#there IS a confirmed black series toy that’s going to come out later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 2 months ago

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Summary: A lot of firsts with Javi.

Tags: smut, slight angst, nipple play, dry humping, lots of making out, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, jealousy, edging, overstimulation, use of sex toys (vibrator), oral (f receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex (finally), javi is clipped (not mentioned), babe wake up pornstar!javi lore just dropped, no use of y/n, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

A/N: i attempted to make this chapter a little longer, definitely filthier, and above all: satisfying. shoutout to my bestie hermosa @persephone-girl for reading over part of this and quelling all the second thoughts i had in the middle of writing it out 🖤 love you guys, enjoyyyy ✨

You purse your lips at your reflection, tilting your head as if a new angle will make everything click. The phone is wedged between your shoulder and ear, and Connie’s voice crackles over the line, keeping you company.

“Since when do you care so much about getting dolled up?” she teases, picking up on the way you’re fussing.

You tug the hem of the dress down a bit, “That’s not even the issue here,” you counter, a little more defensively than you meant. “It’s just… what do you even wear on a date with someone like Javier?”

Connie lets out a sly laugh. “Well, if I knew more about him, maybe I’d be able to help you out here.”

You huff, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it, leaning closer to the mirror as you swipe at the mascara wand. “You’re still on that?”

“It’s not every day that my friend leaves with a man like that at the end of her shift, only to find out he’s some annoyingly hot coworker she didn’t even bother mentioning—”

“There was nothing to mention,” you cut in quickly.

“Nothing to mention?” she repeats, scandalized. “He ate you out in an elevator, you talked an orgasm out of him, and you let him slip the tip of his dick inside—”

“Okay!” You cut her off again, voice a bit higher than intended. “Shouldn’t you be out saving lives or something?”

“Currently on day two, hour nine, of my three-twelves.” Her sigh fills your ear. “I’m exhausted. Let me live through your smokin’ sex life so I don’t tear my hair out.”

“Steve not doing it for you anymore?” you tease, rubbing away a bit of lipstick that smudged onto your teeth.

“Oh, he is, but after three overnight shifts? Even the thought of sex is exhausting,” she admits, a laugh edging her words.

You get it; distinctively thinking about the last spring break week where you worked non-stop, running from shoots all day to the bar all night on three hours of sleep.

That was definitely the week you aged five years in one go.

“Now, back to you,” she snaps you out of your memories. “What did you finally decide on?”

“The black dress.” You say it like it’s the only logical choice.

She groans, dragging it out for dramatic effect. “No. You wear that thing out all the time.”

“I bought it for a reason. To wear it.”

“Oh, come on. I think you should switch it up a little. Make it more fun.”

“Fun?” you echo, skeptical, glancing over at your closet.

“Fun,” she confirms, “like that mini skirt with the flowy fabric. Makes your ass look so good and shows just enough cheek to leave him hanging,” she says all playfully, “Just throw on a top that shows the girls off and you’ll be set. It’s flirty and hot… exactly like your little boy toy and way fresher than a black dress.”

You snort, feeling a little flutter at the mention of Javier being your boy toy. “A classic date-night outfit is classic for a reason, you know?”

“Mhmm, so classic I’m falling asleep. Go grab the skirt and thank me later,” she presses.

You grumble out a fine, deciding to humor her. Maybe you will like it better than the dress.

Rummaging through your closet is a little difficult with the corded phone in your hand but you manage, finally spotting the garment under the mountain of clothes that you’ve just thrown in here and pretended weren’t your problem.

“Where’s he taking you, anyways?”

“No idea, which makes the getting ready process even more difficult. I’m putting you down,” you warn her, setting down the receiver on your dresser.

You toss aside a few ‘not quite’ options before finding a top cute enough for this flirty and hot vision she’s painting. The deep color of it has your skin glowing, the cut of the neckline making your tits look enticing.

The snug skirt teases just enough at your thighs and you do a half turn, glancing back at the mirror to check your own ass out—and damn if she wasn’t on the money.

“Okay, I’m back.”

“And?”

You pause, smiling as you take in your reflection. “I look hot.”

There’s a sharp, delighted squeal on her end. “See? I told you! That’s what friends are for—giving you advice you don’t listen to until you’re basically forced to.”

Her laugh makes you grin, but then you hear a muffle as she talks to someone else in the background. She comes back, tone rushed but still playful. “Alright, I’m being called back onto the floor. But seriously, have fun. Don’t put out unless you want to, and please, please, don’t wait months to fill me in, okay?”

“I won’t,” you chuckle, her instructions making you feel like you’re back in high school. “Thanks, Con.”

“Go get him, you vixen,” she teases, and the line goes dead, leaving you with your thoughts.

You’ve been doing everything possible not to spiral into overthinking, trying to act normal about this date. Part of you still can’t believe it’s actually happening.

You’ve fought him, resisted him, silently judged others for falling for his charms—yet somehow still managed to give in.

If someone had told you months ago that you’d be in this position, you would’ve straight up laughed in their face.

The whole trajectory of it feels warped. You can’t help but wonder if this is all some elaborate game, a long con to get you in his bed.

But then, the doubts don’t quite hold up, not with how much effort he’s put into just getting your attention. If it were about sex, he wouldn’t need all this—he could walk outside, flash that lazy, dimpled grin, and probably have someone falling for him within seconds.

Hell, he could call one of his co-stars and make it that much easier on himself.

Yet, he keeps choosing you, showing up with this sincerity that’s completely messed with your head, confessing feelings and sticking around like he’s actually serious. He’s taken over your mind, lingering there like a sexy, infuriating ghost.

At least you’ve given yourself an ultimatum: if this goes south, you’ll walk away and he’ll leave you alone.

You still remember how low you felt after things with Frankie, and that was amicably ended.

With Javier, it would sting worse if he turned out to be the arrogant womanizer you’d pegged him as after all the shit that’s transpired between the two of you.

You finish getting ready and head into the kitchenette, grabbing a shot glass. You pour yourself a quick splash of Fireball, hoping it’ll help you feel a little more mellow, maybe a little less wound-up. You toss it back, letting the burn calm the nerves that won’t stop buzzing as the minutes drag by.

Then, you hear the familiar creak of the stairs, the soft shuffle of footsteps, followed by a knock at the door. Your heart skips a beat.

With a deep breath, you slip on a light jacket and grab your purse before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

The sight that greets you could knock the air right from your lungs.

His typical black leather jacket stretches across his broad shoulders, a flushed blue shirt underneath, his neck on full display while the top of his chest teases you beneath the few undone buttons.

His jeans fit him perfectly, hugging his narrow waist and leading down to a pair of well-worn leather boots. But what really catches your attention is the single peony he holds delicately in his hand.

“Hey,” you greet, trying to keep it casual, as if your heart isn’t pounding just from seeing him stand there. He is so damn handsome, it almost feels unfair.

His gaze roams over you, like he doesn’t know where to look, definitely lingering on your legs then your cleavage before his warm, brown eyes meet yours. “You look good, nena.” He leaves you feeling like he’s undressing you with just that look.

You bite back a smile and raise an eyebrow, opting to tease him. “Thanks, Javi. You look… exactly how you always do.”

He chuckles, a lazy smile spreading across his face, and you catch a little dimple on his cheek. “Damn. And here I thought I put in more effort tonight.” He licks his lips, then holds out the flower. “This is for you. I might’ve mentioned our night out to my neighbor, and she clipped this from her garden. Thought it was less on the nose than a red rose.”

You take it from him, its soft petals brushing against your fingers, and bring it to your nose. The sweet, fresh scent makes you sigh a little.

He’s doing the bare minimum, bringing you a fucking flower, and you’re already feeling all warm and mushy. You’ll just blame the one shot of whisky for that. “Talking me up already?”

