#the way i wanted to write the sex part too

[myth1cs]

Soulmates (Hirai Momo & Myoui Mina x M!Reader)

I FINALLY finished writing this. I'm done, I'm never writing a one shot this long again.

Read part 1: Love Warning (smut)

Word Count: 7,004

1 month after the events of "Love Warning"

As you were sitting in your office you got a phone call on your office phone.

"Hello?"

"You know what I'm calling for Y/N."

You took a deep sigh, hung up the phone, and made your way to Momo's office.

Ever since you took back the job you quickly realized why you wanted to quit in the first place. The only thing keeping you was the promise of sex with your boss.

Knocking on her door you waited for her to say "Come in." before you went in. "Go ahead close the door and lock it for me Y/N." she told you and you obliged.

"What's wrong Y/N is something on your mind?"

"It's nothing." you state as you make your way over to her.

"You suck at lying just tell me Y/N."

"No really I'm fine."

"I won't let you lick my pussy ever again if you don't tell me what's bothering you. Now tell me what's wrong."

You sighed, there was no getting past her. "Look it's just that I feel like doing this job is wearing me down. The only thing keeping me here is-"

Momo cut you off "Shh no need to say more Y/N I understand. I'm sorry I never paid much attention to your needs. How about you take a week off and I'll have Mina cover your work. Will that work for you?"

"Would that really be fine?"

"It'll be fine. Don't worry I'll let Mina yell at me."

"But who will take over Mina's work?"

"I can do it."

"No Momo I can't take a break if it means that you will have a bigger work load."

"Y/N I'm your boss and it's my job to make sure your mental health is okay. So please let me do this for you."

You knew there was no convincing her otherwise.

"Alright."

"Go ahead and go home and I'll go ahead and call Mina to tell her about her work change."

"Thank you Momo."

You walked out the door and headed to your office to grab your things before you went home.

"H-Han? Why are you in my office?"

"I've been looking for you Y/N."

"Why?"

"I just wanted to check up on you. Lately you've been behaving a little more ... I don't know how to say this without it coming off as weird but I feel as if you've been a little more depressed recently. I just wanted to check up on you maybe ask if you wanted to hangout with me on my lunch break."

"Han I don't know what to say."

Even if you didn't say it you were a little touched by the fact that Ji-sung noticed your struggle. Even Momo who you saw every day didn't notice. Though it was likely that she didn't notice cause she was too busy giving you head.

"Shit did I miss the mark Y/N? I'm sorry that was unprofessional of me."

"No Han it's fine really. But I should tell you that I got a week off from work so my mental health should be fine."

"I'm glad to hear that. Just call me if you ever need someone to complain to."

"Will do."

Suddenly Han's phone buzzed and he pulled it out to check it.

"Damn it."

"What happened?"

"Lee Know is upset I didn't finish my work yesterday."

"Good luck with that."

Han left the room and you started to collect your things.

When you finished collecting your stuff you started heading out but before you could even make it out of your office doors you ran into yet another coworker.

"Mina what are you doing here?"

"So you're going on break for a week?"

Ignoring your question to ask her own ... typical.

"Answer my question first asshole."

"Feisty today huh? Would you do the same if I was Momo?"

"Quit yapping and get to the point."

"Don't you know patience is a virtue? But fine I'll cut to the chase, do you live alone Y/N?"

"Yeah I live alone."

"Good give me your address now."

"Why?"

"Don't you think it's time for you to call someone else your mommy? Momo is focused on giving you pleasure but no one has focused on giving you pleasure. I just want to give that to you."

"What's your relationship with Momo?"

"If you give me your address I'll answer your questions."

"I'll text it to you Mina."

"It wasn't that hard now was it Y/N?"

She smiled at you before she left your office.

You still had many questions to ask her. What was her relationship with Momo and why was she so interested in you?

"I'll think more about it when I get home." you thought to yourself.

-

Once you arrived home you went straight to bed exhausted from the work you've been doing without even bothering to change your clothes.

Before you could fall asleep you heard a knock coming from your front door not long after you laid down on your bed.

"Who the fuck is knocking, why can't they leave me alone?"

Getting up and making your way to the front door. You opened the door and saw Ji-min (Karina) on the other side.

"Karina why are you here and not at work?"

"Today is my day off. The real question is why are you here?"

"I'm on a week break."

"Why?"

You didn't want to tell more people than you should. Karina was the type of coworker that couldn't keep her mouth shut about anything. Not long after she mistakenly thought you hit on Mina she started to talk about it with everyone which started a rumor that you had a crush on Mina.

A few of your coworkers brought it up to you and you had to explain the situation to them. Though you were unsure if the rumors ever reached Momo or Mina.

"I just want a break from work."

"I feel that. So how's it going with Mina?"

"Karina!"

"What? I just want to know if you took any of the advice I gave you."

"Are you just here to bother me?"

"No I'm not, how about you let me in your house."

You moved out of the way and let her in. Karina walked in and walked around your house.

"It's rather small no?"

"Yeah, well I don't want a big place."

"Won't you get bored if you stay here all week?"

"I'll manage."

"Y/N that's sad. How about we go to an event at the end of the week?"

"Event?"

"There's an event going on tonight down the street called "Soulmates". A select few of people will be accepted and get the chance to mingle with others who were accepted."

"I'm not interested."

"Come on if your not going to talk to Mina you might as well try to see if you can get a girlfriend."

"I'll think about it."

"Today's the last day they'll take submissions though!"

"Whatever just sign me up yourself."

"No you have to do it yourself!"

"Why?"

"Because they'll want to interview you."

A low groan came out of your mouth and you knew Karina wouldn't leave you alone unless you agreed.

"Let's go then."

"Would it kill to be able to relax?"

...

Once you arrived at the place where the "Soulmates" event would be taking place Karina led you to the registration area.

There weren't as many people as you thought there would be but then again today was the last day so most people probably already signed up beforehand.

Once it was your turn you walked into the room and sat in front of a woman who was holding a clipboard.

"Please state your full name and what sex you identify as."

"Y/N L/N and I'm a guy."

"Do you prefer Men, Women, or Non-binary?"

"Uhm ... Women I think."

"What's your current occupation."

"I work as a secretary."

"Can you state for which company?"

"Tdoong Entertainment."

"A lot of applications from people who work there it seems." The woman said as she wrote on her clipboard.

"Wait there are others who signed up from the company?"

"Can you say who else who works at Tdoong Entertainment signed up for this event?"

"Sorry sir but I can't share that."

"That's fine."

"Anyways let's continue, so what would you say you're looking for in a partner?"

"Well..."

-

Once you finished answering all her questions she let you go and you met up with Karina.

"So how did it go?"

"I don't think they'll accept me."

"Why not?"

"I feel like she wasn't impressed by my answers."

"Don't say that Y/N I'm sure you'll be accepted."

"By the way the lady mentioned that other people from the company have signed up for the event. Do you know who else signed up?"

"Well other than me I have no idea who else could have signed up."

"I guess it's not my business regardless."

"Want to hangout at your place Y/N?"

As much as you wanted to tell Karina to go home you didn't want to sound rude by denying her offer.

"Sure let's go."

You and Karina headed back towards your house and you told yourself that you didn't really care if you got accepted. After all your having sex with Momo who you find attractive after all. Sure you both aren't "Official" but who cares?

Though you might not want to admit it you really wanted someone who could understand you and support you emotionally. You didn't care about sex with Momo, if she couldn't understand you were experiencing emotional distraught until you directly told her was she really your soulmate?

Once you both arrived at your house you went to sit on the couch and Karina followed you.

"So what are we doing Y/N?"

"Can you just leave me alone?" is what you wanted to tell her.

"Let's just watch a show yeah?"

"Okay, what do you want to watch?"

"How about you pick?"

Karina grabbed the controller sitting on the table and turned on your T.V. "What genre are you feeling?"

"Anything."

She gave you a sly smirk and put on a movie.

You didn't necessarily care about what she put on. Sitting back and closing your eyes trying to finally get some rest.

Unsure of how long you had your eyes closed you were suddenly waken up by the feeling that someone was wrapping their arms around you.

"Karina what are you doing?"

"Look at the movie Y/N."

Looking up to see the movie you saw it was a couple who were talking to each other in a bedroom.

"What about it?"

"Keep watching."

You kept your eyes on the movie but had issues hearing and watching the movie because you were still a bit hazy after waking up.

As the movie went on it suddenly turned explicit as the people in it were quickly discarding their clothes and were being intimate with each other.

It made you a little hot watching such an explicit movie to begin with but now you were watching it with a coworker.

Your cock was getting a bit hard and you were getting worried Karina would notice.

"Can we skip this scene? I'm not a big fan of explicit movies." You asked but Karina didn't answer your question.

Out of the blue you felt hands on your thigh. You looked down and saw that they were Karina's and they were inching closer to your cock.

You were getting nervous and tried to take her hands off of you but you weren't able to pry them off.

Karina's hands were now directly touching your clothed cock and your face was burning red. For the first time since her hands were on your thighs you turned to Karina.

"Y/N you know you can ask me for anything right?"

Unable to control your urges you latched your lips onto hers.

A heated exchange between both of you started and both of your tongues started exploring the others mouth living in the moment.

Your hands reached up for Karina's breasts and you gave them a firm squeeze which elicited a moan from her.

She wasn't about to forget about her own desires and started to rub your clothed cock which made you let out a low groan.

Now your heated exchange was getting sloppy with saliva pouring out of both of your mouths. You pulled away and now rubbed your tongue with Karina's as you changed your hand to the other breast and started to rub them.

You really wanted to tear off her clothes and feel her naked body. Karina however was already ahead of you. She started to pull up her shirt making it half way before you helped her take off the rest, throwing it, and leaving her in her black bra.

Reaching around her body you unclasped her bra letting them fall to the floor. Not wasting your chance you shoved your face in between Karina's breast and used one of your hands to squeeze her ass and the other you used to rub her clothed pussy.

"Ugh ~ Ah" Karina moaned. Her voice echoed throughout your house. Your tongue started to run all over Karina's massive breast and you were determined to make them sopping wet.

Karina moved her hands down your body and slid your pants off your body. She grabbed a hold of your hardened cock through your underwear and started to quickly pump it.

Your face was shoved so deep into Karina's breast that you were basically suffocating but in all honesty you wouldn't mind your final moments being spent in her breasts.

Karina however wasn't about to let that happen and pulled you away. You took a big gasp of air as you were finally able to properly breath for the first time since you shoved yourself in her breasts.

"Why did you pull me away?"

"There is still so much more pleasure to have."

Karina removed your underwear and her remaining clothing then proceeded to sit on your cock. "Ah your cock is stretching me out so damn good Y/N."

She started to ride you moving herself up and down. It drove you crazy how good her pussy felt.

"I bet Momo never fucked you this good!"

She could. But you didn't want to tell Karina that Momo fucked you better due to the fear that she might stop.

"Y-yeah ... totally."

Both of you were now sweating and you took the chance to lick her nipples which were being covered in her sweat. But did you even care?

"Your breasts are so soft and addicting."

"And you can play with them anytime Y/N. Just give me a call and I'll come right over."

Your cock was twitching and Karina took notice. She sped up her movements and you started to suck on her breasts harder.

Wrapping your hands around her body to pull her closer. The intense moment carried on for a few more seconds until both of you ended up cumming on each other.

Both of you were now sweaty and filthy. Your stress from your job seemingly faded as you released your cum into Karina's pussy.

The key word being seemingly. Truth be told sex was only a temporary fix. Eventually it would all come back again eventually and the stress would be stronger.

Though you weren't thinking of that at the moment. Your only concern was the woman who was sitting on you.

Karina stood up and reached out her hand to you.

"We're not done."

Even though you were exhausted you did want to have another round with her.

You grabbed her hand and she pulled you up. Both of you were having issues keeping balance while standing so you were both leaning on each other for support.

She led you to a wall and bent over for you. "Go ahead and fuck my ass Y/N."

Shoving your hardened cock into Karina you messed up her insides. Thrusting in and out at a rapid pace you were fondling with her breasts as you messed up her insides.

"Why do I listen to you so much?"

"Y/N is now really the time to ask these questions?"

You gave her breasts a rough squeeze.

"I just don't know if going to the soulmates event is a good idea."

"You're never going to get the chance to go if you don't cum in me."

Forcing yourself as deep as possible into her ass you came inside of her. Your cum was spilling out of her making a small puddle on the floor.

You pulled out and made your way back to the couch to fall asleep.

-

There was a loud banging on your door that woke you up. You checked the time and saw it was 2:30 AM. Who could be at your door at this hour.

Making your way to your door you opened the door and saw Mina on the other side.

"Why are you here?"

Mina's face went a little red.

"Why do you sleep naked?"

"What are you-"

You looked down and noticed that you didn't have clothes on. Suddenly you remembered that you had sex with Karina.

Quickly closing the door you rushed to your room and quickly put some clothes on. "Karina must have left after I fell asleep."

Going back downstairs to open the door for Mina and let her in your house.

"So do you sleep naked or were you having a one night stand?"

"Neither."

You led her to your kitchen and both of you took a seat.

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I don't owe you anything."

"Whatever, I'm here to answer your questions that you've had for me. After all that was apart of the deal for you giving me your address."

"Oh yeah."

"So what do you want answers to."

"How did you know Momo was going to have sex with me?"

"Are you talking about the first time you came to talk to me in my office?"

"Yes."

"I have history with her."

"What history?"

"Well ..." She took a deep sigh.

"I didn't think I'd ever tell anyone this but I guess I have to now."

You were still sleepy after getting woken up at night but you forced yourself to stay awake. You had to know more about Mina.

"Look before you were hired I had your position. I dealt with the same shit you have to right now and just like you I got tired of the job. I was going to quit and similar to you she begged me to stay ruining her health all for the sake of the company."

She suddenly stopped talking. Taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "Do you mind if I grab a glass of water?"

"Go ahead."

Mina got up and got herself a glass of water. Taking a sip before she continued.

"I was worried about her just like you."

"So does she do this with everyone?"

"I don't know but I don't think so."

"What happened next?"

"Well I did the same thing you did. And she also had sex with me just like you. She promised to do it with me whenever as long as I stayed. But then you were hired."

Mina gripped the glass cup. Taking another sip before continuing.

"Since you had more qualifications than me I got demoted and the deal I had with Momo was off and her focus was all on you."

"Is that why you didn't care about her?"

"Yes that's exactly why. Truth be told I only offered having sex with you for my own benefit."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I figured that if you preferred having me over Momo then I could convince you to quit and I would be able to be her secretary again. That way I could have Momo to myself."

"Wait were you just going to leave me after you did all this."

"You want the truth?"

"Yes."

"Yes I would have left you if my plan succeeded."

"I appreciate the honesty but damn."

"Well I originally came her to have sex with you but I'm sure you don't to after hearing it is only for my benefit."

"We could do it for fun."

"Yeah right Y/N. No offense but I don't like men."

"I understand. You're free to sleep here though I'm sure your tired."

"No I'm good."

"Suit yourself."

"I'll see you next week Y/N."

"See you."

Mina left your house leaving you alone once again.

"Guess I can scratch her off my potential "Soulmate" list."

The next day came and you weren't sure what to do. You settled on laying on your bed watching a movie when you suddenly received a message on your phone.

"Congrats Y/N you've been accepted to attend the "Soulmates" event happening at the end of the week! For further details please click on the link attached to this message"

You looked at the message and finally made your decision.

"I'm going to the Soulmates event."

-

The week flew by and you were waiting for the day the soulmates event would start.

On the day before the event was going to start you heard a knocking on your door. You went to open the door and to your surprise you saw Momo.

"Momo? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I'm having someone else cover it. Besides I think we need to talk anyway."

"Talk about what?"

"You see I've been thinking and ... I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"What could you possibly be sorry about?"

"I should have realized you were struggling much sooner. And since I didn't I feel like I've been neglecting you in that way."

Your eyes softened. You never blamed anything on Momo after all you were the person who made the decision to stay.

"Don't say that Momo none of what I've been going through was your fault."

"But it is my fault."

You pulled Momo into a hug and held her tightly into your arms.

"Don't say that Momo. You have done nothing wrong but I wouldn't mind if you paid a little more attention to me."

She hugged you back and smiled.

"I can do that for you."

"Thank you."

"Hey Y/N I know that the company is going to be closed tomorrow but I won't be able to be with you tomorrow."

"That's fine I'll be busy myself tomorrow also."

"Really what for?"

"Personal things."

"Okay well take care alright."

"I will."

"See you back to work Y/N! And hopefully with a better mental state."

-

Today was the day the soulmates event was scheduled to happen. You got yourself ready beforehand and were now making your way to the event.

Once you found a parking space you started getting a little anxious. "What if I'm not satisfied with my soulmate? Or what if I don't even get one?" You thought to yourself but you tried to reassure yourself that everything will be fine.

You got out of your car and made your way inside. Once you stepped in you were directed to a room where other participants were.

"The event will start in just a few minutes sir. Feel free to chat with the others though."

Once you were in the room the quickly recognized a few of the people who showed up.

"Momo, Mina, Han, and Karina are all here?"

You didn't recognize the others.

You sat down at a chair next to someone you didn't know.

"Hey my name is Choi Ji-su but you can just call me Lia. What's your name?"

"Names Y/N nice to meet you Lia."

"Based off looks who do you have your eyes on?"

A bit out of the blue question and you weren't sure how to answer.

"Well ... no one really. I think everyone looks equally beautiful."

"That's such a boring answer you know."

"Well who do you have your eyes on?"

She pointed at a girl who was sitting at the far left.

"Her."

You looked at the girl Lia pointed to and you have to admit she was attractive.

"Hello everyone I'd like to welcome you all to today's soulmate event. Everyone here was selected by us. We wanted people who were different to have a chance to mingle with each other. Hopefully you all find a soulmate."

As the woman scanned the room she suddenly had a look on her face. "It seems someone didn't show up. I'm afraid to say that one of you will be walking away without a soulmate."

Everyone started to make their own count and realized she was right. A feeling of worry overcame everyone, after all no one wanted to be the person who left without a soulmate.

"Well regardless we'll move on. So first we'll let everyone have a chance to introduce themselves and then we can move on."

She left the room and everyone looked around to see if anyone would take the lead.

"Well I guess I'll start and we can just go left. Hello my name is Myoui Mina."

"My name is Kaito Yuki."

"Hirai Momo."

"Han Ji-sung."

"Yu Ji-min but I go by Karina."

"Kim Nam-joon but you can call me RM."

"Y/N L/N."

"Choi Ji-su but you can also call me Lia."

"Hwang Yeji."

The women walked back into the room and handed everyone a piece of paper and a pencil.

"Alright everyone I've given you a piece of paper and a pencil. Based on first impressions write down someones name. The person who has the most votes will get to choose 2 people to have lunch with on the top floor. Everyone else will eat here in the dining room. Feel free to write your own name. Give me your paper once you write down a name."

Nobody wrote down a name right away. It seems like everyone is putting some thought into their choice.

Yeji was the first to write a name down and give it to the lady. Afterwards more people started writing names and turning them in. Only a few people still hadn't written a name and you were one of them.

You were struggling to pick someone. There was no way you could find your soulmate based on luck.

"If I had to pick based off my limited interactions then I would have to pick..."

-

"The winner of the popular vote is Mrs. Myoui Mina. Mina once you pick the two people you want to take to lunch with then our staff can escort you to your room."

After Mina quickly scanned the room it wasn't long for her to pick.

"Momo and Y/N."

All three of you were led upstairs and into a room. "Feel free to have a moment to look over our menu. I'll be back in a bit to take your orders."

You and Momo sat next to each other while Mina sat across both of you. The room was silent, everyone was waiting to see who would be the one to speak up first. The silence was deafening.

Momo eventually cleared her throat.

"So Mina why'd you pick us?"

"I feel that I need to ... 'discuss' a few things with you."

"Uh-uhm."

"What are you talking about?"

You stayed silent.

Mina let out a sigh "Momo ... I love you so much. I don't want you to be with Y/N anymore."

Momo's cheeks turned red.

"I - I didn't know you felt that way Mina."

"You're so pretty Momo will you be mine?"

"What's pretty about me?"

"Your soft well kept hair, pretty face, and those massive set of-"

"Screw it Mina I can't wait any longer: kiss me."

Mina got up from her seat and rushed over to Momo. Her tongue slid into Momo's mouth. She put her hands inside of Momo's shirt, sliding her hands up and feeling Momo's abs.

"You're so strong Mo."

Momo smiled at Mina's compliment. She wrapped her hands around Mina's head and pulled her as close as she could.

Unsure of what you should be doing you kept watching the scene unfold in front of you. Part of you felt weird for watching them be intimate with each other but the other part of you couldn't muster up the will to look away. But you couldn't help but notice the difference in the way Momo had sex with you and how she's having it with Mina.

Mina raised her hands up Momo's body. Momo moaned into her mouth as she did so.

Before Mina could finish her foreplay a knock came on the door.

Quickly Mina got off Momo and rushed back to her seat.

"Have you three decided on your order?"

-

Mina and Momo were chatting with each other while you just kept your thoughts to yourself. Momo noticed and decided to rope you into their conversation.

"You want to join us next time Y/N?"

Looking up you saw Mina made a face of disgust at Momo.

"Why are you asking Y/N if he wants to join without asking me first? I don't want to have a threesome with a fucking guy."

"Mina it's rude to invite Y/N and not include him."

"I only invited him here because he was the only other person I knew. I'm not about to have some stranger watch us have sex Momo."

"But Mina-"

"What are you telling me you actually like men?"

"Well no but I kinda made a deal with him."

"Psh fine."

Momo leaned towards you and whispered into your ear. "Between you and me you're not that bad."

Not that bad?

"Th-thanks I guess."

"By the way Y/N if your filthy cock even lightly brushes me I will rip it off your body with my bare hands."

"R-right I understand."

"Damn Mina that's more harsh than I ever went with you or Y/N."

-

Before the next round of voting everyone had to make a gift and give it to someone. The three options were making a ring, mug cup making, and making a perfume.

Making a mug sounded bland but you weren't confident in being able enough to make a ring so you settled on making a perfume.

You sat alone for a long time and were a bit worried you were the only one to pick it until you heard footsteps coming into the room.

"It was Y/N right?"

"Kaito why are you here?"

"Couldn't leave you alone here."

"Well thanks for keeping me company."

"No problem."

You didn't want to sit in silence for the whole time so you decided to make some small talk.

"So where are you from?"

"I'm from Fujioka. I'm a student there actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah ... so where are you from?"

"I'm from ..."

"I've never been there but I'm sure it's nice."

"So who are you interested in?"

"Probably Karina, she was really caring and nice at the lunch we had. What about you, who are you interested in?"

"That's a hard question."

"Why's that? Momo and Mina had lunch with you did neither of them peak your interest?"

"More like they peaked each other's interest."

"Lesbians?"

"Yeah."

"That's good for them. But I guess you're a bit disappointed huh?"

"Its not that I'm just worried that I won't find someone."

"I understand how you are feeling. But maybe the person who your supposed to end up with is someone you haven't met or someone who you're least expecting."

"I don't know Kaito. I mean I was kind of in a relationship but I didn't feel happy afterwards. Only certain moments brought me joy."

"Well maybe you should look for different people. Those who can give you those feelings of happiness as much as possible."

"Thanks for the advice. I'll try to keep it in mind."

You couldn't say someone has necessarily brought you true "happiness". But then again...

-

When it was time to give someone your gift you thought back to Kaito's words.

Who has brought you the most happiness? Is that even measurable? But when you looked at their eyes. You felt relief almost a calming feeling. You walked up to them and handed them the perfume you made.

"Is this for me?"

"For you."

"Th - thank you Y/N I don't know what to say. I wasn't expecting this from you."

You simply smiled when you looked at their face.

"No problem. Besides I don't think I've felt better than when I was able to be around you."

-

Before getting to have everyone pick a soulmate everyone got a chance to talk to someone they wanted to.

Everyone picked the person they had their eyes on and it slowly reached your turn.

"Y/N Momo has requested to speak to you."

"Coming!"

You were led to the room and were left alone with Momo.

"Why'd you request to speak to me?"

"Y/N I know we talked yesterday but I just wanted you to know that I'll try harder for you."

"What are you saying?"

"I - I know you probably don't want me as your soulmate. But I just want you to know that I know I can't pick up on minor details but if you ever wanted to be in a relationship with me then I'd try harder to understand your emotions."

"Momo ... what about Mina?"

"I love her. But I was hoping you'd be okay if I switched between you and her."

-

You were second to last and you took your chance to talk to Lia a bit more. You weren't expecting your name to be called but to your surprise.

"Y/N someone has requested to speak with you."

"Who could possibly request to speak with me?" you thought to yourself. Momo is the only person who you had a romantic connection with so you weren't sure who would call your name.

"H - Han?!"

"Y/N its been a while huh?"

"Why'd you call me up here?"

"Well I just thought I'd get your advice on something."

"Go on."

"Well I was speaking to Karina but I also have been getting close with Yeji. I just don't know who to go for."

You chuckled

"Why are you laughing?"

"I just never thought I'd see you so worried about a relationship."

"Come on I can be fun to!"

"When you first asked to hangout with me I thought you would take me to a brothel."

"Y/N you wound me. You think I'd go to a brothel?!"

"You wouldn't?"

"Unless your taking me I don't think I would. Would you go to one?"

"Who knows maybe I'd go if you were there."

Han's face went a bit red.

"Oh how romantic, I see why Momo likes you Y/N."

"Come on you have to admit that it wasn't that bad of a line!"

-

The way people would pick there soulmate was the following:

One contestant would stand in front of the room looking away from everyone else.

The people who want to be with that person would stand behind them.

The person at the front would then turna round and pick who they want to be their soulmate.

Since only 9 people were there it seemed like one person would go home alone.

It was Mina's turn and only you and Momo were left.

"Let's go Y/N." Momo reached out her hand to you.

Begrudgingly you took her hand and both of you stepped up.

When Mina turned around she was a bit disconsolate to find out Momo was holding hands with you. She knew that if she wanted Momo you would have to also be there.

"Is it fine if I pick these two?"

The staff was rather surprised. No one has ever asked to take two people at the same time.

"Well ... I don't see why not."

Both you and Momo rushed up to Mina and hugged her.

"Ugh you idiot get off me."

Momo let go and backed away.

"No not you the other idiot!"

You couldn't help but laugh.

-

All three of you went to Momo's house after the "Soulmates" event ended.

"I don't get why you want Y/N to be a part of this Momo."

"I owe it to him."

"Just don't come near me Y/N."

Momo and Mina started undressing.

They both wanted to have sex but Momo didn't want to leave you behind.

You started to take your clothes off and Mina looked away.

"At least do it out of my eye sight!"

Once you all got undressed Momo jumped onto Mina.

"Mina you have such a pretty face. Will you let me ruin you?"

"Do whatever you want."

Momo started to give her hickeys. Roughly pressing her lips onto Mina and sucking to mark her. Mina rubbed her fingers on Momo's abs. They weren't as defined as hers but she loved them regardless.

"Your body is so precious Momo I'm so glad I can have you."

Not wanting to be left out you made your way onto the bed, being careful to not accidentally touch Mina and grabbed onto Momo's breasts while having your cock pressed against her back.

"Uh I love your hands Y/N!"

"Your breasts are so big Momo I want you so badly."

Momo had a rather big ego now that both you and Mina were fighting to give her pleasure.

Mina kicked you off the bed and wrapped her legs around Momo's waist. "Don't pay attention to him. Focus only on me."

She pulled Momo in closer and their breasts were pushed up against each other. "Mina I love you." Momo said as she reached for Mina's ass.

You got back on the bed and penatrated Momo's ass with your cock which made her yelp.

"Agh!"

"Momo are you okay?"

"I'm fine Mina."

Momo went down to Mina's breasts and started licking her nipple. "Your body tastes sweet."

"It's only for you to use Momo. Please use my body however you want."

Mina pressed her fingers on Momo's clit lightly and got Momo to moan. She felt the vibration on her nipples.

You sped up your thrusts into Momo's ass and Momo put her fingers into Mina.

"Please Momo go faster I want to cum on your pretty fingers."

Momo smiled and ran her fingers down Mina's sides. "Mina I want to enjoy your body as long as I can."

Mina was breathing rapidly.

Momo switched her attention to Mina's other nipples and started to squeeze the other.

She inserted 4 fingers into Mina and she took in a big breath of air.

"Ah! Momo keep going!"

She started to thrust in Mina at a steady pace and Mina started seeing stars.

Pulling your cock out of Momo you went next to her and pulled her head up.

"What do you-"

She wasn't able to finish speaking before you pressed your lips onto hers.

"Your lips are so soft."

You rubbed your tongue around her lips and Momo put her hand into Mina's mouth making her gag.

Mina's gagging faded into the background as your kissing intensified.

You stood on the bed aligning your cock to Momo's face. Momo took your cock in her warm mouth and ran her tongue around your hard cock.

She was sloppy with it making your cock wet and slippery making it easier to slide in and out of her mouth. You grabbed Momo's head and shoved her into your cock.

Tears ran down Momo's eyes and she was choking on your cock.

Mina wasn't happy with you stealing Momo's attention. She shoved four fingers into Momo.

She was getting overstimulated. Momo got your cock out of her mouth to get a breath of air. She choked up a lot of spit and it fell onto the bed sheets.

"Put your filthy cock back in your pants Y/N. This doesn't involve you."

Mina grabbed Momo and dragged her on top of her body wrapping her arms around her. She switched their positions so she was on top of Momo.

Putting one hand on Momo's breast and using her other hand to shove her fingers in Momo's tight pussy. Thrusting rapidly so she reaches her high faster.

"Mina your so-"

"Perfect? I know Momo don't worry you'll start seeing stars soon."

She sucked on her nipples twirling her tongue on her boob. Momo loved how Mina used her body.

"Momo your so perfect."

She came on her fingers and Mina licked her fingers. "Mhm you taste amazing Momo. I only want to eat this every day."

Momo was glad with the worship she was receiving and started to repay her. Momo put her pussy on top of Mina and shoved her fingers in her again.

Mina licked her pussy shoving her tongue deep into her. Momo couldn't handle it and gave up on thrusting in Mina and started to lick her pussy also.

This scene in front of you was making you horney to the point you started to pump your own cock to make yourself cum.

Momo came all over Mina's face. Mina squished Momo's butt while licking all of Momo's cum that she could reach with her tongue.

Not too long after Mina came all over Momo and she passed out afterwards.

"Momo that was amazing."

"I know Y/N. Want help with that?"

You nodded your head and Momo once again started sucking your cock. She used her hand to fondle your balls.

"Do you really think a three way relationship can work?"

"Of course Y/N I'm your soulmate just as much as I am Mina's."

Pulling out your cock, semen covered Momo's face.

You collapsed into her and she wrapped you around her arms collapsing onto the bed.

"I'll take care of you from now on Y/N."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Can you find out who Y/N gave his gift to?

Starring: You Mina, Momo (Twice) Karina (Aespa) Han (Stray Kids) Yeji, Lia (Itzy) Kaito (Jujutsu Kaisen Phantom Parade) RM (BTS)

I apologize if towards the end the pacing felt more rushed. I got tired of working on this and just wanted to move on.

I didn't even proof read this because I'm just so sick of this.

[gothcsz]

final part of the neighbors series. well, everyone... we made it to the devastating end of our beloved neighbors! did i think we'd get here so fast? absolutely not, but alas we must face the truth that these two were doomed from the beginning 💔 thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this little series, i so appreciate it more than you know! please let ya girl know what you think hehe happy reading 🖤 thank you to @persephone-girl, @myownwholewildworld and @ovaryacted for helping me along the way 🥹

javier peña x f!reader. ~16k word count. the angst we've become familiar with, some new years vibes, canon typical violence (please proceed with caution), speaking of canon the timeline is way out of wack but we don't care okay (?), spanish heavy dialogue at times because i love writing in spanish (translations included), character death (bye bye mateo), reader has a mild case of agoraphobia, smut (hopefully it makes up for the heartbreak), unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction be smart irl), oral (f receiving), creampie kink!!!, hurt/no comfort?, guess what: javi is a piece of shit, no happy ending!!!, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay thanks.

The days bleed into one another in a haze of pain, anxiety, and Javier’s unwavering presence.

His apartment has become your sanctuary as your body mends—slowly, achingly—but the weight of the world outside these walls makes every step toward recovery feel like a climb up a mountain.

He hovers without smothering, a balance that only someone as attuned as him could manage. He cooks poorly, though his effort is enough to warm your heart. 

And when dinner inevitably becomes charred beyond recognition, he humors you with a begrudging sigh before ordering takeout from a local spot.

Connie checks in as often as she can. Her competence is a balm in itself, bringing company in the form of the orphaned baby girl they’ve taken in, and gentle scolding when you try to do too much too soon.

You’re definitely going stir-crazy on top of all the other shit you’re still processing.

His bedroom is practically yours now, the space filled with your things from a hurried list you’d made after he went to clear your apartment, ensuring it was safe and untapped. 

You could go back, but you don’t want to. Not yet. Not when every shadow feels like it’s going to swallow you whole, and not when the thought of leaving Javi’s protection makes your stomach tighten with anxiety.

Tonight is no different, the silence of his apartment familiar. Javier is sprawled on the couch in the living room, his gun within arm’s reach on the coffee table, the TV playing some late-night soccer game at a low volume.

You’re in his bed, wrapped in the blankets that carry the scent of him.

The nightmare rips you from your sleep and into a cold sweat. Your screams shatter the quiet, piercing through the walls like a siren. Javier is on his feet in seconds, gun in hand, his instincts sharp as ever, heart pounding as he rushes into the bedroom.

He bursts through the door, his eyes scanning for threats before they land on you. You’re sitting up, clutching your head in your hands, your body shaking with sobs.

Javi approaches slowly, cautious yet reassuring as he sets the weapon down on the nightstand. “It’s me, cariño. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The sound of his voice breaks through your panic, and you look up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your breathing ragged. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his embrace, your face burying into his chest as his strong arms wrap around you.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you sob into his shirt, your fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

Javier keeps you cradled in his lap, feeling helpless as he tries to console you, resting his chin on the top of your head, rubbing your back soothingly. He doesn’t know what to say, and he hopes you don’t take his wordless comfort the wrong way.

Your tears don’t stop, but the steady thumping of his heart and steadying breaths begin to calm the overpowering emotions that stab at you all over. “They k-keep finding me,” you whisper hoarsely. “In my dreams. Mateo, his men… They hurt you, Javi. They kill you, and I-I can’t stop them.”

His jaw tightens, the familiar strike of anger igniting deep in his chest. But he controls it, his focus entirely on you. “That’s not going to happen,” he says with quiet intensity. “I won’t let it. You’re safe here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. They’ll never touch you again.”

Even though the fear still lingers, you nod against him, your tears finally slowing. “I’m scared,” you admit in a hush, as if the city can hear you.

“I know,” his lips replace his chin with a soft kiss placed at the crown of your head. “You’ve got every right to be, but not for much longer. Te lo prometo.” (I promise you)

He holds you close, his mind racing. He knows the nightmares won’t stop until Mateo is dealt with, and the thought of you living in fear makes his blood boil.

Tomorrow, he decides, he’s going to make a move. Berna’s contact information has been burning a hole in his wallet, reminding him of the quickest way to get his justice.

Whatever it takes, whoever he has to call in, Mateo will pay for what he’s done.

He stays with you, his arms a fortress around your trembling body as you finally begin to drift back into an uneasy sleep.

When your breathing finally evens out and sleep welcomes you again, Javier doesn’t move right away. He keeps you in his embrace just a little longer, as if afraid that letting go might wake the nightmares again.

Eventually, he carefully shifts, lowering you back onto the bed. He tucks the blanket snugly around your shoulders, his movements unhurried. For a long moment, he doesn’t leave, his gaze fixed on your face.

Your lashes rest against your cheeks, still damp from tears, and your lips curve downward in a soft, unconscious pout. There’s a faint crease between your brows, as if even in slumber, you’re holding onto the pain. His heart aches at the sight.

Even like this, fragile and hurting, you’re still so beautiful.

He leans in without thinking, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for just a moment longer than they should, as if willing his affection to seep into your dreams and chase away the darkness.

With gentle fingers, he smooths the furrow from your brow, hesitating as he straightens. His eyes trail over you one last time before forcing himself to turn away and leave, returning to his spot on the uncomfortable couch.

Every step he takes toward the usual meeting spot feels heavy, hindering, like the universe is daring him to find another way; a constant reminder of the ethical line he is about to cross yet again.

He’s not about to let what happened to you fall into the cracks of this crumbling country.

Does this really make him any better than Mateo? Than the rest of the assholes he’s spent his career hunting? The question whisks around in Javier’s mind, relentless and accusatory, every time he looks in the mirror or stares down the barrel of another wasted day.

He tells himself the same justification every time: You’ve got to do bad things to catch bad people. You have to stoop to their level to get the job done. Get your hands dirty alongside them. 

But the words taste bitter, even as they leave his mouth. It’s not a mantra—it’s an excuse. One he clings to, because if he doesn’t, he’d have to face the man he’s become.

It’s a betrayal. Of the ideals he once believed in. Of you.

You wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t dare accuse him outright of something so low, but he can see the questions in the way your eyes search his when he comes home in the middle of the night, reeking of sweat and moral compromise. 

He’s doing this for you. It’s about justice, about making things right. But deep down, he knows it’s not just that.

It’s about vengeance.

He steps into the shop, the smell of authentic Colombian food and coffee hitting him all at once.

Berna is already seated, a bulky figure crammed into a chair that seems too small for him, like a predator disguised as a civilian.

His beady eyes flick up as Javier approaches, a greasy grin spreading across his face. “¿Nos volvemos a reunir tan pronto? ¿Me extrañas o qué, Peña?” (Meeting again so soon? Do you miss me or what?) he asks, lifting the tiny cup with fingers that seemed more suited to take lives than hold porcelain.

Javier slides into the seat across from him, the legs scraping against the tile floor. “¿Obtuviste la información que te pedí sobre el banquero?” (Did you get the information I asked for about the banker?) His voice is clipped, wasting no time on pleasantries.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out the photograph of Mateo to remind the other man why he’s here. The paper is crumpled from how many times he’s clenched it in his fist, a physical manifestation of his frustration.

He unfolds it carefully and places it on the table, sliding it between them.

Berna doesn’t even blink, his gaze dropping to the photo with all the urgency of a man just leisuring about. He stirs his coffee lazily, adding another spoonful of sugar. “¿Y yo que gano?” (What’s in it for me?)

Javier’s jaw ticks, the muscle feathering beneath his stubbled skin. He knows this game, has played it too many fucking times—it grates on him. “Lo de siempre,” (What it always is) he replies gruffly. “Esto no es diferente a nuestros otros acuerdos.” (This isn’t any different than our other agreements)

Berna leans back in his chair, his bulk shifting the chair with a creak. “Seguro?” (You sure about that?) he asks, patronizingly, as he taps the edge of the photo with a stubby finger. “Javiercito, ¿sigues dejando que las mujeres dirijan tu vida?” (Javiercito, still letting women run your life?) He tuts, “Pero no te culpo. Una buena perra debilita hasta al hombre más fuerte.” (I don’t blame you. A good bitch debilitates even the toughest man)

He curls his fists under the table, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms, willing himself to stay seated. His patience is running thin, making his leg bounce rapidly. 

“No se trata de eso,” (That’s not what this is about) Javier grinds out through clamped teeth.

Berna barks out a laugh, leaning forward slightly. “Esto no funciona si nos decimos mentiras.” (This won’t work if we tell each other lies) His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper now, though his smug smile remains wide. “Lo estás buscando por la orden que envió.” (You’re after him for that call he sent out)

Javi’s irritation is momentarily replaced by intrigue. He straightens slightly. “¿Cual orden?” (What call?)

Berna’s grin grows wolfish, pure amusement bubbling into an obnoxious, rumbling laugh that fills the small space. “¿Ves? Lo sabía.” (See? I knew it) He wags a thick finger at Javier, like a teacher scolding a disobedient student. “Tu banquero hizo una llamada para deshacerse de su mujer. Una empleada de la embajada. Americana. Vos lo sabes mejor que nadie cómo se sienten estos tipos cuando matan a un Americano, especialmente a una tan insignificante… y muy bonita, por lo que he oído.” (Your banker made a call to get rid of his girl. An embassy employee. American. You know better than anyone how these guys feel about killing an American, especially one so insignificant… and very pretty, from what I hear)

Javier’s gut twists at the confirmation of something he practically already knew.

“Emputó a muchos con ese truco. Huyó como un cobarde. Supongo que por eso estás aquí. Por ella.” (He pissed a lot of people off with that trick. Ran away like a coward. I guess that’s why you’re here. Because of her)

Javier flicks his tongue across his teeth.“Eso no importa,” (That doesn’t matter) he retorts lowly. “Sólo necesito saber dónde está... el y esos hijos de puta que cumplieron la orden.” (I just need to know where he is... and those two motherfuckers who followed through with the order)

Berna hums as he strokes his chin like he’s considering it. “Cartagena,” he finally gives him a location, something to fucking work with, as simply as if he were giving directions to el mercado. “Ahí se esconde. Sin embargo, consiguió protección, pero no es nada que los gringos no puedan manejar.” (That’s where he’s hiding. Got himself some protection, but it’s nothing the Americans can’t handle) That last bit said mockingly to purposely annoy the agent.

“¿Y los otros?” (And the others?) Javier presses, not letting him ride his nerves so easily.

“Santos y Rico,” Berna supplies, shrugging nonchalantly. “Siguen en Bogotá. Frecuentan un club allí sobre los barrios. El Flamenco. Bebidas baratas, música de mierda... tu tipo de lugar, ¿eh?” (They’re still in Bogotá. They frequent a club near the barrios. The Flamingo. Cheap booze, shitty music—your kind of place)

He doesn’t rise to the bait again, simply nodding as he stands, swiping the photo of Mateo off the table and back into his pocket, switching it out for his trusty pack of cigarettes.

