at Ann’s residence, not only tipping them off to the fact that you were sniffing around where you shouldn’t have been but then you allowed Colter to threaten them. You had to know that was going to ruffle quite a few feathers and put a target on your backs.”

His jaw clenched again and that dark void was back in his gaze. His fingers twitched near his phone and you knew he was itching to call his brother to check on him. “And they sent you to clean that up, too?”

You slowly shook your head. “No.” If they had, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Most likely, you’d be dead while Colter and Russell would hopefully be on the run or have gone into hiding. “Only to assess what threats you both posed to the organization.”

“And what was your assessment?” He watched you carefully. In this moment, you weren’t former lovers. You were two people with lethal skills and training, willing to do whatever it took to keep your loved ones safe, even from each other. 

You never broke away from his gaze, watching him back just as carefully. “What do you think?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, looking pensive and most likely turning your words over in his mind. You weren’t going to say it but knowing that gnawing feeling of constantly worrying about someone you cared deeply about, you wanted to make sure you both were on the same page of this topic. “And, Russell, if they had sent me for that, I never would.” His gaze immediately met yours. “Ever,” you promised. 

His eyes roamed over your face, most likely assessing if you were bullshitting him or telling the truth. Obviously having decided on the latter, after a minute or so, he gave you a nod. “How do you know they accepted your assessment, though? There’s no way they don’t know about you and Colter, you and me…”

This time, your jaw was the one clenching. Yeah, you were made aware of that fact when you had been approached for recruitment. That was how they knew about you, your career as a Federal agent, and how you had been involved with Russell once upon a time. When you found out more about Horizon from the inside, it didn’t surprise you one bit how deeply they dove into the background of their candidates or the amount of information they gathered on them. You’d even helped put together a few files yourself, without fully knowing what unit the candidates were being considered for of course. They kept a close watch on their assets and that was putting it lightly. 

So when you got involved with Russell, completely oblivious to what you were really getting into, Horizon had already scoped you out as well as Colter, Dory, their mother, Bobby, Reenie, Teddi, Velma — everyone. Even Colter’s on-again/off-again, Billie, and the mysterious circumstances of the death of the boys’ father. They knew it all. Horizon didn’t like surprises and you supposed you couldn’t blame them considering their line of work, but it also meant that you and everyone you cared about needed to be extra careful. 

It was one of the many reasons you couldn’t completely forgive Russell, though you now understood why he’d walked out when he did. Things had unraveled so badly between you that you’d started quietly digging into Horizon, not trusting what Russell had told you prior. Back then, you thought you’d find only what Russell had claimed: private security, perhaps a couple of Special Ops situations where an American hostage was retrieved in another country, or worse: he was lying to you and having an affair. Now, you knew he had told you the truth — a very scrubbed, limited version of the truth that omitted most of what he really did for the outfit. You remembered what he’d told you about a week and a half before he left. 

“You need to stop digging.” 

You looked upon him with confusion. One minute, you had been having a very tense and silent dinner where you could only hear forks scraping against the plates every so often, and the next, Russell was glaring over at you, speaking cryptically. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You need to stop looking into Horizon and leave it alone. I mean it, Y/N. Let it be.” His eyes bored into you with warning before he got up from the table and took his plate into the kitchen, leaving you to finish your meal alone.    

Normally, you wouldn’t have listened, determined to get to the bottom of Russell’s mysterious employer, but considering how your relationship was hanging by a thread at that point, you did. Despite the warning bells going off in your head, you did as exactly as he said: you let it be. 

You suddenly remembered Russell’s question to you. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

Russell affected a slow nod, thinking it over. “And Colter?”

“I told them he’s no threat,” you murmured. “I talked to him, told him to forget they exist. He agreed as long as you were safe.”

For the first time since this conversation started, you could see Russell start to relax a bit, relief saturating his features. Even a small smile started to light up the tension in his face. While you could understand the feeling, share it even, something about it had you on your feet, walking over to the small refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water from the six pack you had tossed in there when you booked the room. You held one up in an offer but Russell shook his head. 

“I’m good.”

You shrugged, unsurprised, and twisted off the cap, taking a drink. It made sense that he was still being cautious. Before you knew it, though, he was standing in front of you, that pleading yet determined look in his eyes again. 

“I want to get you out.”

You snorted. “There is no getting out, Russell. Not for me, anyway. Not until they’re done with me.”

He took a step closer and gently took the water bottle from you, placing it on the counter, and grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “There’s always an exit strategy,” he murmured. “I never wanted this for you, Y/N. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. That’s why I left.”

Yeah, you knew that now, too. “I know that now. Why you wouldn’t tell me certain things about your job, but, Jesus, Russell. Did you really think they didn’t already know about me and who I was to you? Colter even? Dory? Your mom?”

He let out a deep sigh and hung his head, letting your chin go. “I know. I… It was a good fit for me at the time, the money was good — that’s why I hooked Doug up with them. But seeing how they hung him out to dry at the first opportunity and now you,” He tenderly ran his thumb along your cheek. “I’m seriously starting to rethink that decision.”

You pulled away from him. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t unring that bell.” You made your way back over to the bed and yanked your duffel bag from underneath it. You unzipped it and began rooting through it to make sure you had everything you needed for a quick getaway. You didn’t think you needed to go anywhere but now this location was blown for you since you had made the decision to let Russell know about it. You had already triple checked your stash when you left it here upon check-in but you needed something to focus on instead of the clear regret in Russell’s face. “And as for me, I made my decision.” You pulled out a gun from a secret compartment, checked the clip to make sure it was full, and slipped it back inside. “I’m good with it. I’ve used it fully to my advantage and I make good money, more than I was ever going to make at the Bureau, even if they fast-tracked me to Deputy Director. Solano was on our Most Wanted List for twenty six days and I took him out in one. Had he possibly gone free, there’s no telling what he would have done, who he would have hurt besides Doug.” You knew exactly what he would have done and who he would have hurt; he’d told you in explicit detail. You didn’t go into it but Russell wasn’t stupid (not when it came to things like this anyway). He most likely knew as well. He’d wanted to close up Solano as a loose end himself after all. “That kind of cleanup I can more than live with.”

Russell carefully approached, his eyes on the second gun you had pulled out and were checking. “I get that and I more than appreciate what you did with Solano. For Doug, for Colter and me.” Once you slipped the weapon back into its pocket, he laid a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look over at him. “You can’t tell me, though, that this is what you want for your endgame. Not really.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have an endgame, Russell. Maybe I did once but you took that the second you walked out the door, acting like everything we’d gone through meant nothing to you, like I meant nothing to you.” 

There was that remorse again and you despised it. “I’m sorry, I…handled that badly,” he admitted.

“Handled it badly?” You laughed in disbelief. You shirked his hand off of you and moved to the night table, yanking the drawer open to rip out the bible sitting in there. You opened it to the area you had cut out to hold emergency cash and cards, just like Russell had taught you once upon a time. “You told me I’d been nothing to you but a fling for the past four years, that you might have loved me once but you didn’t anymore. That I was…how did you put it? A fun distraction.” You slammed the bible shut and tossed it back into the drawer before closing it. You hurried back over to the bag, throwing the funds inside another secret compartment, more than done with this conversation.

“You’re right, I fucked up. I only said those things to—”

“Cut the cord, yeah, I know. Still doesn’t make it right,” you muttered, roughly zipping the duffel back up. 

“I wanted you to be safe. You were digging into them, even after I told you not to! And worse, you were pulling Colter into it!”

That quickly got your attention and you spun on your heel, jabbing a finger in the air at him. “Don’t you fucking dare lay Colter at my feet. Especially after what you just pulled last week. It wasn’t me hauling him into Doug’s case! Not to mention, way before you met me, the minute you took that job, you put everyone you knew on their radar and you know it! So don’t you fucking dare. I have been doing everything I can to make sure Colter is safe and doesn’t pull their attention, poring over every case he takes in the background to ensure they’re not involved or have any vested interests that are. Hell, I even just used a contact of mine to float a case over to Teddi and Velma to get him out of town and far away from here to continue keeping him safe. Me, Russell! Me! And what did you do to keep him safe? You blow back into town and not only put him even more on their radar, you deliver him right to their goddamn doorstep! So don’t you dare even try to put that on me,” you finished in a snarl. 

Shame lurked at the corners of his eyes and you scoffed in disgust, whirling around to grab your jacket from the bed before picking up the duffel bag and slinging the handle over your shoulder. “So glad we had this talk,” you sniped. “Now go have fun with the cheerleading dental hygienist or Reenie,” You could see more shame looking back at you. Unlike the hot tub conquest, Colter had actually told you about that one. You could tell how much it was bothering him and you knew he wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise, knowing it wasn’t something you really wanted to hear. “Or that bartender you holed up with three weeks after you walked out on me,” Now you could see surprise; you could care less. “Or whoever you want. But me? I’m done. Have a nice life, Russell Shaw, and try not to get killed before you get out to start your little brewery operation. Oh, and try to manage not to get your brother or me killed in the process, yeah? Thanks ever so much. See ya.” 

You were walking towards the door when you were grabbed and whipped around. Before you could react, Russell was on you, his mouth covering yours and his hands gripping your face. “I love you,” he breathed against your lips after breaking away to let you catch your breath. “I’m sorry I said what I did back then but it wasn’t the truth. It took everything I had to walk away but as long as you were safe, that was all that mattered to me. I fucked up and I am sorry. I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not ever.” 

He wiped at your cheeks and you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying. Shit. Well, that was embarrassing. Even more embarrassing was how much you wanted to believe him. You knew he was telling the truth about why he walked away, how he wanted to keep you safe, but it obviously hadn’t been as difficult for him to move on as it had been for you. “No, you don’t,” you choked out. “If that were true, you would have never walked out that door.” Your voice wobbled on those last few words and you hated it, hated how vulnerable you were being to him right now.

You wiped at your own cheeks and turned around, ignoring the pleading you saw once again in his eyes. 

“Y/N, please,” he ground out.

You kept moving towards the door. As you laid your hand on the door handle to turn it, you were whipped around one more time and he was kissing you yet again, your back pressed up against the wood. Except this time, you finally threw in the towel and gave in to what your damaged heart had been wanting all of this time. You buried your fingers in his hair and kissed him back just as passionately, not caring that more tears rolled down your cheeks as you did. He yanked the duffel bag from you and let it fall into a heap on the floor before lifting you up and turning to carry you over to the bed. You knew this was going to hurt like hell later but you refused to put a stop to it. You’d find a way to numb the pain when it ripped you open a second time, just like you always had. 

The only thought running through your mind as he laid you down and ripped your blouse open, sending buttons flying everywhere, was that you had been right. You knew the bastard had been lying earlier when you’d caught him looking between you and the bed. But right then as he lifted away from you to quickly shed his top layers and then dove back down to kiss you again and melt into you, your fingers greedily relearning every inch of his bare skin, you couldn’t care less.   

You reached your hand over, tenderly running a finger along the edges of the bandage on Russell’s arm. “Does it hurt?” You murmured.

“A little.” He turned his head to smile down at you. “More than worth it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his chuckle at you gently pushing his head away, and turned onto your back. Russell embraced you with his other arm, pulling you into him. You rested your ear against his bare chest, hearing his steady heartbeat and settling your gaze on the ceiling above you. He pressed a kiss to your head, letting his lips linger against your hair, as his thumb rubbed your shoulder back and forth.

After a few minutes of content silence between you, you put voice to the question resounding in your mind. “How did we get here, Russell?”

“Well, you drove us over and then we—”

You softly swatted his chest, making him laugh and hearing the sound reverberate underneath your ear. “You know what I mean.”

“I wish I knew the best way to answer that, “ he whispered to you. You could hear the genuine regret in his tone and it made you start thinking about when you both would have to leave this motel room, and go back to the separate lives you had been living. Memories of lazy mornings like this back when you had been together, of you listening to his voice in your ear and knowing you were safe and loved, replayed in your mind on a loop. You would never admit it to him but you missed this, missed him. Nothing had felt right in the last couple of years like this moment here did. If anything, all of that time felt like some weird drug-induced nightmare, and you had just woken up to find Russell here next to you, nothing having changed. But that wasn’t true; everything had changed.

Not wanting to think about that just yet, you picked up the hand that had been caressing your shoulder and studied the skin of his wrist. “This is new.” You trailed your finger along the design of the tattoo sitting there. “What prompted you to get this one?”

“That’s something Doug and I got one night when we met up with another one of the guys from our unit when he was in town. Tommy Laird. Good man.”

“A crown?”

Russell shrugged underneath you. “Tommy picked the design.”

“‘We three kings’, huh?”

You heard him chuckle. “Never thought of it like that but sure.”

“Is he also a part of Horizon?”

You felt him tense underneath you at the mention of the dark and deadly elephant in the room. “No. He, uh, he lives with his wife and three kids in North Carolina. They have a house in Cary and he went back to the family business when he got home.”

You nodded and pulled his wrist to you, placing your lips on his skin and tenderly kissing the middle of the design before letting him go. He hugged you closer to him and placed a kiss to your ear in turn, letting out what sounded like a contented sigh. 

A moment later, he murmured. “I want to help get you out.”

You nearly rolled your eyes again. You wanted to ask him why he was dead set on thinking that you even wanted out. Perhaps the you he had known would want a way out, want something more out of life than money and secrets and cleanups, but you had changed a lot in the last three years. But you knew if you posed that question, it would shatter the cocoon you currently found yourselves in and you weren’t ready for that to end just yet. So instead, you reminded him of another angle of the truth. “That’s not possible. Not the way you’re thinking. You know that.”

“Anything’s possible.” You nearly smiled at his response; there was the stubborn streak that sometimes infuriated you and sometimes endeared you to him, like right now. But you needed to make sure you maintained a reality check for the both of you. You knew what he was really thinking.

“Even if it was, we can’t.”

His head lifted and he frowned down at you. “Why not?”

“This isn’t some Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit. We don’t get a happy ending,” you finished sadly, thinking back to the life you once shared together as you cupped his cheek and rubbed it gently with your thumb. “Not together. It’s too dangerous.” You left it at that but you knew that he was more than aware of what you meant. 

His frown intensified at your words and he covered your hand with his, turning to place a kiss into your palm. “We’ll work it out.”

“Russ,” you sighed.

He gently grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking into your eyes. “We’ll work it out,” he softly repeated, that glint of determination back in his gaze. 

You decided once more that you wouldn’t bother launching into the many reasons it actually wouldn’t work out and you would refrain from popping that bubble he had just wrapped you both in. That moment would come later. But for now, you continued to keep silent.

When he noticed you weren’t going to say anything, a mischievous smile began to form on that handsome face you loved. “You know, I don’t really have anything planned for today. How about you?”

Other than some paperwork you had to go over later, your day was pretty much free, too. Even if it hadn’t been, you knew that look and after this morning, despite still having some unresolved anger with him, despite things that still needed to be said between you, you would have freed up your schedule immediately. “I don’t think I’ll be missed for a while,” you teased.

He leaned in to kiss you, whispering to your lips, “Oh, you were missed. Very much fucking missed.” The impishness you had heard a moment before was now absent but he never gave you a chance to respond. Instead, he kissed you deeply and began moving to cover your body with his once again. He maneuvered himself in between your thighs, your legs automatically coming up to gently cradle his hips. “Your arm,” you broke away to warn him.

“Don’t care.” He lowered down to keep kissing you and surprisingly (or unsurprisingly perhaps), all was right in the world right then. You didn’t allow yourself to get swept away by it or by the fantasy of something that would never be. Sadly, the time for you and Russell to be together had come and gone. You’d had your chance and you both had blown it, with him starting you out of the gate. This right here, this was all that was left — like embers of a dying fire. You would always love him, you knew that (truthfully, you had always known it), but this was all you would ever have. Once you both walked out that door, you would be walking in separate directions, taking different paths in your lives, no matter what Russell would say. 

But for right now, you allowed yourself to live in the moment, to enjoy it as he groaned into your mouth when your hand helped guide him to where you both wanted him to be. You held onto him as he began a slow movement within you, knowing you would need to take over again very soon when his left arm began to tremble. But until then you kept him close to you, drank deeply of him, and reveled in what the two of you had always managed to create together, content to keep Horizon and the rest of the world on the other side of the motel room door, if only for a moment longer. 

A/N: I know I left some things open and unresolved. I wanted to do that to let this be a gateway to the continuing story in the short series coming titled "Closer". Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the series.