He chuckles, his eyes appreciating the way your makeup highlights each feature.

“Let’s just say I bum cigarettes off her in exchange for a little company. You just happened to come up.”

“Well now I have to know what you said.”

“Maybe one day.”

This moment already feels charged for no reason.

“I’m going to hold you to that” you warn him playfully. “Thank her for me. And tell her she’s got good taste in flowers.”

He gives you a nod, eyes softening. “I will. You ready?”

“Mhm,” you hum, stepping out to lock the door behind you.

As you turn, you realize how close he’s standing, and the scent of mint and cologne hits you in an instant, making your head spin. He smells fucking incredible.

“So,” you start, trying to ignore the fact that you can practically feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Where are we going?”

He falls into step beside you as you both head down the stairs. “To the best food truck in the city.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow, both amused and a little charmed by the casual choice.

He nods, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s by Lake Hollywood Park, which is convenient ‘cause we’ll end our night around there.”

It seems like he has an actual plan for this date, which surprises you, but then again he’s been full of fucking surprises since the moment you met him. “Sounds like fun. Better not be shit though,” you say, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder, twirling the flower between your fingers.

“I think I’ve lived in L.A. long enough now to know what’s good and what isn’t.”

So he’s not native to this city, which was kind of obvious with the slight twang some of his words seem to have. You wonder where he’s actually from.

As you reach the sidewalk, Javier surprises you by sliding his hand into yours, smooth and confident. The gesture catches you off guard, and you can feel heat pooling at your cheeks. He’s annoyingly charming, and he knows it.

His hand is so much bigger than yours, rough skin brushing against your softer palm in a way that feels—well, it feels like it fits.

Your mind doesn’t miss a beat, leaping straight to the memory of his fingers pressed inside you, knuckle deep, his tongue flicking at your clit as you unraveled for him.

You bite the inside of your lip, willing yourself to stay cool, but damn, those hands could do a lot of things.

How you even fit two of his fingers remains a mystery, but it’s one you’re more than willing to solve again.

“This okay?” he asks, glancing down with a glint of mischief in his eyes, catching you right in the middle of your little lustful trance.

“Perfectly fine,” you reply, squeezing his hand, that glint pulling you in deeper, and you let it.

“Okay, I think I have a little more faith in your spot now that we’re here.” You settle across from Javier at the picnic table you managed to snag nearby, eyeing the food as he sets it out between you.

He smirks, raising an eyebrow. “You doubted me?”

“Just a little.” You pinch your thumb and finger together with a playful grin, scrunching your nose as you laugh. His lopsided smile makes an appearance, sending your heart into a flutter.

“Then I’ll let the food do the talking. Let that be my ‘I told you so.’”

“Oh, please, I don’t need to hear that twice in one day.”

As you stick your straw into your cup of hibiscus agua fresca, the sweet flavor hits you instantly, and you let out a delighted little hum without even thinking.

His gaze snaps to you, amusement lighting up his eyes. “Someone’s already beaten me to it?”

“Connie,” you confess, dragging your tray of tacos closer and inhaling the smell that makes your stomach practically growl. “She helped me pick this outfit, you know, since someone here was pretty vague on the details.”

He chuckles, reaching for the salsa verde and giving his tacos a generous drizzle before handing the bottle over. “I told you we’d be outside. I thought that’d be enough.”

You take it from him, fingers brushing together, and damn if your skin doesn’t actually tingle. “Honestly, I was expecting more of a steakhouse vibe.”

He gives a soft scoff, looking amused. “That’s not really my style. I’d feel like a total fraud…” he pauses, studying your expression, “unless that’s what you wanted. I could do it if that’s what you’re into.”

Your tongue darts over your lower lip as you take in his thoughtfulness. “Nah. This is...perfect, actually.”

A light sparks in his eyes at your word choice. “Perfect, huh?”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Uh huh, don’t get a big head over it.”

“So, I owe Connie for getting you in that skirt?” His voice is smooth, that teasing lilt unmistakable.

Heat climbs up your neck, pooling at your cheeks. “You like it?”

His eyes narrow slightly, that look dark and appreciative. “I think it’s sexy as hell, yeah. But in an effort to be more...gentlemanly—Te ves hermosa. Like always.”

Normally, you’d roll your eyes at him laying it on thick, but right now? You don’t mind it at all.

The attention feels genuine, his words dipping straight between your legs rather than floating on his usual bravado.

“Sweet talk me all you want,” you say, trying to rein yourself in, “but the real test of this date’s success? It all lies in this meal.”

He chuckles, and you’re grateful for the little shift, picking up a taco and clinking it with his, like a toast. The first bite is practically life-changing—the smoky, spicy flavors somehow better than you’d even anticipated.

“Oh wow,” you say, chewing slowly with a hand hovering over your mouth. “Not bad, Peña. This is actually delicious.”

His grin is smug, triumphant, and as he takes another bite, you’re momentarily distracted by the way his jaw flexes, muscles taut as he chews. And damn, if you don’t notice every bit of him in that damn leather jacket, his dark hair slightly tousled and looking as if he were some walking sex deity.

You mentally curse yourself for already feeling way too into him.

You chat lightly, going over the usual first-date questions. Somehow, even the simple stuff feels easy and natural with him—there’s something in the way he responds that keeps you drawn in, even if the questions themselves aren’t all that thrilling.

What’s your favorite color? When’s your birthday? Where are you from?

“Texas. And you?” he answers, swiping the napkin over his lips before balling it up, tossing it into his now empty tray.

So he’s a southern boy. That detail definitely adds to his charm. You tell him the name of your hometown, and then, after a beat, add, “Bit far from home, huh? Got family here?”

He shakes his head, reaching into his jacket for a pack of gum. He pulls out two pieces, offering you one.

Okay, another bare minimum act that’s got you all fucking blushy.

“Nah,” he says, chewing his own piece of gum. “It’s just me out here.”

“Your family must be thrilled about what you do…wait, do they know?” you ask, unwrapping the stick and glancing at him.

He sighs, scratching at his jaw. “My pops knows. My mom…” He pauses, a shadow of something crosses his face. “She passed when I was in high school.”

Your heart squeezes, a flicker of guilt making you wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t sweat it,” he interrupts gently, waving it off casually. “It gets tiring hearing it. But yeah, my pops and the rest of them…they don’t exactly jump for joy when it comes to my job. Guess it’s a good thing I stopped giving a fuck about what they think.”

The reality of it sinks in as you watch him across the table, his eyes distant for a moment. You’d never really thought about how it all might affect him (or any of the other stars, honestly) outside of sets and studios.

The world sees sex work as some kind of sordid choice, casting assumptions.

Sure, it’s got its problematic aspects just like any other industry, but with the puritan culture that’s plagued society since the beginning of time, really, it’s seen as such a devious thing when in reality; it could be something so beautiful. A celebration of the human body, of the unity between two people.

Whether you’re a woman or a man—you bear the weight of every stereotype, every judgment, and, especially, the stigma that comes with it.

You hesitate, but your curiosity gets the best of you. “Are you close with them?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he absently smooths his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, eyes thoughtful. “Yes and no.”

Something in his tone tells you this isn’t a thread to pull on right now. So, you pivot the conversation, deciding to leave that part of him for another night.

You glance at your tray, grinning. “This might actually be the best meal I’ve had in a long time. And I’m not bullshitting you.”

His eyes light up, that charming, lazy smile sliding back into place. “I’ll refrain from saying I told you so.”

You laugh, throwing a crumpled napkin at him, which he catches without missing a beat.

He leans in, his voice low. “So, now that I’ve won your approval in the food department, I’ve gotta finish on a strong note so I don’t mess it all up, right?”