“Ten cuidado, Peña,” (Careful, Peña) Berna calls after him, his tone still mocking. “No dejes que te vuelva estúpido.” (Don’t let her make you stupid)

Javier doesn’t look back as he walks out into the crisp night, his mind already focused on the next steps. 

The capital for Santos and Rico. Cartagena for Mateo. But first, back to you.

He isn’t sure how he’d explain this to you… or if he even would. All he knows is that he has to see your face, remind himself why he’s doing this, using you as an excuse to help justify the violence that has tainted his soul.

Javier is gone. A lot. You try not to let it get to you, especially after he promised to not leave your side ever again. Though, you should have known better than to take that literally.

The rhythm of his comings and goings is erratic, like a broken metronome that keeps you off balance.

At first, it was just a couple of days here and there—late nights bleeding into early mornings, his tired eyes explaining everything and nothing all at once. Then the days stretched into weeks, his absence carving a yawning void in the already fragile sanctuary of his apartment.

Your ribs mend. The bruises fade, the cuts scab over, but none of it feels like progress. Healing should feel like a triumph, not this hollow ache of emptiness of what you’re left with.

You are in Javier’s apartment like a ghost confined in purgatory, aimless and haunted.

You’re supposed to be dead right now.

The thought comes at odd moments—while folding the laundry, when washing the coffee mug he used one morning before he was urgently called back to work, standing at the edge of his bed staring at the empty space where his body should be.

You can’t stop it. It circles you like a vulture, picking at what little resolve you have left.

Connie’s gone too. She had been your lifeline for a while, popping in and offering comfort when her own world was crumbling. But her absence was inevitable, torn between spontaneous parenthood and a marriage fraying at every seam because of the job.

Now it’s just you. Alone with your thoughts, the muffled chaos of the world outside seeping through the walls. It’s a torment you never imagined possible, let alone one you’d find yourself living through.

The country seems to be devouring itself. The news on the small TV mutters of violence that is neverending.

Sometimes, you’ll stand by the sliding glass door that leads to his balcony, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. You tell yourself you’re just looking, but the nagging fear of being watched creeps up your spine.

The blinds never stay open for long, your courage retreating as quickly as it came. Javier has trusted agents dropping groceries and meals off for you at the doorstep, and even then you’re very cautious about opening the door to bring them inside. 

Loneliness, paranoia and insomnia have become your closest companions. The reflection in the mirror becomes a stranger with a melancholic expression and sleepless eyes.

You collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is who you are now: a woman afraid to live.

The rare moments Javi manages to call leave you clinging to the landline, his rough voice over the static of the phone your only escape.

His words are rushed, heavy with exhaustion and tension. Sometimes it’s just an update—he’s okay, thinking of you. Other times, it’s the smallest sliver of intimacy:

“I miss you. I’ll be back soon.”

It’s selfish, you know, to want him here when you know the stakes of what he does for a living. The weight of what he deals with is an unwanted companion in his life.

But that doesn’t stop the longing, the ache to have him wrap his arms around you and make the world feel safe again.

The memory of his love confession that night in the bathroom is all that keeps you going. You cradle it like a fragile ember, feeding it with every shred of optimism you can muster. Which isn’t a lot as of late.

One day, you tell yourself. One day this will all be behind you. The darkness will lift, the scars on your heart will heal.

Until then, you have to endure. Love is a painful and ugly thing.

He gets all three of them in the end. It’s not clean, not quiet, but it’s done.

Berna’s information leads Javier straight to the first two—a pair of low-rent sicarios who’d been dumb enough to let their guard down in a hole-in-the-wall bar back in Bogotá.

The two were slouched over the counter, their laughter slurred and careless, oblivious to the shit storm about to hit.

He didn’t even have to lift a finger. The group moved swiftly, their boots loud against the grimy floor, and in seconds, the sicarios were on the ground, bloodied and begging.

Javier didn’t stay to watch them get dragged out into the alley, their pleas echoing in the narrow space before two distinct gunshots were heard.

He was already planning his next move: Cartagena. Mateo.

No time is wasted when he touches down in the coastal city, greeted by Berna and some of his men. 

Flanked by the grim crew, they make their way to the luxurious safe house perched in one of Cartagena’s wealthiest enclaves.

Criminals like Mateo always hide out in opulence after orchestrating such violence.

The assault begins the moment they breach the front gate. Chaos erupts. Gunfire cracks like thunder, tearing through the pristine silence of the night. 

Bullets shatter glass, ricocheting off marble columns and embedding themselves in the cream-colored walls. Screams echo as Mateo’s protective detail fights back hard, but they’re outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and out of luck. 

It’s ruthless yet efficient, and Javier moves through the pandemonium suavely, his focus singular, expression stern, as he searches for the asshole he is here for.

By the time he kicks in the door to Mateo’s hiding spot, the man is cornered. He’s standing by the balcony, sweat dripping down his face, his silk shirt clinging to his torso. A pistol is gripped tightly in his hand and pointed right at Javier.

“Suelta el arma,” (Drop the gun) Javier sneers, his lips curled, weapon steadily trained at the other’s chest. 

The temptation to end it all here—one clean shot—burns in his veins. He could do it, drive a bullet straight into the bastard’s heart and paint the wall behind him red.

But no. He won’t give him the ease of a quick death. Not after what he did to you.

Mateo scoffs as it dawns on him that he’s standing off against the DEA agent that’s been shadowing him since the moment he met you.

“Tú primero.” (You first)

“No estás en una posición para pedir ni mierda.” (You are not in a position to ask for shit)

Their eyes lock, and the room feels impossibly still despite the carnage wreaking outside.

Mateo’s hesitation is all the opening Javier needs. He lunges forward, disarming the man in one swift motion and landing a punch squarely across his face. The force sends Mateo sprawling, his pistol clattering uselessly to the floor.

It’s a struggle and Mateo fights back, dirty and desperate. They grapple, fists flying, grunts filling the air as they roll across the polished floor. Javier takes a few hits to his ribs and jaw, but his anger drives him forward. 

Every punch is laced with the memory of you—of what this fucker had done, of the fear in your eyes and the pain in your voice, how he broke you.

Finally, with a grunt of exertion, Javier manages to force Mateo onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back. The cuffs click into place, metal biting into his skin.

“¿Crees que eres un héroe o qué?” (Do you think you’re some hero or what?) Mateo spits out, blood mixed in his saliva landing with a glop on the floor and Javier yanks him up. “¿Qué va a pensar tu preciado gobierno cuando les diga con quién lluegaste? Me estás arrestando sin ningún puto motivo factual.” (What is your precious government going to think when i tell them who you showed up here with. You’re arresting me with no real fucking cause)

Javier laughs, the sound bitter and hollow, devoid of humor. As he walks him towards the opulent front doors, he makes sure to twist Mateo’s wrists in the restraints until the jagged metal digs enough to make him bleed.

“¿Crees que esto es un arresto?” (You think this is an arrest) The rhetorical question is asked condescendingly, “No, Mateo, no voy a arrastrarte tras las rejas para que te pudras. Ese es un futuro demasiado misericordioso para malparidos como tú.” (I’m not going to drag you behind bars to rot. That’s too merciful of a future for bastards like you)

With a shove, he pushes Mateo forward. The armed men are waiting at the bottom of the marble steps, and they move quickly, forcing a black bag over his head. His muffled curses are cut short by a sharp blow to the gut.

They throw him into the waiting van like cargo, slamming the doors shut before the engine roars to life.

Javier exhales, his hands flexing at his sides as he watches the vehicle pull away into the darkness. He’s about to tail it, his mind already running through the long night ahead, but then his thoughts veer to you and the way you look at him like he’s more than the monster he feels he’s becoming.

Berna steps up beside him, his presence as calm and calculated as ever despite the massacre that has occurred. His hands are clasped neatly behind his back, but there’s a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or curiosity—dancing in his dark eyes.

“¿Y ahora qué?” (And now what?) he asks, his tone deceptively casual, like he doesn’t already know exactly what Javier’s next move is going to be.

Javi doesn’t even glance his way. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

The basement reeks of damp concrete, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. The single bulb overhead swings with a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm, casting broken shadows that dance across the cracked walls and the man tied to the chair.

Mateo’s head hangs low, chin resting against his chest, blood trailing from his broken nose, pooling on the stained floor beneath him. His chest rises and falls unevenly, each breath a wheeze as pain ripples through his bruised and battered figure.

Javier leans against the base of the stairs, his leather jacket discarded over a rusty chair nearby. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, revealing forearms taut with tension, veins bulging beneath his brown skin.

His knuckles are raw, split open from earlier blows, and they throb with a dull ache that he’s long since chosen to ignore. His dark eyes are devoid of their usual sly charm; instead, they smolder with a cold, relentless fury. 

Mateo coughs, spitting blood and phlegm onto the floor. “Todo esto... ¿por ella?” (All this… for her) His voice is weak, rasping, but the mockery in his tone is unmistakable. “I don’t believe it.”

Javier pushes off the wall, his boots echoing on the concrete as he takes measured steps toward the chair. He grabs a stool and pulls it up, straddling it directly in front of the other man. His face is inches away, close enough to make him flinch.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” Javier reaches out, gripping his jaw with one hand, forcing him to meet his gaze. Mateo winces as Javier’s thumb presses hard against a fresh bruise, the pain blooming anew. 

Still, he manages to huff out a wet and gurgling chuckle. “Realmente te tiene envuelto alrededor de su maldito dedo. Estás haciendo todo esto para qué, ¿vengarla? (She really had you wrapped tight around her fucking finger. You’re doing all this to what, avenge her?) Some gringa who barely gave it up. Podrías encontrar una puta mejor en la ciudad, eso sería más creíble que esto—” (You could find a better whore out in the city, that would be more believable than this)

The crack of Javier’s fist connecting with his cheekbone cuts him off mid-sentence. Mateo’s head snaps to the side, and more blood spatters the floor. Javier shakes out his hand, fidgeting his fingers.

“You tried to have her killed.” He spits, voice trembling with restrained rage. “And now you’re going to reap every second she’s had to live in fear because of you.”

Mateo lifts his head weakly, shooting daggers at the agent despite his beaten state. “And this rights the wrong? Makes you better than me? Us? Look at you. Torturing a man in the dark. Working with killers.” 

Javier steps closer, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him forward, their faces inches apart. “You’re goddamn right it doesn’t make me better,” he growls. “But I don’t give a fuck anymore. My moral compass? That broke the day I realized just how low you motherfuckers get. The day I realized the only way to protect people like her is to become just like you.”

He shoves him away with enough force to send the chair rocking precariously, the screech of its legs grating against the hard floor.

Javier’s hand closes around a nearby crowbar, it’s cold metal chilling against the heat radiating from his palm. He grips it tightly, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he stalks forward.

He presses the tip of the bar against Mateo’s knee, letting it rest there just long enough for the man’s wide eyes to meet his. The anticipation thickens the air like smoke, and then Javier swings.

The impact is sickening, the crack of bone like a firework detonating in the basement, followed by Mateo’s shrill and desperate scream.

It’s a sound that would make most men hesitate, flinch even, but Javier doesn’t stop.

He brings the crowbar down again and again, obliterating both knees and then moving downward, snapping tibias and fibulas like kindling. Mateo’s pleas are incoherent now, sobbing gasps and wet, broken cries of “Stop!” and “Please!” that Javier doesn’t hear—or perhaps chooses not to.

The cool iron gleams under the dim, swaying light. Blood trickles down it, some of it spatters across Javi’s shirt, his arms, but it doesn’t faze him.

It all becomes a distant hum, drowned out by the roaring in his ears. He doesn’t see the man in front of him anymore; he sees your pain, the fear etched into your face, the scars you’ll carry forever because of this piece of shit.

When Mateo’s legs are little more than pulp, Javier tosses the crowbar aside, the clang of metal on concrete echoing like a death knell.

He doesn’t stop, though. He doesn’t even hesitate. His fists take over, slamming into the other’s face brutally.

Mateo’s head lolls to the side, his breaths coming in ragged, wet gasps. Javier pulls back only when he’s sure the man is teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, his face swollen and unrecognizable.

Breathing heavily, Javi staggers back and pulls his pistol from its spot tucked at his lower back. The deafening click of the safety switching off snaps Mateo out of his stupor, his swollen eyes flying open in panic. 

He tries to speak, but his words dissolve into choked sobs. His ravaged legs twitch uselessly, bones jutting through torn skin, his face an unrecognizable mask of swelling and gore.

Javier steps closer, raising the gun. The barrel points squarely at Mateo’s chest, unwavering.

There isn’t anything left to say.

The first shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space. Mateo jerks in the chair, blood spraying from the wound. Another shot follows, then another. Every pull of the trigger is cathartic, each bullet an exclamation point to the anger and anguish he’s carried for too long. 

It feels like ripping a piece of his soul away, but he doesn’t stop. Not until the clip is empty and Mateo’s body slumps forward, lifeless.

Silence falls, heavy and oppressive. Javier’s chest heaves as he lowers the weapon, tasting the burnt sulfurous in the air, his fingers trembling slightly. Blood pools around the chair, a deep crimson stark against the dull gray of the concrete.

He stares at the heap for a moment, his body and soul untethered. There’s no satisfaction in his expression, only exhaustion and a shadow of something darker—loathing, maybe.

He tucks the gun at his lower back again and turns away, his boots crunching over spent shell casings as he heads for the stairs, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

He doesn’t look back as he ascends out of the basement, men trailing in to clean the mess up. Javier doesn’t let himself linger on what he’s done. 

You’ve been pacing the apartment for hours, too restless to sit still, too wired to even think about sleeping.

“I’m coming back tonight.”

He sounded different when he called. Blank, almost, but you told yourself not to get hung up on it. You haven’t been feeling like yourself lately, either. 

The only thing that mattered was that he was coming back to you.

By the time the doorknob rattles at one in the morning, you’re wide awake, perched on the edge of the couch with your legs tucked beneath you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the door creaks open, and there he is.

Javier’s silhouette fills the frame, outlined by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. His broad shoulders are hunched, the leather duffle dangling limply in one hand. His jean jacket hangs off him like it’s too heavy, his hair mussed, his face unshaven.

The grim line of his mouth and the absent look in his eyes tug at the emotions you harbor for him.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until your feet are carrying you to him, the silver of the moonlight pours in from the glass doors that lead to the balcony, illuminating the room. “Javi…” you whisper, the name leaving your lips before you can think. 

You throw yourself into his arms without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him like if you hold him tight enough, it will make all this despair go away.

His duffle hits the floor with a dull thud as his arms come around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks, as you cling to him. Your affection, your tenderness. Still, that doesn’t stop him from being selfish and bathing in the warmth of your body pressed against his.

His embrace is crushing, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, but you don’t care. If he could press you into his skin, you’d let him. If you could crawl inside his chest and be near his heart, you would.

“I missed you,” you murmur against him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his jacket. His grip tightens in response, but he doesn’t say a word. His silence makes your throat tighten.

You pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. His skin is rough beneath your fingers, the scruff on his jaw rasping against your palms. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see it all—the weariness, the anger, the shame, the pieces that make him who he is. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but whatever he’s about to say dies on his tongue when you lean in and kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, like you’re trying to pour every word you haven’t said into the press of your lips on his.

They’re softer than you’d imagined in your countless daydreams, but the way he moves them against yours carries an unmistakable authority. Even as you take the lead, it feels like he’s in control.

Javi’s hands rise, cradling the back of your head as he holds you steady. His mouth moves like he’s been waiting for this, needing this, as much as you have.

You are his sanctuary and his torment, the single thread keeping him whole in a world that threatens to disentangle him. 

It’s vaster than love, more potent than lust. It’s the way his heart pinches every time you look at him, as if no matter how far he falls into the darkness, you’ll always be there to pull him back.

Your fingers curl into the denim of his jacket, tugging him closer while you take small, shuffling steps backward. He tastes so forbidden and intoxicating. You’ll never get enough.

As you guide him further into the apartment, he follows without question, mouth never leaving yours, until you stumble slightly over the sunken step into the living room.

His hands move to your waist to steady you, the brief break in the kiss filled with a shaky exhale against your lips, your name leaving him so softly, you almost miss it.

“What are we doing?” His question is rough around the edges, like gravel under silk. He swallows hard, the muscles in his neck moving. His touch remains on your hips, as if he’s caught between holding you close and pushing you away.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you surge forward, capturing his lips again as your hands fumble with his jacket. He hesitates, just for a split second, before shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor.

You’re already tugging at the hem of his shirt as you guide him toward the couch with a determined push, his legs folding beneath him as he sits.

You climb onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.

“Wait,” he says your name, this time a little more sternly. “We can’t—” His fingers flex against your curves, tone strained with the conflict that’s written all over his face.

“Javier, please.” Your plea wavers with emotion, your hands balling into the fabric of his shirt. “I just… I need to feel something else. Make me feel something else.”

His brown eyes meet yours, and the anguish he finds there strikes deep within him. It’s a look he knows all too well, one he’s carried in his own reflection more times than he can count.

It hurts him to see it mirrored back at him, to know that you’ve reached the same depths he’s had to endure.

He should say no. He should tell you that fucking him won’t fix anything, that it won’t make the hurt disappear. If anything, it might make it worse.

But as he takes in the sight of you—your pleading eyes, your trembling hands, the way your lips are still swollen from his kisses—he knows he can’t resist. Not when he’s wanted this, wanted you, for so long.

“Are you sure?” Your noses brush and the heat between you is almost unbearable.

“Please fuck me, Javi,” you whisper, the raw need in your voice obliterating the last shred of his trepidation.

His lips find yours with renewed fervor, hands roaming your body with reckless abandon, no longer hesitant.

Your own are just as eager, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you rock your hips against his bulge. His sharp inhale tells you he feels it too—the spark, the friction. 

Clothes begin to fall away piece by piece, the space narrowing until there’s nothing but the press of your bodies and the sound of ragged breaths as you expose more to the other’s hungry gaze.

The moonlight filtering through the blinds casts Javier in a way that makes him look otherworldly. You’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count, but tonight, under the spell of the lust simmering between you, his body appears almost unreal—every ridge of muscle, every faint scar, illuminated and tempting.

Your touch moves at its own accord, spreading over his firm chest, tracing the curve of his pectorals, feeling the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat. You move to cradle his face once more, his skin warm and taut under your palms as you guide him down to your neck.

Javier presses his lips to the delicate skin just below your ear, the scrape of his facial hair making you keen. His teeth nip at your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you, and his tongue follows to soothe the sting.

His kisses blaze a trail lower, past the hollow of your throat and down to the swells of your tits, where he pauses, his breath fanning over your charged skin.

Your breath catches softly as his tongue flicks across the sensitive flesh, and then one of his hands slides up from your waist to cup the other. His thumb brushes over your nipple, teasing it until it peaks under his touch, and then his mouth is on you again—hot, wet, and maddeningly skillful.

He sucks the tender nub gently and you arch into him, whimpering from how good it feels.

“Javi…” you moan, your fingers burying themselves in his hair. His tongue circles your pebbled nipple, flicking it with just the right amount of pressure before he grazes it with his teeth, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core, slickening your cunt with each lick.

He doesn’t neglect the other for long, moving over to give it the same attention, making you feel like you’re coming undone one nerve at a time.

His mouth feels delicious against your skin, and your skin tastes delicious on his tongue.

Even as his desire threatens to consume him, he’s cautious. He notices how you flinch slightly when his fingers press a bit too firmly into your soft skin and guilt prickles at the edges of his hunger; but it only makes him gentler, more intent on making you feel good without causing any more pain.

Javier kisses his way back up until his lips are at the corner of your mouth. Then, with a fluid motion, he shifts your position, guiding you onto your back. The worn cushions cradle you as he hovers over you, his broad frame shielding you from the world, one hand planted firmly beside your head as he kneels between your parted thighs. 

The sight of him above you, his polished amber eyes smoldering with want, makes your stomach flip.

Your hips tilt instinctively, seeking more, and the throbbing at your pussy grows insistent. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, the denim of his jeans rubbing tantalizingly against your inner thighs.

He doesn’t speak, but the tension in his jaw, the way his breath is ragged as his fingers find the waistband of your sleeping shorts, says everything.

You lift your hips to help him ease them off, the cool air brushing against your damp skin making you shiver. He undresses fully, and you watch in anticipation as he rids himself of his jeans.

The room is almost fully dark, shadows swallowing the details, but you feel the heat of his cock as it presses against your slick folds.

Your head falls back against the couch, a shaky moan escaping your lips. “Oh…” you whimper, thighs trembling as the blunt head of his length glides along your throbbing seam, gathering your arousal. 

The rough pads of his fingers slither down, brushing through the untamed curls at the apex of your thighs. Your upkeep has been the last thing on your mind, given the chaos of your life lately, but Javier doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter. If anything, the unfiltered, raw intimacy of it seems to spur him on.

He strokes your pussy gently, his touch reverent, as if every part of you is something to be savored.

The pearl of precum that leaks from the slit on his cock smears against your thigh as he brings his hand up, licking the tips of his fingers, tasting you. 

Your heady taste is an aphrodisiac that almost has him pouncing on you like a rabid dog.

There’s a glistening sheen of his spit on the pads of his digits as his hand descends again, sliding between your folds.

His touch is confident, and when he circles your clit with the calloused texture of his fingertips, the sensation hits you like a jolt of electricity, bending your back off the couch as his name tumbles from your lips.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer. “I need you.”

He tries not to let those three simple words affect them as much as he knows they can. Instead, he adjusts, making sure you’re both comfortable, bringing you up onto his lap, steadying you by cradling your lower back in his large hand as you loop your arms around his shoulders.

Your thighs tighten at his waist as he aligns his dick at the mouth of your pussy, slowly sinking in, which has you shivering and him hissing out. 

You cling to his wide frame as he fills you completely. The world narrows down to nothing but the feel of his cock.

Having you in his arms feels like a paradox—so right and yet so wrong. It’s a storm of conflicting emotions that Javier barely has the bandwidth to process, but all those doubts dissolve with every inch of his length that slides into your wet, tight heat.

The feel of you gripping him so snugly makes his head tilt back slightly, lips parting with a soft groan.

The stretch is both foreign and delicious as your body adjusts to the thickness and size of him.

Your nails bite into the taut muscles of his shoulders, your breath catching in your throat before spilling out in a desperate, trembling moan as he buries himself into your body.

The subtle burn gives way to an irrepressible wave of pleasure when he begins to move, slow at first, testing your limits, before he finds a rhythm that has your head spinning.

“Javi,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as you hold onto him.

Your hips begin to move with his, grinding down in a desperate attempt to take him deeper, to feel every inch of him claiming you.

He groans as he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours. The hand at your lower back moves up to sprawl at the middle, keeping you steady, as the other cups your ass and guides your movements to match his thrusts.

His head nudges yours, his silent request clear, and you pull back just enough for your mouths to collide in a messy, hungry embrace. His tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours, the kiss as consuming as the rest of him.

Every powerful stroke of his hips wipes away the hollow ache that had rooted itself in your chest. In its place is a blissful sensation that threatens to engulf you.

You can feel the intensity of his passion in every thrust, every growled exhalation of your name, every flick of his tongue against yours.

Javier has a way of making the world disappear, of pulling you so completely into him that there’s no room for pain, for doubt, for anything but how good he’s fucking you. 

In his arms, with his body wrapped around yours and his cock filling you to the brim, you feel more than safe. You feel wanted. Protected. Cherished. Taken care of.

“Did you really mean it?” you whimper as your hips grind steadily against him, taking him entirely with every downward roll of your body.

Your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly. The wet, obscene sound of your arousal meeting his cock fills the air, a symphony of lust underscoring your whispered question. “Do you actually love me?”

Javier groans, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as your walls flutter and squeeze around him. 

He doesn’t answer immediately, too lost in the sight of you—your furrowed brows, the sweat glistening on your skin, the way your lips part on every gasp and moan.

And you, despite being desperate for his assurance, can’t bring yourself to stop riding his dick.

I’ve killed for you, he thinks, but doesn’t dare say aloud. Instead, his rough voice finally breaks. “I do,” he rasps, his hands gripping your ass possessively, continuing to guide your pace as his strokes grow frantic. “So fuckin’ much. You’d never—shit— you’d never understand.” His mouth latches onto your collarbone, licking and biting with a feral need as if he could brand his love into your skin.

“Make me understand,” you demand in a breathy moan. Your pussy quivers as he adjusts his angle, his cock dragging against a spot inside you that evokes something new. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back, exposing the arch of your neck to his ravenous kisses.

The ecstasy isn’t just centered at your pussy anymore—it conquers your entire body, an all-encompassing euphoria.

Javier doesn’t waste time with more words. Where they fail him, his actions overcompensate.

In a blink, he shifts, pinning you beneath him on the couch. His hands slide under your thighs, hitching them high around his hips as he starts to thrust with unrelenting rhythm. The head of his cock feels like it’s brushing against your heart, making you cry out incoherently.

Each roll of his hips is a declaration, a confession. This is how much I love you. This is how much I need you.

“Oh my god,” you mewl when it starts feeling like too much. Your hands scramble for purchase, one landing on his cheek while the other claws at his back. Your eyes roll back, and sounds you didn’t even know you could make spill from your lips.

Javier’s face is tight with concentration, his brow pinched together, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. He leans in closer, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that’s as nasty and desperate as his love making.

You can taste the impending bliss on your tongue as your orgasm begins to crash over you. “I love you, Javier,” you moan, high pitched and sweetly.

Your declaration is his undoing. With a loud grunt, Javier pulls out swiftly, his fist wrapping around his cock as he pumps himself. His release comes in hot, thick spurts, painting your stomach as he shudders above you, hips jerking reflexively.

“God damn,” he mutters hoarsely as he collapses forward. His forehead rests against your chest, peppering kisses all over, as the two of you come down together, tangled and spent.

When he regains his composure, he moves off the couch, tugging his jeans on in a practiced, effortless motion before disappearing into the bathroom. You remain sprawled against the cushions, your body still humming from the pleasure he gave you.

A haze of contentment blankets you, leaving you feeling like a new woman. For the first time in weeks, the suffocating mass on your chest feels lighter—his touch, his presence, the way he fucked you—it all feels like a salve on your wounded spirit.

He returns swiftly, a damp, clean rag in hand. His movements are gentle as he crouches beside you, wiping away the sticky remnants of his release from your stomach.

The care in his actions is almost as endearing as the passion you just shared, and you find yourself watching him, entranced. The lines of exhaustion etched into his face don’t take away from how devastatingly handsome he looks in this moment.

It’s only when his hand brushes yours as he adjusts the rag that you notice the state of it—knuckles battered and scabbed over. You’d been too lost in the zeal of your coupling to notice, but now it has a pang of worry cutting through your post-coital haze.

“Javi, your hands—” you start, softly yet concerned. As you slowly sit up, a subtle twinge in your back reminds you just how thoroughly he’d fucked you into the couch. You grimace but press on, your brows knitting together as you reach for him.

Out of habit, he flexes his fingers, his lips tugging into something meant to be reassuring but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he answers with a nonchalance that brushes off the concern in your voice.

Rising from his crouched position, he tosses the rag aside, going through the motions of lighting a cigarette. He sits beside you, pulling you close and wrapping the familiar, colorful quilt around both your bodies, blowing the smoke away from your face.

You don’t give up so easily. Curling into his lap, you nuzzle your nose against the crook of his neck, planting a featherlight kiss against the birthmark there. He smells like sex, tinged with the fading scent of his cologne.

Wordlessly, you reach for the arm around your shoulder, cradling his hand gently. You bring it to your lips, brushing them against his injured knuckles. Your eyes stay locked on his, the act full of care, as if you’re trying to kiss away the pain written in every crack and abrasion.

“It’s over,” He announces steadily, his words sinking like a stone dropped into water.

You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He pauses, taking another drag then licking his lips with a flick of his tongue. His gaze is fixed on where your fingers are still curled around his hand. “Mateo.” The name makes your body tense instinctively at the mention of it, and he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. “The intention was to bring him in alive, but… he got caught in the crossfire.”

It’s a lie built on necessity and self-preservation, but a lie nonetheless. His dark eyes search your face, gauging your reaction. 

Your lips part slightly as you process what he’s just said: Mateo. Dead.

You can finally be in control of your own life again… good riddance, right? You should feel relief, maybe even vindication.

And yet, the feeling is muted, tangled up in something you can’t quite place. 

Is it the lingering haze of sleeping with Javier clouding your judgement? Or is it the unsettling knowledge that this death, even while deserved, will find a way to sneak back into your mind when you least expect it? Will it resurface in the future, leaving you grappling with emotions you don’t want to feel for a man who tried to have you killed?

You look up at Javi. His eyes are a deep, earthy brown of aged mahogany—steadfast, enduring, yet weathered by time and trials. You search them, hoping the steady intensity might offer you some clarity.

Instead, all you find is an intangible burden. What would it take, you wonder, to dim that tragic glint that eclipses his beautiful eyes?

Still, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Good.” You tighten your grip on his hand, your smaller fingers pressing against his rougher, calloused ones. “Thank you.”

Javier’s molars grind together at your quiet gratitude. It’s like chewing glass, and he has to toke on the cigarette to ease the feeling. 

Would you still feel this way if you knew the truth? If you knew that Mateo’s death wasn’t just a convenient win, but a calculated decision with the help of bad men just like him.

Would you still be thankful then?

Your fingers slip from his hand to his cheek, tilting his face toward you. The softness in your touch undoes the tension at his jaw. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” you say quietly, like you’ve somehow caught onto the turmoil simmering beneath his stoic exterior. “Not with me.”

He closes his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch despite himself. You have no idea just how much shit he’s already hauling, how much he’ll never let you see. “You’re safe now,” is all he can bring himself to say, and it feels like both assurance and a deflection. “That’s all that matters.”

Javier stands in the lone office, his mind weighed with the heaviness of recent conversations. Stechner’s words reverberate like a stinging slap.

“For everything you know, you’re extremely naïve.”

The condescension was thornier than he wanted to admit, piercing through his frustration more sharply than the looming fallout.

He’s been fired. Reassigned. Whatever bureaucratic label they slapped on it.

The scandal of his ties with the vigilante squad has finally blown up in his face. By morning, he’ll be on a flight back to Laredo with nothing but his duffel bag and a bruised sense of self.

He should have seen it coming. Hell, he did see it coming, but he still walked straight into it, didn’t he?

This is what happens when you gamble with drug traffickers and criminals, people whose loyalties shift like sand.

Trusting them had been an obvious mistake. But trusting the U.S. government to have his back? That was downright foolish. Those assholes were playing their own games under the guise of diplomacy.

Stechner was right—he is naïve, thinking he could wrest something just out of this mess on his own terms. Justice could never be carved out of deceit and bloodshed.

There’s no victory to claim. Just dirtied hands and sleepless nights.

Well… it wasn’t all for nothing. There’s you. The one silver fucking lining in this entire shitshow.

But even that was about to collapse under the weight of his failures. He’d have to tell you. But how the hell could he look into your eyes and explain everything he’d done? The compromises, the lies, the violence he had incurred. 

That he’s leaving?

Javier drags a hand down his face, the lines on his brow deepening with each thought.

Disgust. That’s what he expects to see when he tells you. Maybe judgment, too. 

He knows himself too well. The moment he looks into your eyes, he’ll falter, take the coward’s way out and give you only half-truths wrapped in feeble excuses.

The clock ticks on the wall behind him, each second louder than the last, a metronome counting down to his own undoing. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, he’ll drown in his own misery and ruin the night before it even begins.

You have been looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party. The embassy’s farewell to another tumultuous year, held at some ritzy bar downtown.

Javier would have skipped it without a second thought if it were up to him. But you’d been excited, your eyes lighting up at the prospect of something normal, craving it, so he agreed to be your date.

The timing couldn’t be worse. The night should be about new beginnings, but all Javier can feel is the heaviness of his impending departure. And he has no idea when—or how—he’s going to find the words to say goodbye.

His body moves on autopilot until he’s standing outside your door, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side before rapping his knuckles against the wood.

The door swings open, and there you are—radiant, with that smile that could light up even the darkest corners of his life. It’s so warm, so genuine, it hurts more than it soothes him.

“Hey,” you greet cheerfully, stepping aside to let him in. “That was a lot quicker than I expected. Is everything okay?”

For a moment Javi hesitates, an explanation stuck in his throat. He crosses the threshold, shutting the door behind him.

His eyes sweep over you almost involuntarily as you turn and head back toward the bathroom. The skirt of your dress sways with each step, modest in length but criminal in how it hugs your figure. His gaze locks onto the swing of your hips, hungry and selfish, his feet moving as if tethered to yours.

“Everything’s fine.” The words come out clipped, his tone consciously flat. He doesn’t want to invite more questions, doesn’t want you to see through the cracks forming in his wavering facade.

You don’t press him, too preoccupied with the mirror, inspecting your makeup. You swipe another dab of blush across your cheeks, leaning in closer to scrutinize your reflection. “Too much?”

He stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame as he leans against it, watching you with an enamored look he doesn’t bother hiding. “Looks perfectly fine to me,” he replies gruffly, though he means it.

Things between you two have settled into uncharted waters. That night on his couch had been electric, a collision of want and need that left you both reeling. But since then, you’ve held back, keeping the boundaries undefined.

It’s not that you don’t want him—every time he’s near, your body remembers the way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel whole again.

However, there’s something he’s holding back, and you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers on you for too long. You've decided not to push, not while you’re still piecing yourself back together, taking cautious steps on your own journey of healing. 

Still, the love between you is undeniable. You feel it in the way he holds you at night, his arms firm yet tender as you drift off to sleep. It’s there in the softer timbre he uses when you talk over the phone while he’s stationed in Medellín. 

Even though you’re been back in your apartment now, every night he’s in the capital, he’s either at your place or you’re at his.

You’ve returned to work, and while it’s helped you settle back into a sense of normalcy, it doesn’t feel the same. 

The small routines you’ve fallen into do bring you comfort, despite the bigger questions that loom in the background. 

You find yourself wondering if it’s time to leave the clerical work behind and seek something greater, something that aligns with the new version of yourself you’re trying to uncover.

Then there’s the question of where you’ll go from here—literally. Colombia has become more than a temporary home, and you’ve realized there’s little waiting for you where you’re from. Truthfully, you could go anywhere. But do you want to?

The answer is clear: the only person you want to be with is standing in your hallway.

“Thanks for coming out with me to this. I know it’s not exactly your kind of night.” You glance at him over your shoulder, adjusting the last details of your appearance in the mirror. “Want a drink?”

“It’s not,” he concurs, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “but there’s no way I’m letting you go out there alone looking this beautiful.” His gaze sweeps over you once more as he follows you back out into the living room, his flattery leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The compliment lands as intended and you feel the apples of your cheeks tingling warmly. “You’re sweet,” you murmur as you pour both of your drinks at the bar cart. 

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the crackle of the record player in the corner, spinning a soft tune you both half recognize. For a moment, it feels easy. Natural.

When you turn back to him, you hold out his glass with a small, shy smile.

Should he tell you now? Get it over with and rip it off like a bandaid. But as you take a step closer, your voice breaches his spiraling thoughts.

“¿Estás seguro que todo está bien?” (Are you sure everything is alright?) You ask, your brows knitting with quiet concern.

His grip around the glass tightens slightly. He swallows the bitterness lodged in his throat, the words forming in his mind before dissolving into silence. Instead, he forces a half-smile, his tone turning light, almost flippant.

“De mí no te preocupes cariño,” (Don’t worry about me) he tells you softly. “Debemos celebrar el Año Nuevo sin ninguna mamada.” (We should celebrate the New Year without any bullshit)

You search his face, sensing the weight he’s trying to hide, but when his hand lifts to brush against your cheek, your resolve falters. The back of his knuckles are rough, calloused, but his touch is achingly gentle. You lean into him instinctively, your eyelashes fluttering as a sense of calm washes over you.

He’s right. Whatever weight he’s carrying, whatever darkness lingers behind his eyes, it can wait until tomorrow. Tonight is about enjoying the fleeting moments of joy.

“Okay.” When your eyes meet him again, there’s gentleness there, a silent agreement to leave the worries behind.

Javier tips his glass toward yours in a silent toast, a half smile pulling at his pouty lips. “Salud.”

“Salud,” you echo, clinking your glass against his.

From his spot at the bar, Javier’s eyes stay glued to you, the knot in his chest tightening with each laugh that escapes your glossed lips. You’re standing with a group of your coworkers, your head tilted back as you throw yourself into some joke he couldn’t hear.

The sound of a countdown filters through the bar, and the announcer’s voice booms that there are five minutes left until the new year.

As if on cue, you start making your way back to him, your expression alight with excitement.

“They’re setting off fireworks on the roof! We should get up there before it gets too crowded,” you suggest, the words spilling out with the eagerness of someone who’s had just enough to drink.

Javier nods, his lips twitching into a faint smile in one of those rare moments where his amusement is genuine and unguarded. He finishes the last sip of his drink, sliding off the barstool suavely. 

Before you can take more than a step, his arm loops around your waist, pulling you closer.

The haze of the drinks and his steady warmth make you feel like you’re walking on air as he guides you to the stairs leading to the rooftop.

When you step outside, the cool night air nips at your bare shoulders, making you shiver. You turn on your heel, already halfway to suggesting going back for your coat when Javier beats you to it.

“Just take mine,” he says, shrugging out of his leather jacket gallantly. He drapes it over your shoulders, the weight of it heavy but comforting, the potent scent of him wrapping around you like a second skin, making you giddy.

The sleeves fall far past your hands and you let out a contented laugh. “Gracias, Javi,” you angle yourself to press a kiss to his cheek.

With his hand in yours, you tug him toward the edge of the rooftop, where the city sprawls out below in a sea of twinkling lights.

“You know, despite all the violence and corruption, this country really is so beautiful.”

Javier doesn’t respond right away. His gaze shifts from the city to you, longingly. “Yeah,” he agrees in a raspy timbre, “it is.”

But his words aren’t meant for the city. They’re meant for you.

An eager, ill-timed firework crackles in the distance, a single streak of light exploding into a shower of gold and white over the skyline. 

“Look at that,” you whisper, the sound barely audible over the growing cheers and whistles of the crowd.

Javier doesn’t look at the fireworks. He can’t. His gaze is glued to you, the way the vibrant colors illuminate your features, casting you in a kaleidoscope of light. 

He’s memorizing everything about this moment: the tilt of your lips as you smile, the slight raise in your brow as you lose yourself in the spectacle, his jacket draped over your shoulders.

The countdown begins, voices around you picking up in excitement.

Ten… nine…

You glance up at him, your face glowing with the anticipation of a fresh start with the only person you want by your side. “Javi,” the way his name rolls off your tongue jabs at his crumbling walls.

Eight… seven…

He manages a fleeting smile, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite the leaden weight of his turmoil on his back.

Six… five…

Your free hand comes up to rest lightly on his chest, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you for being here.”

Four… three…

“Always,” he replies, even though it’s a lie.

Two… one…

You both lean in at the same time, as if pulled by some invisible thread. Your lips meet his in a kiss that feels as inevitable as the sunrise. It’s soft at first, tender and unhurried, but it shifts quickly, urgency fueling it.

The rooftop erupts in cheers as the first moments of the new year are ushered in with a thunderous cascade of fireworks. The sky is alive with bursts of red, white, gold.

For you, it feels like the perfect moment, the start of something good. You can’t imagine wanting anything else but this—him, here, now.

For Javier, it feels like a bittersweet end. Laced with his unspoken heartbreak, a desperate attempt to memorize the taste of your lips, the way your body fits so perfectly against his, before everything comes crashing down.

When you finally pull back, your cheeks are hot, your smile radiant as you look up at him. “Feliz Año Nuevo.”

He forces a smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Happy New Year, cariño.”

You surge forward again, the pull of him irresistible. Your hands cradle his jaw as your tongue teases against his bottom lip, a silent plea he answers without hesitation. His mouth parts, letting you in—hot and enthralling, making your toes curl in your heels.

His fingers slide lower, grabbing a possessive handful of your ass. A soft moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth, and your thighs instinctively press together, trying to quell the thrum of arousal beginning to pulse at your cunt.

“Take me home,” you whisper desperately as you break away, all shaky and breathless. Your eyes meet his dark and hooded ones, mirroring your own need.

For a second, Javier doesn’t move, caught in the crossfire of his own thoughts. But as he looks at you, sees the way, your pupils are blown wide with desire—any lingering hesitation crumbles.

“Let’s go.”

He leads you through the crowd, his broad shoulders parting the sea of people like he was made to shield you from the chaos.

Your pulse races, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach as the fireworks continue to explode above, unnoticed by either of you.

You love how his weight settles over you, his hands traveling in hunger across every inch of your skin. The way you grind against him feels like second nature, your body responding to his every move with an unrelenting need. 

You hadn’t expected him to take his time like this, stretching out every moment of foreplay as if he’s trying to make it last forever.

It’s the third time tonight he’s taken you apart with his mouth, but this time, his fingers are joining in, plunging into your soaked heat while his tongue flicks over your clit in a rhythm that makes you see fireworks erupting against your vision.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, your body twisting against the damp sheets as you struggle to stay present.

Javier’s tongue drags slow circles over your swollen nub before he sucks it into his mouth, the gentle pull sending sharp jolts down your spine. 

His fingers curl inside you, brushing against that devastating spot that has your back arching clean off the mattress.

“Javi!” you cry out, hips stuttering against his face as the wave of your climax crashes over you. His hooked nose presses against you as you fall apart.

He doesn’t stop. He’s utterly lost in you—your sweet headiness, the way your walls squeeze around his fingers. You have to yank hard on his hair to finally pull him away, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he looks up at you, mouth glistening with your release.

He licks his lips slowly, savoring every last bit. There’s a desperate intensity in his eyes, like his palate is memorizing the taste of you.

Javier kisses his way up your body, stopping to worship your breasts, his tongue and teeth teasing each peak until you’re squirming, your pussy continuously drooling for him.

