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feral4daryl · 1 year ago

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need a part 2 of sweet scent with pervy daryl trying to explain it to you but you couldn't get it cuz you'd never done anything like it so he says he's gonna show you how good it feels and has to muffle your screams so no one in the house hears you as his cock practically splits your tiny cunt in half and he uses his thumb to rub ur clit to try and make u relax.........

I'm crazy but I'm free

masterlist and other infos || MDNI

sweet scent pt2.

perv!daryl x innocent!fem!reader

summary: after getting caught sniffing your panties by you, daryl persuades you into giving your precious virginity away to him while your dad's just in the next room.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl's is in late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18 [or older, it's up to you]), 18+ smut, praising, dubcon? (reader lacks enthusiastic consent at first and daryl has to do some convincing), panty gagging, p-in-v, blowjobs, cunnilingus, masturbation, manipulation, petnames, daddy kink, orgasm denial, mentions of dumbification, mentions of degradation.

word count: 6.2k

a/n: the following content contains some extreme fetishes and kinks that some readers might find disturbing, so if you're not comfortable with any of those, please do not proceed. click here to read part 1.

[...] His movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. He sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. He opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

Then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

You. Standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

"U-uncle Daryl?"

---

Shit.

You definitely weren't what Daryl expected to see when he opened his eyes, the remains of his freshly busted nut all over his hand and his cock out, fully on display. For a good 5 seconds, he just freezed, completely unsure of what to do. But then, it hit him. He freaked out.

His eyes got as big as they possibly could and he immediately pulled his cock in his pants back again, clumsily trying to regain his composure, taking a little longer than usual due to his nervousness. Meanwhile, you just stood there with an unreadable expression. You didn't look exactly shocked, or angry, or anything like it. You looked strangely curious, with your head slightly tilted to the side.

Daryl shook his hand to get rid of some of his essence that was still sticking to it and then rubbed it on the side of his pants, on the hip area. Still not capable of looking you in the eyes, he quickly glanced at your frame and finally broke the awkward silence.

“Y/N? W-What'r'ya doin' here?” Stuttering was very unusual for Daryl, considering that although he was a man of very few words, he was always very direct and precise with them. Maybe playing it cool as if you hadn't just caught him in the act was the way out of that unpleasant situation.

“Well...” You let out a small chuckle and took a step closer to him. “This is my room.” His awkward smile immediately faded away.

“Oh, uh... I was jus’...” He looked around the room, searching for anything to use as an excuse for being there. But before he could start, you interrupted him.

“I didn't leave with the others, daddy told me to stay here to take care of you. He's in his room.” Your sweet girly voice had a way of calming Daryl, making him a bit more relaxed despite the current scenario and the shame he was feeling. But at the same time, just hearing you enunciate that one little word 'daddy' had him taking a deep breath to control his urges and not have another erection right there and then. You said that so innocently, because, well, it was in fact innocent since you referred to your actual father Hershel, but still, Daryl's twisted mind made it sound suggestive in his head.

“Take care'a me?” He pondered. Daryl wondered why your reaction was so calm considering what you had just witnessed. Maybe you didn't see much.

“You know, somebody's gotta change your bandage.” You smiled and pointed to his head that still had the bandage around it. “Actually, can you step to the side a bit? So I can...” You gestured to the dressing table behind him. He didn't say anything and just did as you said, moving to the side a little so you could approach the piece of furniture. In that moment, Daryl was the definition of what they call a standoffish.

“I was expecting to find you in your bed, resting. As you should, uncle Daryl.” Your voice carried a hint of playfulness along with a sincere worry. But the way you called him uncle for the second time that day gave him mixed sensations. He wasn't sure if he was aroused or weirded out by it. Or both.

You extended your hand, meaning to pull the drawer open to collect the items needed to change his bandage, which included the gauze, antiseptic wipes, medical tapes, sterile dressing and other kinds of medical stuff your dad had taught you how to handle, but you had to stop your hand midway when you noticed a white slimy thing dripping down the furnishing.

He followed your eyes, noticing how stared at the liquid. The farmer's sweet young daughter had just noticed the results of Daryl's arousal while it coated the dressing table. His mind started rushing with apprehension, you could tell your dad and everyone else how much of a perverted old man Daryl actually was, and he could be kicked out of the group, being left alone in the woods to fend for himself. It's not that he wasn't capable to make it on his own, but his family was important to him, he didn't wanna lose them over that type of thing that could change the way they looked at him forever.

“What's this?” You bended your knees a little, leaning forward and squinting your eyes to take a better look at the unknown substance. Now, you had completely forgotten the reason why you came into that room that was changing his bandage. Daryl lifted one of his eyebrows out of confusion. Did you really not know what that was? If that was the case, it kind of made sense.

Of course. Living on a farm far from the city, you had a close-knit relationship with your family in a way that they were pretty much all the people you would interact with. You had never had boyfriends, or kissed, or anything remotely romantic like that due to your dad's overprotectiveness, after all, you were his youngest daughter. All you knew about the existence of sexual stuff had been taught by him, when he mainly warned you about the terrible consequences of that type of action and that you had to stay innocent.

You didn't really know what he meant by all that, since he was very vague in his descriptions about sex. Hershel just used to say that there were certain areas on your body that you should never let a boy get near and you knew better than to disobey your father's orders, being aware that he always knew what was best for you. Not even your own hands had ever darted down your body to meet those spots more than once or twice before quickly pulling away. You wanted to remain innocent, whatever that meant.

But Daryl was the observant type, and he quickly caught up that you knew nothing about that type of thing. He knew you had always lived in that farm, away from the perverted hands of boys your age (or older like him) so connecting the dots wasn't tricky at all.

Oh, the things he could show you. That thought alone brought a somewhat creepy smirk to Daryl's face as he stared into the wall, contemplating the opportunity he had in hands to finally have his way with you. He knew he still had to be careful though.

“Daryl?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. You turned your head to look at him before turning your entire body to face him. Your gaze was curious.

“This?” He motioned with his chin towards the dripping substance on the piece of furniture, looking out of place. “Ya don'... know wha' it is?” He double checked, wanting to make sure you were actually unfamiliar erotic nature of what you saw him doing.

“Well, I saw where it came from.” You revealed, not sounding accusing at all, just simply stating a fact.

“...How long 've ya been watchin' me?” He asked with an almost audible gulp. Though he was considerably excited about teaching you all that new stuff, he was still unsure if he should or not. It'd been so long since his last sexual interaction with someone else that he could barely remember it. And doing it with the daughter of the man that gave him a roof to put over his head in times like these? That was risky.

“A while.” You stated. Now, Daryl could notice how you started staring at his crotch area with a renewed sense of interest. That meant you had definitely seen his dick despite his efforts to hide it when he first got caught just moments ago. He wondered if you knew what it was or its purpose.

You stepped even closer to him and he couldn't help but step back slightly. “I've never seen somebody pee like that. Are you... Sick?” You raise an eyebrow. “The bathroom's just in the next room, you know...” Your worried tone was awfully adorable to Daryl. And well, he was indeed sick, but not in the way you meant it. Nonetheless, the amusing way you mistook his semen for urine made him share a light chuckle.

“Nah, tha's... Tha's not piss.” He bluntly let out. You walked across your room and over to your bed, sitting on its edge. Daryl followed you until he was standing in front of you. He crossed his arms.

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side with a sincere curiosity displayed on your face. You had seen the way he rubbed that one thing of his that you weren't sure how it worked until that slimy liquid started oozing out of it, deeply stimulating your curiosity.

“Ya sure ya wanna know?” His tone sounded more dark and his voice turned hoarser, however, that didn't seem to faze you. You nodded frantically. “Aigh', i'll show ya.” Once again, a smirk creeped onto his face. Your eyes were all sparkly as you attentively listened to him. “Sometimes people touch themselves ta feel good, ya know?” You shrugged, not really sure of what he was talking about.

As he spoke, he took light and slow steps towards you, like a predator preparing to hunt its prey, until his knees was almost touching yours. “Ya ever touched yerself, darlin'?” Despite the raspiness in his voice, it was now rather calm, with a surge of some sweetness to it.

“Like how?” You asked.

“Like here...” He extended his hand with a gentle movement, his finger tracing a path from the valley between your breasts down to your bellybutton. The slightly ticklish sensation made you flinch a little. Then, his finger continued making its way down to your lower belly, stopping inches above your clothed pussy. “'N here...”

Your breath hissed, and you started remembering how your dad told you those parts were sacred and shouldn't be touched by anyone, no matter who. The uncertainty was obvious in your face as you discreetly pushed his hand away. “Uncle Daryl...”

“Ya can call me jus' Daryl, sweetheart. 'M yer friend, remember?” He tried his best to sound convincing.

“Yes, Daryl...” You corrected yourself with an awkward chuckle. “I... I think I shouldn't.” You avert your gaze from his.

“Why not? Dontcha wanna know wha' it's like?” He leaned in a little closer, resting his hands on your thighs. You made a motion to try to push him away again, but he insisted on his touch. “Don' be scared, doll. 'M not gunna hurt ya. Quite the opposite.” He smirked while practically whispering the last part, making sure to sound extra coaxing.

You weren't really sure what you were afraid of, exactly. You just knew that you wanted to make your father happy and proud of you, since he'd always been so caring towards you and your family. In the end, you just wanted daddy's approval.

“I'm... I'm not sure. I don't know, it doesn't feel right.” You confessed, your voice filled with worry. Daryl knew how to be intimidating when he wanted to.

“'S okay, doll.” He spoke the way one would speak to a puppy. And giving you no time to protest, he used one of his hands to tug at the hem of your white tank top and pulled it up in one go, revealing your bare tits to him. He bit his lips, noticing you weren't wearing a bra. As quick as he did so, you felt so ashamed of your sudden nudity that you lifted your arms up to try to cover yourself up from his hungry eyes. “D-Daryl...”

“Shhhh...” He shushed you against your ear, making shivers run down your spine. Although you were uncertain, the way he spoke to you made certain parts of your body warm up, an unusual sensation for you. “Ya got such pretty tits... Ya shouldn't hide 'em away from me.” As he said that, he gently grabbed one of your breasts, giving it the slightest squeeze not to startle you. You couldn't help but let out a small squeak at the unfamiliar sensation. Weirdly enough, it felt good in a way you had never felt before.

“Ya like tha'?” He whispered. “It's nice, but... Daddy wouldn't like that. I just wanna make daddy happy.” You just wanted to be a good girl. Perhaps, you could find a different way of doing that.

“Yeah?” He muttered practically to himself as he got an idea. “Well, I can be yer daddy for today. Like tha', ya could make yer daddy happy in a way. Yer jus' gotta lemme lead ya, aigh'?” He didn't feel guilty in the slightest for making you engage in one of his twisted fetishes while you were barely aware of it.

“H-huh?" You were uncertain about the reason behind his suggestion.

“Ya can pretend 'm yer daddy.” He continued playing her mind. You weren't really sure if you liked the idea to depict him as your old man, but you tried to convince yourself to play along.

“But... What will he think of me when he finds out?” You fidgeted with your fingers. Meanwhile his grip on your breast continued to intimidate you.

“He don' have ta know. C'mon, dontcha wanna make daddy happy?” He conveyed in a hush against your ear, his thumb now grazing your sensitive nipple, making you feel that one funny sensation again. You couldn't help but lean into his touch.

You closed your eyes, darting your tongue out to lick your lips. The nervousness in you due to the newness of it all made your lips dry. The way Daryl was making you feel was curious, and you just wanted more of it. He took your silence as a confirmation.

“Good girl.” He cooed before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, very gently sucking on it. The feeling made you arch your back instantly.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

You just wanted to be a good girl. And if following Daryl's lead was a way to do it, you were all in for it. Your senses awakened as a cascade of unfamiliar yet electrifying sensations coursed through you, a dance of pleasure that tingled on your skin. In that moment, a subtle warmth enveloped you, as if you had discovered a secret realm of bliss previously unknown.

You reached for his head, the feeling of your delicate fingernails scratching against his scalp and pulling him closer sent tingling sensations all over his body. Instinctively, you slightly opened your legs at the pleasure and that drew a smirk onto Daryl's face.

“Eager fer daddy, huh?” The way he referred to himself like that made a faint blush spread across your cheeks, although you couldn't wrap your head around the reason why. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

“I need ya to trust me, 'kay?” He said as he pulled your shorts down and then tossed them aside, revealing your white cotton panties. Once again, you felt to urge to hide, not knowing how to deal with someone else seeing you naked for the first time. But before your legs could involuntarily close, his big hands groped your thighs, keeping them spread apart. “'S okay, sunshine.” He practically manhandled you, gently but firmly pushing your body downward so you rested you back on the mattress.

The new position made you feel strangely vulnerable, but it wasn't exactly a bad feeling. Your doe eyes had a mix of unsureness and curiosity as they meet his. Sensing the mixed sensations within you, Daryl leaned in to place a small peck on your plush lips, aiming to make you more comfortable. The feeling of his rough lips against your soft ones so suddenly almost made you flinch, but they felt rather inviting. As he pulled back, a confident smirk could be seen displayed on his face.

The archer's rugged fingers traveled their way down your body once again until they found the soft fabric of your panties, making your breath hiss. He brushed his index and middle fingers against your clothed pussy lips. Just with that, the dampness was so obvious that a small wet spot could be seen on the cotton fabric right where your slit would be. He dragged his fingers across it until they reached your clit.

“This lil spot righ' here...” He kept his hand there. “...is magical." For now, he just added a small pressure, testing the waters and watching close to your reaction, but that was enough to draw a whimper from you, the unknown sensation making you grasp his forearm. It indeed felt magical. You bit your lips and though you couldn't see it, Daryl shared a satisfied smile at the way he was able to get you all hot and bothered with just a simple touch.

Your legs squirmed a bit and he took that as a good sign, so he continued. Now, he started slowly rubbing your clit in circular motions over the fabric of your panties. Your back arched again, and you accidentally let out a dangerously loud moan.

“Nuh-uh.” He brought his other index finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet. “Ya gotta be quiet, ya hear me?” His tone was mostly reprimanding, which strangely excited you. You nodded, enjoying the authority he guided you with through those new sensations. You had touched yourself there before, but never like that. The sensation always felt somewhat wrong, but with Daryl, it was totally different.

You were still kind of upset at yourself for disobeying your dad, but the way Daryl worked his fingers so skillfully had you seeing stars. You never thought you'd be handing out your innocence for some old redneck you met just a while ago, but there you were, completely given to him.

In the beginning, Daryl used to always kind of avoid you, despite your attempts of trying to get to know at least a little bit about the mysterious archer. He knew that deep down, those desires towards you were always there, since the very first time he saw you. At first, he tried to brush them off, but now, all he wanted was to be the one to feel your tight virgin cunt for the first time.

In a swift motion, his big hands tugged at the hem of your underwear. “Up.” He ordered, gesturing for you to lift your hips so he could pull them down. You didn't argue at all and promptly did as he said, reveling in the control he had over you. It was like he dominated your weak mind. “Good girl.” He cooed once again. Oh, if only he knew what that did to your little inexperienced pussy.

After tossing the piece of fabric aside, he reached for you knees, gently spreading them apart. The sight of your glistening bare cunt had his mind rushing through all the things he could do to it. He wondered if he would be able to hold himself back and be gentle or if he would end up losing control. After all, he hadn't done anything like that in such a long time that his whole body was aching for it. He stared at it in an almost scary way, you'd never seen his eyes so hungry.

If his cock hadn't awaken until that moment, now it was hard as a fucking rock. He had to really fight the urges to pull it out his pants and dick you down right there and then, but he knew he had to take it easy on you at least for now and get you nice and ready for him, even though you were already visibly dripping wet.

“Is this all fer me?” His tone was almost mocking. You weren't sure what he meant by that, not fully understanding the concept of natural lubrication, but you just nodded with your eyes closed. Something about being in that position felt so right, so freeing that it had you wondering why you never did that before, and why you were so afraid of trying it in the first place.

Daryl's hands sensually traced their way down your body, exploring your every contour until they reached the back of your thighs, pushing them back until your wet cunt was all over his face. He tried his best to control himself, but his own arousal was practically taking over his mind, so he buried his face on it like a starving man. As soon as his wet tongue made contact with your sensitive little clit and he lapped at your abundant juices, you immediately gasped, gaining a look of disapproval from Daryl.

“I warned ya.” That was all he mumbled before taking your panties he had just took off you and sticking them into your mouth almost aggressively. You could taste yourself on the white fabric, and although it felt strange, it turned you on even more. Now, your little sounds were muffled by the piece of clothing as he resumed eating you out, flicking his tongue on hour clit and burying it between your folds. You never thought a feeling like that could actually exist as you experienced that overwhelming rush of pleasure, a novel sensation coursing through you sending shivers down your spine as a delightful warmth enveloped your entire being. You tried your best to hold back your sounds since your dad was home and could hear you if you slipped, but Daryl's skilled tongue and lips made it an extremely difficult task, even with your panties stuck in your mouth.

He continued working your clit with his mouth, and maybe a little sooner than it should, a tingling sensation forming in your lower belly caught your attention. Daryl noticed the obvious shift in your demeanor and took the panties out of your mouth so you could speak. “D-daddy...” You experimented the honorific he had previously suggested. “I-I feel funny.” You whimpered, squirming a bit harder than before as it started feeling as if you were gonna burst at any moment. Daryl smirked against your skin and gave your pussy a last peck before pulling away, making you whine in disapproval. It had only been seconds but you immediately missed the sensation. You craved it.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” He said. Not yet what, you wondered. But you still wanted to be good for him, so you nodded as the good girl you were. You couldn't think of anything you wouldn't do for him in that moment, considering how desperate you were to feel that pleasure again.

Your curious eyes followed his hands as they reached to unbuckled his own belt, setting it aside. He undid his pants and pulled them down just enough to reveal his boxer briefs to you. There. There was the place where you saw that sticky white thing shooting out from. Now, the excitement in you was unbearable as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his movements closely. Your eyes visibly lighted up and that didn't go unnoticed by Daryl.

“Yer gunna love this, lil' girl.” He bit his lips. Something was very obviously bulging in his boxers, which you found odd since it didn't seem to look so obvious when it was in his pants even though now it looked so big. Either way, you were completely drawn to it. You glued your eyes to his crotch while he pulled his underwear down.

You had heard about it, but you had never actually seen one of those before. In the aftermath of the apocalypse, his pubic hair had grown wild and untamed, a reflection of the makeshift survival and the absence of the once routine grooming practices. Not that he used to care a lot about that kind of thing before the outbreak. In a way, you thought it looked charming, suiting his rugged looks and personality.

You could feel your mouth starting to water at the sight of his cock standing tall and proud in front of you. Since the archer had touched his mouth to your cunt, you wondered if you could do the same to him in that same area on his body. As if he could smell your thoughts, he brought a hand to your head, gently pulling you closer to his crotch while he held it by the base.

“Ya wanna have a taste?” He slyly suggested and chuckled at your frantic nodding. Leaning closer to it, you felt the musky and raw scent that emanated from it, which made you even more drawn to the possibilities that ran through your mind. But at the same time, you didn't know what to do or how to handle it.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he collected some saliva from it and rubbed the wetness on the tip of his cock to lubricate it. “Gimme yer hand.” He reached out his hand, and instantly you complied, allowing him to direct it towards his cock. He enveloped your hand around it, keeping his atop yours, slowly starting to move it up and down. It felt warm and hard against your soft fingers, and the way he threw his head back and quietly groaned made your stomach churn with butterflies. “Fuck baby, tha' feels good.” He had to whisper due to the dangerous presence of your dad in the house threatening to put your little playtime to an end.

You smiled proudly at yourself. You liked the way he sounded and you wished to draw more of those grunts from his lips. And Daryl, being just as eager as you, removed your hand from his length, holding it by the base. His other hand found its way to the back of your head, his touch almost feeling impatient as he pulled you closer to his cock. “Open yer mouth.” He didn't have to tell you twice. Therefore, he guided his swollen tip to your awaiting tongue, smearing his salty pre-cum all over it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to hold back any compromising sounds.

Your lips instinctively closed around his tip, trying to mimic the way he sucked on your clit, aiming to make him feel as good as he previously did to you. The act not only gave him pleasure, but it also brought you a deep sense of satisfaction, making you hum against his sensitive skin. The vibrations from your vocal chords sent a chill through his body and he couldn't hold back this time, the warm sensation of your mouth being so tempting and promising that he pushed his hips forward a bit too much, causing it to hit the back of your throat and you to gag on it.

He immediately retracted his body, removing his cock from the velvety confines of your mouth. Your eyes got a little watery but you smiled either way. “Sorry, princess.” He said with a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

“It's fine, I liked it.” You confess, looking up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stood in front of you. Your innocent expression contrasting with the dirty nature of your encounter made him impossibly hornier, and he didn't feel like waiting any longer. “Fuck” He almost whined. Eagerness to feel you wrapping around him filled his body, so he grabbed you by the arms, not too rough so he wouldn't hurt you, and put on your feet against the pink wall of your room.

He brought a hand to your head, pressing it against the wall. You gasped a little at his roughness but soon you felt him brushing the tip of his cock on your slicky slit and clit. “'S gunna feel good, I promise.” He mumbled against your ear, making your body hair stand on end. The sensation had you biting your lips to try and not make any sounds, but your efforts were proven useless as you felt the pressure of his tip carefully going in your cunt, causing a burning sensation and you accidentally let out a loud cry.

Daryl's hand went immediately to your mouth, forcefully pressing his palm against your lips to muffle your sounds, your dad shouldn't hear Daryl using his sweet daughter in his own home after all. “Shhh, shhh.” He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head for a moment. You wrapped around him so tight even though he only had his tip in yet that he couldn't restrain himself from pushing his hips forward a little more, intensifying the burning sensation while he stretched your virgin cunt out.

“'S okay, ya can take it.” In that moment, you were confused at why he was making you feel so good just a moment ago, and now he's ripping your little pussy apart. But even though it hurt, it was somewhat pleasant to feel so full in such a new way, so you stuck your ass towards him, inviting him in. While still keeping his hand pressed on your mouth, he brought his other one to your hips, gripping them a little too tight.

Without warnings, he buried his entire length in you in one swift motion, filling you up to the brim and worsening the burning to a whole new level. The only thing that kept you from letting out a scream at the sudden invasion was his hand muffling your pathetic sounds and the fact that you'd be in deep trouble if your dad found out about that, but even so, Daryl couldn't help but quietly grunt at the intense sensation. He didn't know he missed fucking a warm cunt so badly until he was completely inhumed inside you. “Good girl. Yer being so good fer daddy.” He praised you. His words had an immediate effect on you, making your pussy even wetter, if that was even possible.

You didn't even care if it hurt or not anymore, so you just stood there, caught in the paradox of sensation �� a mix of pain and pleasure etched across your face. The twinge felt like a sweet ache, and yet, an irresistible allure pulled her deeper into the experience, as if the discomfort held a hidden charm that she couldn't resist exploring.

Despite the pain, you found herself oddly drawn to the sensation, craving more as if the discomfort carried an inexplicable appeal that kept you coming back for another taste. So you slightly wiggled your ass against Daryl's body, moving his cock a little inside you. The feeling of being stretched out had you desperate for more.

Daryl's warm breath hit your ear as he let out a light-hearted laugh at your reaction, sending delicious goosebumps all over your body. His hips started going back and forth to meet yours in a sensual dance. He tried to be gentle at first, but your virgin cunt was just so wet and warm that he couldn't help it but succumb to his primal desires. “Jus' like tha', princess. Take this fat cock.” He whispered loud enough so only you could hear, making you weak in the knees.

His calloused hand let go of your hips to find your clit, starting to rub it with just the right pressure to make you squirm under his touch. The mixed sensations of intense pleasure and pain confusing your brain, making you melt like putty in his hands. Overwhelming waves of pleasure surged through you, leaving your head blissfully empty as if every thought had been swept away by the sheer intensity of the sensation, which was exactly what Daryl wanted, to turn you into a brainless little fucktoy for him.

If a few months ago somebody told you that you'd be letting some perverted older man take advantage of you in your own room, you would've laughed right in their face. Giving your innocence away to anybody used to feel like such a distant reality, and now there you were, pressed against the wall by Daryl's sweaty body while he mercilessly pounded your no longer virgin cunt, making you experience the most pleasurable pain you could ever feel.

As he continued bucking his hips like a desperate animal, you drooled against his hand, your brain now reduced to putty due to the overpowering sensation that dominated your every sense. “Nngh...” Your muffled moans stirred an even deeper desire within Daryl, turning him as primal as one could be. Your body language made it obvious that you were close to your orgasm, and this time, he didn't plan to deny you of it.

But you had never experienced something like that. You didn't know pleasure could get so extreme that could made you burst, so as the sensation built and grew stronger, it also made you unsure about where it was taking you, and you tried to fight the feeling. Daryl's skilled fingers working your clit only threw you even closer to the edge and you felt like your legs could fail at any moment.

Noticing the shift in your demeanor, he muttered against your ear. “Jus' let it go, baby. Trust me, don' hold it.” His tone was strangely sweet considering what you were both up to, but his encouraging words relaxed you a little, and as he intensified the rubbing on your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold it in not even if you wanted to, whatever it was.

Then, it hit you. An entirely unfamiliar and intense sensation washed over you, catching you off guard. It felt like uncharted emotional and physical territory, leaving you completely stunned, wide-eyed, and grappling with the unexpected intensity of the experience, something that almost made you mad at your dad from convincing you of staying away from it for so long.

Daryl had to intensify the pressure of his hand against your lips, but even so, he wasn't able to muffle your cries completely as your body convulsed and you were sure you lost consciousness for a few seconds. “Good girl, cum for me.” You didn't know what that word meant, but considering the situation, you understood that it probably had something to do with the new type of pleasure you just experienced.

As the orgasmic sensation slowly faded away, it was replaced with an even more overwhelming feeling of overstimulation. You squirmed even harder and you swore you could cry if he continued using your cunt like that, not giving you any breaks to catch your breath. You'd been turned into a whimpering and drooling mess, a total slut for his cock. You wanted him to have his way with you and you knew that if he wanted to, you'd let him fuck you all day without arguing.

The intense clenching of your tight pussy around his length initiated his own orgasm, and now it was his turn to experience the compelling feeling of being right on the edge of pleasure. “Fuck, turn 'round." He desperately voiced, but he didn't even waited for you before decisively grasping your shoulders, swiftly turning you to face him. As he did so, he removed his cock from inside you and stroked it hard and fast for a few seconds with just enough pressure to make himself burst.

Your mesmerized eyes watched as the pleasure took over his body. And now, it all made sense as he started shooting his load aiming right on your bare pussy, just as he was doing earlier today when you first caught him in your room. The warm sticky substance coated your cunt and it was so much that it felt like it would never end, leaving you astonished. You couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.

You two stared into each other's eyes while desperately trying to catch your breaths, sharing a small chuckle and satisfied smiles. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead and now, you knew who to come up to when you feel that funny feeling in your lower belly again. You knew Daryl had what it took to take care of your needs.

Without saying anything else, he pulled his briefs and pants back up again, adjusting his clothes. Then, he reached for his pocket, pulling out those panties he had stolen earlier and putting them on you again, leaving his load smeary and sticking to your skin. “Leave it there.” He hoarsely voiced, ordering you to walk around with his cum inside your clothes while no one else knew of it except the both of you.

“And these...” He walked over to your bed and bended his knees a little so he could reach for the white cotton panties he had tossed aside right before railing you and put them in his pocket.

“...'M gunna keep these fer later.”

a/n: omg guys the first part of sweet scent got over 1.1k notes and that's like??? insane??? tysm for all ur support, that's crazy. it was so much fun to write both parts and i'm so thankful if you read it this far!! i hope y'all have a great and happy holidays xx

taglist: @imagininghim , @murdadixon , @epilepsywarrior8787 , @darklydixon

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andypantsx3 · 8 months ago

Text

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 4.7k | chapter 2 of 4

Then

The Todoroki house was the most interesting place you had ever been.

At home it was just you and your mom, and most of the time she was working, or recovering from working, but the Todoroki house was packed with children from wall to wall. There was almost never a dull minute—except when Todoroki Enji came home and everyone got stiff and weird—but when he wasn’t around, you found you preferred the Todoroki mansion to the loneliness of your own empty house.

Touya seemed to sense this, and deigned to invite you over often, enough that you found yourself following him home after school at least once a week.

After the first time, you’d been introduced to his other siblings, Fuyumi and Natuso, who were both much nicer than Touya, and notably far more talkative. Shouto was a near-constant too, almost always propped on his mother’s hip when you arrived home, and always eager to be handed off to you, enough that you could tell Touya was annoyed.

“You’re not even related,” he complained, and you hid a smile at his barely-couched jealousy.

“I’m just better than you,” you told him, sticking your tongue out, dodging when he tried to grab it. You’d never had siblings, and you’d been forced to learn quickly that nothing was off-limits to people with younger siblings. Revenge would always be exacted.

Even when Shouto got older, old enough to talk in complete sentences and toddle about on his own, he seemed to prefer your company. You and Touya were almost never left alone to play on your own, Shouto always in the room with you, almost velcroed to your side.

He was on the floor next to you in the living room on one such occasion, Touya absolutely destroying you in Super Mario, when Rei called Touya in from the kitchen.

Touya rolled his eyes, pausing and flinging his controller at your head with the manner of someone who hoped it actually connected. “Don’t restart while I’m gone or I’ll kill you.”

You saluted him as he stomped out, taking a minute to stretch out from where you’d sat hunched over your controller. You bumped Shouto as you did, and he looked up at you from his coloring book, where he was shading in a pair of penguins in hot pink.

“Nice choice,” you told him, and Shouto looked a little bit like he was trying not to preen.

“Izuku in my class says penguins mate for life, like us,” he said, authoritatively.

You blinked, your brain snagging on the like us. Alphas, betas, and omegas could mate for life, and were generally expected to, but that didn’t always quite play out if you didn’t find your life mate. Your mother was a near-hand example, your father having left her while you were still in swaddling clothes, only to pass away a short few years later. They hadn’t been life mates, you’d come to realize recently—though your mother still believed in them. You hoped she’d find hers still, someday.

You thought maybe, however, that you were not going to hold out hope for your own, if it was as tricky as it seemed.

“You know not everyone does, right?” you asked, peering down at Shouto.

Wide, guileless eyes stared back up at you. Shouto had lost a little of his baby fat recently, but absolutely none of his sweetness.

“Who does not?” he demanded, sitting back on his haunches.

You fiddled with the controller in your fingers, wondering suddenly if you should have brought this up with him. “Some people. My parents didn’t,” you said, cautiously.

Shouto’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Your parents?”

You shook your head. “Sometimes people don’t find them even after all of the mating runs.”

Shouto did not look pleased with this. His eyes roved over you, pinning on you with a sort of sudden, unnerving intensity. “Sometimes people go on mating runs. And their life mate is not there because they are too young to go yet.”

You blinked, surprised by the specificity of this conclusion. “Sometimes, probably, yeah.”

Shouto’s tiny frown deepened, and he carefully arranged himself up against your side. “You will wait though, right?”

Your hand found its way unthinkingly into his hair, ruffling it. He was a sweet kid. “I mean, people usually go through more than one mating run, right?”

Shouto pressed more insistently into your side. “You will keep going until your life mate is there, though.”

You had an image of yourself, greying and eighty, slowly wobbling on your cane through the preserve. You suppressed a laugh. “I’ll go as I can until I age out, how about that?”

Shouto nodded, satisfied. His crayon resumed on the penguins, fiery pink streaking across the page. “I will be there,” he pronounced definitively.

His decisive tone startled a laugh out of you. You grinned down at him, unable to help the urge to ruffle his hair again. “I’ll stick around until we can run together. Although you better get good at climbing trees.”

Shouto blinked, his mouth pursing in puzzlement. “Trees,” he repeated to himself.

You nodded. “If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate.”

You would not be like your parents. You would not settle, and you would be realistic about your prospects.

Shouto’s eyes tracked across your face once more, like he was committing the statement to memory.

“You’re welcome to come up with me,” you said. You couldn’t imagine Shouto as anything other than an omega like his mom, not with that sweet little face. You didn’t like the idea of some alpha trying to get at him, so it was better he stay safe in your tree with you.

The thought suddenly rankled, and you decided you were done with this discussion. Better not to think of Shouto all grown up and spirited away from everyone until you absolutely had to.

You tapped a finger on Shouto’s coloring book, turning him back to it. “Anyway. Tell me about the other animals in here? Did Izuku tell you about any of these?”

Shouto looked down at the page, his expression shifting seriously. “This is a killer whale,” he said, pointing to a corner of the page he’d colored in with a blob of forest green. “They are related to dolphins. They are the biggest dolphin in the world.”

You nodded, relaxing back on your hands, gesturing for him to go on.

Shouto took his job very seriously, explaining solemnly and in great detail all the animals on the page, the way he sometimes described all his toys to you. You let him go on, finding that you liked listening to Shouto talk—he was rarely so wordy, but he was easy and familiar and funny in how seriously he took everything.

You laid back and listened to him, hoping Touya took a little extra time in the kitchen. Shouto looked pleased to have your attention, and soon enough you found yourself dozing, your head against his little thigh, content with Shouto’s sweet little voice washing over you.

In Shouto’s company, the Todoroki house felt a lot like home.

Now

Your beloved mother woke you in the morning ramming the vacuum into the door of your old bedroom-turned-storage room.

You groaned from your air mattress, your old bed frame sold off already to pay a gas bill. You missed that thing.

“Only a week together and you were out all day yesterday,” your mother said when you emerged from your old room, shooting you a look that immediately made you feel like a teenager again. She was wearing one of your old sweatshirts, that she’d clearly commandeered because she’d missed you.

Your heart squeezed a little at the familiar sight of her, but not enough to curb your morning fussiness.

“Maybe I was out scoping alphas to pounce on during the run,” you said, shuffling towards the kitchen and the promise of coffee.

“You were out with the mayor’s son,” she said, sniffing. A small smile pulled at your mouth—she had pettily refused to call Touya by his name for years.

She’d been thrilled by your friendship with him when you were kids. From the outside, Touya had looked like a beautiful little boy from a well-to-do family. You knew she’d once held out hope for your friendship to turn into something more, to see you settled into a well-off family and taken good care of.

For your part, however, you’d been drawn to Touya but never interested in that way, and you knew Touya felt the same. And things had only gotten more complicated when Touya’s mental health had crumbled like dirt under his father’s heel, and even worse when the Todoroki family fire broke out; Touya’s extensive burns damaged his glands and destroyed any evidence of his secondary gender before he’d even presented. Though, personally, you’d always suspected he was an omega. He was showy, flashy, possessed of that classic omega need for praise and attention—not quite to your tastes.

You thought you probably preferred someone a little more lowkey, someone steady and easy. Definitely not Touya.

There was also the fact that his efforts as of late seemed directed at the one quarter of your friend group with blonde, fluffy hair. Though you knew Touya would rather burn his remaining skin off before admitting it.

Either way, your mother’s hopes of a marriage into the Todoroki family were dashed, along with her opinion of Todoroki Enji when things finally came to head, and she’d never quite forgiven Touya for it.

“Touya says hello,” you answered distractedly, fiddling around with the coffee machine, though of course Touya had said no such thing. “I saw Rei though, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto. Did you know Shouto is a firefighter now? He’s gotten so big.”

“An alpha?” your mom’s voice floated out from the living room, her eagerness not quite suppressed.

You laughed, though a tiny, strange sort of spark lit up your spine. “Mom, I’m a couple years too old for him. I’m like his grandma.”

“Oh you are not, you dramatic thing,” you heard her sniff.