You feel your pulse quicken “Sure do. Got anything up your sleeve, or is this where the gentlemanly plan ends?”

“I’ve got plans.” His voice dips, his eyes tracing over you, wetting his lips and that thudding begins to thrum faintly between your thighs. “Thought we’d take a walk, keep getting to know each other…” The suggestive way in which he’s speaking definitely gives his words a double meaning, “Then head to my favorite lookout spot. Best view in the city, hands down.Whatever happens to feel right can unfold after that.”

“Sounds like you’re anticipating something unfolding.”

“Can you blame me? You’re walkin’ around lookin’ good enough to eat.”

You feel a thrill dancing up your spine at his bluntness, “Boundaries still stand, Javi. I’m not sleeping with you.”

He chuckles, a low, knowing sound that sends your stomach into a twist. “That’s fine. I think I’ve shown we can have plenty of fun without crossing that line.”

Every electrifying sexual encounter hits you all at once, and as much as you’d hate to admit it, he’s right.

No one has ever gotten under your skin or tangled your senses like he does. With Javier, the tension builds until it’s all-consuming—whether it’s the way his hands map every inch of your skin or his mouth works you over. It’s maddening, how easily he pulls you apart and leaves you craving more.

“And If I remember correctly, I wasn’t the one begging for more.”

A hot flash sweeps through you. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

He grins, not missing a beat. “Admit it, you like it.”

And as you share an amused glance, you can’t help but think… yeah, maybe you do.

The two of you walk side by side under the soft glow of the street lights lining the park. He flicks open his lighter, cigarette wedged between his lips, and you watch the quick flame as it lights up his face for a second before fading out.

You would usually mind the smoke, but somehow, with him, it’s just… fitting. A small indulgence that somehow suits his edges.

“Favorite music genre?” you ask, breaking the quiet.

“Would it be a cop-out to say a little bit of everything?”

“Oh absolutely.”

Javier pauses, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Alright, alright. Probably rap. Used to be all about rock—my pops had me hooked young. But out here? My taste has gotten a little West Coast.”

“A Texan boy gone Cali,” you say, feigning surprise. “You love to see it.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as he glances at you, then flips the question back. “What about you?”

“R&B. Lauryn Hill and Destiny’s Child have provided the soundtracks to some very pivotal moments in my life.”

He nods, and for a while, the conversation flows smoothly from one topic to another—favorite childhood memories, the dumb stuff you did as teenagers, and random things you never imagined you’d share with him.

Javi raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I bet you were a teacher’s pet.”

“Teacher’s pet? No way. I was a bit of a know-it-all, but I had this rebellious streak,” you admit, “Got in trouble more than once for talking back. I just couldn’t help it.”

“Figures. You’ve got that fire.”

Eventually, he flicks his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out before looking at you with a curious glint in his eye. “I gotta ask you something,” he says, his voice dipping just a bit. “And be honest. Why didn’t you like me?”

It’s not the first time he’s asked you this, but now that you’re seeing him in a different light, the answer comes easily, less defensive. “Okay,” you start, meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t a fan of how you... got around. And the way you’d micromanage every move during shoots, like your way was always best. Or how you’d just use your dick to get whatever you wanted.”

His silence stretches, and he takes out another piece of gum, nodding slowly as he listens. “And when we met, you were already trying to charm your way into my pants like I was one of your groupies,” you add, “Made it feel like you were always angling for something. I guess I just didn’t want to be another name on your list.”

He exhales, scratching at his jaw. “Fair enough,” he declares. “I didn’t always used to be like this. The whole showboating thing, it’s sort of… a front, I guess. When I started, I had to become a different version of myself. This cocky asshole who had his shit together because… fuck, I didn’t know what else to do. After the bullshit back home, I needed the distance. I needed to prove something.”

There’s something in his tone that pulls at you, but you don’t press. You’re surprised he’s even sharing this much.

“The women, the confidence—all of it. Figured that’s who I had to be to make it. And it worked up until you left… when I realized just how fucked things had gotten for me. After walkin’ out on Robbie, I’ve been trying to be more careful with the jobs I take but fuck, it’s hard.”

This man—this smooth, confident guy you thought you had all figured out—carries more than his rugged allure and that killer smile.

Sympathy blossoms, the kind that grows for someone who’s managed to build walls without even meaning to.

The details remain unsaid, and though curiosity simmers, you let the silence hang.

“You’ll figure it out, Javi. Life has a funny way of kicking you when you’re down, but somehow, things start falling into place eventually. Might sound like a bad fortune cookie, but it’s true.”

His gaze intense and warm under the park lights, brown eyes looking softer, shadows dancing across his face. The way he looks at you makes your legs shake.

You can’t help the small, vulnerable smile that plays at your lips as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, this moment is worth disregarding your own rules for.

His eyes flicker down to your mouth almost on instinct, and you’re caught in a breath, almost tempted to close the space and feel those lips on yours.

But instead, you let the moment breathe between you, keeping the tension electric, and he’s the one who finally breaks the silence. “Thanks nena. Here’s to hopin’ I don’t have to make a trip down to the unemployment office.” He jokes with a laugh that pulls one out of you too, “Let’s head back. Got one more thing to show you.”

As you both turn back towards his truck, he reaches for your hand again, his fingers curling around yours, gentle and reassuring. You lean into him, resting your head on his arm as you walk. It feels natural, like you’re both finally seeing each other, piece by piece, without all the defenses.

A gentle breeze passes through as you lean against the hood of Javier’s truck, taking in the iconic view.

The twinkling city lights are sprawled out in front of you, while the Hollywood sign looms large and proud in the background. You’ve avoided tourist traps since you moved to LA. Dealing with the general public and pornstars on sets on a daily basis already felt like a big enough dose of Hollywood.

Tonight, though, there’s some kind of magic in being here and you can see why people find themselves drawn to it. Maybe it has something to do with the handsome man beside you.

“You bring all your dates here?” you ask, teasingly.

Javier rubs his lips together, a quiet smile flickering at the edges. “I don’t go on many dates, believe it or not.” He inches a little closer, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh wow, Peña. So smooth.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the steady, intoxicating scent of him, the one that’s been teasing you all night, and how it engulfs you entirely.

There’s a warmth that reaches from his body to yours, one you can’t help but lean into as your hand finds his, fingers lacing loosely.

Resting your head just near his chest, you feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath, solid and steady.

“Can’t let this night end without you knowin’ what my intentions are.” He pauses, then adds, “I want to keep seeing you.” His words melt into the night as he dips his head to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his face nuzzling softly into your hair.

Your breath catches for just a moment, and he feels it too, the faint hesitation creeping in.

Because the truth is, you’re not sure exactly what you want from this. A relationship? A fling? Could you handle being with someone whose job meant fucking other people—even if emotions are fully detatched?

You draw away slightly, positioning yourself to stand between his legs now as he leans against the truck, watching you, a question in his eyes.

“Tonight was wonderful. Better than a lot of first dates I’ve been on…” you trail off, and he quirks an eyebrow, a hint of concern already flashing in his eyes.

“But…?” he prompts, his voice soft but wary.

“Look, I have the utmost respect for what you do. I know what it takes, if anyone can understand what you actors go through, it’s me and all the other crews out there. I’ve seen shit hit the fan more times than I can count.” You twist your fingers, feeling the tension between wanting him and feeling hesitant. “But dating someone in the industry… I don’t know if I’m cut out for that.”

His shoulders drop a little, and he sighs. “Yeah… I figured.” He lets out a rough laugh, though it’s clear he’s disappointed. “Not the first time this has happened, or the last, probably. I just… I guess I was hopin’ this would be different.”