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[calaisreno]

Let Me Have This

1554 words / Prompt: Do-Over

She’s determined to take it all away from him. Every damn thing. All the little things. 

He wonders why he didn’t notice it happening. The little smirks when she reads his blog. The comments when he mentions Sherlock, insignificant but biting. It’s been systematic, and he’s let it happen. 

None of it seemed worth arguing about. When he met her, he’d already mourned and tried so many times to put it away, to think of it as something that he would endure. Something terrible, but that’s how life is, the good and the bad, and you still have to go on living. He survived.

So he hadn’t argued; that would have taken too much energy, and he never had enough of that in those days. 

She’d been wonderful, really, at the beginning. She’d gone to the grave with him, stood by him, let him mourn. She’d been patient, lovingly patient, urging him back into life. 

“Are you never going to eat Thai food again?” she would ask. 

Or: “Why do you keep this old jumper with the burn holes? It’s unwearable.” 

Or: “We don’t need to take the newspaper. You can read it online.”

And gradually, she had replaced every damn thing with a new thing. New jumpers, Korean food. A different brand of tea. Romantic films. Different news programs. 

Even his old, stained mug. “It was chipped,” she said.

None of it was unreasonable, taken as individual actions. But all together it made his old life seem flawed, as if he hadn’t done anything right until he met her. 

He did notice. But he’d thought she was something good in his life, a new beginning, a person who knew what she wanted. It was flattering to be pursued. 

Every relationship requires a partner who gives in, who is the more reasonable one, the one who lets things go. He saw that in his parents, his mother headstrong and insistent, his father calm and accepting. Yes, dear.

That was how they were, before. Sherlock led, John followed. Sherlock had strops and broke crockery and said awful things sometimes, and John smoothed it all over. Or when he finally couldn’t, he would have his own strop, tell Sherlock to stop— 

You machine. 

He hadn’t seen that coming, either. His role was reining Sherlock in, pulling him back from the edge. That’s what he’d thought was happening. As it turns out, he was wrong. 

Maybe that’s why he can’t be the one to say, Stop it. Let me have this.

He doesn’t deserve a life now because he didn’t protect Sherlock when it really mattered. He let him go over the edge, fall—

Mary is a do-over. He was punishing himself, and she appeared, offering him a chance at something better. Letting himself be loved, cared for. She’s competent, not nostalgic. 

It’s an insidious trap, a carefully laid one. Where she could have let him mourn, let him remember who he was when he loved Sherlock— she has tried to reshape all his memories. Sherlock was a child, she seems to say; you were a fool to make yourself responsible for him. He had you under his thumb because he really was a sociopath. He didn’t care about you. He didn’t love you. I’m the best thing that could have happened to you.

And now, she’s taken the last thing. 

I like him. She said that in the cab, coming home. Home, to the flat she picked out and decorated, where there isn’t even one tiny piece of John Watson. 

She’d seen his anger, his grief. She’d been outraged, on his behalf. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him? His anger was right. She’d affirmed it.

But afterwards she smiled like the cat who got the cream. As if it had all gone according to plan. She likes Sherlock. She’s going to talk him around. And once again, John will be the unreasonable one. 

And he sees how it will go. She’ll take credit for bringing them back together. It will be the three of them now. And of the two of them, Sherlock will find Mary the more interesting one, the one who really gets him. They will bond, and John will be the one they joke about. The third wheel. Poor John. He can see her tagging along on cases, texting Sherlock, giggling with him about private jokes. 

She’ll let him have Sherlock, as long as it’s clear that she owns John now. 

Let me have this. 

If he wants it, he’s going to have to take it back. He’s going to have to say no to Mary, if he wants Sherlock back. He’s still angry, but now that he sees what’s happening, he can’t unsee it. He’ll never be happy in the life she’s prepared for him, free from all the clutter and disarray of life with Sherlock. She’ll keep him in their tidy flat and let him out to go play with Sherlock. And if he ever starts to crave that life again, she’ll find a way to separate him from it. 

It’s after midnight and he’s standing outside of 221B. He’s already mentally rehearsed several versions of an apology when his phone buzzes. 

Are you coming up? SH

He smiles. 

Oscillation on the pavement. An affaire de coeur? SH

Sherlock still signs his texts, and this is oddly comforting. At least something hasn’t changed. 

Climbing the stairs, he thinks about the last time he went out and closed the door behind him, never to return. He’s been back once to see Mrs Hudson, but never up these stairs. 

The door is open, and he stands on the threshold, taking in everything that two years haven’t changed. The flat looks just as it did on the last day he stood here. It’s like time travel. 

But he’s still Future John, the one who grieved, who hit his best friend when he returned as John had begged him to do. The one with regrets.

And Sherlock is different too. He stands at the window, looking down at the street as if he’s expecting someone. His posture is taut, careful.

“I hope… I’m not intruding.”

Sherlock turns and faces him. The split lip has healed, but there is caution in those grey eyes. John never wants to see that look again, not directed at him. 

“Come in, John.”

He does, glancing at his old chair, then staring at his own feet, words having deserted him. Sherlock gestures for him to sit, but he feels like a guest in what used to be his home, and it’s painful. He remains standing.

“Something is wrong,” Sherlock says. “You’ve quarrelled with Mary.”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “She’s fine. It’s me. I’ve made a mistake.”

Sherlock steps closer, cocking his head and silently deducing him. “A mistake?”

I’ve proposed to a woman I don’t know because I couldn’t go on without you. I hit my best friend because I couldn’t bear…

He looks up at Sherlock, tears filling his eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

The look on Sherlock’s face is surprise. “John, you need not apologise. If there is to be an apology, it should come from me. I should not have approached you as I did.”

“Can we… just…” He sniffs. “Could we pretend that the last few days haven’t happened yet? You’re back, and I’m—”

“You’re asking for… I believe it’s called a do over?”

He laughs through his tears. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

Sherlock smiles. “Where do we begin?”

“Let’s say I’m not at dinner, not proposing to Mary. You’re not wearing a silly fake moustache—”

“You’ve shaved yours off.”

“Yeah, you were right. So. I don’t have a moustache, and I’ve come over to have a look up here, because… I’m about to take a step that feels irrevocable, one I wouldn’t be taking if you were alive.”

Now Sherlock looks puzzled, but he doesn’t speak. 

“My therapist has been bugging me to say something… to you. Something I wished I’d said… before. And I couldn’t say after. But I need to say now.”

Lips parted, Sherlock is frowning. “Say… what?”

He closes his eyes. “You were the best. The best person I’ve known. The best friend. You saved my life, gave meaning to what was left of it. And I… I love you. I don’t care that you were married to your work, or that you despise sentiment. I love you, and I wish I’d said it before.”

Laying a hand on Sherlock’s heart, he feels it beating, alive. “I want to come back. Come home. Live with you.”

“But… Mary?”

“A mistake. And you’ve just given me the impossible. The thing I asked for. Please, will you forgive me?”

Sherlock is silent. He stares over John’s shoulder, blinking as if that genius brain has gone offline. 

“Sherlock?”

The pale eyes focus on him. “You want to come home? Here? You love me?”

“Yes. I know you don’t—”

“Just to be clear, when you say love —”

John puts his arms around him. “This.”

As he looks up, expecting to see Sherlock frowning, the most extraordinary thing happens. 

There are tears in Sherlock’s eyes, and he’s about to—

When the kiss ends, Sherlock holds him pressed against his chest. “Just to be clear,” he says. “I love you too.”

--

Posted on AO3 here.

[simpstantruther]

Hungry Heart ch. 2 | (Mullet) Stanley Pines x Reader

Summary: Stan needs to go to Oregon. You need to get to California. Stan has a car. You have a cunt. (Can I make it any more obvious~)

(TW: Dated Language and ideas of sex and consent)

Tags: 80s Americana Roadtrip Partners-in-Crime Stan x Reader fic. Smut. You can fix him, but you're worse.

Preview:

Lee watches you with amusement over his coffee. He looks different when he’s well lit. Older. More worn. Especially with his hair slicked out of his face, so you can see how deep the bags under his eyes are. You prefer it messy.

He's a good time. Funny, but stupid. You didn’t know it was possible to fit a sausage link up one’s nose. It shouldn’t be, it was fucking gross. You stick your tongue out in playful disgust when he eats it anyways. He laughs like a boy.

Read on AO3.

The street light buzzing is so loud you can’t hear yourself think.

You can feel it between your shoulder blades, tense as the dry night air hits the sweat pooling down your back. The light casts a dark shadow beneath your feet as you stroll through the middle of the street trying to keep your feet on the faded yellow divider lines. You don’t. 

You’re still in Dallas. You think. 

You had a bed to sleep in tonight. Or maybe a couch, with the guy passed out across the covers like he did. You had already cleared out his pockets, peeked through a few drawers. 

You found a tiny gun. Fit right in the palm of your hand. Like it was left in that drawer just for you.

Then the poor fucker’s wife came home. 

When you heard the shotgun cock into place, you started running and didn’t stop, pockets considerably heavier. In the chaos, you forgot you nabbed the gun.

You’re glad you nabbed the gun. 

Now you don’t know where you are. As if you ever really knew anymore. Back streets like this all kind of blended together, no matter where in the U.S. you were dragging your sorry ass around. 

Empty dirt lot with a single bench, a sun shade and a bus stop to the left. Shit-hole liquor store, piss stained parking lot to the right. Food. Shelter. Pisser.  All one could ever need.

If only you had actual cash instead of valuables you needed to pawn.

You have a small gun now.

Stupid looking little revolver. Three in the chamber. Poor fucker couldn’t be assed to fill the thing? No wonder his wife wanted to kill him.

Your stomach growls. It wants to kill you.

Do you have it in you to stick up a place just to get something to eat?

You stop. 

Under the brilliant neon Open sign of the liquor store, in bright yellow, peeled-paint glory stands a pay phone. Handset intact. You suppress a cry of joy. You would fall to your knees in praise if you didn’t think you’d catch a disease on the rusted bolts holding it to the cracked concrete. One of the bolts is loose. It wants to leave too.

You feel in the change slot for a spare quarter, sticking your tongue out through the side of your mouth. Your fingertips brush against the ridged edge.

Holy shit.

If you’re not careful, you’ll use all your luck up in one night.

The miraculous quarter slips into the slot. You wait for the dial tone to buzz into your ear, white-knuckle-gripping the handset. 

Shit.

Who the fuck are you supposed to call in Dallas? A taxi? They don’t take gold chains. A shelter? They’re all closed. Did you want to get robbed?

You still couldn’t get to one even if you wanted to.

You hit the return button. Clink. At least you can pocket the quarter. 

As you slip it into your rear pocket, you feel the fuzzy, frayed edge of a business card. Why would you keep a business—

The Loveshack it says.

Why did you have a business card for The Loveshack? What even is The Loveshack?

You don’t know what possesses you, but you sniff the card. It smells unholy. Like beer, and sweat, and man-stink and— you need to sniff it again.

Why are you thinking of a mullet? 

It smells so familiar. Why does it smell familiar? And you feel like gagging, you hate tequila. 

Oh.

You slip the coin into the slot again, bouncing your heel as you wait for the other line to pick up.

“Front desk.” Crackles through the shitty speaker in the handset.

“Hi! G-Good evening—” Your old hostess voice possesses you. High and clipped and waiting to be reprimanded. An old reflex. You haven’t had a regular job in at least a year. You remember no greasy, stinking manager is breathing down your neck to sound pretty when you pick up the phone, so it returns to it’s deep natural state. 

“Hello?” The voice on the speaker croaks again.

“Patch me through to a room, please?”

“Which room?”

Shit. Which fucking room? You turn the card over. Nothing written anywhere. You don’t even remember the guy’s name. Maybe he didn’t know how to write. Honestly, all you remember is Bruce Springsteen and a mullet and thinking that his beefy hands might fit nice around your—

“Hello? Miss? Which room?”

“Uhhhh— don’t remember. He’s a guy, you know?” Of course they know, are you stupid? “Tall, big shoulders, shitty mullet—“ You motion to the top of your head as if the operator can see you.

“Patching you through.” 

The line goes quiet. You’re too anxious to bounce your heel anymore so you stand frozen, hunched over the pay phone box.

You hear heavy breathing on the line. Then a woman’s name, in a vaguely familiar, gruff Jersey accent.

“Who?” You question, confused.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” 

Oh. You gave him a fake name, you remember.

“It’s Lee.”

“I know! Lee!” You draw out his name overly-affectionately. “How the hell are ya?”

“You called.” 

“I did!” 

“...I didn’t think you would call.”

“I said I would call, didn’t I?” You shrug your shoulders, tucking the phone beneath your chin and leaning back against the phone box. 

You hear him scoff. “I don’t think you did.”

He’s probably right, it doesn’t sound like you to promise something like that.

“ 'S fine. I wanted you to call. I’m glad you did.”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s quiet on the line too, drowned out by the white noise. The plastic static of the handset against your ear makes you shiver even though it’s pushing 85.

“Look, Lee… I’m sorry to call you like this, but I’m in a bit of a bad way—“

“What’s wrong?” He asks quickly. His concern is cute. He doesn’t know you. If he knew you he’d know something’s always wrong. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You aren’t. There’s a pit growing in your stomach because you remember the last time you said those words to a semi-concerned party over the phone. About a year ago. You weren’t fine then, either. “You don’t have a car by chance, do ya? Or maybe just cab fare?”

“Where are you?” 

“Uh—“ You look around. The sign on the liquor store is missing letters. It's in a language you don't recognize. You aren't as worldly as you think.

“I got wheels. I’ll pick you up right now, sweetheart. Where are you?”

You silently cheer. You crane your neck and narrow your eyes to read a street sign, murmuring it into the receiver. You cross your fingers, bite your lip raw, and pray he heard you right. You can barely understand him through the crackling line.

“Give me twenty minutes, toots. An hour, tops. Don’t go nowhere.”

“I’ll be here!” You have nowhere else to go.

The line goes dead.

The hook is broken. You leave the handset on top of the box, swallow back your false cheerfulness and sit on the curb.

The street light buzzes above you, a spotlight on your failed state. You cannot hear yourself think. You are grateful.

You don’t have a watch. Giant, tacky bracelets hide your wrists well enough. So who knows how long it’s been once cars start pulling over and hollering at you to hop in. 

Cutting your jeans into daisy dukes seemed like a good idea once you got south of Memphis and the nights regularly cracked 90. It felt less so now, while rough concrete and gravel dug into your seat, sticking to your skin from sweat. 

You ready an empty glass bottle, aiming to launch it at the dark red convertible that slows beside you next.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Watch where you throw that thing. Can’t afford to replace the window again.”

You stand up so you can see past the half-rolled window.

“Lee?” You peer inside. 

It is Lee. He greets you with a wide smile, sliding out his door and moving in to hug you until he sees you flinch back. He blinks and freezes before nodding his head to himself and crossing behind the car. 

“After you, Angelface.” He cracks open the passenger door for you.

“What a gentleman.” You wheedle for him, grateful for the cushioned seat. You keep your eyes on him as he slams your door shut and gets back inside. A bit of caution was healthy. You shouldn’t trust him. He definitely shouldn’t trust you.

The front seat is clean. Vaguely. There’s a couple full trash bags sitting in the back seat. And a few beat up boxes of some bright blue towel thing, dye seeping everywhere it touches, and other assorted brand new junk headed straight for a landfill. It was like he raided the world’s shittiest truck load of useless crap. Why was he lugging around all this stuff?

It still reeks like cheap cigarettes. But at least it didn’t smell like tequila. You crack open your window anyways. 

“Where to?” Lee asks, smiling nervously as he shifts the car into gear, hand staying on the shifter knob between you. 

God, his arms. He’s punishing the thread around the sleeves, rolling them up like that. He put on a clean shirt for the occasion. And gas-station cologne. How sweet.

He shaved, too. You’re a little disappointed, though his jaw is nothing to be ashamed of. You wanna run your hand over his skin, mourn his five o’clock shadow. For the love of god, the man has dimples. Is he Catholic? Would he smack you if you use the lord’s name in vain? You kind of hope he does. Maybe you'll let him borrow one of the rings you 'found'.

You know you look like shit. You can see the outline of your tangled, frizzed hair in the dark in passenger side mirror. You’re never teasing your hair again.

If you pass by a street light, you know you’ll see the rest of yourself in the dirty yellow glow, looking haunting as ever. You angle the mirror away. No need for another reason to bum yourself out before your— whatever this is— with Lee.

