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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 6 months ago

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Chapter 17: How Could I Ever Forget?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter seventeen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Past Violence reference, Soft Ben, Fluff, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Additional Warning: Soldier Boy is again, super OC and fluffy in this chapter. If you do not like that, you probably shouldn't read this?

Guide

Rosemary's Phone

Reader's Phone

You sigh softly as you wake, the light from under your curtains illuminates your bedroom and sends a warm glow over your bed. You had never been a morning person. The only motivation you ever had to get out of bed was the hope of a cup of strong coffee waiting for you in the kitchen. But as you lay there, mind still a little cloudy from sleep you can't help but think that something feels different, that you've forgotten something important.

Maybe a shower will make me remember.

Instinctively you start to move towards the edge of your bed to get up, but something heavy tightens its grip around your chest making it impossible to move from its embrace.

What?

“Where are you going?” Ben’s voice is slurred and muffled against the pillow behind you.

The events of the night before begin to surface from the sweet haze of sleep, Ben showing up, you yelling at him, him bringing you lavender and saying everything you always wanted him to, and finally him holding you while you cried. You still weren’t sure that last part happened. That or Ben's ability to open his heart to you and tell you what he was feeling rather than reverting back into the cold attitude he adopted as Soldier Boy. In fact, you hadn't seen one shred of Soldier Boy yesterday, you'd only seen Ben, and deep down you hoped that you'd never see Soldier Boy ever again.

“Stay.” He murmurs, pulling your back into his muscular chest. “Please.”

His body is wrapped around yours, shielding you from your door, face buried in your hair, while one arm rests around your abdomen and the other is somewhere above your head bracing against the headboard. It feels natural and it makes anxiety electrify your veins.

Because what if he was going to leave again?

You turn your head to look over your shoulder.

Ben’s head is laying on the same pillow yours is, his eyes are closed, and his hair is falling forward into his peaceful face. Deep down another memory of this exact scenario surfaces, of you waking up before him when you were children and wishing that he wanted this as much as you did. Of course now he said he had wanted you the entire time time, and that he wasn’t going to leave, but deep down you dreaded what would happen when he opened his eyes.

Would he go cold again? Push me away? Say that he didn't mean any of it?

You try not to think that. You wanted him to mean all of it. You wanted him to fix it, to make it like it was before, make everything like the morning you woke up on his chest and he smiled down at you like you were everything he ever wanted. You wanted every day of your life to start that way, to be fused with wonder, love, and expectation. That morning you had woken up on his chest after your birthday, was one of the happiest memories you had, but what followed those few moments of happiness tore your heart out.

He said he wanted to fix this, that he wanted to be with me. You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s lied before. The thought fills you with dread.

“You’re thinking too much.” Ben sighs opening one green eye to stare at you. It’s a light green from sleep, but just as piercing as usual.

“I am not.”

Sometimes you though that Ben was psychic, because he was always able to read you, the same way that you always had been able to read him. Even when you were kids Ben was always able to tell what you were thinking, not to mention he always had a habit of showing up whenever you needed him.

Ben chuckles and opens his other eye. “I know you better than anyone else Sweetheart.”

“Maybe a little.” You admit.

“Hmm.”

You turn in his arms so you can look at his face and Ben adjusts his arm to drop over the curve of your hip, gently brushing his fingertips against you the base of your spine. But you don’t smile.

“What is it?” He whispers moving his face closer with a soft smile that tugs at something in your chest. “You can tell me.”

“You know.” You don't meet his eyes, the sour feeling in your chest growing with your confession as you level your gaze at his chin.

“Oh.” Ben's smile drops into a frown.

“It’s a little weird. That you’re here and you want to be-“

“I do.”

“I know. But I keep waiting for you to leave again, for you to push me away.” You hate that you have to say it out loud, but he might as well know what you're thinking. He needs to understand how much he hurt you and how worried you were about that. It was worse to keep it inside. That's what you had been doing for the better part of 40 years and now that it was all out in the open you did feel a little better, but it still hung on your heart.

“I don’t want to leave you-"

“I know that. Or at least a part of me does. The other part…” You trail off.

Ben is quiet for a minute, before he brings his hand up to brush away the strands of your hair that have fallen into your eyes. “Do you still want me here?” His expression turns pained when he asks it, voice barely above a whisper.

You look at him, tracing the strong jaw you’d memorized, the unruly brown hair that you always wished to run you fingers through, the proud arch of his brow, and the gentle bow of his lips. “Yes.” You answer honestly. "I do."

Ben looks relieved. "Then I won't leave."

The weight of those words grounds you to this moment. He wants to be here. He doesn't want to go.

"How'd you sleep?" His right hand is still tracing your spine in smooth comforting circles over the back of your soft t-shirt.

"Good. Did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in forty years."

"I figured." You smile faintly. You allow your hands to rest on his chest, just over his heart between you so you can feel the steady beat against your fingertips. It solidified the fact that he was here with you. You stop the urge to trace your finger across his muscles, but instead focus on the warmth that soaks through his shirt into the palms of your hands. "Probably should get a little more sleep, those dark circles look like bruises." You trace the prominent purple marks that curve beneath his eyes.

You think about everything Ben told you about the lab that he was a prisoner in, all the experiments and torture he went through believing that he deserved it.

He didn't. You think to yourself as you search his face, noting again that Ben looks the same, but also different. I wonder if I'm the same way. Then again I didn't go through forty years of unrelenting torture in a Russian Lab.

The thought makes anger surge against your skin. When you were with Countess you had felt a little guilty about losing control, but now you reveled in it. She deserved more than what I did to her. If I had known what she did to Ben, I would have made it hurt.

You think about Noir, the TNT Twins, and MindStorm. You had been happy to lose touch with them after everything that happened with Ben, happy to leave behind the life you had when you were on Payback, but now you weren't sure. Ben telling you how they betrayed him made you reconsider your life in the shadows, made you reconsider turning your back on your powers. Because they deserved the same thing you did to Countess.

"I was trying to, but somebody woke me up." Ben rolls his eyes at you, bringing you out of your thoughts of your teammates. "I remember you hating mornings as much as I do. Why are you awake?”

"I do hate mornings, but coffee makes them tolerable. Plus, I really need to take a shower."

"Oh good. I didn’t want to say anything but you really stink." Ben teases with a smirk.

"Wow." You scoff. "Big talk coming from the guy who smells like reefer, whiskey, and week old motel."

"You’re right I should probably take a shower too. But I’ll let you go first. Seems like the gentlemanly thing to do." Ben's smirk coupled with the mischievous glint in his eyes makes your heart warm. It was familiar in the best way. You didn't realize how much you missed it, how much you missed him. You'd tried to forget of course, how much you needed him in your life, how much you longed for him to be with you, and how much your friendship meant to you.

"Oh are you calling yourself a gentleman now? Because-"

“I am as much a gentleman as you are a lady and we both know that it’s a close tie.”

“Uh-huh sure.” You roll your eyes. "Maybe I would have been a lady if someone hadn't gotten me kicked out of the Dawson School For Girls."

"I never heard a thank you for that." Ben shrugs. His hand continues to circle at the base of your spine, his touch trailing warmth up your back. You weren't prepared for his touch to do the same thing to you that it did forty years ago.

It made you forget everything else, but him and it scared you. Because again you could feel yourself opening up to him, could feel yourself beginning to depend on him being there with you.

"I'll be sure to write you a thank you note."

“Hmm." Ben breathes. "Don’t use all the hot water.”

“Since this is my apartment and I pay for the water I feel that I should be entitled to use most of it.”

“Are you saying that I have to write you a check to take a shower?”

“Yep.”

“You’re fucking annoying.” Ben rolls his eyes at you playfully.

“I know. I’ve got forty years of sarcasm to make up for, so, might as well get used to it.” You smirk tapping him on the nose.

“I look forward to it.” Ben smiles back.

You try to get out of your bed again, but Ben tightens his grip on your waist pulling you back against his chest so that your faces are inches apart.

“Ben, I can't take a shower if you're holding me hostage." You joke pushing against his chest.

Ben leans his forehead against yours, making the next taunt vanish from your mind. “I missed you.”

You smile despite your mixed feelings over the two of you and the past forty years. It was hard to hold on to the fear of him pushing you away when he was holding you so close to him and gazing at you the same way he did the morning after he gave you everything you wanted.

“I missed you too.” You reply, gently smoothing a wrinkle in the front of his t-shirt.

It wasn’t a lie. You missed him more than life itself. Not just because you loved him, but because he was your best friend. He knew you inside and out, better than anyone else.

His gaze drops to your lips then flicks up to your eyes and you know what he wants but you're not ready.

“Ben-“ You breathe as he shifts his face closer. “I want to take this slow. I need us to take this slow.”

“I know.” He sighs, but then the edge of his mouth twitches. “That’s why I didn’t make a joke about saving hot water and taking a shower together.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Mhmm. It was difficult not to.” Ben pauses, his expression turns serious. “I’m going to make this right I promise. I’m going to fix this.” It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but it was nice to hear again.

The determination in his voice makes you hopeful. It made you understand that he wasn’t going to give up, even if that meant waiting for you to be ready. He was showing a considerable amount of restraint. The Soldier Boy version of Ben was not gentle or patient, but it made you feel special, as if it was only you that Ben reserved this part of himself for.

“I know.”

“I love you.” His hand comes to cup your cheek, bright green eyes searching yours earnestly.

“I love you too.”

Ben's thumb gently traces across your cheekbone. “Maybe don’t take a shower.”

“You said I stunk.” You reply with a snort, leaning your face into his touch.

“You don’t. I actually think you smell a little like me right now.”

“Oh great-“

It wasn’t that he smelled bad. Ben still smelled like his shampoo and aftershave, but there were a few other smells, all of which were stale, and ones that you attributed to the motel room Butcher made him stay in.

I can’t believe Butcher just left.

You hadn't asked Ben how he got him to leave or really why Butcher was so eager to help Ben get out of Russia.

“I like it. Plus that means you'd have to go and I don't want you to go yet." Ben’s voice softens.

Your eyes widen with his confession.

"Stay.” He whispers. The vulnerability in his eyes is back, striking you full on in the chest. You weren’t used to that, used to him being so open about wanting you, about wanting to be with you. Or really his want to do something so intimate without having sex.

"Okay." You relent and he pulls you closer.

Your hands drift up into his hair before you can stop them, rustling through the chocolate strands, smiling as Ben sighs and presses his head into your right shoulder.

And as conflicted you are about all of this, it does something to you, makes a piece of yourself fit back together that you thought you lost long ago, because you saw that Ben was trying. He was making an effort to fix all of this. And you really hoped that he could.

When you get out of the shower Ben isn't in your bedroom and the dread comes roaring back like an old enemy.

Did he leave?

The thought is immediate, followed by how empty your bedroom looks without him in it.

Shit. How can I be so dependable on him being in here already? Why am I doing this to myself again?

"Ben?" You say cautiously, shaking out your wet hair around your shoulders onto your soft t-shirt.

"Out here." Ben shouts from the kitchen.

The amount of relief you hear when he answers in his warm timbre again makes you anxious, because you hated how much your body responded to him and how quickly you had reinserted him into your life. It was like your heart wanted to break again.

You had opted to put the same clothes on that you had been wearing before because the sweatpants and t-shirt were preferable for a lazy morning and you weren't expecting to go anywhere today.

Well, not really. Then again I might have to go talk to Rosemary. How do I tell her that her dad is back and he showed up at my apartment? Or better yet, how do I tell her that he spent the night?

You press your lips together.

I mean I didn't sleep with him, but I did sleep with him and I don’t think she's going to be ecstatic that he's back in my life. Or our lives? Is she going to actually want him in her life?

You think about what Ben said about not leaving and his want to stay with you.

How am I going to explain any of this to her? She's just going to say that I forgave him and not listen to me. She's just so damn stubborn.

Another thought crosses your mind just as quickly.

How am I going to tell Ben that he’s a dad?

You had considered that exact question in the past, when you wondered what would have happened if Ben hadn’t died. If you would have told him that you were pregnant and if he would have even cared. Especially after everything he said that night and everything he did.

And now that he was back and said he didn’t want to leave, you weren’t sure how to tell him he was a dad. He was still trying to get used to living in the present, not to mention you were still trying to get used to him wanting to be there with you and the idea that he loved you.

But I can’t just avoid Rosemary. She needs to know this, needs to know that he’s back. Why is my life so complicated?

Ben's reply is followed by a loud crashing noise and some muffled curses, that draw you out of your thoughts about your daughter.

"Are you okay?" You run out of your bedroom into the hallway, but stop in shock just as you enter the edge of your living room. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Come on you stupid, fucking thing!" Ben shouts. He’s standing in your kitchen, holding your coffeemaker in a chokehold against his chest, and aggressively jabbing his finger against the digital interface.

“Wait stop! You’re going to break it! And I’ll never forgive you if you break Sully!” You rush over to where he's standing in your kitchen, taking the machine from him and placing it back on the counter. It looks okay, but not having coffee this morning was not an option for you. Not having coffee after the night you'd had meant that someone in the apartment was going to die and it wasn't going to be you.

“Sully?” Ben asks confused.

“The coffeemaker.” You begin to hook it up and type in the normal settings you use, before going to look through your cabinets for the bag of coffee grounds.

I know I still have some in here somewhere.

“You named your coffeemaker?”

“He looks like an Sully." You shrug as you look over at him with a smile.

You didn't tell him that it was Lou that named the coffeemaker after you watched Monster's Inc. with her and she imprinted on the closest blue object.

"And what are you doing?” You ask. The smell of the coffee grounds gives you a jolt of energy as you scoop out the correct amount for the machine.

Ben watches you go through the steps. “I wanted to make you coffee.”

The thought was surprising, given that Ben had never made you coffee, ever. Whenever he woke up at you apartment all those mornings you both either went for coffee at the café down the street, or you made coffee while Ben took a shower.

“It’s okay I’ll do it. It’s a little more high tech than what you’re used to.” You start to push him gently out of the way so you can reach the glass decanter where it sits on the drying rack next to the sink.

“No.” He says firmly, refusing to budge. “I want to know how to make you coffee.”

“Why?”

“Because you love coffee and maybe one morning I’d like to- I don’t know- make you some or something?”

“Do you see yourself in my kitchen? Because that’s something I’d never imagine-“ You try to think of him walking around, making breakfast or dinner but the image doesn’t fit. Ben didn’t know how to cook, not to mention his usual misogynistic attitude usually meant that he never set foot in the kitchen except to find a bottle of booze.

He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. “Well this is where I live. I imagine that I’d be in the kitchen at some point.”

You freeze, your hand still pressed against his bicep from when you tried to move him out of the way.

“What?” Ben realizes what he’s said. “Oh- um- I know you want to take things slow, but I figured I could just sleep on the couch. I didn’t need to sleep in bed with you like last night. I-“ He scrunches up his face, unsure. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t going to leave you again and I thought I might as well be living here. But if I assumed wrong I can get an apartment if that makes you more comfortable. I mean I didn’t use the one I had forty years ago, I spent most of my time at your apartment with you and I kinda thought-well-“ He’s watching you with wide eyes. “Fuck. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed-“

Ben was blabbering, nervous despite his inability to admit it, afraid in his own way that you were going to reject him, think him less of a man for revealing how much he wanted you to be in his life. And it does something to you, understanding that you're not the only one who's afraid of what comes next.

You smile at his obvious discomfort, heart clenching to see how much he wants to stay, and recognize how much you don't want him to go. How despite everything, you want him to stay here with you, and that you don't want him to live somewhere else. Because living somewhere else means that you wouldn't wake up in his arms and you wouldn't see his sleepy smile when he first opened his eyes.

You hug him around the waist and tuck your face into the hollow of his throat. “You can live here Ben.” You say, your voice no more than a murmur.

“Are you sure? I know that you don’t want to rush things. You want to take this slow and I understand how important that is to you.“ Ben's hands come up around you to hold you closer to him.

“Kinda hard for you to fix things if you’re living somewhere across town.” You mutter into his shirt, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric. “Plus I like the idea of you bringing me coffee in the morning.”

“And I like the idea of living with you.” He whispers into the top of your head. “So does that mean I’m entitled to hot water?”

“We can discuss terms later. Right now I really need some coffee.” You place you chin on his chest and look up into his deep green eyes.

“So you’ll take payment in the form of coffee?” Ben's smile is contagious.

“Perhaps.”

Ten minutes later Sully is buzzing pleasantly as it brews, glinting blue in the light that streams through the large windows on the opposite side of your apartment, and Ben knows how to use it without swearing and breaking it in half.

He drifts over to the part of your living room that serves as your art studio, examining the canvases splashed with color and the half-full sketchbooks on the large wooden table pressed under the windows. It was messier over there than the rest of your apartment, but you thrived on the mess, thrived on the chaos of art supplies that were scattered over the table top like multicolored fish.

“I followed your advice.” You smile leaning against the counter to watch him. “Started selling my art. It’s selling pretty well. Has been for a while.”

It was still weird that he was here in your apartment. Each time you looked up and saw him, you were surprised, but at the same time there was something deep down that was happy to see him there, dressed in normal clothes. Waking up next to him and having him make you coffee was the domestic relationship you had wanted with him so long ago. It was what you used to imagine when you were curled up on your couch in your old apartment downtown.

“Of course it is. You’re talented.” He replies while flipping through your sketchpad, the flick of the pages drowned out by the bubbling of the coffee.

"I actually have a show coming up in a few weeks-" You weren't sure if you were still going to make enough pieces in time, especially given everything that was happening in your life with Ben or what would happen when you told Rosemary.

"Good." Ben glances up from the sketchpad. "I want to go."

"I'd like that." You blush under his gaze before your eyes drift back to the box of letters smiling faintly. “I still can’t believe you kept them.”

“Got kicked out of boarding school number nine because of them.”

“I thought you got kicked out because you were in a fight.” You raise an eyebrow. “You never told me why.”

“Because someone stole the letters and read them out loud in the cafeteria.”

“You’re kidding!” You snort.

“No.”

“So he exposed you for being a simp and your immediate reaction was to fight him in the cafeteria?” Your fingertips brush over the faded script on the sheets of paper.

“Being a what?” Ben looks confused as he walks slowly towards you.

“Oh right.” You press your lips together to think of a way to explain it without insulting him. “It means being head over heels for someone.” It was a bit of a stretch but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that the meaning was closer to something Ben would ascribe to being a pussy.

“I am.” His hands go on the counter around you pinning you between the metal and his muscular chest, looking down with so much love and care in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

It was jarring. How could he flip the switch so easily? How could he be so open now to me and not be like this before?

You think about the moments you spent in bed together 40 years ago, the look in his eyes the perfect morning, how he held you like he never wanted you to let him go and you didn’t want him to.

“Are you now?”

“Mhmm.” Ben tilts his head down towards your forehead, but just before it rests against yours, your phone buzzes where you left it on the counter the night before, drawing your eyes to the illuminated screen.

“What is that?” Ben asks. You gently push him away to pick up the phone that continues to vibrate.

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself. You had ten missed calls from Rosemary not to mention a barrage of texts that each got more and more unhinged as they were delivered.

Rosemary: Hey. Rosemary: Did you land? Rosemary: Mom? Rosemary: HELLO? Rosemary: Mom are you in trouble? Rosemary: MOM. Rosemary: Please you’re scaring me. Rosemary: Pick up the phone. Rosemary: PICK UP THE PHONE Rosemary: PICK Rosemary: UP Rosemary: THE Rosemary: PHONE Rosemary: If you don’t pick up I’m going to buy a plane ticket. Rosemary: I bought a plane ticket. Rosemary: I’m packing a bag- Rosemary: I’m calling Lou’s babysitter. Rosemary: I’m scheduling an Uber!

Rosemary: Alright to whoever has my mom’s fucking phone, I’m coming and when I get there she better be okay. Because if she’s not, there will be nowhere for you to hide.

You tap out a quick message to sate her ridiculous descent into madness, before thinking of what you need to say next.

You: Rosie it’s okay. I’m fine!

She Immediately texts back.

Rosemary: What’s the safe word?

You: Pineapple.

Rosemary: What’s the second safe word?

Your fingertips hover over the screen as you try to remember if Rosemary had decided a second word that gave the all clear, but you can't remember one.

You: We don’t have a second safe word?

Rosemary: I know I was testing you. Where the hell did you go? Why didn’t you text me? I thought the plane was supposed to land early this morning?

You: My plans changed I didn’t have to go to Russia. I’ll tell you later. Lots happened and I need to work a few things out.

Rosemary: What happened? Did you find out he wasn’t there?

You: No I didn’t need to go.

You stop typing to try and think of a way to phrase that her father showed up out of the blue and slept over.

Well he didn't sleep over, sleep over, but he did stay in my bed with me and… she's going to kill me.

Rosemary: Because?

Rosemary: BECAUSE?

You: He kinda showed up here.

Rosemary: HE WHAT?

You: He showed up at my apartment.

Rosemary: Are you okay? DID HE HURT YOU? ILL BE THERE IN TEN MINUTES-

You: No he didn’t hurt me. I promise. All we did was talk. If anything I hurt him.

Rosemary: Good.

You watch the three dots flicker across the screen of your phone to signify that she is responding, waiting with your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Rosemary: Is he still there?

You: Yes.

Rosemary: Do you need me to come over?

You: No. He’s been through a lot. The last thing he needs is for you to show up guns blazing. I haven’t told him about you or Lou yet-

Rosemary: You fucking forgave him didn’t you? WHY?!!

You: I didn’t forgive him. It’s complicated-

Rosemary: What happened to just slapping him around a bit then telling him to fuck off? That was a good plan. I LOVED THAT PLAN!

You: Well I did tell him to fuck off but it got more complicated.

Rosemary: OH MY FUCKING G-

“Hey you okay?” Ben’s voice jars you from the barrage of messages on your phone. His gaze is leveled on your face, noting the worried frown that pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Sorry someone was texting me-“ You try to wave him off, afraid that he can see the texts on the screen of your phone.

I don't want him to find out this way. Not by glancing over my shoulder and seeing the manic, overprotective texts from our daughter.

“They were what?” He looks down at the phone in your hand confused, but you lock the screen.

“Oh right. Sorry I forgot that you’ve been living under a rock the past forty years. It’s kinda like sending a message, instantaneously so you can talk to someone else.”

You really didn't feel like explaining texting and Wi-fi at the moment with him. You were too worried about the introduction between Ben and Rosemary that was looming over you like a guillotine.

But he still looks confused.

“I’ll get you a phone, don’t worry.”

There's so much he's missed.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you know it’s Rosemary.

She's not going to give up.

Ben looks down at it again curious. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get ahold of you.”

“She can wait.”

“She?”

“Friend of mine.” You answer quickly.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I know.”

The phone buzzes again and you sigh, knowing that the longer you ignore her, the worse it will be. And the last thing you needed was for Rosemary to show up and kick down the door of your apartment with Lou in tow.

“Impatient isn’t she?” Ben comments, noting how the phone continues to vibrate.

“Yeah she is. She’s also incredibly stubborn.”

“Huh sounds like someone I know.” The edge of his mouth quirks in a familiar smile that makes you wish that you had the courage to tell him.

“You have no idea.”

“So?”

“Are you going to answer her?”

“I should.” You press your lips together trying to think of a way to bring this up. “Ben I have to tell you something.”

“What?” He brushes back your hair, tenderly stroking his finger along your skin and trailing warmth with his caress. It distracts you for a moment.

“Well after that night we spent together I-um- I stopped being a hero.”

How the fuck do I say this?

“Yes I assumed that given what we talked about at the premiere.” He frowns remembering that night.

“And it wasn’t just because I wanted to leave it was because-um- well, I was different.”

How is he going to react? Is he going to be happy? Angry? Upset that we weren't more careful?

“Sweetheart I know you’re different, that’s why I love you.” He’s watching you softly, eyes a light green, filled with more love than you can comprehend.

It makes it difficult to find your words.

“No not like that I was, well, there’s no easy way to say this.” You pause and take Ben’s hand, raising your eyes to his and stroking your thumb over the warm skin. “I left because I was pre-“

Butcher kicks open the front door of your apartment interrupting what you were going to say next. “Good morning lovebirds. Did you kiss and make up yet?” Butcher flashes a salacious grin, eyeing Ben and your close proximity.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Ben snaps his eyes narrowed at the man standing in the doorway.

“Touchy.” Butcher raises his hands in a sarcastic surrender.

“Why are you here?” You ask turning to look at him.

Could he have chosen a WORSE time to come here?

Hughie is loitering in the hall behind him as if deciding whether or not to come in. You couldn't blame him. The poor guy looked like a deer in the headlights yesterday when you threw Ben across the room.

Butcher walks into the kitchen straight for the coffeemaker not asking for permission before he pours himself a cup. “Well I found those TNT fucks that your boyfriend was looking for. Thought he’d want to pay them a visit.”

You turn to look at Ben surprised. “You’re going after the twins?”

Ben and you hadn’t spoken about his next move. He’d only talked about his plans to stay with you and hadn’t mentioned anything about going after your old team.

Not that you were against it. You weren't against making them pay for what they did to him. You weren't against making the remaining members wish that they hadn't sold Ben out. Of course, you hadn't said that to Ben. If anything you were going to give it a few days to get settled together before you brought it up. And you certainly weren't going to bring it up in front of Rosemary, who had been less than pleased when you killed Countess, and wouldn't approve of a bloody rampage all over New York. It definitely wouldn't make her like Ben any more than she already did.

"Yeah." Ben's expression darkens as his eyes flick from your face to Butcher. “Where are they?”

“A few hours outside New York. Brought your suit.”

You didn't like how eager Butcher was to help Ben and remember what Legend said about how Butcher liked killing supes. It made you anxious, because why would Butcher want to help Ben? Was it for the thrill of it? But the last thing you were going to do was leave Ben with a guy who likes killing supes.

Hughie holds up a plastic bag that must contain Ben’s old supe suit and you try not to shudder when you remember the last time you saw him wear it.

“I’ll be a minute.” Ben mutters to you squeezing your hand once before taking the bag and disappearing down the dark hallway towards your bedroom.

But you're not done talking about this with him and as you turn to follow, Hughie steps in front of you.

“Hey I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry."

“About what?” You ask confused.

What does he have to apologize for? He saw Ben and me yelling at each other and saw me throw him across the room. If anything I should be embarrassed about them hearing everything that I shouted at Ben yesterday.

“If I had known what happened between the two of you I would have tried harder to keep Butcher from bringing him here.” Hughie rubs the back of his neck and scrunches up his face sheepishly.

