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smutstationchoochoo · 1 year ago

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Countdown

John Price x Fem Reader

Ringing in the New Year with John Price

Word count: ~2k

A/N: Hi everyone! ☺️ It's been a while since I wrote so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes as I’m sure there are many. I got off of work this evening and this popped into my head as I listened to fireworks so I whipped this up real fast for you (probably too fast, not stellar writing lies ahead). It’s basically just smut, a little fluff, but mostly smut. I hope you enjoy it, even though it's basically just some overwritten notes on how I think the Captain likes to have control with a nice New Year's theme to ring in your 2024. Thank you for all the support, and wishing all of you the best in this New Year!🥳✨

Warnings: not previously discussed edging, eating out, PIV, mild crying, brief mention of squirting

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

John Price took great pride in his control.

He had worked on it for years, keeping himself in check, reacting to every situation with a fine-tuned calmness and clarity that informed how he would react. It had saved his life more than once.

He also took great pride in watching you lose control, as he dismantled it piece by piece, moan by moan, as you became a shaking mess beneath his hands, his gaze, and his words.

“That’s it, love,” he huffed into your ear with a grin you could practically hear, his large fingers continuing to pump in and out of you, causing you to ache around him while his thumb drew languid circles around your clit, “That’s it, you’re doing so good, just a bit longer, can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl now?”

You could only choke out a sob, clenching around his fingers, arms straining against the grip he had your hands in above your head, his body caging you in. When all this had started two hours earlier, you had no clue where it was leading.

You had both agreed to stay in this New Year's Eve, just celebrating between yourselves with a glass or two of champagne and what you thought would be sex and a nice early bedtime. Price had other plans for you, which you had begun to realize as you straddled his lap, completely naked, while he remained fully clothed.

He had been planting kisses along your neck, his rough hands coming to squeeze your breasts, rolling your nipples between his skilled fingers. It had all been moving so slowly, but there you were panting on top of him, struggling to maintain steady breaths. When he gave the soft skin of your shoulder a small bite, you ground down onto the hard bulge in his pants, hoping to make him move faster and seek relief from the pressure that had been building between your legs. He kissed the forming teeth marks, his hands finding your hips and you watched him pull away and look at you, head cocked and mouth in a soft grin beneath flushed cheeks.

You knew you were fucked then.

His hands pulled your hips down even harder, your clit now fully grinding against his length, and he guided you in a slow rhythm of dragging you down against him. You gasped into his mouth, hands clawing at his shoulders, gripping at the nape of his neck, and he smiled against you even shifting his hips in his seat so that he could pull you down even further.

“John,” you had groaned into his mouth, “I’m so close just- fuck- fuck me, I need you to-,”

“Shhh shhh,” a large hand had snaked up to your throat, your vision blurring simply at the feeling of the weight of it there as he barely held you, “I know what you need, just let me take my time, yeah? Let me enjoy this…”

You stared at him, only able to nod and his hand gave a small squeeze on your neck before it found its former place on your hip.

He made you stay there, grinding down on him until you were gasping out his name, a sure sign of your impending orgasm. Just as you felt yourself push over the edge, John’s hands held your hips still, making you shake above him and cry out against his mouth as the promise of pleasure faded to a hum. That grin was back in place and even a soft laugh rumbled up through his chest.

“I said I was going to take my time, love, so let me take it.”

You could have ripped his throat out with how desperate you were but before you knew it, you were in the bedroom, thrown on the mattress with your hips pinned beneath one of his arms as his burning tongue began to drag against you. You tried to raise your hips to his mouth, but his arm held you fast so that all you could do was lay there, panting beneath him as he ate you out like something to be savored. You didn’t know how much time passed, all you knew was that every time he felt you getting close he would pull away, leaving your dripping cunt to clench around nothing as he watched, enraptured.

“P-please John!”

You had begun to plead, tears beginning to leak from your eyes when he pulled away for a fifth time. You felt the rough hair along his jaw scraping against the inside of your thigh as he alternated between kisses and bites. He loved getting you like this. Loved to watch you begin to shake between each moan, the sobs that burst from your throat when he pulled away, how you struggled to push up into him, how you begged him.

He crawled up over you, lips finding yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth so that you could taste yourself on him. He slotted his knees between your legs, keeping them open and letting the cool air hit you in a way that had you shivering beneath him.

“Mmmm you’re doing so good, just a little longer, yeah? Can you do that for me? Hmm?”

You whined, and he captured the sound with his tongue, almost loving the taste of it as much as he loved the taste of you dripping down his chin.

It was then that his hands pinned your own above your head, and he slipped two fingers inside of you. His thumb easily found your swollen clit, and you keened beneath him, back arching and mouth drawn in a silent cry, held under him as he pulled that band so tight within you that you thought you may snap in half.

And he talked you through all of it.

“Fuck, love, should see the sight of you. Are you getting close? I can feel you squeezing my fingers, shhh no come on, let’s see how close we can get you then-”

“You’re being so good for me, what a sweet, good girl, that’s it just grind down on my hand, you were so close that time-”

“Shhh its ok, we’re almost there, fuckin hell love just a little bit further-”

You tried to focus on his voice as something white-hot began to burn inside of you, your vision cloudy with fresh tears, your voice shaking as you tried to beg.

Then you saw him check his phone. Just a quick glance, mere seconds, but you finally fully understood this game.

“Ohh you fucking bastard,” you moaned, “You fuck-f-fuck please John, just, I-I can’t anymore- please!-,”

An amused and heavy laugh left his chest, and you watched as he finally removed his clothes, your eyes catching on the hair across his chest, then nearly choking as you felt the thickness of him press against your hip.

“Took you long enough, love,” he huffed in amusement, as he took himself in his hand.

You looked down between you two and watched as he began to stroke the red, angry length of himself, and then up at him. His eyes locked on yours, an amused brow and an even cheekier grin as his mouth opened to release soft pants that he pulled from himself with each stroke.

“You want this?” he asked, and somewhere in the back of your mind you reminded yourself to strangle him but all that came out was your own strangled agreement.

He reached into the nightstand and swiftly opened the condom package before rolling it down his length with an accompanying roll of his broad shoulders.

Your eyes flashed back down between the two of you, watching as he stoked himself a few more times before pressing the tip against you. Your jaw fell open as he slowly impaled you on his length, the width of him stretching your walls with a sweet burn, that had more sharp gasps clawing their way up your throat until his hips were flush with yours. His hand found your chin, tugging it up to look at him again.

Small glistening beads of sweat had formed at his crown of mussed brown hair as he held himself still within you, allowing you to get used to his thickness. His gaze was hard and focused as he licked his lips, nostrils flaring with a deep shuddering breath as you clenched around him. He smiled and slowly pulled out, before just as slowly rolling his hips back into you. Your arms clutching at his, your legs now wrapped around his waist urging him to go faster.

“I’m going to countdown from 10,” he said as he snapped back with a particularly sharp thrust that made stars burst behind your eyes, “and then you can cum.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, instead, he brought himself up to a kneel so that he could fully look down on you as you came undone.

“Ten,” he grunted with another thrust, his hands gripping at your thighs, this time deep enough to reach something devastating that had you slamming your eyes shut.

“Nine,” he hung his head, to watch himself as he disappeared within you, “Good girl.”

“Eight,” he said, as your breath caught in your throat with a choked whine when his thumb found your clit again.

“Seven,” Price’s own breathing was beginning to quicken, his voice catching on something low and raw and wicked.

“Six,” he swallowed hard, his eyes clenching shut now, a tick in his jaw, unable to see the furrow of your brow as you struggled to last, you fought to wait, but it was huge, it was closing in all around you, it was burning you up as he ground himself in and out of you-

“Five- fuck,” Price’s hips picked up to a brutal pace as he felt you beginning to clamp down around him with molten heat as you felt a sort of unfamiliar pressure surge within you just behind the pleasure.

“Four,” he said in reassurance as you began to claw at the sheets.

“J-John, I-,” you tried to warn him.

“Three, c’mon love, so close,” he huffed out into the air.

But it was too late.

Your vision went white as your back arched so hard off the bed that Price reached his arms around you to hold you steady and you shook beneath him, your long overdue orgasm tearing through you with such speed that you could only sob out his name over and over, grinding yourself down with each pulse and wave onto the length of him. Faintly in the back of your mind, you registered a wetness between your legs.

“Oh fuckin’ hell, f-fuck did you just-,” John’s hips ground within you, once, twice more before he was holding your hips down against him as he came inside of you with a loud groan.

You both stayed there for a few moments after, panting as he softened within you and the sweat across your bodies began to prickle with a chill. His hands rubbed soft circles over your thighs before he leaned down. His open mouth nearly meeting yours.

“Couldn’t wait could you?” he grinned as your lips sought his.

“You made me wait long enough,” you countered, and he gave a soft chuckle finally allowing you to capture his mouth in yours.

He took the moment to slip himself from your warmth, causing you to give a soft shuddering sigh.

“Happy New Year, love,” he whispered into your waiting mouth, before kissing you once again.

You hummed back, sleep beginning to wash over you but Price gave your hip a soft tap.

“C’mon,” he said, “let's get you in a shower. I’ve got to change these sheets, they’re soaked.”

John Price looked down at you and at the wet sheets feeling a swell of pride wash over him. Pride at what his control could give him, pride that you trusted him enough on evenings like these to take control, and then that pride melted away and all that was left was the aching love he had for you and how if you asked, he knew he would give you control.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all have a wonderful New Year! 🥰✨

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gothcsz · 5 months ago

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Imperfect For You | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~10k wc | Part 4 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: The night Javier proposes.

Tags: established relationship, semi-public sex, jealous!javi, but also sweet nervous javi that might be a little ooc but irdgaf, oral (f&m receiving), a smidge of degradation, light breath play, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex (practice safe sex pls), facial, pwp, porn with feelings, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, javier can pick reader up, no use of Y/N, reader is a badass photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: did not expect to write another part in this world so fast, but the idea for it came to me in a dream and my mind kinda just took it from there, lol. i hope you guys like it, pls feel free to come bother me about this, okay?! in the wise words of queen bey: i'm swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that big body been servin' all this swerve, surfin' all in this good-good 😋🙂‍↕️

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

Navigating your relationship with Javier stateside was definitely an experience.

When the highs hit, they were nothing short of breathtaking.

That summer was a whirlwind of sweet moments. You spent your days with him and his dad on their family ranch, immersing yourself in the rustic life— learning about the animals, how to care for them, and getting your hands dirty in a way that was surprisingly fulfilling.

Nights were filled with fun adventures, like hitting up those grimy dive bars Javier loved so much, only to find yourselves tangled up in the back of his pickup in some dusty parking lot.

There were times that felt straight out of a fairytale—picnics in sun-drenched fields, soft, sleepy sex in his childhood bedroom followed by breakfast in bed with the morning light streaming in.

But as the summer drew to a close, reality set in. Javier decided to stay in Texas to help his pops with the ranch, while you had to move to New York for work.

It made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Saying goodbye was like tearing a piece of your heart out. Your relationship, still so fresh, was suddenly thrust into the challenges of long-distance, and that brought its own set of struggles.

The lows were devastatingly low.

At first, it was really hard, and you feared that the thrill of your kinky and dramatic beginnings had worn off, exposing you both to the harsh realities of dating.

You started seeing sides of each other that had remained hidden until they weren’t.