When his lips finally crash against yours, it’s messy as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands roam over his broad back, tracing the curve of muscle and sinew, appreciating the feel of his skin against yours. You sigh softly, content to be pinned beneath him.

“Turn over. On your stomach.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the order, and though your body feels overwhelmed from his attention, you obey without hesitation. Your desire for him outweighs everything else.

Javier shifts back, giving you room to move. You reposition yourself, chest and stomach pressed flat against the mattress while your hips lift, aided by the pillow he slides beneath you.

The cool air kisses your exposed skin, and you hear him groan behind you—a deep sound that has your pussy clenching in anticipation.

“Tan hermosa,” he whispers hoarsely, his rough hands caressing your ass before delivering a playful smack that makes you gasp. The flesh jiggles under his touch, and he leans down to place a tender kiss on your shoulder, biting softly as he aligns himself behind you.

You feel the head of his cock drag through your folds, gathering the slick mess he’s drawn from you before pressing against your wet entrance. He pushes in slowly, the stretch making your mouth fall open in a silent cry.

“Javier,” you whimper, your fingers clutching the sheets as he fills you inch by inch.

The angle is devastating, reaching places you didn’t even know existed, and all you can do is hold on tight.

His strong thighs cage yours, while his broad frame looms over you, his toned arms braced on either side of your head. Each measured thrust sends his heavy balls slapping against your puffy, soaked clit.

“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight like this.” He lowers more of his weight onto you, pressing you further into the mattress, his thrusts growing more delirious.

The force of his movements pulls unrestrained moans from your lips, each one echoing with pure, unfiltered satisfaction.

Your trembling hands fumble over the sheets until they find his calloused palms pressing firmly into the sheets. 

Without hesitation, you intertwine your fingers with his, your softer touch setting off something feral inside him. He starts to pound into you, his hips snapping hard and fast as though the world outside this room doesn’t exist.

Your pussy clamps around on him in response, helplessly succumbing to his pace. Your hips instinctively try to push back against him but his weight over you, so dominant, keeps you in place, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock.

“I-I—” The words tumble out, but they’re incoherent, your mind too clouded with the way he breaks you open, your sex swallowing him in even deeper.

“Another one already? I should’ve taken care of you and this perfect pussy a long,” he thrusts hard, “time,” another sharp snap of his hips, “ago.”

“Ah!” you shriek, your nails digging into his hands where your fingers remain entwined, your vision crossing as he hits that spot inside you that flares your orgasm. “Just like that. Don’t stop, Javi.”

He doesn’t falter nor considers easing up, inducing another wave of stickiness from your cunt.

The obscene sounds of your bodies meeting—wet and raw—fill the room, punctuated by the shameless cries spilling from your throat. Your climax slams into you with breathtaking intensity, your pussy spasming and gripping him so tightly, it pulls a scratchy groan from his lips.

Javier finally stills, buried to the hilt, letting you ride out the aftershocks as your shaking body collapses beneath him. He peppers soft kisses across your damp shoulders and down your spine, his mustache bristling deliciously against your skin.

When his lips find the curve of your neck, he lingers, licking at the delicate flesh there as though he can’t get enough of you.

Four orgasms in, your body feels utterly spent, your thighs trembling as the weight of exhaustion begins to set in. You turn your head, your voice soft as you murmur, “Javi.”

He lifts his head, his eyes searching yours with concern. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, a lazy smile curling at your lips. “Just… hold me.”

His chest rises and falls with a staggered breath, the weight of his departure lingers like a shadow over the moment, threatening to sour it. But he pushes it away.

He pulls out of you slowly, the wet slide drawing a hushed whimper from your lips. He rolls onto his side, gathering you into his arms and tucking you against his chest. His still-hard cock, satiny and heavy, presses against your stomach, impossible to ignore.

You glance up at him, fingers trailing down his sternum toward his length. “Do you want me to…?”

He catches your wrist gently, stopping you. “No. Not yet.”

You hum your understanding, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing the top of your head as the two of you settle into a lull of lazy, unhurried affection.

Kisses are exchanged between whispered words, hands mapping the planes of the other’s body.

Everything about him is so damn addictive. 

The lust that simmers reignites, pulling you under its spell, and this time, you don’t wait for permission. Your palm wraps firmly around his cock, tugging him languidly.

Javier’s lashes flutter, his head falling back slightly, exposing the strong line of his throat. A low sound escapes him as his hips move instinctively to match your strokes. “Fuck,” he groans, strained, “Así mero.” (Just like that)

Your thumb brushes over the bead of precum glistening at his tip, smearing it down his length, making him shudder. His jaw tightens, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

The whisper of his name is laced with need as your lips trace his neck. “I need you again.”

He hooks one of your legs over his hip, the other tangled with his in a side-styled missionary, your bodies pressed so tightly together that you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your breasts.

Your pussy lips part open, eager for him, and the anticipation buzzes through your body. You guide him where you need him and he lets his hips take over, the thick, spongy tip sinking into you until he’s fully seated.

A gasp escapes your lips as he starts to move, slow and purposeful.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he keeps them hidden, burying his face against your throat, engulfing you in his arms entirely.

The thought of losing you cleaves at him, and a desperate idea flits through his mind—if he could just open up, let you see the broken pieces of himself, maybe you’d understand. Maybe you’d come with him to Laredo, let him show you, and himself, the quiet beauty of a life together on his family ranch.

The fantasy swells in his chest, making his thrusts grow more passionate. His teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder, almost enough to hurt.

You’re barely human anymore, lost in the voracious sensation of his cock stretching and filling you; just a mass of feverish energy.

Your fingers dig into his back, nails raking across his sweat-slicked skin as you cling to him, completely uncaring of the sticky warmth where your bodies connect or the thick scent of sex that permeates the air.

“Oh god, Javier,” you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as you tilt your head back. “Keep doing that—oh my god—I love you.”

Your words are a jolt to his system, breaking down every defense he has left. He groans your name as his mouth trails up your throat, leaving a broad stripe of his tongue in its wake before nipping gently at your jaw.

“Say it again,” he breathes heavily as his hips grind deeper, the motion pulling an uncontrolled cry from you, your body jolting against his.

“I love you,” you babble as his movements turn rougher, more desperate.

He presses his forehead to yours, his gaze dark and wanton. “Kiss me,” he rasps.

You obey without hesitation, your lips finding his in a feverish clash of need and devotion.

Tongues tangle and teeth graze as if you’re trying to devour each other, your bodies writhing, desperate to become one.

“Where do you want it?” Javi grits out, hovering on the edge of his release. His chest heaves, feeling your nipples brushing his skin while his muscles turn taut as he tries to hold himself back for your answer.

You’re quivering from the aftermath of what feels like your fifth orgasm, maybe sixth—you’ve lost count.

Your mind is hazy, clouded with exhaustion and bliss, that his question barely registers. Your fingers clutch at his forearms, nails leaving crescent moons in his skin as you look up at him.

You manage a soft pout with trembling lips. “Inside,” You need it badly, your pussy instinctively clenching around his cock at the prospect of him filling you. Then, with more desperation, you plead. “Please, Javi.”

The way your lips purse, the edge of tears in your voice have his instincts taking over. A greedy, lustful desire too overpowering to resist.

He has to give you what you’re begging for.

“Fuck,” Javi groans, his head dropping against your shoulder, his voice muffled as curses and ragged breaths spill from his lips. He finishes inside of you in hot, shuddering waves.

The heat of his cum stuffing you has a blissful mewl escaping your lips. Your pussy insatiably holding onto every drop, milking him as though your body can’t bear to let him go.

He remains there, his cock twitching inside as the both of you ride out the ecstasy.

Javi makes no move to pull out, instead his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as his spend drips out around his cock and down to his balls.

Time feels like it bends and stretches, the minutes melting into hours as you lose yourselves in each other.

You fuck, you make out, you touch each other so tenderly that you’re certain you somehow managed to retrieve a slice of heaven right here in your bedroom.

The night gives way to the distant glow of dawn. The room is bathed in a soft, golden light as the sun peeks over the horizon.

You’re both exhausted, your bodies aching from the endless push and pull of pleasure, yet neither of you seems willing to stop.

Javier hovers above you, half lidded gaze locked with yours. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his middle while his hips move suavely. 

“Just one more,” he’s practically begging as those brown eyes of his bore into yours. He just needs one more. “You can do it, pretty girl. I know you can. Been doin’ so good all night.”

His lips finally find yours in an ardent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him yet again. You’re lost in all he’s given you, your world spinning as your final orgasm tears through you.

He follows shortly after, his hand wrapped around your jaw as he holds you steady while he pumps you full of his cum.

Javi turns gentle as he plants sweet kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. He caresses your thighs then up your side as your breathing slows.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He continues to knead and fondle, murmuring soft praises until you’re completely at ease, melting into him.

You’re drifting toward sleep, limbs heavy and utterly spent, your body glowing in the soft light of early morning. The faint sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, catching rays as they filter through the curtains.

Javier leans against the headboard, eyes tracing the length of your body beneath the sheets. The serenity in your expression tugs at a longing so profound, it’s painful. When his gaze flicks to the alarm clock on the bedside table, the time glares at him in bold red numbers.

His flight boards in a little over three hours.

The lump in his throat swells, a heavy, choking pressure that makes it feel like it’s going to explode and rupture his neck. He prays you can’t feel the way his heart beats erratically or how his body seems to radiate a fever level temperature as the anxiety settles in. 

Fuck.

He moves slowly, not wanting to wake you. Carefully, he shifts your body, rolling you to your side. You’re so pliant, so exhausted that you murmur something unintelligible before nuzzling into the pillow. 

He hesitates, watching as your breathing deepens again.

His jeans are tugged on first, the soft rustle of fabric barely audible in the quiet room. He doesn’t bother buttoning his shirt, draping it over his shoulders as he moves around, collecting his belongings. 

Maybe this is the cleanest way, he thinks bitterly. To just leave. Slip out before the inevitable fallout. You’ll hate him either way—better to make a quick exit than to sit through the heartbreak, to explain the compromised morals that led him here.

But as he tugs his boot on, you stir. Your arm stretches across the empty space where he once was, craving his warmth. When you feel nothing, you open your eyes, squinting against the pale light.

“Javi?” You call out drowsily and a little confused.

For a moment, he considers staying silent, waiting to see if you’ll fall back into slumber. But then you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heel of your hand.

You don’t care about the mascara smudged beneath your lashes or the eyeliner smearing your waterline. All you care about is the sight of him standing there, half-dressed, looking like he’s about to bolt.

“Why are you getting dressed?”

Javier licks his teeth, buying time he doesn’t have. His fingers flexing as if searching for something to hold onto. You catch the pained set of his jaw.

“I’m leaving.”

You blink, slow and disbelieving, as if the action will somehow help you make sense of what he just said. “Leaving? Where are you going?”

“To the airport.”

“Airport?” You’re more awake now, moving to the edge of the bed and reaching under where your robe lies in a heap.

The soreness in your muscles makes you wince as you bend to grab it, slipping it on as you stand. Your legs are wobbly, the remnants of the all nighter making themselves known. “Why? Did you get called back to Medellín?”

Javier watches you silently, his teeth grinding when you walk to him, your expression expectant and confused.

“I’m going back to Texas,” he finally answers.

“Texas?” The frown on your face deepens. “Is your dad okay?”

For you to assume his departure is over his father’s wellbeing somehow makes this worse. His lips press into a thin line, eyes darting away. “He’s fine.”

“Then why are you—” You pause, exhaling sharply, exasperation bubbling at his curt replies. You hate when he gets like this. You figured you’d be past it now.“Why are you going back?”

He struggles to form but a few words at a time. “I got suspended,” he tells you. “Indefinitely. Flight’s out at nine.”

The room falls silent. That’s the last thing you expected to hear.

“How long have you known?”

“Found out this afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You glare at him. “You were just going to leave without saying anything?” That hurts.

“I didn’t want to ruin your night. I was trying to make it easier.” He stupidly answers.

“Easier?” Your voice rises slightly, incredulous. “Sneaking out after spending all night with me makes this easier? For who, Javi? You or me?”

His expression blazes with guilt. “You don’t understand what this is—what I’m trying to… protect you from.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you fire back, your hands trembling as you tuck them into the pockets of your robe to keep from reaching for him. “You tell me that you love me and give me all these empty promises only to sneak out after you’ve fucked me.” He winces. “What are you protecting me from now? From you? From us?”

Javier’s nostrils flare, his breathing ragged. Every point you make is so valid and it crushes him. “From the mess I’ve made.”

“Then tell me what the hell happened.” You can’t help him if you don’t know what’s killing him. “Be direct. Stop shutting me out and just talk to me! I deserve that much.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to deflect again, to retreat into the same cagey silence. But then he exhales sharply, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

“I killed him.”

The simplicity of it leaves you puzzled. “Who?”

“Mateo.”

Your chest tightens, trying to recall what he’s already told you about the other’s demise. “You said he died in the crossfire—”

“I lied.” The admission lands with the force of a hit, and Javier’s eyes meet yours, pleading for understanding but knowing it’s a futile hope. “I found him. Holed up in Cartagena. I dragged him out myself. Took him to a warehouse.” He grows quieter with each word, but the confession barrels forward. “I beat him. Then I emptied the entire clip into his body.”

The room goes deathly still, the echoes of his words lingering in the air. Even the rhythm of your breathing slows, like your body needs time to process what you’ve just heard.

“You… you dragged him out,” you repeat, as if saying it again might change its meaning. “You took him to a warehouse.”

He nods once, a sharp, curt motion, feeling as if he’s watching this outside of himself.

“And you—” The words burn in your throat. “You killed him. Like that. You… tortured him.”

“I had to.” The anguish bleeds through his words.

Had to.

It feels like the ground has just given out beneath you. Your lips part, but no words come. You’re staring at him like you’re seeing someone entirely different.

“Had to?” you can’t help but parrot, the excuse tastes bitter on your tongue. “Why couldn’t you just arrest him?” Mateo deserved all his suffering, sure, but it wasn’t up to Javier to enact it as so.

You’d made peace with the idea of his death when you thought it happened in the chaos of a raid. But this? This is something else entirely.

“It’s not that simple,” he tries, his voice rigid with frustration, but it feels like an insult to your intelligence. 

“Is this why you got fired? Because they found out you killed him?”

Another pause. His hesitation only stokes the fire burning in your chest.

“No.”

Now you’re spiraling, your mind racing to conjure something worse than killing a man that could’ve cost him his career.

You take a step closer, toe to toe now, your robe hanging loosely off your frame, his shirt still unbuttoned and exposing his chest. It’s hard to believe you were just entwined in carnal bliss. “What did you do, Javier?”

There’s so much hurt laced in your question, it’s a wonder the room doesn’t shatter around you. He looks away, his lips rubbing absentmindedly, mustache twitching as he struggles to form a response.

“I cooperated with them,” his confession feels jagged. “The cartels. The paramilitary assholes. Get Escobar—that was the goal.”

Your legs move on instinct, a shaky step backward, and Javier follows reflexively, his hand half-reaching for you before he thinks better of it. His presence only makes it worse, his body too close, his words too loud in your ears.

It’s like every fear wrapped into one devastating realization. After everything you went through—after the pain he watched you try to claw your way back from—he still went out there, trading his soul for deals made in blood.

“You knew what they did to me,” disappointment strings your words together, and while you understand that it wasn’t the same men who jumped you—they are all still cut from the same cloth. “You saw what they took from me, and you still…”

“There wasn’t another way,” he insists, desperate now, the plea in his eyes almost unbearable to look at. “I did what I had to do to bring him down.”

“There’s always another way!” You yell, the words ripping from your throat like they’re trying to drag the hurt out of you with them. “But you didn’t care. Not about the innocent people they killed or the lives they ruined.”

His face twists in anguish, as if he hadn’t been beating himself up for all the civilians that became casualties, but you don’t stop. The distress boils over, spilling out of you in a torrent. “The job always takes priority. Above everything—above everyone.”

Your hands act on their own, shoving at his chest as if the force could make him feel even an ounce of the pain you’re carrying. Javier doesn’t resist. He lets you push him, lets your palms land against him over and over, taking it all because he knows he deserves it.

“How am I supposed to look at you the same?” You demand, tears streaming freely down your face now, each one a testament to the betrayal sinking its claws into you. You shove him again, harder this time, backing him toward the living room. “How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

His own eyes glisten, cheek tensing in distress, but he doesn’t say a word because he can’t.

“You’re no better, Javier. You’re just like them.”

You begin to get flashbacks of your confrontation with Mateo. His callous words echo in your head, overlapping with Javier’s explanations. The two begin to blur together, their justifications eerily aligned, like different faces of the same haunting coin.

“This world isn’t all black and white like you think it is. People like me—we do what we have to, to survive.”

You stare at him, and for a moment, he’s not the man you love anymore. He’s another wraith from the nightmare you barely escaped.

“I know.”

He’s such a self-aware asshole, and it makes you livid. The way he stands there, bracing himself like he knows he deserves everything you’re throwing at him—like he’s already written himself off as the villain in this story. It’s infuriating.

The morning light streams in through the windows, slicing across the room in uneven beams. It’s amplifying everything: every emotion, every movement, every goddamn look he gives you as you stand off in the middle of the living room.

“Despite it all… you still found the time to fuck me. And I let you.”

You can feel the fire licking up your neck, but it’s not from embarrassment—it’s from the sting of humiliation. How you let yourself be fooled twice by two different men. 

You tighten your robe around you, the soft fabric suddenly feeling like sandpaper against your skin. Everything feels wrong now.

He watches you, his expression etched with guilt for making you question your worth. Despite it, he doesn’t regret taking you to bed.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you continue, more to yourself than to him, carrying anger and self-loathing. “For trusting you again. For ignoring every single red flag you waved in my face. You weren’t just a shitty friend, Javi. You were a walking disaster, and I still let you back in.”

He flinches, but it’s not enough. You want him to feel it, to feel the way your heart aches and how your trust, fragile and carefully rebuilt, crumbles to dust at your feet.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” you state with another shove, forcing him closer to the front door. He continues to comply, stumbling backwards in silence, letting you release it all.

“If you cared about me at all, you would’ve stayed away. You just had to come back, had to get your hands on me again. And I was so desperate—so fucking desperate to believe you’d be different.”

You laugh tearfully, hands falling to your sides as you stand in the short hallway that leads to the entrance. “But you’re not different. You’re just a man with nothing but a big ego that’s drowning in his own penitence.”

He swallows hard, your words reverberating with the sickening truth and he wills himself to speak.

“Nothing was getting done,” Javi begins, the weariness of it all finally breaking him. “No one fucking cared. That motherfucker kept killing people, bombing the streets all while getting richer and untouchable. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, it wasn’t enough. And then—” His voice tapers, gaze dropping for just a moment before moving back to yours.

“And then you got hurt. That was one thing I could fix. I could right the wrong, make you feel safer. I did it for you!”

“For me?” You scoff out a doubting laugh. “So, what, you decided you’d be judge, jury, and executioner? You think killing him—brutally, no less—makes any of it better? That it erases what he did to me?”

“It was a start—”

“You didn’t do this for me, Javier,” you cut him off, your voice teetering with fury and hurt. “You did it for you. To ease your guilt, to feel like you had control.”

His breathing grows ragged, his hands trembling at his sides. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to get so fucking lost I couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad anymore? I did what I had to do!”

“Stop saying that!” 

“I don’t know how else to fix this,” he fires back.

“And I don’t know how to believe you,” you whisper, the fight draining from your voice as tears spill freely down your cheeks. “All you do is hurt me, Javi.”

Javier steps back, his shoulders slumping, his entire frame caving in. Desperation flickers in his eyes as he reaches for the only card he has left to play—the last, sapped attempt to salvage what little remains.

 “I’m sorry,” he breathes, though it’s barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your body freezes when he gets closer. His large hands tremble slightly as they cup your face.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Te amo.” He murmurs, his voice soft and pained as his forehead presses against yours. His lips brush yours, and it sends a jolt through your body, a cruel reminder of all the ways he’s managed to slither his way back into your heart and mind. 

Your lips quiver, salty wet trails streaking your cheeks. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head and pushing against his chest, your palms meeting his bare skin where his shirt falls open. You manage to break away, the distance between you offering only the barest reprieve.

But Javier doesn’t stop. He steps forward again, crowding you, his desperation palpable. “Please, cariño,” he implores. “I love you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry—so sorry.” The words tumble out of him in a desperate loop, growing more frantic each time, as if sheer repetition might somehow undo the damage. 

And fuck do you hear the genuine ache there, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve heard it all before—the apologies, the promises, the declarations. None of it fixes this. 

Despite your actions, your body betrays you. Even as you try to shove him away, you feel the magnetic pull, the infuriating draw that keeps you tangled in his orbit. It’s a push and pull, your hands shoving at his chest while your heart screams at you to stop.

And you hate him for it. For the way he makes you feel. For the way his arms still feel like home even as your love for him falls apart.

“All I hear is excuses. Like always. Get off me, Javier.” Your voice shakes, but the resolve in it is ironclad, each word laced with finality. You swallow back your sobs, forcing yourself to sound strong—for him, for yourself. He hears it too; the end is in your tone. You’re done.

His hands linger on your waist for a moment longer, the satin of your robe bunched helplessly in his grasp. Reluctantly, he lets go, his back brushing against the doorknob as if the exit is pushing him to leave.

Javier’s gaze lingers over you one last time, absorbing every detail like a man cataloging his losses.

The swollen redness of your eyes and how you seem to fold into yourself as if shielding your heart from further harm. Because of him. The betrayal etched deep into your expression cuts deeper than any wound he’s ever felt. Because of him. It all screams painful vulnerability, lowered self-esteem you didn’t have before.

All he’s done is hurt you. Him and his inability to separate his good intentions from his devastating habits. Him and his selfishness, pursuing you when he knew better.

Now you get a good look at him: disheveled, bags shadowing his weary eyes, faint bruises staining his jawline, his heaving chest exposed and slick with the sweat of desperation.

You both stand in silence, weighed down by words unspoken because there’s nothing left to say. The air between you is charged with the knowledge that you despise what he’s become.

He reaches for the door and opens it, the sound of the bolt sliding back loud in the tense silence.

Time marches on, indifferent to your heartbreak, and Javier hesitates, his boots heavy as they meet the threshold.

Gathering every ounce of strength left in you, you find your voice. “Please leave… and don’t come back.”

Your voice prompts him, cold and resolute, and it takes everything in him to obey. He steps out, the apartment door left wide open behind him.

He turns, desperate for one last look, the soft daylight framing him like a man on the edge of a cliff. “I love you.”

You grip the edge of the door, willing yourself not to fall apart further. “Not anymore,” you whisper, venom interwoven through the statement. “Never again.”

And with that, you shut the door in his face, turning the lock with trembling hands.

The weight of it all crashes over you now that you’re alone and you stumble back, collapsing right there on the floor. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow to muffle the sobs racking your body as you begin to mourn the loss of the man you loved.

On the other side of the door, Javier stands frozen, the loss sinking into his bones. The worn numbers of your apartment stare back at him, mocking him with their permanence.

He blinks slowly, a single tear leaking from his eye as his fingers brushing the wood one last time before he turns away, dragging his feet next door, knowing that he’s lost you forever.

Months later, you receive a letter.

The envelope is creased and smudged, the handwriting unmistakably his—slanted, hurried, like he couldn’t get the words down fast enough. You almost toss it, but that small, unhealed part in your heart with his name carved on it keeps you from doing so.

I’m sorry. For everything. I think about you every day, and I know I have no right to, but I do. I hope you’re happy. You deserve that much…

You read it over and over until the words blur.

You never write back. There’s no reason to.

Some love stories don’t end with a clean break or a tidy resolution. Some just… linger, like a wound that scabs over but never truly heals.

And that’s what you and Javier become: a scar, a memory that neither of you can fully let go of, no matter how hard you try.

tag list for my works can be found here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

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Bottled Up (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

MDNI SMUT 18+ CONTENT

Gojo can’t cum. Too much on his mind, not enough time to himself, not enough chances to indulge. It’s becoming a matter of personal hygiene. He can't go on like this. He needs help. Your help.

Ao3 Masterlist.

WC: 7.4k Warnings: casual sex, raw sex, penetrative sex, kissing, kissing SLOPPY, oral m!receiving, discussion of anal but not present really, improper use of cursed energy, doggy, begging, crying, desperate whiny Gojo, brief mention on former satosugu,

------ Wow can you guys even believe? I actually wrote something about Gojo!! Tbh writing about/for him intimidates the fuck out of me but i have some longer form ideas about him so this was a good exercise. I hope y’all like it. -Doodle

Satoru can’t cum. He’s broken. His balls dried up. His dick died. His cursed energy overloaded and rendered him impotent. Limitless misfired and clogged him completely. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t cum in two months.

He used to be able to cum. Fuck, he used to cum too easy. Ten years ago he would jerk off before hooking up so he didn’t cum too fast. He was so fucking sensitive, every touch or graze could send him shivering. Now he would have given anything for his days as a quick draw. That life was over.

Do people have cum caps? Like a finite amount of times they can orgasm and an excess of masturbation and experimentation in his youth had burned through his chances. He wants to believe that if he had known how wasteful he was, he would have acted differently, but it was a lie. He was too instinctual, everything in his nature, his upbringing, had taught him to trust his instincts above all else. They kept him alive, kept him going, kept him satisfied. But now, a vital piece of the puzzle was missing.

It was the sixty-sixth day in a row. He got home around eleven pm, an earlier night than most. His apartment, with its spotless, professionally tended, interior that betrayed the depraved chaos burning inside of him. Dropping his keys and shoes at the door he groaned into the silence at the way his work pants shifted against his throbbing erection trucked down his left leg. This was the part that was growing painful. The sensitivity. It started just around his pelvis, any brush of fabric or misjudged distance between himself and curses, near his hips would send a shaking beat of pleasure up his spine. But it spread, and spread. Even the car seat against his back was starting to turn him on. Last week Principle Yaga touched the back of his neck by mistake and his eyes rolled back. His black blindfold was working finding more work by the day. He started leaving limitless up constantly, well, more constantly. Only dropping completely after he had crossed the threshold of his home. Anything else was too risky.

Today had been rough, he woke up aching between his legs, the coldest shower he could stand helped to bring it down, but not for long. On the way to work he had to cross and re-cross his legs, a difficult feat at his height, over and over until he got to the school. Because of his existence in the good graces of the universe, there were no classes, only a brutally endless string of meetings. Not good, but at least…seated. By the time the final meeting was dismissed he thought he could bite through a cement support beam. On the way out, one of the higher ups patted him on the back, limitless blocking it from making contact, but he found a tantalizing urge to let it pass through, just for the contact.

He was fucking ruined.

Passing through the mainroom, up the staircase to the bedroom, he pulled his blindfold from his eyes, blinking a few times, snowy eyelashes relaxing from their position pressed against his eyelids. Finally in his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, already breathing hot and deep. He passed his bed into the ensuite bathroom, clicking the light and taking in his own reflection.

Fuck, he looked rough.

Skin sallow. Muscles strained and tense. Still handsome, of course, but drained. Like he had been wrung out.

And alone.

Satoru clicked the light off. He couldn’t go there.

He walked himself over to the bed, lithe hands finding his belt and unfastening it, slipping his pants down his legs. A relieved sigh left his mouth as the tight garment was removed. He sat on the edge of his bed, palming his desperate erection. He was shivering, the stimuli so overwhelming already. He wasn’t hopeful, but he was too desperate to stop. Keening back onto the bed, he let his eyes close. He didn’t want to see, the only sensation he wanted was to feel himself, touching himself, bringing him to the peak that felt so insurmountable. He was diamond hard now, finally he pulled himself free of the confines of his briefs. Taking his length into his hand, circling his palm over his barren tip.

He couldn’t even precum anymore.

He groaned in frustration, scooting back further on the cushy mattress, his briefs joining his discarded pants on the floor. He spit onto his hand, coating his dick from base to head, easing his strokes. He let his head fall back against the pillows, dredging up memories of past lovers to try and aid his efforts. He wasn’t really a porn guy, not above it, certainly. But it was overstimulating, bright lights, too colorful, just overwhelming to his already heightened senses. He preferred to rely on his own mind, he was in total control there. Or at least he used to be. His mind was too full of other bullshit to wander into the salacious. Work, always work. Lesson plans, missions, reports, meetings.

Fuck.

He reset, turning over onto his knees, moving one of his silken pillows under him, opting to rut against the soft cushion. One hand underneath pressing it against his length. His head hanging heavy under his shoulders, sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. The cold silk pillowcase against his cock, making his sweating body erupt into goosebumps. He slid his hips, gasping out shuddering breaths. It felt so good, so cold and soft against his begging erection. The muscles in his back rippled, swelling and beckoning under his frosty, even skin. The light of his bedroom cast gorgeous shadows on his back and hips, bringing out his excellent physique. The shadow of his spine, the lat muscles under large, perfectly worked arms, almost appearing as angel wings in the low, soft glow.

He brought his thoughts to long shapely legs, thighs shaking under his touch. Lips, wet and swollen, against his own. This was working, his breath was starting to catch in time with his hips against the pillow. He let his mind continue to wander and increased his speed. Glute muscles flexing hard as images of bodies he once held, some with features he knew well, some less familiar but still worth remembering. Some too familiar, silky, long black hair falling into his mouth. Dark violet eyes, full, strong arms.

No. Not that. He couldn’t go there either. There was nothing left for him anymore.

It killed his momentum. Still aching below but too stormy on top. Stilling his hips, slouching over the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, trying to take in the room around him in pieces, grounding himself in the present. In reality.

He wiped his wet hand over his face then on the sheets below him, gripping hard. This was getting ridiculous. He felt pathetic. Tears burned behind his blessed eyes. He felt broken. He felt shame bubbling behind his navel. He couldn’t live like this. He needed to cum. He needed to release all of this build up and get himself right.

Satoru pulled his phone from the discarded pants and tapped it a few times. Until he found just what he was looking for.

Your phone screen illuminated your dark bedroom. Your humidifier was on, your lights had been long turned out. You had just fallen asleep after some restless tossing and turning. The screen lit up again, this time chiming out a text notification. That jarred you from the warm grip of dream and made your head spring up. You glanced at the screen, trying to read the too bright notification with sleep still coating your eyes. But before you could, it changed to the dimmer incoming call screen. It vibrated on the nightstand, suddenly too loud to ignore. You sighed, and retrieved it.

It was Gojo. He was calling you. You hadn’t seen him in months. fuck was that right? You thought back. You hadn’t seen him in…six months. The last time you left his gorgeous, perfectly styled, agonizingly well put together apartment, it hadn’t been on bad terms, by any metric, but it wasn’t like you were falling into each other's arms either. There hadn’t been any blow out or agreement not to see each other anymore, it just fizzled out. You were sure you had been disappointed when the calls and texts slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t like you were dating or anything. You had hooked up a few times earlier in the year. No more than four times total. Okay, six times. Okay, nine times. Okay, you lost track somewhere in the second month. What really qualifies as hooking up these days, anyway? Just penetration or sexting? Oral? Hand stuff? Hand stuff in public? Other stuff in public? What should even qualify if you were keeping track -- which you weren’t! You answered the call.

“Do you know what time it is?” You sighed out, smiling through your feigned annoyance.

He purred on the other side of the line, “hmmmm, what are you wearing?”

“Pajamas, because it's almost one in the morning.” your voice was hoarse, sleep having laid your vocal cords to rest.

“Sounds hot.” You could hear his stupidly sexy smile, “You should come over. Can’t waste an outfit like that at home.”

You laugh, already planning how quickly you could pull yourself together, and whether or not the trains were still running, “You’re kidding me. I haven't heard from you in months. You call at an ungodly hour and expect me to come running over at the drop of a hat?”

“You don’t have to run, I’ll send a car.” He coos.

You laugh again, stretching in your bed, letting out a soft groan.

“mmmm, do that again.” His voice grew heavier, there was some suspicious sounding rustling on his end.

You stayed quiet, wanting to see if you would hear anything else and wanting to deny him.

“Now don’t be like that, baby.” He whines, he sounds pathetic “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

You got out of your bed, still taking your sweet time, savoring his helplessness, “An emergency, huh? Nothing fatal I hope.”

His tongue clicks on the other side, “hmmm, it’s hard to say. Could be a fever, I’m feeling…hot.”

You hate that a line so corny is making you bite your lips to keep quiet. You slipped into a cuter, but still comfy lounge set, a bit more versatile than your pajamas “Sounds contagious, maybe it would be best if I stayed home…”

“Please!” His voice changed, cracking and almost panicked, “I need you, please.”

There was no version of this conversation that ended any other way, “Send the car.”

“Already outside.” You heard his face split into that gorgeous smile you couldn't resist, not even over the phone.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't even have a chance to knock before he swung the door open. And fuck he looked good. Bad, but good? Not bad, just…disheveled. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, inhumanly muscled torso glowy and flushed, his hair matted and unkempt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The long, angled white scar healed from an injury long past going from his shoulder to his opposite hip. You traced the line with your eyes, recalling the first time you had seen it, how he had moved your fingers over it, getting you used to the feeling of it under your touch, assuring you that it was long healed and nothing to fuss over. Every inch of him was perfect, despite his pain, his history. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Your ogling did not go unnoticed, looking up to his face you saw the smile you had heard so much of recently.

“Miss me?” He opened the door wider, allowing you to enter, ducking under his arm.

“Yeah.” You admitted rolling your eyes and stepping inside, leaving your shoes at the door.

You took in the sleek, cavernous town house around you. His decor hadn’t changed at all, a lovely front room, a staircase along one windowed wall, leading up to his bedroom. If you were to press further into the main floor, peeling back shoji screens you would find more bedrooms, frozen in time just as they were last left by their former inhabitants, his office, barely ever touched, a gorgeous bathroom complete with a personal sauna. For someone who spent nearly no time at home, he really did have the house dreams are made of.

“I can get you something to drink if you want.” He offers, shutting and locking the door.

“That’s okay. You sounded pretty desperate on the phone, I’d hate to keep you waiting.

He wasn’t totally ready for this part. Having to explain what was going on with him. He shifted a bit, he wanted you so bad. He needed it. He needed every part of you right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Come on Gojo, you got me out here. Don’t get shy on me now. What’s the big emergency?” You set your bag down on his expansive kitchen island, not subtly eyeing the absolutely incomprehensible bulge tenting the front of his sweats.

“It’s been so long, why the rush, Sugar?” He plays coy, approaching you with a suave gait, moving past you to the refrigerator, “Sparkling water? Still? I can go down to the cellar if you want something stronger?”

“Gojo…” You raise your eyebrows.

“I have tea or coffee if you prefer. Some sodas, you like diet right?”

“Gojo come on---”

“You know i'm not great in the kitchen but if you’re hungry I could---”

“Satoru!” You cut him off, finally pulling his attention from the icebox, “What’s up with you?”

His white eyebrows knit together in the center, making his eyes droop pitfully, “I can’t cum.”

You can barely hear his confession, and you must have heard him wrong so in earnest you ask, “What?”

“I can’t cum. For weeks, nothing. I try and I try and just…nothing.” He blurts, simultaneously relieved and mortified.

You know you shouldn't stare, that you should say something, but you’re dumbfounded. There was once a time, not too long ago even, where he had you bent over this exact counter pushing through his own leaking orgasm to bring you to tears. And that had been the third round that night. You always thought he was the untouchable man, a paragon of self control and pushed limits. To think of him unable to even pleasuring himself, it felt impossible.

“You can’t cum?” You say dumbly.

“Well now that you have repeated it, I think I must be cured, you can go now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against the fridge, fighting the hiss that bubbles in his throat from its chilling surface against his heated skin.

“I’m sorry!” You put your hands up like you had been caught, “It's just a little hard to believe! I never expected you to….struggle…in this…area.”

Gojo’s eyebrows flew up, every word you said made it worse. You could feel it but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were apparently determined to put every foot possible in your big stupid mouth.

“I just mean because you’re usually so good! How could this happen, are you sick? I don’t know why I would even ask that! Obviously you’re not sick, you're just….having some…dysfunction.”

“Why would you say dysfunction?” He stared at you, ego bruised but still amused at how poorly you were handling this.

“I didn’t mean like that! I Just---”

“Any other word. Any word in the world you could have said, and you go with dysfunction.” He chuckles, his own embarrassment now vacated completely in wake of how flagrantly you had just shit the bed.

“That was super dumb, and I’m really sorry. I have no idea what to say.” You just gave up on the second half of the sentence, knowing nothing you were saying was going to help.

“I don't have erectile dysfunction, the erection is not the problem,” He doesn’t have to gesture below his waist, the subject of conversation stands perfectly at attention, pushing against the flimsy fabric, “It won't go away, I’m stuck like this, and I can’t think about anything else, and I can’t get anything done. I need your help, you have to help me get rid of it.”

Your chest warmed a bit, a sly canary eating smile crossed your face, “So you called me, huh?”

“Yes I called you.” He sighs.

“Out of everyone you could have booty called to help your infinite boner, you call little old me? Gojo, I'm touched!” You sound like you're accepting a Nobel prize.

He rolls his eyes, “I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”

You took a seat at one of the bar stools at the counter, resting your head flirtatiously on your perched hands, “So like when you were choosing who to call, what made you pick me…am I just that good?”

You were, fuck you really were. He had thought about you so many times, Your perfect body, your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your legs around his hips, your fucking mouth. It had been too long over all, but it had been far too long since he had been with you. He called you because he knew you were great, and because he trusted you. He could be honest with you without judgement, your current reaction notwithstanding. He knew that he could count on you to be discreet and up front. There weren’t any guessing games when you were together, he didn’t have to guess or grasp for clues at how you were feeling. He knew you.

“That’s right.” He nodded, willing to let you have this.

You let out a teasing school yard oooooooooooooh. Batting your eyelashes and grinning widely, feeling like the absolute queen of the universe.

But he was growing impatient, “You gonna help me out, or what?”

“Sounds like I have quite the reputation to protect, how long has it been exactly?” You eyed him up and down.

“Still about twenty centimeters. Give or take.” He answers, “Oh! You mean--two months.”

“Months? Two MONTHS?” You gawked and then caught yourself, “I’m sorry I know that doesn’t help…I just can’t believe you’re upright. How are you not hospitalized?”

“If this conversation takes much longer I may have to be.” He crosses the room to you, leaning over where you are seated on the counter, putting his arm around you to grip the back of your chair.

You lean back, taking in a breath as he leans closer. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Perfect pearly skin, hair soft and fluffy, those fucking eyes holding you still under their gaze.

“Come on, Sugar, help a guy out. We’re friends right? Friends help each other.” His breath is sweet against your face.

You feel hypnotized, looking between his eyes and lips in a dizzying circle. His cocky demeanor you were so used to was crackling, you could see beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, his tongue wet and heavy kept his lips parted, drawing you closer. He smelled like him, warm and clean, the whole place smelled like him. You were completely in his arena, but you still had all the power. The Strongest asking you for help, begging even, you felt high. You tilted your head up, close to his face, catching his eyes,

“What are friends for?” You closed the distance between you, locking your lips together.

He is quick to pull you closer, making your breasts press hard against his chest, drawing a moan from both of you. His tongue slips past your lips, and maps the interior of your mouth quickly. Reacquainting himself with your taste. Even just a kiss, a real kiss, made his body shudder. His left hand holds your face, his long fingers splayed over your cheek, from your neck up to you temple, his right hand held the back of your neck, keeping you firm in place against him. You are far handsier than him in this moment. You can’t stop yourself, you missed his body, his kiss, him. Feeling his toned stomach, around his hips to his back, digging your nails in just enough to see if he gasps. He does not. Far too focused on the sloppy, dripping kiss he waited so patiently for. He’s leaning over you, pushing you further and further back, making you dangerously close to falling off the stool below you. But of course, his hand grabs your back, holding you still, right where we wanted you. Just past the point where you would have to engage your abs, but not far enough for you to want to hold yourself up. Muscles right on the precious of passive ability and focused contraction, forcing to to rely on his hold, trusting him completely, and he could feel you would relax into his palm, melting into his touch.

“Fuck, Gojo. You really are desperate.” You giggled as his kissed moved down to your jaw and neck.

He moaned against your skin as your nails clawed at his lower back, nodding his head passively, running his tongue over your pulse point.

“You’re so pretty.” He hooks your leg over his hip, pressing the problem child erection right against yours clothed cunt, drawing a shaky gasp from you.

“Not here.” He pulls himself away. “Upstairs…do this right…let’s”

He’s not finishing any of his sentences, you almost worry if whatever problem that resides in his cock could be spreading to his brain. But maybe it was contagious because you can’t bring yourself to care. Holding your hand a bit too tight, he pulls you forward and up the staircase to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, no one else has lived here in a long time. The house is quiet, bar from the panting breaths that drip from both of you, the rustle of clothes, and the reconnection of hot, desperate skin. You kiss him again, pushing him back toward the bed. He allows you to push him onto the mattress, disconnecting your lips.

“So?” You flirt, standing naked before him, letting him see all of you, “how do you wanna fix this?”

He has shed his sweatpants in the shuffle, propped up on his elbow, the other hand giving himself long, slow strokes.

“I’ve been dreaming about that mouth, baby.” He chews on the interior of his bottom lip, ��show me if you’re as good as I remember.”

He spreads his legs, allowing you a good long look at how hard he really has become. Angry, pink tip swollen, veins along the shaft straining against the skin. The lower ab muscles are so strained you think they might pop. You had almost forgotten how fucking big he is. Everything about him was too big. His broad, strong body, his long spindly legs, built, strong arms hanging below his hips, those big hands with their knuckly fingers, his long, thick cock and the ego that accompanied. Seeing all of him, how big he was, made a shock run up and down your spine.

How the fuck had you fit this thing inside of you before?

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” he echos your earlier words, “you can take it.”

