#just hate how characters like this get a pass when if they were women and the people they hurt were men | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

changbunnies · 11 months ago

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All About You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: age gap, royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), pet names (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times– that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically.

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check– and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option.

He lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason.

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it.

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you– he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability.

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching the princess' description. And as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do.

He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself.

It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries.

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe.

But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days.

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you– there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere.

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.”

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power.

“Princess–” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp.

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage.

Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are.

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error– one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach.

You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night.

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour.

He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.”

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together.

“There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room.

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised.

He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before?

You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to.

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now.

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.”

Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.”

“Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death.

He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you.

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel– because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it?

You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter– you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl.

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats.

You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on.

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose– he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe.

You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning.

He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want. But you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily.

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him– you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion, no matter what anyone says.

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand.

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs.

It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho thinks he would do if he were you, anyways.

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?”

Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You– what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard; a man who is your fathers age at that. But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest.

“Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation.

“Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now?

And truly, Minho was the ideal man; at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you.

He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance?

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help.

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil; you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame.

You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly. You'd match one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other.

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.”

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control.

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin.

In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this– to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side.

“You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” He looks you over carefully following your question, grip on the armrests tightening.

Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable?

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.”

“So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated.

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs before Minho rises from his chair. He's is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need– all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin.

He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..”

He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy.

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips.

He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows.

Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck.

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle.

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip.

If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin. He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too.

His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body.

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing.

You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. “Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something.

You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating.

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly.

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your arousal. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect.

You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head.

“Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?”

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims.

“I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers.

It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women– women who knew what they were doing. But really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked– you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you.

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question.

Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet.

Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes.

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation.

“You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. “Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss.

His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin.

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling.

It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all. “M-Minho, I’m– 'm gonna–” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence.

He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.”

All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips.

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face and gushing around his fingers.

He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes.

You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers.

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head. You’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down.

He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit. “Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly.

“Feels good, I just– I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel about him even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess–” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious.

“Minho, I–” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop.

You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please–” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble.

But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you– not that you mind in the slightest. You’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you.

He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release.

He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust. A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours.

Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him. His arms wrap around you snuggly, and keep you upright against his chest. You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek.

He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks.

In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably?

He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be. You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least.

“Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it.

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same.

He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided– so if you make your future husband, your father, or even the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #not me posting a fic again literally 4 days after my last one i am serious when i say i was possessed to write this #also not posting between the hours of 4-7am for once that is a win for me !!#mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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m3hgumi · 1 year ago

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— when you have period cramps

a/n: me at any minor inconvenience: omg more content 😍😍 cramps are hurting so bad and i was thinking about them … ooo the voices THE FUCKING VOICES

i’ll also be splitting the hcs into two parts with other characters so it’s easier to post

pairings: itadori yuji x f!reader, fushiguro megumi x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader

genres: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 853

itadori yuji

baby was so scared and terrified and confused at first

he’s never had to deal with something like this before, having no female family members or relatives

so to say the least he was stumped

you tried to brush it off saying you were okay and the pain would pass until another wave of sharp stabbing pain hit your side

that’s when you told him to get the pain killers cause this was gonna be a Very Long Week

once you explained to him the horrors of being a woman with a functioning uterus, he didn’t hesitate to grab (steal) a heating pad from nobara’s room (which almost led to disaster, thankfully you had stepped in and no damage was done)

he hates seeing you in pain and tries so hard to make sure you’re comfortable

he’ll have you laying your head in his lap, sprawling the rest of you body on the sofa or bed of your dorm, and ruffle your hair as the two of you watch your favorite show or movie

when you’re napping, he’ll try to cook you something to keep your energy up and endure the pain

i bet he tries to look up recipes for meals that help with period cramps

and tries to cook them for you 🥹

even if he’s not the greatest cook, you appreciate those meals better than any craving you’ve had for the rest of the week

megumi fushiguro

he’s gone through this many times with tsumiki before so he knows exactly what to do

prepare a heating pad, stock up on pain meds, get her usual cravings and everything would be fine

though her cramps weren’t as painful (or so he thought, she just hid how painful they were from him) as he found yours to be, so he had to do a little bit more to help you alleviate the pain

including routine cuddles, plenty of kisses, many many blankets, and the occasional peace and quiet for your naps

he has your period tracker synced to his phone so he knows in advance when to stock up on any supplies you’ll need to get through the hellish time of shark week

he’d cancel any plans he may have had with nobara and yuji to stay with you (mad respect 🙏)

he’ll also summon his demon dogs for emotional support, even if it’s not allowed in the dorms (he’s such a real one 😭☝️)

he also has his phone notifications off so all of his attention is focused on getting you through this hellish week (ok but mans needs to catch a break too)

he’ll let you play with his hair as a distraction from the pain

if you ask for cuddles his face will get super red but he’ll oblige after

eventually he’d stop you from consuming all of chocolate and chips that is your cravings and get you to eat an actual meal

he won’t mind if you start complaining or yelling at him about something insignificant (like the temperature in the room being too low) because he knows it’s just the pain talking

instead he’ll pull you even further to his touch, soothing you and hopefully getting your mind farther away from your uterus twisting itself

gojo satoru

for ONCE his sweets stash under his bed is finally useful for someone other than him 🔥

i can imagine teen gojo first seeing you in pain and laughing (geto probably smacked him real good after that)

“wowww women have it SOOO hard 🙄” “OF COURSE YOU WOULDNT KNOW YOU ASSH-“

he has everything stocked up and ready for that time of the month: from pads to heating pads to pain meds (lots of them) and most importantly SO MANY SWEETS

he definitely uses this time of the month as an excuse to go out and buy an exorbitant amount of candy that will most definitely leave the two of you with diabetes

he’ll also bail out on any meetings or missions (except the ones with his students, he can’t leave them) so he could stay with you

if for any reason he can’t be physically be there, he’ll be on speed dial or he’ll get nanami or shoko to keep you company

you tell him not to worry and don’t bother staying since the pain will pass on its own and isn’t really anything to worry about, but he insists anyways

when he’s not busy he’s either cuddling you or having you wrapped around his arms, passing the time by watching his shitty collection of movies or any of your favorite shows

he’s definitely gonna feed you the giant chocolate cake he bought from the bakery down the street (and feed himself some ofc)

since gojo is just a giant pillow anyways, falling asleep on him isn’t much of a problem, even if your insides are attacking you with the worst pain ever

i’ve mentioned this in hcs before but he ABSOLUTELY has a whole album of pics where you’re sleeping on his shoulder or lap, cuddles are not excluded

(ok this is getting too long i should stop)

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lixzey · 11 months ago

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The Unknown Number

A/N: ignore the time stamps 😆 i know, i know, but it's literally 2am when i edited this and i can't edit the time 😔

warnings: none? just that reader is italian and a lil bit of peach dissing [if you know, you know]

You were bored.

You were sitting alone in your hotel room, plans foiled by a stormy day, waiting for some miracle to happen. You were supposed to enjoy a beautiful day in New York; you had just arrived last night from Italy for a three-week vacation in America. You have planned this trip for so long. Originally, your best friend Hailey was supposed to come along, but her family needed to go to Germany to visit her sick grandmother. Hailey had urged you to go on with the trip, practically forcing you to go to the airport and live your dream—the American dream you've been dreaming of since you were a little girl—and just enjoy, even without her.

You agreed, of course. You've been dreaming of coming to New York ever since you were eight; you weren't going to pass off the opportunity to fly to the place where your mother came from. Your mother left when you were eight—she died of cancer. As a little girl, you'd listen excitedly when your mother told you stories about her hometown. She painted such a vivid picture of New York City that you felt like you knew it like the back of your hand, even though you'd never been there. And now, here you were, sitting in a hotel room with nothing to do.

As you stared out the rain-streaked window, you sighed, feeling sorry for yourself and wishing Hailey was there with you. This was not how you had envisioned starting your vacation in the big city. You had been looking forward to exploring Central Park, visiting museums, and trying out all the famous New York food with Hailey. It just wasn’t the same without her.

You took a deep breath, grabbing your phone from the nightstand beside you and deciding to scroll on Instagram to ease your boredom. As you mindlessly scrolled through your feed, something caught your eye—an advertisement for Wonka.

“Oh, I almost forgot about this,” you muttered to yourself, tapping twice on the post.

You have been a fan of Timothée Chalamet for less than a year. Hailey had been the one who introduced you to the young actor, and to your surprise, you were the same age as him. The first movie of his you’ve ever watched was Little Women, and you've loved him ever since.

You've been obsessing over his films like Dune and The King, loving every shot of him and admiring his beauty and talent. When you watched the trailer for Wonka, it was surreal to see him in such an unserious manner. Singing and dreaming about chocolate in his infamous purple coat.

Continuing to scroll down your feed, you began seeing more of him, fan interactions, the red carpet, and movie promos. God, he's beautiful, you thought, moving to screenshot every photo you scrolled by. Mindlessly switching to Tiktok, where you see numerous edits of Tim on his premieres looking absolutely stunning in his colorful suits, left you imagining what else would be peeking under his jacket.

“Is there anything you won't do for fashion?”

“Oh man, yeah, do it for the fashion.”

I’d do anything for you, all for you. You thought as you kept on scrolling some more to see character edits, ship edits—which you hated—thrist edits, and so much more that you couldn’t save anymore because you were running low on storage.

You sighed, closing the app, tossing your phone to the side, and plopping on the bed. This isn’t the American dream. You were supposed to be out, exploring New York, getting a sense of nostalgia from all of the stories your mother had told you years ago. But no, you were stuck in a hotel, scrolling through all of your social media feeds. God knows how many times you’ve scrolled through instagram and tiktok. You should be walking down Fifth Avenue, shopping and taking in the sights, eating hotdogs and pizzas as you walk through Central Park—maybe even running into a celebrity, hopefully Timothée Chalamet—not just stuck inside your hotel room moping.

What I’d give to have a moment with Timmy.

Personally, you’d give the whole world just one minute with him. But you can’t help but wonder: What would any of Timmy’s fans give to just have one moment with him? Probably the same as you, but every person is different.

You grabbed your phone again, opening Instagram. As soon as the app opened, Timothée’s newest post greeted you.

He looked so effortlessly handsome, and it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You wished to be in Kylie Jenner’s place, but you could never be her. You’re just this plain girl that he would never even take a second glance at. You didn’t have a famous family, you didn’t have tons of fans, you didn’t have a successful makeup brand, and it’s sure as hell that you didn’t have a model body and a perfect face. You’re just a normal Italian girl with flaws. You had a belly, stretch marks, dark bags under your eyes from staying up late, cellulite, big arms, and acne scars from your youth. You were far from the girls he’d ever want. But you still love him nonetheless, even if you could only love him from afar.

Tapping on his profile, you clicked on the message button. It was the only thing you could do—message him every once in a while. You wondered how many girls would freak out if Timothée Chalamet messaged them. It was a long shot, but if it ever happened to you, it was sure as fuck that you’d be either crying of happiness or faint. There’s no in-between, honestly.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

Text random numbers and pretend to be Timothée Chalamet.

It was a bad idea, sure, but when have you ever thought before doing shit? It’s only some harmless fun, right? You knew if you asked Hailey, she’d support you; no questions asked. So, there isn’t anyone else who’d tell you it’s a bad idea.

You opened your IMessage app, deciding to go with your stupid idea.

“Here goes nothing.” you muttered, typing in the number Hailey gave.

You laid on your stomach, typing in a random greeting message, stifling your laughter before tapping the send button. “Sent.”

You couldn't stop laughing, you were honestly enjoying this even though it was wrong to catfish people. You were bored, this was the only thing that gave you smiles as the storm outside raged on.

You tried to stop laughing so you could type in a message for your next prank victim, failing miserably. You tossed your phone to the side, clutching your stomach as you let all of your laughter out of your body. It was absolutely funny to see people’s reactions, knowing all too well that you aren’t the real Timothée, and just riding along with your shit.

After a few minutes of laughing, you finally regained your composure. “Alright, onto the next.”

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @lilmaymayy @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

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partycatty · 7 months ago

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johnny cage > bust your kneecaps

kenshi's sibling isn't exactly known for being the kindest, especially when things don't go their way.

warnings: violence, you're kinda yandere type... or maybe tsundere i don't know i give up. johnny's an ass and i wanna beat him up.

notes: are you seriously telling me NOBODY has written a fic for this man using "bust your kneecaps" by pomplamoose?! LIKE.

[ masterlist ]

johnny, don't leave me, you said you'd love me forever - honey, believe me, i'll have your heart on a platter

• you stepped your way into the stupidly lavish mansion, the address imprinted into your brain and throwing knife at your hip. the belt accentuated the way your hips swayed, capturing the attention of the mansion's owner.

• "where's my wife?" he asks, defensive as he puts the glass of alcohol down.

• "your wife is fine," you turn toward your brother's voice as he speaks, a scowl painting both of your features.

• "you will be too, if you cooperate," your tone is unwelcoming, threatening. "you're johnny cage, aren't you?"

• "what's it to you?" johnny's anger grows by the second, frustrated and confused about the sudden yakuza-looking blade wielders in his home.

• your hand twitches as it rests on the handle of the blade. kenshi puts an arm out, pressing you back. his glare is a silent scolding and you groan, instead opting to cross your arms than threaten the actor at gunpoint.

• "come on," johnny instigates, a beckoning hand thrown out your way. "you're too pretty to be this rude to me."

• "i'm not here for you," you spit back, and kenshi points his sword out to the blade resting just above the fireplace. "we come for sento."

• we all know the drill. before you could fight for what rightfully belonged to your clan, johnny had you and your brother tied to a chair, groaning as consciousness returns to you only to explain your intentions through a groggy tone.

