#i was so obsessed with storms for no reason

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Hello my lovely friend! Finally getting to take a breather to dive into your wonderful comments 🥰 It was such a joy to write this one and be apart of your summer challenge!

Oooh what a nostalgic, atmospheric start. I love watching rain sometimes, and I could see every image you were painting in my head. But also -

I love watching rain too- from the warmth of home not from my car when I'm about to walk into work 😭 But there's just something about rain, especially when you've got a nice blanket and a good book *sigh*...

Nice metaphor there loll - but now I'm kinda grateful for the storm. Keeping her locked in staying late with her boss, you say? 😏

Thank you! The ultimate thunderstorm I believe, probably the most famous lol. But yes! Stuck with her too sexy to be legal boss... alone... with no witnesses... what a terrible situation 😉

I'm salivating at this description already lmfaoo. Got a feeling she's going to change his mind about how he sees her pretty soon...

I literally see Javi as the person at all the holiday parties that shows up because he has to (complained the whole ride there), but then he spends the whole time just being a menace to all the women that came. He's got that irresistible energy and sexiness that you can't say no to.

Aww not a clumsy socially awkward secretary loll, but honestly I find these characters endearing when you can see they have a caring heart, as they tend to do. It's actually a nice twist on how secretaries are usually portrayed -- all sexy and confident and after their married-man boss. 😅

I really do too! I have seen so much of the super sexy secretary, and I wanted her to be a little different. Mostly because I'm such a sucker for a super cocky/sexy guy falling for a shy and awkward girlie... As a shy and awkward girlie I do know that it is self-indulgent, but sue me LOL 🤣

Oooh he's got it bad for her lollll. Once you're addicted to her perfume, you're cooked, my friend 😏

Ohhh yeah, he doesn't have a chance. His amygdala is already programed just for her 🤣

lmfao OH NOOO. NOT THE HOT COFFEE TO THE CROTCH. 😭🤣 Reminds me of that scene when Carillo was torturing that sicario by splashing scalding hot coffee in his face 😅 But dear Lord, reader doesn't make it better for Javi, does she? 🤭 I cackled madly throughout that entire scene! lmaooo

I was THINKING of that scene when I wrote it!! Because oh my word that was so painful watching Carillo do that... but at the same time I love him too so I can't be too mad 🤣 Another morally gray man to obsess over 🥰

But I was cackling the whole time I wrote it too 🤣 Javi literally trying to hold on and be a gentleman and her being so adorably awkward while trying to make it better, but making it so much worse 😭

Aaand that's when I melted into a puddle of fluff - poor guy been through it 🥲

He really has and seeing him throughout the show try his best and along the way do so much for so little was so disheartening. Not to mention that they might try to make Javi a sexy playboy, but he has a heart. He cares about other people and you can see how much his job wears on him. 🥹

Literally was just thinking this about the reader. She's such a rare personality to find in this place and time and context, so it actually makes sense that Javi would be drawn to - and at the same time want to keep away from - a woman like her.

She is! That's another reason why I wrote her that way, because I felt like it would activate that protective instinct in Javi. Not to mention I was just losing it over Javi melting/being soft for a shy girlie. Also because I have this idea that Javi (like Dean) is riding the "i'm not worthy of love given what I've done" bus 🥹

Ay, pobrecita lolll I want to give her a hug too at this point 🤣🤣🤣 but I love how gentle he is with her in this moment. 💓 What a good sport! lol

She was not having a good day, but Javi really did know exactly how to make her feel better. He's more than just a playboy, he has feelings and he cares about people. We all see that with the way he treats Helena in literally the second episode and it just continues on through the show. I love him so much, he's such a well written complex character.

Gahhhhh yes pls - love a guiding touch on the small of the back 😮‍💨

*Sigh* I KNOWWWWW. Ugh. Its so good, gets me every time. It's really the non-sexual forms of intimacy that in fics and books that just destroys me emotionally, more than the sexual intimacy.

Hehee oh what a terrible idea, but very much totally worth it. 😏 (And LOL probs for the best they don't go out for coffee 😆)

The worst idea in history 😏 Bro no, no coffee ever again. She's going to wince every time that she brings him some in the morning LOL 🤣

This is such a fun one-shot, my friend! I can't get enough of Javi being sexy and a little soft at the same time -- for the right person 💗 Thanks again so much for participating in the writing challenge!! I'm really looking forward to working on my requests for you too - for Javi and Joel!! 💕

Aww yay! I love that side of him too and I'm so happy that you enjoyed it Alex and sent me all these lovely comments (and sent me the gif lol) 🥰🫂 And you're welcome! I had such a fun time writing it that I started working on another Javi Fic that has much more angst (as per usual) 😅. And I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with- no pressure of course love, I know they'll be amazing no matter what!

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

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@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[siachaos]

🎧 now playing: "Devil’s Advocate" – The Neighbourhood

“WHAT YOU DESERVE"

✦ pairing: g!p karina (aespa) × fem!reader

✦ genre: obsessive lovers, red flag romance, toxic domination, punishment kink

WARNINGS:

g!p karina ✶ toxic manipulative dynamic ✶ dubcon undertones ✶ bondage (scarf + ankle restraint) ✶ belt spanking ✶ orgasm denial ✶ overstimulation ✶ rough sex ✶ degradation (slut, princess) ✶ possessive jealousy ✶ emotional manipulation ✶ public humiliation ✶ fear kink ✶ degradation kink

SUMMARY:   

Karina says you can go to the party—after interrogating you first. You try to breathe, to laugh, to exist without her shadow. But Karina doesn’t like sharing. Especially not you. She storms into the club, drags you out, and reminds you—violently— that no one else gets to touch what’s hers. You’re punished, ruined, and worshipped all in the same night. And when it’s over, you’re still hers.

🖤 “you don’t get to come until i say. now take it, slut.”

The first red flag wasn’t the jealousy.

It was how you apologized for it.

You had told Karina you were going out tonight—a club thing with your friends. It was your friend Sana’s birthday, and she’d rented out the second floor of this neon-drenched bar downtown. Girls only. Loud music. Glitter eyeshadow. Nothing she should be worried about.

But Karina was already in her usual mood when you told her. Arms crossed. Dark eyes narrowing like headlights. That crooked smile that always carried danger.

“Who’s going?”

“Just friends,” you answered, watching her lean against the doorframe. “Sana, Yujin, Yeji, like... girls.”

“And no guys?”

You hesitated. “No one I’m interested in.”

Wrong answer.

Her tongue ran along her bottom lip. “That wasn’t what I asked, baby.”

You swallowed. “No guys.”

She stared at you for too long. Then walked over, slow, hands slipping beneath your jaw to tip your chin up. Her voice dipped an octave.

“You’ve been good lately. You don’t want to ruin that, do you?”

You shook your head.

So she smiled and kissed you. “Fine. Go. Have fun.”

You knew better. But you still went.

---

You weren’t even flirting. Just laughing. Talking to Yeji, someone Karina hated for reasons she never explained. The music pounded under your shoes and you felt the haze of alcohol and freedom—that rare feeling when Karina wasn’t looming like a shadow over your shoulder.

Then your phone started buzzing.

KARINA 💔💌

Where are you?

Are you with someone?

I am coming.

You tried to reply—calm down, it's nothing, I’m just talking—but the messages kept coming, faster and more aggressive. Until suddenly…

She was there.

The club doors blew open with a gust of summer heat and rage, and there she stood like the storm she always was.

Everyone saw her. She didn’t care. Tall, sharp, wolf-cut hair tousled like she'd driven 90 through the city. Black leather jacket. Jaw clenched. Eyes fixed on you like you belonged to her.

Because you did.

“Outside,” she said.

You froze.

Karina didn’t shout. She didn’t have to. Just pointed to the door with two fingers and turned without checking if you followed.

You didn’t want to make a scene. Not again. Not after last time.

You muttered some excuse to Yeji and hurried after her, heart sinking.

---

The drive home was silent. Tense. You sat with your hands in your lap, trying not to cry.

She didn’t look at you once.

When she slammed the front door behind you, she didn’t speak. Just walked straight into the bedroom.

You followed her like a ghost.

She was standing there, back to you, fists clenched. Breathing hard. You stepped closer, hands trembling.

“Karina, I didn’t—”

“Shut up.”

You flinched.

She turned.

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” she growled. “You think I don’t see how you look at people when I’m not around?”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were laughing. With her. Letting her touch you. Smiling. You never smile like that for me unless I make you.”

You took a shaky breath. “It was nothing. I swear.”

“Nothing?”

Her voice dropped. Dangerous.

“I think you need a reminder,” she said, stepping closer, “of who you belong to.”

You backed up instinctively. Your legs hit the bed.

Her eyes raked down your body. Hungry. Furious.

“Strip.”

You hesitated.

She grabbed your face with one hand. “Now, slut.”

You obeyed.

Your clothes hit the floor one by one. Her eyes never left you. By the time you stood naked, trembling, she was rolling up her sleeves like she was about to ruin you—and she was.

“On your knees.”

You sank to the floor, heart pounding.

She unbuckled her belt slowly, letting the leather slide free from the loops. The sound made your stomach twist.

“Hands behind your back.”

You obeyed.

She grabbed a scarf from the drawer—your scarf, the soft one she’d once complimented—before knotting it tightly around your wrists.

Then she stepped back, admiring her work.

“Pretty little thing,” she murmured. “So obedient when you’re scared.”

You looked up at her, helpless.

“You don’t get to act innocent,” she hissed, gripping your jaw. “You knew what you were doing. Laughing with that bitch like you don’t already have someone who owns you.”

She shoved two fingers in your mouth.

“Suck.”

You did. Gagging slightly as she pushed deep, making you drool.

“Good girl,” she said. “Now get on the bed. Face down. Ass up.”

Your knees nearly gave out as you climbed onto the mattress, wrists bound behind you, cheeks burning with shame and fear and need.

Then you heard the belt crack behind you.

“Count,” she said coldly.

The first lash landed hard. You cried out.

“One!”

Another.

“Two—!”

She didn’t go easy. She never did. The leather burned every time it struck your ass, and the sting bloomed into something darker—something that made your core ache with guilt and arousal.

“Ten,” you choked eventually, tears in your eyes.

Karina dropped the belt onto the bed.

“Look at you,” she muttered. “So wet already. Fucking filthy.”

She undressed finally—slow, deliberate, like she knew you wanted to look. Her toned body, lean and commanding. And between her thighs, thick and hard already, her cock twitching with anticipation.

“You don’t get to cum tonight,” she said flatly. “Not until I say.”

You whimpered.

She climbed onto the bed and grabbed you by the hips.

“No prep,” she said. “You don’t deserve it.”

She shoved in without warning.

You screamed.

---

She was merciless.

Every thrust was brutal, designed to punish. You were slick and dripping, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted you to feel every inch, every second, every lesson.

“You like this, don’t you?” she growled in your ear. “Getting used like a hole. That’s what you are.”

You moaned helplessly, the pain and pleasure fusing together. She reached under you and rubbed your clit in tight circles, fast and rough.

You got close—so close.

Then she stopped.

“No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to cum until I say.”

You sobbed into the sheets.

She pulled out and flipped you over, binding your ankles to the bedposts with more scarves. Spread wide. Exposed.

Her hand wrapped around her cock and she slapped it against your clit.

“Beg,” she said.

You whimpered. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Say who you belong to.”

“You, Karina. Only you.”

She smirked.

“Damn right.”

She shoved back in and started again—harder this time, deeper. The bed shook. Your cries echoed off the walls. She slapped your face lightly between thrusts, spitting on your chest.

“Such a pretty little slut,” she groaned. “You think anyone else could do this to you? Ruin you like this?”

You didn’t answer.

She gripped your throat.

“Answer me.”

“N-no… only you…”

“That’s right. I own this body. This cunt. This fucking soul.”

You nodded frantically, vision swimming.

“Cum,” she ordered suddenly.

But you were too far gone. You’d been denied too many times, your body trembling violently.

She kept fucking you through it. “Cum, slut.”

You screamed, back arching, as you finally broke—waves of pleasure crashing over you, so intense it hurt.

But she didn’t stop.

---

Karina chased her own high now, thrusts turning feral. She grabbed your hips and pounded into you with brutal force, still overstimulating you as your body twitched and shook.

You couldn’t breathe.

“Take it,” she growled. “Take all of me.”

You sobbed beneath her.

She came with a strangled groan, deep inside you, hips jerking, biting into your shoulder to muffle her moan.

You thought that would be it.

But she didn’t pull out.

She waited.

“Again,” she said.

You shook your head weakly. “Karina, I can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

She reached between your legs again, fingers rough, cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” she whispered. “So you’ll take what I give you.”

You came again, raw and shaking.

She fucked you through it.

Another orgasm. Another. Your mind broke a little more each time.

Eventually, she pulled out and watched your come-slicked body collapse into the sheets, twitching.

She untied your wrists.

You curled into a ball instinctively.

She pulled you close.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “That’s my good girl.”

You didn’t respond.

She kissed your hair. “See? I forgive you. We’re okay.”

You were too tired to cry.

---

Later, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to move. Bruises forming. Thighs sore. Throat raw.

Karina sat beside you, scrolling on her phone like nothing happened.

“Next time,” she said casually, “don’t make me remind you again.”

You closed your eyes.

She leaned over and kissed your temple.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Your chest ached.

“I love you too,” you said quietly.

And you meant it.

Because this was love, wasn’t it?

It had to be.

Why else would it hurt so much?

___

[nihiltism]

god the gallery will always be my favorite album ever but as far as dt albums go fiction is growing on me a looot.

[wildlocks]

isn't it interesting which characters/ocs you fixate on based on what you're going through...

[gu6chan]

was looking through my old memes in search of an image and this wasn't it but it came and hit me like a truck

[jazzzzzzhands]

Suffering a bit of art block

So have.. a cup?

[mckitterick]

When Noem testified before the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Homeland Security, ranking member Senator Chris Murphy gave such powerful, informative, and important opening remarks I have to share:

transcript:

"I say this with seriousness and respect, but your department is out of control.

"You’re spending like you don’t have a budget. You are running out of money for this fiscal year. You are illegally refusing to spend funds that have been authorized by this Congress and appropriated by this committee. You are ignoring the immigration laws of this nation, implementing a brand new immigration system that you have invented that has little relation to the statutes that you are required to follow as spelled out in your oath of office. You are routinely violating the rights of immigrants who may not be citizens, but whether you like it or not, they have constitutional and statutory rights when they reside in the United States.

"Your agency acts as if laws don’t matter, as if the election gave you some mandate to violate the Constitution and the laws passed by this Congress. It did not give you that mandate. You act as if your disagreement with the law, or even the public’s disagreement with the law, is relevant and gives you the ability to create your own law. It does not give you that ability.

"Let’s start with your spending. You are on track to trigger the Anti-Deficiency act. That means you are on track to spend more money than you have been allocated by Congress. This is a rare occurrence and it is wildly illegal.

"Your agency will be broke by July, over two months before the end of the fiscal year. You may not think that Congress has allotted enough money to ICE, but the Constitution and the federal law does not allow you to spend more money than you have been given or to invent money.

"This obsession with spending at the border has left the country unprotected elsewhere. The security threats to national security are higher, not lower, since Trump came to office. To fund the border you have illegally gutted spending to cybersecurity.

"As we speak, Russian and Chinese hackers are having a field day attacking our nation. You have withdrawn funds for disaster prevention. Storms are going to kill more people because of your illegal withholding of these funds. Your myopia about the border fueled by President Trump’s prejudice against people who speak a different language have shattered most of this country’s most important defenses.

"Now let’s talk about the impoundments. When Congress appropriates funds for a specific purpose the administration has no discretion whether or not to spend that money unless you go through a specific process with this committee.

"Let me give you two of many instances of this illegal impoundment. The first is a shelter and services program. Senator Britt may want to zero that account out, but that account is funded in a bipartisan way. You may not like the program. Your policy is to treat migrants badly. I think that’s abhorrent, but it doesn’t matter that you don’t like the program. You cannot cancel spending in this program, and you cannot use the funds, as you have, to fund other things, like ICE.

"You have also cancelled citizenship and integration grants, which help lawful permanent residents become citizens, helping them take the citizenship test. I know your goal is to try to make life as hard as possible for immigrants, but that goal is not broadly shared by the American public. That’s why Congress, in a bipartisan way, for decades has funded this program to help immigrants become citizens.

"Now let’s talk about why encounters at the southern border are down so much. This is clearly going to be your primary talking point today. You will tell us that it represents as success. But the prime reason why encounters are down is because you are brazenly violating the law every hour of every day.

"You are refusing to allow people showing up at the southern border to apply for asylum. I acknowledge that you don’t believe that people should be allowed to apply for asylum, but the White House doesn’t get to choose that. The law requires you to process people who are showing up at the border to apply for asylum.

"Why? Because our asylum law is a bipartisan commitment, an effort to correct for our nation’s unconscionable decision to deny entry to Jews to this country who were being hunted and killed by the Nazis. Our nation, Republicans and Democrats, decided, wrote it into law, that we would not repeat that horror ever again, and thus we would allow for people who were fleeing terror and torture to come here, arrive at the border, and make a case for asylum.

"Finally let’s talk about these disappearances. In an autocratic society, people who the regime does not like or who are protesting the regime are often picked up off the street, and spirited away, often to open-ended detention. Sometimes they’re never seen again.

"What you are doing, both to individuals who have legal rights to stay here, like Kilmar Abrego Garcia, or students who are just protesting Trump’s policies, is immoral and, to follow the theme, it is illegal. You have no right to deport a student visa holder with no due process simply because they have spoken in a way that offends the President. You can’t remove migrants whom a court has given humanitarian protection from removal.