Not to be out foxed, you steel yourself and sink to your knees in between his spread legs. He stops stroking himself, leaning against both elbows now, waiting with held breath for you to begin.

Your put your hands on his knees, massaging them down and up, feeling the taut muscles of his thighs, the soft hairs under your hands.

“You think about me a lot?” You kissed the side of his left knee.

“Mhm.” His head hung backs exposing his delicious, wiry throat.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, you ran your nails down his legs, making his hips jerk upward.

“Don’t tease baby, it’s bad enough already!” He begged.

Fuck he sounded good like that. No one could swing the pendulum of pathetic and cocky quite like Satoru Gojo.

“Two months huh?” You carried on, giving open mouthed kisses up his thigh between thoughts, “you must be sooooo sensitive. Poor baby.”

He nods, his eyes squeezed right, trying to focus on every sensation you’re giving him.

Finally you reach the divot between his hip and the base of his pelvis, the internal hinge of his thigh. You ran your tongue along the muscle, tasting the salt of his body. His hips jerk again.

“Please!” He cries out, the lamp at his bedside flicker off and on again.

“Careful Satoru.” You warned, “all you had to do was ask.”

You swirl your tongue around the swollen, aching tip of his dick. Looping around the underside of the head and sliding your mouth down further.

Satoru was in heaven, his eyes rolled back in his head, he fought to keep his hips still, he didn’t want to hurt you, but fuck he wanted more.

You slide your tongue along each beautiful vein, making a perfect map in your head of the topography of his penis. Pulling off and sinking back down again you could take him all the way to the base, coarse white hair ticking your nose as your relaxed your throat to accommodate him he fell back against the bed, one hand moving your hair off your forehead so he could see your pretty face. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, relax into the pleasure and let it wash over him, or watch you take him further. He leaned up to watch, just as your peeked on eye open to see him falling apart. But the eye contact was too much for him to bear, he felt his cheeks erupt in a blush, and he fell backward again, using one arm to shield his eyes.

You tutted, running his cock along your lips as your spoke, giving it sloppy kisses to make the syllabals, “oh Satoru, look at me, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He nods but doesn’t look up. He can’t bear it. Your weepy eyes filling with tears from the lack of breath, your lips swollen, encasing his cock head. Your hair pulled to one side, giving him a perfect view of your hollowed cheeks as you suck and pull at him. With your spit coating his cock, the sensitivity has doubled. Wet, schlucking sounds fill his bedroom, alongside your haughty moans. Or wait…that’s actually him moaning like that. He doesn’t even recognize himself, he’s panting, sweating, begging. He didn’t even realize he was talking but the praises have been spilling from him continuously:

Yes

Baby yes just like that

Fuck you’re so good

You’re so pretty

Fuck you’re doing so good

Feels so good

Baby

Fuck

Sugar

So pretty

So good

I can’t I

Please baby make me

Fuck you’re

Agh

Oh

Fu

Oh

Ah

O

I

All he can manage by the time he looks back at you are open vowel sounds. It’s feels fucking incredible, perfect, if this were three months ago he would have cum in an instant. This was the closest he had felt, but it still wasn’t enough. He had to be inside you. The hand keeping your hair back rounded your face, his thumb pushing against your lips.

“I need to fuck you.” He says breathlessly, “I won’t cum until I fuck you, please.”

You pull off of him, a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to brag about your head game, but you push it aside and join him on the bed. Clingy as he is, he pulls you close, kissing you hard again. Your mouth is wet with saliva and pre cum. He didn’t have the time to be impressed at your skill bringing forth the pearly substance, he coveted so greatly. He was too focused on being as close as two people can be. You move to straddle his lap, but he shakes his head, breaking from your lips.

“Bend over.” His mouth is wet now, both of you wet from lips to chin.

You grin and climb off him, stacking a few pillows to give you something to rest on and presenting your hips to him. Satoru is getting his bearings back, he feels more in control now that he has moved onto his knees behind you. Desperate as he is he can’t resist brushing two feather light fingers down your spine, watching you arch as he drags them further and further down. Your spine snakes, your hips sway, his fingers find the cleft where your spine meets your ass, a perfectly little dimple, waiting for his hands to paw at, your breathy moan eggs him on, sliding further down, feeling your tight asshole clench from just the lightest of contact.

“You remember when you let me back here?” He circles it, reminiscing, “you were so tight. fuck, you felt so good baby.”

“Remember when you let me back there.” You tried to sound tough but your position bent over with your head buried in your hands made it difficult.

“Mmmmhm.” He felt his dick twitch again, remembering when you had fingered him open, sucking him in tandum, he swore he saw an angel that night.

And here you were again, having rushed over in the middle of the night just to help him, trembling under his fingertips. Maybe you really were an angel. His very own guardian angel. If anyone could bed a steward of the divine it would be him.

“I thought you needed my help.” You whined.

He giggles, leaning over you, close enough that his lips touch your ear, his heavy cock pressing against your slit,“Just making sure you’re as needy as I am.”

He runs his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you squeal. Of course he remembered all your sensitive spots. He returned to his knees behind you, spreading you open, marveling at the mess you had made. Dripping honey onto the bed, onto your thighs, on his hand. His mouth floods, the desire to bury his head between your legs quickly matching his desire to cum.

“Later.” You whimpered, having read his mind, “you need my help.”

He beams, “so selfless.”

Finally, after an hour of build up since your arrival, the agonizing time waiting for you to get here, and the two months of celibacy that had brought him here, he aligned himself at your drooling hole, your spit was still shining along his cock but he ran either side though your folds anyway, making sure he was wet enough. He had fucked enough and had a big dick for long enough that he knew taking it all required some specific anatomy or a lot of prep, usually both. And while you were familiar with him, and giving yourself so willingly to him, he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“Satoru please just—-“

The rest of your sentence would never see the air of his bedroom. It’s conclusion stolen from you and replaced with a pathetic scream as he pushed inside. He had meant to ease in but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop himself, he bottomed out in his first thrust. A loud smack of your ass hitting his hips still resounded in the room as he pulled back and thrusted in again. Your back arched evilly, dangerously close to snapping your spine in half. Despite his tunnel vision, Satoru eased his hand up your back, effortlessly smoothing it and gripping your shoulder for more leverage.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes.” He grunted, thrusting in an evil pace.

You couldn’t even speak, he was so deep, you were willing to bet his made an impression agains the front of your stomach. On your pillow pedastule you sank further, and reached up one formerly supportive hand to grip his on your shoulder.

“Sa…sa…” you panted out, not even able to string his name together.

He moved to long, languid, but devastatingly deep thrusts, the hand on your shoulder holding the side of your neck now, “that’s it, sugar. Say my name. Say my name, baby, come on.”

You tried, you really fucking tried but the letters wouldn’t come, “S—Sa—-sss.”

Your eyes rolled back, crumbling completely into the silken pillowcases, not caring if your spit or tears ruined the fabric. He spanked you once hard, making your head shoot up.

“I said say it.” He grunted.

Cocky for a man who was nearly in tears over the phone because he couldn’t bust.

“Satoru!” You finally spilled, his cock pushing hard against your g spot, “Satoru! Satoru please! Be gentle!”

Now that your voice had found you again it was hard not to beg him for mercy.

“Please baby, please! Fuck that’s so good.” You babbled, bringing a sick smile to his face.

He fucked harder, deeper into you, reveling the way your walls fluttered around him. You were so tight he had initially worried he was going to split you in two. But you are his angel, he should have known better than to deny your divinity. Satoru could hear your moans increasing in pitch and becoming choppy. He reached around your hip, finding the perfect pearl between your lower lips and circling his middle finger around. The clench that followed sent you both keening. His fingers brought forth an orgasm you didn’t think was nearly as close. Your hips shaking, biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.

“No baby, let me hear you.‘I need it.” He panted, not stopping his fingers on your clit or his evil thrusts, seeming deeper and deeper every second.

You tried to lift your head but felt dizzy, your vision wasn’t right, your clit throbbed beautifully but made you aware of how fast your heart was. Gojo pulled out turning you on your back, reinserting himself with a kiss to your cheeks.

“Don’t pass out on me, okay? I need you baby, I need your help. Help me, please.” He thrusted slower, only moving a few inches at a time as your came down from the mind fuzzing orgasm.

You nodded, coming back to yourself, you pulled your legs over his hips, your hands moving down the curves of his body. He slower thrust gave you time to admire him. He really was so beautiful. Looking at the sun and having to look away beautiful. His skin was reddening from effort and arousal, splotchy flushes that still couldn’t take away his perfection. The divots on his shoulders, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his spit. Fucking him felt like being completely encompassed in perfection incarnate. And you couldn’t feel luckier to have the chance to be so. He opened his pleasure screwed up eyes, those glowing blue irises, that contained so much of what everyone thought he was, looking down at you with so much trust, so much vulnerability, your heart lurched into your throat.

“You okay?” Satoru scanned your face.

You nodded, pulling him in to kiss you again, feeling his soft hair under your fingers. You held on as he increased his thrusts again. Speed, depth, power, all of it ramped back up to fainting orgasm levels.

Satoru was on the verge of tears, he couldn’t do without again. He couldn’t not cum one more time. He wouldn’t make it. He would bury himself into any hole you offered him again and again and again until he was free from this. Reaching back and pulling your leg over his shoulder, he allowed himself even deeper into you. He watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, your mouth drop open to catch hot, stolen breath from him. He wanted to make it easier, slotting his lips against yours and kissing you deep, tasting your pleasure. He swooned, his heart felt so tight and full it could burst, he was so grateful for you. For your body, your generosity, your care for him that you made look so simple. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to care about, but it seemed to him like you had never considered it cumbersome. Kissing you he felt the tears long built up by restriction begin to fall, wetting his own cheeks as well as yours.

“Satoru are y—-?” You worried against his lips, your hand in his hair moving from. A harsh grip to a soothing pet.

He shook his head, although you were right, “it’s okay. Thank you. Just thank you.”

He kissed you again and carried on thrusting, long and deep. He found your other hand and took it in his own, interlocking your fingers. Hips hard and fast, the friction not enough, he needed to touch every inch of you with every inch of himself. Your pressed against his chest as you moved to match his thrusts, putting aside the emotions that had arisen and remembering your purpose for being here. He had to break away from the kiss, pushing his forhead against yours, gasping out as you synced your thrusts together.

Oh.

Like a dim lantern in a barren desert, a non phosphorescent illusory light in a cave, the shine of climax came into his view. Still holding your hand, one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your body into a bizzare position, he chased it with everything he could. Drilling himself into your drooly, puffy pussy, again and again, causing you to cry out.

“Baby almost, cum with me, please! Pleasepleaseplease.” He squeezed your hand a bit too hard, your fingers felt cramped.

Well, they would, if you could feel them. And your leg would likely feel strained, if you could feel your hamstring still. But you couldn’t feel anything except the white hot pleasure bursting inside of you everytime he pushed against your gspot. Not breaking away from his hand, your other shot between your legs circling your clit, making you tighten up around him. Satoru cried out, the devilish squeeze of your walls felt like the last barrier between him and total bliss.

“Please baby, please.” He can’t control his voice, he doesn’t care, nothing matters when he is this close, “yes, cum around me. I need it. Cum.”

Your eyes flutter back, your head pushes against the pillow, your body erupts into cooling, overwhelming bliss.

Finally, his torment turns, the ache in his stomach unraveling. He can’t believe it, it’s finally about to be over, he feels your body shake underneath him, your hand gripping his so tightly, your cries filling his bedroom. Just at the precipice Gojo, steals one last look at your pleasure struck face, and he falls.

The lights in his bedroom bloom, swell, and overload. Bulbs bursting as he pumps himself through the most earth shattering orgasm he has ever known. Line after line of thick, long stored cum spilling from him into your waiting cunt. The room is plunged into darkness, he buries his head in your neck, panting hard.

You smile as you feel him filing you, and continue filling you. He had always cum a lot, he joked that it was his lineage begging him for continuation. But this was, beyond. Load after load of hot, desperate cum. He pushed his hips closer to you, his body yearning to become fused to yours. To never separate again.

You move one careful hand up his back, feeling the cooling sweat at his neck, the soft hair at the nape. His breath slows against your skin, but he doesn’t yet push himself off of you, keeping his heavy frame collapsed on you. But you don’t dare complain, committing the heat of his body to memory. The moonlight from the window is now, thanks to his discharge of power, the only light in the room. Your eyes adjust slowly, his features glowing in soft blue-white light. The air in the room is thick and full of both of you. Had you an eternity to indulge yourself in this moment, it would still feel too intangible to recall. But you try anyway.

Once his eyes have stopped spinning in their sockets like some knock out cartoon, Satoru pushes himself off of you, staying inside, just hovering above your body. His misty blue eyes look over every inch of you in a second. Taking in everything about this moment, how your skin reflects the moonlight, your eyes heavy and half lidded with sleep and bliss, your soft smile waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t ready yet, he pressed his lips to yours again, firm but not desperate. He’s kissed you lavishly and with no burning sense of time. It could be called lazy if it weren’t for the focused decadence behind his mouth. He finally separates, thin silks of spit still unbroken between you two.

You brought your unheld hand to his face, cupping his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut. You could see tears drying on his cheeks, overwhelm and gratitude thier origin. The moon brought them forward for your viewing, you swiped a thumb under one eye. They both open under your touch, filling with something unreadable. He let go of your hand, opting to mirror your hold on your face, using one long finger to brush away a hair gelled to your sticky forehead.

“Thank you.” He reiterates, the frantic gratitudes from before nullified into a sincerity that made you nervous despite the juxtoposition of his cock still inside of you.

“Anytime, Satoru.” You can feel your cheeks heat, but your bliss doesn’t waver.

He slid out of you slowly, careful not to jostle his tingling, overstimulated length.

You both are left panting once he has been removed completely. He moved onto his side next to you, on his back, breathing up into the dark ceiling. You realize that you had no way of knowing what time it was. The thoughts of work and responsibility tomorrow we’re beginning to gnaw at the edges of your mind. You should get home soon, leave him to his new sexual freedom. You’d imagine he would be ready to pass out if he wasn’t asleep already. The expulsion of cursed energy enough to knock out the lights, enough to send him comatose.

You should know better than to underestimate him. Gojo sits up, stretching his long arms in front of him, allowing the formerly clenched back muscles to reset. Leaning back against his hands he looks down to you.

“I gotta change the bulbs and reset the fuse box. You wanna stay here? Once I’m done we can go again.” That flirty smile quickly irresistible, “orrrr, if you help me I’ll be done ever faster and I can thank you properly.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling, “I’m still recovering from the last favor I did for you. Come get me when you’re done.”

You settle back into his bed, the luxe duvet the perfect cloud-like weight on your shoulders. The smell of him clinging to every stitch of his sheets.

He moved off the bed, slipping on his underwear and making quick work of changing the burst light bulbs. This wasn’t the first time a miscalculated charge had knocked out the electrical system of his house. He had a private grid, it wasn’t that elegant but between the solar panels on the outside and a small self sustaining aquaphir underneath, it was nearly entirely self sufficient. So it was simple enough to fix when it did happen. When he switched the fuse box, the electric hum returned. Back in his bedroom he found you sleeping, curled up in his bedding, snoring softly. He moves some hair off your shoulder, fingers gentle on your thin, soft skin. Bare except for the duvet pulled over your shoulders. He crouched next to you silently, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He was lucky to have you, someone who would help him so readily, so selflessly. Someone he could trust and confide in. It had been a long time since he could trust someone like this. Still standing over you, he watched as your stirred, sleepy eyes opening to take him in, squinting against the refreshed lighting.

“Coming back to bed?” Your sleep riddled voice charmed.

“Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He moved into bed beside you, taking your body in his arms once again, his lips fighting home under your jaw.

He really was insatiable.

YAY!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this one. It was fun to write and fell together really easily. I am a lot less intimidated by writing gojo now. But I would love to hear yall's feedback on how it came off!! PLEASE! again, i have a much longer, more structured idea for him that I am wanting to build up to eventually so i would really love to know what yall think. Doodle <3 <3

[laufeysvalentine]

cry.

sirius black x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ sirius x potter!reader ... sirius loves you, but he swears he's not good for you. angst, childhood friends to lovers, inspired by cry by cas, coward!sirius, ooc!sirius a little pls don't come after me love u bye

word count ༄ 2.7k

nora’s notes ༄ CAUSE I NEEEEEED TO TELLLL YOU SOMEEEEETHING! erm okay i know i said i was working on pt two of i want you but i got distracted by this instead. i haven't read it through bc if i do i won't publish it PLS don't mind how the writing quality from my last post has dramatically worsened...

you look so pretty like this. mouth drawn open, drool trickling from your soft mouth. your face, your whole body, turned towards the boy next to you. even in sleep, you’re drawn to him. so trusting, so open. 

something in his gut twists. 

—

“sirius!” a call comes from behind him, accompanied by a smattering of footsteps as he watches you approach. your lips are parted to take in more air, and he’s overcome by the urge to grab your face and absolutely kiss you silly. 

he ignores it, trying to instead focus on what you’re saying. 

“...hogsmeade tomorrow?” you ask, a twinge of hope seeping into your voice. you’re so eager, eyes wide, that he feels terrible not knowing what you said. “were you listening?” 

“sorry, darling, i was too distracted by your beauty. what was that?” he tilts his head at you, taking pride in the way the tips of your ears turn reddish. 

flicking his ear, you repeat your question. “d’you wanna have lunch at hogsmeade tomorrow? james said he was going with re–erm, lily, or something, and rem and peter are busy.” 

“uhh,” he pauses, thinking about his schedule. 

“it’s okay if you’re busy,” you tack on quickly, noting his hesitation. 

“no, no,” he frowns, upset by the way you’re tugging at your neckline, looking away from him. “i’ll go. i promise. i’ll be there. lunch, you said?” 

that smile, that beaming, beautiful smile, lights up the whole world and has him smiling along with you. you’re contagious. he wants to breathe you in and keep the disease all to himself. 

he makes a mental note to cancel all of his plans tomorrow. he wants to see you all day. 

—

you shift on the pillow, face burying further and further into the sheets, as if permanently embedding yourself onto your bed. the comforter slips from where it was from your shoulders, allowing him a good look at your bare back, the expanse of your shoulders. he wants to press kisses against them, knead his hands into a sweet massage–anything to make you feel good. 

your face is serene when you sleep. the knot between your brows, which james swore was permanent at this point, has dissolved with rest. his thumb traces your eyebrows before he can stop himself, knowing this is the last time he’ll see you this calm for a while. 

he turns away from you, trying to avoid looking at any part of you. he can already feel the guilt gnawing at his fingers, worming its way into his bones. he needs to get it out. 

before thinking too hard about it, he shuffles around, standing from your bed and grabbing his boxers from where they landed on the floor last night. he takes the rest of his clothes and slips them on as quietly as possible. but before he leaves your room, he pauses to drink you in. you, in all your drooling, snoring glory. 

you move around, a hand reaching out to your left, roaming up and down the bed as if searching for him. he’d prefer it if you sucker punched him in the stomach. 

he can’t won’t think about that look in your eyes yesterday, when you begged him to fuck you. it was devastated. especially when he closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds and opened them to see you, caged under his body, just watching him. 

like you knew he couldn’t give you everything. like you knew he would be there, but he wouldn’t be there. and when he closed his eyes again, he pretended he couldn’t feel the wetness slipping from your eyelids. 

—

“he got another one,” your brother sighs as he enters the common room, only a few seconds after a red-faced sirius, who stormed through, scrubbing at his face. 

“a howler?” you ask james, sitting up straight in concern. “from… her?” 

he nods, making a move to pass you where you’re sat with your legs draped across the couch, having eaten dinner much earlier than the marauders. 

“i’ll go,” you say, stopping him from walking up the stairs. “he won’t want to see anyone who saw it happen.” 

“but i’m his best friend,” james counters, pushing his glasses up his nose. “he won’t mind.” 

“just let me.” you plead with your eyes, which makes him hesitate just enough for you to pass him and head to the dorm. “stay down there.” 

he relents, and you enter sirius’ dorm with the tiniest bit of a sashay. you know he hates feeling weak, so the best way to treat him is not like he’s delicate. even if he is. just a little bit. 

you hum a bit, making your way to james’ bed, which sits directly across from the window sirius is sat in front of. the boy is looking out the window, a cigarette tucked between his fingers, and as much as he looks devastatingly handsome, his eyes are also red with a sort of tiredness you only acquire after years of crying. 

“may i?” you reach for the cigarette, and he hands it to you with a limp hand, not even looking over. he knows exactly what you’re doing, but he’s not going to stop you. to do that would be to deny the only thing he wants right now. 

you take a long drag, purposefully blowing the smoke into his face, smiling when he gives you a reaction. “turn around?” you ask with a softness that he can’t deny. 

not when you’re just so lovable in comparison to the scarlet that still tinges his vision, the cold screech of his mother, screaming, telling him he wasn’t good enough, humiliating him in front of his friends. he slept around, he was a disgrace. she reminded him of who he was–who he’d always be: a black. 

without realizing, his fingers clench into balls, and he listens to you, letting you thread your fingers through his thick hair, shoulders relaxing with your touch. 

“talk about it?” you murmur, braiding the top of his head into a soft french braid. 

just for a second, he hesitates. then, with a sigh that echoes through his body, he shakes his head. “you.” 

you get what he means, and so, you steer the conversation into mindless blabbers about your day, what you ate, who you hung out with. the more you speak, the more you feel the tension in his body dissolve into your hands. after a bout of silence, “you’re a good person, sirius.” 

he chuckles a bit at that. “you and my mother would disagree.” 

“it’s true,” you double down. “who else would take on an illegal animal form, just to help their friend? who would pull pranks on anyone who even dared to look at any of their friends the wrong way? who would go with james to threaten all the guys who look at me funny? just kidding, you’re not off the hook for that one.”

his head lifts towards yours with a pout. “he was creepy, darling. he was staring at you like he wanted to sink his teeth into your pretty little flesh, and it creeped me out.” 

you wrinkle your nose. “ew.” 

still, something warms in him at the thought of you accepting him. of seeing him as a good person. only–he wasn’t sure if that was true. he felt terrible more often than not. always a destroyer, a nuisance. couldn’t keep a girl, couldn’t love properly. if there was anything walburga black was good at, it was getting under his skin. 

right now, it seemed like she had crawled through his bloodstream and settled into it. and it sure didn’t seem like she was going to leave anytime soon. 

—

sirius is ignoring all of the calls that come through. the second he left your house, he went to the cliffside with a pack of marlboro’s and a hair tie. after lighting one and putting his hair back, he admires the valley. it was magnificent, with sloping mountains of green sliding down both sides, kissing in the middle. flowers decorated the hills, and his breath catches. it is so beautiful. 

but he’s terrified of slipping. if he falls down into that valley, he would have no chance of coming back up. the slope is too steep. 

he stands, stepping back to watch from afar. another step, and a stumble backwards. his foot catches on a stray rock, and he lands hard on his ass. ow. 

when he grabs for his phone, a lump knocks on the walls of his stomach. he has thousands of messages from james, who has clearly been updated on the situation and is spamming him like crazy. but only one has your name on top of it, staring up at him with those teary eyes, wide, desperate: please don’t shut me out. 

—

the christmas lights that tangled themselves in your tree were the nicest, coziest light for you to read by. you had insisted on celebrating some muggle traditions that lily had taught you about, and of course, james was all onboard. the two of you convinced your parents to put up decorations around the living room, and now you spend all of your time there. after grabbing the new novel you’re reading, you curl onto the couch to read. 

will the noseless villain defeat the scrawny boy? you’re just turning the page when something–no, someone–spills out of the chimney, covered in soot, stumbling onto the carpet. some dark liquid is leaking out from his skin.  

you’d recognize that figure anywhere.

sirius. 

the book slips from your grasp and you run towards him. “james!” you holler at the top of your lungs, fingers skimming his torso. “siri, i–are you okay? that was a dumb question, of course not. what–what do you need?” 

he peers up at you, his eyes glassy. “darling, i have to tell you–i–” 

james comes running through the doorway, hearing the commotion, and yells for your parents. they take off his shirt, and you can see all of the bruises that have molded themselves onto his body. he has a large gash on his ribcage, and he looks victim to a crucio or two. 

oh god. 

before you can stop them, water collects at your lashline, cascading down your cheeks. something pushes you to sit by him, hold his hand, and when you do, he glances at you. his face is weak from the pain, but he still reaches out to wipe your tears away. 

“don’t cry for me, y/n.” he murmurs softly as your mother tends to his wounds. 

“i can’t help it,” you let out a small hiccup, your fingers tracing his. 

i’m not worth it, is what he almost says. he turns his head away from you. he can’t look at you anymore. not when you’re this distraught over him. merlin. 

he catches you crying for him again in your room, a few weeks later. you were dancing in the kitchen to whatever came on the radio, and he bumped into a stack of plates on the counter. they shattered, and he almost had a panic attack right then and there. what would he do when euphemia kicked him out? he had nowhere else to go. 

he knew you would cry when you nudged an explanation out of him. you comforted him, and it really was no big deal in the end, but something in his bones told him you would cry for him. and it made him want to claw his skin off. 

—

sirius tries to escape, but of course, you find him. of course, you always do. even when–no, especially when he tries to hide. when he hates himself so much that he wants to rip his own flesh apart, break his own bones, you see him. 

he’s not sure if he hates or loves that about you. 

you’re outside his door, distraught scribbled into the wrinkle of your eyes and the quiver of you sweet, sweet lips. “sirius?” 

maybe he can just avoid you. maybe he can just let himself absorb you forever, ignore the reality. 

“i know you’re home,” you call softly, wringing your fingers. “can we talk about last night?” 

he swallows. do what’s good for her. you have to make her happy, above all else. he opens the door. 

“hi,” you say with a shyness he hasn’t seen in years. you step forward, crossing the boundaries, letting yourself into his place. into his heart. 

— 

“darling, i…” he swallows, and something twinges in your legs, telling you to run. but you can’t tear your gaze away from his adam’s apple, which you pressed kisses to only hours earlier, when you whispered sweet words to each other, saccharine promises. 

you tilt your head at him, and bile rushes to his mouth. how could he ever do this? he is a coward. 

“we can’t be together.” he says after a minute of silence, eyes trained on your feet. “we can’t.” 

at first, you don’t even try to argue. that makes it even worse. “i’ll wait for you.” 

“no, it’s–i,” he pauses, takes a deep breath. “i… i just can’t. not now, not ever. maybe, i’d change, someday. but i can’t help the way i feel.” 

“you… you don’t feel the same about me?” it comes out in a breathy whisper, and it's his turn to watch you swallow, something scratching at your eyes. 

“i wish that i could,” he responds. i wish i was good, wish that i could give you my love now. 

“oh. i… oh.” your voice is barely audible. the stumble of your feet as you race towards the door is louder. it echoes through his bare apartment, second to the pounding of his heart as you close the door gently. you were always too kind, too soft to him. 

he was always too terrible for you. 

—

the first time sirius met james potter, the boy took one look at him and said, “don’t you dare go after my sister.” 

he shrugged it off at the time–why would he care about james’ sister anyways? all he wanted were friends. real, genuine friends. maybe ones that would really piss walburga off, if he was lucky. and james potter seemed just the type. 

but when he met you, something changed. he wanted you, he knew that much. even at thirteen, fourteen, he knew he felt something different for you. a feeling he wanted to keep close to his chest and never let go. he already had a spot for you in his heart; it was probably drilled in at birth, that’s how well you fit into it. 

yet, every year, even before he said anything, james would waggle his finger. “oh, please, padfoot, not my sister. you can’t even hold down one girl, i’m never letting you near here. you’d just break her heart. besides, you don’t want her, anyways,” and that throaty laugh. he never realized how much those words had grabbed fistfuls of sirius’ guts, squeezing them until nothing came out. 

he internalized them. he was untouchable, the boy every girl wanted, that every girl could fuck, but never have. 

—

sirius black had been selfish many, many times in his life. but this, this was the most selfish decision he’d ever made. it sucks that he was too drunk on cheap booze and a scary kind of lovesickness to notice. 

the only thing he can see right now–the only thing he can think about clearly–is you, in the most stunning dress he’d ever seen. when you walked in, his jaw dropped with a little whoa. 

you’re the only one for him. that’s how it’s always been. 

it’s too fucking bad that when he spun you around to love ballads on the dance floor, you let him. it’s worse that when his forehead kissed yours, you let him. you let him press his ugliness against your perfect. he took you by the waist, and you let him. 

his most selfish decision, underneath him, begging for him, tugging on his collar and smearing kisses on his jaw, his neck, his v-line. 

oh, shit. 

james came into his conscience, on his tails was walburga. you’re not good enough for her. you never have been. you’re a mistake, a disgrace. you’ll sleep around, mince her heart into chunks. run, sirius. that’s all you’ve ever done. 

seeing you in front of him, he knew. with that lovely, lovely smile and that gleam in your eyes, oh. he’d only make you cry. 

masterlist | next part

tags: @lydiasfalling @moonysloveee @kenjikishimotoswifey

p.s. idk if anyone from my last post wanted to be on my general taglist or js for that post so if u do lmk and i'll add youuuu (or if you want to be removed)

have a good day!! 💝

[upon-sunflower-trails]

it cries a soft weep like mine

nam-gyu x reader | oneshot | 1965 words

songfic, i guess? based on eric by mitski. if i'm being honest, this fic was really cathartic for me to write.

warnings: nsfw. pretty fucking toxic relationship, nothing physically or sexually abusive, but it's really toxic. fairly graphic depictions of sex. emotional abuse. manipulation. dacryphilia.

You like control, well, I do too

Take off my clothes and watch me move

You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me

How you choose

It had been a little over six months since you decided to pursue a relationship with Nam-gyu. You'd met him through a mutual friend, where the attraction was almost instantaneous.

That's all it seemed to be. Purely physical attraction. You knew you wanted more, to have a relationship that was full of genuine intimacy. You wanted the sort of love that led to late night conversations in bed, with your hands threaded in his hair as you both looked up at the ceiling, gentle smiles on your faces.

Nam-gyu was not that kind of lover. It was all about how far he could take things without you pushing back. He used you for sex and not much else— it's not like he was ever home. You couldn't tell if you preferred the crippling solitude that settled in your gut when he was out doing god-knows-what during the day, or if you wanted to cling to him despite the ways he made it clear you were of no importance to him.

In the beginning, you pushed back. You two would constantly argue over the smallest of things. He wanted to be his own person, even if it meant disrespecting his relationship with you. You still had enough strength to stand your ground, to yell back as he slammed his fist against the counter. 

You still remembered the first time you had come home to him in bed with someone else, as they scurried out of the door as Nam-gyu laid still in bed with a smirk on his face, disregarding the angry tears streaming down your face as you shouted at him like a rabid dog barking at its owner. 

You wanted to leave then, but he convinced you to stay the same way he always did. Pleading with you, pretending he cared in that moment— promising he would change, that he had a moment of weakness. Things had been so difficult for him, he wasn't in the right state of mind. And then he'd have you bare in front of him, knowing he would be able to reel you back in any time.

Help me with the zipper on my skirt, it's stuck

As you kneel, I'll be watching you fix me

This view of you, of the top of your head

Makes me forgive you

After a few months, even your mutual friends could tell things weren't right between you and your boyfriend. You had become more withdrawn and careful with your words. You refused to drink, knowing it would lead to you breaking down and spilling your guts to anyone in proximity to you. 

Nam-gyu paraded you around as if you were an exotic pet on a leash. He would shut you up if you even dared to speak in front of the people who were no longer your friends, but his. He convinced you that their worried glances were instead glares of disgust, that everyone knew how mean you were to him behind closed doors. You believed him; how could you yell at him when he had been trying so hard to get better?

At one get-together, the same person you had caught him sleeping with was there. Even in your wounded state, it festered— festered until you could feel every rational part of you become infected with blind rage. You snapped as he placed an arm on theirs after ignoring you all night, even though to anyone who was watching it was obvious he was simply helping to steady them after they had fallen.

You were made to be the fool. Onlookers saw you as insecure, jealous, crazy. Nam-gyu played the part of the hurt boyfriend who couldn't believe the accusations you were throwing at him. Everyone believed him, because why would they trust you? You had been acting strange and distant for months now.

That night, Nam-gyu hadn't berated you. He simply helped you undress, murmuring that he would make it up to you.

"Don't know why you always make me out to be the bad guy, baby." "I was just tryin' to help them. Didn't you see them fall?" "We already talked about this, why do you keep bringing it up?" "Am I not allowed to have friends now? I'll just stop talking to them, if that's what you want. In fact, I'll stop going out entirely."

He said it all as he helped you out of the shoes that were blistering your feet, unzipping the skirt you had been fiddling with all night. He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes glistening as he did his best to seem hurt by your accusations. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he jutted out his bottom lip, wailing that the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

So you let him back in again. You turned a blind eye yet again to all the trouble he had caused you, because at least he was a good fuck for the night.

But how long, how long can we play this way?

I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you

My heart, my heart wants to hold you

But I know, I know, I know the rules

Six months in, you knew you held nothing but an odd mix of sorrow and contempt for Nam-gyu. You tried to rationalize it, that this was what love was really supposed to feel like. 

The only physical intimacy he engaged in with you was sex. It was never gentle, or soft, or tender; it was bordering on violent and possessive, despite you not truly belonging to him. And as soon as he had spilt himself into you, he would turn away and not allow you to hold or touch him. He claimed he never saw the point of cuddling or any sort of aftercare.

You knew he heard the sobs that racked your body every night. As you clutched the comforter close to your bare chest, pillow wet as the thick seed between your legs served as a constant reminder of what you were putting yourself through.

Some nights, you would reach out as he was sleeping, desperate to brush the stray hairs from his face. He truly looked peaceful like this, his resting state making you forget how cruel he could be. Every time you outstretched your limbs, craving any sort of loving embrace, you retracted at the last minute. You knew to roll back over and force your eyes shut, praying that perhaps this was all just a bad dream you were going to wake up from. That you were in such a happy relationship in real life, you were forced to have constant nightmares of what a terrible relationship would look like.

And every morning, as harsh sunlight beat in through the blinds on your face, you were reminded that this was your reality. That you would turn over, and Nam-gyu would be gone— not in the way that he had never existed, as the divet in the mattress suggested, but that he left without bidding you farewell as any good lover should.

You knew you weren't in love with him. How could you be? You despised him, deep down, even if you never admitted it to yourself. But you had promised yourself to him at some point down the line, and he hadn't dumped you on the side of the road yet.

So, for now, you stayed.

Blue light, dark room, the white of your teeth

As you smile at my trembling shoulders

But your skin, did you notice your skin?

It cries a soft weep like mine

You always tended to cry during sex with Nam-gyu. Perhaps he had just gotten used to it, or he had twisted in his mind that they were tears of pleasure. Either way, it didn't matter.

You enjoyed the release, yes, you only stayed with him for the pleasure. Well, that was what you told yourself. 

You wept as he thrust into you, because it was the only time the relationship felt real. His presence was overpowering, as the stench of his cologne settled into your nostrils while the cold sensation of his rings against your sides were the only thing keeping your mind tethered to reality.

He would growl into your shoulder as he bit and nipped at you, leaving marks that you never hesitated to cover (since they were a reminder that you were with him). His teeth shone in the low light of your "shared" bedroom, amusement coming out as a hiss as you cried out his name, a mix of pleasure and despair at your current situation.

Insults and degradation would be hurled your way under the guise of him "getting too into the moment." You always tried to ignore when he would moan out someone else's name. It only made you cry harder, and that only made him rougher. You guessed that your sobs spurred him on, that in some twisted sort of way seeing you in such a broken state aided his arousal. You never wanted to think too much into it, lest you begin to bawl even more.

Every once in a while, on extremely rare occasion, he would let a tear slip as well. Maybe it was a sign he was still human, too. That deep down, he felt sorry for what he had put you through. He was always quick to hide it as soon as it happened, and just like that he would go back to the same Nam-gyu he always was.

Those nights, you would always hear sniffling and muffled sobs beside you as you wiped your silent tears away.

I'll sell, I'll sell my whole to you

What's my, what's my, what's my price?

How about, how about just a part of you?

You were too deep in to leave when Nam-gyu finally began investing your money in things as well. He had lost everything already, and now needed your financial aid to pick him up off the ground. You wanted to be the perfect partner to him, to support him in his time of need. You tried to find any positive you could about him as you got deeper and deeper into the relationship, making decisions that would only solidify your inability to leave him.

You had lost everything alongside him, drowning in debt as he made even more irresponsible decisions with your money. You couldn't even stick up for yourself, let alone get out of the situation entirely. You were stuck, practically entrapped with a barbed-wire engagement ring digging into your finger. You laughed at the idea, but realized the metaphor didn't seem so far-fetched.

You weren't sure what it was that you did that finally pushed Nam-gyu over the edge. He abandoned you without a word, one day muttering something about making up his debts and the next day vanishing into thin air. You weren't sure if he'd ever return. Deep down, you knew you didn't want him to. But as it stood, you were crushed. Lost and hopeless without him, simply going through the motions everyday with no solace in pretending he loved you at night while being shoved against the headboard.

In some strange way, you missed him. It wasn't as though he completed you, but you had become so wrapped up in a life not with him, but of him, that you weren't sure how to exist outside of being Nam-gyu's. 

You weren't sure how to survive without the assurance of him being in your life.

'Cause I want, I want, I want, I want

I want, I want, I want, I want, I want.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 8

<- former chapter - AO3 link - this is the last chapter, sinners.<3

Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do it interact. Read the tags. WC: 4.8k words (i think lol.)

MDNI MDNI MDNI READ THE TAGS

Tags: rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working dogs, punishments, mating cycles/ruts/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn’t dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, dog tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers in a fucked up way, chubby reader, reader has a pussy, pregnancy

Author Note: Phew OKAY, this was a beast to write, especially because I wanted to describe so much, but I can’t keep writing on it, lol. I have to allow myself to finish it. I will write more in this universe, I have plans of writing a fic following Valeria, heh. And i will most likely write one-shots here and there, but I also want to explore other ideas not in this universe, as i also have other fics i want to write lmao. I have never given birth to a kid (and i have no intention to), so take the whole uh pregnancy part with a pinch of salt. I kept a lot of it vague, sorry lmao. I am, however from a big family. So uh. Yeah. Also ngl, this fic took a much sweeter turn than i had planned, but oh well. It happens and i had a good time writing it. Thank you for all the support, it really means a lot to me, sweet sinners. Ily all, smooches for everyone.<3333

It was close to midday and usually the farm would be rather quiet by now, calm and content, animals at their places for the day. The sun was shining for once, the British weather hournering you with some warmth. It warmed the roof of the houses, the fur of the baby goats playing outside.

Peaceful, all around.

Or, well, almost… not inside the farm house.

You were angry. Not just angry, but mad, livid; you were growling and snapping at the pack members as they came closer to apologise, or at least attempt to - and then you would hide again in the crook of John’s armpit, whining as Farah and Alex tried to comfort you. John had to hold onto your jaw multiple times, just to make sure you would accidentally nip at Farah and Alex, Nikolai trying to herd the male hybrids a little more away, though they constantly refused.

They wanted to see the screen too.

Not just one pup - not two - no, you were having bloody four pups and you were almost even more upset about it than moving to the farm.

… almost.

You sniffled as you looked at the screen as Farah pointed so that you and the others could see the hearts and slowly growing pups inside you.

“You’re never gonna knot me again,” you angrily hissed at the male hybrids - Gaz had the decency to look apologetic, but the others didn’t. Soap was one big grin, Ghost was looking smug, filled with pride. Alex patted your head, saying it would be alright but you couldn’t see how.

Alex tried to explain that it wasn’t super uncommon for hybrids to have quadruplets, as your bodies were different from humans in many ways other than the visual ones, but you were already spiraling.

How the fuck were you even supposed to walk? You asked the male hybrids just that, though it was more of an accusation you supposed.

“Your bloody knots,” you growled, “I’m not gonna be able to walk!”

“Dinnae fash, lass, we will carry ye around,” Soap promised with a grin, tail wafting happily from side to side, only earning an angry growl from you, Price and Nik hushing you, holding onto your jaw again, trying to keep you still.

Farah and Alex help you clean the gel off, explaining what they need to make sure of, what food to avoid now and which vitamins to get you, especially when now carrying quadruplets - though it was possible one of them might disappear and get absorbed by the other fosters.

After the two vets left, you refused to talk to your pack mates, upset with the four pups currently inside of you - logically you knew it wasn’t their fault, but it sure felt like it was… yes you had initiated the mating yourself, but you hadn’t thought their sperm would knock you up like this. You stayed on the couch, leaned against the corner, nipping at the other hybrids as they tried getting closer.

Though both of your owners chastised you and the men apologized for something that essentially wasn’t their fault, you remained upset for a good thirty minutes.

It wasn’t until you owners tried giving Gaz one of your favorite snacks, the hybrid slowly crawling towards you on all fours, looking up at you at the couch, tail carefully wagging. Keeping his body language all submissive, letting out a whine as he got close to you. Finally you gave in with a grumble, leaning down and snatching the snack from his mouth and then he was on you, cuddling you and nuzzling him. The others joined him soon, Price sending you a happy smile as he looked from the kitchen.

You still grumbled a little when their licking became too much but you were melting into their touches.

✨✨✨✨

It was breakfast, a little week later, that Price and Nikolai came with the suggestion; a bigger place for all of them, either inside the house or as an expansion to it, so you could all be closer. They would keep the old shed so the boys could still have a place to Power Nap during work.

It was a suggestion, an offer - they didn’t demand it, actually asked you about it and you felt a certain pride from the fact.

Whatever the chaos that you had created had done to the two men, it had helped. You had slid to your knees afterwards, crawling to your owner, looking up at Price as you sucked him off - to your surprise but delight, Gaz joined you, licking at Price’s cock as well, stealing kisses from you, licking the cum from your mouth afterwards. John praised you both, scratching you beneath your chins - you hadn’t realised that Soap had gone to Nik before looking over, the Russian stroking his cock, Soap almost shyly sitting in front of him, his own bulge hard, as he had his mouth open, tongue out.