“It’s not about you, or… or the work. I don’t care that you’re in porn.” you say gently. “It’s just the idea of dating someone who—well, you know.”

He lets out a sigh, a heavy, defeated sound, and his eyes meet yours. “I know, nena, trust me. It’s a lot. I’m not holding it against you.” His hand runs over his face, frustration tightening his jaw. “It’s just…disappointing as fuck, but I get it.”

Before he can sink too deeply into the regret, of thinking he’s wasted a night taking you out, you reach out, catching his wrists and gently pulling his hands down. You’re close enough now to feel his breath brush across your cheek, and you hold his gaze, fierce and a little daring.

You’d be fucking stupid to walk away from all this without knowing what it feels like to kiss him, the man who’s wound you up so tight and left you as breathless as he has conflicted.

Slowly, you place his hands on your waist, leaning in until your lips barely touch his, your breath mingling together. You can practically feel his heart beating against his chest.

“Kiss me, Javi,” you murmur.

There’s no hesitation. His mouth meets yours, warm and certain, sending a spark through every nerve. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you lose yourself in him.

Javier’s mouth moves against yours like he’s savoring every second, his lips plush and gentle, taking his time.

It’s all so new, so beautifully unhurried.

You meet his pace, moving your lips softly, feeling the slight press and release. When he parts from you slightly, you’re already missing the taste of his mouth, chasing after him.

Then he tilts his head and leans in again, deepening the kiss, his lips fitting against yours with more purpose. He presses closer, his body warm and solid, and you feel his tongue swipe slowly across your lower lip.

A shiver runs through you as you part your lips for him, and the moment his tongue dips into your mouth, a soft moan escapes you, helpless against the sensation.

The sound seems to set something off inside him. Suddenly, the kiss grows hot and urgent, his hands gripping your hips as if he’s afraid to let go, kneading the flesh there while his mouth moves against yours with a new hunger.

Your own hands find their way to his jaw, your fingers sliding up to frame his face, desperate to bring him closer, needing the taste of him to linger.

The feel of his mustache brushes against your sensitive skin adds an edge that only heightens every sensation he’s bestowing on you.

Your tongue meets his, every glide and stroke of it fueling an ache that spreads through you, heat pooling as your teeth clash slightly, both of you pouring months of pent-up desire and frustration into this kiss.

His hold on your waist tightens as your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging at it, and he lets out a low, guttural grunt that gets your bones vibrating.

In one swift movement, Javier maneuvers you, switching positions so that your back is pressed against the hood of his truck.

The cool metal beneath you contrasts with the heat of his body, and one of his hands slides from your waist, strong and possessive, until it grips the plushness of your thigh, hitching it over his hip and pulling your core against his.

The friction, the way his body aligns so perfectly with yours, ignites every nerve in your body.

You gasp against his mouth when his hard length presses against your clothed cunt, right where you need him most. The pressure sends a surge of arousal pooling low in your belly, and you arch into him, craving his intensity.

Your own hands roam, sliding to his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble against your palm, then his back, his shoulders, reveling in the feel of him. His mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, tracing a slow, wet line down to your neck, where he leaves a trail of heated kisses that have you gasping for air.

The burn in your lungs is nothing compared to the ache building between your legs, an ache that only grows sharper every time he ruts his hips against yours.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants kissin’ me like that,” he mumbles against your neck..

He drags his lips back up, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing you into another kiss—this one softer, more controlled, yet no less potent.

You’re breathless when you part again, but it’s as though your body doesn’t care, desperate to keep feeling him against you.

When he reaches the curve of your breasts, he pauses, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses over the swells, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth just enough to make you shiver.

“Please, Javi,” you murmur, though you’re not even sure what you’re asking for. All you know is that you’re floating in this thick haze of desire, utterly lost in him, the feel of his lips, the intoxicating drag of his teeth against your skin.

His mouth curls into a smirk against your collarbone, and he lifts his head slightly, his hand sliding over the fabric of your top, shifting it down until your breasts are bared to the cool night air.

You gasp, eyes widening, instinctively sitting up straighter, a half-laugh, half-nervous glance flicking around your surroundings, instinctively pulling him closer to shield you.

His dark eyes meet your gaze, a flicker of mischief swirling with the lust there.

“Here? What if someone sees us?” you breathe, heart thudding in your chest as the chill hardens your nipples to sensitive peaks.

“No one’s gonna bother us, nena, te lo prometo.” Before you can respond, his mouth is on your neck, placing a soft, slow kiss there, licking a stripe and tasting your perfume.

His hands find your breasts, fingers curling around the supple skin, his thumbs brushing your nipples in languid circles that have you melting against him, your breath catching with each teasing stroke.

It’s impossible to focus on anything when Javier’s so in tune with every inch of your body, instinctively reading each gasp and shiver.

His hands are so skilled, cupping, squeezing, until one trails along your waist, playing with your pretty skirt with a firm, claiming touch.

It's the perfect push and pull that floods your senses with him, until you’re completely lost.

His scent fills your lungs, his taste lingers on your tongue, feeling his perfect fucking body against you, hearing his subtle grunts, your vision glazed over with tears of pleasure from how he’s making you feel.

He watches your reactions, eyes dark and filled with a simmering hunger as you lean flat against the hood of the truck, giving him access.

His mouth descends again, and he looks up at you when he’s reached your breasts. “Not gonna fuck you, since I’m bein’ a gentleman and all,” he murmurs, the words hot against your skin, “but I am gonna get you off just by playin’ with your tits.”

The whimper you let out is animalistic, your legs wrapping around his waist, pressing him closer.

Javier’s mouth is unrelenting, lips wrapping around your nipple with a hot, wet pressure that sends electric jolts straight to your cunt.

His tongue swirls over the sensitive peak, teasing it, as his teeth scrape the aching bud ever so lightly, making you gasp. Then he shifts, sinking his mouth lower to nip, to suck harder, his fingers coming up to twist your other nipple roughly, pinching and tugging at it, making you cry and writhe beneath him.

“Oh fuck that feels so good.” You can’t help but be so vocal and he loves it, the sound of your voice doing just as much to get him off in the same way that his mouth doesn’t let up on your tits.

His other hand is no less demanding, gripping your thigh and ass with rough squeezes, the heat of his touch spreading through the thin barrier of your skirt. When he smacks your flesh, the jolt arches your back off the hood of the truck, pulling a breathy moan from your lips that has him smirking against your chest.

You’re soaked, and he can feel it, his cock pressing insistently against the heat of your clothed pussy as your hips grind down onto him, building a rhythm that he matches with his mouth.

His tongue circles, flicks, and finally he pulls at the hard peak with his teeth, sending another shockwave through your body that has you rolling your hips, more wildly against him.

He pulls back just enough, a string of saliva still connecting him to you as he murmurs, “Baby, just with the way you’re movin’ your hips, I can tell you ride cock like a fuckin’ champ.”

His praise lights you up, fueling your need. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you pull him back to your chest.

He groans, his mouth latching onto your other breast with fervor, tongue flicking over your nipple rapidly before he pulls it into his mouth, the wet sounds of his lips smacking against your flesh, working your sensitive and pert nipples is filthy and obscene in the best way possible.

“So good, Javi… I’m so close,” you manage, the words spilling out unbidden.

He lets out a low groan as he adjusts the angle of your hips, pressing you firmly against his erection. The new angle grinds perfectly against your clit, drawing you deeper into the pleasure until it’s all-consuming, each nerve tuned only to him.

“Oh, god… Javi,” you gasp, feeling the familiar coil of pleasure tighten, your orgasm creeping closer with every pull, every flick, every grind.

Your body is on fire, trembling as you near the edge, your breaths coming in gasps as you hump him, completely lost to the intensity building.