• it seemed like something from a lucid dream, two ninjas and a fire god as you're tied to a chair in a celebrity mansion. it was all a blur, explained quickly before you were whisked off to an academy to fight in a tournament you had only just learned about.

• it was all ridiculous but johnny had dragged sento along with him, keeping it in his room and away from the two of you - he never knew if you'd strike at night and run off into the sunset at any given moment.

• the training itself was quite useful as you learned new styles of fighting, weapon or otherwise. you felt yourself growing bulk and inspiration for combat and attempted to log as much information into your memory, studying after lessons or practicing moves when the campus was cleared of people with the moon high.

• it started innocently enough, johnny would at first spectate you and then eventually join in for (unwelcome) advice. you tried to brush him off, you really did, but he just kept coming back like the prettiest little parasite and that irritated you beyond belief.

• before you could protest or pick up his mood shift, he was being sweet on you - which is to say, pet names, compliments, anything you figured an actor would use to get in a girl's pants. he must do this to all women, you figure, but as time passes you find yourself leaning into his words and cracking a small smile that you cover with your hand.

• you had attempted to confide in kenshi, but in his typical attitude, he just teased you for having a crush on the actor. it was a claim you vehemently denied, no matter how many times his laugh rung in your ears or feather touches made your skin burn.

• it bothered you, truly. you hated him and his stupid sexy smile, his dumb idiot muscles as they flex and ripple during training — lord help you.

• when you started to give in, it was so painfully slow anyone could've missed it. johnny, shockingly, was a good judge of character and wore his opinions on his sleeve. he picked up on it, but wouldn't say anything; he would keeping poking and prodding the bear until you admitted your shameful attraction.

• you gave in after a particularly intimate training session. not having much experience compared to the star, he noticed your tense heat radiating from your back when he wrapped his arms around you, perfecting your stance as you trained against a dummy. unable to contain the trembles of your limbs, you spun around to face him, still caged in his grasp.

• "why do you do the things you do?" you ask, brows naturally furrowed in thought.

• johnny looks at you as if you were a fool. "because i like you."

• the answer left you dumbfounded, the answer was right in front of you but you dared not entertain the thought. your eyes darted between his, searching for any hint of bad intentions, but no. his eyes were sweet and soft, gentle and understanding. it ached you.

• the walls you built up crumbled to nothing the longer you two spent time together, johnny giving you almost little room to fully adjust to a romantic relationship. beside each other it was almost comical how much you resembled a black cat golden retriever duo, a comparison the other boys were sure to make often. even liu kang was surprised by this, commenting once that this "had not happened before." whatever he meant was lost to you.

• at first, it was sweet. he cared, he truly did. johnny would go more than an extra mile for you, understanding where to fully slam the brakes or how to gently encourage you to be intimate. the entire time you were absolutely floored, willing to explore the new world of love. it didn't take long for johnny to call it that, and you followed shortly after. he loved you, only you forever, as he'd say.

• the near-armageddon was heavy on the both of you, but everyone returned in one piece and things seemed to be taking a turn toward the domestic life. this is where everything seemingly took a turn for the worse.

• johnny had insisted you moved in with him as soon as possible, citing both love and your financial connections to the yakuza to support his living conditions even after struggling with money. he'd beg with those sweet puppy eyes, and who were you to turn down the first man that's ever loved you?

• you gave him your all, trying so hard to prove your affections and figure out how to appreciate someone that isn't yourself. johnny ate it up every time, his praise making you dizzy and his little pout every time your voice wavered in hesitation.

• at the academy and sun do, it was easy to forget that he was a supposed A-List celebrity. nobody knew him, flocked for photos and attention, the camera flashing wasn't even a worry considering their lack of technology. he was a normal man with perhaps a slightly inflated ego, but a charming pretty boy nonetheless.

• when you began living in malibu, it started to become a reality for you that you were now in the trenches of fame. while you yourself weren't famous, you did technically appear from nowhere arm in arm with the actor. it didn't take long for paparazzi to camp on your lawns, parking garages, or even as you're out getting your morning coffee.

• as a former yakuza member, your entire life was in the shadows or relatively secretive. now, everyone knew everything about you and the thought made you nauseous. johnny would remind you time and time again that this is what you set yourself up for. you two had never even approached the topic beforehand.

• then came the women. johnny was a conventionally attractive man in malibu, his glittering smile and perfect appearance had women constantly screaming at him for a glance, one that he happily provided with a slight wink. going online and seeing the edits and thirsting messages made your stomach flip. he was yours, but he felt like the world's.

• you tried sitting johnny down, unable to properly articulate your problems having never discussed serious topics with a partner before. it was a foreign topic to you, dancing around your words in one place and being too blunt in the other. johnny couldn't help but look at you with a nearly condescending stare, brow raising in such a way that made you feel... small.

• "you're dating a celebrity," he stated, as if you needed a thousandth reminder. "i'm johnny cage. i may have just been another trainee when we met, but i'm one of the most prominent men in the industry. this is what you signed up for. sorry, but i can't always be yours. i love my fans, too."

• "i didn't know what i signed up for," you clarify, brows furrowing in confusion over his tone. "i thought you'd only love me." he did say it pretty early on.

• "i do," he put his hands up defensively. "i just have more than you to worry about now, sugar. can we get on with our days, now? i have a meeting with a production team in an hour."

• perhaps you didn't know what you really agreed to. fame, women, money, cars, johnny was... wow, a pompous piece of shit in the spotlight no matter how much he claimed to have changed after the events. it was like the most sickening, arrogant light switch. you swore you loved a different man.

• after you had turned away his lifestyle for the tenth time, it was a few months after moving in that he really sat you down. he sat backwards in a chair, as if it was a casual conversation. another part of his routine.

• "you're not cut out for this," he'd open with, and you're not even sure what "this" was really referring to. "i don't want to keep dragging you through a lifestyle you can't keep up with." like you were a lesser being. your mouth goes dry.

• "you said you'd love me forever." your frown is piercing.

• "feelings... change, i guess. we met in a totally different place, things are back to normal and i just can't picture us continuing like we are now. i've got so much work to do and so little time, and you want my attention. i can't prioritize one out without losing the other."

• "so you're choosing directing over me? fame?"

• "it's not like that —" he sighs, pity in his voice. "you don't belong here."

• you stand up now. "you told me we were a forever package deal. you wanted to show me the world. you wanted this, took every first i could give. what? you're done using me for what i'm worth now?"

• johnny winces. "kind of? you're... you haven't been offering up much else than complaints." your jaw truly drops now, the anger you pushed away bubbling back up to the surface.

• "you think you can just clock out?" your voice grows in volume, increasingly nasty as you picture all the ways you could make him apologize. "you don't just get to escape that easily. do you know who i am?"

• johnny states your full name with a pitiful expression. as if it means nothing. he could have tricked you into thinking that was the case if you had kept falling for his love bombing. not anymore.

• "can you relax?" his tone is laced with irritation. "you're working yourself up, just make it easier for the both of us. look, i'll even buy you a plane ticket—" he reaches for his wallet but you catch his wrist, seeing red. for the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you're a strong person, a yakuza member.

• "easy," he wants you, tone now deadly serious. "i've got cameras everywhere. if i show police you put your hands on me like that, knowing your background, it'll be bad news for you."

• a smirk pulls at your lip, twitching in anger. you lean in close, real close. "if they even get to see the footage."

• it was a pathetic assumption that johnny would be able to escape you now, you were fully intertwined with him in such a way that angered you, but made you love him more deep down. your first love isn't supposed to just pull out from your grasp, not easily anyway.

• a wrestling match ensues. he's strong and knows how to fight, you saw it yourself. you were smarter, though. you managed to grab one of his small statues and position him just right to knock him out with a light hit. he goes limp in your arms, sending you to your knees from the weight of his body. not quite satisfied that he was at your mercy, you drag him to your shared bed.

• thanks to your intimate endeavors, rope was tucked neatly in the closet. you tied his wrists to the bedposts and his ankles to the edge of the bed. while you were emotionally detached, you were still utterly enamored with his entire existence. you leaned in close, admiring the crinkle in his nose or his delicate eyelashes as they hopelessly flutter. his plush lips part to breathe shallowly, and you barely notice your hand coming up to stroke at his cheekbone. he was a beautiful specimen, a figure that's meant to be immortalized in art.

• as mad as you were, he was just too pretty to part from. you peppered kisses from his temple to his shoulder, hand feeling the fabric of his dress shirt as you lay your head on his chest. you basically cuddled him as you leaned onto the bed, half sitting in your chair still. you had to be prepared in case he suddenly awoke and went for a bite or headbutt.

• he'll wake up eventually, and when he does, you'll be right there with a blade in hand and a wicked smile pulling at your lips.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader

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greenaswildfire · 3 months ago

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I get the feeling they decided to nerf Alicent and Helaena on purpose, so they could taunt part of the audience who likes the "more womanly" type of character.

Something like "oh, are you tired of girlboss characters like Rhaenyra? there you have it, your fragile woman kind of character you like so much!" and then turned them into two bland pacifists instead of soft power players they were in F&B.

There is a quote I see frequently on social media but have no idea who said it:

You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you’re capable of great violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful, you’re harmless. Important difference.

Alicent and Helaena were peaceful in F&B. Helaena transitions to harmless after B&C, but she had a reason for it.

In HotD? Both are turned to harmless women. Helaena refuses to fight because prophecy, refuses to burn innocents by sacrificing her life and her Jaehaera's, c'mon girl, you're also innocent in all this! It's absolutely stupid to imagine that Rhaenyra would let them live, mainly because by Rhaenyra's precedent as queen, any House could back Helaena and Jaehaera's claim the moment Rhaenyra refused to bend to said House whims.

She would never let them live, she could never. And even if Rhaenyra refuses to do anything, certainly Daemon would in her stead. He's kinslaying on behalf of the queen who also happens to be his wife so he gets a pass, right? RIGHT?

I get the feeling they wanted to trap us in this "muahauha see? see? You say you hate girbosses but look at you now, you want show!Helaena, a Sansa-like character to act like a girlboss, hypocrites! Muahau we got you, traitorous women who dare to defend the patriarchy by liking non-girlboss characters!" situation.

But they forget one important thing: Alicent was bold and politically savy in S1, she was butchered because of their rhaenicent thirst and I don't doubt they build up S3 around the mandatory rhaenicent scene (this time it will be a s3x scene in the cell, after Rhaenyra imprisons Alicent for her "treason" since Aegon is no longer in KL). Alicent was a strong female character in her own right, until she wasn't.

And Helaena is just a background character tbh, writers knew they couldn't make her disband to TB side so they made her a Bran 2.0 who poses no threat to TB, but doesn't help TG either. If any female character can't be part of TB, they'll turn her into a third party so they won't pose a threat to "rightful kween". The only time she was treated as equal was by Aemond when he asks her to help protect the family and she refuses.

C'mon, she's neurodivergent but she's clearly capable of thinking that if she refuses to fight, everybody will die way quicker than if she accepts to. She's not stupid (I mean, at least until plot demands it, so her inaction-caused-by-her-visions can benefit cult leader kween's path to apocaliptic prophecy). She could clearly say something like "I will. but I won't fight because you asked me to, I'll fight for my daughter's life, I'll fight for mine." and I'm sure that Aemond would be hurt anyway, but would hide it because he's also determined to protect her.

She wants to live, so does he, and he'll somehow make up for Jaehaerys death by protecting Helaena. Helaena instead of doing the same like the other dreamers (choosing humanity's salvation over anything else) subverts expectations and says f u prophecy, and decides to fight against the prophecy instead of fulfilling it, so she and her daughter can have a chance to live. It would be such a contrast to cult leader, they make parallels in hotd all the time, why couldn't they do the same here with Helaena's plot?

Have you ever played Umineko no Naku koro ni? One of the most important aspects of the game imo it's exactly this "fight against your destiny" thing. How much do you value your life and others's? What are you willing to sacrifice for a slim chance to live and see them again? When your destiny is the same in most universes, should you give up and die instead of keep looking for one where your destiny is different? They could have done the same with Helaena here. Cole for example, he knows that probably he won't make it out alive of this war and yet he fights! Why can't a woman do the same? Fighting against destiny is something that only men do? Or are you telling me that Cole is stupid for not giving up, for relying on this slim hope he has of seeing Alicent again, of living with her and the remaining targtower children after the war?

But again, it's a web weaved by the writers, we can't ask Helaena to fight because she isn't girlboss in hotd. I should despise Alicent, I should despise Helaena, but I won't. If I do, it will only confirm the approach they've taken with these characters and I refuse to be caught on these showrunners's web.

#anti hotd #aemond targaryen #hotd critical #helaena targaryen #helaena the dreamer #aemond one eye #alicent hightower #anti rhaenicent

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xmalereader · 9 months ago

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Moonknight x Shifter! Male Reader

☆— MASTERLIST — ☆

Requested: can i request a fic that's more of a headcannons post than a fic? i really love the way you write the moon knight boys and was wondering how'd they react to a protective shifter!reader who's usually quite calm and reserved(maybe a wolf just for the irony of wolves being sorta synonymous with the moon)? maybe in a world where shifters are starting to be accepted but some people are still jerks. kind of a "three times reader protected the boys and the time they returned the favor" sorta thing. if all three is too much though i totally understand, im okay with just one, your pick. whatever your schedule allows for ❤️ sorry if this is hard to understand it's a fever at 4am kinda night but i couldn't pass up the chance to make a request lul love your writing! hope you're doing well! i wish you good writing thoughts and dexterous typing times 🫡

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Fluff, slight angst, request, Steven is a sweetheart and Jake is scary while Marc is trying, short, headcannons, reader is a shifter, werewolves, society differences.

WC: 1.5k

TAGS: @luci-the-brat-boy

NOTES: I apologize for the long wait on making this request I’ve been busy on my end but I’ve finally got the time to get these completed! Thank you for enjoying my moonknight shots, writing these characters can be a bit tricky since they all have different personalities but I was able to make it work! I did make a few changes so hopefully it’s still good!