Nik mostly hit his tongue, you licked the couple of drops of cum which had missed from his skin. Gaz had crawled beneath the temple to Ghost instead, letting the bigger hybrid fuck his mouth. While John and Nik cleaned off the table, Soap fucked you beneath it, making the plates and cutlery shake rhythmically, Nik chastiseing you now and again until you both finished

As you laid beneath it, soaking in the pleased feeling of the orgasm, Soap knotted to you - much to your annoyance, since it hadn’t taken you long to let them do that to you again - you found yourself hoping this would continue, all of you getting along with each other.

✨✨✨✨

It was a couple of days later that you had made your decision together with your pack, that the four of you went to Price, telling what you all wanted.

You didn’t think too much of it then, switching between sleeping at the shed with the others and then inside - when it was too cold, Gaz usually made you get inside, worried you would freeze.

It was almost a week later when Price and Nik appeared with some plans for the extension, when you were all eating lunch. It would be an extension of the main farmhouse, with a door directly into it, so that it would be easier for everyone to come and go. It was much bigger than the shed, almost a tiny house of itself, Price sweetly kissing your forehead and telling you that he wanted you to have enough space for all the pups without struggling - making your tail wag so hard it almost hurt, licking and kissing his cheek with a happy whine.

✨✨✨✨

At first you almost felt like the promise of quadruplets had been a lie - your stomach didn’t seem to change that much and though your tits felt a little sore, it felt, well… Normal.

That didn’t last though. As soon as you hit month three, it hit with full speed - your stomach grew and so did your hunger at a speed you had never experienced before.

You raided the entire kitchen not even trying to hide the mess when your masters came for lunch, sitting on the floor, inhaling chocolate together with some leftovers from the day before, ready to attack a chicken foot afterwards, to really finish off with.

You didn’t get the opportunity to, though - you knew that, just from the mere sight of John with his furrowed brow and from Nik’s amused grin.

John spanked you and you spread your legs afterwards, whining for him to fuck you - he did, careful with your growing stomach, cooing about how you should just ask and he would give you everything you wanted.

That there was no need to make a mess in the kitchen, leaving cans of beans and tomatoes all over the floor, a turned over bag of flour abandoned, having fallen from one of the shelves as you tried to grab the sugar next to it.

”Can’t have you crawling on the tables, mama,” he cooed, kissing one of your burning cheeks, swiping a finger over some of his cum dripping from your puffy pussy, “Can’t have you fall down, no?”

The rest of the pack came to eat not long afterwards, the kitchen still a mess, you sitting on the couch in the living room, shyly wagging your tail at them, while you gnawed at a piece of Nik’s jerky, which he had kindly sneaked and given you, only stopping to take a bite of a cucumber now and again.

Food forgotten for a moment, your three mates were on you, licking and cooing, keeping their voices low as they promised to help you next time you wanted to raid the kitchen. Soap licked your cunt, insisting on ‘cleaning you off’, while Gaz and Ghost peppered your tits and stomach with kisses.

✨✨✨✨✨✨

Your belly was swollen, lots of stretch marks having joined your already existing ones - you had already had morning sickness for a month, but it seemed to be over once more. You felt hormonal, tired and big. It was carrying around three dumbbells all the time, your back screaming half the time. Your tits grew too, which Gaz and Soap in particular, seemed fond of.

Ghost however, learned to stand behind you, big arms curling around you and carefully holding on beneath your stomach, letting you feel a moment of relief as he carried the weight of the pups.

Alex and Farah came by on the regular, checking your vitals and everything. Everything seemed to be going as it should - even the aggressive moments you were beginning to have, where you didn’t want anyone to touch your belly was apparently normal, as you got closer and closer to your due date.

One month left. It was normal to have those instincts, wanting to make sure the pups were in a safe environment when born.

Speaking of that - that became a discussion.

”It’s too big a risk, sweetheart,” John pleaded softly with you and you turned your head away, letting out a dramatic huff. Your arms were crossed, refusing to look at any of them.

”I’m giving birth here,” you demanded, still not looking at them, “Or I’m not giving birth at all.”

You knew for a fact that it didn’t work that way, you couldn’t just refuse to give birth to the four babies currently making your stomach swell up like a giant balloon.

”you’re literally gonna give birth to four kids,” Gaz pointed out, arms crossed too, looking just as stubborn as you, “what if something happens?”

“I wanna give birth here,” you replied once more, “I don’t want to go to some sterile place.”

”Daisy,” Farah’s voice was gentle, “We just don’t want anything to happen to your pups.”

You let out a little sad sound.

”I’m not a bad mom,” you answered with a whine, arms uncrossing to hold onto your stomach, “I’m not.”

”Nobody said that,” Farah said, leaning forward to gently pat your head, “and it’s okay to be scared - you’ve never tried it before and we know it’s not gonna be easy.”

You bit your bottom lip, another sad sound. Soap carefully snuggled against you on the couch, pressing his nose against your neck.

”There are nesting rooms at the hybrid hospital,” Alex added, “you can bring everything you want in there a week before the due date, make it feel right, yeah? We will let you go yourself as long as you want and help you if necessary.”

You could feel one of the pups kick at your ribs, making you wince for a moment, curling your fingers against the stomach a little more.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, “But I want to decide what we bring.”

✨✨✨✨

You had brought a lot of blankets to the hybrid hospital, but a lot of clothes as well — not all your own. In fact, most of them weren’t your own. Nikolai had let out a pained sound as you had grabbed his leather jacket and you had shot him such a nasty look that you almost regretted it. You could see the pack behind him tensing up as well, as if ready to hold Nik so that you could steal it.

”Fine, lapochka,” he finally grumbled, grabbing one of John’s coats to wear instead, “But I want it back afterwards.”

You arrived a week before, getting used to the facility and getting your nest ready. John and Nik switched between being there, going home to help at the ranch and then switching - Ghost, Gaz and Soap all stayed with you, the mere mention of them leaving making you growl the loudest.

It was on the fourth day into your stay that your water broke, making you and all the hybrids panic for a short moment. Farah and Alex arrived shortly after, as well as a specialist who had helped with a lot of hybrid births, when there were more than 3 pups at once. Said specialist seemed nice enough but it took a couple of hours before you got used to her - John almost muzzling Soap and Ghost from how they growled at her at first.

Despite all of your fears and the exhausting and stressful experience it was to give birth to four babies, it didn’t matter once they were all on your chest. Tiny and perfect, unable to open their eyes and letting out small coos to make sure you were there.

Fat little bastards laying on your chest, finally no longer in your stomach, all declared healthy.

The specialist, Farah and Alex made sure all of them were alright and that you were doing fine. You had gotten stitches and fluids but otherwise you were good.

You were enamored, watching their tiny ears and tails, their tiny fingers and barely there claws pawing at you, hungry for touch and food.

You didn’t let John nor Nikolai hold them at first, but they didn’t seem mad about it.

Gaz, Soap and Ghost on the other hand were allowed to - in a way, it almost looked comical to you. They held them as you got cleaned up a little, exhausted but not wanting to miss a moment.

The male hybrids that you had hated for the first while, all seemed like lap dogs themselves; they were all so big in their own ways and the pups were tiny, so careful that it might as well have been delicate porcelain they held onto. Ghost’s big hands almost seemed to swallow one of the pups.

Two girls, two boys. Perfect. All of them.

You stayed at the hospital, making sure everything was alright. They got the shots they needed, the chips that were required by law, so that they were a part of the system.

It was three days later that you finally offered John to hold one of your boys, shyly offering it to him with a whine, your tail wagging against the temporary nest.

You pretended to not see the tears in his eyes, Nikolai leaned over his shoulder, looking with awe at them himself, whispering something you couldn’t understand.

It was the day after that you were finally up and walking again, wanting to go home.

✨✨✨✨

You were inside with them for the first month, your working dogs looking after you in shifts - while John and Nikolai looked after you all the time.

It wasn’t easy, especially not at first.

Cries that kept most of you awake at night, their never ending hunger and your sudden role not just as a mother to a single pup but to four. It was dirty diapers and stressful moments, it was tears rolling down your cheeks as you felt helpless despite the pack being there. It was fear of the future, of whether you did everything as well as you should.

It was late night kisses as Ghost, Gaz or Soap comforted you; on your lips, cheeks, nose and against your temple. Whispering your actual name in moments shared in secrets.

✨✨✨✨

In a way they grew up too fast. One moment they were barely able to crawl and the next you were running after a delighted toddler in a diaper, escaping from bath time, leaving Soap and John behind in the bathroom to wash the others after a day outside.

“Alice!” You yipped, the tiny child just screaming with delight, ducking under the table to escape, tail wagging so quickly it hit chair legs on the way. She made it to the hallway, almost at the door, when Nikolai appeared from the stairs, swooping her up, Alice letting out an annoyed howl at her capture.

“Not behaving today , eh?” He asked, the baby squealing as he tickled her tummy before handing back your pup, “escaping the bath again?”

“It’s like she knows just when to bolt,” you agreed, frowning at your pup who looked up at you with Soap’s eyes, Gaz’s hair and skin tone but Ghost’s facial features. Long, pointy and fluffy ears that might raise when she got older, might not, too much of a mixed breed for any of you to know.

She clapped her dirty hands against your cheeks and you huffed at her, before carrying her back to the bathroom where she let out excited barks at the sight of her siblings.

They all looked different, yet somehow the same. Sharing yours or the men’s features in different ways. Alice, Henry, Oscar and Florence. Some of them had your nose, some of them had Gaz’ hair, some Ghost’s freckles, and some of them had Soap’s chin.

They grew quickly — too quickly for you to almost follow along, the extension to the house filled to the brim and once more expanded. As soon as they had learned to walk and crawl up on things, it became even more crazy, especially as they ran off to hide in the stalls, meeting the goats and some of the barn cats.

Once, Florence disappeared into the corn fields that you had once ran into to escape the men - it seemed so long ago and despite time having passed and knowing that Valeria had found a mate of her own, a stray that she had thrown her love onto, all of you were still territorial.

Nothing happened however. It only took five minutes before a slightly grumpy looking Valeria appeared, holding Florence in her arms, your daughter tugging on one of the other hybrid’s ears, as if Valeria wasn’t scary one bit.

”Sorry, Valeria,” you said as she gave you Florence over the fence, the other letting out a little grumble.

”’s okay,” she said - and you didn’t comment on how her tail wagged a little as she walked away.

✨✨✨✨

It was five years after the quadruplets birth, that you got pregnant once more, ready to castrate your pack members yourself, making Soap, Ghost and Gaz sleep out in the shed, while you took your pups to sleep in John’s and Nik’s bed, all of you barely fitting in there.

It had truly been an accident this time - you hadn’t even been in heat. Nik seemed amused, as the asshole did with everything, while John seemed a little more frustrated, yet confused over how the fuck you and the others hybrids had even managed to knock you up.

And it was fucking twins.

It took three days before you let your working dogs back into the little house you had, all the pups delighted, while Soap, Ghost and Gaz all kissed you and licked you so you smelled like more of them.

Despite your anger, you had liked the amazement on the quadruplets’ faces once they felt the twins kick inside your stomach for the first time, Ghost sniffling with delight, while Gaz and Soap were wagging so hard you were afraid it would hit one of the pups and tumble them to the ground.

Laswell took care of the pups while you gave birth - the woman might not fully admit to it, but you knew she had a very soft spot for them. Spoiling them the two days before she took them to meet their new siblings at the hospital.

Once more Nik had to give up his leather jacket, muttering about how it was hard to get it clean last time.

After giving birth and healing, you demanded to get your tubes tied and after several talks, psychologist and doctor visits, John let you have the procedure.

Though Ghost, Soap and Gaz weren't too happy about the idea at first, they were also not denying that six kids was enough - more than enough. Hadn’t you been a pack of four, you weren’t sure you would have been able to handle it. Ghost shyly admitted one late evening that it was a lot of his hybrid instincts that held him back, the forever present idea of breeding you that made him sceptical. But he still supported you, together with the others.

There was indeed enough trouble as it was with all the pups. Alice, Florence, Oscar and Henry were already growing into kids having their own opinions, needing to try out boundaries and figure out what they liked and didn’t like. They didn’t quite understand that Leo and Sophie was too young to play with them at first.

They grew up with more love than you had experienced in your own childhood, freed from the forced training of becoming the perfect lapdog. They weren’t hit or spanked, the only fights they got into were play fights or fights with each other that their parents or owners were always quick to break up.

Nobody told any of them off for following their instincts, as you had experienced — nobody declawed them or filed down their fangs like it had been done to you. They weren’t punished for barking. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that a lot of the overprotectiveness from the men also came from the lack of their own parents’ being unable to be there for them throughout their childhood.

They socialised with humans a lot, John finding a daycare for them as they grew older, as well as a school for hybrids later on. It made both Ghost and Gaz bawl their eyes off the first day they left for school, never having been able to do that themselves.

Snuggling with both John and Nik at the couch but stubbornly refusing to admit so.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They were in their early twenties when the first of them left.

It was Henry who left first, after a couple of people had come to meet the young hybrids and he had gotten along with a couple, who had kids on their own. They also had an older hybrid, whom he took a liking to.

John - and not to mention, you and your mates - didn’t let him go easily. It took three months of visits, paperwork and Henry visiting the new owners at a week at a time, before it was the young hybrid himself who put his foot down. He wanted to go and finally you felt peace with letting him do so, kissing him all over when he packed his last stuff, leaving with his new owners, waving from the car.

He wasn’t going far, only an one-hour drive away but still. All of you pretended not to cry afterwards. Leo and Sophia, your youngest pups were inconsolable the first two days, the teenage pups not quite understanding fully where their brother was going.

Florence was the next to leave - she had more herding instincts than any of the others, often happily following Soap around when herding the sheep or goats. It had started with her herding the chicken at a young age and as the years passed, she had grown to love it.

So when a farmer came by together with his family - it was almost a perfect fit from the moment they saw each other. It was a big family, with three generations living on the farms, together with three other hybrids already helping. But they were expanding and were getting more sheep - so another hybrid was needed, even though they had actual dogs as well.

The procedure was the same as with Henry though Florence put her foot down a little earlier than his brother, wanting to move to her new owners now.

Two-hour drive, but with the promise of regular visits, you let another of your adult pups leave the nest, four pups left.

Oscar was the third - and if you were honest, he was one of your pups that you had been most nervous about, since he seemed more sensitive. He wasn’t into herding like Florence and didn’t have the same outgoing energy as Henry did. He liked comforting others but he sometimes seemed to get uncomfortable when there were too many people together.

But when a young lesbian couple came to meet him, you knew that he was going to be alright. Even after the first time, it was clear that he had taken a liking to the two women, especially one of the women, who was soft-spoken and had anxiety.

The papers were drawn up a month after, as Oscar also went to take a one-year course to become a registered service hybrid, to help one of his new owners to get more comfortable.

Another two-hour drive, but the women had family in the area, so they would be around often.

Alice was the fourth of them, not having vibed with two applicants, turning twenty-three not too long after meeting the couple she decided to join. They lived in one of the bigger cities, a three-hour drive, but they fit so well together that you couldn’t make yourself feel bad about it.

She was a snuggle bug and much more of a stereotypical lapdog than any of her siblings, so the couple seemed right. They had a kid that she seemed to bond with pretty quickly as well.

You felt old sometimes, seeing your pups growing up - it was as if twenty years had passed by so quickly that you barely noticed it. There were grey speckles of hair in Nikolai’s hair, John’s beard almost grey by now, making the man grumble about feeling like a grandpa sometimes. Sometimes you wondered if they had wanted kids of their own. If they had wanted someone to throw their love onto, just like you, Ghost, Gaz and Soap had had. Yet, they seemed happy at the same time, having been nothing but loving towards your pups throughout their life from birth to young adults.

Leo and Sophia also left in their twenties.

Sophia had tried with a few different people before she met the right one - almost having given up on the idea of finding her own owner, bawling her eyes out, feeling like a failure.

That was until she met a lady a couple years older than herself. She was blind and already had a blind dog, but needed more help in her daily life - as well as more company. She would visit her brother often, who also had hybrids, so Sophia wouldn’t be fully cut off from hybrid company. Sophia excelled in her training as a guide hybrid and passed with flying colors, happily leaving together with her owner with signed papers and a heartfelt goodbye from everyone.

Leo left not too long after - they had run into one of Nikolai and John’s old friends and the hybrid had been smitten ever since, the almost mute man having found comfort in the hybrid despite only meeting for a couple of hours. Just like all the others, they went through a trial period, because while you believed in Nikolai and John when they said that he was a good man, you wanted to make sure that Leo didn’t rush into the situation.

✨✨✨✨

At last, it was John, Nikolai, Ghost, Soap, Gaz and you back at the farm that you had declared your worst enemy over two decades ago. You didn’t hate to admit that you liked the place now, even if you never got into running through muddy fields or guarding livestock. You didn’t miss the city any more - at least not in the way that you used to.

The first month that you had all been alone, you all fucked like rabbits, all of you happy to have sex with the others by now. You all calmed down after that, having gotten most of it out of your system, though you were happy to not having to worry about pups walking in on you being pounded by one of their dads or their dads fucking the throats of John or Nik.

It was odd too. You grew older, all of you did.

In many ways life felt like it always had, in other ways, it seemed so different. You felt happy, a lapdog living her best life at a farm.

[merakiui]

Hey Mera!!! I love your Azul writings and thoughts and wondered: Do you have any Birthday Hc's for Azul Celebrating Darlings' Birthday?? (SFW, NSFW, Yandere, regular, Au, whatever tickles your fancy!)

My Birthday is tomorrow and was wondering what my favorite Tako would do O.O

HIII!! :D uuuwaaa I hope I’m not too late to convey my well wishes… >_< HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEET ANON!!! May you enjoy lots of delicious foods and happiness on your day~ now here are some thoughts on tako celebrating your birthday!! <3

Knowing Azul, he’s likely planned every single part of the celebration in meticulous detail. From the foods offered to the decorations to the venue (Mostro Lounge, naturally) to even the sort of music he’ll have playing as background!! All of it will be your favorites, each preference carefully gathered from his extensive stalking research. He wants this to be absolutely perfect, as you deserve only the best of the best. The guest list is up to you for the party. Anything goes because it’s your special day, but don’t mind Azul when he wishes to peruse who you’ve added to the list. Anyone who might sour the festivities or your mood will be swiftly scribbled out and the twins will be sure to keep an eye out in case anyone not on the list tries to slip in.

That’s the big celebration, but he actually has plans for private time. Azul is an introvert at heart, but then his gestures of affection range from grand to small. He could take you to a fancy, five-star restaurant or give you luxurious experiences and gifts to match, but he wants to do these things knowing you’ll enjoy them. If you aren’t partial to these things, then there’s just no point. Truthfully, he quite likes the idea of spending quiet time indoors with you. Sharing a delicious meal in the comforts of your room or his, doing things you like to do, taking it slow. Azul has a tendency to be anxious about these things, and he’s likely planned way too much in advance to compensate for any potential errors or anxiety. He just wants you to know how cherished and celebrated you are. Of course he’ll still spoil you with plenty of gifts and experiences. It’ll feel like Christmas the way he’s giving you so many gifts.

And nsfw……. you are lavished with love in that bed, against the wall, on the floor, etc etc. he’ll fuck you in every way and position you want. He’ll get on his knees for you. And maybe he might even be willing to do a few things in mer form for you…. >:) anything for his precious angelfish. You’re his weakness. He adores you and it’s very obvious. Needless to say, it will be the best (and most exhausting) birthday sex of your life. He wishes your birthday could be every day so that he could continue to spoil you like this, but luckily you’re his lover and so that’s basically like a daily birthday. <3

[sundrop-writes]

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. 

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane. 

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory. 

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care. 

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return. 

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear. 

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that. 

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you. 

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you. 

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad. 

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later. 

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed. 

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now. 

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him. 

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him. 

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him. 

“Thomas?” 

He nodded in response.  

“Come with me.” 

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now. 

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was. 

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it. 

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside. 

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did. 

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next. 

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas. 

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before. 

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you. 

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again. 

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him. 

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself. 

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you. 

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.” 

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you. 

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms. 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?” 

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth. 

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious. 

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends. 

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.) 

“Look, it’s nothing.” 

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’. 

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-” 

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again. 

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?” 

“Just here.” You told him honestly. 

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor. 

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong. 

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again. 

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision. 

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way. 

“Thomas-” 

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted. 

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place. 

… 

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

… 

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful. 

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked. 

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!” 

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you. 

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you. 

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there. 

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.” 

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room. 

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off. 

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space. 

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin. 

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound. 

A whimper. 

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you. 

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here. 

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment? 

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra. 

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. 

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. 

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. 

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy. 

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?” 

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. 

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was. 

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine. 

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal. 

Fuck. 

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut. 

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was. 

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice. 

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you. 

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you. 

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.” 

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap. 

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action. 

“Y/N, please.” 

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment. 

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name. 

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea. 

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you. 

But something inside of his skull was chanting: 

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away. 

You know the answer. 

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor. 

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you. 

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass. 

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you. 

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more. 

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse. 

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading. 

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now. 

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch. 

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won. 

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more. 

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak. 

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.” 

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return. 

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.” 

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.” 

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs. 

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants. 

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action. 

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you. 

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear. 

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit. 

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.” 

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear. 

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-” 

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you. 

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now. 

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this. 

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.” 

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box. 

“I got you.” He assured you. 

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat. 

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was. 

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips. 

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.” 

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.” 

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes. 

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source. 

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him. 

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in. 

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst. 

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly. 

“Oh, Thomas!” 

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced. 

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of. 

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life. 

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect. 

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more. 

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!” 

You felt like you were burning alive. 

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled. 

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole. 

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs. 

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out. 

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!” 

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality. 

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own? 

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.” 

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you. 

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief. 

But there was still that nagging for something more. 

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this. 

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours. 

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly. 

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered. 

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears. 

Fill her up. Make her yours. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.” 

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises. 

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.” 

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion. 

With love. 

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body. 

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises. 

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need. 

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-” 

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly. 

And then - perfection. 

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria. 

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point. 

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep. 

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you. 

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.) 

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep. 

… 

Thomas woke up cold and alone. 

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked. 

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind: 

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

[letsgobarbs]

The Wedding (Acacius Marries His Priestess)

Summary: This is part of the His Priestess universe but can be read as a stand-alone. Acacius marries his Anaticula.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Former Vestal!Reader (No use of y/n, terms of endearment are used.)

A/N: Anaticula means little duckie/duckling. Vestals were initiated at ages 5~7ish and served the temple for 30 years before they were permitted to marry, and Acacius is described to be a decade older than the Reader in the original story. I had meant for this to be a nice, fluffy wedding. But then I got my period in the middle of writing this and this grew progressively hornier... so it's a wedding and the wedding night.

Warnings: PDA, loss of virginity, oral sex (both receiving), eating ass (f!receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex, discussions of having children, food play.

“You must cry.” The Vestal begged.

“Why must I cry? I happen to be very happy today, the tears are not forthcoming.” His anaticula sounded almost petulant, this was not the first time they were having this discussion. Acacius gently stroked his thumb over the side of her finger; their right hands were bound together by wool ribbons, fingers interlocked. 

“The bride has to cry during the wedding procession, show some reluctance and modesty—”

“I am so joyous, I would skip to my husband’s home if I could.” Acacius snorted into his cup of wine, spilling some of the liquid over its edges. He made no effort to suppress his chuckle as he placed the wine down to wipe at his mouth. His lips were still curled into a grin, he found he hadn’t been able to restrain it since he awoke this morning. He cannot decide which sound is sweeter, his name on her lips or her address of him as husband. 

“—it is Roman tradition.” Her friend insisted. 

“I don’t believe I would like to invoke the Roman tradition of kidnapping women for marriage.” Oh, but Acacius had wanted to invoke it several times a day leading up to their wedding. They had been reduced to chaste kisses and clasped hands, always chaperoned by a hawk-eyed matron who would squint at the most gentle caress he dared to share with his betrothed. Now his wife. Her father and brother had insisted it was for his own safety, so their anaticula didn’t attack him again as she had in her office— forcing an honourable man to wed her, they had teased. 

Acacius felt they were having far too much fun at his expense. Because all this honourable man wanted to do was haul her over his shoulders and carry her off to the nearest cave. He wanted to hide her somewhere, not even share her shadow with the world; keep her trapped underneath him until all she could see was him. Alas, he had to settle for buying a domus near her father’s home. He has ensured nobody would interrupt them for the next few days so he could take her over every surface, wall and square foot of the floor before letting her up. Let their pleasure and love strengthen the pillars of their home.   

He had spent over a decade with only his hand for company, but now the few meagre weeks of abstinence riddled his brain with insistent need. His skin buzzed with excitement, a current working its way up his limbs, as it would before a battle, at the very thought of having his Priestess to himself tonight. He had thought up so many ways to unleash that tigress he had encountered in her office.

“You know it is not just about that… The lares will be upset. Your household deities have guarded you for so long, they will be upset to see you spurn their protection for the gods of your husband’s home. You must cry to let them know you do not leave them willingly.” Acacius paused at the words, he had no lares; there were no spirits of ancestors or deceased family to call upon. 

He had been orphaned young, his whole family was lost to illness and he hardly remembered them. He had long lost faith in the deities and gods. But perhaps marriage was making him sentimental, even if ineffective and symbolic, he did not want his Priestess to go without protection. The shrine in his new home was fashioned with a single wooden statue of Vesta he had carved, it bore a distinct likeness to his Priestess, along with rose-scented incense— reminiscent of her scent. However, he couldn’t invoke her own spirit to protect her now could he— that was for his protection.          

Acacius had given up his previous tools of protection. All his equipment had been military commissioned; as a General, he did not believe in using a weapon that his soldiers could not afford; sometimes well-made weaponry was the difference between life and death, and his life was not more valuable than any of theirs. His gladius was the only weapon he had owned— the very one he had used to defend himself in the Colosseum.

Acacius had melted the sword to make two identical daggers— one of which he had gifted to his Priestess as a betrothal gift, the other he had kept for himself. An engagement ring had also been made from the same metal, which she now wore on the third finger of her left hand where it would connect to her heart. It had felt right to slide that ring onto her finger; it was only fitting that the woman who had rescued and protected him had a piece of the blade that had guarded him. He had vowed to never fight another war. After all the victories and bloodshed across the world, he had returned home to submit at her merciful feet. And there had never been a defeat sweeter than losing himself in her, especially not when he had won her too.   

There had been enough metal left over to form a thin betrothal medallion, engraved with their visages sharing a kiss along with two clasped hands on its back. He knew his Priestess wore the medallion around her neck, a gold chain could be seen disappearing into her tunic, the disk surely nestled between her bosom. Acacius wondered if he should convince her to place the token in their shrine. After all, their love had protected and sustained them both through difficult times. He knew it would guide and watch over any children or descendants they might have.

“Did you want me to cry, Acacius?” She asks him as she draws closer, resting their bound hands on his thigh, easing the stretch of the muscles of his arms and shoulders. He really should unbind their hands, they were sitting beside each other, so he had to stretch his arm across his torso to grasp her hand. But judging by how tightly she held him, she did not want to let go either.

He shook his head no, he did not believe he could stomach seeing her reluctance to marry him even if it was feigned. He had even offered for them to stay with her family if she was unwilling to part with them since she had lived apart from them for the last three decades. 

“Are you sure? I could shed some false ones… maybe get closer to the smoke so it would make my eyes water”—Acacius kissed the irresistible little moue off her lips—“If I don’t cry then everyone will say you have married a disobedient wife who will tyrannically dominate your home.” She continued her exaggerated words anyway. She didn’t know that he planned to acquiesce to all her commands and requests, he could swim across oceans blazing with fire just to see her smile— he had done worse for much less. 

Acacius watched the sway of her earrings, the metal catching the light from the setting sun behind her. He hadn’t been able to look away from her since he had lifted her flammeum for their wedding ceremony. The flame-coloured veil glittered around her, casting a warm golden glow upon her skin. His priestess was not one for dull colours, but she looked radiant in her white tunic and stola. 

He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then trailed gentle pecks all the way to her ear where he nibbled on the soft, petal-like skin of her ear lobe before he widened his jaw, tongue reaching out to capture her earring into his mouth. Acacius savoured the coolness of it in the warmth of his mouth as he gently suckled on the jewellery, relishing the shiver that went down her spine. He nuzzled the loose coil of hair behind her ear, knowing she enjoyed the scrape of his beard on her skin— he heard the hitch in her breath. He released the earring in his mouth, letting its wetness streak across her neck.       

“You can cry for me… later when it is just the two of us.” He whispered to her. But his words did not have the intended effect on her. He watched her eyes waver before skittishly looking over his shoulder, her own shoulders tensed and curled away from him. Acacius retreated and saw the nervousness painting her face, her lips pursed and brows slightly furrowed. 

He playfully nudged her nose with his, “What is it, anaticula?” 

He heard the harsh gulp of her throat, her eyes frantically looking around for the right words. When she looked at him again, her gaze was hesitant and embarrassed. His Priestess cupped his jaw with her free hand, her fingers pinched his earlobe in retaliation before her thumb softly stroked under his eyes. Acacius melted into her loving touch, his eyes drooping shut. 

“You woke so early today…” She smelled of her gardens— flowers, herbs and fresh earth. 

He had awakened well before dawn, but he felt rested and replenished. Usually, the bride and her mother would collect flowers from their garden to weave a wreath on the day of the wedding. But his anaticula’s mother had already passed away. He knew the other matrons of her family would gladly help her, but Acacius had wanted to weave her wedding crown himself. He had decided so when he saw her wear a wreath the day she was to be unjustly punished for unchastity.  

He had sneaked into her room, woken her up with cakes collected from the kitchen before stealing her away to the gardens so they could make her wreath. He had chosen marjoram for honour, love and joy; rosemary for fidelity and loyalty; lavender for devotion; sage for long life; verbena, basil and mint along with roses, lilies and violets. The crown had ended up a bit too heavy but she wore it with grace. 

“And you also went hunting with my father and brother.” An animal had to be sacrificed for the wedding. Acacius had decided to hunt a wild boar himself. The entrails of the animal were read by the auspex for omens and the approval of the Gods. It would not have mattered what the auspices prophesied, he would have hunted every animal in the city until the omens were read in his favour. But the first boar had been enough, the omens had signified a joyous and lasting marriage. After the offerings had been made to the gods, the animal was cooked for their wedding feast. 

“Then you cooked in the kitchens as well.” He hadn’t cooked, he had made the bread needed for their wedding ceremony. It was not supposed to be made by the groom. But in the absence of his Priestess, during the months he had believed her to be dead, Acacius had perfected making bread in the kitchens she used to feed the poor. He had wanted that bread to be offered to the gods, he had wanted that bread to be fed to his bride. It was another token of his devotion. 

“The ceremonies were so long.” She was right, Acacius thought the Pontifex Maximus would never stop talking and praying and chanting. He suspected the man dragged out the wedding ceremony solely out of spite that his Priestess had lied about her death. But he had not heard a single word of the chief high priest, his Priestess had stood before him and he was lost in her adoring, twinkling eyes.

He had always believed her eyes to be wondrous, always bright with mirth and mischief, they found joy in the smallest pleasures of life. A single gaze from her could fall on him like a soothing salve as well as disturb his constitution— make him restless with need and desire. His heart always trembled when she looked up at him through those full lashes. But today her eyes had looked so captivating with the kohl lining them that Acacius had almost stumbled in an effort to get to her. He had blindly signed their marriage contract, unwilling to take his eyes off her for too long.

The only time he had lost sight of her today was when he had cried during her consent of their marriage, his own tears blurring his vision. Theirs was a union of equals, he would never make demands on her wealth and personhood, and she was free to keep the name her parents had graced her; all Acacius had wanted was a chance to spend his remaining life by her side, and the privilege of belonging to her. So he had been dumbfounded and overwhelmed when she had forgone the blessed and auspicious name Gaius to lovingly and proudly take his name during her vows. 

Ubi tu Acacius, ego Acacia. Where you are Acacius, there I am Acacia.

He had not deserved the honour, the name meant very little. It was not what his parents had called him; neither was it a name that held any high esteem in terms of legacy and social standing, nor was it the name bestowed upon him by the people. Acacius was always preceded by General and it was a name tainted with the blood of the innocent. But she had taken that piece of himself he was most ashamed of for herself. And in doing so, she had breathed a new life into it— she was what gave his name honour and worth.

And he was proud to be her Acacius. Ubi tu Acacia, ego Acacius. Where you are Acacia, there I am Acacius.

He had broken the bread he had made over her head, careful not to drop crumbs in her hair, before handing over half as an offering to the Gods. Acacius had fed her that bread, her teeth gently grazing his fingertips, affectionately nipping at them, before she had taken the same piece to feed him. And the bread was sweeter where she had bitten into it. But far sweeter was her mouth when he had sealed their marriage with a kiss. 

There was a rightness, a sense of tranquillity, that had settled about him at the conclusion of the ceremony as their hands were being tied. For the first time, Acacius had been content and at peace. His mind was serene, devoid of the usual demons that haunted him; his heart could taste the rising joy within him, and he could pluck the excitement from the air.  

“So you must be very tired tonight…” Her words had tapered into mumbling, which was so unlike the woman he knew. Acacius figured she was hoping to avoid their wedding night which was a surprise since she was so receptive to his advances. 

“One of the women gifted me this… salve. Some ointment they got from a trader.” He knew he wouldn’t need to pry for answers, she would work her way to telling him her concerns eventually. 

“And all the other matrons have been looking at me with these faintly pitying looks. At first, I just thought it was because I did not have a mother… but they sat me down last night for the most interesting conversation.” Her hand left his face to pick a grape before offering it at his lips. Acacius obediently accepted the fruit in his mouth. 

“They said my wifely duties would be very difficult.” She looked at him, as if awaiting a reaction.

“Why? I plan to be the most amenable of husbands, dulcissima.” He dropped an affectionate kiss on her palm. 

“Because of your size, Acacius. They said you would be very big, like a bull”— Acacius choked on the second grape she had shoved into his mouth, a strange sound between a strangled laugh and a cough escaped his mouth—“And it would hurt me very much but I should just lay back and endure. I do not want to endure…” 

Acacius took a moment to appreciate her aggrieved face, “Anaticula, did you not enjoy our play in your office—”

“Yes, about that. It is most uncommon I am told. But that bodes well for our marriage—” he huffed a laugh at the sagely nod she gave, he would have loved to hear her explain to an elderly matron how he had kissed her between her legs. Was that why he had been receiving odd and appreciative glances all day? He felt a flush climb up his neck, how many women had she told?

“I did enjoy it… but do men do it to compensate for the pain after they have taken their pleasure?” He blinked at her, it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion based on what she knew.

“I assume… it should not be too difficult, right?” She said, almost as if convincing herself, “I’m told it is quite nice sometimes…”

“I swear to not do anything that doesn’t please you tonight, dulcissima.” 

“Everything you do pleases me.” She gifted him a soft smile. 

“Even when you believe it will hurt you?” He couldn’t help but tease her. 

“I know you won’t mean to.” And she sounded so certain that he felt a tender spot in his heart give away. He could still taste her essence on his lips. If all she allowed him tonight was to drink from her nectar, he would happily pass away on his knees with his head still buried between her thighs.

“Carissima, I will enjoy our nights together, and I expect you will find your pleasure as well. I will ensure it, because it brings me more joy and gratification than you can imagine—” 

“Can the newlyweds please be mindful that the guests are trying to eat their meals?”

His wife reared back with a soft gasp before turning to face her brother. Acacius was pleased to know he held the same effect on her as she had on him. Because he had been heedless of their wedding party all day. Their guests had been raucous, tittering and chatter filled the air; the wine flowed freely and the food was plentiful. Many people had come up to speak to them, but the conversations never extended beyond pleasantries and congratulations. 

After all, he was no longer an important political force and the highest echelons of society still didn’t know of his Priestess’ influence amongst the people. It was baffling how disconnected the aristocrats could be from those they considered lowly. Moreover, their guests were too busy ingratiating themselves with their young Emperor who was in attendance with his mother.

His wife had pointed out no less than three women who had thrown themselves at Lucius, quietly snickering to him when they were rejected. According to her, a prospective paramour had tough competition in both Fortuna and Ravi— who shared a very interesting history. His anaticula loved gossip, it was the most endearing thing about her. And she had informed him with great relish how both Macrinus and Ravi had been lovers once who chose to lead very different lives after earning their freedom. Macrinus had been different then, but he had slowly rotted and corroded just as his owners had. Ravi would go out of his way to help those Macrinus owned, Lucius and Fortuna included— grieving for the man he used to be. She believed the Emperor would be sharing his lovers. Acacius didn’t care as long as none of them came to disturb him and his wife. 

Acacius pulled his wife to stand, urging the wedding to its final ritual. He unbound their hands, so she could pray to the lares of her father’s home and bid them goodbye. He wordlessly assured their household gods that he would take care of her and keep her happy while leaving an offering of food and coins at their shrine. He watched as his wife’s eyes glazed over with tears, helplessly his hand found her arm offering her warmth and comfort. 

“If the lares are unwilling to part with you, tell them they can find you in my home.” He whispered to her. The words pulled a teary huff of laughter from her. 

“I miss my mother.” She quietly confessed. And Acacius felt his heart break for her. He gently wiped at the tears on her cheek, his nose stinging with his own tears as she leaned into his touch.

“She would have been the happiest at this match”—Her father told her, as he handed his wife a clay mask resembling her mother’s face—“take her with you to your new home. Let her guide and protect your family.” Acacius was grateful for another addition to their shrine.

He could think of no better protector than her mother. Acacius had been young and barely literate when he had arrived in Rome and the woman had shown him enough grace and favour to educate him along with her children. It was at her behest that her husband had trained him as a soldier. As a General, he had learned that diplomacy and negotiation prevented unnecessary bloodshed. While he was no politician, these were skills he had learned as a youth when he had watched the woman run her household and business. He remembered anaticula’s mother to be remarkable, shrewd and protective— qualities that he was grateful ran to her daughter as well.        

She lit a torch from their hearth and passed it to the matron of honour before her father and brother tearfully embraced her to say their goodbyes. As he had no family of his own, this man— his mentor— had served the role of his father in all the wedding rituals while his wife’s brother had served as her guardian. There was an uncertainty in the air, even as the guests had begun the wedding chants and songs. As a groom, he was supposed to put on a show of forcefully ripping his bride from the arms of her family. But he knew his wife did not agree with this particular tradition so he waited for her lead. 

She reached out for him and he pulled her closer by the hand, kissing her knuckles as she stood by his side. But instead of walking together, Acacius stooped to carry her, his arm coming under her hips to offer her a perch, another arm supporting her knees. He shouldered past the curtains and flower garlands on the archway of their door to walk out onto the street.

The entire city seemed to have shown up to see her married; in addition to the passers-by, those who used the charitable services she offered had shown to throw honeyed almonds and walnuts at the newlyweds— shouting their blessings and good wishes for her. Her arms found purchase on his shoulders as she looked over them to wave at someone in the crowd. His wife, overwhelmed and astounded at the love people had for her, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and his skin burned with the tears she shed there. Acacius soothingly rubbed her hip and placed a chaste kiss on her arm. He couldn’t help but feel so proud of the woman he loved. 

She sniffled and collected herself as they neared the neighbourhood crossroads, “Acacius put me down, we have to worship the shrine at the crossroads.” He heaved her higher in his arms to readjust his hold on her and bring her closer to the shrine at the crossroads. She placed a ceremonial coin to the protective gods of the shrine along with some food a boy had carried for her. 

Her friend Aquilia, another former vestal, served as the matron of honour and led their group to his home. While her marriage was not as long as was required for the role, her husband’s love for her had persevered through the three decades of her duties in the Temple. Acacius liked the man, he had vowed to take no other woman in his life and had kept his word. Although, he was still upset that all of the Vestals had suspected his anaticula was alive when he had believed her to be dead, but they had not thought to inform him. 

“Surely you don’t intend to carry me all the way home.” She spoke into the curve of his shoulder. He most certainly will carry her to their home.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll tire yourself.” He didn’t grace that with a response. He had carried men heavier than her; in the heat of the battle he had lifted drawbridges and ship towers. She should know better than to question her husband’s strength, he hadn’t earned his physique without the heavy labour. 

She gave a resigned sigh, he felt her warm breath down the back of his neck. She nuzzled behind his ear, and took a deep breath before her tongue lapped at the sensitive skin. Acacius shivered and his knees weakened, his grip instinctually tightened on her so she would not fall. 

“Carissima, wait… we are on the street.” He hissed through his teeth while she quietly laughed. She could not have tasted anything other than the light sheen of sweat he had worked up in the warm evening. His anaticula picked a honeyed almond stuck in the folds of his toga and apologetically offered it to his mouth, Acacius did not forget to kiss her fingertips for the gift. She took another sweet treat for herself that had been trapped in a crevice between them. 

Acacius finally set her down when they approached the new domus, allowing the Pontifex Maximus to utter some more prayers while his wife smeared the fat of the boar to honour Ceres, and the fat of a wolf to honour Rome on their doorposts. She tied the wool strings that had bound their hands to the handle of the door. He felt the first stirrings of impatience, to be so close to their home and not have her to himself was making his hands twitch. 

The guests clamoured to warn her to not step on the threshold as she entered her new home— doing so would insult Vesta and bring bad omen. But Acacius simply lifted her again, with an arm under her waist and knees so that her feet were as far from the threshold as they could be and carried her into their home. 

Only their family followed them inside and watched her light the hearth of her new home with the fire from her father’s home. Acacius extinguished the torch and threw the wood at the audience gathered at their door who rushed to catch it. 