“Our first date could be at my bingo hall,” you carried on over the hiss of the water boiling, the dribble of coffee into the pot. “And we could get drunk on our prune juice, and I could slide out my dentures waiting for him to kiss me—”

“I’m going to sell you,” your mother said, her vacuum starting up again pointedly. You heard the distinct thump of it being rammed into a couch leg and grinned.

You knew she wanted to see you settled because she loved you, wanted to see you taken care of in all the ways that she hadn’t been. Your father had let her down years before he’d even passed, which you thought should have besmirched any alpha’s good name in your mother’s book. But she was determined to believe in love and life mates despite it all, and you admired her for it. She was a stubborn thing.

You spent the morning helping her do chores, clambering up onto the counters and getting all the places she couldn’t regularly reach, hauling out her trash and googling your way through some low-level repairs. You shared a quick breakfast in between, dodging more questions about the mating run, before returning to cleaning.

You were covered in dust and a thin layer of Lysol by the time you remembered you’d promised to meet Shouto at the fire station for lunch. There was not enough time to change or shower if you wanted to pick something up on the way, and you supposed it was well enough that Shouto did not actually possess the level of interest in you that your mother might have wanted him to.

“Going to see my child bride,” you told your mom on the way out, laughing and dodging a sponge.

The walk to the fire station took the better part of forty-five minutes, including a long interlude spent hemming and hawing over the prepared foods section of the grocery store before you finally settled on cold soba—Shouto’s favorite from when you were younger, if you remembered correctly.

The fire station itself was an older, whitewashed multi-story building, set back from the main road. The garage doors were open in the warming spring air, the bright red of the fire engines clearly visible from blocks away. You must have been visible from blocks away, too, because Shouto stepped out as you turned onto the drive, the dark blue of his stationwear stark against his skin.

Your heart did a strange lurching motion in your chest, and you pointedly did not let your eyes linger on the way his uniform belted in at his hips, highlighting the trimness of his waist and the breadth of his shoulders. Nope.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, holding up your bag of spoils. “You still like soba, right?”

Shouto blinked, his eyelashes fluttering. Long fingers touched the bag, hefting it carefully from your grip. “You remember.”

You grinned up at him. “How could I forget? Especially because I was there when you had it for the first time. You flung some at Touya from your high chair and it ended up on me instead.”

Shouto looked embarrassed, a pink flush spreading prettily across the tops of his high cheekbones. “I do not believe you.”

“Uh huh,” you said.

Shouto’s mouth pulled into what might have been a nonexpression on anyone else, but was most definitely a pout on him. Cute.

“I can reassure you there will be no soba flung today,” he promised, his deep voice earnest. Then he paused. “Touya is not in range.”

A surprised laugh escaped you, and the edge of Shouto’s lips pulled. He looked pleased with himself for having drawn it out of you. He’d always made you laugh, even as a kid—though mostly for how incongruously serious he was as a child, even about the silliest things. But also for how he seemed able to press people’s buttons—Touya’s especially—just by existing.

Shouto gestured you inside, and you studied the firetrucks as you passed them, mostly so you did not watch the way Shouto’s shoulders shifted beneath his shirt.

When he caught your look of curiosity, Shouto led you over to one, opening the door for you to take a look inside. You peered at all the knobs and switches interestedly, leaning into the cab. It looked complex, and yet very familiar. It actually looked a lot like the toy fire truck that once spent a fair amount of time occupying the inside of baby Shouto’s mouth.

You glanced back, opening your mouth to tell Shouto as much, when suddenly two large hands were at your waist, warm and sure. They lifted you right into the driver’s seat like it was absolutely no effort.

You fell into the cab, suddenly winded. You whipped around to stare at Shouto, heart hammering with the casual display of alpha strength, unable to help the wide-eyed look you knew you were giving him. That was—that was—not allowed.

“Am I—can I be—in here?” you garbled out, trying not to make obvious the real reason for your sudden disorientation.

Shouto stepped up onto the wheel plate to lean into the cab beside you, bringing in a puff of that scent like campfire on a cold day. “Yes,” he answered, looking unbothered with how close his face was to yours.

You watched him helplessly, brain fogging with his proximity and his scent. He was very, very pretty up close. He’d grown into what had to be the most beautiful person you’d actually ever seen—his mother’s looks, dialed up to an eleven. The deliberate alpha edge to him should have been at odds with that delicate sensuality—but instead it was like his secondary gender sat on him like a beam of sunlight, highlighting his beauty.

It was totally at conflict with the round, pudgy little thing he’d been when you’d first seen him, the lanky preteen you’d left him as.

He felt so familiar and yet so strangely new. It was disconcerting.

You quickly averted your gaze, making a show of leaning in over all the dials and buttons. Shouto leaned right over your lap, his chest warm against your legs, patiently explaining what each one did in his low, calm tone. The depth of his voice was so shocking, but the tone so similar to what it had been—you could remember him explaining animals in his coloring book to you in much the same level of careful detail once.

Your head spun with the dichotomy. Baby Shouto, a lifetime away, and adult alpha Shouto here in front of you—

You hurriedly pushed the thought of adult alpha Shouto down before you could think too deeply on it. That was off limits.

When you’d had your fill and Shouto had managed to make sure you didn’t accidentally deploy the ladder in the station itself, he helped you down from the cab, his hands hot on your waist.

“I’m old but still spry enough to get myself down, young man,” you told him as he settled you back on the station floor. Your heartbeat felt like it was somewhere around your throat.

“I did not hear your bones creak at least,” Shouto said, startling you into a laugh again.

His mouth twitched as he led you further into the station, giving you a short tour of the gear racks, the office, the laundry room and fitness room stuffed with several of his coworkers, a room that smelled overwhelmingly of clashing alpha scents, none nearly as good as Shouto’s.

A cheery red head waved to you from the leg press, that Shouto introduced as Kirishima, and a blonde alpha greeted him with a towel whipped directly at Shouto’s face. Shouto ducked it with the ease of long practice.

“Oi halfie, who the fuck told you you could eat the cookies I brought in?” the blonde demanded, barely sparing you an acknowledging glace as he reracked a mind-bogglingly enormous set of weights.

Shouto introduced him anyway, in a deliberately bland tone that you immediately recognized as one he deployed to rile up Touya. “This is Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Answer the damn question,” Bakugou said.

Shouto blinked long and slow and absolutely meant to annoy. You hid a smile. “Am I expected to fight fires on an empty stomach,” Shouto said, flatter than a question.

“I’ll fucking show you an empty stomach when I rip out your—”

“You must be Y/N,” Kirishima said loudly from the leg press. You instantly clocked a beta disruption technique at work and smiled at him.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, searching for something to reply with, uniting in his peace-keeping mission. “That’s—an impressive amount of weight.”

“Thanks!” Kirishima said brightly.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Shouto’s head snapping towards you, and you looked back to find his eyes narrowed on you.

“I can press as much,” Shouto said, his tone insistent. He crowded a little closer to you.

Your eyebrows crept towards your hairline, mystified. “I—that’s—great?”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth, and a disgusted sound issued from Bakugou’s corner of the gym. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. Take this shit right outta here,” Bakugou demanded.

Shouto ignored him, still staring at you. He pressed closer, his shoulders shifting so that he was angled between you and Kirishima, obscuring most of your line of sight.

“I—mean you definitely look like you can press, um, a lot,” you continued, bewildered. “The only pressing I do is, uh, french press.”

The frown evaporated from Shouto’s expression, something suddenly pleased descending over it instead. Beyond him, you thought you could see Kirishima smiling, mouthing you look like you can press a lot to Bakugou, and an answering eye-roll from Bakugou. Oh god. Had you said that?

Your face heated, and you immediately decided an evacuation was in order. “Well thanks for letting us interrupt you. Nice to meet you guys. Shouto—should we—?”

Shouto’s hand found the small of your back, gently guiding you. All thought of Kirishima and Bakugou suddenly evaporated under the feeling of that hot palm, and you barely managed another wave as Shouto shadowed you out of the room. He led you up a flight of stairs to the dorm area, where several more of his coworkers were arrayed, chatting over their own lunches.

Face still sort of warm, you helped Shouto unpack the soba and the various side dishes you’d grabbed. He disappeared further into the kitchen and returned with glasses of water and the appropriate utensils, arraying everything in front of you.

“So this is going to be your first run,” you said conversationally, after you’d taken your first bite of soba. “Got any lucky omega in mind?”

Shouto’s eyes darted up from his chopsticks to your face, grey and blue pinning you. “I have… someone in mind,” he said, after a moment.

A strange twinge made itself known in your chest again. You ignored it, shoving more noodles into your mouth determinedly.

“I am sure you will have absolutely no trouble, but I am happy to give you a quick rundown of all the usual hiding spots anyway,” you said. “Most omegas actually end up not too far into the preserve because they want to be caught, so it should be pretty easy.”

One of Shouto’s brows quirked the tiniest bit. “I have reason to believe I’ll need to follow at least a few miles.”

You felt your own eyebrows lift. Not too many omegas went super far in, unless they were looking to avoid someone or pose a real challenge. You went miles in specifically for that reason as well—to steer clear of the action, not that it was likely to find you anyway—and get up your tree before anyone came looking.

“There’s fewer spots that far out because the brush gets all scraggly at the coast,” you said. “There’s a few outcroppings though that I’ve seen omegas go for. You really think your intended will go that far?”

Shouto considered you for a long moment, those mismatched eyes roving over you. “I do.”

Whoever it was, they were going to make him work for it, huh? You suppressed a growing spot of offense on his behalf.

“And you’re sure about this person?” you asked.

Shouto nodded. “I have been sure since I was very small.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the same time as your stomach seemed to drop. That was very sweet—and also strangely disheartening to hear.

Why was that disheartening?

“Then—do you think they’re for sure your life mate?” you asked, taking a careful, studied sip of water.

“I do,” Shouto answered. The simplicity of his statement spoke for itself. You were a beta and did not have quite the same capacity to detect your mate as an alpha, but you knew alphas always knew. You wondered if he’d always known he was going to end up an alpha if he’d had that instinctive understanding since he was young.

You wondered why he’d never said anything, all those years you’d grown up together.

Your heart did a strange dip, sinking at the same time it lifted for him.

“I’m really happy for you Shouto. I’m glad I came back just in time to see you find happiness, when it feels like I have already missed so much else,” you told him.

Shouto leaned forward, catching your eye. His gaze was serious where it caught yours. “I am glad you came back, too. You have been… missed,” he said.

Your heartbeat fluttered, and you gripped the edge of the table, trying to quell the feeling. It would not do to be too overwhelmed by Shouto. Not now.

You managed a smile, and quickly rerouted the conversation back to the hiding spots you knew, and the forest trails you’d seen most omegas utilize. Shouto watched you carefully, and you hoped he was committing the information to memory.

After that the conversation turned to more innocuous topics, a rehashing of some of your shared childhood memories, some picking on Touya. The soba disappeared between the two of you, as well as all the side dishes you’d brought. Shouto was incredibly easy to talk to, you found—a fascinating blend of the earnest, slight shit-stirrer of a little boy you’d known and a blandly funny adult man. He had some of Touya’s underlying propensity towards intensity, and some of his mother’s thoughtful sweetness—and you liked the way the familiar traits blended into something faceted and interesting.

He really had grown up.

After lunch he let you explore more of the station, showing you all the compartments on the fire engines, explaining all the equipment. On the way to the door he also let you rifle through the gear bays, showing you his own rack of turnout gear.

He even let you try his jacket on, looking like he was suppressing a smile when the heaviness of it weighed your arms down, watching you flap your arms around, marveling as what was easily twenty pounds of heat-proof fabric resisted you.

No wonder he needed such an intense workout routine.

You couldn’t help but be amazed by it all—who Shouto had turned into, and the fact that he had such an impressive job, one that fit him so well. The fact that he was an adult now, with goals and ambitions that were a lot more grounded than yours. The fact that he was an alpha of all things, and could lift you up into a firetruck as easily as you’d once lifted him off Touya’s hip.

It was so much to contemplate, and you watched him, helplessly fascinated, as he led you around.

You lingered for long enough that the sky was tinging pink and orange by the time you left, and Shouto saw you to the door, insisting on plugging in his number to your phone so you could text when you got home. You could still feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner down the street, a strange warmth suffusing you as you walked. It kept you warm the entire way home, despite the cool evening air.

It was only when you arrived at your mother’s front door, shooting off your promised text to Shouto that you realized that you were mooning like a girl returning home from a date—a completely embarrassing, inappropriate tact for your mind to take with someone who had been your childhood friend. Your childhood junior.

Besides, Shouto had explicitly said he had someone in mind already, someone he intended to follow during the run. And you were too old for him, and a beta as well. Alpha-beta couplings were rare—and if Shouto had known who his life mate was since he was very small, and never given any indication it was a beta—well that spoke for itself.

You shook your head as you let yourself in through the door, trying to slough off the feeling as you called a greeting to your mother. It was sad you’d never get to haul him up a tree after you, the way you’d promised when you were kids. But such was life, you guessed.

Shouto may have grown up into an admirable man and a beautiful alpha—but he was off limits to you. You’d make sure you treated him with nothing but the respect and friendly fondness he deserved. Nothing else.

Absolutely nothing else.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x midoriya #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #shouto x y/n #shouto x you #shoto x reader #shoto x you

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dollgxtz · 3 months ago

Text

His Watchful Eye Pt. 5

Word Count: 11.6k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, kidnapping, syringes, hitting, bloodshed, attempted rape, lots of blood, sylus goes a tad bit crazy, pet names like kitten, sweetie, doll, little mouse, stalking,

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel

AN: I decided to make this chapters theme red since it fits the bloodiness of this chapter. This is on A03 as well! Also YALL I'm so sorry, apparently my taglist hasn't been tagging people correctly. It should be fixed now! I’ll go back and fix it on the other lists as well!! Per usual, heed the warnings and enjoy! Next chapter is definitely going to have lots of smut, I’m already writing it 😌

"Your tears, your pain, your misery," Sylus whispers, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy as his hand moves gently to your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hasn’t yet fallen, his touch both tender and terrifying. "It all belongs to me."

“I am the only one who gets to see you cry”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.6

The darkness had swallowed you whole. When you blink your eyes open, the world is a blur, as though you’re caught between waking and a nightmare. Cold, sharp and biting, is the first thing you feel, seeping into your skin from the damp concrete beneath you. Your nightgown is soaked, sticking to your body, the freezing water from the shower still dripping slowly from the showerhead, an eerie rhythm to the otherwise oppressive silence.

It takes a moment before the memories resurface, and when they do, they crash over you like a wave. The basement. Reese. The other man. The betrayal. Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the way Reese had looked at you when he led you here, his guilt ridden face made you scowl.

How dare he have a conscious when he had led you to your very demise? You had trusted him. Told him about your kidnapping, your escape. He had listened with kind eyes, nodding in all the right places, making you believe he was different—that he was your salvation in a world that had turned cruel. He had seemed so genuine, offering you a place to stay, a promise of safety. But now, that memory feels like poison, a twisted mockery of the trust you had so willingly given him.

How could you have been so naive?

You groan as you try to sit yourself upright, every muscle in your body protesting with sharp pain. The cold has seeped so deeply into your bones that it feels like your limbs are made of lead, heavy and uncooperative. Your fingers dig into the rough concrete as you push against it, your nightgown clinging to your skin, wet and miserable.

Your head spins, the pounding ache a reminder of everything you’ve been through, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to move. Lying there, helpless, isn’t an option. Not anymore.

Each breath is a struggle, shallow and ragged, as you steady yourself against the wall behind you. The dampness of the basement, the steady drip of water in the corner, the faint musty scent of decay—it all feels suffocating, as though the walls are closing in. You blink hard, trying to focus, to ground yourself in the moment, but the betrayal still burns in your mind, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Reese's face flashes before your eyes again, his soft voice promising safety, and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a shaky exhale. Safety. What a cruel joke.

You had simply traded one prison for a colder, darker one.

You look around the basement, squinting in the dim light. Your legs ache as you try to move them, pins and needles shooting through your feet as you attempt to stand. Your body feels battered, but the deeper pain—the one rooted in the betrayal—hurts far worse. Reese wasn’t some random passerby, some kind stranger. He knew what he was doing, and worse, he had listened to your story of suffering and seen you as an opportunity to fulfill some promise.

As you lean against the wall, trying to steady your shaky breath, Reese’s words echo in your mind, gnawing at your already fragile sense of reality.

“I promised them a girl.”

The phrase rattles around in your skull, unsettling and cryptic. What did he mean by that? Who was them?

Your stomach turns, the bile rising in your throat as you replay the memory over and over. Reese had said it shakily, his voice trembling, his eyes wide with barely concealed fear. But his words were soaked in something far darker, something that made your skin crawl the moment they left his lips.

Promised them a girl.

The weight of it sinks in deeper, heavier with each passing moment, like a noose tightening around your neck.

Your hands curl into fists, nails digging sharply into your palms as you struggle to suppress the rising wave of nausea and panic. Every breath feels like a battle, the air thick with dread. You want answers—need answers—but more than anything, you need to get out of here. Every second you spend trapped in this basement feels like a countdown ticking away to something far worse than anything your mind can conjure.

Whatever Reese had promised them, whatever twisted deal he’d made, you won’t let it come to pass. You won’t be some pawn in this dark, twisted game he's playing. You refuse to be reduced to a bargaining chip for them, whoever they are. They might have Reese tangled in their web, but they won’t have you.

Your eyes drift toward the dingy mattress settled on a metal frame, barely visible in the dim light. A tattered towel, a folded pair of sweatpants and a white shirt lie haphazardly on top of it. You hesitate for a moment, the sight catching you off guard. Did Reese leave these here for you?

The thought sends a wave of conflicting emotions through you—anger, confusion, even a twisted sense of pity. Despite everything, despite handing you over to whatever fate awaits, had he still tried to offer some small gesture of comfort? Or had this been planned, just part of the sick arrangement, a way to keep you alive long enough for them?

You shake the thought from your mind. It doesn’t matter.

The cold clings to you, a constant, suffocating presence in your wet nightgown. Your teeth are still chattering, your skin icy to the touch. Without thinking too much about it, you rush over to the mattress, snatching the towel and the sweatpants. The rough fabric of the towel is worn, but it's warm enough as you rub it over your chilled skin, drying the water that’s soaked through your night gown.

With shaking hands, you strip off your wet, heavy dress and quickly pull on the dry sweatpants and t shirt. The warmth is immediate, a small, fleeting relief that feels almost like a luxury in this basement. You wish they weren't so loose, but it’s better than nothing.

Your body is still cold, still trembling, but the damp heaviness has lessened. You feel lighter, a little less trapped by the elements, even if the air around you remains heavy with the weight of everything that has yet to happen.

Reese’s face flashes in your mind again, his nervous, guilt-ridden eyes, and you can’t help but wonder—was this his attempt at an apology? His way of making up for the unforgivable?

Abruptly, you hear it – footsteps above, faint but unmistakable. Your entire body tenses as you freeze in place, straining to listen. The whispers that follow are barely audible through the thick ceiling, but you can catch snippets of words, just enough to recognize one of the voices: Reese.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as you make your way towards the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, every step agonizing from the cold and strain. You push through the pain, desperate for more information.

You press your ear against the frigid metal, the voices growing clearer yet still muffled. Reese's voice is shaky and filled with nervous energy, like when he made that dreadful promise to "them."

"She said she was kidnapped," Reese's voice trembles, sending a wave of chills down your spine.

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin. A lump forms in your throat as you strain to listen, your mind racing. You had trusted him with everything, thinking he would help. The other voice – deep and calculated – interrupts.

"By who?" he demands harshly.

"I don't know," Reese replies, panic evident in his voice. "She didn't give names…I didn't ask…I didn't think…"

"Idiot," the man hisses angrily, cutting off Reese's rambling. There's a moment of silence before heavy footsteps approach closer. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.

You hear something unmistakable—a faint scraping sound. Your blood runs cold as you slowly realize what’s happening.

The metal handle of the hatch begins to turn.

It’s a slow, deliberate movement, the iron grinding against itself with a low, ominous creak that makes your breath catch in your throat. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening as you stare at the hatch, watching the handle twist further, the tension of the lock giving way with a soft, metallic click.

Panic floods through you as the realization hits like a punch to the gut—they’re about to open the hatch.

The handle continues to turn, and with a surge of panic, you pull away from the hatch. Your body moves before your mind can fully process, instincts kicking in. You scramble down the creaky wooden stairs, your legs protesting with every movement, but you push through the pain.

Each step feels like it takes an eternity, the sound of the hatch above grinding against your nerves. You reach the bottom, your breath ragged, and without a second thought, you make a desperate dive under the bed.

You scramble under the grimy mattress, your heart pounding as you press your body flat against the cold floor. The space beneath the bed is cramped, dark, and thick with dust, but you force yourself to stay still, biting back your panic. Your breathing comes in short, shaky bursts, but you try to control it, barely daring to inhale as you listen to the creak of the metal hatch swinging open.

The footsteps echo louder now, descending the wooden stairs, each step making your pulse race faster. You watch from your hiding place, the dim light casting shadows across the room as the first pair of feet—Reese's—comes into view. His sneakers shuffle nervously against the floor. Right behind him, heavier boots thud down the steps—boots that belong to someone much more imposing, someone far more dangerous.

You peek through the gloom, barely daring to lift your head.

Reese speaks first, his voice shaky. “I-I swear, I don’t know who kidnapped her. She just told me she was running, that she escaped. I didn’t ask for details.” There’s a tremor in his voice, thick with fear.

The other man’s voice is low, cold. “And you didn’t think to get more information? You were too busy playing hero.”

You didn't recognize this voice. He wasn't the one from earlier that had helped Reese bring you down here.

Reese mumbles something incoherent, but you can hear his terror. The other man clearly isn’t buying it. The booted footsteps hit the last step, and the man takes a slow, deliberate step into the basement.

You curl up tighter, heart racing, your body nearly paralyzed with fear as you catch sight of him. He’s taller than Reese, broader, with an intimidating presence that fills the room. His voice cuts through the tension. “Where is she, Reese? You promised us a girl. So, where is she?”

Reese stammers, his anxiety palpable. “She’s—she’s here, I swear, I locked the hatch. She couldn’t have gone anywhere.”

The man lets out a slow exhale, clearly unimpressed. “She better be. Otherwise, you’ll have hell to pay.”

You can feel the weight of the man’s presence shifting, scanning the room, and you shrink further into the darkness, praying that the shadows will keep you hidden. The dread mounts as the sound of their steps grows louder.

Your heart races, every muscle tense as the heavy boots come to a stop right beside the bed. You can feel the air shift, the man's presence looming dangerously above you. His shadow stretches over the mattress, and for a second, you think maybe—just maybe—he'll move on. Maybe he won't look under here.

But then, in one swift motion, he crouches down.

His eyes lock onto yours, blue and calculating, a cruel smile playing at the edges of his lips. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like wildfire. You try to scramble backward, to escape deeper under the bed, but it's too late. His hand shoots out, iron-tight fingers wrapping around your ankle.

"No more hiding, little mouse," he growls, his voice thick with menace.

You kick and thrash, but he’s far too strong. With a brutal yank, he drags you out from under the bed, your nails scraping uselessly against the concrete floor as you try to find some kind of grip. Fear pulses through you, sharp and overwhelming, as you're pulled out into the open.

"Got her," the man says, his grip on your ankle tightening painfully. He hauls you upright, forcing you to stand even as your legs buckle beneath you.

Reese is standing off to the side, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He doesn’t say a word as the man forces you up, his cold fingers digging into your arm now, holding you in place.

The man looks you over, his smile fading as he studies you with dark, unreadable eyes. "This is her?" he says, glancing at Reese, his voice a mixture of disbelief and something far more dangerous.

Reese stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y-yes. I swear. She’s the one."

The man turns back to you, his expression hardening. "Good," he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your arm until pain shoots through your shoulder.

You bit back a cry of pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The man's grip tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh like steel talons. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as you fought to keep your composure.

"Let. Me. Go." You hissed through clenched teeth, each word dripping with venom.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Feisty, are we? Hilarious. Won't last long though".

He released your arm abruptly, causing you to stumble. As you regained your footing, you noticed Reese had retreated to a corner, his face a mask of guilt and fear. The betrayal stung, but you pushed the feeling aside. There would be time for that later. Right now, survival was your only priority.

The men turned toward the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, drawn to the sound of heels clacking against the wooden steps. You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling with anticipation as another pair of legs appeared, descending with an air of confidence. A woman stepped into the basement, her dark hair swinging with each precise step, her sharp brown eyes surveying the room with calm, calculated detachment. She was dressed in a crisp, business-casual outfit, perfectly put together, every detail deliberate.

Her heels struck the floor with a final, authoritative click as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze locking onto you immediately. There was no warmth in her eyes, no recognition of you as a person—only cold assessment, as though you were an object, a piece of inventory.

She didn’t speak right away, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the man beside you, then at Reese huddled in the corner. Her presence demanded attention, a silent command of the room that made your skin crawl.

“Is this the girl?” she asked at last, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of impatience.

The man nodded, his smirk never faltering. “She’s the one boss.”

The woman’s eyes swept over you again, lingering on you for a moment longer than before. You felt her gaze like ice, sharp and invasive, as if she could see through you, past your fear, right down to your core.

“She doesn’t look like much,” she remarked, almost casually, though there was a quiet menace in her tone. “But she’ll do hopefully.”

Your heart dropped, dread pooling in your stomach as her words hung in the air. Whatever Reese had gotten you into, it wasn’t just a betrayal—it was something far more dangerous. And now, you were caught in the middle of it.

Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in, your options shrinking with every second that passed. You had to do something—anything—before it was too late.

You certainly couldn't fight your way out of here. It was 3v1, and the days of little food and constant stress had weakened you significantly. Your limbs felt like lead, and any attempt to resist would be useless, not against these people—especially with the woman’s calculating gaze locked onto you.

"Wh-what is this?" you stammer, trying to sound calm, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. "What do you plan to do with me?"

The woman turned toward you, her expression cold, detached. She raised an eyebrow, as though mildly amused by your question, but there was no kindness in her eyes—only a chilling indifference.

“Does it really matter?” she replied, her voice smooth but laced with cruelty. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step, her presence looming over you. “You’re not in a position to negotiate or ask questions, are you?”

You felt your pulse race, panic swelling in your chest. You tried to stand straighter, to show some semblance of strength, but your body betrayed you, trembling from exhaustion and fear.

The man who had grabbed you before let out a low chuckle. “She’s already scared. Good. Makes things easier.”

Reese, from his corner, shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. The guilt was written all over his face, but he said nothing, didn’t even try to stop what was happening. He had already played his part in this nightmare.

The woman tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve been promised to someone very important, and it’s best if you cooperate. Things will be... easier for you.”

Your stomach dropped at the implications of her words. Promised? You were no longer just a person—you were a transaction.

Your mouth went dry as you forced the question past your lips, your voice shaky. "Promised for what?" You had to know. Every terrible possibility ran through your mind, but the uncertainty gnawed at you even more.

The woman paused, a brief flicker of something—pity, maybe?—crossing her face. She sighed softly, like she was indulging a child who didn’t know better. “I guess it couldn’t hurt for you to know,” she said, her tone almost bored. “Won’t make much difference in the end.”

She stepped closer, crouching down so she was eye-level with you. Her gaze softened slightly, but the words that followed made your blood run cold.

“You’ve been promised to a very wealthy man,” she began, her voice calm, detached. “His wife...she’s dying. Organ failure. They’ve tried everything—medications, various treatments—but nothing’s worked.”

Your mind raced, struggling to process the meaning behind her words. Organ failure? The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach as her words continued.

“He’s willing to pay any price for a match,” she explained with chilling indifference, her eyes boring into yours. And if you're a perfect match for her...” She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in before she added, almost with a shrug, “Your organs will save her life.”

A sickening silence followed, the air thick with your disbelief.

They were going to harvest your organs.

Panic clawed at your throat, and your body felt like it was in freefall. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The cold, brutal truth hung in the air between you and the woman, her pitying gaze cutting you deeper than anything else.

“You should feel honored,” she added, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. “You’ll be giving someone like her a second chance at life.”

Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears. Your survival wasn’t just threatened—it was already decided.

Your body went numb as her words settled over you, the realization of what they planned twisting your stomach into knots. But as the silence stretched on, the woman seemed to catch herself, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“We don’t know for sure if you’re a match yet,” she admitted, almost thoughtfully. “But you're a woman, so that's already one criteria met. And it’s just a matter of time before we find out the second.”

She reached into the pocket of her crisp jacket and pulled out a syringe and a small vial. The sight of it made your blood run cold. Your heart hammered against your chest, each beat a sharp reminder of how close you were to losing everything.

“I need to take a blood sample,” she said, her tone almost professional now. “Don’t bother resisting. We’ll get what we need, one way or another.”

Your limbs froze, panic surging through your veins. You wanted to run, to scream, but your legs felt like they were locked in place. The walls of the basement seemed to close in tighter around you, and for a moment, all you could focus on was the needle in her hand.

The woman’s dark brown eyes flicked toward you, assessing your reaction. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just a small test,” she said, almost like she was coaxing you into compliance. “If you’re not a match, maybe you'll get lucky. You're a woman after all, you at least have other parts you can use to gain your freedom."

She stepped closer, the syringe gleaming under the dim basement light. Your body tensed, the urge to fight back bubbling up inside you. But you were weak, outnumbered, and utterly trapped.

“Hold out your arm,” she said softly, like she was giving you a choice.

Your breath caught in your throat as the syringe gleamed ominously in her hand. Your heart hurt as you glanced toward Reese, who stood in the corner, guilt-ridden and pale, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t help you—he wouldn’t help you.

You glanced back between her and the syringe, the world closing in tighter with each second. Your mind raced for a way out, some escape, but it was futile. Even if you refused, they’d force you—there was no other option.

You took a shaky breath and slowly extended your arm, the gesture more out of survival instinct than anything. Live long enough to find another way out, you told yourself, trying to cling to that sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was still time.

The woman smiled, satisfied, as she knelt beside you, her movements smooth and practiced. “Smart choice,” she said, wrapping a rubber band around your arm to prepare for the blood draw.

You winced as the needle pierced your skin, but you forced yourself to stay still. The vial began to fill with dark red blood, and the woman worked with a cold efficiency, as though she’d done this a hundred times before.

After what felt like an eternity, she withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to your arm. “There,” she said, standing up and eyeing the shiny vial filled with your blood. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You wanted to lash out, to scream, but your body was too drained, your mind too scattered. She was right—it didn’t matter if it was easy or hard. What mattered was what came next.

The woman turned to the man with the heavy boots. “Get this to the lab,” she ordered, her tone brisk. “The results will tell us everything we need.”

He nodded and took the vial, disappearing back up the stairs without a word. The metal hatch closed behind him with a heavy thud, and the basement fell back into tense silence.

The woman stayed behind, her eyes never leaving you. “Now we wait,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you’re lucky, you won’t be a match. But if you are… well, we’ll be in touch.”

You swallowed hard, dread pooling in your stomach. The blood had been drawn, the wheels set in motion—and there was nothing you could do but wait for your fate to be decided.

Reese shifted uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes downcast, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The woman glanced at him, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “I suggest you keep her in good condition until we know for sure. We wouldn’t want her damaged, would we?”

Reese flinched but nodded, his guilt written all over his face.

And with that, the woman turned on her heel and left, her heels clacking up the stairs, the metal hatch sealing you back in the basement.

You were alone again—alone with Reese and the suffocating weight of your uncertain future.

As the metal hatch slammed shut, trapping you back in the dim, suffocating basement, something inside you snapped. The overwhelming dread, the helplessness, the betrayal—it all collided at once. Your chest tightened, and your blood boiled with the rage that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Your eyes locked onto Reese, who was still slouched in the corner, avoiding your gaze. His entire body trembled, but all you could see was the man who had led you into this nightmare. The man who had stood by and watched as they drew your blood like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

You trusted him.

"You," you spat, your voice cracking with fury. "I trusted you, Reese."

He flinched at your words, but he didn’t look up. His hands were shaking, balled into fists at his sides, but that didn’t matter. He had made his choice.

"I trusted you!" you shouted, your voice growing louder, the raw emotion burning through your exhaustion. "I told you everything—I told you about my escape, I thought you were trying to help me!"

Reese's lips trembled, and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, guilt etched deep into his pale face. "I... I didn't have a choice," he stammered, his voice weak, barely audible. "They—they would've killed me if I didn’t—"

"Spare me!" you snapped, cutting him off. "You sold me, Reese! You handed me over to them like I was nothing!" The weight of his betrayal hit you all over again, the pain of it cutting deeper than any physical wound. You had told him about your kidnapping, he had watched you sob over Xavier, had you thinking he was someone you could trust, someone who cared.

Tears of frustration burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t —not now, not for him of all people. "You knew what they were going to do to me," you continued, your voice trembling with anger. "You knew, and you did it anyway."

Reese shook his head, his voice cracking as he mumbled, "I—I didn't know they'd—about the organs. I thought..." He trailed off, as if the excuse could somehow absolve him. But it didn’t.

"Thought what?"

"I'd thought they'd just...rape you. And then dump you somewhere..." he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like the others.."

"Like the others?!" you said, your voice rising. "You...you've done this before? You're...sick! Fucking sick!"

He shrank back, visibly cowering under your words. "I didn't have a choice," he repeated weakly, like it was the only thing he could cling to.

"You always have a choice!" you shot back, your voice cracking from the strain. "You had a choice to be a good person, and you chose to betray me."

The room was silent after that, the air thick with tension. Reese had no response, nothing to say that could possibly justify what he'd done. He just stood there, looking more like a frightened child than the man who had so easily handed you over.

You swallowed hard, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions. "I hope it was worth it," you said coldly, the anger fading into something far more painful. "I hope whatever they promised you was worth selling me like this."

Reese remained silent, his eyes cast down, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but it held no weight, no real meaning. Before you could respond, he suddenly rushed past you, his footsteps heavy on the cold floor. He didn’t look back.

You watched, stunned, as he hurried up the wooden stairs, his movements frantic, almost as if he couldn’t bear to stay in the room with you a second longer. The old wooden stairs groaned under his weight, the sound harsh in the suffocating silence.

You stood frozen in place, your mind whirling with a mix of anger, disbelief, and the crushing weight of betrayal. His retreating figure disappeared through the metal hatch, and the sound of it slamming shut echoed through the basement like a final punctuation to his cowardice.

The room fell eerily quiet, the air thick with everything left unsaid. You were alone again, left with nothing but the cold, the dull ache of exhaustion, and the horrifying knowledge of what awaited you.

You slumped against the wall, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all at once. The basement felt smaller, colder, and more suffocating than before.

Days blurred into each other, each one indistinguishable from the next. The cold, damp basement became your prison, a place where time felt meaningless. Your mind drifted constantly, a mixture of fear, anger, and hopelessness gnawing at you from all sides. You found yourself thinking about Xavier—wondering if he was still out there, still searching for you. He had to be, didn’t he? You tried to cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d find you before it was too late.

You wished you had listened to him when he said he had a bad feeling about you going with Reese. How could you have been so stupid?

Reese came in and out of the basement sporadically, never staying for long. He kept his distance, barely making eye contact, as though seeing the consequences of his betrayal was too much for him to handle. He left you basic necessities—pads, water, a couple of small meals—but nothing more. Every time he disappeared, it felt like another thread of hope was being pulled away, leaving you more isolated than ever.

You pondered attacking Reese when he came down here next. He seemed fidgety and not as strong as the others. But still strong nonetheless. And in your weakened state, he could still take you down, or threaten you with the gun again.

At some point, you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion overtaking you in the cold dark. Your period had finally subsided, and so did the awful cramping, allowing you to rest at least somewhat peacefully. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sound of the metal hatch creaking open startled you awake. Instinctively, you didn’t move, thinking it was Reese again—another silent, guilty visit to drop something off before fleeing.