"Now, reports suggest that you are planning to remove immigrants with no due process and send them to prisons in Libya. Libya is in the middle of a civil war. It is subject to a level 4 travel advisory, meaning we tell American citizens never to travel to Libya. We don’t have an embassy there because it is not safe for our diplomats. Sending migrants with pending asylum claims into a war zone, just because it’s cruel, is so deeply disturbing.

"Listen, I understand that my Republican colleagues on this committee don’t view the policy as I do, don’t share my level of concern for the way the government treats immigrants, but what I don’t understand is why we don’t have consensus in the Senate and on this committee on the decision by this administration to impound the spending that we have decided together to allocate in defense of this nation.

"We as an appropriations committee worked interminable hours to write and pass this budget, and so we make ourselves irrelevant when we allow the administration to ignore what we have decided. And then when we look the other way when the administration rounds up immigrants who are here illegally and have committed no offenses worthy of detainment, we also do potential irreversible damage to the Constitution.

"These should not be partisan concerns—destroying the power of Congress, eroding individuals’ Constitutional rights. This should matter to both parties."

_

I never knew that our asylum laws arose from when we didn’t take Jews escaping from the Nazis. Both parties said never again. Yet here we are.

Everything this "administration" is doing is impeachable, and this Congress has a responsibility to get these criminals out of office and keep them out.

Contact your representatives and demand that they hold Homeland Security to account if they want to keep holding their offices - if they in fact want those offices to still be a thing in the future.

[okidenshi]

so ever since i started watching tornado content on you tube i've been getting other types of natural disaster stuff recommended to me, some of which is interesting, but recently i've been getting recommended videos on........... 9/11........... and im like....... hard pass thank you.

[sukunasweetheart]

hear me out on bully!sukuna okay...

warnings; highschool setting, DUBCON, dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, sex in a confined space, semi-public sex, breeding, sukuna is kinda mean but is a simp at the same time, groping, cum in panties, just lots and lots of cum, "just the tip" he lied, mentions of pregnancy risk, ?cheating, sukuna the toxic tsundere but is horrendously down bad and perverted, eventual or mildly submissive sukuna?, this isn't gonna be the healthiest relationship - but its to be expected tho bc its a bully fic so..

Word count; 5.5k

bully!sukuna bothers you because he has a weird complex with you - preferring to be outright hated by you rather than deal with indifference or facing possible rejection.

it's often teetering on the edge of actual bullying; his existence is more of a nuisance than a serious distress to you.

he often loves getting on your nerves by tripping you up with his foot, only to catch you himself, or he purposefully bumps into you in the hallways making you almost topple over - like the fucking asshole he is. and you'll never forget the time you happened to get paired up with him on an assignment and the bastard had the audacity to try and take you both down by not doing his part. in exchange for his participation, he had you carry his bag for him around school for a week...

and he only gets more thrilled the more you fight back or retaliate.

sukuna likes to call you names, often using very condescending and colourful insults against you. and he likes to harass and chase off any potential boyfriends that come your way. that last one pisses you off the most. you want a boyfriend so bad, and that bastard is being such a huge cockblock. god forbid a girl wants to get laid. all your friends have had their first times already - why can't you?!

and he's back at it again too, after finding out that another guy confessed to you at school today. you accepted it. obviously when he wasn't watching. for a damn reason.

he finds out your last class was P.E today and you find yourself cornered in the locker room, empty of girls except for you. you ended up lagging behind as you were texting your new boyfriend over your phone after class. you try to walk past him to go home, but he traps you against your own locker.

you end up snapping back at him, having had enough of it.

"what is wrong with you? you know what? i think you're obsessed with me!" you shout back, shoving at his chest.

"who do you think you are, to stop me from getting a boyfriend... what, do you like me or something?" you speak without thinking, in a fit of anger.

"i bet you do! i bet you go home every night and jerk off to daydreams of me. is that right?" you go off, pushing every button you can.

sukuna falls silent. you expect him to argue back, to deny all your claims fiercely, and then go storming off, having heard enough of your nonsense.

but he's glaring at you, tight lipped, ears and cheeks turning bright red.

"...why're you silent all of a sudden? say something..." you continue awkwardly. "don't tell me... you actually...?"

"shut up," he hisses at you. "just shut up, for a second."

he wears an expression you've never seen on him before, and seems to be thinking about what to say next. he looks as though he wants to say something.

you open your mouth to tell him 'nevermind', but the sound of a small group of girls approaching the locker room is audible, which interrupts the both of you, and you panic. just what kind of rumours would spur on if they caught you and sukuna like this in here? you only just got your first boyfriend, there's no way you're gonna let this bastard ruin that for you!

thinking quickly, you open up your locker and roughly push sukuna inside, and then jump in after him. you shut the locker door quietly and peek outside through the little gaps at the top. the girls come in, having come back to get something that they left behind. what terrible timing.

one of the girls walk up a little close to your liking and you end up moving your body back as far as you can, your back pressing up against sukuna without thinking. and then you're startled by the low and quiet groan you hear behind you.

whipping around, you see sukuna with clouded eyes and a tightened jaw, barely able to fit inside this narrow locker. but he doesn't find it in himself to feel uncomfortable or annoyed at the situation.

after all, your ass is pressed up tightly against his growing bulge right then and there.

you were right about what you'd said earlier. he'd always daydreamed of a moment like this, pumping his cock at the thought of doing lewd things with you...

you turn back to the front, panicked. what the fuck? why does he look... like that?

kinda hot...

shaking your head, you try to ignore your beating heart, praying that the girls exit the locker room soon so that you can quickly escape from this situation.

meanwhile, sukuna's hands struggle to keep away from you as his brain begins to short circuit, dick helplessly twitching in his pants, chest heaving but it being of no help - as the locker fills with the scent of you in it, the sweetness of your shampoo and perfume, making his heart pump harder.

you slowly shuffle forward a little, trying not to lean against him so much. when are these girls leaving... you think to yourself. they've started gossiping amongst themselves, sitting on the bench. goddamn it!

large hands fall onto your hips and pull you back toward him. you feel him grinding his crotch against your ass, and you know that whatever is poking you is definitely his fucking boner.

"what the fuck, sukuna? s-stop," you whisper to him as quietly as you can.

sukuna has stopped his thinking in itself entirely. whatever's making him act right now is nothing but his pure and selfish desires. there's no way he can resist you when you're the one who climbed inside your own locker with him. he needs to relieve his ache somehow.

he gets more and more handsy with you as each minute passes. his large hand snakes up to fondle your clothed tits as he continues to discreetly dry hump your ass.

you should be disgusted. you should jump out right now and snitch on him and call him a molester right in front of these girls.

but good god, this feels like... nothing you've felt before. his wandering hands. his immense horniness. this tight enclosed space. the size of his boner. it's all making you excited in a weird way, and you're starting to feel aroused at your core.

sukuna is doing his best to get some pleasure from this minimal friction he's getting inside his tight space, but it's not enough. the desperation and arousal claws at him, his dick hurting from how tightly it's sitting in his pants. he swallows on nothing.

fuck it. he's already started. why hold back now?

you feel a shift behind you and the sound of fabric and a zipper being undone. is he...?

you gasp softly when something hot and hard gets pushed between your thighs. it's... it's pulsing. you can't believe this is happening. with sukuna, out of all people? should you be mortified or intrigued? you fear that the latter might be truer.

there's ringing in his ears. not a single logical thought is occupying his brain as he thinks purely with his dick at the moment, having waited so long for a moment like this. fuck, he's so hard. and it only excites him more that you haven't leapt out of this locker yet, running away from him. even though you could. his heart is on the verge of beating it's way up to his throat.

small, shallow thrusts. you feel his heavy cock rub up against your inner thighs, and both of his large hands are now groping your clothed breasts lewdly. he unbuttons your blouse, and then messily pulls down your bra, as he's desperate to feel the real thing, and you can't muster the strength to swat him away. when his fingertips tease your nipples, you have to stop yourself from making any noise. you've always wanted someone to touch you there...

never did you know that someone would be sukuna. you grab his wrist in a fit of desperation.

"you're a fucking pervert... what the hell are you doing?" you tell him a tad bit loudly, trying to deny the heat in your cunt.

"... did you guys hear something?" one of the girls suddenly ask outside.

your heart drops to your stomach as this sets off a panic inside you again. a big, warm hand clasps over your mouth, shushing you effectively.

"quiet..." he mumbles into the shell of your ear, and it weakens your knees. it never occurred to you that he's always had an attractive voice. a wave of goosebumps wash over your skin.

you look down. you can get a tiny peek of his tip whenever he thrusts in... it's so fucking big. you can't possibly fit that inside you, could you? when you catch that it's glistening with precum, your pussy squeezes around nothing.

one hand still over your mouth and the other teasing your tits, sukuna is busy slowly chasing an orgasm, regardless of the girls that have gotten a little wary outside. they soon forget about it and continue their pointless chatter.

fuck... his cock is so close to your cunt. the thought of it makes him shudder. he's almost there.

your hands are semi-clawing at his hand that's still against your mouth, when you suddenly feel him cease the incessant groping at your breasts. instead, it goes under your skirt - a finger loosening your panties up to fit his fat cock beneath the flimsy fabric.

there it is. your bareback fuckin' pussy. he has to bite his own lip to hold off groaning out loud. he does his best to slide his dick in and out against your slit - being restricted in movement due to the tight space, but make doing somehow.

you're actually thankful for his hand covering your mouth up, as you would've definitely moaned out loud if it weren't for him. it's unreal how turned on you are right now. does he feel it? all the slick pouring out of you? it's so, so strange. you were so sure that you didn't want this with him before, but not anymore...

it grazes over your clit over and over, painfully teasing, and you need to orgasm so badly.

sukuna jolts his hips against you, giving a final short thrust as his tip catches the fabric of your panties - he presses his own face against your neck to effectively silence himself as he reaches his first high.

you shudder as his dick pulsates between your thighs so strongly, making a hot mess in your underwear, cum spilling out in thick ropes - you feel the heat of it on your poor cunt, and you shiver as sukuna inhales deeply against your neck, his breathing wavering, dick aching for more even as it continues to spill heavily, creaming your panties. his tongue licks a stripe up your neck, causing you to shiver.

it's a pleasure that's greater than he could've ever given himself alone. but he wants more. he needs more.

you're in the middle of trying to gather yourself again, but you again, feel him moving his hips. just what is he up to now...?

your eyes widen when you catch onto how he's trying to thrust himself inside you now. there's no way... you struggle against him but he holds you still - mouth still firmly silenced by his palm.

the best he can do is have the tip inside. but for now, it's enough. he doesn't care - as long as he can get whatever pleasure that's available...

"j-just the tip..." he whispers with the smallest voice he can manage, against your ear again. it turns you on so good.

you can't help but enjoy when he gropes at your chest again, his tip bullying it's way in your desperate and wet hole, popping in and out, in and out, in and out.

even with just the tip, you're about to lose your mind. you want more, but at the same time you're scared what'll happen to your mind if he shoves that whole thing inside you.

sukuna's brain is yet again short circuiting as he dips the tip of his cock into your hot and slippery cunt - making him feral and desperate to get deeper. yet, what's stopping him is this confined space that suffocates him. there isn't enough oxygen for both of you here, and he wonders whether it's you or the lack of oxygen that's making him endlessly breathless.

oh, he's close again.

he's going to cum again, but this time inside. you want to protest, but you've always wondered... does it feel good to have it spill inside? regardless, you still try to struggle against him purely because you don't like the thought of sukuna knowing that you're enjoying this. even though it's already too late.

he holds you so tightly against him - before letting himself loose once again - tip poking into your pussy as he pumps inside, balls clenching. your hole is welcoming, and it puckers around him mind numbingly, milking his heavy cock for everything he has. you feel the warmth of his seed reaching inside you but not very deep - most of it trickles back out onto your panties. he twitches against you harder and more intensely, hips shoving into you messily.

you're both out of breath...

...and that's when both of you hear the girls leaving the locker room with muffled laughter, successfully avoided noticing you and him inside.

they turn the lights off before they leave, and the locker room turns dark and silent. you're now sweating against sukuna - and the moment you feel his hands loosen against you, you push the locker door open and step outside, unsure of what exactly you're trying to run from. sukuna himself? or the fact that you might be forming some kind of attraction to him? to the way he treats you?

but alas, no matter how fast you think you are, you could never beat sukuna's reflexes. in that quick momentum, he's pursued you outside and grabbed your arm - before pulling you back and shoving you against the now closed locker door.

"where do you think you're going?" he asks with a deep and low voice, vein popping on his forehead and looking desperate and an intense blush being permeated on his face. why is it that it's always made you feel so squirmy, whenever he cornered you like this? the size difference, the strength difference... the pervert here is not only him, it seems.

your needy gaze flutters from his eyes down to his exposed cock. it's veiny, throbbing, and leaking messily. it looks heavy and most importantly... it's so fucking big.

in the blink of an eye, sukuna has hiked your legs up, holding you up against the lockers, making it so that you cannot run from him again. it's game over.

"having the nerve to try and run after seducing me with your ass..." sukuna mutters angrily, lining his dick above your cunt and tummy, showing off how deep it'll reach if he slid it inside.

"no- i didn't..." you protest weakly, heart hammering with excitement. "idiot... let me down."

you tell him, despite your arms that loop around his neck.

"your voice is lacking it's usual sharpness," sukuna tells you breathlessly, flipping your skirt up and pushing your panties aside. it's still wet with his previous loads. oh- he can't think straight.

"wait-! something that big won't fucking fit!" you tell him, only now the fear beginning to hit you. moreover, you're afraid he'll end up breaking you and stop all rational thinking - this is dangerous.

"it will. i'll mould the shape of your insides to my fuckin' cock," sukuna insists, eyes focused on your wet glistening pussy. so pretty.

he pushes it in. but he doesn't stop there. he pushes it in all the way. balls fucking deep.

your eyes widen and when he thrusts the whole thing in one go, you well and truly break. legs trembling, pleasure washes over you and you cry out a moan.

"fuck-! did you just cum? are you cumming?" sukuna asks, panting, slowly sliding himself in and out as your cunt spasms around him. soon enough, he speeds it up and makes sure his tip is bullying your cervix with each deep thrust, eyes rolling back as your walls welcome him so warmly and clamp down on him.

"haah- haah- mm, fuck! you're so fuckin' tight! ugh, 'm gonna bust again," he slurs messily, hips moving non-stop. the unkempt bush of his pubic hair gives friction against you adding onto your strange sensations of pleasure. drool begins to roll out from the corner of your mouth.

his balls have never felt heavier as they slap against your wet ass each time he slams his cock inside, slick pooling out of you and creating droplets on the floor. he has a lot to give you... and your cunt is being so agreeable, the way it sucks on him, warm and wet. it's turning him animalistic, no thoughts running inside his brain except to fucking breed this hole. breed you.

not inside... not inside... you think, not realising that you're not saying it out loud.

"i'm gonna do it inside. i'm gonna-!" he hisses, hips stuttering at the last second.

"ugh- shit! 'm c-cumming... fuuck... fuck!" sukuna cusses deeply, thighs trembling as he continues giving tiny, but sharp thrusts even as he's spilling into you while buried to the hilt.

it's hot. you can feel that it's thick. there's so much. even more than his two previous loads. sukuna's face being twisted in pleasure puts you in awe - and you unknowingly tighten your pussy around him as he orgasms inside, joined to you hip-to-hip.

he's never felt such a deep seated pleasure in him before. he continues to gasp and shudder with every stringy spurt that he knows is reaching your womb. what if he actually knocks you up? what if his seed takes? it's a scary but thrilling thought. the thought of you swollen with his baby... all rational thinking has been thrown out the window due to this pleasure.

sounds that you never could've imagined coming out of sukuna continue to spill from his lips... he slides his cock in and out and squeezes every last drop out of himself, and he suddenly brings his lips to yours, kissing you feverishly. both of you pant over each other while making out messily as he slowly begins to thrust into you over and over again. he's going to get addicted to this. he's going to crave your pussy everyday from now on.

sukuna sucks on your tongue like he wants to swallow it. your arms hold onto him for dear life.

all too suddenly, he brings you off the locker, arms hooked under your legs and palms supporting you by holding onto your ass cheeks.

the kiss breaks, and catch sight of sukuna's lust-filled eyes as he moves you up and down his cock using his monster-like strength. and you're held up by him like this, you can't do anything to stop him. just cling onto him and take what he gives you.

"f-fuck, sukuna... ooh-! t-too deep," you mumble with tears in your eyes, gasping from the way his tip kisses your womb effortlessly. he's seriously too big for his own good.

"keep saying my name like that- it'll only make my dick harder," he pants, continuing to use your pussy like a fleshlight. his thick load has made it even wetter. he can feel your slick beginning to cream up around the base of his cock now, and it makes his chest well up with something like pride. does he turn you on that good? this hole of yours refuses to run out of lube.

the absurdly obscene plap plap plap sound of flesh against flesh, makes for the lewdest echo in the locker room. that, paired with the mild darkness, and the possibility of being seen by someone coming in during after-school hours, makes for the perfect thrilling atmosphere for such feral sex.

it's driving you mad. the echoing, the subtle anxiety, the smell of his sweat.

it's marvelous...

another orgasm hits you like a bullet train. gasping, you whimper as he continues fucking you through it this time, relentlessly thrusting into you regardless of your pulsing walls.