Shifters were still new to society and not many have grown used to them due to the fear of getting hurt one day if they were to shift in front of them and perhaps hurt them or kill them. Each shifter was different and due to their existence, laws were established in order to keep a balance between shifters and none shifters, but the laws didn’t really stop the hate that some people carried for them.

Steven Grant:

Steven didn’t think he’d end up dating a shifter, let alone one who shifts into a wolf the size of a car. He was shy at first since he was new to the whole shifting when it came towards his partner.

After a few dates Y/n grew comfortable in showing Steven his new form, taking things slow with the man since he was always so nervous around him until months of dating he’s grown used to him. Steven had also told Y/n about his DID and about Marc and Jake, giving him very little information about them expecting his partner to pry for more information only to reassure him that he doesn’t have to force himself.

After their confession they continued on with their dating life like normal. Until Y/n started to notice the way that Steven is treated at the museum, each time he paid him a visit he noticed how rude his manager was being to him, making him growl in anger by how to orders Steven around and makes him do the extra work while she sits back and does nothing.

Y/n knew how much Steven loved his job, but there were times that he couldn’t help but interfere with the situation.

It didn’t take long for him to track down Steven's mangers and corner them in an empty hallway, whispering them threats on treating their employees with respect and to not treat them as slaves, frightening the poor women.

“Treat them like slaves again and I’ll hunt you down on the next full moon.”

Lets just say that Steven stopped receiving bad treatment after that which only left him a bit confused and oblivious to the matter.

Y/n was always protective of Steven due to his innocence and oblivious state at times. Every time someone looked at him wrong or stopped his ancient Egypt mid rant he’d slowly turn to the person to give them the stink eyes as if saying, “how dare you stop him from talking about what he loves?!”

He had scary dog privileges…literally.

The first time that Steven actually lost it was when one of their neighbors caught Y/n coming back home from a full moon with Steven next to him. His wolf form looking a little smaller as he padded next to him quietly and tried to regain his thoughts after last nights events only for their snotty neighbor to step out into the hall and scold Steven for keeping a “mutt” around.

Y/n was close to turning around and snapping his jaws at the neighbor in order to scare them only for Steven to step in between them while glaring at the man angrily. Steven was already tired from chasing after his partner through the streets and making sure he wasn’t causing any trouble all night and his neighbors comment was his last straw.

The shifter had never seen Steven so upset, using every cuss word he knows to call the neighbor out, pointing a finger at him and jabbing them in the chest. It caught both shifter and neighbor by surprise until Steven finally cooled down and opens their door to allow them inside.

Once inside Steven slams the door behind him and leans his back against it with his face buried in his hands. Y/n had approached Steven slowly, still a small wolf and whining softly to get the man’s attention only for Steven to drop his hands and look at his partner in horror.

“Did I just do that? Oh god I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Steven had never blown up like that before that even he was surprised by his outburst that night.

Marc Spector:

Marc wanted to scold Leon for picking a shifter as a boyfriend. Marc didn’t hate shifters he just didn’t know much about them to actually trust them yet, so when he finds out that Steven got himself a shifter of a boyfriend he couldn’t help but be a bit cautious around him.

Y/n didn’t spend much time around Marc since the man refused to be around him when it was his turn to take over the body. The shifter wanted to ignore him and let him do as he wanted, only to end up following Marc secretly whenever he went out.

The two didn’t get along quiet yet, but Y/n is still overprotective of the two of them. Yes, they share the same body but he can’t help but feel like he needs to be there to protect them both.

Only Marc doesn’t need protection he knows how to take care of himself and stick up for others, so the first few times he caught Marc being defensive or fighting back he couldn’t help but find the man quiet attractive.

Marc was perhaps the one who could actually make him blush whenever they spent time together back in Steven’s flat. Even when Marc returned back home stressed and upset, Y/n already knew how to help the man distress by shifting into his wolf form and lying on his back across Marc’s lap and letting the man scratch his belly or bury his face into his warm fur while groaning in frustration as if someone would do to a pillow. Y/n enjoyed cuddling with Marc during his full moons when he’s stuck in his wolf form for long hours of the night.

Y/n was in the cities office when he was first called out for being a shifter while renewing his passport due to Marc wanting to take them on a trip. A few strangers were waiting around for their turn and due to Y/n being a shifter he was first priority since he went through a longer process in getting a renewal which pissed off a lot of people.

Only for Marc to shout at them to shut up and reminding them the laws between humans and shifters and how not everything is fair between them, giving them a deadly glare that made them back off.

Y/n can’t help but crack a small smile when hearing Marc’s words as he focused on his passport renewal.

Jake Lockely:

It was harder for Y/n to get along with Jake since he acted like the silent but deadly brother between the three. He found Jake intimidating that he was perhaps the first person to actually make him tuck his tail between his legs.

Jake didn’t need protection and Y/n knew that since he’s seen the man beat another human to near death until he stopped him from going to far. Y/n didn’t know about Jake until one night when he noticed a change of smell in Steven and Marc’s scent, realizing that they weren’t the only ones.

Jake was suppose to be a secret, hiding in the shadows as he watched over Marc and Steven. Only the cab driver didn’t really need to protect them since they had a shifter by their side, but that didn’t mean Jake couldn’t keep an eye on him too.

Their first night together was awkward for them since Jake rarely spoke and Y/n was too afraid to ask him questions without getting the man angry. It didn’t take long for Jake to notice this that he finally decides to speak up, asking questions that’ll get him closer to the shifter.

They only spent time together during late nights when Steven and Marc are sleeping and Jake is able to take full control. Giving Y/n a chance to join him on his nightly trips and sitting next to him on the passenger seat while talking.

It didn’t take long for Jake to warm up to the shifter, not realizing that Jake had added him to his list of people to protect. Even though Y/n can shift into a large wolf, big enough to kill anyone on sight, Jake still decided to take the roll of taking care of the shifter too.

Y/n first witnessed Jake defending him when he was helping a man into the cab from a club, drunk off his ass while the shifter gets him inside the back seat. What he didn’t realize was the group of men lurking around the club, clearly drunk as they whistled at him, trying to get his attention which he ignored.

That was until one of them had the balls to slap his ass filling him with shock and ready to strike the man down, but when turning around Jake was already doing that for him.

Jake was filled with rage as he slams his fist into the man’s face over and over again. The others tried to pry Jake off, but he was faster than them, kicking their asses and forcing them on their knees and apologizing to the shifter.

Y/n could only stare at Jake with wide eyes as the men whimpered out their apologizes to him.

#male reader #moonknight x male reader #steven grant x male reader #Steven Grant #marc spector x male reader #Marc Spector #Jake lockely x male reader #jake lockley #moonknight #shifter male reader #shifter #au #headcanons

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jtargaryen18 · 1 year ago

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His Inheritance: Chapter 29

Part 29: There for the Taking

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.8k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, strong language, physical violence, character death. (No this isn't a carryover from Chapter 28) This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

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

Steve had just wrapped up his meeting with Murdock when someone knocked at his study door.

“Thank you, Matt,” Steve told him. “My driver will take you wherever you want to go.”

Murdock finished stowing his items away in his briefcase, rising from the chair with the help of his walking stick. His new consigliere paused.

“Thank you,” Matt said. “Good luck on everything.”

His lawyer opened the door to let himself out, Luca allowed him to pass before peering in. And Steve could tell from the look on the cook’s face that something was off.

“Boss, we have a situation,” Luca said. “I’ll see Murdock out first.”

“Thank you,” Steve muttered.

Steve stayed in his chair, tired. He had only spent one night away from his wife, and he hadn’t slept. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the hurt on her face when he told her they’d continue their marriage when her birth control shot was no longer in effect.

It had been a shitty way to handle the situation and he knew that. He let anger conquer his head. He tried to justify it to himself with the idea that isolating her in their bedroom would keep her safe. At least until their plans with the families were complete. Once that was done, it would be him trying to earn her forgiveness. Trying to earn his way back into his own bed.

The sooner they could deal with Barnes and the other families, the sooner he could mend things with her.

For fuck’s sake, they had to. Steve shook his head.

Women had been an addiction of his to this point in his life. A love-hate relationship. Steve loved the beauty of women, their softness, their smiles. He loved them dressed up so he could show them off, one conquest after another. Sex was his fix, the best way to get high and out from under all the things that plagued him in day-to-day life. Steve was always up for it. Any time of the day, anywhere.

Like any addiction, like alcohol or drugs, there was a dark side. The women were a problem with their needs for validation and ownership. If they tried to hold onto him, he walked. If they tried to manipulate him, he ran. And considering who he was, there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it.

When he decided to marry, his wife had everything he could have hoped for in his position. Young and naïve, sheltered. She had an innocent beauty, ballerina delicate. And for his dark world, she had a bonafide motherfucking pedigree. Steve would be the envy of every man, not just for his position but for his beautiful young bride, the daughter of the man who led before him. And behind closed doors, he’d teach her to please him…

How had it come to this?

A man could learn to live without alcohol, without a drug. It wasn’t easy but it could be done. His wife was neither of those things. Living without her now was like trying to live without air or water. It scared him and that fear pricked at his anger, made him lash out at her.

The fact that he couldn’t control her, couldn’t even contain her, made him want her even more.

Luca’s heavy tread let Steve know he’d returned, closing the door behind him. The edge of desperation on his man’s face brought his focus back to the present.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, watching Luca drop heavily into the chair his lawyer just occupied.

“Look, Nat got a call from Clint,” Luca said slowly. “Said we’ve been ratted out.”

Steve knew he wouldn’t like what Luca had to say but he didn’t think it would be that bad. “What?”

“Clint called Nat and told her we been ratted out,” Luca said again. “Told her to get your wife and go to the sewing room. They’re both up there.”

Steve’s mind spun. He checked his phone and saw he had nothing from Clint.

“He hasn’t tried to call me,” Steve said.

“Nat said things didn’t sound so good on his end. We don’t have a location on him.”

It wasn’t going well at all for Clint to go so far as to ask Nat to go to the hiding place his father set up years ago and take his wife with her.

Steve had always hated being hidden in there with his mother and sister. He felt small, helpless. The last time he’d been fourteen years old. Once they got past the feds, Steve had complained to his father about being put there. He’d loudly told his father he could have helped. His father had given him a solid beating for that outburst. His father had taken his pride down a peg or two that day.

Now that he was older, he understood why his father had placed them there when the situation called for it. His father had come from a place where he wanted to protect what was most valuable to him.

They didn’t know where Clint was. They supposedly had a rat. And his sister and his wife were in the sewing room. Nat would stay there just like Clint wanted her to.

His wife? Steve just knew she would hate it. He knew she’d be bristling before long just like he used to. Probably for the same reasons.

“Think Barnes got to Clint?” Steve asked.

“Nah,” Luca replied. “he’d let them kill him before he’d bring Nat into things in any way.”

That rang true.

“But he said Barnes knows everything now. That we’re all in danger,” Luca went on. “He didn’t say who.”

“He wouldn’t tell Nat,” Steve said, trying to wrap his mind around this turn of events. “It protects her… Where’s everyone else?”

“We’ve been trying to reach Dyson but he ain’t answering any of us,” Luca explained.

“Even my wife?” Steve had to ask.

“You have her phone,” Luca pointed out. “He ain’t answering Nat’s phone.”

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Scott’s fine. He’s on his way here.”

His cook left someone out. “Neal?”

“I don’t know,” Luca told him, his expression grim.

“You think Neal is our rat?” Steve asked.

“Your wife does,” Luca told him.

The tap at the door stopped their conversation. Luca rose and went to the door, opening it to find Scott. Steve motioned him in, Luca closing the door.

“Scott, I have a question for you,” Steve said as his men took seats across from him. “What happened that day when I brought my sister home? Specifically, what happened between Banner and my wife?”

Scott blew out an exhale, nodding. He explained that he caught Mrs. Rogers before she went down to confront the angry lawyer and tried to send her back to her room, to let him handle it. When Scott explained that she wouldn’t agree to that, Steve nodded. It was what he expected.

“I told her to stay behind me,” Scott told them. “But she really didn’t do that either. Banner came in yelling about you taking his wife. He blamed you. He blamed Mrs. Rogers. He turned a scary shade of red. Right before you came in, he reared back like…”

“Like?” Steve asked.

“Like he was going to hit her,” Scott finished. “Like he was going to hit Mrs. Rogers. I pulled her back, but it wouldn’t have been enough. Belova came out of nowhere and blocked him, got him under control.”

Scott’s story matched his wife’s so far. Steve felt his anger rise.

“And Neal? What was he doing?” Steve wanted to know.

So did Luca, he was staring Scott down hard.

Scott shook his head. “He didn’t try to protect her, boss.”

Scrubbing a hand over his beard, Steve looked at Luca. ‘What are your thoughts?”

“Dyson beat the bejesus out of him right here in this office,” Luca said.

“Because he threatened Belova,” Steve reminded him.

“You ever known Dyson to beat the shit out of someone as a warning?” Luca said. “I’ve known Dyson a long time. I’ve seen him warn people lots of times. But not like that. He has a problem with Neal just like your wife and Belova has a problem with him. If they think he’s the rat, yeah, so do I.”

“Scott?” Steve asked.

Scott nodded. “Neal doesn’t talk to me. I just know I didn’t like how he acted that day with Mrs. Rogers. I don’t like how he treats Yelena either. I could never tell if it was because he didn’t like her or he didn’t like her because of her loyalty to your wife.”

Neal had been a loyal soldier to Steve, someone he trusted. Neal had even saved his life. How could it be that everyone else in his house didn’t trust him? How?

Jesus.