But then, a deep, gruff voice pierced the silence. A voice you recognized, but not in the way that brought comfort.

“Well, look who’s sleeping like a baby,” the voice sneered, low and menacing.

Your heart sank, and fear surged through you as you realized it wasn’t Reese. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, and your breath caught in your throat when you shifted to look at the voice.

It was the man—the one who had helped Reese bring you down here in the first place. His heavy boots clomped against the wooden stairs as he descended, and his shadow loomed over you, large and threatening. His expression was cold, his eyes calculating as they swept over you, like he was assessing just how broken you’d become since last seeing him.

“Thought maybe you’d die of boredom or despair by now,” he muttered, amusement tinged in his voice. “Guess you’ve got a little more fight in you than I thought.”

You swallowed hard, your body going rigid. You stayed still, instinct telling you that any sudden movement might provoke him. The air around him seemed darker, more dangerous than Reese’s jittery cowardice. This man was different—he was in control, and he wasn’t afraid of you.

“What do you want?” you finally managed to whisper, your voice shaky but defiant.

He stepped closer, his boots thudding against the concrete floor, the sound making your skin crawl. His smirk widened, and without warning, he crouched down, bringing his face level with yours.

“What I want,” he said, his voice low and mocking, “is to see if you’re worth anything besides your organs doll.”

The threat in his words hung heavy in the air, and you knew with chilling clarity that whatever came next, this man wasn’t here to make things easier for you.

The man crouched in front of you, his smirk growing wider as he watched the fear flicker across your face. You tried to keep still, to steady your breathing, but your body betrayed you—a small shiver ran through you, and you knew he’d seen it. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, feeding off your discomfort.

He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his hot breath on your skin. "Reese might be too soft to touch a woman, but I’m not." His voice was a low, rumbling threat. "You’re property after all. But it'd be a shame to let sweet pussy go to waste before they cut you open."

You recoiled in horror at his depraved words, bile rising in your throat. The man straightened to his full height, towering over your prostrate form with an air of malevolent authority.

"So here's how this is going to go," he said casually, as if discussing the weather rather than your impending ravishment and dismemberment. "I'm going to have my fun..." He smirked cruelly. "And you are going to lay there and take it. Use any teeth and I'll rip them out of your head. Got it?"

Your mind raced, desperate to find some escape from the waking nightmare. But with Reese too cowardice to come down and interfere, and this sadistic brute clearly intent on violating you in the most degrading ways imaginable , you knew you were utterly at his mercy.

A strangled cry escaped your lips as tears streamed down your face. Despite your best efforts, the man's lecherous gaze only widened at the sight of you in distress. His grip on your arm tightened, filling you with pain.

"Go ahead and cry," he mocked. "It only turns me on even more, doll."

You screamed, desperately trying to free yourself and escape his grasp, but he was too strong. He slammed you back down onto the dirty mattress as you fought to kick him away. But he easily overpowered you and forced your leg back against the bed.

"Stop! Please!" you pleaded, horrified as he reached for the waistband of your sweatpants with his rough, calloused hands.

Panic surged through you as his fingers grazed your skin. In a burst of desperate strength, you twisted violently and managed to wrench your leg free. You kicked out hard, your foot connecting solidly with his jaw. He reeled back with a pained grunt, momentarily stunned.

"I said, lay there and take it" he growled, bringing his palm down against your face in a deafening slap. Angry hot pain radiates against your face and you cry out, tears spilling out faster now.

He wastes no time flipping you around, pinning you on your stomach against the bed. You sobbed loudly as he finishes pulling your sweatpants past your rear, rubbing his cold hands against the cloth of your underwear.

"Nice butt, smooth skin..." he growls, tugging off your underwear past your legs despite your struggle. "Oh this is gonna be so much fun."

Your underwear hits the concrete floor with a soft patter and your mind goes numb. There was truly no way out of this. Maybe the struggle was futile all along.

It was time to accept this.

Your body goes limp as you try to dissociate from the sound of the man unbuckling his belt. The sound of him shuffling with his underwear. The feel of his rough hands as he grabs your hips and raises them towards his groin, forcing you onto your elbows. You notice his breathing gets heavier as he takes in the sight of your exposed cunt.

"He shuffles in his pockets for a bit, looking for something. Your mind drifts off as he does so, thinking of the time Sylus had you in a similar position.

The morning he had promised to only do it once that day if you didn't fight him. You had picked the position yourself, not wanting to see him enter you again. At least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, you hated the way your face would heat up and your cunt grew wetter at the sight of his toned chest and stomach. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear as he praised you for taking him in all the way. You didn't know why your body reacted the way it did to him but it scared you. You had chalked it up to it just being an involuntary bodily reaction.

But there was no wetness when this beast touched you, no warmth or aching heat in your core.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tearing plastic.

Ah, he brought a condom. At least you wouldn't have to worry about catching any diseases before you were hacked to pieces.

You almost laugh at the thought but nothing was funny truly. The man grumbles a bit and rolls the condom onto his thick shaft gently, his knuckles popping as he slides it down. The smell of latex and lubricant fill the air momentarily. You wish you could gag at the smell of it, but you're too scared to move anymore. He positions himself, aligning his tip with you. You brace yourself for the pain that is sure to come, your heart pounding in your chest as he presses forward.

"If you make a sound, I'll beat your ass stupid. Got it?" he growls.

You say nothing as he begins trying to push into you, but he had clumsily misjudged where your slit was and kept missing. You couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, this guy clearly didn't have much experience with the female body. You feel his hand slam down on your head, causing you to cry out.

"Ain't. Shit. Funny..." he snarled, gripping the side of your face even harder. You stifle another sob, trying your hardest to breathe against the mattress.

Still, he kept trying to force his cock inside you, every clumsy miss rubbing salt in the wound of your complete helplessness. He leans back momentarily to try and balance his cock against you. Your head throbs under his grip and you feel your eyes starting to gently close, sticky tears threaded between your lashes.

Your mind, desperate for an escape from the current nightmare, drifts back to Sylus. Memories of him rise to the surface, unbidden yet comforting in their own strange way. You recall his gentle gaze, the way he’d look at you when you opened your eyes in the morning—those moments when everything was still, and his presence felt like a soft cocoon of warmth around you. You’d never once seen him fall asleep before you. No, Sylus clearly only slept when it was "morning". Your circadian rhythms had always been completely opposite, and you knew, deep down, that he was likely watching over you as you slept.

It had never really felt invasive though. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel... cherished. As though, in his world of shadows, you were the one light he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

No one had ever looked at you with such adoring eyes—not even Xavier. Though Xavier had cared for you, and there were moments where you saw glimpses of that same tenderness, it was different with Sylus. Something deeper. Something more intense, as though you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

The thought made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected. Even now, locked in this nightmare, it was Sylus’s gaze that haunted you—not Reese’s guilt, not Xavier’s concern, but the way Sylus had seen you, like you were fragile and powerful all at once.

Despite everything, he had shown you the most kindness out of anyone in this horrid place.

"Sylus..." your voice escapes in a broken whisper, a fragile plea lost beneath the weight of fear. Silent tears streak down your face, and your body shakes uncontrollably beneath the man's looming presence. His grunting had finally stopped, but the air between you buzzes with his barely-contained fury. His body is tense, frustrated—still unable to force himself into you.

With a snarl, he suddenly flips you onto your back, his hands rough and merciless. The room spins for a second, and your breath catches in your throat. He looms over you, his eyes dark and burning with a cruel light.

"What the hell did I say about talking?," he growls, voice low and dangerous. His hand rises, fist clenched, muscles rippling as he prepares to strike. Your heart lurches, and a terrified squeal slips out, unbidden. You squeeze your eyes shut, body curling in on itself instinctively, trembling as you wait for the blow to fall.

The seconds stretch unbearably long.

But the pain never comes.

Instead, the air shifts—thickening, buzzing with something far darker than the man hovering above you. His fist, still poised to strike, halts mid-air. His breath stutters. Eyes wide with shock, he suddenly clutches at his throat, his face twisting into something grotesque, panicked. His mouth opens as if to scream, but only a strangled gasp escapes.

"Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

You blink, unsure if you’re seeing it right—red mist, thin tendrils coiling through the air like living smoke. It winds around him, constricting. His body spasms as if in a silent scream, but no sound comes, only those terrible, wet choking noises.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting second, wide with horror, before his body jerks violently. With a force that seems inhuman, he’s wrenched from above you, flung across the room like a rag doll. The impact as he slams into the far wall is sickening—bones cracking against stone, the wet sound of flesh collapsing under the blow.

He screams in agony, his body convulsing violently on the hard concrete as his cries echo through the space.

Your breath comes in shallow, rapid gasps, the red mist still hanging in the air, pulsing like it has a life of its own before it slowly starts to fade. The air grows colder in its absence, the immediate threat gone, but the tension in your chest refuses to ease. It's over, but the chaos is still fresh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Then you see him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his white hair touched with streaks of silver, and those unmistakable crimson eyes—sharp, intense, but not as lethal as they were a moment ago. There's no mistaking Sylus, even through the haze of confusion clouding your mind. You blink, trying to process it all. He’s here, finally, but the emotions swirling inside you are a tangled mess.

He steps toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze softening the closer he gets. Despite the relief that comes with his presence, something else churns beneath the surface—frustration, maybe even anger. He’s here, but it took so long. Too long.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Sylus smirks, his voice low and teasing, as if the sight of him towering over you like this is the most natural thing in the world. He tilts his head, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he studies your expression. "You called my name, didn’t you?"

You open your mouth, but no words come. Relief washes over you, but it’s tangled with confusion and resentment. Part of you wants to collapse into his arms, to finally feel safe, but another part of you burns with anxiety—why doesn't he look angry at you?

Sylus’s smirk softens into something more genuine, as if he senses the storm inside you. "I’m here now," he says, his voice quieter, almost gentle. But it doesn’t calm the whirlwind in your chest. You don’t know if you want to yell at him or thank him. Maybe both.

All you know is that the sight of him, standing there like he’s always been, stirs something deep within you that you can’t quite name. You're suddenly aware again of your half-nakedness and you rush to put back on your panties and sweatpants, much to Sylus's amusement.

“Wh-what took you so long?” you finally quip, a sharp edge to your voice as you lift your chin, deciding to meet his presence with defiance instead of relief. The condescension rolls off your tongue, even as your heart still pounds from the aftermath. You can feel the tension in your own body, a mix of trauma and pent-up frustration, but you mask it behind a cold stare.

Sylus moves toward the hyperventilating man still writhing on the ground, his gaze briefly flickering with something unreadable before a low chuckle escapes his lips. The sound reverberates through the room, rich and deep, completely unbothered by your biting words. His crimson eyes flick to you, amusement dancing in them, as if your sharp attitude was exactly what he’d anticipated.

“Is this the thanks I get, kitten?” he muses, his tone playful, yet carrying that underlying edge he always seems to have. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he towers over you, utterly relaxed, like your defiance is nothing more than an amusing game to him.

"I save you, and all you’ve got is attitude?" He raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening as if he’s enjoying this far too much. “You’re getting harder to please.”

The comment, laced with a playful challenge, lingers in the air. He seems utterly unaffected, like your frustration has only fueled his amusement, and for a moment, it’s hard to tell whether you want to snap back or let your guard down. That smirk of his—so infuriatingly calm and knowing—pulls you deeper into the whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Before you can spit out a retort, the sound of scuffling and harsh footsteps echoes down the stairwell. Your attention snaps toward the noise just as Reese is unceremoniously dragged down the steps, his pleas and panicked protests filling the room. The twins, Luke and Kieran, have him by the arms, hauling him down with little effort. Reese stumbles on the last step, crashing face-first onto the concrete.

Luke and Kieran exchange satisfied glances, snickering as they stand over him, a mixture of triumph and mockery in voices.

"We got him, boss," Luke announces with a smirk, nudging the groaning man with his boot. "Tried to run, but he fell flat on his face." He punctuates his words with another casual kick to Reese's side. "Much like he did just now."

Reese winces in pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he slowly lifts his head. His gaze darts frantically around the room, his face paling as he realizes who surrounds him. His eyes widen in terror, flitting between you, Sylus, and the man still crumpled on the ground beside him, writhing in pain.

"S-Sylus..." Reese stammers, his voice barely a whisper as it cracks with fear. His entire body begins to tremble, the weight of what he’s done crashing down on him. "You ran away from Sylus...?" The disbelief in his own voice is palpable, as if fleeing from someone like Sylus was a death sentence all on its own.

Sylus’s crimson eyes narrow as he watches you closely, his expression shifting to something darker—something possessive. He takes a deliberate step toward you, the casual ease he held moments ago now replaced with a quiet intensity. His gaze flicks to Reese, then back to you, and though his smile remains, there’s no warmth behind it.

"So," Sylus begins, voice smooth but tinged with something uneasy, "seems the two of you have gotten well acquainted?" The question feels loaded, not out of curiosity, but something more. His eyes bore into yours, as if searching for answers beyond your words. The smirk on his lips falters just slightly, betraying the irritation he’s trying to mask.

The tension between you grows thicker, his posture subtly shifting as if he’s placing himself between you and Reese. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as glance at the trembling man on the ground. His focus is solely on you, as though the possibility of friendship with someone, especially another man, unsettles him more than the danger you just faced.

You shake your head immediately, the denial spilling from your lips without hesitation. "We’re not close!" you say quickly, the firmness in your voice leaving no room for doubt. "He’s no one to me."

Sylus’s eyes remain locked on yours, his crimson gaze intense, but you don’t falter. "Reese… he tricked me," you continue, the words coming faster now. "He’s the reason I’m down here in the first place. I didn’t come down here willingly. I followed him, stupidly thinking he was going to help me."

Your last words are filled with malice as your eyes flick to Reese, who cowers on the ground, unable to meet your glare. You shoot him a look of pure disdain, your anger boiling over at how easily he had deceived you, how he had dragged you into this mess.

Before you can say anything more, Sylus reaches out, his hand cool against your hair as he rubs the top of your head with an almost unnerving gentleness. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s the smug look on his face that catches you off guard.

“I know, sweetie,” Sylus says, his voice smooth and dripping with that signature arrogance. His eyes glitter with amusement as he watches you closely, his smirk deepening. “I watched you disappear into this house. I saw everything.” He speaks as if he had been in control of the situation from the start, his tone laced with confidence, as if he was always one step ahead.

"You were following me the entire time?" you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief as you try to piece together how much of this Sylus had been controlling from the shadows. Sylus merely chuckles, the sound rich and full of amusement, like your confusion was a source of entertainment for him.

"Something like that," he replies casually, his smirk widening. "I had Mephisto follow you."

As if on cue, swirl of red mist begins to materialize on Sylus's shoulder. The mist condenses around the form until, with a sharp, eerie caw, a large black crow appears, its wings flapping beside Sylus’s head. The bird’s eyes glow faintly, a reflection of the same crimson hue in Sylus’s gaze.

"Mephisto?" you and Reese say at the same time, your voices overlapping in disbelief.

You take a step back, staring at the bird in shock. "Mephisto... he's been that bird this whole time?" The revelation hits you like a slap in the face. You'd seen the bird before—many times, in fact—but you’d never thought it was more than just an ordinary creature. Now, the sight of it perched so confidently on Sylus’s shoulder, surrounded by that ominous red mist, makes your head spin.

Reese, still on the ground, stares up at the bird and then back at you, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "I thought your name was Meph—" he begins, his voice trembling as he looks between you and Sylus, but his words are abruptly cut off.

Sylus’s expression hardens instantly, the playful amusement evaporating as he glares down at Reese with pure disdain. His eyes darken, the malice in them palpable as he takes a step toward Reese, who shrinks back, trembling.

"Don’t talk to her," Sylus snaps, his voice cold and sharp, dripping with venom. The possessiveness in his tone is undeniable, a clear warning that Reese’s mere presence, let alone his attempt to speak to you, is unforgivable in Sylus’s eyes. The tension in the room grows suffocating, the danger swirling around Sylus like a storm barely contained, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his protectiveness—both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

Mephisto caws again, the shrill sound echoing through the room as if punctuating Sylus’s command.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground. Your head spins, barely able to process what's going on here. You suddenly feel dizzy, as if the room was getting smaller and smaller.

You hadn't truly escaped from him. Not once, the entire time you had been gone. He had been watching. His influence here stretched farther than you could ever imagine.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground, clearly too terrified to challenge Sylus any further. His presence becomes insignificant in the midst of everything else crashing down around you. Your head spins, the room seeming to close in on you as the weight of the situation presses against your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, as if the air itself is suffocating you. You try to steady yourself, but a dizzying realization takes hold.

Every step you’d taken, every move you thought was yours alone—he had been watching.

Mephisto.

Sylus had seen everything, every moment you thought you were free, unraveling in front of your eyes now like a cruel illusion. His influence, his reach—it stretched farther than you could have ever imagined.

The invisible leash you thought you’d slipped off, the one you were so sure you'd broken, had never left your neck at all. It had been there the whole time, just waiting to tighten when he decided.

Your pulse quickens, panic settling in as the walls seem to close in tighter, the room shrinking around you. The thought of being watched, controlled, all while you believed you had any autonomy—it sends a cold wave of dread down your spine. Sylus’s smirk, the way he speaks so casually about it, only amplifies the feeling that you were never really out of his grasp.

He knew. He always knew where you were.

And here he stands, calm and possessive, like he’s merely reclaiming what was his all along.

The weight of it all becomes too much to bear, and your legs give way beneath you. You crumble to the floor, feeling as though the world has closed in around you. The realization sinks deeper, suffocating you with the cold, hard truth—despite all your efforts, all your fighting, you’re right back where you started. The leash had never been cut. You hadn’t escaped. And now, the path ahead is one you thought you'd left behind.

Your body trembles, you let out a sob, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions—fear, frustration, resignation. But before the panic can fully take over, you feel a hand brush against your shoulder, light and reassuring. Sylus crouches down beside you, his presence filling the space, his voice low and deceptively soothing.

"Shh, kitten," he murmurs softly, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a caress, though it only twists the knife deeper in your chest. "It’s alright. I’ve found you, its okay." His tone is affectionate, but there’s something twisted lurking beneath the surface, a dark possessiveness wrapped in that comforting voice.

"You're mine again," Sylus whispers, his voice soft but laced with an iron-clad certainty. His fingers delicately trace small circles on your back, sending involuntary shivers up your spine. You don't look at him, unable to meet his eyes. Your chest tightens, and you can feel the threat of tears building, teetering dangerously close to spilling over.

As much as you wanted to leave this wretched place, to escape the nightmare of it all, the thought of being trapped with him—completely under his control—felt just as suffocating. Maybe more. Yet, despite that suffocating feeling, your body betrays you. You’re not pulling away from him. You’re not resisting.

Why weren’t you leaning away from him right now?

"Don't cry," he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin, drowning out the cold, damp air of the basement. "Not now. Not in front of them."

Before you can process his words, the room fills with a new, horrific sound. Reese and the bleeding man on the ground suddenly scream, the agony ripping from their throats. Red tendrils of mist swirl violently around their bodies, coiling like snakes ready to strike. The sound of broken bones echoes sharply through the space as Reese is slammed into the back wall next to his fallen comrade, the impact brutal, unforgiving. The sight sends a fresh wave of horror washing over you.

You instinctively shift your gaze toward the carnage, wanting to see what’s happening—but Sylus’s hand shoots up, his fingers gripping your chin firmly. With a gentle yet unyielding force, he turns your face back to him, refusing to let you look anywhere else but into his crimson eyes.

"Look at me," he commands softly, his tone dark but calm, as if the violence behind you was nothing but a trivial distraction. His fingers are warm against your skin, his touch disturbingly tender despite the chaos around you.

His crimson eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. He leans in closer, his bourbon cologne enveloping your senses, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

"I’m the only one," he murmurs, his voice a possessive, almost dangerous softness, "who gets to see you cry."

The declaration sends a chill down your spine, and your heart clenches at the weight of it. There's a dark finality in his words—a twisted claim over every ounce of your suffering, every emotion that was once yours, now his to control. The room feels smaller, the air thinner, as if everything in this moment is solely for him, as though the very act of your tears belongs to him and him alone.

You can feel the tears threatening again, but now even that feels like giving in to him—another part of yourself slipping through your fingers, taken by the man who holds you so tightly in his grip, both physically and mentally. And as his thumb lingers on your cheek, his gaze never wavering, you realize just how much he's wrapped himself in every aspect of your life.

The screaming in the room builds to a deafening crescendo, filling every inch of the space with the sounds of agony. Reese’s voice cuts through the chaos, desperate, pleading.

“Please, make him stop! Ask him to stop!” Reese begs, his voice cracking, raw from pain and terror. His broken body trembles against the wall, red mist still coiling around him like a vice, squeezing the life out of him with every passing second. He looks at you, eyes wide, desperate, his fear palpable.

"I-I helped you! R-remember? I'm sorry!"

For a moment, you hesitate, frozen in place, the weight of his suffering tugging at some distant part of your conscience. Should you take pity on him? The thought flickers briefly in your mind. But then you remember. The lies, the manipulation, how he had dragged you into this nightmare without a second thought. Your heart hardens.

You look at him, your voice cold and unwavering.

“Go to hell, Reese.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and final. Reese’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can speak another word, Sylus moves with a calm, terrifying ease. Without a second thought, he reaches into his coat, pulling out a sleek black pistol. The room falls eerily silent for a brief second, the chaos holding its breath.

And then, without a word or hesitation, Sylus points the gun at Reese and pulls the trigger.

The shot rings out, and Reese’s body goes limp, his head lolling to the side as blood pools beneath him. The life drains from his eyes in an instant. The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of what just happened settling heavily in the air.

You stare at the scene in shock, unable to fully process how quickly it had all happened. Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing as you look to Sylus. But he simply shrugs, completely unfazed, his expression calm and even slightly amused.

“I sent him to hell, just like you said, sweetie,” Sylus says casually, tucking the pistol away as if nothing had happened. His voice is smooth, disturbingly nonchalant, like this was just another task to cross off his list. His eyes, however, flicker with something darker—satisfaction, perhaps, or just a quiet thrill at doing what he believed you wanted.

Your stomach twists, a mixture of shock and disbelief churning inside you. Sylus turns his gaze back to you, his smirk still present, as if waiting for your approval or reaction. You say nothing, just watching as Reese's once lively body slumped to the floor.

Sylus then turns his attention to the last man still clinging to life, his crimson eyes narrowing with cold calculation. Without a word, the red mist surrounding him begins to swirl, thickening and intensifying with an ominous hum. The tendrils of mist snake their way toward the man, wrapping around him like a tightening noose.

The man’s breathing becomes erratic, desperate gasps for air as his body convulses. He tries to scream once more, but no sound escapes his throat as the mist constricts further, crushing the last remnants of life out of him. His limbs jerk, his eyes wide with terror as the pressure grows unbearable.

Sylus watches with a dark, detached satisfaction, his hand slightly raised as if guiding the mist with an almost casual precision. Then, Sylus clenches his fist. And with a final, sickening crack, the man’s body gives way. The force of Sylus’s power snaps through him like a vice tightening too fast. His chest caves in, bones splintering as the red mist crushes him entirely.

A grotesque splatter erupts as his body meets the tiled shower wall behind him, his carnage painting it in violent shades of red. Blood and tissue streak down the wall, dripping in a slow, macabre trail, the remnants of his existence.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat at the brutality of it all, but Sylus remains calm, lowering his hand as the mist dissipates, his expression indifferent to the destruction he’s caused.

"Sorry," Sylus says smoothly, his tone as casual as if he had just finished a routine task. His gaze slides back to you, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "I didn't want them breathing the same air as you any longer."

The room is deathly silent now, save for the slow drip of blood from the walls, and the overwhelming finality of it all settles in your chest. You can't tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene, the shock numbing your senses as Sylus steps in front of you, his presence once again wrapping around you like a suffocating mist. His dark eyes bore into yours, a predator sizing up its prey, his calmness only amplifying the terror that gnaws at the edges of your mind.

You flinch as the squelch of his shoes on the blood-soaked floor breaks the silence, your heart pounding in your throat. Every instinct tells you to run, but your legs refuse to obey, frozen in the icy grip of fear. Sylus tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile.

"Woo hoo! Boss is so cool!" Luke chimes in, his bubbly voice shattering the eerie stillness. He gives Kieran a high five before erupting into a fit of laughter. The contrast between his cheerful tone and the grotesque scene feels jarring, almost surreal. You glance at him, baffled by the carefree attitude, as if the carnage before him was nothing more than an impressive show.

He bounces on his feet, voice shrill with admiration as he watches Sylus with the same excitement one might have for a favorite hero. The dissonance is unsettling, pulling you deeper into the spiraling nightmare, where the boundaries between reality and madness blur with each passing second.

Sylus doesn’t react to Luke’s enthusiasm, his focus entirely on you.

Sylus, now visibly more at ease after the extermination of the two men, steps forward with a calm confidence. His eyes never leave yours as he crouches down and effortlessly grabs you from the floor, hoisting you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing. The abruptness of it sends a jolt through your body, and you instinctively try to push away, but his grip only tightens—firm, yet almost playful, like a cat owner gently restraining a stubborn pet.

His chest rumbles with a low chuckle, and when he speaks, his voice is laced with dark amusement. "Ah ah, I won’t let my kitten scatter off a second time."

Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably in his arms, the weight of the situation finally crashing over you like a wave. You had escaped—however briefly—and now you were trapped again. The suffocating inevitability of it wraps itself around you, a crushing reminder that there was bound to be a punishment for trying to flee. Your mind flashes with memories of him slicing open your arm, the cold, detached precision of it, and you wince as the old wound aches in response.

"Please... I'm sorry," you whine, your voice barely above a whisper as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Don’t hurt me again, don’t punish me."

Sylus tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes watching you with that unsettling mixture of amusement and something that borders on tenderness. "Sweetie, it’s okay," he whispers, his tone disturbingly gentle. He reaches up to brush a bit of dirt from your face, his fingers cold against your skin. "Do you really think I’m going to hurt you? Am I that scary?"

Despite the soft cadence of his voice, the dissonance between his words and the twisted affection in his gaze only amplifies your fear. He holds you securely as he begins to ascend the stairs, leaving the bloodied carnage in the basement to rot, a gruesome memory that would never wash away.

As you both make your way out of the metal hatchet you spot various bags filled with small white powdery substances settled on the couch and tables.

Drugs. Reese had been tricking girls and trading them for drugs.

The air grows cooler as you pass through the broken, dingy living room and out into the crisp, suffocating night of the N109 Zone. With a shrill caw, and a flatter of his wings, Mephisto takes flight and disappears into the night sky.

A dark car with blacked-out windows waits for you at the curb, its ominous presence sending your heart racing again. You think about making a run for it—just for a fleeting second—but that hope vanishes as the twins scatter hurriedly to the front seats, and Sylus pushes you both into the back with an effortless shove.

The car roars to life, and the world outside begins to blur as you realize the inevitable: you were headed back to your cage, the one you had fought so desperately to leave. Sylus keeps you firmly straddled on his lap, his grip unyielding, as if he thought you’d vanish into the night if he let go for even a moment. His eyes, sharp and predatory, stay locked on you, unblinking and watchful.

For a while, the only sound is the hum of the engine as it cuts through the night, the silence between you as suffocating as his hold. Then, suddenly, Sylus lets out a long sigh, breaking the quiet as he leans forward, his face burying into the curve of your neck. The unexpected closeness makes your skin prickle. He nuzzles into your skin like a bird seeking warmth, though you doubted you smelled like anything but blood and grime.

"I missed you," he whispers, his voice soft but strained, as though it carries a deep weight of worry. He shifts, tilting his head up to look at you, his gaze surprisingly gentle, like someone gazing at something precious. His eyes search yours, a strange vulnerability flickering behind the usual cold dominance. "So, so much."

Something tightens in your chest at the sight of him looking at you this way, as though you were his treasure, something he had longed for. The sincerity in his expression shakes you, confusing your thoughts even further. Could he possibly mean it?

"Did you miss me?" he asks, his lips curling into a small, almost playful smile.

You just stare at him, uncertain how to respond. The words lodge in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. The truth is, you don’t know what to feel. Had you missed him? Or were you just desperate to be saved, no matter who?

He chuckles softly at your reaction, resting his head gently against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. "It’s okay," he murmurs. "You don’t have to answer."

As the car speeds deeper into the dark, your mind begins to spiral, thoughts tangling into knots you can’t unravel. As his arms tighten around you, keeping you pinned in place, you ponder a persistent thought.

Sylus had said he wouldn’t hurt you—but he never said he wouldn’t punish you.

#umi writes ♡︎#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus #sylus x reader smut #l&ds smut #lads #love and deepspace x reader #love and deep space x reader #loveanddeepspace #lnds #l&ds #love and deep space smut #lads smut #love and deep space sylus #l

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gotham-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

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How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either #not series

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gothgoblinbabe · 4 months ago

Text

Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You

(chapter 1/2)

(Logan Howlett x fem reader)

A/N: Yeah, the brain rot has reached a maximum and I've completely disregarded the consequences of a digital footprint! there's a couple descriptions of style of clothing/jewelry but you can imagine that as you please, also absolutely based off of "Babe Im Gonna Leave You" by Led Zeppelin bc idk somewhere in my delusions I think Logans a Zeppelin kinda guy and its what I've been listening to. For the sake of the plot, stick with me, you've got an imaginary ex bf and his random name I picked is gonna be Danny and he suuuucks real hard okay? okay and I need you to pretend dear lovely reader that you like led zeppelin if you don't 💔[holding your face ever so gently and smooching ur forehead] and I've seen only xmen origins, x-men, X2, and Deadpool x wolverine so pls pls forgive me if some stuff doesn't canonically fit. This is kind of cringe but I wrote too much of it to get rid of it just bare with me I beg of u and it was so long I had to split it into two parts

Summary: Meeting the infamous Wolverine got you roped into a liiiitle more than what you bargained for

Warnings: swearing, you have telekinesis and telepathy (cause that's cool, c'mon), mild angst, suggestive stuff kinda, mentions of cheating (Logan does not cheat on u I pinkie promise), Logan calls you kid but you're not actually a child lol, you're a good bit younger than him but also so is anyone else who isn't borderline immortal

Word Count: 4K

Pt 2!

[credit for text post dividers here and here]

There had been muttering here and there between the students at the academy that Wolverine was coming back after a few years on his own, confirmed when Marie recognized the motorcycle now parked in the driveway of the mansion.

"Logan!"

He was immediately wrapped into a hug by Marie at the door, dropping his bags to the floor.

"Hey, kid, miss me?"

"Maybe," she smiled sweetly, tucking the white strands of hair behind her ears.

"Long time no see, huh?" Ororo's voice interrupted from behind her, earning a hug from Logan.

"Any one else around?" he questioned, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder again.

"Scott and Jean are around here somewhere, Charles as well. Oh, and there's a couple new faces you haven't met," she responded, smiling at the way Marie's eyes lit up at the chance to mention what she had been meaning to tell Logan.

Marie gasped and said your name, grabbing Logan's arm in excitement, "you have got to meet her. She joined us a couple of months ago, I think you'll really like her. She's kind of been like...our you, when you've been gone."

He quirked an eyebrow at that, looking between the both of them for an explanation as to what that was supposed to mean.

"You'll see," Ororo chuckled lightly, "oh, you will see."

"She's here now, I think, you should go introduce yourself to her!"

Logan had swiftly caught onto Marie's adorable attempt to play cupid and gave her a nod, "maybe when I settle in, okay, kid?"

She nodded in agreement and both her and Ororo watched him walk off further down the corridor.

"How do you think it will go when they meet?" the later of the two asked earnestly once he was out of sight.

"Well," Marie paused for a moment, thinking, "they'll be inseparable or absolutely hate each other."

Ororo nodded in agreement almost immediately, holding in a small laugh.

Much later in the evening, Logan had been beckoned into the study along with Ororo, Marie, Bobby, you, Jean and Scott by Charles.

He had been the last to enter, eyes immediately settling on your unfamiliar frame stood next to Marie with your back against the wall. You had plenty of rings adorning your fingers and necklaces dangling in front of your chest in the same kind of fashion he'd seen in those magazines with the Harley biker girls. You looked a little like one of them too, in well fitting jeans adorned with a belt, a band shirt and some chunky boots, except you were very much real and not on glossy paper.

"Oh! Logan!" Marie exclaimed upon noticing his arrival, beckoning him over with her hand. That turned your attention to him and he felt like the wind may have been knocked out of him when your eyes met his. You were far prettier than any of the girls he'd seen in any magazine.

"This is her," Marie whispered to Logan when he approached and nudged his arm, referring to when she had told him about you earlier.

"This is Logan," Marie said to you, gesturing towards him and leaning a little closer to you to whisper something he wouldn't catch, "and he's single, by the way."

A grin was plastered on her face when she pulled away and you rolled your eyes, "Marie - "

"I know, I know, too soon, but I just thought that was very good information for you to know," she raised her hands and stepped away a little, still intent on watching how the two of you interact for the first time.

Logan extended a hand for you to shake and you did the same. Your hands were small in his and your skin soft to the touch. It was almost hard for him to drop your grip when he did, nervous that he'd hold it even a second too long.

Nervous. Women had rarely ever made him nervous in the hundred - something years he'd been alive, and yet he could feel his heart pounding in his ears when you ran your hands through your hair to push it out of your face.

"Nice to meet you," he finally spoke, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

This may have been a good opportunity to try out your powers a little, concentrate hard enough on the handsome stranger's face to know what exactly was playing out behind his staring gaze, but you resisted the urge to do what you considered a tad bit violating.

"Same here," you responded at last, averting your gaze for just a moment to avoid inadvertently doing exactly what you had just decided you wouldn't.

Marie and Ororo had studied the small interaction between the two of you - of course - waiting for something more to happen, only to be disappointed when the both of you nodded courtly and turned away from each other.

"Well, that's not good. He'd be on her like a dog already - " Ororo started under her breath.

"No, no, I just think..." Marie interrupted, narrowing her eyes between the two of you, "I think they just need to get to know each other."

"Honey..."

"I'm telling you, I just feel like they'd be good together, they just need a chance to get to know each other!"

"Do you really think she's ready to get with another guy?" Ororo nodded her head in your direction, lowering her voice, "after all that stuff Danny pulled?"

Marie grimaced at the mention of one of the professors names, shaking her head in mild disgust, "have you seen him lately? always coming up to her in the halls and stuff, it's sad - for him, I mean."

Before either of them could further debate the topic, Charles gained everyone's attention to discuss a series of tasks he'd assigned to you all. As he spoke, you only tuned in once you heard your name.

"You are the one I'd like to send out to complete that with Daniel."

"Could, uh, can I do it with someone else? or have him do it alone, or something?"

Logan caught the confused look Jean shot your way, tilting her head before she spoke, "You don't want to go with Danny? What happened, I thought the two of you -"

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, scowling, "uh-uh. Hell no. He...uh, I'll tell you about it later."

You had realized the sudden vulnerability you'd found yourself experiencing in a room full of eyes on you and cleared your throat, attempting to change the subject.

"I can hang back and keep an eye on the kids, I don't mind."

"They do love you," Ororo chimed in, "and we need someone to stay back to watch them anyway."

"They only like her so much because she allows them to break the rules," Scott remarked, earning a nudge in the arm from Jean.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, "Scott, the thing with the kids in your room was one time and it was an accident - "

"Was it? Because one of them wrote 'asshole' on my bathroom mirror with sharpie."

"They're kids, they do that kind of stuff!"

"was that really one of the kids?"

You tucked your lower lip under your teeth in an attempt to smother a laugh. Logan almost immediately did the same when you darted your eyes around the room in a guilty attempt to avoid eye contact.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me - " Scott started but Charles interrupted, holding up a hand.