Again, what is he doing hanging around Butcher? Hughie seems to care about other people. And Butcher just seems like-

Your eyes skate to where Butcher is drinking from his cup of coffee unamused. And Butcher is just an asshole.

"It's okay. I'm glad you did. I've been holding on to some stuff for a really long time and Ben has been too. I’m glad that we got to talk things out.”

“So you're okay now?" Hughie raises an eyebrow. "He didn't-“ He pauses as if he's uncomfortable saying what comes next and you try to understand why.

“Didn't?” You ask confused.

“He's kinda rough I was worried that he would-“

He thought that Ben would hurt me.

“Ben might seem a little gruff, but not with me. He's never-“ You stop remembering the premiere and adjust your sentence. “He wouldn't hurt me. And if anything you saw that I can handle him pretty well.” You can't help, but smile and nod your head back towards the couch.

“Yeah. That was intense.” Hughie cracks a nervous smile.

“Yeah” You laugh awkwardly. “ I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that. I’m usually pretty good at controlling myself-"

“Is that what happened to Countess?” Butcher interrupts.

You blink at him surprised. “Yeah. She tried to kill me and she- she said a few things not worth repeating. I didn’t go there with the intention of killing her, I actually just wanted to talk but it got out of hand.”

"What exactly are your powers anyway? Vought's files said you were like him." Butcher nods his head in the direction of where Ben disappeared to.

"I am." The lie is easy. It was the secret that you kept for eighty years, the secret that only Ben and Rosemary knew. Because you knew that particular power made you different than other supes. You had been disappointed to learn that Rosemary's power also made her different than the usual roster of other supe powers that you had encountered in your lifetime. And it made you worry about Lou. Rosemary and you were waiting for the day that Lou's powers manifested and you hoped that Lou didn't have any.

Butcher's eyes narrow like he doesn't believe you, but you shrug it off.

“But I’m going to go check on him so I’ll be right back.”

And you leave your kitchen before Butcher and Hughie can ask you anything else.

When you walk in through the door of your bedroom, Ben is changing into his suit. He’s wearing the dark pants, but the top half of his suit is aying on your bedspread, and that means that you can see every perfect indention of muscle on Ben’s torso.

You'd seen him without a shirt before, obviously, many times, but each time it did the same thing. Again you curse him for looking this good after being trapped in a Russian lab for 40 years.

Did they let him work out there? Was the lab the same place Ivan Drago trained before he faced Rocky? How is any of this fair?

Your cheeks warm and your heartbeat thuds loudly in your chest as you gaze at him, so you turn back to close the door behind you to clear your head.

"You also get me pretty excited when you take your shirt off Sweetheart." Ben smirks at you with a wink as he picks up the top half of his suit, sliding it on over his head, but his helmet is nowhere to be seen.

Guess he wasn't trying to hide anymore.

You stand there for a minute watching him. "Are you sure about Butcher?"

"What about him?"

"I don't know. I don't understand why he's helping you with all of this-"

Ben goes silent and he turns towards his toolbelt, gun, and knife on your bed.

"What did you promise him?" You take a step towards Ben, to catch his eye.

He doesn't answer immediately, instead he buckles his toolbelt around his waist. "He wants me to go after Homelander. He said that he would help me find what's left of our old team if I do."

"Homelander?" You sputter. "You're kidding right?"

"What? He looks like a pussy-"

You could see some of the macho version of Soldier Boy beginning to unfold from the man who stood in front of you and you didn't like it. It wasn't that you hated the protective side of Ben, the side that always made you feel safe, it was the other side, the side that beat others into submission after they had surrendered that you didn't like.

"Do you even know anything about him?"

Honestly you didn't know too much about Homelander either, just that he was Vought's new golden boy and seemed incredibly shallow, not to mention each time you saw an interview or a picture it unnerved you.

Homelander's eyes were cold, lifeless, and empty. Each time he smiled you could see a glimmer of something dark behind them. You had seen it before, seen it in the eyes of supes like Liberty who believed that nothing could stop them, supes who believed that they were gods and everyone else was below them.

"Doesn't matter. Butcher thinks that whatever the fuck is in my chest will wipe him out."

"And you believe him?"

"Maybe-"

"Ben."

"What? You don't think I'm strong enough to take him?" His entire body turns back to look at you, something dark lurking behind his eyes that reminds you of the day you stood between him and Noir.

"That's not what I said. It's not about being strong enough to kill Homelander, it's about you trusting Butcher. You don't know anything about him and he's using you to live out his fantasy of killing Homelander. Legend told me that Butcher has this thing about killing supes and he has a bone to pick with Homelander because he did something to Butcher's wife."

"So?"

You shake your head in frustration, trying to get Ben to understand what you were saying. "Ben please, listen to me. I don't care about Homelander, I don't care about Butcher, I care about you-"

Going after Homelander was crazy. The one thing you knew about him, was how Vought continued to stress how indestructible he was, the exact same thing they had said about Ben and you. But leaving Ben with Butcher was crazier. Butcher didn't give a damn about Ben, he was just using him to do the one thing that he couldn't do himself.

"I know that." Ben sighs. "I care about you too."

"And I don't think it's a good idea for you to be doing everything he says-"

"I'm not doing everything he says. We have a deal. And if this is about you being upset with me going after our team, you can't talk me out of it."

“No Ben-“

“Fuck whatever Butcher says about Homelander. I have to do this.” Ben's jaw tightens, eyes flashing with anger as he remembers what happened in Nicaragua.

“Ben-“

“You weren’t there when it happened. You don't understand what they did to me, what it was like to be in that fucking lab! And I’m not going to let those incestuous fucks get away with it.” His teeth grind down together. "I'm not going to let any of them get away with it."

The air in your bedroom begins to get unnaturally warm, a orangish tinge beginning to peak through Ben's suit as his new power begins to manifest.

“Ben!” You shout, stepping towards him and laying your hands against his chest to snap him out of it. Your hands burn as they press against his suit, but you don’t let go of him.

He blinks a few times, gaining control, the brightness fading as he does so, but you don't drop your hands from over his heart.

“What?”

“I know.” You say gently.

“Huh?”

“I know you have to do this and I’m not going to try and stop you from going after our team. They deserve to pay for it. I was going to say that I’m going with you.”

“No.” His answer is immediate.

“What?”

“No.”

“What happened to not wanting to leave me?”

“I don’t want to leave you. But I have to, just for a few hours. I’ll come back I promise-“ Ben's hand falls on your waist, right where your shirt meets the top of your sweatpants, allowing you to feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

“No. The last time I let you go alone Countess told me you died and then you got taken away to Russia. I'm not letting you go alone."

The fear of him getting taken all over again squeezes your heart in your chest, because yes, maybe Butcher wanted Ben to go after Homelander, but what would Butcher do when Ben finished the job? Would he send him back to Russia? You weren't going to sit around and find out, you were going to make sure no one did that to Ben ever again. And if that meant him not leaving your sight, you were okay with that.

Ben continues to frown at you, before an odd look crosses his face. "Did you kill her?"

"Yes." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I didn't mean to, she said a few things and she killed me-"

“She killed you?” Ben growls and he begins to lift the bottom of your shirt to find the scar forgetting himself, but you drop your hand over his to stop him.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s dead now.”

She might be dead, but what she said rings in your ears and the proud smile Countess had flashes through your mind. The triumphant look on her face after she told you why she had sex with Ben. The same look that was on her face, before you ripped her head off.

"What did she say?" Ben asks, but then he realizes after the question passes through his lips, noting your expression and remembering what you yelled at him yesterday. "Sweetheart-“

"It's okay-" You shake your head to dissipate the memory of Countess.

“No it isn’t.” Ben's hand cups your face. “What she said wasn’t true. That night meant everything to me. It wasn’t a mistake and it wasn’t disappointing in any way. Believe me.” His thumb brushes against your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“I do. I shouldn't have let what she said get to me and I shouldn’t have believed her. I can't remember the last time I lost control. I hadn't used my powers in a while-"

"Which is why you shouldn’t come."

“I don’t want you to get taken or hurt." Your hand comes up to hold his hand against your cheek.

Ben rolls his eyes at you, cracking a smile. "I won't get hurt."

"It doesn't matter what you say. I'm going."

His smile drops. “No.”

You really couldn't figure out why Ben was doing this. You both had powers and you trained together. You had been on "missions" for Vought before, and before everything happened, you were going to be in Nicaragua with him. So why was this any different?

“Why not? I’m just as strong as you. I’m just as indestructible-“

Ben pulls his hand from your face. “But you’re not indestructible! You die."

"I come back-"

"Have you thought that maybe I don't want you to come because I hate watching you die?" He snaps angrily.

"What?"

"Do you have any idea what that’s like for me?" He shouts eyes blazing through the soft light in the bedroom. “Hearing your heartbeat stop, watching you take your last breath, knowing that there’s absolutely nothing I can do?”

Whatever thoughts or words you were going to say shrivel up on the tip of your tongue. You'd never thought about it like that before. You'd thought that your ability to come back to life after would have reassured him.

He knows what my powers are. He knows what I can do-

"I hate feeling fucking helpless and every time you get hurt I’m reminded that I can’t help you! That I’m not strong enough to protect you!” He sits down on your bed, hands clenching into fists where they rest on his thighs.

"Ben-"

“When you came with me I promised that I would be strong for both of us, that I would always protect you and every time you die it just makes me feel like I’ve failed!” His gaze is leveled at you feet.

You inhale sharply with his confession. It was what he promised you the night he told you to say no to Howard, the night that you thought he was asking you in his own way to marry him. You could remember the promise, remember the way he held you close to him, eyes wide and vulnerable when he spoke it to you. That night anything had seemed possible. And despite everything that happened with Countess, Ben had never broken that promise to you. He had protected you, he had been strong for you when you needed him to be.

You remember the night of your brother's funeral when he drove all night to be there for you, and how he continued to show up in your life when you were having a hard time as if he seemed to know when you needed him the most.

"Ben-” You try again, this time a little softer.

"Do you have any idea what it’s like to exist in those thirteen fucking seconds wondering if you’re going to come back or not? If that’s the last time I’ll ever see you smile? If you’ll ever open your eyes and look at me ever again?" This time he raises his green eyes to yours and you see a lifetime of emotion reflected in them. It's the same look he had when you woke up after you took a bullet for him and died for the first time. He had yelled at you for it, told you never to do it again, shouted that he could take care of himself and he didn't need you to protect him.

And you suddenly understand, you understand why Ben knew it was thirteen seconds, why he was the first one to ever tell you that it was thirteen seconds. Because each time he counted hoping that you would come back to him.

He doesn’t say anything just continues to sit on the end of the bed, dropping his eyes to the floor again, and wringing his hands together.

You sit down next to him, the bed dipping beneath you, and reach for his hands, but Ben has other plans. He grabs your waist and pulls you up into his lap so you're straddling his thighs. You don't have time to be shocked, because Ben presses his face into your neck and brings both of his arms around your torso to hold you to him. Deep down you know that this is the opposite of taking it slow, but you can't bring yourself to push him away. Because again he was showing the vulnerable side of himself that made you want to comfort him, the side of him that he hid from you for so long.

"You’ve seen me die before.” You breathe, running your hand up and down his back in a soothing motion.

“Doesn’t mean it gets any easier.” He mumbles and you feel his lips brush against the half moon shaped scar over your heart, a reminder of the bullet you took for him all those years ago.“I thought I lost you that day.” Ben mutters into your shirt. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had-“

“You didn’t.”

“But I could have. “I hated that you did it. That you were willing to die for me. You’re worth so much more than I am-"

“The fact that you think that means the opposite.” You run your fingers through his hair, feeling his arms tighten around your hips. “Your father may have made you believe that, but I don't. You’re not a failure Ben. And you could never disappoint me.”

“I already did.”

“Hey we’re moving past that. And I’m sure that I’ve disappointed you plenty.”

“Never.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You snort, and for a moment, you think Ben is going to look up at you and smile, but his face stays buried against your chest.

“Hmm.”

You wait for a moment, stroking your fingers through his hair. “How do you think I felt when they told me you were gone? That I’d never see you again?"

“You were angry at me-“

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t devastated when they told me you died. I thought that the last thing I’d ever said to you was that you were like your dad and that I regretted having you in my life.”

That was something that you had to live with over the past forty years, because even though what Ben did hurt you, you hated that the last time you saw him was like that. You hated the thought that Ben died believing that you didn't care about him.

Maybe in some ways he did die believing that. All those years at that lab weren't easy for him.

“I-“

“I swear if you say ‘I deserved it’ again I will kill you.” You say pulling his face up to yours and frowning at him.

“I won’t.”

"Good. Now are you done coming up with ridiculous reasons why I can't come with you to see our old friends? Because I'm genuinely curious to know if they're still pretending that they're not fucking."

Ben cracks a smile. "Yes. But only if you promise me that you'll stay behind me."

"Can't." You start to get off of him, but Ben tightens his grip preventing you from leaving.

"Why not?"

"Because I've never broken a promise to you and I'm not going to start now."

"I just don't want you to get hurt." Ben sighs.

"I know. And I don't want to lose you again." You press your forehead against his, threading your fingertips in his dark hair.

You weren't sure what it would do to you if you did lose him, if he walked out of your life or if he went by himself to face your old teammates and vanished. You had been destroyed when everything fell apart the first time, and you knew this time would be worse if it happened. You could feel it in every fiber of your being, just like somewhere deep down you could feel that what was happening now between him and you was different somehow, that it had changed, but not in a bad way.

"I don't want to lose you either Sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too."

And when Butcher beats his fist against your bedroom door a few minutes later, you're still in his arms, allowing him to hold you close and allowing yourself to begin to trust him again.

A/N: Sorry it took me a long time to get this one out! I had a hard time writing this chapter, and honestly it's still not my favorite, but big things are coming!!!

Thank you so much for reading!! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #jensen ackles #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x y/n #the boys series #the boys season 3 #You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

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tragedybunny · 1 year ago

Note

Fun Astarion idea:

Tav finds a wish spell (does the Deck of Many Things behind Astarion's back and gets insanely lucky), and offers to use it to cure his Vampirism.

He would probably be annoyed at them for risking that, at least.

This one ended up short and sweet anon, but I didn't want to belabor it because I think it would be gilding the lily.

As requested, Tav draws from the Deck Many Things, Astarion is less than thrilled.

Gambles and Wishes - F!Reader x Astarion

“Astarion,” you pound on the door to your home’s library until you thought it would break.

“I’m still not talking to you,” he shouts back, not even getting close to the door.

It was locked from the inside and you consider an unlocking spell for a moment but stop. The lock was a boundary, and you hated to cross his boundaries, he didn’t get to have any for so long. Instead you opt to groan in frustration. “Please, this isn’t the healthiest way to solve our problems.”

“Neither is lying, but that didn’t stop you,” he shoots back and you cringe because he’s technically right.

“It wasn’t lying so much as not telling. And see, you’re talking to me so why don’t we stop shouting through the door.” To be honest, it was starting to make you nervous, he’d never been angry at you for this long before. Maybe your good intentions had taken things too far. “Please Love, Starry Sky,” your voice shakes.

The noise of the lock opening causes your heart to leap, but you're not sure if it’s dread or elation, so you just stand there, arms crossed around yourself until the door opens. Astarion stares at you with watery red eyes, “is that really how you want this relationship to work?”

“No, you’re right, but the possible reward was too great to deny.” Why can’t he understand, you’d do anything for him?

“So was the risk, you pulled a card from the Deck of Many things. You know magic, you know what could’ve happened.” He’s not shouting anymore, it’s so much worse. He’s barely whispering the words, and the tears are finally starting to spill over. “And you didn’t even consult me, we’re supposed to be equals in this.”

So much for those boundaries you didn’t want to cross, the realization started to eat you up inside. Protecting him wasn’t a good excuse anymore. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I would risk anything for you and I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

Even amidst all the pain, the two of you find yourselves holding onto each other. “Sunlight, that’s because you always take risks for me. You need to worry more about yourself sometimes.” He sniffles into your shoulder, and you hope his tears are drying as you stroke his hair.

“I know, last one I promise. But I got what I wanted, one Wish spell, we can have the life we thought was impossible.” The life you wanted so badly to give him, the life he deserved.

Stepping back from you, he appraises you seriously. “Are you sure this is what you would use it on? You could have an Empire, become a Goddess. Not that you aren’t already, especially when it comes too- ” he smiles lasciviously.

“Astarion,” playfully you smack his shoulder, “behave yourself. And yes this is the only thing I could think of using it on. I couldn’t wish for anything more than you.”

“You’re still a silly girl who’s too nice to me.” New tears appear in his eyes you notice, but for an entirely different reason. “Well then I accept, on one condition of course.”

“And what is that?”

“You promise you’re stuck with me as long as we both live. I’m not used to being alive of course, I’m going to need someone to keep an eye on me for a long time. And let’s be honest, you’re the most qualified. I don’t think any of our friends would really be able to handle it.”

He’s rambling but you know it’s because he’s nervous, so you lean over and kiss him softly. “Deal. Now let’s make you an un-undead Love.”

#asks #anon asks #requests #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #my fanfic #my writing

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absurdthirst · 11 months ago

Text

A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season.

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.”

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking.

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back.

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?”

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise.

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband.

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.”

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house.

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is.

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -”

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house.

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear.

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances.

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel.

****

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily.

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you.

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate.

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.”

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers.

****

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open.

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly.

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply.

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment.

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them.

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.”

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?”

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?”

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time.

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

****

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting.

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea.

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts.

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot.

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray.

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you.

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun.

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?”

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.”

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.”

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children.

****

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.”

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son.

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons.

“I- I am busy, mija. I-”

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?”

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty.

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.”

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.”

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen.

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly.

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.”

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot.

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?”

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?”

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like.

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.”

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.”

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you.

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you.

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

****

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.”

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake.

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you.

****

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out.

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

****

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen.

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it.

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant.

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head.

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #regency pero tovar x reader #regency pero tovar #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine

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soft4gguk · 3 months ago

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to build a home | chapter fourteen

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

Genre: strangers to lovers. angst. fluff. smut.

Word count: 17.2k

Warnings: angst, jealousy, it gets so sad, they fight!, you have no idea who’s the CULPRIT lmao. mutual masturbation!!, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t, babes), ass eating hehe!, a little spanking, a bit of backshots, it’s a bit rough but sweet, so much praise!!, multiple o’s!! tbh i think this is the best smut i’ve ever written lolsies.

Author’s note: aaaaah! thank u so much for being so patient and waiting for this chapter as i recovered!! i loved this writing this chapter so much. it was fun, i found myself giggling in front of my computer screen like a crazy person multiple times lmao. also!! this was hot to write, i didn’t know i still had that in me! but yeah, it’s angsty, i’m so sorry in advance!! do let me know what you think. i love you guys so much!!!!! sending so much love and kissies. xoxo <333

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter Fourteen

You sleep soundly that night.

You find it quite ironic, how your body finally rests when it’s aided by him. Last night’s actions, the way you let him wrap his strong arms around you, pulling you closer as your legs intertwined. For a second, you think being so impossibly close would make you cry, but your heart was hazy by then, foolish even, and all his touch did was swarm you with peace and deep slumber.

Soori’s baby monitor wakes you up before the alarm can. She doesn’t cry or fuzz, all you hear is her little babbles – something she often does when she wakes up from a nap, playing with the plushies in her crib.

“Soo’s awake,” you mumble, voice muffled by the pillow. Jungkook’s torso is flushed to your back and you dread his warmth leaving you.

He hums, head coming up for a second to hear her. “It’s ‘kay, we’ll let her play.”

“What time are you going into the office,” you ask, eyes heavy with sleep still.

“Noon-ish,” it takes him a while to answer and you know he’s falling back asleep. You reach for your phone, checking the time. It’s 6.35 a.m. “30 more minutes?”

“Mm, yeah, baby,” he says, face nuzzling against your neck, his steady breathing sending goosebumps down your spine. “I’ll make us breakfast later.”

“Deal,” you say, pressing yourself against him further as you cozy up into the pillows. Your ass shimmies a bit as you get comfortable and your eyes snap open at the feel of Jungkook’s hard cock against it. He whines, hand tapping against your thigh to get you to stop moving. A little giggle leaves you. “Wow.”

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he says, “but I can’t open my eyes.” You don’t mean to push your ass back into him, but his words get to you and so the action is merely subconscious. He hisses. “___.”

You smile, biting your lip. “I’m sorry. Sleep, sleep…”

And he does. No more than a minute later you’re feeling his body relax around you, arms growing heavy, multiplying that warmth, his soft snores on your neck working as a lullaby as you let yourself be thrown into a pleasant slumber.

It’s short lived, though, your pleasant slumber. When you open your eyes again, you look at the time and realize you’d only slept for twenty minutes, as opposed to the thirty you’d both agreed on. You feel the rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest against your back, his arm had found a place in between yours and you were closer to him than you remember being when you fell asleep. It makes your chest feel tight and heavy. You stare at his hand, so close to yours, and thinking about him pulling you closer and snaking his body around yours like this makes you smile. Your fingers gently caress his hand before your own is closing around it, your thumb stroking his slowly. It’s a wild concept to you at times – a thought you like to ponder on – how you get to hold him. How you get to share a bed with him, kisses, touches. Sweet, little words that get thrown back and forth between you two in the heat of the moment – the softness of it, too.

That’s how you’d realized you loved him. When his body on yours started feeling so overwhelmingly good and his warmth became your own and you couldn’t imagine how something so perfect could come to be. The word perfect dissipated from the notion of it all quite quickly, but you still believed the same. You loved him, and the feeling was tarnished – imperfect. But you couldn’t stop. You loved him and you wondered if you could keep loving him without him loving you back. Physically, speaking. You wondered if you could be this close to him knowing what you knew. Knowing what it felt like to love him. Knowing what it felt like to have him not love you back.

Soori’s soft cries resound from the baby monitor and you gently pull Jungkook’s arm from over you, sneaking from under the covers to make your way to the nursery. You look at him, peaceful and so, so beautiful. You can’t fight with your heart anymore and you don’t quite knows what this means, but the realization is clear as day to you.

You open the door to Soori’s nursery and find her standing up on her crib, chubby hands holding onto the bars.

“Good morning, princess,” you grab her face and kiss her cheeks, “you’re gonna be walking in no time.” she giggles, giving tiny jumps as she bounces on the mattress. “Daddy’s sleeping but let’s get you out of your jammies.”

You pick her up, placing her on your hip as you rummage through her drawers, finding a cozy yellow onesie to change her into and grabbing her diapers before you’re placing her on her changing table and getting her ready for the day.

She babbles the process away, a mix of Nana’s and Dada’s as she plays with her favorite giraffe plushie. You sit her down on the floor and place a book for her to leaf through whilst you sit behind her and comb her hair. It’s getting longer and you take your time to brush through her locks, giggling when the feeling relaxes her and she draws her head back with her eyes closed. She’s such a character and you love it. You opt for two pigtails and tiny sunflower clips, turning her around and standing her up in front of you so you can examine your job.

“Nana,” she says, taking one step towards you as she balances herself in your hands.

“I hate to do this to you, but you can’t walk right now, your daddy would cry,” you say, holding her in your arms and standing up. You take her to the mirror and she claps and shrieks when she sees her reflection. You give little jumps and she laughs. “Soori,” you say, pointing at the mirror, “that’s you! Can you say Soori?”

“Nana,” she babbles, smiling and pointing at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s me.”

“Dada,” she pouts, looking around her nursery and opening her little hands as if to show confusion.

“Wanna go get Dada?”

She smiles and puts her little hands over her eyes and you take that as a yes as you walk out of her nursery and make your way back to Jungkook’s room. When you guys’ walk inside, he’s still asleep, now on his back with his arm over his head. You’d forgotten to close the blinds last night and he was probably hiding from the sun. It makes you chuckle.

“Dada!” Soori screams, outstretching her little arms towards him and making grabby hands. When Jungkook fails to respond she starts to cry her whiny crocodile tears.

“Wake him up, baby,” you tell her, placing her on the bed next to him, watching as she crawls fast towards him.

She touches his face and you see the way his lips form into a smile, eyes still closed as he fakes sleep. She’s in the middle of calling out for him once again when he opens his eyes, grabbing her and letting out an, “aaaaghh,” that both startles her and has her breaking into fits of giggles and shrieks. He has her over his body, making her jump in his hold before he’s bringing her back down again and kissing her soft cheeks.

“Good morning, my little alarm clock,” he says and she laughs like she understands, “you slept good, didn’t you? You look so cute.”

You smile at the sight. Seeing them together is something you never get tired of and it makes you feel things you’d never felt before. In the list of reasons why you loved him, the fact he was an amazing dad stood at #1, always.

“Good morning, you,” he tells you, reaching his hand towards you, kissing it when you take it. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked so peaceful. Plus, you needed rest.”

“Thank you, baby. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “I did.”

“Come here,” he pulls you towards him and you land on the bed, Soori crawling towards you now and sitting on your tummy. You both laugh as she just stares at you. “She’s a little weird in a really cute way, isn’t she?”

You look at her, cocking your head to the side. She imitates your movements. “Yup. In the best way.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s perfect.” he says, reaching for her and shaking her in his hands, making her laugh before he’s placing her between the two of you. “Aren’t you perfect?”

Soori just shrieks, enjoying the love and the cuddles she gets – rejoicing in them, even. At some point, she tires herself from so much laughter and she just stares at the ceiling. You and Jungkook laugh at this, looking at each other for what starts as a split second and then lingers.

“I like mornings like these,” he says, finding your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Me too,” you say.

“You hungry,” he asks, and you nod. He looks down at Soori, who’s still spaced out, squeezing her cheeks with his hand. “You hungry?” He asks her, making her nod.

“Jungkook,” you laugh, pushing his hand away from her.

“Her cheeks are like, made out of clay or something,” he says, bringing his hands back to her face and squeezing her chubby cheeks until she looks like a fish out of water.

“You’re one to talk,” you say, bringing your own hand to his face, squeezing his cheeks and shaking his head from side to side.

“Fair enough,” he says, voice muffled as you squeeze further. Your hands are still squeezing as he pulls himself up, inching his face closer to yours and placing a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll go make breakfast. Wait here, okay?”

You nod and he places a kiss on Soori’s forehead before he jumps out of bed and heads downstairs.

“Hey,” you say, looking down at Soori, “you wanna watch Bluey on daddy’s huge TV?” She shrieks at the mention of her favorite TV show and you nod once, reaching for the remote.