You sigh and relax back into the seat, closing your eyes with relief as the rough road jostles you. Almost rocks you to sleep, right there in the passenger seat. 

He says your fake name again as you’re drifting off. 

“Sorry.” You yawn and smack your lips.

He waits for your answer. He can't go nowhere, after all.

You sigh.

“I’m gonna be honest, Lee. I got no idea where to go.”

He nods as he drives with his eyes forward. You already caught him glancing down at your chest after a particularly bad pot hole. He was on his best behavior now. You get to study his silhouette.

“Ain’t you stayin’ anywhere?”

“Nah. Got kicked out of my room this morning. Had a place lined up, but it fell through.” 

You hope he doesn’t ask more. He doesn’t. Good man.

Your stomach grumbles and you hunch over, desperate to subdue the sound. You were used to that by now.

“How about we get you somethin’ to eat, huh? That sound alright?”

“You sure?” You look up at him, your hand cradling your empty stomach.

“Hell yeah. Been dyin’ to take you out since you first glared at me. Dressed up for the occasion—thanks for noticin’.”

“Is that so?” You huff out a laugh. “Color me flattered. You clean up nice. But you’re full of it. I wasn’t glarin’ at nothin’.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Cos I liked it, you know. I thought you were makin’ eyes at me. I like when pretty girls make eyes at me.”

“You’re blind, bud.”

“Nahhh. ” He grins wider. “You like me. Think I’m handsome.” 

You neither confirm nor deny, but you smile as he turns away. You see him blinking and narrowing his eyes at the road signs as he drives. He’s probably blinder than you are. Maybe he regrets telling you to call him, now with your mess close enough to see.

“Pretty girls must be in short supply if you’re settling for me.” You mutter under your breath and lay back again. If he heard you, he doesn’t reply.

He pulls into a 24-hour diner. 

It’s like he read your mind. You could kill a breakfast combo right now. And however many coffees you can drink before they kick you out for not paying, unless Lee is more liquid than he looks.

You doubt it.

You spin around on your plastic-y little dinner stool, your busted heels hanging off your toes as you kick your feet around. The coffee is good . You would have preferred a booth for privacy, but this is fun too. 

Lee watches you with amusement over his coffee. He looks different when he’s well lit. Older. More worn. Especially with his hair slicked out of his face, so you can see how deep the bags under his eyes are. You prefer it messy.

He's a good time. Funny, but stupid. You didn’t know it was possible to fit a sausage link up one’s nose. It shouldn’t be, it was fucking gross. You stick your tongue out in playful disgust when he eats it anyways. He laughs like a boy.

He’s got nice teeth. Mom would be happy, if that kind of thing mattered now. You wonder if he’s Catholic. You don’t think you are anymore.

He makes you laugh ugly. It makes your cheeks hurt, the kind where you have to massage them for a while after. It feels good to laugh ugly.

He doesn’t ask about anything that matters. You like that.

You both check out the same waitress. You ask her for sugar free sugar, the real kind (whatever that means), and you both watch as she stands on a stool to look at the top shelf, her teeny uniform not covering much of anything. She’s probably eighteen. Doesn’t know any better.

Now you’ve been on both sides. It’s a rite of passage.

He tells you you’re prettier than her, but you pretend not to hear, flicking a folded up napkin towards the trash can behind the counter. Daddy always said you were a pretty girl. You used to hear that a lot more often. You’d believe Lee if it were a couple days ago, when you were within twelve hours of a hot shower. 

The napkin misses the trash can. You meet his eyes. He smirks.

You have an unspoken agreement with Lee.

You chew your soggy, jellied toast silently and without alarm while he pockets another customer’s tip.

He shovels scrambled eggs into his mouth and doesn’t mention anything as your fingers slip into the lady beside you’s pocket book. 

God bless 24-hour diners.

Combined, you probably have enough to pay for your food. You’re still a little short, not that the waitress would notice until you left, if she could count at all. But why leave it to chance? 

You both stand up at the same time, offering compliments to the chef, the lovely waitress—

“Where do you think you two are going?” A grimy hand wraps around your arm. It’s the cook. Or else he just smells like bacon grease. You feel less satisfied with how the food sits in your stomach, suddenly. “You ain’t paid yet.”

“Alright, keep your paws to yourself, pal—“ Lee knots his hand in the cook’s greasy shirt. Meaty fucking hand. God, the size of those fingers.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey—“ You hold your hands up in surrender. “We’re cool. No need to freak out. We’re cool, aren’t we?” 

“Still gotta pay for your fuckin’ food.” 

You have a small gun now. Your fingers itch to hold it again, to squeeze the grip made for your small hand.

You glance at the laminated menu another customer ducks their head behind. Quickly you stand beside Lee, pressing your chest against his side with your hand on his sternum. He’s warm. Solid, beneath the softness. It’s nice when he’s not damp with beer sweat. You try not to think about it. 

“Are you serious ? You—you think Mr. Denny pays at his own restaurants?” You motion to Lee with your hand. 

The cook balks at both of you, and Lee puffs out his chest. You try not to laugh.

“Bullshit you’re Mr. Denny. He’s gotta be like eighty or something.”

“J-Junior! Mr. Denny junior, obviously!” You take Lee’s jaw between your thumb and forefinger and aim his face at the cook. You’re suddenly grateful Lee combed his hair back. And that he knows when to keep his mouth shut. “See this? Spitting image!”

The cook glances at a blown up photograph hanging on the wall. White hair, beady eyes, the kind of jaw that recedes back into a neck. About the only thing similar to Lee was that they were both human. Maybe. 

Damn. You almost made it, too.

A giggle bubbles out of Lee’s throat as he catches sight of the photograph and the cook’s face goes red, burn-calloused hand reaching for Lee’s throat. A busboy with a tray full of dishes passes by at the wrong moment and you swing your hand up and knock the entire tray back against the cook. 

You leave behind a calamity of broken porcelain and gasps in your wake as you pull Lee by his hand out of the diner. He throws down a few chairs on his way to muddle the path to follow you both as you run. 

Even in busted heels, you’re faster than Lee. 

His huffing, red face would be entertaining if he wasn’t the one with the keys. 

“Drive, drive, drive!” You hollar, grin plastered to your cheeks as you smoosh your face and hands against the passenger window, watching in amusement as the cook and the waitress scramble outside and look around for you.

Lee’s braying laugh fills your ears as his car pulls out of the parking lot. You’re laughing too, content with wherever he sees fit to take you. You feel safe. You shouldn’t, but you do.

You have a small gun now.

Previous chapter.

Next chapter.

[willowser]

one thousand lonely stars, hiding in the cold—

android!shouto x reader

wc: 2k+

tags: angst, cyberpunk dystopian setting, financial vulnerability, explicit language, minor mention of sex work + sex workers, reader has strong/conflicting feelings about their situation, and — as always — the question of true humanity.

notes: what a great opportunity this was for me to continue exploring this idea !! tysm to @shoto-brainrot for not only giving me the chance, but also for being such a support and helping me to figure out all this commission jazz !! i so appreciate you, and i hope you enjoy it ! 🩷

original post

You’ve yet to find out what caused the damage to Shouto’s faceplate.

By the time you discovered him outside the credit exchange, he had been busted open and left for—whatever the equivalent of dead is for an android. A gaping hole in the left side of his disturbingly human face exposed his inner circuitry to the rain and you think that should have finished him off, truly, but—he's still kicking. 

Technology in the lower district is distinct. The most careful hands could have crafted him down in the best underground salvage yard and he still wouldn't have lasted half an hour with his face submerged in a shallow mud puddle like that. Wiring would have been shot, fuses blown.

Even if the Todoroki Corporation symbol on his wrist wasn't glowing, a blinking light in time with his would-be heart, you'd know what he is. You'd know he didn't belong down here, beneath the smog, in the industrial bones of your dying city.

And yet—

The left side of Shouto's face took the brunt of whatever blow he'd been dealt, and the scarring—if it's even called that?—has extended down over his cheekbone and backward, so violently that his ear had only barely been hanging on. Without the bandage you've wrapped him up in, he's quite a sight: half a tangled mess of wires and pins, a dull cyan light glowing in his orbital socket. With the wrapping, however, he’s almost exactly as he was meant to be: seamless.

The fate of his detached ear had been unknown. Until this morning.

It still works, much to your surprise, learning so only after wondering aloud the whereabouts of your data docket and hearing Shouto answer from across the apartment. Whoever put him together, you realize, took great care to make him durable, adamantine; the carbon nanotubes and polymer arrays that make up his cochlea were hardly affected by the assault.

Someone—or something—meant to harm him, and you know that for certain, now. Such wreckage couldn’t have happened naturally, not to a Skin-Puppet like him.

(When you look at him, you can’t help but consider his creator. How far he is from them and why. If the hands that made him and the hands that ruined him are the same, if he meant to leave or if he was cast out. You haven’t asked, but it’s odd that a machine could keep such information to himself—itself.)

(Given the brutality behind his mutilation, perhaps it’s best you don’t know the answers.)

Working tech from the richer district—KōkyōLuxuria, above the smog, built high into the clouds—could not only earn you enough to eat this week, but also to pay off all your debts to the League. Maybe even finance a decent apartment a few stories up.

And that’s why you’re here: racing through the slums in the rain, doing your damndest to make this sale before time runs out and you’re forced to find another buyer. Coming across a Hack with 1,640,254 credits in their docket is rare; who knows when you’ll find someone from the Trade in Musutafu sector again? You’re likely to sooner perish—either from your empty stomach or that broker that demanded payment two days ago.

Shouto, however, doesn’t see the urgency.

“Hello, handsome! Awful cold out tonight…care to warm me up?”

“Oh, hello.”

At the even, all-too-friendly lilt in his voice, you halt your sprint again, and spin around with a hiss. “Shouto!” You snap—but it comes too late; the Entertainers have struck like lightning, already scrambling his code. 

Out of habit, you’d pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head before leaving the apartment, and now the material separates his image from view—though you can easily imagine the pleasant expression showing on his face, illuminated in pink under the NanotechNymph advertisement.

At his easily captured interest, two women strut from the open doors of the low-lit den, all allure and swaying hips, mirage flickering beneath the heavy rain. They only meet him halfway—too far from the emanator deep within the club—and you dash forward to stop him from wordlessly accepting their offer. You can’t afford to owe anyone any more than you already do.

“Shouto,” you say again, mouth twisting when he looks at you simply. Despite the hood, his bandage grows dark from the rain and—despite his framework, worry fluxes in your stomach at the thought of him getting too wet. “We have to go.”

“Aww,” an Entertainer says to you, girlish pout pulling down her full lips. “You don’t want to come inside and play with us?”

“No,” you try not to look at them any longer, just in case that racks up a charge, too. Rock solid as he is, Shouto allows himself to be steered away, much to your relief. “Buzz off, holo-ham.”

“I’d like to play.” Shouto pipes up, peeking behind his shoulder when the girls squeal in excitement. “Can we come back once we’ve finished?”

“Not for that kind of play.” You put a hand on the back of his head and swivel it, all while shoving him down the sidewalk. You almost remark on how man-like he’s acting, before chasing the thought away.

“What other types of play are there?”

“Just—hush.” 

And he does, finally, when you loop your arm through his: a presumably innocent gesture that draws his attention fully back to you, as physical touch seems to do, with him. Beneath the material of the jacket, he feels natural, all muscle and bone, even leaning into you as if the weather has made him cold. You can feel him tracing your face with his one-eyed gaze—scanning you—and you pretend not to notice.

“Your heart rate has gone up. Have I made you angry?”

“Yes,” you tell him, though he hasn’t, really. “You and your curiosity are gonna make me late, and then we’ll be in some serious shit.”

He looks away then, down to the soaked pavement, a mimicry of disappointment. From the corner of your eye, you can see his manufactured Adam’s apple bob, and the muscle beneath your hand shifts.

“They seemed nice, the holograms.” He says, and you can’t help the soft snort such a comment merits. 

“Yeah, they’re nice, alright, until you can’t pay them.”

Shouto looks at you once again, stride threatening to falter until you tug him along. “Do you know them?”

You already know where he’s going with his question, and the corner of his lips quirk up when you cast him a filthy look. “Well, no, but—”

“Then how do you know—”

“I just do, alright?” You frown at him and he accepts it in full, studying once more. Whatever he finds in your expression amuses enough that he’s placated for the moment, though you know it won’t be long before he’s piping up again.

He does it often—studies you: body language, physiological changes, speech patterns, vocal cues. Human behavior he catalogs and streams to someone back at the Corporation headquarters, finding the miniscule details he can use against you, some day. Whatever the reason behind his damage, he is still a product of his evil overlords, made for reasons you can only imagine. 

This is what you tell yourself. 

As his fingers shift until their smooth pads are brushing the delicate veins in your wrists, as he tightens his arm around yours when another stranger on the streets knocks your shoulder, as he leans into the warmth of your humanness: this is what you tell yourself.

You’re overcome with a sense of loss and you don’t know why, and you clear the strange lump hardening in your throat. “Life lesson number six, Todoroki,” you murmur it closely to him, nearly into the fabric at his shoulder, though he doesn’t react to the name. “Everybody wants something from someone, holo-hams included.”

Shouto seems to process your words, for a moment, and his face is expressionless when you steal a peek up at him. Technicolor rains down on your both, swathing him in a wild array as advertisements dance on the buildings that tower above you, and again you think of his creator. The careful hands that crafted his smooth cheeks, the sharp line of his nose, the leanness of his body. You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious.

Nearly all of the residents relegated to the lower districts owe the Todoroki Corporation in some way. Be it through credit loans or applied interest rates on subsidized housing or hidden costs and high premiums on mandatory, shit insurance—Enji Todoroki sits in the lap of KōkyōLuxuria, has probably never even stepped down from his pedestal. 

There’s no good reason a product of his could have found its way to you: this is what you tell yourself.

“And you want my ear.” Shouto says, looking back down at you as your shoulders tense. There isn’t a byte of hostility in his voice, but he must understand the sharpness to what he’s saying.

“Yes,” you admit with a nod, and some underlying, rogue streak of guilt has you pressing into him, as if your proximity could make up for your selfishness. “The sensors in your ear are gonna pay for our dinner tonight, handsome.”

His stride falters once more, and despite the time clock ticking in the back of your mind—you let him stop you. Maybe you want him to. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by him and you know that and maybe it’s cruel of you to say such a thing, to offer a comfort you can’t admit to, but Shouto looks down at you in all his ruination and—

Before he can say anything, a fat drop of water hits the tip of his perfectly manufactured nose. It makes him flinch, delayed, and the surprise he wears and the scrunch of his brow seem so—human, there before you. Shouto tilts his face to the dark, smoggy sky, and again that worry bites you, about too much water trickling into his core.

“We’re going to be late,” you repeat, though it’s much weaker than it was earlier. This is one those moments in which he overrides all your defenses, uploads something warm and hopeful and frightening into your chest cavity; you can’t tell if you want to run because you have to, for the sale—or if it’s a result of watching him now, haloed in neon.

He’s not one to ignore you, but he doesn’t respond, instead retracting his arm from your grip in order to push the hood back off his head. Raindrops soak into his bandage and the excess pools, dripping down over the line of his jaw and the column of his throat. So close to him, you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin.

(You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious. You wonder if he meant to leave, or if he was cast out. You wonder if he was created for continued corruption—or if someone out there wanted him to experience life, no matter how rusty.)

(You wonder if he feels as human as he looks. If he can blush, or if the soft skin below his ear can bruise.)

A small sound bubbles out of him, like a light laugh of disbelief. 

You found him face down in the rain; you’re not sure why it could cause such a reaction now, but he turns to eye the commercial playing behind him, before watching the path of a man walking by the two of you. Rain collects in his perfect cupid’s bow until he licks it away, and his hair slicks to the side when he pushes it out of his face. 

Shouto turns his attention back to you rather plainly, though the edges of his smile pull up a little higher than they usually do, enough that the apples of his cheeks round. He asks you, “What’s going to be for our dinner?” and the question is oddly worded, but each one is intentional. 

Maybe it’s not the rain that amuses him—and maybe it is. Maybe it really is that simple, that innocent. Maybe it’s the microtremors in your voice and your increased heart rate, all the little details that could never go unnoticed. 

There isn’t a way that this could end well: this is what you tell yourself.