"Alright, the both of you - enough. You," he continued, gesturing towards you, "may stay back with the children. Please do not allow them into anyone's personal quarters and I would advise you to hide the permanent markers for the time being, away from the children and perhaps yourself."

You nodded and hung your head low to hide the reappearing smile across your face. Logan stared inadvertently from then on, watching you twist your rings around your fingers and focusing on you intently when you spoke every now and then. When you were all dismissed by Charles and filed out of the room, you and Marie walked ahead of most of the group, almost out of ear shot.

Logan heard Jean's hushed voice behind him as she leaned into Scott, "so...what do you think happened? With Danny?"

"Who the hell is this Danny guy?" he finally asked, turning over his shoulder to interrogate the two of them.

"Well," Jean whispered your name, looking ahead to be sure you hadn't caught their conversation, "it's her boyfriend. Or was, I guess. They had a thing for awhile but they stopped hanging around each other all the sudden and she can't even stand to hear his name - she hasn't told me what it's about yet."

Logan simply hummed in acknowledgment, turning back ahead and finding his gaze caught on the sway of your hips as you walked.

"Oh no," he heard Ororo huff beside him, almost immediately following her gaze to see a guy he didn't recognize slip behind you and put an arm around your waist. Too far out of ear shot to hear the context, he watched you squirm out of the young mans grip and shake your head as you kept walking.

"Is it bad I want to get closer to hear what they're saying?" Ororo muttered, looking to the other three in her proximity.

"It's not our business," Jean reminded her.

"So, that's him?" Logan asked, gesturing to the guy still on your heels like a puppy.

"uh - huh," Ororo answered, frowning as she watched Danny make another pathetic attempt to put his arm around you.

When the two of you stopped at the far end of the hall and you told Marie it was okay to leave you, Logan, Ororo, Scott and Jean all turned the corner to the closest hallway.

"Oh, I know It's bad but I have got to know what lame excuse he's got this time," Ororo shook her head, stopping just around the corner to eavesdrop.

"Ororo - " Jean sighed, placing a gentle hand on her friend's arm, "come on."

"They're in the hallway! it's not like I'm standing outside a door," she reasoned, hushing them after so that the only voices hard were yours and Danny's.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm sorry - "

"Danny, many times do I have to tell you I don't care? Why won't you just leave me be?"

You sounded exasperated, your voice slightly muffled when you rubbed your face with your hands.

"What do you think he did?" Scott chimed in in a hushed town, now fully invested in the dialogue.

Logan was still stood there, though he wasn't too sure why. He could have and should have kept walking - let the three of them do their weird detective work - but instead found himself leaned against the wall with the rest of them.

"I love you, you know that, sweetheart, I - "

"ugh, don't call me that. You gross me the hell out, you know that?"

Both Jean and Ororo made almost the same shocked expression.

"oh, it has to be bad," Jean hissed, frowning at the venom in your tone.

"Tell me you're not still in love with me, you know you can't, we - " Danny's voice began again and yours cut him short with a sense of finality in your tone.

"Danny. I stopped being in love with you the day I walked in on you fucking another other girl."

Jean's hands flew to her mouth to muffle a shocked gasp. Scott stood with his arms crossed, his face in a grimace.

"ooh, that is bad," Ororo whispered just as a door slammed.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows, following everyone else as they continued their path down the hall again. This Danny kid had to be a real idiot.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄ * ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Weeks had passed and you shared small talk with Logan every now and then, sometimes making snarky comments here and there - though more often than not together and at Scott's expense. Funnily enough, the ability to piss Scott off so much made Logan like you even more. Maybe Marie was right, you kind of are like him.

You walked alongside him down the corridor one afternoon, intending to fulfill Ororo's request for the both of you to check in on some of the newer students.

"So, do you always do your hair like that?" you raised your eyebrows up at him, eyeing the peaks in his hair.

"Yeah. What, you don't like it?" He grinned, expecting you to make some smart remark about it.

"No, not that," you giggled, "it's like lil' cat ears, it's cute."

He looked down at you quizzically, stopping in his tracks.

"cat ears?"

"mm-hm. You're like a big kitty."

You bit down another giggle, reaching up boldly to touch his hair.

He gently swatted your hand away, still with a small grin on his face.

"Don't call me that."

"Big kitty?"

"Yes."

"Okay, kitty meow - meow."

He narrowed his eyes as you turned to continue walking in an attempt to hide the huge smile plastered on your cheeks that threatened to transform into a rather loud laugh.

"Uh-huh, whatever. You better not let anyone else hear you call me that," he huffed as he caught up to you rather easily.

As you were about to make another retort, your smile dropped at the sight of a familiar and unfriendly face that had come from around a corner.

"Christ," you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration, rubbing your forehead at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

"Hey," Logan leaned down a little, nudging you gently, "I'm here, you're good. You're fine, don't worry about him. It's just us, alright? Walk past him like you don't even see him."

Though he'd be embarrassed to admit and absolutely deny it if anyone asked, he'd unfortunately (for himself) harbored a crush on you that only took a couple weeks to develop. He hadn't even really gotten the chance to know you yet, though that was precisely why he was glad about moments like these. He wanted to, even if he felt like a school kid with a playground crush.

You had simply nodded at his words, allowing him to place a gentle hand on your upper back to guide you down the hall with him. Even through the layer of a jacket and t-shirt, you could feel the warmth of his hand on you.

Logan remembered that moment in the hall on the first day you'd met, but never pestered you for details about what the hell went on before he got back. He figured when and if you wanted to tell him, that was up to you.

Keeping your eyes straight ahead, it took what felt like years to pass your ex-boyfriend. When you finally did, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, until his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"That's my shirt."

You whipped your head around, feeling Logan slip his arm a little further around you as a protective reflex.

"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your attire. The shirt, a tad oversized and well worn, was so familiar that you had completely forgotten it once did belong to him.

"I want it back," he spoke again, crossing his arms.

"Do you really want it back?"

You were beyond fed up with his pestering at this point, already having decided what may make the message clear.

"Yes."

"Okay. Fine."

You pulled away from Logan and slipped off your jacket, turning around to hand it to him. He gave you a confused look, hesitantly taking it out of your hands. In a matter of seconds, you turned back around and tugged the t-shirt up and over your head, tossing it directly at Danny's chest. You turned back and took your jacket from Logan's hands, zipping it far enough to cover your bra. In the few seconds you had stood facing him, he had done his best to keep his eyes away from your body and failed miserably, looking up after to see the asshole a few feet away already glaring at him.

"What, you're just gonna walk around like that? And what are you doing hanging out with him anyway, don't you know he - "

You groaned at the sound of Danny's voice again, gently tugging Logan by the hand in the opposite direction as you began to walk away, "yap, yap, yap - just shut the fuck up."

Logan couldn't help the smirk plastered across his face as you continued to walk, finally turning a corner. Before you could apologize to him for having to awkwardly stand witness to that, Scott's voice echoed from the stairway above you.

"Hey, Charles is looking for you two. He says he has something he needs you to take care of, he didn't say what."

"Thanks for the specifics, Scott," you replied sarcastically, "but we're supposed to check on - "

"I know," he interrupted, "I got Marie and Bobby to cover you. You're welcome, by the way."

You rolled your eyes and looked back to Logan, dreading what exactly it was Charles wanted from you.

That landed you where you were the next morning, heaving your bags into the back of Logan's truck.

"If we have to take the truck like two states over, can I at least drive?"

The plane being needed for another assignment that Jean, Scott and Ororo were assigned left the two of you with Logan's truck. You'd been asked to retrieve a rare mechanical piece needed for the construction of some new device; you'd only been half-listening when Charles started to explain the details, lost in thought after he'd mentioned it would require the two of you to sleep out overnight.

Man, that had made your chest feel tight. It had been almost physically painful trying to swallow down every tell that you really liked him for the past few weeks and now you had no choice than to be each others only company for nearly 2 days.

"Yeah, in your dreams, kid," Logan scoffed playfully and brought you back to reality, dangling the keys in his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at the keyring he began to spin around his finger. In a split second, the jangle of the metal could be heard as you snatched them from his hand with only a focused thought.

You caught them in your raised palm and tilted your head, a terribly smug smile across your cheeks.

"Looks like my dreams came true, huh?" you teased, walking past a still mildly distraught Logan to get into the drivers side.

"If you dent it, I'll kill ya," he warned as he finally slid into the passenger seat, watching your every move as you started the engine and carefully reversed out of the garage.

"Uh-huh, sure," you retorted sarcastically, "I'm terrified of the kitty claws."

"What did I say about calling me that?"

"Calling you what?" you feigned ignorance, fumbling with the knob on the stereo to change the station as your eyes stayed glued to the road.

"And don't mess with everything, kid, you'll end up breaking something. She's on old girl, you gotta - "

"Dude," you interrupted, simultaneously cranking down your window and fishing a pair of sunglasses out of his center console, "I know how to drive, chill out."

"Dude," he mocked, "this truck is probably almost as old as you, you gotta be careful."

You rolled your eyes under the shades of the worn aviators you had slipped onto your nose, simply nodding and continuing to flip through stations.

"Pick one and stick with it, will you?"

"Ooh, is someone mad I got the keys?"

Before he could say something in response, you gasped at sound of the song playing on the station you had just switched to, twisting the knob almost as far as it could go.

Logan recognized the familiar thump of "babe I'm gonna leave you" by Led Zeppelin, furrowing his eyebrows when you began to nod your head and sing along.

"You like Led Zeppelin?" he nearly had to shout over the music, leaning in to you a little further.

"Yeah," you responded, reaching over to turn the music down just enough for you to hear each other and glancing at him momentarily, "How come you're looking at me like that?"

He unfurrowed his eyebrows and shrugged, keeping his gaze on the road ahead as he spoke, " just never pegged you for a Zeppelin kind of girl, I guess."

"No? What's that supposed to mean?"

You were smiling again and it was excruciatingly difficult for him not to stare when you looked so good in the spot he usually sat with his old sunglasses on.

"Didn't think you had good taste in music."

That made you giggle and you shook your head, turning the stereo back up to a booming volume.

He watched you tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the drums as you continued to drive, occasionally moving to push your windswept hair out of your face. The morning sun shining through your open window highlighted your features perfectly and Logan sighed without a thought, unheard over the music. Jesus, he had it bad.

You could feel his stare in your peripheral vision every time he looked to you and it felt far warmer than the sun beating down on you from the opposite direction. You truly rarely ever used your developing skill of telepathy, feeling it was only justified when absolutely necessary to obtain information, but his burning gaze nearly had you veering off the road at times and his prior answer to the question of why he was looking at you that way wasn't too convincing.

With a deep breath, already wondering if it was a mistake, you kept your eyes focused to the road but gradually concentrated on the man beside you. Sometimes people's thoughts would appear as inner dialogue, other times as imagined scenarios, daydreams or visuals. You were confused, then, when you only saw an image of yourself as you were now. If you concentrated too hard, your own thoughts would transfer to Logan's mind and it would be humiliatingly obvious that you had been poking around in his consciousness and so you tried to clear your mind and try again, assuming your own mind was too preoccupied with yourself to concentrate properly.

Still, you could only see the image of yourself driving from the perspective of the passengers seat, one hand on the wheel and the other in your hair as you propped your elbow on the door. This time, though, you could hear the accompanying echo of Logan's voice over the hum of the music you had tuned out.

Is her hair always like that? I like it that way. Pretty.

You swallowed hard, fidgeting with the hair that was between your fingers. It's a compliment - innocent enough, and undeniably kind of sweet. You felt guilty then for probing his thoughts and nearly shook yourself out of it, only to realize the image in Logan's mind was no longer of just your profile. He was thinking about your legs, thighs squished against the seat of the truck.

Fuck

You nearly choked on your own saliva, clearing your throat at the echo of his voice again and immediately withdrawing yourself from his mind.

"You okay?" Logan spoke aloud, putting a gentle hand on your upper arm.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you lied, trying with every fiber of your being to just keep all focus on the road. You knew you shouldn't have done that. It was just a thought, though, nothing said aloud to change anything between the two of you, and so you pretended the best you could that you hadn't heard or seen a thing.

About eight hours, a handful of dad rock albums and a stop to switch seats later, you finally pulled into the parking lot of the nearest motel you had found didn't have a highlighted "no vacancy" sign.

"If there's fucking bed bugs in here, I will never let you hear the end of it," you warned from the passenger seat.

"I think you'd talk my ear off till the day I die anyway," he scoffed, shifting the truck into park and pulling the keys from the ignition.

"You won't die for another hundred-something years."

"Exactly my point, honey."

You rolled your eyes and slipped out of the truck as he did, pretending the nickname hadn't made your face burn. You both grabbed your belongings and once inside you looked around the small lobby as Logan checked you in, impressed with how surprisingly clean the place seemed to be.

"Hey, is that okay?"

Logan's voice took your attention from the painting on the wall you'd been inspecting and you raised your eyebrows.

"Huh?

"Uh, there's a room left but it's only got one bed."

Your face dropped and you looked between him and the poor kid behind the counter who already looked nervous as all hell.

"You're kidding."

"We can keep driving, but we've already been on the road all day and I don't think there's another place around here for a good few miles."

He was much more calm than you expected him to be and you exhaled, thinking of the literal pain in the ass caused by sitting in the car for so many hours.

"Ugh, fine."

A/N: I had to split this in two because it was so long but If anyone likes this at all I will post da other part cause I like spewing my brain rot on the internet <3

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #hugh jackman #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic

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yumeka-sxf · 1 year ago

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In addition to Yor's epiphany scene, this scene was the other one I was most looking forward to in season 2 - a scene that, in my opinion, is one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far 💖

Why is it so significant? Because there was no reason for Twilight to put on any Loid Forger acting in that moment. He wasn't conversing with nor being scrutinized by anyone. So why would he give that soft smile followed by such affectionate, comforting words as "お疲れ様/otsukaresama"? (this can be translated in many ways, but generally it's something you say to thank someone for their hard work).

The answer is because it's something he truly felt...he understood the sacrifice Yor made for Anya's happiness and genuinely appreciated it (if only he knew the sacrifice she made on the larger scale, lol). While he's a bit perturbed at first since some onlookers were snickering at him, it didn't take long for him to soften and then graciously carry his queen and princess the girls back to the ship 😭

But Twilight overall was really soft in this episode and I loved it~ From his blush upon seeing Yor to the several times he gave that same soft smile when talking with/looking at her...I think Anya was right when she called him out on the ship about missing his wife 😅

I liked how the anime conveyed his shock when noticing her bruised face...what must have been his thought at that moment? 👀

The scenes of the family activities translated better in animated form in my opinion. While they were each only a single panel in the manga, they lasted a few seconds each in the anime, plus the addition of the insert song helped the with the comfy, wholesome vibe~ Also the part where Yor inadvertently chucks Anya across the ocean is still hilarious.

Loid's dorky skip at the beginning of the episode translated very well in animated form too 😅

The ending of this chapter in the manga always felt a bit rushed to me...it quickly jumps from the aforementioned scene of them returning to the ship, to suddenly being home, reuniting with Bond and Franky, having a meal together, then Twilight meeting Sylvia, all within a few panels. Even though I wish the anime added more than just some additional scenes of the ship leaving the island, I felt it flowed much better in the anime since, just like the family activities, each scene in the ending lasted a second or two instead of being a single illustration.

But I love how this chapter/episode ends, with Yor, Anya, and Bond napping while Anya draws about her family vacation. This seems to take place the next day or maybe later the same day they got home, so makes sense they'd still be tired from the trip!

By the way, the manga has this additional scene showing that Olka and company are safe. Weird that the anime didn't stick it in at some point.

Also, the anime team didn't have to go so hard with this episode's key visual but they did...and I love it 😍 Might actually be my favorite of the key visuals so far!

I was very happy to see the "surrounded by liars" panel finally animated! This is such a funny scene and a great way to fully wrap up the cruise arc.

I also burst out laughing at Yuri's locker 🤣

Damian is surprisingly laid back in this episode. I think the reason is because Anya's antics aren't directly involving him. He tends to go total tsundere only when she's actually talking to him, lol.

The new scene of Yor getting the keychains for her coworkers was a nice addition! Guess it's canon that Yor and Anya didn't sleep for the entire trip back, lol. Glad they got to spend family time on the ship too! (though I wish we could have seen Yor's reaction waking up in Loid's bottom bunk bed, haha. He must have brought her to his room since he wouldn't know where her room is. Unless she woke up before he even put her in a bed, in which case she would have been super embarrassed knowing he was carrying her around in public 😆)

Looks like next week the anime will be changing the order of things a bit and giving us the Becky home-wrecking and Fiona chapters (the latter of which seems to have some anime original content?) The Becky chapter is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters...I'm already dying of laugher thinking about it 😂

#spy family #spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #twiyor #sxf anime #becky blackbell #yuri briar

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izjeon · 1 year ago

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GONEGIRL.

athlete!jungkook x f!reader

𖥻 genre: s2l (strangers to lovers?), fwb (friends with benefits), pwp, and university au.

𖥻 rating: 18+

𖥻 word count: 3.2k

𖥻 warnings: [MINORS DNI] afab/f!reader, heavy infatuation, they basically stalk each other, a lot of sexual tension, smut is literally the plot, many mentions of wet dreams, debatable infidelity, reader has debatable morals, jungkook & reader are horny, switch!jk (but he does most of the dominating) and switch!reader, a lot of making-out, hickeys (f.receiving), reader lowkey has a praise kink, hair pulling (m.receiving), jungkook whimpers, extra beefy jungkook, dry humping… and they get caught.

a/n: this is not proofread, but why is standing next to you such a bop?? helped me finish this after months of it being stuck in the drafts. also, to whoever told me to stay in the basement, i couldn’t stick to my word, pookie 😔. enjoy!

series masterlist: GONEGIRL

chapter one - ‘slowburn?’

𖥻 GONEGIRL

you knew who he was.

jeon jungkook: the senior that all the freshmen drooled for and the senior that all the seniors wanted to themselves. as a senior yourself, you couldn’t say he didn’t intrigue you. he was a sporty guy, winning national and global championships in track and wrestling for fun on the side. obviously, his matches were the most popular in viewership across the university. the golden boy, he never once failed to add another gold medal to your university’s esteemed profile.

so, you knew who he was, but you couldn’t understand why his eyes were stuck on you and only you.

you’d first met him at a party held by one of his close friends, namjoon. you were introduced briefly and didn’t exchange any numbers or socials. but, that following morning, jngkk_97 followed you on instagram. and, from that day on, he was the first guy to like your posts, the first guy to view your stories and the first guy you knew of to not slide into your dms.

with his intriguing, yet unexpectedly distant, behaviour, he found his way into your mind— 24/7. so, every morning, you awoke, gaslighting yourself into believing that the thought of his pink, pouty lips on yours didn't actually send you into a midlife crisis. they just made you a little faint.

every single night, you tucked your fragile mind into bed, losing yourself in hazy dreams branded by the thought of jungkook's touch. but, after a few weeks of contactless flirting, you let the idea of him go.

because you’d been told he had a girlfriend.

although it usually took a lot to do so, you felt the cowardly urge to give up on your infatuation. it'd been more than 2 weeks of mutual stalking but, still, no message. you guessed, he just wasn't as desperate for you as you were for him.

and you didn't like that. so you quit your daily routine of streaming his instagram and greedily watched as he kept up his own stalkish routine, consecutively failing to direct his focus back onto his girlfriend.

the same gorgeous girlfriend sitting with him on a black and cushy beanbag, radiating as she spoke to the other students around them. and that's when you realised, not having each other's undivided attention must've been a thing in their relationship.

because, his doe eyes of false innocence were only on you.

it was the first time you were seeing each other in person after namjoon’s party.

you stared back at jungkook through the wide, unglazed window in the separating wall between the kitchen and the living room. even with his supposed girlfriend of 5 months on his lap, running her fingers through his hair, his eyes were only on you. you scoffed, chuckling to yourself.

he would be fun.

leaning back on the kitchen counter of jennie’s apartment, you tilted your head to the side. intrigued, you watched as he did the same, copying your actions with a lopsided grin. now, you didn’t have the best eyesight but you weren’t so blind that you couldn’t tell that he was clearly hinting at something. something that would land you in a very taboo situation.

and you loved that.

you lifted your plastic cup to your lips and turned away from the athlete sitting at the other end of the room. you downed your drink as you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. you looked around for your best friend and there she was, face deep in boobs.

as you made your way to the couch she was sprawled on, you realised the athlete had disappeared from his girlfriend’s side. curious of where he’d disappeared to, your eyes ran across the packed apartment, desperate for the sight of him.

and there it was, the something.

he was standing near the front door and his girlfriend had gone to sit with other seniors. it looked like he was exchanging goodbyes with his friends.

he was leaving— without his girlfriend.

“jennie, i think i’m going,” you mindlessly whispered, eyes stuck on the 5’10" hottie with his foot out the door and doe eyes drifting back across the crowded room. then his eyes were on yours again: a silent exchange of words.

“already…?” a drunk jennie whined, lifting her face from the deep cleavage of her girlfriend. “wait,” she mumbled, eyebrows scrunching into a sobering expression, and squinted her eyes at your side profile. “you think?”

satisfied with your decided future, you turned back to your best friend with your lips curling into a sly grin. “no, i know.”

she lazily propped herself up on her girlfriend and whined, “but how’re you gonna get home~?”

the front door slammed shut.

“i’ll find a ride.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

jungkook picked at the zip of his thin bomber coat. he was leaning against his black benz, waiting.

ever since he first laid his eyes on you in that little backless, black dress, jungkook knew you were trouble. you were a distraction; more distracting than the pending termination of his current relationship; and much more distracting than the thought of joining the national track team again. you were a parasite living in his mind.

he practically breathed you. when he woke, you were his first thought. when he felt compelled to open instagram, you were there. even when he would try to escape you in his sleep, you were there. he could barely last ten seconds sinking into the thought of you. if you let him sink into the reality of you, jungkook would cease to exist.

jungkook groaned, throwing back his head. he thought he would be fine and perfectly content with your instagram and your daily occurrence in his dreams (sexual or not), but you just had to show up at this party— held by your best friend. how was he supposed to know you guys were best friends? now he was actually waiting for the real you and he could feel himself going mad. he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands to himself and he could already feel the consequences of his future actions creeping up on him—

“who bought that for you?”

his ears twitched.

his heart lunged and his eyes found yours in an instant. but jungkook’s always had a wandering eye.

his eyes almost instantly fell to your body, trailing over your exposed cleavage in your white dress, and then dropping to the high slit on your left thigh, almost exposing your crotch. you were some type of angel for sure.

he was fucked.

jungkook was fucked the moment he met you; the moment he spent over an hour scrolling through countless instagram accounts to find yours; the moment he couldn’t dream of his own future without you showing up; and the moment he began to pray you showed up in his dreams every night before bed.

he was fucked because he feared once he had a hold on you, he would never be able to let go.

a man’s logic.

“my dad,” jungkook finally replied, pulling himself together. “he decided i needed a car— because i run 24/7. and there definitely cannot be a cheaper and better car than a mercedes benz.”

his sarcastic tone made you smile.

“that’s cute,” you smiled.

it went silent.

“do you need a ride?”

“don’t you have a girlfriend?” you rebutted with a smirk. truthfully, part of you didn’t care about his answer. you were an addict in front of a line of coke. you would get what you wanted one way or another.

“ha,” he chuckled, lowering his head in what you thought was shame. your question put jungkook on the spot. and you knew cheaters never worked well when put on the spot. but jungkook looked up with a wincing smile and corrected you, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

oh.

“we’re… complicated.”

now, jungkook wasn’t sure that choyeon would’ve given you the same answer. they weren’t together, but she acted as if they were. and he didn’t make much of an effort to correct her. so, he guessed he was still guilty. but he only felt guilty to a certain extent. he’d already chosen feeling guilty about hurting choyeon rather than missing an opportunity to get what he dreamed of.

what he fucking craved.

the sound of your heels getting closer to him kissed jungkook out of his thoughts. oh, you seduced him: the feeling of your manicured fingers gently grabbing hold of his chin and slowly lowering his clouded eyes to yours.

you whispered, “how complicated?”

jungkook held his breath for a second or two. how complicated were they? well, he knew they were complicated enough for him to forget about her in your presence and only remember her when you asked him to. however, they weren’t complicated enough for them to not be in some sort of a relationship.

but he decided it didn’t matter. when it came to you, she didn’t matter. he realised how beautiful your eyes looked under the moonlight. they glistened with the false innocence jungkook knew would ruin him. after all the nights of imagined panting, moaning and fucking and mornings of bitter reality, post-clarity and cum-stained sheets, jungkook burned for your touch.

fuck, he could almost taste you.

as if you could read his thoughts, your awaiting finger finally fell onto the his plump bottom lip, sweetly kissing the man out of his stupor. your eyes left his and fell to where your finger slowly traced across jungkook’s soft, pink receipt of kisses.

that’s when his lips parted, and he whispered, “as complicated as you want.”

at his answer, your distracted eyes flickered back up to his awaiting, hooded eyes. that’s when you, too, realised how dangerous your infatuation had gotten. just the sight of those buttered chestnut eyes and the intoxicating feel of his slow exhales on your skin forced you into a reality where you lacked even the smallest control over your own body. but, even more dangerous, was how little you cared about the way you drowned in his presence. but then again, you never did learn how to swim.

you smiled, letting your hands fall back to your sides.

“i’ll take that ride.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

the ride back to yours was almost silent, only filled with random whispers of directions coming from jungkook’s gps system. the voiced map directed him to your address and, yet, everything else pointed his eyes to you.

jungkook took a glance at you. he watched you; he watched you with your elbow propped up onto the rolled-down window, relaxed upper body peeking out into seoul’s night. he saw how you leaned further into the wind licking at your cheeks when he pressed on the gas, a hint of a smile wavering across your partially hidden face. he watched you in the silence, accepting his loud need— his loud need for you.

and he didn’t even know you. but jungkook couldn’t seem to find the rational sense to care. he knew you were a ‘stranger’ but, fuck, you’d overwhelmed his entire existence. you had damned him to the crucifying point where he actually felt the need to breathe you— to accept every single inch of you into his being— and he had no idea why. even as he glanced in your direction for the hundredth time, he couldn’t dare try to understand how you’d done this to him.

once again, as if you could read his thoughts, your head turned, lost eyes running over the lavender lights in the car. and like a key, your wandering eyes pierced his and locked his gaze onto yours.

“you’ve arrived at your destination,” the gps announced, breaking the exchanged glance. jungkook turned back to the road, and you turned back to seoul’s night.

“mm, just here,” you hummed, pointing to an empty parking spot in front of the tall apartment complex. maybe it was just human curiosity, but you found yourself mesmerised by the way he smoothly slotted the benz into the empty space.

fuck, everything he did was hot.

the sound of the engine’s hum softening into a quiet mew reminded jungkook of the anticipation clawing at his skin. it clouded his senses. but when his eyes flitted back onto you, yours were already on his.

he watched your lips part, and stilled as your next whisper left a trail of wet kisses across his mind.

“come up with me.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

“thanks,” you started, slotting your key into auburn door’s lock. turning to catch a glimpse of jungkook’s dewy eyes behind his black locks, you smiled and continued, “for the ride.”

jungkook’s lips quirked into the same lopsided grin from earlier. “you’re welcome,” he replied.

it was silent again.

with those hidden eyes still on yours, jungkook’s tongue slipped past his lips, running over his bottom lips. your gaze dropped to the pink tongue flitting across those pink, pillowy lips of his, and you sunk. those lips forced you into a familiar daydream where all that mattered was letting your tongue glide across his bottom lip until you slipped in, fucking his tongue with yours— tasting jungkook.

you needed a taste.

you glanced back up into his prolonged stare. then your hands were falling from the keys in the door, fingers smoothing across the nape of his neck and cheek, and tugging his lips down to yours. but jungkook’s hands were already cradling your hips, touch-starved fingers pressing into your sides, as his lips met yours first.

it was a gentle yet deep peck. a peck was quick: it allowed jungkook to draw back for two crucial seconds and let his clouded vision run over your expression. alluring eyes looked up into his gaze and jungkook could finally see it: your mutual desperation, the hunger, and the torture. it was all he needed to see before his finger was tilting your chin up once more, and his lips were taking you in.

from brushing his tongue past yours to savouring the taste of alcohol on your tongue, jungkook sunk into the taste of you. but he didn’t know if he could go any longer without sinking into you. his hand left your waist cold, fingers fumbling with the keys in the door and failing miserably. “no,” you rushed, lips barely leaving his. “turn them to the right.”

after hearing the click of your stubborn door unlocking, you were all over each other again. you stumbled into your apartment, hand quickly muddling with the light switch, with jungkook hurrying after you, tossing your keys and his suffocating jacket aside.

his daring fingers smoothed over your ass, kneading the soft, clothed skin, before lifting you to his hips. a deep hum of approval rumbled against your lips as your legs wrapped around him. but, in this position, your little dress had ridden up, exposing a white thong snug to your weeping slit. and who on earth would jungkook be if he didn’t cop a feel?

lifting you up once more to adjust his arm, the tips of jungkook’s fingers slipped under the white lace, fingers grazing across your supple ass. feeling his fingers inch closer to your needy cunt, your breath hitched and the dull stir in your core began to hum, itching for more than a simple touch.

and, as if he could read your mind, your breath was forced from you, head falling onto the lush cushions on your sofa. wafts of mint invading your senses, your hazy eyes took in how beautiful jungkook looked above you— like it was where he was meant to be. and he realised the same, the apartment’s warm and amber lights cascading through his locks and clouding the irises of your tempting eyes.

in that still second, both you and jungkook came to a silent agreement. your dreams couldn’t compare to reality.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

you blinked. you knew you were beautiful— of course— but hearing the phrase trickle out of jungkook’s pretty mouth felt…different. your eyes followed his as his gaze fluttered across your face, brows furrowing as if he were in awe.

“kiss me,” you begged, and he obeyed.

greedy, jungkook’s kisses were everywhere— on your swollen lips, before tumbling down your jaw to the middle of your neck, littering a trail of bruising hickeys. and you couldn’t do anything but moan, whimper, and sink into his sweet touch.

“oh, fuck,” you whined, head tilting back into the plush sofa. your fingers pushed through the thick rift of hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on it. but you never would’ve expected such a pathetic moan to leave his throat, rumbling into the sweet spot right above your collarbone. you paused. his moan echoed in your mind— a repeating succulent sound. so, you tugged a little harder, relishing in how he muffled a guttural whimper into the base of your neck, “mmf, fuck”. but then his hips began to move against yours, revengeful, and you realised how fucked you were— and would be.

jungkook had a bulge that made you wonder; wonder how he crammed that shit into his boxers; wonder how he lived a seemingly normal life with it; and wonder how he would struggle to cram that cock into your sopping mess of a cunt. so, as he ground down against your erect clit, your hips bucked up into his fucking, eager to measure the sheer size of the hidden dick. “oh, please,” you whined, thoughts stained by the way he licked a hot stripe across your ear’s helix, boner perfectly smushing down against your clit.

bruising lips barely touching yours, half-lidded eyes cruelly watched as you rode up into his clothed cock and stuttered moans so pathetic your cheeks burned, glazed eyes brimming with tears. he was already fucking you so good, and he hadn’t even touched your bare pussy yet.

oh, jungkook ruined you. with a hand trailing down your heated sides, he sent your body into a rabid heat, his touch only licking the wet flame ruining your ability to think. and when his hand finally cupped your leaking cunt, thumb circling over your pulsing clit, you were already begging pitiful whimpers. “please, please, please—”

“___?”

your bodies stilled.

a voice that was not yours or jungkook’s echoed throughout the apartment, piercing the thick haze that’d swallowed your minds whole. you blinked, stare slowly lowering to jungkook’s stunned stare that was already on you. his doe eyes wrinkled into a smile as his lips pursed into an awkward grin. the cringe was evident on his face; he was a grown adult getting caught with his hand deep in the cookie jar.

jungkook’s head slowly raised and turned, peeking over the sofa to see your intruder and his cockblock. then he froze. still hidden from the eyes of your cockblock, you eyed his expression, confused on why remained still, eyes wide, lips pursed and ears burning red.

who was it?

begrudgingly, you shuffled out of jungkook’s caging arms, propping yourself up on your elbows, and looked over the sofa, ready to kick out your cockblocking neighbour. but who you saw wasn’t an unfortunate neighbour you could just dismiss. in fact, the person you saw made you the unfortunate neighbour because there your best friend stood, mouth agape and only a foot into the apartment.

“oh, fuck. well, um. oh wow,” jennie blubbered, feet awkwardly wobbling over the door’s threshold. now, drunk jennie didn’t have the best memory but she could’ve sworn she’d warned you about jungkook’s relationship status. so, as you watched the cogs turn in her head, her brows furrow and her eyes squint, darting between the both of you, all you could do was blink and smile.

“…what the fuck?”

gg: ‘slowburn?’ - fini

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook ff #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts ff #jungkook recs #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #jjk smut #smut recs #🌟: angel’s fics

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chrissv4mp · 6 months ago

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— I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE -

the prologue , it was important. — | — ...back — | — next... — |

summary: chris has an obsession with you, one of the most famous pop stars of the last few years. when he goes out to eat at a local diner with some friends, he spots you, and his obsession turns to something bigger.

pairing: stalker!chris sturniolo × singer!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, murder, weapons, blood, obsessive behavior, suggestive moments, breaking & entering, crying, arguments, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, etc. more than half of these topics are mentioned in later chapters, not the prologue.

author's note: if the person reading this is sensitive to any of the topics listed above, please do not read this. i am not responsible for your own media consumption, and will not change any aspect of the story for your own pleasure.

author's note 2: no but real talk, this is probably the most motivated i've ever been while writing/coming up with a story😭 i really hope all of you enjoy this and please remember this is just my imagination and is not real at all!!!

word count: 1.8k

"don't be afraid of me,

i'm what you need."

chris laughs at his brother's joke, hand landing on matt's shoulder as he clings onto the brunette boy. nick just chuckles, glancing over at madison only to see her laughing her ass off as well.

nate smiles at matt, taking a quick look at chris before he lets out a quiet giggle. chris was always making the group laugh, he was just unintentionally funny at times.

chris begins to tickle matt with a cheeky grin on his face, resulting in his brother pushing him away. matt steps in front of chris before opening the door for his friends, flashing a smile at madison, nate, and nick. he only sticks his tongue out at chris, and his younger brother does the same.

matt couldn't help but laugh before following close behind the group, looking back to make sure nobody else was coming through the door.

"haven't been here in years." nick says, taking in the atmosphere of the older building as he looks around the place. he can't believe it's been so long.

madison listens with intent as matt chimes in, adding on to his brothers new topic, "yeah, i can't believe it's still up."

"we always went here after our lacrosse and hockey games for a celebration, even if we didn't win. it became a tradition until we moved to la, so it's special being here again." the middle triplet explains with a smile on his face, reminiscing the vibe of the place.

nate hums at his friends memories, looking around the small diner that was mostly empty. there wasn't many people who came here as often, but it was very popular back when the triplets were in high-school.

chris grabs both of his brothers, pulling them closer to him with a huge smile on his face, "yup, gotta love the memories we made in this place." nick grimaces at his brother's cheery tone, but he still pats his back affectionately.

matt just ruffles his hair before distentangling his and his brothers limbs, settling his hands in his jean pockets as he waits for someone to speak again.

"let's go sit?" madison suggests, and the whole group collectively agrees as matt and madison lead the way to a booth in the corner of the building.

all of them immerse in conversation as they look over at the menu, chris looking over at the kids menu occasionally and getting interested in the short list of options. chicken nuggets did sound good, but he wasn't seriously gonna get them.