The next thirty minutes are spent like this. Soori laying down against a mountain of pillows, a bottle in hand that Jungkook had brought her as you two waited for breakfast to be ready, and Bluey on the big TV. You card your fingers through her hair gently as she watches intently, mostly just letting yourself stare at her. She’s so perfect it leaves you in awe.

When Jungkook walks inside of his room once again, he makes sure to let his gaze linger on the two of you. Neither of you have felt his presence in the room yet, gazes fully focused on the screen in front of you. He smiles, for certain convinced he could wake up to this every day. Soori sees him first and she waves her hand at him, making him laugh. You turn your head around, a soft smile on your face when you see the tray he holds – pancakes and fruit, orange juice and coffee for the two of you.

“Kook,” your voice is soft, “this is so nice.”

“I am quite the chef,” he brags, placing the tray on the bed and placing a chaste kiss against your lips. “Plus, I’ve got to feed my girls.”

My girls.

It makes you both happy and sad. A part of you wants to believe it, but the other part begins to feel like you’re living a life that doesn’t quite belong to you. A life that you know for a fact he wanted to live with Ira. The notion sinks in like a ton of bricks falling from your heart, all the way to your stomach, and suddenly, you’re not hungry anymore.

Your eyes zero in on Jungkook and Soori as he wraps her bib around her and places soft kisses on her cheek. She points at the strawberries and he feeds her one, saying something about his cutting skills not being as good as yours. But you can’t quite grasp his words, even if you laugh. It dawns on you, as you take them in, that you’re living under her shadow. You’re in a house that she once made hers, with the person she considered to be the love of her life, and what came out as a result: her daughter. You look around, wondering how much of her touch was perfectly placed all over this room. How much input she had in making this a home where they’d raise babies and maybe even grow old together. How much of these thoughts she had when it was all coming together. You look at Soori, wondering about all the dreams she had for her. You look at Jungkook, seeing just how much of her love she could’ve fit inside of him, and it makes you wonder how much of her is still in him.

“Wanna try, baby?” His voice is muffled, faint and distant compared to how loud your thoughts are, but you nod, and he brings the fork to your mouth. You take a big bite, smiling at him and humming in satisfaction. “Good, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, heart breaking as you see the smile that forms on his face.

The morning goes by slowly, your realizations sinking in more and more with the passing of time, and this time the question is louder than ever,

What were you doing?

You pack the last of your necessities inside your duffel bag, double checking the inside to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. It all seems to be there – a couple of dresses, two bathing suits, a pair of sneakers, more underwear than you’ll probably need and two separate bags full of your makeup and skincare. You throw your journal and pens inside of your bag and reach for your copy of Sense and Sensibility, throwing it in there, too.

You head out into the living room, placing your bags on the sofa before you make your way to the kitchen, pondering on the very limited options you have for breakfast. You opt for an apple and a granola bar, making yourself a cup of coffee as you munch on those.

You try to keep your thoughts at bay when it comes to the dreaded beach house trip. You don’t quite know what to expect but, then again, what was there to expect? You were there to do your job and take care of Soori. Jungkook never showed any sort of affection towards you when you guys’ were in big groups like these and you were mostly used to it by now. You try to quieten down the voice inside your head that tells you that the truth of the matter is that you want more. And then there’s also your newly discovered realization. You know, the living under Ira’s shadow. That one keeps you awake at night the most, if you’re being honest. And so you sigh, lowering your expectations and shifting your mentality, reminding yourself that you were there to do your job.

Jungkook’s punctual, and so are you. You’re placing your freshly washed coffee mug into a cupboard when he calls you.

”Good morning,” he chimes.

”Good morning,” you say.

”You ready, baby?”

”Yeah, are you downstairs?”

”Yup.”

”I’ll be there in a second.”

”Can’t wait,” his voice sounds dreamy, and you roll your eyes. You hate being mean, you hate being so mad at him, but you also hate the fact that he’s acting like this is some sort of romantic getaway.

You take a deep breath, not wanting to carry your anger downstairs with you. Grabbing your bags, you head outside your door, going down the stairs and past the entrance to your building. He leans against the door of his car, legs crossed as he scrolls through his phone. He’s got dark shades on and his hair is getting longer. You curse at yourself for swooning. Right as you’re about to say something, he looks up, eyes meeting yours and he smiles.

“Hi,” he walks over to you, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer before he places a soft kiss on your lips. “Missed you.”

”I missed you, too,” you say, solely because it’s the truth. You had missed him, even though it’d only been one night.

”Let me get this for you,” he says, reaching for your bags and you let him, following his every move as he opens the boot of the car and places it inside gently. “Ready to go?”

”Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, sighing. He thinks this is funny, chuckles a bit and everything, but inside, you’re already dreading what the long weekend will hold.

Soori waves at you when you step inside the passenger seat, shrieking and babbling a sweet, “nananana.” You smile, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Jungkook gets behind the wheel, taking his time to find the right playlist before connecting his phone to the car. For Road Trips, the screen reads and you can't help but find it endearing.

“You’re such a dad,” you say, looking over at him.

“This is an exquisitely curated playlist.”

“Mhm,” you say, putting your seatbelt on and settling into the seat.

“You look pretty today,” he tells you, and when you turn to look at him, his eyes are scanning down your body.

“Thank you,” you say, fixing the hem of your white sundress.

“We should be there in,” he looks at his watch, “one hour and fifty two minutes. We’ll stop by the gas station halfway there, though.”

“I have a small bladder,” you say, genuine concern lacing your features.

He laughs, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “We’ll stop whenever you need to go, baby.” You don't know why, but the kiss makes you blush. You nod at him, and he gives you a sweet smile before he’s starting the engine and the three of you begin the journey.

The ride is pleasant. The moment you step out of the city the road breaks into vastness – nothing but blue skies and lands of green at the sides of the road. Jungkook was right, his playlist is indeed exquisitely curated and you enjoy the soft music that plays from the stereo. Soori plays with her plushies and babbles some, but you’re not surprised because she’s often really good in the car, oftentimes making her sleepy. And you’d testify to that because before you know, you’re falling asleep, too, and when you wake up, Jungkook is parking the car at the gas station.

“How long did I sleep for,” you ask, voice groggy as you rub the sleep off of your eyes.

“Thirty minutes or so,” he says, “good morning.”

“Sorry for being the worst co-pilot ever.”

“Nah, it’s okay, baby. Soori just went down, too,” he says, and you both turn around, laughing at the way her cheeks squeeze against the seatbelt of her seat. “I’m gonna go get some snacks, Joon’s in there, too, they’re just behind us. Want anything?”

“Oreos, please.”

He laughs. “Oreos it is.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand in his before exiting the car and making his way to the convenience store. A bell chimes when he steps inside, making Namjoon turn to the door, smiling when he sees him.

“The girls said chocolate chip cookies,” Namjoon says, holding two different packs of cookies on each hand, “but there are so many options.”

Jungkook reaches for both packs, placing them back on the shelf before he’s grabbing another and handing it to him. “These are the good ones, everyone knows that.”

“Thanks, bro.” He pats the youngest’s back. “What a nice day. The road is smooth, too.”

“Yeah, we lucked out. It’s usually packed this time of year.”

“Classic,” Namjoon says, pointing at the pack of oreos in Jungkook’s hand.

“Oh, they’re for ___.”

“She’s coming?”

He doesn’t know why, but Namjoon’s question makes him nervous. “Yeah. She is Soori’s nanny.” Namjoon ponders on his answer but doesn’t say anything. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, I just didn’t think she’d come. You know, with all the extra hands we’ll have over the weekend.”

“Are you nanny shaming me,” Jungkook asks playfully, making Namjoon laugh.

“Fuck, no. Never,” he says. “Soori seems to be very fond of her, no?”

Jungkook looks out the window of the convenience store, staring at his car, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, she is. We both are.”

Namjoon’s head turns so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. “Oh?”

“What,” Jungkook says, walking down the drink aisles, eyeing his options.

“You’re fond of ___,” the oldest states, matter of factly.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? She’s great with Soori.”

“Have you guys gotten close? I get the impression that you have some times.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how to reply to his question without giving himself completely away. Then again he considers what giving himself away would actually entail. Namjoon was one of his best friends, after all.

“Yeah, a bit.” He feigns nonchalance, pretends to read the back label of a Fanta bottle.

“Jeon Jungkook,” Namjoon says, making the youngest turn to face him. “You have a crush on your nanny!”

“I- it’s not like that,” he defends, stuttering on his words a little, making his friend laugh. “Can we not do this here?”

“Why? Is the horny police around?”

‘The ho- what are you twelve?”

Namjoon laughs. “Oh, please. Give me something. Anything! The group’s official bachelor is out of duty for what looks like, ever. You having the hots for your nanny would be legendary. It would restore the balance, you see?”

“First of all, do not compare me to that era of Jimin,” he says, pointing a finger at Namjoon, making him laugh harder. “Second of all, it’s not like that.”

“I mean, as your older, therefore wiser, friend I do have to tell you to keep it in your pants.”

“What is that supposed to mean,” Jungkook frowns, even though he knows exactly what he means. He’s stalling, if you will.

“It means look don’t touch, try don’t buy. Ya know. Don’t be stupid and fuck your nanny. You know how hard it is to find a nanny in this day and age? Mary Poppins is a myth, son.” He says. “Although, she’s kinda hot, isn’t she?”

“Huh,” Jungkook looks at him, confused. He hasn’t been able to thread his words since the beginning of this conversation.

“Mary Poppins! She’s kinda hot,” he repeats.

“What the fuck, bro,” he says, and Namjoon shrugs, heading to the self check out.

Jungkook pays for his stuff, too. Promptly returning to the car, brain going round in circles at Namjoon’s words.

Jungkook’s beach house was like something out of a TV show in which the main premise of the plot was to display the tribulations of having great wealth.

You’re in awe the minute you step out of the car, speechless as Jungkook unbuckles Soori out of her car seat. The house is big, tall and white. The front garden alone was to die for, an array of palm trees making way to the entrance. You could hear the distant breaking of the waves in the ocean from where you stood.

“How far are we from the beach,” you ask him, taking Soori in your arms so he can retrieve your bags from the boot.

“Not far at all, actually. We can access through the backyard. It’s maybe a five minute walk.”

“Woah,” you say, mouth slightly agape as you take it all in.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour and we can get settled in.”

The home was a contrast of modern and classic, certain corners retaining the charm the years had given the property and some others bathed in the minimalist edge Jungkook seemed to be fond of. The spaces were big and spacious, the furniture beautiful and in neutral shades that really gave off that zen, vacation vibe. The kitchen was white with a big window that gave way to the garden, making you gasp at the sight of it. Green and vast, a huge pool in the middle and different living areas, but what raptured you the most was the ocean. Blue and serene at a nearby distance.

The upstairs mainly consisted of bedrooms – plenty of them.

“Soori’s room is my favorite in the house, look,” Jungkook says, opening the door to her nursery, revealing the beautiful white interiors.

“This is gorgeous, oh my God.”

“Thank you,” he says, placing Soori on the floor and letting her crawl around. “I hired the same interior designer for both houses. He did a wonderful job.”

“When did you get this house?”

“Um,” he says, hand ruffling his hair at the back, “it was my 21st birthday present.”

Your jaw drops, eyes widening, looking around you as if to ground yourself to the reality of his statement. “Woah?”

“Yeah, I know…,” he says, nervous. “I didn’t do much to it for a while, though. Me and the boys would drive here on the weekends and just sit by the pool and grill burgers. I didn’t know what to do with such a space. It was only two years ago that I decided to hire someone and now it looks more like a home.”

“It’s cozy,” you say, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Yeah, we love it. It’s nice to be able to have people over. Jimin’s parents- their beach house is four houses down. And my parent’s is next to theirs.”

“Wow, you two really did grow up together, huh?”

‘Yup,” he says, walking over to you, pulling you closer by the hips.

“I got a vacuum for my 21st birthday,” you say, right as he’s about to kiss you. You feel the way he laughs against your lips. “Oh, and Lucy got me a gift card from our favorite burrito place. Free burritos for a whole month.”

He pulls away, looking at you before he says, “that’s pretty fucking cool, actually.”

“I know right?” He nods, laughing and kissing you again. “Where’s Namjoon?”

“He drives, like, super slow,” he says. “You know he only learned how to drive like, three years ago?”

You laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, he used to drive his bike everywhere.”

“Sustainable,” you say.

“Yeah, this one time he got on it drunk and crashed against a tree, though. It was funny.”

“Oh my God, was he okay?”

“Minor concussion,” he says, laughing at your shocked expression. “Everyone should be here soon, though. We’ll go to the grocery store and get the weekend’s supplies.”

“Sounds good,” you say, still wrapped in his arms.

“And then tonight we’ll BBQ. I have a couple of friends coming over that are also here for the weekend. They’re nice, you’ll like them.”

You nod, smiling at him. He smiles back and you divert your gaze from his eyes to his lips. You see the way he smiles as he pulls you closer, softly putting his lips on yours. It’s a short-lived moment, though, as you begin to hear the arrival of his guests, bursting your little bubble of bliss and abruptly throwing you into uncertainty once again.

It’d been a day of fun, mostly spent under the sun, inside the pool and then later in the afternoon, you all headed to the beach. The kids built sandcastles and swam in the ocean, the waves tame and serene, it was like straight out of a movie. The sun set and you got to see it merging with the blue of the water as it painted the sky in a million hues of pink, orange and yellow. It was so beautiful it took you a while to believe your eyes.

It often surprised you, how this was your job, specially since everyone was so nice and friendly towards you, often engaging in conversation that slowly faded out of casual Soori talk into making an effort at getting to know you. The girls in particular seemed to be growing fond of you and Lucy. They rejoiced on the fact that Jimin had found someone to tame his wild spirit without failing to keep him, well, a little wild still. You loved seeing her adapt to the group so well, but most importantly you loved seeing the way Jimin loved her and was so proud to show her off. You overheard a conversation they’d had with Dae and Sun as they buried Jimin in the sand and Lucy gently brushed his hair away from his eyes.

“Are you two in love,” asked Sun, looking at them dreamily.

“Eughhh,” Dae had said, grimacing.

“No, Dae,” Sun told him, gently as ever, “Love is nice. Love is a good thing.”

“Do you two kiss,” Dae asked, eyes a little shy as he focused on burying Jimin further.

Lucy and Jimin turned to each other, almost scared of saying the wrong thing.

“Often times, when two people are in love, they kiss, yes,” Lucy said, taking her time at choosing her words.

“So you two are in love,” Sun looked at her, then at Jimin, as if waiting for her uncle’s confirmation.

“Yes, Sunny. We are in love,” he said, making her smile, her cheeks tainting crimson. “That’s kinda cool, huh?”

“Why,” Dae asked.

“Why what, buddy?”

“Why are you in love, uncle Jimin?”

“Um,” Jimin looked at Lucy, who was starting to get shy herself. “Because Lucy’s the coolest girl in the world!”

“Do you get butterflies in your stomach?” Sun’s question makes both her and Dae giggle.

“All the time,” Lucy says, bringing her forehead to hers as they break into a fit of giggles.

You’d been giggling along with them from your place in one of the sunbeds, Soori napping deeply on your chest. You had a blanket over her and your hand on her head, caressing her silky hair, entranced by how peaceful and lovely the moment you’d witnessed was. Your eyes had veered over to where Jungkook, Taehyung and Namjoon played a rather competitive game of badminton. He was winning, of course. You could tell from the smile on his face – confident, a little cocky even. But he didn’t fail to look any less beautiful as the wind caught his hair and his laughter got caught in the sound of the waves, making it one eternal thing that you were convinced could hold its beauty forever.

You wanted him to love you the way Jimin loved Lucy. It was such a silly thought, but nonetheless true. Today had proven it to you enough. You wanted him to be proud of you, to introduce you as his girlfriend, to weave you inside his circle because he couldn’t imagine it any other way. You wanted to be a sure thing for him, one that he felt the need to share. Perhaps not with the whole world, but with this world. His little bubble of comfort and love. His chosen family. You had no reason to feel left out, but in that moment you did. It was a feeling so visceral that it made his rejection sting more, like the burn of the absence of him was something so unbearable you doubted you could sit through another minute of it. You felt at a distance from him and it made your body ache and your eyes sting with the pain of your love.

Now you stood in front of the mirror, the remnants of the summer sun slowly making themselves present on your body. The shower had been refreshing and in a way, you were hoping it’d wash the sour feeling of comparing yourself to your best friend away. It was hard to show yourself compassion because your thoughts were so unlike you. You try to conceal your sunburn, but opt not to after one failed attempt, keeping your makeup light and naturally golden. You brush through your wet hair, enjoying the feeling of the cold strands against your shoulders and back. In simple moments like these, you think summer is the only season that matters.

There’s a knock at your door, startling you a bit.

“Coming,” you say, as you reach for the white, fluffy robe you’d found in your bathroom.

When you open the door, Jungkook’s face greets you with a smile. His hair is wet, too and his skin has the sun painted all over it. He looks radiant and beautiful. He looks like summer.

“Hi,” he says, stepping inside when you open the door and closing after him.

“Hey,” you say, “where’s Soo?”

“Watching basketball with uncle Yoongi.”

You laugh. “Fair enough.”

“I miss you.”

For a second he just stands there, looking at you, not doing much to close the distance between your bodies.

“Jungkook,” his name on your lips feels final and you don’t know what to follow it with.

“Yes, baby,” his voice is soft, his eyes on you.

The words you’ve kept from him for weeks travel from your head to your throat, sitting on your mouth for a beat too long, not getting close enough to your lips because they’re tangled in your tongue. Too many words, too little sense to make as your heart starts beating faster.

“Today was fun,” is all you can muster.

“I’m glad you enjoyed,” he finally closes the space between you, coming closer. “I had a lot of fun, too.”

“You have,” your worlds falter as he takes the single step it takes him for your bodies to be touching. Your back hits the dresser. “Wonderful friends. You have wonderful friends.”

“Yeah,” he says as his hand travels up and his fingers card through your damp hair. “They’re pretty awesome, huh?”

“You’re so lucky,” you say, eyes closing as his hand caresses your cheek.

“I am,” he responds, and when you open your eyes he’s looking into them. It’s so easy to believe him. It’s so easy to believe what you guys have is more than what he’s willing to give. You wonder if perhaps you love him enough for the both of you.

“W-we should head down soon.”

“In a bit. Tae’s starting the fire,” he says. “He lost the bet.”

You scoff and it makes him chuckle. “They’ll suspect, if neither of us are there, I mean.”

He shrugs. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” your words are firm even if your voice is soft. “But it bothers you.”

“I don’t know that it does, to be honest.”

“Oh?”

“Namjoon sort of caught me today,” he says, a playful smile on his face as his hands sit at your waist.

“What do you mean he caught you?”

“He thinks I have a crush on you,” he says. “Actually, I think his exacts words were you have the hots for your nanny. Which, both are kinda true.”

You laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

“Mhm, for you.” He kisses you. “Am I that obvious?”

“You’re not,” you say, and when you do it has a slight bite to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

He changes the topic because he doesn’t know what to make of your subtle hostility.

“You look so pretty with a tan.”

You turn around for a second, looking in the mirror behind you. “It’s more of a sunburn right now.”

“Still. It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” you say, running your finger down his nose. “You too.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time, tongue finding yours quick enough yet moving in a slow pace. If you were ever to wonder why you can’t deny him, why you’d rather your mouth be on his than spitting a truth that could potentially compromise moments like these, this is why. His hands travel from your waist down your middle, working the strings of your robe undone as the cold air hits your bare skin, his touch scolding hot in contrast. Jungkook lets his hands roam over your body, rejoicing on the feel of your soft skin and the way you smell clean and floral, a hint of sweetness he’s learned to recognize in your presence. It prepares his senses for the best of it all as he pulls away from your lips softly, taking a step back to take you in as his eyes scan down your body. He stops for a second too long at your lips, red and plump from the sun and his kiss, down your collarbones and the faint tan lines that accentuate the golden of your skin. He wants to look, to take you in, but his hands fail him and they travel up, closing around your tits. You shiver when his thumbs lightly graze your nipples and his eyes are back on your lips, plump flesh caught between your teeth.

“So beautiful,” his voice is a whisper that sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself.

He lets his right hand fall from your breast, down your waist until it reaches your hip. His fingers feel feather light against your skin and as you lean backwards against the dresser, he can see the way your stomach caves in as your breath hitches in your throat, every touch but a build up of anticipation. He smiles, loves the way you react to him, even to the faintest of his touches. He follows the path the curves of your body dictate, squeezing at your hip before he’s letting his hand fall down the curve of your ass, eyes looking for the small ink he now knows where to find. He smiles when he sees the butterfly, biting his lip in what one could call disbelief. It is then that Jungkook wonders if you’re his. He can’t quite explain the thought that occurs him but it comes without fail as he takes in your body. A body he’d very much like for it to be his. He doesn’t like to feel possessive, believes he’s a little too old for that now and ultimately knows it serves him no purpose. But the question comes softly to him, the idea that someone else had you before him and the potential of someone having you after him. It leaves a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn’t miss, not even as his cock throbs at what stands before him.

“I want you,” he says, eyes finally landing on yours, voice a little desperate.

You know better. Still, you say, “take me.

His smile holds lust, features soft but eyes dark and Jungkook’s so entrapped by the prospect of having you that he loses track of time completely. That’s why Taehyung’s voice coming from the hallway startles him.

“Jeon!”

The two of you jump, both your hands coming to your robe to close it instinctively.

“Shit,” Jungkook says, hand coming to his forehead to regain some composure.

“We should’ve seen that one coming,” you say, a bit lighthearted at the sight of him. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy for no reason, fully flustered. Not to mention the hard on.

“I had visions of other things coming,” he says, frowning. “Not Taehyung.”

You laugh, and just as if he’d invoked him, his voice resounds again. “Where the hell are you? I’m not grilling for fourteen people all by myself!”

“Go,” you whisper-yell.

“He’s out there!”

“Just- make some excuse up, or something.”

“Okay, okay.”

Jungkook walks to the door, fixing the front of his shorts before opening it. To his fortune, Taehyung had been walking right in front of your bedroom, stopping in his tracks as he sees his disheveled looking friend. He peeks behind Jungkook, catching a glimpse of you and waving.

“What a pleasant surprise, Jungkookie,” he says, what Jungkook would call his bastard smile plastered all over his face.

“I had to fix ___’s leak. A leak- on the- a pipe.”

You mentally face palm. Taehyung just breaks out in boisterous laughter.

“Aren’t you the handyman,” he says, after he’s composed himself slightly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook says in resignation. “Let’s go.”

“See you downstairs, ___!” He waves at you with a big smile on his face as Jungkook drags him by the collar of his shirt. You give him a small wave, cheeks fully red in embarrassment before Jungkook closes the door to your room.

You look at yourself in the mirror, running the brush through your hair once again and applying lipstick, timing your breathing so as to come down from the little high your moment had left you with. You rummage through your bag, retrieving a short linen skirt that you pair with a strappy cotton top with a little pink bow at the center. Once you look presentable enough, you take a deep breath and open the door, sighing before you brace for the night.

It wasn’t panning out to be half as bad as you’d expected. With the exception of Taehyung’s wink at the sight of you, followed by Jungkook’s palm hitting him straight on the head. Aside from that, the evening had taken a relaxed vibe to go with the cool summer breeze and the bright stars in the sky. You’d been in awe the minute you stepped foot outside, taking Soori into your arms as she’d thrown herself to you when she saw you, and gasping at the beauty of the sky.

“That’s unreal,” you say, making Kenny laugh at how Soori imitates your movements, drawing her head back and opening her mouth in mock shock.

“Ah, I know. We’re so used to the city, this almost feels fake,” she says.

You reckoned she was right. You couldn't remember the last time the stars looked so bright in the sky before – or well, at least for you. You think about the fact that you’d left your small town, where the skies were clear and the stars would put on a show every night – it’s crazy to think you’d forgotten how that felt like. You blamed it on coming a long way, though. It made you hopeful, although nostalgic and a bit sad at the same time. Your heart was all over the place.

“I’d also forgotten how the air feels at night next to the ocean.”

“I do not miss the clammy city heat,” Kenny says, laughing, bringing a glass of wine to her lips.

“I don’t mind it, but I definitely prefer this,” you bounce Soori on your hip.

Taehyung joins the two of you, putting a glass of wine on your hand and taking Soori from your arms. “Excuse me, ladies, I’m taking Soori to the grill. Gotta teach ‘em young!”

“Careful with the fire, Taehyung!”

“Will do, auntie Ken!”

“Well, cheers,” she says, bringing her glass forward.

“I don’t know that I should,” you tell her.

“Come on, you’re in a room full of responsible adults. Plus, it’s her bed time soon.”

You bring your glass forward, clinking it to hers before you’re drawing the sweet liquid back.

“Kenny,” a voice from behind her says, his hands closing around her shoulders, one of the few new faces you didn’t recognize this evening. She turns back, smiling at the sound of his voice. “You know, I think I saw you the other day… you didn’t say hi, though.”

“Impossible!” She exclaims, face in shock at the possibility.

“Yeah,” he says, feigning a sullen face. “Dior, was it? Your face was way up there on a billboard.”

She rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her lips. “I fall for that every time.”

“It’s a classic,” he says, eyes finding yours before smiling and growing a bit timid all of a sudden.

“Oh! Mingyu, this is ___,” she turns to you, “__, this is Mingyu. One of Kookie’s high school friends. They went to college together, too.”

Mingyu smiles, outstretching his hand that you take in greeting. “Have I seen you in a billboard before?”

You can feel the warmth traveling to your cheeks, gaze meeting the floor as you shake your head. “You have not.”

“I can totally see that, though,” Kenny says, “you have such a pretty face, ___. Like a doll.”

“Yeah,” he says, his hand squeezing yours softly before releasing it. “How come this is my first time seeing you, though?”

“Oh, I’m Soori’s nanny,” you say, meeting his eyes again.

“No way,” he smiles, “what a cool job. She’s the best.”

“I know right?” She’s always such a good way to break the ice in these situations.

“Yeah,” he turns to Kenny, “I can’t believe Mr Jagerbombs goes by Dad.”

Kenny laughs. “Aw, he’s so good, though. Like he was meant for it all along.”

Mingyu nods, mimicking Kenny’s coos. She shoves him playfully and he laughs before turning his attention back to you. “How long have you been working for Kook?”

“Three months,” you say, “and a bit.”

You can see it in his face, how he does the math. How he thinks of Ira.