You nod once and turn to face back the way you came, resigned, before looping your arm through his again. You trace the delicate veins on the inside of his wrist, careful not to cover the slow-blinking symbol embedded there, and you decide it doesn’t matter what his creator did or didn’t want. Because he has wants of his own, just like anyone.

“Okay,” you sigh, and when you slosh through the puddles collecting on the sidewalk, Shouto seems happy to follow along, this time. “I can probably sweet talk Toyomitsu into buying us some takoyaki, but you’re gonna have to play it cool.”

“Is this the kind of play you were talking about?”

That lilt has returned to his voice, even and friendly and amused.

“No,” you swat at him to hear his little huff of laughter, “now stop asking about that.”

Of course he doesn’t.

[chronically-ghosted]

there ain't enough room in this twin bed in our shitty Bogota apartment for the two of us

rating: E (explicit - 18+)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 13K 🫣

summary: after surviving the bomb, you and javier make it home to your apartment . . . and promptly pick up right where you left off in the car. 

warnings/tags: canon typical violence, discussions of death/violence, oral (f receiving), piv sex, smut-smut-smut, edging, slight overstimulation, lots of feelings, no use of y/n

a/n: part two of Go On, I Dare Ya - the final chapter because writing smut for these two really wears me out

🤍 AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Prev | THE END

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There’s a ringing. 

Smoke. Acrid and burning. It’s in your chest, your mouth, your eyes – is that why you can’t see? You cough and just breathe more in, inhaling nails that scrape your lungs. There’s a bright spot on your hip and back and palm – pain? – yes, that’s blood – fuck, where’s your gun? Why are you laying down?

There’s a ringing. A vibration. Like the world is made of brass and someone is tapping tapping tapping with their finger nail and you can actually feel the swelling ring –

There’s still smoke. Less now. Controlled. Intentional. But it still vaporizes the air in your lungs.

“Can you put that out?” You snap at the large fed standing by the doorway. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to you, frowning, as if you are being unreasonable. But eventually, your glare wins out over his and he, as if moving through molasses, reaches towards the metal table, and snuffs out the cigarette into a grimy ashtray.

You realize the ringing is someone speaking to you.

Noonan. She looks worried, pale, but determined. The lines around her mouth are sharp, distinct, as if someone with endless patience carved them out of her skin. She looks old, you think, an idea that doesn’t come to you very often, if at all. Her mouth is moving but you don’t really hear what’s coming out of it. You watch her lips move, they look like they’re made of rubber, flapping over an empty, black hole. White. Teeth. Bite.

Something warm touches your wrist and it’s like you’re sucked back into your body.

You blink, the overhead light of the empty interrogation room suddenly very bright, the scratch of the tape recorder as it rolls on in the silence. You can see yourself in the mirror over Noonan’s blue padded suit. God, you look terrible. Ashy, dirty, there’s a cut over your left eye and suddenly you’re aware of the blood there, the pain there, and in your hands and hips. By the pressure there, you know you’re going to have bruises if you don’t already. Your hands have bandages over them so you can’t see the damages, but the cloth scratches what feels like an open wound. How much blood is there?

Three sets of eyes watch you with varying mixtures of emotion. Noonan, verging on concern. The suit behind you – Ken Something – remains unimpressed. And –

The warmth on your wrist is Javi. Just the barest touch of his fingers. He gently says your name, your last name at least, and you hear it very, very clearly. You follow the bend of his fingers with your eyes, over his wrist, up his arm that has a large bandage just around the elbow, then up his shoulder – God, that white shirt is ruined, torn, bloodied, filthy – to his eyes. 

Eyes you saw in the midst of all that smoke and fire. Panicked and white like searchlights. You remember him screaming your name – your first name – then. 

He’s looking at you like he wishes you two are the only ones in all of existence. 

“Agent,” he says softly but firmly, “the senator asked you a question.” 

There’s a cut along the arch of his cheek and you want to touch it, but instead you turn back to Noonan.

“Sorry, I missed it. What did you say?” 

Noonan glances at Javier, something about concern communicated, before interlocking her fingers on the table in front of her. 

“I said, for the record, I’d like your account of what happened after the first bomb went off. We have Agent Peña’s and now I’d like yours.” 

The microphone in front of your face feels invasive, like some streaker just flashed you before running off, giggling. You try not to scowl.

“The car bomb in front of the gambling den went off and blew out half the building. Agent Peña and I were fifty feet up the road at the intersection of Manacha and Comal. It had been a strictly routine follow up to a tip we received on Tuesday. The target, Edwardo Valasquez, was rumored to be meeting with one of the upper narcos so the mission was to watch where he went, to validate that claim. Peña and I had been tailing him all day. That night, in the car, we –,” 

Your voice catches. The tape winds, black film consumed again and again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Javier stiffen. The room still smells like smoke, but this time you can’t tell if it’s coming from your clothes or the ashtray.

You swallow. “We had been there for seven hours when the first bomb went off. The target didn’t come out before then and we didn’t see anyone mess with the rigged car. It was a trap.” 

“Who do you think the intended targets were?” Noonan asks, interest overtaking the worry on her face. Those lines around her mouth go slack, and that no-nonsense senator is back. 

“If someone drove it there and parked it, then most likely the target was Valasquez. It was dark, I couldn’t make out the faces of the men that drove it.” 

Noonan writes something down on the yellow pad beneath her hands. “And the perpetrators? Who sent the bomb?”

“Cali.” You say simply. “They’re sending a message that no one is safe unless they’re with them.”

Noonan nods grimly. She fixes those hawk-like eyes on you again. “And the second bomb?” 

“Insurance. I didn’t see it go off, but it looked like it was stationed at the exit behind us.”

“And where were you when the second bomb went off?” 

You swallow, mouth filled with smoke, and it feels like, for a second, that your guts are oozing out onto the table. You cross your arms to hold them in. 

“I don’t know. I was providing Agent Peña with cover when the explosion went off. There was a firefight, between the two cartels. Did I mention that? After the first bomb, the street erupted into an active warzone. They shot at us because they didn’t know who’s side we were on.” 

Noonan chuckles darkly, writing down something again. “I think a bomb going off would be enough to classify the situation as a warzone, but I understand your point.” 

She sighs and looks up. “We’re almost done. Just a few more questions. What happened after the second bomb went off?”

This is where it gets tricky. 

You’d think after a second bomb to go off within twenty feet of the first that there’d be noise. So much noise, for so much chaos. That much destruction cannot go quietly. But of all the things you remember about tonight, the first thirty endless seconds after you opened your eyes, sideways on the pavement, hip bones grinding into the rocks and debris, gun out of your hands and lost to the smoke, those were thirty seconds of silence.

You know if given time, you could parse it out, you could construct something like a timeline. But now, in this yellow smoky room, you can’t quite put it together. You remember people, people bloodied, people dead, you remember something about gathering up an old woman in your arms and dragging her until something inside you told you to stop. You remember you couldn’t find Javier, and the sinking, horrific dread that clawed into your bones. You remember EMTs and lights and the scream of sirens and the fires and the smoke. But you don’t know the order. 

“I don’t remember.” 

“You don’t remember?” Noonan frowns. “Were you cleared for release?” 

“I . . .”

You trail off, unable to find the words. You think you remember someone checking for a concussion. Yes, thick, square hands grasping your elbows, forcing you to look, look at him, are you okay, are you bleeding, are you hurt – 

“Yes, Senator, she was.” Javier’s voice is smooth, collected. He has his arms crossed against his chest and his left knee is bouncing. You know that look. He’s about ready to start cracking heads for a cigarette. “I saw it personally myself.” 

“Okay, but why –,”

“With all due respect, ma’am, it’s shock. Plain and simple.” You don’t understand why he’s taking that tone so you look at him. To everyone else, he appears bored, disinterested, eager to get out. But to you, he’s coming apart at the seams. His dark eyes haven’t left your face since you started speaking. “This was her first bombing.” 

Something about his words breaks through this numb little box you’ve found yourself in and you can feel the grime on your face pinch your skin as you frown at him. His mouth flattens; what are you looking at me like that for? 

“Is that true, Agent?” Noonan pulls your attention away from Javi. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Noonan rifles through a folder to her right, another line appearing between her eyebrows. “And reports say you helped at least five civilians to safety? You did that, while experiencing shock?” 

“I –,”

“Yes, she did.” Javier cuts you off and leans forward onto his elbows. He’s closer than he was before and you smell the smoke on him. “This agent performed admirably under intense pressure and I am officially recommending her for commendation.”

“Javier –,” you hiss as the air in your lungs evaporates. He won’t look back at you.

Noonan raises an eyebrow before putting her pen to the pad again. “Noted, Agent Peña.” 

“Please, don’t write–,” 

“Is there anything else, Senator?” Javier’s knee is incessant, liable to knock over the entire table in a single twitch. With a sigh, Noonan reaches over and switches off the recording. 

“No, Peña, there’s nothing else . . . for tonight. But you can bet your ass there’ll be a shitload of crap tomorrow. I wish I could tell you both to take tomorrow off, given the hell you just went through, but there’s already inquiries coming in from the press and the government. Both ours and Colombia. What a fucking nightmare . . .” 

She stands, collecting the folder and pad. She stares at you and Javier with unreadable eyes, a thick wall of distance brought about by exhaustion and concern. A house of cards straining to hold up bricks. 

“Go home. Eat. Shower. Sleep. As much as you can because tomorrow we hit the ground running.” You nod while Javier just watches her go, but she stops by the door, Lurch already moving down the hall. “And off the record, your country thanks you for your service.” 

Your stomach knots and she leaves, her heels clacking as she goes.

“Ready to go home?” Javier’s eyes are dark, soft. He’s filthy and he holds his hand out to you. You stand without taking it. 

“Yes.”

By the time, Javi parks his Jeep against the curb, you can feel a bone-deep ache settling in. Exhaustion is so palpable in the air you can almost taste it. Given five more minutes, you would have dropped your forehead against the window and gone to sleep. But you fought it. You drove back the aches and the dreams and the steady pull into a dark sleep because Javier was driving and if he is awake, so are you. 

The car engine shuts off, the air still warm from the heat outside, and Javi’s door opens and shuts. You fumble with the handle, pop it back, and almost stumble into the street. But he’s there. As if he had been coming around to get your door for you. 

You stumble down from his Jeep and his hands catch you around your shoulders, your waist. 

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs to a quiet street. This neighborhood in Botoga is empty this time of night, its residents asleep beneath blankets of darkness. His thumb rubs your waist once before letting go. You’re somehow upright and steady. His hand on your shoulder remains, grounding you, centering the unstable universe. “Can you walk?” 

You nod and your eyes fall to his hand on your shoulder, so he lets you go. He watches you take two steps, then go up into the apartment building. He’s always close by, a shadow you could never lose. 

He’s somehow even closer, more insistent, more there when you climb the stairs to your shared apartment on the second floor. If you breathe wrong, his hand will shoot out and snatch away whatever is causing you harm. You hear the jingle of keys behind you and you realize your purse is gone.

In the midnight blue hallway, it’s like he can see your thoughts as they cross over your eyes. He’s using his own key to unlock the door. “Everything recovered was taken in as evidence. Everything from the car and everything that was found. We can get it back tomorrow. I’ll talk to Noonan personally.” 

What makes you so special with Noonan, you want to say. But you can just picture your keys and purse and everything you held important to you sitting exposed in the evidence locker for anyone to rifle through. 

He pauses, as if expecting something from you, but when given only silence, he nudges open the apartment door with his shoulder and the familiar smell of home greets you in your time of need. It smells like the chilaquiles you made last week. It was Javier’s birthday and you didn’t forget and the look on his face when he walked in and instantly recognized the taste of home and –

He stands by the couch, taking up too much room, quietly thinking, the keys still in his hand. He’s so fucking broad.

With a sigh, he tosses the keys onto the coffee table and they clatter against the glass, the sound loud and ringing in the silence. 

That heady mixture of fatigue and exhaustion slowly peels back from your brain like water receding from the sand when he tugs that filthy ruined shirt out of his waistband. He scratches the back of his head like he’s trying to knock a thought loose before pinching his eyes. With a huff, as though frustrated, he finally looks at you.

“You wanna take the first shower?” His voice is rough, attached to the back of a truck and spun in gravely circles. 

  It takes you a minute to realize he’s talking to you.

“Oh, I was, I was just going to go to sleep,” you say honestly. “Just pass out, face first, you know.”

You smile, hoping that might relieve the tension that’s winding up in his shoulders like a batter taking aim. But it doesn’t. In the dark, you can’t quite make out the expression in his eyes. But you do see the whites, like searchlights, seeking you out in the smoke.

“Don’t let it sit with you. Don’t . . . hold onto it.” You think you might know the “it” he’s talking about but you aren’t sure. But his tone lessens as he continues, “just at least rinse off. I wanna check your bandages before we go to sleep.” 

The thought of Javier peeling back anything on you leaves you almost rooted to the spot. You want to move but you can’t. There’s a slow, expanding heat starting in your lower stomach, but you won’t acknowledge it. Won’t look at it directly. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

“Javier–,” his name is strangled in your throat, this entire night living somewhere between your memories and your windpipe. 

He’s over to you in a second, hands clutching your elbows, are you hurt, are you here – I can’t find you –

“What? What do you need? Do you need me to help you?” 

“Help?” Your voice is barely a whisper. You wonder if you press your thumb to the hollow of his throat, if your skin would come back gray and dirty, and there’d be a clear spot over his skin. His chest fills your vision.

“Yes. Do you need help getting into the shower?” 

Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.

The memory is so suddenly clear and loud and invasive you feel like you’ve slapped with the strength of it. You jerk out of his arms, scowling. 

“No. No. It’s not that.” You physically lift your arm to keep him back. “No. I’m . . . just make sure the front door’s locked, okay? I’ll be out of the shower . . . in a minute . . .”

You stagger backwards and his nostrils flare, teeth grinding in his jaw, and his eyes carry the ache you feel in your bones. 

“You’re in shock. Let me help you –,”

“I’m fine. Just winded.” Turning away from him, your fingers brush the wall to guide you in the etched darkness, the lines of things just barely visible. You slide out of your shoes as you go, unbuttoning your pants and not caring if he follows.

“Can I help you into the shower?”

“No.”

“Can I wait outside?”

“No.” 

“Can I sit outside the door, with it open just a crack? In case you fall.”

The fact that that was a mere possibility ran you cold. You pause with your hand on the bathroom door, the zipper of your pants undone. He’s a shadow in the dark apartment, neither one of you reaching for the lights, but you know he’s concerned, coming from a place of care, not condescension, or ire, or disgust. Something about tonight scared the shit out of him. 

You nod, allowing this one transgression, and go in before you see him move. As per his request, you leave a small crack in the door and then brace yourself for the light switch. You squint against the bright blaze, the pounding in your head flaring for a second as you slowly open one eye, then two, and your vision adjusts. You meet your gaze in the mirror and gasp.

“What? What is it?” His voice is panicked and you know if you don’t answer in a way that satisfies him, he’s going to break the door down. 

“I’m fine, Javi. I’m just . . . I just saw myself in the mirror and I look like I’ve been run over by a semi-truck.”

Silence. “It’s not as bad as you think,” he says simply. You can almost picture him huddled up by the door, not daring to step into the strip of light. “A lot of it is swelling and that’ll go down soon. Give a day or two.”

That’s not really what you meant, but the sentiment from him is overwhelming and for the second time tonight, you struggle to find your voice. 

“G-g-good to know.” 

You smother his response by turning on the water behind you. 

Hot. Scalding hot. You want to disintegrate into the steam. With your belligerent guardian hovering nearby, you unbutton your shirt and ease your jeans off down your hips. Everything was unsalvageable. You wonder if you could get a reimbursement for clothes caught in the crossfire, remembering the story Steve told you about the time Javi got his cash bribery to a cop paid back in full by the DEA. 

Despite the things you said to him in the car, and despite what you know about him, you know he’s not eyeing you through the crack. He would never. 

I wouldn’t brag about you to anyone, even if you lost. 

And I especially would never if you let me fuck you.

That heat blooms in you again and you quickly shuck off your underwear. The steam is overwhelming, soothing the singed insides of your lungs with a wet compress. You step under the water and bite back a gasp. Fucking Jesus, it hurts. It burns, but it feels like it’s stripping off layers and layers of dirt and grime and destruction and smoke and chaos and holy shit, you almost died –

“Javi.” His name is in your mouth before you can stop it. It’s so heavy there, you can almost taste it.

“Yeah?” He responds instantly, cautiously. 