"kid seriously got dino nuggets," matt laughs, and chris only flips him off, "shit is crazy."

madison looks over at chris, grabbing his forearm to slowly bring it back down on the table. as chris turns his head to look at her, she sighs, eyes wide in warning. "if you bark at me again..."

nick laughs, looking over at nate and matt to catch their reactions. nate snorts and matt laughs harder at his best friends reaction. he can't help but grab nates shoulder and rest along his back comfortably, tears almost pricking in his eyes.

madison forks a piece of steak into her mouth, looking over at chris to see that he's already munching on his meal.

"slow down, chris. you're gonna get the hiccups." matt says, tone warning as he looks at his brother with a slightly concerned expression.

the brunette picks up his sandwich before biting into it, his eyes trained on his younger brother as he bites down on a fry.

the others begin to eat, chatting in between bites as they get sucked into the topic of work. chris hates the topic, but he has no choice but to listen in. some of the stuff he finds interesting, like designs for merch and new ideas for vlogs over the summer.

he can't help but let his attention wander off from the conversation in front of him, eyes roaming the old diner and looking around for any other things that catch his eye. he doesn't want to think about work the entire rest of the night, that's actually what he wants to get his mind off of.

his foot taps against the side of the booths seat, his leg hanging off but not quite touching the floor just yet. did they raise the seating in this place? maybe, but all he could focus on at the moment was a girl sitting across from his friend group.

chris could only see the side of her face, but he knew who it was. he knew very well who hid in a booth at the back of the diner. it was y/n l/n, one of singers he's been obsessing over lately. what was she doing in boston? no, what was she doing in such a low-quality diner like this? he seriously didn't understand why huge a-list celebrities went to run-down places.

maybe for the aesthetic, the scenery. he does the same thing, but he never thinks bad of the places he goes to. nothing is really considered bad unless it's falling apart or smells horrible. like chobani yogurt. he couldn't stand the smell of that... substance. he wouldn't even clarify it as food!

"what the actual fuck." chris says out in the open, louder than he intended to but not loud enough that she could hear.

nick tenses up at his brothers tone, grabbing onto matts shoulder tight as he looks over at the younger boy, "what. chris, what?!"

matt winces at the small pain, but he also becomes alert, looking around the place for any signs of danger. he sees none, and his eyes return to chris again. everybody's eyes are on him now, but the longer-haired boys eyes aren't on them.

"chris!" nate exclaims, shaking his friends shoulder and finally making him come back to reality.

the brunette has to hold himself back from pointing, gripping the seat under him as he speaks quietly, like if he spoke any louder the building would collapse, "y/n l/n. y/n l/n is in that booth right-fucking-there, look, look!!"

the entire groups heads turn in sync, looking the direction that chris' eyes were pointed at. madison, nick, and matt's jaws dropped, and nate only looked around in confusion. madison began to shake matt by his shoulders, and he let her.

he was sure the entire group, minus nate, was in shock. they all had the same questions as chris, why was she here? who was that girl she was with? would she take a picture with them if they asked?

chris didn't give them any more time to think, practically jumping out of his seat and holding himself back from running straight towards her. he was about to meet his favorite female singer ever, and possibly even take a picture with her? how could this day get any better, seriously.

"hi, excuse me. sorry to bother you, but could i get a picture?" chris smiled, eyes glistening in the dim lighting of the diner, and maybe even in admiration of the beautiful girl in front of him.

she looked up from her friend, who chris knew as olivia rodrigo, and looked at him with a sweet smile. he swore her teeth glowed, "of course,"

she stood up from the booth, the drop being insanely tall for her shorter figure. chris had a couple inches on y/n which resulted in him looking down at the h/c girl. she cocked an eyebrow as she took a better look at him, eyes basically glowing at the realization.

"hey, aren't you that famous youtuber that films with his brother? correct me if i'm wrong, but you're chris, right?" she asks with slight confusion in her voice, and chris just stares in awe at the knowledge that y/n knows who he is.

y/n stares at him awkwardly, hearing olivia giggle behind her quietly. that's what snaps chris back to reality, and he nods his head, "yeah, yes, that's me! how'd you know? do you.. do you watch us?

he watches you. interviews, live performances, listening parties. that's what he meant, he wasn't some creep that followed around people he liked. probably.

she nodded her head as she looked up at the taller boy, still shocked that one of her favorite celebrities came up to her. y/n didn't even see him walk in, and now here he was, asking for a picture. "yeah! and i would assume you listen to me, hm?"

chris nodded happily, a grin on his face as he stared into her eyes with adoration. y/n was so much prettier in real life. now, he could really see all of her facial features, he could see the features that made her special, "yes! i love your music so fucking much. it always brings me up whenever i'm down, you're really a huge part in my life."

y/n made a gesture with her hands, putting them over her heart as she looked at chris with her doe eyes, "that means so much to me, chris. you're so sweet, thank you."

she couldn't help but wrap her arms around the boy, and chris only welcomed her warmly, taking in the scent of her perfume as his head rested on the h/c-girls shoulder. she smelled as good as she looked. damn, the things he'd do just to have her perfume on his nightstand.

fuck, the things he'd do just for her love, even. he would steal for her, and he had just met the girl. no, it felt like they've been friends for an eternity, and now they were just meeting again for the first time in a while. that's the real story. it's not fake.

"i saw you on the screens

i know we're meant to be."

matt opened the door again, beckoning all of his friends and his brother out the door of the old diner. he watched as chris stood still, leaning against the wall as he stated over at y/n. she was making small talk with her waitress as she signed on the bill.

chris couldn't get enough of the girl after that interaction they had. he couldn't get her out of his mind, she was just there, clouding all of his senses with nothing but y/n.

"hey, buddy!" matt snapped, and chris turned to look over at his brother who just stared at him with suspicion in his gaze, "are you coming or not? we don't have all night, y'know."

the younger boy shrugged, turning back to look at that beautiful girl, "i'll take an uber home. you guys can take madison to her hotel and nate to his house, i just have a few things to do."

matt sighed quietly, worry and suspicion flashing across his features as he looked at his brother. he just shrugged it off before walking out the door, and chris smiled when he heard the door shut.

he had things to do tonight, important things. his brothers wouldn't care if he was out late tonight, right? i mean, after all, he had to do this. it was important.

comment to be on this taglist! @livialifesblog @zayyluvz @snowysosturn @mirioosos @1800-love-me

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claramelooo · 9 days ago

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Hey, my lovers! 12k words today, huh? You're welcome! Hahaha enjoy!

Obs: Christmas wishes were given in this chapter!

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, angst

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Wanda pressures you until you tell what you tried so hard to hide

VELVET CHAINS

Passion

The sun was warm but not scorching, and the sound of children's laughter echoed through the park as Billy and Tommy ran circles around a tall tree, each holding a plastic stick like a sword. They were so full of energy it was hard to keep up, but the glow on their faces made everything worthwhile.

You were sitting on a checkered blanket beside Wanda, your bare feet touching the soft grass. She had insisted on bringing a basket filled with fruits, sandwiches, and a homemade pie that promised to be delicious. Next to you, she seemed completely at ease, a rare, serene smile lighting up her face as she watched the boys play.

"I should’ve brought a shield to defend the world from those two," you joked, laughing as Billy tried to attack Tommy with a dramatic pose.

"Don’t worry," Wanda replied, her eyes sparkling. "They only attack those who deserve it."

You laughed, but your laughter was cut short by the touch of her hand on yours. It was a simple gesture, as if she wanted to catch your attention while pointing out something funny about the boys. But there was something about that touch—in the way her fingers intertwined with yours, firm yet gentle. The warmth traveled up your arm like an electric current, and suddenly the world around you seemed blurred, as if only she mattered.

You glanced down at your joined hands and then up at her face. Wanda wasn’t looking at you; she was smiling at the boys as though holding your hand was the most natural thing in the world. But to you, it wasn’t natural. It was overwhelming.

Your heart started to race, and you felt panic rising in your chest. Was this what it felt like to be in love? It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. You knew how complicated things were, knew there wasn’t room in her life for you beyond the place you already occupied. But in that moment, as you watched the sunlight dance in her hair and felt the warmth of her hand on yours, you had to admit to yourself: you were falling.

Wanda turned to you, her green eyes meeting yours, and it was as if she could see straight into you.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern.

"Yeah," you replied too quickly, diverting your gaze to the picnic basket. "I just... there’s so much food, huh? I’m not sure we’ll manage to eat it all."

She chuckled softly, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. "I brought it because I know my little monsters. They’ll finish all of it before we get home."

You tried to laugh along, but the truth was, without her hand in yours, the world suddenly felt less bright.

As Billy and Tommy ran back for water, laughing and arguing about who had won the "battle," you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment and swore to keep it all a secret. From yourself.

You’d always thought you knew what passion was. The butterflies in your stomach when Kate laughed that carefree way. The heat that crept up your cheeks when Sharon brushed her fingers along your arm while talking. You’d thought those feelings were intense, overwhelming. That they were everything someone could want.

But now, with Wanda, all of that felt like a lie.

With Kate, there was a lightness, almost a game. She was charming, fun, but always kept a certain distance. With Sharon, it was different, closer, but even in the most intimate moments, there was a void you could never explain.

Wanda, however... Wanda was something else entirely. She was a storm.

It was as though, by her side, the entire world shrank, becoming small and irrelevant. When she looked at you with those deep green eyes, it was like all the air was sucked from the room, leaving you vulnerable, exposed, unable to think of anything but her.

You tried convincing yourself it was just another crush, like the others. Told yourself it would pass. That it was just her way, the intensity with which she lived, the way she commanded every space she occupied.

But every time she touched your hand, even casually, you knew you were lying to yourself. Her touch left a mark, a warmth no one else had ever ignited in you.

Kate and Sharon were soft breezes, but Wanda was a wildfire. One that consumed everything, leaving you breathless and trapped, and strangely, you didn’t want to escape.

It was more than physical attraction, more than anything you’d ever experienced. It was as if every fiber of your being cried out for her, as if your body and soul knew something your mind desperately tried to deny.

And that was what scared you.

With Kate, with Sharon, you had control. You could measure your feelings, fit them into neat, safe little boxes. But with Wanda, there was no control. No logic. There was only an all-consuming desire, a need that left you at her mercy, even when she had no idea of the chaos she caused within you.

You hated it. Hated the vulnerability, the intensity, the way she made you feel small and infinite all at once. But most of all, you hated that none of your previous loves came close to what you felt for Wanda.

Kate was comfort. Sharon, security. But Wanda? Wanda was the abyss.

And you were falling.

Until, after a few days, everything began to crumble.

Wanda watched you from across the room, her gaze fixed on you as you flipped through a book without actually paying attention to its content. The air was thick with a tension she couldn’t quite describe. Over the past few days, everything seemed wrong. Your fingers no longer intertwined with hers like before, and your laughter, which used to fill the house with life, now sounded restrained, almost mechanical.

It was subtle, but Wanda was a woman who noticed details. You avoided her eyes. Your hands fidgeted whenever she was near. When she tried to touch your face or hold your hand, you pulled away—just a small, almost imperceptible step. But to her, every tiny retreat was a blow that resonated deeply.

At first, she tried to rationalize it. "Maybe it's just stress." "She's been studying so much." "She's tired." But those excuses weren’t enough to silence the thoughts growing like weeds, poisoning her mind.

What if you were trying to leave her?

The thought hit her like lightning. The logic seemed absurd, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. You were distancing yourself to create emotional space. Maybe you’d realized how much she depended on you. Or worse: maybe you’d fallen in love with someone else.

Yelena?

Jealousy and paranoia began to taint every thought.

While you read in the living room, Wanda stood in the kitchen, washing a dish that had already been clean for at least two minutes. Her movements were methodical, but her mind was a storm. She could picture you pulling away, coming up with an excuse, inventing a reason to leave early. In her imagination, you were planning a way to disappear.

She clenched her eyes shut, the water running over the forgotten dish in her hands. No. She wouldn’t let that happen.

“Y/n?” Her voice suddenly rang out in the room, sharp and weighted, making you look up from the book, startled.

“Yes?” you replied hesitantly.

Wanda dried her hands slowly on the dish towel, her movements controlled, almost rehearsed. But her gaze was an abyss of conflicting emotions.

“Why have you been avoiding looking at me?”

Your heart raced. It was impossible to lie to her, but the truth felt too heavy to lay between you both at that moment.

“I’m not…” you began, but stopped when you saw the intense gleam in her eyes.

“You are,” Wanda interrupted, walking slowly toward you. “You barely talk to me. You barely touch me. You used to look for my eyes in every room, and now you can’t even meet my gaze.”

“I just... I’ve got a lot on my mind. Studying for Yale has been taking up so much of my time.” Your voice wavered, and that only made Wanda’s suspicion grow.

Wanda’s steps were deliberate as she approached, her gaze so intense it made it hard to breathe. There was something about her posture—a mix of forced calm and simmering fervor—that set off every alarm in your body. She stopped in front of you, her presence radiating warmth and an energy that seemed to dominate any room she entered.

“I can fix that,” she said softly, her voice dripping with a cruel kind of sweetness, as though she were speaking to a child who didn’t know what was best for themselves.

“What...?” you asked, trying to sound steady, but your voice came out hesitant, almost a whisper.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes analyzing every detail of your face as if trying to uncover the secrets you so desperately tried to hide.

“You think I don’t notice?” Her voice was quieter now but heavy with emotion. “You’re building distance. It’s not just Yale. It’s not just stress.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your fingers nervously toying with the edge of the book in your lap.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/n,” she countered, the intensity in her voice making you flinch. She leaned down, her hands resting on the sides of the chair, caging you in place. “I can feel it when you’re pulling away. I can feel it when I’m losing you.”

Your heart raced. Losing you? That wasn’t how you saw it. You were trying to regain control over yourself, to put a barrier between the overwhelming love you felt for Wanda and the life you knew you needed to pursue. But she saw it as abandonment, as rejection.

“Wanda, I...” you started, but your voice faltered when her eyes burned even deeper into yours.

“You don’t need to go to Yale,” she said suddenly, her voice calm in a way that felt almost like a trap.

The statement hit you like a slap. “What?”

“Yale is a distraction. An excuse to pull away from me,” she continued, her hand sliding to your chin, holding it gently but firmly enough that you couldn’t look away. “You don’t need it. Everything you need is right here.”

“It’s not that simple, Wanda,” you replied, your voice almost a sob.

“Why not?” She arched an eyebrow, her expression flickering between frustration and hurt. “Are you trying to run away from me? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?”

“That’s not it!” you protested, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Then what is it? Tell me,” she insisted, her voice growing more desperate, even though her face still held the mask of control she fought so hard to maintain.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. How could you explain to her that the problem wasn’t her, but the overwhelming love you felt? That you needed distance because if you stayed, you’d end up losing yourself completely in Wanda, sacrificing everything you dreamed of just to be consumed by her?

“I... I need something more than this,” you finally murmured, not brave enough to tell her the full truth.

“Something more than this?” she repeated, a note of disbelief in her voice. “I am something more than this. What we have is more than enough. You know that.”

Her fingers brushed your cheek, and your heart broke as you saw the conflict in her eyes—the fear of losing you and the need to hold on to you.

“Please, Wanda,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your face.

But she didn’t seem willing to relent. “If Yale means losing you, then you’re staying.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing on you like a storm.

Once again, you sighed, exhausted—this entire argument was overstimulating your mind.

“Wanda, it’s not like that,” you began in a softer, wearier tone. “I can promise you, I don’t want to be away from you.” You took a chance, holding her hands in a gesture of comfort.

“Did I do something?” Wanda’s voice was firm, almost cold—but there was a trace of fear in her tone.

“No!” you exclaimed, though deep down, you knew she had—yet falling for Wanda had always felt inevitable. “You’ve done nothing but be kind and an amazing mommy.” You caught a glimmer in Wanda’s tearful eyes, as if that was all she needed to hear. “I just… I’m not ready to talk about it right now.” You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Even though you hadn’t said everything, it felt like enough—and it was true.

“Are you sure… you’re not planning to leave?” The older woman’s voice wavered, the final words choking slightly.

Your eyes widened, startled by the intensity of the question. “Leave? Wanda, what are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know?” Her voice grew louder, though still edged with danger. “You think I can’t tell when someone is building walls? I’ve seen it before. You’re trying to escape, aren’t you? Finding a way to leave me.”

“That’s not true!” You stood up, feeling desperation surge within you.

“Then look at me,” Wanda demanded, her voice thick with pain.

You tried, but the weight of her gaze—so full of hurt, fear, and something deeper you couldn’t identify—was too much. Your eyes darted away, and that was all Wanda needed.

She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as though shielding herself. “You can’t even look at me…”

“Wanda, please…”

“No!” Her anger finally erupted, though tears filled her eyes. “You’re mine! You know that! And I won’t let you run away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Her words lingered in the air, heavy with pain and possessiveness. Abruptly, she turned and left the room, the sound of the door slamming behind her thunderous against your heart.

Wanda stormed into the bedroom like a hurricane. Anger simmered beneath her skin, mixing with a pain so profound it felt suffocating. Her mind replayed the words spoken—and unspoken. The hesitation in your voice, the way you avoided her gaze, ate away at the control she fought so hard to maintain.

She’s leaving me… She’s pulling away… I can’t lose her.

It was then Vision entered, his usual serene expression almost irritatingly calm. He looked at her with concern, clearly sensing the charged tension in the air.

“Wanda,” he began gently. “Is something wrong? You seem… troubled.”

She stepped back, crossing her arms defensively. “It’s none of your business.”

Vision remained unfazed. He moved closer, his gaze analytical yet compassionate, trying to bridge the distance she was desperately trying to create.“Wanda, we’re partners. You can tell me what’s going on.”

“Partners?” She let out a bitter laugh, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Do you even understand what that means?”

Vision frowned, confusion evident on his face. He reached out to touch her, but Wanda recoiled, her gaze hardening.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, her voice low, almost dangerous.

“Wanda,” he tried again, stepping closer, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

“I said, don’t touch me!” Her voice echoed through the room, the air around her crackling with energy.

Vision hesitated for a moment but, in a move that seemed almost rehearsed, leaned in as if to kiss her. It was a gentle, almost hesitant motion, but he didn’t anticipate what happened next.

Before his lips could even come close, Wanda shoved him with force, using far more energy than necessary. Vision stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he steadied himself.

“You think a kiss is going to fix this?” Her voice was sharp, laced with contempt and fury. “You’re not what I want, Vision. You never were.”

He stood in silence, absorbing her words. But what hurt most wasn’t the content—it was the raw hatred in her eyes.

“You’re angry,” Vision finally said, his voice still controlled. “But rejecting help won’t solve anything.”

“I don’t need your help,” Wanda spat back, her tone icy. “I don’t want your touch. So do me a favor and leave.”

Vision hesitated, but the look in her eyes—a mix of rage and something far darker—compelled him to comply. He stepped back, nodded slowly, and left the room without another word, leaving Wanda alone with her fury, her anguish, and the obsessive whispers that filled her mind.

As soon as he was gone, she collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. The control she prided herself on was slipping through her fingers. But the only thing that mattered was you.

And if there was one thing Wanda Maximoff knew, it was that she would do anything to keep you by her side.

[...]

The library was as quiet as ever, the occasional sound of pages turning and muffled footsteps creating an almost meditative atmosphere. You were sitting at one of the tables near the classic literature section, your nervous fingers holding a book that, ironically, you weren’t managing to read. Your gaze stubbornly drifted to the woman on the other side of the room.

Wanda.

She looked completely at ease, browsing the shelves as if she owned the place. Her fingers glided over the spines of the books, and you couldn’t help but watch the grace in her every movement. It was intimidating how she seemed so natural, so in control, while you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions you could barely comprehend.

She noticed. Of course, she did.

When her green eyes met yours, you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the words you couldn’t even see. Your heart was racing, and a troublesome warmth crept up your face.

It didn’t take long before you heard her footsteps approaching. Your body tensed, every fiber of your being aware of her presence before Wanda pulled out the chair beside you and sat with that calmness that made her even more overwhelming.

"What are you reading? " Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but carried a playful tone that made you swallow hard.

"Oh…" you began, but the word died in your throat when you realized you had no idea what was in the book before you. "Just… something interesting."

Wanda arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer to you. Her scent, a mix of jasmine and something uniquely Wanda, invaded your senses.

— Something interesting, huh? — she repeated, her voice caressing each word like an invitation. — You seem distracted, little one.

You tightened your grip on the book, trying to maintain composure, but it was useless.

"I… I’m not distracted " you lied, your voice weaker than you intended.

Wanda chuckled, a low, delightful sound that made your stomach tighten.

"Then why are your cheeks so red?"

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked at her. That was a mistake. Wanda’s gaze was intense, full of something that made you feel small and exposed.

"They’re not" you tried to deny, but the frailty in your voice betrayed you.

She tilted her head, her eyes studying your face with an attention that made you shiver.

"You’re a terrible liar, you know that? "she said, with a smile that was both a tease and a promise.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to focus on the book, but Wanda wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours as she slid the book away from you.

"Look at me." she ordered, her voice now firmer but still laced with a sweetness that was almost cruel.

You hesitated, but her magnetism was inescapable. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

"Why are you so nervous?" Wanda asked, her hand now resting over yours.

You tried to answer, but your throat was dry. All you could do was shake your head.

"Oh, little one… " she whispered, leaning even closer, so close her lips were mere inches from yours. "You don’t have to be afraid of me."

But it wasn’t fear. It was something far more intense, more overwhelming.

And as if she knew exactly what you were feeling, Wanda smiled, a smile that completely disarmed you.

"Tell me what you want, darling," she murmured, her eyes locked onto yours.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill—not from sadness, but from pure desire, from longing.

"I… I don’t know " you finally whispered, feeling a weakness take over you.

Wanda chuckled again, but this time there was something darker in the sound.

"Don’t worry, little one. I know exactly what you need."

Wanda leaned in slowly, with the composure of someone who knew the impact of every movement. Her dark eyes were fixed on you, studying every nuance of your face, savoring the moment before the inevitable.

She lifted a hand, her fingers sliding along your face, tracing the curve of your jaw down to your chin. Her touch was both delicate and firm, sending shivers through your skin.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper, full of promises that made the air between you feel heavy.

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode. Unable to form words, you simply nodded, letting her see in your expression just how much you were hers.

Wanda’s smile widened, but there was an intensity in her eyes that almost took your breath away. She tilted her head, and you felt the heat of her breath brushing your lips.

"Good girl," she murmured, her words like an electric shock coursing through your body.

And then, she kissed you.

It was fire. The touch of Wanda’s lips on yours was burning, hungry, as if she were trying to convey everything she felt in a single gesture. There was no hesitation, only pure, raw desire.

Her fingers slid to the base of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened—more intense, more demanding. You clung to her shoulders, incapable of doing anything but matching her fervor, lost in the passion Wanda so effortlessly awakened in you.

When she finally pulled away, just enough to let you breathe, Wanda’s eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen before.

"That’s what you needed, isn’t it?" she asked, a smug smile playing on her lips as her thumb gently traced your lower lip. "To be taken firmly by mommy."

You didn’t respond, because the truth was clear. Wanda knew exactly what you needed, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you again.

Unexpectedly, the woman turns her body abruptly, leaving you on your back—and making you stick your ass out for her.

"You know, it's funny how you always wear that kind of skirt when you're here. Is this a sign for me to fuck you all over right here?" Wanda pulls your hair, making you squeak.

She pushes your head against the shelves, making you grimace in pain. She caresses the length of your skirt, reaching your precious spot.

" You're going to be quiet for me. If you moan, I'll stop." Her fingers finger your pussy covered by your panties.

"Mommy…" you whispered in a moan.

"Come on, little girl. Tell me what you're hiding so much…" she tried to manipulate you at all costs to find out what secrets you were hiding.

She fingered you—slowly. — it was almost cruel, painful. She squeezes the flesh of your ass, making you sink your teeth into her hand to stifle a scream.

The more Wanda's fingers moved in circles, the more your body gave in, involuntarily bucking toward her. Your surrender was total, almost like a primal instinct that dominated you completely, and Wanda seemed to absorb every second of it with almost cruel pleasure.

"Who owns you? Who do you belong to?" Her voice was a deep whisper, hot as an ember that set your self-control ablaze.

"It's y-you, mommy… it's you!" you managed to stammer, your voice trembling and full of submission.

A dangerous glint crossed Wanda's eyes, and the smile that appeared on her lips was at once one of approval and absolute dominance. Her fingers pulled your hair more firmly, tilting your head back, and you felt her breath brush against your sensitive skin.

"Exactly, little girl. Exactly…" she murmured, her voice so low that it seemed to slip straight into the deepest recesses of your mind. "A pet shouldn’t hide anything from its owner, should it?"

She slid her tongue along the arch of your ear, each movement slow and calculated, followed by delicate bites that made your body tremble.

You shook your head quickly, the lump in your throat growing as she took control of every part of you.

“Then tell me… tell me!” Her order came like a whip, her voice low and sharp, breaking down any resistance you might have had.

Here, in that sacred space, where knowledge and calm were the norm, this was an act of pure desecration. A conscious and deliberate sin, and yet the sense of danger made it all the more intoxicating.

Your heart was beating wildly, the sound echoing in your ears as tears welled up, blurring your vision. You weren't sure if it was because of the adrenaline running through your veins or the desperate need to release all the feelings you had been repressing.

“I-I don’t… I can’t!” You screamed, too loud, the confession filled with dread and desire.

And then, Wanda stopped.

The emptiness left by her touch was as painful as it was unexpected, but nothing was worse than the disapproving look she gave you. Her dark green eyes pierced you like a blade, and the frustrated moan that escaped your throat along with a tear.

“Bad girls don’t cum, Y/n.” Did she say it, staring at you with some kind of disappointment?

Her words echoed in your mind, as vivid as the sound of her voice on any given day. “Bad girls don’t cum.” It was such a simple phrase, but it was filled with something that ate away at you. The clear limit, the line you couldn’t cross.

And yet, you wanted more.

You wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her how every moment with her made you feel alive and at the same time destroyed. You wanted to tell her that you loved the way she frowned when she was focused, or the way her voice changed when she became softer, more tender.

But how could you?

How could you look her in the eyes and tell her that you loved her when you knew she couldn’t, shouldn’t, love you back?

Wanda was an entire universe, but she wasn’t yours. She would never be.

You pressed your hands against your chest, as if you could hold the broken pieces of your heart together. But even as you did, the tears fell, hot and relentless.

You cried for her. For yourself.

For everything that could be, but would never be.

And as the pain grew, a part of you knew that you would continue to love Wanda in silence, because silence was all you had.

And loving in silence, though crushing, was still better than not loving her at all.

[...]

Hours later, after dinner and with Vision out of town for yet another meeting—you muster up enough courage to walk, albeit slowly, toward Wanda's room.

Sighing and gathering just a bit more bravery, you stepped inside. No knocking, no asking for permission. Perhaps this would land you in trouble with the disciplinarian Wanda, but all you found was a woman who looked worn and exhausted.

The soft glow of the lamp in Wanda’s room barely illuminated her figure, seated at the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look like the strong, dominant woman you knew. Not in that moment.

Your heart clenched at the sight of her like this. It felt wrong, out of place from everything you associated with Wanda. Her eyes were fixed on something invisible in front of her, lost in thoughts you knew were about you.

And then you realized, this distance you’d imposed wasn’t just hurting you—it was hurting Wanda too. She seemed so lifeless, as if something had drained her completely.

She heard your footsteps but didn’t lift her head immediately.

“You should be resting,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and low, lacking the usual authority that bent your will to hers.

“And you?” Your voice came out hesitant but filled with genuine concern.

She finally raised her eyes, and what you saw nearly made you step back. There was pain there, raw and exposed, a pain she rarely allowed anyone to see.

“I can’t,” she admitted. “Not when I feel like I’m losing you.”

Her words hung in the room like a heavy weight, each syllable laced with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected.

You took a step forward, then another, until you were close enough to feel her warmth, to hear the faint, uneven sound of her breathing.

“Wanda…” you began, but you didn’t know what to say. There were no words to mend the crack that was forming between the two of you.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady herself, but when she opened them again, there was a sheen of tears she refused to let fall.

“I care more than I should,” she confessed, her voice thick with emotion. “And that’s why it hurts so much to feel you pulling away. It’s like… like you’re ripping a part of me out.”

Your chest ached at her words. You knew she was hurting, but seeing the depth of her suffering was like taking a blow straight to the heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely steady.

“But you are,” she replied, firm but without anger. Just sadness. “Every step you take away from me… it’s like a knife I put in my own chest.”

You hesitated but finally lifted a hand to touch her face, your fingers trembling slightly as they met the warmth of her skin. Wanda closed her eyes at your touch, leaning into it involuntarily, as though seeking solace.

“I care too,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “More than I should. And that’s why this is so hard. I… I don’t know how to balance this.”

Wanda opened her eyes, and the intensity in her gaze made you shiver.

“Then don’t balance it,” she whispered, her fingers now holding your hand against her cheek. “Choose. Choose us. Choose to stay.”

The tears you’d been holding back began to fall silently down your cheeks. Part of you wanted to do just that. To throw everything aside and simply lose yourself in her arms. But another part, the part with dreams and ambitions, knew it wasn’t that simple.

“I want to,” you admitted. “But I’m scared. Scared of losing myself, scared of losing everything I’ve dreamed for myself.”

Wanda bit her lip, her eyes burning with emotion.

“And I’m scared of losing you,” she replied, her voice faltering for the first time.

The room fell into silence, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space.

You took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage that always seemed to elude you when you were near Wanda. The silence in the room was palpable, and her nearness made everything feel even more intense. Your fingers were still intertwined, the warmth of her skin anchoring you but also leaving you completely exposed.

“Wanda,” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

She turned her face toward you, her eyes locking with yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. Concern? Curiosity? Hope?

“I…” Your throat felt tight, but you knew you had to say it. There was no running anymore, not when the weight of this truth was consuming you from the inside out.

“I am completely and utterly in love with you, Wanda Maximoff.”

The words left you like a sigh, heavy with months—perhaps years—of repressed emotion. The moment they left your lips, the world seemed to freeze.

Wanda’s face remained still for a moment, her eyes wide as if she was trying to process what she’d just heard. Her fingers reflexively tightened around yours, but then she pulled away, as though the warmth of your touch was too much to bear.

“Y/n…” she began, her voice hoarse, low, but brimming with emotion.

You watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath, as if trying to steady the storm inside her. She stood up, putting a bit of space between you, her arms crossing in a defensive posture, but her gaze never wavered from you.

“Do you… have any idea what you just said?” Her voice was hesitant, almost a whisper, but there was something in it that begged for confirmation.

You swallowed hard and nodded, refusing to look away.

“I know what I’m saying. I tried to fight it, Wanda, but I can’t anymore. I love you.”

Wanda shook her head slowly, her lips slightly parted as though she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she let out a laugh—a low, disbelieving sound, devoid of any joy.

“My God…” She ran her hands over her face, as though trying to erase the confession, but you caught the glimmer in her eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness.

“You know this is…” Wanda began, but the sentence died on her lips, the weight of the words too heavy to bear. Her shoulders sagged slightly, as though all the strength she usually carried had drained away. When she lifted her gaze to meet yours again, there was something crushing in her expression: a mixture of restrained desire, guilt, and a pain that mirrored your own.

“I know…” you responded in a near whisper, your voice thick with emotion. Tears began to streak down your face, each one carrying the weight of everything you’d never had the courage to say before. And even now, you hated yourself for being unable to control what you felt.

Wanda exhaled, the sound light yet devastating. She hesitated for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was soft, as if every word was a confession she had never intended to make.

“I can’t give you what you want, Dekta,” she whispered, her tone filled with something closer to regret than denial. “But maybe… maybe I can give you what you need… because I always know what you need.”

The use of the nickname cut through you like a sharp blade. It was a reminder of the intimacy you shared, the trust and affection you cherished so deeply, but now it only made the moment more painful.

Her eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and inescapable, as though she was trying to communicate something words could never convey. The space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving, until your faces were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The atmosphere in the room grew thick, suffocating, as if the air around you was charged with electricity. Wanda’s heartbeat was so loud you could almost hear it, and your own chest felt like it was about to explode.

“Wanda…” you murmured, but the word came out broken, uncertain, as if you weren’t sure whether it was a warning or a plea.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, almost to herself, but she didn’t pull away. Her breathing was unsteady, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “But you make me lose control, Dekta.”

You didn’t know who made the final move—if it was you, if it was her, or if it was some cruel twist of fate conspiring against you both. But suddenly, the space between you disappeared, and Wanda’s lips brushed yours in a feather-light, hesitant touch, laden with doubt and desire.

It lasted only a second before she abruptly pulled away, as if she’d been burned.

“This… can’t happen,” she said, breathless, more to herself than to you. “You need to understand that.”

“And why can’t it?” you asked, your voice trembling but filled with growing frustration. “Wanda, I can’t hide what I feel anymore. And you know you feel something too. Don’t try to deny it.”

She ran her hands over her face, clearly struggling against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“I can’t deny it,” she finally admitted, her voice low and barely audible. “But admitting it doesn’t change anything. I have a life, a family. And you… you have a bright future ahead of you, Dekta. A future that shouldn’t be jeopardized by something as… complicated as this.”

“This?” you echoed, the hurt evident in your voice. “Is that what you call us?”

Wanda closed her eyes, as if shielding herself from the intensity of the moment.

“I don’t know what to call this,” she replied, finally opening her eyes, now glistening with unshed tears. “But I know I can’t be selfish enough to ruin you.”

For the first time, you saw Wanda completely vulnerable—the strong, unshakable woman you had always known seemed on the verge of crumbling.

Suddenly, you felt like you were losing Wanda, and the thought terrified you. It made your body tremble with fear, your mind shutting down all rational thought.

“Do you like it that much?” you broke the silence, turning to face Wanda with eyes shining with curiosity.

“Like what?” Wanda asked, her voice coming out softer than usual.

“Being my mommy,” you asked, your gaze intense enough to make Wanda shudder.

She tried to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t hide the flush rising up her neck.

“That’s… it’s… I… It’s complicated,” she began, but you just laughed—the Wanda Maximoff stammering in front of you, while your fingers slid lightly down her arm. “It’s not something I ever expected to enjoy.”

You leaned in closer. There was something different now. Your eyes carried a newfound intensity, and you acted as though you were the one in control. Your warm breath neared her, sending shivers down her spine.

“But you do like it, don’t you?” you whispered against her lips. Your tone sounded innocent, but Wanda knew how much of a teasing little brat you could be.

You moved even closer, your hands gently touching her flushed cheeks. “Your face is so warm.” Your fingers slid to her nape, and Wanda’s body visibly reacted to your touch. “Are you running a fever, Mommy?” Your voice carried a soft, needy whine, and Wanda felt herself clench involuntarily.

Wanda closed her eyes, her body acutely aware of the heat radiating from yours so close to her own. And in that moment, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as in control as she liked to believe.

Your eyes burned with a different kind of fire, reflecting the fevered warmth of Wanda’s skin.

“Aah…” Wanda let out a shaky whisper. She was affected—by you, your enigmatic eyes, and your captivating personality. And yet, you somehow gave her the sensation of control she so deeply cherished.“I like it more than I should…” she confessed.

Your proximity excited her, made her speak and act in ways she never imagined she would. You made her sin.

The shift in the room was undeniable. The weight of anguish had been replaced by a dark and dangerously palpable sexual tension.

“You like to play with mommy, don’t you?” Wanda asked, raising her voice.

Wanda slid her hands to your waist, her touch firm but full of affection that seemed to contrast with the fire in her eyes.

“You test me on purpose, and that’s okay, that’s fun.” She whispered, her voice deep and full of control. “But you must remember who’s in charge, Dorogaya.”

Before you could respond, Wanda kissed you fiercely with an urgent plea she’d never felt before. Your innocent teasing drove her crazy. Crazy to make you submit, to discipline you.