Javier’s mouth alternates between your breasts, each suck and bite tugging moans out of you until you feel like you might lose it.

When his lips finally find yours again, his fingers replace his mouth on your chest, rough and insistent as they pinch and twist your sensitive nipples.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss while your body trembles, your jaw slack as you melt into him, moaning his name into his mouth as your orgasm breaks over you in a helpless wave of bliss.

Your body locks up, head canting back and hitting the material beneath you with a gentle thump as you wail his name out into the night.

“That's right, baby, just like that,” he murmurs, his praise and gentle kisses softening the overstimulation into something even more intoxicating.

His mouth trails over your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, every kiss pressing into your flushed skin while spots of pleasure blur your vision.

As you go limp against the cool hood, Javier’s touch softens on your chest, his fingers now gently kneading the sensitive flesh while he eases you back down, his lips trailing tender kisses over each swell before pulling your top back into place.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his deep inhale followed by warm, nipping kisses, his mustache scratching your skin just enough to bring out a fresh shiver from you.

“Javi,” you whimper, barely catching your breath, utterly wrecked and starstruck, amazed that he brought you so much pleasure by just teasing your breasts and rutting against you.

“Yeah?” His voice is a husky rasp, a hint of satisfaction at his lips.

You giggle, breathless, “I… don’t even know…” You laugh again, and he joins in, that low laugh rumbling in his chest as he cups your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“You enjoy that?” He tilts his head to the side, smugly grinning down at you.

“What do you think?” you tease back, still panting, eyes half-lidded.

You can’t help but admire how sexy he looks with his swollen lips and mussed hair.

“Wait you didn't finish—” You murmur, beginning to reach down to toy with his belt, but he catches your hand gently.

“Don’t worry about me, nena.” His gravelly voice reassures you. “Seein’ you like this is enough for me.”

You frown, feeling like you should do something for him, but before you can argue, he’s leaning down to kiss you again, over and over, until you’re both sinking into another slow, heated makeout session under the open sky, everything else fading away.

You’re standing in front of your door, the glow of your porch light casting soft shadows over the two of you. “Thanks for tonight; I had a great time,” you say, though your legs still feel shaky from what happened earlier.

Javier’s eyes linger on you, “Thank you for letting me take you out,” he says, his tone soft. “Even if… things aren’t ending the way I’d hoped.”

A frown flickers on your face, but you keep your tone light, forcing a gentle laugh.“We can still be friends, you know? That’s one hell of an improvement from where we started.”

But your attempt to ease the tension doesn’t reach him; his expression remains fixed, serious.

“I don’t think I can just be friends with you.”

Then he goes and says something stupid like that.

“So, what now?” you ask, voice sharper than you meant, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “We just… go our separate ways? Pretend none of this ever happened?”

He looks down, his jaw tense, and the silence that follows is thick, each second feeling like an eternity. His eyes meet yours and he sighs.

“I guess so.”

You release a bitter huff, shaking your head as you turn away, rummaging in your purse for your keys.

Fine. Fine. If that’s the way he wants it, you’ll let it be.

He calls your name, his voice slipping through your defenses like a last-ditch plea, making your shoulders tense. You ignore him, wrestling down the tide of frustration and vulnerability clawing its way back up.

You’d told yourself you didn’t want to get involved with him from the start, and now it feels like you should have stuck to your guns. Would have been easier to just tell him to kiss your ass that day he came into the bar, seducing you in your apartment, then asking you out on a date that ultimately meant nothing.

You find your keys and jam them into the lock, refusing to look back.

The second time he says your name, it’s firmer, and you whirl around to face him.

“Javier, listen—before tonight, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I’d ever be into you. But I gave you a shot, and turns out, you’re not that bad. You’re actually pretty fucking sweet,” you confess, half-laughing, but it’s tinged with the bitterness that you feel. “And maybe if things were different, I could see us together. But things aren’t different. They’re the same as they always have been, and I won’t make you choose between me and your job.”

“I could quit—”

You let out a laugh, loud and unfiltered. “And do what? You’re damn good at what you do, Javi. I’ve seen it firsthand, and yeah, most of the time it’s some pretty raunchy shit, but there’s something almost… artistic in it, and I’d feel selfish as hell if I was the reason you gave that up.”

He places his hands on his hips, shifting his weight, exasperation written in every taut line of his body. “Do I need to remind you that I’m a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions? I’m starting to hate this job, and I want you. I don’t care if I have to work a hundred side gigs. If that’s what it takes for you to be mine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

The weight of his confession makes your grip on the doorknob tighten, his words sinking deeper than you want them to.

“Javi, please, think this through—”

“You sound like my agent,” he interrupts with a dry laugh, flexing his jaw. “I’ve thought about it. It’s all I can think about. I can’t even keep my cock hard enough to fuck the girls on set anymore, and like I told you before—I’m not taking pills for that shit.”

He steps closer, and you feel a pang in your chest as his hand brushes yours, his gaze desperate, pleading with you to see him the way he sees you.

But it’s messy and it’s hard, and even if it’s everything you didn’t know you wanted, you’re terrified it might be everything you don’t know how to hold onto.

His hands slide up, fingers splaying gently over your cheeks, holding you as if he’s anchoring himself. “Please stop fighting me on this,” he murmurs insistently. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”

The intensity in his eyes roots you in place, brown and warm and so damn certain it’s almost overwhelming. You’re taken aback by the softness in his touch, by how steady his hands feel against your face.

He’s usually much braver in action than in words, and yet here he is, unwavering.

“And you’re sure?” you whisper, not sure you can even trust yourself to hold up your guard.

“Si, nena.” There’s no hesitation, no doubt, just a rock-solid conviction that somehow soothes your racing heart.

“You’re not gonna regret this down the line? Not even a little?”

“Absolutely not.” His answer is quick and firm, like he’s spent every minute leading up to this one, getting ready to say it.

Oh, fuck. With him looking at you like that, you know you don’t really have any other choice but to give Javier Peña a shot at being your boyfriend.

“Okay… okay, Javi, fine. We’ll see where this goes, but if you start having even one doubt—”

He doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off with his mouth on yours, pulling you close in a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than you were expecting.

It’s deep and consuming, worlds away from anything you’ve ever felt, like he’s pouring everything he has into it, and you can’t help but lose yourself in him like you have been since the moment things shifted in your dynamic.

When you finally come up for air, foreheads resting against each other, you’re both a little breathless, eyes shining with adoration.

“So...we’re doing this?” he asks, a crooked smile on his face that makes him look boyish and so damn pretty.

“I guess we are.”

“Does that mean I can come inside?” And with the way his lips quirk up into a cocky smile, you know exactly what this motherfucker means.

“Nope, we’re taking things slow… and I’m not fucking you until you get tested.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “Fair enough. I can work with that.”

You kiss again, his mouth soft and so damn inviting that it takes all your willpower to pull yourself back before you’re tempted to give in right here, in the doorway. “Alright, Javi,” you murmur, feeling his breath linger against your lips as he bites playfully at your lower lip before letting you go. “Goodnight.”

He’s grinning, and it’s that smile that has a way of melting everything inside you. “Goodnight, nena. I’ll call you, set up our second date. Soon.”

The giddiness hits you hard—like back when Frankie was all about pursuing you, only it’s different this time and you don’t know why.

‘“I’ll be waiting.”

He quirks a brow. “I won’t make you wait too long.”

One last, lingering kiss and he’s gone, leaving you at the door, flushed, breathless, and completely jumbled in the best way possible.

“It feels weird being on this side of the bar,” you say, settling onto a barstool across from Connie. Javier slides into the stool next to you, immediately pulling you closer, his hand warm and possessive on your thigh.