It seems his wife was becoming impatient as well because she had begun the prayer and offerings at their shrine without him. Acacius bent to unlace her sandals, removing the single coin she had stashed in her footwear and placing it at the feet of the wooden Vesta in the shrine.

“Does that statue… look a bit like me?” She murmured. She had yet to discover the depths of his devotion. 

Acacius offered her a lamp and a bowl full of water, “I give you fire and water”—she touched both items—“You are the Domina of this household and master over everything that resides within its walls, including your husband, Carissima.” 

He kissed his wife before turning to his guests, resolutely ushering them out of his home and unceremoniously closing the doors on their teasing and obscene jeers.

You stared at the nuptial bed. It was small— too small. It would barely fit just Acacius, and that too only in width, because one end of the bed lifted into a curve they would have to rest their back against so their feet didn’t hang off the other end. Or perhaps this wasn’t the nuptial bed because it was here, out in the open courtyard, rather than in your husband’s sleeping quarters. But the bed was finely made, with sturdy wood and soft cushions decorated with roses and crocus petals— a current tingled in your belly at the sight of the aphrodisiac flower. That won’t be needed.

Acacius returned in a huff after seeing off your guests, plopping down on the chaise— because really this can’t be called a bed. You looked down at him, resplendent under the glittering moonlight; it made the grey hairs in his curls glimmer silvery. The torches around the atrium cast playful gold shadows across his face. Instead of a white toga as was the custom, he had chosen to drape the red cloak you had made for him all those years ago, its gold embroidery gleamed against his tanned skin. 

But it was his eyes, that made your heart flutter with the verses of love you didn’t have words to express. Acacius managed to make even the cold, luminous moon burn bright and hot in his eyes. Sometimes the way he looked at you still made your heart feel raw and vulnerable. You had waited thirty very long years for him to simply look at you— to recognise you. While you had loved him for as long as you could remember, never once had you hoped for his love too. Your younger self would be in disbelief had you told them one day he would be your husband.     

“Are you hungry?” He asked while stretching out his hand for you. 

You hurriedly shook your head, your insides were suffused with enough love and awe to sustain you for a lifetime. He pulled you to sit on his lap, his thigh felt strong and firm under your bottom. 

Acacius stroked your back, his hand was large and warm as it reached up to cradle your neck; his fingers calloused and firm as they massaged away any tension. Your head lulled back over his hand, a soft sigh escaping your mouth. He leaned forward, another hand coming over your waist pulling you closer into the heat of his chest. You gasped as Acacius kissed along your exposed neck, his beard deliciously scraping against your sensitive skin as his lips lingered over your beating pulse before reaching your upturned chin. He playfully bit your chin. 

You turned in his arms until both your legs framed his waist and you had straddled his lap. You pulled at the wool of his toga, removing it from his shoulders so it lay spread beneath him before your hand slid into his hair; the curls wrapping around your fingers as you claimed his lips with yours. The force of the kiss pushed him down until his head was leaning over the backrest of the chaise.

What you lacked in experience you made up for with need and desperation. There was a groan from his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist to haul you closer to him— something hard was prodding at your thigh. You reverently traced the shape of his lips, feather-soft kisses to the plump cushion of them, light licks over the swooping edges. But you craved more, more, more. You needed to feel his tongue against yours, you needed to be closer somehow. 

Your hand wrapped around his throat, fingers barely reaching the sides of the thick muscles. His heartbeat thundered on your fingers and then onto your palms as you slid your hand up to cup his wide, square jaw. You dug your fingers into his jaw to pry his mouth open. Acacius parted his lips to allow you to explore his mouth, you stroked and delved deeper in the chase for his tongue. He closed his lips around your tongue and suckled. His tongue met yours now, teasing and confident before he released you, placing a gentle kiss to the tip of your tongue and then on your closed lips.

“How do you want me, dulcissima?” He purred against your lips. 

You did not know what he asked of you, “Desperate.” You answered honestly. 

Acacius laughed. A loud, free sound that made your heart race. 

“For you? Always.” He promised as he guided your hips to sit directly on that hard, throbbing part of him. He did feel large.

“I will not do anything you do not wish me to, anaticula. Tell me, what do you want from me tonight?” His tone was breathy as if words were difficult for him. 

“Everything.” You didn’t want to waste another second. It didn’t matter how much it would hurt, but you needed a part of Acacius within you, physically and in every other way you could possibly consume him. 

“Are you sure?” He confirmed even as his hands had already unpinned your veil allowing it to fall behind you. But he waited, for permission, for something as small as a nod while he fingered the Hercules knot tied at your waist— a sign of your chastity.  

“Yes.” Your voice barely about a whisper. Acacius pulls the wool at your waist, both hands fisting your girdle around the knot, and breaks it with apparent ease instead of untying it. He then pushed your stola down over your shoulders until it pooled at your waist. Anticipation curled in your belly as he slowly pulled at the tiny bows that ran down your shoulders and along the sleeve of your tunic. Each tug of string was a sensual display of possessiveness and desire— his eyes were raptured on the swathe of skin as more of you was exposed to him. The tunic too fell at your waist, pooling over his lap and yours; only a plain binding lay between him and your breasts. And instead of unwrapping you, slowly as all his other actions had been. Acacius swiftly and impatiently tugged the fabric down. 

You both gasped at the movement, the cloth dragged across your sensitive nipples causing them to stiffen and bloom towards Acacius. The winds were blowing colder in the night than they were during the day. A shiver ran down your spine as you sat bare on his lap, he made no moves. Acacius just stared with intoxicating eyes; they roved over your body, studying your face, the slope of your neck, the expanse of your chest, the curve of your shoulder, the length of your arms and the swell of your belly until finally, they settled on the betrothal medallion that hung in the valley of your breasts. 

Even as you held still for him, allowing him to look his fill, the experience of being displayed thus was new and uncomfortable— no man had seen you this way. But it was not unwelcome. He looked breathless and awed, his hand faintly trembling as he brushed your nipples with the back of his fingers. The touch was so light, lighter than a feather, but it incinerated you, it sent a fiery current down to your womb which contracted; there was an insistent throb between your legs. 

But whatever sensation you felt seemed dwarfed by his reaction. Acacius shuddered. His eyes were wide and glassy. You placed a hand over his heart, its pace wild and erratic. Abruptly, he dug his fingers into your waist, lifting you off his lap and stood with you. Your clothes fell to your feet, and you fisted his tunic to guide it over his head. You regretted that he chose to wear the tunic that fell to his calf, the longer fabric took a few scant moments longer to be pulled over his head but the wait was torturous. His underwear swiftly followed yours on the floor. 

Acacius was better than anything you could have ever imagined. Better than those marble statues of gods and heroes, better than art and most certainly better than those erotic drawings you bought on the streets. He looked unworldly, bathed in both the cool of the moon and the warmth of the hearth. He had been stripped to his basest form now both hardened warrior and wild beast with the eyes of a man in love. Your husband. 

You laughed then, wide and happy, “You are divine, Acacius.” 

He answered with a chuckle, light flickering over the dimple on his cheek, “You do not see yourself, carissima.”

He held nothing of himself back as he allowed you to touch him; he sighed as you caressed his scars as if you relieved him of the pain, his breath hitched as your fingernails raked over the hair on his chest, he gasped as you scraped over his nipples. The planes and hills of his body leaned into your palm as you explored all the ways he was different from you.   

He did not stay still under your ministrations for too long and his lips fell on yours without reserve, his hands cupped your ass using it to pull you closer towards him. Your arms wrapped around his neck like a garland of love, a hand buried in his hair in a silent command for him to never stop kissing you, another hand exploring his broad shoulders, the stretch of his back and the bulk of his arms. You decided Acacius had to be naked until the sun rose tomorrow so you could study every freckle and spot on his body.

His kiss was raw, elemental— there were no gentle explorations and tentative touches. Acacius claimed and conquered, his lips on yours were hard and insistent while his hands on your body were rough and restless. He touched where no decent man would linger, using your delighted and shocked gasp to enter deeper into your mouth; you clung to his shoulders to keep up with his pace and only his hands held you upright. 

A calloused thumb grazed your nipple before he pinched and pulled at the sensitive flesh. You bit into his lip, giving it a sharp nip in response and Acacius groaned into your mouth. He kneaded the flesh of your hips, but his fingers slipped as they moved to the inside of your thighs. You were dewy and wet for him, the hairs and skin surrounding your sex were covered in slick moisture. 

He lazily explored your folds, his fingers parting and squeezing as they pleased until he bought his tips right against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your slit. You ground your hips against his curled fingers when he stilled his motions, desperate for the friction as your pleasure built, steadily climbing up your spine while he nipped under your jaw before receding to watch the sway of your hips to and fro, to and fro over his hand, smearing it with more of your sticky fluid. 

“Please…” You begged him. And Acacius moved his fingers then, in dizzyingly tight circles on your nub, his calloused finers offering just the right roughness needed for your muscles to seize. Warm currents coursed through your veins as you trembled and shuddered through your release in his arms— your skin overheated against the cold air. The hair on his chest dragged against your erect nipples causing more of your limbs to twitch; he held you close through your pleasure, his fingers unrelenting until the little bud was oversensitive to touch.

You rested your weight against him, your legs feeling too soft under you and took his flat nipple in your mouth wanting to give him the same pleasure he gave you. You gazed up through your lashes as he brought the hand that had been between your legs close to his mouth and groaned as he licked a wide strip from the side of his wrist to the centre of his palm. Your tongue lapped over his nipple to mimic the movement before encircling the little peak, you toyed it between your teeth and Acacius greedily shoved three fingers into his mouth to taste you— a soft breathy moan escaped him. 

He pulled you off his nipple, your lips making a soft pop sound as they left his flesh slightly red. His hand curled into your braids as he pulled you by the head, “Taste yourself on my tongue, anaticula. Sweeter than honey…” 

Your tongues met again in a dance of their own before you suckled his tongue as he had yours, drinking him in. You weren’t particularly sweet, but something about your taste mixed with the spit of his mouth sent a heady thrill through your body which made your toes curl. His hands roamed your body again, finding the spots and places that were sensitive, he lingered there with light touches and tender caresses— surprising you entirely when he sharply pinched your waist. You pushed deeper into the strength and heat of his body as your waist rolled with his unruly touch. Acacius swallowed the surprised moan from your mouth. 

He had always been so… staid, controlled and solemn that you had expected Acacius to be such in his intimate moments as well— respectful and gentlemanly. There had been a wild, unpredictable demon that had come out to play in your office all those weeks ago but you had attributed his actions then to the high tensions and unresolved conflicts. But he was here now, lurking in the dark gaze of his desire, the tremble of his lips and the urgent grasp of your body. He could barely contain himself. 

And it made you realise just how much of him you had yet to learn. Like the rest of the world, you had seen the dignified General. You knew the reluctant conqueror and the grieving soldier. You had met the loyal friend, the protective family, the kind elder in him. But you were unacquainted with this man before you— unrefined and almost savage under the influence and vulnerability of his own wants and impulses.   

It filled you with a childish, stupid sort of rage to know that others had seen him as such. He had lovers before you, while you were trapped in a temple. He was so familiar with the female body, while you had to flounder for answers. It made you all the more resolved to erase all those previous embraces and lovers from his mind. You clutched him closer still, his cock insistently pressing into your belly, the tip leaking and smearing a wet patch across your skin. 

From this day forward, there will be no other for either of you. It had been an entirely new discovery to know you were a jealous, shrewish sort of wife who could not even bear that her husband thought about another lover even in passing. Should your husband ever tire of this marriage, he will have to squeeze the life out of you himself to be free of you. And this realisation was entirely unsurprising, that you would be content with such a death. You only had one life and one heart but if you had more, those too you would gift to Acacius.   

You guided him to sit on the chaise again, and despite his forceful and desperate advances, he went obligingly— never once pulling his mouth away from yours, pulling you to sit on his lap. But you evaded his embrace and knelt between his feet the only way you knew how; like a devout priestess kneeling at the altar of her deity— like a lover submitting at the pulpit of her beloved. 

Your eyes trained on his phallus, you had seen the male form before on statues, art and even in ceremonial rites to ward off evil; but you had never seen one quite as wide or large as his— your fingers barely touched as you wrapped your hand around him. He hissed as you gripped him and stroked to its base, pulling some of the skin and exposing the angry bulbous head that was leaking clear beads of liquid. You moved to taste him as he had tasted you, but his hands framed your face, halting it in its descent. 

“What are you doing, anaticula? That is not for wives to do.” Of course, it wasn’t. It hadn’t been the old matrons who taught you how to suck a man’s cock. No husband from a respectable household would expect this from his wife. But you wanted this. And before shame could eat away at your courage you confessed to your husband. 

“But… I want to.” Ever since you had felt his tongue between your legs, there was very little you had thought of. You couldn’t bear the idea of never sharing this intimacy with him.

“You can explore all you like later. I can’t— I won’t last if you toy with me now…” His thumb caressed the apple of your cheek, his torso hulking and leaning over your knelt form.

“But we have all the time in the world, Acacius.” You struggled against the hold he had on your face, and stretched your tongue out of the confines of your mouth when he wouldn’t allow you closer to him. You barely tasted that small drop on the weeping slit of his cock on the tip of your tongue with a short cat-like lick. Acacius shivered.

He spread his legs wider and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips before lowering your mouth to his cock. The tip of it nestled against the curved roof of your mouth, the flared head pressing against the wrinkled ridges behind your teeth and it already felt so full. It was ticklish if not altogether strange sensation and you took him deeper until he was touching the more sensitive and softer part in the back of your mouth, your hand coming up to stroke the rest of his length that was left outside. 

You realised you could do this forever as your eyes closed shut. Your tongue was pressed to the vein that ran along the underside of his cock which thrummed with his heartbeat. It was like you were holding his beating pulse, his very heart, in your mouth. You felt his thigh quiver under your hand, and you chanced a curious glance up at your husband to behold the sight of him trembling, his teeth clenched and jaw twitching with the effort to remain perfectly still. And yes, you realised, you could do this forever— just hold him in your mouth until he lost his composure and grew desperate enough to fuck into your mouth. 

Acacius frowned at you, he looked dark and forbidding, “I know that look in your eyes, put away whatever idea you just came up with, wife.” He spoke through gritted teeth and his chest racked with the effort to breathe. 

You started moving your head, slowly at first as Acacius guided your hand to stroke over his length as he liked— tightening your grip and twisting your wrist. You hollowed your cheeks to envelop his cock tighter and suck him deeper inside your mouth, relaxing your throat to adjust to the fullness in your mouth. Perhaps, your husband was to be cursed with the most selfish sort of wife because you stopped looking for his reactions, his cock was in your mouth for your pleasure alone and whatever he might glean from it was secondary in your mind. 

He smelled of musk, sweat, the floral powder used to scent his clothes and something so addictingly Acacius. You rubbed your thighs together, the arousal had pooled from between your thighs to coat your ankles and feet under your folded legs. You hated to feel him receding from your mouth, sucking him as your head moved up, swirling your tongue around him to taste him before coaxing him deeper into your mouth again. Experimentally, you brought a hand to the sac hanging heavily under his cock, testing its weight and the hairy texture of the skin, gingerly massaging it until it drew tight in your palm. 

His cock jumped in your mouth as his hands entangled in your braids to pull you off him. But you suckled him with a petulant whine, refusing to be wrested off him. A warm, salty and slightly bitter taste filled your mouth while he wrenched your head off him, the rest of his spend falling in spurts across your face and neck. What a waste…

Acacius glowered down at you, mouth agape and panting, “You are going to be the death of me… One of these days you will kill me.” His eyes were focused on your tongue as you licked the side of your lips to taste more of him. And he watched as some of his cum glittered on your skin as it trickled down until it was halted in its path by the gold chain hanging from your neck. He lapped at your skin, collecting his cum from the chain and depositing it into your mouth with what could barely be considered a kiss, his tongue surged into your mouth until you had cleaned his thick release off it.

You felt a smug satisfaction as you noticed that he was still shaking, a bit unsteady on his feet as he stood and lifted you onto the chaise. You thought you could consummate your marriage now, but to your confusion he knelt before you— his cock looking much flatter, softer. You felt your lower lip wobble as Acacius guided you to lean back. Was it supposed to do that?

“What did you think was going to happen?” He chastised you. 

“I had no reason to believe he would just go soft like that… can’t you make him go up again?” You whispered, a bit uncertain of the male anatomy. Would you not be able to consummate your marriage tonight?

Acacius leaned over to kiss your pouting lips, “It comes back faster when you’re younger.” 

You adoringly caress his bearded cheek as he smiles down at you, an uncertain vulnerability curved about that smile. You struggled to think of what to say to him, he could be old and decrepit and you would still be glad to have him as your husband. You had still wanted him a few short hours ago when you had been expecting pain and shame on your marriage bed, and you wanted him more now that he had shown you pleasure and wonder instead. You loved him not because of his prowess in bed but because of the simple fact that he was Acacius— steadfast, loyal, protective, kind, and loving, oh so loving.

But complex sentences evaded your mind as his lips closed around your nipple, he lingered there with his teeth and tongue before moving just a bit below to bite under your areola. He insistently sucked the flesh of your bosom into his mouth until it came away with a small bruise. His lips traversed down your body in a sensual dance of kisses, nips and almost painful bites. He spread your legs and groaned at the sight of your arousal smearing large patches of your limbs. 

“So wet for me, anaticula.” His voice was breathless.

“You’re perfect.” You settled for simpler words that were just as true. He was perfect. Acacius huffed a warm burst of laughter. 

“I’m glad you think so, wife.” He chimed even as his gaze seemingly searched for the sincerity in your eyes.

“I love you.” You offered him another nugget of truth. 

You watched as the colour rose from his chest to his neck, Acacius shyly smiled before obscenely licking at your arousal and suckling another bruise on the inside of your thigh. He was marking you.   

You squirmed with anticipation, feeling his hot breath on your cunt as he spoke, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back just as we have prepared you some more.” 

“Here, hold these for me.” He spread your thighs and pushed them towards you, your hands came under your knees to hold yourself open for him as he had commanded. 

His mouth on your cunt was a reunion like no other. Acacius remembered every sensitive spot and fold of your sex. But the swooping in your womb had more to do with the sight of him rather than the pleasurable feeling of his tongue on your slit— his mouth attached to your cunt, eyes glazed over with a half-awake and half-asleep look in his eyes, lashes gracefully fluttering as he tasted you, a patch of his cheekbone shimmering under the lamp light where the slick from your thighs had smeared across his face.                

Gone was the urgency with which he had devoured you previously in your office, he was instead languid and slow. But there was a fervour in his grip and his fingers painfully dug into the flesh of your hips. He toyed with one of the lips covering your opening, sucking it into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth before doing the same with the over. His tongue roved over your sex sometimes just the tip, lightly and ticklishly grazing over a sensitive spot, and other times he was insistent, tongue flat against your folds as he roughly lapped up your essence. 

You grew desperate as he purposely avoided that crest right at the apex of your sex that would ensure you would see stars behind your eyes again. And you grind your hips against his face, hoping to catch the needy spot against his nose, or his lips or even his chin— the lightest of touch there could set you off, you were so close, the tension curled so tightly inside you. There was a resounding smack in the air, it didn’t occur to you that Acacius would hit you until there was a tingling on the side of your ass, the impact making you gush into his mouth.

“Of course, you would enjoy something like this,” He murmured. And he laughed. He had the audacity to laugh as his lips closed around the exposed little bud, the vibrations of his amusement travelling straight into your nerves. You came undone with a shout, your eyes unseeing while your veins felt alit with delicious flames coursing through them followed by warm currents that doused your body in a dreamy languor. You lost your grip under your knees, letting your legs fall apart in the most inelegant fashion but still spread so wide for your husband. Acacius moved away with a teasingly tutting at you, and you whimpered at the loss.

“Hold them for me again,” He said. And you obediently took your position, hands under your knees, lifting your trembling legs so you were entirely exposed for him. 

Acacius took your clitoris in his mouth again, his tongue encircling the oversensitive bud. You felt his thumb gather some of your slick before going down to the ring of muscles far below your cunt. You gasped his name in surprise as his digit followed the same dizzying circles around the ridged fig-like skin surrounding that opening. 

“Is this alright? Do you trust me?” You gave a hasty wordless nod for both questions. 

Acacius pressed two fingers into your cunt and suddenly it was all a bit too much. His tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, the intrusion of his fingers felt foreign and the thumb circling your other hole was sending waves of pleasure to muscles you hadn’t realised could be used for such a purpose. He watched you restlessly whimper and whine with half-lidded eyes as you squirmed at his touch. He released the nub of flesh from his mouth, making soothing sounds as he comforted you. 

“Relax for me, let it happen, my love, do not fight it.” He said as he curled his fingers inside you catching some dormant set of nerves which threw you into another release. You came with a gasp, still shaking and quivering as he pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t yet descended from the heights of your pleasure, your muscles feeling fuzzy and boneless when he flipped you over. Your head rested sideways over the backrest of the chaise as Acacius guided your own hands to your ass. 

“Spread yourself for me, wife.” His tone clipped and terse. You had thought yourself past surprise and shame but were still so unprepared for the feel of his tongue against your anus. His tongue burned hot against the ring of muscle as he held it in place while his fingers found their way inside your cunt again, three this time instead of the two before. And this time he lets you grind yourself on his face. You are mindless and hazy with pleasure, there is no real pace or rhythm to your hips.

His hand curved around your waist so he could curl his fingers into your clit, providing delicious friction as you swayed your hips. His fingers lazily dragged in and out of you, his beard scraped against your sensitive skin, and his tongue pressing hot and wet against the opening of your ass, burrowing inside despite your haphazard movements. Acacius gives you a deep hum of approval the more desperate and determined you grow in pursuit of another release. 

It crept up on you, steadily climbed your spine, long and drawn out rendering you utterly silent as your body gripped and convulsed barely being able to hold itself up. For several moments you were lost to the world, Acacius circled and patted the erect bud of nerves until you stopped twitching while another had soothingly stroked and petted over your shivering skin. He turned to lay you on the chaise, pressing an affectionate kiss to your parted lips and covered you with his own body, whispering soft praise and encouraging words as his legs entangled with yours— you gasped at the feel of his weight, another throb coursing down your sated sex, you clenched around the tip of his cock as he bullied his way inside.

As he had promised, it did not hurt. But you felt full, and far too relaxed and pliant to be overwhelmed even with the slight burn of the stretch. Dazed, you noticed the wet patch on the backrest where his hand gripped— you had drooled. It was worse, your release had coated his cloak underneath you, it glistened against his face and it dripped down his chin, his neck, his chest. 

“Dulcissima, you have to let me in, please— you’re strangling me. Breathe—” Acacius was tense, speaking through gritted teeth, his words breaking from his effort to breathe. And your body complied with his request, you could never deny him. And you felt complete once he had nestled inside you, filling not only your cunt but your heart and your soul. Your gaze was wondrous and awed as you held him inside you, you clenched around him trying to pull him impossibly closer still. 

He gasped before kissing you again, trying to hold most of his weight off you. You stay that way, connected in more ways than just the physical, locked together in both love and ecstasy— your hands exploring his warm skin and the strong contours of his body. A surprising laugh bubbled up your throat when you realised Acacius had broken into goosebumps, his hair raised alert and small bumps ran along his arms. 

His forehead pressed against yours and you nudged his nose with yours gazing into the eyes of your beloved seeing the love and adoration reflected there. He softly caressed your cheek and your temple, “I haven’t done this in years,” he confesses. Years?

“Good.” 

He chuckles at your response, “Good? It means I won’t last long…”

“You don’t have to. It is done, is it not? The consummation.” 

He pecks your nose, “We aren’t done until you come all over my cock, anaticula.” 

And then he moves, in sufficiently long and deep strokes that have your eyes rolling back, grinding his hips so the hair above his cock rubs against the erect nub above your opening. Your nails dig into his back, the coil of pleasure winding tighter at your core. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the skin of your neck. 

“It doesn’t hurt.” You told him as your hips rolled to meet his thrusts.

“I’ve done you a disservice—” Why was he talking? Did he expect you to hold a conversation? All you could manage was a broken keen when he rubbed the most perfect spot on the inside. 

“You’ve been trapped in a temple for thirty years, you deserved to see the world, take a few lovers, but I have trapped you instead.” 

“No—” He couldn’t possibly be saying these things while his arm wrapped under you to massage your anus. 

“You can roam the world, freely conduct your business— take over Rome if you want to— I’ll follow you… anywhere. I’ll go.” He wiped the tears that slipped out of your eyes before continuing, “But this is what you will do at the end of every day, anaticula.”

“You will go about your dreams and ambitions and then you’ll come home every night into my arms, my bed, with my cock buried deep in your cunt. Do you understand?” He brutally snapped his hips into you while you responded with some sound between a sob and a laugh. 

“Say it, say it to me. Tell me you’re mine.” He commanded, his eyes overcome with a zealous light. His fingers dipped into the tight ring of your ass. You could feel his cock all the way in your throat.

“We’ll have to train this hole of yours open if you do not want children, carissima. This is where I will fuck you next. But you’ll take me, like a perfectly biddable wife— into your heart, into your body. It is my home, and you will not cast me out—”

“I want them— I want children, everything you give me— please please please— Acacius.” You begged. 

“I’m yours. Your wife, your lover, your whore— please, Acacius—” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him. But your husband, ever the provider, brushed his fingers against your clit and you shattered under him with a distorted scream. You convulsed and shook underneath him with no effect as his weight pressed down on you. And your husband followed soon after, shivering and groaning as he painted the inside of your cunt with his warm seed; your walls fluttered around him to milk every last drop of it. 

“Daughters… wife. Give me daughters, ones who take after their mother in both looks and heart.” He prayed to you. Acacius stayed that way for several long moments, reverently kissing your warm and sweaty skin while you felt him softening inside you. You clenched around him in distress, hating the inevitable loss as he slipped out of you.

You had watched with great interest as he had stumbled away from you, admiring the sight of his ass, wishing you can sink your teeth into it. And with even more interest, you stared at his cock as he returned with a wet cloth to clean you both along with a tray of food he had prepared. The both of you had ravenously polished off the feast of olives, cheese, fruits, stuffed dates, spiced cookies, bread and sausages. Your husband had plied you with more wine before dipping his strawberries in your cunt to eat them; they tasted sweeter that way he had claimed and you hadn’t believed him until you had cleaned up honey from his cock which had tasted impossibly sweeter to you.

You lay on him, sleep still evading you because you knew you had to address his words when he had been inside you. Your back leaned against his chest, and Acacius had parted his legs to make room for your bottom between them. Another reason sleep was not possible, this chaise was too small for both of you— you told your husband as much. 

“You should have seen the one they brought before, it was much smaller… So I built this one.” He chuckled.

“You built this bed yourself?” You whispered, appreciating the work and polish under new light. You thought he only worked on smaller projects.

He hummed in response, “And the bed in our chambers. Don’t worry, I made that one palatial.”

“So why aren’t we there?” You laughingly demanded. 

“Because I wanted the heavens to witness our consummation, dulcissima.” And your heart fluttered again. 

“I still quite like this one, despite how small it is… It’s our marriage bed and I’ll be fucking you on it as often as I can.” Despite, how sated and spent you felt, heat still curled in your belly at his promise. 

“You know, Acacius”—you turned in his arms to face him, chin resting against the swell of his stomach, you gazed up at him with imploring eyes—“You have done me no disservice. I wanted to marry you.”

You couldn’t hold in the words any longer, “You can never imagine yourself as some chain around my feet… you make me brave. You bolster me, make me feel safe— like I will always have someone on my side.” 

He sweetly caressed your spine, “I’ll never give you cause to be disappointed in our marriage, anaticula.” 

“You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried, Acacius.” You struggled against the insecurities in his mind, before realising that only time will reassure him. 

“I love you,” Acacius said, not as a confession or a desperate sigh, but in the same steady way he would voice a fact. 

“I love you, too,” You whispered against his chest. 

“Are you sore?” He gently asked. 

You were, not just between your legs but also in your heart— you shook your head in denial. Just a little white lie because you knew that having him close, having him inside you could cure all ails. 

Acacius watched the sun rise, as he would on most days of his marriage— casting his wife in an ethereal glow, the rays shining down on all the marks he had left on her body while she languorously rode his cock to their shared bliss. 

[kpopsexstories]

Hi, can you write a story of taeyong fucking with fan during the nct world tour?

One-shot #18: Backstage Sex with NCT Taeyong

This story is a response to the above request, but also to the following: "We need more Taeyong here, so I want to throw in a few ideas: Taeyong backstage sex (straight, wild)"

Celebrity: NCT Taeyong x Female Reader

Sex Content: Hard sex backstage, Taeyong with female fan, Rough & forceful, Fast sex, Dirty talk, From behind, Missionary, Pregnancy.

Type of Sex: WILD

Word Count: 5.1k

28 shows. 17 cities. 11 countries. Taeyong was weary and the days seemed to flow together, but damn did he have fun.

Towards the end of it he hardly knew what country he was in or what day of the week it was. His brain was fuzzy, his body was tired, but his heart was happy and full. He was pumped up despite his aching muscles – and how sore his dick had become.

Taeyong had gotten into the terrible habit of hooking up with fans after shows. Strangers, some of whom turned into good friendships, but the majority of whom did not.

Maybe it was a way to relieve stress, maybe he just missed home. It wasn’t that he went looking for them, at least not consciously so. It was more that his numb mind agreed when they made inappropriate advances, where he would normally just thank them and quickly dismiss the idea. It was about his need for release – a quick break while rushing between airports, arenas and hotel rooms – and the willingness of some fans to give him what he needed.

He certainly used his fame to his advantage. That’s how he gained their attention in the first place, even without trying. But he always made sure fame wasn’t the only reason the girls went to bed with him. He kept an eye out for those who were as horny and eager as he was, who were as crazy and wild as himself, but he was never the first to make a move and didn't coerce anyone.

When he found someone like that, however, he didn’t hesitate to tell them and ask for what he wanted too. Once he knew they were on the same page – once he found that match, of which there were always dosens at every show – things inevitably escalated. He had a real knack for singling those fans out.

And once they got to that stage Taeyong could become rather reckless. In a reality that didn't feel real and with consequences that so far had never reached him, he gave his partner for the night quite the experience. Perhaps the sense of surrealism was why he felt like he could continue to do what he did, even though he knew deep down that fame did play a significant role, and that what he was doing was wrong. This wasn’t fan service.

Regardless, the sexual encounters – though by mutual agreement – did sometimes have severe consequences. Even though he didn't know and would never find out about it, two of his exploits on this particular tour had already led to pregnancies.

Yes, that's right, Taeyong had two babies on the way, and their mothers were fans he'd only met once and would never meet again.

And then he met you. Today, after his last show on the tour, he would impregnate a third. And for better or for worse, you totally changed each other’s lives forever.

Being live on stage with his friends in front of a roaring crowd was one of the best things Taeyong knew, second only to the flow he sometimes experienced when he got really into a creative songwriting session. Both were a state of mind that felt incredible and brought him immense joy.

But life on the road took a toll. Despite plenty of rest in between sectioned parts of the year-long tour, Taeyong's body and mind needed short but frequent breaks. He found them in his fans who gave him pleasure and release. You were both a blessing and a curse.

You first met Taeyong near the stage, when he jumped down, shirtless and sweaty, to touch the hands of a few lucky fans. One of those fans happened to be you. You saw him rush toward you, and when his hand touched yours you took a chance: you squeezed it, held on to it, and for a split second pulled the man back.

It probably scared him, but it made him chuckle. Your eyes met and he grinned. Your face etched itself onto his brain.

You're not quite sure how it happen, but when the show was over you suddenly found yourself backstage. Taeyong was showing you around, encouraged by a subtle connection and reassured by your flirty approach. You were easy to talk to but it wasn’t just that. You had said a few inappropriate things already, and he felt there was more to your unapologetic personality. Maybe he also felt that now that the tour was ending, he should go for it one last time before reality came crashing back.

Though he was cautious about it he quickly made it clear what he wanted to happen between you. He stopped in a deserted corridor and glanced around. He approached you, and you leaned against a wall when he came in close. There was definitely something there, a connection which you both felt. But he let you be the one to decide, by not saying a word and just wait to see how you’d react.

You put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. He didn’t pull back. You leaned in closer, suddenly filled with ideas of your own. He didn’t flinch. Then you took another chance and kissed him, just as you had when you grabbed his hand and yanked his arm.

“Not here,” Taeyong said and took a step away from you, just in time when a member of staff walked by.

“Not here what?” you asked, confused because his words didn’t condemn the kiss. All he did was smirk at you, then he started walking.

You smirked back, suddenly thinking naughty things, but Taeyong just continued to show you around, casually giving you a VIP tour as you walked around backstage. This only confused you further.

You didn’t know what the expectation was at all when he first snatched you from the audience, but it didn’t feel like it was just fan service. With the kiss out of the way and the flirty and borderline sexual conversation between you so far, you looked forward to spending some time alone with the man.

Instead he kept showing you places, introducing you to people, pointing things out and telling little anecdotes and trivia about the tour. What's that all about? Maybe you had totally misunderstood his intentions.

In reality you had misunderstood nothing. You were on the exact same wavelength, having the exact same forbidden thoughts. Only neither of you had spoken them out loud yet. Like I said, Taeyong had a knack for knowing these things.

The backstage tour was just a facade. Taeyong had a reason for taking you on a long walk. Other than the fact that he needed to be sure, by continuing the conversation and see if you’d say or do something else that might confirm that you did, indeed, want to have sex with him, he had a destination.

Eventually you did find yourselves alone again, away from the stage hands and people carrying props and talking in walkie talkies. Some of the audience still hadn't even left the arena yet when Taeyong led you into a room and closed the door behind you.

It was a dressing room, or some sort of storage room, fairly large for just one person. You quickly recognized some of the stage clothes in it, which had been worn by Johnny, Yuta, Taeyong and the others. You quickly came to the conclusion that the boys probably all got changed in the same place, or perhaps this was just where the clothes went after they had been used.

None of the other members were around though. You figured they must still be somewhere in the vicinity. It didn't matter, because once you got to this point Taeyong didn't waste any time and neither did you.

You came there for sex and deep down you both knew it. The moment he closed the door behind you he took your mind off everyone else and gave you what you came there for.

It started with a make-out session, brutal and sloppy. Taeyong pushed you against a wall and your mouths smacked together with an audible passion. That first kiss was just an appetizer. His tongue played around inside you and his hands were all over your front and sides.

You felt his hot embrace and soft skin for the first time. He abruptly took off his shirt and pushed his full body against yours. You’d seen it before, when you grabbed his hand. Now you briefly got to study his tattoos up close, when he leaned away from you to lock the door. You heard it click before he abruptly returned to you, still sweaty, travel weary and horny as hell.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Still nothing had been said about the purpose of your time together. But you both knew.

“Yeah,” you said softly, suddenly eager to feel more of the man. Within a minute you were both down to your underwear, passionately making out and getting ready to fuck.

Taeyong's bulge pressed against your hip. You were wet, so wet, and the fact that you were in a place where you could get caught turned you on.

For a moment you actually forgot that Taeyong was famous. The fact that he was who he was thrilled you, and there's no denying that it was part of the reason you had come on to him so strongly, and so readily agreed to what you had quickly understood would be a quickie backstage. It was sort of a dream come true, and the moment felt as unreal to you as the muddled touring with days that flowed together felt surreal to Taeyong.

But now, as he got naked in front of you and you in front of him, you were completely in the moment.

Your bra and panties were on the floor by your feet. Taeyong's lips violently played on yours. He had one hand on your boob and pulled down his underwear with the other.

You stopped kissing when he bent over and kicked them off his feet, but you never saw his dick in this moment as he quickly pushed and rubbed against your body again.

“Mm, babe, you're so hot,” he said. Now that he had you naked there was no reason to hold back.

The words turned you on and he could tell. You spread your legs for him when the kissing resumed and wrapped a foot around his thighs. You felt his ass before the palm of your hand slid up his back and grabbed on to his shoulder. He briefly froze and pulled back, when he reached in and the shaft found your vagina.

You closed your eyes and held your breath. Taeyong's mouth breathing on your face felt nice and hot. And when the head got in position and stretched your folds, you let out a soft moan.

He felt amazing. He was rock hard and you were dripping. His cock slid in with ease, expanded you and filled you up.

“Mm, Taeyong,” you blurted out. He kissed your face and grinned.

Is this really happening? you thought. This isn’t real, I’m dreaming.

Taeyong was triggered, in the best possible way, by the way you moaned his name. Once there was no doubt left in his mind that you were onboard – and there really wasn't as his dick was already inside you – he felt comfortable and confident to the point that he could reveal his true self.

“Mm, fuck, you're so slutty,” he said when he penetrated you.

There was a risk that his words would shock you. They did not.

He pushed all the way in and you exhaled deeply. His words were meant as a compliment and that's exactly how you took them. Taeyong had definitely found a match.

“Mm, fuck yeah, you're so wet baby,” he continued while he started rocking his hips back and forth. “You wanna have sex with me, don't you?”

“Yeah,” you moaned and held on tighter around the man.

“Go on, tell me how badly you want it,” Taeyong requested. His lips moved down the side of your face and onto your neck. “Say my name,” he whispered near your ear.

Oh, that’s how we’re gonna play this? Okay.

“I wanna have sex with you Taeyong,” you said. “Mm, I want you to fuck me so hard.”

The wall was starting to hurt you as your shoulder blades scratched against it, and your raised thigh felt painful the way Taeyong stretched your body to expose your hole and push deeper inside.

He dug his fingers into your skin. You jumped into his arms while he pushed you harder against the wall. He was freaky and so were you, a perfect match indeed. You understood the assignment, and he was happy and a little proud that you were as loose as he had hoped.

From this point on his dirty words just kept coming. He repeatedly told you how badly he wanted to be inside you, how good you felt, the crazy things he wanted to do to you, and how slutty and hot he thought you were.

“You want me to fuck you hard, don't you?” he asked while nibbling on your ear, squeezing your boob, and thrusting his dick in and out of your body.

“Yeah,” you moaned with your legs fully wrapped around his hips. His tattooed chest and stomach were nice and soft, and his ass cheeks flexed and became firm as he thrust into you at an ever faster pace.

It surprised you how strong he was for his tiny figure and slim arms. He pinned you to the wall and while his motions were small at first, his hips soon jolted while his body weight pressed against you.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, with your arms around his neck. “Do you always fuck fans backstage?” you asked and smirked.

Taeyong kept jolting and thrusting. “No,” he grinned.

“I- ahh, fuck! - I don’t believe it.”

Taeyong grinned and massaged your breast. “We usually go to my hotel room.”

You chuckled at the response. Then Taeyong temporarily shut you up, as he slammed you harder against the wall and you grimaced.

“Mm. Yeah. Fuck!” he said with each violent thrust. The way you rode his cock felt incredible to you both.

“Mm, fuck Taeyong!”

Taeyong asked pulled his head back slightly. “Yeah, you like that?” he asked. He kissed you on the lips and your noses clashed together, but then he stared straight into your eyes with a grin on his face. “Does my dick feel good? Is this freaky enough for you baby or do you want more?”

“Yeah, yeah, so good!”

He slammed you against the wall again and again, in wild and rough jolts. “I have a name, baby. Use it.”

“Yes, yes, your cock feels so good Taeyong.”

“Keep going,” he ordered and rested his forehead against your shoulder while pulling your hips onto his shaft.

“Mm, you're so strong Taeyong. So wild and freaky. Your cock feels amazing. Yes, yes, I'm so wet baby. Yes, fuck me Taeyong, ahh, Ahh, harder Taeyong!”

Taeyong was going hard. With each sentence your voice got higher and his thrusts more abrupt. He was really going at it, pounding you like a wild animal, fucking you so hard your skin turned red where his fingers dug in and his pelvis clasped against yours. The sounds you produced got louder and louder, as he pulled you harder and your lower body was brought further away from the wall, until he yanked your hips so far that he lost his grip and your thighs and ass fell down.

You instinctively, to save yourself, let go of the man's body with your legs. Your feet slid down his sides and onto the floor before you collapsed on it. The wall scratched your upper back so hard it left a mark, a long reddish bruise.

Taeyong's dick immediately slipped out of your pussy. But neither of you let any of this bother you. The second you regained your footing your mouth was on the man's face again.

You made out with passion. Your lust was wild and erotic. Taeyong put his hands on your waist and spun you around, then pushed you toward the center of the room.

There was a couch and a table. He held your hip and pushed your shoulder forward, forcing your upper body onto the armrest. You leaned on it with your ass sticking out behind you, and spread your legs when Taeyong's crotch hit your cheeks.

“Mm, take me Taeyong!” you ordered. He was quick to comply.

He hunched down slightly and guided the dick. When he stood up straight it slid deep into your wet hole. He took a firm grip around your hips and pulled, instantly thrusting so hard it made you groan.

The pained noise quickly turned into moans of pleasure. Taeyong hit his crotch against your ass repeatedly. He pushed and pulled on your body, his dick going fast in and out of you, as he roughed you up and fucked you senseless against the couch.

“Mm, Mmm, yeah, Taeyong,” you whimpered.

“Say my name baby.”

“Yes, yes, yes, Taeyong!”

The clapping of your bodies got so loud there was no way it couldn’t be heard in the corridor outside, but your words and Taeyong’s grunts behind you drowned it out.

“Huuh, huuh, huuh,” he panted from deep down his throat. The sweat he had on stage returned. “Huuh, Huuh, Huuh!”

He leaned in over you. His hand went along your side and to your front. He found your boob again and played with it, stopping it from shaking violently while the other kept jumping out of control below your chest.

You felt his lips touch your shoulder blade. His stomach was moist and slippery. He pulled you closer with his forearm covering both your breasts, and held you tighter when the arm was fully wrapped around you.

You straightened your spine, raised your upper body, and twisted your neck. Taeyong's wet lips and tongue touched the side of your face. You reached behind your head with your arm and ran your fingers through his hair, opened your mouth wide but kept your eyes closed.