Javier’s hot-headedness and tendency to react without thinking, your own habit of micromanaging and being passive aggressive— these flaws clashed in ways that neither of you had anticipated.

Javier, who had never been good at relationships to begin with, struggled to navigate this terrain all over again, while you, having not been in a serious relationship since your freshman year of undergrad, found yourself unsure of how to handle the rough patches.

These were challenges you hadn’t faced since you didn’t really have the time to.

He was preoccupied with taking down dangerous drug traffickers and you were caught up in the whirlwind of keeping up with him.

It made you wonder if the idea of you two only ever really existed in Colombia.

The distance didn’t help matters. Seeing each other so rarely made the relationship feel strained, like you were constantly trying to hold onto something that was constantly slipping through your fingers.

You tried to convince him to move to the city with you, but every time the topic came up, it ended the same way— with you in tears and him abruptly hanging up.

“I can’t just leave him here to run this place by himself. He’s not getting any younger.” “He has other ranch hands, Javi. You said you’d try this with me.” “This is me trying. Why are you being so selfish?”

The conversations would spiral into bickering, pointless arguments that left you both emotionally and physically drained.

There was even a time when it all fell apart— a breakup that lasted an entire month, neither of you speaking, the silence as heavy as the miles between you.

It wasn’t until Javier finally came to his senses, flying out to New York to win you back, that things started to feel right again.

The reunion was explosive, leading to the most fervid, passionate makeup sex that left the both of you out of commission for the rest of that weekend.

After that rough patch, everything began to fall into place, and it was pretty much smooth sailing from there.

The two of you had weathered the storms of long distance, misunderstandings, and inevitable growing pains of a serious relationship, and you had come out stronger on the other side.

Javier eventually made the decision to move into your apartment, a choice that felt like a natural progression rather than the point of contention it had once been.

You found yourself building a life together, and the city became the backdrop for your blossoming relationship.

He found work at a private security company nearby, a job that kept him engaged but wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as his previous work with the DEA.

Your own career was thriving as well, your time in South America propelling you forward, and Javier was your biggest supporter. He admired your passion and dedication, often marveling at the way you captured the world through your lens.

Gone were the days of petty arguments and the anxiety of being so far apart.

Javier’s fiery temperament mellowed in the warmth of your affection, and your once-passive tendencies faded as you grew more confident and assured in his unwavering support.

You learned to communicate more openly, and trust replaced the insecurities that had once threatened to pull you apart.

Now, your life together is a beautiful blend of routine and spontaneity. Whether it’s quiet mornings spent sipping coffee and reading the news together, or weekends exploring the city and its surroundings, everything is finally okay.

It’s much better than anything you could have ever thought up of those late nights in Bogotá, where all you did was dream of being his.

The gallery is abuzz with the energy of admiration and praise, the walls lined with your photographs— snapshots of life that tell stories far beyond the frames they’re bound by.

It’s your night, a celebration of your burgeoning career, and as you move through the room, mingling with friends, colleagues, and mutual acquaintances, your confidence shines brightly.

The alcohol is flowing, the murmur of conversation blending with the soft music that plays throughout the space.

Javier stands near the edge of the room, keeping to the periphery and staying out of the way, but his eyes never leave you and how you glow in the spotlight.

Tonight you’re the center of attention, and rightfully so. You’ve worked your ass off trying to make this exhibit happen and you managed to pull it off seamlessly. But, there’s something else on his mind— something that has him a bit shaken.

The small velvet box tucked securely in his pocket feels heavier with every passing moment.

He plans to propose to you here, a decision he’s been turning over in his mind for well over a year now. Despite the certainty in his heart— that he loves you more than he ever thought possible— there’s a ghost from his past that won’t let him be.

The memory of Lorraine, his ex-fiancée, looms like a shadow, stirring anxieties he thought he’d left behind.

He never imagined himself getting engaged again after that failed relationship, and the fears that haunted him then seem to be creeping back now, whispering doubts even though he knows that what he has with you is completely different.

He takes another careful sip of his drink. Your friends have reassured him that everything will be fine, that you’ll say yes without hesitation.

But still, he can’t shake the apprehension that has him locked in place, keeping him rooted to this spot, while everything moves like a blur around him.

To make himself feel better, Javier allows himself to imagine what it will be like— to see the surprise and joy in your eyes when he gets down on one knee, to feel your arms wrap around him as you say yes, to know that you’re his, officially and forever.

You look so radiant, your cheeks flushed with excitement and champagne, and the sight fills him with a warmth that momentarily drowns out the worry gnawing at his insides.

And that cocktail dress you have on— Christ, it makes you look so sexy. Fitting your silhouette like a glove, accentuating all the curves that make him delirious. He’s half tempted to pull you somewhere more private, fall to his knees, and bury his tongue inside you.

You wouldn’t mind it one bit.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot him—your rock, your steady presence, the man who has stood by you through every twist and turn. Even amidst the buzz of the crowd, you can sense his wary disposition, the tension in his stance.

You excuse yourself politely from the conversation you’re in, your steps slightly swaying from all the alcohol you’ve had, and make your way over to where he’s standing.

“Found the life of the party right here,” you tease as you step up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. It’s soft, affectionate, and you taste the liquor on his breath; a reminder that no matter where you are or who’s around, he’s the one you’re always drawn to.

Javier’s heart skips a beat as your lips meet his, and he can’t help but smile down at you, even as the nerves twist in his gut. “You’re the star tonight, mi amor. I’m just here to admire.” He murmurs, his voice low and warm, his free hand instinctively finding your waist.

“And I’m so glad you are,” you giggle softly, “But something’s on your mind. You okay?” You know him too well, and even through the vignette of champagne, you sense the unease beneath his calm exterior.

“Yeah, just… taking it all in. Letting you do you,” he replies, his thumb rubbing small circles against your waist which has you exhaling shakily. He tries to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away.

You see right through it, of course. After two years together, you’ve learned to read him like one of your photographs— capturing every subtle shift, every unspoken word. You tilt your head slightly, studying him with that sharp intuition of yours. “You sure?”

He hesitates, his thoughts racing.

He could drop to one knee right now, right here. But the weight of the past holds him back, just for a second longer.

“Just proud of you,” he finally answers, deflecting, but his brown eyes give him away. There’s more he wants to say, the words just catch in his throat.

Your smile softens, and you reach up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you, baby.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time, as if to reassure him that whatever’s on his mind, it’ll be alright.

A soft throat clearing from behind you interrupts the intimate bubble you’ve momentarily retreated into.

You roll your eyes playfully, earning a knowing smirk from him before you reluctantly turn on your heel.

Standing there with an expectant look is your best friend, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in mock impatience.

“Sorry to break up the PDA,” she teases, tone laced with humor, “but you’re needed elsewhere.”

You shoot her a faux-glare, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward into a smile.

“Duty calls,” Javier murmurs in your ear. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your hair, the simple gesture making you feel tingly all over. You close your eyes briefly, savoring the moment before letting out a soft sigh.

With a resigned smile, you reach for his almost-empty glass, still held loosely in his hand. Without breaking eye contact, you tilt it back and drain the remaining contents in one swift motion, the smoky burn a small, satisfying feeling that warms up your blood.

Your friend snorts at your display, a grin tugging at her lips. “Cute. You’ve got her shooting whiskey now.”

You hand the empty glass back to Javier, who’s watching you with a specific glint in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on, and you wonder what it is that’s got him behaving like this.

“Go do what you have to do,” he tells you softly, fingers brushing against yours as he takes the glass. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

You nod, giving him one last peck before turning to follow her to where you’re needed. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, so you sway your hips exaggeratedly.

She nudges you playfully as you weave through the crowd. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You can’t help but snicker, “I really lucked out with him,” you reply and she nods, understanding how much he means to you and vice versa. “He’s been acting really weird all night. Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

She pokes her tongue against her cheek, trying her damndest not to spoil the big surprise even though she’s so excited for your reaction. “He’s so used to having you all to himself that he can’t stand sharing you with the rest of the world.”

Now you nudge her, catching the sarcasm in her voice.

There’s a flutter in your chest telling you it’s more than that. There isn’t much you can do at the moment so you just drop it all together, a large grin on your face as you get pulled back into the social whirl.

You’re standing on the far side of the room, engaged in a lively conversation with the professor who had suggested you for the position in Bogotá. The conversation is light and familiar, filled with nostalgic anecdotes and her telling you she knew that you were perfect for the job.

Then, you hear someone softly call your name from behind.

You turn to face a man who appears slightly older than you, with sharp, handsome features and an air of pretentiousness that’s impossible to ignore. His perfectly tailored suit and calculated smile speak volumes before he even opens his mouth.

You bid farewell with your professor and shift your attention to the man before you.

“Peter Andrews,” he introduces himself smoothly, extending a hand which you shake. “Fellow reporter, currently working on a piece about the rising individuals in the field. I was hoping I could steal a few moments of your time for a quick interview.”

His eyes rake over you shamelessly, tongue wetting his lips, and then he adds, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person.”

And there it is— the not-so-subtle flirtation, wrapped in a thin veneer of professionalism. You catch it instantly but choose to brush it off with a sweet, practiced smile, hand returning to your side. “Thank you,” you reply politely, already calculating how to keep the conversation on track.

You walk a little further down and he gestures toward the collection of pictures displayed on the wall opposite you, the ones capturing your time in Colombia. “Impressive work,” he remarks, eyes lingering on the images. “I’m particularly surprised you managed to get Javier Peña to talk.”

You recall that weekend spent in the Hamptons with Javier, where the goal had been to wrap up the project. Instead, it had been repeatedly delayed, thanks to his inability to keep his hands off you. The memory makes you smile inwardly, but you keep your expression neutral, curiosity piqued by his comment.

Your brows knit together as you question him, “Why do you say that?”

He exhales heavily, as if what he’s about to say is common knowledge. “I’ve just heard the guy is kind of an asshole.”

You suppress a laugh, realizing he has no idea that the so-called “asshole” he’s referring to is actually your boyfriend. Deciding to keep that detail to yourself for now, you feign interest, wanting to hear more of what’s being said about the former agent.

“Really?”

He hums, shifting his weight on his feet, eyes moving between you and the framed photos, “Yup. It’s a bit astounding that he wasn’t thrown in jail for, well, you know.” He motions vaguely and your eyes narrow, “Bringing him back was definitely… a move. A criminal going after criminals. Guess it’s the only way to catch ‘em, right? Takes one to know one type of situation.”

You bite down on your tongue harshly, hating the way he’s talking about Javier. He doesn’t know the half of it and if he did, he wouldn’t be so fucking judgemental.

“Criminals going after criminals,” you echo his words back to him with an edge, “Sounds like every other government man,” you add and he lets out a haughty laugh, the sound grating on your nerves.

His arrogance makes your stomach twist, but you hide your distaste, bowing your head slightly as if to smooth out your dress, masking the grimace that threatens to surface.

The conversation with Peter continues with a few more back-and-forth questions. Nothing particularly groundbreaking. You answer with ease, maintaining the courteous smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Meanwhile, Javier has been searching for you, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. He stops your friend and asks where you might be. She points him toward the more deserted side of the room, where he spots you engaged in conversation with another man.

Javier knows he has nothing to worry about— he’s secure in himself and in your relationship. But still, a sharp surge of jealousy courses through him as he takes in the scene.