"shit... your cunt's clinging to me," sukuna groans, feeling blessed to see you get undone by him, by his cock. the fingertips of his large hands against your ass sink deeper, the pleasurable knot in his stomach getting tighter once again.

"you and your uselessly big dick... fuck you," you chide breathlessly, doing your best to keep your sentences clear even as he plunges into you with an unforgiving pace.

"clearly not useless when it's made you cum twice now, right?"

"shut up-"

you get cut off when he begins to thrust faster, as you witness the very moment sukuna's eyes become blank with pleasure, getting ready to empty his balls again.

"slutty fuckin' cunt. latching onto me so greedily... can't stop- thrusting-" he mumbles, gripping onto your ass tighter.

you can't help but sigh with pleasure when he begins to fill you up again, twitching and pulsing like crazy inside you as he spills so much seed like he's peeing.

"ohh, shit... cumming s-so hard..." he breathes out shakily.

you're starting to feel full. but you get the feeling that this still isn't the last one. desperate kisses are pressed against the side of your neck as he takes some time to relax a little again, thoroughly finishing deep into you, hips jolting every now and then.

he carries you over to the bench in the middle of the room, where he lies you down and brings your knees closer to your chest, fully exposing your cunt to him, whole. his dick still squeezed into you.

with a hoarse shaky groan, he slowly drags his thick cock in and out of you in this position, with only the heavens knowing how he is still hard after so many orgasms.

you give a small yelp as he speeds up - your plush walls embracing him warmly and filling up his balls once more. god, he doesn't think he'll ever have enough of this pussy. of you.

"idiot! e-enough.. take it out... i'll get- pregnant-" you warn him not-so-convincingly, with gasping moans between each word.

"c-can't... you're... sucking me in so good... can't stop-" sukuna replies with no thoughts in his brain other than to relieve the throb in his erection again. it's driving him up a wall, too. the flesh of your ass that softens the impact everytime he drives his hips into you. your squeals and whines of euphoria. your exposed breasts and glistening clit. he burns every detail into his brain, to make sure he remembers forever...

he doesn't even know what number round this is, but it amazes even him how he feels like he's already edging close to another climax. it's pathetic and ridiculous of him. but he can't help the fact that you push him over so easily.

the number of tissues he'd run through just from jerking off every time he thought about you all night... you have no clue.

recalling those moments makes him feel even more determined to chase this final orgasm even more rigorously. it won't be difficult, not with how your cunt swallows him up so nice.

"fuck.... i- i like you. i've always liked you..." sukuna mumbles out the sudden confession slowly.

"stupid... bastard... you say this now...?" you say as you sigh in pleasure, almost being close to your own climax as well, this position setting off yet another deep arousal in you. after all that bickering and tormenting - he has the audacity to confess to you? only after cumming inside multiple times?

"can't give any excuses can i?" he voices with a curt laugh - finding himself to be pitiful in this moment as well.

"but it's true... i- fuck- i like you so much..." he groans, hips getting faster.

your eyes begin to blur with tears again... sukuna thumbs your clit gently... and then you arch your back with a gasping squeal. sukuna too, hisses as he pumps you full for a final time, letting his dick drain itself in your fluttering hole, hips and thighs jerking uncontrollably while his tip leaks spurt after spurt through your cervix, overflowing you to the maximum.

after dumping his final load, he slowly drags his large, twitching cock out of you with a pop and lets it rest against your gaping cunt, pulsing weakly against your clit. his thumb pushes your panty lining aside to keep your pussy exposed for him to see. your hole is still gaping and thrumming, as if missing him already and he's watching with awe as big globs of his spend trickle out of you thickly. if he wasn't so exhausted, the sight of this would've made him hard again.

sukuna lets go of you and lets your legs rest on the bench, as you're still panting from the exertion, mind numb from that last orgasm. he seems to loom over you for a second, before leaning down, arms caging you against the bench, knee between your legs, to kiss you on your glossy lips. it feels good, but you wouldn't want to admit that out loud to him.

"i like you." he repeats again, after breaking away from you. he wonders why it had taken him so long to admit this fact. once he got it out, it became an easy thing to say. you look at his face and he looks so pathetic in your eyes, the usual look of cockiness and mischief being wiped away. he says it as if he's pleading you, and you know what he's asking for, what he's unable to say out loud. he probably wants to be your boyfriend.

it's strange to see the puppy eyes of your literal arch nemesis, and it's also strange to hear his voice give you a love confession. it makes you mad. it makes you angry. not because you hate it, but because you don't hate it.

he sees it. he sees the instant your eyes glint with anger, and he very swiftly dodges the head butt you try to give him at the very last second.

"move, idiot," you say sharply, glaring at him.

alright, he probably deserved that one.

you stand up and fix your bra and blouse before gathering your things from the locker before leaving without another word - sukuna follows you outside in a fit of mild anxiousness.

"hey-"

"you. take responsibility and buy me some plan b pills. and a pregnancy test kit," you interrupt, looking back at him.

"...alright," he responds rather obediently, after a nervous swallow.

after you turn back around to continue walking, the tiniest smile grows on your face... sukuna looking nervous is something you never thought you'd see. maybe you can use this to your advantage.

your phone vibrates in your hand. it's from your new 'boyfriend'. a sweet message saying he's excited to see you again tomorrow. you delete the notification with a little bit of guilt on your mind. you'll leave tomorrow's issues for tomorrow.

in front of the chemist, you languidly stand around outside waiting as sukuna does as you'd asked him. truth be told, it was because you didn't want to buy them yourself, out of embarrassment. you know he doesn't care about how people sees him, so no harm done there.

when he comes back out with the bag, he holds it out to hand it over to you. but when you try to grab it, he lifts it away.

"you're gonna break up with him, right?" he suddenly asks, with a rather serious expression on his face.

you ignore the question and try to grab the bag, but he avoids you again.

"...right?" he emphasises. he doesn't intimidate you at all anymore, not after knowing about his feelings for you.

"it's none of your business?" you tell him, finally snatching the bag. he doesn't look too pleased about that answer. you take the pills quietly and shove the rest into your bag.

"okay. now go home," you shoo at him. "i'm tired."

"you haven't answered me yet," he says firmly, holding onto your wrist.

"you'll have your answer tomorrow," you reply in an exasperated tone, shaking off his grip.

"and just letting you know. if it turns out positive, i'm never speaking to you again," you warn him with a deadpan face. in the back of your mind, you're pretty anxious about it, but you know according to your cycle, today wasn't a fertile day. that, and with the pill... it should be alright.

sukuna stiffens up and opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again.

"and don't follow me. if you do, i'll also never speak to you again."

you're not that serious about not talking to him ever again, but you believe he deserves to feel as anxious as you do.

"... i wasn't planning on stalking you anyway. jesus," sukuna mutters, kicking at the dirt on the ground.

you narrow your eyes at him, and then continue your way home.

he scratches the back of his head in frustration. it's like he's skipped a lot of steps towards you and it's coming back to bite him in the ass. ah, well. nothing he can do about it now.

sukuna starts praying that the test comes out as negative.

-

in the end, you decided to become the asshole and just break up with the guy over text. what was there to even really 'break up' anyway? it was for less than a day...

regardless, the news seems to run across the entire school and your friends begin to pester you about why. you can't tell them the truth. what could you even say? 'oh, i got railed good by the one guy i despised in school and it made me end up changing my mind'? fuck that.

he walks towards you after school with seemingly high spirits.

"so... i heard you broke it off after all," he approaches you after hearing the good news. you'd been ignoring him all day, but he's hoping you'll stop once the day was over and there was no one else around to watch them.

you continue to give him the silent treatment, walking along without sparing him a glance.

"hey," he grabs your forearm to stop you from walking.

"stop ignoring me. please."

you only spare him a glance because he added 'please'.

"...i don't see how that changes anything between us," you finally respond.

"right. surely not," he responds, voice thick with sarcasm.

"is that the correct attitude you should be taking? i broke up with him because i felt bad i fucked someone else while we were together. not because i like you back," you shoot at him, crossing your arms.

"oh, give me a break. you were barely with him for one day-"

"sukuna. do you want me to like you back?"

sukuna falls silent, looking at you with annoyance yet also simultaneous desire.

"if you want me to like you... then you need to work for it. make up for all the mean things you've said and done to me."

"...how? what should i do?" he asks, daringly, stepping forward towards you.

you wordlessly take your bag and shove it against his chest with an aloof expression on your features. it startles him for a moment, but looking at your face, he understands what you're asking of him. he slowly smirks and slings your bag over his shoulder, on top of his own.

"easy. anything else?"

"...i'm kinda hungry. take me somewhere good to eat. you pay."

"so... a date?" sukuna hums teasingly, trying to hold your hand.

"nope. you're gonna act as my lackey for a few weeks. it's payback. after that... well, we'll see," you say as you dodge his hand.

he can't wipe the smile off his face. you're clearly playing around with him, but he doesn't hate it. it's another form of attention, is it not? he'll have plenty of chances to make you his from now.

little does he know... he's the one that will become yours in the end.

you know the drill! dot points bc im lazy as fuck!!

okay well, first off the test does turn out negative, lucky for him... from then on you make him wear condoms whenever you have sex

but before that, he spends a few weeks running around to try and appease you

everybody shocked to see the big bad bully is being so obedient, and little do they know...

mmmaybe you give him little rewards every now and then, some sneaky kisses or so, just to keep him afloat... and then you withhold your body from him again

still carries your bag for you everywhere

has to deal with the frustration of not having boyfriend privileges yet... always itching to touch you but you wont allow it until you think he deserves it

sitting between his legs but not letting him be handsy with you is torture. maybe he'll break the rules a bit and hug your waist anyway

love the thought of him borderline begging for your touch because he's so hard from spending so much time being so close with you and it's been well over three weeks since he's done anything remotely sexual with you

maybe you'll feel a little turned on by his pleading that you cave in a bit, and take him to the public restrooms for a few handjobs

he will take anything he can, the opportunist...

and you'll have plenty of fun edging and toying with sukuna until he's shaped nicely into being a good obedient boyfriend for you

bully sukuna trope was inspired and set alight by @gojos-thot-patrol btw, link to his fic here... mine took a completely different path but it was a similar concept in the end ✨️👌

Masterlist

[ulmus-spellook]

Me on Saturday: looking up info for timing in the closest city “I know I won’t be able to see the total eclipse from my part of the country, but I could at least see a partial one!”

Me on Sunday: it’s raining outside and it looks like the kind of rain that lasts more than 24 hours “oh no.”

Me on Monday: I look outside around noon, it’s cloudy out and when I opened my weather app it said it would start raining soon *sigh* “the clouds have once again prevented me from witnessing a cool sky event” we really need this rain though. It would have been nice if it came a few days sooner! There would be less fire and the sky could be clearer for the eclipse

So today I’m hearing people online talking about how cool the eclipse was and just being like: “I’m gonna be honest. I accidentally slept through the last partial (solar) eclipse and I couldn’t even see this partial solar eclipse if I was trying”

I know I’ve seen lunar eclipses though, my insomnia was at least useful there

[blank-potato]

my kid's better than your kid

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.” “Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat. “Absolutely not! This is about accountability.” “There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket. “Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—” He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.” You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.” Or You and John's kids are in the same soccer league, and after you get into an argument on the field over your kids, you start seeing him everywhere. It's hate at first sight.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, hair pulling, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, breeding kink, sexual overstimulation, John Walker is a biter, No Superhero AU!, slow burn, enemies to lovers, dead spouse (I killed off his wife oop), John being a good dad, Ava Starr cameo

WC: 12.0k

A/N: I feel like John would be one of those dads who's coaching from the sidelines at their kids' game, so I wrote this. I'm also obsessed with him right now so expect more fics

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Some might call you intense or insane.

A little crazy, definitely.

There’s a fire in you, always has been, and when it comes to your daughter, you didn’t play around. Every aspect of her life was important to you, especially her Saturday morning soccer games.

Though you didn’t know what intense was until you saw that dickhead across the field. Blonde hair, a trimmed beard, built like he probably hits the gym four times a week. His biceps flexed under his white shirt every time he threw his arms up at the ref, which, to be fair, was often.

If he weren’t so obnoxious, you might even find him hot, but you totally don’t find him hot. He was pumped up, red in the face, and just as invested in the game as you were. Pacing like a coach who got fired but still showed up anyway. He was shouting directions, clapping like his kid was about to be scouted, and cheering like it was the World Cup and not just a rec league game on a patchy field behind a middle school.

He was showing you up, so you started cheering louder for your kid. Because if this is a competition, you're damn well not losing it.

“That’s it, Lily! Give ‘em hell!” You shout, your daughter just smiles at you and goes back to playing, used to your competitive nature.

The man takes notice of you and looks at you like he isn’t also acting like a lunatic before cheering even louder. That rubbed you the wrong way. What gave him the right to look at you like you were the problem?

Then it happens.

You watch as your daughter gets slide-tackled for no reason.

And the ref? Doing fuck all about it.

“What was that call, ref?” you shout, already on your feet.

“I—” the ref starts, backing up as you approach. 

You trudge towards him, angry but trying to maintain a look of composed fury, like you weren't two seconds from setting the field on fire. 

The ref was used to your antics, and now every time he saw you storming towards him, he’d be sure that he’d be going home with a headache.

“No yellow or red card? She got slide-tackled,” you bark.

“It’s—”

“She didn’t even have the ball!” you snap, the words ripping out of you like they’ve been waiting. You’re so fired up, so high on rage and love and disbelief, you swear you could take flight.

“It was an accident, so there’s no need for that,” a voice cuts in, calm and condescending in the worst possible way.

You turn, and it’s him, the guy from across the field. The look on his face, the matter-of-fact tone, the casual smugness oozing off him like cologne. You hate him instantly. It was that easy.

“I’m guessing that was your son that ran over my daughter,” you say, each word clipped like you’re trying not to launch them at his face.

“Ran over?” he snorts. “Talk about an exaggeration.”

“It’s soccer, these things happen. You don’t have to throw a tantrum just because your kid's team is down two,” he adds, smirking like he thinks this is witty banter and not a declaration of war.

You scoff, hands on hips, already stepping into his space. The ref backs off like a man realising he’s standing between two charging bulls. This wasn’t a sideline spat; this was two planets colliding, and he wanted no part of the fallout.

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.”

“Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat.

“Absolutely not! This is about accountability.”

“There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—”

He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.”

You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”

“That’s it! Take this off the field,” the ref finally blurts, hands up, voice cracking. “The kids have a match to play!”

You exhale sharply and hard through your nose, fists clenched at your sides. You try to calm yourself down, jaw tight, heart pounding. You sit and look out at your daughter, brushing grass off her knees and already back in position. 

She's tougher than you give her credit, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to put that guy’s head in the ground. 

After the game, her team, the Honeybees, lost after a few missed goals and lots of questionable calls, but your daughter was still laughing with her friends, unfazed in the way only kids can be.

You, however, were still stewing in quiet indignation when you spotted the world’s biggest jackass, in your humble, entirely accurate opinion, making his way toward you.

“Oh. It’s you,” you say, arms crossed automatically.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your loss,” he says, all fake sincerity, like he wasn’t two seconds away from being shoved into a juice box cooler.

“How mature.”

“I try,” he replies with that same maddening, self-satisfied grin.

You narrow your eyes, ready for whatever condescending nonsense he might say next. If he says “good effort”, you’re swinging. Choosing not to let him fuck with you, you tell him what’s what. 

“Your team only won because of the ref’s bad calls,” you say, arms still crossed, tone sharp enough to slice fruit.

“Oh really?” he replies, lifting an eyebrow like he’s genuinely amused. Like this is his idea of foreplay.

“Yeah. My kid was dynamite out there.”

“So was mine,” he says back instantly.

“I mean, sure, but my kid has the most assists on her team,” you say, trying to keep your cool, even as your voice edges higher.

“Assists,” he echoes, nodding slowly. “Not goals.”

You blink at him. “Are we seriously doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says with mock innocence, hands raised like he’s never been petty in his life.

You press your lips together, biting your tongue so hard it might bruise. You didn’t want to, you really didn’t want to, but it slips out anyway.

“My kid can out-pass, out-hustle, and outplay any other kid on that field.”

He grins like he’s been waiting for this.

“Well, my kid can run circles around your kid while tying his cleats.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Alright then, my kid was able to run a full field drill without missing a pass when she was five.”

“Well, mine could do cone drills backwards while coaching his teammate through theirs.”

Your eye twitches at that and he delights in seeing you so bothered.

“Lily has a killer left foot and once scored a hat trick with a stomach bug.”

“And Tommy is a human wall on defence.”

“Oh, please. Lily once did a bicycle kick and landed on her feet. What’s Tommy got?” You say, crossing your arms. 

“Perfect attendance and a clean penalty record.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘clean penalty record’ but you keep it moving.

“Lily brings orange slices for the whole team.”

“Tommy brings strategy diagrams and pep talks.”

You pause, blinking. “Are we… bragging about how nice our kids are now?”

“Seems like it.”

You both go quiet for a beat, then he adds with a smirk, “Still doesn’t mean your kid’s better. I think you should admit to defeat.”

You step forward, just enough to make a point. “I’ll admit defeat when the Honeybees start losing because of their own mistakes, not because your future linebacker throws elbows like he’s in a bar fight.”

He actually laughs, and it’s a little too charming for your liking. Before you can wrestle with what that means, you hear a voice. 

“Dad!” his son calls from across the field, waving dramatically. “Hurry up, you promised we’d get ice cream!”

He glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you with that same smug glint in his eye.

“Again, enjoy your loss,” he says, already turning. “And get used to it. The season’s still young.”

You narrow your eyes. “Until next time, Captain Suburbia.”