“If you’re here to flaunt your relationship, you should start charging for it—I know I’d pay to see it,” Connie teases with a wink, already preparing your usual drink and turning to Javier. “And what about you?”

“Whiskey. Neat,” he answers, then leans into you, his voice a murmur by your ear, his hand slipping higher up your thigh, sneaking under the hem of your dress. “She does have a point, though.”

You smirk, pretending to ignore the way his fingers are trailing dangerously close to your panties. “Not sure I’d be any good on camera. Not like you, anyway.”

He chuckles and you can feel the heat between you two, that ever-present hum of lust you’ve been riding since the night he first kissed you.

It’s been blissful a month of dating Javier, and being with him is like no relationship you’ve had before.

You’ve found so much joy in the simplest moments with him—like when he fixes the little issues around your apartment that your landlord could care less about, or, the lively debates you have in the grocery store aisles, passionately debating which brand of coffee is better.

Sure, you still haven’t officially slept with him, but that hasn’t stopped either of you from exploring each other. He’s kept his promise to make you feel amazing, finding delicious ways to learn your body without actually crossing that line.

It has only made everything feel deeper, sweeter. The way you make out like teenagers, unraveling each other in all the ways that matter, has been more than enough.

It wasn’t until a few days ago that you finally returned the favor, slipping into the shower with him and blowing his mind in every sense of the word, until he was helplessly spilling down your throat. Your jaw’s still a little sore from how eagerly you’d gone down on him, the memory of his breathless groans seared in your mind.

Tonight, he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, officially. He’d planned this whole evening at a rooftop restaurant, it was a little too fancy, but he looked at you like he couldn’t believe his luck.

The restaurant itself was overpriced and borderline ridiculous, but you two had made a game of it, teasing and laughing over the small portions and the pretentious plating.

He even surprised you with a beautiful pair of earrings that you immediately put on, and he looked so damn proud when you showed them off.

Now you’re here at Lucky’s, both of you a bit overdressed, not ready to call it a night yet.

You can feel Javier’s gaze on you, intense and unwavering. “Baby, you’d be a fucking sight,” he says, teeth grazing your earlobe before he bites down gently, his warm breath tickling your skin and sending a shiver through you. You can’t help but giggle, feeling breathless and flushed as he plants a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Why are you two all dressed up?” Connie asks, setting your drinks down with a raised brow.

“Went out for dinner at the most overpriced spot I’ve ever set foot in. Easily spent my entire Friday night’s tips, and I’m still hungry.”

“Not only does that sound like a waste of time, but it’s definitely not your style.”

Javier leans back, one arm draped over your barstool. “To clarify: she didn’t spend a damn dime,” he interjects, “I had to take her somewhere special to ask her to be my girl,” he says, voice dripping with smooth confidence as he raises his glass for a sip.

Connie’s eyes light up, and your cheeks flush. “Consistent dick is the ultimate antidepressant. Trust me, I’d know,” she says with a wink.

You laugh at her bluntness, and fall into an easy rhythm of conversation, her giving updates on things with Steve, then gushing over the earrings Javier had gifted you earlier.

Just as you’re leaning in to admire them together, you notice a figure approaching. A woman, older and stunningly beautiful, glides up to the bar—her gaze fixed squarely on Javier.

“Javier, is that you?” Her voice is low, sultry, every word dripping with familiarity as she slides up beside him, her gaze unmistakably hungry. “Dios mío, mira qué guapo te has puesto, mi amor.”

Your head snaps up, conversation with Connie dissolving as Javier stands, greeting her with a hug that makes you do a double take.

You share a look with Connie, her expression mirroring the curious frown you feel. She raises her brows, silently mouthing, Who is that?

I don’t know, you mouth back, jealousy twisting in your stomach as you glance back at them.

They part, but her hands linger a moment too long on his chest, her manicured fingers trailing down. Javier very politely but firmly moves them away, a small frown creeping onto her face.

“Judy, long time no see.” His tone is courteous but distant. “This is my girlfriend,” he says, his voice warm as he makes the introduction, stepping back to your side, positioning you squarely in her line of sight.

You’re about to revel in the term girlfriend rolling so easily off his tongue, but her eyes lock onto you with a chill that runs down your spine. Standing your ground, you straighten, meeting her gaze head-on.

She’s stunning, her hair tastefully graying in elegant streaks against her rich brunette, her makeup precise and expensive. The smile lines around her mouth only enhance her aging beauty and if it weren’t for the absolute diabolical vibes you’re getting from her, you would have complimented how good she looks.

The tailored outfit, chunky gold bracelets, diamond-studded earrings and matching necklace leave no question—she has money.

What she’s doing at a dive bar like Lucky’s is beyond you, but maybe LA has its fill of pretentious types everywhere.

“Encantada,” she purrs, a fake smile flashing across her face before her focus shifts back to Javier. “¿Tienes novia? No lo puedo creer, Javiercito. Nunca me lo imaginé de ti.¿Sigues actuando?”

Her words drip with disbelief, her eyes giving you a nasty once over, and you catch enough Spanish to know she’s making a point to speak only to him. It’s like you’re just a side note, something to size up and dismiss.

Javier shifts, catching the tension in your posture, but she’s unrelenting. He responds curtly, “No, not with others. More solo work now.”

She scoffs, a haughty tsk of disapproval as she tilts her head.“No me digas que tu noviecita no te deja.” A mocking pout twists her lips. “Mija, if you’re going to date a pornstar, you’re going to have to deal with the baggage that comes with it. You don’t just get to benefit from him, from what I taught him.”

A flush of fury burns through you, and you’re on the verge of standing up, ready to beat her ass for her audacity. But Javier senses it and steps in, fingers pressing gently but firmly against your thigh, silently calming you down before you do something that’ll make him have to bail you out.

“It was my choice. Gig isn’t fun anymore,” he says firmly, a hint of irritation finally creeping into his tone. “We’re actually in the middle of a date, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving us to it…”

She glances between the two of you, clearly displeased at being dismissed but not quite willing to push her luck. Her smile turns syrupy, and you roll your eyes, signaling Connie for another drink. She’s failing miserably at pretending like she’s not listening in.

“Of course,” she says in a sugary tone, eyes lingering on him.“Provecho. Si cambias tu mente, sabes donde encontrarme, Javi. We used to have so much fun together.” Her fingers trace down his arm a little too slowly, and she practically purrs, “Enjoy your date, sweetheart,” as she struts off, hips swinging with exaggerated flair.

But his eyes don’t follow, they turn to you.

Once she’s out of earshot, you raise a brow, waiting for some explanation. “So… who was that?” you ask as he sits back beside you, tossing back the last of his drink.

“An old colleague,” he says flatly.

You feel another surge of jealousy, and the second your drink arrives, you’re downing it in one go.

“Woah, nena, take it easy—”

“Is that normal for you?” you ask, unable to hide the irritation bubbling up. “Having fans… ‘colleagues’ just approach you out of nowhere, all of them ready to fuck?” You know your tone’s more annoyed than you intended, but the image of her hands all over him pisses you off.

He studies you, cautious, as if measuring his words. “Honestly? Yes. I’m very popular, baby,” he says with a crooked smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought you knew that.”

You let out a sigh, guilt creeping in for directing your irritation at him. “I know… I do. There’s just a difference between knowing and actually experiencing it.” You try to keep the bite out of your tone. “It’s not like she was being subtle either. Looked like she was two seconds away from spreading herself out for you right here.”

There’s definitely an adjustment that still needs to be made in terms of dating a pornstar.

“I’ll be better about shutting them down,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even if you do look hot when you’re jealous.”