The man, with his taller frame towering over yours, is standing just a little too close for Javier’s liking. His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out to touch you, and that’s enough to set your boyfriend on edge.

Before his brain can fully process it, his feet are already moving, carrying him across the room at a faster pace than he intended. He stops when he’s close enough to overhear your conversation but not to let himself be seen, keeping a watchful eye while trying to gauge the situation.

Neither you nor Peter notice his presence, too absorbed in your exchange to sense him nearby.

Not that it matters much— Javier can tell from your body language that you’re wrapping things up, and that small observation helps ease the tension in his chest. Still, he remains alert, listening intently while his gaze never wavers from you.

“So, where’s the after party?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you respond, “No after party. I’m looking forward to going home with my boyfriend.”

Javier, still watching from a distance, feels a swell of pride in his chest. Hell yeah, gatita, let that fucker know you’re taken.

Peter’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “You’re in a relationship?”

“Yes,” you confirm, your voice steady. A server passes by with a tray of champagne, and you take a flute, thanking him before sipping from it to maintain your composure, though your thoughts are far less polite than your demeanor.

“Happily?” Peter presses, his boldness catching you off guard. You raise your brows in amusement, nearly choking on your drink at the audacity of his question.

Javier’s jaw tightens, and he’s on the verge of stepping in, ready to make his presence known to the man who’s clearly trying to make a move on you.

“Very,” you reply firmly, tone leaving no room for doubt.

“So I shouldn’t invite you back to my hotel room for a nightcap,” Peter murmurs, his tone dripping with suggestion.

You suddenly realize just how close he’s gotten, his breath warm against your ear. His hand has somehow found its way to your waist, fingers grazing your hip in a way that makes your skin crawl.

That’s the last straw for Javier. Without hesitation, he steps out from his spot, his voice cutting through the tension. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The way Peter jumps back from you is almost comical, his eyes wide with surprise as he scrambles to put some distance between you both. It’s like that self-assured, cocky attitude was completely dissipated by Javier’s presence.

Relief floods through you as your boyfriend steps closer, putting you at ease. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side, and the warmth of his touch melts away any lingering discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, definitely feeling the drinks in your system. “Peter here pulled me aside for an interview. He was shocked to find out that you actually sat down to talk to me about your time in Colombia. Apparently, you’ve got a reputation for being kind of an asshole.”

Javier chuckles dryly, his grip on your waist tightening protectively as he looks the other man dead in the eye. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone calm but with an unmistakable edge. “Well, I guess everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”

Peter, clearly flustered, forces a laugh, his previous confidence now shaken. “Oh, you know how rumors are,” he stammers, taking a step back. “It’s just what I’ve heard.”

“Good thing I don’t put much stock in rumors,” Javier replies, leaving no doubt that he’s marking his territory.

You nestle closer into Javier’s embrace, smelling his cologne, feeling a sense of satisfaction as Peter fumbles for words. The dynamic has shifted, and it’s clear who holds the power in this situation.

“Besides,” he adds with a pointed look, “I am an asshole.”

You grin and bite down on your lip as he presses a kiss to your temple. Peter finally decides to retreat, mumbling something about taking a ‘very important phone call’. As he scurries off, you can’t help but feel a surge of pride for the man by your side—strong, vigilant, and completely yours.

Once he is out of sight, you turn to Javier, a twinkle in your stare. “You really do know how to make an entrance,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Just making sure no one forgets who you belong to,” he murmurs against your lips, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. It’s so hot.

“As if I could ever forget.”

Somehow, you’ve found yourselves in a secluded enough corner for Javier to let his hand slide down from your waist to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing firmly over the fabric of your dress. The touch draws a soft gasp from your lips as you lean into him.

“Me estás volviendo loco con este vestido, amor,” he mutters in a low growl, indicating his growing need for you. “Wanna take you home and rip it right off you.”

You bite down on your lip, the idea swirling in your mind with a dangerous allure.

The thought of leaving this event—your event—early, just to be alone with him, is tempting, more than you’d like to admit.

But even as the desire flares between you, you know it’s not the most graceful move to make, disappearing from your own celebration just to satisfy your hunger for each other.

“Soon, Javi,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason in the building suspense, even as you try to maintain some semblance of composure.

But Javier’s hands have a mind of their own, growing bolder as they firmly grip your ass, pulling your hips to his.

The heat between you is tangible, and the restraint slowly slips away as his touch becomes more insistent.

Sensing that things are about to get dangerously out of hand, you quickly reach down to grip his wrists, gently but firmly stopping him before the moment escalates beyond your control, or worse, you’re caught.

“C’mon, sneak off to the bathroom with me. I’ll be quick,” Javier whispers, his voice thick as he leans in to nip at your earlobe. It sends a jolt of heat straight to the apex of your thighs, and you have to bite back a moan.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one’s paying attention.

That no one’s searching for you.

When you’re sure it’s safe, you grab his large hand, heart pounding with excitement as you begin to pull him toward the back area of the building.

He’s sporting a triumph smirk that tempts you into kissing it right off his annoyingly handsome face.

Skipping the public restrooms, you guide him to the more secluded one for employees, knowing it’s the only place where you’re least likely to be interrupted.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s spinning you around, pressing your back firmly against it. His lips crash onto yours with an urgency that feels almost desperate, like kissing you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the door, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. It’s unrestrained, filled with a need that borders on primal.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as your tongues tangle. The confined space only heightens the anticipation, the thrill of being caught shouldn’t feel this exhilarating.

But amidst the whirlwind of passion, you manage to break the kiss, pulling back just enough to gasp for air. “I need to go back out there soon,” you whisper, your voice shaky, lips swollen and glistening.

Javier groans in protest, a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through your very core. In one swift motion, he maneuvers you over to the countertop by the sink, lifting you effortlessly to perch on top of the cool marble surface.

His hands are already working, sneaky fingers rucking your dress up until it’s bunched around your waist, revealing the silky barrier of your underwear. His gaze drops, taking in the sight of your exposed thighs, the delicate fabric already damp with anticipation.

A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he lowers to his knees before you, hooking a finger around your panties, tugging them aside to unveil your glistening folds.

The cool air brushes against your scorching skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. Javier’s eyes dart up, meeting yours, the smoldering intensity making your breath hitch.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. The first touch of his tongue is agonizingly gentle, a teasing glide along your slit that has your hips bucking forward, seeking more.

He obliges, flattening his tongue to deliver a languid, thorough lick from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your arousal with a groan of appreciation.

A tremor runs through you, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair, anchoring him closer. He chuckles softly against your pussy, igniting sparks in your veins.

His hands grip your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing patterns as he delves deeper, his tongue exploring every ridge and contour with meticulous attention.

When he finally wraps his lips around your swollen clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, a strangled moan escapes you.

Your thighs clamp around his head, the feeling so overwhelming, but Javier seems unfazed, his focus solely on drawing out every ounce of bliss he can from you. His tongue flicks and circles, alternating between gentle laps and fervent suckles, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice.

Your back arches involuntarily, head falling back against the mirror with a gentle thud but you’re too overwhelmed with how good he’s making you feel to notice the dull ache.

The room fades away, party outside muted, leaving only the slick sounds of Javier’s ministrations and your ragged breaths.

“Javi,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with need. He grumbles, the sound sending a fresh surge of wetness to leak from your cunt.

His pace quickens, tongue and lips working in tandem to push you over the edge, his mustache scratching against you so delightfully.

The coil in your belly tightens, every nerve ending alight, and with a final, expertly placed suck, you shatter, pleasure washing over you in relentless waves.

Your vision blurs, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids as you ride out your climax, Javier’s tongue continuing its gentle caresses, guiding you back down.

As the aftershocks subside, you release your grip on his hair, fingers numb and trembling.

Javier pries your legs apart, placing a few more wet kisses on your pussy before nipping your thighs and standing to tower over you, kissing you roughly.

You can taste yourself on him, the heady flavor with the spicy liquor he’s been sipping on all night is an inebriating combination.

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, faces heated. “Okay, we can go back now.” he teases, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh softly, still reeling from how quickly he got you off.

This man has a fucking mouth on him.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, affection lacing your tone as you bring your thumb up to smooth down his mustache, collecting some of your cum and feeding it between his lips.

He bites down on it gently after licking it clean. “Have you seen yourself? Hard not to be.” He responds, stealing another quick kiss before helping you straighten your dress, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary which has you reprimanding him playfully.

You both compose yourselves, cleaning up and ready to return to the world outside, but he hangs back.

“You go first. I’ll be out there in a minute.” You nod with a small smile, leaning in to kiss him one last time before leaving him alone.

As the door closes behind you, Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist, noting the time. He exhales a heavy breath, the moment settling on his shoulders. “Okay,” he mutters to his reflection, the image of himself staring back with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “This is it.”

He talks some confidence into himself, squaring his shoulders as the weight of the small box in his pocket becomes palpable.

It feels impossibly heavy, but it’s a weight he knows he’s ready to carry. This is what he wants— he wants you in every sense imaginable, and he’s ready to make that commitment.

With a deep breath, he adjusts his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles and straightening his tie. His hands move to his hair, fixing the tousled strands left by your eager fingers, a small smile playing at his lips as he thinks of you.

A quick once-over in the mirror confirms he’s presentable, and with one final, steadying breath, he steps out to follow you, the decision already made and the path ahead clearer than ever.

You stare at Javier quizzically as he silences the room with a simple gesture, the murmur of conversations fading away as all eyes turn toward the two of you. He steps closer, his expression serious but softened by the warmth in his eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to make a speech— he’s not usually one for public displays— but the idea of him surprising you with one fills your chest with a rush of affection. A happy, almost nervous smile tugs at your lips as you gaze up at him.

Javier clears his throat, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “I’m proud of you,” he begins steadily, “Proud of the woman you are, the things you’ve accomplished, how you handle everything life throws at you with grace and determination.”

Your heart swells with adoration. Even though he tells you these things all the time when it’s just the two of you, having him declare it out loud to the rest of the world really pulls at your heartstrings.

“You’ve made me a better man,” he admits as he reaches out to take your hand. “You’ve shown me what it truly means to love someone unconditionally, to stand by their side even at their worst. I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons to walk away, and God knows I haven’t made it easy. But you’ve stayed, through all my shit, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted.”

His words hang in the air, the room is utterly silent now, every person captivated by the honesty in his voice. You can feel the love radiating from him, the deep, unwavering affection that has only grown stronger with time.

“From the moment we met, nothing about our relationship has ever been conventional,” Javier continues, his voice steady despite the nerves you can sense in the clamminess of his palm. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, hoping to ease some of his tension.

“We’ve faced challenges and obstacles in the strangest sequence. And that’s why I love what we’ve built together so damn much— it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s ours. Two stubborn, complicated people who somehow found a way to make it work.”

You’re hit with a wave of emotion, and you feel your eyes begin to glisten as you hold his stare. He carries a sincerity that touches something deep within you, a reminder of just how far you’ve come together.

Javier takes a deep breath, brown eyes never leaving yours. He releases your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that has been weighing on his mind all night.

The room collectively holds its breath, and you can hear a few gasps as he drops to one knee, eyes still on yours, nervousness and absolute certainty in his expression.

Your stomach bottoms out and you’re half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. You look around to find your best friend, who just flashes you an encouraging smile, in tears herself.

“Gatita,” he begins, the pet name bringing you back to him, “I never thought I’d find someone like you. You’ve changed my life in ways I never imagined, and I can’t picture my future without you in it.”