“If Clint is right and we’ve been ratted out,” Steve told them, “We have to call everything off. If Neal is our rat, Barnes and whoever is working with him knows exactly what we’re planning. Fuck.”

Rising from his chair, Steve began pacing. “Dyson is supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. I thought by sending them together, they could mend fences. Bond over taking care of shit. And it would prove Neal isn’t a liability. Now… hell, Neal might kill Dyson himself for that beating. If he hasn’t already. We have to find Dyson, now.”

“Unless we have reason to believe otherwise, we have to assume Dyson will meet Neal as planned,” Luca said. “And that’s not long from now. We need to be there before Neal is.”

“Luca, I need you to dial back orders. If Barnes knows any of this, our people are walking into a trap. I need you to talk to everyone. Personally. Call it off.”

“You got it, boss,” Luca said.

“Luca, I want a small goddamn army around this house,” Steve instructed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Luca said.

“See if anyone knows anything about Clint,” Steve went on. “I want a status on him ASAP. Scott help Luca.”

Both men nodded.

“Otherwise, my sister will lose her fucking mind.” Steve thought of her in the sewing room with his wife.

Luca and Scott left his study to do his bidding. Steve went to the bar behind his desk, poured himself a scotch. He needed it for what was coming next. Pulling open his desk drawer, he fished out his wife’s phone.

Once he finished his drink, Steve headed up the stairs, passing his bedroom. When he reached the linen closet, the façade that hid the sewing room, he took a deep breath. Quietly as he could, he opened the door, pushed the button that opened the door to the hidden room within.

Nat was huddled on the bench looking miserable, physically and emotionally. Her green eyes filled with tears when she rushed to him. Steve caught his sister in his arms, hugging her tightly. She was cold, shaking.

His wife? She sat on the floor under the window, eyeing him warily.

One thing his wife wasn’t? Afraid. No, she wasn’t showing any fear.

Easing his sister back onto the bench, Steve smoothed a hand over her red hair. “Nat, I’m going to have Luca bring some blankets and a space heater up here with your dinner, okay? You’re freezing.”

Nat wasn’t letting him go. “Is Clint on his way home?”

Steve met her gaze squarely. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

Nat didn’t look convinced, but she sat back down on the bench, her hands wringing. Steve walked over to his wife, held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her off the floor.

“I’m going to talk to my wife for just a moment out here, okay?” Steve asked carefully.

Nat nodded. His wife followed him through the linen closet and out into the hall.

“We need to talk,” Steve said slowly, trying to keep his tone even.

“I’d like to help you, Steve,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “But we don’t resume our marriage until 29 days from now, so…”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Everything’s so fucked right now between me and you. And we will deal with that.”

“Yes, we will,” she said, way too calm standing before him.

“But right now, we have to deal with the threat to this family,” Steve told her as he would one of his men. “Were you with Nat when Clint called?”

She frowned. “No, I was locked in my room.”

“Nat came and got you,” he said. “What exactly did she tell you about that phone call?”

Surprise flashed across her beautiful face for just a second. “She said that Clint told her we had been ratted out. That Barnes knew everything and that placed us all in danger. He told her to come get me and to bring me to this room as soon as she got off the phone. And she did just that.”

“He didn’t tell her anything else?” Steve asked.

She shook her head. “I wanted to see if she had left anything out or could tell me if she heard anything in the background. She’s too upset about the fact that he’s in danger. She’s barely holding herself together right now… Have you heard from Clint? Or Dyson?”

“No,” he said simply. “Luca’s doing his damnedest to find anything on either of them.” Speaking of Luca… “You have Nat’s phone. That’s how you got Luca.”

“Yes,” she told him. “It was obvious you hadn’t heard from Clint if you were still meeting with your lawyer.”

“You didn’t call me,” he had to say it.

Her chin tipped up in challenge. “If I had known what to expect from you, I would have.”

Steve earned that. “Is there anything else you know, Sweetheart? Anything at all?”

Oh, she did. He knew that look.

“What?” he asked.

“It involves Yelena,” she said, holding his gaze.

“This is not the time to bargain with me—”

“Oh, I’m not bargaining for anything,” she informed him, anger hardening her expression. “Yelena will be back where she belongs when this is over. She’s loyal to me and it was out of that loyalty that she told Clint where he could find Banner.”

“Excuse me?” Banner was supposed to be gone. Long gone, off to the west coast.

“He was still here,” she told him. “On Stark’s turf. He needed to be dealt with and Clint deserved a go at him.”

The way his wife spoke, the fire in her eyes. It mirrored the anger he was struggling to keep down right now.

“Think about it,” she said. “Yelena gave him that information. Then he calls Nat, tells her we’ve been ratted out and Barnes knows everything. We’re all in danger.”

Steve stared her down. “You think Banner is the rat?”

She shook her head. “Banner’s involved, but he’s not the rat. He didn’t know what you had planned for tonight. And he had no access to that information unless it was from the rat who did. But he was still here. Banner was hoping for something, and it wasn’t Nat.”

She had a point. Banner had sworn to Steve he’d be gone.

“You think Stark is involved?” Steve pressed.

“No,” she said. “I don’t really know him. But from the impression I got, he wouldn’t be that stupid.”

It was his thought exactly about Tony Stark. Jesus. Who was this woman he married?

“Barnes?” She shrugged. “Well, that remains to be seen.”

“You’ve talked to Belova,” he said.

“And she is on her way to the location she gave Clint,” she explained.

“Alone?”

“No, she’s with friends,” his wife explained.

“What friends?”

“All I know is that they are friends of Dyson,” she said. “And if he trusts them, and she trusts them, then so do I.”

Not a hint of doubt or hesitation. His wife stood toe to toe with him, talking about the dangers of his world with authority.

“But we have no idea where Dyson is.” Now her expression softened. The smallest trace of fear in her eyes. “I tried to call him from Nat’s phone, Luca called. There’s no answer. He’s supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. Steve, we have to find him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Steve nodded. “We do. We really do… Dyson didn’t take it well that I pushed Belova out.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t,” she said bitterly.

“You got in his head about Neal,” Steve told her. “Neal said something about Belova Dyson really didn’t like. He beat the shit out of him last night, right there in my office.”

Steve saw the flash of excitement in her eyes at that. Just as quickly, it diminished.

“Jesus, Steve. Dyson’s walking into a trap between Hansen and Neal.” His wife shook her head, her teeth tugging at her lower lip nervously. “He’s dead if we don’t do something.”

Steve knew she could be right. If Neal was who she thought he was.

“You really think Neal is the rat here?” he asked.

“I know he is, Steve.”

It was then he realized something. The conviction, the certainty in her voice? It was all too familiar.

It all very much reminded him of her father. Every bit of it. And her father had been a hell of a leader in his time. He would never have found himself in the shit situation Steve let himself fall into.

Could he put aside who he thought Neal was? Did he have a choice?

Pulling her phone out of the pocket of his slacks, he handed it to her. “Try to call Dyson. One last try before I start making hard decisions.”

She took the phone without hesitation, hitting Dyson’s number with haste and putting the speaker on so he could hear. It only rang once before someone answered.

“Hi there, Princess,” Hansen drawled.

Fucking Hansen?

Steve tried to grab the phone, but his wife pulled it away, putting a finger to her lips. A signal for him to be quiet.

How was he supposed to be quiet when the slimy bastard had his mentor?

Why was the fucker calling his wife ‘Princess?’

“Are you there?” Hansen taunted.

“I’m here,” his wife said finally, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing to say?”

“Why are you answering Dyson’s phone?” she demanded.

“Dyson’s a little occupied at the moment,” Hansen went on in.

“He’s alive?” she asked.

“For now.”

“Is Neal with you?”

Hansen laughed at that. It was the moment Steve realized his wife was right.

“They’re working through a few things,” Hansen said casually. “It’s going well.”

“I want to speak Dyson,” she told him. “Now.”

“Think I’m lying to you, Princess?”

“Now, Hansen,” she said with more force.

Hansen’s sigh was loud and there was the sound of movement. Another voice mumbled in the background, Steve thought it was Neal. Then they heard Hansen say, “she wants to talk to you.”

“Hey,” Dyson said, sounding out of breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Dyson said slowly. “Don’t you worry yourself about me.”

“You know better than that,” she said. “But I need you to come home.”

There was a loud crash and the sound of Dyson’s yell. His wife gazed up at him wide-eyed. Now she was afraid. Steve wanted to grab the phone, but it was better for Hansen to think she was alone.

“You want Dyson back home?” Hansen’s tone was a little impatient. “Let’s talk.”

Her eyes were still on her husband. Steve nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’ll give him back to you, but I want something in return,” Hansen said.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You know what I want,” Hansen told her. “You.”

The thought that the ruthless bastard wanted his wife so badly had Steve choking on his fury.

She snorted. “And what do you think is going to happen? You’re going to show up with Dyson and Steve will make a trade?”

“Steve’s running out of time,” Hansen told her. “If he was the man you deserve, I wouldn’t have his top lieutenant, would I? I wouldn’t be so easily able to reach his wife. Steve can’t hold his own family together, much less lead the other families. When he falls, have you thought about what that means for you?”

It was all Steve could do not to start ranting at the arrogant fucker. Especially as he watched worry creep into his wife’s expression.

“How would it happen?” she asked.

“No!” Dyson yelled in the background. “Don’t you even think about—”

A sharp crack cut off the rest of what Dyson was about to say.

“Please don’t hurt him,” his wife whispered.

“You can stop it,” Hansen told her.

She looked to Steve, big eyes filled with so much emotion.

In his head, Steve narrowed down his choices. The fact that Hansen had Dyson, cut down his options. Neal was with them, confirming his wife’s suspicions. Neal would have told them all their plans. Fuck. Neal knew lots of things about Steve, how he ran the family.

If something happened to Dyson, and he had to admit at the moment that it was a very real possibility, the family would survive it. They already appeared to be struggling and that was Barnes’ intention, he knew. Losing Dyson would make them look even weaker. Blood in the water to put doubt in the minds of Odinson, Stark, and Wilson.

If something happened to Dyson, his wife might not survive. Especially with Hansen making her believe she could personally save the only father she really had. Hansen’s cruelty forced his hand. If Steve denied her now, he’d lose her.

With a fear shooting through his heart he’d never known, he nodded. His wife’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How will it happen?” she asked Hansen again, not missing a beat.

Hansen muttered his instructions in his wife’s ear. Steve didn’t catch most of it, gripped by the seriousness of the situation. Hating that he had no other choice. Hating the risk that he could lose both his wife and Dyson.

“I’ll see you soon, Princess” was all Hansen said when he ended the call.

And just like that, leading the families wasn’t the most important thing to Steve. Leading his family, having everyone’s respect didn’t matter. Not nearly as much as the man they held hostage or the woman he loved, watching him with the phone clutched in her trembling hands.

“Steve, what are we going to do?” she asked, sounding as scared as she looked.

Wrapping his arms around his wife, Steve pulled her close. She trembled in his hold, and he knew she was afraid, but she was brave. Steve was proud of her for that.

“He said I needed to be there, at his house, within the hour,” she told him. “Or they’ll kill Dyson.”

“I know,” he said low by her ear. “So we need to move fast.”

Moving past her, Steve went to the sewing room, leaning down to kiss his sister’s forehead. “I’m taking my wife with me,” he said. “Stay here and stay hidden even though I’m going to do my best to keep the fighting away from here.”

Nodding, she said, “Be careful.”

“We will,” he told her. “Luca will still be here if you need him.”

His wife hugged her quickly. “We’ll be home soon. With Clint.”

Steve just hoped his wife was right.

***

Your heart raced as Luca and Scott arrived at Steve’s office, closing the door behind them. Both of them looked startled to see you.

“What’s up boss?” Luca was still staring at you. “I’ve got the men setting up around the house.”

“We’ve had a complication,” Steve told them. “It’s Dyson. Hansen has him.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open. Luca scowled at Steve. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“With Neal’s help,” Steve said calmly. Glancing back at you, he blew out an exhale. “My wife was right.”

You couldn’t even enjoy being right. Not with someone you loved in danger.

Leaning against his desk with his heavy arms across his chest, Steve looked deep in thought.

“Barnes found out just in time that we were going to hit him and hit him hard,” Steve said. “We were going to strike his turf, his holdings. Hansen. By now, he knows we figured out we were betrayed. He’s going to do one of two things. He’s going to try to hit us here, which we’re ready for and he would know that… Or he’s going sit tight and see what our next move is.”

Luca shook his head. “Barnes ain’t going to do shit right now. If he’s smart.”

Steve nodded. Scott looked as lost as you felt.

“Why not?” Scott asked.

“We can’t prove the hits on us were Barnes,” Luca explained. “We know they were, but we can’t prove it. Then there’s the other three families. They swore allegiance to Steve. If they find out Barnes is knifing Steve in the back, they’ll rally to our side. But if Barnes can get in their heads, make it look like Steve is paranoid and weak…”

From the beginning, Barnes’ plan was to prove Steve was unfit to lead the families. You remembered the first time you met him in the kitchen, the bitterness of his tone when he spoke to Steve. The belief that he should have been leader of the families – Barnes not Steve.

“Barnes can’t just fight Steve for leadership?” you had to ask, wanting to learn.

“No,” Luca told you. “He doesn’t have the muscle.”

“Why did Barnes have Hansen grab Dyson?” Scott shook his head. “If what you say is true, that move doesn’t make a lot of sense. No one is closer to Steve than him.”

“I don’t think that was Barnes’ idea,” Steve said. “We’d planned for Neal and Dyson to go deal with Hansen. And Hansen has it coming for attacking this house and trying to get his hands on my wife.”

“But Neal and Hansen grabbed Dyson instead,” Scott said. “How is that going to play out?”