“Uh, nothing. Sorry. I was just . . . just making sure you were awake out there.” 

“I’m still here.”

He sees through your bullshit so fast it makes you flinch in anger. You scowl at the floor, focusing on watching the gray water rush down the drain. You struggle to fully wash your hair – the bandages around your palms are completely soaked but don’t come off easily – and when you go to rub soap on yourself, you pass over your hips and hiss.

Yep, bruises. Purple ones the size of your fist, up your left side, and by your ribs. You remember waking up sideways, the blast having launched you off your feet and into the road. You were grateful you didn’t knock your head against anything permanent. And lucky nothing got pierced, shattered, or snapped in two. Or crushed or bent or displaced. Two bombs and you get to go home to your bed and sleep.

And so does Javi.

Even just imagining that Javi wouldn’t make it home ran a shudder through your body so painful, the water shooting out of the shower head could have been ice cold. But the images in your mind grow and distort, his eyes wide open and no life within, his body too mangled for identification, your consciousness and his separated forever or maybe lost together in the same snarling black pit of endless nothing – tears spring into your eyes so fast it hurts as sharpness clogs your throat. 

God, you came so fucking close to dying and all this petty bullshit that you’ve dragged him through just because you didn’t want to seem incapable, when in fact, he thought you were the most talented agent he’s ever seen – why the fuck are you doing this to him? The intensity in your chest swells but you beat it back, beat it down, as you wrangle back your belligerent emotions into the box where they belong. No, fuck, that’s stupid. He’s fine. You’re fine. This is what you trained for. You cannot afford to lose it now. This is standard operating procedure. He’s not crying so neither should you. Buck the fuck up. 

You stand there for a full minute, every muscle in your body locked to steady yourself, mouth twisted down, hands fisted, thighs clenched, thighs locking up at the memory of him, of his promises, of the line you nearly crossed before it all went to hell.

Just fucking relax and let me take you apart.

You release, eyes open, mouth apart with a gasp. Fuck, this is so fucked up. You wanted Javi alive and breathing, to annoy every day, and to rail you within an inch of your life.

I’d make it good. I’d make it so fucking good, I swear.

He is just outside that door. Just waiting for you to say the word. 

No. He didn’t go running into the next open bed just because he was sad or some shit. Sad or scared or whatever. No, you aren’t going to be that pathetic, no matter how badly you throb, no matter how much you ache, no matter how much you already know that your fingers won’t be enough – and you can’t even use them. Hissing from the hot water on your skin and the frustration that grows between your legs, you carefully, gingerly, knowing full well what would happen if you made any sort of unusual sound, stepped out of the bathtub and took a towel down from the shelf. You wrapped it around yourself, your skin warm and smarting, but no longer aching. 

The door hadn’t moved an inch. 

You brush your hair a few times out of habit more than anything else and squeegee it until it's no longer dripping. Now to face him. You knock on the door, feeling as though you should respect this boundary you made on both sides. 

“Uh, Javi,” your chest won’t let you forget you were near tears, or the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn that insatiable animal between your legs decided to make. You try again, firmer. “Javier, I’m done.”

“Do you want me to leave so you can go to the bedroom?”

Leave? Why would you want him to leave the apartment?

No. He’s asking if you don’t want him to see you in a towel. You can almost picture his broad hand on the other handle. A phantom over your own.

“N-n-no. It’s fine. I’ll just – I’ll just come out.” 

You pull back the door and he’s there against the door frame, his broad shoulders turned away from you like someone left the paddock door open and all you have to do is run, run free, run away –

“Thanks,” you murmur, not meeting his eyes as you slide past him. You don’t even fault him if he looks at your ass, but you make it to the bedroom. The bathroom door clicks shut behind you and your lungs release a pent-up breath. 

He was fucking right. Getting it off you does make it better. 

From your dresser, you grab just some underwear and your older brother’s old college t-shirt. It comes to your midthigh and that’s exactly what you need right now. You don’t want anything thick on you. The smell is comforting in a way you can’t describe and you inhale as all the tension eases from your body. 

You drop your towel over the handle of the closet, in which Javi had somehow managed to find space for his many collared shirts despite you swearing there was not an inch of room for him, when you see something on the floor by the dresser. Call it delusion from the events of the night, but you don’t recognize it for what it is until you pick it up . . . and immediately drop it when the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

It’s a rag, one you both (horrifyingly) use to wash your face, and it’s stiff on the inside. Not full, but hardened. Vaguely you can still hear the shower running as you contemplate what this means. For all the shit you give him, you really didn’t think he would cheat and not fess up. No, this wasn’t him consciously cheating – the rag was too casually discarded for this to be considered evidence. This is something else. 

All of this – the bet, the rules, the fact that you actually included wet dreams – you decided on!

Twice now I’m pretty sure I’ve gone blind in one eye, listening to all that and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it.

This is . . . your freebie. 

Your face warms, your fingers flexing around the edge of your t-shirt. Holy shit. Wet dreams. Nocturnal emissions. Holy shit.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. 

The shower turns off just as the warm rushes between your legs, unrestrained and unrestricted. You swear your mouth waters at the thought that you might find an ounce of relief, tonight. Even soon. Your thighs quiver. 

The bathroom door opens and you all but launch yourself under the covers. Your fingers are between your thighs before you can stop them, just there, a reminder of relief and you fight off a shiver. The respect he gave you slips into your mind the second before he rounds the corner into the bedroom and you snap your eyes shut, the covers to your chin. 

He moves in silence, but the things around him do not. The floor cracks where he walks. The dresser drawer groans as he opens them and shuts them. You think you hear the rustle of a towel falling, then fabric moving on skin, and the floor squeaks in protest as he walks back out of the room. 

You breathe out, the air hacked up and choppy as though through between blades. You take your fingers from between your legs, but the stickiness in your underwear remains, just as it has been for a month and a half now. You might be berating yourself – what kind of fucked up were you that this is your reaction to a near-death experience? – if the light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t so bright. You could take off that searing, serrated edge that’s kept you from sleeping well, from dreaming, remove your brain from the hot plate it's been sizzling in for a month and a half. You try desperately not to imagine Javi entirely naked as he moves about the room, but you can’t help it, not now that you’ve given yourself permission to marinate in those feelings, in that heat. Oh God, please can’t he just go to bed?

There’s a click and suddenly light blooms behind your eyelids. You squint open one eye to see him coming towards you with a medical kit in his hands. 

“I know you’re awake. Sit up and let me dress your hands.” 

The white gauze was damp and soggy from the shower, but you hadn’t really noticed. He sits down, just beyond where your toes are covered by your blanket, and sighs. 

“C’mon. Faster you do this, the faster we can go to sleep.” 

“Or we could just not. Just go to sleep now.” Just go over there. All the way over there. The bed sinks where he adjusts on your mattress and you swear you can feel his body heat through the covers. You bite your lip and force that whimper back down your throat. 

“It’ll get infected.” He taps your thigh under the comforter. “C’mon.”

You sit up but don’t give him your hands. He’s turned on the lamp light between your two beds, not the overhead light, and it blurs all the lines of his shoulders, his jaw, his hair. His white shirt is warmly golden and you realize you had been hoping he wasn’t wearing one. He still hasn’t looked up at you. Maybe he really is irritated that he’s not asleep yet, which you marvel at – you won’t be able to fall asleep for hours, even if you weren’t low throbbing between your legs. With a sigh that’s more practice than sincerity, you stick out your palms. The gauze and tape no longer sit right over your skin and you can now see the pink skin beneath it. 

Javi makes a noise in the back of his throat before digging around in the med kit for something. He pulls out a small pair of scissors and starts cutting back the gauze. 

“I could do this myself, you know.” It’s petulant and bratty but you didn’t think Javier Peña was capable of the delicate touch with which he holds your hand steady. 

“I know,” he says. “I wanted to do it for you.” 

It is painfully obvious that you absolutely could not do this unassisted but for the life of you, you can’t imagine why he’s humoring you. You watch him as he methodically cuts through the wet gauze, inordinately careful not to catch or drag the material. He cuts down between your third and fourth knuckle on both hands, and eases the gauze away.

Exposed to the open air, the wounds on the heels of your palms sting and you hiss. Javi, who just had his head in the kit, snaps his head up to you.

“Don’t–,”

But it’s too late, you’ve already turned over your hands. Angry, red, pulsing gashes, some so deep you can see muscle, sit in matching places at the bottom of your hands. Presumably, when you were thrown, you reached out to catch yourself and your hands and hips got the brunt of the impact. But your hips had your jeans over them while your hands had nothing.

“You don’t need stitches.” Javi’s gaze is heavy, his voice low. His hands loosely hold the new roll of gauze and tape. He looks like he’s bracing himself, that he’s worried you’re about to yell at him. “I checked with the EMTs. You don’t need stitches.” 

“Oh.” You won’t be able to properly close your hands for months. 

“They don’t think–,” his voice catches. “They don’t think it’ll scar either. Maybe a bit, but not so much that –,”

“Where were you?” Your question isn’t accusatory, but curious. You look up at him and he flinches. “I don’t see anything on you.” 

“You were closer.” The room is thick with his solemnity. “You were covering my right and I,” he swallows, his eyes fixated on your bloody hands, “I should have seen it coming.”

“Bullshit, Javi. No one could have seen that coming. No one could have stopped it.” His nostrils flare again and he not-too-gently takes your hand with his fingers. Your wrist looks so small in comparison to his fingers. He unwinds the gauze around your palm, and wraps it up against your wrist, securing it with tape, his movements tight and short. There’s real rage in his eyes.

“Yes, I could have.”

His fucking ego. It scratches against you until you feel your skin catch fire. You want to snatch back your other hand, but he’s insistent, not rough, but boasting no room for negotiation. “There’s nothing you could have done, you idiot. You’re not actually Superman.” 

He grinds his teeth. “I should have just done my fucking job.” 

There’s only so much you can take. This fucking man.

You snatch your hand back from him the instant the tape seals the gauze. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” His shoulders are lined with tension. You want to kick him off your bed. His fingers dig into your mattress. “You fucking follow me around like I’m liable to break apart and then you go and pull this shit.”

“What shit?” He growls as he angrily packs up the kit and drops it on the floor.

“This! This tough guy, I’m-fucking-invincible, John-Wayne bullshit. We were both there, Javier. Both of us were in the crossfire of not one, but two explosions tonight. So don’t act like I’m the only one upset. Don’t act like this didn’t affect you.” 

He goes still. His nails freeze in their excavation of your bedsheets, his shoulders hunched like he’s straining under some immense pressure. Just as you’re about to lift your eyes to find his, he stands – and moves closer to your end of the bed. You flinch, react, because this is not at all what you were expecting from him, and you pull your knees to your chest. 

His hand hovers over your knee. 

He’s so broad he eclipses the light until he’s all you see. There’s a twitch in his jaw and finally his hand settles down. His thumb rubs your skin once, as if to confirm you’re there. 

For the first time in your partnership, his face is unreadable to you. His gaze is dark, stormy, raging, but the corners of his mouth are pulled down and his breathing is sharp. His swallow unsticks his jaw from his upper teeth.

“I thought I lost you today.” His voice is firm. Solid. Unwavering. It had been building up against his teeth, around the soft palate of his tongue. It sat in his mouth and waited for its turn. His confession makes him braver. He sits, closer to you than he was in the car, closer to you than he’s ever been. He watches his hand on your knee. How close it is to your thigh. How easy it would be to slide down to your hip. And then he shakes his head, as though physically fighting back sleep. “Don’t ask me to talk about it. Okay? I can’t. Don’t ask me about it.” 

You can almost feel his gravitational pull. But you resist. You always resist.

It can’t be this easy for him. You can’t be this willing. You cannot be some stupid skirt for him or anyone to throw around.

“You told Noonan this was my first bombing, that I was in shock.” 

“You were. That’s why you don’t remember what happened clearly,” he says gently, no condescension, “it’ll come to you, in a few days. You just need time to process it.” He speaks from experience and it makes you so angry. He breathes out his nose and his hand retreats, sliding back down your calf, his fingers wrapping around your ankle as if you intended to fly away and he wasn’t going to let you.

“But then why did you make it sound like I couldn’t handle it?” It’s not in your imagination when his eyes go dark, mouth flatting, when he sees you just have underwear on underneath your shirt. You watch him as his eyelids fall heavy and his head turns, just a bit. 

What the fuck is wrong with you? No –

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“It has nothing to do with you,” he says softly, his gaze riding back up your knee, as slow and as steady as his hand. He stops in his touchless-roving of you and looks you in your eye. Now this look . . . this look you know. It was the same one he wore when he told you he wanted to ruin other people for you. “I’ve seen fully grown men curl up into a ball after experiencing what you went through. It was horrific. People died. There’s a natural reaction to these things. You’re only human.” 

It’s a sentiment that disgusts you. 

“And it’ll come to me too.” Javier admits. The words ring in the air, hovering, crawling into your ears, down your throat and taking root into your heart. Eyes never leaving your face, he suddenly comes forward, hand going across your hip, drawing his body over yours as you lean back as far as the headboard will let you go, but his broad shoulders have you pinned. You swallow a whimper in your throat. His head turns, and the electrons between the tip of his nose and your skin crackle. His breath is less close than he is. “It’ll come for me. I know it will.” He sighs as if your scent is soothing, “do you want me to help you forget?” 

Just his gaze has you in a stranglehold. If you move a muscle, you’ll touch him. The tendons in his forearms flex on both sides. 

“I-I-I want– I want–,” 

“Tell me, baby, tell me what you want.” His voice is honey smooth, glazed with sparks and fireworks. He says one thing when he means, let me kiss you. 

His nose drags down your throat, inhaling as if to savor, and he plants one chaste kiss on your collar bone, lets his lips linger. He’s tasting you for the first time. “What were you going to say? Do you need a reminder?” As quick and as hot as lightning, his hand leaves the mattress, eases around the back of your thigh and he presses his knuckles into the wet clutch of your underwear. He punches out a quiet groan as your breathing stutters – fuck, how did he know? “She seems to remember me pretty well. Remembers how I made her feel.” 

You snag him by the wrist, your other elbow quaking, your breathing small and tight. This is it, this is how it all ends. You look him in the eye, knowing whatever is rapidly expanding in your chest has made it into your gaze, into the set of your jaw, and Javi looks like he wants to drink whatever’s in your mouth right out of your lips.

“I found the rag.” 

Tonight’s full of firsts, it seems; Javier Pena fucking blushes. 

“That wasn’t– I was sleeping, that doesn’t count. I can’t control it.” 

Your breathing hitches, victory squeezing your lungs. 

“F-f-fine,” you murmur. Slowly, you push his fingers back into your wet panties. You think you might melt from the intensity of his stare alone, “but I want a f-f-freebie too.”

You watch as Javi’s irises plunge into darkness. 

“You want me to make you come, and it won’t count? The bet’s still on?” 

You nod, frantically, rolling your hips against his fingers and he hisses, yanking back from you. 

“Fucking finally. But we’re doing this my way.”

“What do you–,”

Snagging you by the hips, he twists you perpendicular to the bed as he sinks to his knees on the floor. Your heart is pounding in your throat as you watch him toss your knees over his shoulders, eyes fixated on that wet spot on your crotch.

“Javi, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Bed’s too small,” he murmurs, licking his lips, still focused on you. “Can’t stretch out with the dresser. Knees are gonna fucking kill me but . . .”

As though called, Javi drops his head and kisses where your clit would be over your underwear. All strength is suddenly zapped from your elbows and you flop back, the sound of his corresponding groan forever imprinted on your hips.

“Oh, fuck, Javi, what are you–,” 

His fingers curve around the waistband of your underwear and with his nose hovering just over where the waistline sits, he tugs, over one leg and then the other. You feel his breath warm over the dampness in the thatch of your curls and you cannot fight the noise that breaks out of your chest. Your fingers dive into his hair and he hasn’t even touched you. 

“Just the one, right?” He licks the inside of your thigh and you arch, just a bit. God, you are so oversensitive and it’s fucking embarrasing – but it’s been so goddamn, fucking long and it’s him.  

“Y-y-yes, just, just the one.”

He surges forward, mutters something that sounds like, “we’ll see”, and licks the entire length of your slit. 

He is relentless. He is relentless and talented and so very, very, very eager –

Head thrown back, you press your shoulders into the mattress as he licks the slick from your cunt, washing your clit with his spit and your slick. He plays there, twisting and swirling, and just at the peak of pleasure, he sinks two fingers into you and a moan rockets out of you. 