He opens the box, revealing a beautiful, sparkling ring that catches the light and seems to shine just as brightly as the love in his eyes.

You gasp, recognizing the large diamond that sits at the center of it.

Javier had Frankenstein’d his mother’s ring and the one you purchased in that antique shop back in Colombia. With Chucho’s permission, of course, he replaced the diamond on his mother’s ring and put yours in its place, just slightly altering the original band to fit your finger.

It’s truly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and okay sure— maybe you’re biased because it’s being offered to you by the man of your dreams.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Javier declares as steadily as he can, despite the emotion thickening his words. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision, the reality of the moment sinking in. You look down at the man you love, the man who has been your partner in every sense of the word.

Your agent.

You nod, unable to find the words but knowing he can see the answer in your eyes.

“Yes, Javi,” you manage to choke out, voice trembling. “Yes, a thousand times yes, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in applause and cheers, but all you can focus on is the radiant smile on Javier’s face as he slips the ring onto your finger. The kiss you share is filled with all the love, passion, and promise of the future you’ll continue to build together, a future that’s just as unconventional, just as perfect as the journey that brought you together.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind of joy and excitement, your engagement ring sparking endless conversations as you gush about it to everyone who crosses your path. Javier stays close by your side, his earlier nerves replaced with a relaxed and happy demeanor.

The gratification in his eyes is unmistakable as he watches you share your happiness with those around you.

The night winds down on a perfect note, and with your apartment just a short walk from the gallery, the two of you stumble through the city streets, your laughter and drunken smiles lighting up the night.

In the elevator of your building, you make out like horny teenagers. This time, it’s you who takes control, pressing Javier up against the railing that lines the small space. Your hand trails down to rub his erection over his pants. He groans against your mouth, the sound full of want.

When the elevator dings open, you grab his tie and pull him down the hallway, both of you struggling to keep your hands off each other as you fumble with the keys. After a few failed attempts at unlocking the door, you finally manage to get inside the apartment.

You break away from him, your breath coming in quick, excited bursts as you tug the loosened tie from around his neck. “Wait for me in the living room.”

He stares down at you, dark eyes revealing the hunger he has for you and yours reflect the same sentiment tenth fold.

He nods, relinquishing his hold, but not before delivering a sharp smack to your ass as you walk away toward the bedroom. “Don’t take too long. I’m trying to fuck my fiancée.”

You shoot him a playful, heated look over your shoulder before closing the door behind you. Leaning against it for a moment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

So many good things have happened tonight, and adrenaline surges through your veins, leaving you in a euphoric high.

You walk over to your closet, rummaging through it, until you find what you’re looking for. The familiar mask comes into view, and a slow smile spreads across your lips as you trace the pointed ears with fondness.

You don’t wear it as often as you used to, reserving it for special occasions or when Javier has had an especially rough day at work— nights when you know he needs to let go.

Tonight seems like an appropriate time to bring out again.

In the bathroom, you strip out of your dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. After freshening up, you slip the mask over your face, feeling a thrill as it settles into place.

Now, you’re completely naked except for your heels, the engagement ring sparkling on your finger, and the expensive necklace Javier gifted you on your two year anniversary.

Grabbing his tie, you stumble slightly as you make your way back to him, pausing in the hallway to flick the lights off. You hang back, just before crossing the threshold into the living room, your heart pounding in your ears.

“You in there?” you call out playfully.

“Yes, ma’am,” comes his reply, followed by the soft clink of ice in a glass.

Peeking around the corner, you spot him sitting on the couch, his broad back facing you. Quietly, you slip into the room, your movements light as you come up behind him.

“Hello, agent,” you purr, words dripping with seduction as you place your hands over his eyes.

His body tenses briefly, a deep, carnal rumble vibrating in his chest as he catches on to your game. A half smile tugs at his lips, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Hola, gatita.”

You giggle mischievously, the sound light as you lean in to lick the back of his ear, savoring the way he shivers at your touch. Then, with deliberate care, you bring the silk tie over his eyes, tying it securely behind his head.

“Just so you don’t get tempted to look.”

You round the couch slowly, each purposeful click of your heels against the flooring teasing him. His ears seem to twitch at the sound, and he brings the glass to his lips, sipping lazily.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight,” you come to a stop in front of him, right between his spread legs.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, his tone casual but tinged with the same eagerness that pulses throughout you.

“I got engaged.”

Javier’s tongue slowly rolls over his lips, an arrogant smirk replacing his lopsided smile.

The sight of him, shirt half undone, his strong chest peeking through, a prominent tent in his pants where his hard cock strains against the fabric, has your core throbbing. The way he looks, blinded by the tie, relaxed but clearly aroused, is nothing short of irresistible.

He lets out a low whistle. “Lucky man. Think he can handle you?”

You lean forward, pressing your hands onto his thighs, your grip firm as you let the hard tip of your kitten mask just barely graze his nose, teasing him with your closeness. “Oh, I’m positive he can.”

Javier licks across his teeth, the simper deepening as he suavely finishes off his drink. He hands the glass to you without a word, and you take it, placing it on the table next to the couch then turning your attention back to him.

“I should be the one playing with you, preciosa. Tonight’s all about you,” Javier murmurs as he reaches for you. But before his hands can make contact, you pull back, leaving him grasping at the air. He frowns.

“And what I want,” you counter, your voice dropping to a sexy whisper, “is to mount my man and ride the daylights out of him.”

The words hit him like a punch, his hands balling into fists as he curses under his breath. The sight of his restraint, of how much he wants you, brings a satisfied grin to your lips.

You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

You step back to him slowly, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and popping open his pants. His breathing quickens as you slip your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his velvety length, stroking him with gentle, baiting movements. “Already so hard,” you coo, tightening your grip on his dick ever so slightly, “You want this gatita so bad, don’t you, agent?”

He nods, muttering expletives as his head falls back against the edge of the couch. The sensation of your hand working him over is pure bliss, each stroke sending a lustful charge up his spine.

You lean in closer, your lips trailing kisses and nips along the thick column of his neck, your teeth grazing his throat in a way that makes him tremble. When you reach the birthmark on his neck, you plant a sweet, lingering kiss there, knowing exactly how sensitive he is in that spot.

Javier’s senses are heightened, the alcohol and adrenaline from the proposal amplifying every touch. The tie covering his eyes only sharpens his awareness of you, of the way your hand moves expertly over his cock, coaxing it to twitch.

The combination of your softness, your scent, and your whispered words has him on the edge, his body stiff, every nerve alive and burning for you.

“All the time,” he grunts, “Let me touch you, baby, please.”

There’s that slight whine in his tone, the one only you know he’s capable of making. He doesn’t even realize you’re naked yet and you know that’s going to set him off.

“Not yet,” you whisper in a tantalizing promise. You swipe your thumb over the slit of his cock, smearing the slick precum along his shaft, making him shudder. After a few more languid strokes, you pull your hand away, ignoring the low groan of protest that escapes him.

You tug his bottoms down just enough to free his swollen cock and heavy balls, it’s always a delight to see him hard and ready for you.

“Tan guapo,” you murmur appreciatively, your nails lightly scratching at his thighs, leaving a trail of tingling heat in their wake as you move up his beautifully tanned torso. His skin ripples with goosebumps at the light touches, aching for more.

You undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding the fabric off his broad shoulders, exposing more of his skin to your eager hands. As you straddle his lap, he inhales sharply, the realization hitting him all at once— you’re completely bare and dripping wet for him.

It has the need to touch you growing unbearable.

Your hands glide to his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles there, and he sighs contentedly, tension slowly easing from his body under your soothing fingers.

He’s so close to losing control, and you revel in it, knowing that you’re the one who can drive him to the edge and pull him back just as easily.

“Wanna know a secret?” you whisper, leaning in closer, your soft tits pressing against his heated chest, mouth hovering just over his ear.

Javier tilts his chin up in response, a silent invitation for you to continue. As you lower yourself on his lap, his cock slides between your slick, sticky folds, and your hips begin to move in a slow, deliberate grind, coating him with your wetness.

“I’d been in your apartment back in Colombia before that night I blew you,” you confess in a sultry murmur, the words slipping from your lips so sinfully.

His head tilts slightly, curiosity piqued, and when he speaks, his voice drops to that smooth, dangerously seductive tone that sends shivers down your spine— he’d make a killing as a sex phone operator. “What do you mean?”

You’ve never told him about your little Goldilocks moment, that sneaky visit to his apartment when he wasn’t home. But tonight, with your bodies entwined and his cock teasing your entrance, it feels like a good time to reveal it.

“You went to Cali to catch Gilberto Rodríguez, leaving your place empty for me to explore. It was so exhilarating, all the little things I learned about you by snooping around.” A needy whine escapes your lips as the thick head of his cock brushes against your clit. Your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for more, desperate for him to finally slip inside you.

His brows furrow, intrigue and lust clouding his expression, and you can feel the strain tightening his body as you pick up the pace, grinding down harder against him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you continue, slurring your words, “I was so turned on by the smell of your cologne lingering on the pillows… and my mind… well, se puso un poco imaginativa al pensar en que rico te sentirías jodiéndome.”

His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white as they twitch with the urge to touch you. “¿Qué hiciste, gatita?”

You let the heavy pause linger between you, suspense hanging, before finally biting your lip and confessing, “I fucked myself on your pillow.”

Javier’s reaction is immediate, a growl rumbling deep in his throat as the image of you humping against his pillow while he was away seizes his thoughts. His teeth bare into a snarl, the thought of you pleasuring yourself in his space while he was gone intensifies his arousal.

“It felt amazing,” you purr, “I screamed your name when I came. Best solo orgasm I’ve ever had. All thanks to you, agent.”

The guttural sound he lets out has your thighs tensing as he bucks his hips up, adding more friction to the slick heat of your pussy. “Jesus Christ, you’re a naughty fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to lick along his jawline, your breath hitching as the pressure builds within you, your movements against his now drenched cock growing more frantic.

“Show me,” he pants out, rough and demanding. “Show me how you did it.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Gripping his broad shoulders for support, you adjust your angle as you begin to replicate the way you rode his pillow that night. You lose yourself in it entirely, going absolutely feral on his cock.

The coarse hairs at the base of him brush against your sensitive cunt, adding a delicious juxtaposition that makes your toes curl.

You rut against him with purpose, your slick folds gliding over his length, hips rolling in a rhythm that has him cursing under his breath. His cock twitches with each movement, a symphony of your shared, ragged breaths and the wet, erotic friction between you filling the space.

As you move, you can feel the traction in your core winding tighter and tighter, his body responding to every little thing you do.

You sigh his name out, your voice wavering with the approach of your orgasm. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and he can sense it. His husky voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, a dark, encouraging sneer that prickles at your skin.

“That’s right, gatita, come all over this cock, my perverted little bitch.”

That delicious line of degradation is the final push you need. You lock up, figure glistening with sweat as you shatter around him, your juices soaking him as your hips stutter out of control. Pathetic, broken moans escape your lips, your mind absolutely lost.

Javier’s had enough of not being able to touch you. As you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, he wraps his strong arms around you, effortlessly repositioning you so that he’s on top while keeping you nestled in his lap.

With a swift motion, he rips the blindfold from his eyes and takes your heels off, drinking in the sight of your figure beneath him. The darkened room only heightens his need, your sexy silhouette and the kitten mask driving him up the fucking wall.