He chuckles and starts to walk away, but pauses, turns back with a smirk plastered on his face.

“John,” he says. “My name is John.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

“Uh, what are you doing?” 

“Hiding.”

“From?” Your friend, Ava, says as she looks around for the apparent danger. 

“John.”

Ever since that day, you were livid with the dickhead you knew as John Walker. You had never hated someone so much from just one meeting. You never wanted to see him again, but you did while shopping.

Ava takes a peek, “Oh, the hot soccer dad? Which one is he?”

You never described him as hot but Ava figured from the way you were losing your mind over him, you thought he was. 

“Blonde, beard, tall and wearing a blue shirt.”

Ava sees him in the fruit and veg aisle and hums in approval, “Is he single? He’s right up your alley, no?”

You nudge her arm. “I don’t know. I mean, I didn't see him with anyone at the game…” You say your voice drifting off before you're back to your senses. “Whether or not he's single is irrelevant! He’s a complete asshole.”

“Just because he's an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not good in bed.”

The death glare you give her is intense and could be considered lethal, but she laughs it off. 

“Let’s be honest, if you weren’t attracted to him, you wouldn’t be so riled up.”

“Oh, please, I’m not into evil blonde men.”

Is he hot? Yes. But his evilness outweighs the hotness. 

“Well, the evil blonde man is coming your way.”

You look towards the end of the aisle to see that Ava was right, so you immediately duck down behind a tower of soup cans. 

“Please come out from over there,” Ava whispers but you protest, hoping you can camouflage yourself and become one with the cans.

Ten seconds pass, and you hear your name in that familiar voice and know you’ve been caught.

“Oh. Hi.”

Your attempt at being nonchalant is honestly pitiful, but not more pitiful than him knowing you were hiding from him.

“Don’t mind me, go back to whatever this is,” He says, gesturing to your hunched-over, goblin-like stance. He reaches over you and grabs a can off the shelf, walking off without another word. 

“See? No need to panic. He was perfectly civil,” Ava chimes in.

“Only because he caught me in a state of weakness. He has the upper hand, and he’s already plotting against me. I can feel it.”

“He’s a soccer dad, not a supervillain,” Ava sighs, helping you off the floor, concerned about the effect he was having on you, but then again, she was always concerned about you. You regularly lose your mind at your daughter’s soccer games so she has just cause. 

“I need to grab the wine, I’ll meet you at the checkout,” Ava says, and you nod, letting her walk off. 

You had to circle back around to get the limited edition coffee you had become obsessed with anyway. You get to the aisle and your eyes widen when you realise that there’s only one left. Your hand flies to grab it, you can already imagine it in your trolley, and it looks good. It looks happy, like it's ready to be at home in your pantry.

But at the same time, another hand wraps around it, the hand belonging to John, because fate was still playing in your face. 

“You.”

You thought you were done with him for the day. Clearly, the universe had other plans.

John raises an eyebrow, not letting go. “Come on. Be a gentleman and give it to me,” You say, trying to force a smile. 

Your grip tightens, so does his.

“I don’t think so,” he says smoothly, as if he weren’t just on the verge of sparking a full-blown aisle standoff. “It’s the last one.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have to go across town for another,” You say, your eyebrows knitting together. 

“Cry about it.”

You tug on it a little, but he doesn’t budge. The item wobbles dangerously between your hands.

“Are you even trying?” he asks. He was so good at being a smug bastard, you wonder if he was born like this or if he honed this craft. You open your mouth to really let him have it, but you don’t even get the chance. 

Without another word, he snatches it clean from your hand in one smooth move, drops it into his trolley like he just won Olympic gold, and starts walking away, whistling.

You stand there, mildly offended but mostly impressed.

“Oh no, you did not just—” you march after him.

“Too slow, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder without turning around. “Better luck next time.”

“I hope it’s expired!” you shout after him.

You stop walking and watch as he struts off with your coffee like he was the King of Aisle Seven, you were planning his downfall in at least three different ways.

And two of them involved shopping carts.

After the grocery store incident, you were looking forward to having a reprieve from John Walker. But it was like fate or something more evil was forcing the two of you together. You have a PTA meeting the next night, and who do you see there but John, who was now becoming a permanent fixture in your life. 

You sigh and sit in the only empty seat, which was next to him.

“Let’s not even speak,” You suggest you say as soon as your butt hits the seat.

“Fine with me,” John replies as he crosses his arms, looking away from you. 

You sit there tapping your foot. It was almost painful being silent when everyone else was having conversations. Especially when you were next to a thief. You didn’t even get the opportunity to yell at him properly for swiping your coffee.

You finally break, “What you did yesterday was shitty.”

“And I thought we weren’t going to speak.”

“I’ll be sick if I don’t call out injustice when I see it.”

John laughs, and you want to strangle him. “You’re still thinking about that? I’m constantly on your mind, aren’t I?”

You shift in your seat, feeling the heat climbing up the back of your neck. How dare he even suggest that? Yes, you were thinking about him, but only about all the ways you wanted to destroy him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap under your breath.

The meeting starts before he can muster up a comeback. You catch yourself zoning out as the agenda drags on, filled with tedious updates about the bake sale and a desperate plea for chaperones for the 3rd-grade trip to Lake Maribelle.

You swing your leg absentmindedly and accidentally bump his shin. It’s genuinely an accident.

“Did you just kick me?” he whispers.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t taking up half the space with your big—”

“You’re unbelievable—” He interrupts, turning his body to face you.

“—gangly legs, then you wouldn’t have gotten hit,” You whisper your sentence over his.

Your whispered bickering is only interrupted by the teacher at the front calling both your names.

“You’ll help chaperone the trip to Lake Maribelle?”

With all those expectant eyes on you, how could either of you say no?

“Yeah…”

“Of course…”

You both reply sheepishly at the same time.

“Great, I’ll sign the two of you up.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Stepping onto the bus, you watch as Lily disappears to go sit with her friend, leaving you with a slight pang of loneliness. You head to the front and slump into your seat, next to who else but John, because you can’t even be surprised. You really needed to start arriving at places earlier to avoid sitting next to him, but here you were.

It’s a four-hour ride, and you can already feel your exhaustion creeping in. You try to keep yourself alert, but your eyes are heavy. Before you know it, your head tilts to the side, falling onto his shoulder.

John glances down at you, noticing how tired you look. He’s always been perceptive like that. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts slightly to give you more space. But when he feels you drift further, he gently shifts, adjusting his posture. His shoulder feels like a small slice of comfort amidst the exhaustion.

He lets you use his shoulder the whole ride. You looked quite peaceful when you weren’t trying to rip his head off, quite beautiful too. John catches the thought and tosses it out. He couldn’t be caught slipping, you were his mortal enemy after all.

The bus reaches the camp, and suddenly, it jerks to a stop. Your head flies forward, but before you can react, John’s hand shoots out, catching your forehead in the palm of his hand just in time.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a little embarrassed but too tired to really care.

He just hums in response, his fingers lightly grazing your skin for just a second longer than necessary. “Quick reflexes.”

Hoping off the bus, you notice the camp leaders waiting to greet the kids. You stand off to the side ensuring everyone gets off the bus when you notice one of the teachers, Miss. Lucas, sidling up next to John, laughing a little too loudly at something he barely said. Your eyes narrow without even realising it, and your fist subconsciously tightens. It’s like a sudden surge of irritation hits you.

The worst part is that you don’t even know why you're so bothered. You’re pretty sure it's just your general distaste for him as a person, and anything he does seems to irritate you. That felt like the easiest explanation. No need to dig deeper into that nagging feeling in your chest, like someone’s poking it with a stick. You shake it off, willing yourself to focus on something else, anything else.

After you get the kids all settled in for the first activity, though, it hits you like a ton of bricks. The exhaustion. You’re winded in a way you don’t remember being before. You try to shake it off, but it’s clear that you’ve reached your limit for the day. This trip wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, and now, even a simple walk feels like you’ve run a marathon.

You take a deep breath, looking around for a moment to regain your composure. There's no need to make a bigger deal out of it. Just power through, you tell yourself. But it’s harder than you expected, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just the physical exhaustion that's weighing on you.

But at least John was out of sight. You didn’t have to see him on the nature walk or the obstacle course, but you’d have to supervise the canoeing together. You make it out there first, sitting on the dock as the kids are getting in the canoes with the instructors. A smile tugs at your lips as you see how excited Lily is, her face lighting up as she waits for her turn, then spotting you in the crowd. She waves enthusiastically, and you wave back, your heart swelling just a little at the sight of her so happy.

“Nice day out,” John says, looking out at the water. You’re shaken to your core. Not just because you didn’t hear him walk up, but because of what he said. What was this? A normal conversation starter?

You open your mouth to respond, but you're cut off by Miss. Lucas' syrupy voice slicing through the moment like a dull butter knife.

“It really is, and John, you really should wear sunglasses. With how blue your eyes are, the way the sun hits them is just distracting,” she purrs, twirling a lock of her overly straightened hair.

It’s laced with flirtation and just enough condescension to make your skin crawl.

You roll your eyes — hard.

John notices.

“What? You don’t like the sun?” he asks, amused now, that sharp gaze flicking to you like he already knows he’s poking the bear.

“I like the sun,” you answer evenly.

“Then what were you rolling your eyes at, huh?”

You’re so tempted to say exactly what’s on your mind. To call out Miss. Lucas’s thinly veiled thirst trap of a compliment, but you catch yourself. The last thing you need is her holding some petty grudge against Lily over adult nonsense.

So instead, you force a too-sweet smile and say, “None of your business.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained.

Miss. Lucas doesn’t seem to notice any of it. She’s still lingering like a wasp at a picnic.

John tilts his head, a grin still playing at his lips. “Touchy.”

Stepping into your space, he does that thing, that infuriating thing, where he leans in just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to break any rules.

You guys just couldn’t seem to be near each other without someone stepping over the invisible line.

“And you’re observant,” you shoot back, voice low. “Someone might think you’re a little obsessed.”

His brow lifts. “Is that right?”

“You know what? I’m sorry, I'm being rude. Let me ask you this,” you say, your voice sweet and dangerous all at once, “Do you like water?”

“What kind of question is—?”

Splash.

He never finishes.

You shove him clean off the dock, and he crashes into the freezing lake with a satisfying crash. A few heads turn at the sound, followed by laughter, mostly from the kids.

John surfaces, sputtering, slicking his hair back with both hands as he glares up at you like a betrayed golden retriever.

“It’s freezing!” he shouts.

“Oh no,” you gasp dramatically, hand to your chest. “Is it? I had no idea.”

He blinks the water from his eyes, slow and deliberate, before gripping the edge of the dock with both hands and pulling himself up in one smooth, effortless motion.

It’s… a problem.

You might hate the man, scratch that, you definitely hate the man, but God help you, he had the audacity to look good doing literally anything. The sunlight caught the drops of water rolling down his arms, his shirt plastered to the ridges of his abs and the degenerate part of your brain wanting to see them with his shirt off. 

His hair dripped, tousled and messy in a way that looked too perfect to be accidental. It was like watching someone climb out of a cologne commercial.

You bite your lip instinctively, then immediately cover it up with a cough and a scowl.

He strides toward you, soaking wet, every squelching footstep a declaration of petty war. You’re forced to crane your neck to meet his eyes as he stops in front of you.

“You’re lucky,” he says, water still dripping from his sleeves, “that one of us knows how to act like an adult.”

You raise your eyebrows, lips twitching despite yourself. “You sure it’s you?”

He huffs a humourless laugh, then turns and walks down the dock toward the cabins, leaving behind a trail of wet footprints and a hundred silent thoughts you’re too proud to say out loud.

You watch him go and tell yourself it’s because you want to see if there’s the off chance he falls in. 

Definitely not because of the view.

You’re watching your back the rest of the day, fully expecting some form of petty revenge. A frog in your shoe, a cold fish under your pillow, maybe even your toothbrush mysteriously tasting like lake water. But nothing happens.

No pranks. No payback.

You’re in the clear.

Now, sitting by the campfire, the sky a hazy lavender above the treeline, things feel… calm. The kids are running wild around the open field, fireflies blinking to life as marshmallows roast and someone strums a guitar softly in the distance.

“Hi,” a small voice says beside you.

You turn and see Tommy, John’s son, standing there with a hesitant smile.

“Hey, having fun?” you ask, shifting to make room.

He nods and sits next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest. “The nature walk was pretty cool, and me and my friends loved  the obstacle course. And the canoeing was fun too… even though you pushed my dad in the lake.”

You groan lightly, a hand going to your face. “Yeah, about that…”

The guilt hits, a pang of embarrassment. You knew your behaviour was juvenile. Funny, sure, but maybe not your finest moment, especially in front of the kids.

You laugh under your breath and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was pretty funny,” Tommy admits, “And I know you and my dad have problems.”

You feel even more ashamed that it was bleeding into your kids' lives too.

“My dad can be a lot,” he says, kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. “But he’s just… I don’t know. He tries really hard. Especially for me.”

It helped you understand John a little better. The bluster, the sarcasm, the stubborn streak a mile wide… It wasn’t just pride or ego. It was effort. The kind that comes from someone trying to do right, even if it comes out messy. You could appreciate that because you were the same way.

And if he’d raised such a polite kid, then he couldn’t be all bad. Not even close.

“Have you seen him, by the way?” Tommy asks.

“Not lately,” you say, then gesture toward the table behind you. “But you can have some marshmallows while you wait, if you want.”

“Sure!” he says, lighting up as he grabs a stick and starts roasting.

John comes back to see something he wasn't expecting. The bane of his existence, laughing with his son and roasting marshmallows. Tommy didn’t warm up to most people that easily, so when he sees him lighting up with you, his opinion of you shifts. Maybe you weren’t an evil witch. 

You still got a bucket of freezing lake water poured over you the next morning, though. 

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You’re out running errands, finally—blissfully—alone. Lily’s spending the weekend at your parents' place, which meant you had time to catch your breath, clean without stepping on glitter, and maybe finally recover from the whirlwind that was the school trip.

You understood John better. You still thought he was annoyingly smug, sure, but maybe not completely irredeemable.

But you weren’t getting ahead of yourself. He was still the same cocky asshole you met yelling across a soccer field... right?

Just as you’re mulling that over, tongue in cheek, deciding if you’d imagined all the softness, you feel your car begin to slow down.

“What the—?”

You frown, tapping the gas. Nothing. A few panicked beeps. Then a sputter.

You manage to pull off to the side of the road just as the engine completely gives out, your car coasting to a reluctant stop.

“No, no, no!” you shout, slamming your palms against the steering wheel.

This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not when you finally had a few hours of peace and you were this close to getting Thai food and going home to binge terrible reality TV.

With a heavy sigh, you get out and open the bonnet, even though you have no idea what you’re looking for. Wires? Steam? A glowing red light labeled you’re screwed?

You’re standing there, staring blankly into the guts of your car, when you hear it, a car slowing down behind you and parking behind you. 

You barely glance back, already waving them off. “Thanks, I’m good—”

But then you hear a too-familiar voice say, “Well, that doesn’t look promising.”

Of course.

You turn around slowly.

And there he is.

John Walker, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Need a hand?” he asks, already strolling over like he’s been waiting his whole life to rescue you.

“I uh…” You start becasure you’re so tempted to say “I got this” but the moment your eyes look back at whatever the fuck is going on in your car, you sigh.

“Do you have a toolbox?” he’d asked.

“Yeah, it’s in the boot,” you’d said, thinking nothing of it.

Then he came back, popped the hood, and casually peeled his shirt off with a warning: “Don’t read into anything. I just don’t want grease on my shirt.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied, a little too quickly.

You didn’t say anything, but that sure as hell didn’t stop you from watching. Because damn. The man was all broad shoulders, and strong arms that had no business looking that good twisting bolts.

You could’ve watched him work all day.

“Try starting it,” he called, interrupting your horny thoughts.

You slid back into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. It’s a miracle.

“Thank you, seriously.”

He leaned over the hood, smug smile fully loaded. “No problem. That should get you moving, but you definitely need to take this to a garage. I can come with you, if you want.”

Seeing the way your face contorts, he follows up with an explanation before you start berating him again. 

“You’ll need a ride home after, won’t you?”

“Oh, true… I guess I’ll take you up on your offer. I mean as long as I'm not keeping you from Tommy, am I?” You say as you watch him put his shirt back on.

“No, he's at his grandparents’ place.”

“Oh same with Lily,” You admit.

“Guess we have some errands to run together then.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You arrive back home in his car and say “Home sweet home,” because you didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. Ever since you watched him fix your car, haggle down the price of your repair with the mechanic and drive you home, you’d been in a bit of a daze. A ‘John Walker is the perfect man’ daze to be exact.

“Do you ... wanna come in?” You say, the words escaping you, but what you didn’t expect was his reply.

“Sure.”

You welcome him in, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as John casually walks around your house. 

It was clean, for once and cosy too, filled with little signs of your life with Lily. Pictures lined the walls: school plays, messy birthday parties, soccer games. Her drawings were stuck to the fridge with mismatched magnets.

“This you?” John asks, voice tinged with amusement.

You turn to see him holding a framed photo from the shelf, a younger you, maybe around Lily’s age, standing proudly in a baseball uniform, cap askew and a dirt-smudged grin on your face.

You roll your eyes but smile. “Yeah. I peaked in Little League.”

He chuckles, eyes still on the photo. “You look like you were about to take someone out at home plate.”

“I probably did.”

He glances over at you, that familiar smirk on his face. “Not much has changed then.”

You snort. “Are you calling me aggressive?”