“I see,” he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

Kenny asks him about his whereabouts for the past couple of months and he says he’d been busy with work. Lots of travel, very little time for himself. He was looking forward to taking it easier for the rest of the year as he’d just completed an important project. He too had rejoiced on the wonders of nepotism from what you’d gathered, often mentioning his father when talking about his job. In the short ten minutes since you’d met him you knew more about him than you’d expected at the beginning of the conversation. He liked to ski, had just purchased a property in the alps, he was a pescatarian and, as he so clearly stated whilst looking at you, was single.

You try not to make much of the heavy flirting, often diverting your gaze elsewhere when your eyes land on his and he lingers. Kenny talks and you listen to her intently, trying to act cool when you feel his eyes on you again. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t miss the way he begins to close the proximity between the two of you. The way he looks at you when you speak, then at your lips, and back at your eyes before he’s laughing his charming smile that he knows a little too well. He doesn’t notice, but he’s frowning as he takes the scene before him in.

Taehyung flips his steak, whistling in satisfaction at its perfection. He looks over at his friend, mostly to gloat, but sees he’s lost in beef that isn’t of his culinary talents.

“Chill, Matilda.”

“Huh,” the youngest says, taken out of his trance.

“You have these crazy eyes going on,” he says, hand coming in front of his face to motion his point.

“Hey,” Jungkook turns to Taehyung, completely dismissing what he’d just said, “wasn’t Mingyu dating Jennie?”

“Uh,” he ponders for a second. “Nope. Mai told me they broke up like three months ago. It was friendly, though.”

“Ah,” he says, eyes still on him and you.

“You peanut butter and jelly?” Taehyung says this casually as if it wasn’t the most absurd thing Jungkook has ever heard. True, but absurd nonetheless.

“No.”

“I’d be. He’s a charmer,” he says, directing Jungkook’s frown at him this time. He just shrugs.

“Whatever,” he says, gaze back to focusing on his grilling. When Taehyung fails to hit him with a witty remark, he looks at him, confused for a second before he’s following his line of vision. Kenny had left and was now with Hobi, leaving you and Mingyu alone.

“Peanut butter and jelly now?”

“I trust ___.”

Taehyung laughs. Jungkook frowns.

“Last I knew you guys weren’t official or anything like that,” he states, matter of factly.

“Do you need labels for loyalty?”

“Uh, yes, dumbass. That’s the whole point of exclusivity.”

“It’s complicated between us, you know that.”

“What’s so complicated about it?”

“Well, I can’t just-”

“Date the nanny?”

“It’s only been three months, Tae.”

“Ira upped and left, Kook. She vanished.”

“I know that.”

“Can I ask you a question,” he says, looking at him. Jungkook nods. “Do you have hopes? Of her coming back, I mean.”

“No.”

“Do you want her to come back,” Taehyung asks, voice soft, threading carefully.

“No,” Jungkook says, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Then three months might as well be three years,” he puts his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder when he says this. “Don’t put a pause in your life for her. Not when she went for a full stop.”

“Ouch,” is all he can reply, and it makes him feel foolish.

“I know,” he gives his shoulder a little squeeze. “But I have to be the voice of reason because you seem to be reasoning all wrong. And I get why but, why hold back, Kook?”

“I don’t know, I-” he looks at you, your arms wrapped around your body as you listen to his friend intently. “It just feels like so much stands in the way sometimes.”

“Ah, well, it always does. There’s always gonna be something that stands in the way. Family, friends, work, money. I got a flat tire on the way to my wedding, for fuck’s sake!” Jungkook smiles, recalling the memory vividly. “But if you focus on that then… really good things might just pass you because you were so worried on how to get there.”

Jungkook is quiet as he takes Taehyung’s words in.

“Some others,” he continues, “get snatched right from your hands.”

Jungkook and Taehyung see the way you shiver slightly, your hands rubbing at your arms in a futile attempt to warm them. Mingyu notices this, taking a step closer towards you and putting his own hand on your arm, caressing your skin as he, too, attempts to warm you up. They can’t quite make up what he says, but you nod and he smiles before you’re both making your way back inside the house, disappearing from their sight.

“Shit,” is all Jungkook can muster.

He shifts his focus elsewhere. He fixates on the steaks and the vegetables on the grill. On Taehyung’s golf talk. On what wine to pair the food with. He checks his watch – it’s been ten minutes since his friend had taken you inside. His eyes scan the entirety of his backyard, nobody seems to be missing. It’s just the two of you in there. He asks Taehyung about their upcoming trip to Italy, gives him sightseeing recommendations and travel pointers. They spend what feels like forever to Jungkook going back and forth between trains and plane rides in Europe. Jungkook’s for trains, Taehyung’s for planes. He checks his watch again. Fifteen minutes. It surely should’ve been more. He feels insane, questioning his watch’s ability to tell time.

“Get us a refill,” Taehyung half asks, half commands as he passes his empty glass to Jungkook. He gets bossy on the grill, plus he reckons his friend could use a bit of a walk.

And so Jungkook makes his way to the table they’d set up with the wines and cheese boards. Eyes the bottles carefully to find the one they’d been drinking, takes a couple of cheese cubes to his mouth, munches on pistachios, praises Mai and Seulgi for their ability to make a killer charcuterie board.

Yoongi’s hand on his upper back startles him.

“Woah,” he says, frowning. “On edge much?”

Yoongi doesn’t know why, Jungkook knows this much. But he also knows he has a weird gift for perception. He can read a room, specially if inhabited by his near and dear.

“This is good cheese,” Jungkook says in between bites, offering some to Yoongi. He stares at his palm, shaking his head before he’s taking the wine bottle and refilling his own glass.

“This is good wine.”

“I do pride in my selection.”

“You have good taste,” Yoongi says, taking a sip. This makes Jungkook think about you, ironically.

Jimin joins them, grabbing the cheese cubes on Jungkook’s open palm, making the youngest scowl at him.

“Tae says to go help him,” his voice is muffled by his munching.

Jungkook brings his hand to his jaw and closes Jimin’s mouth, making Yoongi chuckle. On his way to the grill he checks his watch again. Twenty three minutes. It’s been twenty three minutes and now he actually begins to wonder on what could possibly be taking so long. He tries to tell himself that he trusts you, despite Taehyung’s words that are slowly but surely sinking in. He trusts you. Does he trust Mingyu? Why should he? He’s a good friend, sure, but he doesn’t owe Jungkook loyalty on a matter he’s unaware of. The matter being you. And him. And your relationship, or lack there of.

“There you are, buddy,” Taehyung brings him closer, hand panning over the steaks he’d transferred to a wooden platter. “Look at these babes.”

“Stop calling the meat babe.”

“Why? She likes it!”

“Stop calling her a she.”

“There will be no gender disparities on my grill, Jeon Jungkook. Plus, we have enough he’s,” he says, pointing at the eggplants that were in the slow process of grilling still.

“I should get the salt,” Jungkook says.

“There’s salt here,” Taehyung points at the small bowl he’d brought from the kitchen, to the brim with flaky salt. But it takes him but a second to realize what the salt means. “But we’ll probably need more, yes.”

“Be right back!”

Jungkook walks. Well, no. Jungkook speed walks back inside the house, slowing down his pace the moment he’s back inside, putting nonchalance back in his strut. His stomach feels heavy all of a sudden, though. Like he’d just finished a whole meal and dessert. Discomfort. A voice in his head tells him to fear something, anything. He fears about the possibility of walking in on you guys in the middle of something, anything. He walks through the living room, steps faltering a bit. How would he feel? How would he feel if he walked in on something he didn’t want to see? Like his friend with his arm around you, mid kiss. Or worse. The worse case scenario feels silly and a bit reckless. But then again, the question still stands. How would he feel? His first thought is angry. The second one doesn’t much come as a thought but as a pang right on his chest that nearly takes his breath away. He hears Mingyu’s voice coming from the kitchen, your soft laugh. His heartbeat grows frantic as he rounds the small hallway and heads in the direction of your voices.

Relief washes over him as he sees that there’s no kissing involved, or physical contact for that matter. You two lean against the counter as you talk. More like, Mingyu talks, you mostly just listen. You hold a big cup with both hands that you’re about to bring to your lips before Jungkook walks inside the kitchen, making both you and Mingyu turn to face him.

“Hey, man,” his friend says, a big smile on his face.

“Hey,” Jungkook tries to make his voice sound as lighthearted as possible, but he fears he fails to convey much of that. “Food’s almost ready.”

“Oh,” you say. It’s peppermint tea you drink. Jungkook notices the label. “Have we been gone for long? Is Soori-”

“No, no. She’s fine. She’s on uncle time,” he laughs, but it’s barely there.

“We must’ve lost track of time,” Mingyu says this, mostly to you. “___ was feeling cold so we came in here to warm her up.”

It takes about two seconds for Jungkook to realize what he means. And no, it’s not the big cup of peppermint tea that serves as warm up. It’s the sweater that falls loosely over your body, a couple of sizes too big for you that’s most certainly not part of your collection.

“Oh,” is all he says and you don’t miss the way his eyes fall from your face, down your body.

“She didn’t bring warm clothes for the night. Rookie mistake,” Mingyu laughs, pointing at you.

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I’m worried she’s gonna get cold during the night-”

Jungkook doesn’t let Mingyu finish his sentence, voice curt when he says, “there’s heating in her room.”

“What time is it,” you ask, to no one in particular.

“8”15,” they both say at the time.

“I should probably get Soori ready for bed.”

“Yeah, sure. It was nice talking to you, ___.” Mingyu looks at you and Jungkook can see something only he can recognize. Not only because he’s known him for years, or because he’s seen it before, but also because he’s pretty sure he’s looked at you in that same way. Mingyu having the hots for you isn’t his main problem, no. Mingyu likes you. Like, genuinely likes you. His gaze is soft but determined, his eyes read an unspoken promise of the next time he gets to have you alone, like this.

You simply nod at him as you start to make your way out the kitchen, eyes meeting Jungkook’s for a brief second before you’re out of sight.

“Hey, can you get Taehyung the salt? Gotta put Soori to bed,” he points at the cupboards, not waiting for him to reply before he, too, is turning around, making his way back outside. He hears the way he lets out a, “sure!”. Sees how he’s relaxed and oblivious as to what’d just happened from the corner of his eye.

Jungkook catches up with you, startling you a bit when he grabs the back of your arm.

“Hey,” he says, and when you look at him he’s at a loss for words. Doesn’t know what to say, where to go from here.

“Hi,” your voice is soft, distant.

“You met Mingyu.”

You don’t like the way his sentence is a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, he’s nice. He told me you guys went to school together.”

“Yeah, we did. I’ve known him since high school.”

You nod. “That’s nice.”

“He liked you,” his tone has a bit of an edge to it.

“We were just talking.”

“No, I know. He likes to take it slow.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Jungkook?”

“What? Should I not spoil his M.O. for you?”

It’s immediate. Instant. The way regret sinks in the second the words leave his mouth.

“Oh,” your voice breaks, breaking him in the process.

“___-”

“There you are!” Mai walks inside the living room with a teary eyed Soori in her arms. “She wants Daddy. I think she’s ready for bed, this one.”

“Hi, princess,” Jungkook says, bringing her to his arms. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. It’s been a long day, huh?”

Soori cuddles into him for about a second before her eyes are on you. And almost as if she knew just how much of an asshole her dad had just been, she throws herself in your arms, head leaning on your shoulder. Jungkook takes the blow. He reckons he probably deserves it.

“I’ll take her to bed.”

“___,” he tries, again.

“You guys should start eating. It takes her a bit to fall asleep in new places.”

When you’re out of sight, Mai turns towards Jungkook. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, confronting him with her eyes.

“What did you do now?”

“I fucked up.”

You try the closet, the drawers and a basket full of plushies but you can’t find a book anywhere. Soori’s in her night gown, all ready for bed as her eyes grow heavy and you want to read her a book but it’s to no avail. Your search results are unsuccessful so you take her in your arms and sit on the rocking chair. You like the one at home better – it’s more comfortable, has more of a soft feel to it. This one is mostly for aesthetics, you suppose. You rock her in your arms, back and forth, deciding that you will be the one telling the story today. Your voice is soft, so as to not wind her up, gently stroking her hair as you begin to recount a ladybug’s story about her first day of school. Susy the ladybug is how you decide to name her. The ladybug goes through the trials and tribulations of something new, shedding some vulnerable tears before her fears are all gone and she’s learning and playing alongside her many animal friends. You don’t make it this far, though. Soori’s asleep before you can even send the little ladybug to school. Nonetheless, you stay like that. Rocking her in your arms as she sinks into deep, peaceful slumber.

You stare out the window, unable to make out the ocean in the darkness but well aware it’s there. You think about its sheer size, the many undiscovered depths it holds. You think about Jungkook’s words and how you weren’t quite sure anything could make the pit in your stomach sink any lower. You think about how he’d rebutted that theory in a matter of seconds, with just a couple of words and one cold stare right into your eyes. You almost want to blame yourself. You even want to blame Mingyu. But this time you know it’s on him. Anything you could’ve done, or how he could’ve perceived it, his words had been ten times worst.

This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like, your heart tells your head. Foolishly enough, as your head reminds it that yes, it isn’t, because Jungkook doesn’t love you and hey, at least that’s consistent. But even if that much is true, you still ponder on the statement. This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. You remember telling yourself that in the past, the first time being after getting your heart broken for the first time when you were fifteen and thought that you’d marry a boy that lived right next door, only to have him shatter your dreams in a matter of seconds the moment he’d decided to take his love elsewhere. You stayed, you tried. Until you softly told yourself those words. This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love isn’t tears that you shed alone, or words left unspoken. It isn’t spite, or greed, or vengeance. It isn’t jealousy. It isn’t pain that has nowhere to go.

So what is love, your head stubbornly asks your heart, growing tired of trying to figure it out. But you’re left with little to nothing when it comes to an answer. At least nothing that isn’t memories of all the little moments that made up a huge sum that translated into realizing you loved Jungkook. You think of the first time he smiled at you, of his eyes on you whilst on the plane. You think of the morning after that, of nonchalant coffee talk and your very first banter. You think of your first embrace, of your first kiss, of the sun setting and his stupid speedboat and your hair flowing in the wind and of how nothing had ever compared to the giddy, lightweight feeling in your heart. Him. Love feels like him. Love is supposed to feel like him but he’d become a memory of anger and heaviness and uncertainty that you could not bare anymore.

You look down at Soori and smile, only realizing you’re crying when a tear falls on top of her forehead. She doesn’t even flinch, but you hate that it happened. You hate that you’re crying with her in your arms, you hate that she’s inevitably in the middle of this, you hate that you two couldn’t be better for her. She didn’t deserve that, as much as you didn’t. Nobody did, you think. Jungkook didn’t deserve to go through what he went through with Ira. He didn’t deserve whatever was so vivid in his eyes when you’d first met him – that pain, that despair. He didn’t deserve it. It’s unfair for everyone and it’s probably what you hate the most about the situation. Not you and your feelings, or his spiteful words. No. Just the inability for things to… work. The bad cards dealt to you, the glitch on the fate you so badly prayed for. The events had turned and they didn’t favor any of you but all you could do in that moment was hope for the best. Even if the best sounded like the worse, most painful scenario.

You kiss Soori’s forehead, letting your lips linger against her soft skin. You bring her small body closer to you and feel the warmth she radiates and you hope that she can feel all of the love you have for her. You hope it stays with her forever.

Back in your room you don’t bother to turn on the lights. You head straight for the bathroom and get in the shower, letting the water run piping hot over your body, focusing your senses on the physical so you don’t have to think about the inevitability of it all. You brush your teeth, lather thick cream all over your face without much care and throw a big shirt on, putting socks on your feet and cursing the cold. You can’t sleep but you don’t do much other with your brain, letting yourself cry, and stop, and think, then cry again. Your tears run out sooner than expected but you almost wish they hadn’t. All you have left is emptiness, a hollow void that takes over you.

You don’t hear Lucy come in, only realize she has when you feel the other side of the mattress sink beside you. You turn around, looking at her and you don’t have to say anything for her to know something’s wrong.

“Oh, ___,” her voice is sweet, tender. You wonder how it got to this point. You wonder when it became almost telepathic, your way of communicating with each other.

“He doesn’t love me.” Your words are a whisper that you can’t quite bring to completion.

She brings her hands to your face, wiping the tears away before they can make it past your cheek. It promptly moves to your hair, fingers carding through it and the feeling is comforting.

“Why do you say that?” She hates that she has to ask.

“Because I told him,” you begin, “I told him I loved him and he didn’t say it back. And all this time I’ve been… trying to come up with reasons but tonight he just- it’s not love. It isn’t love.”

She nods her head softly, shushing you as your words begin to grow frantic and more tears threaten to fall out. She’s silent for a while, caressing your hair as she tries to thread carefully when choosing her next words.

“Love is- it’s all a complicated thing. For a while, at least. But,” she pauses, takes a breath. “It shouldn’t feel like this. You’re too good for anything that doesn’t make you feel elated and comforted and, loved. You don’t deserve any of this, ___. And I might not know the full story, and you don’t have to tell me just yet, but these tears are proof enough for me.”

You stare into her eyes in the darkness of the room, take her words in and once she’s done, you simply pull her towards you and turn around, letting her arm fall on top of yours as she holds you and brings you closer.

She doesn’t leave your side until you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.

You think you’re dreaming at first, abruptly waking up and reaching for Soori’s baby monitor that you’d placed on your night table after putting her to bed. You squint, adjusting your sight as you try to make up the images on the little camera that points at her crib. She was crying, tossing and turning on the mattress and reaching for her giraffe. You check the time. It was a couple of minutes past four a.m., way too early for her to be up. Shoving the duvet off your body, you step into the coolness of the room, then the coolness of the hallway as you make your way to her nursery. It’s dark and eerily quiet, the evening events having come to an end as the whole house slept.

It’s not surprising that you jump the second you hear the creak of the door as Jungkook, too, makes his way out into the hallway.

“You scared me,” you tell him, turning around and putting a hand to your chest as you try and steady your heartbeat. For a second, in your sleepy lack of consciousness, you forget. It’s blissful.

“She’s up,” he states, half asleep himself, eyes swollen and barely open.

“Yeah. I can go,” you say. He shakes his head, not fully grasping your words and simply walking next to you to her nursery.

Her cries get louder when the two of you enter the room and she sees Jungkook. He walks over to her crib as you close the door behind you and takes her in his arms, swaying her from side to side as he shushes her cries softly.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here,” he coos, bringing his lips to her temple. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You walk closer to them and her eyes make you up in the darkness, her chubby hand reaching out for you. You take her hand in yours and she squeezes, playing with your fingers as her cries subside.

“Shhh,” your voice is soft, caressing her silky hair with your free hand, encouraging her to go back to sleep. Her eyes grow heavy once again but she fights it.

“Do you think she’s hungry,” he asks you.

You shake your head. “I gave her a bottle before bed. I think she had a bad dream.”

She whines again, head coming up in a restless manner.

“It’s alright, princess. Daddy’s here. We’re here,” he turns around some, so she can see you better and he begins to rock her in his arms. You place a hand on her back, softly running your thumb over it, your front flushed to Jungkook’s back as you sway from side to side, mimicking his movements. It works, and in a matter of minutes, she’s asleep.

“I don’t want to put her down,” he says, looking at her.

“I know, but she’ll wake up again if you don’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You kiss her cheek ever so gently and he kisses the top of her head before laying her back down on her crib. She flinches a bit, eyes opening for a second that has you and Jungkook freezing like statues and staring intently at her before she closes them again and resumes her sleep. You both chuckle, looking at each other as if it was a reflex that proved complicity. Both your smiles fade rather quickly, though.

“___,” he says and you shake your head, bringing your finger to your lips and making him go quiet as you look down at Soori. He motions at the door with his head and you nod, following him outside.

It’s cold in the hallway, your sock-clad feet against the wooden floors making you shift in place a bit. There’s something comforting about the quiet nature of the moment, though. Jungkook closes the door carefully, coming to stand in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Shit, I’m so sorry. It was an asshole move and I can’t even wrap my head around what I said.”

You smile. Not because you forgive him, not because you understand. But because you find it ironic that he can’t wrap his head around the idea of you being his, even in the most childish of ways like a jealousy strike.

“It’s okay.” You don’t believe the words that pass your lips, but what is there to say? You look at him, at what you can make out of his face in the darkness and you can’t bare say anything else. His proximity, his eyes on yours, the way his hair falls on top of his forehead, messy from sleep. It all makes you… want him. It’s stupid, and you blame it on the odd time. On the silence. On the dark. On the fact that nobody’s looking right now, and that’s what your heart is accustomed to. That’s what your body understands as love. It’s what creates desire. You’re a creature of habit, after all.

“It’s not, I-,” he begins but you take his hand in yours and he stops mid-sentence, looking at the gesture and then looking back at you.

You can smell him and it makes you feel drunk. Soft and gentle, like his body wash. Clean linen sheets and something else you can’t find the words for other than him. It’s him. You think, for a second, that you should feel stupid, but in reality the touch alone makes you feel alive.

If you’re to wake up and make sane decisions, let yourself have at least one night to take with you, forever.

Your hand in his pulls him closer to you and it’s instinctive, the way he wraps his arms around you, holding you in place for a second, taking you in with his gaze before his lips are crashing against yours. There’s no starting rhythm to it, it’s familiar from the get go. Almost like he knows – like he could read your thoughts and was making it count. His hands travel down, sneaking inside the fabric of your t-shirt, squeezing your ass and pushing your hips to his in one swift movement. A moan passes your lips and he smiles, bringing his finger in between your mouths, the low shhh making his lips pout against yours, making you kiss him.

“Jungkook,” you say, mouth on his still.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Fuck me.” Your voice stands in plea and your words go straight to Jungkook’s cock, well aware of you by now.

“Fuck.” He sighs against your lips. “Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you.”

You nod, bringing your lips to him, tongue dancing with his as you move slow, fingers carding through his hair.

“Please.”

He hums against your mouth, bringing his hands back to your ass as he pulls you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. He crosses the hallway, hands finding the door knob intuitively as he focuses on the way your lips come down to his neck, his eyes closing in pleasure the second you begin to place open mouth kisses on the flesh. He manages, though. Stepping inside his room with your body snaked around his, walking towards his bed and letting out little grunts of pleasure when your lips begin to suck on his skin, mouth coming to his ear to let him know how much you want him. How you want him to have you. Telling him the things you want him to do to you, no inhibitions holding you back. His knee touches the mattress as he lays you against it carefully, admiring the way you seamlessly fall into his bed, arms outstretching over the soft covers, hips sinking into them as you roll them in a way that hypnotizes him. Your hair flairs out around you and you look heavenly in the dim light.

“Don’t just stare,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist enticingly.

“Watch me,” he says before leaning down and kissing you again.

You shake your head, a giggle passing your lips. “I want to.”

“Want what, baby?” Jungkook’s too distracted with his kiss, and with the way your hips roll into his, making him fall into you.

“To watch you.”

Your words are filthy and your panties are so fucking thin it makes Jungkook moan as he feels the way his dick falls perfectly between your folds. “Just watch?”

“Mhm. For a little bit. Please?”

“Yeah, okay,” he breathes out, deepening the kiss and rolling his hips into yours.

You take advantage of the way his body betrays his thinking and put your hands on his shoulders before you’re pushing him down on his back, your knees sinking on the mattress as you bring your body up, looking down at him.

“Lay down on the pillows.” Your voice is demanding and he can’t say he minds.

“‘Kay, boss.” His words make you giggle a bit and you watch the way he scoots over, following your instructions, getting comfortable as he leans his head on his hands. He pouts before he says, “why are you so far away?”

“Because I get to watch.”

“Yeah? What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

You rest your body against the soles of your feet, running your hands through your hair, getting comfortable yourself.

“I want you to touch yourself.” There’s no shyness in your voice, but it remains soft, drives him a bit mad – your duality.

“I can do that, baby. Will you give me a show, too?”

“Not right away. I want to watch you first.”

He looks into your eyes for a moment before he sends a smirk your way, sinking back into the pillows before his hand begins to make its descend.

“No.” He looks confused for a second at your words. “I want you to do it slowly. I want you to do it like you would if I wasn’t watching.”

“Okay,” is all he can respond with, because the little dynamic is already sending all his blood supply down to his cock, throbbing at your demands.

He closes his eyes, left hand coming behind his head, his fingers playing with his hair for a second. When he opens them again, he looks down at his bare torso, sighs as he palms his cock over his pyjama pants, feels the warmth it radiates, perceives the small signs of his arousal. He squeezes, feels the way he throbs as his hand applies more pressure, a low hiss leaving his lips that has you feeling delirious. He looks up at you then and you get so caught up in his eyes you almost miss the way his hand snakes inside, past his boxers, his eyes closing when he finally gets to wrap a hand around himself. His head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as he circles a thumb around his head, collecting the pre cum and spreading it down his shaft as he begins to jerk himself. You want to see him, you want to see it all, but you stop yourself from asking, from demanding it, when you realize you quite enjoy the sight before you. It feels primal, almost taboo – like you shouldn’t be watching. It makes your pussy throb.

“Fuck,” he sighs at how good he feels and how badly he needs to discard of his layers, giving himself one last tug before his hips are coming up and he’s getting rid of his pants, boxers following suit, falling into a small pile on the floor.

He sees the way your eyes fall on his naked form, slowly taking him in before they land on his cock, on the way he grasps a hand around it once more, firm at the base like he’s showing you.

“I love your cock.”

Your words make him let out a breathy chuckle. “I love your pussy. Wanna show me?”

You lean backwards, resting your weight on your hand, feet touching the mattress as you spread your legs for him. Your fingers bring your shirt up past your tummy, pink panties on full display. He pouts, not fully displeased, but not fully satisfied either.

“Let me see you, baby.”

“Keep going.” Is all you say.

He reckons his best bet is to shut up and do what you say, and so he does just that. Applying more pressure as he closes his hand around his cock once again, enjoying the slight friction for a moment before it grows into discomfort. His hand comes up to his mouth and he spits on it, making your breath hitch on your throat at the lewd act, eyes threatening to close in sheer pleasure. You’re reactive when it comes to him. With the added lubrication, he begins to pick his pace back up, jerking his hand up and down, a low moan leaving him when his thumb toys with his slit, forefinger joining as he squeezes the head. His eyes never leave you, going back and forth from your face, to your body, unable to decide which one brings him the most pleasure right now. He grunts when your hand sneaks inside your shirt, when he sees the way you palm at your tits, the act visible through your white shirt. He sees the way you pinch your nipples, making your hips roll involuntarily.

“Yeah, baby, fuck. Touch yourself for me.”

His pants grow heavier, hand begins to slow down before he squeezes at the base, halting the beginning of his orgasm.

“How do you feel?”