“Dyson beat the shit out of Neal right here in this office,” Luca explained. “It’s perfect really. Neal claims he’s having problems with this family and Dyson beat him like a dog. So he defected, telling Barnes things to earn a place over there. Offing Dyson would be seen as just a little bit of payback between two soldiers. That’s how that plays out.”

You swallowed hard. It was all plausible. Complete bullshit and terrifying, but plausible.

“How do we get Dyson back?” Scott asked them.

“He wants to trade for him,” you told Scott. “He’ll let Dyson go if I agree to take his place.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open again. “What?”

“Hansen called my wife. He doesn’t know I was listening. He thinks he’s scaring her into doing what he wants.” Both Luca and Scott looked to Steve. Steve cut you a glance. “I really don’t like this either but that was his condition. And we have just under an hour to decide what we’re going to do.”

“Fuck,” Luca said. “That would start a war. Barnes can’t go around snatching someone else’s wife. The families would never accept that.”

“I don’t think that’s Barnes’ idea either,” Steve replied. “Not his style. But very much Hansen’s.”

“Hansen wants your wife?” Scott shook his head. “Then what? That would start a war between the families for sure.”

“I don’t think Hansen intends on sticking around for the outcome,” Steve said. “He likely thinks he can grab her and go.”

Your heart raced in your chest. You knew Steve wasn’t seriously considering the trade. That meant coming up with a plan where Steve kept you and got Dyson back too. No matter the plan, it was dangerous.

“You up for this?” Luca asked you in a calm voice.

For Dyson? “Yes, I am,” you told them with no hesitation.

Luca grinned. “Okay then. We need an airtight plan because whether or not he can get his hands on Mrs. Rogers, he’s not planning on leaving Dyson alive.”

What?

“Agreed,” Steve said.

“And we have some friends here to help,” Luca went on. “Friends with skills that are perfect for this.”

“The ones Yelena is with?” you asked.

“I know how you feel about Belova,” Steve said, “but she’s not that experienced.”

“The ones with her are,” Luca told them. “There are five of them and all but Aisha were fucking special forces.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not trusting just anyone with her,” Steve told them.

“Well, you can’t go,” Luca pointed out.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You can’t go,” Luca reiterated. “Hansen thinks she’s sneaking out to come make the trade. They see you and they’ll know it’s a trap.”

Color rose from Steve’s collar, darkened his face.

“You have to be here, and you know this,” Luca told him.

“I’m supposed to just send my wife to Hansen’s knowing I might never see her again?” Steve was getting more upset by the second. “Entrust her to people I don’t know?”

Luca put his hands on his hips. “Or we could keep her here. Sacrifice Dyson.”

“No!” you shouted. It wasn’t an option.

“That’s where we are,” Luca told him. “But we can make this work. I’ll call Clay right now, okay?”

After a moment, Steve nodded. “Give us a minute, okay?”

Luca and Scott left you alone with Steve. And Steve looked like he himself was facing the gallows.

Yeah, you were scared. But you had to try and save Dyson. From Hansen. From Neal.

“This is all on me,” Steve said, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “I want you to realize this. Yeah, I lost my temper about that incident, but it doesn’t seem so important now. And now I know Neal was the rat. He instigated all of it.”

Sliding a hand over your cheek, he gazed into your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk about it when Dyson and I get home,” you told him.

You were shaking but you were holding up. You could do this.

“If Dyson trusts the ones Luca is talking about,” Steve said, “then I will too.”

“I trust Yelena too,” you told him. “And she will be reinstated when we get back.”

Steve nodded. “But I fucking hate this. This is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. I’m going to lose my mind until this is over. Until you’re back here.”

Now he’d have an idea what you went through. The play of anger and fear in his expression kept you from enjoying it.

“I need you to promise me something. I know how you feel about Dyson and Yelena. I know you love them. But if things look to be going wrong or you don’t see a way to get everyone out, you get out of there. Even if it means you’re the only one who gets out. Even if it means you have to leave them behind.”

You just stared at him.

“Hansen wants you,” Steve reminded you. “He’s not going to harm you. Remember that.”

Leaning in, he kissed your lips. A seeking kiss, gentle and slow, almost as if he were asking permission. You answered it, a kiss to remind yourself that Steve wasn’t all bad. You still cared about him.

The desperation in his kiss grew. You could taste it. Steve was kissing you like it was goodbye. You didn’t miss the slight tremor in his hand on your face.

“Come back to me,” Steve whispered against your lips. “Please.”

Easing back, you gaze up at him. “I will. And we have a lot to talk about when I do.”

Both of you smiled at that. Your usual marital fighting seemed like a happy memory next to this.

“I love you,” Steve whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back, just in case you didn’t see him again.

And just maybe you meant it. The way your heart squeezed in your chest made you wonder…

***

You scrambled down the road like a scared little runaway, trying to play the part as Luca had explained it to you. The sun was going down and according to your phone, you had just under 20 minutes to reach Hansen’s house.

A small SUV pulled up next to you as you walked. Your Uber. When the driver asked if you were Mrs. Rogers, you nodded, climbed in the back.

The driver’s blue-eyed gaze met yours in the rearview mirror. He was a bigger guy with spiky blond hair and round glasses. He smiled before turning his attention to the road ahead.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

It was a strange question.

“I’m… fine,” you told him.

He nodded, driving along.

“I’m Jensen,” he explained. “Dyson’s a good friend.”

That got your attention. “Are you one of the friends Yelena’s been staying with?”

“Yeah,” he explained. “She’s going to be there with us. We’ve got a plan. We’ll do everything we can to get you and Dyson back home shortly.”

“Thank you,” you told him. “Thank you for helping us.”

“Hey,” Jensen said. “Dyson’s helped us out a couple of times. We owe him.”

It was good to know that they cared about getting Dyson out safely as much as you did.

“We’ll be there in about ten minutes,” he explained. “I’ll pull up and you just hop out, okay? I’ll stash the car and take up my position.”

“Okay,” you told him.

“You’ll need to leave your piece in here with me,” he went on.

“What?”

“Your gun,” Jensen said. “Put it in the duffel bag back there. It’s my stuff. I’ll make sure you get it back.”

You’d almost forgotten about it honestly, pulling it free of your jeans. “Why can’t I take it?”

He smiled. “Yelena said you shot him once.”

“I did.” You were proud of that. Having the gun made you feel a little safer.

“There are too many things that could go wrong here,” he said. “I promise I’ll get it back to you.”

You nodded, knowing you had no choice but to trust these people. Dyson trusted them…

Unzipping the bag, you made sure the safety was on and carefully put your gun in. There was another handgun in there among some other ordinary looking belongings. A keyring caught your eye. On it was a small picture of Jensen with a pretty woman and the cutest little girl. On the other side the words “Best Buy” were engraved into the pewter.

“Is this picture your family?” you asked, zipping the bag again.

“Yeah,” he said with a wide smile. “My fiancée and our daughter Charlie.”

“They are beautiful,” you told him.

“Thank you. We have a baby on the way,” he told you. “I’m trying to get her to the altar before he or she gets here though.”

“Let’s make sure that happens,” you told him with conviction.

Jensen nodded.

“Is there anything else I need to know going in?” you asked him.

“Just be yourself,” Jensen told you. “You have friends. Remember that. You’ll know me and Yelena anyway. Dyson. Follow our lead. We’ll get you home.”

Five minutes later, Jensen dropped you off in front of an older house. It was an isolated location with no neighbors in sight anyway. You did just what Jensen told you and hopped out, not looking back at him. You weren’t taking your eyes off the impressive house before you.

You walked along the stone path leading to the front door. Just off to the side of the house you saw Dyson’s Cadillac, Neal’s SUV. It was surreal and you struggled to keep your knees from knocking.

Neal was the asshole you believed him to be. He sold all of you out. He sold you out.

But the worst thing he did was try to take Dyson from you. You focused on him.

Dyson was yours. Your caretaker. Your friend. Your father.

It would be a cold day in hell when you let Neal or Hansen take him away from you.

Before your foot hit the first step, the front door of that house opened. Hansen.

Well, you didn’t want your audience to be disappointed. You took your time climbing the steps, your back straight, your chin up. When you stepped on the porch, only then did you meet his gaze. You gazed at the huge beast of a man as if he bored you. As if he were beneath you.

Hansen didn’t appear to be moving from the doorway to let you in. He grinned at you.

Then you stopped.

“Planning to pat me down and check for weapons?” you asked him.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes. “Take me to Dyson. Now.”

Hansen stepped back, motioning you in with his hand. You walked by him, into a living room with a high ceiling and elegant furnishings. Nothing out of place in the opulent room.

Well, just one thing that didn’t belong there. A tiny purse, its purple leather standing out on the sand-colored upholstery. Why did Hansen have that?

You kept walking until you reached the kitchen. You met Dyson’s gaze first. He was bound to the chair, his face bloody and bruised. He was gagged. The steel in his gaze gave you courage. Told you without words that he trusted you.

Neal stood up from another chair at the kitchen table and he didn’t look much better. The only difference was Neal’s wounds had little time to scab over, to set in. You grinned at Neal.

“You look beaten down. How does it feel?” you asked him.

“Fuck you,” Neal spat, taking a menacing step closer to you.

You didn’t move.

“That’s some big talk for someone whose husband locked her in her room for disobeying him,” Neal said, cutting a glance at Hansen who stood behind you.

Hansen chuckled. “You couldn’t handle her any better than Rogers could.”

You flinched when you felt his hand at your lower back. Not a barely there, tentative touch. No, it was possessive. When it moved lower, you moved before he could touch your ass. You glared up at the bastard, hoping he couldn’t tell you were fucking terrified on the inside.

“The only one allowed to handle me at all is my husband,” you told him, raising your chin. “Now, Dyson goes back home. With me.”

Hansen’s grin didn’t subside. “That wasn’t the deal, princess. It’s a trade. Him for you. The only terms I’ll accept.”

“If you know me so well, you know I have no intention of ever making a trade,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Hansen cocked a brow at you. “Then what are your intentions? Your husband doesn’t know you’re here not that he ever knows what you’re doing.”

You tried your best to look bored. It was true. But having the enemy reference the fact that you didn’t appear to respect your own husband made you pause. You didn’t like it.

“Belova isn’t here to protect you,” Hansen went on. “You don’t appear to be armed. You don’t have a lot of options.”

Yelena was somewhere close. You hoped.

“We’re wasting time here,” Neal told him, his usually annoying self. You froze when he pulled out his gun, a Glock like yours, and pointed it at the back of Dyson’s head. “She goes to Barnes, we get rid of Dad here, and head over there to finish this. Rogers’ camp is in chaos right now. Let’s hit them while they’re weak.”

“You son-of-a-bitch.” You glared at him. “Steve thought so much of you. I couldn’t convince him otherwise. And this is what you’re doing?”

“It is.” Neal’s finger twitched around the trigger. Your heart raced in fear as Dyson’s gaze met yours, his gaze calm, like he was willing you to hang on. “Once we get rid of your husband, Barnes gets you and for that, he’s going to help me start my own family. I won’t be a soldier anymore. I’ll get everything I ever wanted.”

“Barnes?” You laughed humorlessly at that. “And you believed him?”

The man’s gaze moved from Dyson to you.

“That worked out so well for Banner,” you taunted him.

The gun in Neal’s hand lowered, wavered. Good. You were drawing his attention away from Dyson…

Before you could blink, Hansen pulled a gun and shot Neal in the face. Bone, brains, and gore splattered Dyson in his chair as your ears rang from the shot. Neal just dropped to the floor.

Now you were afraid. From the apprehension you read in Dyson’s gaze now, he was too.

Hansen tucked his gun away as casually as he might a phone or his wallet. He turned what he must have thought was a charming smile on you.

“Does this mean I’m not going to Barnes?” you had to ask. “Was anything he said true?”

“It was true,” he told you. “Barnes has everything carefully planned out. And he can have your husband, But he’s not getting you. That was never part of my plan.”

“How does that work with him being your boss?” you wanted to know. “Or are you betraying him the same way Neal was betraying Steve?”

That grin widened behind his mustache. “That’s just the way this little world of ours works. You’re either born into a family like you and Rogers or you make your own way like Neal here. But you’ve got to be smarter than that.”

“So where does that leave us?” You moved closer to Dyson, not turning your back on Hansen. He could have shot Dyson just as easily.

“You already know the answer to that,” Hansen told you, his gaze shifting from Dyson back to you. “A trade. You can send him home right now. But you’re mine.”

You rolled your eyes. But inside, your fear was escalating. You remember the horrible things Yelena told you. What Hansen did to her. She was brave and fierce, more so than you. You didn’t want to consider what the asshole had planned for you.

You knew Dyson’s friends were with her. But Yelena herself? She was terrified of him, and she was right to feel that way.

Could Jensen get you out then?

Here’s hoping.

“Fine,” you told him. “Let him go. The trade isn’t complete until I have absolute proof that he’s back home.”

“Fine,” Hansen repeated slowly. The look he cut you told you he didn’t quite buy your performance. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he used it to cut through Dyson’s bonds, allowing him to pull the gag away himself.

Dyson eyed you warily. “Don’t do this,” he said calmly. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, please don’t.”

Before you could say anything, Hansen blew out an exhale, looking more annoyed than anything. When he turned to look behind him, you saw the man standing there. He was tall as Steve with broad shoulders. The man was a little older with threads of white in his dark hair, in his beard. His grin gave him a very roguish charm.

“Oh, I think it’s a pretty good plan,” the man said, his voice deep whiskey. “We’re going to have to change it up though. We’re here to take Dyson and Mrs. Rogers back home.”

“That doesn’t work for me, Clay,” Hansen told him. “Now, I’m going to kill you. Then I kill Dyson. Then I’m taking Mrs. Rogers with me. And then we call it a day.”

From behind the man he called Clay, you saw Jensen step out. Your heart swelled to see Yelena, her concerned gaze on you. Both held handguns, assessing the situation. Yelena looked so small next to the two dangerous men.