Wanda ran her nose along the length of your neck and inhaled the scent there—making you gasp.

“Hmm… are you so receptive, eager to please me?” Like a feline, she purred in your ear.

Wanda lowered one of her hands to touch your sex, and soon noticed the absence of panties.

“My naughty girl… You look so beautiful like this, all ready for me.” She mistreats your hardened nipples with her fingers. “Is it because you want this as much as I do, kitten?”

You let out a shaky, anxious sigh. “Wands…” Wrong!

The woman slaps you hard on your left cheek, making you dizzy.

“That’s not my name!” She growls, squeezing your neck and rubbing her pussy against your thigh.

“Sorry, Mommy…” You say, hearing Wanda moan in approval.

“Good girl.” She strokes your strands superficially. “You learn quickly, don’t you, Y/n?” Wanda’s hand runs over your reddened cheek, almost tenderly.

“Please!” You moan, rocking your hips toward the woman. It doesn’t matter how much you tried to be a brat. Behind four walls, you were nothing more than a dumb little whore for Wanda to use as she pleases.

“Oh. So my little one wants to play rough, huh?” You nod desperately. “Beg for Mommy’s touch! Beg and maybe I’ll give you what you want…”

Wanda’s voice comes out muffled, the woman slides her tongue between the valley of your breasts.

“Please, Mommy!” You hear the woman laugh sadistically, as she watches your weak figure swaying her hips.

“Hmm, sweet words…” Wanda’s voice drips with lust and you, entangled in the atmosphere, steal her lips. The contact is violent.

You bite the woman’s lower lip who groans at the sharp pain.

“Mine…” she murmurs in a deep voice of excitement. “You’re mine. and no matter how much time passes, that will never change…” Wanda’s palms grab her soft breasts, massaging them.

She pinches her nipples precisely, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. I leaned in even closer, my hot breath caressing your ear, and let out a command laden with intent: “And don’t you dare come until I tell you to, or I’ll make you regret begging for my touch.”

Wanda smiled with sadistic glee as she watched you writhe beneath her touch. Your body, so sweet and treacherous, gave away every hidden desire even as you tried to resist, your attempts so weak they were almost adorable.

A wicked smile curved her lips as Wanda leaned in, letting her own cool breath caress your ear.

“See, pet?” She whispered, purring in satisfaction. “Your little clit is so sensitive, so eager for attention… And who else could give it that but me?”

Wanda’s fingers danced over that little throbbing spot, her touch light as a feather. The woman watched the pleasure rip through her body like an electric shock, making you shudder in my hands.

"And it’s all mine to play with now…” Wanda murmured, her voice low and thick with possession. Each word was a soft growl, a threat wrapped in sensual promise.

The older woman began to circle your clit with cruel precision, unlike earlier—she applied just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge of oblivion—going and going and going to your edge. Your labored breathing, your soft moans, were music to her ears.

With her middle finger Wanda entered your pussy, stretching it just to use it. “Now, let’s see how long you can hold out before you break and beg for release…”

Her fingers never stopped their torturous dance, the rhythm relentless and deliciously teasing. Wanda pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy, but she always held on, keeping the tension at the perfect point, where pleasure and frustration mixed into something almost unbearable. You were her masterpiece, and Wanda was determined to savor every second of your surrender.

“Aahn… Please! This is torture!” You whimpered, causing her to let out a wicked laugh.

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with dark, wicked pleasure as she heard your desperate moan. Her fingers continued to tease your clit with repetitive, maddening movements. “The smell of her arousal is intoxicating,” she thought, inhaling deeply. The room was silent except for your panting breaths and the soft, wet sounds of her fingers on your clit.

The woman leaned in, her breath hot against your ear, and whispered,

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, darling?”

The woman’s words were a sensual challenge, a promise of pleasure and torment as she continued to circle your sensitive core, always just out of reach. Your skin was so soft, so warm beneath my touch, Wanda always marveled, savoring the contrast with her own cold flesh.

“You want me inside you so badly, don’t you? Want me to claim that tight little pussy as my own?”

Wanda’s voice was a dark, seductive whisper, her tone dripping with forbidden desire as she finally plunged two fingers into your quivering, tight opening.

“But first…”

The woman’s fingers began to pump in and out of the slick channel, her touch rough and commanding as she stretched and filled you. You’re so responsive, so eager to please, she thought—a wave of predatory satisfaction coursing through her body.

“You have to earn it, baby… show Mommy how good you can be…” The words sounded like an order, a sensual threat that left no room for refusal as she continued to thrust her fingers into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

Part of Wanda wanted to devour you completely, feeling a tug of internal conflict. But prolonging your pleasure… and hers… is so much more satisfying.

Wanda could feel your inner walls contracting around her long fingers, your body shaking with need. The sound of your moans and whimpers filled the air, a symphony of desire that only fueled Wanda’s own dark hunger.

“That’s right, my sweet kitten…” she growled, her voice low and husky with lust. “Let me hear how much you want this… Let me hear how much you love me.”

As she continued to drive you wild, Wanda could not help but revel in the power she had over you. The overwhelming satisfaction coursing through your mature body was almost as intoxicating as the thought of tasting your blood.

You raved, sticking your tongue out, and driving Wanda wild as well—her own hand burning just to slap that little face of yours.

“Fuck me, Mommy!” she growled at me, as she rubbed her intimacy against my fingers. “I… I can be good! I will be good! I love you sooo much…!” You screamed the last part, not even remembering that the twins slept in the room down the hall.

Wanda’s body shook in triumph—as if she had regained her power by hearing you say that, by seeing you beg. When she heard your plea, your words were sweet, seductive music to her. With a low, guttural growl, the woman pulled her fingers from her dripping cunt, a trail of slick arousal coating Wanda’s skin as she brought her hand to her mouth.

“Mmm, such a good girl…” The woman’s voice was a dark, approving purr as she licked her essence from her fingers, the taste of her desire fueling Wanda’s own lust.

Determined, Wanda stands up, walking to her own closet and looking for a specific drawer. A hidden drawer locked with a key—her eyes widening at the amount of toys stored there.

“Now, let’s see if you can handle Mommy…” Without waiting for an answer, Wanda positioned herself between your thighs, the cold, hard length pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Hold on tight, baby…” Wanda warns sensually as she slowly thrusts into your suffocating heat, inch by inch claiming your tight, throbbing channel as her own.

“Mommy’s going to ride you hard, baby… and you’re going to accept every inch like the good little slut you are…” Entering the strap-on slowly, noticing you shudder—not being used to the size, Wanda stops her movements and only returns when she sees you nod positively.

The grip around your waist tightens as she feels your body tremble and convulse beneath her; The screams of pain and pleasure were music to your ears. The thrusts grew stronger, each one deeper and more intense than the last, as Wanda claimed your body with a primal, animalistic urgency she had never experienced before.

“That’s it, baby… take Mommy’s cock…” The woman’s voice came out as a guttural growl, her breathing ragged as it thrust in and out of your stretched, slick channel, the sound of flesh slapping against the strap echoing through the room.

“You’re mine now… all mine…” Her hands dug into your hips as she moved with reckless abandon, driven by a hunger that could never be sated.

“So fucking tight… so fucking perfect…” The praise was dark and savage, each word punctuated by the relentless thrusts of Wanda’s hips as she thrust into you, lost in the exquisite sensation of claiming your little girl’s body once and for all.

“Mo-mommy! It’s too much!” I can’t take it!” She roared, and she gripped the flesh of your ass hard in response.

Her hand came down with a resounding slap, the sound echoing around the room as her palm connected with the firm flesh of your ass. Her fingers dug in, kneading the reddened skin as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Oh, but you can, baby… you can take it…” The promise was seductive, a dark and wicked encouragement as she continued to pound into you with brutal, unrelenting force. “Mommy’s almost…” The woman’s hips snapped forward, pushing the entire length even deeper into your quivering channel, the feel of your body clenching around her like a vice driving Wanda wild with lust.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, baby? I’m going to soak Mommy’s cock with your sweet juices…” Wanda’s breath was hot against your skin, a husky, commanding purr as she whispered her own filthy desires, each word a sensual threat that left no room for refusal. “Now, don’t make Mommy wait any longer… Cum for me, baby… NOW!”

Watching the female body in front of her tremble in a powerful orgasm, She noticed your lost gaze, like a trance. Wanda pulls out of you and as she approaches, she sees you lying there, vulnerable and surrendered—your eyes unfocused as if you were floating in another dimension. Your chest rises and falls in an irregular rhythm, your hands rest at your sides, your fingers slightly curled. It’s a state that Wanda knew only superficially, but with you, it seemed even more intense.

“Is everything okay, bunny?” Wanda asked softly, sliding her fingers along the contour of your face, tracing your jaw until they reach your neck.

You don’t answer right away. Your eyes slowly fix on Wanda, as if she was returning from a distant place.

“It's… a lot.” Her voice came out softly, almost inaudible, and you tried to force a smile, but your expression revealed the depth of the moment you were going through.

The woman leaned in, maintaining eye contact with you, and let her hand glide through your sweat-drenched hair. It was an almost mechanical gesture, yet it seemed rooted in something bigger.

“Hey, take a deep breath for me.” Wanda's voice sounded firm, yet she didn’t lose the softness she knew you needed right now.

You closed your eyes and obeyed, struggling to draw in air before slowly releasing it. You repeated the process a few times as Wanda stroked your hair, murmuring comforting words.

“Good girl.” The woman said, seeing the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of your lips.

As Wanda watched you begin to recover, she felt something deep and primal stir within her. The way you trusted her, how you surrendered completely, was proof of something she could barely name, yet it made her feel invincible and vulnerable at the same time.

She continued to stroke your hair with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of what had just happened. Her eyes traced every detail of your face — the skin glistening with sweat, your lips slightly parted, the calm, almost ethereal expression that now replaced the previous turmoil.

“Are you okay, Dekta?” she repeated, though the answer was already there, evident in your calmer breathing and the way your body began to relax under her touch.

"Yeah… I think so," you replied weakly, still not opening your eyes.

Wanda tilted her head, a small smile dancing on her lips as her hand continued the slow, soothing motion in your hair. She could feel the contrast between the warmth of your body and the gentle breeze coming through the window. Everything seemed perfectly in sync, as if the universe had paused for this moment between you two.

When you finally opened your eyes, you met her gaze, a mix of care, possession, and something you couldn’t quite identify. There was something deeper, something that made your heart leap in your chest.

"You need to rest now," Wanda said in a tone that was both an order and a comfort. She brushed back the strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, her touch as delicate as a feather.

You tried to sit up, still trembling, but Wanda placed a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from moving away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her voice was firm, but there was no harshness—only determination.

"I… to my room," you said hesitantly, your gaze still uncertain, trying to understand what she wanted.

Wanda leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours like an unbreakable spell.

"I want you to lie here and sleep in my arms," she declared, her voice low and heavy with intensity. It wasn’t a request; it was a decision.

Your heart raced again, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. It felt wrong; all of this was wrong, but there was something in her tone, something in the way she looked at you, that made any resistance melt away.

You simply nodded, unable to argue, and let Wanda guide you back down onto the bed. She settled you in with almost reverent care, positioning herself beside you and pulling your body against hers.

As you felt her warmth surrounding you, the familiar scent enveloping her, it was as if all doubts and fears dissolved for a brief moment. Wanda's arms tightened around you, firm yet comfortable, and her hand returned to your hair, continuing the slow, reassuring gesture.

“Sleep, bunny,” she murmured, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could finally rest.

Holding you in her arms, as if you were her most precious stone—Wanda let her hands glide along the contours of your face, watching your breath settle into the calm of sleep. Her hands trembled for a moment before they closed into fists, the knuckles turning white. She stared at her reflection in the mirror next to the bed—the deep, shadowed eyes revealing an internal battle that seemed endless.

You loved her. You. Loved her.

The thought reverberated in her mind like a dissonant melody—wrong and delightful at the same time. There was no denying it: she felt alive like she hadn't in a long time. There was something dark in knowing that, even with all the lines that should never be crossed, you had fallen for her, given in to the magnetic force that existed between you.

And Wanda liked it. Liked it a lot.

Guilt pulsed through her veins, like a poison that burned slowly. She knew how wrong it was to feel this way, knew she should push you away, protect you from herself and the implications of what you had confessed. But at the same time, the feeling of being loved so intensely, so absolutely, awakened something in her she didn’t know still existed.

Vision had never looked at her that way. He had never pronounced her name as if it were sacred. He had never shown signs of wanting everything from her. But you? You looked at her as if Wanda were the sun and the only thing in the sky worth admiring.

And it was intoxicating.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to sort through the chaos in her mind. A dark satisfaction crawled through her chest, like a shadow that refused to fade away. She hadn’t done anything on purpose to earn her feelings—or at least, that’s what she told herself. But deep down, she knew there was something terribly selfish about all of it.

She liked being your weakness. Your downfall. Your redemption.

A brief, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips. It wasn’t a smile of pure happiness, but something more complex, more twisted. As if the weight of the wrong choices she hadn’t yet made was already starting to materialize, but the pleasure of being desired outweighed every ounce of remorse.

She opened her eyes, staring at her reflection again. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Wanda Maximoff,” she murmured to herself, her voice low, almost inaudible. “And you’re enjoying it more than you should.”

She couldn’t have you. She knew that. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be desired. It didn’t mean that, in her darkest moments, she didn’t revel in the idea of having marked you in a way that no one else would ever be able to erase.

“I’m a monster,” she whispered to the mirror, the smile fading. And maybe it was true. But for now, what mattered was that you loved her. Against all odds. Against everything that was right.

And that was enough to feed the fire burning inside her—even if it meant she’d end up consuming herself in the process.

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k @indentity0018

@beggingonmykneesforher @idkwhatever580 @valentine585 @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld

@mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @i-luv-w1men @lesbiansweet

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #lgbtqia #lgbtq #elizabeth olsen x reader #mommy k!nk #wanda x you #mommy k1nk #wlw post #mommys little girl #bd/sm brat

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wereallydobevibing · 8 months ago

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Too Young | John Price x Reader

I used to post my stories on tiktok under the username @codlover but I figured since tiktok might get banned I should delete that account and post it here. Here’s one of the stories.

Feel free to use my work as a prompt/inspiration. Better yet, feel free to write your ideal part 2 just MAKE SURE YOU CREDIT AND TAG ME.

WARNINGS: Age Gap

“Welcome home, Captain.”

As he falls back in his seat, his gaze lifts to meet yours - his little muse behind a marble counter, his favorite bartender at his favorite bar.

“That’s John to you, sweetheart,” He says, and he watches with satisfaction as you wordlessly pour out his usual drink without even having to ask what he was having.

You were a young girl, early twenties, working towards your bachelors at the nearest university, but before that, you’d gone to trade school. You were a hard worker; doing hair in the morning, attending classes in the noon, closing the bar at night, studying any minute that was free.

I’ll breathe when I have everything I want, you told him one night, when he noticed how your shoulders seemed to be heavy with the weight of your profusion of responsibilities. He wished he could help you carry some of them, or at least blow some air into those lungs that seemed to collapse whenever finals came around.

John admired you – sweet, smart, and focused. He would’ve liked to have you on his Taskforce if that’d been that path that you chose, but, for the sake of flirting, perhaps bartending was the better option.

He’ll miss you when you graduate and go off to start a new chapter in your life.

You set the drink down on the counter, pushing it forwards and leaning your weight on your elbows. It was a slow night, but you figured now that John Price was here to pay you his company, time would tick faster than you wanted it to.

The first hour and a half of his visit is a basic conversation – how was deployment, how does it feel to be home, how long before his next call in? He talks a little about his team – you’ve heard about “Soap” and “Ghost” and “Gaz” many times before, Price only ever allows you to know them by their callsigns, though, for privacy's sake, and only tells you very minor details. But after one or two glasses, Price allows himself to be free of his professional nature. His 141 men know

“How come you never bring your boys around here, Captain?”

“John,” You’re leaning so closely, he’s able to flick your nose as he corrects you. Not too hard, but very much playful. “And if I brought my boys around here, they’d never leave. Soap might steal my favorite girl.”

“Your favorite girl is too busy to be stolen, John,” You remind him, and you don’t say I’m too busy trying to give myself to you.

Closing time comes all too quickly, as you figured it would. On a Monday night, there are generally very few customers, and you’re able to start your side work at exactly eleven o’clock. John sticks around as you clean up and count the register, offering his company. Being that he was such a regular, he even knows where to find the broom and shortens your to-do list by sweeping the floor.

This is your favorite part, when you lock up the door and begin your walk home with Captain John Price at your side, allowing you to hook your arm through his. Like a gentleman, he’s always happy to walk you home.

“No boyfriend, yet, [Y/N]?” He says, lighting a cigar, “No one to tell me off for walking so close to their girl?”

You giggle, “No boyfriend. If I did, though, I don’t think you’d be one to be worried about it. Unless it was that guy you mentioned earlier – Soap? Maybe you could introduce us?”

“He’s too much fun, I think,” John sniggered.

“Are you saying I’m too serious?”

“Serious enough, fun enough. Soap is too much fun.”

“Aww,” You feign a pout, “You don’t want me to like him, do you?”

As you finally approach your apartment door, John lightly shoves you toward it. He pulls the cigar away from his lips, leaning against the wall with a smirk.

“You can have that one if you want, love,” he says, “Don’t come bothering me when you’re with him, though. Can’t have both.”

“No, I couldn’t,” You agree, you gesture to your apartment, “You won’t let me let you in.”

He hums, watching you unlock and push open the door. You lift your eyes to gaze up at him through your lashes, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“Come have a glass with me, John, I can bartend for you here, too.”

The back of his hand reached out, stroking the subtle skin of your cheek. He would love to come inside and know the structure of your home, and the decorations that would be a complimentary extension of your personality. When it came to you, he was Pandora and you were his box.

You were a beautiful girl, and the thought of having your company outside of your work hours was enticing. He wanted to know you like the back of his own hand, he wanted to see what was inside this box, but John knew better than to cross this line – that line being your doorway.

Oh, how he wished he was at least ten years younger.

“You know I can only go so far with you, love,” He says, taking another draw from his cigar. “Your doormat is the limit.”

It’s not the first time you heard that, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. As mentioned earlier, you were an ambitious girl; you were often berated in your early childhood by your mother for trying to get away with the same stuff over and over and over again until you finally learned the secret to getting away with your innocent little crimes successfully.

As you said once before, you’ll breathe when you have everything you ever wanted.

Blaze

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#john price x reader #john price #simon riley #kyle garrick #john mactavish #soap #ghost #x reader #call of duty #cod #modern warfare

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rafesfavbimbo · 4 months ago

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Hook. Line. Sinker.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Glamour Model!Reader

Read Part 2 here

Moodboard for this chapter here.

Author’s Note: I could not get this idea out of my head since I sent it in to @bunnyrafe. So I decided to create my own little universe about it. Imagine playboy is still big and making magazines + social media post. (w/o all the dark history.) It’s canon reader has a boob job bc yk Playboy. But I made her non-descriptive as possible. Season 1 Rafe.

Tw: Stalking, Emotional Cheating (by Tooper), Objectification/Sexualization, slight non-descriptive smut, Canon-Rafe, eventual smut.

Rafe thanks whatever higher power decided to make sure he was at this exact location at this exact time. Almost feeling like he needs to thank God for guiding him here or some shit.

His curiosity peaked when he was driving down the one way road near the cut. His eyes going immediately to the ropes blocking off and a sign stating “Closed,” on one of the prettiest parts of the beach. Pfft, nothing’s ever private for the self-crowned King of Kildare. So Rafe does what comes natural to him; he inserts his nose in business that has nothing to do with him, with an arrogance that states it’s his right to know and parks his freshly-washed truck. Immediately sneaking under the ropes and walking a short distance until he sees something that for once in a long, long while. Leaves him struck.

He’s watching from afar as a crew sets up various reflectors. There’s slight chaos, people buzzing around and setting up. A photographer adjusting the lens on his camera. Women decked in casual clothing, going through a rack with various pieces of barely-there lingerie and bikinis.

But that’s not what catches Rafe’s attention.

It’s her.

There she’s sat in a pink directors chair. Her hair in a pretty blowout, flowing long behind her with the beach breeze. Her pretty legs peeking out from the white robe wrapped around her. Smooth and glowing, stretching down to pretty manicured toes. Makeup artist buzz around her, adding finishing touches to her flawless face, slathering gloss against plump, pouty lips and adjusting the tousled loose curls flowing around her gorgeous face.

Even from afar Rafe can see the long, wispy lashes adorning pretty eyes, staring up at the woman standing over her, brushing a makeup brush lightly over the smooth skin of her face.

He knows who she is, he knows exactly who she is. She’s been the figment in his imagination whenever he’s desperate and withering, stroking himself. Eyes shut tightly imagining her perfect figure withering under him or staring harshly at his phone screen at the skimpy photo she’s posing for.

He’d never in his life imagine he’d be standing right in front of his biggest fantasy. Albeit from afar, but so close. He feels like a creep, like a peeping tom lurking on what he knows is going to be another one of the various, scandalous shoots she’s so famous for. He can’t help it, even with all the chaos surrounding her he’s zoned in on her and her only.

When she stands up, the white fluffy robe falling erotically off her shoulder, exposing more of her smooth skin, it has him huffing deeply out of his nose. His eyes zoned in on her behind his wayfarers, hand slightly clenching.

It’s when she begins untying the lose knot on the straps of her robe that his him tensing up the most. The smooth skin of her back being revealed down to her pert, plump butt and slim thighs. He feels like he’s dreaming, almost like he wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. But the blaring heat of the sun, the sweat dripping down his tan forehead, making his shirt stick to his back and the painful ache of his stiffened cock brings him back to reality.

She hands the robe to the woman next to her, throwing her tousled curls behind her back. Her back is still facing him but when she turns around … that’s when Rafe really feels like he’s died and gone straight to erotic heaven. He runs his gaze down the entirety of the beach goddess standing right in front of him. His slightly clenched fist now turning white at the knuckles and blunt nails digging into his palm.

He runs his eyes over her perfect, incredibly busty perky tits and perfect upturned nipples. Down to her smooth, flat stomach which pinches in perfectly at the waist and rounds out to beautiful hips he wants to grip into and leave bruised. Her skin glowing, flawless. Slathered in some kind of oil or lotion, making her glisten exquisitely under the North Carolina sun.

But it’s when he sees the perfect V sat inbetween her slightly muscular, yet plush thighs that he lets out a deep heavy groan. The perfectly groomed landing strip waxed there teasing him and making him want to feel it tickle his nose as he buries his face into the most perfect cunt he’s seen in his life.

She’s looking down at her stomach, smoothing her pretty hands over it and then flipping her head back adjusting her hair with both hands, eyes closed. It’s like she knows he’s right there and like she’s putting on a show for him and he revels in it.

He watches as she turns back around and prances confidently forward, walking on the tips of her french-tipped toes slightly kicking the sand. Walking toward the shore and dipping her toes in it.

“Alright everybody! Let’s get this going!” Shouts the older man with frosted tips, dressed flamboyantly. An enthusiastic smile on his slightly wrinkled face.

Rafe watches as men on the crew adjust the reflectors, and he especially watches as his dream girl faces the crowd once behind her. And all he can wonder is how she can feel so comfortable standing so bare in front of so many people. Her hands coming to her pretty hips, cocking them to one side as she digs her french-tipped nails into her smooth-tanned skin.

Rafe gets closer and ducks behind one of the various palms trees hiding his tall figure, needing to get a closer look and hear whatever the fuck they’re talking about.

“Okay y/n, we’re gonna do a couple prints with the blowout and then a good few in the water with your hair slicked back. Sound good?” states, who he’s positive by now is, the photographer.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” she replies back, light and airy with a sweet giggle. Fuck, even though he can barely hear what’s going on just the cadence of the way she speaks sends his nerves into overdrive.

“Perfect.” chips the photographer, “Let’s get a roll on it while the sun is still out.”

Rafe stays there the entire time. The ache in his cock growing bigger, his chest tightened and body tense watching her maneuver herself into various poses. And in his sick mind he feels as if she’s posing for him, and him only. Teasing him with that perfect body and flawless face, seductively bending and prancing around as various clicks and murmurs of praise clamor near.

It’s when the sun starts bleeding into the ocean like lovers reuniting and leaving a warm orange haze across the beach as the photographer shouts “aaaanddd that’s a wrap!” that Rafe realizes he’s been there the entire time. His once neat and primped, plaid button up now soaked through with sweat.

“You did great! I think this is one of your best editorials yet! Absolutely stunning my dear, as always.” praises the flamboyant man as he embraces the now covered model, giving her a slight squeeze and she returns his affections with a warm smile on her face.

“It’s always the best time working with you Stephen, you make it great.” she quips genuinely. Pretty lips turning up on a sweet smile.

“Nonsense, you make my job easy being as perfect as you are. My star! Now get some rest, you’ve earned it. And maybe visit around the Island, I know you love places like this.” He pinches her smooth cheek endearingly.

“Maybe! We’ll see. Goodnight everyone thank you!”

Various voices shouting “goodnight y/n” and “be safe,” reply back. As if he would let anything happen to his precious gift, thinks Rafe.

The beach princess of his dreams now changed into a baby pink, ‘Juciy’ velour jumpsuit and light-brown uggs. Her drying hair clipped back in a light pink claw clip, walking her way up the designated path back to the main road.

Rafe jumps into action, making it back quickly to his truck and speeding out of there before anyone catches him. Debating if he should have followed her to make sure she got back to wherever she’s staying safely. But his cock was so hard it was almost painful. He needed to get home. Driving all the way with only one thought in his mind. Her.

That night, Rafe fist his cock till he can’t anymore under the shower head until the once hot water turns freezing cold. His eyes shut tightly replaying the events he’ll forever have ingrained into his mind, from earlier.

And once he finishes up and steps out of the shower, drying himself off and staring at himself in the mirror. He’s only got one thought in his head. His methodical brain going into overdrive with plots. That no matter what it takes, she’ll be his. Under his thumb, and he’ll never let her go. Ever.

“Did you hear who’s on the island? Everyone’s talking about it man.” quips Topper straightening himself quickly with excitement. The country club is lively, Kooks in every corner and constant murmurs of conversation all around.

“Hell yeah! I’ve been dying to see her, I want to know if she’s as sexy in real life as she is in pictures and on social media.” states Kelce, fully catching onto Topper’s direction of conversation with the same enthusiasm.

She is. Thinks Rafe, knowing exactly who they’re talking about. His stomach filling with that possessiveness he’s so well-known for. His eyes glaring at his friends behind his shades, who talk animatedly about you. He catches slight statements of “she’s the ultimate wet dream” and “i’d do anything for just one night,” as his ears ring with brewing rage.

Ha! He thinks. He’d bash their heads in before they even got near you. His perverted mind already convincing himself that you belong solely to him. And he’s not letting his grip loose.

“Aren’t you dating my sister, bro?” drawls Rafe in his deep, nasally cadence. His legs spread wide as he leans back confidently with his arms over the chairs handles. His demeanor threatening and protective. The boys assuming over Sarah, but in his mind it’s because they’re speaking about his woman.

“Yeah-I mean-c’mon man this is Y/N Y/LN we’re talking about. She’s like the ultimate sex symbol and besides she’s basically famous. We probably won’t see her, let a man drea-holy shit.” Topper’s eyes widen comically, staring straight behind Rafe as Kelce turns in the same direction, jaw dropping slightly and body sitting forward quickly. Eyes bulging in the same comedic manner as Topper.

Rafe’s brows furrow as he watches people in his line of vision all turn in the same direction, eyes of lust, shock, curiosity and even envy from the various men and women around. And when Rafe tilts his head to the side, eyeing whatever is behind him from his peripheral vision that has people, including his friends so starstruck, does he see the girl who’s been invading his mind since yesterday.

There she is. In the prettiest, skimpiest little off-white sundress. Her statuesque figure shown off by the scrap of clothing and contrasting perfectly against her skin-tone. Her skin is glowing just like it was yesterday, stunning legs on display and her pretty feet sitting beautifully in clear platform mules. Shiny hair pinned up in a messy up-do with wispy hairs framing her face beautifully. Big squared glasses perched on her perfect nose and a small smile on her luscious lips as she listens to- is that fucking Sarah?

People’s eyes follow his sister and his future woman as they make their way over to the table resided by the 3 boys. Men and women’s eyes lowering down to her backside and he can only imagine what they’re leering at if the shortness in the front of her dress is any indicator for the length in the back. All the attention quickly dividing elsewhere when Sarah reaches them and speaks up.

“Hey guys!” says his sister enthusiastically as she catches them in her line of sight, immediately reaching back and holding her hand out to guide you along with her. “This is y/n. I met her at the market.” Idiot, thinks Rafe. Why would Sarah think they’d need to be introduced to someone that even his own Dad, has admitted to finding attractive. Rafe shudders at the thought.

Both Kelce and Topper shoot straight up, hands sticking out cheerfully shouting out overlapping “Hi’s” wearing smiles so big it looks like their cheeks hurt. Idiots, thinks Rafe. Why would they make it so obvious? Especially Topper in front of Sarah?

“Hi…” the model says shyly, reaching her hand out and placing it delicately in Topper’s. Giving him a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“This is my boyfriend Topper, who by the way is a big fan!” says Sarah gives Topper a playful eye roll and smug smile, to which he bashfully looks to the side with a cough to clear his throat, cheeks reddening. “This is Kelce, and this,” Sarah turns to point “is my brother Rafe,” to a still-sitting Rafe. Who now rises slowly, shades hiding his pretty cobalt eyes. He stands to full height, towering over the 4 of you and inching a bit closer to you, taking off his glasses as he hangs them on the collar of his white polo.

When y/n turns to look at him, it’s like something struck in both of them. Rafe already felt someway, he stalked her all day yesterday for fucks-sake! But being near her is making his body and mind go haywire. He watches as she pulls her glasses off, exposing those pretty eyes and long wispy lashes. Perching them on her head.

When y/n looks at him though, her breath stops and she’s looking at him with a love-struck look that has Rafe smirking. Hook.

“Hello,” drawls Rafe, his voice deep and nasally, reaching his hand out, “nice to meet you.” He says with the same smug smirk sat on his pretty face. He watches as she places her delicate hand in his palm, beautiful eyes still stuck on him and now locking with his piercing ones. He brings her small hand up to his lips, holding eye contact and pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. Taking in the creamy, vanilla scent radiating off of her and smooth skin of her palm.

“Hiiii..” she whispers, airy voice as light as ever. Eyes still stuck on him in a daze and glazed over with… is that lust? Rafe convinces himself it is, and he’s almost sure it is. Only deepening his para social infatuation with her. “It’s nice to meet you ..Rafe.” He swears he can drop dead right there, hearing his name roll off her tongue in that pretty voice he imagined moaning into his ear all night.

“Ahem!” Sarah clears her throat inquisitively. Breaking the veil that lifted over the both of them for that single moment, like two lovers destined to meet. Topper and Kelce watching the interaction with wide eyes. “Well, now that you’ve got acquainted with a couple people around here and have pretty much seen all there is to this area, that’s interesting anyway. How about we go down to the Outer Ban-“

“No.” quips Rafe sternly. Voice firm. Leaving no room for argument with just a single word. His eyes cutting deeply into Sarah, whose face now scrunches with defensive attitude, “what is your problem?” she bites back.

The two boys still watching with wide eyes, but glancing over unabashedly at the model whose eyes are still focused on the man who’s got heat building between her thighs very quickly. And her heart pounding in her chest.

“You wanna take her to the Cut? Around those filthy fucking pogues?” bites back Rafe with the same animosity, inching forward threateningly as if daring Sarah. As if she ever gave a fuck what her brother thought. “Yeah.” she bites back firmly, “And what? She did a photoshoot there just last night.” Oh, I know. “She wants to see the area outside of working, besides I’m her tour guide and I promised to show her the whole island and that’s what I’m gonna do.” scoffs Sarah, rolling her eyes at her brother’s ingrained dominance.

“Nah. You’re not.” quips back Rafe, arrogance radiating off of his big and tall frame. “Nah, you know what. I’ll take it upon myself to show this sweet little princess around, if she wants to see the Cut or play in the water it’s better she’s with someone who can take care of her. Protect her from those fucking weirdos you like so much. Like me.” says Rafe with that smug smile on his face that Sarah wants to smack off 100% of the time. “Who do you even think you are-“

“So you wanna see the Outer Banks, beautiful? How about I show you around?” He cuts off Sarah, ignoring the anger radiating off of her as he turns his full attention to his proclaimed little princess. Who had been watching the whole time, struck by the sexy man who she now knows as Sarah’s brother and who’s got her inner thighs squeezing together and slick. His causal dominance over her, making her head hazy, and stomach flip.

Line.

Sarah, Topper and Kelce stand stunned by Rafe’s casual display of dominance but more-so by the fact that they can see that she liked it. A flirty giggle falling from her lips as she nods her head quickly. Leaning her body into him. Rafe smiles at the sweet sound, throwing his arm over her shoulders and turning his back to his sister and friends. Completely over-taking her attention and asserting his claim. She immediately nuzzles into his side, her arm wrapping around his waist and giving Rafe her undivided attention as she looks up at him with doe-eyes hanging onto every word that falls from his pretty pink lips.

“Yeah? You Like that?” He brings his other hand to pinch her chin, then giving it a slight knock with his index finger as he smirks down at her. “You stick with me and I’ll show you exactly everything you’ve been missing and whatever you want to see. I’ll take such good care of you, princess. Don’t worry.”

Sinker.

Read Part 2 here.

a/n: phew! he’s so dreamy ugh! I hope you all enjoy!

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #outer banks #sarah cameron #rafe imagine #glamourmodel!reader

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arieswritez · 8 months ago

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puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

509 notes · View notes

javierpena-inatacvest · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 20 pt. 2- I Do

Summary: It's wedding time, baby.

Word Count: 17.4K (.....I'm so sorry)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink, big, fat, nasty, unspeakable breeding kink (holy SHIT you guys, I really went balls to the wall on this one, I fear), kind of semi-public sex (you already know these horndogs are going at it again), More getting caught (Steve is causing his own problems at this point), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, alcohol/drinking, so many feelings (grab the tissues, friends), Javi being adorable with kids, Javi being so in LOVE it HURTS?!? So much joy and happiness because Javi deserves the world and more

A/N: HELLO. Part 2 is finally finished *insert Spongebob narrator voice* 4 years later 🫠 Omg y'all, thank you SO much for bearing with me as I finish this, it has been a labor of love like no other, but I am so excited to finally share our favorite couple's special day and finally GET THESE TWO MARRIED 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I would very much be lying if I said I didn't cry multiple times writing this chapter 🥺 I can't believe these two are actually getting married- words can't express how thankful I am for everyone who's wanted to stick around and read my silly little story to see these two make it to their wedding day- your support and kind words mean more to me than you will ever know 💛 Poorly beta'd bc I'm the worst, also, I've seen that sometimes people have issues reblogging things with comments that are this long (my apologies), but comments and reblogs make me wanna cry and throw up with joy, so it means a lot to me if you're able to leave a comment if it won't let you reblog with one!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

Never had you been so anxious to walk in a straight line.

Because truth be told, that was all you needed to do to walk down the aisle- walk in a straight line.

But when that straight line meant the walk to finally get to marry your future husband, to take his last name, to start the beginning of your forever together, not to mention kissing him in front of all your closest family and friends, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach swirling in anticipation as you waited for your ceremony to start.

“You okay, Hermosa?” Javi asked, his thumb gently stroking your hand that he had been holding since the moment he saw you, almost as if he was refusing to let go. You looked up at him, big brown puppy dog eyes staring down at you with a goofy grin that hadn’t left his face, the sight of his handsome, broad frame easing your racing heart enough to help you remember that when you walked down that aisle in a few short minutes, he was the only thing that mattered.