“Good,” he says. “Too good.”

“Mm,” you hum, moaning when your thumb grazes your sensitive nipples.

“Wanna touch you so bad, baby.”

“Not yet, Kook.”

Before he can protest you straighten your back, removing your shirt in one swift movement, making him moan at the sight of your tits alone.

“Prettiest tits.” His voice is cocky, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

You smile, leaning back slightly, eyes back on his cock that leaks and throbs for you. You want to put it in your mouth so badly, you want to ride him, touch him. But not yet.

“What would you do now? Make yourself cum?”

He shakes his head, smiling. You follow the path his hands take, the free one toying with his nipple, making him hiss and let out a low grunt, tummy caving at the overstimulation. The hand that wraps around his cock pumps once, twice, before traveling down until he’s tugging at his balls. You watch the way he rolls them in his palm, making his cock jump against his stomach.

“Shit,” he breathes out, closing his eyes.

“Look at me, Jungkook.”

“I am.” He complies, a bit drunk on the pleasure he grants himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him. “I’m so wet, Kookie.”

It’s mostly endearing, whenever you use that nickname on him. But in particular moments, it’s a sign that you’re in it to play.

“Did I? Let me see.” He nods your way, encouraging you.

Your hand falls between your legs, fingers pulling at the side of your panties as you move the thin fabric to the side. Jungkook cocks his head to the side slightly, smiling when he can see how you glisten from where he stands.

“Take them off.”

“Who says you’re in charge now?”

“I never stopped being in charge, baby.”

“Doubtful,” you bite back, spreading your pussy lips with your index and middle finger, relishing in the way your actions throw him off a bit.

“I like to give you what you want. That’s all, baby.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, fingers drawing lazy circles over your clit. “You do.”

“Take them off, ___.”

Your mind doesn’t let you fight back. It’s the need that runs through your body the more you touch yourself, the way he did so good, looked so good. But most of all, it’s the way that it’s true. That he is in charge and he never stopped. And that you loved every second of it. So you give him what he wants now, raising your hips as you roll your panties off your legs, tossing them to the floor before your hands are finding your heat again.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good for me, yeah?” His hands resume their own pace, jerking his dick, his movements a bit lethargic, almost as if he was mimicking your speed.

“Nngh.” The little noises you make are dreamy, makes his eyes fall shut for a second so he can compose himself.

“Is this how you do it? When you’re all alone?”

“Yeah,” your words are a little strained, face contorted in pleasure.

“Mm,” he nods, feigning more control than he actually has right now. “And where does your mind go?”

“You.” Your words don’t falter, eyes landing straight on his.

“What about me?”

“Sucking you. Riding you,” your last words get caught up in a moan as you push your middle finger inside your entrance.

Jungkook hums, eyes fixated on your pussy. “What else?” His own voice fails him as his pleasure grows.

“Your mouth on me. On my pussy- everywhere. I think about you fucking me. Hard.”

“Come here, ___.” His words are firm, unable to take the distance your little kinky dynamic had put between the two of you, and you seem to be feeling the same because you don’t hesitate much as you crawl towards him with hazy eyes and weak limbs. He looks down, giving you a silent instruction you are more than willing to take as you lay down on your tummy, between his legs, looking up at him. He smiles, hand around his cock as he says, “open.”

And you do, moaning at the way his cock feels heavy on your tongue, tasting the precum and rejoicing in the way he sighs in relief the moment your mouth is on him. You roll his balls on your palm, not wasting any time as you sink down on him, head hitting the back of your throat, making him hiss and moan, a little louder than usual. It feels good to make him feel good – to make him get lost in his pleasure, to allow yourself to get lost in it, too.

“Oh my god,” his voice is a little whiny, his eyes closing in pleasure as his hand comes to your head and you nod, giving him the cue. He pushes down, eyes back on you, guiding your movements as you move on him skillfully, coming up just to sink back in, letting him press you against him until you’re gagging around his cock, making him groan in primal satisfaction. “Just like that, baby, you’re doing so- fuck, so good.”

He brings your head back up after using your mouth, smiling when you catch your breath, fucked out eyes looking straight into his as you smile, too. You place open mouth kisses against his tip, sucking on his frenulum as you travel down, letting your spit coat his cock before you’re sucking his balls into your mouth, one by one. Jungkook moans at the feeling, at the sight, before he can’t take it anymore and his head is drawing back against the pillows, tummy hiccuping at the threat of release.

“Stop.” His hands cup your jaw, halting your movements. “Don’t wanna cum yet.”

“Okay.” Your voice is sweet, smiling at him as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, fingers lingering on your lips for a while as you come up, leaning over to crash your lips onto his. You kiss him, deep and full of passion, your tongue playing with his, teeth sinking on his bottom lip once, twice, and he gets so lost in the way you kiss him he succeeds at ignoring everything else. It’s not for long, though, moaning into your mouth as his dick jumps against his pelvis, bringing a hand down to allow it some much needed friction.

“Ride my cock, baby.”

“Yeah, I want that. Want that so bad.”

“Take it, then,” he says, kissing you one last time before he’s settling back down against the pillows, getting comfortable as he watches you get settled, straddling him, hands falling to his chest, pressing your tits together right on his face, a lazy smirk adorning his lips at the sight. You roll your eyes when you notice, but it’s lighthearted because you both know that there’s nothing you love more than getting those little reactions out of him. You sink down on him slowly, watching the smile fade into an almost pained expression as his face contorts in pleasure, the two of you sighing at the feeling of his cock filling you up.

You sit on him, head rolling back as you let the discomfort turn into pleasure. He holds your hips, fingers touching the soft skin gently, a little moan leaving his lips when you clench on him. Your hand comes down to your lower tummy as you press, legs reflexively trying to close around his waist, making him hiss as you both feel the pressure you apply to his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he pants, squeezing at your hips. “That was so hot.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pee myself,” you say, making the both of you laugh.

“I think that’s another thing, baby.”

“It’s too much.” Your voice shakes.

“That’s okay. Just ride me.” His voice is soft, fingers tucking your hair behind your ears as you nod.

You set the pace together, fucking him slowly as he moves your hips, helping you move on him, letting you feel him fully as you sink yourself onto him before coming back up, not entirely, never not having him inside of you. Your eyes lock on his, taking in his features, how beautiful he looks when a particular roll of your lips has him moaning, eyes fighting to stay open. You take in the sounds he makes, the way they get lost in your own, the way his lip gets caught between his teeth right before he utters dirty little words your way, words of praise that let you know how good you make him feel, encouraging you as he tells you that you’re doing so, so well. You cry out in pleasure when he tells you your pussy was made for him, hands coming to rest at his thighs as you fuck yourself on him, the tip of his cock massaging that sweet spot inside of you with every push and pull.

“I’m so close,” you mewl, nails digging into his thighs.

“Come back to me,” he pleads, hands on your tits, thumbs caressing your nipples before he’s pulling you back down by the waist.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Your words are airy, filled with lust as you begin to move faster on top of him. Jungkook removes his hands from your waist, letting you do as you please – letting you use him – and brings them to your face, making you look at him. He sees the way your mouth parts in a silent moan when you cum around his cock, moaning at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head as your pussy contracts around him.

“Good girl. You did so good, baby,” he mutters soft praises against your lips soothingly, aiding your come down.

“Yeah?” You ask, feeling a little delirious.

“Yeah. Fuck, your pussy feels so good.”

“Make me cum again, Kookie. Fuck me hard this time.”

And that’s seemingly all you have to say for Jungkook to take back the reigns he carries so very well. He plants one last kiss on your lips before he’s holding you by the waist, pushing you off gently, letting himself get distracted by the mess you’ve left all over him. You bite your lip as you take it in, too, the sight before you definitely matching how wet you are between your legs. It makes you giggle a bit, a little fucked silly as your limbs feel weak and your body feels so, so good at the same time. You don’t linger in your little bliss for long, though. Jungkook grabs you by the hips, pulling you back up and positioning you in your hands and knees. Your legs give out a bit, feeling a little shaky but you relax once he stands behind you, finding a spot between your legs and running his hand down your spine. His touch is soft, the sheer act sending jolts of electricity down your body as he presses down some, making you arch your back for him, throwing your ass back at him slightly.

“So sexy,” he praises, palms coming to your ass before he squeezes at the soft flesh. “All mine.”

“Yeah- yeah, Jungkook. I’m all yours.” And you mean it. You mean it because in your state, you are. Because when he takes over your senses all you can think about is him, and how his you are. All you can think about is this moment and giving yourself to him completely. So you are all his, and he is all yours. When his fingers travel down, finding their place between your slit, you hiss, pulling away from him instinctively as the oversensitivity takes over. He feels how swollen you are, still dripping down his fingers.

“Shh, baby. Just focus on my touch.”

“Okay,” you breathe, pushing back into his touch, closing your eyes as you concentrate on him and him only.

“You’re so tight around my fingers. Can't wait to get my cock in here. You want that, ___?”

“Shit- yes,” your words are a whisper as he sinks his fingers into you, going straight for your g-spot.

“Can I play with you a little first?” His next actions find you mid-nod, making you gasp as you feel his thumb gently graze over your asshole, a moan leaving your mouth. “Need your words, baby.”

“Yes. Please, Kook- nngh.”

He draws his tongue inside his mouth, collecting saliva before he lets it fall straight into your ass, watching as it falls down your pussy. You whine, needy and a little desperately and he doesn’t prolong the anticipation, fingers buried inside of you as he brings his tongue to your ass, giving tentative little licks as if to measure your reactions. You moan, face crashing against the mattress as your arms give out, cries of pleasure leaving you as Jungkook lets his tongue play, fucking your ass as his middle and ring finger rub at your clit in tight little circles. It’s damn near overwhelming, your moans growing high pitched and probably a little too loud, but you can’t quite register anything other than the pleasure he gives.

Your second orgasm takes you by surprise, feeling the way your tummy tenses when Jungkook spits on your ass, closing his mouth around you as lewd little sounds fill the air, his fingers entering you once again, deeper and harder this time. You can’t even speak, your only way of letting him know is reaching behind you, taking hold of his thigh and digging your nails into them, a loud cry leaving you before you’re coming all around his mouth. All around his fingers. You come down on his tongue, falling into its languid little movements before you’re cringing back in overstimulation.

“Fuck,” he says, coming up and running a hand through his hair. You smile at him, cheek still pressed to the mattress, ass up. “You look pretty like this.”

“Are you buttering me up so you can hit it in back shots?”

He laughs. “Can you take it, baby?”

You nod your head, giving him a lazy smile. “I want it.”

“How do you want it?”

“Hard.”

He smirks, bringing an open palm to your ass cheek as he spanks it. You moan, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as the pleasure swims over your body. You gather your strength, mainly induced by adrenaline as you bring yourself back up on your hands, pushing your ass back, looking at him seductively as you do so. He runs two fingers down his tongue, wetting them before bringing them back down to his cock, giving himself a few pumps before lining himself on your entrance. You sigh when his tip teases your hole, moan when he pushes into you, bottoming out on the first stroke, driving you forward a bit.

“Fuck, you feel so warm.”

“You feel so big,” you breathe out, panting as you brace yourself for what your next words will ignite. “Fuck me, Kook. Please.”

He draws his hips back, eyes zeroing in on the way your juices coat his cock before he’s slamming right back into you. He groans and you gasp as his hands come down to your hips, holding you in place as he starts to fuck you. His pace grows slowly, steadily. He fucks you deep, lets you get used to him, measuring your reactions in the way you moan and arch your back, each of which ask for more. It feels so fucking good, your head falling between your arms as you let him use your body at his very desire, his cock hitting all your sweet spots with each drive of his hips, his breath and moans sounding so delicious, music to your ears, adding to the overall experience.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His words are but a set of strangled breaths, a high pitch moan passing his lips that makes your entire body react to it as you clench around his fat cock. “I’m so close. Fuck.” He groans, spanking your ass again, growing feral. “Can you give me one more, baby?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“C’mon, angel. You can do it.”

“Fuck, Jungkook-” you cry out the minute his hips pick up the pace, angling you in the way only he knows how, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside of you and that’s all it takes for the pleasure to start building up in your lower stomach. “Shit- fuck. Just like that.”

He fucks you at that exact pace, chest rising and falling with the exertion of his actions but he can barely notice the way it spends his body, mind too focused on how good you feel – on how much he can feel you, almost as if your pussy was swallowing him back in with each pull. He slams his cock inside of you with force, balls slapping against your clit. He feels the way your body tenses, knows you’re close.

“Fuck, yeah, baby. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You feel the way your tummy locks in, body drawing back into itself before you’re letting go, muscles relaxing as you cum around Jungkook’s cock, his pace never faltering. “I’m cumming, oh my God.”

The way your pussy contracts around his cock sends him into overdrive, mind growing hazy at the feeling, your moans the perfect sound to pair it all with. His hips begin slowing down and he stops altogether, letting you milk his cock with the last remains of your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, voice whiny, eyes closed, nails digging at your flesh.

“Cum in my mouth, baby, please.” Your voice is raspy, voice sore and body spent. You sound so sweet, so good.

He can’t find his words, simply pulling off of you and crashing back against his pillows, running his hands down his face, cock angry and leaking. You find your place back in between his legs, hand wrapping around his cock as you give him a couple of pumps before your tongue circles the head.

“Shit, baby,” he opens his eyes, looking down at you, moaning.

“Cum for me, Kookie. Want it so bad.”

He nods, hand cupping your chin as he lets himself get lost in the way your mouth feels around him. You sink down on him, sucking on your way up, playing with his balls as you feel him grow tense.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He sighs, head drawing back before he’s looking back down at you, hand working on him and the tip of his cock on your tongue as you shake your head from side to side. He cums inside your mouth, hot strips of his release coating your tongue, some falling down your chin. It’s a sight to behold and Jungkook doesn’t miss a single second. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” he says, a bit deliriously.

He sees the way you smile, swallowing before your eyes grow heavy, clouded with lust before you say, “thank you.”

Jungkook smiles, an airy laugh passing his lips before he’s bringing you back up, your body crashing against him as his crashes against the pillows. He kisses you, teeth clanking with yours and it makes the both of you giggle.

“I’ve never ran a marathon but I feel like I just did,” you say.

“I have and it feels just like this, yes.”

You chuckle and he swoons, finding you so sweet. You look at the window, see the tiny pockets of light that comes from the blinds. “The sun is coming out. What time is it?”

Jungkook looks at the clock on his nightstand. “6:23”

“Oh my God.”

“I’ve been fucking you for over two hours. What a life.” He sighs, closing his eyes and snuggling into the pillows.

You look down at him, take him in. Your smile fades the more the sight before you makes your heart feel tight in your chest. Tight with love, tight with heartbreak. Your fingers come up to his cheek, softly touching him there, making him sigh in sweet satisfaction, eyes still closed. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, his heartbeat in perfect sync with yours as it tries to steady itself.

“I wish we could stay like this.”

“Me too,” he says, but he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t register the full extent of your words. After all, only you know what you mean. “Soori’ll be up in like an hour or so, the others in maybe two, three hours. We should try to sleep while she still does.”

“Okay.” You kiss him, lips locked on his, trying to lock the memory in as best as you can. When you pull away you smile, endeared by the smile that forms on his own lips. You begin to pull your body away from his and he frowns, hand closing around your arm.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room, just in case-”

“No. Stay here. Please.”

“Are you sure?” He nods, pulling you closer. “Okay.”

“Good.” He kisses you again.

“I should pee. And you should, too.”

“My dick is broken,” he mocks sleep, shutting his eyes closed, making you laugh.

“Come on!” You pull him by the arms, dead weight that you carry halfway through his king size bed.

But once you get him out of the bed, he manages to get you inside the shower, quickly lathering your bodies in foamy soap, in a silence that you find comforting, powered by the exhaustion that runs through your bodies. But nonetheless, he’s gentle as he runs the sponge down your body, and you’re gentle as you lather him up, too, stealing kisses here and there.

When you finally get in bed, it takes him about ten seconds to fall into what you know is a deep slumber, the last thing he says to you is, “good night!” as tiny chuckles escape him through the irony of his words. You look at him, feel the way his breath grows heavy, hair wet against the pillows, lips full and plump and red from your kisses, looking so peaceful and so beautiful. A beauty you know comes once in a lifetime.

You smile.

“I love you,” you whisper at him, head falling to his chest before sleep begins to take over your mind and body, a smile on your face.

If you’re to wake up and make sane decisions, let yourself have at least one night to take with you, forever.

★taglist★

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pasukiyo · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, I loved your Tom Riddle fanfic, Addiction! Can you please write a part 2 of this where he starts ignoring her after this cuz the ✨scary feelings are getting out of control✨ so she tries to make him jealous and *you can guess what happens next*?

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!ravenclaw prefect reader 4,221 words notes; this can be read as its own imagine. but, for a little more context, you can read addiction here. warnings; smut and a little angst

“I see you’ve been spending a lot of time with that Ravenclaw prefect, my Lord.”

Tom said nothing, only glanced Avery’s way in acknowledgement over the top of his Potions book. Avery and Lestrange shared an amused grin as they eyed their friend, and Lestrange leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. “She’s pretty,” he said, and again, Tom said nothing but he could feel his muscles tense, his jaw locking at Lestrange’s words.

Avery smirked over at Lestrange and scooted towards the edge of his seat, tilting his chin down so that Tom may hear what he said next. “She seems to fancy you, you know,” Avery whispered, and Tom glanced over at him again. His brow furrowed at their smirks, but again, he remained silent. “And forgive me if I’m wrong but… it seems that you… feel the same.”

Tom set his Potions book down onto the table in front of him and leaned back into the cushions of his seat, clasping his hands together in his lap. He eyed the two boys before him, expression blank but still, his actions seemed calculated, as if everything he did was carefully planned.

“Since when did how I feel become either of your concerns?” Tom asked, and the two boys in front of him seemed to flush at this, and they both shared a look. A silence ensued, and Tom felt relieved to think that the conversation was over. That was, until Lestrange cleared his throat and leaned forward again.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but…” he trailed off and glanced at Tom, his gaze sharp and daring him to continue. “…you’ve been spending quite some time with her lately. It almost seems to me, to us, that… you’ve gone soft.”

Tom blinked at this, could feel his jaw tense again, his fingers curling into his palms to form fists. It was true that he had been spending more and more time with her lately but for them to think that he could’ve gone soft?

Foolish. They were foolish to think that he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, did not have his priorities sorted. His priority, of course, was seeking information about Horcruxes, and to even begin thinking that she could deter him from this path made him so… so…

Tom blinked. What if Avery and Lestrange were right? What if this thing he felt for her— whether that be love or simply infatuation— was making him soft? The feelings he had only really acknowledged just weeks before on the top of the Astronomy Tower, the fluttery feeling he got in his chest when she was near, the panic and dread he felt at the idea that something could happen to her— it was a weakness. He told her that very night, and still, he couldn’t push her away, couldn’t resist the urge to have her as close as possible.

It was sickening, the way he felt, that he was even capable of feeling such things. Tom Riddle was many things, but a coward, he was not. But this premonition that he could potentially be falling in love… It frightened him.

He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure, pushing himself off of the sofa cushion to look down at the two boys still sitting before him. “I think… that the two of you must be foolish to think so poorly of me,” Tom said, and Avery and Lestrange scrambled to their feet, shaking their heads. “My Lord, that was not our intention—“

Tom raised a hand to silence them, and the two boys pressed their lips together, practically shriveling away where they stood. “You are to never question where my priorities lie from now on,” Tom stated, and the two boys bowed their heads, their bodies shaking. “And please, don’t the both of you have essays for Professor Slughorn to write?”

And with that, Tom strode off, heading for his dormitory, leaving both Avery and Lestrange shaking in the Slytherin common room.

Tom found that the easiest way to ignore her presence was to not look her way at all. He would usually avoid walking down the same corridor as her altogether, which was easy enough the first few days. But as time went on, he suspected she began to grow worried, and avoiding her seemingly became more and more difficult. So instead, he would walk by without so much as sparing her a glance, always leaving her dumbfounded and confused, wondering whether or not she’d done him wrong.

She watched as Tom walked by, his expression blank, his eyes set to the hallway ahead. He didn’t even acknowledge her, and she could feel her heart stutter in her chest, and she swore she could even feel a few fragments tear from it and flutter down to the depths of her stomach.

Could she perhaps have done something wrong? She searched her brain for anything, anything she said or done that could’ve possibly upset him, but turned up with nothing. She couldn’t help but feel insecure, worried even that she messed up the beautiful thing she thought they had.

She had to talk to Tom. It was the only way to ease her growing concern, the only way to piece her heart back together.

However, trying to flag Tom down proved more difficult than she anticipated. It certainly was no help that she had no classes with him, since he was a year ahead, and couldn’t even rely on lunch or dinner since he never seemed to stick around for long after she arrived in the Great Hall. He never seemed to be on duty at night when she was, and it wasn’t like she could enter the Slytherin common room herself to track him down.

She felt helpless, with absolutely no way of finding Tom or grabbing his attention.

Until one night, as she patrolled up and down one of Hogwarts’ many corridors when she swore she saw the end of a student’s robes up ahead. She picked up her pace with the intent of catching whomever it was out of bed, only to find that it was none other than Tom Riddle himself, walking down the hallway.

“Tom!” She exclaimed, and she swore she could see his shoulders tense at the sound of her voice, his feet stopping in their tracks. She rushed towards him, stepping in front of him before he could even think to hurry away. For the first time in days, she gazed up into Tom Riddle’s dark eyes, and for a moment, she seemed to relax. Her lips curved up into a smile at the sight of him, and she stepped closer. “You’ve been terribly difficult to catch lately.”

Tom said nothing, his jaw clenching as he stared down at her, and her smile quickly faded. She tilted her head, her hand reaching for his but he did not let her hold him, slipping his fingers away from hers before she could grab ahold of them. She flinched at the action, gazing back up at him. “Is everything alright?” She asked. “You seem to have been ignoring me as of late.”

Tom’s brow wrinkled as he watched her, her fingers now locked together and fondling with each other, her eyes darting from his down to the floor. “Have I… have I done something wrong?” She questioned, blinking up at him. He noticed the way tears brimmed the outskirts of her sockets, and he noticed the way she tried to blink them away.

His heart thud against his chest. Why did he want to hold her? Why did he want to draw her into his chest and feel her close? Why did he feel angry at her tears? Why did he hate that he was seemingly breaking her heart? Wasn’t this what he wanted all along? To keep her away?

“Tom?” She said after a while of silence, but she didn’t dare make any more moves to touch him. With the same blank and unchanging expression, he glimpsed down at her, pushing down every sick and wretched feeling he felt towards her.

“No,” he finally said. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.”

And with that, Tom walked away, leaving her to stand alone in the hallway more puzzled than ever.

Tears made her eyes sting and she rubbed at her eyes, desperate to make them go away. All she could feel now was anger, red hot anger at the boy she was watching walk away. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at his back as he turned the corner, and she glared at the place he once was too.

How could he do this to her? To practically admit to her just a few weeks before that he loved her— albeit, in his own strange and confusing way— on the top of the Astronomy Tower, to make love to her and to kiss her and hold her only to push her away? How could he play with her feelings like this, like they meant nothing? How could he be so selfish?

She pressed her lips together in a firm line as she turned and walked away, patrolling the other empty corridors instead. She had to do something, something to grab his attention, something to make him regret ever taking her and the way she felt for granted. She was not going to let him throw away this thing they had, this thing that she knew had the potential to blossom into something beautiful.

And the next day when she caught the eye of a handsome Gryffindor named Warren Collins, she began to work on the blueprint of her plan.

Warren Collins was a year above her, a seventh year and Gryffindor’s Seeker. He was tall, not as tall as Tom was but still towered over most of the school. His eyes could make anyone melt, and she’d admit, she felt a little weak-kneed when she first gazed into his dark, angular eyes. They weren't as dark as Tom’s, and certainly didn’t seem almost sinister like his. No, Warren’s irises were warm, like a steaming cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day.

She caught another glimpse at Warren Collins as he and the other players on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team headed towards the Quidditch pitch for practice, and she knew that this was her chance. She made her way over to the pitch and made her way up into the stands where a few other girls sat, and she wondered how many of them were there to watch Warren in action, like herself.

She sat alone at the top and in the far right corner, her hands clasping together between her thighs for warmth. She watched as the Gryffindor team huddled together at the very bottom of the pitch, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the top of Warren’s head, his hair wavy yet well-groomed and as black as a raven. She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him when he looked up, staring seemingly in her direction. Her lips curved into a smile when he did, and he may have been far away, but she swore she could see his full, pink lips smile too.

It wasn’t long after this that the Gryffindor team hopped onto their brooms and began to practice. She watched as the Gryffindor captain released a used Snitch, and Warren soared through the air like a bird, tracking it down. She tilted her head up as he soared over her head, her skin littering with goosebumps at the chill his broom left in his wake. The other girls on the stands squealed and tried to tame their hair back down to their heads, adjusting their robes as they giggled.

And when the practice was over, she made certain that she was the first one to leave the stands, and she sauntered her way over to the entrance of the pitch, trying to make it less obvious that she was waiting for someone. The other girls from the stands soon joined behind her, giggling and murmuring amongst themselves about the players, Warren’s name definitely amongst their uttering.

And it wasn’t long after that that the team emerged from the pitch, and so did Warren.

She smiled when she saw him, his fingers weaving through his tresses, taming the black waves back down on his head. His skin glistened with sweat and he appeared the slightest bit winded, but he was all smiles, his grin only growing when he found her amongst the small crowd of girls. Two of the other boys teased and shoved at him when they saw her, and she giggled when Warren pushed them away, making sure to flutter her eyelashes as he jogged towards her, broomstick in hand.

“First time I’ve seen you out here for a practice,” he commented and she giggled, swiping a loose strand of hair behind her ear and faking shyness as she glanced towards the ground. “I hope I didn’t fly too close to you earlier,” he added, and she shook her head. “Not at all. And I enjoyed it, watching you practice, I mean,” she said and he smiled, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. He pressed his lips together and hummed, looking her up and down.

“Well, maybe you should come to practice more often then.”

She grinned, ignoring the dirty looks from the other girls when Warren gestured for her to follow him. “Perhaps I should,” she replied, following at his side back towards the castle. His smile widened, and he seemed to be staring, perhaps even a moment too long. She giggled at him and playfully shoved at his arm. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She questioned and he laughed, shaking his head towards the ground.

“It’s nothing, I just…” he trailed off, as if trying to find the right words. “…it’s just funny. We haven’t once spoken to each other in all our time at Hogwarts,” he said, and she tittered. “Plus, I was sure you had a thing for the Head Boy.”