You try to suppress a smile, rolling your eyes as he leans closer, brushing his lips along your bare shoulder, then trailing up to your neck, melting your frustration just a bit. He’s too good at this.

“I wasn’t jealous,” you lie, glancing sideways at him. “Also didn’t peg you as an ‘older women’ guy. I’ve only ever seen you with the younger girls.” Saying it even makes you cringe.

As if on cue, Connie, ever the observant bartender, swoops in with replacement drinks, eyebrows raised knowingly. “Everything good over here? I don’t need to call an ambulance or anything, right?”

You snort out a laugh, shaking your head. “No, Con, we’re fine.”

“Even though I wouldn’t mind seeing her kick some ass.” Javier teases.

She laughs, nodding at you. “Oh, you want to see her fight? Be here during a major sports event. Last year during March Madness, she gave this guy a black eye ‘cause he called her a cunt when she accidentally changed the channel, then ended up going toe-to-toe with his girlfriend.”

Javier raises his brows at you. “Seriously?”

You shrug, unfazed. “They asked for it.”

As Connie gets pulled away by some patrons at the other end of the bar, Javier turns to you, his expression shadowed and a bit more serious than before.

“When I first started, my confidence was shot. I’m talkin’ nonexistent,” he admits, his voice low.

You arch a brow, struggling to picture a less-than-assured Javier Peña. “Really? I’m having a hard time imagining that.”

“Yeah, well…” He lets out a rough sigh, “When your fiancée gets knocked up and leaves you at the altar for the guy she’s been cheating on you with, that tends to happen.”

You choke on your drink, and your hand flies to your chest, eyes wide. He glances at you, his concern slipping past his own discomfort for a second. You wave him off as you try to get it together, the words still rattling around in your mind.

“Sorry—what?” you finally manage, hardly believing what you just heard.

“Didn’t mean to dump it on you like that,” he says, leaning on the bar, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the counter, his gaze cast downward.

“Hold up. You were engaged?” You can’t help but lean in, your curiosity clawing to the surface. “And she left you?” You’re struggling to piece it all together, mind spinning through images of the man sitting next to you, younger and heartbroken.

“Yeah,” his jaw twitches. “Her name was Lorraine. We were high school sweethearts—whole ‘marry your first love’ thing.” There’s a hard edge in his voice now, his fingers gripping the glass a bit tighter. “Thought I’d have the life, fill a house with kids, do the whole all-American family bullshit.” His words are bitter, the resentment so clear you almost feel it yourself.

He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck before continuing. “Wedding day comes around and she’s gone. Left some half-assed note saying she ‘couldn’t do it,’ and her sister finally broke down and told me what was really going on. She’d been screwing her boss. He got her pregnant.”

There’s a crash behind the bar as a glass shatters. You glance over to see Connie, her face red, scrambling to clean it up with an embarrassed apology. You can’t blame her for listening in—you’re feeling a similar gut punch.

You knew there was something that happened that made him jump the gun and move to California, now, you know what it is. An ain’t shit ex.

“Javi, that’s fucked. I can’t even begin to imagine how much that must have hurt.”

He gives a small nod, lifting his glass and taking a slow sip.

From where you’re sitting, you can see his profile in the low light—his strong nose, the gentle curve of his cheekbones, those lips that naturally form a pout when he’s deep in thought.

"I tried to keep it together, but that town became… suffocating. The looks I got…” Javier’s voice trails off as he shakes his head. “So I packed my shit, said goodbye to my pops, and just started driving. Stopped in all sorts of places, did some sightseeing, trying to figure things out.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Ended up here, and Steve was the first friend I made. That asshole’s the one who got me into porn.”

Your brows shoot up, surprised yet again by his story’s unexpected turns. “Steve? Oh god, don’t tell me he used to do it too.”

Javier smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes. “He did a few flicks. Nothing groundbreaking like me.” He says all cheekily, and you can’t help but nudge him. “So, yeah, I started out for a few bucks. Wasn’t so hot in the beginning—and then I met Judy.”

At the mention of her, your face twists involuntarily, and he notices but ignores your reaction.

“She taught me most of what I know, and we shot a lot of projects together. People liked what they saw, and after a while, I started getting paired with older co-stars. That kinda became my thing. MILFs and cougars,” he says, his gaze tracing your features to gauge your response.

You’re still reeling from everything he’s told you so far, marveling at the many lives this man has lived before finding his way to you. “That explains a lot, actually,” you say, your thoughts slipping out with your words.

It now makes sense why he’s so damn good at foreplay. Skills like his? They’re honed under women who know exactly what the fuck they’re talking about, who aren’t shy to take what they need.

Suddenly, your own insecurities begin to simmer and you wonder if you’ll ever amount to the women before you.

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yeah? Like what?”

You glance up, unflinching. “Like the fact that you can fuck.” Your bluntness pulls a laugh out of both of you—his full of mischief, yours tinged with nerves.

“Not a problem, is it?” he asks, that signature smirk softened, yet curious.

It’s a loaded question, so you take a sip, buying a little time before answering. “What, that you can fuck?”

He laughs again, more genuine this time, a sound that melts some of the tension inside you.

“No, nena,” he replies, still grinning. “Everything else.”

The laughter fades, and for a moment, you sit in the quiet, watching tiny droplets slide down the condensation on your glass.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for honesty. “It’s not a problem, Javi. But… if I’m being real with you, I don’t feel up to par with what you’re used to.”

You can tell from the way his face falls into a scowl that he doesn’t like how you’ve phrased it. “What I have with you is different, cariño. Not something scripted for a camera.”

“I know that, but still. You’re used to professionals—people who know exactly what to do, how to look, how to please. Me?” You let out a shaky laugh, grimacing at your self deprecation, and your gaze falls to the drink in your hand. “You’re lucky if I even get on top.”

As the last word falls, your cheeks flush with embarrassment, feeling raw and exposed at a fucking dive bar.

Before you can turn further away, Javier leans in close, gently catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His expression is nothing but tender, his dark eyes soft.

“Hey, stop that,” he murmurs, his voice so gentle it’s almost a whisper. “You’re more than enough. Trust me.” His fingers stroke softly along your jaw, lingering. “I wasn’t looking for a waxed-up, camera-ready professional. I wanted something real and I found you.”

Your heart stirs at the depth in his voice. He lets out a small breath, his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek. “I know you’ve got your hang-ups, and I get it. I’ve been there. It’s… hard to feel like you’re enough when you’re constantly comparing yourself to people who don’t even matter. But I’m tellin’ you, baby, it shouldn’t be like that with us.”

He shifts a little closer, his gaze earnest. “I’ll help you feel more confident the way someone once did for me. But the difference? I’m givin’ you everything. Not just sex, not just some half-hearted attempt. I’m here—all in.”

You swallow the mix of emotions he’s just poured into you—gratitude, desire, and a newfound trust that fills the spaces where your insecurities had settled.

Your eyes search his, words catching in your throat as you try to express everything you’re feeling. But instead of speaking, you reach for the hand at your face, your stare steady as you quietly murmur, “Let’s go upstairs.”

You stumble through the door, bodies pressed close as you and Javier crash into the walls of your apartment, lips never parting for more than a heartbeat.

Your hands roam each other’s bodies, his fingers tracing down your spine, your own tugging eagerly at his shirt, popping buttons until it falls open, greedily feeling up on his warm and toned chest.

His belt follows, clinking to the floor, and as you kick off your heels, you barely register the sound of them hitting the ground—lost in the heavy rhythm of your pulse, the taste of his mouth, the roughness of his scruff.

He sinks down onto the edge of your bed, and you move to straddle him, but he catches you just in time, leaning back a bit with a smirk. “Take your dress off…” he orders, his voice gravelly as his eyes travel hungrily over you, biting his lower lip.