Without looking, Hansen reached for his gun. A bullet hit the floor at his feet, had him jumping slightly in alarm before moving to put his hands back up and in view.

Yelena’s expression was pure rage.

“Hey, Lena,” Hansen crooned. “Miss me?”

You shook your head at her. Don’t answer him. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

You inched closer to Dyson until you put yourself between him and Hansen. Yelena’s eyes widened on you. But you knew what you were doing. You weren’t about to let Hansen kill Dyson.

Hansen’s laugh didn’t appear to phase the trio in front of you, but it chilled your blood. “I’m not exactly alone here,” he told all of you.

A tap at the kitchen window behind you got your attention. An armed soldier in body armor was holding an assault rifle outside, his eyes cold as he gazed at you. Two more soldiers crept up the hallway from the opposite direction to the kitchen, also armed with rifles.

Clay eyed them warily as your fear escalated. What happened now?

“They aren’t alone either,” a familiar voice said from behind Jensen and Yelena.

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes to see your husband making his way into the room, his gaze on you. He didn’t stop until he reached you. The expression he wore scared you because you’d never seen that before. It was terrifying. Only the emotion in his blue eyes revealed the relief he appeared to be feeling at reaching you.

You couldn’t help it. You ran to Steve’s side, wrapping your arms around his waist, clinging to him.

“Ballsy,” Hansen told him. “Let me guess. You’ve got this place surrounded.”

Steve’s nod was curt. “We’re done here.”

The smile faded from Hansen’s face. His gaze moved over you as you clung to your husband. It was covetous, angry.

“I say when we’re done here,” Hansen said coldly.

All you saw was the large hand that pulled the handgun out, pointing at Dyson who still sat in the chair where he’d been sitting the entire time. You saw the bastard’s finger at the trigger. Fast as you could move, you jumped in front of Dyson’s chair just as the shot rang out.

The room spun around you violently, as hands grabbed you. Dyson’s. Your husband’s. You saw your blood splatter the front of Dyson’s shirt and tie, more gore on top of Neal’s, as he watched in horror. It felt like someone punched you in the shoulder really, really hard.

There was a blur of activity in that moment all around you, but you weren’t aware of anything but the pain that was starting to come on and the sound of your husband dropping to his knees behind you. Crimson bloomed at the front of his white dress shirt and his hand flew to his chest as he went down.

Yes, you’d been shot.

But fear and guilt choked you to realize your husband took the brunt of it.

“Steve!” you screamed.

PS: Just on my fic posts, I’m adding a tip function. In honor of the kitty we just lost in February, I’m donating everything to our local animal shelter. Tips are not, will never be, and have never been expected. But if you feel so inclined, thank you. 🙏

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metalnecklace · 1 year ago

Text

Stubborn When It Comes To This

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (plus size)

Words: 9075 (this really got away from me)

Warnings: Smut (mdni), Plus size reader, Use of (Y/N), Probably some historical inaccuracies, Mentions of canon character death, Language, Oral (both f and m receiving), Fingering, Light choking, Spitting, Creampie, Unsafe sex (wrap it up, folks), Praise, Consent is sexy!, Pet names

Notes: This was supposed to be a super quick thing, I have no idea what happened

Summary: Javier Peña is frustrating, until he isn’t.

Masterlist

Arrogant.

If I could pick any word to describe Javier Peña that’s the one I’d use. Arrogant. Or maybe asshole. Bastard. Piece of shit.

Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

I had been working with the DEA for about two years as a secretary, and usually didn’t have much issue. Luckily most of the men left me alone due to my larger frame, but not even that stopped the infuriating Agent Peña from being a thorn in my side. My entire time was spent blocking him from documents he wanted, no matter how hard he shamelessly flirted with me for the first few months before he gave up the charade. I knew it wasn’t sincere, and I knew I’d be the one getting in trouble if I let him have what he wanted.

So I said the one word he hated the most: No.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he sighed, exasperated. “Just give me what I want. Do you understand what’s at stake here?”

“Yeah, my job,” I grumbled, “and my sanity. Javier, we can't keep doing this.”

“You’re right, we can’t. So give me those files.”

I looked up at him, putting down the pen I had been writing with. “I can’t give you those files. I barely have access to them, so what makes you think you can?”

He chewed his lip, staring at me while I refused to budge. “Fine. But if Escobar gets away again I’ll know who to blame.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m to blame for your incompetence.”

He narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching so hard his lips were in a pout. I thought for a moment he looked almost adorable, but shook the thought from my head the second it entered.

“You know what? That’s fine. You sit here like a good girl behind your desk and frilly little blouse, while I put my ass on the line so you can live safely.” He stood up to his full height, looking down his nose at me. I had never felt smaller, but couldn’t avert my gaze. “Can I have the files, yes or no?”

“Fuck you, Javi.” I gritted out between my teeth.

He grumbled something under his breath that sounded like mierda, then turned on his heel and marched away.

I grabbed a scrap piece of paper from my desk and spent the next fifteen minutes scribbling on it with my pen until it ripped through the surface. It was upsetting, the way he got under my skin like no other. I had never dealt with anybody like Javier Peña.

It had been a lot tougher to deal with him since Carillo’s passing. He no longer danced around the subject as much, and got straight to the point. Or demands, I should say. His patience was thinner and it seemed as though it was getting harder for him to keep his temper at bay.

I felt bad about my comment. He had never spoken to me the way he had, even when I had frustrated him so much in the past. But I knew he was still feeling the weight of Carillo’s death. It was no secret Javi blamed himself.

I had just gotten so sick of his attitude, I couldn’t stop the words from slipping out. Of course he had called me a good girl too. I was always dressed like a school teacher instead of the usual classy outfits the secretaries had. They always looked so poised, perfect, and sexy, whereas I always felt a bit frumpy when I tried to show off a bit more of my body. So I stuck to the knee length pencil skirts with flowy, frilly blouses tucked in and buttoned all the way up.

Perhaps what bothered me most was that he was doing the one thing that most of the women in that office were accused of. Everybody knew he slept around, either with informants or the other women in the office that allowed his company. When he wasn’t partaking in those options he could be found at the whorehouse or the bar. He did everything to get what he needed, who he needed. But the second any of the women indulged in the same they were shamed by the men around them.

On my very first day I could see Javier Peña coming from a mile away. The way his jeans wrapped around his legs and ass like they were made just for his shape, and the glisten of his skin shining underneath the top three undone buttons of his shirt. The pout of his lips, the warmth of his eyes. I could feel myself drooling just watching the way he sauntered down the hall to my desk. His fingers stretched out over the paperwork on my desk in front of me as he leaned in like we were sharing a secret. The pout on his lips slipped into a smile that made me glad I was already sitting down. That smile disappeared once he realized I wasn’t going to be giving him what he wanted.

He tried the sweet approach for months, but I never budged. It frustrated him, that was apparent, but I couldn’t afford to get in trouble because of him. I had been transferred to Colombia because I was well trusted in my position at home, and didn’t need to jeopardize that reputation because of some pretty boy.

Even though he was very, very pretty.

I didn’t see him for two weeks after my comment about his incompetence. It was strange enough for me to notice, since I usually saw him every few days if not every day. I hadn’t even seen him around the office, which meant he was either away or avoiding me. I figured it was the former since I doubted I was even a speck on his radar. Sure we pissed each other off, and I usually went home imagining what it would be like to go home to him, but to him I was just a pain in the ass secretary who stood in his way.

Eventually news traveled down the pipeline that Javi had been caught up in Los Pepes, which was a complete shock to me. I never suspected he would do something like that, but I assumed that just showed I didn’t know him well enough at all.

Without his presence the office seemed duller. I found I was just moving through the days, not realizing how much I had looked forward to our little arguments before.

When Murphy announced that they got Escobar, the first person I thought of was Javi. The man who had spent all that time, all those years, just to be sent home in the final hour. My heart ached for him, but I was mostly just glad the fight was over.

The fight with Escobar, anyway.

It wasn’t long before we were assigned to the Cali Cartel case. Some of the secretaries were leaving, but a select few got to be reassigned. I wasn’t sure where I was going to be assigned, but was told that I had specifically been requested.

Imagine my surprise to find I had been requested by Javier Peña himself.

I walked into his office, expecting to find a new agent, but found those eyes pinning me in place.

“Javi?” My mouth was gaped open, and I’m sure my eyebrows were raised comically high on my forehead.

“(Y/N),” he greeted me as though it was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re early.”

“You’re the one who requested me?” I asked, still shocked. “Why are you even here? I thought you got sent home.”

He chuckled and resumed looking down at the files on his desk. “I was, then they called me back. Turns out they need someone willing to do what it takes. As for you, yes, I requested you. Turns out you’re willing to do the same.”

He looked back up and met my eyes, his lips were quirked into a slight smile.

“I figured if you could keep me away from those files that long then I’d need someone like you guarding me.”

“Guarding you?” I was so confused.

“Yes.” He stood up and walked around his desk so he was standing in front of me. Whenever I had spoken to him in the past I had been sitting at my desk with him hovering over me. This time we were face to face, and although he was still taller than me it felt nice to at least be closer to eye level. “I need somebody to make sure I’m not bothered throughout the day. I have way more responsibility and people depending on me than before, and I can’t have people thinking they can interrupt me whenever they think their bullshit is more important than mine.”

I nodded, chewing on my lip. My heart stuttered as I watched his eyes flick to my movements before moving back up my face.

“That’s funny,” I finally said, “considering it was you who used to think their bullshit was the most important.”

His smile grew into a smirk. “Exactly. Which is how I know you’ll be perfect.”

My face heated at his praise, but I turned away before he could notice. “Great. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

I was stationed just outside his office door, and did my best to keep people out unless he told me otherwise. Although I was slightly annoyed to not only be working with him yet again, but to be working for him, there was a strong part of me that wanted to do my best. I wanted to do well for him.

To be good for him.

Javi was right, though, he did have more riding on his shoulders. There were times where he worked throughout the night, and I would walk in the next morning to find him in the same spot as he was the evening before with the same clothes. Other times he was gone for a few days, or even weeks.

I was usually quite swamped with whatever he needed me to do, but even though I worked for him I felt like I never saw him. Javi’s voice over the phone became a comfort, because then at least I’d know he was alive and well. Or at least physically well.

“Javi, are you alright?” I asked during a phone call one afternoon.

“Yeah,” he grunted, “of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He hung up, leaving me wondering what he wasn’t sharing. Not that he owed me any explanation. His work was exhausting, and he was putting every part of himself into it.

He finally caught one of the brothers, and the office decided to go out to the bar to celebrate the amazing victory. Javi didn’t seem to care that he made a huge step forward in not only the case, but also his career, and told everyone to go out without him. I watched his back, forever tense, as he dragged his feet into his office with his head down. He didn’t even acknowledge me when he passed by, but I tried to ignore the hurt that radiated through my bones.

I was dismissed with just a wave of his hand, and I went home to change. It had been a while since I had gone anywhere but work and home, and I couldn’t help but feel as though I wanted more. Every time I went home at the end of the day I longed for someone to fall into.

My closet was almost embarrassing, since I mostly had workwear that was not usually appropriate for a bar. In that moment I envied the other women at the office with their working outfits that looked so easy to transform to nighttime events. There were a few girls I had become friends with, but they were much smaller than me so I wouldn’t even be able to raid their wardrobes, and I was too proud to ask for fashion advice.

I swiped through skirt after skirt after blouse until I came across a dress I had tucked away toward the back. The tags were still on, but the little black number was perfect. It was slightly small when I squeezed myself into it, but only slightly. I just wouldn’t be able to sit in it. I also had to leave one of my top buttons undone, showing off the slopes of my breasts. The hemline was a bit shorter than the pencil skirts I usually sported, but it did the trick.

The mirror reflected a woman that I nearly didn’t recognize, until my red painted lips turned up into a smile. My eyes squinted a bit at the corners, showing my true happiness to be out of the office and ready to take on the nightlife.

I was on my way to the designated bar when I felt a pang in my chest, like a tug toward a certain building. Leaning forward, I asked the cab driver if we could make a quick stop. We pulled up outside the office and I slowly made my way inside. The lights in the hallways were dimmer than usual since the other offices were unoccupied, but one doorway was still bright.

Of course he was still there.

I stood in the doorway and studied him for a moment. Javi’s white shirt was a bit wrinkled, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons undone. His tie was laying off to the side across his desk, next to his arms which led up to where his hands cradled his head. He was clearly stressed, if the ash tray of cigarettes were any indication, along with the empty bottle of whiskey next to them.

For a moment I thought about walking over to him and smoothing my hands over his shoulders. They seemed so tense they were almost up to his ears. But I knew that wouldn’t be the right move. Instead I just knocked softly on the doorframe.

He jumped a bit, looking up to see who was there. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head once he saw me, and he dragged his gaze down my body and back up to my face. I could feel my chest heating up but stayed steady on my feet. I knew what I looked like, and felt better in my skin than I had in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, both confusion and shock etched across his features.

“I should be asking you the same question,” I said. “You know we’re celebrating your accomplishment right? If you’re not going to join us, at least give yourself a bit of a break.”

He sighed and sat back in his chair, his hands clasped together on his lap. “Just because I caught one of them doesn’t mean crime stops for the night.”

I shrugged. “I know, but still. Why don’t you relax for the night and let them panic a bit?”

“I haven’t seen you wear that before,” he commented, changing the subject to keep me from pressing. To my shock, his eyes shamelessly roamed my figure once more.

He used to flirt before he gave up, back when I was just a barrier between him and whatever he wanted. But even then, he would comment on my hair, accessories, nails, but never my body. Even when he commented on my clothes it was a throwaway comment about the patterns or adornments.

The way he was following the way the fabric of my dress hugged my waist, my hips, my soft tummy, had me blushing like crazy. It wasn’t subtle by any means, and certainly not what I was used to from Javi.