“JaviJaviJavi–,”

His responding moan sends shivers across your skin as he opens his jaw wider to lick you even deeper. He shifts attention, focuses on your fluttering cunt while his thumb makes laps around that sweet bundle of nerves. With every heartbeat, you can feel his hands, his tongue, the tip of his nose, flush with your slick. It’s like he’s bleeding you dry, wringing every bit of pleasure from you while he still can. 

His fingers pump hard and fast without warning and you jolt, thighs tensing, sending a crackle down your spine that thrusts your hips into his face. Oh god, they are so much bigger than your own fingers. Oh god, he’s right. Oh god, oh god, oh god –

 The white-knuckled terror of what happened tonight snaps in half as your back arches against his chest. You can feel the hold it had on you crack as he beckons you forward, beckons you back to that knife-edge of relief, as he drags you out of this broken, horrified shell. How did he know exactly what you needed? That coil springs red hot and tight, pleasure rocketing between your legs and up your spine. 

“Worst thought I had all night was that I’d never get back inside this sweet pussy,” he mutters into your thigh. He doesn’t even ask when he adds a third finger, his other hand ridiculously stroking under your knee, as if you’d ever be calm, ever be rational again. 

“Do you hear that, baby? She’s crying for me. She missed me so much,” he grunts directly into your sopping wet pussy. He groans at the sound. Eyes fluttering, he drops his head and licks around your clit again, his wrist snapping against you so roughly you bounce up the mattress.  

Goddamn it, Javier. 

Your core starts to flutter, this orgasm that has been mounting for weeks every time you look at him roaring down on you. It's the one from the car that’s been lurking just out of sight. It’s the one from when you sat on the toilet as he paraded around topless, so consumed with hatred and blind lust you couldn’t move. It’s the one that sparked out, unwanted and unbidden when he smirked at you over his desk, and said, “fine, I’ll take your fucking bet.”

Your nails scratch at his head, fingers knotting his hair, that enormous, crushing orgasm just out of reach, with every muscle in your body extended out to reach it – if you could just get a finger on it –

“You come for me, now. Only me.” His gaze is transfixed on you, mouth, chin, cheeks shining in the low light, but the blazing in his eyes has a direct line to the white-lighting thundering behind the thrust of his fingers. Your eyes roll back in your head as he flicks his wrist faster, the precision of his thumb on your clit mind-numbing. 

“Oh, Javi, Jesus Christ, I—,”

“Just let me take you apart.”

He curls his fingers, and sucks on your clit hard. 

You’re launched. 

Launched off the ground. Into the stratosphere. White noise, propelling you higher and higher, static where your limbs should be. 

There’s the height, the peak, the intensity almost burning out your nerve-endings to numbness, you’re pretty sure you’ve stopped breathing, toes curled against his back, heels digging into his spine –

– and then –

– and then –

He french-kisses your cunt and you slam back down so hard you curl inwards. It knocks you flat back against the mattress, your fingers ooze away from the crown of his head and flop against your stomach. You do not possess the willpower or ability to open your eyes. The warmth between your legs settles, purrs, satiated.  

“J-Javi,” you try and speak through a completely dry mouth. “J-Javi, come here.” 

He grunts, uh-uh, and slowly, as feeling returns to your legs, you feel his hands around your hips, fingers pulling you down, down into his open mouth where he’s still –

You whimper, that simmer ticking up again. There is no energy left inside of you to stop him, and you don’t want to. Not really. Not when he’s rocking you smoothly, gently with three fingers, through your first high and leading you towards another. He twists his wrist, middle finger brushing you yourself could never quite reach and your hips buck up, wavering on the edged line between pain and pleasure. He presses a wet, salty kiss into your hip bone, keeping you still. 

Your own breathing seems to set you off, as if any movement at all is liable to heat that spark, make you clench tighter and tighter on his fingers. “Javi, please – it’s only-only supposed to be the o-one–,” 

He groans, rubbing his forehead against you as his fingers plug you up again and again. He licks a patch of skin just below your hip bone and you shiver. 

  “You come for me when I tell you to come,” he tongues your clit and you twist, not entirely overstimulation, but god it makes you ache. “You come, you frustrating hermosita, and you let me give you as many orgasms as I want and you forget this stupid fucking bet–,” 

Your trembling thigh pulls out of his grasp, heel digging into his shoulder, and with a jerk you pry him off you, out of you, and your second orgasm is wrenched away from you so fast, you actually black out for a second. You kick out, gasping in shock and agony, and he falls back on his ass on the floor. But you were too close, on the heels of what quite possibility was the biggest orgasm of your life, too sensitive and freshly fucked. A gyroscope of blinding heat and pulsing wet, you’re oscillating between pain and pleasure, and you clamp your legs shut, hand springing to your mouth. This is it, this is the moment you cry, the moment you break down. You can’t take it anymore. Not after a month, not after all this time as his partner, not after almost dying–  

You feel like your body is actively rebelling against you, punishing you for being so fucking stupid. 

And you know you’re being stupid too, but it's a reaction. It’s an instinct at this point – self-preservation above all else. Groaning, you roll onto your side, trying to breathe through it, trying to swallow it all down – but your thighs – they’re sticky, and wet, and you can feel your slick all the way down to the curve of your ass – and it makes you just –

“I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned the bet,” and he laughs. Easy, a little disbelieving, but not angry. You wrench your eyes open, mustering all that throbbing into a glare that you hope burns his skin. He’s climbed into the far end of the bed, leaning back against the dresser at the foot of your bed, thick cock fully tenting his shorts, but looking so smug you want to kick him again. You weakly bat at his ankle with your toe.

“Y-you . . . shut the fuck up,” you groan, your thighs quavering. You gulp down air, seeing

the other side of it, but it’s not going away fast enough. 

He sighs, adjusting himself in his pants, but not trying to hide in the slightest. “Stop squeezing. You’re making it worse.” 

“What?” you pant. 

Javi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark, then lifts his hands, a universal white-flag, and he gently takes your ankle, pulling it back across the mattress. It spreads your legs, the cold air in the room against your overripe and exposed cunt almost tickling, but the pressure lessens, eases. You might have been embarrassed to be so completely exposed to him but you stopped worrying about dignity a long time ago. 

“Relax. And breathe.” 

You throw your crossed wrists over your forehead, sucking in lungfuls of air, as he slowly parts your thighs as they finally stop shaking. Inhaling, exhaling, you bury the sensation until it isn’t overwhelming anymore. He gently thumbs your ankle.  

“There you go. You did it . . . whatever it is you’re trying to do.” You open your eyes to his smile, no longer smug, but a little delirious. He shakes his head, laughing a bit as he looks at the ceiling. “Do you feel better?”

You scowl at him and haul yourself to the other end of the bed, closing your legs that have completely turned to jelly. You curl away from him. 

“No, you fucking asshat, I don’t feel better.” You eye his still-tented pants. “Do you?” 

He sighs, a fraction of his control slipping, and he traces mustache with his forefinger and thumb. 

“Not particularly.” He watches your ankles move on the blankets with interest, gaze hardening as it curves over your thigh. “So what’s your next move? What’s your plan?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re just going to deny yourself, forever?”

“No, just until you come first. Then, fuck, I think I’m going to join a swingers club.”

“Not funny.” 

“It is if you’re me.”

His cock is softening, easing back down, and he sulkily rubs himself. The hum between your legs has finally gone to sleep. You could turn your foot and brush his calf. This bed is definitely not meant to hold two fully grown adults. 

You can tell he’s itching for a cigarette. 

“Why do you want to win so much?” He crosses his arms, contemplative instead of sour. “I mean, you prove to them that you have more willpower than the rest of the building combined and every man at the DEA knows not to fuck with you. But then what? What do you get then?”

You push back with your shoulders, turning so that you’re facing him, your foot now near his knee. There’s a birthmark on his left inner thigh you’ve never seen before. Never before has anyone tried so hard to understand you. 

“Peace,” you answer, the answer coming to you immediately. “Quiet. I can finally do my job without worrying about some mouth-breather taking a photo up my skirt.” 

His eyes darken, an unsettling rage sparking to life. “Did someone actually do that to you?”

You pick at a thread on your shirt. “It’s none of your concern. And if it did, you don’t have to worry because I fucking launched his camera out the third story window.”

“Good. But I want you to tell me who it was.”

“No.”

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“What if this was just for me? What if I don’t want to work with a fucking asshole who takes pictures of my female colleagues? What if I’ve had a shitty month and a half and I want to kick someone ass, huh?”

You sit up a little straighter, his diatribe flushing something warm inside you. He shakes his head, but you can see his gears turning about how to sneak employee records from the old lady in HR. But he brings himself back to the moment, to you.

“Okay, so peace, quiet. Fucking dead men who take pictures up your skirt. What now?”

“Now I live uninterrupted. My work is judged on its merit not what’s between my legs. I’m finally left alone.”

“Alone? Isn’t that . . . well, lonely?” 

“Doesn’t matter when you’re queen of the mountain,” you smile. And that’s what you always believed. That was the goal. That was the end. Whatever you had to crawl your way through, whatever monstrous form your ambition took, there was always the mountain. 

Javi chews on the skin behind his bottom lip as he looks at you. If there ever comes a time when he’s not frowning at you, there’s something probably very wrong. 

And then he turns his head, as if seeing a light in the distance. 

“So you’re queen of the mountain top. Ice queen, frost witch, all alone.”

Something in his voice tears at a vulnerable place inside you. “Javier, don’t. Just drop it, okay?”

“All alone and no one to call you a monster. What was your phrasing, a nagging bitch?” 

“Get off my bed, Javier. Right now. Get out.”

“If I make you come first, I’ll tell everyone I went first.” His brown eyes catch the lamplight and burn gold for an instant.

You tuck your legs underneath you, your heart rate doubling. He’s cutting a line through your emotions, jerking you back and forth between anger, sadness, embarrassment, fear — you’d swear he was using a scalpel. 

“Why is it so fucking important to you that I get off?” You snap. “Why do you want to be the one to do it? Why did you t-touch me like that? Why do you care?”

He moves quicker than he has all night, probably now that he knows you can’t out run him. That you don’t actually want to. You want him to catch you every single time. Javi crawls forward, follows your legs up to your chest, and cages you between his thighs. Your feet slid under the space between his calves and the mattress. 

He’s not trying to crowd you, not trying to intimidate you. But he does want you to be overwhelmed by him. To let only him exist in your mind. 

Gently, but this time because he wants to savor every delicious second, he takes your hand again and kisses your wrist, eyes closed. 

“Cariño,” he murmurs in his native language and it’s like someone dropped a bucket between your legs. Your cunt bottoms out at that single word. His other hand scoops down around your waist, encouraging you forward, and of course you go willingly, until you’ve got your thighs around his hips and your head tucked into the curve of his neck. He breathes deep . . . And he holds you. Just holds you. 

It’s so raw you’re trembling. 

He lifts the collar of your shirt and presses his lips to your skin. 

“Te han lastimado antes. No otra vez. No conmigo.” He puts his forehead against your temple. “You know exactly why I care. I thought it was obvious when I nearly lost my goddamn mind in the street tonight. I couldn’t find you in the smoke. I knew I was being too obvious, but I couldn’t care. It was written all over my face.” 

He’s plucking back your exposed wiring, to the meat of you. To the fleshy tender bits. The thing you always feared the most.

And yet, with him, it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel like you’re losing, when he discovers your secrets. When he learns the truth of you. And more importantly, he doesn’t flinch away. 

That’s quite literally never happened before. 

Tears flood your eyes before you can stop them and you bury your face in his throat. You’ve gotten very good at silent crying but a single breath and he has his broad hands rubbing up and down your spine. 

“I think even Noonan knows. But what’s she gonna do?” He snorts, characteristically cavalier about his career in the face of what he finds most important. 

You feel very small against his chest, a position you never wanted to be in your most terrifying nightmares. 

  But looking back, there’s a lot you would tell your past self.

You lift your head, not trying to hide your tears as you gaze up at him. “Noonan knows what, Javi?” 

His smile is sad, still disbelieving, but warm. Gentle. Loving. It pricks at your heart. 

“Ask me again in the morning, baby. Okay? Pregúntame entonces.” 

You nod and he wipes back the streaks of tears with his thumbs. 

“Can I please make you come now?” 

You swallow, that heat sparking from his hands on your cheeks, down your spine, and into the very center of you. 

“Okay.” 

You reach forward and cup the back of his head, fingers twisting into his hair, and you realize this is the first time you've ever touched him like this. You sniffle. 

“Okay, Peña. Do your worst.”

He snorts. “It’s not supposed to feel like ripping off a bandaid.” 

Logically, you don’t disagree. But . . . 

“I know.” 

Do you?

His eyes search your face, his hand on your cheek almost firm as if inspecting you. “We’ll come at the same time, alright? No winners, no losers, just us.” 

You nod frantically, eyes tracing his lips, his nose, his chin. “Yeah. Just us. Just us, Javi.”

“Only us,” he murmurs breathily, gaze locked onto your mouth, and your hands tighten around the back of his neck. Shifting more into his knees, his fingers tug at his shorts, dragging them down over his hips and once you realize what he’s doing, your pulse instantly skyrockets. 

His waistband slips down and his cocks springs free, tapping against your thigh and it’s suddenly too real – his arm around you is crushing the wind out of you, but it’s not enough and too much. Is that what was in his jeans? Is that what he rubbed up against the steering wheel over and over again?

“I’m gonna do it right, I swear,” he promises your sternum as he knees out of his shorts. “I’m gonna eat your pussy for as long as you can take it, but I –,” 

His gaze flickers to your hand as you drop your shirt off the side of the bed and he stills for just a second. Then he looks back up at you, those dark brown pupils blown wide in lust and awe, and you feel the air sucked from your lungs. You are, in every sense of the word, naked in front of Javier Peña. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, pulling him on top of you, your nipples rubbing roughly against his shirt. He sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, to ready you, but you shake your head, the lack of oxygen in your brain making you slightly light-headed as if you’ve been tumbling down the side of a hill. 

“It’s fine, Javi, I just need – I want –,”

He nods because he understands you – he fucking sees you, he always, always had – and he lifts your thighs. His breath shortens in anticipation as he works your hips, your damp folds rubbing against his length. 

“I’m gonna – I’m gonna do it right, I s-swear –,”

Your nails dig into the back of his neck and he groans. 

“Javi, just do it now.” 

He settles you down and lets the weight of you take him in, inch by agonizing inch, up into your warm, dripping center. After almost two months of aching emptiness, the sudden burst of pleasure nearly knocks the wind out of you. 

“Oh, fuck,” the stretch is magnificent, ecstacy rippling through you, and you claw yourself closer to him. He grunts in your ear and his other hand latches onto the headboard.

“Ngh– fuck, I know.” 

He grip on your waist tightens, either fighting the urge to come or fuck up into you, as you sink down onto him. Your eyes flutter and you feel sweat spark out down your spine. Your hand lifts the back of his shirt and you press your palm into the small of his back.

“Take-take this off.” He complies, shifting you both and you open-mouth gasp at the change in pressure. He sags forward, his head on your shoulder, and his forearm binding you to him. His teeth nip at your skin.  

Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing in your entire life.

God, he is going to ruin you.

“Javier, please move—,” 

He nods, and sits back. “Yeah – yeah, okay –,”

He rolls his hips once and fuck, you are never going to do this to yourself again. It’s not just that you haven’t had sex in almost two months but you had been teasing yourself around him, some primal part of your brain throwing a fit that you didn’t give into your baser instinct for him. It was him specifically that wound you tighter than a wet knot and now you are in danger of coming so hard and so fast from just a single thrust.

He shifts you more so your weight is more on top of him, pressing your low back closer, and finally he starts rolling his hips, dragging the length of him just enough out. You swear you can follow the line of your orgasm on the lines of his hips. 

“I just – I need to take the edge off–,” He confesses to your throat, in a low, wrecked voice. “Just a bit.” 

“I don’t care, Javi,” you squeeze your thighs and you can hear the headboard groan behind you. “Just move!” 

He bucks up into you, rougher, all in one go, giving himself over to your demands, to his own and starts hammering into your hips. It hurts, but fuck it feels good too. He sets a pace that has your mouth go slack, his hip bones rubbing right up against your clit over and over and over again, overheating every inch of your skin and making your mouth water. You think you feel him up in your cervix. 