“I’m saying I’d definitely want you on my team,” he replies, setting the photo down gently. “You were a force to be reckoned with, no doubt,” he says with a chuckle.

“Always.”

“Are there more?” he asks, leaning a little closer with that annoyingly charming glint in his eye.

You cross your arms, sitting back a little as you narrow your eyes. “Nuh uh. We are not going through my baby pictures.”

“Yes, we are.”

And five minutes later, you were both on the couch with a photo album spread across your lap.

“You even look like a soccer ball in this one,” he teases, pointing to a photo of you in a puffy striped onesie.

“I bet you were an ugly baby,” you fire back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’ll have you know I was adorable. Practically a Gerber baby.”

He flips a page and pauses. “Is this you or Lily?”

“That’s Lily,” you say, your smile softening.

“She looks just like you.”

“I like to call her my twin,” you laugh. “And she hates it.”

Time ticks by, and you barely even notice it. The room has dimmed with the setting sun, shadows creeping in, and a warmth building low in your stomach. You’ve been flipping through photo albums for what must’ve been hours, laughing and teasing each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then you hear it, John’s stomach growling, loud and unmistakable. You glance at him, and he’s already giving you a sheepish smile. Clearly, you’re both thinking the same thing.

“I was going to order Thai,” you say casually. “If you wanted to stay for dinner.”

He hesitates for only a second. “I’d like that.”

Later, the two of you are curled up on the couch, takeout containers spread between you, Real Housewives playing in the background. The chaotic drama on screen contrasts with the quiet ease between you.

It had been so long since you’d just relaxed like this with someone—someone who wasn’t Ava or Lily. And it felt good. Easy. Right.

“I have a suggestion, feel free to say no.”

“Hit me,” John says, leaning back against the couch, one arm draped over the cushion behind you.

You bite back a grin. “I have a bottle of whiskey that’s begging to be opened. Wanna throw on some music and help me put it out of its misery?”

He lifts an eyebrow, a slow smile creeping onto his face. “Why not?”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You shouldn’t drink around him. At this point, you were touchy and honestly just saying shit for the sake of saying shit. You’re not too drunk but definitely tipsy enough to say whatever comes to your mind. 

“I haven’t seen Tommy’s mom around. Did you guys split up?” you blurt out, half-curious, half-dreading the answer. You feel a drop in the atmosphere as his hands seem to tighten on the glass. 

“Sorry, you don’t need to answer. That was weird of me to ask…” You're trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh no, it’s okay, she uh,” he says quietly. “She passed a few years ago.”

You pause, your posture softening. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright,” he says, voice low but steady. “Still tough without her, but we manage.”

He glances down, like he’s trying to ground himself before continuing.

“I’d like to say I was a good husband, but I was always away in the army. I could’ve been better before she…” He trails off, eyes now solely focused on the liquid swirling in his glass. 

You stay quiet, wanting to listen rather than rush in. 

“When I came back from my last tour, she was already sick. But for a while, we were okay. We were happy. Then she got worse. It was hard seeing her like that when she was so full of life before I left. I felt like I had missed so much, and when she…” He pauses again, his voice catching in his throat like he was being choked. 

“Tommy’s the only thing that kept me going after. I’m always scared I’ll mess things up with him and miss the important stuff. That I already am.”

He exhales sharply, almost laughing at himself. “Shit. Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” you say gently, shaking your head. “And I can tell you’re a good dad. Anyone can. He's such a sweet kid and he adores you.”

He looks at you then, and for once, there’s no smirk, no one-liner. Just quiet gratitude.

“Thanks,” he says. “That means more than you know.”

You both take another drink, the burn lingering in your throat like something you don’t mind holding onto for a while.

“What about you? I noticed there aren’t any pictures of Lily’s dad around,” he asks, voice softer now, like he’s not just making conversation anymore.

“We got divorced ages ago. He was a total disaster.”

You let out a dry laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “We got married too young, had Lily, got divorced two years in and… I honestly can’t even remember the last time he showed up for her. No birthday messages, no calls. Nothing.”

You pause, trying not to let the anger twist your words.

“It’s a shame because she’s so amazing,” you add, staring into your glass. “And her dad doesn't give her the time of day and never has. She deserves so much better than that, and I wish I could be everything for her, but I…”

John’s quiet, listening. Really listening, giving you the space that you gave him. 

“It’s hard doing it on your own,” you say, looking up at him. “I know you get that.”

He nods slowly, then offers a small, warm smile. “It’s his loss. She’s a kick-ass kid with a pretty kick-ass mom.”

You laugh, the real kind this time.

“I genuinely thought you were about to fight me the day we met,” he says, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You grin. “I was about to fight you.”

“Very hot.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling and, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel exhausting to let someone in.

“Okay, Mr. Tight-White-Shirt,” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks instantly. “Ah, so you were ogling me that day.”

Damn. You walked right into that one.

“A woman can’t appreciate the male form?” you say, all mock innocence.

John laughs, shaking his head as he takes another drink. The music shifts, a different song now, low and smooth, some classic jazz number that’s always sounded like warmth and memory and late nights.

You perk up instantly. “John, we have to dance.”

He blinks. “What?”

“C’mon!”

Before he can argue, you’re already pulling him to his feet drunkenly. He hesitates for half a second, then relents because, of course, he does. His hands find your waist, cautious at first, and you wrap your arms around his neck as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I can’t remember the last time I slow danced,” you murmur against his chest.

“Same,” John says quietly. “In all honesty, it was… probably my wedding.”

 “Damn, me too,” You let out a low laugh. “Did you go all out?”

“We tried,” he nods. “We had lessons and everything. I remember practising in our tiny apartment, knocking over chairs and swearing a ton.”

She grins. “I bet you were shit.”

John, very much in ‘John’ fashion, gasps. “Correction, I was the shit.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna show you. Get ready to be dipped.”

Your eyes widen as you look up at him, suspicion written all over your face. “No way. You’ll drop me.”

He smirks. “I won’t. Trust me. I’m strong and very capable.”

Before you can protest again, he spins you, just fast enough to make your stomach flip. And you squeal, laughing as you come back into his arms.

“See?” he says, proud as hell. “Didn’t hurt a hair on your pretty head.”

You’re still laughing, slightly breathless, heart thudding in your chest for reasons that have very little to do with the dancing.

“I hate to say it,” you murmur, “but that was quite smooth.”

“Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might think you like me.”

You look up at him and realise, you’ve never been this close to him, unless you count getting in his face at a soccer match, but this was different. It was a whole new type of tension. 

“Whatever…” you say, but it comes out with no bite. Not even close.

Maybe because you’re tipsy, but under the dim lighting of your living room, with the jazz still murmuring in the background and that stupid, crooked smile on his face.

You reach up, fingers brushing his cheek before you even fully realise what you're doing.

“I like your beard,” you blurt out, your thumb lightly grazing the line of it.

He blinks, surprised, not because of what you said, but because of how gently you said it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice a little quieter now.

He’s not able to get another word out before you’re kissing him, soft and tender. His hands cup your face as he kisses you like there’s a magnet pulling you to him. Your hands roaming over each other’s bodies, hands desperate to touch skin. He lifts you off the floor, your lips not breaking contact. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands cup your ass as he walks you over to a wall. Pressing you against it and kissing your neck like he’s trying to consume you. “Oh, John…”

Breathing heavily and looking into each other’s eyes.“Upstairs, first door on the right.”

Your back hits the wall again, but gently this time, his lips brushing over yours before pulling back just enough to ask, “You sure?”

You nod, breathless. “Go.”

He carries you like it’s effortless, one hand steady beneath your thigh, the other gripping the bannister as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Reaching the top, he kicks the door open with his foot. The room is dim, the late evening light bleeding through the curtains, but neither of you cares. You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. His mouth is on yours again before it hits the ground.

You fall into the bed together, tangled and wild and urgent, but with something else beneath it all. Something tender. Like every kiss and touch is catching up on lost time you didn’t even know you missed.

“Mind if I leave marks?”

“You can,” You gasp out and he goes to work, biting and sucking your skin. In all honesty, your drunk brain needed a memento, a way to remind sober-you that this wasn’t some sex dream. 

You feel his strong hands wrap around your wrists, and he squeezes them. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his presence. 

“I want you,” John breathes and it sounds so good hearing it. Like you had both finally done away with pretense and given in to what you wanted to do since you met which was rip your clothes off and fuck eachother senseless. 

He starts kissing his way down your body, taking  his sweet time in making you feel good. Reveling in the way you react to him.

When he reaches your panties, he doesn’t hesitate to tug them off his teeth and the sight of him doing that nearly kills you. 

He starts eating you out like a man possessed, his beard tickling your inner thighs. He needs your pussy on his face and he needs it now. As he licks and sucks, driving you insane, your legs start slowly closing, trying to shy away from how good it felt. He catches them, prying them back open. 

“Keep them open for me.”

You nod but he wants more than that.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll keep my legs open for you,” You say and you think you’d do the splits on his face if he wanted. 

“Good girl,” he smirks before going back to ruining you. It had been too long since you felt like this, but even then, you had never felt like this. You were feverish and sensitive, fighting to keep yourself sane. You never recall feeling like you were dying of happiness when anyone else had gone down on you. Must be the John Walker effect.

The more you struggle and shake, the more pressure he applies. His hand rests on your stomach to hold you in place as he sucks on your clit.

Feeling the pleasure growing, you instantly try to muffle your moans with your fist. He moves his mouth away from your aching core and reaches up with one of his hands, moving your fist away. You look at him with reverence and surprise.

“You don’t need to hide…” He says, his other hand still moving inside you, “I want to hear you.”

You don’t speak right away. You just look at him, this man who had once driven you absolutely insane, who now felt like the only person who could see through all the armour.

“I’m not used to being seen,” you finally whisper.

“I know,” John says, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “But I see you.”

He moves back into position between your legs, and you let him have every moan you have. 

“John!” 

You finish, back arching, legs trembling and clenching down on his head with your thighs so hard you’re scared you might kill him. 

But he doesn't stop, instead going faster. “H-hey!” You moan out as you kick your legs around, which he clearly takes as a challenge.

Wrangling your legs and pinning them over your head, your body now in the shape of a backwards C.

“You’re lucky I’m not tying you up,” John comments and you shiver at how good that sounds. 

He gets up on his knees, continuing to lick at your trembling folds as he fingers you even faster, adding a third finger that had you moaning in desperation.

It's like he's set your whole body on fire, the feeling of your lost orgasm threatening to push you straight into another one.

“John, it’s so…” You croak, your eyes focusing and unfocusing. “Think I’m gonna cum again.”

At this point, your voice is hoarse, each touch he’s giving you making you scream and cry out like you’ve never done before. 

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You nod, your eyes gassy with tears, “Wanna be your…your good girl.”

You could feel something coming, as he goes back to sucking on your clit, his fingers massaging your G-spot. 

It only takes a few moments before you're letting your body relax and squirt all over his fingers, the pleasure washing over you in waves. You’re too undone to make a noise, breathing heavily and choking on air. There are a few seconds where you think you’ve died.

He unfolds you, and you lie back down on the bed, needing him instantly. 

“John,” You whine, reaching out for him, and he’s right there, pulling you into his arms and taking care of you.

“What about you?” You ask. He had just about taken you to heaven and believe me you wanted to return the favour.

“Next time.”

Your heart flutters with the thought of a ‘next time’.

“Okay,” You snuggle against him and fall asleep together in pure bliss.  

You wake up in the morning, expecting to feel John’s arms around you. But there's no one there. You sit up and look around, but find nothing. No note explaining where he was and his car's no longer in the driveway.

You came to the conclusion, he woke up, saw you and decided that it was a mistake. It was disappointing but you’re used to being disappointed.

So much for ‘I see you’. 

So much for ‘next time’.

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

The next couple of days are a blur, it’s back to business as usual. Soccer practice, laundry, answering emails with a fake sense of urgency. To anyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed, but not to your daughter.

“I saw Tommy yesterday,” she says casually as she sets her backpack down.

“Oh? How is he?” you ask, trying to sound neutral.

“Great, but his dad didn’t look too happy…”

Your ears perk up at that. He was also miserable? Good. It was his fault anyway… wasn’t it?

“You don’t look happy either.”

You flinch at how blunt she is. You should’ve known, there was no hiding anything from her. She might only be a kid, but she could read you like a book.

“Lily…” you start, but she cuts you off with the maturity of someone far beyond her years.

“Just be adults and talk to him…”

“It's not that simple,” Your voice is shaky with uncertainty. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak if you were face-to-face with him again.

“Well you need to especially since I’m going over to Tommy’s today.”

“You what?” you say, nearly falling out of your chair.

“You said I could,” she adds quickly. “Last week, before… whatever this is.”

Damn it. She was right. You had completely blanked on that. It was before the whole thing with John went bust.

You were conflicted with how you felt about John, but you wouldn’t let your issues affect her. 

“Fine, go get your stuff. We leave in five.”

You drive over to his place, your heart dropping lower and lower as you get closer to his house. Your fingers grip your steering wheel like it’s your lifeline. 

“You’re not coming in to say hi?” Lily asks almost incredulously.

“I think it’s best I don’t. I’ll be here at 6 to pick you up. Have fun!”

Lily doesn’t say anything at first; she just looks at you, brows raised, lips pursed like she’s debating whether or not to push. Was that what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of your judging looks? You didn't like it one bit. 

But in the end, she sighs, unbuckles her seatbelt, and grabs her bag. “You two are so dramatic.”

He sees her first, ruffles her hair, then his gaze shifts past her, locking with yours through the windshield. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough. You look away first.

Then you drive off, trying not to think about him. 

Hours pass, John is very much on your mind the entire time, and before you know it, you’re back at his house to pick up Lily. Walking your way up the driveway, you feel your nerves creeping in. You hesitate a second before ringing the doorbell.

“Hey,” John greets you, opening the door—and he looks just as good as the last time you saw him, maybe even better.

“Hey yourself,” you reply awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

There's the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs, and then Tommy appears, greeting you with a wide grin.

“It’s time to go already?” Lily calls from behind him, voice dripping with faux innocence. She was laying it on thick.

Before you can answer, Tommy jumps in. “Can you and Lily stay for dinner?”

“I don’t know…” You start, unsure how to say no politely.

“Dad, convince her. We’re having your famous spagbol,” Tommy adds, eyes hopeful.

You catch the look on his face—so earnest, so excited—and then turn to John. An easy smile creeps onto your face despite yourself. 

“Famous, huh?”

John smirks. “It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

By the time dinner is ready, it feels easy with him, dangerously easy. You sit around the table with him and the kids, laughing between bites of spaghetti, the kind of domestic quiet that used to feel foreign now curling around you like a blanket. It felt so right. But still, there’s that persistent whisper in the back of your mind — If he wanted this, really wanted this, he would’ve stayed that night.

Before you can spiral too deep into your own thoughts, Tommy pipes up brightly, “Can Lily and I have a sleepover?”

You glance at John, caught off guard. “Lily and I should really get going, plus Lily doesn’t have anything to change into.”

“I brought clothes and my toothbrush,” Lily says far too quickly.

You narrow your eyes. “And why did you do that if you were just supposed to stay for the afternoon?”

Lily and Tommy exchange a look — a guilty, sheepish look that screams we planned this.

John chuckles under his breath, clearly catching on. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, glancing at you. “I could set up a spot for Lily in Tommy’s room.”

“You should stay too!” Tommy adds enthusiastically, eyes shining with innocent matchmaking energy.

“I don’t have any pyjamas to sleep in, Tom,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“You can borrow my dad’s!” he says like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

You blink. These kids were really committing to the bit.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” You begin, your voice a little quieter, your gaze flicking to John.

“You wouldn’t be,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I have a guest room. It’s yours if you want it.”

His voice is calm, but there’s something soft in it. An invitation. Like he wanted you to stay. 

“It’s decided then,” Your daughter interjects before you can try to squirm out of it.

You had been tricked by two 9-year-olds; this was a new low. 

The hours drifted by as you sat in the living room, all watching a movie together.

Your eyes were fixed on the screen, but all you could think about was John. The fact that sitting just a few feet away, but still felt so far away. 

Though if you had turned your head to look at him, you would’ve seen him looking back at you. His gaze would tell you everything you wanted to hear, but alas, that isn’t fate’s plan. 

The movie ends, and the kids groan when John tells them it’s time for bed. It’s a whirlwind, as they rush around tuckering themselves out. Entering Tommy’s room, you go over to Lily, who’s already in bed, ready for you to tuck her in. You pull the blanket up to Lily’s chin, smoothing her hair like you do most nights, your voice soft in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“Remember, be an adult,” Lily says, reminding you not to be a coward, essentially. 

“Goodnight, Lil,” You reply before kissing her forehead. Maybe, just maybe, you’d consider her words. 

“Goodnight, Mom,” she murmurs, already half-dreaming.

You stand slowly, and as you turn to leave, you notice Tommy looking at you. His eyes are peeking out from under his blanket, lids heavy but alert.

You pause. “Do you want me to tuck you in, too?”

He hesitates, then gives the smallest nod, like he’s not quite sure he should, but wants to anyway.

You gently and carefully tuck him into his covers like you had with Lily. “There,” you whisper. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing one eye. “Thanks, Mom.”

You’re shocked hearing him call you ‘Mom’. You glance down at him, already drifting off, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, completely unaware of the weight his words carried.

You swallow and manage a quiet, “Goodnight,” brushing his hair back gently before slipping out of the room. What you don’t know is that on the other side of the hallway, just out of sight, John is standing perfectly still.

He’d heard it too.