He moves quickly, grabbing his thick shaft at the base and slapping it against your sensitive clit a few times, watching with satisfaction as you quiver from the sharp, teasing sensation.

His palm spreads at your lower back, steadying you, then with a grunt, he sheathes himself inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he drawls the curse word out, clenching his jaw. The sweet burn of him stretching you out has your skin buzzing, your nerves on fire, and he’s lost in the way your tight, wet pussy grips him perfectly, just as it always does.

“You’re so big, Javi. Feels so good,” you whimper breathlessly as you tighten your arms around him, pulling him closer.

The praise spurs him on, and with a rough groan, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

Your reaction drives him wild, and he snaps his hips sharply against yours, filling you to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Your yelp of satisfaction echoes in the room as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, the pace relentless, designed to push you both toward that blissful release.

Your hand reaches back to steady yourself further against the couch, fingers digging into the cushions as he drives into you with urgency.

The rhythm he sets is maddening, your hips meeting his with equal fervor. Your lips find his in a messy, desperate kiss, neither of you caring that your mask is in the way. It’s something you’ve gotten used to by now.

“Taking it so good, gatita,” your pussy clenches around him, “Soy el unico que te lo puede dar asi, don’t you fucking forget it.”

The memory of that other man, his wandering eyes and bold advances, has all but faded.

Jealousy has awakened something so primal and attractive in Javier, a fierceness that makes your pulse race. You love it when he’s like this— unyielding, dominant, marking you as his own.

Each ragged breath he takes fuels the rough rhythm of his body against yours, leaving you aching in the best way, a deep satisfaction blossoming alongside the lingering soreness.

“R-Remind me, then,” you whisper, barely audible, caught between a plea and a challenge.

He responds with a brutal thrust, stilling once he’s buried balls deep inside, his thick cock filling your needy cunt.

Javier’s hands are unrelenting as he pushes you flat against the couch, his broad figure hovering over you. One hand snakes down to your throat, his fingers pressing into your soft skin, cutting off just enough air to make you gasp and your vision to blur.

“You need a reminder?” His voice is dangerously low, the mocking tone has your clit throbbing almost painfully as his grip tightens, pulling you closer. “That fucking ring on your finger not enough?”

You move your hips against him, desperate for more, but his hand flies down to your waist, fingers digging in roughly to halt your movements. A pitiful whimper escapes you, your need for his cock all consuming.

His hold around your neck loosens just enough for you to draw in a shuddering breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “P-Please, Javi.”

He answers with a cruel smirk, slamming you back down, his hips pulling away until only the swollen head remains inside you. Then, without warning, he plunges back in, forcing a scream of his name from your lips as he begins to fuck you, each stroke filling you completely as he gives you exactly what you’ve been pleading for.

The air is thick with the sounds of your desperate, mingled moans, your bodies slick with sweat as you move together like wild animals in heat.

His hand remains firm on your throat, keeping you pinned beneath his weight as he shifts your legs higher on his waist, opening you up even more. The other hand moves to your breasts, his palm cracking against one and then the other, sending them bouncing with each slap.

Your acrylics scratch at the wrist of the hand that’s around your neck, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight that floods the space, casting a silver sheen over the heated scene.

His eyes hone in on the jewelry, the grip on you unbending. “You’re mine,” he growls, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust that makes your eyes roll back, your body helpless against his claim. “Say it.”

“I—” Your voice falters, the words choked off by the sudden, electrifying pinch of his fingers on your clit. You find yourself chasing more of that feeling.

“Fucking say it,” he demands again, this time more gruffly, as if not hearing you declare yourself to him is painful. His fingers slap your bundle of nerves, and you jerk, back arching taut off the couch.

“I’m yours, Javi, fuck, I’m yours,” you cry out, the confession spilling from your lips as you writh beneath him. “I only want you— your cock, your mouth, your touch— everything. Oh,” you moan, your voice breaking as his relentless pounding has your cunt pulsating around his length.

“So close, baby, I’m about to come, please don’t stop.” The overwhelming pleasure builds to a fever pitch, leaving you quivering and completely at his mercy.

Your desperate words satisfy him, a dark hunger finally sated as he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

Your fleshy walls tighten around his cock as you shatter completely, coming undone. You pant and moan into his mouth, and he drinks in every tremor of your climax.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath. “On your knees, gatita.”

His voice is all hoarse and authoritative, leaving no room for hesitation.

Although your body is still shaking, you obey, sluggishly slipping to your knees with a slow, dazed blink.

He towers above you, all dominating and manly, as he reaches down, pinching your chin between his fingers. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making you whimper.

His cock hovers before you, and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made on him. Without a word, he guides it between your swollen lips, and you eagerly accept him, your tongue swirling around the tip before you wrap your lips around him. Sucking your cheeks tight as you move, he groans, his large hand at the back of your neck.

The taste of yourself mixed with his musk is addicting as you slide him deeper into your hot mouth, inch by inch, until he’s buried completely down your throat, a wet gag sounding out as you struggle to take all of him. Your hands grip his thighs for support while you work to clean him off.

“Shit,” he grunts, pulling you off his throbbing cock and jerking himself furiously over your open mouth. You stick your tongue out, pretty eyes locking onto his, heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Gonna look so pretty with my cum all over you,” he rasps. It’s all the warning you get before he groans low in his throat, his hips jerking as spurts of his hot, milky load shoot from his swollen slit.

The warm fluid lands everywhere— on your tongue, splattering across your kitten mask, dripping down your chin. Some of it trickles onto the diamonds that gleam around your neck, and the sight of you like this is so fucking perfect, it sends a surge of possessive pride straight to his heart.

With the little energy he has left, he mumbles, “Stay just like that,” before quickly walking over to the entertainment center. He grabs the Polaroid camera, turning to you as he snaps a photo, capturing the erotic moment.

There you are— naked with your face covered in his seed, a sultry glint in your eyes, the kitten mask perched prettily on your face.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, admiring his work, his gaze worshipful as he lowers the camera.

Once he’s got your photo, you curl your tongue back into your mouth, the saltiness making you hum at how yummy he tastes.

Your fingers delicately collect the remnants from your chin, your neck, and even your mask, before slipping them into your mouth to savor every last drop. The way you devour it makes his breath hitch all over again.

Javier smiles down at you, his gaze softening as he gently helps you up from your knees. He reaches for the edge of your mask and slowly lifts it from your face and tosses it aside, wanting nothing between you as he leans in for a kiss.

His lips meet yours with a gentleness that makes your heart flutter, the exhiliration of your fucking melting into something far sweeter.

“I love you,” he murmurs, those three little words filled with a depth of emotion that makes you feel like you’re floating. The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your heart swell, your body and soul wrapped up in the love you have for him.

“I love you more,” you whisper back warmly, giving him a final, sweet peck. The avidity of the night begins to ebb, leaving the two of you in a serene, exhausted state.

Javier gathers you into his strong arms, holding you close as he carries you to the bathroom. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest is comforting, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling completely at peace.

Once inside, he sets you down carefully, his hands never straying far from you as he begins to run a hot shower. The sound of the water cascading down is soothing, steam filling the room. He steps behind you, unclasping your necklace and setting it on the counter.

He steps into the shower with you, standing together under the droplets. His hands move over your figure lovingly, lathering you up in that soap of yours that he loves the scent of.

He’s playful in his affection, cheekily cupping your breasts before sliding his hands down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you laugh softly as he finishes rinsing you off.

You return the favor, your fingers tracing the contours of his toned figure, memorizing every inch of the man you’re about to marry. It still doesn’t even feel real.

After you finish your respective night routines, Javier tugs you toward the bed, and you follow willingly. The cool sheets feel like a welcome embrace as you slip under them, and he immediately pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

You look up at him, a surge of pure love and endearment welling up inside you.

“You make me so happy, Javi,” you murmur, your fingers caressing the damp curls at his forehead. The sincerity in your voice is unmistakable, and you see the way it touches him deeply. “I can’t wait to be your wife. Just saying it makes me all giddy.” You giggle, and his mouth quirks up into that familiar half-smile you adore so much, tilting his head to place a kiss against the diamond of your ring.

“I can’t wait either,” he replies, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek as he gazes down into your eyes. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You have no idea how happy you make me, corazón. I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss that conveys everything words can’t— the depth of your love, the excitement for your future, the joy of knowing you’ve found your forever.

#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal smut

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rebelliousstories · 8 months ago

Text

Out and About

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Child!Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @that-teen2003

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 858

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

A vault suit sticks out like a sore thumb in the desert of the Wasteland. It was so bright, and blue, and very impractical for the harsh reality of the terrain. That is why when he saw it, Cooper’s interest was peaked. That and the cowboy hat the person sported much like his own. Because it was not even a fully grown human wearing the offending garment; it was a child.

The Ghoul looked around as the small being was wandering the rough terrain with cautious eyes. Surely this child was not alone. But it just kept exploring as if it had done it its entire life. He kept a safe distance as he followed the child, just hoping that this belonged to someone nearby. But no one ever came. No mom, no dad, no authority of any kind came to collect this child.

It was currently climbing inside of an old house when Cooper noticed how fast the sun was setting. There would be horrible things coming for that child in the dark of the night. He heard a crash, and immediately drew his gun before running inside the decrepit house. What he saw shocked him. There this little child was, nursing a small fire with a can of cram in its hands that it was eating.

In the firelight, Howard noticed that this small child was a girl, probably no older than six. It reminded him of his little Janey that remained as vivid as ever in his memory two hundred years later. Without consciousness, he began to move closer by did not see the empty can that was right in front of him. He accidentally kicked the object, sending it flying and clanging about the home which startled the child. She let out a yelp, and held her food closer to her chest as she stared at the new person with fear in her eyes. Cooper held out a hand to calm her down, and placed his gun back on his hip. She moved closer to see who the new man was.

“Whoa.” She breathed out and nearly dropped her food. There was no fear left in her eyes after comprehending The Ghoul before her. Suddenly, she was up on her feet and ran straight to the man who was utterly confused. Even with him crouched, she only came up to his chest. Her tiny arms struggled to wrap around him.

“It’s you! It’s you,” came her exclamation. Her voice trailed off as she settled but Cooper was stiff as a board. Pulling the child away, he looked at her closer. She was thin and sunburnt from surviving the Wasteland but her teeth looked good still.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, little one?” Cooper’s hairless brow furrowed as he knelt down to be on her level.

“You’re Cooper Howard. You’re da sheriff from T.V.” Her toothy grin showed. There were a couple missing, but she did not seem to care. Taking off her hat, she passed it to the man with all the innocence only a child cold have.

“Can you sign dis, please?”

That one ask broke him inside. He felt his heart shattering. It had been so long since someone had asked him to do that; he had completely forgotten the feeling. This little child had thawed his blackened heart in a matter of seconds.

“Where you from darlin’? Why you out here all by yourself lonesome and not with your momma?” Cooper chose to avoid her question, knowing that he did not have any instrument to sign the hat. The child, whose name was still a mystery, looked down at her feet that were kicking around sand before she answered.

“My mommy was behind me, den she wasn’t. She told me to run, so I did cause Mommy said I have to listen to her widout question here. I don’t know where she is.” Again, The Ghoul felt his heart break. Chances were, that woman was long dead and chose to spare her child the same fate. It seemed to have worked, but the could not have been out of the vaults long.