“Fuck, why did we wait so long to do this?” he murmurs against your jaw. “Huh? Been living with you for a month – nghh – this’s what we could’ve been doing instead?”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull your warm tits against his chest. He groans, and his fingers slip down to the bottom of your spine, one resting against the crack of your ass. 

“Month in a half–,” you correct him breathlessly. “‘ve had to watch you walk around topless in the morning . . . for a month and a half.” 

He releases something between a growl and a groan from his chest and he drops you a bit, angling his hips down, and you gasp at the angle. You lean back and scrape your nails down his chest. 

He drops his mouth open and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, rolls it between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue. When you jolt, he seeks out the other one, nipping just hard enough it makes you gasp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Javi–,”

“You like that?” he smirks, his sideburns damp, “yeah, you do.”

You barely nod before he turns you both onto the bed, but he grabs your knees from his hips and splits them. Switching from that rough bounce, Javi grinds his cock deeper into you, brushing a place inside of you that flicks the heat like a lighter. You want to hold your legs open for him. 

“Can’t wait to see you come like this,” he grunts. His hand leaves your knee and starts to tease your clit again. You’re leaking into the mattress, your cunt fluttering as though electrified. “See you turn off that fucking gorgeous brain of yours. Maybe then you’ll be nice to me.” 

“Never.”

He smirks above you and you can’t help but grin back. 

“You’re such a tease, you know that?” His grinds are long, deep, allowing for the sound of your cunt sucking him in to punctuate the silence. 

“Only for you.” You want to take it back the second it's out of your mouth, but you can’t and he is . . . the expression on your face, it makes him bite down on his back molars. 

His eyes flutter and he rewards you with a swift rub on your clit. You shudder, feeling so full, you can barely form sentences, much less words.

“Yeah? Only me?” His damp hand leaves your clit and slides up your ribs, taking his time as he fucks you so deep, you’re going to feel it tomorrow in your guts. He cups the heavy flesh of your breast, and circles your nipple with his thumb. You arch into his touch and his mouth drops. “All this – just for me, baby?”

You squeeze him once, your fingers wrapped around his forearms, and his rhythm slips. “You fucking heard me the first time. Don’t stop.”

He slows, his irises jet black and wide, lust-blown. His sweaty chest heaving, droplets running down the back of his neck, he pins you to the mattress with just his gaze. His hips draw little figure eights and you fight to keep your eyes from rolling back, to force that oncoming orgasm at bay.

“Still with that mouth. That goddamn attitude.” 

You swallow, because oh god, you’ve really done it now. “Yeah. I remember something about fucking that attitude out of me.”

His head cocks to the side. His hands leave your knees, hovering as they tease the microscopic hairs on your skin, until he’s braced over you. You wrap your legs around his hips, bringing them down to you.

“Do you want that?” He husks, nose trailing over yours, then your mouth, your chin, as drops of sweat patter onto your neck, your chest. The Bogota heat is really unforgivable. You know you’re staining your sheets with multiple fluids. “You want me to fuck the attitude out of you?”

“A lady never repeats herself,” you mutter, your hands combing through his damp curls. “Javi, I’m so close, please. . .” One of those disbelieving eyebrows arch up. He doesn’t seem to hear you.

“A lady, huh? Well, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I came first, so why don’t you just . . .” He unwinds one of your legs from his hips, balances it over his shoulder, and grinds down. Your snarky retort is lost to the recess of your brain and the tension flares within you, forcing a breathy moan out of your mouth. His gaze follows your nose as you arch back and come down. “There we go, just needed it right, huh?”

“Just–,” thrust, “a little–,” thrust, “attention–,”

“God, Javi–,” you cry out. 

His new pace is even more staggering than the last. At this angle, you feel like you’re being split up, carved out, taking him in until there’s more of him than you. His thrusts are just as deep as the last but harder, rougher, faster–

Oh, god, so fast, so, so, so fast–

He’s fucking you down into the mattress and you deliriously consider the sturdiness of this fucking twin bed. It squeaks and rocks.

“So fucking tight,” Javi mutters to himself more than you, his jaw locked. “So fucking good.” 

You’re right at the peak in a fraction of the time, your walls no longer fighting him. He groans deep as you start to flutter, start to come– when he stops – again.

“Javi,” the halting of your orgasm is officially painful, your stomach tight and your cunt clenching. And fuck, you’re crying. “Javi, please, please don’t stop. I’ll do anything. Anything you ask, but please, please let me come.”

  He half-chuckles, half-pants as he lifts your hips up and sets a pillow down under them. 

“When I said I was going to fuck you and make it good, I meant it. Besides,” he swings your other leg over his shoulder again, rocking over you and nearly splitting you in half. He fills you in a single, rough stroke and at the new angle, where he’s deeper than ever, and now the tears stream out the corner of your eyes as you gasp at the sensation. “I thought you said you didn’t want to come.” You whine, high-pitched and needy, as he drags all the way back out and plummets down again, making you feel every inch of him. You’re a sobbing mess when he does it again.

“Fuck, Javi, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please keep doing that–,”

With little half-thrusts, he kisses your left temple, right over where the tears flowed into the sheets. 

“You did everything right tonight.” You split open your watery lashes to see him watching you. He looks about as wrecked as you feel, brow furrowed, cheeks pink. How does he fucking maintain control like this? “You’re doing everything right. You did so good. But let me do this. I want to – I’ve wanted, for s’long –,”

Your breathing stutters between the tears and his words. You can only nod, your bottom lip trembling, as Javi picks up his speed again, steady at first, then harder. He grunts with every stroke, like he’s trying to prove something. The slap of hips against yours is outrageous. Every thrust threatens to shatter the very center of you. Detonate something precious and vulnerable inside of you. 

“You’re close, aren’t you? God, I can feel it. I can fucking feel it.”

He thrusts down more, faster, like he’s chasing you, chasing your orgasm. He grits his teeth, neck muscles corded. He hitches your leg higher.

“C’mon, ba-by, that’s- it, that’s it– lemme fe-el it–,”

But you are seconds away and he’s still not there, still sprinting after you. So you do the only thing you can think of.

You lean up, your knee falling off his shoulder, and you kiss him. Hand clutching his neck, you kiss him with every last ounce of your awareness, of self-preservation, of fucking adoration because this man is the only creature on the planet with a willpower to match your own. And you fucking love it. 

He grunts and thrusts one more time and that’s it.

Your vision whites out, your thighs trembling, tension snapping, and sends you hurling over the edge. Both of you over the edge. You whine against his mouth, as he cock drives deep, deep within you one last time. You feel his warm ropey cum paint the inside of you, cock twitching, your walls rippling, sucking him dry, and his entire body sags down into you. You have to turn your head to breath, to gasp in air, oxygen flooding your brain, and he pants into your neck. His bicep trembles where he’s trying and failing to keep his weight off you. 

“Jesus, fuck–,” he mutters against your skin, the sweat on his forehead mixing with your own wet salt. He’s shaking above you, his pulse pounding so hard in his neck, you feel it on your skin. You wonder vaguely where he can feel your pulse. He takes a few more steadying breaths before lifting his head slightly.

“This isn’t how I usually do things after,” he pants between words, “but, uh, there is literally no room for me to roll off you.”

You laugh, the motion stealing precious air from you, you can feel your stomach expand against his, and he finally meets your gaze. You eye the embarrassing lack of space in this ridiculously tiny bed. 

“And here I thought you just wanted to cuddle.” This close, you feel the flush of his breath as he chuckles. “Here, lean up a second.” 

He groans, “mi jodida espalda. Creo que me desgarré un músculo,” but manages to get high enough for you to scoot to the edge of the bed and he dips his shoulder into the open space between you and the wall. Your bodies are so tightly pressed together, he manages to stay inside of you the whole time. 

With anyone else, you would have just gotten out of the bed. Moved away. You’ve never been one to linger after sex – either your partner was already asleep or you had better things to do – but Javi seemed intent on studying your face as his breathing slows and your heart rate eases. His softening cock slips out of you and you fight a groan at the sensation. He tucks his bicep under his head like a pillow. Sweat rolls over his tight muscle. 

“What? No post-cigarette sex?” You smirk to cover the rising blush on your cheeks, the longer he stares. “No slap on the ass, ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’?”

His face is expressionless when he asks, “is that what that was to you?”

You swallow, feeling a bit like you’re being scolded. “No, of course not, I just–,”

“Good. It wasn’t like that for me either.”

He cups the back of your head and brings you closer, closer than you possibly could be, and kisses your mouth, soft, easy, with a hint of tongue.

Something sickening like adoration claws through your chest because fuck, what if he doesn’t ever kiss you like that again? What are you going to do when he walks through the office doors coated in another woman’s perfume, his scent all over her and –

You break apart, hands on his chest. His brow furrows.

“What? What did you think about just now?”

Like he wants to know what’s going on inside your brain. 

“So we tied. What a great story that’ll be. I’m sure the office will laugh themselves silly on how we both won and lost at the same time–,” 

He says your name firmly, once, with his fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep. He cuts off your ramblings instantly.

“Stop,” he begs quietly. “Why are you talking like that, querida? What are you thinking about?”

His dark brown eyes are sad, hurt even. Why do you keep pulling away from me?

It’s been such a long night. It’s been such a long month. Year. You’ve been fighting for so, so long and all it takes is for him to knock at your door, and everything comes crashing down. You feel exposed, a live wire, a nerve rubbed raw – too much, Javi, too much – and tears rim your lashes before you can stop them. You shrug, the vice grip around your throat painful and choking. You shrug weakly, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m just preparing myself for something funny to tell the bullpen when you walk in after you’ve fucked the secretary on the second floor. She’s been eying you for months and it wouldn’t be fair to deny her!” Your voice swings, high-pitched and pathetic on that last word, and you clamp your mouth shut, tears rushing down your cheeks. You expect him to sit up, snarling, grab his clothes and storm out the door. It would be fair. It is what you would do if he tried to pull the same bullshit you are right now. It’s too late to act like an adult right now, but at least you can try and salvage something. “You don’t owe me anything, Javi. Not after this. Not after this insane crap I put you through. I didn’t have any expectations then and I don’t now. You don’t owe me anything.” 

Your gaze focused on the crux of his elbow. 

“Can you please look at me?” Soft. Gentle. Patient. But firm. Brimming with shame, you lift your eyes up to him. 

Brown eyes. Sad. Hurt. He wipes your tears with his thumb, before cradling your neck. He runs one finger up and down the skin in a motion that is instantly soothing. He watches you, cautiously, and then he brings his face forward, his lips catching yours as his finger strokes your chin. He kisses you until you’re flat on your back and the tension eases from your shoulders, from your fingers, your mouth. When your lips freely receive him, he pulls back, hovering over you, hand gently settling on the cup of your jaw. 

“Since I’ve clearly not been able to convince you with anything else I’ve done, I’m just going to come out and say it.” His nose flares and he nips at his bottom lip before opening his mouth and saying, “I like you. I really like you. I really, really like you and more importantly, I want to date you. Only you. No one else. Do you understand that?”

Your mouth hangs open and a brush of his thumb makes you shiver and shut it.

“Nod so I know you understand.”

Slowly, you nod. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. Let me prove that.” He shifts closer and you nod frantically. “I’m going to take you out and we’re going to drink, you’re going to try and dance very badly . . . I’m not going to let anything bad ever happen to you.” 

And, fuck, you believe him. You do. You really do.

His lips press a promise into yours and you swallow the swelling emotion. He’s making you feel small but that’s suddenly not so bad. He pulls back and you can feel a grin spread across his lips. 

“So, now that I’ve seen you naked,” he whispers against your skin. “Does this mean I can finally be in the shower with you?” 

“Sure, but lemme take out that camera I put in there first.” He smirks as he pinches your nipple and you giggle as you slip off the edge of the bed. “What? I was very committed to winning the bet.”

“Oh, yeah? Had no idea.”

He lets you pull him to his feet and he stumbles into you. He kisses you again, crowding you to get moving.

If someone had told you that this is where all of it, everything, would end up . . .

You wouldn’t have believed them

The END

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Toji x Reader Fanfic Part 2

You’re in love with Toji, even after finding out he trains sex dolls at the Doll House. Taking a chance, you sell yourself to the Doll House so he can be your trainer, and you bet him that you can make him fall for you by the end of the training.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Toji’s. I’m not sure how many parts it will have. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Short Fem Reader. Cock drunk reader. Age difference (Reader is 20, Toji is 38). Size difference kink. Oral sex. Fingering. Use of aphrodisiacs. Divider by @benkeibear!

Toji looks down at the doll sitting on her knees between his parted thighs, running her wet tongue along the underside of his cock, from his balls to his tip. She takes as much of him into her mouth as possible, but he’s just too big. Any more than halfway and she’s choking. Doesn’t stop her from trying though, bless her cock hungry little heart. 

It’s been nearly two weeks since he began training her, and she’s gotten extremely good at giving head. She pays close attention to what Toji likes, what little movements or techniques make him grunt or twitch. Usually the dolls he trains are so focused on their own pleasure, on satisfying their own hunger for dick, that they don’t put much effort into pleasing him. 

There are several ways this doll is different. Like usual, he fucks every hole she has every single day, normally multiple times. And like any other doll she begs for it, constantly wanting to be stuffed full of him. She can take all of him now, though she’s still so tight it feels like his dick is in a vice grip when it’s buried in that tiny pussy of hers. 

But unlike any other doll, she wants more from him. She asks him questions about himself all the time. What’s his favorite color? His favorite food? What types of music does he like? Where did he grow up? What’s his family like?

He’s answered some of these, and she was surprised when he told her he has a son. But then she smiled and said, “I hope I can meet him someday.”

“You might get to,” he’d told her. “Whenever I can’t find someone to watch him, I have to bring him to work with me.”

She’d gaped at him with a horrified expression. “You bring your son here?!”

He’d laughed then. “Don’t look at me that way! It’s not like I bring him into the room to watch! I hooked a PlayStation up in one of the empty rooms. I leave him in there with some snacks and he’s fine. I tell the other trainers so they can make sure their dolls are dressed in the dining hall.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound as terrible as I thought,” she said. “It’s still not good though. I mean he knows what goes on here, right? Or at least has a vague idea.”

Toji had shrugged. “I don’t know what that kid is aware of. He hardly speaks to me. But he gets along with the others. It’s like he has four cool uncles.”

“Don’t you mean five?”

Toji grimaced. “Sukuna isn’t allowed to speak to him anymore. One day my kid asked him why there was always screaming coming from his room. He could have made up anything. But he looks my nine year old right in the face and says, ‘Because I’m torturing a woman in there.’  After that, Sukuna’s cool uncle privileges were revoked.”

She had laughed, despite being mildly disturbed. He’d laughed too, and it struck him then: he’d never had a conversation like this with a doll he was training. It was all sex all the time. They didn’t care about his personal life and he didn’t care about theirs. They had nothing to talk about besides what was for dinner or where he wanted them to bend over next. 

He was reminded of the times he’d chatted with her in the convenience store. She’d always been so easy to talk to, so friendly and cheerful. He tries not to remember that. He’s always made a conscious effort to not view his dolls as people with lives outside this house. Because that makes it easier to fuck them over and over again and then turn them over to the next guy who will do the same. All the dolls accepted to the Doll House willingly sign their contracts. The owner doesn’t take women who are clearly being sold off against their will, but most of them sign because they’re desperate in some way. Toji prefers not to think about that. 

But this new doll actually wants to get to know him. He knows he shouldn’t encourage that behavior, but she was already in love with him before the training started. Is there any point in trying to keep her from getting too attached?

Even the way she sucks his cock is different. She absolutely devours it, taking it so far down her throat that it feels like she’s trying to swallow it, but the way she looks at it, and him in general, is different. She doesn’t just look at him with lust in her eyes. There’s a genuine affection he hasn’t seen since… Well, he hasn’t seen it in a long time. 

And when he cums in her mouth, completely coating her throat, tongue, lips, she looks up at his face and smiles so sweetly. Like he just did her a favor. 

A shame she won’t be reserving that look for him much longer. 

********************

You get to your feet as you lick your lips, making sure to swallow every last drop of Toji’s beloved cum. You’re not satisfied. Not in the least. It’s late in the evening and he’s only fucked your pussy once today. So you go over to the dresser and bend over onto it, looking behind you and wiggling your bare ass. 

“Toji… fill me up, please?”