She flushed at the mention of Tom but made a quick recovery, shifting a little closer towards Warren so that their arms could occasionally touch. “You mean Tom Riddle?” She tittered. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What I do know for sure is that he’s arrogant and definitely has a stick up his arse.”

Warren threw his head back and laughed at this, and she noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he did so, how his entire face seemed to illuminate when he laughed. “Finally, somebody says it,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Only been trying to convince the others for seven years now.”

She smiled, it wasn’t like what she said wasn’t the truth. Tom Riddle was arrogant, and definitely did have a stick up the arse. She didn’t realize that there could be others who noticed it too, however.

She and Warren made their way to one of Hogwarts’ many entrances and pushed through the double doors, entering the warmth of the castle. “So, what’d you think of the team, then?” Warren asked as they made their way through the corridor. “You think Gryffindor may have a shot at winning the House Cup this year?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You forget I’m in Ravenclaw?” She questioned. “Surely you remember I don’t particularly want you to win?” Warren’s eyes glimmered with amusement at this, and just as he replied with some sort of snarky, but playful remark, she saw him.

There Tom Riddle was, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as Avery and Lestrange talked to him. But she knew he wasn’t paying attention. Not when his eyes seemed to immediately find hers, flicking back and forth between her and Warren.

As Warren talked, she snaked her arm around his and pressed herself closer into his side, which seemed to take him aback at first, the pale skin of his cheeks turning scarlet but his smile widening all the same. She watched as Tom straightened his posture and his jaw clenched at this, and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip to suppress her smile.

Everything was going so smoothly, so beautifully.

Tom couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

She certainly didn’t waste any time, did she?

Her arm locked with Warren Collins’… it made his blood boil. He knew what she was doing, he knew by the way she locked eyes with him, by the way she kept looking at him as she nestled closer into Warren’s side, by the way she laughed a little too hard at whatever it was Warren was saying. He knew this must be her idea of some game, of some way to tease him and to make him angry.

He was ashamed that he was playing into her hands, that the way he felt now was exactly the way she wanted him to feel. His chest burned, it ached with the unmistakable feeling of jealousy. He cursed himself for feeling this way, for wanting her so badly even though he knew he shouldn’t.

He cursed himself for waiting in the shadows outside of the Ravenclaw common room later that night, for feeling so obsessed with her that he’d wait for her to come out, which she did, and follow her as she made her way to the prefects’ bathroom.

He watched from the shadows as she slipped inside, and after a moment or two, he slipped inside as well.

He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her turn on the faucets to the bath, as she ran her fingers through her hair and set her towel down on the edge of the bath. He watched as she began to slip off her dress robes, leaving her in only her undergarments before he cleared his throat and she jumped, her arms instinctively hiding herself as she turned towards where he stood.

His eyes were darker than ever now. In the shadows, he looked nefarious.

“Tom?” She gasped as he pushed himself off of the door, taking slow, calculated strides towards where she stood, frozen. “What— what are you—“

“Do you think I didn’t notice the little game you were trying to play earlier?” He asked, and she blinked, her initial shock melting away to give way for the amused smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, her eyebrows raising. “I didn’t think you’d notice, thought you were still avoiding me,” she replied coolly as Tom stopped before her, towering over her and eclipsing the light behind him.

“Really? You think I and the rest of the school wouldn’t notice the way you were practically throwing yourself onto Warren Collins?” Tom scoffed, and she flushed at the comment. “I was not—“

“You were,” Tom interrupted her, his hand grabbing at her waist and tugging her closer until his breath loomed over her face like fog, until their noses were almost touching when he looked down. “And if you think for a second that I’m going to let Warren Collins of all people think that he has a chance with you, then you are gravely mistaken.”

For once, she felt intimidated standing in his presence, and she found it hard to breathe all of a sudden, as if Tom just being there made all the air escape her lungs. She kept her lips pressed together and held his heated gaze, but he knew he had already won. She watched as the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk.

Damn him.

“Yeah?” She muttered. “Then show me who I belong to.”

Tom inhaled sharply through his nose as he searched her eyes, a raging sea of emotion mixed with anger, with love, with lust. With the hand already on her hip, he tugged her in closer until his lips were on hers, and she knew had lost the second he kissed her.

Tom never kissed her like this before, not even on the top of the Astronomy Tower. Never had he kissed her with such fervor, he never did anything that his brain hadn’t already calculated. But he kissed her now with reckless abandon, without any care in the world.

He kissed her as if his life depended on it.

She mewled into his mouth as he stripped her of her undergarments and he made quick work of stripping his own self down. She grabbed at his hand and guided him down into the bubble bath, his lips finding the sensitive spot on her neck as they settled down into the bath. Her fingers wove through the dark tresses on the back of his head as his tongue dragged along her throat down to her collarbone and down to her breasts, her chest heaving when he collected one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh, Tom,” she moaned, throwing her head back as he flicked the tip of his tongue against her nipple, kissing his way between the valley of her breasts to give her other breast attention. She could feel his cock against her thigh when one of his hands trailed down her waist, forcing its way between her legs. She tugged at the roots of his hair when the pads of his fingers rubbed against her clit, and all she knew now was that she needed more. “Please Tom, please I need… I need…”

Tom hummed against her collarbone as he let his fingers slide up and down her slit, teasing her entrance, teasing her aching clit. “What do you need, hm?” He asked and she tried to answer, she really did but when he touched her like this— Merlin, she couldn’t even form coherent sentences in her head. “Do you need me to show you who you belong to? Just like you said earlier?”

All she could do was nod, and Tom hummed against her throat, kissing her skin, leaving not even an inch untouched. She panted when he drew his fingers away, only to be filled up with his cock in one impatient thrust, and she tugged harder at his scalp. He drew her into his chest and panted as tears brimmed her eyes, droplets beading down her cheeks.

Tom’s eyebrows knit together as she leaned back against the wall of the bath, and he grabbed at her hips, fucking into her with the image of her and Warren Collins together like the fuel to his fire. Her moans were bordering screams, and her incoherent mumbling permeated the bathroom, bouncing off of each of the walls and playing like a symphony in his ears. He wanted to hear more, to hear his name and his name only from her lips.

“Say my name,” Tom murmured into her ear and she cried when he picked up his pace, his thrusts animalistic, inhumane. “Tom! Oh fuck, Tom!” She cried and with one of his hands, he gripped her chin and forced her to stare into his dark, narrowing eyes, his thrusts never once faltering.

“No,” he shook his head. “That’s not my name,” he said again and she shook her own head, not understanding as he fucked her closer and closer to her end. “I want you to say my name. My true name,” he whispered against her cheek, his lips right next to ear. “I want you to call me Voldemort. Lord Voldemort.”

She panted and nuzzled her cheek against his, his lips pressing kisses to the shell of her ear. “Say it,” he whispered. “Call me by my name. Call me your Lord.”

Her chest heaved as her cunt clenched around him, squeezing him so tight that he almost lost his composure for a moment, dropping his head to her shoulder. “SAY IT!” He shouted this time, and she cried out once more. “Please! Let me come, my Lord. Make me yours, Lord Voldemort.”

Oh, how his name, his true name, tumbling from her lips made him happy, the happiest he thought he ever felt. He thrusted his hips into her harder, harder and harder until her body began to writhe and spasm with quake of her orgasm, and he fucked her through that too, chasing his own.

“Tom— Lord! Lord Voldemort!” She cried as he felt himself coming closer to the edge, closer and closer and closer until he spilled himself inside of her, his hips stuttering as they slammed into hers one final time. Tears streamed down her cheeks like rivers and her fingernails were etched so deep into the skin of his shoulders, she knew they would leave marks.

Lord Voldemort held her body close, breathed her in like she was the air itself. His palms soothed over the small of her back and her waist, over either of her hips. To think that she could have ever been his weakness seemed foolish to him…

…because right now, he felt the most powerful he’d ever been.

She whimpered as she let herself fall deeper into him, let him hold her as she tried to chase air back into her lungs. Lord Voldemort only held her to his chest, whispering into her ear how she was his, and if anyone, Warren Collins included, ever tried to take her away from him, it would be the last thing they’d ever do.

a/n; i wasn’t originally planning on writing a part two but i actually liked this idea and… ngl i feel kind of proud of my writing here 🙈 ps… thank you for the request anon! i’m so glad you liked addiction!

🥹🤍✨

#tom riddle #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fic #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #harry potter fandom #wizarding world #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n

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kkcauseway · 24 days ago

Text

Forever and Always

Joel Miller x F!reader.

Summary I Your work life is awful and there's nothing you want more after an exhausting day both mentally and physically than to come home to Joel, but on calling him and finding out that's not possible you're dreading the thought of going home to be alone. However, it doesn't seem that that's the case once you actually make it back, and it turns into once of the best and happiest nights of your life. Content/warnings I So much cute fluff, Joel Miller being the most doting and caring boyfriend. 'babygirl', Joel has a cute little saying to let reader know just how much he loves her. Asking to move in together. No use of y/n, no outbreak. A/N I Once again another random idea that popped into my head that I decided to run with. I really hope you enjoy soppy, cute Joel taking care of his woman!

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It always puts a smile on his face when you call. Your name working wonders for the grumpy moods he finds himself in on jobs. Even with the jokes he cracks with Tommy. Nothing compares to when he’s with you, talking to you. Just doing anything that involves you. “Hey baby you, okay?” His husky voice grumbles down the receiver once he’s removed himself away from the bustle of the house, he’s currently working in.

“Joel?” You sniff.

His smile falters. Something is obviously wrong, and whatever’s happened he’ll kill them. No one upsets you. “Babe? Hey, hey what’s wrong?”

“I- sniff- I’m just having such a horrible day. I can’t stand this job anyone, I wana quit so bad. Please can you come over when I finish?” The sobs grow in volume as you force a hand to your mouth to try to quiet them. The impact of hearing those words leave your own mouth proving to you just how much you rely on him.

“Oh baby m’so sorry you’re having a shitty day. Listen we’re on a bad job today m’not gonna finish till super late so I most likely can’t come round. But I’ll call you later okay y’can tell me all about it okay baby. Promise.”

“Okay” you sniff upset he can’t come but you knew he was busy and that it was a long shot. You pine after him when you feel vulnerable like this.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” He grumbles evidently worried he’s in the doghouse.

“I know. I love you too so much.”

“Forever and always baby girl.”

The words making your heart flutter as they always do.

When the call cuts you hold your phone against your chest and sob a little more before psyching yourself up for your afternoon. Your colleagues don’t deserve to know just how bad they make you feel, they’d probably thrive on it if they knew.

So, instead you sort yourself out wash your face, wait till your eyes are less puffy, paint on your smile and go about the remainder of your shift thank fuck it’s Friday.

Of course no one notices, why would they when they make it clear how much they can’t stand you being around.

Finally five o’clock arrives and you rush out to your car as quick as you can. Putting on the cheesy cd playlist Joel made you. You love that he’s like that, so unbelievably cheesy, so old fashioned it’s why you adore him the way you do. When yours and Joel’s song comes on tears escape you again. God you’ve never loved someone the way you love him, but these tears you’re spilling are tears of happiness not pain.

When you make it home your shitty mood overcomes you again, the thought of your empty apartment and cold bed. So you settle on the idea of a large glass of red wine, a crappy comfort series and a good cry before you go to sleep. You’re have a day trip with Joel planned tomorrow and that’s enough to keep you going.

However, it’s like you can tell something’s off from the second your key is in the door. After momentarily hesitating you uneasily open your door and those thoughts are made true. Your apartment isn’t dark, cold, nor is it empty. The smell of food hits you so mouth-wateringly beautiful, and the radio is playing softly.

You kick off your shoes and move to the kitchen and there he is, Joel in all his glory slaving away over the stove. Dancing along to the music with an apron round his neck.

He turns to look at you with a smile on his face and it breaks you.

You stand on the spot throw your bag to the floor from your shoulder and cry. But he quickly rushes over “hey shhh it’s okay.” He cradles you close a hand on the back of your head pushing you closer to his chest. Allowing you to inhale his comforting scent.

“S’okay m’here baby.” He mumbles against your hair as he rests his lips against you. Holding you as close as possible.

After a few minutes you pull away red faced and puffy eyes to look up at him. “How did you get here I thought you were busy?”

“M’sorry baby, I know I didn’t think I’d be able to. And I’m so sorry that that made you upset, I really am, but as much as I am super busy at work the second, I heard you cryin’ I knew I needed to make sure I was finishin’ early so I could come over and see you, you mean more to me than any job, any amount of money. So I took a sick day for the remainder.”

“Thankyou” you whisper before moving to grasp at his stubbly cheeks. You smile sadly at him as your thumbs stroke him and then you move your lips to his, kissing him softly.

“I’ve made your favourite baby” he begins once you pull back away. Arms resting round his neck as you stand on your tip toes to be exactly in his eye-line. “And then I want you t’tell me all about this shitty day o’yours so we can get it outa your pretty head. You’re too beautiful to be burdened by that shit.”

You chuckle “I’d really like that, thank you so much for being here.”

“Always baby. Always.”

After a long moan fest over Joel’s signature spaghetti and meatballs, you’re cuddling on the couch with your long-awaited red wine.

Your difficult day long forgotten about which is why you love being around him so much, he really does make everything better. Just by being himself- so unapologetically himself.

You’re cuddled into him your feet kicked up behind you as he strokes your side. His calloused fingertips gliding lightly from your hip all the way up to the side of your breast, over and over causing constant goosebumps.

“You know v’been thinkin’” he mumbles softly into the silence.

“Shit did it hurt?” You chuckle as you jest with him, you love when you get the perfect opportunity to use that joke.

He pokes at your side in retaliation, and you giggle into it, loving every second of being with him.

“Seriously now though babygirl, sit up n’look at me.”

Which you do without a moment’s hesitation. You pull away from him so you can face him sat on your knees.

God he’s gorgeous. His beautiful salt and pepper hair slightly longer than he would like but with you adoring him just like that he refuses to cut it.

He takes your hands in his and god it makes you nervous. Butterflies swim around in your stomach as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I realised somethin’ today.”

Your breathing increases as you reply “what?”

He takes a nervous breath closing his eyes on the inhale and opening them back up to stare right back at you on the exhale. His perfectly pert lips opening just slightly to let the air out. He clears his throat as he shifts slightly in the seat. “Y’belong with me, all the time, all day every day, and it breaks my heart t’think that you could need me and we ain’t together.”

You smile softly at him, you know your rightful place is with him 24/7, there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

But the next words to leave him are so far from what you expected it’s as though time stands still. “Move in w’me.”

“What?” You’re excited from the moment the words leave his lips, but you’re certain you misheard.

“I want you t’move in with me, get out of this lil apartment. Come make my house ours, let’s always be together. No more late nights alone let’s always be there together even if my stupid fuckin’ job means I get in at 2am.”

You squeal throwing your arms around his neck as you practically pounce on him. “Oh my god yes, yes, yes when?”

He chuckles pushing you back slightly so he’s able to look at you once more. “Well I mean we could start moving ya stuff in tomorrow, I know we said we’d go out for the day but-”

“No!” You say it all too quickly and he laughs “I wana move in let’s do that fuck the plans! We can do that any day!” You forcefully hug him again. Pulling away he’s beaming at you “do you promise you mean it?”

“With all my heart baby.” The hand he has resting on your back moves up and down slowly. So soothing, so full of love.

You scream in excitement before kissing him.

When you eventually pull away you look directly into his hooded eyes. “Forever and always?”

“Forever and always babygirl” and he rubs his nose against yours.

#the last of us #joel miller #fluff and smut #no outbreak!joel miller #domestic fluff #fluff #you and joel #joel the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller being adorable

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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

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…And I, Chose You

Scarlett Johansson x F!R

After watching your broken love unfold on canvas Scarlett has to fight her fears (and a jaded you) to win her love back / Aka, the part 2 to Maroon that won the poll | WC: 2,121

Your heart pounded in your chest as you allowed Scarlett into the free flowing space, you weren’t exactly rich so there were no massive walls to separate your kitchen from the quaint little living room—you had meant it when you called yourself a starving artist.

“Your place is nice,” she attempted the dreaded small talk, her voice a pitch higher as she willed her heart to relax, and her thoughts to stop racing. You laughed, it was a familiar sound that made her wary soul ache.

“I’m serious Y/N/N,” she groaned, the familiar use of your nickname brought a smile to your hidden face. “You’ve got a flair for making places feel like home.”

——

Scarlett hated the way your shoulders tensed, and the mugs in your hands clinked on the counter. Her words were genuine but you were unfamiliarly guarded. She once told you, while drifting off to sleep against your chest, that you were what made her house a home.

Then she ripped your heart out and left you alone.

What used to be an easygoing relationship was now tainted, shrouded in collective shame, and despair.

You settled onto the couch following the long, awkward moment of silence, her warm mug of tea, made to her specifications was set before her where she sat on your recliner with her feet tucked beneath her tiny frame. It went untouched as all she could do was savor being in such close proximity to you, her glassy eyes remained focused on your aged face. Another reminder of the precious time she had lost with you, and all the reason she needed to finally make a decision to fight for love.

Scarlett went to speak, but your tired voice cut her off, “What are you doing here Scar? Don’t you have promos to run for the next movie? With your little boy toy?” The contempt was obvious, she was sure it stemmed from the way she’d usually promoted the films with her ex fling Chris, with the kind eyes and charming smile.

“Can we please not fight?” Scarlett’s eyes were duller than ever before, normally you would give in to her pleas, but this was your home she’d wandered into and you felt an unrelenting urge to defend it. “If you were looking for the girl who bends to your every whim she is back in 2019, you’re now meeting a loveless edition.”

“As if,” the blonde snorted, “You’re a total sap Y/N.”

“Love is an illusion Scarlett, end of the discussion.”

Scarlett watched you jump up from the couch, and just as she expected you began to pace the tiny kitchen. If you wanted a fight, then the award winning actress would give you one for the books. “If love is an illusion then I guess I’m a fucking magician Y/N because no matter how hard I try I can’t stop myself from loving you, but more importantly I don’t ever want to.”

“It’s been two years Scarlett, you don’t know me!”

Scarlett scoffed, “You are unbelievable!” The way you flinched didn’t even deter her as she walked over to you, her body pressing yours into the counter as her hand raised to slap you across the cheek for making such asinine remarks. As if she didn’t know you wholly and love you just the same. You were all she wanted.

Then she saw a flicker of hurt in your eyes, and instead of letting her anger win she cupped your jaw and softly spoke, “You eat your sandwiches without the crust.” Your eyes crinkled and she had to fight the urge to kiss away your obvious confusion. “You truly have the palette of a child Y/N, I might have been absent from your life, but I know you still live off PB&J’s.”

“That’s nothing more than a counter observation.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she sighed, but then she shook her head with a reminiscent smile on her face. “You hate when people interrupt you, it always drives you up the wall that people can’t wait their turn,” she noted something that’s standard for most, but before you can state that she continues, “Except for when it’s a child because you love their impatient wonder.”

Scarlett felt a sense of accomplishment when she saw your eyes had sparkled, she knew you were likely thinking of her family get togethers with her nieces. Which took her back to all of the functions where you were welcomed like one of their own, which you were. “You despise sports Y/N, but you always indulged my family for the super bowl, because you cared so much.”

“I went for the food,” you deadpanned to keep from letting her know that this attempt was working on your soft heart. “I know, my mom glares at me now that your seat is forever empty. She misses your reviews.”

You bit your cheek, and closed your eyes to cover your sadness. Scarlett saw right through you though. “They all miss you—I miss you Y/N, and I know that you are just hiding behind the hurt that I caused right now, but I know you miss me too. I am your muse after all.”

“I said that stuff to keep people from falling apart, if I left them with only morose thoughts they’d never come to another one of my gallery’s. It was only business…”

“Only business?” You nodded, eyes fixed in a glare that genuinely left the blonde amused. You were trying so hard to make it seem like you hated her, but she could see right through to the hurt in your gorgeous eyes. Scarlett rolled her own in good faith, and continued on as her thumb tenderly traced over your clenched jaw. “Decades of separation could go by and I’d still know you Y/N, not because you are predictable, but because you are my soulmate, and souls don’t truly change.”

“I mean it Scarlett, I’m not who I once was,” you were losing your fight, just like she hoped for. “Bullshit.”

“I have changed!” Scarlett hummed as her head nodded. “I know you have honey, but deep down you are still my very special girl, the one who runs with the facade of hopelessness but with every stroke of your heart you bled our unenviable love onto the canvas.”

“I-I,” your voice wavered, and her thumb gently ran over your chewed up bottom lip that now trembled. “Give me a chance Y/N, I promise it’ll be different.”

“Scarlett, I can’t be your secret, not again, not ever.” The blonde smiled, a direct contrast to your mood as you struggled not to cry. “There’s no more hiding,” she coo’d, her delicate voice comforting you along with her soft hands that wiped away the tears that finally fell.

“You’ll be my plus one to the Black Widow premiere.”

“Scarlett—.” The blonde leaned in and kissed you hard, the worried words faded from your mind as your hands moved to position themselves on her hips. Your head tilted, allowing her the opportunity to deepen the kiss and there was no hesitation as her tongue met yours. Soft moans followed the smacking of lips and harsh breaths left your nostrils to prevent the inevitable. “I’m going to make it right Y/N,” Scarlett panted against your glistening lips. “I’ll love you out in the open this time, and you can create with a much happier stroke.”

You wanted to believe her, this time felt different than all the other times she made similar promises, but you were still bruised, and therefore wary of her intentions. “How will this work?” You inquired without missing a beat. “You live on the other side of the states Scar.” The blonde frowned, never thinking of this presenting as an obstacle. “Simple, you’ll come home with me Y/N.”

“Please don’t say no,” she begged, already seeing your rebuttal coming. “I don’t want to be back there Scar.”

“That’s fine baby; I moved, I couldn’t live there without you, so I found somewhere different. Hopeful that it would be what helped me move on, but I began to fill the space with subtle reminders of you. I ignored their connection until my mom laughed in my face one day.”

Scarlett saw the question in your eyes and sighed, “I began eating PB&J’s every morning, I danced alone to your favorite vinyls and I might have bought all of your online pieces when you posted them, thinking that maybe your art could be your placeholder, but it just never was enough of you. I needed the real thing.”

“I don’t know Scar, this feels like a gamble.” The blonde nodded, “That’s what love is Y/N/N, not an illusion—it’s real, but it’s messy and comes with risk.”

“I’m not sure I have it in me to risk losing it all again.”

“I’m not sure of much myself baby, but I know this, without you around I feel like my life is empty, but with you in my arms like this I feel unbound, like nothing could ever break me again, besides you. This will be our fresh start, so please, just don’t say no.”

You took a step to the side, freeing yourself from her intoxicating hold so that you could think clearly. You sat back down on the couch, silently patted the spot beside you to calm her nerves, but made her wait for your resounding yes as she’d took so long to do this. It was only fair that she didn’t get an instant response.

Scarlett suddenly stood, hands shaking out at her sides as she faced the prospect that the desperate kiss you two just shared was in vain. Maybe she was too late, and if so she would just have to face the karmic reality. “I’m staying at the Chateau Marmont Y/N, my number is the same, whether you want to try again or not, I just want you to know that I will forever love you.” You said nothing still, letting her walk outside with a sad smile.

Scarlett cried the entire way to her car, her head fell onto the horn, and startled her into reality. She didn’t want to draw attention to your place, so she put the keys into the ignition with plans to cry at her hotel. Just as the blonde was about to start her engine she saw your front door fly open, and after a moment of pause she speedily jumped out of the car to meet your urgent steps. “Kiss me,” you commanded, she was a bit taken aback, but then she saw the test in your eyes just before her rushed hands pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

Everything around you two seemed to fade, lips locked in perfect harmony, even with the flash of a strangers camera trying to capture the moment. You felt as her hand cupped your face more broadly, it alarmed you momentarily, until you realized she was shielding you from them, not hiding. “I’ll come with you Scarlett.”

Her lips, painted a delicate shade of maroon lifted, and for the first time in forever you felt unending joy; you were finally home again, in the arms of your forever.

———

Bonus:

You stepped out of the Cadillac, the tinted windows no longer there to shield you from the perilous crowd that had awaited you outside the metal door. You saw the many faces of her fans, all with their eyes on you, and the dirty looks of a few made your skin crawl. Most of them regarded you with a smile or indifference, but the others looked to you as if you’d crushed their dreams.

Scarlett was quick to take your hand in hers, helping the anxiety to melt away as she kissed your cheek with a purpose before she pulled you along the red carpet. Her every move was calculated as she spoke to the fans that regarded you with the respect you deserved. With the excuse of limited time she disregarded the others, then guided you into the event with a protective arm around your waist, and her free hand still in yours.

You’d attempted to let her go, aware that this event was her moment to finally shine, but she only fixed you with her best, heatless glare as she pulled you closer. There was no Natasha Romanoff without you, the one who pushed her to go to the audition after you helped her practice her lines. Just like there’s no Scarlett Johansson without you either, you were her lifeline, and it was about damn time the world knew that.

#gxg #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson imagine #scarlett johansson fanfiction #scarlett johansson oneshot #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x female reader #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

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pedroslittlelady · 1 year ago

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Just You & Me, Darlin'

joel miller x f!reader (18+)

A/N: OMG Okay, I'm actually doing this! I'm posting something for the first time in over 4 years and I'm super nervous. Pedro Pascal just has me by the titties, and so do all of you wonderful writers and artists I've been so inspired by, so here is my little contribution 🫣💕

You can also read this on my ao3 if you prefer 😊

summary: When Tommy returns to the QZ without you, Joel is both terrified and furious but he’s determined to get you back safe no matter what.

tags/warnings: 18+ Explicit | Minors Do Not Interact Please! no use of y/n, boston qz, fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of suicidal thoughts, slight exhibitionism, explicit smut, unprotected piv, no description of female reader, other than joel can pick you up and kinda implied age gap, squirting, emotional sex, unbeta'd, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, darlin', baby girl). oh and you're both super in love so :) I think that's it.

word count: 5.9k

Joel’s heart was fluttering within his chest, nerves and excitement flooding him as he made his way up the steps of his apartment building. If all had gone well, you were due back from the week-long smuggling run outside of the QZ today, and he had been stuck on work duty for most of it.

He hadn’t been able to go with you since someone had needed to stay back and protect their store of goods and ration cards from being stolen in their absence, they’d learned this the hard way.

And in his mind he’d drawn the short straw.