“Well, little one. What’s your name? Seein’ as you know mine,” said Cooper. He tried to smile kindly and not scare off the child, although she seems to not be the slightest bit afraid. She supplied her name, and took a much needed bite of food.

“Can I stay with you? It’s scary up here alone.” Even without those puppy eyes she was giving, Cooper already knew his answer. He nodded and walked over to the fire once more. Sitting with his back to the wall, Howard added some more tinder to the fire and was shoved slightly. The girl had moved his arm so that she was curled up against his side, with her head on his chest. Her can of food was empty and discarded as she drifted off to sleep.

Muscle memory kicked in. Cooper checked her breathing, and looked around for any potential threats lurking. With his gun at the ready, he slipped into a light sleep with a little girl on his chest once more.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader

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francis-writes · 1 year ago

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Hi! Would you write Ramsay x reader nsfw headcanons where the reader is his betrothed and at first he thinks she is innocent but on their wedding-night she is really the opposite and they are basically going wild? thanks in advance <3

A/N: it was supposed to be longer but i took a break to argue with transphobes on facebook and now i am so fucking pissed i can't focus on writing

After all, what else could he expect from you. He knew girls from noble homes and all seemed the same - pure, shy, delicate. Boring. Breaking them would be certainly funny but it was not enough for Ramsay. He wanted someone who could match his energy, who would like to get naked and covered in blood. But you were from wealthy and powerful family, so he decided to marry you. And perhaps find a mistress for a good time. You needed only to give him heir and to strengthen his position between lords.

Sure, he was excited for your wedding night. You were young and pretty, and even if you turned out to be cold in bed, he would get his pleasure. Ramsay always got what he wanted.

But the minute he closed doors behind you, you pulled him closer and kissed him passionately as if you were trying to suck out his soul. He was surprised but not disappointed. He grabbed your waist, pressing his body into yours. You could feel his growing erection so you reached your hand down and you started to massage the bulge in his pants.

Ramsay smiled and lifted your skirt, just to squeeze your thigh so hard you gasped. You pushed him away, just to start taking off your dress.

"Damn thing..." you swore under your breath as it turned out to be fastened with too many buttons, ribbons and clasps. Your now husband grew impatient with observing your ineffective struggles and simply ripped it. You stood bare in front of him and he took a moment to admire your body. His new possession. Then he pushed you onto the bed and crawled on top of you, kissing and biting your chest, making sure to left marks. You tilted your head back, enjoying both pain and pleasure while Ramsay squeezed your soft breast and sucked on your nipples, playing with them, using his tongue. You let out a quiet scream when he bit your nipple, you grabbed fistfull of his hair and forcefully pulled his head back. He only gave you a smug grin.

"A bitch shows its teeth" he said, but more with a admiration than a mockery in his tone "Where did you learn that?"

"The say way you learn fighting, by everyday practice" you replied and without giving Ramsay time for saying anything, you took advantage of his surprise and you rolled him onto his back. You leaned over and started kissing his jaw and neck, trying to take off his shirt at the same time. Ramsay helped you, impatient to feel your hands on his body. Soon you got rid of his shirt and pants, there was only warm skin touching warm skin. You moved a bit to make sure his dick touches your wet pussy but doesn't actually enter it. You wanted to torment him a little bit longer.

Unfortunately, Ramsay didn't share your desire and in the moment he felt your excitement between your legs, he pushed you from himself and pinned you to the bed so you couldn't escape.

He entered you. You had lovers before but Ramsay's dick was quite thick and he stretched you a bit. Fortunately you were wet enough so it went smoothly but you enjoyed the sensation of your cunt tightening on his cock. He probably enjoyed your body as well because he immediately started fucking you, thrusting fast and rough. You hold onto his back, your nails furrowing wounds in his skin. Ramsay moaned as your fingers dig into his flesh. You brought one of your hands to your face just to see that you drew blood from his back. Pleased, you licked it off your fingers.

He came on your belly and you raised your eyebrow. "Don't you want an heir like a proper lord?"

Ramsay just smiled to you. "And who says we're finished?" He asked rhetorically and licked his sperm off of you.

Yeah, that was a long night. Just like the next day. And next night. And next-

#ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay snow #ramsay bolton #got imagine #asoiaf imagine #ramsay snow x reader

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misteria247 · 3 months ago

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1981 Journal Entry #2:

I've lost track of how long I've been plagued by the nightmare. All I know is that I get very little sleep, and it's starting to take its toll. I've been trying to research what I can about that Mystery Caller who had started this whole thing. There's very little I've been able to find. I'd gone through countless documents and books and everything that Gravity Falls has to offer. Yet it alludes me, the answer to this nightmarish game. I'm starting to turn to the more docile anomalies to try and find answers. And what I've been getting has been.......unsettling.

For example, the other day when me, Lee and F were on a field expedition. The Leprecorns (which I personally do not like) were talking to F and Lee. Seemingly enjoying their presence and conversation, while I took notes and drew rough sketches in my journal. When one of them approached me. He was an older Leprecorn, with a slightly weathered face and eyes that held the sheen of an older man. He was staring at me, not saying a word, to the point where it made me squirm from it. It felt like he was staring straight through me like the eyes that lurked in the shadows in my nightmare.

After what felt like eons he finally spoke.

"......You've been marked laddie."

I don't think I'd ever felt my stomach drop so fast at a simple sentence, that by all accounts had nothing to do with me. I glanced up to make sure that Lee and F were still distracted before I responded to him in a low tone.

"What do you mean by that? I don't-"

The Leprecorn interrupted me at that moment, his tone firm and damning.

"Ey, I recognize the look son. You haven't been sleeping have ya? It's because yer marked. By something foul, something dark. I've seen it before. Others who've been marked by the beast."

I couldn't breathe, because I knew somehow deep in my very bones that he was talking about that anomaly who had called into the station. The anomaly who had been haunting my dreams.

"The beast....? Who is this creature? What does it want with me?"

I'd inquired, perhaps a bit desperately, wanting to know what I was up against. Instead I was met with a grim, somber expression. Like.....like he was staring at a dead man.

"I don't know much myself lad. No one really knows about the beast. But......we do know that those who are marked do not meet a good end. Just.......be careful boy. He watches."

And then he'd left, seemingly done with the conversation. Leaving me shaken beyond belief. It took everything I had to not show it when F and Lee were finally done with their conversation and we'd packed up to head home. I don't think I was successful though, because my brother stuck to my side for the rest of the evening. As if he sensed that I wasn't okay at all. I don't know what being marked means, nor do I want to. I just want this to end, before someone else is dragged into this eldritch horror.

I'm going to try and get some sleep tonight. I can't let whatever this thing is win. I'd rather die than let him stand victorious over me. I'm going to do research on how to stop the calls as well. One encounter was enough.

Signing off

Stanford Pines

1981 Journal Entry #2 continued time 3AM:

I can't stop shaking.

I can't stop, my hands they're trembling from the nightmare. It was different, after so long with the same thing it changed.

The voices from the shadows they spoke to me. They said my name, surrounded by the static of that anomaly. His tone sounded cheerful but somehow I know that it was a rouse. He wasn't cheerful at all.

He was angry.

Like a lion in a cage, he had his fangs bared towards me. He....he'd said that if I keep digging, if I don't play his game........I was going to regret it.

I don't know what he means by that. But I can take whatever he throws at me, I'm not weak. I can handle any blows he's got for me. And yet.....

Why can I not shake the feeling that something awful is on the horizon?

Signing off

Stanford Pines

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briar-ffxiv · 4 months ago

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FFXIV Write #25 - Perpetuity

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #25 - Perpetuity

Note: Briar and his Padjali mentor, E-Rani-Tek, visit a place deep in the Black Shroud beyond Gridania's reach.

Briar breathed out slowly as he tilted his head back, looking at the massive trees that blotted most of the light. He reached a hand to brush against a massive trunk gently, feeling the rough bark scrape lightly against his scarred palm.

The half-Elezen had never been to this part of the Black Shroud. Perhaps he would never have found it if it had not been for E-Rani-Tek. Briar turned his head to study the Padjal walking beside him. The child-like figure walked confidently, lightly gripping a staff as he made his way deeper into the Wood. It was strange for Briar to realize that someone who looked like little more than a child was over a century old. It made Briar slightly uneasy, remembering his mother's words to never trust Seedseers.

E-Rani glanced at Briar, green eyes wise and calm beneath a fringe of long blonde hair. Slim, dark-tipped horns rose from his temples and marked him clearly as a Padjal. He did not dress much as the other Padjal did. His leather clothing was brown and green, practical and well-used in contrast to the fine robes the others seemed to favour. He seemed to lack the same kind of removed presence they had from others, which had been a good part of the reason Briar had slowly started to trust him.

"Be at peace," E-Rani said softly, his tone soothing. He had an unnerving way of seeming to know Briar's thoughts and worries. "I merely wish to show you something. Something that is--" The Padjal paused a moment. "special."

Briar frowned a little, feeling the weight of something unsaid but he didn't try and ask. E-Rani-Tek never seemed to say anything until he was ready. He'd even admitted it when Briar had confronted him before.

Besides, the air had seemed to change, thick and heavy with aether. The tingling feeling of magick even filled Briar's chest when he breathed. It pressed on the skin with the wind in a light caress as the half-Elezen followed the Padjal. The trees started to clear a little, showing a massive tree. Briar drew in a breath as he tilted his head back to look up at the vast branches, reaching above him toward the sky.

"Come here," E-Rani said softly, gesturing Briar closer and taking his wrist in a light grip. "Feel."

He pressed Briar's hand to the bark of the massive tree. It reminded Briar of the Great Tree near Gridania, but even larger. He had remembered the air there had felt different, but not like this. Without realizing it, Briar closed his eyes and Felt.

Much like the other tree, something lived within. Something inhuman and ancient and ageless. It had watched this part of the Wood for time without measure, time without end. Briar's aether brushed delicately, curiously against the presence in the tree. He drew in a shocked sound as it responded to him in return. Not rough or displeased, but intrigued by his presence. A sudden flood of primal aether flooded him, pulling a gasp from Briar. His eyes shot open as he looked up at the tree, feeling caught in the 'grasp' of the Presence.

Something was hovering above him, light and air and aether all blended into a hazy, half-seen form that suggested a humanoid with vast wings. There were no eyes or mouth, but Briar could Feel its gaze upon him, examining him curiously. The aether in his chest curled and brushed, feeling as if it was turning over his spirit to study before letting go.

Briar gasped again at the sudden empty feeling, knees giving way so he sat in the soil. He found himself sweating and gasping as if he had run far and fast, hand shaking as it rested on the trunk. There was a faint, strange sound, like a hum made by something massive that quivered in his bones but it felt...soothing. The Presence brushed him again and the tiniest part of its magick separated, nestling like a seed in his chest. It ached but did not hurt as Briar pressed his other hand against his heart, feeling it beat rapidly.

Then the Presence eased away and Briar slumped a bit, no longer feeling held by...whatever it was. He turned his head to look at E-Rani-Tek, surprised to see the Padjal's raised eyebrows and thoughtful eyes.

"Now that," the Padjal murmured. "was quite unexpected." He studied the tree briefly before coming to Briar's side, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

The question made Briar think a moment. He felt winded and his limbs tingled and that seed of strange, ancient magick rested like a knot in his chest, but he also felt... invigorated and aware in a way he couldn't say he had before. Finally, he nodded, leaning against the tree to stand carefully. E-Rani stayed close but did not help nor hinder.