“Yeah, I bought it a while ago but never had a reason to wear it.” I smoothed down imaginary wrinkles as a way to distract myself from his gaze. “Figured now was as good a time as any.”

He hummed in agreement and looked back down to the papers sprawled out on his desk. I wondered briefly what it would be like to be those papers before tamping down that train of thought. My face was already burning from his attention, I didn’t need to make it worse.

“Well, I hope you have fun tonight. You’ve been working quite hard, you deserve a break.” He still stared ahead at the papers, as if it was too difficult to look at me again.

“Javi,” I said, causing him to drag his eyes away enough to finally look me in the eye, “you should really come.”

He nodded slowly, then looked away once more. “I’ll try.”

I sighed and wished him a goodnight, hoping I would see him again before the night was through. The click of my heels echoed throughout the empty hallway as I walked away from Javi’s doorway.

Although I occupied myself with my small group of work friends at the bar, I still kept a lookout for my boss just in case he actually attempted to make an appearance. After about an hour I gave up, realizing that he wasn’t going to grace us with his presence.

I had known that in the past he would only go out with either Carillo or Murphy, that he wasn’t the celebratory type, but I had hoped things had changed.

One of my coworkers approached me. I hadn’t really talked to him other than being the middle person whenever he needed to speak to Javi, but he seemed quite nice.

“I don’t normally see you out of work,” he said. His name was James, and he was slightly taller than Javi, but didn’t have an ounce of his charm.

“That’s because I’m hardly ever out of work.” I chuckled, bringing my drink to my lips. When I first ordered it I had to struggle not to cringe at the strong taste, but after another two it was going down like water. Dangerous, but much needed.

“I’d love to see more of you,” James said, not shy in the way his eyes took in every part of me. I felt myself struggling not to shy away, so unlike the confidence I felt when Javi did the same. “You’ll have to get the boss man to give you some more time away.”

I smiled. “Yeah, like that will ever happen. You know he needs the best,” I joked.

James stepped closer, his cologne invading my senses. “Well, he needs to learn how to share.”

“Who needs to share?”

My back straightened as though someone shoved a rod through my spine. “Javi?” I asked spinning to see him standing behind me, a smile directed at me, his eyes downright murderous toward James.

“Hello, (Y/N).” Javi brought his glass of, what I assumed was whiskey to his lips, and raised his hand to my lower back. I welcomed the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of my dress while his eyes remained on the man in front of us.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming out,” James spoke calmly, as if he couldn’t tell the tension radiating between us. “I heard you weren’t the partying type. Well, anymore.”

Javi’s smile never wavered, but his eyes darkened enough that I noticed. “I wasn’t planning on making an appearance but somebody reminded me of how hard we’ve all been working.” He turned to look at me, his hand tightening slightly on my back. “If we don’t celebrate our successes we might as well let them win now.”

“You mean your success?” James wasn’t backing down.

“Teamwork.” Javi countered, looking back up at James. “I couldn’t have done it without my team.” His hand slipped around to my hip, pulling me into his space. James’ eyes flickered to the motion, his smile turning into a smirk.

“Wow. Looks like you’ve grown up a bit, Peña.”

“Someone had to.” His hand tightened, my chest felt on fire.

James glanced toward me, then the hand at my hip, before aiming his glare back to Javi. “Although it is comforting to see some habits haven’t changed.” He stepped back, turning to part from us, but not before throwing over his shoulder, “you two have a wonderful night!”

I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye before James was out of sight. Javi removed his hand from me and started to walk away, but not before I spun on him, ready for a fight.

“What the fuck was that?” I was shocked at Javi’s display, but mostly downright furious.

He shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“All of this,” I gestured between us, and to my hip, still feeling the warmth of his skin, “and the whole ‘someone had to’? Are you serious?”

His eyes darkened. “What are you trying to say here?”

“You have no right,” I hissed through my teeth in anger. “I may work for you but I don’t belong to you.”

“I didn’t even do anything. If you want to keep talking to James, be my guest.” He stepped closer, I could smell the whiskey on his lips. “But don’t think I’m going to stand by while that shitbag tries to pick you up.”

“Maybe I wanted him to pick me up, ever think about that?” I crossed my arms, then immediately uncrossed them when his eyes flickered to my cleavage on display.

“I did think about it, but thought you might want to know what kind of man was trying to do it.” He downed the rest of his drink then zeroed back in on me. “That man has been sleeping his way through the office and leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him. I didn’t think you’d want to be one of them.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “So he’s you?”

His lips tightened into a thin line, his jaw clenching. “Right.”

It felt like someone reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. I knew I wasn’t being fair, but I wasn’t completely wrong either.

“Javi, I’m sorry I-“

He held up his hand. “No, you’re right. I won’t be bothering you anymore, don’t worry. Have a good rest of your night.”

I didn’t bother trying to stop him as he set his empty glass at the bar and walked away. I sighed, finding myself alone, and when I looked around I noticed James was already chatting with another woman, her head thrown back in laughter. My night was ruined, so I went home.

Javi didn’t return to the office for another week. I had been told he was away looking for ways to keep Gilberto Rodriguez in prison, but he hadn’t left me a single note. He never even called me the entire time he was away. I worked away with what I had delivered to me by others, but Javier Peña never contacted me directly.

He had to return to his office eventually, but it only happened after Franklin Jurado was murdered. I knew Javi was beyond pissed and frustrated. But so was I, especially after he walked into his office without a single acknowledgment thrown my way.

I immediately stood and followed him into his office before he even had a chance to sit down.

“What do you need, (Y/N)?” He asked, still not looking my way,

“What do I need? What do I need, Javier?” My chest heaved while I tried to contain my anger. “What the fuck?”

He finally looked up, his face placid. “Unless this has to do with keeping that motherfucker locked up, then I suggest you save it for later.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, then walked out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I barely paused to grab my purse before storming out of the office, not giving a single shit who was watching my temper tantrum.

I marched myself to the nearest bar, ordering the cheapest whiskey they had. I wasn’t wanting to get drunk, just needed to dull the senses a bit. Calm the fires that licked at my heart.

Two drinks later I found myself feeling enough of the effects and bravery for what I wanted to do. I laid more than enough cash on the bar and clutched my purse to keep me steady as I walked out and in the direction of a certain apartment.

I had only been to Javi’s apartment once before, and it was only to drop off paperwork he had needed. He had barely cracked the door, not wanting to cross our work and home boundaries, which I appreciated in the moment. This time I was ready to run across those boundaries if he’d let me.

Javi never answered his door. I knocked over and over but no response. I sighed, realizing he probably hadn’t left the office. It felt as though I was doing a walk of shame as I made my way out to the street to try and flag down a cab.

The cab passed by the office and I almost asked if we could stop, but no longer felt the fight that had brought me to Javi’s apartment. Instead I just rested my head on the window and watched the lights pass by until we stopped outside my place. I trudged up the small flight of stairs and rounded the corner to find the man I had been looking for leaning against my door.

He was still in his navy suit from work, though his white dress shirt underneath was slightly wrinkled. His tie was missing which gave me room to see the expanse of tan skin exposed with his top three buttons undone.

I stopped in my tracks. “What’re you doing here?”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t a huge deal. “It’s later. I figured you still wanted to talk.”

I glared at him, his expression still not changing as if he was already bored from what I would have to say. Instead of lashing out in my hallway I pushed past him to unlock the door. I walked in leaving it open, he got to choose whether or not he crossed that boundary. Sure enough, I heard the door close with a click and the lock slid into place. I was glad he took the same safety precautions as me.

“Take a seat wherever.” I waved toward my living room before making my way into the kitchen. I grabbed two glasses and thought about it before pouring myself more whiskey. Javi would appreciate it, but I probably needed to slow down. I poured myself a glass of water instead.

I brought his alcohol and my water out to the living room and handed him the former before sitting in the chair opposite him.

“So,” he started, “what did you want to talk about? Back at the office, I mean.”

I took a deep breath in and out. “You’ve been a real jerk.”

He didn’t seem shocked whatsoever and nodded for me to keep going.

“I’ve been working my ass off for you, even though I did not like you, and you’ve been so rude. You hardly give me the time of day, and the whole James thing was fucked up.” I felt like everything I had to say was falling apart. I was spiraling, no longer fueled by the alcohol and anger running through my bloodstream just an hour earlier.

“Okay,” he said. “You done?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m done.”

He stood up, drained his glass, and placed it on the table. “Alright. Sorry for being an ass. Hope you have a good night.”

My mouth dropped open as he turned to leave. “Javi!”

He stopped but didn’t turn back to look at me.

“You can’t just leave, don’t you have anything to say?” I stood up and walked over to stand in front of him. He wouldn’t look at me.

“I don’t have anything to say. I apologized, what more do you want?”

“Javi, come on. There must be something else going on. I know you’re frustrated with work but that doesn’t explain your behaviour-“

His head snapped up, his eyes locking on mine.

“You have no idea what I’m feeling so don’t fucking act like it.”

“Then tell me! Tell me, Javi,” I begged.

He grabbed my upper arms and pushed me back toward the wall. His hand came up to the back of my head to cushion it against the hard surface, causing my breath to catch in my throat. I couldn’t look away from the heat burning in his eyes, intense and focused directly on me.

“I have seen shit that would keep you up nights. Stuff nightmares are made of. And I’m so fucking tired. Half the reason I smoke as much as I do, no matter how hard I’ve tried to quit, are to stop my hands from shaking, and the only comfort I’ve found is either in someone else’s bed or at the end of a fucking bottle.” He softened his grip on my arm. “Until I met you.”

I opened my mouth to speak but the look he gave me was enough to stop me in my tracks.

“Ever since you walked through that door you’ve been the only thing I think about. Whiskey doesn’t taste the same, smoking has lost all its effect, and I wouldn’t dream of being in any bed but yours. If only you’d have me. I know I don’t deserve you. You’re so good, you’re the hope in this world. I don’t deserve to carve out my own comfort in you.” He pushed himself even closer. I could feel the heat between our lips. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you. Craving you.”

He leaned in, his nose brushing against the underside of my jaw. My eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled my scent, sighing out and causing goosebumps to erupt over my skin.

“If you tell me to stop then I will, just say the word. I’ll walk away, I’ll move away if I have to. I’ll never bother you again.” His voice was raspy, a restraint pulled tight over his vocal cords. “But if you don’t stop me then I’m afraid I never will. I’m addicted to you. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

“Javi,” I breathed, finally opening my eyes again to find him pulled away enough to observe my reaction. “I-“

He shook his head slightly. “Yes or no, querida. Do you want this? Do you want me as much as I want you?” His voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to hear, shared only between us like a secret though we were alone.

I nodded my head, then said, “yes, Javi. Yes.”

Kissing him was like coming home after a long day. The plush press of his lips quenched a thirst I didn’t realize was that strong within me. It was everything I wanted. Everything I needed.

His arms were strong as they held me against his body, pulling me in tighter and tighter. I couldn’t breathe, but I couldn’t stop. Our lips slotted together perfectly, he pushed and I pulled, drinking him in. I moaned into his mouth, giving him an opportunity to slide his tongue past my lips.

We pulled away gasping for air, our chests heaving together. His eyes searched mine for any sign of regret or hesitancy. He never found it. The only thing radiating from my very being was want.

“Wow,” I sighed out, “that was… wow.”

He chuckled and leaned in to peck at my lips. “It doesn’t have to stop if you don’t want it to.” His lips smudged kisses across my jaw, then down to my neck. I moaned when he reached my collarbone, licking a strip up behind my ear.

“I don’t ever want to stop,” I said, slightly out of breath.

“Good,” he growled against my skin before sinking his teeth in enough to make me groan. “Me neither.”

“I need you, Javi,” I said, my voice turning to a moan at the tail end of his name.

“I know, lo se, hermosa,” he spoke between bites along my neck. “Show me your bed, baby.”

I pulled back as much as he would let me and led him by the front of his shirt through my hallway until we got to my room. Before I could turn around to face him again he had wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his front. His name left my lips in sighs and moans while his hands slid up my body to cup my breasts, all while his lips still continued exploring any inch of skin they could reach.

My ass pressed back against his aching cock that could be felt through his suit pants. He pulled his lips away from my neck enough to whimper in my ear as I kept grinding myself back against him. His thumbs rubbed against my nipples through the fabric of my blouse and bra, but soon enough he pulled away with a huff.

“You look so sexy in this outfit, baby, but I need to feel you,” he said, his eyes roving over my clothed figure. He reached up and flicked the frills at my collar with his fingertips, smiling gently at me.

“Thought you hated the frills.” I remembered him commenting on them several times.

He shook his head, disbelief in his eyes. “They drive me fucking crazy, keeping up that good girl image. You were always such a good girl with everyone.” He leaned in and kissed me, pulling away just enough that I could still feel his lips. “For everyone except me.”

I gasped as he bit my lower lip, tugging on it slightly. His hands started undoing the buttons on my blouse as he kept talking.

“Always so vulgar, dismissive, uncaring with me. Pushing me away, telling me no.” His lips followed the skin he uncovered as he continued to slowly unbutton my shirt. “But you can be a good girl, can’t you?”

He looked up at me, his big, brown eyes tugging at my heart. He smirked and shoved me backward onto the bed. I barely got my bearings before feeling his body following mine, caging me in. There was no way I could move as he pressed me into the mattress and continued kissing his way down my body.

“You’re going to be such a good girl for me. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes, Javi,” I moaned. “I’ll be so good for you.”

I had never planned on giving in so quickly to Javi but I melted as soon as I felt his lips on me.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled against my lower abdomen. His hands slipped down to my skirt which he peeled down my legs. “God, these thighs. They look fucking delicious.”