He didn’t know how to respond to it either, wasn’t sure what it meant or what came next, but for now, he was just… happy. Happy that his son felt safe with you. 

Later that night, you lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, your thoughts louder than the quiet hum of the house. The shadows shift with the streetlight outside, but your mind stays frozen. You were wearing his shirt, and he was on your mind. It smelled like him, and you could imagine his arms around you. You bury your face in it, wishing that he was with you and not in a room down the hallway. 

You needed to confront what happened that night. You hadn’t talked about it since. It lingered like static between you, unspoken but never forgotten. And you couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter, not when it meant everything. 

You needed to know if he wanted you when you’re both sober.

So, gathering every ounce of courage, you throw off the blanket, slide quietly out of bed, and make your way down the hall to his room. The floor feels colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just your nerves.

You stop in front of his door.

Raise your fist.

And then… freeze.

You stand there for what feels like forever, five minutes, at least, your knuckles hovering midair. Your heart pounds loud enough to fill the silence, your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if that night was just a mistake?

Suddenly, the door swings open, and it startles the living hell out of you — your fist, already midair, connects squarely with his face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper-shout, eyes wide as John stumbles back, one hand instantly flying to his nose.

“Shit,” he groans, squinting in pain and trying to blink away the surprise. “You can throw quite a punch.”

“Oh my god, John. Holy fuck. I am so, so sorry,” you ramble, panic surging through you as you hover uselessly in front of him. “Let me get ice, I’ll fix it… just, don’t die.”

You spin around and scuttle off toward the kitchen, trying to keep your footsteps light even though your heart’s thudding like a drum solo. The freezer is a disaster. No ice trays. Who doesn’t have ice trays?

You spot something. Grab it.

Moments later, you return with a sheepish expression and a frozen bag clutched in your hand.

“I couldn’t find an ice tray,” you mutter, pressing the bag gently to his face, “so I got peas.”

You sit down with him on the bed, holding the bag of peas to his nose. “That won’t bruise or anything, right?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Worried about my handsome face, are you?” John jokes, and you’re just glad he has a sense of humour about it. 

You groan and drop your forehead onto his shoulder, mortified. “This was not how I pictured this going.”

His hand gently touches the small of your back. “You were coming to talk to me, right? About… us?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. Before I assaulted you.”

“Let’s start there,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes with a crooked smile. “Because I was kinda hoping we’d finally talk about it too.”

“Really? It didn’t feel like that since you ran,” you say, voice low. You were trying not to sound hurt, but you were. He weighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and moves his bag of peas off his face to look at you.

“You’re right to be mad. I just… I panicked when I woke up next to you.”

“You were regretful,” you say, attempting to finish his sentence. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts like he’s about to protest.

“No, no—that’s not it at all. I was scared. That if you saw me when you woke up, you’d think it was a mistake.”

He takes a breath, shuffling closer. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re such a pain in the ass, always calling me out and keeping me on my toes. But also kind, and funny, and you make me feel so… alive.”

His hand lifts gently, your cheek resting against his palm. It feels perfect, like this is what fate had in store all along.

“I'm an idiot for running but I do like you. I’m falling for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, heart racing. “I’m falling for you, too, John Walker.”

Pulling him in, your hands still cold and wet from holding the bag of peas, but he doesn’t care. You kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you upright—like if you stop, everything might collapse around you. 

The two of you pull your clothes off each other's bodies but there's no rush. Each layer that comes off brings you that much closer together.

Now completely naked you sit in front of him and you can see why he has all that confidence. His fingers tangle in your hair and he's about to kiss you when you stop him.

“Will they hear?”

“There's a couple rooms between us, they won't hear as long as you're not too loud.”

“We both know that's going to be a challenge,”You say, recalling the way you were hollering when he ate you out. You're surprised that none of your neighbours issued a noise complaint.

“You need to try or I'll have to find something to gag you with,” John suggests, his voice low and sultry.

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

He pressures you back into the bed and bites your neck hard enough to leave a big mark.

“You better hope no one asks about that.”

“Let them ask, you can explain to them exactly what I did to you.”

The marks don't stop there. By the time he's done you look like you've been attacked by a wild animal. Hickeys and love bites littered all over your skin, each one a testament of John's desire for you.

“Need you inside me,” You pant out already guiding him towards you with your legs. 

He looks down at you with hooded eyes the anticipation eating you alive before he wraps his arms around you and carries you off the bed.

“Where are we—?” You start but don't finish as you notice he's plopped you down right in front of a mirror.

It's the perfect solution for when someone wants to fuck you from behind and see you fall apart of their cock. Thank everything for whoever invented mirrors.

He lightly kicks your feet apart, hands gliding up your body before resting on your boobs.

You getting back against him, trying to feel him and needing him to fuck the daylights out of you. It had been long enough and you were tired of waiting. 

“Impatient, aren't you?”

“I just need you. Don't make me suffer,” You pout, the mirror capturing the needy look in your eyes. 

“Well, who am I to say no to you?” He says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

Anticipating the screen you were about to let out, he covers your mouth with his hand.  Only the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing in the room. 

“Look at yourself, look at how quickly you feel apart for me,” John whispers against your ear. And he was right. You were a complete mess after only a few thrusts, eyes watery as your neck arches into him.

“So good,” You manage to get out without screaming. He grabs you by the hair, exposing your neck too him as he gives you a few more hickeys for good measure. Rocking your hips into you as he paints your neck with his lips.

Suddenly, your hips are being lifted into the air as he wraps his arms around you as if getting ready to suplex you. The way he starts fucking you is just as disorientating as a suplex would be. He's hitting your sensitive spot dead on turning your legs to jelly as they dangle in the air.

He's manhandling like you're a doll and you love it, especially when you can see it all happening in the mirror. The way his veins on his arms were popping with effort as he milks his cock with your pussy like you're a fleshlight.

“That's it, breed me, John.”

Hearing you say that only made him double his efforts.

“Is that what you want? Want me to get you pregnant?” John says, his fingers gripping your hips, clearly excited at the prospect. You nod desperately like you need to have it or you'll die.

You gasp, whimper, cry and reaching out for anything to keep you quiet.

“N-need you to fill me up,” You stutter out, “Need your cum in me.”

Then you're given a brief break when he pulls you back from the mirror, tossing you back into the bed. But two seconds don't even pass before he's feeding his cock back into your needy hole.

“J-john!”

You squeal a little too loudly and never you know it his hand is on your chin guiding your own panties in your mouth. 

“Such a pretty sight,” John says as he cages you, fingers intertwining as he pins you against the bed.

 You know you won't be able to keep going much longer. Wrecked doesn't even begin to describe what you were and your orgasm was about to knock you into a whole new dimension.

Feeling his cock twitch, you lock your legs around his waist and he finishes deep inside of you which triggers your own orgasm. His hot cum fills you up, painting your fluttering walls as he effectively breeds you.

The both of you lay there catching your breath as your orgasms pulse through you. This was what life was about; having sex with hot single dads. 

You come back to your senses, just barely and have an evil idea.

Seeing the opportunity fate had presented you for payback, you flip your positions climbing on top of him and riding him into overstimulation. A strangled cry that was supposed to be your name falling from his lips. 

“Baby…” John whimpers as his body tenses up, abs contracting like he's already about to cum again.

You could get used to having him at your mercy, bottom lip trembling as he tries to keep it together. 

“I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me and only me.” You pulling him to your lips by his hair. He groans but he's into it, he'd let you have your way with him just as much as you let him have his way with you.

“Only you,” He replies and you believe it. 

Your hand away from his hair, letting John's head hit the mattress, before going in and leaving your own string of love bites. He bites his lip, all but writhing under your soft touch. 

“Someone might see those.”

“Then you can explain to them what I did,” You say throwing his words back in his face.

You keep fucking until you tire yourselves out, your bodies sticky and heaving. It was as good as you imagined it would be and you're kicking yourself for not giving in earlier.

John's hand rests on your thigh tracing little patterns as you play with his hair when he asks a very pertinent question.

“Are you on birth control?”

Your eyes widen when you realise you are in fact not on birth control. With the downright sad lack of sex you were having before John walked into your life there was no reason to be on it.

“No”, You gulp,“We'll talk about it in the morning?”

John hums in agreement and holds you against his chest in a vice grip that screams “You're mine.”

In the morning, you’re happy to feel John’s arms still wrapped around you, his face pressed against your shoulder, his breath slow and even. Peaceful.

“Who wants pancakes?” you call out, later in the kitchen, sliding a golden stack onto the table with a grin.

You have a slow, sweet morning breakfast—the kind where everyone’s still in pyjamas, laughing over spilt flour and slightly burnt edges.

“Oh! Let me go get the syrup. Can you show me where it is, Tommy?” you ask.

Tommy nods enthusiastically, hopping up and heading toward the pantry with you, eager to help you find it.

Back at the table, Lily narrows her eyes at John, clearly sizing him up. Then, dead serious, she delivers:

“If you hurt my mom, you die. Understood?”

John blinks, caught off guard for a second, but then a slow smile tugs at his lips. He knew exactly where she got that intensity from.

“Understood.”

“Good,” Lily says, her expression finally softening. “You make great spagbol so I'd hate to have to kill you.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

It’s been a few months since you and John started dating — the kind of comfortable, lived-in months where you had keys to each other's places, regularly took the kids out together, and fell asleep on the couch on each other. 

Unlocking the door, John and Tommy step inside, and they’re immediately hit with the scent of burnt toast, a low hum of music, and the unmistakable energy of mild chaos. They were here to pick you and Lily up to carpool to the Saturday morning game, but it looked like they’d walked into a warzone, and at least it smelled like pancakes.

“Morning!” Tommy calls out as he looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Oh hi, guys,” you pant out from somewhere in the kitchen, out of breath and flustered. He doesn’t need to be able to see you to know you’re going through it.

Lily’s sitting at the dining room table, calmly sipping orange juice like she’s been through this before. Tommy runs over and sits beside Lily, swiping a pancake off her plate.

“Mom’s having a meltdown,” she says, totally unbothered. “It’s pretty intense. She yelled at the coffee machine.”

John raises an eyebrow and walks to the kitchen, and there you are, wearing one sock and a hoodie that you actually stole from John, batter on your cheek, surrounded by open containers and the remnants of pancake making.

“It’s so good to see you,” You cry as you practically jump into his arms. You let go of him so you can continue your spiral when he stops you. 

“Honey, you’re running around like a headless chicken. Let me help,” John offers.

You hesitate, then sigh and reach into the mess on the counter and pull out a hairbrush. “Can you finish braiding Lil’s hair for me? She’s lost her lucky cleats, and I need to find them before we leave.”

“On it.”

He kisses your forehead, warm and steady, before heading into the kitchen.

Lily watches him approach with guarded suspicion. “Please don’t mess this up.”

John grins. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.”

He ruffles her hair on purpose, just to rile her up, and she bats his hand away with a huff and a laugh. 

Meanwhile, you’re darting around the house in full-on panic mom mode — lifting couch cushions, checking under the bed, even inside the fridge for some reason (you never know), until finally, you spot the missing shoes. Inside her toy chest, naturally, buried under a plastic tiara and two mismatched Barbie legs.

You walk back into the dining room to the sound of laughter, Tommy’s head thrown back as John tells some ridiculous story, funny voices and all. Lily’s giggling along too as he finishes tying off the braid with surprising skill.

You lean against the doorframe, heart swelling. It’s loud, it’s messy, but it’s yours. And in that moment, it hits you: this is what happy looks like.

“Found it,” you say, holding the shoes up triumphantly.

John looks up, grinning. “See? I told you everything would come together.”

You smile at him. This is perfect; he’s perfect.

“Are we ready to go?” you call out, grabbing your bag and keys.

They respond in a chorus of “Yeah!” and “Almost!” as shoes squeak across the floor.

Clambering into the car like a small tornado, Tommy buckles in and grins over at Lily. “Losing team’s parent buys ice cream,” he declares.

“Ohhh, bold move,” you say, raising your eyebrows in the rearview mirror.

“Looks like you’re buying ice cream,” John says smugly, sliding into the driver's seat, glancing at you like he already knows today’s outcome.

“In your dreams,” you shoot back, smirking as you start the engine.

This was the kind of happiness that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention—and all it took was yelling at a hot dad at a soccer game.

Masterlist

[yominero]

DEVIL MAY CRY — PUSSY DRUNK EDITION

PRESS START TO LOSE CONTROL

dmc men x fem!reader (separate)

your boyfriend goes feral between your thighs. oral fixation? more like obsession.

NOW LOADING... face-sitting, oral fixation, messy devotion, and dangerously horny devils. WHO IS NUMBER ONE?

PLAYER NAME: NERO PUSSY DRUNK LEVEL: 100 TITLE RANK: THE WORSHIPPER DIRTY SECRET: Once he got a taste, he became obsessed.

Nero is undeniably the most pussy drunk out of the three. He starts with the awkward energy of a guy who’s like, “Do I go left or—oh, got it baby,” and immediately spirals into addiction. His hands are gripping your thighs, his Devil Breaker locked around your waist, keeping you in place.

He lives to make you tremble with only his tongue. He loves watching you fall apart. He gets off on the sounds you make, the way you squirm, tug his hair, and scream his name, squeezing him between your legs as he goes deeper and deeper. And he calls himself a devil hunter? No, honey, he's a professional diver.

“Baby, fuck, I could do this all day. You taste so good. Look at you, already gone, and I haven’t even started.”

When you come, he doesn’t stop. He moans into your dripping folds, licks it up like he’s dying of thirst in the middle of the desert, welcomed into the oasis called you. It's terrible how much you spoil him... He can't go a day without seeing, feeling, or tasting you. And he claims that the only devil thing is his arm, how funny. Do we need to comment on his tongue and how it makes you open your own gate to Hell?

NEXT LEVEL: Pussy drunk like it’s his life purpose.

Nero’s embarrassed about how much he loves it, but does it anyway. Over and over again. Let it rain over him, or on him—he wouldn’t mind which way it goes, especially if you just so happened to squirt and make a mess. Sometimes he's speechless, and he just looks up at you, licks his lips while staring at your fucked up face, and smiles like a child who seems to have received a long-awaited birthday present.

PLAYER NAME: DANTE PUSSY DRUNK LEVEL: 98 TITLE RANK: THE SHOW-OFF DIRTY SECRET: Loves the taste, the sound, the mess. He wants it all, and he wants you to know.

Dante loves oral. He’s cocky about it, and for a damn good reason, not to brag or anything, but he’s amazing at it. It’s not just about skill; he enjoys the whole act. The slow build-up, the angelic sounds you make when the devil is right between your legs. The visual. He’ll drag his tongue across your folds and then look up with a smirk, lips wet, like “You good, princess? Can I go deeper?”

He’ll eat you out on the couch, on the counter, on the damn floor. Loudly. Sloppily. Groaning like it’s the best meal he’s ever had, because let’s be honest—it is the best meal he’s ever had. After that, he doesn't want to taste or look at anything else. He knows very well what effect it has on and in you. He'll have the audacity to smirk when he feels your legs pressing and squeezing his face. Well, if he's going to die here, he'll die a happy man.

“You’re drippin’, babe. And I haven’t even done anything yet? Shit, I love this pussy.”

He ruts the mattress while he’s doing it. No shame. Your pleasure is his pleasure, you are his top priority, because nothing will make him feel better than the fact that he has done his job successfully, or as he likes to say, "Jackpot!"

NEXT LEVEL: Pussy drunk and proud about it, will shout it off rooftops.

Dante absolutely, with no hesitation, makes you sit on his face. Grabs your ass and keeps you there, seated nicely on your throne. You know how it goes—two plus two, he is going to undress you, then go three in three, you are going to undress him. Four in four, you are going to freak some more. He says Jackpot when he hits the spot that will 100% guarantee an orgasm…Yeah, he won for life.

PLAYER NAME: VERGIL PUSSY DRUNK LEVEL: 90 TITLE RANK: THE STORM DIRTY SECRET: He acts like he’s in control, but when he’s down there? He’s gone.

Vergil doesn’t rush to eat you out. But when he does, it’s quiet, intense, and deliberate. He spreads you open with those gloves and examines you first like a rare artifact, then devours you with the focus of a warrior.

His tongue is slow and deep, keeping his eyes locked on your facial expression. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t moan, or make a sound. You are the one who wanted to play with the devil; might as well follow the game rules. As they say, the devil may work hard, but Vergil works harder.

But the second you moan? He groans into you, stops just for one millisecond to take a deep breath and regain his composure. Still, the man is a control freak; give him a second or not, it doesn't matter since you don’t know how to count right now anyway.

“Be still,” he murmurs, gripping your thighs. And no matter how fast your head spun, you knew you would most likely have his fingerprints on you—as a reminder, a rule, a command, of what your role is. “You will come when I allow it.”

And he forces you to hold eye contact if he’s angled right. You’ll be crying, blinking, and averting your gaze, and he’ll whisper, “You’re not done yet.” You're far from done...Ah, he and his orgasm denial kink are taking over once again. Great, this is just what you needed at this moment. You looked at him with those pitiful and shocked eyes, expecting at least a little mercy. Don't worry, you'll get compensation as long as you can endure what’s coming next, and you better hope it’s going to be you.

NEXT LEVEL: Pussy drunk while he’s feral in silence.

Vergil enjoys this a little too much because it gives him power, and seeing you fall apart from just his mouth, feeds every possessive urge in him to ruin you. He is literally synonymous with "Actions speak louder than words" and proves it every damn time. Doesn't want to admit it, and he absolutely never will, only over his dead body, but when you moan his name and desire more than you can bear, it provides an inner satisfaction to him. But he knows your limits... sometimes.