When Briar turned, everything looked both the same and different. He couldn't explain it and gave the Padjal a curious look. "What happened?" he whispered.

E-Rani-Tek made a thoughtful noise, gripping his own chin a moment. "An interesting question. One I think time will answer. Come. Let us find a place to make camp. You will be tired soon, even if you feel good now."

Briar instinctively followed as the Padjal headed for the edge of the clearing. "How...how did you know how I felt?"

E-Rani-Tek gave Briar that small, somewhat infuriating smile. A smile that said he had something to say, but wouldn't until it pleased him. "Rest first, little fox. Talk after."

Briar pressed his lips together to keep from sighing or protesting. It would do him no good. Instead, he just nodded and followed the Padjal back into the Wood.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #character: briar redfeather #character: e-rani-tek #my writing

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grasshopperdoingdogpaddle · 10 months ago

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Hypothetically speaking; if Omi, Kimiko, Raimundo or Clay drank the Lao Mang Lone Soup, what do you think their respective Heylin monster forms would be? What would their evil personalities be like?

Please note though that the personalities we saw when each one of them briefly turned to the dark side hardly count, since, A.) Heylin Raimundo was just Rai going through some emotional problems and looking for both an alternative choice and an outlet to take all of his frustration and anger out on, B.) Omi and Kimiko only turned evil because they both had their respective good sides magically removed by the Ying-Yang World, so, it’s kind of hard to count that as seeing what they would be like if they turned to the dark side, and C.) Clay was merely possessed by an evil entity, meaning that every single bad thing that we saw him do or say was all just Sibini using him for a puppet

I definitely subscribe to gravity-what's theory that "Lao Mang Lone soup transformations work by latching on to a person’s insecurities and current mental state."

Hence, Chase looking very much like a traditional, reptilian dragon/drake that even incorporates some of his spiky hair into its design, because Chase took the time to contemplate it and knew what he was getting into and ultimately decided he wanted this path to make the legendary name for himself that he envisioned, regardless of it costing him everything he believed in and everyone he loved.

And Guan having this harder exterior and a much more haphazard mix of pincers and claws and natural weapons because, when he accepted Hannibal's offer, it was some time after a strain had appeared in his and Chase's relationship with Chase having this unresolved enmity from not getting to drink the soup when he had resolved to abandon everything. So Guan wanted a means to lash out, but also a defensive outer shell to harden his heart.

So, my thoughts for how each monk's Lao Mang Long dragon form might be:

I love gravity-what's design for dragon Omi, can't improve upon perfection.

Tiny, but with this frill he can flare up to make himself look and feel bigger and scarier. Claws and fangs that are good for sharp, quick attacks. A tale that's not a good weapon but serves for good balance, so he's very agile and fast. Hyperactive and vicious, but still has this surprisingly kitten-like adorableness to him somehow. Confused and angry and tricked and lost but feisty and determined and sharp and wide-eyed and naive, this form definitely captures the moment!

He's scared and confused, and was tricked into it again, but he's always been a fighter, and he's prepared to fight now, too.

Once he acclimates, though, he'll be fueled by loyalty and devotion like he always is, so it's a matter of who he aligns himself with. There's no form of Omi that's ever going to want to go it alone, so he'd inevitably end up under someone he can cling to.

For Kimiko, her Heylin side is driven by ambition and passion. It was only half of her, but what we see is still genuine. She made it very clear, she wants the world, nothing more and nothing less.

Her dragon form would be the only one that incorporates her element into it, visually, and the only one that would have fur instead of scales. She'd look a lot like a Hisuian Typhlosion.

Hypnotically pretty in a dragon sorta way. Sleek, shiny, fireproof fur, beautiful eyes, fluffy ears and tail, graceful but powerful movements. A collar of ghostly flames that wisp and flare in a bright magenta red color. The ever-burning flames would be more of a Heylin magic thing and less of a true-burning fire by default, but they'll still burn whoever she wants them to burn. Kimiko's always been a little scared of getting too close to others and letting any shortcomings show, so the natural way to keep other's at whatever distance she wants or to draw them in with something eye-catching would suit her.

She can emit fire or smoke with a practiced ease, and its powers can be just as mystical and disorienting as they can be destructive.

She's still clever but temperamental, and is the dragon that'd be most focused on long-term goals, since her motivations are the most goal-oriented.

For Clay, he's a big guy that often tries to make himself seem smaller, take up less space.

We've never seen what it would take to drive him to the Heylin side, but we still have a lot of his hang-ups and motivations that we can draw from.

His dragon form would have the thickest skin, maybe even a hard outer shell of some sort he can retreat into. All defense. And his would have a "chameleon-like" (but more cuttlefish-like in the mechanics) ability to camouflage itself to any environment, even changing his texture and patterns to blend in. I don't have an exact visual analogue for this one, but if I had to pick, maybe something like the Mystery Shell Dragon from YuGiOh?

Clay would make some place his own, cultivate it, and be highly territorial over it. He'd have little interest in dominating the world, he just wants some corner of it that is his and his alone, like how he focused on building a new home in the alternate universe rather than actively fighting. But like Chase and Guan, he'd definitely gather up an army of people-turned-animals of some sort.

For Raimundo, he made the decision to betray his allies fueled by spite. He was fully of sound mind and didn't really have to be prodded or magically altered. Raimundo ultimately wanted the other monks taken down a peg. He was angry and frustrated, and he wanted to hurt them and make them feel as bad or worse than he did. That was more of a motivation for him than the riches.

Though the riches he sold out for were still some factor, so it'd be interesting if gold were incorporated into his dragon form somehow.

Aside from that, I think his form would be a bit like Guan's in that it would have a lot of natural weapons incorporated into it and boast a design most suited for offense, but far less shielded. An amalgamation of vulnerable sinew and sharp edges. He'd have a stinger on his tail, tusks and horns on his head, pincers on his hands, spikes along his body, rows of shark teeth, maybe even something projectile-like incorporated into his anatomy. The soup would draw out a form built for destruction and pain in accordance with his motivations for turning.

Again, I lack a perfect analogue here, but it'd be something to the vibe of Devidramon from Digimon.

#xiaolin showdown #chase young #master monk guan #omi #kimiko tohomiko #clay bailey #raimundo pedrosa

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rcvana · 1 year ago

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BE MY MISTAKE ... KYRIE HAN ! characters. kyrie han, maya wang warnings. suggestive content, briefly sexual content, i believe that all ! word count. 0.891

Kyrie is a complicated man. Some would say he’s impossible to love. He’s dumb, he’s impulsive, and he fucks up with everyone he loves. He makes everything harder for everyone. It’s almost hilarious how he seems to never make the right choices. Almost.

Almost because his choices are those made by assholes. Ones he would classify as mistakes but they keep happening, so even his friends are left wondering if they’re really mistakes or just the fucked up way he was born.

And he’s sure this is going to be another mistake that he’ll have to excuse around others, as he stands at the doorstep. He knocks on the door of the lofty home. It’s one of the nicest houses Kyrie’s seen up-close in Korea. The door opens up, revealing a girl of shorter stature and thick, chocolate colored hair.

“Hey,” Maya greets, her eyes their usual sultry low.

Kyrie leans down and places a brief kiss on her cheek. Maya steps aside, allowing Kyrie to enter. He eyes her up and down, taking in the baby pink loungewear she’s clad in. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” she smiles.

He feels a little odd, being here. It’s not like he hasn’t been here plenty of times before, laying his feet wherever he pleases and eating up the food she cooked. But things are different now, considering the circumstances.

The house is empty, Maya’s daughter is with Addy today. Kyrie always admired how Maya never invited anyone over that was anything more than platonic (or a man in general that wasn’t her father), when Kaia was there. She was a good mother, he knew that. It’s something that drew him to her in the first place. He likes a woman who handles her business, he always says. That knows her priorities and has them straight.

“Are you okay?” Maya asks, taking him by surprise. “You’ve been, like, spacing out since you got here.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Kyrie envelopes her hands in his, staring down into her golden shaded eyes. “I’m more than good, ‘cause I’m here with you.”

She smiles coyly, a flush creeping across her cheeks.

“I, uh, I have this movie that I liked and thought that you might like,” she says, squeezing his palm.

“Let’s watch it.”

Of course, naturally, an actual watching of movies only lasted about twenty minutes before the cuddling started feeling more hot than it initially did. Because then hands started moving, and then kissing got involved, and then they succumb to the feelings of sweltering passion and the coming undone that nears rough. That’s how sex always was between Kyrie and Maya. Everything was fast and rough, and it’s not to say it doesn’t feel good. Maya was good at everything she did in the bed. She knew what she was doing. It’s just not like what he just now found out he loves. It’s not like how it is with Charmeine.

Kyrie takes a deep breath, lying his head on the pillow. Maya follows him from underneath the thick blanket, her head crashing on his chest, which rises and falls with each hard breath. The movie is coming to its climax, just as they had done. He’s not sure what the movie was about. There’s something about dogs and people who live on a farm. It’s not anything Kyrie would pay to see. He prefers old-fashioned 90s movies or inappropriate comedies. He doesn’t know where Maya got the idea that this would be a movie he liked.

He wraps his arm anxiously over her shoulders, his thumb rubbing the soft of her skin. He’s done a lot of fucked up shit but this has to be one of the worst. It feels like one of the worst. Guilt is a feeling that eats you from the inside out.

“You know how good you are, right?” Kyrie randomly asks.

Maya meekly giggles. “Where did that come from?”

“You’re so good. I don’t know how you can be so good,” he says. “You’re good at being a mom, you’re good at being a singer, you’re good at fucking,” he laughs at that last one, so does she.

“Nobody can take that away from you,” he pulls her closer, staring up at the ceiling.

She doesn’t say anything, listening to his words and his heartbeat together.

“You’re so beautiful and I’m…I’m so lucky that I even got to be with someone like you,” Kyrie rambles. “I don’t even know how I got this chance.”

He got this chance because he was trying to “heal her” after getting her heart shitted on by the father of her child. She wasn’t doing her best when they first started talking. Her mind was swindled with thoughts of never finding love if she couldn’t find it with Addy. So when Kyrie came around, talking a big game, treating her like no one ever did, it felt like Kyrie was swooping in and saving her like some sort of Prince Charming-Superhero hybrid. Sometimes the second love can feel almost as bad as the first did.

“You’re so perfect. I wish I could give you the world.” He pauses, thinking for a moment the words getting caught in his throat. “Nobody really deserves you.”

“Why does this feel like goodbye?”

Because it is. Something he should’ve said.

“I just wanted to tell you.”

#𓈒 ˙ ☕ ּ 𖠗 writings #𓈒 ˙ ☕ ּ 𖠗 kyrie #ficnetfairy #fake kpop oc #idolverse #fake kpop group #fictional kpop group #fictional idol oc #fictional kpop idol #fictional idol community #idol oc #idol au #kpop oc #kpop au

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vamp-orwave · 1 year ago

Text

Her Favourite Worst Nightmare

II - Overture

The historic countenance of Ayers House shone out across North Terrace like a beacon in the night, drawing Judith and Frankie in like little fish toward waiting jaws. Here, the Prince of Adelaide typically held court with the Kindred subjects of his rule. The thought of being collared as one of them chafed Judith, but there was no better option left to her now.