“I’m perfect.” You smiled, pressing up on your toes just enough to peck his lips quickly before someone in the wedding party needed to barrate you both again about saving your kissing until after you were finally married. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many people staring all at me at once. Knowing my luck, I’m gonna trip and fall over this dress before I can even make it to you. Or better yet, with my dumbass decision to have David and Charlie walk me down the aisle, I’ll be lucky if they don’t push me to the ground first.”

“Well, even if you did fall, you would still be the most beautiful woman on the face of this Earth. My clumsy, grass-stained wife.” Javi snickered, giving you a little nudge as you rolled your eyes, giving him a playful shove back.

“Pendejo. You have both of our vows books, right? You promise you haven’t peeked?”

“Yup, both right here in my pocket.” Javi smiled, patting his tux by his chest. “Promise I haven’t read it. Although for my sake I probably should have, because if I can’t even make it through seeing you in your dress, then these vows are gonna make me a fuckin’ goner.”

“Bold of you to assume I had nice things to say about you in there.” You teased, raising your eyebrow as you smirked at him, making Javi shake his head as he laughed.

“Alright everyone, it’s 3:00, it’s time to get this show on the road! Make sure you’re in order like we practiced, that you take your time walking down to the music, girls, please do not throw petals at each other, and make sure you all- Javi, where are you? You’re supposed to be at the front of this line, sir.” Connie sassed, proving to you that she really was the perfect person for the task of making sure that things ran smoothly today, bossing the group around like the captain of a well organized ship.

“Sorry, I’m coming,” Javi replied sheepishly. “I love you, Osita.” Sliding the hand that was entangled with yours around your waist, Javi pulled you in for a kiss, much more obviously than he probably should have, considering the shit the two of you were about to get being literal minutes away from getting married.

“Javier! Get you A-S-S up here! Kiss her all you want once you say I do!” Connie shouted, rolling her eyes at the two of you, Javi pulling away in defense with his hands raised, trying to prove his innocence.

“Oh, I know what that one spells, Mrs. Murphy! That one spells-”

“Javi? Please?” Connie asked again, quickly trying her best to cut off your niece, Olivia, before she could finish the rest of her thought in front of everyone else, making the group giggle at her matter of factness.

“Okay, okay, I’m here!” Javi pleaded, making his way to the front of the procession, taking his place next to his dad as Connie did one more check through of everyone’s spot in line before giving the music an all clear to start playing.

As you stood at the end of the line, you peeked up to see Javi turned around staring back at you with that same stupid smile on his face, completely enamored and awestruck by you, already convincing you that you were going to turn into a puddle before you could even make it down the aisle.

But as you went to re-adjust your bouquet in your grasp, you quickly realized there were not one, but two things missing from your procession line, now about to start walking down the aisle.

Your brothers.

Despite having seen them only seconds ago, as you quickly whipped your head around, they were now nowhere to be found.

“Charlie? David? Where the fuck did you go?” You whisper shouted, frantically looking around for any sight of them.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling from one of the bushes around the corner from where you had been lined up and waiting, followed by the all too familiar voices of your brothers up to no good.

“Just finish it you dingus, I already drank the first half!”

“Why the fuck did we leave this out here? It’s fucking warm. You got the better half, that’s not fair!”

“It was warm when I drank it too, dumbwad. Just finish it, we gotta fucking go, hurry up!”

As you peered behind the bush, you saw your brothers wiping their mouth with the back of their hands as the tossed a can of Miller Lite to the ground, freezing in fear as they saw your menacing and disappointed glare staring back at them.

“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?!”

“It was David’s idea!” Charlie responded, pointing at his brother.

“Charlie didn’t say no!” David responded back, now pointing at him. “You didn’t expect us to get through this sober, did you? You’re the one who asked us to marry you, so I don’t know what to tell ya, Cubby. Plus, we wanted to pour one out for Patrick since he’s the luckiest bastard out of all of us and doesn’t have to worry about fucking up marrying his little sister.”

“God, you two are idiots. Well that thing you agreed to do is happening as we speak so can we go do that, please?” You sighed, trying your best not to laugh at your brother’s antics, knowing that you really should have expected nothing less from the pair after you and Javi had asked them to officiate your wedding, considering neither of you had wanted anything religious, and wanted someone who knew you to be the ones to do it.

“Okay, okay!” They replied, one rushing to each side of you and hooking their arm around yours as you made your way back to your spot at the end of the processional line that had now begun to move forward.

“Where were you 3 dumbbells? The ceremony is starting!” Your dad gruffed, trying his best to restrain from slapping each of you upside the head.

“Cubby wanted a beer.” David replied, shrugging his shoulders, keeping his head facing forward, trying his best not to laugh.

“Honey, seriously?!” Your mom scolded, looking at you with disgust.

“I did not! I was trying to find these two idiots!” You groaned, eying your brothers as they shook you back and forth between them in their grasp. “I hate you both, I hope you know that.”

“We love you too, Cubby.” Charlie smirked, knowing that for as much as you said it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that could hate your brothers. For as dumb and annoying as they were, there would never be another moment you would take for granted with them, knowing all too well that life was much too short to do anything but cherish your time together, wishing you had more time to spend with the brother who couldn’t be here with you today.

Before you could respond, your thought was interrupted by the voice of the DJ through the speakers set up outside, your heart steadily beginning to pound at the reality that everything you had been waiting for was all about to become real.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen if you could please find your seats, we’re about to get started with our ceremony! Thank you so much, folks!” As his voice echoed through the speakers, a hush began to fall over the crowd of your friends and family that had gathered here, now anxiously alongside you for the ceremony to begin.

A few seconds passed before you could hear the music beginning to play, the familiar melody of “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac ringing through the speakers- an easily unanimous pick for a song to walk down the aisle to for you and Javi, remembering the first night you had spent together in your apartment, making midnight mac n’ cheese and already falling head over heels in love with each other.

As the beat began to pick up, your heart started to race, peaking over the backs of everyone’s heads to watch all 5 of your flower girls begin to skip down the aisle, throwing petals every which way around them as they moved.

You couldn’t help but laugh as all their little personalities shone through as they made their way to the altar- Olivia Murphy, being the oldest, most definitely was taking her role the most seriously, holding her baby sister in one hand and carefully sprinkling flowers evenly in front of her. Your niece, Olivia, was second in line to live up to her role, although, being the little ham she was, threw in the occasional twirl in the middle of the aisle to get people to look at her, along with her little waves to the crowd. The rest of the girls, Brianna, Abby and Madison, well, you were just happy that they made it down the aisle, thankful that their older sisters were at least on the lookout enough to keep them from running through the rows of your guests or dumping the entire bucket of flowers on themselves (you had learned your lesson from your rehearsal dinner that Brianna needed about half as less flowers as the others).

Your face lit up watching the girls, your heart filling with joy with the “awhs” and laughter from the crowd at their theatrics as they met at the altar with an impressively semi-rehearsed curtsy, followed by promptly running out of the spotlight and over to Connie who was waiting for them.

Now that the flower girls had finished making their way down, the processional line began to shift forward once again, this time, leaving Javi and his dad to walk down together, Javi insisting that even though his mom would have been the one to walk him down if she was here, that wanted Chucho to be there in her place instead.

“Ready, Mijo?” Chucho grinned, giving Javi a little nudge. “Am I going to have to keep you from sprinting down the aisle, or do you think you can manage walking?”

As the pair began walking down to the melodic beat of the song, Javi couldn’t help but laugh at his dad’s comment, because as much as he wanted to tease him right back, he knew damn well he was so excited that he would have run to the altar if it meant he got to marry you even a minute quicker.

“Javier?” Chucho asked, looking up at his son with tears in his eyes as the pair moved down the parted pathway between the crowd of guests.

“Yeah, Pops?”

“Estoy orgulloso de ti, mijo. Tu mama y yo. (I am so proud of you, son. Me and your mother.) We are so happy that you have found your media naranja (other half). Nosotros te amamos. (We love you so much.)”

As Javi and Chucho reached the end of the aisle, Javi wrapped his arms around his dad, pulling him close as Chucho patted him on the back, pulling away to look at his son, tears now in both of their eyes, thinking about how far they had come to end up where they were in this very moment, thanking whatever greater power that had finally brought them and Lucia the peace they all desperately deserved.

Javier Pena knew he was worthy of the love and happiness that his parents had longed for. He had finally proved to himself and his parents he really was the good man that he had hoped to be.

“I love you, Pops. Thank you for everything.” Javi whispered to his dad, trying to fight back any more tears from falling down his cheeks.

“Te amo mucho, Javier. (I love you so much, Javier). Thank you for finally realizing that who you are is enough. Now, stop crying over your old man and save some tears for your wife.” Chucho laughed quietly, giving his son another pat on the back with a soft smile wrinkling his cheeks.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at the tearful mess he already was, giving his father one last hug before Chucho took his seat next to Connie and the flower girls at the front of the crowd.

Steve was the next to make his way to the altar, Javi laughing at his friend’s goofy strut to greet him at the end of the aisle. Steve held out his hand to shake Javi’s before quickly pulling Javi in for another hug with pats to the back much harder than his fathers.

“Listen, man. I ain’t good at this sentimental shit, but uh- I’m really fuckin’ happy for you, Javi. I know I give you shit, but you’re one of the good ones. She’s a lucky girl. And I hope you know you’re sure as hell one lucky son of a bitch. Love you, man.”

“Love you too, Murph. Believe me, I know.” Javi grinned, giving Steve a slap on his shoulder laughing to himself as his friend sat down next to his wife and the girls, never imagining himself standing at the altar, happily waiting to get married while his former partner cheered him on, surrounded by his gaggle of giggly daughters.

Feeling worlds away from Javi, your heart began to beat faster and faster, realizing that you were now only one pair away from making your trek down the aisle as your mom and dad walked down next, arm in arm.

In classic mom fashion, your mother squeezed Javi so hard as she greeted him, that you were convinced that she was going to pop an eyeball out one of his sockets, thankful that your dad was there to reel her in enough to keep from suffocating him in her hug.

“Javi. We love you so much. Thank you for making our daughter so happy. We’re so grateful she found you.”

“Thank you. I love you both, too. Believe me, I’m just as grateful that she found me. Thanks for making me feel like a part of your family.” Javi replied to your mom, catching his breath through his smile after the death grip your mom had wrapped him in before looking over at your dad, extending his hand to meet his already outstretched one.

“Jav, you’re a good man. I’m a guy of few words, but we couldn’t be happier for you both. Take care of her, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

With a silent handshake and a nod, Javi and your dad had said all they’d needed to know that they couldn’t be more thankful for the love and support the other had brought you in the times that you had needed it most.

As your parents made their way to their seats, standing at the opposite end of the aisle with your brothers at your side, the realization really hit you- You were the last one that needed to meet Javi.

“You ready, Cubby?” Charlie asked, giving you a grin as he smiled down at you, interlocking your arm with his as David did the same on the other side.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Hey, uh- I just, I just wanted to say, I-I love you guys.”

“Gross.” David teased, scrunching his face in disgust, pretending to barf over his shoulder as you and Charlie laughed, shaking your head at your brother. “We love you too, dude.”

With one final giggle and deep breath, you took your first step into view where everyone could see you, watching the guests rise to their feet in anticipation of your arrival, awestruck stares and smiles filling the crowd as you began to walk.

Even though you had seen each other minutes ago, as you started to make your way down the aisle, smiling at Javi, the two of you couldn’t help but break into tears once again, laughing through your sobs that Javi broke before you did, trying to wipe his wet cheeks with the back of his hand while he watched you walk towards him.

And even though every pair of eyes were on you, the only eyes you needed to see were Javi’s- The sweet, soft brown eyes that you had fallen so deeply in love with from the moment you had locked eyes with them all that time ago. They were the eyes of the first person who had ever truly seen you for who you were, inside and out, and you couldn’t be more thankful that when you looked at him, you saw your forever. When you looked at Javier Pena, you knew you were home.

It almost felt as if time was standing still, that even in a crowd full of people, no one else existed besides the two of you. No one else mattered, and nothing else mattered- the only thing that mattered for you was Javi waiting for you at the end of the aisle, and you? You were going to finally be his wife.

“You two are so in love, it’s fucking sick.” David whispered in your ear, helping to ease your tears as you burst into more laughter, rolling your eyes at your brother.

“Oh shut up, asshole.”

As you, David and Charlie finally made your way to Javi, waiting for you in a mess of happy smiles and loving tears, you had to use everything in you to keep from jumping onto him like a koala and kiss him all over his stupidly handsome face, resorting to reaching out to grab his hand instead, interlocking it with yours and giving it the tightest squeeze you could.

“Hey, Mr. Peña. Long time, no see.” You whispered into Javi’s ear, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before took his other hand in yours, the two of you facing each other in front of your friends and family as David and Charlie took their place behind you, pulling out their notes that they had prepared, clearing their throats as they began to address the crowd.

“Alright everyone, I uh- I guess we’re gettin’ this show on the road.” Speaking out into the crowd, Charlie began to flip to the right page of his script that you were relieved to see he had written out, your guests beginning to silence and bringing their attention to you and Javi.

“Hi everyone, for those of you who don’t know us, we are the bride’s brothers, and we have the honor of our sister and our new brother-in-law being stupid enough to let us be in charge of marrying them today. Not to worry, 20 dollars and one course on the internet later, David and I are both legally ordained, so not to fear you two, this will all be legit, and hopefully not too embarrassing.” Charlie laughed, also eliciting giggles and eye rolls from you and Javi, as well as the crowd.

“Well, we are gathered here today, because these two idiots have fallen so head over heels for each other, it's almost sickening. We’ve had the privilege of knowing our sister for the entirety of our lives. When we found out as kids that our mom was having another baby, and that it was going to be a girl, my brothers and I were disappointed, to say the least. We didn’t want a sister to ruin the bond that we had, and honestly, for a long time while my mom was pregnant, we went through a long baby boycott, and were convinced if we protested long enough, and hard enough, she would eventually turn into a boy, and everything would be fine.” David grimaced, shrugging his shoulders at you as you nodded in agreement, having heard this story from your brothers and parents plenty of times before.

“And while at first, we weren’t really sure what to do with a sister, considering we didn’t even realize it was an option to pee sitting down until she came around,” Charlie snickered, making the crowd laugh again, aside from your mom, who was rolling her eyes so hard, they probably had made it to the back of her head, “Our sister ended up being one of the best things that could have ever happened to us.”

Breaking your eye contact with Javi, you paused to look over at your brother, a genuine smile on his face, raising his eyebrows and shrugging as if to say I’m just as surprised that I’m saying this out loud as you.

“Growing up with our sister has taught us a lot of things- Don’t challenge her to anything you don’t wanna lose at, because she’ll find a way to beat you, and thoroughly kick your ass while she does it, she’s got more brain cells that myself, Charlie, and our late brother Patrick did put together, she’s tougher than most guys I know, and she’s one of the biggest hearted people I’ve ever met.” Looking back at Javi, you could see his face beaming with joy, giving your hand a squeeze, agreeing with everything your brothers had to say, and how all of those traits had made him fall so madly in love with you.

“So, like brothers do, we never assumed that there would never be anyone good enough, let alone even cool enough for our badass sister. And also like brothers do, we let her go through her fair share of duds and gave her shit, but when this guy came around,” Charlie smiled, pointing at Javi, “we knew that he was something special.”

“Javi,” David joined in pointing, giving him a playful smirk, “Don’t think you were getting out of this so easy. When we first heard that our sister had made her way down to the middle of nowhere Texas and had started seeing you, our first reaction was instant disapproval, because if you lived in south Texas, you probably knew jackshit about hockey, and that was a no go for us.”

“But,” Charlie interjected, “After talking to our sister more on the phone, not only was she starting to turn into the happy, energetic self we hadn’t seen in so long, we also learned after talking to her that you not only had been willing to watch hockey with her, but had began to openly express your disdain for the Detroit Red Wings, which made us change our opinions on you very quickly.”

You and Javi looked at your brothers, rolling your eyes in laughter as they shrugged at you, the roar of cackles from the crowd making you grin, feeling the love from your brothers, friends and family swell in your chest, holding Javi’s hands even tighter, gazing up at him with an awestruck smile.

“No in all seriousness, Jav. We couldn’t be happier that you not only have become a part of our sister’s life, but our family’s life, too. For those of you who don’t know, we um- we, uh-,” David gulped, taking a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes, “our other brother, Patrick, um, passed away last year, and it uh, it was really hard on all of us, especially our sister. Javi, man, I don’t think you’ll ever understand how thankful we are that you love our sister so unconditionally. Better yet, that you love our family of idiots so unconditionally, because truth be told, we are not an easy bunch to love. While obviously, you can’t ever replace Patrick, I just, I hope you know that we’re so glad to have you as a brother, and that Patrick really would have loved you, man. He would be so happy that you’re the one our sister gets to spend the rest of her life with.”

For what felt like the 117th time today, you found yourself in absolute tears, feeling the wetness streaming down your cheeks as you looked down at the #2 patch sewn on the bottom corner of your veil in a beautiful mixture of sadness and joy before looking up to see not a dry eye in front of you, both your brothers and Javi misty eyed and sniffling. Breaking his grasp from yours, Javi stepped towards your brothers, wrapping his arms around both of them to pull them into a long, tight hug, Charlie and David reciprocating as their arms patted his back.

“Thank you guys.” Javi whispered, choking back his tears as he pulled away to look at your brothers, all of you wiping your wet faces with your hands to try and compose yourselves to carry on with the ceremony.

“Damn, okay, well, sorry about that, folks, was not expecting that.” Charlie and David laughed, trying to shake off their unusually sappy sentiment, looking out at the crowd to see not a dry eye in the house. “Well um, well that’s enough of us yapping at you guys, why don’t we turn it over to the people you’re actually here for, and then you can cry even more because these two idiots decided to write their own vows, so good luck.”

Staring up at Javi, you could feel your heart begin to race wildly, your hands nearly trembling as you reached out towards Javi to take the little notebook where you had written down your vows, feeling a little more at ease as you saw that Javi’s hands were just as shaky as yours, the two of you overflowing with anxious anticipation.

It had been no question to either of you that you had wanted to write your own vows to one another. While it seemed to be that everyone else you knew had seemed to avoid writing their own vows because they weren’t sure what to say, or that it was too hard to think of things, you and Javi seemed to find yourselves having the opposite problem, feeling like there was too much to fit in a few short minutes, and that your vows were going to end up being the length of a college lecture.

There had been a part of you that had worried you would be nervous to read what you had to say to Javi in front of all your friends and family, but as you stood there, smiling up at his beautiful, handsome face, you couldn’t be more excited to share all of the things you had written to tell your husband just how much you loved him.

But as the two of you stood face to face, your vows in each of your hands, your stomach dropped in shock, realizing that neither of you was making the first move to start talking. Because for all the planning and preparing that you had done for everything else, the both of you had completely forgotten to pick who was going to read their vows first.

“We never picked who was gonna go first.” You whispered to Javi, your voice filling with nerves every second you stood in front of your guests, neither one of you saying anything.

“Oh fuck, you’re right. What do you wanna do? Do you wanna go? Do you want me to go?” Javi asked, his face mirroring yours in surprise, now frantically looking back and forth between you, his vows, and all of your guests.

You weren’t sure if it was the teacher in you, or the fact that you were so flustered that you couldn’t think of anything else, but before you knew it, you were tucking your vows under your arm, holding one hand out in front of you flat and the other in a fist, signifying to Javi that your best solution to your current predicament was playing rock, paper, scissors.

“Best 2 out of 3?” You shrugged, grimacing at Javi as you tried not to burst into laughter, Javi shaking his head and snickering, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. Do you wanna go after ‘rock’ or say ‘shoot’, then go?” Javi asked, loud enough for your guests to catch on to what was happening, giggles and laughter coming from the crowd.

“What kind of psychopath doesn’t say ‘shoot’ first? Javier Peña, are you telling me that we need to call off this wedding right now because you don’t say ‘shoot’ before playing rock, paper, scissors? Because I will.”

Everyone around you was now in full blown hysterics, including Javi, giving you the sassiest look he could muster through his laughter, holding his hands out to mirror yours.

“So ‘for better or for worse’ doesn’t apply to rock, paper, scissors, apparently?” He teased, smirking at you with a subtle wink as he bit down on his lip.

“Not if you’re gonna play like that it won’t.”

“Pendejo.”

“You love me.”

“I really fucking do.”

Giggling as you gestured at your outstretched fist, you began to countdown from your “rock, paper, scissors, adding an extra emphasis on ‘shoot’ as you held out rock and Javi held out scissors. With another laugh, the two of you started again, this time, you with paper and Javi with rock, smirking as you crossed your arms over your chest at Javi, the rest of your guests laughing right along with you.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner, Javier Peña. You’re stuck going second.”

“Go for it, you dork.”

As the laughter from the crowd settled, you opened your vows book, taking a deep breath as you stared up at Javi, who, despite your silliness, still had tears beginning to well in his puppy dog brown eyes before you could even say your first word. You took one last gulp of confidence, wondering how in the world you were supposed to make it through even a sentence through your speech without falling apart.

“I never used to believe in fate. People would always tell me that ‘some things are just meant to be!’ or ‘it was just fate it happened like that!’ and no matter how hard I tried to believe, fate just never made sense to me. Well, that was until about a year ago, when fate decided to bump right into me when I least expected it.” You could feel your voice already beginning to shake, huffing in a quick sniffle before continuing on.

“As fate may have it, I quite literally bumped into you when you were forced to come give a presentation to a group of rowdy 8 and 9 year olds. Thank god fate also was on my side that day- that I actually looked halfway presentable and wasn’t covered in spilled chocolate milk, glue, or the snot of whatever kid had sneezed a little too close to me that morning.” That one had the better part of the crowd letting out a laugh alongside Javi, easing your stress and tension about your speech while you carried on, reading the notes jotted in your booklet.

“When I first came to Laredo, I wasn’t really quite sure what I was looking for. After my brother died and decided I needed to be as far away from Chicago as possible, there wasn’t ever really a doubt in my mind that here was the only place I really wanted to be. I spent the better half of my middle school and high school vacations here, visiting my best friend who had moved away. To me, Laredo was always a place that brought me such peace and comfort. I’m not really sure why, but there was always something about being here for those few weeks every year that made it feel like home, even when home was halfway across the country. But what I didn’t realize, was that in my attempt to find a new home for myself, I began to learn that home wasn’t a physical location, or a place you could travel to. After meeting you, Javier Peña, I found out that home was wherever I was with you.”

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up from your vows to see sweet Javi, covering his mouth, as if he was trying to trap his tears to keep from completely breaking down at your words, his reaction only making you cry harder, trying your best to re-compose yourself before speaking again.

“I spent so long wondering if I would ever find someone who would ever make me feel the way that you do- to love me for all of my flaws, to make me feel important, and even laugh at all of my stupid jokes that probably don’t deserve to be laughed at, but you love me enough to do it anyways. Now that’s true love.” You smirked, raising your eyebrow at Javi, making the two of you snicker between your tears. “You make me feel like the only person in the world whenever I’m with you. The only person who knows me better than I know myself. You are truly one of the most thoughtful and caring people that I have ever met. And while I could list off a million adjectives to describe all of the reasons I fell in love with you- smart, brave, determined, handsome- just to name a few, out of all of those reasons, the one that made me fall for you the most was your big heart. And while I know you’ll never believe me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to get you to see the same amazing man I fall more and more in love with every single day.”

At this point, there was not a dry eye in the crowd, watching how emotional you and Javi were as you tried to choke your way through the rest of your vows.

“I will never know what I did to deserve you in my life, but promise that I will spend the rest of it letting you know how forever thankful I will always be that out of all the people in the world you could have chosen to bump into, that it was me. I am so excited that the rest of my life, all of the moments, big, small, and everything in between, will all be moments spent with you. That every moment will be spent with my best friend. I never would have thought that a little bit of fate would have become my forever, but I’ll always be so grateful that it is. I love you so much, Javier Peña. Thanks for being the reason I finally believe in fate.”

Wiping away the wetness streaming down your cheeks, you could barely even look at Javi, who was an absolute blubbering mess, laughing through your tears almost to keep you from completely melting into a puddle.

Reaching out to grab him, you took Javi’s hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly as you took your other hand up to wipe the tears streaming down his cheeks, the both of you smiling as you looked into each other's eyes.

“And that’s why I wanted to go first. Good luck.” You chuckled, making Javi shake his head as he laughed along with you, taking another deep breath before flipping open his own vows, wondering how in the world he was ever going to make it through speaking, considering how easily he had fallen apart just listening to you.

“Jesus Christ, well I don’t know how I’m really supposed to follow that.” Javi sighed, the crowd giggling at his remark as he opened up to his first page, staring at his words for a moment before looking back up at you, his deep, chocolate, puppy dog eyes melting you just as quickly as the first time that you locked eyes with him.

“I’ve uh- I’ve never really been great speeches. When I sat down to write this, I wasn’t really sure where to start. I had no idea how I was supposed to fit all of the things that I wanted to say into all of this.” Javi huffed with a little shrug, gesturing to his notebook.

“So I um- I figured if there’s anywhere I should start, it should probably be at the beginning. My mom was an elementary school teacher, so growing up, I spent a lot of time at Alma Pierce Elementary School. I swear, I knew that place like the back of my hand. But um, after my mom got sick and passed away, I really never thought I’d ever have a reason to back. Until one day last year, I was told to pack up my stuff to go give a presentation at a local elementary school, which turned out to be none other than Alma Pierce. My mom always used to say “La vida es graciosa, no lo crees?” (Life is funny, isn’t it?), and I never quite understood why. But as I walked back into the place where I had spent so much of my life just out of chance, I swear I could hear her laughing at me, saying “Te lo dije.” (I told you so).”

You could hear everyone who had had the privilege of knowing Lucia letting out a soft laugh, thinking of all of the times they must have heard her say that all too familiar phrase throughout their time knowing her.

“I had gotten to a point in my life that I had kind of just accepted that maybe this kind of life wasn’t in the cards for me. I wasn’t gonna get married or have a family, and as much as it hurt, I had learned to be okay with it. The last thing I would have thought would have happened to me after leaving the presentation I had to give that day was that I was already head over heels in love with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life, but la vida es graciosa, no le crees?”

Giving you a little smirk, Javi could help but let a smile slowly spread between his cheeks as he looked at you, gazing up at him in complete and utter adoration, your goofy grin mirroring his.

“Never in a million years would I have thought that I would have been standing here today, getting married to you. If you would have told me that I got to marry the most beautiful, amazing, kind, and stubbornly independent woman on the face of this earth, I would have laughed in your face. I honestly still feel like I need to pinch myself to prove that this is even real. But I guess that even if this is all a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up. Being loved by you has changed me in a way that I will never be able to thank you enough for. Being loved by you has made me a better man than I ever believed that I could be. A better man than I ever thought I deserved to be. A man who has learned to love and believe in love in ways I didn’t think I was capable of. I will never be able to thank you enough for letting me into your life and loving me for who I am, and for wanting to spend the rest of it with me.”

Now, it was your turn to morph into an inconsolable mess, reaching out to grab Javi’s hand again, silently reassuring him that you were equally as grateful for the fact that Javi had let you into his life, too.

“And no matter how tough, or challenging, or funny life gets, I know it can never really be that bad, because I’ll always have you by my side through it all. I think my mamá would be so proud to know I finally understand what she was trying to say all those years about life being so funny. Because it seems like life has a funny way of giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. Te amo, Osita. Gracias por ser mi todo. (I love you, Osita. Thank you for being my everything).”

Without even thinking, you threw your arms around Javi’s shoulders wrapping him in a long, tight hug, sobbing into his jacket in a fit of happy tears, Javi hugging you right back, squeezing around your waist, gently cradling the back of your head in the warmth of your embrace.

“Well shit… Alright, well I’m not sure if you guys are allowed to do that, but after those vows, I think we can let it slide.” David joked, trying to quickly wipe his eyes, nudging Charlie to do the same to try and pull themselves together to make sure they could finish out the rest of the ceremony.

“Fuck, sorry.” Javi whispered, reluctantly pulling away from you, everyone in the crowd following your brothers’ suite, smiling as they brushed away the wetness welling in their own eyes from listening to your vows.

“Well, I’d ask if anyone needs to object before we continue, but I think it’s pretty darn clear that these two idiots love each other more than life itself, so I’m just gonna skip that part.” Charlie joked, making you and Javi smirk in agreement. “Alright Miss Olivia, it’s your time to shine, do you have the rings?” He asked, your niece’s face lighting up in excitement as she nodded her head frantically, shooting up out of her seat to dash towards the two of you, carefully holding the ring box like a newborn baby bird in her hands.

Daintily, she passed the box off to her dad before scampering over to both you and Javi, wrapping her arms around your waists to pull you close in a hug, smiling up at each of you with her toothy, goofy grin.

“I love you Auntie Bear and Uncle Javi.” Olivia beamed, giggling in pure bliss and joy before skipping back to her seat among the guests, the both of your hearts bursting at the seams with the chores of “awhhhhs” coming from the crowd for your adorable niece.

“Someone’s trying to get an extra slice of cake tonight huh, Miss Olivia?” David teased, your guests erupting with laughter at her not so innocent shrug to her Uncle’s question, knowing damn well she was just as much of a ham as you. “I trusted the six year old to carry these, can I trust you two not to drop them, or do you need to cry some more first?”

“Oh shut up, David.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother as you and Javi each took the rings to give one another, carefully holding the shiny gold bands in your hands, counting down the moments until you finally got to say “I do”.

“Alright, ladies first, so I guess that means you, Cubby. You ready?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything, you dingus, get this show on the road.”

“Alright, here goes nothin’. This is the part I actually had to practice, so God forbid I mess this one up huh? Do you,” David giggled, saying your real name instead of the nicknames you had lovingly bestowed upon you for as long as you could remember, “Take Javi to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Carefully slipping the gold band onto Javi’s finger, you could feel your heart bursting in anticipation, biting down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, slowly pulling your hand away to let your brothers finish the second half of the exchange.

“And do you, Javier Peña, take our sister,” Charlie and David snickered again, having to say your full name for a second time, “to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Gently grabbing your palm and gliding the glistening ring onto your finger, Javi rubbed his thumb over the pair of bands nestled together, forever making a home on your hand, his eyes welling at the sight of the sign that you would always be his.

Intertwining your fingers together and hands clasped in front of you, you and Javi were radiating with joy, anxiously staring back and forth between each other and your brothers for them to finally say those magic words you had been waiting to hear since the moment you had met all that time ago.

“Well ladies and gentleman… by the power vested in us, the internet and the state of Texas, it’s our honor to introduce to you the new Mr. and Mrs. Peña.” Charlie grinned at you, trying not to burst into laughter at the near panicked look on your faces, not having heard the next set of words you were more than dying to hear.

“Well go on, you lovebirds, kiss already!” David snickered, shrugging at the pair of you with a grin on his face.

Before he could barely finish his sentence, Javi’s hands were cupping your face, palms cradling your jaw as he brought his mouth to yours, fireworks exploding in your stomach at the electric intensity of his kiss, so soft and tender, yet so desperate and needy, like it was the first time his lips had ever met yours, and that he never, ever wanted to let them go.

Your hands shot up to grab his face too, a smile creeping across your mouth with your lips still pressed to his as Javi dipped you down, sliding his hand down the small of your back to hold you before pulling you back up, his lips still locked on yours like glue.

In that moment, it seemed like time stood still, that nothing else in the world existed besides the two of you- nothing else mattered besides the fact that you were here, kissing the man that you loved more than anything in the world.

The man that you finally got to call your husband.

Over the cheers, whistling, and hollering from your friends and family, the both of you were finally snapped back to reality as David gave you a little nudge and a look that screamed “gross, save it for the honeymoon.”

Reluctantly breaking from your kiss, you grabbed Javi’s hand in yours, holding your fists in the air and cheering in excitement right alongside your guests before heading back up the aisle, your cheeks hurting from how hard they were smiling. So lost in your excitement, you turned your head as you felt Javi stop, tugging you back to the middle of the aisle, smirking as he pulled you close to his chest, whispering in your ear.

“Not so fast, Mrs. Peña. C’mere.” Grabbing your face and wrapping his arm around your waist, Javi was kissing you again, swinging you down in another dip that had you erupting in giggles and your guests cheering even louder, Javi’s smooth moves soliciting a loud “OW OW” most definitely from Steve.

“God, I love you.” You smirked as Javi pulled you back up to stand before the two of you were nearly skipping down the rest of the aisle in bliss, racing to the back of the crowd where you had entered the ceremony, turning the corner behind the house where no one could see you, not even bothering to look over your shoulder to see who’d followed you before your lips were crashing into each others again.

This one was nowhere near as tame as the kisses you had just shared moments ago- this kiss was a tangled mess of tongues and teeth, Javi’s hands creeping dangerously close to the curve of your ass as you tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket, your mouths moving in a messy dance as you whispered muffled and muted words between your kisses.

“Fuck, my beautiful wife. God, I’m so fucking lucky. I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, Javi, I’m so-”

“Jesus Christ, it’s been 30 seconds and y’all can’t keep your hands to yourselves? C’mon, now. Y’all gotta whole week and a half to do this without having to subject the rest of us to it, Mr. and Mrs. Peña.” Steve laughed, making the both of you gasp as he slapped Javi on the back, immediately making your cheeks flush pink in embarrassment and Javi groan in annoyance at his best man’s timely (or untimely) disruption.

“Steve, c’mon like you didn’t have your hands all over me after we got married.” Connie sighed, now smacking the back of her own husband’s head, making him wince in pain. “Congratulations, you two. We’re so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Connie.” You and Javi smiled, Javi still keeping his hand wrapped around your waist as the rest of your wedding party started making their way back up the aisle to greet you, too.

“Also having gotten married before, you’re gonna thank me later as I make you go find your brothers to sign your marriage license somewhere that has a little peace and quiet before you get none the rest of the night. Why don’t you guys head inside and I’ll cover for you for a little, okay?”

“You’re the best, Connie, thanks.” Javi grinned, pulling you away towards the house, quietly sneaking in through the front door to wait for your brothers, Javi looking both ways around the seemingly empty house before pulling you close again.

“Javi, Charlie and David are gonna be in here any minute, and they’re gonna give us just as much shit as Steve, if not more.” You giggled, gazing up into Javi’s eyes, still awestruck and giddy.

“I know. Just one more kiss, mi esposa (my wife).” Javi smirked, tilting his head down to press his lips to yours, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheek as the rest of his fingers cradled your jaw, tilting your eyes up towards him. “Fuck, you’re finally my wife. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.”

“Good thing we have the rest of our lives to get used to it, huh?”

People weren’t kidding when they said that your wedding would be a blur- From the moment the ceremony ended, it felt like everything was moving in fast and slow motion at the same time, being pulled in every direction to talk with family members, take pictures, and make sure that things were running smoothly. As much as you and Javi were both trying to soak in every moment of your special day together, it was safe to say the two of you were feeling a little overwhelmed by the time you had gotten to dinner, and couldn’t have been more thankful to have a moment to finally sit down.

More importantly, you were so glad that you had gotten to the point where you had a drink, some delicious food in your stomach, and the best part of the night ahead of you- dancing.

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon of the Peña ranch as dinner was coming to a close, the clanging of forks and knives against dinner plates slowly shifting to chatter and conversation that was filling the space of the white tent that had been propped up in the backyard for your reception.

You weren’t really sure what to expect when you had decided on a backyard wedding, but with the absolutely stunning work your mom, Connie, sister in law, and Javi’s aunt’s had put together for you, they had made a white tent feel like something out of a fairytale. String lights and greenery were strung across above you, long tables decorated in candles and beautiful garlands of eucalypts, sprinkled white and pink roses from Lucia’s garden, along with cute, colorful vintage cups that the women had collected or thrifted for your guests to use. Everything about your setup felt magical, and with the sun sinking and fading into dusk, the glow and twinkles of the lights illuminating your space only made it feel that much more incredible.