©2025 yominero do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[livingdxadwriter]

A Touch of Madness

Logan Howlett X girlfriend!reader

Summary: Logan comes to you after being away, and all he wants is your touch, and he knows just how to get on your good side. This is just porn without plot.

Takes place in the same universe as Too Sweet but can be read as standalone

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, couch sex, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, the claws make an appearance (I have a thing for his claws okay), Logan is obsessed with his girl, fluffy relationship, established relationship

WC: 3.9k

A/N: how did I make this longer than too sweet when it was supposed to be a Drabble. Hello idk how to write short shit. But like hello yall are so awesome? I appreciate all the love yall have given my first Logan fic. I also have an older Logan fic in the works but that one has plot so it’ll be a minute before its out. For now here this <3

He couldn’t take it anymore. You were driving him mad. It’s not like he deserved your anger. Not fully anyway. It wasn’t his fault he was gone this long. He had been thinking about you all week, about your soft lips, about the warmth of your thighs, about your sweet moans only for his ears to hear. And all he wanted was to pull you into his arms and take you, over and over, until you begged him to stop. 

But no. 

You were being childish. That’s what he called it anyway. 

“Sweet girl,” he called after you, like a puppy following close behind you as you strided around your apartment. He knew you were doing it on purpose, the excuse of having to do chores so you could elongate his torture. The way you so innocently looked back at him made him clench his jaw. “C’mon.” 

“Don’t sweet girl me, Logan. I told you, I’m busy.” You sassed him, huffing as you kept walking, finding the most insignificant of chores to waste your time with. He rolled his eyes at you, eyebrows furrowed into this perpetual gaze of annoyance. 

The truth was, you were aching for him, your thighs warm and your skin tingling solely at the thought of him taking you to do as he pleased. But, if there was something in this world you could be, it was petty. And if you had to suffer a whole week without him, he could suffer for an hour, even if it was also at your expense. Truly, you almost enjoyed the annoyance in his face, the sharpness in his voice, him damn near groaning behind you every time you evaded him under the excuse of needing to get some dumb chore done. 

“You’re killin’ me here, sugar.” He actually groaned this time, his jaw set. You stopped in your tracks and turned your head to look at him, shooting him a pointed look. “I said I was sorry.”

“Serves you right. And I don’t care if you’re sorry. You haven’t called me in a week.” Your words were sharp with bitterness and it dawned on him. That was why you were upset. A slight bit of humor tugged at the corner of his lips and he breathed out a laugh. You stared at him with blank eyes, you weren’t laughing. 

“C’mon, is that seriously why you’re upset? You know I was out of the state.” He tried to reason with you. Charles had entrusted him and Storm with finding a certain mutant that was causing havoc, three states over. And Logan had very much underestimated how long this would take them. So here he was, after a whole week away, damn near begging you to let him touch you. “It wasn’t like I wanted to go anyway.”

No, he would much rather be with his sweet girl, one that was being particularly difficult and making him suffer when all he wanted to do was hold you, to feel the warmth of your soft skin. 

He stepped into your personal space, his intoxicating scent almost making you give in. You counted to five in your head, eyes closed to remind yourself that you were, indeed, angry at him. 

“So? You got a phone, don’t you? You could’ve called me.” You huffed, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a small pout, Logan had to hold back the urge to laugh at you. “You can’t disappear for a week and expect to come here and do as you please.” 

You shot him a sharp glare, he just stared at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden shot of confidence. His sweet girl was talking back to him? Giving him attitude? He tilted his head at you, almost as if to dare you to walk away from him.  

There was a bit of malice in your eyes as you gave him one last look before you walked away, thinking of what other useless chore you could add to continue his torture. But Logan had other thoughts in his head. If you weren’t going to behave, he would happily put you in your place. 

“Hey, c’mere or I’m gonna bring you here myself.” He called after you, the strings of his sanity hanging on by a thread, just waiting for you to tug at the last strand. He knew you too well. You turned your head, eyes big in feign innocence and you tilted your head at him in defiance. 

“Make me then.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. In hindsight you should have known better, but you also wanted to see just what could happen if you pushed him hard enough. You saw the way his eyes flashed with malice, he stared you down, and in that moment you remembered just how small you were compared to him. “Oh fuck.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline rushed through you, but it wasn’t like you could go outrun him, especially not in your tiny apartment. He caught you, though he did purposely chase you into your living room, simply because he wanted to get you going, pumped with adrenaline. You squealed as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you against his chest. His sharp canines nipped at that one spot on your neck that had you whimpering. 

“You goin’ somewhere, sugar?” He husked, his lips hot on your cheek. You couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, eyes closed. God, you missed him. 

“Mhm, still mad at you.” You mumbled, barely hanging on to your silly grudge. A chuckle rumbled in Logan’s chest. 

“That’s alright. I don’t need you to be happy with me to do what I want to do.” He inhaled, breathing your sweet scent, and he spoke as he threw you over his shoulder. “Just need you to look pretty while I do it.” 

You weren’t complaining about your position, you were in fact, bursting into giggles as he effortlessly carried you to the couch, though your giggles turned into another squeal when he smacked his hand flat against your ass. Logan had a grin on his lips as he tossed you on the couch, wasting no time in spreading your legs apart to settle between them.

He leaned down, gripping the armrest above your head, caging you in as he leaned down. He brushed his nose against yours, sighing softly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Kiss me.” The words rumbled in his chest with a groan, his primal needs overcoming his senses. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You laced your fingers in his hair, pulling into a hard and heated kiss.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as he shrugged off his flannel, tossing it somewhere on the floor, his belt soon following the same fate. You tried to sit up against the armrest, but you quickly realized Logan had other plans deep in his perverted mind. With a hold of your ankle he dragged you down on the couch, your back flat on the surface as you looked up at him with big eyes.

“Stay just like that, pretty.” He spoke, pressing another heated kiss to your mouth before tugging off your sweatpants, followed by your panties. He tossed them somewhere over his shoulder, somewhere you would have to run around searching for later. But you couldn’t give a fuck about that. All you could focus on was the heat forming between your legs as Logan settled between them.

His eyes met with yours one last time before he was diving in between your warm thighs. His tongue licked long stripes from your hole up to your clit, circling around the sensitive nerve before going back down. Over and over until your soft gasps and sighs of pleasure turned into moans. His large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open to do as he pleased. One leg hung over the back of the couch and the other was thrown over his shoulder, and he effortlessly held you down as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. He was like an animal, insatiable as he took you on his tongue.

“Oh fuck. Shit—Logan—” Your eyes rolled back, lips parted as you whined. You gripped the back of the couch, soft twitches taking over you each time his nose brushed your clit.

It was no secret that Logan found pleasure in giving you yours, and he ate you like it. Grunts and hums rumbled in his chest as his tongue found your clit again, and he reveled in the particularly high pitched cry you let out when he slipped two fingers into your wet core. 

“Needed to taste you so fuckin’ bad. I thought about it all week.” He spat into your clit, groaning at the way your tight walls squeezed his fingers. He could only imagine what you would do when it was his cock stretching your walls. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, fingers lacing in his hair as he lapped at your clit. You wished you could hold your pleasure, rivet in it for just a little bit longer, but the way he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot, the way his tongue was so relentless on your swollen clit, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh my—”

Your words never left your throat, chest pounding with sheer adrenaline as your release coated his face and fingers. It was sudden, it left you breathless as your thighs twitched with aftershock. Your eyes were wide and glossy in shock as you shuddered with the remnants of your orgasm. It wasn’t until you pathetically attempted to drag yourself away that Logan stopped. You were shaking, gasping softly when he pulled his fingers from you, but you all but cried when he licked at your wet pussy, getting a taste of you.

“Logan, please I can’t—” Your voice was shaky as you tried to move away from his face, he chuckled at you, pressing his face against your inner thigh before he crawled up to your face.

“‘Is okay. You did good.” He kissed your lips, his large hands holding your face as he let you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned, clenching around nothing already in anticipation of him filling you. “You wanna stop?”

“No, no, no! Need you, please!” You were quick to protest, wrapping your legs around his waist to prevent him from going anywhere. You couldn’t really stop him from doing anything, but he found it endearing that you tried. He bumped his nose against yours, lips pulled up into a tiny smile.

“Need me where, hm?” He opened his eyes to look at you, and truly how he didn’t bend you over the nearest flat surface the second he saw you was beyond his comprehension. You looked so perfect like this, underneath him, clinging to him. His sweet girl. He didn’t know what it was about you, but from the moment he met you he was done for. You drove him absolutely mad and now he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Inside me, Logan. Please.” You sighed out, face flushed with embarrassment. He smoothed out the frown lines on your forehead with a tiny kiss. A sweet gesture in comparison to what he was about to do to you.

In one swift motion he had you bent over the armrest, with your ass to him and your chest flat against the armrest. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he pulled off his white tank top. Your glazed eyes fawned over each perfect muscle in his body, taking particular interest in the veins that popped in his arm when he flexed them as he ridded himself of his jeans. How you ended up with a man so incredibly hot, you had no idea, but you were thanking the Gods for that.

“I need to be inside you, too.” He rasped into your ear, groaning in ecstasy as he sank himself into your needy cunt. Your jaw fell open he filled you, inch by inch. He pulled your t-shirt over your head, instantly attaching his lips to your shoulder as he rutted his hips against your ass. 

His pace was grueling from the start, grip tight on your hips, sure to leave bruises in the morning. A little reminder of his intoxicating presence. You braced yourself on the armrest, sounds of pleasure leaving your lips almost instantly. He pressed his forehead against your cheek, the thick hairs on his chest leaving a tingling sensation across your back as he held you flush against his chest. Heavy breaths filled your ears as you so desperately reached to touch him, any of him. Your trembling fingers found the sound of his face and he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“This what you needed, hm? Maybe I should fuck sweet pussy more often? Give it more attention?” He grunted the words in your ears, lips pressed against your cheek as a sheen layer of sweat began to coat your soft skin. You whimpered and nodded weakly, your cunt clenching him with excitement. He smirked softly, his hand coming up to lace through your hair. “Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweet girl?”

Logan held your face down as his hips drilled into you, each delicious drag of his cock bringing you closer and closer to your sweet release. God, you needed it. All you could do was moan in response.

“Y-yes! God, yes. Please Logan.” You whined out shamelessly, eyes rolled back into your head. Logan hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple, the gentle gesture ironic considering just what he was doing to you. He said nothing as he sneaked his free hand to the front of your body, rough fingers rubbing harsh circles on your sensitive clit. Your jaw fell open, your hand flying to grip his wrist. Your thighs clenched around his hand, whining as his cock  brushed that one spot that had you seeing white. “Logan—”

Your voice was a warning, but he welcomed it. He flicked his wrist without mercy as he rolled his hips, his words only encouraging you to fall apart for him.

“Come for me, pretty girl. You can do that, can’t you? I know you want to.” He let go of your hair to turn your head to meet his eager lips. He happily swallowed the pathetic sounds that left your mouth as he flicked at your clit, his cock hitting so impossibly deep you were left trembling as your release seeped around him. 

Logan held you down on his cock, his thumb playing with your clit until you were gasping and your nails dug into the skin of his wrist. He kissed along your jaw as his hips stilled for just a second, your body still shaking underneath him.

“You okay?” He asked softly, grabbing your face to look at him. You looked at him with hooded eyes and nodded weakly, barely lifting yourself off the couch.

“Yeah. ‘m okay.” 

Logan tilted his head at you, an eyebrow raised with amusement as he leaned down to leave a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Perfect.”

He grabbed your hips, pulling out his cock to manhandle you onto your back before he was sinking himself into you again. Your slick walls welcomed him perfectly, like this was the only place he belonged, but he wasn’t complaining. If he could die, he would die happily buried deep in your cunt.

“Oh, God, Logan.” You gasped, thighs twitching as you looked down to find where his thick cock is filling you, splitting you open over and over. Your jaw fell open as you watched him grab one of your ankles and he held it up by his shoulder, spreading you open for him to dig himself deeper and deeper within you tight walls. 

“Look at me, baby.” He groaned, chest heavy as a thin layer of sweat covered his muscled body. You did your best to comply, you looked up, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure as he damn near folded your body in half. Your knees were pressed against your chest as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “Yes, there she is. My pretty girl. I missed you.” 

You couldn’t help but moan at his words, and also at the sting of his cock rapidly bringing you to your third release. The way he brought your legs to his shoulders, he sunk himself so deep within your walls you swore you felt him in your stomach. It felt so good you wanted to cry.

“Missed you too, Logan.” You brought your lips up to his, eyebrows furrowed into an expression of pure arousal as you gripped his hair, clinging to him for dear life.

Your release was quick and sudden, hitting you without a warning the second Logan pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You were just so sensitive, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed. You clutched on to his large bicep as you spilled around his cock. The way your tight walls squeeze him made him groan, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on chasing his own release while fucking you through your own.

“Look at you, you’re just so good for me. Fuck it, I’ll just take you with me next time.” Groans fell freely from his soft lips as he braced himself on the back of the couch with one hand, and the other held the armrest above your head. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours as your sweet praises and chants of his name filled his ears. 

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was animalistic, a deep growl as he coated your insides with his hot release. The metallic sound of sharp claws filled your ears once more as his claws unsheathed themselves from his knuckles, one on the back of the couch and the other just above your head, again. You gasped his name with a soft laugh, though you would be lying if you said it didn’t drive you feral when his claws accidentally came out. You brought a hand to his face as he pulled his claws out of your couch, the sharp metal once again hiding themselves within his knuckles with a sound. He held himself up on his forearm as his head fell to your neck.

“I’ll pay for it.” He muttered a chuckle into your neck, leaving a soft kiss to your jaw. You laughed, draping a hand over your forehead, breathing in deeply as you felt your mixed releases seep around his cock and drip onto the couch. He should just buy you a new couch, he thought.

“Wanna buy me a new body while you’re at it?” You teased him, already sensing you would have bruises and your thighs would ache for days.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern filled his voice as he lifted his head to scan your face for any discomfort as his hand came up to graze the thigh draped over his waist. You scrunched up your nose at him and shook your head.

“Of course not hun. Don’t be silly.” You traced your fingers over his face and gave him a lopsided smile.

“I did miss you, for the record.” 

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I missed you too Logan.”

“Lemme clean you up sugar.” He sneaked a kiss to your cheek as he untangled himself from you, much to your protest.

You whined at the emptiness he left you as he stood up. Though you did quite enjoy the sight of his perfect ass he walked off to find something to clean his mess with. When he came back, he had a small towel and he cleaned you without protest, he left warm kisses on your face as you talked to him about your day. He ultimately tossed the towel aside and slipped on his boxers, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his still hard cock, but you needed a break. You didn’t let him leave though, reaching to grab his wrist with soft eyes

“Wanna watch a movie? I miss watching movies with you.” You mumbled, voice soft as you looked at him with pleading eyes. He laughed softly at you, you made it sound like you hadn’t seen him in a month.

But, how could he ever say no to his sweet girl?

“Mhm, put on somethin’ .” He gently moved you so that he was lying behind you on the couch, his big arms wrapped around you as he held you against his chest. Though you were still completely naked, you paid no mind to it. It actually felt kinda nice to be so close to him and feel the warmth of his body in such an intimate way.

He covered you both with the throw blanket you always kept over the couch for days exactly like this, for those days you wanted to feel warm and close with him on the couch. He ignored the three holes where stuffing was coming out of the ripped fabric as he pulled the soft blanket up to your chest and as you happily settled in his arms, clicking away at the TV. He would buy you a new couch, just as he bought you new pillows, and new blankets. And anything you asked him to, really.

Logan wasn’t used to domestic, the soft touches, cuddling, but he liked doing it with you. He craved it actually, probably just as much as he craved the sex.

“Next time you’re away that long, just give me a call? Please? So that I’m not worried sick thinking you died.” You finally said, the whole reason for such intense feelings merely an hour ago finally surfacing. He laughed softly at how ridiculous you sounded. He technically can’t die, he thought.

“I wouldn’t.. I can’t…Y’know what? You’re right. I’m still getting used to this whole having a girl thing. But I'll do better, yeah? Don’t need you to be mad, sugar.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, settling his face on your neck as he attempted to pay attention to whatever horror movie you decided to watch today. “But if you’re gonna let me fuck you like that when you’re mad, get mad more often.” 

“Logan.” You scolded him, nudging his ribs softly as a warm blush coated your cheeks, knowing you wouldn’t hurt him, but it still made him chuckle. 

He had to admit, he lasted way longer than he did last time. He lasted almost halfway through the movie before the feeling of his cock sitting hot and heavy in his boxers became apparent to him again. He inhaled your scent softly, his lips ghosting over your neck as he rolled his hips softly against your ass. And while you did try to protest, whining that you wanted to get through one movie with him, the sting of his cock was better than any movie in this world. The credits rolled, the soundtrack now drowned out by the sound of your sweet moans. Logan would be damned if he let you leave the warmth of his body for even just one second tonight. Or maybe ever. 

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#the people upset about Criston being Dornish are constantly stating Dorne is white so why does it really matter? (via @thewitchqueenofharrenhal)

i say ‘i’d love to know why’ but i know the reason people on twitter are actually weird about criston being dornish is that they view media in terms of overwatch diversity points and the team with more overwatch diversity points is morally superior. same as the alicent wasn’t a child bride argument it’s a concern to concede like. abused(5points) woman(3points) dornish(7points) lowborn(6points) because, if diversity is morally weighted, that would imply you think the greens are morally defensible or even superior to rhaenyra. leading to this bizarre refusal to acknowledge these morally neutral traits characters have. anyway clubfoot(10points) so unfortunately larys still 🔛🔝

[loonylupinblack3]

Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body. 