Joel would much rather be out there with you than stuck here wondering if you were okay. Here, he was unable to do anything if something went wrong but he knew you, the little hell-raiser that you were could definitely handle yourself.

The both of you had agreed when you first started sleeping together that it shouldn’t mess with the business, it gave you all a more comfortable life in the QZ than most got to have after all.

Even after falling hard for one another following the sharing of your past within whispered cuddles post sex, you both still tried to keep the business professional and that meant trusting one another to watch your own and your partners’ backs.

As he entered his apartment he was surprised to see Tommy sitting on his couch with his head in his hands.

Joel’s stomach dropped at the sight, he already knew something was wrong. Heart breaking into a gallop against his sternum he quickly scanned the apartment, the open layout giving him a view of the whole room and you were nowhere in sight.

Joel's hands tightened into fists, his jaw tensing in anger and fear as he focused his intense gaze on his little brother who was now worrying his lip.

“Where is she,” Joel stated more than questioned in his deep southern timbre, his voice thick with emotion. Anger, fear, anguish and dread were all suddenly clogging up his throat. He swallowed to keep it contained, needing to keep his head on straight right now.

“I don’t know brother,” Tommy responded, guilt and slight fear painted his features as he looked up at his older brother.

“The hell do you mean you don’t know?” Joel growled as he prowled closer to his brother who quickly stood from his slumped position. “I trusted you to watch her back, to keep her safe for me!” Joel couldn’t control himself, the emotions from the thought of losing you, of never seeing you again were too much to handle and he grabbed his brother by the neck of his jacket and shook him.

“The deal went bad! Me and Tess got separated from her!” Tommy quickly explained, his hands gripping onto Joel's shaking wrists. “We tried to find her but… shit man, things are more fucked up out there than ever. We were hoping she’d made it back here.”

Joel pushed his brother away from him, afraid he would start swinging. Rage and fear consumed him, tightening his heaving chest as he ran his hands through his greying hair. He quickly stalked over to his weapons stash beneath the floorboards while vile images of you being scared and hurt, being taken by sex traffickers and all manner of other atrocities he’d seen and heard about over all his years surviving in this hell were flooding his mind.

If it was the last thing he did, he’d find you himself and bring you home. The thought of never finding you was unspeakable and he quickly pushed that horrible scenario out of his mind. But then another took its ugly place as he quickly grabbed his go bag; what if he found you dead or dying?

Well that would be the end, wouldn’t it?

He paused before looking at his little brother, standing before him paler than he’d seen him in a long time. Exhaustion was dragging Tommy down and Joel knew that he and Tess had done the best they could to find you; they loved you too.

“I’ll find her and bring her back,” Joel stated.

“I’ll come with-”

“No… thank you, but no. You're exhausted, you’ll just slow me down. If I don’t come back… then I…,” Joel trailed off as he watched anguish and fear become apparent on his little brother's face.

“Joel. Don’t. Please, brother,” Tommy begged, already knowing where Joel’s head was at.

“I can’t…” Joel felt his voice break as tears flooded his vision, blurring the image of his baby brother walking towards him.

Next thing Joel knew, his brother's arms were around him and Joel let himself feel the rare embrace for just a moment. He and his brother had never been the most affectionate with each other even before the outbreak, so the fact his brother was hugging him so tightly told him Tommy knew exactly what you meant to him. How could he not, with how blatant the two of you were with your lovesick need for each other. You had become his whole world, a quick spiral into passionate need that seemed to drive the two of you from the very moment you became one when he took you on that dirty warehouse floor three years earlier.

His head dipped to Tommy’s shoulder as silent tears rolled down his cheeks and into his patchy beard, into that place where you always kissed him, as if that spot had been made just for you. A place to kiss and lick and nibble like you loved to do when you both were intimate, which was basically whenever you were in the same room as one another, everyone else be damned.

Would Joel ever feel that again? Had you both made all the memories together that you ever would? The last time he saw you flashed in his mind, replacing the ugly panicked images from before. You’d smiled up at him, arms wrapped around one another, foreheads pressed together as you whispered your ‘see you laters’ - never ‘goodbyes’ - to each other, while Tess and Tommy looked on and rolled their eyes in annoyance at your overt pda.

The Joel of before had never been one for public displays of affection, to the point where one woman had broken things off with him because she’d said he was cold, that he didn’t care enough about her. He’d realised later on that she had probably been right. More conscious of how much affection he was giving in front of others than he should have been.

Now though, with you these last few years? Joel didn’t give a single fuck what people thought of how he held your hand, kissed you, sat you on his lap as he made deals with all kinds of people. He loved when you’d do the same, when you would kiss him in that spot that was surely made purely for your mouth while you rolled your hips against his hardening cock. The greedy eyes of lowlifes watching on in pure jealousy of how unashamed you were with showing everyone how wanton you could get for him. His precious little hell-raiser.

Shit, he’d fucked you outside before and hadn’t cared who’d heard. It had actually turned him on to know the residents had heard your desperate and lustful cries as you let him take you from behind in an alleyway between two apartment buildings. Anyone could’ve looked out and seen how Joel Miller got to have you be his, the most vicious beauty in all of Boston, submitting to him, belonging to him.

Joel quickly pulled away from Tommy before he got too emotional about how this day had turned into a fucking real life nightmare.

As he strode towards his apartment door with his go bag on his back and his weapons tucked away on his person, he rubbed the tears from his eyes and face. He couldn’t look back at Tommy so he roughly pulled open the door and walked out with a quickly uttered, “see you brother.”

While descending to street level Joel struggled to get his emotions under control. It had been a long time since he had cried, since he had felt this scared and helpless, but he pushed through and began to formulate a plan on how he would get out of the QZ through a smuggler tunnel they had created two years ago. Then he would find you so he could bring you home, safe and sound.

There was no other option he would let himself consider from here on out, he needed to focus on his current mission.

Joel steeled himself as he walked out of the apartment building and turned right to head to the closest smuggling route out of the QZ. As he looked up to assess his surroundings he was stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of you standing in front of him.

His eyes widened in shock as you stood before him, a shaky vulnerable look on your pretty as sin face. Joel choked on your name in disbelief and before he knew it his hands were grasping your cheeks and his lips were crushing against yours in a desperate kiss.

He pulled away from your tight embrace to quickly gasp, “What the hell happened, baby?” Before he kissed you again and again and again. So relieved to feel you alive and whole in his arms once more.

But then worry clouded his mind; the look on your face as you saw him notice you replayed in his mind.

Joel once again pulled away from the desperate kisses you both were sharing to truly look into your wide teary eyes.

“Are… are you okay, sweetheart? Are you hurt? Let me see you,” Joel pleaded in a vulnerable whisper. He reluctantly pulled further away so he could assess you until you spoke for the first time since your reunion.

“I’m okay Joel, baby. I’m okay I promise!” You gasped as Joel began to pull up your sleeves and the hem of your shirt to see your slightly bruised and cut skin, clearly searching for a fatal wound like a bite that he thankfully would not find.

“Joel!” You shouted to get his attention, uncaring of the passers-by on the busy street taking notice of your desperate interaction.

Joel stopped his searching as you placed your hands on his cheeks and gave a soft smile when you saw the fear in his eyes recede into a warm relieved look of love that always made your chest flutter in unbelievable happiness, like butterflies bursting with life within you. You had never expected to get to this point with anyone, let alone the cold standoffish brute Joel Miller who had barely seemed to tolerate you the first few weeks after your initial meeting.

To have this big, dangerous, sometimes scary but protective man look at you like you were his whole world was intoxicating. No wonder you could never keep your hands off of him.

It had started after the first time you’d fucked, and that’s all it had been meant to be. A desperate fuck after a near death experience, both of you alone and thankful to be alive. You had exchanged no words but a heady look and before you’d known what was happening he was kissing into your mouth before pinning you onto the hard dirty floor and fucking you silly.

You knew he’d been sleeping with Tess at the time, although it wasn’t serious, and you had slipped into Tommy’s bed once or twice, but for years you had respected Joel’s leadership and strength, and of course enjoyed admiring how handsome he really was, but you both had never been particularly close, until then.

After, you had both agreed it wouldn’t happen again. You reluctantly agreed with him even though your legs had felt like jelly after the best orgasms you’d ever been given, having never before been fucked like Joel Miller liked to fuck.

It happened again of course, the very next night when you took a chance and slipped into his room and cot. He hadn’t said a thing against it, only a cocky, “can’t get enough huh, hell-raiser?”

After you sucked him to full hardness he’d let you ride him as fast or slow as you wanted while he just watched you. In the wake of your first orgasm Joel had snapped and took control once more by putting you on your back and practically folding you in half. He’d fucked you so hard you’d screamed your pleasure, so loud you had only realised afterward that Tommy and Tess must have been 100% aware of what was happening. But you’d come so hard you’d squirted all over Joel and made a complete mess, but you had seen in Joel’s eyes how much he’d absolutely loved it.

There was no talk of it never happening again after that, only an acknowledgement that business came first. A few months into your arrangement he began cuddling you after sex, asking you not to leave his bed in the sweetest whisper against the back of your head. You had agreed, threading your fingers through his and nodding with a simple, “yes Joel.”

And you hadn’t left, you both barely let the other out of your lovesick sight as you basically moved in with him. Tess and Tommy quickly moved out so they didn’t have to listen to the both of you ‘fucking every goddamn day.’

“I’m fine baby, I promise. Okay?” You kissed Joel softly bringing you back to the present, his arms tightening around you.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if… fuck, I thought you were-” Joel was crushing you against him, lips brushing yours as he spoke. A tremble was in his voice, one you’ve come to know more over the years as he opened up to you about things from his past.

“I’m right here darlin’, right where I’m supposed to be,” you gently spoke while running your hands through his salt and pepper curls. The action always calmed him down.

“I love you so goddamn much, hell-raiser.” Joel smiled against your lips before kissing you again. You chuckled, feeling tears gather in your eyes at the silly pet name he’d given you after your first chaotic introduction years ago which involved you wielding a couple molotov cocktails. The first of many pet names he graced you with, but definitely your favourite.

“I love you too, big guy.”

Your back gently hit the apartment building as Joel increased the pressure of your kisses, a desperation taking over you both as the feeling of being reunited after a close call washed over you once again.

Joel hiked your leg up and ground his hardened cock against your rapidly soaking pussy making you gasp at the sting of pain the suddenness of your arousal wrought as it travelled deep into your rapidly warming core.

“Joel,” you panted into his mouth as he licked at your tongue before sucking it into his mouth with a growl of need you felt emanating from his belly which was pressed tight against yours.

“Fuck, need inside your tight little cunt right now, darlin’,” Joel rumbled before he hastily began to undo your jeans, his lips carving a wet path across your cheek and down your tilting neck. He bit you quick and hard there, marking you; claiming you. You gasped, your arousal seeping from your desperately empty channel and trickling into your panties as you tilted your hips against his rock hard cock.

Joel slipped his thick fingers into your wet slit making you moan into his mouth.

“Get a room,” you heard someone mutter as they walked past. Joel growled before pulling away to glare fiercely at the man who suddenly blanched before quickly scurrying away at the sight of Joel hovering over you with a murderous look in his eyes.

You giggled at the interaction, drawing his attention back to you, his eyes softening at your mischievous smirk.

“Take me to bed, big guy. Remind me who I belong to,” you murmured before biting your lower lip in anticipation as Joel's eyes turned blacker than the deepest cavern within the fathomless ocean.

He grabbed you by the back of the neck and began to steer you back into the apartment building and up the stairs. You could feel his eyes on your ass before a slap landed there making you squeak excitedly. “Hurry the fuck up, darlin’,” Joel growled with a squeeze to your right cheek making you skip up the stairs quicker, panties practically drenched now.

The next second he was pushing open your apartment door, throwing off his bag and flipping you around to face him so he could kiss you hungrily once more. His thick tongue probed every part of your mouth, overwhelming you. You whimpered, your hands caressing through his hair to scratch gently at his scalp.

His grip on your thighs suddenly let you know what he was about to do and you braced your hands on his broad shoulders as he quickly hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his hips. You both groaned and panted into one another's mouth at the feel of being pressed together.

You stilled when you heard the clearing of a throat. Joel groaned in annoyance as your lips separated wetly.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” Tommy said before covering a slight laugh with a cough, Joel glowered. “But I’m really glad you're okay, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Tommy. I appreciate it.” You smiled, so glad to see him safe and sound too. You told him this and questioned where Tess was and he informed you that she was just fine also.

“I just wanted to say-” Tommy started to speak.

“Enough said,” Joel growled. “Talk later. We're busy, brother.” Joel raised his brows clearly unabashed at being caught in this position by his baby brother.

“Jeez, alright lover boy-” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“I swear to God Tommy if you don’t get the fuck out of here now I’ll-”

“Okay okay! We’ll catch up later, Christ.” Tommy shook his head but you could see he wasn’t truly annoyed by the relieved look on his face.

As Tommy made his way to the door, a smirk was painted on his handsome face. Joel just pierced him with a frustrated and grumpy glare, you couldn’t help but snort softly while still being held up in his strong arms.

“See you later Tommy, and tell Tess thanks as well when you see her,” you quickly uttered before you forgot all about Tess and Tommy in just a few seconds.

“Will do, sweetheart. See you later. You too, Romeo.” Tommy laughed before darting out the door as fast as he could once he’d heard Joel’s growl of annoyance.

“C’mon baby,” you murmured in his ear before sucking the lobe into your mouth bringing his attention back to you, his eyes softening once more. “Need to feel your big cock inside me, I feel so empty.” You pouted playfully even though you could still feel some of the adrenaline and fear from your near miss swarming inside you.

You had very nearly not made it home to him and that thought made your heart jump and your hold on your lover tighten. You didn’t know if you could hold back on the avalanche of feeling you knew was headed your way.

“Poor baby,” Joel responded as he carried you to your bed and laid you down, his back not being able to hold you up for much longer, not if he was going to fuck you like you both needed after today. “Don’t you worry darlin’, I got you.”

Joel stood before you and began to remove the various weapons from his body, his dark intense gaze never leaving you as you began to writhe in need.

“Hurry Joel,” you whimpered, a desperation taking over now that you weren’t in his arms anymore. You felt tears gather in your eyes at just how lucky you were to be back here with him, safe and sound. You couldn’t hold back a hiccupping sob threatening to escape you.

Joel took notice and quickly hovered over you, one hand on your hip, the other palming your cheek and wiping a tear away. “You're okay now, baby. I got you.” He kissed your forehead and you could hear him inhale your scent as he did.

“Joel.” You murmured, feeling a little overwhelmed. You needed to release these emotions, and Joel was the best at giving you just what you needed, what you both needed.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” Joel murmured, his own gaze tear filled meeting yours before he pressed his lips to yours for a desperate kiss. You struggled to keep up with his kisses at first but then he was scraping his teeth down your jaw and sucking on your neck.

You bucked your hips up against him, his leg slipping between yours so you could grind on him. You whimpered, needing his bare skin to be slick against yours as you once again fitted together so perfectly.

You needed the intimacy and the vulnerability of being beneath his broad form as he fucked you deep and hard, imprinting himself within you forever.

As if Joel had read your mind, he pulled back from nuzzling between your breasts, his big strong hands grasped the collar of your shirt and ripped it down the middle in one go.

You gasped at the action, at the grimace of need on his face as he began to manhandle you in a desperate need to get you naked beneath him. You unhooked your bra as he roughly pulled down your jeans and panties in one go, snarling in annoyance when your boots hampered his mission.

As soon as you were bare Joel was back on the bed and spreading your legs up and wide so he could see your perfectly soaked little cunt fluttering needily around nothing. Fuckin’ Heaven right there, he thought to himself as he dragged his eyes up your heaving belly and chest to see you biting your lip, small hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Please Joel, want you naked against me,” you practically begged, pupils blown out, eyes still glistening. He knew from your reaction something had scared you, probably a moment of terror in thinking you weren’t going to make it back to him in one piece or at all. The idea of that being a very real possibility that could have happened shook him to his core and he quickly tore off his clothes, not wanting to be away from your touch for longer than necessary.

He began to kiss every scrape and bruise as he made his way up your chest. Soon his eyes were looking deep into your soft gaze, your arms and legs wrapping around him and he knew he was finally home. He brushed his nose along yours, both his hands tunnelling into your pretty hair as he gazed down at you.

“You and me, darlin’, that’s all I need. Just you, I fuckin’ love you, you drive me goddamn insane with it, you know that?” His gaze was soft but intense, his words rumbled out of his pouty lips.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your own hands rubbing his back soothingly before sliding up his neck and into his hair. “But I feel the same.”

“Don’t be sorry, darlin’. You’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time. Just scares the hell outta me,” he nearly choked on his words before burying his face into the sexy slope of your neck, inhaling your heavenly scent. “Can’t lose you, baby.”

“I’m right here, not losing me, Joel,” you responded softly before kissing his scarred temple.

Joel slowly lowered his hips as he lifted his head to kiss you, his weeping cock covering your pussy, soaking him even further. Normally Joel would prepare you, stretch you with his thick fingers and make you come on his tongue but from the way you were mewling and moving against him he knew you both needed to become one right now. Besides, you had told him plenty of times how you liked the slight pain his cock created when it stretched your little hole open, the girth of him too wide to fit comfortably at first.

You both angled your hips, well versed in the best way to slot together hands free. Your breath hitched when the crown of his twitching cock popped inside you.

“So fuckin’ tight and wet for me, baby girl.”

“Joel,” you whimpered against his lips before your hips pushed against him, sliding more of him within your aching heat.

He stared into your watery eyes as he gripped your hip with a bruising grasp and began to push into your tightness. He loved watching the way your mouth opened into a little ‘o’ shape and the space between your brows creased cutely in pain.

“Takin’ my cock so well, you precious little fuckin’ thing,” Joel growled as he bottomed out causing you to gasp. Your perfect cunt clenching around him was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Your breasts heaved against his chest as he let you adjust to the stretch of him for a moment. But he had little patience right now, so he soon pulled back making you whimper sweetly and he kissed into your mouth soothingly before he moved his hand to the back of your neck and held it tightly.

Pulling back from the kiss he quickly punched his hips down and forward, slamming deep inside you and causing your body to jolt from the force, his hands holding you steady. You weren’t going anywhere.

The squeak you let out was choked off when he did it again, and again. The soundtrack to your desperate love making became the wet slapping of skin on skin, the gasps of pleasure and the cries of pain as you melded together as one. Sweaty skin sliding against hardened nipples and harsh gasps were shared as he rhythmically pounded you into the mattress

“Joel, Joel, oh God Joel don’t stop!” you pleaded wide eyes staring up at his fervent expression as he gazed down at you.

“Fuck! That’s it baby, take my cock.” Joel grimaced in pleasure.

“Please, baby. Go faster!” You yelped as his hips smacked against you, his heavy balls soaked from your arousal.

He granted your plea, arching his back so he could suck on your tight nipples, hands grasping under and over your shoulders as he began to piston sharply within you, pulling you onto his thick cock.

“Yes yes yes, gonna come,” you suddenly gasped and Joel knew it was true by how your tight little pussy started fluttering around his shaft, sucking him deep.

“Come all over me, baby girl,” he whispered against your parted lips, sweat building between you as you both moved in sync, chasing that beautiful euphoria he always granted you.

You had been feeling it build within you so deeply, you knew you were about to crest that tremendous wave of pleasure you associated with Joel and how he always spoiled you rotten when you made love. It hit deep and sharp, making you arch your back and cry out against his lips as your pussy clutched so tightly to him, never wanting him to stop or leave your most vulnerable place that he always cherished.

It caught your breath as you ascended into ecstasy, all you could do was whimper against his plush lips as you came. His hips stuttered as you tightened, unable to keep up the pace at how tightly you were grasping at him. Nails scraping his back, legs spreading further, toes curling against his thick thighs.

“Good girl, baby,” he practically whimpered as you came around him. “That’s my good girl. Fuck, I love you,” Joel growled while he quickened his pace again, the ache in his lower back completely ignored. He sat up a bit, lifted your legs so they fell over the bend in his elbows before planting his hands on the bed.

You were practically folded in half, completely dazed from that intense orgasm as he manoeuvred you however he liked. You loved when he treated you like his precious little fuck doll.

“Oh my God, baby,” you gasped, just watching as his hulking form rose above you, his dark desperate eyes dragging from your own eyes to your bouncing breasts as he started pumping his cock into you once more. The generous crown of his cock repeatedly hit that amorous spot deep inside you that only Joel could locate.

His stare was fixated on where you were joined together as he continued to thrust, slowing a little to admire it. “Sweet little pussy is creaming all over my dick, fuck!” Joel couldn’t take his eyes away from it, your abused hole flushed with arousal and soaked with your mingling desire. “God damn, baby girl. You can really take some cock, huh?”

All you could do was whimper at the vision he made above you, greedy lustful stare focused on your needy hole stretched around the wide circumference of his wet cock pumping inside you. The broad expanse of his tanned slick shoulders, the strength of his hands as they wrapped his calloused fingers around your hips, angling them perfectly. He sat up, his knees bracketing your ass and you quickly pressed your hands up behind you knowing exactly what was coming. Your heart jumped in your chest, you loved to watch him above you like this; using you, loving you so deeply and harshly.

“Gonna cum so deep inside your cunt, baby girl. Never gonna be rid of me,” Joel growled before rolling his hips into you, knowingly hitting that special place inside you that usually had you squirting all over him.

He never forgot that moment you’d shared with one another. Only your second time together and he had given it to you so good it was probably one of his proudest moments, his ego getting a huge boost that had been well needed at the time.

You had been so shocked and loud, you’d practically screamed at the sensation, shivering so vulnerably beneath him afterward it had stuck deep inside his chest afterward. It had pushed him to coo to you softly at your little whimpers, telling you that you were okay, that you had been so sexy and beautiful for him.

His hips were rolling and thrusting into you making you moan and stare up at him in awe. This man was all fucking yours.

“Mine, Joel. You’re mine.”

“Yeah, baby. All yours, this cock is all yours. And who does this pussy belong to, hmm?” he questioned with a smirk as he stared down into your wide eyes as his hips picked up the pace, you continuing to reciprocate his movements like a well choreographed dance.

“Yours, my pussy’s all yours. No one else's, baby.”

“Good girl,” Joel praised before leaning over you, his pretty lips pressing into yours, widening your mouth and swiping his tongue against yours as your pussy flooded his cock and balls creating a slapping sound that made you whimper and blush.

“Always so fuckin’ wet for me. Ain’t ya, sweetheart,” Joel groaned. “Fuckin’ love you.”

“Love you too, now fill me up, baby. Please!” You gasped against him, your foreheads now pressed against one another, mouths sharing harsh breaths.

You braced against the headboard with one hand while moving the other to his curly hair desperately seeking purchase as your arousal grew once more. Core warming and tightening in an impending orgasm and when he shifted your position so he could press against your clit and urethra with his fingers your stomach jumped, knowing exactly what he wanted from you.

“Oh Joel,” you whined.

“Yeah baby, drench me please,” Joel encouraged and you began to flutter around the precise pumping of his twitching cock within your sensitive walls.

It hit you suddenly, your back arched with a quick scream of pleasure and the overstimulation that you associated with squirting. Joel groaned in pleasure as you burst with feeling.

“Atta fuckin’ girl, baby! That’s it, shit I’m gonna come,” Joel gasped as you soaked him, a vision beneath him, sweat slicked tits bouncing, mouth agape in a shout of intense pleasure and eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

Joel's hips stuttered, his balls tightening even more as he felt his pleasure travel from deep within his core, up to the swollen tip of his cock. “Fuck, baby,” Joel whimpered into your neck as he began to spurt his come deep into your womb, hips stuttering and grinding against yours with the need to stuff you full of his cum.

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered as you felt him empty himself within you. You nudged his head as he did, wanting to see his handsome face in pleasure. He lifted and looked down at you, cum still spilling, overflowing you and trickling down your ass. “That’s it, baby. Fill me up good. I want all your cum,” you whispered softly as you gazed up at him. His face was so vulnerable and needy in that moment you couldn’t help but clench around him once more.

His balls had emptied with each ejection of his cum inside you, hips finally stilling as his cock became oversensitized to the stimulation still happening.

“Easy, baby girl. Easy.” Joel chuckled as he fell against you, completely spent before kissing you so softly that your heart jumped. “You think I can go again at my age?”

“You think I can go again after that?” You giggled breathily, completely satisfied. The impending avalanche of emotions purged from you in pleasure by your lover.

“Yeah, baby. Don’t doubt yourself.” Joel rubbed his nose against yours affectionately, a small grin on his face, eyes as soft as chocolate ice-cream.

“Then you don’t doubt yourself either.”

“I know my limits and my back is shot, darlin',” Joel grumbled in annoyance, his softly grinning face turning so grumpily pouty you couldn’t help but melt, you loved that you got to see this side of him that he unveiled to no one else but you. He really was all yours.

“Oh, poor baby,” you whispered to him before nudging him to the side so he could rest flat on the mattress, his softened dick slipping out of you with a flood of his cum which tickled your still trembling thighs. You definitely planned on giving him another back massage as soon as you both got some sleep, he had fucked you so perfectly; hard and loving. He certainly deserved it. “Rest now, we’re together and that’s all that matters.”

Joel sighed as he settled into the admittedly uncomfortable bed, but with you snuggling up against his chest he had no complaints.

“I don’t want you goin’ out there without me anymore, okay? Fuck the business, you’re more important.”

You looked up at him “As long as you don’t go out there without me either, we’re more important,” you agreed with a sigh of relief.

“Just you and me, darlin’. That’s all I need,” Joel assured you.

You snuggled deeper into his strong arms, a warm sense of safety and love blanketing your heart as his arms tightened and his lips kissed the top of your head with a mumbled, “Love you, hell-raiser.”

You kissed his chest before replying, “Love you too, big guy.”

A/N: Thank you to any of you who made it to the end of this, I hope you enjoyed it! Please consider reblogging and/or commenting to help this little story of mine find new readers💕😘

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #clare's stories #pedroslittlelady writes #tw: mention of suicidal thoughts #tlou fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #implied age gap #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

Text

Thick Thighs Save Lives - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Summary: Being the only aviator with meat on your bones is tough. It's even more tough when you're stuck showering with two of your teammates.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal, f receiving), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, shower sex, protected sex, spit kink, body insecurities, mid/plus!sized reader, self-deprecation, arguing, angst with a fluffy/smutty ending

WC: 5.5K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

If there’s anything you don’t want to hear during a not-so-friendly game of beach football, it’s ‘shit!’. The exclamation comes from Coyote who’s branched off to your towels on the sand, fingers curled around his watch, “We’re late.”