He gets up from the chair he’d been sitting in and saunters over to you, his slow pace driving you mad. He’s still dressed, but his pants are unzipped and his still hard cock is hanging out. The “aphrodisiacs” you both take every day have some strange side effects. One of them being Toji’s ability to stay hard even after cumming multiple times. 

Lately he’s been increasing the dose he gives you. You’re not sure why. You don’t think you even need it to begin with. You spent countless nights touching yourself while imagining being fucked by him, way before he ever gave you the first dose. But he’s the trainer, and you agreed to do as he said. 

He doesn’t really have any rules aside from insisting you take the aphrodisiacs. You can go anywhere in the house aside from the other trainers’ personal rooms and can even leave the house if you want, so long as you return by nightfall. You’ve never left since you got here though. You don’t want to waste a single moment that you could be spending with Toji. 

One of the biggest perks of being his doll is that you’ve been given a front row seat to his life. You get to see exactly how he spends his time, what his routines are. 

Every morning he takes a shower, grabs breakfast in the dining hall (sometimes you go with him and the two of you eat there together but most often he simply brings two plates back to his room), and then the two of you spend a few hours doing various things. Mostly fucking, though sometimes things get a little adventurous and you play strip poker together or even watch each other masturbate at the same time. Toji doesn’t seem picky about the activity. As long as it results in him cumming multiple times in a row, he’s up for anything. 

Lunch is always snacks or microwaved meals from the convenience store. He doesn’t seem to like what’s usually on the lunch menu in the dining hall. You sometimes get lunch there by yourself. 

In the afternoons, Toji often works out. There’s an exercise room at the house with some pretty impressive equipment. You suppose that explains how all the trainers have such perfect physiques. You love watching Toji lift weights or even run on the treadmill, your eyes glued to his sculpted form as his muscles move beneath his clothes. By the time he’s finished, you’re absolutely drenched and practically dragging him back to his room. Once you were so horny you locked the door to the exercise room and hiked your skirt up while he was doing pull ups. You ended up hanging from the bar by your trembling hands while he fucked you mercilessly from below. 

On some evenings, Toji goes to check on his son Megumi. You hate being without him for a couple of hours, but you understand that it’s important for him to go. You’re dying to ask about Megumi’s mother. You know she’s no longer in the picture, as Megumi is staying with other relatives, but you don’t know if she died or just ran off and abandoned the family. You’ve danced around the edges of the topic, but never directly addressed it. 

There’s a sorrow buried deep in Toji’s eyes whenever you get close to mentioning her, when you ask other, related questions hoping to get more information. “Why is Megumi staying with relatives?” “Does he look more like you?” “What did you do before you became a trainer?” All were asked in the hopes that he would talk about her, but he very pointedly never mentioned her. So you’ve stopped asking those sorts of questions. Obviously, thinking about her hurts him, and you love him enough to want to avoid that. 

Now, as Toji grips your waist with his large, strong hands and rams his enormous cock into your eager pussy, you lose track of your thoughts. The only thing on your mind is the feeling of his powerful thrusts, the rhythm he builds, his skin against yours. 

You’re bent over the dresser, the few items he has there scattered across the floor now. You can see him in the mirror behind you, can see his handsome face, slightly flushed from the exertion of absolutely pounding you. He sees your reflection watching him and grins at you, the charming scar on his mouth stretching slightly. As if to give you a treat, he pulls his shirt over his head, allowing you to get a good look at his muscular body. 

After a moment, you glance at your own face in the mirror, and hardly recognize it. Your hair is a mess, your face red, your mouth hanging slightly open, a sheen on your lips from Toji’s cum, and your eyes… They look different somehow, like tinted glass. Is this what they call a “blissed out” face? 

“Harder,” you mutter between moans. 

“What was that?” Toji asks. 

“Harder! Please!” you cry, suddenly feeling like it’s not enough unless he’s all the way in you womb. Is this because of the aphrodisiacs? You’re so needy today. 

He leans over onto you, his chest against your back, and whispers, “Sure you can handle that?”

You meet his gaze in the mirror. “I can handle anything if it’s from you.”

“If you say so,” he says, then suddenly straightens up and lifts you into the air, holding you in front of him by your hips. You’re folded in half in midair, your arms and legs dangling above the floor. You look in the mirror and watch him relentlessly drill into your limp body, with you hanging in front of him like a literal rag doll. 

“Ahhh… Toji! S-so deep…” you cry out, your body jerking in time with his thrusts. 

*****************

The doll feels light as a feather in Toji’s grasp as he holds her body in front of him, fucking her so hard she has tears in her eyes. But she wants this, evidenced by the look of sheer joy on her face, the pretty lilting moans floating up from her lips. 

There’s something lurid about how small and helpless she looks in the mirror, as he literally uses her body like a living fleshlight, when combined with her obvious arousal. The “aphrodisiacs”, as he calls them, are working. She’s becoming more and more obsessed with having his cock inside her, with being fucked as hard as possible. This is the key to his training: making the dolls want to be fucked all the time. Making them hungry for it. 

Dolls trained by Toji are in high demand among straight male buyers. After all, who among them doesn’t want a beautiful woman who constantly begs for their dick? The other trainers cater to more specialized tastes, but Toji covers a wider clientele. 

Getting his dolls hooked on his dick isn’t that hard. Toji is aware that he’s attractive. He may not be “pretty” like Gojo or Geto, but he’s got the sort of body that almost everyone who likes men finds irresistible. And he’s very good at what he does. He knows exactly how to hit every sweet spot, how to make women cum repeatedly on his cock. 

No, the challenge is in getting his dolls hooked on cock in general, so that their addiction to him will easily transfer to their owners. The Doll House is a classy establishment. They’re picky about their buyers. So while they may not all be handsome, at the very least, none of them are disgusting. Personal hygiene, dressing well, and having a background free of violence are all very important. 

But this doll claims to be in love with Toji, says she’s had feelings for him for two years. Getting her to transfer those feelings will definitely be a tough job. But Toji can do it. His training is thorough. Looking at her glazed eyes in the mirror, he can see that she’s losing herself to the pleasure. 

He rams into her, hitting a spot that makes her scream, and then she’s cumming, twitching in his grip. Her pussy is already ridiculously tight, but when she climaxes she clamps down on him, squeezing him until he fills her completely with his cum. 

She’s still quivering as he pulls her off his cock and flips her around, now holding her in his arms bridal style. She curls against his chest, her face nearly hidden. “I love you, Toji.”

He carries her to the bed and covers her up, then steps out of the room. He hears voices from the dining hall, so he follows them to find Gojo and Nanami sitting at one of the tables, talking. It’s way past dinner time, so it’s no surprise that the room is empty aside from them. There’s a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of Nanami and in front of Gojo, some sort of ice cream-cookie-brownie monstrosity that makes Toji’s teeth hurt just to look at. 

Toji walks over to the table but doesn’t sit down. He looks at Gojo and says, “You’re between dolls right now, right?”

Gojo grins as he shoves a spoonful of dessert into his mouth. “Yeah. My little puppy princess left yesterday. Why?” But before Toji can answer, Gojo says, “Oh right! It’s about that time, huh?”

Toji nods. “So can you come around this time tomorrow night?”

Gojo gives him a thumbs up while he chews, then replies after swallowing. “I’ll be there!”

Nanami looks at both of them with disapproval, but doesn’t say anything, instead taking a drink of his coffee. He’s between dolls as well, but Toji knows better than to ask for his help. 

Part of Toji’s training is getting his dolls to want cock even if it’s not his. And so, after a couple of weeks, he gets his fellow trainers to help out by fucking the doll he’s training. Nanami refused the first time Toji asked, and made it clear he would never change his mind. The others will usually do it if they’re not currently training a doll. Sukuna will regardless of whether or not he has a doll at the time, but Toji prefers not to ask him. The man is a bit unsettling even to the other trainers. 

Gojo is Toji’s first pick. The man can drive women wild with a glance, and Toji’s dolls are always excited about the chance to fuck him. 

After confirming the plans with Gojo, Toji returns to his room and sits down on the bed next to his sleeping doll. She’s smiling in her sleep, probably dreaming of being fucked real good. He brushes the hair from her face with one hand, wondering, far from the first time, what she could possibly love about him.

“Poor thing,” he says quietly. “You’re gonna lose this bet.”

*********************

The next morning, after breakfast, Toji gives you the slightly increased dose of aphrodisiacs. Within minutes you feel the familiar heat spreading through your body, the building urge to tear your clothes off and fling yourself into Toji’s arms. 

As your mind races through different ideas for sexy shenanigans you can get into today, Toji sits down in one of the two chairs in his room and says, “I think I’m coming down with something.” For emphasis, he coughs lightly. 

You look up at him in alarm. “Oh no, are you feeling sick? What’s bothering you?”

He rubs his neck. “My throat’s a little sore. I’ll be fine in a day or two. I never stay sick long. But I better not exert myself today.”

You nod, understanding what he means. No wild fucking today. You wish he’d told you this before giving you the aphrodisiac, but what’s done is done. You walk over to him. “I can just suck you off today. That would be okay, right?”

He stops you before you can drop to your knees. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t wanna get my heart beating fast.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think of that. Well can I do anything to make you feel better? A back rub? Or if they’ll let me use the kitchen I can make you some soup or…”

He holds a hand up to stop you. “No, you don’t need to do anything. Thanks anyway. I’m just gonna get some rest.”

You watch as he climbs into bed. You resist the urge to tuck him in. Acting like a wife might overstep a boundary for him. But now you’re left standing here, incredibly horny. With no other options available, you go to the bathroom to masturbate. It feels hollow and unsatisfying without Toji there to make it interesting, but it does ease a bit of the ache. 

The rest of the day is spent watching tv on low volume so as not to disturb Toji’s rest, with frequent trips to the bathroom to relieve the pressure of your arousal. Once you even sit on the floor beside Toji’s bed and pleasure yourself to the sounds of his breathing. Have you always been this desperate? 

At dinner, you go to the dining hall and fetch plates for the both you and Toji. You try to find foods that would make Toji feel better while also keeping his tastes in mind. When you wake him up, he eats the dinner you brought without complaint, and seems to be feeling better. Maybe he’s not getting sick after all? Maybe he’s just tired. 

After he’s finished eating, he looks at the clock, then stands up and walks to the mini fridge. “Time for your evening dose,” he says. 

You look at him in confusion. “Oh, I thought I wouldn’t be taking it tonight. With you feeling bad and all.”

He brings the bottle over and hands it to you. “You can’t just stop. Part of the training is getting your body used to this.”

You hold the cold bottle in your hands. “But today was really hard on me. I wanted you so bad but I couldn’t touch you. I don’t know if I can handle more of that.”

He grins at you. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you tonight. Drink up.”

“Oh, are you feeling better now?” you ask, opening the lid and downing the liquid. 

“Not really,” Toji says, “but I’ve made arrangements to make sure you’re satisfied.”

What does that mean? Did he get some toys to use while he’s sick? That’s not exactly satisfying but you suppose if Toji is the one using them on you, they could be fun. 

Almost immediately, you feel it. The aphrodisiacs have never hit you this fast before, or this hard. You’re suddenly feverish, your face flushing red, your skin feeling prickly. There’s a growing dampness between your legs, and you drop into the nearby chair, your arms wrapped around yourself, your thighs pressed tightly together. 

“Toji… I think something’s wrong.”

He looks at you calmly. “What do you mean?” he asks, though you get the impression he knows exactly what you mean. 

“I’m feeling it too much. It’s… too strong,” you mutter, your body beginning to tremble. You stand up and cross the room to him. “Please fuck me! I can’t wait any longer! You can use your fingers or… or anything!”

In your hysteria, you shove one hand under your skirt, rubbing yourself through your panties. 

“You’ll be fine. I’m sick so I can’t take care of you myself, but I’m not gonna leave you hanging,” Toji says, ushering you over to the bed and sitting you down on it. 

Your mind can barely register what he’s saying. “Please, Toji! It’s like I’m on fire! Please make it stop! I need your cock inside me! I need-“

There’s a knock at Toji’s door. It’s such a rare occurrence that it distracts you from your madness. Toji goes to open it, and you watch, partly in a daze, as Gojo walks in. You’ve met him many times in the dining hall. He always seems friendly, and you remember thinking, the first time you saw him, that he’s a very beautiful man. He doesn’t compare to Toji, of course, but there’s an otherworldly quality to his features that’s quite striking. 

Toji throws a casual arm around the other trainer. “Gojo here is gonna look after you tonight in my place.”

Gojo smiles at you, his blue eyes shining. “I’ll take real good care of you,” he says, walking towards you. “You might even like me better than Toji.”

Huh? What’s going on? Your mind is fuzzy. You look to Toji, and he gives you an approving nod. Gojo gently pushes you onto your back on the bed, then climbs on top of you. All your hazy mind can think is, “Wow, those eyes!” Is this beautiful person really going to fuck you? Toji said it’s okay. Hell, it was his idea! So it must be fine, right? 

Your body is aching to be touched, to be fucked. And there’s a gorgeous man on top of you, squeezing your breasts through your shirt, kissing your neck. Ahhh, it feels so good! Your eyes slide closed as Gojo pushes your shirt up. 

********************

Toji watches Gojo kiss and grope at his doll, in his bed. He’s seen this sight many times before. If not Gojo, it was one of the other trainers. And in all Toji’s years working here, he’s never once been bothered by it. After all, these women didn’t belong to him. He felt no jealousy, no possessiveness. 

So why does he feel so irritated now, watching Gojo grind his still clothed body against this doll as he slowly pulls her clothes off, leaving her in nothing but panties. Gojo’s tongue on her nipple, Gojo’s fingers stroking her pussy through the fabric, the sharp little moans she’s making…. All of it irritates Toji. He’s almost definitely won the bet now, but he doesn’t feel like he’s won anything. In fact, he feels like he just lost something. 

He looks away, turning his back to the scene. But just a moment later, he hears her voice.

“Wait.”

Toji turns back to look at the bed, where the doll has her hands on Gojo’s chest, pushing him back. 

Gojo has stopped touching her and looks down. “Something wrong?”

She glances at Toji and then back to Gojo. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this with you. I appreciate you offering to help me out, but the only person I want is Toji.”

Gojo gives her a sultry look that would make most women buckle. “Are you sure?”

She nods, her face still flushed, her eyes still glazed. “I’m sure.”

Gojo gets up from the bed and heads for the door. He opens it, then turns back with a smile and says, “See you guys tomorrow!” 

Then he’s gone, and Toji is left alone in the room with his very cute, very horny, mostly naked doll. She’s still lying in his bed, breathing hard, staring at him. “I only want you,” she says. “I’ll wait for you. I can endure this until you feel better.”

Suddenly he wants to fuck her more than he ever has before. No doll he’s trained had turned down sex with Gojo before, especially not when they were pumped full of his special “aphrodisiacs” and he’d deprived them of sex all day. 

Maybe Gojo just isn’t her type? It sure didn’t seem that way when Gojo was on top of her. And with his training, she should want sex with anyone. 

He walks over to the bed, his legs carrying him there as if they have a mind of their own. His cock certainly does. It’s been achingly hard all day, even when he was pretending to be asleep. Hearing her quiet moans coming from the bathroom, and even from a few feet away from him, knowing what she was doing and what she wanted from him… it was agony. 

Before he even thinks his actions through, he’s got one hand on her panties, ripping them off with one yank. She gives a little cry of surprise, but her face lights up with joy as she opens her legs to him.  Her pussy is glistening with arousal, waiting for him. 

He doesn’t waste any time. He ignores her questions about how he’s feeling. Right now, he just needs to be completely buried inside her. So he climbs onto the bed while pulling his cock out of his pants, lifts one of her legs into the air while rolling her onto her side, and plunges into her. 

As he rails her there on the bed, he can’t help thinking about the fact that it was almost Gojo doing this. Almost Gojo getting to sheath himself in this sweet, warm, wet little pussy. A pussy meant for Toji. 

From this angle, he can see her face, turned sideways on the pillow. It looks like she’s crying, but it must be tears of happiness, because she’s on the edge of cumming already. 

“Toji… Toji… Toji!”

Hearing her gasp out his name as her pussy desperately clenches his cock does something to him. And before long he’s shooting his load into her body, then watching it ooze out after separating from her. He’s still hard, and she’s still not satisfied. So he rolls her over to start again. 

He’ll have to try something else later. Maybe a different trainer or stronger “aphrodisiacs”. But for right now, in this moment, he only wants to fuck her until she can no longer move. 

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