This is incredible, you thought and you genuinely meant it. The sensation of his dick rubbing your insides was amazing, and the way he fucked you so hard and in such a thrilling place was fun.

Taeyong suddenly pulled on your leg. You raised it and he stretched it long by his side. He opened your hole wide, one of your feet still firmly planted on the floor, and looked down at his cock as he pushed and pulled.

The man needed a shower after the sweaty show on stage but you didn't care. The way he bent you and fucked you, the way his hard cock stretched and rubbed you, his lustful and horny embrace, his hand still on your boob, and his loud and lustful grunts – it all felt so good you wanted to scream his name from the top of your lungs.

“Ahh, ahh, fuck yeah!” Taeyong suddenly exclaimed and let the leg go. He hunched forward and pushed you down on the armrest while slamming hard and fast against your ass. ”Yeah, fuck, I love that you're so slutty.”

You tilted your head back and pressed his face against yours with your arm around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me all night Taeyong, pleease!”

“Mmm, it’s so hot when you say my name,” he said through clutched teeth.

Sweat was dripping down his front between your bodies. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It felt absolutely incredible.

You suddenly twisted your body to turn around. “Take me on the couch,” you said. “I wanna see you.”

Taeyong grinned and suddenly pulled out. Your hips fell down as his firm grip loosened around you. He pushed on your shoulder motioning for you to spin, and you did a little leap to sit up on the armrest.

He put a hand on your shoulder and pushed again. You giggled when you fell backwards onto the couch. And for the first time, as you crawled back to lie down and stretch out for him and he put his knees on the armrest to come after you, you saw his tattooed and naked body on full display.

His knees fell onto the couch between your legs. The dick pointed straight out, ready to attack you again. You spread your sore thighs wide and he crawled closer, and you briefly reached out to touch the pulsing shaft before he came to lie on top of you.

You quickly retracted the hand, while his slid up your leg and side. He found your chest again, but this time freaky wasn’t the word you’d use to describe him. He kissed your lips with a soft passion and gently massaged your boob, while moving his ass and hips in slow, wide motions.

His dick slid back and forth against your folds and lower stomach. You dared to reach in again to feel it. You held his shaft loosely and it jolted between your fingers. You pointed it down and felt the head push your lips apart, and he let out a horny groan when they gradually opened up and the dick slipped back inside.

The shaft stretching your hole was so arousing. It felt hot and good. And when it rubbed you in just the right place, and the full length of the man's body was on you and in your arms, you felt a new kind of pleasure shoot through your body.

“AHH, TAEYONG!” you screamed while your pussy clung hard to the shaft. For the first time Taeyong chuckled and moved his hand from your breast to your mouth.

“Shhh,” he said and grinned wide. He briefly slowed the rolling of his hips, almost to a complete stop.

“Sorry,” you giggled. His hand eased up on your face and you looked into each other's eyes.

You maintained eye contact while Taeyong kept the slow pace. He pushed into you only to pull half way out again, while you smiled lovingly at each other.

“Are you this wild with all the others?” you asked, referring to his admittance that you weren’t the first fan Taeyong had sex with.

“No,” Taeyong said. His breath was heavy as a relaxed to regain his strength. “Only with freaks like you.”

Your smiles soon faded as your racing hearts settled, and lust and desire took over again. You closed your eyes and made out. Taeyong's lips eventually went down the side of your face and he buried his head in your hair and shoulder.

The deep and heavy heaving from before returned, slower this time but still lustful and coarse. “Huuh, Huuh, Huuh,” he groaned by your ear. Faster and faster as he rolled his hips and used his arms to push and pull.

You stroke his back and felt his warm spine and ass, which moved up and down in rapid motions. His cheeks were soft this time, and his lower back was still wet and slippery which felt hot. You raised your knees and spread your legs as wide as the couch would allow it, and the dick slipped deeper and deeper inside you with each erotic push.

Taeyong stopped rolling his hips and soon just rocked his ass. It jumped up and down as he held his arms tighter and tighter around you. You tilted your head back for fresh air, and panted repeatedly as the man filled you up and fucked you good.

“You're so hot,” he moaned, but he no longer had the energy to call you slutty. His mind became fully focused on the tight and slippery sensation of your vagina licking his erect dick, of the pleasure it produced, and on the orgasm which was suddenly imminent.

That it was imminent became clear to you when Taeyong pushed himself up on his elbows. You saw his grimacing face and strained expression before you too closed your eyes hard and squirmed.

Your legs and feet were pointing straight in the air by now. Your boobs were shaking and jolting back and forth on your chest. The couch started moving across the floor, that's how brutal Taeyong was when he reached his peak.

You moaned and nearly screamed again but managed to restrain yourself. You suddenly became fixated on making your idol come, and the last thing you wanted was to get caught and end the act prematurely.

You were certain the man would pull out at any moment. He would sit on his knees between your thighs, furiously jerk his boner with his hand, and deliver his load onto your stomach. You started imagining his cum and tried hard to remember exactly what his amazing dick looked like.

Except he didn't do what you expected. He only pushed his upper body higher, and pressed his lower body harder between your legs, until he was hovering above you on long arms.

He kept thrusting violently into you, burying your body in the cushions and forcing the couch to inch closer to the wall with each wild thrust.

The finale came when you lowered your legs and wrapped them around Taeyong's waist and hips. You used your feet to push and pull, aiding him in his sensational movements. His twisted face curled up so hard it couldn't get any tighter.

“Uggh, fuck, I'm coming, ahh, I'm coming!”

“Yes, YES, come for me baby, fuck me harder Taeyong, oh yeah, yeah, TAEYONG!”

“AHHH, BABY, fuck you're such a hot slut. AHHHH, AHHHHH, HHHUUUMMN!”

Taeyong's whole body jolted. He jerked forward and slid backwards only to do it again. A couple of hard, abrupt thrusts, several times while his pace slowed with each one.

His eyes and mouth opened wide. His face loosened up and became droopy. His skin quickly became flushed and his pale skin red. His lower back was more moist than ever, and perspiration spread to every surface of his body.

“Mmm, fuck Taeyong,” you moaned and suddenly felt exhausted. Only then did your mind catch up and you realized that the man never did what you thought he would do.

He didn't come on your stomach. He never sprayed your front with his sperm. He never smeared his cum-covered dick around your folds to edge you on.

Instead he had come inside you. He had released his load deep into your pussy. He had planted his seeds in your womb, and the realization made you smile and giggle.

And – though of course neither of you knew it at the time – the seeds took root. Taeyong's third child was on the way.

At the time the thought did cross your mind. Seconds after he came in you the risk actually worried you, and your initial giggle was short-lived. But you quickly forgot about it. As Taeyong collapsed in your arms and started heaving by your ear, you lowered your legs, smiled at the ceiling and caressed him like he was your long-term lover.

You just had sex with an idol. Only half an hour ago he hadn't said a word to you, and the odds that he ever would were unimaginably slim. The man you watched on stage, cheered and screamed for from the audience, was currently laying naked on top of you with his still hard dick throbbing inside you as he emptied itself. You would have laughed if someone said this would happen.

Yet it certainly didn’t feel like you’d only just met. In this moment you felt as though you'd known the man forever. It would be days after the fact that it fully sank in that all of this did happen, but that you didn’t actually know him at all. And if it wasn't for two things the memory would have faded into a surreal dream.

The first thing that assured you that it wasn’t just a dream was the fact that Taeyong gave you his number. No fewer than 48 girls before you had been in similar situations on this tour, and not once had he given them any way to contact him after. Sex with them had been good but not this great.

With you, however, Taeyong felt as though he'd taken ecstasy. He could be rough and you took it. The way he felt you clicked with each other in bed – no, on the couch – was exceptional. Maybe he was also sad that the world tour was ending.

The others never heard from him again. But when you texted him, several days after the backstage sex, he replied in less than a minute.

The second thing that kept things real was not by intention or design. When you eventually found out that you were pregnant there were only so many guys who could be the father. You did the math and came to an inevitable conclusion.

It felt like a nightmare, like your world came crashing down. But compared to the two other mothers-to-be whom Taeyong had unknowingly and recklessly impregnated, you were the lucky one.

Taeyong was indeed reckless and thoughtless. He should have pulled out, or never done what he got into the habit of doing on this tour in the first place.

But he also wasn't one to leave a young mother and his child to fend for themselves. He would be a fixed figure in your son's life, and consequently in yours.

Of course, as you lay there on the couch and his body felt heavier by the minute, you didn't know any of this. You were oblivious to the baby soon growing inside you. And when Taeyong slowly pulled out and stood up, and you watched as he nurtured his slack but beaten dick, you smiled at him and felt an enormous joy.

“That was great,” you said.

Taeyong smiled back before he turned around and went to pick up his clothes. He looked at you while he pulled his underwear back up, then found your panties and bra and tossed them to you.

“Great? You were fucking incredible!” he said.

It made you chuckle.

“You don't mind the things I called you, right?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you confirmed. “I love how freaky you are.”

“Good. Because babe, I wanna see you again. You have a phone?”

“Sure,” you said and sat up straight.

Was it the last time you had sex, and was this as "freaky" as you ever got? Well no, certainly not. It was only just the beginning of your relationship as parents as well as sexual partners.

[verdantchan]

Always You

Pairing: Best friend! Bangchan x Afab! Reader

Summary: It’s hard to enjoy a party when your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years turns up with his girlfriend…

Warnings: MDNI, dom!chan, sub!reader, possessive!chan, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) dirty talk, cum eating, multiple orgasms (f!rec) fingering (f!rec) mentions of mastubation, spitting (chan spits on it yk..) tummy bulge, creampie

Wc: 2.7k

a/n: did I write and edit it this in one sitting? yes I did,,, is this also my return to writing fics after 5 years bc I’m so attracted to chan idk what to do?? Also yes 🤪

‘‘Lixieee watch my drink, I nearly dropped it’’ You roll your eyes and smile at Felix as he practically jumps on you. His parties were always rowdy, especially when Jisung wormed his way into the planning. Colourful lights strewn around every pillar and doorway, countless bottles and cheesy red cups littering the granite countertops in the dorm kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the sickly sweet scent of liquor.

Part of you loved how committed the boys were to throwing the most stereotypical frat parties, the perfect way to unwind from the stress of uni life. You scan the room for that all too familiar face but find no sign of him, your shoulders dropping slightly, the disappointment in your chest too strong to ignore.

You and Chan had been best friends since you were 12, your parents pushing you together as an unlikely duo. You'd immediately become inseparable,spending every second with each other. People had always questioned your relationship, everyone thought you must be dating if you were so close, but you and Chan were just friends, at least that's what you convinced yourself it had to be.

You first started having feelings for Chan at 18, you were university freshmen starting the next big chapter of your lives together and you couldn't get him out of your head. His deep brown eyes that sparkled when he spoke about the things he loved, his soft curly black hair that you loved ruffling to annoy him and his dimples that became impossibly deep when he smiled. Being around him was both torture and comfort. Three years later and you were still completely in love with someone who views you as his best friend, nothing more. In other words, you're utterly fucked.

‘’Lix, have you seen Chan tonight? I thought he was coming’’  Felix still clinging to you in his tipsy state. His messy blonde hair slightly covering his eyes and freckle-dotted cheeks, a pink blush dusting his skin thanks to the many drinks he’d already knocked back.

‘’Nah not yet, he said he's coming later after his date’’ he slurs his words a little, all giggly and happy, not knowing the ache his words cause you. You hum in response, suddenly feeling less sociable than a few minutes ago.

‘’Ahhhhh speak of the devil’’ Felix laughs and nods toward the doorway, Chan's broad shoulders making it look tiny. His hand interlocked with hers, observing the room and briefly locking eyes with you before looking away.

Chan had been dating Euna for a few months, but it never got easier seeing them together. 

They'd met in one of your classes, Euna was sweet, pretty  and very popular with both the students and teachers. It hadn’t taken Chan too long to fall for her and spend less and less time with you. He swore nothing had changed between you two but you knew better. It wasn't long after they started dating that Chan began cancelling your plans because ‘Euna planned something’ or he ‘just couldn't make it that day’ You wanted to believe that it would all go back to the way it was soon enough but that day never came, Chan drifting further as time passed. 

You missed his smile, the way he would make you laugh, the way he would bring you your favourite food when you were tired or upset. You thought that maybe one day you would be together, that Chan would see you as more than just his best friend. Sometimes it felt like more between you two. 

He and Euna weave their way through the crowd, her trailing slightly behind, Chan looking back at her every so often with a smile, the sight of them making you nauseous though you wish it didn't. Chan lets go of her to pull Felix into a hug, Euna eyeing you awkwardly as the two of them catch up. Euna had never been rude to you, never made a snarky comment about you being friends with Chan, but she never really said much around you if you were honest. 

‘’Your dress is super pretty’’ you squeak out attempting to break the silence between you two, She offers up a small thank you and a tight smile and turns to Chan as he pulls her into his side, his attention now on the two of you instead of the tipsy blonde Aussie

 ‘’Hey y/n’’ Chan smiles as he lets go of Euna and pulls you into a quick side hug, letting go as quickly as he’d pulled you in, his soft musky scent filling your senses. The four of you make small talk, Chan's eyes catching your own as Felix rambles to Euna about his current pc build. The air starts to feel suffocating, his glances making you feel trapped. You quickly make an excuse to leave, Chan's smile faltering as you excuse yourself from their conversation and disappear into the crowd of bodies. 

It was impossible to think while Chan was standing there, his arms wrapped around Euna unapologetically. The jealousy burning more than the straight tequila sloshing around in your cup, you start to sway to the music begging yourself to forget about him and enjoy your night. You feel a pair of eyes follow your silhouette but you continue to drink and dance, the alcohol making its way through your system and drowning out every thought.

 You feel a figure behind you grabbing your hips and swaying with you, turning your head to see the blurred outline of Hyunjin, his hair in his eyes, a pair of red sunglasses perched on his nose. You let yourself melt into him, you'd always found him attractive anyway. You and Hyunjin move together perfectly, his smooth movements guiding your own as he whispers the lyrics to the song in your ear, his plump lips catching your skin slightly. You finally move your eyes to Chan still feeling someone watching you, secretly wishing it was him. You’re met with a sharp glare, his eyes never leaving you and Hyunjin, his jaw locked in annoyance, you roll your eyes at him and turn around to face Hyunjin winding your arms around his slender neck. 

You turn back to glance at Chan to find him charging your way, ripping you from your dance partner's embrace and towards the stairwell. 

‘’Chan what the fuck are you doing?’’ you yell, trying to wriggle your wrist from his strong grip as he pulls you upstairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.

‘’What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing y/n? Grinding all over Hyunjin like that’’

‘’We are not doing this right now, why does it have anything to do with you, Chan? Why do you even care?’’ venom coating your words, attempting to open the door and leave but being stopped short when he stands in the way, eyes burning into yours. Chan had never been like this with you, what had gotten into him?

‘’What? Are you suddenly into Hyunjin?? We both know he's not right for you y/n’’  his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

‘’And how would you know what's best for me Chan? We hardly talk anymore!’’ you run your fingers through your hair, easing the tension building up behind your eyes. 

‘’Of course we still talk, you know i've been busy’’ he fires back, disregarding how much space really had built up between the two of you. 

’Give it up Chan and go back to Euna, what I do with Hyunjin has fuck all to do with you’’ you can't deal with the confusion, why is he acting like he's jealous of you and Hyunjin? Why does it matter to him? 

‘’’I’m your best friend y/n of course it has something to do with me, he's not right for you’’ 

‘’Oh my god get your head out of your ass chan, just like you said, you're my best friend not my boyfriend. You can date but I can't? I'm not gonna wait on you to notice me for the rest of my life’’ You turn your face away from him, your confidence and fire slipping as Chan studies you intensely, the room silent apart from your breathing. 

‘’My god you’re an idiot’’ Chan mumbles before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours, you melt into the kiss at first before snapping out of it and pushing him away

Chan what are you doing?’’ You feel dizzy as you maintain your balance, your hands still pressed against his toned chest. your lungs heaving in time with the thud of the music coming from below. 

‘’You really have no idea, do you? I’m fucking in love with you y/n, why do you think I even started dating Euna in the first place, I wanted to get over you, why else would I jump into a relationship with a girl I hardly knew??’’ The annoyance in his voice evident as he goes on, he runs his hand through his hair repeatedly,  messy waves falling in his face. 

You stare up at him stunned, your lips parted in surprise, he pulls you back in, his lips covering yours as he presses you into him with fervour. He deepens the kiss and walks you backwards, his hands pressing into your hips, his hold nothing like hyunjins. He pulls away his eyes searching yours for something, anything. 

“Tell me to stop, if you don't want this I’ll walk away” his voice is breathy and pained, evident that the last thing he wanted was for you to say now.

You've waited too long for this, for him to need you, touch you. You know it's wrong, his girlfriend just a floor below but you’ve wanted and waited too much to stop and walk away, you can deal with your moral shortcomings tomorrow. 

‘’Please, Chan’’ you whisper, desperate for him to touch you again, clenching your thighs together as heat pools in your lower stomach, your insides on fire for him. He watches how desperate you are for him, your answer clear.

‘’Fuck you’re perfect’’ you look at him pleadingly and he can't hold back anymore, he’d thought about you like this too many times to count, in dreams and when awake. When he can't sleep and he fucks his fist wishing it was you, how pretty your moans would sound as he rocked into you, how tight you'd be around him, how his cum would leak out of your fluttering hole. He was too far gone, a man possessed. 

You gasp as he pushes you back on the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress perfectly, he licks and nips at your jaw, his hand finding your soaked underwear under your skirt, circling your puffy clit through the slick fabric. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, bet Hyunjin could never have this effect on you. Gonna fuck you so good you'll forget he exists’’ his words making you tingle, his fingers exactly where you need them.

‘’Only want you’’ Your voice comes out breathy and fucked out even though he’s barely touched you and it sends a rush of blood to Chan's already rock-solid cock, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans.

He sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you scream in pleasure and pain at the intrusion, his fingers so much thicker and longer than yours, the stretch taking your breath away 

‘’Yeah be a good girl and take my fingers in that tight little cunt, I know you can’’ The way he whispers as your pussy stretches around his fingers and wet squelches echo through the room has you throwing your head back, Chans other hand finding your tits as he stretches you out for him. You shake as he moves his fingers in and out of you, the stretch now dissolved into intense pleasure. He can tell you're close, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh out his name.

‘’cum for me pretty, cum around my fingers’’ You moan his name over and over as he rubs your soaking clit and plunges his fingers into your sopping hole,  your back arching in pleasure as he works you through your high. Shouting his name as you cum on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. The sight alone already making you needy for more 

‘’Need you so bad baby, need to feel you milk my cock’’ he breathes out as he undoes his belt, desperate to be inside of you. You spread your sticky thighs, your glistening pussy on full display for him. His cock springs free from its confines, his pink tip leaking down onto the rest of his thick veiny length. It was no surprise he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. He gives it a few pumps, slapping your clit with his bulbous tip, and you moan in pleasure at the sting. 

‘’Take it, baby. Gonna stretch you out so good, gonna make you mine’’ his voice shaky as he presses into you, your pussy spasming around his hard length splitting you open, he slowly bottoms out with a moan stilling inside you. His cock making your stomach bulge with his size 

‘’Fuckfuckfuckkkk you're still so tight, such a perfect pussy’’ his words coming out more like a mantra, the feeling of you around him making him pussydrunk. He fucks in and out of you grabbing your thighs, spreading you wider for him, watching where you’re joined as he takes you. 

 ‘’talk to me baby girl, tell me how I make you feel’’ 

‘’Love it when you fuck me Channie, love your cock so much’’ your voice strained and whiny, writhing against the sheets as he sets a rough pace. He spits on your pussy, the liquid dripping down to where you meet, the sight only aiding his pleasure. 

‘’Bet you thought about this huh? Thought about how good it would feel when I ruin you, hmm baby? Bet you’d touch this little clit thinking about how good I would fuck you?’’ His thrusts become sloppy as he nears his orgasm, his fingers coming to circle your clit. Your moans getting louder as you get close for the second time.

‘’Cum with me baby, wanna cum in this pussy, fill you up with my cum’’ his thrusts getting more erratic and desperate as you orgasm together. You scream his name, your nails digging into his toned back muscles. Chan stills as he spurts his hot release into you, his cum painting your insides a milky white. He collapses onto you, his muscled chest pressed against your fucked out form, both of you breathing heavily. 

‘’Fuck you're mine, just mine’’ he whispers, his cock still inside you, both your release leaking out around his still hard dick.. 

‘’Yeah just yours, Channie’’ you breathe out dreamily, still coming down from your high  

You both lay like that for a while, Chan's face tucked into your neck, leaving gentle kisses, his cock stiffening again inside of you, the party coming to an end downstairs. Things had happened so fast you hadn't realised Chan brought you to his own room, the purple lights giving his skin a lilac hue. 

‘’Chan. What happens now?” You hesitate not wanting to ruin the moment, praying you didn't just fuck everything up with him with a simple question.

He sighs into your skin snuggling closer ‘’I meant it when I said you're mine y/n, Euna knows she and I are done, she knew I was in love with you. I want this, I want you’’ his voice soft and sleepy. 

Your heart nearly explodes, ‘’I love you too Chan, I want you too’’ you kiss him passionately, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, smiling into the kiss as he begins moving inside you again. It feels like a dream and you can't believe he's in love with you too, that he wants you like you want him. Now you have him you'll never let him go, you have always been his, even if he didn't know it. 

‘’It's always been you y/n’’

-ty for reading!! Alr working on more hehe

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 23/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Guys, I finally wrote a new part. It's been so long since I published the last part. I was promoted at work, so I work very hard and write at night. This part is big. Please let me know what you think about this part. By the way, the final part of the story will start from this part ❤️‍🔥💜💘

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and LOVE you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @ambiee3, @mianhae-baozi, @someoneelse0109, @medstudentlifestyle, @mskookie (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 23. The point of no return.

The rays of the morning sun were breaking through the heavy curtains, filling the room with soft warmth. You slowly opened your eyes, feeling a pleasant fatigue in every muscle.

Your eyes immediately fell on Jungkook, who was lying next to you. He was sleeping on his stomach, his face turned toward you, his hands under his pillow. His black hair was falling over his face, his naked back rising and falling in the rhythm of his breathing. He looked so relaxed, as if all the problems of the world had left him alone, at least for that night.

You smile involuntarily, admiring your lover. You notice his pouty lips and immediately have the urge to kiss them. But you restrain yourself.

You lie there and think that you finally feel good and you don’t feel the anxiety that has been present in you every day for the past five weeks. Jungkook is here and you're not going to leave him anymore.

You run your hand down your neck, feeling the warm memories of the night there. Your lips curved slightly into a smile, unable to hold back the quiet tremor in your chest.

You propped your head up with your hand, looking at him carefully. His body looked strong and yet tender in its vulnerability. You couldn't help but want to touch him. Your fingers almost automatically reached for Jungkook's hair, and as soon as they touched his strands, Jungkook moved, half-opening his eye lazily.

"Are you spying on me?" - He murmured, looking at you with one eye open, his voice hoarse and low from sleep.

"You're so cute when you sleep." - You replied, smiling. Jungkook opened his other eye and squinted as if trying to judge your tone, and a sly glint appeared in his eyes.

"Cute?" - He rolled onto his back, stretching his muscles that seemed to reveal his full strength. "I don't remember you calling me cute when you were screaming my name this night." - You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks turned treacherously pink.

"Someone's being overconfident here." - You said, throwing a pillow in his direction, but Jungkook easily intercepted it.

"Not that it's not true." - He replied, smiling slyly, and then he crept closer. His arm went around your waist and he pulled you close.

"Get over yourself, Jeon. I only accept your self-confidence because I've known you for so long." - You say, fighting the sensations of his kisses on your neck. "By the way, what are you doing?" - Jungkook kissed your neck slowly, he towered over you taking you captive with his body and arms that trapped you.

"What do you think I'm doing?" - Jungkook smiled slyly. Without waiting for your answer, he went back to kissing your neck. Just a few kisses, and you already seem to be wet and feel a pleasant throbbing in the upper part of your thighs.

"Are you serious?" - You said in a trembling voice. "We just woke up. We need to get cleaned up..." - You said. You haven't even gone to the bathroom or brushed your teeth.

"Baby, you look so delicious... how can I refuse myself to fuck you when I open my eyes?" - Jungkook whispered in your ear when he finished biting your lobe, his voice low and full of play.

"Jungkook! How can you say that? It's morning!" - You protested. Having sex right after waking up? Is he that insatiable?

"What? Is this a bad time?" - His fingers began to slide down your thighs, and his lips left a warm kiss on your temple.

"Jungkook! I didn't brush my teeth." - You said, a little embarrassed, and tried to pull away, but his hands held you steady, though gently.

"I don't care." - He said, and you felt his hand near the elastic of your pajama shorts.

"It's not hygienic." - You don't give up. But his hand has already slipped under your shorts and underwear. Jungkook's fingers touched your pussy, which was wet and ready to receive him right now. You bit your lip, closing your eyes at how pleasantly Jungkook was caressing your clit. He pulled his lips apart in a smile. You heard him sigh and knew it was a cocky smile.

"Who's so wet?" - He says quietly. You moan as his finger plunges into your passage and slowly fucks you.

"Kook..." - You breathe out. The Jungkook sucks on the skin of your neck. Shit, I think there are going to be marks. You should push him away, but the deeper he plunges his finger into you, the faster you forget what you were thinking.

"Mmm." - He purrs against the skin of your neck. His purr is vibrating in bass. "Do you want me to stop?" - He asks as he continues to fuck your aisle. He adds a second finger to create more pressure. But it's not enough for you. You move your hips to meet his fingers. Jungkook lifts the top of your pajamas to kiss your breasts. He sees your erect nipples and gets harder, even though he already woke up with a hard-on.

You don't even pay attention to his question because your mind is elsewhere. You get even more excited when Jungkook's tongue is on your nipples. He sucks on your bud, causing a pleasant pain. He bites down lightly on your sensitive skin and you hiss.

He smiles against your skin.

"I asked you something!" - Says Jungkook, turning to face you. You open your eyes and have a hard time remembering what he asked you. His finger is back on your clit.

"What?" - You squeaked out. "What did you ask?" - You asked again.

"Do you want me to stop?" - Jungkook repeats. You raise your eyebrows, moaning and feeling how soon you might come on his finger.

"You can only stop if you want to." - You said. Jungkook smiled, you're so provocative.

"Do you think I can do it?" - Jungkook asked, pushing his hard cock into you. You smile defiantly, he started it, why ask stupid questions?

"It's up to you." - You said. Jungkook suddenly took his finger away and when you realized it, you were shocked. Your eyes rounded and you did not take them away from him. Jungkook didn't take his eyes off you either. He threw back the blanket that covered you both and got out of bed. He left the room and you sat down, feeling disappointed and confused.

You straightened your clothes and put your feet down on the floor to follow Jungkook and ask him what happened. But before you could get out of bed, he came back into the room. Your eyes immediately fell on his crotch with a big hard-on. In just a second, you turned your gaze to his face, he was serious, and he was carrying something in his hands.

"Where are you going?" - He asked, standing in front of you. His crotch was almost in front of your face.

"I..." - You looked up at him in confusion, tilting your head back. "Why did you leave?" - You ask. Jungkook hands you some menthol-flavored lollipops and you look at them in confusion.

"I went to get lollipops." - He replies.

"Why did you bring them?" - You ask, unhappy. Jungkook leans in and you can smell the menthol as he speaks next to your face. He seems to have already tasted one.

"I want a menthol-flavored blowjob." - His smile is cheeky and demanding. You are frozen, not knowing how to respond. "So, are you going to give your boyfriend a good time?" - Jungkook asks you again, grabbing your chin with two fingers. You roll your eyes and he laughs out loud.

"Are you silly? Don’t said anything... Gone..." - You protest. Jungkook lets go of you, takes out a lollipop and shoves it into your mouth, dipping his fingers in with it. You taste the menthol and his fingers on your tongue. You look up at his figure towering over you. His eyes darken as you begin to suck on his fingers, which he uses to press down on your soft tongue.

"You'd better use your tongue for its intended purpose." - He says. Your lips stretch into a seductive smile. You released Jungkook's fingers from your mouth and reached for his boxers. You grabbed the elastic and pulled them down. They fell to his ankles, freeing Jungkook's cock.

Your mouth instantly filled with saliva. His cock was right in front of your eyes, thick, erect, and begging for affection. You took it in your hands and rolled it a couple of times to see the head. You stretched the skin and saw the purple tip of his cock, which was dripping with pre-cum.

You touched the tip with your tongue, wrapped around it, and felt Jungkook's cock twitch. Jungkook likes it. You looked up to see his face. You met his gaze, full of desire. He smiled at you from the corner of his mouth. You put the head of his penis in your mouth and sucked on it as if to create foreplay.

Jungkook put his hand on the back of your head, coming closer.

"Come on, baby, stop playing around. Just choke on my cock." - He says with authority, and you can't help but feel aroused by his low, commanding voice. You grab Jungkook's ass with one hand and pull him closer. You spread your legs wide to give him easy access to your mouth.

You swallow Jungkook's length, halfway down at first. Your jaw is open wide. You can feel his velvety skin on your tongue, and the taste of salty cum mixed with menthol lollipop. You suck Jungkook's cock like that for a while. Until you notice him twisting your hair around his fist and pushing your head to take him deeper.

You try to breathe deeply as his cock sinks deeper into your mouth. His head delivers the end of his tongue and your breathing speeds up. You fight the gag reflex.

"Breathe deeply. I'm going to be careful. If you feel like you can't take it, tap my thigh." - Jungkook says. You look at him and nod slightly in the affirmative. You put both hands on his hips, giving him full control. He uses your hair as a tool of control lever.

Your mouth is filled with his cock and he starts fucking it. At first it's slow, careful movements. You even move your head yourself, but with each successive stroke, Jungkook gets faster. He squeezes your hair harder and helps you suck his cock.

You can hear him moaning, not hiding his pleasure which your welcoming mouth gives him. You dig your nails into his skin and he likes the way you desperately suck his length, letting him fuck your throat.

Jungkook is so deep in your mouth that his pubic bone is just a few centimeters from your nose. You can feel your jaw getting tired and starting to ache from being open for so long. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"It feels so good to fuck your throat. Do you like me fucking you in the mouth my little slut?" - Jungkook asks you and you leak onto your underwear. Your arousal increases to the maximum. You moan around his cock, closing your eyes. It's been a while since he last called you a whore. Why do you like it so much when he calls you that?

Jungkook picks up the pace. You can feel his hardening at your mouth. It doesn't take long for him to come in your mouth. His cum leaks out through the corners of your mouth. He twitches inside, and you greedily swallow everything Jungkook pours down your throat. He moans heavily and stops after a few more thrusts.

The pressure of his hand eases on your hair, and a moment later he pulls his softened cock out of you. You wipe your mouth with your finger, dipping your fingers into your mouth to make sure you don't miss a drop. Jungkook laughs with satisfaction and breathes heavily. His abs are clearly visible when he holds his breath to catch his breath.

"That was so good, baby." - Jungkook compliments you. He pulls to kiss you.

His tongue can enter your mouth without any obstacles. He can taste the menthol and his cum on your tongue. Jungkook kisses you greedily, his fingers clenching your jaw. When you both need air, he pulls away, but bites your lower lip one last time.

"I'm glad you liked it." - You say. Jungkook lifts you up, grabbing your hand. He dips his hand into your shorts and squeezes your buttocks, pulling you close.

"You have to have fun too. So choose either my cock or my tongue." - He offers you. It's hard to make a choice, you like his oral sex skills, but it's even harder to give up his cock. Jungkook kisses you while you make your decision, leaving you without clothes on. When you feel the air enveloping your skin, you pull away from Jungkook's mouth.

"Please fuck me, my love." - You ask, emphasizing the last word. You remember how much Jungkook liked it when you called him that. He breaks into a smile, leading you to the bed.

He lays you down on it, making you comfortable on the pillows. The sight of your exposed cunt and spread legs inviting him to fuck you instantly excites him so that he is hard again.

He makes himself comfortable between your legs, pressing his cock against your entrance. He touches your clit with his fingers, rubbing it to increase your desire. You sigh heavily as he presses with his cock and starts to plunge into you.

The pressure on the walls is pleasant and not painful at all. Jungkook takes his hand off your clit and pulls up the top of your pajamas to see your breasts. He plunges into you all the way and turns to adjust to your body.

He leans down to your chest and kisses the other breast that was neglected today. He swirls his tongue around, pressing pleasantly on your nipple. He continues kissing your breast, squeezing the flesh with his hand and start to move. The friction immediately gives you bliss. His cock inside you is always feeling like euphoria.

You feel slightly dizzy as he intense his movements and deepens his thrusts. He leans against your body as much as possible, so that he can go deeper into you, reaching the edges of your uterus.

You wrap your arms around his neck, scratching his skin a little as he finds the spot that gives you the most pleasure. Jungkook kisses you hard, sometimes biting your plump lips.

"Is that good?" - He wheezes as he drives his cock into you.

"Divine." - You breathe out. Your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are drawn together. You feel so good. Your orgasm builds with every thrust of Jungkook's hips. He hits your G-spot. But you need to warn Jungkook that you're not on the pill. He mustn't cum inside you again.

"Kook..." - You call out to him. You open your eyes and see beads of sweat covering his face.

"Are you coming soon, love?" - He asks. You are definitely on the verge of orgasm. The friction of his cock against your walls drives you into a frenzy.

"Yes, but..." - You don't get a chance to speak because Jungkook increases his pace just enough to bring you to a wave of bliss. Your walls clench around his cock and you come with a long moan. It doesn't take long for Jungkook to reach his high either. In a moment, he comes in your vagina.

Jungkook stops when he stops jerking inside you completely. You lick your dry lips and open your eyes, but you have to close them almost immediately because Jungkook is kissing you.

Jungkook kisses you with such tenderness that your heart momentarily forgets about your anxiety. His breathing is still heavy, his warm breath enveloping your face. He pulls away from your lips and touches your forehead, looking directly into your eyes.

"You're just incredible." - He whispers softly, smoothing your hair with his palm. But instead of feeling calm, you realize that the words you were trying to say earlier have remained unspoken.

"Kook..." - You begin, gently touching his shoulder. He looks up, slightly surprised by the change in your tone. "I... I don't take birth control pills. I haven't taken them since we broke up." - His eyes widen, and you can read a slight concern in them. He leans closer, his face taking on a serious expression.

"Are you... serious? Why did you stop drinking them? You should have kept going." - Jungkook says. You just nod silently, feeling a sea of emotions stirring inside you.

"I tried to tell you, but you..." - You smile slightly.

"Well, it doesn't mean you'll get pregnant right away. You must go pee. Later we'll go to the pharmacy to get some medicine." - Jungkook reassures you. You nod in agreement.

"Okay. But maybe you shouldn't come inside me so often. Maybe we should use condoms sometimes?" - You suggest. Jungkook is still inside you. You move your legs so they stop shaking. Jungkook leans over and speaks with authority, unhappy with your suggestion.

"I don't want to wear a condom because I want to feel you. It's your fault for letting me do it so early." - His voice is soft but firm. You roll your eyes a little, trying not to give in to the emotions he's stirring up.

"Hey, I let you because I wanted to feel you too. But I didn't think you'd come inside me all the time. Any contraception does not guarantee a hundred percent result. It's risky. We can't always do this. But if you're so persistent, then you have to be prepared for the consequences." - You say. Jungkook looks at you, and his lips stretch into a slight, almost cocky smile.

"I am ready for any consequences that include you. But I'm not ready to give up feeling you for who you are." - He says and finally pulls out of you. Jungkook lies down next to you, pulling you into his arms and covers you both with a blanket.

Your cheeks start to burn, but you pretend to stay calm.

"You sound like you want me to get pregnant with you." - You assume, lifting your head to see his face. His smile grows wider, and he leans in slightly to kiss you on the lips.

"You think? If it's baby from you, I don't mind." - Jungkook says.

"Jungkook, don't talk like that! We're not ready for that kind of thing yet." - You gasp and jokingly hit him on the shoulder.

"Who says I'm not ready?" - His tone is gentler, but you can sense that there's more to his words. You raise an eyebrow, looking at him with a slight smile.

"I don't think we're in the right place to have kids." - You say carefully. "Let's hurry to the pharmacy and get some breakfast. I'm so hungry." - You suggest, sitting down. Jungkook hums and tilts his head slightly as he watches you fix your hair and reach for the blanket to cover yourself. His gaze slides down your body, and he smiles, barely able to contain his pleasure.

"You're hungry, you say? I thought you got everything you wanted." - He jokes, referring to your recent sex.

You blush and throw a pillow at him.

"You fool! I meant the food, not that!" - Jungkook catches the pillow and laughs, leaning closer to kiss your forehead again.

"Okay, okay, food is food. But I definitely don't mind repeating what happened before. You're driving me crazy." - He confesses. God, this man. He is your undoing. You smile slyly, answering with a playful tone.

"Well, you'd better be careful, or you'll drive me to a hungry faint." - You say. He gets up from the bed and reaches for his boxers, keeping his eyes on you.

"God forbid. I don't want you to complain to me that I left you without energy. So let's go take a shower, and let's go have breakfast." - Jungkook says. You stand up with a smile, tying your robe around your waist.

"You're right. If I don't eat in half an hour, I'll eat your brains with a teaspoon." - You joke. Jungkook smiles, turning you around and kissing you softly on the neck.

"Your hungry soul is my responsibility. Now let's go before you start threatening me even more." - You both shower, get dressed, and within a few minutes you're out of the apartment holding hands, ready to spend the morning together.

Jungkook's Mercedes crosses the Yeongsan Bridge, which offers a wide view of the Han River. The sun had already risen and was gently caressing your face from one side. The cabin was silent, diluted only by the soft sound of the engine and the music from the radio.

You sat leaning on the armrest, watching the sun's rays reflect off the metal structures of the bridge. But this picture awakened an unpleasant memory.

Your heart clenched at the flash of memory: that terrible night when you had a fight with Jungkook and were kidnapped on this very bridge. Cold, fear, screams, and a sense of hopelessness filled your mind. It was a terrible ending to the old year and an even worse beginning to the new.

You blinked hard, trying to drive these thoughts away, and turned your gaze to the sun. It was rising above the horizon, promising a new day and perhaps new opportunities. You felt warm and calm in the car, as if this journey was erasing your worries. And despite all the horror and suffering you had experienced in the first month of the new year, you were now with Jungkook and you were not going to part with him again.

Jungkook, silent, looked from the road to your face. He reached out and gently touched your thigh. You looked down at his hand and did not hesitate to cover it with your own. Your fingers intertwined with his, and Jungkook squeezed them tightly, as if to say: "I'm here for you. You don't have to be afraid of anything."

You smiled and tilted your head, touching his shoulder. Then you suddenly remembered that you hadn't taken the pills you had bought before the trip. Pulling out a bottle of water and a blister, you quickly swallowed the emergency contraceptive, and Jungkook noticed and gave you a sly look.

"I guess you didn't have to do that." - He says, holding back a half-smile. You freeze with the bottle by your mouth and look at him angrily, raising an eyebrow.

"You mean you don't have to? Drink the medicine or something?" - You clarify. Jungkook looks in the side mirrors to overtake the car in front of him. You wait patiently for his answer.

"Yeah. You know, I wouldn't mind becoming a father this year." - He replies. Jungkook's voice was casual, but he had that mischievous glint in his eye. Your heart skipped a beat, the thought of Jungkook getting you pregnant, made you terrified and excited at the same time. You can't get pregnant, not now. Because you're still studying, your parents don't know about your relationship, and after all, Jungkook is a member of the mafia and his life is troubled. It's not a good time to get pregnant.

"Jungkook!" - You shouted, punching his shoulder. "Never joke about such things. It's like joking about the police or fines. So don't do it again!" - You finish by pointing your finger at Jungkook's face. He laughs gutturally.

"Come on, baby, it was just a joke. But I'm not against fatherhood." - Jungkook said. You snort in frustration, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Which fatherhood? Our parents don't even know we're dating." - You said. Jungkook looked at you.

"Is that a problem? Let's tell them." - He suggests in a completely casual voice. You turn your head sharply at him.

"Tell them?" - You ask again, as if you thought he wasn’t suggesting it.

"Yes." - He confirms his words. "We'll say you're pregnant so we can get married." - Jungkook says seriously, and you freeze with your mouth open. But when he starts laughing, you can't help but poke him in the shoulder angrily.

"Are you crazy? Why are you talking like that? I told you not to joke about it!!!" - You almost shout. Jungkook is amused by your anger. But to be honest, what he said sounded so intriguing.

"Okay, okay, I won't do it again." - Jungkook was protecting himself of your beatings. You stopped hitting him when he assured you. "But I'm serious, let's tell them. How about we go to their place for the weekend?" - He suggests. You breathe heavily, irritated by his behavior. But your boyfriend's serious tone and suggestion calms you down.

"That sounds good. Will you have a free weekend?" - You ask, but your voice is still a little sharp.

"Yes. Besides, I promised my mom I'd come back after the new year." - Jungkook confirms. You relax, and think you like his offer. It will be a great relief to finally tell your and his parents about your relationship. Because your friends seem to know you're dating anyway.

Jungkook parks the car in front of the elegant “Noir Brunch” sign, which stands out unobtrusively among the architecture of the not-so-wide street in Itaewon.

The café looks restrained but statusy: dark wood doors, gold accents on the sign, soft light coming through the large windows, which are covered with heavy velvet curtains. Morning silence reigns around, with only a light rustle of wind adding a sense of mystery.

"I think you'll like this place. They say it has the best French toast in town." - Jungkook says, turning to you and smiling.

You go inside, and the atmosphere of the cafe immediately envelops you in comfort. The interior is decorated with dark leather sofas, polished wood tables, dim light from pendant lamps, and a light aroma of coffee mixed with hints of cinnamon. Black-and-white photographs and noir-style posters line the walls.