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury. 

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist. 

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones. 

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

[writtenapoiogy]

home; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: 'You were 20 weeks pregnant when Jacaerys and the Queen had deemed Dragonstone no longer safe for you and the babe. You were to be sent to Winterfell where your safety would be secured. Or so Jace thought.'

word count: 3.8k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy sex, slight hair pulling, some dirty talk, jace is obsessed with readers belly, ALSO-- ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, blood, hurt and comfort, and sadness PROBABLY SOME OTHER STUFF I FORGOT

a/n: i don't go too in-depth about the miscarriage but it is known that she has one ALSO THIS IS THE MOST IVE WRITTEN EVER???? yall it took me TEN days to write this... anyway i hope you guys enjoy it <333

You stood watching the Dragons soar above the castle. Your hands sat clasped under your growing belly. You heard footsteps approach from behind you. You were pleased to see Jacaerys yet shocked to see the Queen trailing closely behind. You didn’t see Rhaenyra much unless she had matters to discuss involving the war— more specifically what you could do to help.

“Jace,” you smiled before curtsying to Rhaenyra. “Your grace. Is everything all right?”

Jace came up beside you and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. His hand came to rest on your belly; something he did regularly since you two found out you were with child.

Rhaenyra smiled at the happy couple. “How’s the babe, Princess?” Her question was genuine. She was very happy for you and the prince.

You smiled and placed your hand on top of Jace’s, “He’s moving a lot more.”

“He?” The Queen exclaimed.

Jacaerys chimed in, “The princess believes we are having a boy. I think it is a girl.”

Though it was nothing but harmless small talk you couldn’t help but think there was something more they came up here to talk to you about. “Not that I don’t enjoy your presence, your grace, but I can’t help but wonder if there is some other reason you came up here with my husband.”

Jace stepped away from you and you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. A feeling of worry and impending doom took over. The worst of the worst flooded your thoughts. You took a deep breath, “Was there a raven from the North? I-is my brother okay?” You tried to remain calm but the thought alone had you hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey. Shhh.” Jacaerys cupped your face to calm you down. “Everything is alright, my love. Everything is safe up north.” More than one meaning was behind his words. He kissed your forehead as you caught your breath before you had a panic attack. “Which is why you must go.”

What? You must’ve not heard the prince correctly.

“Beg your pardon?” Your eyes went from your husband to his mother quickly. The Queen, however, did not move. She let you and the prince talk this through.

Jacaerys grabbed your attention again. “You are not safe here. Neither of you.” He looked down at your belly. Worry dripped from his words. After losing Lucerys he couldn’t survive if he lost you too— the both of you. What is a man without his wife and child?

“Yet Dragonstone is safe for you?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You are going through something that should be faced together as a couple. Together as a family.

Jace took a deep breath. It was going to be harder to convince you than he originally thought. “It’s different.”

“How? How is it different, Jacaerys?” You quipped

“Because you cannot fight. We don’t need you to fight. I don’t need you to fight. I just need you and our future prince or princess to be safe. And that is not here. It cannot be here.” Jacaerys’ words punched a hole in your chest.

You felt so useless. You knew how to fight. It was one of your favorite pastimes with Cregan. But due to you being with child, it seemed to have left you feeling worthless. You stormed past the two of them, heading inside the castle.

You headed down a corridor for your bedchamber with hot tears running down your cheeks.

Rhaenyra was quick to follow you inside.“Princess,” the queen spoke gaining your attention. “Every day that that babe grows and flourishes inside of you, you are helping my claim and your husbands. You’re helping us win. That is why we need you in Winterfell, with your brother and his men, so that you will be safe.” Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had spoken about this before they came outside to find you. They knew that this was the best way to secure your family’s future. They just needed you to see that too.

She was right. You had the crown prince’s child growing within you. And keeping you safe is keeping the baby safe. “Okay, your grace. I will go.” You continued, rubbing your belly. “For our protection.”

“It must be tonight, Princess. Once you are farther along it will be too dangerous for you to fly.”

You nodded at your queen and headed to your chambers to gather what things you could.

Within hours you were atop Vermax, your arms wrapped tightly around your husband. The air grew crisp and cold as you flew closer to Winterfell. You buried your face into Jace’s shoulder. You inhaled his scent, never wanting him to leave you. You knew that this was necessary. You held part of the succession to the Iron Throne inside of you.

You landed fairly close to the entrance of Winterfell. You embraced the cold air then you looked at Jacaerys who looked as if he might turn into a popsicle at any given moment.

Cregan called your name as you walked through the doors into Winterfell with the prince by your side. You picked up your pace and threw your arms over your older brother’s shoulders. It had been a while since you last saw him. He squeezed you tightly. After your brother had passed, it was always the two of you. Protecting and comforting each other.

After separating from your embrace you both looked at Jace.

“Could we go inside? Preferably by a warm freshly lit hearth?” The crown prince’s teeth chattered together. His arms wrapped around his chest to preserve heat.

“Always a dramatic to our cool air, my prince.” Cregan jested.

Jacaerys scoffed, “Cool is drastically an understatement, my lord. Sea breeze is cool. This is whatever the complete opposite of dragon fire would be.”

You tried and failed to bite back your smile as you stuck your hand out to Jace. “C’mon my icicle.”

You and Cregan had convinced Jace to stay for supper and to spend one night in the castle before heading back down south.

You were in your nightclothes, standing in front of a warm fire. So much had happened in just a day. Your day had started in Dragonstone and had ended in Winterfell. All you could think about as you looked into the flames was your future with Jacaerys. What the future would hold when this dreadful war was over. What life would be like with your little family on Dragonstone.

Jacaerys walked up behind you and brought his hands to rest on your plump belly. He placed feather-light kisses on your neck, making you relax into him. He rutted his hips against your arse. You felt his hardness against you.

“Jacaerys.” You warned. You brought your hand to the back of his head when the kisses to your neck got rougher. You spun around and as you went to slot your lips together, Jacaerys began to back away pulling you with him. He made you yearn for his kiss, a devilish smirk adorning his face.

You followed him entranced. You climbed into his lap as he sat on the bed. Jace rid you of your gown. Your arms fell to his shoulders, using him to steady yourself. He wrapped a strong arm across your back. He ran his unoccupied hand across your full stomach before running his hand up to cup your plump breast.

You let a whine out at your husband’s touch. His hands left a trail of molten lava on every inch of you they touched. You’ve been ultrasensitive to his touch recently. “Someone will hear us.”

“I do not care,” Jacaerys said bringing his hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to smash your lips together. He didn’t know the next time he would see you after tonight. He was going to make sure he left an imprint. He moved his head down giving you a second to breathe. Your foreheads rested together. “I am the crown prince. I will have my wife when I so please.”

You moaned, snaking a hand to the back of the prince’s head to pull his head back. He groaned in response. You felt wetness pool in your smallclothes. Staring down at the pale skin on his outstretched neck. You quickly made work of ridding him of the thin shirt. Not even bothering with removing his pants completely, you only freed his hardened length.

The two of you stared down at your hand wrapped around the top of his shaft. Jacaerys’ slick smirk faltered when you began to pump him slowly. The tip of his cock hit your stomach, eliciting a moan from the dark-haired boy. Droplets of precome dripping from the head, smearing on your stomach.

Your breath hitched, “Jace. I need you.”

“Then take me, darling.”

You let out a low whimper. You lifted your hips and ran his member down your folds til he reached your entrance. You leaned your forehead against his. You began to sit on his hardness. Feeling his cock enter you deliciously slow.

Jacaerys helped guide you down. You tensed, the burn from his size becoming too much.

Running a soothing hand along your spine, “Breath, my love. It is nothing you haven’t had before.” Jace rasped against your lips.

You took a deep breath in and tilted your forehead against Jacaerys’. You moaned as you exhaled—his cock had begun to slip inside of you as you adjusted to his size.

“That’s it. That’s my girl.” he moaned as he slid completely into you. He adjusted his grip so that his hands were at the base of your bottom, assisting you.

“Jace.” You whimpered feeling so full it was overwhelming. So full of him. So consumed by him. He was all around you. He was completely inside of you, everywhere. You carried his babe inside of you. His blood practically ran in your veins.

“Yes.” He groaned.

You attempted to move your hips to the best of your ability. But you were beginning to realize that your condition was going to be hindering your mobility. Especially while in bed with your husband. “I can’t anymore. I’m too-,” You tried to get out your words, exasperated by the difficulty this was causing you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jace reassured you. He helped move you so that you could lay on your side. After placing you on the bed he stripped the rest of his clothes off of his body.

He laid behind you so that the two of you were spooning. “You are so perfect.” Jacaerys praised you as he placed chaste kisses from your shoulder to your cheek and then to your neck.

You hummed at the words that left your husband’s mouth. You lifted your leg so he could guide his cock to your entrance. He slowly began to press into you, his hand which was once on his member, moved to your hip to completely push into you.

Jace had to squeeze his eyes shut hard to make sure he didn’t come too quickly. Your wet walls welcomed him in. They pulled him deep within your warmth. “Your sweet cunt is all mine, pretty.” He said into your ear, his voice coming out hoarse. He started to slowly thrust into you. He was so tender with you.

Jace had your walls clamping down on him within minutes. The angle at which he was rocking into you, made his cockhead hit that sweet spot deep inside of you leaving you a complete whimpering mess. You swear you could feel every detail of his member. The slight curve it had. And the vein that ran up the side— which you loved to trace with your tongue.

“Fuck.” He groaned into your ear. His hand moved to hold on to your belly, spurring his thrusts. He pumped into you harder now. He loved seeing the results of his actions. Seeing his seed having taken root and growing a beautiful life inside of you. It drove Jacaerys absolutely insane.

“Jace, it’s so-, Fuck!” You yelped at one particularly sharp thrust.

Jace brought his hand down to your sensitive cluster of nerves and drew figure eights. His hips snapped against your arse relentlessly. He loved the noises he was pulling from you as you attempted to keep quiet.

You turned your head back to face your husband as you felt your body begin to convulse. He covered your swollen lips as you let out a drawn-out mewl as you came. Pulsing around him, milking him for all he was worth.

The push and pull of your cunt caused his release to hit him hard and unexpectedly. He moaned into your mouth. He covered your walls in searing hot come. You two lapped your tongues at the others as Jace continued to slowly pump into you. Making sure he had emptied himself completely inside of you.

You winced as Jace pulled out. You hated the feeling of being empty, being without him.

He cleaned you up and you cuddled. One last night before gods knew how long.

One moon had passed since you last saw Jacaerys. And though you had not seen him, you had received a letter from him every other day. He expressed how much he missed and loved you deeply. How much he missed rubbing and kissing your belly. He worried the babe would forget his voice.

He told you that his uncles had been keeping a close look at the skies and that flying to you on a regular basis would do nothing but endanger the both of you. But he promised to fly to you when the babe arrived. He would be there for you. No matter what he would find a way.

You decided to take a stroll, needing a break from the interior of the castle. You were beginning to feel woozy and a change of scenery should do the trick. You had just begun your walk when your brother approached you. “Sister. What are your plans for this afternoon?”

“Read, and read, and then probably read some more.” You joked with the taller man.

Cregan smiled warmly. “What if I knew something fun we could do that does not involve dusty old books?”

“And what would that be dear brother?” You had missed your brother and your people. You knew no one other than Jacaerys down south.

He leaned down, closer to you, “Hunting.” Cregan said in a hushed whisper.

“Hunting? In my condition?” You could’ve let out an obscene laugh, but you didn’t. That would’ve been absurd for a princess.

“Our ancestors had been doing it for centuries. You don’t even have to get close to the animals.” Cregan bumped into your shoulder. “You always had a natural talent with a long bow.”

He was being truthful, however, you hadn’t picked up a bow or, any weapon for that matter, since you began your courtship with Jacaerys. That skill you once had probably dwindled to nothing. “Fine. Under one condition.”

“Anything. I have missed my sister, dearly.”

Your lips upturned into a smile, “We must stay close. If Jace sends a raven or by the grace of the Gods flies in, then I want to be near.”

“Deal.”

The two of you stepped just outside the gates of Winterfell. A quiver weighed heavy against your back, and your longbow sat comfortably on your shoulder. You welcomed the crisp air against your face. The war beams from the sun greeting your cheeks. Oh, how you missed the North. The South was beautiful but it would never compare— it would never quite feel like home.

You and your brother forgone your horses for this hunt since he promised you you would stay close to the wall. You missed hunting. You missed having a bow in your hands. The adrenaline rush it gave was unlike any other.

You were about a quarter mile from the gates when something felt terribly wrong. Cregan turned towards you as he heard your footfalls cease.

Your bow fell, your hands dropping down to your stomach. “Somethings wrong.” You blanched. You turned behind you and looked down noticing a trail of blood. “Cregan..” You gasped and just as you were about to collapse your brother rushed towards you, catching you in his arms.

Cregan had one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He ran all the way back to the castle yelling for them to open the gates. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t lose his sister like this. He made it to your bedchamber with the Maester Kennet following closely behind.

As Cregan placed you in your bed the Maester tended to you swiftly. You moaned in pain. “This can’t be happening.”

“How far along is she?”

You spoke before your brother had the chance, “We only found out two moons ago.” Your sentence finished with a loud groan.

Cregan stood there frozen watching you in pain. His first wife had suffered a terrible fate at the birth of his son. But you were his baby sister and he needed to be there for you in the absence of your husband. He ran to your side taking a warm wet cloth from one of the handmaidens, dabbing it on your forehead.

“Send a raven to Jace. Please.” You said hoarsely to your brother.

“He won’t get it in time.”

“But he will get it. Please just tell him it is urgent. I need him here. I do not care.” You moaned in pain, lurching forward. “CREGAN GO PLEASE!”

The lord rushed down the hall, your screams fading. He quickly found a sheet of paper and wrote a message to the prince hoping he would receive it faster than normal.

“Where is she.”

When the prince arrived in Winterfell, he immediately sought Cregan. Finding him in the Great Hall. The letter Jacaerys received told him something was wrong with the babe and that he needed to come to the North as soon as he possibly could.

“She’s at the godswood.” Cregan looked destroyed. “She refuses to leave.”

Jacaerys went into the woods inside of Winterfell with a lantern since it was the dead of night— and way too cold for you to be out here in any state.

You didn’t turn your head when he called out your name nor when he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Please look at me.” He pleaded. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that without me. I’m sorry we were apart.”

You turned to him sharply. Bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “We were apart because you decided. You sent me away. You sent me away to go through this alone.” Venom dripped from your words, not hiding your pain.

“I sent you home so you would be safe. So you could bear this child in a safe environment with your family.” Jace tried his hardest to make you understand why he did what he did. “I did what I thought was best.”

“And how did that work out Jacaerys?” You knew you shouldn’t be mad at him. It was a great loss for you both, but you needed to direct your anger, your hurt somewhere. “You are my home. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t know this would happen. The queen needed me and she needed my dragon.” He let out an exasperated breath. “This war needs me!”

“More than I? Your wife?” Your words stung him. Tears welt up in his eyes, seeing you like this. Hearing you speak to him like this.

“Please,” Your name fell from his lips.

“You cannot believe that to be true.” You finally reached out and grabbed Jacaerys’ hands, pleading. “Just stay here with me. That way we don’t have to be apart again. We can guarantee each other’s safety.”

“I can’t.” The regret in his eyes was evident. He knew you needed his comfort. Husband and wife shouldn’t be separated the way you have been. He, however, feels that pull to the war. Jace will not be seen as the princeling who didn’t fight for his kingdom or his people. What kind of king would that make him in the future?

“Jacaerys, you can. Your mother has plenty of men to fight for her. She sent your brothers away for their safety. Why would she deny you the same luxury?”

“Their dragons aren’t grown-,” Jace began.

You cut him off, “And Vermax is?”

Jace exclaimed your name, frustrated, “Sending me away with Vermax means my mother is losing another dragon and dragon rider in a war between dragons.” He tried to compose himself not to raise his voice at you. “We cannot sit here and argue when there is a war going on. We just lost our child! I do not want to sit here and argue with my wife when I should be holding her.”

Your face softens. “So stay and hold me Jace. You can fly off with my brother in tow when the time comes. When you are needed. But for now, I need you here. I need you with me. Just come home. Your mother has to understand that. More than anyone. She should understand that.”

“I am home. Anywhere I am with you, I am home. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

You brought your hands up to his face, his face resting in your palm. The two of you were so young. Only ten and seven. He placed his hands on your back and closed the distance between you both. You and Jace relaxed into the kiss. Millions of emotions poured into one kiss.

You pulled yourself away from his lips. “There is something I want to show you.” You took his hand and walked him behind the beautiful weirwood tree. At the bottom of the stomp laid a carving of a baby girl.

Jacaerys gasped. “Is that-,” He started.

“Our beautiful little girl.”

He tried to hold his composure but it hurt so much. He blamed himself. A thousand maybes and what-ifs clouded his mind. He fell to his knees and traced the carving. “I am so sorry.” Jace started to sob.

You fell to the floor and embraced him. “Jace this isn’t your fault. There has been a lot going on. Maester Kennet said it could’ve happened no matter where I was. I was under a lot of stress, Jace. We are in the middle of a war.” You pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

He pulled you so that you were sitting in his lap. He held you tight, almost suffocating. “I love you. This will never happen again. We will never grieve a loss like this apart.”

“I love you most, Husband.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face into his neck.

“I won’t leave you again.”

“Good.”

divider creds: @cafekitsune