“How late?” Phoenix is already adjusting her ponytail, as it’s frazzled from the action. She’s squinting in the sun and remedies it by knocking her sunglasses down off of her head and onto her nose. It’s smooth, and she knows it by the soft smirk that curls at her lips.

“We have twenty minutes to get on the road.”

“Shit,” Rooster parrots, dropping the ball where he stands, which is how you know he’s panicked too, “We all need showers. Penny’s gonna kill us if we stink up the restaurant.”

“We can go in teams,” Fanboy decides, already sprinting over to his towel, “We don’t have time for individual ones.”

Before you can get a word in edgewise Coyote and Phoenix are rushing to join him, Bob hot on their trail. The showers are spacious, sure, but you wouldn’t exactly volunteer to share them with anyone.

With a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach you realize that the only three left are you, Rooster, and Hangman. That means the only way you’ll get to Penny and Maverick’s engagement party is if you shower together.

They’re already at their towels, scrubbing sand out of their hair and strapping their watches back on. Hangman’s is a thick, black leather band, and you can see flecks of sand marring the sleek strap from where it laid on the towel. Rooster’s is thinner, brown in color and gold around the rim. His is clean, but he puts it on his sweaty, sandy wrist. It won’t be for long.

Both men are shirtless, too-tight jean shorts squeezing their waists. You make a point not to stare as you trek back to your towel, already picking up on their competitive banter before you’ve even stood beside them.

“-probably use all my shampoo,” Hangman scoffs, clenching his towel tight in his fist, “You always steal my shit, Bradshaw.”

“I think it’s only fair seeing as you steal my gel!” Rooster quips back, gesturing to Hangman’s stiff, shiny hair, untouched even after your game, “Isn’t it fucking weird, Y/L/N? How much he uses?”

Rooster looks back at you for confirmation, someone on his side. But you’re too disheartened to respond, dreading your impending doom. All you offer is a meager, “Yeah.”, that curls a frown under Rooster’s mustache.

“You hurt yourself or something?” Hangman raises an eyebrow, stunned by your lack of teasing, “I think we need to call the doctor, you didn’t just insult me.”

“I’m fine.” You grumble, towel held around your waist despite the presence of your rash guard, “Just tired from football.”

“Well get ready,” Rooster warns you, “Mav’s gonna have to tell us all about how he and Penny met, and I’m really hoping he withholds the details on the little rendezvous that got him in trouble with her dad, but I know he won’t.”

You shudder for a moment, if only to please him, to throw him off your scent. You’re tired, there’s not any other reason you’re in a funk. You’re tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

“Hey,” Hangman’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, admittedly less grating and irritating than it normally is “You sure you’re okay?”

You blink and they’re staring at you, brows furrowed and limbs frozen in place. You wish that the waves lapping gently at the sand would crash onto shore and swallow you whole, sweep you up in a tidal wave of salt water and seaweed so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“I’m fine,” You grit, slipping your feet into your shoes and rushing to stand outside the showers, “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

You had hoped that they’d get too busy bickering with each other to ever find you. But here they come, not five minutes later, just as Phoenix steps out of the steamy bathroom. A towel is wrapped around her torso and Hangman exaggerates his ogling of her, only turning your stomach further.

“Perfect timing,” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes.

Bob steps out next, taking one look at her face and stepping in front of her, “Your turn, Bagman. Try not to use all the gel.”

“See?” Rooster nudges you, his elbow against your arm as Bob and Phoenix walk away, “I told you! It’s absurd, he slathers it on like cement.”

“He’s gotta,” Coyote drawls, reaching over to knock on Jake’s head, “Otherwise his head’d sound as empty as it is.”

The two engage in a good-natured shoving match, but it’s one that nearly sends Coyote’s towel cascading to the ground, and you keep your eyes firmly on the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that you’d brought. You read over the ingredients, as if sodium laureth sulfate and glycol distearate will keep your mind off of your humiliation.

“You said you’re fine,” Bradley murmurs from beside you, “But if it’s something you just don’t wanna say around Hangman, he’s not listening.”

Part of you is less embarrassed to be honest and exposed to Rooster than Hangman. But he’s still a man, an incredibly fit one at that, and you’re not sure you’d ever want to reveal it to either of them.

“I’m just nervous,” You tell him the only part of the truth you’re willing to admit. I’ve never... showered with a- a boy before. A man.”

You cringe at your misstep, but if Bradley’s amused by it, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, sympathetically so, “We’ll turn around, honey. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’ll turn around,” You mutter, “I think it’ll just egg Jake on further.”

“What’s this I hear about eggin’ me on?” A familiar southern twang makes you tense as the man it’s coming from appears by your side, bumping his hip into yours, “You ready for our steam session, sweets?”

“Leave her alone, Hangman,” Rooster groans, feet slapping against the tiles as he goes to adjust the water. He shoves at Hangman’s back as he passes, and you stifle a giggle as the man nearly falls over.

“Hey, she’s the one that chose to shower with us,” Jake insists, and Bradley’s scoff is enough for you not to fight back, “And I would, too, if I were you, darlin’. Do you know how many ladies are lined up to see how hung Hangman is?”

You force a gag, “The only lady I see here is myself, and I’d rather smear wet sand in my eyes.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t turn around and shut up,” Bradley speaks through the roar of the shower water, steam already rising from its fall, “Just drop your pants and wash your ass, so Y/L/N can shower to herself.”

“Well, well, well,” Jake smirks, towel cinched around his waist in only one hand as he stalks for the showers, “Looks like one of the ladies lined up is Bradshaw himself. Wanna see it, Rooster? Here it is.”

Jake drops his towel ceremoniously, and Bradley’s face morphs into a grimace as he turns away hastily.

“My fucking eyes,” He laments, and you pause in gathering your toilettries to laugh, while also trying very hard not to stare at Jake, “Oh my god, Y/N, you won’t have to worry about me seeing you. I’m going to pour shampoo into my eyes until I go blind.”

Jake realizes you’re taking a little too long getting ready, cocking a hip as he leans his head back to stare down his nose at you, “So what, you gonna ditch dinner, Y/L/N? Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“She’s waiting for you to stop being a perv and turn around,” Bradley comes to your rescue once again, and thankfully, Jake seems to realize it’s a real issue, pivoting until he’s facing the shower wall.

“I think she just wants a nice view of our asses,” Jake theorizes, standing with his clear on display, “Which is better, Y/N? Mine or Chicken’s?”

“Chicken,” Rooster grumbles under his breath, and if you were brave enough to actually declare a winner, you’d give it to him just for that. But, Hangman’s form is rather impressive, all tight curves and tan skin and-

And you shouldn’t be looking. You clear your throat awkwardly, peeling off your rash guard as Jake sponges his side down. There’s sand running thick down the drain and you hope it doesn’t back up, something you’d feel terrible for Penny to have to clean up.

“Uh,” Bradley stills in his place, “Shit, I think I left my shampoo over there. Y/N, could you…?”

“I got it,” You hum, reaching over for the blue bottle and tucking it in his carefully, blindly outstretched hand, “Thanks for, um- here.”

“Yep,” He nods, smearing a dot of the substance on his palm and lathering it through his hair.

“Oh no,” Jake mimics Bradley’s previous predicament, dropping the bottle in his hand so that it rests between his legs, “Y/N, could you-”

“Ass,” You drawl, reaching forwards to butt your palm against his back. He stumbles forward with a laugh, catching himself on the railing. He bends down to reach for it and you’re nervous he’ll peek at your body from between his legs, but he stays respectful, something you know he is at his core even if he pretends differently.

You find yourself relaxing against the tiled floor of the shower, feet firmly planted instead of poised to run. As much as you know neither of the men in front of you would make any rude comments about your body or your weight, there’s still the nauseating fear that they might think differently of you having seen you completely unobscured. So you’re thankful for the privacy, that lasts… well, until it doesn’t.

The snap of your conditioner cap catches the skin of your pointed finger in its jaws and a gasp clutches tight at your lungs.

“Son of a bitch!” You cry, waves of pain flowing through your finger and out towards the rest of them. On cue each man turns, eyes wide and fear-stricken, without thinking.

You know they didn’t do it on purpose. You know they instinctively thought you were hurt, and wanted to help. You know they didn’t mean to look at you. But the withering feeling in your guts knows no logic, only fear.

They’re looking, it hisses, They’re looking at everything. The way your stomach pudges into a roll at the base. The way your breasts sag. The way your thighs stretch, marks littering their stems, and present no gap.

“You’re bleeding.” Bradley observes, eyes trained faithfully on your finger, “I’ll get a bandaid.”

He rushes for the cabinets outside the shower, dripping water over the floor. Jake stands, staring, but you’re too humiliated to glance at his face and notice the soft pinky blush on his cheeks that’s spreading to his ears.

“Here,” Bradley speaks from behind you, though he molds himself to your side when you’re still frozen in fear. He brushes a towel over your cut, the turquoise material staining red. He then undoes the waxy paper wrapping from the bandaid, sticking it tight to your skin.

“It’ll get wet,” He reminds you, “But it’ll stop soap from stinging it.”

You don’t even thank him. At your prolonged silence he glances up at Hangman, intent on giving him a concerned glance, but he sees the man’s eyes rove over your form and snaps.

“Dude,” Bradley utters gruffly, “Don’t be a perv. Come on, turn around.”

When Jake stays just as still as you, he reaches for him, shoving hard, “I said turn around!:

“Please, Jake,” You whimper, tears brimming in your eyes, “Turn around.”

“You’re crying.” Jake snaps out of his trance to frown up at you, and Bradley keeps pushing, an insistent thorn in his side, “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re-!” You gush, lip wobbling, “You’re looking at me, and- and judging me, and-”

“Judging you,” He scoffs, eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “Best body I’ve ever seen. Case closed. Court dismissed.”

“Shut up,” You seethe, tears finally dripping down your cheeks, “Just shut up! You think this is fucking funny? You don’t think there’s a reason I didn’t want to shower with you?”

“You’re private, I get that.” He scoffs. “But if you think I’m judgin’ any part’a that, then you’re stupid, too.”

“Not the compliment you think it is,” Bradley mutters, hands still prying at Jake’s shoulder, “She told you to turn around, just do it.”

“No,” Jake doubles down, pushing Bradley away and stalking towards you, “I wanna know why you think so goddamn low of me. You really think I’d rope a woman into a shower and then pick apart what she looks like? You think that low of me?”

“It’s not about you,” You gush, hands at your sides in frustration, “It's about me! And my fucking body, okay? I’m not calling you a dick for judging me, I’m calling myself-”

“What?” Jake’s head tilts to the side, eyes glinting dangerously, “What are you calling yourself?”

“....Gross.” You finish lamely, the fire in your chest extinguishing with the poof of a sigh that escapes your lips.

He’s grabbing your hand without thinking about it, gentle but firm. You stare at him, anxiety-riddled.

“Listen here, girly. I’ve let you get away with sayin’ a lotta things about yourself. Dumbass I agree with, especially considering these circumstances. I’ve heard clumsy and stubborn, those I don’t have an issue with either. But don’t look me in my fuckin’ face and tell me you’re gross, ‘cause it’s an insult to me and my tastes.”

He squeezes your hand once before releasing it, and it feels more now like a heartfelt gesture than a threatening one. You’re breathing heavy, lungs cut short from the adrenaline of the moment, Even though Bradley isn’t pushing him anymore, standing on the sidelines waiting, watching, Hangman turns around without another word. He scrubs aggressively through his scalp and you’re almost surprised nothing bleeds, your mouth hung slightly open and your tongue leaden over your teeth.

“I’m not your type.” You finally manage to mutter, voice taut.

“Yes you are,” Jake scoffs, “How would you know?”

“I saw you eyeing up Phoenix earlier.” You roll your eyes, and if Bradley hadn’t turned around again you’d have flashed him an exasperated look.

“So? A man can like several shapes,” Jake boasts, voice losing venom, “Plus I ogle Phoenix just to piss her off.”

“It works.” Bradley cuts in, and you snort.

“Point is,” Jake drawls, and you’re sure if Bradley was in his line of sight he’d have been the victim of a very withering stare, “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve got sexy ass thighs, woman.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley sighs, “Can you just hurry up, already? I’m sure there’s nothing more Y/L/N wants than to get rid of you.”

“Oh, shut up, lapdog,” Jake deadpans, “You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Bradley’s silent for a moment, and your gut churns.

“Whether I do or don’t is irrelevant,” He chooses his words carefully, “Let’s just leave Y/N alone.”

“He totally does,” Jake snickers, “Hear that, Y/L/N? It’s his blush.”

“Like you weren’t blushing!” Bradley scoffs, “I looked up at you and thought you’d been temporarily replaced with a baboon’s ass.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Jake drawls, “That’s what I think every time I see you, porn stache. Then I remember it’s just your natural charm.”

The crisis has been averted enough for you to let out a shaky laugh at their insults, and the sound catches both men’s attention.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Jake starts, voice much kinder and softer now, “The point of this isn’t me telling Bradshaw he’s got the face of an ass. The point is to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull; you’re pretty damn sexy, y’hear?”

You snort at his callous nature, “No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

“Yeah?’ He pauses,towel in hand that he nimbly swings over his shoulder, “Well, pardon me for lookin’, and even more for touchin’, but everyone else is fuckin’ insane.”

Before you can process his words he reaches down to palm at your thigh, a hefty squeeze that sends your flesh spilling against his palm. You stiffen, even though he stays politely away from your ass, encroaching only on territory he could also grab while you’re clothed. The feeling of his touch, no matter how chaste, elicits a noise from your throat that you wish you could pass off for a scream.

It’s not.

It’s a moan.

He stops where he’d begun pulling away, eyes sharpening slightly. You don’t dare look at Bradley, but if you did, you’d see his cock twitch.

“Did I hurt you?” Jake asks, voice low.

All you can do is shake your head, teeth digging into your lower lip helplessly.

“Did you like it?” He tries again, but this time he doesn’t accept body language as an answer/ Still hunched, he ignores your nodding and reaches up with his free hand to tug your bottom lip out from under your teeth.

“I asked you a question,” Jake croons, voice smooth and soft, “Did you like it?”

All you can whimper is a meager ‘Yes’.

Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Stronger, this time.

His hand plants itself firmly back over your thigh, thumb stretching towards the curve of your ass this time. It’s a little more suggestive, and a lot more alluring.

“Jesus,” Jake groans, kneading the soft flesh of your doughy thigh between his fingers, “Bradshaw, c’mere for a second.”

He hesitates, “Do you want me there, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You nod once more, legs stiffening and thigh tensing against Jake’s palm, “I- I do.”

“You take front,” Jake instructs, falling into place behind you with his hands now greedily prying at your ass, “And I’ll take back.”

The smile that Bradley offers you when he steps in front of you is nothing short of dreamy. It’s enough to make you blush, and he lets out a soft, breathy laugh at how forward Hangman is being while he stands giddily in front of you.

“If you say hi,” Jake drawls, hooking his chin over your shoulder and reaching around your front to grip at the seams of your inner thighs while glaring at Bradley suspiciously, “I’m going to slap you.”

“I wasn’t going to say hi,” Bradley scoffs, and you can tell by his blush that he totally was.

“Jesus, enough yammering,” Jake scoffs, turning his head to press his dewy lips into your neck, “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

You worry, for a moment, that he’ll let go. That he’ll walk away, get dressed for the restaurant, and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not what he does, of course. Instead, you feel the hard press of his cock against your ass.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jake croons, feeling you tense as his hands smooth over the dip of your ass, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

“Real slow,” Bradley murmurs, and it catches your attention, reeling it back to him. You realize he’s standing much closer to you now than he had been before, lips nearly brushing yours.

The second your lips meet his in a kiss, Hangman smooths his hand between the globes of your ass. You squirm at the sensitive feeling, foreign as his fingertip brushes against your hole. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Bradley.

Rooster’s tongue slides against your bottom lip, warm and wet. At the same time Hangman’s hands squeeze your ass, pulling apart each side and smoothing down the skin between. It sends a shiver up your spine that escapes in a puff of air between your lips, one that Bradley eagerly swallows.

Bradley’s hands grab your cheeks, thumbs brushing near your eyes and yanking you closer. You can feel Jake’s fingers carefully prodding and pressing at the tight ring of your asshole, a hitch in your breath causing you to bite down on Bradley’s lip.

“Fuck,” He hisses, coming away with a red lip and a guttural groan, “Jake, just- let up. Me first, she’s obviously sensitive.”

“She’s just tight,” Jake murmurs, lips pressing to the expanse of your shoulder, “Nothin’ I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” Bradley grumbles, tearing a condom open with his teeth that he’d snagged from his wallet, “‘Cause I’m going in first, and you- shit!”

His fingers, slippery from the water and probably excess soap, drop the condom. The way that you’re arched into Hangman’s touch means that your thighs are squeezed together and bent slightly, and there’s no better way to catch a condom than between your thighs.

The foil wrapper sticks between your legs, making it easy for Bradley to pluck it out and toss the wrapper aside. Penny will find it tomorrow, because you’re sure as hell not gonna remember to get it.

“Well, whaddya know,” Jake drawls, grinning against the skin of your neck so hard you can feel it, “What they say is true. Thick thighs save lives.”

You face-plant into the water-dropped skin of Bradley’s neck, ignoring the way Hangman snickers.

“Actually, I think they just stopped a life from being conceived,” Bradley reasons, only a few sloppy strokes of his cock needed to easily slip the condom on, “But that probably saved my life, ‘cause if I got you pregnant in Penny’s bathroom, she’d slit my throat.”

The tip of Bradley’s hardened dick presses to your inner thigh, skin seldom touched and sensitive. You lean into it, but Hangman’s fingers follow, gently stroking over the rim of your ass. It’s starting to feel less foreign and more pleasurable, a twinge of something sweet licking at the underside of your belly like a rogue flame.

Bradley gently presses two fingers against your slit, ever-considerate in making sure you’re sufficiently prepped, but his eyes widen at how much slick he’s greeted with just past your folds.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, nose nudging yours as his lips brush with your own, “You’re wet.”

“Duh,” Hangman scoffs, and one of his hands abandons your ass to slip between your folds, collecting slick on their tips and dragging it back to your ass, “I’ve been touchin’ up on her for a while now.”

“Pardon me for thinking that’d work like an umbrella on a rainy day,” Bradley bitches, but you cut him off with a kiss before he can spout any other mildly insulting metaphors for how bad he thinks Hangman is in bed. You’ll vouch if you have to, he knows what he’s doing.

With each slow circle that his fingers trace around your rim, you bend back into him. Until you can feel his cock pressed stiff to your backside,just as Bradley presses his tip flush with your clit.

“Oh-,” You gasp, clit sending a shockwave of electric lust reverberating throughout your body, “Bradley, I- Inside, please, now!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” He croons, speaking in a velvety soft hum against your lips, “Don’t worry.”

He holds to his promise, sliding his dick down from where it’s pressed to your clit and easing it between your folds. You heave a blissful sigh at the feeling of being full, and it makes you rock backwards into Hangman’s fingers.

One breaches your hole, slipping inside with an agonizingly pleasurable burn. The stretch feels heavenly, especially because your cunt is already stretched to accommodate Bradley’s cock that slowly bottoms out inside of you.

“Good,” Jake praises, kissing beneath your ear, “I knew you could do it.”

Rooster lets out a groan at the feeling of your involuntary clench around him, eyes screwed shut. His forehead is braced against yours and you take the liberty of engaging him in another kiss, letting the pleasure of Jake’s fingers at your hole compel you to lick into Bradley’s mouth.

Being pleasured from both sides is too overwhelming. You feel yourself already rising to a climax, pressed on by both Bradley’s thick cock grating against your insides and Jake’s fingers.

You smooth your tongue over Bradley’s, gripping his shoulder when he increases his pace to be steadily fast. He’s not speeding through anything, but he’s not slow either, and it makes your insides burn.

The feeling of his cock ramming over and over and over against that spongy spot deep within you is too much, especially when Hangman slides a single, thick finger into your ass. You can’t help it, your orgasm hits you like a freight train (or perhaps a fighter jet), and you clench sporadically around Bradley’s thick, hard cock.

You whine relentlessly into his mouth, fingers clawing and prying at his damp skin as your knees go weak. You’re surprised you stay standing at all, but you funnel all of your orgasmic vigor into the kiss that Bradley eagerly licks out of you, and clutching his shoulders is enough.

Coming down from your high is jarring, especially when you realize that the steady pressure against your clit had been Bradley’s thumb the entire time. The pleasurable sensation is starting to sour with the unpleasant sting of overstimulation, and you tear his hand away eagerly, “Too much.”

“Sorry,” Bradley grunts into the kiss, the bristles of his mustache grating at your lip.

Bradley pulls out of you, still hard and red-tipped.

Jake takes one look down, his free hand sliding up your back while his other stays firm at your ass, “Those were pretty sounds. Look’t what they did to Bradshaw. See that, honey?”

You nod, breathless as you stare at Bradley’s impressive length.

“I think you should return the favor,” Jake muses, putting pressure against your back so that you bend in half, “Suck him off, darlin’.”

You land at eye-level with Bradley’s covered cock, and you can’t get the condom off fast enough. You drag your tongue along the underside of Bradley’s hard dick, taking the heated length into your hands and squeezing fondly at his balls. He swears low and gruff under his breath, watching your tongue snake against his slit.

Your lips curl around the head of Bradley’s cock, and the way that Jake adds a second finger to your ass makes you suck hard. You feel Bradley’s cock twitch on your tongue, and you scrape your teeth feather-light along him as you take more of him into your mouth.

He tries to keep himself still, tries not to face-fuck you, but he’s hopeless. His hips jolt forwards and you gag at the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. It makes him groan, fists clenched at his side.

You bob and suckle along every inch of Bradley’s dick, licking up the vein that runs along the side and hollowing your cheeks while Jake fingers you open. When there are suddenly no fingers in your ass anymore at all, you whimper, taking Bradley’s cockhead into your fist while you try craning your neck to look back at Hangman.

“Keep going,” Jake directs you, nodding his head towards your fist, “He’s not done, and neither am I.”

You slip the hand that’s curled around Rooster’s dick and slide it up his length, rubbing gently at the base while you kitten lick the head. He pants and groans, bucking into your fist and subsequently your throat. The feeling of Jake’s dick pressed tight to your stretched hole makes you jolt forwards, and you face-fuck yourself on Bradley’s dick.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “You’re- you’re good at this, baby. C’mon, a- a little more, now.”

You let out a scream muffled by Bradley’s cock as Jake slides himself into your ass, dick grating delightfully tight against your rim. Once he bottoms out he sets a merciless pace, giving you no time to adjust before you’re being hammered into like he’s a feral animal.

“See that, Bradshaw?” Jake boasts, sending a hefty slap to your ass, “Told you she could do it. Perfect ass.”

“I see,” Bradley pants, hands tangled in your hair while you bob on his cock, “I- I’m gonna cum, honey.”

There’s barely any warning before the sight of Jake’s cock ramming into your ass gets to be too much for Bradley, but you don’t need it. You’re perfectly content to welcome his warm seed down your throat, letting it paint the inside of your mouth as you tongue him dry.

You don’t realize you’re using Bradley’s cock as a pacifier until he pushes at your forehead, hissing in oversensitivity, “Okay, okay! It’s too much,” He soothes you by sticking two of his slick-stained, thick fingers between your lips instead, “Here, honey. There y’go.”

Drool gathers at the seam of your lips and Bradley smears it away from your mouth, gathering it on his palm and licking it away. He groans at the taste, his own seed permeating your saliva, “Messy girl.”

Jake isn’t satisfied with his lack of action. Apparently, jackhammering into your ass isn’t quite enough for the guy, and he fists a hand in your hair to yank you upright with a grunt.

Bradley’s fingers slip from your lips with a pop and you cry out as Hangman manhandles you, pleasurable pain flooding your senses from the hair-pulling that start waves of a second orgasm swelling below your belly.

“Open,” Jake commands, keeping your neck bent backwards so that his face hovers over yours. You open your mouth without hesitation, and he spits inside.

Warm saliva, cooling quickly the more you stick your tongue out, pools by your throat. You eagerly swallow without being told,drool now seeping backwards down your face and towards your eyes. Jake licks it off with a broad, wet swipe of his tongue, and smears it against your lips.

The kiss is messy, upside-down and drooly, but it’s hot. Jake’s tongue licks against yours and his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a real spider-man style porno.

Your spine aches from being bent like a curly-q, but the ecstasy bleeding into your core is enough to push it to the back of your mind. You reach down to finger your clit, a whimper bleeding into Jake’s mouth at the action.

“Gonna cum, honey?” Jake drawls, “Sweet pussy’a yours gonna clench around nothin’?”

His southern drawl is stronger when he’s fucking, you note. It’s attractive.

“Not nothing,” Bradley volunteers, sticking his spit-soaked fingers up into your gaping cunt, “Cum, baby.”

You’re very good at following orders.

Your second orgasm hurts, in the best way. It tears you apart from the inside out, cunt clenching tight at Bradley’s fingers as he curls them inside of you. Jake bites hard at your lip as you ride out your second orgasm, and his dick twitches inside of you once, twice, three times before he’s letting himself go in tandem.

He fills you with warm cum, the substance gushing out of your gaped hole and oozing out around his own cock.

“Jesus fuck,” He snaps, the words an unintelligible grunt against your lips, “So tight, and so sexy.”

Bradley’s free hand braces itself on your stomach, and the touch doesn’t make you recoil like it normally would. It’s lewd, but being splattered with their cum really makes you believe that they’re not going to judge your body.

Instead you lean into the touch, letting Bradley embrace you as you come down from your high a moaning pile of mush.

“Slow,” You warn Jake, who’s never heard the word a day in his life. He follows directions, though, easing his dick out of you and making sure it doesn’t burn.

“We need another shower,” Bradley pants after a moment of fucked-out silence.

You nod, brain foggy, “Yeah. We- we can’t show up to the restaurant smelling like sex. They’ll know.”

As it turns out, you don’t need to smell like sex for everyone to know you’ve just had it. You show up forty-five minutes late, sweaty-faced and rosy-lipped, all slightly out of breath. Your dress is rumpled, and Bradley’s tie is haphazardly secured.

“Oh,” Phoenix grimaces, nose scrunching in disgust, “Gross, guys.”

“In my bathroom?” Penny looks aghast, “You better not have clogged the shower drain.”

“Easy,” Maverick throws a hand out over her own, “We’ve done it in there one too many times to judge.”

“Gross!” Payback rears away from the older pilot sitting next to him, “Everybody needs to stop getting laid, but if you do, don’t tell me about it!”

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