The hostess, a tall man in an impeccable suit, greets you with a polite smile and gestures for you to follow him. You don't notice that before you are led to a table, Jungkook waves at the hostess to not emphasize his presence. But you weren't so dumb as to notice the word “Noir” in the name of the cafe and draw parallels, realizing that this is one of the establishments owned by Namjoon.

You are led to a table by a panoramic window. The soft sofa perfectly supports your back, creating a feeling of comfort. Junguk sits down next to you, clearly not wanting to be far away from you. You open the menu to place your order. The waiter who came to your table a moment ago. A young guy, about your age. He greets you and is ready to write down your order.

You order two croissants for yourself, opting out of French toast when you see the menu with an assortment of croissants that you love. You choose a salty croissant with ricotta and truffle oil and a chocolate croissant with butter. You also ordered a large cappuccino. Jungkook ordered eggs benedict with smoked salmon. To go with his cappuccino, he orders chocolate French toast, which you read is on the menu, served with ice cream and chocolate mousse pieces. Jungkook loves chocolate, and having known him for so long, you're not surprised at all by his choice of dessert.

While you wait for your order, you relax on the couch. Your head leans back and you look around.

The cafe is crowded. The waiters are in a hurry to bring out their orders. People occupy almost every table. It seems to be an elegant audience, those who like quiet conversations and classic aesthetics. This place is popular, it is immediately clear.

In one corner, you notice a couple talking with cautious smiles, sometimes casting glances at each other that betray hidden passion. Your eyes involuntarily return to Jungkook, who is sitting next to them. He is typing a message to someone.

You look at his handsome face and feel butterflies in your stomach. All your insides are fluttering at the thought of telling your parents about your relationship. You think they'll be happy, but you're still nervous for some reason.

Jungkook feels eyes on him and turns to look up at you. You don't have time to look away, thinking about your own and are instantly caught red-handed. You smile innocently, and Jungkook squints his eyes suspiciously.

"Doing it again? Admiring me?" - He asks playfully. So that's exactly what you were doing.

"I was trying to figure out if that's a new mole on your face or not." - You lie, so he won't know that you were really admiring him. Jungkook bursts out laughing. You find yourself smiling after him.

"Why are you such a little liar, baby?" - Jungkook asks you as he approaches you dangerously. He touches his nose to your jaw, running it along. You immediately shiver. Your pulse quickens, but you try to remain calm, even though you feel all the changed details of the world around you in his proximity.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't do that in public..." - You say. Jungkook kisses your earlobe and you flinch. He puts his hand on your thigh, which is not visible at the table. He moves his hand to your fly. You immediately grab his hand, not letting him continue. Jungkook pulls away from your earlobe and whispers, burning your skin.

"I want everyone to see that you're mine." - He says. You turn your head to him, and your lips are separated by a couple of centimeters. Jungkook's eyes fall to your lips and he literally holds on with his last strength not to kiss you.

"Why would you show this to anyone?" - You ask, lowering your voice. He becomes seductive.

"I don't know. I want all the assholes who look at you to see that they don't have a chance." - He replies, looking at your lips again. You laugh softly.

"What assholes? No one was looking at me when we walked in here." - You say.

"You just didn't pay attention. But I saw everything" - Jungkook tells you. You raise your eyebrows and pinch the corner of your mouth.

"Your jealousy is a turn-on." - You say. Jungkook laughs out loud. He takes your chin with his index finger and thumb and squeezes it lightly.

"Careful what you say, love. Don't make me drag you to the car to fuck your tight pussy for the second time tonight." - He says low. Now you're definitely turned on. How can Junguk influence you so easily? You smile, holding back your excitement, even though the throbbing between your legs has been there for a long time.

Jungkook kisses your lips anyway. He even pushes his tongue into your mouth, intertwining his own with yours. You can barely contain your moaning into his mouth and are nervous that you are sitting in a cafe and might be made fun of. They're not going to do that, are they?

Jungkook pulls away faster than you thought. He smiles right into your lips and then lets go, sitting up straight. He sniffles through his nose.

Just a moment later, a waiter comes to your table and brings your order. You overcome the hurricane that Jungkook's kiss has been building in your midsection and start eating. Only when the food is in front of your eyes do you really realize how hungry you are.

You take a sip of coffee, unable to resist its enticing aroma.

You hear your phone vibrate and see a message from Doohoon. Last night and this morning you experienced so many emotions that it feels like a lifetime. And you have completely forgotten about Doohoon.

You cast a cautious glance at Jungkook. He nonchalantly puts a piece of salmon in his mouth and checks his phone. You pick up yours and open the message.

10.01 AM | Doohoon: Good morning candy 😉 I'm picking you up around 8pm tonight. You promised we'd have dinner. Of course I won't accept any excuses. Even if the world ends, we will go to dinner with you 🙃

You immediately frown and unconsciously click your tongue. You really promised him. While reading the message, you didn't notice that Jungkook was looking at you the whole time. He noticed that someone had written to you. He sees your expression and tenses up. Is it easy to guess who wrote to you?

"Is something wrong, baby?" - Jungkook asks while chewing. You put the phone down as if to hide it, but you're not going to hide anything. You take a deep breath and put the phone down on the table.

"No." - You say short. Jungkook doesn't take his eyes off you, because he sees that you're going to keep talking. You take another sip of coffee and then speak. "When we weren't talking, Doohoon was always there for me. Then when he saved me in the warehouse...." - Jungkook grunted when he hears you say that he saved you. You raise your eyebrows and look at him with a question.

"It's okay, go ahead." - Jungkook tells you quickly.

"What did I say that was funny?" - You clarify.

"Just keep saying what you wanted to say. Later I'll tell you why I did it." - Jungkook replies. You look unhappy for a moment and then continue.

"Since then, he's been around me all the time, bothering me." - You continue. You don't notice how nervous Jungkook is. He looks down at his plate and continues eating. "He wants to be a friends. Of course, I didn't accept his friendship, but he didn't listen to me. By the way, he helped me find an apartment. Yesterday, he pressed me and invited me to dinner..." - Jungkook turns his head sharply to you, and he doesn't look annoyed, but he very much is. His eyebrows fly up, and he waits for you to continue. You look at your boyfriend awkwardly, and you really want to ask him what you should do. "That was before you came. So don't even look at me like that." - You say, feeling Jungkook's tension.

"How do I look at you?" - Jungkook wonders, smiling.

"As if I want to go with him." - You reply, offended.

"Do you?" - Jungkook asks. You glare at him fiercely. What kind of stupid question is that?

"Obviously not. But I've made many excuses. Today he wrote and said he doesn't accept excuses anymore. I don't know what to do..." - You say, asking Jungkook to tell you. But he doesn't say anything. He just smiles and goes back to eating breakfast. You stare at him in confusion. He should be throwing a tantrum, telling you that you shouldn't hang out with this bastard, but he's indifferently chewing on his smoked salmon.

You turn back to your plate and want to start eating breakfast, but you're annoyed that Jungkook hasn't said anything to you. You pick up the ricotta’s croissant and then throw it back on the plate.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" - You don't hold back.

"What am I supposed to say?" - He asks without turning to you. "Should I give you advice to have a dinner with him or not?" - Jungkook does turn to you. You are breathing nervously.

"At least. Because seems you don't care if I go to dinner with him or not." - You state. Jungkook throws his fork on the plate. It doesn't fall hard, but the sound of the impact is loud enough. Jungkook leans toward you, lowering his voice.

"What makes you think I don't care? You are a self-sufficient person and you have to make your own decision. I don't want to influence you." - Jungkook explains. You soften after hearing his words, but you're still not satisfied for some reason.

"I was expecting you to forbid me, as you always do. And then you suddenly thought I could make my own decisions." - You sneer. Jungkook quickly rolls her eyes, and you notice.

"I've always remembered that. Don't think that if Doohoon 'saved' you..." - He puts the word 'saved' in quotes and continues. "That he's no standing dangerous for you." - You analyze Jungkook's words, and something disturbing comes to mind. You remember how Doohoon threatened to show you his "true face" in the car and realize that Jungkook is probably right. Of course, you won't tell your boyfriend about it.

"If he's dangerous, even though I still don't understand why, should I don’t go to dinner with him?" - You ask. Jungkook is nervous, darts his eyes between yours and looks away.

"Whatever you want." - He says. You exhale nervously. You remain silent, going back to your food. You taste your croissant, and for some reason you don't like it. Jungkook finishes his egg and moves on to the chocolate toast. You see that he is still tense.

"I don't want to go. I really don't want to go." - You say sincerely and desperately, breaking the heavy silence between you. Jungkook looks at you and there is something warm and familiar in his eyes. He smiles out of the corner of his mouth.

"Then don't go." - He suggests. But you realize that you need to meet Doohoon. You need to tell him that you've made up with Jungkook and maybe beg him to leave you alone.

"He's not going to leave me alone, I just thought..." - You want to tell Jungkook what you think about talking nicely, but he interrupts.

"Should I kill him? So he'll leave you alone and you won't have to worry?" - Jungkook suggests. You instantly freeze. He doesn't sound like he's joking.

"No. Jungkook! I'm serious, let's not joke!" - You say. Jungkook looks you in the eye seriously.

"You think I'm joking now?" - He raises one eyebrow.

"Jungkook!!!" - You hiss. "You don't have to kill anyone. I wanted to tell you that maybe we should do the opposite."

"What do we mean the opposite?" - Jungkook doesn't understand.

"I mean, maybe we should explain everything to him in a nice way, and then he will realize that he has no chance and maybe he will calm down?" - You finish your thought. Jungkook presses his lips together in displeasure. You look at his mole under his lip, which immediately catches your attention.

"You can try. But I don't think it will work." - Jungkook says honestly.

"It's worth a try. I believe I can do it. I'll explain everything to him, tell him I love you, and no matter what he does, I'll not be able to reciprocate." - You say softly. Jungkook takes your hand in his and kisses your palm. He's happy to hear that you love him, but he doesn't like your idea.

"I don't know, baby. I wouldn't want you to go, but if you think you need to talk to them, then do it." - Jungkook supports your decision, like it or not. Now you are completely satisfied with his decision.

It is cool and damp outside. The sun has long since set, and you don't know where the fog came from, hiding the tops of the high-rise buildings in a thick sheet.

A gray Volvo parked nearby your driveway immediately catches your eye. You take a deep breath and exhale and open the car door with determination.

Doohoon greets you with a tired smile. You sit down next to him on the seat and smile back at him.

"Hi, candy." - He greets you and moves from his seat, looking you up and down. You were wearing simple black jeans with many pockets and a burgundy short jacket. You had a long, high ponytail tied back on your head.

"Hi." - You say briefly. You stare at the road in front of you, ignoring the view of Doohoon.

"How are you?" - He asks shortly. You tense up at his soft voice.

"Fine. How are you?" - You ask out of politeness.

"Seeing you made me feel better. I have a lot of work to do right now. A little overwhelmed to be honest." - Doohoon replies, and you tense up even more. Your shoulders are aching with tension.

"Let's go to Sambaek House, a restaurant a block away. I want samgyopsal, I haven't had it in so long." - You suggest, ignoring Doohoon's words. He purses his lips.

"I thought we were going to go to a European restaurant. You are a fan of it. I even made a reservation." - He sounds a little disappointed.

"But I'm not dressed for a restaurant at all. I wrote you that I was at the university and I don’t have a time to got dressed just before you arrived. And besides, I'm dying to eat some roast pork." - You're lying. In fact, you've been home all day after you and Jungkook had breakfast and he had to leave for business. You also chose the restaurant where you wanted to eat pork for a reason. It was a very popular place in Guro-gu, the neighborhood where you live now. It was crowded and close to your home. The perfect place for you to talk to Doohoon.

Doohoon changes the route. He realizes that if he doesn't listen to you, you will feel uncomfortable. So he agrees.

"Okay, candy, your wish is law."

You arrive quickly because it's literally just down the street. You barely find an open table and make yourself comfortable. You order two large portions of rice, plates of raw meat-marinated and unmarinated, kimchi, binnamul (soybean sprouts), and pickled radish. And of course, lettuce and sesame seeds, without which any samgyopsal is not as tasty. Finally, you order a bottle of beer and glasses of soju.

You don't wait long. In just a minute, you're served meat, rice, and Korean salads. You start eating kimchi with rice, and Doohoon starts grilling the meat. He's dressed up and looks like a real drama guy, so the looks of the half-drunk girls who come to this restaurant after work are too frank to ignore. But he does. Because he's only interested in you.

You have a small talk and you feel awkward. You haven't really spent much time with Doohoon since he showed up before the new year. Before that, you hadn't spoken to him in three years, and he was the second person you didn't want to get to know. Doohoon, on the other hand, craved your attention and wanted to know everything about you, but you skillfully hid everything from him. Of course, not taking into account the facts that he learned about you without your knowledge. In short, he knew everything about you, and you thought he knew nothing.

After eating a little and drinking one glass of beer with the roast pork, you finally decided to talk to Doohoon about why you agreed to come to this dinner. You took a sip of the beer Doohoon poured you and cleared your throat.

"Doohoon, there's something I really wanted to talk to you about." - You say softly. Doohoon looks up at you as he continues to grill the pork. He looks at you for a long few seconds, wondering what you'd like to talk about, and finally answers.

"Yes, candy. I'm listening to you." - He says, shouting a little over the meat's sizzling and the voices around him. You shift in your chair, not knowing why you're nervous. You shouldn't be afraid to tell Doohoon about you and Jungkook.

"I made up with Jungkook." - You start. You don't expect Doohoon to drop the tongs for meat. The metal hitting the grill makes you flinch. Doohoon almost instantly picks them up and leans closer.

"I'm sorry, they just slipped out of my hands. I didn't hear what you said, repeat it. People are talking so loud." - He's lying. In fact, he did hear what you said. He just can't get his ears to stop banging. He has to make sure you said what he heard first. You smile nervously and repeat.

"I made up with Jungkook. I realized that I love him and I can't live without him. So I accept him as he is." - You pause briefly and continue. "I'm sorry about this, but Doohoon it’s the main reason I won't be able to respond to your feelings. So please forgive me, and don't misunderstand me. I love Jungkook and he loves me. We are dating. Knowing how bad your relationship is, I don't want you to continue to fight because of me, so I think it's only logical that we don't have to communicate anymore." - You finally finish your thought. Doohoon, who had been grilling the meat the whole time and not looking at you, put down his chopsticks and took a drink of beer. He looked up at you and smiled.

"How long ago did you make up?" - He asked. You stared intently into his face. He definitely didn't know that you made up with Jungkook because he was surprised.

"Yesterday. It happened yesterday." - You admit. Doohoon nods his head and purses his lips.

"So you accept who he is because you love him?" - Doohoon clarifies for himself. You can hear your heart beating fast in your chest. You shouldn't be nervous, but for some reason you are, and you can't figure out why.

"Yes. I love him." - You say, unable to hold back a slight smile.

These words are like the sharpest knife for Doohoon, cutting his heart in half. He boils in the middle, but remains completely calm. Doohoon takes a few more sips of beer, longer ones, and puts the glass on the table.

You've upset him. You pissed him off. You fucking pissed him off. He's furious on and wants to just smash this table, this restaurant, and the whole world for being you so stupid and in love with Jungkook.

He tried his best to make Jungkook look bad to you, but you're blind. You don't see what Doohoon sees. And he sees Jungkook's true face, and it's a clear, vile, dangerous creature who doesn't deserve to touch you, let alone be around you.

You deserve better than that. You deserve stability, protection, peace. You deserve it. And instead you choose... this. His blood boils at the thought.

He scans your face in silence, your smile that you don't even try to hide when you talk about that bastard. Doohoon knows that if he lets his emotions run wild now, everything will go to hell. So he just picks up the tongs again, tosses the meat on the grill, and pretends to listen to you calmly.

"I understand you." - He finally says. "And I will respect your choice. But I have a request for you. A small one." - He clarifies. And you tense up again because you're afraid you can't fulfill this request.

"What is it?" - You ask cautiously.

"I don't want to stop being your friend. You know our history of friendship is also very long. So I'm asking you to let me write to you sometimes to see how you are doing. And sometimes we can meet to just eat together, like today." - Doohoon asks you, smiling, so that you can be sure of his "good" intentions. But you don't answer right away. You look at him distantly. As usual, you can't believe him right away. But soon your trust will not matter because you will be his anyway. Whether you want to be or not.

"I don't know, Doohoon. I don't want to hide anything from Jungkook. So let me discuss it with him and I let you know." - you say. Doohoon laughs in frustration.

"Then it's doomed to fail right away." - He says, as he piles more meat on your plate.

"You think?" - You ask.

"He obviously hates me. Have you forgotten when he put a gun to my head?" - Doohoon says as if by accident. And you instantly freeze. Your fingers grip the chopsticks a little harder than necessary.

Memories of that moment pierce through you, making your heart beat loudly. You remember that day. How everything turned to chaos.

"I remember, but he wasn't himself then..." - You try to justify Jungkook. You're interrupted by Doohoon.

"Candy, there's no point in saying whether he was himself or not. It's a fact that he's a gangster and you're the only one who has to live with it, because you chose him. If you manage to convince him that I'm just a friend and I want you to be okay, I'll be happy. If not, then that's the way it will be." - Doohoon says. You look at him and something unpleasant settles in your heart. You don't want Doohoon in your life, and that's a fact. But in order to appease him, to make him less of a nuisance, you must now try to persuade Jungkook.

Doohoon puts the meat on the grill again, turning the conversation to something mundane. He realizes that there's only one way to win you over, and that's to destroy Jungkook. But he has to think carefully about how to do it. He has to come up with a new, more effective plan. And now he won't be acting through you, but through Namjoon, who won't forgive him so easily like you did.

Doohoon looks at you as you tell him about the topic of your thesis, but his thoughts are far from reality.

"You have no idea how close I am to changing everything." - He thinks. You smile, and he stares into your face, mesmerized. Jungkook doesn't deserve you. That's why you have to be his. You're the reason for Doohoon’s existence.

↰ Previous chapter ⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

[netherfeildren]

For weeks my anons have been off because I was getting the most god awful messages in my inbox threatening and harassing me. I turned them back on about an hour ago and this is the first thing I get which means whoever this is has been watching all of my socials and checking the status of my inbox continuously.

This is turning into too much for me to handle privately and I'm at a loss on how to deal with this faceless person who quite obviously hates me and is holding some sort of personal grudge. not only are you threatening my work with AI, but the messages are so full of vile hatred it feels deeply personal and a wishful threat to my own safety. I let myself be run off this space before, I've tried to pull back and change the way I presented myself and I've stopped engaging with the fandom at large. but the bottom line is that there is such an intense issue of misogyny in this fandom that it's sort of insupportable to even exist in this space as a woman. you can't enjoy yourself, you can't be silly or talk about sex or make jokes or show any sort of honesty about the uglier parts of yourself without being demeaned or ostracized or judged, not even through the conduit of your own fictional writing. it's always the same, it never changes no matter how many stupid posts filled with empty pleading we writers make for respect or consideration or boundaries. this is literally exhausting.

my work isn't going to appeal to everyone and that's fine with me because the only person I'm writing for is myself. I write the specific kinks that are specifically compelling to me, in the specific way I find interesting. this isn't ever going to change. my writing style is never going to change unless I want it to. get over it. there's nothing you can do about that either.

feed my work to AI I don't even care anymore. no matter what you say to me or how you try and bastardize my own talent it won't cure your own rottenness or make you any less cruel and untalented.

[gilverrwrites]

😸 and 😴for poly boostle please? Love your writing, I literally check your blog every morning!

and:⛓️👄🚨 for Booster Gold and Ted Kord please? 😊 Either both separately or them together to form a throuple with reader, whichever you prefer!

😺 how they eat the pussy

Ted will happily let you sit on his face for hours, lazily dragging his tongue between your folds with a dreamy look in his eye. He doesn’t care if he’s red in the face and living off nothing but your pussy juices, it’s heaven to him. Booster, while he does have fun, isn’t as enamoured. He enjoys eating you out, he loves the coy look of anticipation you get when he holds your slit apart with two fingers, he loves the way you jerk and twitch when he fucks you with his tongue and nuzzles his nose against your clit, but he can only go the distance if he’s touching himself at the same time.

So sometimes you and Ted like to make a game of it. You straddle Booster's face, reverse cowgirl style, arms pinned under your legs and your ride his mouth, while Ted bounces on his cock. The catch of course being that anytime Booster's lips begin to waiver, anytime he stops, anytime he gets distracted by the feeling of his cock being buried balls deep inside Ted, or anytime you grow dissatisfied with his level of enthusiasm, Ted stops, full sandbag style, and doesn’t move again until your eyes are in the back of your head.

😴 falling asleep after sex

It’s literally a dog pile with these men. Theres a lot of switchy-ness going on, a lot of positions at play, and a lot of nonsense that leads to you all staying up way later than you should be given how tired you all are, so it tends to be a case of just sleeping where you fall once you hit the bed. Although, Booster does favour being in the middle, and he will wrestle you for it if he has the energy.

⛓️ kinky headcanon

Booster is the kinkier of the two. In the future, kink and the culture around sex is a lot more open and freer to explore without judgment, so he has a better understanding of things and less shame around asking for them.

That being said, Ted is the more dominant. Of course, it’s all negotiable, as a healthy kinky relationship should be, but Ted is the one who ultimately calls the shots, deciding when and where you’ll act out scenes or enforcing rules and repercussions so that you and Booster don’t waste the day away fucking like rabbits and getting nothing else done.

It’s torture for him, more often than not he wants to rip his suit off and get in there with you both, but it's rewarding too; when he exercises self-restraint as well as keeping you both in line.

👄 making out headcanon

Making out with Ted whiles Booster cock threaded between your mouths 😍cough cough hm who? What?

There’s a very specific image ingrained in Ted's mind of you and Booster making out. Like a mental snapshot, one he took early in your relationship.

JLI business in Europe had led you to Paris and a very rare day off allowed you all to go out for a boozy brunch, which had turned to lunch, then dinner, then drinks, before you’d all agreed to head back to the bureau. It was on the walk back that you and Booster started getting giggly and handsy, stopping every few feet to lock lips with him or each other, until you’d ended up on a dimly lit, low-populated street. The gold of Booster's hair was stark against the red brick wall behind him, his cheeks were pink laughter and beer. And you, you were glowing under the hazy lights, lips curved into a brilliant smile before Booster leaned in lock his mouth onto yours. In the moment he’d been itching to be a part of the embrace, but looking back he’s glad he saw it from that angle, like a scene from a rom-com or something, one he plays back a million times over when he’s working solo and missing you both.

🚨 sex that sent me to the ER headcanon

DP can be immensely pleasurable and gratifying when done right, like a hard rest button deep inside you. Unfortunately, things don’t always go right when you’re exploring and trying things for the first time. Things aren’t always comfortable either, especially not to begin with which is why you gave them the green light to do deeper, even though you felt like you were being torn apart from the inside.

You were fine of course, nothing that couldn’t be resolved with rest, painkillers, and anti-inflammatories, but when you suddenly started whining in pain and announced “I think I’m bleeding” quite a bit of panic ensued.

Things were a lot slower, and cautious the next time.

Smut emoji prompt requests are now closed.

[sansaorgana]

— THE LUCKIEST MAN IN BOSTON

🚨 This fanfic is a repost from 15 May 2022 from my different blog. I kept the Author's Note and everything from the fic the same as it was back then.

PAIRING — Jack Nelson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Jack’s wife is pregnant with their second child while little Maggie is jealous and Gina acts rudely as always. Thankfully, their evening is not completely ruined.

AUTHOR’S NOTE [15 May 2022] — It’s basically a part two of “Welcome Home, Daddy” but can be read as a one-shot, too. I’ve told you back then that I love little Maggie Nelson and I’m gonna make it everybody’s problem 😝 This was my first time ever writing smut with a pregnant Reader so thanks to @violaobanion for encouraging me to treat it as a challenge lol Starts with fluff but ends with filth lmao

WARNINGS — pregnant Reader, soft dom Jack, oral sex

WORD COUNT — 3,260

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE LUCKIEST MAN IN BOSTON

Maggie was running around the living room with Laurence and a white little kitten she had gotten recently from her father as a gift. Her name was Lady and she had a pink ribbon tied around her neck like a real cat princess.

“Be careful, that’s not a toy!” you scolded them and sat down on the sofa next to Jack, caressing your bump that had just started to show recently.

Gina sipped on her wine and looked at you from the corner of her eye with lots of contempt and jealousy at the same time. Her dress was black as she was in mourning but you didn’t pity her. She didn’t look very sad and rumor had it she was already sleeping with other men.

You only pitied little Laurence that he would grow up without a father after Michael’s death. And of course you pitied Michael himself – he was always nice to you and to Maggie. But Michael was a name you’d rather not mention around Jack. He was still angry at Gina’s late husband for fucking up an important operation that caused him some trouble in Boston.

“So, Jack,” she started in that annoying voice of hers and looked at you both, “you must be hoping it’s gonna be a boy this time?”

“Well, would be nice but I’m not picky,” he shrugged his arms and you smirked at Gina. “That’s enough!” He pointed his finger at the children and they froze before looking at him. “Bring that poor cat over here, you’re maltreating her.”

“We’re just playing, daddy!” Maggie picked the kitten up and brought it to him.

“She’s tired, Maggie, don’t you see?” he asked in a much softer voice now.

You melted at the sight of a small kitten in his big hand. Lady yawned and Maggie giggled before sitting next to her father on the sofa and looking at him playing with her cat.

Laurence approached Gina and whined about something but she only rolled her eyes.

“Come here, darling,” you encouraged him to sit on your lap and he ran up to you with sparkles in his eyes before jumping on your legs and sitting on your lap. You fixed his dark blond hair and kissed the top of his head as he cuddled you.

“Be careful, Laurence, you don’t want to squeeze aunt (Y/N) too tight now,” Gina scolded him with sarcasm in her voice.

“It’s alright, he’s not squeezing me,” you decided to play dumb and ignored her irony.

“Daddy, she’s so small,” Maggie pressed her cheek to Jack’s arm and sighed while watching her kitten biting on her father’s fingers. “Can’t she stay that small forever?”

“I know what you mean, dollie,” Jack chuckled. “You used to be as small as her, you know?”

“No way!” Maggie’s eyes widened.

“Yes, yes, you were just as small. But you were in mommy’s belly back then just like your brother or sister is now,” Jack explained and Laurence looked down at your bump before pressing his little hand there.

“I can’t wait for the baby to come out, daddy,” Maggie batted her eyelashes.

“Oh, really?” Gina snorted suddenly and everyone looked at her.

“What do you mean, aunt Gina?” Maggie squealed.

“Once this baby is born, you will no longer be your parent’s favorite girl, don’t you know?” Gina explained with a smirk.

“That is not true…!” you tried to protest but Maggie burst into tears already.

“Margaret…” Jack tried to calm her down after giving Gina a dirty look.

“I don’t want them to be born then! I don’t!” your daughter cried and ran out of the room as your heart broke.

“Why did you say that?” Jack put the sleepy kitten on the empty seat next to him and confronted his niece.

“She should start getting used to that.”

“But it’s not true!” you gasped as Jack stood up to leave the living room and follow your daughter. Laurence started to fall asleep with his head in the crook of your neck as you were caressing his back in a soothing manner.

“Newborn babies require more attention than five year olds. It’s obvious you will spend more time with the new child,” Gina rolled her eyes and finished her glass of wine.

“Well, we were supposed to have a talk with her about that the other day but thank you very much,” you gritted your teeth. “We wanted to say it in a different way. I guess now we don’t have to at all.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now you’re being insolent,” you pointed out and she shrugged her arms. “Really, you’re being a bitch, Gina.”

She gasped and put the empty wine glass down before standing up and approaching you with extended hands.

“Give me my son back, (Y/N). You can’t use such language with him in the room.”

“It’s Aunt (Y/N) to you, sweetie,” you batted your eyelashes and handed her Laurence back carefully.

Gina let out a snort and took Laurence from you. That was when Jack came back inside while holding Maggie’s hand. Your daughter’s face was wet from tears and she was rubbing her left eye with her free hand.

“What’s happening?” your husband sensed the mood immediately.

“Oh, nothing, uncle Jack. Aunt (Y/N) is using bad language around Laurence, that’s all,” Gina pretended to sound sweet and took a few steps back.

“I don’t want to hear anything about it,” he shook his head while making a serious face. Jack had never liked you and Gina having fights. “Maggie, now be a good girl, dollie,” he looked down and Maggie nodded before running up to you and cuddling your waist before pressing her cheek to your bump.

“I’m sorry, mommy, I’m so sorry for what I’ve said!” she cried. “Baby, I’m sorry, too!” she nuzzled her face into your belly even further.

“Such a drama queen,” you chuckled and caressed her ruffled hair. “It’s okay, dollie, I’m accepting your apology.”

“And the baby?” she looked up with puppy eyes and sniffled.

“The baby, too. Now, what made you change your mind?”

“Daddy told me I made you sad,” she looked down, embarrassed.

“It doesn’t matter now, darling. And it’s late today, you should go to bed now. But tomorrow we’ll talk about the baby, okay?” you lifted her chin up gently. “We have to explain a few things.”

“About you not loving me anymore?” her lower lip trembled.

“Margaret, stop,” you scolded her. “We are never going to stop loving you, my little princess. Now, say goodnight to Aunt Gina and Laurence and go upstairs,” you pinched her cheek and she smiled.

“Goodnight, Aunt Gina. Goodnight, Laurence,” Maggie waved her hand at them. “Goodnight, mommy. Goodnight, daddy,” she kissed your cheeks and went upstairs with sleeping Lady and the maid already waiting for her by the door.

“I'm going home,” Gina said.

“You’re not staying over for the night?” Jack poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat down on the couch next to you, putting his arm around you. “We can tell the maid to prepare the room for you and Laurence.”

“No. I have a meeting. Laurence will be put to sleep and I’m going out,” Gina explained.

“With who?” you asked and she clenched her jaw.

“With a friend,” she answered rudely.

“Gina, you’re a mourning woman,” Jack tried to explain carefully but she rolled her eyes and left to the hall. Your husband sighed and stood up to follow her there but you didn’t.

Instead, you went straight to your bedroom upstairs. Listening to them argue about reputation, good name of the family and such things would only stress you out and that was something you didn’t need at all.

Since you had already taken a bath before Gina’s arrival, you just took off your dress and put a nightgown on; noticing how difficult it was starting to get and how tight your nightwear was getting around your curves.

You sighed and approached the mirror to look at yourself from the side with your hands on your abdomen. You caressed the bump gently and smiled to yourself when the door opened.

Jack entered the bedroom and froze at the sight of you. He leaned on the wall with a smirk and started to watch you. You saw his dreamy gaze in the reflection of the mirror and you turned your head around.

“What?” you asked innocently.

“You know what, doll,” he chuckled and crossed his arms, still staring at you in awe.

“No, I don’t, Mr. Nelson. Care to enlighten me?” you asked teasingly and approached him slowly to put your arms around his neck. He immediately put his hands on your waist and proceeded to caress the sides of your bump.

“I think I might be the luckiest man in Boston,” he confessed in a surprisingly serious manner.

“Far from it,” you laughed softly.

“You’re right,” he nodded. “The luckiest man in the whole USA,” he fixed himself and leaned in to place a kiss on your lips. You kissed him back and turned around in his arms to lean your back on his chest as he wrapped his hands around your swollen stomach.

Jack pulled you even closer and started to place open mouth kisses on your jaw, neck and shoulders that sent shivers down your spine and caused goosebumps to form on your skin.

“Oh, Jack…” you let out a moan and you could feel his lips on your skin curling into a smirk.

“Yes, my beautiful wife?” he slurred out.

“Don’t be a tease…” you sighed and his hands started to pull your nightgown up; the material so tightly wrapped around your body that you felt like it was about to rip open.

“Me? It’s you being a tease, (Y/N),” he whispered into your ear and put his right hand between your legs to pull your panties aside and caress you there as his left hand squeezed one of your breasts. You hissed out of pain.

“They’re sensitive, Jack,” you whined.

“Well, then, let me ease the tension, hm?” he smiled and you chuckled.

Jack led you to the bed and laid you down carefully before leaning over you. You cupped his face and smiled gently.

“And I am the luckiest woman in Boston,” you told him.

“Far from it,” he laughed.

“You’re right. The luckiest woman in the whole continent,” you winked at him and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“So beautiful, look at you, full of my baby,” he hummed as he looked down and began to untie your nightgown with one of his hands while the other kept caressing your belly.

The moment he set you free from the nightwear was when you spread your legs open, already aching with need. Pregnancy hormones were making you feel horny most of the time and Jack had known it perfectly well. He smirked at the sight.

“And so needy, am I right, my girl?” he asked and you bit your lower lip before nodding. “Shh, let me take care of that,” he tossed the nightgown aside and leaned in to connect your lips together in a heated kiss.

Jack put one of his knees between your legs to give you friction but his hands got busy with your breasts; massaging the sore flesh and making you moan into his mouth out of pain mixed with pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged on it to signalize when there was more pain than pleasure.

Your hips worked up and down while grinding on his knee and wetting your panties with your juices. He could feel you through his suit pants.

“Jack,” you breathed out and he furrowed his brow as you worked your fingers on his shirt quickly to take it off and throw it on the floor, “I need you, baby, I need to feel you in me, please, I need you…” you kept mumbling in a rush and he chuckled before stopping your hands by grabbing your wrists.

“Easy, doll, don’t be impatient,” he scolded you and you whined. “Let me take care of you properly, my Queen of Boston, hm?” he asked and you giggled at the silly but flattering nickname.

“As you wish, my King,” you nodded and threw your hands back on the silky, cool pillow, allowing Jack to take control over your body.

He got rid of his shirt first and threw it on the floor. His undershirt and pants followed before he proceeded with kissing you all over your face while caressing your sides.

Then he started to travel down; kissing your jaw and neck and then all the way between your breasts until he found himself placing soft kisses on your bump that made you chuckle softly.

“Hello, little peanut,” he whispered between the kisses, “it’s daddy here. Can you hear me?”

“I doubt,” you giggled and caressed Jack’s ruffled hair as he looked up. “They’re just too little yet, I think…” you explained softly. “But soon they will kick whenever you talk, just like Maggie did,” you reminded him.

“Well, daddy’s waiting then,” he kissed your bump one last time before going down and disappearing between your legs.

“Oh, fuck, Jack,” you moaned and arched your back when he wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep them apart and pressed his face to your wet entrance.

You kept your hand tangled in his hair, pushing him even closer. He didn’t protest; licking and kissing every spot before eventually sucking on your clit. You shivered and tried to close your thighs but his strong grip held them open.

“Fuck,” you breathed out and could feel him smirk as the knot in your abdoment started to form. “Baby, I’m gonna…” you hissed out and Jack nuzzled his face into your pussy even further, making you moan and whine. “Jack… I’m…” you went speechless after that and tugged on his hair as you came with a soft gasp but Jack didn’t stop. When you came out of your high and started to push him away was the time when he eventually let go with a smirk.

Jack sat up and ran his hands through his face and hair before you pulled him to lay down next to you to taste yourself on his lips. You put one of your legs over his waist to feel the hard cock through the material of his boxer shorts.

“Already hungry for more, doll?” he teased.

“Oh, that was just an aperitif,” you chuckled and he rolled his eyes playfully.

You went back to kissing him and caressing his cheeks as Jack adjusted your thigh on his hip and started playing with your pussy with his fingers. You trembled at first; still too sensitive, but soon enough his fingers circling your clit were making you feel dizzy out of pleasure again.

“Gotta stretch you out now, doll, so you can take my cock later,” Jack mumbled between the kisses and you nodded. He put two of his long fingers inside and curled them to hit all the sweet spots that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Fuck, you’re a sight,” he sighed and proceeded to place soft kisses all over your dazed face.

You squeezed on his bicep and pressed your forehead to his, circling your hips to get even more pleasure from his fingers inside of you as his thumb brushed your clit.

“Ja-Jack, I’m…” you stuttered.

“Already?” he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“I’m s-sensitive now,” you moaned and he chuckled.

“Not yet, baby,” he took his hand away and you whined at that.

Jack continued with his soft kisses all over your face but in the meantime he laid you down on your back again and got rid of his boxer shorts. You spread your legs apart to welcome him between them.

“I think you should lay on your side,” he froze suddenly.

“Jack, come on…” you rolled your eyes.

“You’ve started showing,” he pointed out. “I don’t want to risk it. Lay on your side, doll, be a good girl,” he ordered and helped you to roll over gently.

Jack positioned himself behind you; his hard cock grinding against your ass as you leaned back to rest comfortably on his chest. He attached his lips to the crook of your neck and lifted your leg up carefully as you reached behind you to guide his cock into your wet entrance.

“God, it’s like heaven,” he mumbled into your neck as you arched your back to push him inside even deeper and let out a moan of pleasure.

Jack placed his hand on your belly to rub it gently as he continued with the gentle and slow but deep thrusts that were making you gasp and moan. As usual, he was trying to stop himself from being too loud but he eventually started to grunt right into your ear.

“You alright, baby?” he asked after a while to make sure and leaned in to look at your face from behind your shoulder.

“Yes,” you whispered and squeezed his hand on your belly, “please, don’t stop.”

Jack pressed himself even closer and began to place kisses up and down your cheeks, jaw and throat while his hips picked up the pace with his thrusts.

“I’m close, doll,” he muttered. “You gonna cum for me now?”

“Y-yes,” you nodded and threw your head back to kiss him. Jack moved his hand from your belly to grab your face and that was when you reached your high while letting out a loud moan muffled by the kiss.

A moment later you could feel his hips slow down as he spilled himself deep inside of you. He eventually stopped all the movement and laid down on the cool pillow while breathing heavily. You carefully put his cock out of your pussy with your hands and you turned around to face him while batting your eyelashes and caressing his torso.

“You okay, doll?” he asked as he looked down at your face placed on his chest. He put his arm around you and caressed your back gently.

“Yes, Jack, perfectly fine,” you chuckled and kissed his chest. “And you?”

“Heavenly, baby,” he laughed and patted your shoulder before sitting up and looking at the floor. “You want the nightgown back?”

“No,” you shrugged your arms. “It’s too tight anyway.”

“Looks like I gotta buy you a plenty of new ones… or not,” he smirked.

“Or not,” you hummed to yourself as your eyelids were getting heavy.

“But,” he added as he put the covers on your bodies, “I have to keep the baby warm, hm?” he laid back on the pillow next to you and placed a kiss on your forehead while his hands caressed your belly.

“Yes, daddy,” you yawned and closed your arms, “safe and warm.”

“Safe and warm,” he nodded before wrapping his arms around you and falling asleep with his chin on the top of your head.

MASTERLIST

[blainehasregrets]

What’s your view of the Blam crush?

Also you should tag your meta with character name as it’s not being seen, only by your followers.

It makes sense Blaine would find someone to project on/have a crush on in the meantime while he’s broken up with Kurt, since he’s someone who loves love (Silly Love Songs comes to mind), but he gets over it pretty fast (he could barely even think of any good parts of Sam’s personality in Tina In The Sky With Diamonds lol I also think quite a few Blamtina scenes felt very much like Blaine completely forgot he ever had a crush on Sam) with, in my opinion, little lasting effects.

I feel like, since Blaine moved on so quickly and just went back to Literally planning his wedding with Kurt like nothing, it showed being rejected by Sam didn’t foster any hurt, resentment, or regrets inside of him. He literally just did not care anymore lol Whereas I think Kurt’s crush on Finn and even interest in Sam, though brief and done after their arcs were over, continued to affect him going forward. Those events definitely furthered his communication issues and knocked down his self esteem, which in turn ended up causing problems within his relationship with Blaine.

Though I do think Kurt ultimately loved and chose to be with Blaine because it’s what he wanted, I felt he sometimes had this belief that nobody but Blaine would ever love him. Ex: Saying “I don’t think I’m ever gonna find someone else who’s going to make me feel [safe, connected, and loved like Blaine].” in Love, Love, Love. But I don’t think Blaine had that same fear?

I mean, sure, abandonment issues are the go-to thing people talk about when it comes to Blaine, but I think his abandonment issues were like. Solely focused on being abandoned by Kurt. (Note how he didn’t give a fuck about abandoning the Warblers himself…they loved him so much and worshipped the ground he walked on and yet he left them as soon as Kurt said “I want to spend every minute of everyday…with you♥️” in PPP. Blaine would take that hyperbolic statement to heart and make it his life’s mission to accomplish just that.) I don’t think he ever thought “I have no choice! Nobody but Kurt will ever love me! 😩” It was more like “I don’t CARE about anyone else, even if another person proposed to me right now, I only want KURT!!!!!” Ex: Never pursued Sebastian despite all of his flirting, literally about to throw up after he had sex with Eli (and I think it’s interesting Blaine says “I cheated on the one person I love more than anything in the world” in Dynamic Duets, like that’s his takeaway here. It’s not about feeling like Kurt is his only option, it’s that Blaine wants his only option to be Kurt, which is made more obvious with how he could and did hook up with Eli, yet doing so just made him think “wow I really only gaf about Kurt”), had a crush on straight guy Sam which would clearly go nowhere (and could be argued to just be projection and a safe way to experience a crush without it being reciprocated…), dated Dave as a power move more than anything (and this could come with its own set of 5 canon scenes to link to and explain), and does not even care to give Jeremiah a second thought in Transitioning. Though maybe blangst fans would disagree lol

And okay I got ramble-y there for a second, but that’s all to explain why I don’t think Blaine ultimately cared too much about his crush on Sam after the fact!

And while it may be classic Klainer cope, I do think the song he sang “to Sam” in Guilty Pleasures fit Kurt better!

Also thank you for reminding me! I need to organize my tags a little more in general… I went back and fixed up my last post a little (it’s still more messy than I’d like and I also want to add more specific canon scenes as evidence 😔 I’ll have to keep working on it) and tagged it! I’m so used to writing my glee thoughts on private accounts I forget other people can and want to see this stuff…