As the two of you sat at your head table, bellies full and hearts happy, feeling a little tipsy from the extra strong margaritas Javi’s cousin seemed to be making, you were a little worried as what looked like a more than just tipsy Steve approached you, slapping a stack of index cards in front of you.

“Listen… I’m like the perfect level of drunk to give this best man speech. Any less drunk and I’ll be too fuckin’ nervous to do it, and any more drunk I’m not gonna be able to remember what I’m supposed to say. Y’all good to keep this movin’ so you can do your first dance and then we can get this party started?”

“Jesus Christ, Murph…” Javi sighed, laughing at his friend, now sassily crossing his arms over his chest at Javi. “This speech better be good.”

“It’s good, and Connie approved, so you know I won’t say any dumb shit. Well, not if we don’t start soon and I keep drinking more.” Steve paused, letting out a low burp, rubbing his stomach and grimacing at the two of you, snorting at him.

“Take it away, Shakespeare.” You smiled, gesturing your arm out to the dance floor in front of the guests sitting at their tables, chatting away. You couldn’t help but laugh as Steve confidently made his way to the front of the crowd, Connie silently mouthing “I’m so sorry” from across the room, pointing at her husband, now ready to take the stage.

“Hey y’all,” Steve started, bellowing his voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, making them pause their chit chat and focus their attention on him. “I’m Steve Murphy. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Javi’s best man. Normally it’s customary for a guy like me to come up and say a few words about the bride and groom, so lucky for y’all, I’m your guy tonight. You’re welcome, Jav.”

The crowd laughed as Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at Steve and shaking in his head in fear of what was to come, sliding your hand over to rest on his thigh, giving your now husband a little squeeze of reassurance to have some faith in his friend.

“I have had the pleasure of knowing Javi for a long time now. It’s been, what, 17 years now, Jav?” Steve asked, turning back to look for confirmation.

“It’s been too long.” Javi replied, shaking his head, his witty response only making your friends and family laugh more.

“Whatever, you grumpy old bastard. Anyways, I first met Javi when I found out that I would be his partner down in Colombia working for the DEA. Not gonna lie, when I first met him, while I’ve never admitted this until now, I was pretty intimidated by the guy. He was cool, smart, respected, even though his jeans were way too fuckin’ tight.” Steve teased, winking at Javi, making you snicker from the few pictures you had seen from back in the day when Javi was in Colombia, knowing exactly what Steve meant.

“I’ll spare you all the details of our time down there, but through all of our trials and tribulations, despite our differences and disagreements, the one thing I always admired about Javi is that he really cared about what he did. No matter what, he always cared about trying to do the right thing for the people he cared most about. Now, believe me, if you would have asked me all those years ago if I would have ever pictured Javi here today, gettin’ married, buildin’ a house and talkin’ about startin’ a family? Well shit, I prolly woulda told you that you were bat shit crazy. But, if there’s anyone in the world who deserves every ounce of all that domestic, lovely dovey bliss, it’s this man right here.” Steve smiled softly, pointing back to Javi who couldn’t help but let his heart fill with warmth at the sentiment from his friend, your hand rubbing up and down Javi’s leg, his grasping over yours to hold it tight.

“Javi, I know you’ll never believe me when I tell you this, but I’m real proud of ya, man. And I hope you know how goddamn lucky you are that this beautiful woman has agreed to spend the rest of her life with your grumpy ass. Speaking of which…” Steve smirked, turing back to look at you with a goofy grin, making you raise an eyebrow at whatever stupid comment was bound to come out of his mouth.

“Mrs. Peña. I never thought I’d live to see the day Javi was so in love. When he called me a few weeks after the two of you first met, and was all jazzed and excited to tell me about this beautiful girl he had started datin’ and how happy he was, I just about damn near fell down. He never said it on that phone call, but I knew that this sorry shit was absolutely head over heels in love with you.”

That comment had you giggling at Javi’s blushing face, his cheeks turning pink at Steve’s story, even though he knew damn well it was the truth.

“I couldn’t think of anyone who would be more perfect for Javi if I tried. When I first met you and saw how sickeningly cute y’all were together, God’s honest truth, my first question I asked Javi was when he was plannin’ on buyin’ a ring. Glad to see that sometimes he’ll take my advice. Sweetheart, I can’t thank you enough for being so good to my best friend right there. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have someone like you.”

Grabbing your hand, Javi interlocked his fingers with your underneath the table, softly smiling at you and gently nodding his head in agreement.

“I also need to thank you that he’s finally got someone else to worry about him instead of me. One less thing off my back. No offense, Jav. Alright, well, y’all have probably heard enough of me yappin’, and y’all are anything like me, you’re ready for more drinkin’ and dancin’. To Mr. and Mrs. Peña-” Steve paused, grabbing the nearest drink he could find and raising it up in the air, prompting the rest of your guests to do the same. “Wishin’ you two lovebirds a lifetime of happiness. I love you guys. Cheers!”

Over the applause and cheerful shouting, Steve rushed his way back over to the two of you, slotting himself in between your seats so his head poked out between yours, wrapping his arms around both your shoulders and pulling you in for a hug.

“Nice work, Murph.” Javi smiled, patting Steve on the back, laughing to himself at how genuinely thoughtful Steve’s speech had turned out to be.

“Thanks, Steve. Your speech was really great. How much did Connie have to edit out?” You snickered, looking back between him and Javi.

“... Let’s just say I left out the part about y’all horny bastards needin’ to be better about lockin’ your doors when other people are around.” Steve chuckled, shaking both of you in his grap, You and Javi’s eyes sheepishly darting to the ground in embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Murph.”

“Love you too, Jav.”

With one last pat on the back for each of you, before you could say anything else, Steve was already halfway across the tent back to the bar to congratulate himself for getting through his speech without any major slip ups or major scoldings from Connie after he returned back to his table.

“Thank God for Connie.” You grimaced, laughing at Javi whose face was buried in his palm, shaking his head at his friend, wondering why he would expect any less from him. “...He’s not wrong, though.”

“I’m triple checking that I lock all the doors later so I don’t give him any more reasons to be right…” Javi sighed, giving you a little nudge while the hand that had been holding yours suddenly let go, resting on your thigh over your dress, giving it a long squeeze, making your heart race in anticipation, his eyes locking with yours, telling you everything you needed to know.

Some way, some how, Javi was going to find a way to fuck you before the night was done.

“Javi…” You whispered, heat creeping through your cheeks, trying your best to keep from blushing as you locked eyes with him, his devilish grin and lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes entrancing you in a way that had butterflies swirling in your core and ache rapidly beginning to grow between your legs.

“Si, Mi esposa?” (Yes, my wife?), Javi smirked back, running his hand further up your thigh and closer to your core as his other hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing back and forth across your skin, toying just enough to tug at the corner of your lip.

While you had gotten a little bit of alone time with Javi today, the way that the both of you had been absolutely insatiable for each other after seeing each other in your wedding attire, let alone the fact that you were now actually married? You and Javi were both dying to try and find a second to yourselves without interruption, especially from Steve.

So caught up in awe of each other, you and Javi hadn’t even noticed your DJ, standing next to your table, quietly clearing his throat to try and get your attention.

“Hey, uh- Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” He interjected, loud enough to finally snap you and Javi out of the horny stare down you had entered, “Are um- are you two ready for the first dance?”

“Oh, um- yeah, y-yeah, sorry about that.” Javi grumbled, the two of you quickly trying to snap out of the thick heat of sexual tension that had been growing between you, both readjusting yourselves in your seats as you looked up sheepishly at the DJ, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you two were ready to do your first dance? If you um, if you need some more time I can-”

“No, we’re okay, thanks.” You grimaced, trying to keep from giggling and blushing as you looked over at Javi and then back at your DJ. “You ready to dance, Mr. Peña?”

“Never been more ready, Mrs. Peña.” Javi replied, grabbing your hand as the two of you stood up, out of your seats walking to the edge of the dance floor while your DJ headed back to his booth.

“Hello everyone! We’re going to get ready to start our first dance with the newlyweds, so if you could please direct your attention to the dance floor, we’re about to get started!”

Before you could even take a step out onto the floor, the cheering and clinking of knives against glasses was erupting amongst the crowd, Javi happily taking the opportunity to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a long, deep kiss, making you giggle against his lips still pressed to yours as he dipped you down, before pulling you back against his chest.

“Show off.” You snickered, raising an eyebrow at him as he finally pulled away from your kiss, staring down at you with a goofy grin.

“Better get used to it, Mrs. Peña. I’ve got the whole rest of our lives to keep showing you off.” Javi smirked, shooting you a wink before tugging you out into the center of the dance floor, patiently waiting for your song to start as you draped one arm around his neck, Javi snaked his hand around your waist, and the pair of your other hands joined clasped at your side.

It was then that the melodic violin entrance to “At Last” by Etta James began to play, Javi smiling down softly at your agreed upon choice for your first dance song after lots of debate and discussion the past few months.

At last

My love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song

As the music began to play, you and Javi began to sway back and forth to the syrupy symphony of the song, your heart bursting and stomach filling with the same butterflies it had the first time you had met Javi all those months ago.

“I’m glad we picked this one.” Javi smiled, the two of you circling your way around the dance floor, eyes locked on each other.

“Me too. It always makes me think of making breakfast with you on the weekend and all the little moments I love with you.” You grinned back, letting go of Javi’s hand to drape both arms over his shoulder and around his neck.

“It makes me think of spilling that entire bowl of pancake batter all over Bear and then having to chase him around the house to get him in the tub.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes as he laughed to himself, tightening his grip around your waist to pull you closer.

I found a dream that I could speak to

A dream that I can call my own

I found a thrill to press my cheek to

A thrill that I have never known

“Me too. God, who would have thought that a year ago we’d be having our first dance at our wedding talking about spilling pancake batter all over our dog.” You giggled, leaning to rest your head against Javi’s chest.

“I did.”

Looking up at Javi, you could feel your cheeks warming, staring at his big brown eyes welling with tears, trying your best to now hold back the wetness pooling under your lashes.

“Osita, I swear, from the moment I saw you smile at me, I knew that you were the only woman in the world I ever wanted. I knew you were the one I wanted my forever with. I’ll never get over the fact that I’m the luckiest man alive. I love you so fucking much.” Javi choked back, letting one of his hands slide up your face, gently cupping your cheek as he tilted his head in for a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away for another one on your forehead.

You smiled, you smiled

Oh and then the spell was cast

And here we are in Heaven

As the song began to slow, the sweet melody winding down to its close, Javi lifted up his arm to let you twirl beneath him before spinning you back into his chest and wrapping his arm around your waist to catch you as he dipped you down again, your mouths meeting in a long, tender kiss, electricity sparking between your lips and butterflies swirling in your stomach.

For you are mine

At last

“I love you too, Javier Peña.”

Over the applause of your guests, you could hear an obnoxiously loud “OW OW” from the crowd, coming from a now even more intoxicated Steve, making you and Javi laugh at his reaction, swiftly followed by Connie’s sharp jab to his ribs to get him to settle down.

“Alright ladies and gents,” The DJ spoke over the rumble of voices at the dinner tables, “Let’s have one more big round of applause for our newlyweds!”

As the crowd began to clap again, and Steve, threatened by another blow to his side, cheering at an appropriate volume, the DJ spoke again with the announcement you had been patiently waiting for since the ceremony finished.

“Alright everyone, with our first dance done, it’s time for the best part of the night, the dance floor is officially open! Let’s party!”

As the blaring intro to “Jump Around” began to blast to your speakers, your friends and family rushed to the dance floor, you let out a squeal of surprise as Javi snatched you up around your middle, lifting you up to spin you around in a fit of giggles.

“Vamos a bilar, mi esposa.” (Let’s dance, wife)

The rest of the night was the best kind of celebration that you could have asked for- the joy of being surrounded by your friends and family, dancing the night away to your favorite songs, and drinking one too many margaritas with your husband was everything you could have asked for and more on your wedding night.

It was no shock to you that your family had no problem making absolute fools of themselves out on the dance floor, happily (and drunkenly) flailing along to every single song, although your brothers’ and Steve’s enthusiastic sing-along to “Baby Got Back” was impressive, to say the least.

And while you and Javi had expected your family to act a fool, what neither of you had expected was how excited Chucho was to bust out dance moves of his own, taking everyone by surprise as he joined all your co-workers and Javi’s co-workers (who had quickly become best friends on the dance floor), to shake his way through “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, leaving you in hysterics, and Javi in stunned embarrassment at his dad’s antics.

As the evening began to creep later and later into the hours of the night, a very sleepy Olivia approached you and Javi on the dance floor, gently tugging at your dress and his pants for attention with puppy dog eyes plastered on her face that almost gave Javi’s a run for his money.

“Auntie Bear and Uncle Javi, can I pick a song? Pleaseeeeeee?” Olivia begged, pouting her bottom lip at the two of you, absolutely melting your hearts in an instant.

“Of course, mi amor.” Javi smiled, caving immediately as he crouched down to her level, her face lighting up in delight at her uncle’s response, coming close to whisper in his ear.

If you couldn’t have already been more in love with your husband, watching him listen intently to what your niece had to say, nodding in agreement before scoping her up to rest on his hip, you were practically in a puddle now.

“Me and Miss Olivia are gonna go make a song request.”

“But Auntie Bear, you have to let me dance with Uncle Javi first, okay?” Olivia quickly added, very adamantly.

“Of course, lil Miss. Have fun, you two.” You smirked as Javi and Olivia made their way over to the DJ, watching Olivia’s face light up instantly as the DJ agreed to her request, Javi carrying Olivia out to the middle of the dance floor and setting her down on the ground as the end of the song slowly began to fade into your niece’s song choice.

With her love for the movie, you shouldn’t have been surprised at all that her pick was “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from the Lion King Soundtrack, but even though you weren’t shocked at her choice, there was nothing that going to be able to prepare you for the gut wrenching cuteness that was your now husband, dancing with your niece.

It had already gotten to the point in the night that Javi’s suit jacket and tie were long gone, 3 buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and the once neat curls of his dark hair now messily sweeping his forehead from your night of dancing, and if the sight of just how goddamn handsome Javi looked, on top of the fact he was now officially your husband, paired with the sight of him slow dancing to the Lion King with Olivia?

Your ovaries were just about shot to hell.

As the song played and Javi and Oliva spun around the dance floor in a fit of smiles and giggles, you couldn’t help but wish with every bone in your body that it was your daughter that Javi was dancing with, nearly falling to your knees the thought of making him a dad, on top of being your husband. And if that wasn’t enough, the two of you were finally married, and that meant half of your bargain to start trying for kids was complete- and with the other half being your house finally finishing with construction which was almost close to being done as well, you were so close to start trying for a baby of your own, you could almost taste it.

And that? That drove you crazy enough to feel like you were going to combust.

So stuck in your daydream, you didn’t even notice Olivia running up to you, now tugging at your dress again, letting out a little sleepy yawn as she tried to get your attention.

“Okay Auntie Bear, you can dance with Uncle Javi now. Thanks for letting me pick a song.” Olivia smiled as you sunk down to meet her, wrapping her in a hug.

“Of course, Olivia. Thank you for being the best flower girl today. I love you, cutie patootie. Alright, I’m gonna go dance with Uncle Javi now, okay?”

“I love you too, Auntie Bear. I think Uncle Javi misses you, he wouldn’t stop looking at you the whole time we were dancing. I think he wants to kiss you again, but that’s gross. Yuck.” Oliva grimaced, making you giggle as she stuck out her tongue before watching her scamper away back to her sisters and the Murphy girls to dance some more.

As you turned back, bracing yourself to stand back up, you were greeted with Javi’s large palm held out in front of you, pulling you up to greet his handsome grin while you looked up at him.

“I’ve been told I have permission to come dance with you now.”

“It did take some persuading, I told her I’d save an extra piece of cake for her if she let me go dance with you.” Javi chuckled, pulling you back out onto the dance floor, slowly swaying back and forth to the beat.

“Watching you two out there is dangerous.” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at Javi as he cocked his head in confusion.

“What do you mean, hermosa?”

“I mean,” You paused, standing up a little bit taller, throwing one arm over Javi’s shoulder, running your hand through the hairs at the nape of his neck to whisper in his ear, “Watching the two of you made me think about how much I wanna make you a dad. And now that we’re married and the house is almost done, we actually get to start trying soon.”

It took everything in Javi not to let out an audible moan, letting out a gulp and scrunching his eyes shut for a moment to try and maintain his composure at what you had just said to him, his grip around your waist immediately tightening and eyes darkening as he opened them, staring down at you, absolutely awestruck.

“Fuck me.” He muttered to himself, almost shaking his head in disbelief that after all of the time you had spent talking about wanting kids and nights you’ve had wishing there hadn’t been any birth control to keep you from having them were now an almost tangible reality, “Is that what you want, mi esposa? My wife wants me to give her a baby?”

Javi’s voice rasped in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, your stomach flipping in arousal at the hot breath of his words against your skin, knowing what had started as a sweet and simple moment of Javi dancing with Olivia had quickly shifted into a desperate want, no, need, for him to give you what you were asking for.

As the music slowly faded into the next song, bodies shuffling and dancing to the more upbeat tune that had followed Olivia’s choice, the both of your figures stood frozen on the dance floor in a silent exchange of racing hearts and yearning glances before Javi took your hand in his.

“Follow me.”

In an instant, Javi was tugging you across the dance floor, the two of you dodging and weaving your way through your guests with polite smiles and happy waves, doing everything you could to try and sneak away as discreetly as possible in hopes that everyone would be too preoccupied (or too drunk) to realize that you were gone.

But at this point, you really didn’t care whether anyone noticed if you were gone or not. Truth be told, the only thing you cared about was finally getting to fuck your husband.

Finally making it through the worst of the maze of people, you and Javi had made your way to the back porch, quietly peeking your heads through the door, checking to make sure the coast was clear before hastily slipping inside, gently shutting the door behind you before sneaking down the hall to Javi’s room, thanking whatever higher power had let the two of you get to his bedroom in peace.

From the moment Javi had shut the door behind him, you were all over each other in an instant, hands roaming across each other’s bodies as you stumbled until the back of your legs hit the mattress, flopping down onto the bed, Javi’s body caging yours in his frame. Your lips crashed together in a hungry clash, tongues, teeth and moans melting together between your mouths as Javi hiked up the skirt of your dress, running his hands along your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh in his firm grasp before his fingers crept towards your aching core, ghosting over the white, lacy fabric covering your cunt, already soaking with arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, hermosa. My wife’s pretty little pussy all wet for me, huh?” Javi rasped, the pads of his fingers pressing more pressure over your covered clit, making you whimper in delight.

“It’s all yours, Javi. Yours forever, baby.” You moaned, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as Javi’s fingers dipped under the waistband of your underwear, collecting the slick pooling around your folds before plunging his two fingers inside your heat and thumbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, pure bliss running through your veins at his touch.

Your response had Javi practically growling, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he looked down to see the golden and diamond bands glistening on your finger, awestruck at the beautifully blissed out mess you were already becoming as his fingers curled, prodding at the spongy spot inside you that he knew drove you wild.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Osita. My beautiful wife. Fuck- I can’t believe your mine. I love you so fucking much.” Javi groaned, his words muffled between the hot, wet kisses he kept planting on your lips, feeling your cunt beginning to clench around his digits.

“I l-love- fuck- I love you too, Javi.” You whimpered, the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine beginning to build as Javi’s fingers pulsed in and out of your heat and thumb circled your throbbing clit, knowing with how worked up you were and how good he felt, it wouldn’t take much more before you were coming undone around his hand.

“I know you’re close, baby. Let go, hermosa. Cum for me so I can fuck my wife and show her how much I love her.”

“F-Fuckfuckfuck Javi. Don’t stop, baby, don’t s-sto-ahhhhhhhhh.”

With his thumb circling faster and harder around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and fingers plunging in and out of your weeping hole, it wasn’t long before you could feel that all too familiar tingle spreading throughout your body, your orgasm flooding through every inch of you as you came around his fingers, soaking his hand.

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. My good wife.” Javi groaned, making you whimper as he withdrew his fingers from your dripping heat, admiring the slick and shiny mess you had made around his fingers, entranced by the way your arousal had coated his wedding band as he brought his hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean before beginning to work at his belt. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.”

You sat back up, looking over your heaving chest to see Javi shuffling his pants and boxers down his thighs, leaving them to pool around his ankles, revealing his cock, already so painfully hard and weeping with precum from his tip. Reaching down to run his fingers through your folds again, he collected your slick on his hand before rubbing it up and down his length, stroking himself to line up with your entrance.

“F-fuck, let me feel you baby, p-please.” You whined, reaching up to grab fistfuls of Javi’s shirt, tugging him down to kiss you and lay his body on top of yours.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi moaned, slowly filling you up with his cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out against your cervix, letting you adjust to the fullness as he relished in the wet and warmth of your pussy gripping around him like a vice.

“M-move, Javi, please, baby.” The sweet sting and stretch of Javi’s length inside you already wanting to make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Javi began to languidly thrust himself in and out of your heat, dragging his cock almost painfully slowly against your velvety walls, cursing under his breath at the feeling of his balls beginning to tighten in his stomach, knowing there was no way he was going to be able to last as long as he would have wanted to in the moment.

“Javiiiii” You whined, your arms wrapping around back, nails pressing into his shoulders as his cock hit the spot inside you that lit you ablaze. His hand snaked between your bodies, reaching down to rub your clit, still slow, taking his time with each graze of his fingertips as his pace held deep and steady. Every thrust in and out of his hips had you wrecked as he filled you so fully and intensely, moaning his name over and over while he grasped the meat of your thighs, pressing your knees against your chest to stretch you open even further.

“God you’re so beautiful. My beautiful fucking wife. Gonna be such a beautiful mom for our kids.” Javi grunted, this thrusts becoming faster and sloppier as he let the reality of his marriage and actual attempts to start trying for a family burn a hole in the forefront of his mind, igniting something even feral within him, knowing he was one step closer to finally giving you and him what you both wanted more than anything.

For Javi to get you pregnant.

The last sentence made your breath hitch in the back of your throat, whimpering at the notion that because you were finally married, there wasn’t much stopping you from tossing out your birth control tomorrow and trying to get pregnant by the end of the month.

“J-Javi-” You whined, trying to form any sort of coherent thought as your brain short circuited from the pure bliss and heart racing thoughts running through your brain.

“What, Osita?”

“I-I want you- oh shit- to fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna throw out the rest of my birth control- I don’t care if the house- Jesus- isn’t finished. I wanna stop taking it tomorrow. I w-want you to- fuck- fill me up and get me pregnant.”

You could practically feel the weight of Javi’s jaw dropping to the floor, eyes bulging out of his skull, and heart beating out of his chest, so shocked, he stopped himself mid thrust, just to make sure he had heard you correctly.

“Osita- baby, are you- holy fuck- baby, are you serious?”

You nodded your head frantically, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him in for an electric kiss before leaning back to whisper in his ear, your voice sultry and low.

“I need my husband to fuck a baby into me. Please. Fuck a baby into me, Javi.”

If Javi didn’t have his arms already braced on the bed, there’s no way in hell he wouldn’t have fallen over in pure delight at your request, his stomach now churning with the wildest mix of excitement, lust and pride, spreading up through his chest and across his face, the brown of his eyes darkening and awestruck smile widening.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you, Hermosa?” Javi asked, almost rhetorically, a devilish grin spreading between his cheeks as he began to pound into you again, not even giving you a chance to respond, knowing damn well what your answer was.

If his thrusts weren’t already frantically rushed and sloppy, they most definitely were now, Javi practically on the brink of his own high just from the thought of getting to fuck you, knowing there was a real, true chance of getting you pregnant, trying to fight with everything in him to keep from busting right then, needing to make sure that you came again before he did.

The lewd noises of your moans, wetness of Javi’s cock sliding in and out of you, and his hips snapping against yours coated the walls of the room, the both of you having no regard for anyone who may have been close enough to hear you, so caught up in the moment, that at this point, you couldn’t have cared less if anyone caught the both of you.

“Answer me, baby. Mierda- You want me to fuck a baby into you, huh? Want me to fucking fill you up and get you pregnant? Show everyone you’re mine with our baby growing inside you?” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, pounding into your g-spot with blinding force, frantically circling your clit as he felt your cunt begin to clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing you just needed a little bit more before he had you coming undone.

“Y-yes- fuckfuckfuck- I need you to, Javi, p-please baby, please, please, pleaaahhhhhhh-”

Just like that, you could feel yourself gushing around Javi’s cock as you came, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, crashing through every inch of your body, euphoria flooding through your veins, screaming his name while he fucked you through your high, desperately chasing his own.

“I’ll give it to you baby, I- fuck me- I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you a family, I’ll give you my heart, my soul, my everything, my- oh fuck!”

Javi’s hips stuttered, forcing a low groan to rumble in his throat as he came, the hot ropes of his spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop inside you, still pulsing and thrusting inside you, ensuring that nothing went to waste.

Slumping his body on top of yours, your chests rose and fell in sync, trying your best to catch your breaths as you came down from your highs, your mouths meeting in a sloppy kiss to try and ground you back to reality.

“Holy fuck…” You whispered through your labored pants, laughing to yourself from the pure bliss of what had just happened, staring up at Javi with a radiant grin, brushing the sweat-dampened curls from his forehead.

Javi hissed as he carefully pulled out, leaning back enough to see the smile on your face, gently cupping your cheek as he looked down at you with a goofy grin of his own.

“Osita… Were you being- baby, were you serious about what you said?”

“Jav, I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious about anything in my entire life. Is-is that okay with you?” You asked, biting down on your lip.

“Is that okay with me?” He asked, almost mockingly, chucking to himself as he shook his head in disbelief, “We can really throw it away tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

“And you won’t bring it with you on the honeymoon?”

“Nope.” You replied, popping the “p” at the end of the word.

“And there’s- holy fuck- there’s a chance you could actually get pregnant soon?” Javi asked, his face glowing brighter and brighter with each question he asked.

“Mmmhhmmm. Well, I mean, it might not happen right away but- Ahhhh Javi!” You giggled as your husband aggressively peppered ticklish kisses across your entire face, making you squeal and squirm in delight.

“Fuck, I love you so much. Thank you.” Javi smiled, tears welling in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“Jav, baby, don’t cry! Why are you crying, you dork?”

“You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. You married me, we’re gonna have a family, it’s just- fuck, I promise, that I wanna spend the rest of my life until the day I die showing you how thankful I am that you chose me. That you gave me all the things I stopped thinking I deserved. I love you so much, it fucking hurts, Osita. Thank you for choosing me.”

Sitting up, you threw your arms around Javi, pulling him close to you in the tightest hug you could muster, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the weight of his body melt into yours, your bodies intertangled as one.

“Javi, you’re the only one it ever could be. Te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden expresar. (I love you more than words can say).”

“Hey! Lovebirds! Are y’all in here?”

Over the music and chatter of the party outside, you and Javi had been completely oblivious to the all too familiar southern twang of Steve’s voice behind the bedroom door, gently knocking from the outside after being sent on a mission to find where in the world the two of you had been for nearly a half hour.

“Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” Steve rapped again, getting nothing in response but silence. Steve shrugged, drunk enough to have no fear to pound on the door repeatedly until the two of you showed up, now reaching down at the doorknob and giving it a jiggle.

Steve was shocked to find that he could turn the handle, writing off the fact that they two of you would be in a room with an unlocked door after the 10 pounds of shit he had given Javi, and with his inhibitions severely lowered, he had no problem cranking the knob and pushing the bedroom door wide open.

“Hello? Earth to Javi and Mrs. Peña, are y’all in here or not because I- Oh Jesus Christ!” Steve shrieked, opening up the door to see you and Javi, your dress still hoisted up to your waist, and Javi’s bare ass completely on display, making the both of you scream just as loud in surprise at your unwanted visitor.

“Murphy! Get the fuck out!” Javi snarled, quickly scrambling to try and pull your dress back down and his pants back up.

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ!” Steve yelled, immediately bringing his hand to his face to cover up his eyes, trying to drunkenly stumble as quickly as he could back out of the room, but, because of his intoxicated state and self-imposed lack of vision, Steve found himself colliding head first with the wall, knocking himself to the ground before crawling across the floor like a frazzled toddler, kicking the door closed behind him.

For as devastatingly embarrassed as you were by the whole debacle, you couldn’t help but cackle at the impeccable comedic timing of the whole thing, snickering to yourself as Javi finished buckling back up his pants and helping you up to stand before storming to the door, opening it to find Steve still sprawled on the floor in an a hysteric fit.

“Are you fucking serious, Murph?” Javi growled, completely unamused.

“God, I shoulda kept my bit that Connie cut in my speech. Y’all do know that doors have locks, right? Might be helpful if y’all learned how to use ‘em. Just food for thought.” Steve giggled, watching both of your faces grow beet red in embarrassment and at a loss for words.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Javi asked, pinching the arch of his nose between his fingers, shaking his head in frustration, looking down the hallway to make sure that Steve was the only presence you needed to worry about.

“I’m tryin’ to save your asses before someone else worse than me walks in on the two of you gettin’ it on. Y’all do realize you’ve been gone for almost 45 minutes right? Being the- oh shit-” Steve paused, letting out a giant burp,” ‘cuse me, being the good Best Man I am, I decided to try and find you two idiots before people started askin’ too many questions. So, you’re welcome.” Steve grunted, pushing himself up to stand, cocking his head at the both of, hands on his hips, trying to prove his point. “Also, do you two anything else besides fuc-”

“Steve! Jesus Christ, will you shut the fuck up!” Javi groaned, staring down at the floor, taking a deep breath to compose himself before he decided to kick Steve right back down to the ground again.

“...It’s really been 45 minutes?” You grimaced, looking back between Steve and Javi, shrugging at your husband that any longer, your mom would have been on a search party for you, and it would have been your whole family at Javi’s bedroom door instead of just Steve.

“Yeah, and I’m the first to come lookin’ after ya, so again, you’re welcome. Jesus, Javi, you can really last for 45 fuckin minutes? How the-”

“Murphy!”

“Sorry…”

“Fuck me….”

“Think you and your wife already took care of that one…” Steve muttered under his breath, trying not to laugh.

“I swear to God, Steve…”

“Okay, I’m done! I’m done! Swear!” Steve held up his hands in defense, taking a step back away from Javi.

“Will you please just give us a minute, Murph?” Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair, trying with every bone in his body to keep his patience with his drunken friend.

“Fine, fine, fine. 1 minute. I’m counting. Use your time wisely and appropriately, you sickos.” Steve snickered, disappearing down the hallway, only to peek his head back out around the corner. “And Jav?”

“What, Murph?”

“Your fly’s undone.”

As you and Javi sheepishly made your way back out to the backyard, you couldn't have been more relieved to see that at this point, anyone still left at your reception was far too drunk to care that you had been missing, seeing that almost all of your guests were out on the dance floor, partying away without a care in the world, or any inkling of what you and Javi had been up to.

“Longer than a minute, but beggars can’t be choosers I guess.” Steve chuckled, creeping up behind you with two drinks in hand, passing them both off to you and Javi. “Here. Figured I owe ya a drink. These are on me.”

“We paid for the bar, Murph.”

“Alright, well I guess these ones are on you, Grumpy Pants.” Steve grumbled mockingly, holding up his hands in defense, trying not to stumble over his own two feet as he made his way back to the dance floor.

“Remind me again why I picked him to be my best man?” Javi laughed, taking a sip of his drink, the both of you snickering as you watched Steve whip out some questionable dance moves to “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen blaring in the background and Connie shake her head at her husband.

“Because you love him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an idiot, but he’s a good guy.” You smiled, giving Javi a little nudge, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out at the dance floor. “Hey-” You paused, holding up your glass and raising it to Javi’s. “Cheers.”

“Cheers to what, Osita?” Javi asked, wrapping his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he brought his glass next to yours.

“Cheers to us. I love you so much, Javier Peña, it makes me sick. Sicker than all this tequila is gonna make me tomorrow after I keep drinking it the rest of the night.”

The two of you snorted, goofily clinking your glasses and taking a hefty sip of your drinks as you looked out on the dance floor, your hearts overflowing with love and joy to know that you were surrounded by all of the people in the world you cared about most, even the ones that couldn’t be physically with you, to celebrate the biggest day of your life and the start of your new forever.

“Cheers, Hermosa. I love you so goddamn much. Maybe the hangover will help distract the nerves on the flight tomorrow.” Javi smirked, taking another sip of his drink as he shook you playfully in his grasp, your faces both lighting up as you remembered that tomorrow, you be in the Bahamas for the next 10 days, where the only thing you needed to worry about was where you wanted to lay on the beach, what drink you wanted in your hand, and now, seeing how quickly Javi could get you pregnant.

“Oh shut up.” You sighed, giving Javi a little slap to the chest before taking another sip of your drink, looking up at Javi with heavy lashes, batting your eyes at him. “You just have to remind me that I have to do some unpacking before we leave tomorrow.”

“Unpacking?” Javi asked, tilting his head in confusion at you, the gears in his brain turning as you bit down on your lip, raising your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to piece together your clue. “Oh. Oh.”

Javi’s eyes went wide as he remembered what you meant, heart racing in anticipation, never imagining before today that he would have been so excited to actively throw away birth control to try and have a kid.

“Can we throw it away tonight?” Javi pleaded, his puppy dog eyes in full effect.

“I’m not sure what difference tonight and tomorrow morning is gonna make, but sure. Happy wedding present.” You giggled, pressing up onto your tiptoes to plant a long, hot kiss.

“Best fucking gift I could ask for besides the fact I finally get to call you my wife.”

As the end of the song slowly faded out, “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” began to play next in the background, your face lighting up in excitement and Javi’s eyes rolling, hearing the song that had been most likely the biggest controversy of your entire wedding planning process now bumping through the speakers, followed by the cheers and hollers of your guests.

“I told you people would want to hear this song.” You said smugly, crossing your arms over your chest, popping your hip at Javi as you sassed him, making him shake his head at your theatrics.

“It doesn’t stop it from being a stupidly annoying song.”

“A stupidly annoying song that people love. A stupidly annoying song that your wife loves.” You teased. “Whaddya say, Peña, can you stand this unbearably stupid song to go dance with me?

“I’d dance to this song with you a million times if it means I get to dance with you.”

Grabbing Javi by the hand, you tugged him out to the dance floor in a fit of giggles and smiles, jumping along and dancing to the beat song after song the rest of the night with your friends, family and husband.

You couldn't help but catch yourself stopping now and again to smile to yourself to take everything in, feeling like you needed to pinch yourself to make sure this was all really real. Just over a year ago, your life felt like it had hit an all time low. You had moved halfway across the country to try and run from your pain, desperate to find any way to bring yourself any ounce of peace in your ocean of hurt. It felt like fate had forsaken you for the worst, kicking you while you were down, and leaving destruction in its wake.

But never in a million years would you have believed that fate would have sent you with a one way ticket to Laredo, Texas, and that trip would bring so much more than just the glimmer of hope you longed for. It had brought you peace, comfort, the acceptance you weren’t sure you would have ever allowed yourself to feel. Laredo had brought you everything you never expected, and all of the things you never thought you deserved.

It brought you Javi- the man who single handedly changed your life for the better, loving you unconditionally for every part of your being and piecing back together the parts of your heart you had left broken.

It brought you the man you now got to call your husband.

Fate and life have funny ways of working together to bring you the things you need the most when you least expect them. And today, as you got to marry the love of your life and your very best friend, you knew you’d be forever thankful that fate stepped in when you needed it most.

La vida es graciosa, no lo crees? (Life is funny, isn’t it?)

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