Sometimes, a collar can mean safety. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to beg.

“You good?” Frankie tested, sensing her distaste.

Judith closed her eyes. She drew air into her dead lungs to rasp a sigh, then gave her friend a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“S’pose we’ll find out.”

Frankie’s rough hand gave her a reassuring clap on the back. “Atta girl.”

Judith summoned the mettle to cross into the perfectly manicured grounds beyond the stone and iron fence. She had barely begun toward the resplendent Regency-era manor when she was assailed by the sudden presence of a wild, unfamiliar Beast; a squat figure in a dark coat, who moments ago had been loitering alone by the fountain, was barrelling toward them across the dew-laden grass with a sort of manic glee.

The strange Kindred drew nearer until the light fell upon their stranger mask. A ghost-white crescent moon was moulded to fit the rightmost side of their face. Set within its silver socket, perhaps to replace his own, was an unblinking glassy eye.

“Desmond!” Frankie called out with open arms.

Desmond ignored him. His intense gaze was fixed on the new meat.

“The Crone welcomes you, Maiden! The Dark Mother has foreseen your arrival.”

Judith wondered who else might have seen it coming. A heads up might have been nice.

“Er, thanks?” She was familiar with the type of oddballs the Circle of the Crone tended to draw in, but understanding them was another matter, especially when they spoke in riddles.

“Not rightly a maiden, though,” she added. “Not since ‘77, at least.”

“But it says so right here.” He jabbed a clawed finger toward her chest to deliver his punchline.

She looked down; indeed, sewn upon the left breast of her jacket was an Iron Maiden patch, faded by a lifetime of wear and stains. The threadbare, zombified head of the band’s mascot gawked back at Desmond’s accusing digit.

It was a dumb joke, but the unexpected levity broke the ice and drew an honest laugh from her. Her first in a while.

“You got me there, mate. Name’s Judith.” She offered a biker-gloved hand, and he shook it vigorously.

“Yes, yes, I know – not a Maiden, but the Scarlet Woman of the Poppy.” When her brow furrowed, he gestured to her chaperone. “Mr. Donovan spoke of you.”

“Dezza’s gonna be growing your new supply,” Frankie clarified.

“Is growing,” Desmond corrected. “I sowed and watered the seeds myself, earlier this evening. They should be ready for harvest within three weeks.”

Judith balked. That was an impossibly fast time to grow opium, she knew – refinement notwithstanding – but it was still painfully long to wait. The half-gram she had left in her pocket would be gone before the week was out.

Her shock seemed to amuse him, and he impishly tapped the side of his upturned nose.

“Crúac secret. You’re always welcome to join the Circle, if you’d like to learn.”

"Not sure I’ve got the aptitude for blood magic." She laughed, running a hand through her mop of chestnut hair. "But with a power like that, well. Never say never, innit?"

Frankie gave her scathing look. She deflected it with a shrug. He should know by now that it would take a lot more than a magical green thumb for her to seriously consider leaving the Carthian Movement.

Desmond beamed, apple-cheeked. “That’s the spirit!”

“Let’s get a move on, Jude,” Frankie urged, giving Desmond an assertive grin. “We can talk business later.”

“Of course! You mustn’t keep our dear Prince waiting,” Desmond assuaged him with a deferential harlequin bow, and turned to resume his indistinct business over by the fountain. Judith supposed he still had more lurking to do. She decided to leave him to it.

𝄽

Though usually off limits at this hour, a golden light spilled out from the green wood slats of the museum wing’s shuttered windows. The alcove entrance was flanked by two goons in black blazers. Both were covertly armed, and wore sunglasses despite the lack of sun. Ghouls, Judith figured. The sort not to fuck with.

As she and Frankie neared, one of the men turned slightly to speak into a hidden earpiece. His partner held up a hand to forbid their passage, addressing Judith’s companion.

“Evening, Sir. Is this woman your guest?” he asked.

“She is,” Frankie replied, impatient.

“Is she expected?”

“Unlikely.” He folded his beefy arms. The Ghoul’s second murmured another command to his earpiece.

“You’ll need to wait here, Ma’am,” the first declared, waving Frankie through, who remained firmly planted beside her with a scowl.

Each pair stood tense, silently sizing up the other, but no one moved.

Judith waited, watching a tiny moth struggle against the bulb of a hooded porchlight, its inner fire forever out of reach. A minute passed, and then another.

At last, the heavy door opened.

Gilded by the warm glow behind him, the figure standing upon the threshold cast a long, thin shadow across the well-kept lawn. He looked as though he’d stepped straight out of a Renaissance portrait; poised, regal, dressed in antiquated black silks and velvets; an Elder. Judith knew better to laugh at his dated getup, especially since the animalistic core of hunger and lethal instinct she could sense within him towered above her own, cowing it immediately.

The Elder looked down his stately nose at Judith, appraising the pup before him, and then turned to Frankie.

“I should hope you would know better, Mr. Donovan, than to bring a stranger to our door unannounced,” he chided, his voice a softly accented falsetto. “Such rude behaviour is unbecoming of the Succubi.”

An impudent smile was Frank’s only acknowledgement of any misbehaviour. “Evenin’, Alder.”

“That’s my bad, mate.” Judith interjected, seizing the chance for a good first impression. With all the charm she could muster, she strode forward and extended a hand to the Elder as she would an equal.

“Judith Doulton. Apologies. I wound up ‘ere on pretty short notice, and there weren’t much time for paperwork.”

With some scrutiny, he took her hand the way a sovereign would a supplicant. His fingers were long and fine, and he wore a signet ring bearing unfamiliar arms, which she thought better than to kiss.

“I am the Alder Duke Lorenzo de Fernadez Salieri y Penthièvre,” he recited, “Master of this Elysium.”

“Amongst other things,” Frankie muttered. Lorenzo ignored him.

“What is your business here tonight, Miss Doulton?” He raised an angled eyebrow.

“Thought it might be rude to settle down in your lovely town without askin’ permission first.”

“You thought correctly,” he replied, shooting Frank a cold look. With a wave of his hand, he beckoned the pair to follow him across the threshold.

Lorenzo surveyed Judith more closely in the light of the cloistered entryway.

“Your knife, childe.” He held out an expectant palm.

Bugger. With little choice, she surrendered the bowie knife sheathed on her belt, silently promising it a swift reunion.

“I will announce you, and then you may enter. You will wait for an appointment with Prince Beaufort, and if you choose to cause trouble, you will answer to a Knight of the Black Cross. Do you understand?”

Though curt, his tone was gravely serious. Judith nodded obediently.

“Muy buena.” Lorenzo turned on a heel and marched further inside. Shortly he stopped, clapped twice, and spoke clearly to the gathered crowd.

“Kindred of the Court, allow me to present Mr. Frank Donovan of Clan Daeva, and his guest Miss Judith Doulton.”

Bracing herself, Judith followed Frank out into the open room of the museum wing.

It was like stepping into a den of wolves. The ever-hungry Beasts of those attended, great and small, riled in unison at the unknown threat to their territory. Some had no Beast that Judith could sense at all, which softened the otherwise freezing blow of fear; the sort of terror felt by cornered animals about to be devoured.

Judith kept her head down and let the moment of friction pass. Each Kindred tightened the reins on their instincts in turn. Whispers and low conversation resumed, but still she felt the gaze of too many eyes. Hand on her shoulder, Frankie steered her over to an empty settee and sat her down, blocking most of them from view with his burly frame and giving her a moment to collect herself.

But it was only a moment.

A red-haired vixen in a tea dress and cloche hat wasted no time flitting over to their secluded corner. Alice, Judith recalled with some fondness. In tow was a brick wall of a man, armoured in wrap-around sunnies, an Akubra, and a rusty-brown Driza-Bone that sat heavy on his squared shoulders. Country bloke, she thought. Gangrel, for sure.

“Judith, darling,” Alice cooed with a thin smile, “glad you made it. How did you find The Rack?”

“Did the trick,” Judith said, recalling the scent of Not-Charlotte’s golden hair. She wished she was high after all.

“Cheers again love,” she added, before her thoughts could run away with her. “For the flat.”

“You’re very welcome.” Alice clasped her hands together, reticent. “I know the boarding house isn’t in the best shape. Hopefully, now that you’re here, the Movement can raise enough capital to remodel some of the rooms.” She ventured.

“Plenty, I’ll wager.” Judith agreed.

Alice daintily touched the arm of the walking tank beside her. “I’d like you to meet Jack West, our stalwart Sheriff.”

Jack took a step closer to Judith and loudly sniffed the air between them, tasting her scent. He looked to Frankie. Frankie gave him a thumbs up.

“Yep.” A lopsided smile cracked the Sheriff’s tombstone expression as he thrust out a hand. Fingerless wool gloves met the leather of her grip and held it firm.

“Evenin’ Miss,” Jack said, with all the sincerity that a simple greeting could hold. She did her best to meet his hidden eyes with an understanding nod.

“Honestly Alice,” Frank complained, “you could've given word ahead of time.”

Alice gave him a naughty grin and turned to study the vampires across the room, gathered in twos and threes.

“I wanted to see what they’d do,” she said slyly, adjusting her glasses.

Judith looked too. It was a meagre court compared to any she’d seen. Just as well. Their pale faces shone back in confusion, curiosity, irritation. Like Desmond’s, some were obscured. Among them she saw a mask of sculpted, grinning metal; a crumbling bone faceplate; stained bandages. Nosferatu, she could tell. The Clan of Worms were always unsettling, even when polite.

“If anyone Frenzies,” Jack grunted, “you and I’ll have words.”

“Looks like I’m in the clear then,” replied Alice. She turned back to the group and slid closer to Frank, adding her much smaller frame to his makeshift barrier.

“You in the Movement, West?” Judith inquired. A little fraternity with Adelaide’s Sheriff couldn’t hurt.

“I’m a Carthian, yeah.” He shrugged. “Not that there’s been much ‘Movement’ since the last claim.”

“That was back in ’09,” said Frankie. “No great loss, if you ask me. Any Experiment that can’t even get off the ground is a failure.”

“Are you gonna try again?” She tested.

He laughed. “Fuck knows.”

Alice shot Frank a scowl. “Eventually. I have some ideas percolating, but trying them out is another matter.”

It was almost as good as a no. Judith needed time for her tail to crawl out from between her legs before she could go barking at the wrong people. It also meant the Invictus hadn’t made this city untenable for their rival Covenant. Yet.

“Speaking of trying…” Frank thumbed over to the staircase. A reedy man in a black shirt and priest collar was emerging from the basement. A third Ghoul who stood guard there, much like the first two, bowed his head to him in respect. Noticing this, Duke Penthièvre ended his conversation and, swanning over to Judith and company, gave each of them a measuring glance.

“Prince Beaufort will see you now, Miss Doulton.”

She stood, preparing her throat for a bitter pill.

“Don’t say anything I wouldn’t!” Frankie laughed. Alice gave her an encouraging nod, and Jack a thumb’s up. With a heavy sigh, Judith turned to follow Lorenzo toward the stairs.

The priest on the landing eyed her with great suspicion as she approached, but kept a tight leash on his Beast. When they passed, his glare wavered to exchange a dark look with the Alder, pendulous with mutual loathing, before he stalked away to rejoin a cluster of his well-dressed peers, and Judith began her uneasy descent to what could be her doom.

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#alison writes vampires #chronicles of darkness #vampire the requiem

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