I went to close them, feeling too open for him, but he slapped the inside of one of them before I could. He chased the sting with a gentle kiss, then sucked a trail of marks inside my thighs up to my center. He practically ripped my panties off, bringing them to his nose and inhaling while his eyes were locked onto mine.

Lord, he was sinful. And I needed him bad.

“Javi,” I groaned, pressing my head back into the bed.

“Ask nicely, hermosa.” His hands slipped up my calves and thighs, pushing my legs apart enough for him to settle between them. He was on his knees on the floor, and my legs were over his shoulders. “I thought you were a good girl.”

“Please, Javi. Please,” I begged. I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for, pleasure forming a steady haze in my mind. All I knew was that if he didn’t touch me I was going to go crazy.

“There we go,” he said before sliding his thumb through my slit. He ran it over my clit before moving further toward my hole. “Fuck, so wet. You’re absolutely soaked for me.”

I gripped onto the blankets as his tongue swiped over my clit. His name and ‘please’ were the only words I could say or think while his head was buried between my thighs. My back arched as his tongue was relentless on my clit, his hands warm and firm holding my legs in place.

“Are you always wet like this? Or is it just for me?” He asked, pulling away enough to circle me with his middle finger. I writhed on the bed, wanting more. “You don’t have to answer that, baby, I think I already know.”

His finger slowly pushed into me, and I moaned for him. “Javi, fuck, need you, Javi.”

“Lo sé, querida, but I need you to be patient for me.” He continued to fuck me slowly with his finger, then slipped another one inside. I practically lifted off the bed when he crooked them and hit the right spot. “There we go.”

“Javi, please,” I breathed, my chest heaving. “I want to cum.”

He smirked at me, then spit directly on my clit. My eyes rolled into the back of my head at the feeling of his spit sliding between my folds.

“Filthy, baby, you’re fucking filthy. You love this, don’t you?” He dove back in, sucking my bud into his mouth while he was rubbing against the exact spot I needed.

Lightning started to shoot through my veins, and I knew I was close. Just in time for him to leave my clit. His tongue traveled down until it was fucking into me between his fingers. My chest burned as a blush spread up to my neck as I opened up for him. His nose nudged at my clit once, then twice, until it became a steady rhythm.

He pulled away. “Ride my face, baby, use your hips.” He pushed his tongue into me then pulled back out. “I won’t break, I can take it, come on. Fuck my face.”

I groaned and reached down to fist his hair between my fingers. He slipped his fingers from my cunt and wrapped his arms around my hips, pulling me down on his face. His nose pressed deliciously against my clit and his tongue continued to lick into me. I started to buck my hips, testing out the waters until he used his grip on me to encourage more movement.

It wasn’t long before I was pulling his head as close as possible and grinding my hips against him. Javi moaned against me, the vibration racing through my body. My toes started to curl as his grip tightened into steel. A thrill ran through me at the thought that there might be marks afterward, that his fingerprints would be worn into my skin as a reminder of how I felt in that moment.

My orgasm hit me like a bolt of lightning as it shot through me. “Javi, Javi, Javi,” I chanted.

He groaned and finally pulled away once I fell limp. “Holy fuck, you’re so beautiful when you cum.”

I lifted my head to look at the man still on his knees for me. His face glistened with my juices, and my mouth watered at the thought of tasting myself on his lips. A blush continued to creep up onto my cheeks as I took in his disheveled appearance. He was still wearing his suit, which was extremely rumpled, and reminded me that I was still in my blouse and bra.

He leaned forward and kissed me, before he started to slide my shirt off my shoulders, then moved his hands to the straps of my bra. It was almost strange how delicate he was after the strength he showed while holding me to his face, but he was gentle as he slid my straps down my arms. One of his hands went up my back to the clasp, and he undid it with a simple motion. I gasped as he smirked at me while pulling the fabric off my chest.

I was always very conscious of my breast size. They were considerably larger from a young age, and something I had always tried to hide. The first time I hadn’t was that night at the bar. I thought about shying away from Javi as he uncovered them, but the look in his eyes made me freeze. His pupils almost completely engulfed the deep brown, and they were fixated on my fully exposed body.

“Holy fuck, hermosa,” he growled, reaching up to cup both breasts in his warm palms. “I knew you were beautiful, but seeing you like this? Unbelievable.”

His thumbs smoothed over my nipples, making me moan. The warmth of his mouth pressed on my sternum, then moved to my right breast.

“Javi,” I sighed, one of my hands coming up to the back of his head. His hair was still ruffled from when my hands were in it before, and he moaned when I gave a gentle tug to the curls at his nape.

He licked over my nipple, making my body jerk. “What do you need, baby?”

“Clothes, off, please,” I panted as he absolutely tortured my nipples with his teeth and tongue. “Need to see you.”

He pulled back, locking me in place with just a look. Slowly he started to slide his suit jacket off, maintaining eye contact even when he started undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. My skin vibrated with a restless want, my fingers itched to reach out and touch the tan planes of his stomach that he revealed to me. I was practically salivating by the time he dropped his shirt to the floor. His fingers moved to the button of his pants but I reached out to stop him.

“Wait,” I said. “Let me. Please.”

He smiled and dropped one of his hands, the other coming up to smooth the hair out of my face. “Okay, baby. You go ahead.”

I continued on, beaming up at him, trying my hardest to be sexy but the euphoria running through my limbs made it impossible. My fingers were trembling at the thought of what I was doing, but I pressed on, determined not to let him see how nervous I was. A firm grip on the underside of my jaw caused me to pause.

Javi lifted my face so I could see his. “(Y/N). We don’t have to keep going. We can stop right here if you want.”

I shook my head as much as I could in his hold. “I don’t want to stop. Just nervous is all.”

He nodded. “Take your time, I’m in no rush as long as I’m with you.”

His words caused my smile to grow almost too large for my face. I could tell he meant it, his smile matching mine even through the dark look in his eyes. Even if I couldn’t feel the heat radiating from his body, and the hardness just on the other side of his pants, I would know how turned on he was.

I popped the button on his pants and slowly dragged the zipper down. “Such a good girl,” he cooed above me, keeping me going.

The dusting of hair leading down his pants was soft against the back of my fingers as I revealed more and more skin. Where I thought his underwear should begin was bare, and when I started to pull the fabric down I was met with the thick base of his cock.

I glanced up and his hand reached down and cupped my jaw, his thumb smoothing over my bottom lip and dragging it down until it popped back up. I felt like I was barely breathing as I refocused on the task at hand and pulled his pants the rest of the way down.

His cock was smooth as velvet and heavy in my hand. I heard him inhale sharply as I started to drag my hand slowly toward his tip then back down to the base. I lowered my head until my lips were perched at the slit, and poked my tongue out to catch the bead of precum that had gathered there. He hissed through his teeth as I hummed at the taste of him.

“Fuck, baby, stop teasing,” he grunted, reaching his hand to the back of my head. I waited for him to pull me closer to his length but he never did.

I parted my lips and slid the head of his cock into my mouth further and further until I could feel the weight of him settle on my tongue. The taste of him was heady, and flooded my senses. Salt, skin, warmth, and him.

Before I could continue pushing myself further, his hand came around to my throat and wrapped around firmly. He pressed back and I had no choice but to pull myself off his cock, and continued to follow his grip until he had me pinned on the bed. His hand squeezed once around my neck, enough for me to feel lightheaded for a moment, and then he pulled away.

Javi slowly tugged at his cock, now throbbing and fully hard, while he watched me. My mouth was still agape and my chest rose and fell steadily.

“I’m sorry, hermosa, but I need to fuck you.”

I couldn’t speak, too stunned at the ghost of his grip on my neck. I had never had somebody do that, but the way he had wrapped his hand around my throat caused a steady pulse to erupt between my legs. I wanted his hands back on me, wherever he wanted to put them.

He kicked off his pants and socks, then climbed on the bed next to me. I pushed myself up until I was laying on my back toward the top of my bed, my head on a pillow. Javi watched with his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, trailing his eyes up my legs, my stomach, my chest, then landing on my face.

He moved so he was on his knees between mine, and brought his fist down to his cock once more. I watched, mesmerized by the sight of the wet head of his cock disappearing in his large fist, as he lazily stroked himself.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm.

I obeyed immediately, bringing my hand down between my legs and circling my clit with my middle finger.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you look so good. You’re doing so good for me, baby, so good. Fuck.”

“Javi,” I whimpered for him. “I need you. Please, I need you so bad.”

I was absolutely aching for him, electricity lighting up my nerves while he watched me pleasure myself all for him. I gasped at the feeling of his cock sliding between my folds and looked to see him thrusting his hips against me. He held firm onto the base of his cock, directing it to nudge against my entrance before sliding it up to my clit instead, over and over and over.

“Beg,” he said. He didn’t ask, he spoke calmly as if he wasn’t torturing me.

“What?” I asked, unsure that I even heard him right.

“I said,” he slapped his cock against my clit, making my entire body jolt on the bed, “beg.”

I thought about what that meant for him. After years of begging me for something as simple as basic files, and after years of me telling him no, he now had me in the palm of his hand. For a second I thought about saying no, then he slapped his cock down again. Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes at the sensitivity, and I gasped when he pressed himself at my entrance.

“Please,” I whispered, “please, Javi. I need you, I need your cock inside me. Please fuck me.”

He sighed, pulling back. “You’re lucky my patience has run out. Next time you’ll have to do better.”

The thought of ‘next time’ raced through my mind, but that was cut short when he started steadily pushing in. The stretch of him caused my head to fall back into the pillow and a guttural moan was ripped from deep within my chest.

He stilled when he was settled all the way, and I wiggled my hips to feel more of him. He leant down and braced one hand on the bed next to my head, while the other gripped onto my outer thigh.

“Want to be gentle with you,” he said, his words coming out tight. “Want you to feel good.”

“Don’t. Don’t be gentle, please.” I panted underneath him, sweat starting to prickle at my skin. “Want to feel it, I want to feel all of you, Javi. Don’t hold back.”

He pulled out abruptly, and I whined at the loss of him. “I need you on top,” he said, helping me move so he could take my place on the bed. His hands guided me so I was straddling him. “You want to be good for me, right?”

I nodded, feeling my nerves creep up. He could see all of me, and I would be the one in control.

“Then fuck me like a good girl.”

He pulled my hips down into his length, and I threw my head back as he sunk further and further in. Once I was fully seated my entire body shuddered. His lips were parted with his tongue sliding out to wet them as he looked at me like I was his next meal.

“Look at you, baby, mierda,” his voice somehow came out incredibly sweet and syrupy, even though I could feel every ridge of his cock against my walls. “Ride my cock, that’s it, ride me like I’m yours, I’m all yours, baby, all yours.”

The only sound I could make was a squeaky, high pitched moan as my legs burned from bouncing on him. My hands were perched on his chest while his traveled up my body to grasp my tits. He held me firm and I used the opportunity to switch up what I was doing.

“Oh, Javi,” my voice came out lower than expected once I started to grind myself against his pelvis. His name continued to pour from my lips, getting more and more breathy until I was just shaping my lips around the letters.

“That’s it, good girl,” he continued his praise, which made me grind down even harder. “Such a good fucking girl.”

My orgasm approached steadily, less of a punch to the gut as the last one, and my thighs tightened around his torso. I continued to grind myself back and forth, my toes curling, his words and moans spurring me on. I reached up to one of his hands and pulled it off my breast, leading it up to grip around my throat. Finally I gasped out his name as my pleasure pulled me under, squeezing the air out of me until I slumped down over him.

“Oh fuck, such a dirty girl, cumming with my hand around your throat,” he growled.

He barely gave me time to recover, and pulled my upper body closer so he could bend his legs. “Stay still,” he grunted before pounding into me so mercilessly the only thing I could do was hang on to him.

My teeth latched onto his collarbone, and my hands scrambled until they found purchase on his shoulders. He was grunting and gasping while pushing himself in and out of me, my cunt deliciously trying to grip him while I sobbed from oversensitivity.

Javi chanted my name over and over while I continued to bite down on his neck. His hands reached down, one wrapping around my lower body to press me down onto him further, while the other gripped my ass. His body jolted, messing up his rhythm, and he held me even closer to him. I felt so incredibly full as his grip of steel held me firmly in place. His cock pulsed inside me before his hot cum started filling me up.

“Baby,” he whined against my temple, his voice gravelly and torn. “Baby, baby, baby.”

Eventually his body melted, his cock softening inside me. We made no effort to move, and stayed still just breathing together.

“I am never letting you go,” he murmured, his lips still pressed to my hairline above my ear. “You hear me? Never. You’re stuck with me now.”

I chuckled, then gasped when I felt his cock stir. “Sounds good to me.”

He helped me roll over so I was on my side, and he went to find a warm cloth to clean us up. I could feel his cum steadily leaking out of me, but was still a bit sad when he wiped it away. It helped when I saw the way he watched it drip out of me first, almost like he didn’t want it to end either.

We slept in each other's arms that night, and when I awoke to find my face still buried in his chest I couldn’t help but smile. He slowly woke up not long after me, and we laid in bed kissing each other slowly. Our tongues moved lazily together with our soft moans waking us up more and more. He pulled away and I reached for him.

“I can’t, we have to go to work.” He chuckled while gathering his clothes.

I groaned and rolled onto my back so I could watch him. He got dressed while I wished he would do the opposite.

“Can’t we just call in sick?” I mumbled, sleep still thick in my throat.

“Yeah, cause that won’t look suspicious.” He buttoned up his shirt, and started to roll the sleeves up his forearms a bit. “Bad enough I have to walk in there with the same clothes as yesterday.”

I smirked, and got up to get dressed. My smirk turned into a full blown smile, and it didn’t leave when we got into his car together, or when we walked into the office side by side with his hand on my lower back, and not when I sat at my desk.

And it certainly didn’t leave as I watched him continue on into his office with the top three buttons of his shirt still undone, showing off the purpling bruise on his collarbone.

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