Your heart races as you take a few steps back, antsy fingers reaching for the zipper at your side.

“Slowly,” he adds, and you slow down, teasing him as you draw the zipper down until your dress is loose against your skin.

Holding it to your chest with one hand, you turn around, letting it slip and fall in a gentle whisper to the floor, leaving you standing in just your underwear.

His satisfied hum makes you shiver, and you feel his gaze burn down your back, over the curve of your hips, your thighs.

Looking over your shoulder with a flirty smile, you catch his eye, and he grins in return.

“Turn around, baby, let me see you.”

You turn to face him, nerves quieted by the way he’s looking at you—as if he’s seeing you naked for the first time.

He lets out a soft, almost reverent groan, then extends his hands, urging you closer. You step forward, your hands finding his shoulders as you finally straddle his lap, his warmth searing through you.

His mouth captures yours, rough hands sliding up to cup your breasts, teasing your nipples until you’re trembling, gasping against his lips as you remember what happened the last time he toyed with you like this.

“Javi…” you whisper his name, your voice barely a breath as you pull away just enough to speak, eyes meeting his. “I want you. All of you.” You lean in to kiss him again, fervent, moving to trail your lips along his jaw, nipping lightly.

“I want you to fuck me.” You say it firmly, leaving no room for doubt, wanting him to understand exactly what you need.

He groans deeply, his hands dropping to grip your ass and pull you closer. “Are you sure?” his nose brushes along your neck, his breath hot against your skin as you continue kissing along his jaw.

“Yes, Javi,” you breathe out, voice thick with need, “I need you so bad.”

With practiced ease, Javier shifts you onto your back, stretching out beneath him as he hovers close, his touch claiming every inch of exposed skin. His hands trail over you, hot and lingering, and you feel like you’re melting beneath him, completely under his control.

When he finally pulls away to slip out of his remaining clothes, you see his gaze wander, fixated on something by your bedside table.

Following his line of sight, you realize he’s locked onto the purple vibrator you’d left out after using it the other night when he wasn’t around, leaving you to fend for yourself.

A sly smile tugs at his lips as he reaches over, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. “This little thing gets you off?” he teases, holding it up as though he’s sizing up the competition.

You roll your eyes, wrapping your legs around him to pull him closer, but he resists, firmly planted just out of reach.“When I’m in a pinch, yes. Haven’t exactly needed it much lately, thanks to you.”

A thoughtful hum escapes him as he glances between you and the toy, as if weighing his options. Then, moving back over you, he kneels between your thighs, one hand gripping your hip possessively, teasing the band of your panties, while the other holds the vibrator with a wicked gleam. “I think we could put this to good use tonight.”

The spark of excitement floods through you, making your thighs tense instinctively, hips lifting slightly in response. Javier notices, his smirk widening as he lets the band of your panties snap back against your skin, making you gasp.

His eyes darken as he watches you writhe, clearly savoring your every little movement.

“Oh, yeah?” you manage to ask, your voice breathy with anticipation. “How?”

Instead of answering, he switches the toy on, and the low, steady hum fills the room. His eyes never leave you as he drags it lightly over your pelvis, nowhere close to where you ache for him, but enough to make your breath hitch, a soft moan slipping out as you arch into his touch.

His grip on your hip tightens. “Stay still,” he commands, using that sexy bedroom voice of his that’s even more gravelly and deeper than his usual cadence.

Obediently, you settle back, watching him with bated breath. He keeps the toy hovering just above your soaked panties, tantalizingly close to where you need him most.

When he finally presses it down on your clothed pussy, just enough to tease, you let out a low, pleading whimper, your hands gripping the sheets as he works you over in slow, cruel strokes.

His stare holds yours, a silent promise that tonight, he’s going to take his time, making sure you feel every single second of it.

Your breaths come out heavy and uneven, your whole body tensing as you fight the urge to grind up against it, trying to maintain some composure while he has you pinned down beneath that slow, teasing rhythm.

Javier moves the toy in tight, deliberate circles, dragging it excruciatingly slow over your needy clit, the first setting absolute torture.

He’s in no hurry, watching with intense focus as you tremble, his eyes tracing every twitch, every bead of arousal that weeps from your cunt, dampening the thin fabric even more.

He keeps that maddening pace, and as the vibrations ripple through you, you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, an orgasm coiling dangerously tight, ready to snap.

Your nails dig into the duvet, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. “Oh, fuck, Javi—I’m… I’m gonna come—”

But just as you reach that edge, he pulls the toy away and turns it off, leaving you gasping, the sensation dissipating as quickly as it built. Your eyes snap open and you sit up slightly, desperate and hazy, locking onto him. “What the fuck?”

“Shh,” he hushes you, though there’s no denying the look of satisfaction on his face. Javi brushes his lips over the corner of your mouth, calming you with a soft, feather-light kiss. “Just trust me, okay? You know I always take care of you.”

You do know. This man has pulled so many orgasms right out of your body without even fucking you with his dick. That reassurance melts away your frustration from being pulled back from the precipice. You nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

Your lips meet in a kiss that’s so intoxicating, tongues sliding against each other, his hand skipping down your side to the band of your panties.

Slowly, he drags the fabric down, his fingers gliding over your skin, leaving a blazing trail as they go.

When he finally discards your underwear, you’re left bare beneath him, exposed and aching, while he still wears that unbuttoned dress shirt, his slacks riding low on his hips, half undone.

It’s annoying how good he looks—just dressed enough to drive you wild with impatience.

He taps your knee, urging you to spread wider, his gaze fixed on you with unrestrained desire. And the way he looks at you—like you’re all he’s ever wanted—banishes every flicker of self-doubt, every whisper of insecurity.

You let yourself open up to him completely, your sticky, swollen pussy on full display, pulsing in anticipation, needing him more than words can say.

His eyes rake over you with reverence, dark and smoldering as he drinks in every inch of yourself that you’re offering to him, his chest rising and falling a little heavier.

“Always so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your knee before settling back between your legs.

The vibrator flicks on again, and he traces it up your inner thighs, letting you tremble beneath his touch. You bite down hard on your lip, trying to hold back the urge to shout at him to stop playing around, to just give it to you.

Javier trails the toy along your slick lips, his gaze dark and hungry as your arousal drips out of your cunt, every inch of your body clenching with need. When he finally presses the vibrator to your clit, a shudder ripples through you, your back arching off the bed.

He groans low and deep, clearly savoring your reaction.

“Javi,” you moan, hips already grinding against the pressure as he keeps the vibrator in place, turning up the intensity to make you gasp, your body moving to meet it, demanding more.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmurs, his voice like smoke.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out, nodding feverishly, your eyes squeezed shut as you let the pleasure wash over you, helplessly rocking against him.

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls it away.

Over and over, he teases, edging you with that relentless, maddening rhythm, each denial more tortuous than the last.

He alternates between fucking the toy inside you, pressing it against the fleshy cleft of your clit, and peppering soft, almost loving kisses down your body: your neck, your jaw, the valley between your breasts. His tongue traces your nipple in slow circles, flicking it just enough to drive you wild, until you’re a trembling, teary mess beneath him, desperate for release.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he coos, stroking your cheek as he sets the vibrator to its highest setting, plunging it inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of your pussy crying around it only fuel his hunger as he watches your face.

You feel his fingers cup your jaw, firm and unyielding, his eyes blazing into yours as you cling to his touch, mascara running down your cheeks, feeling so utterly wrecked.

“Please, Javi… please let me come,” you beg, your voice ragged. But he just tightens his hold, fingers digging into the skin of your cheeks, pressing the toy in deep as his thumb circles your clit, leaving you breathless.

“Just when you think you can let go… it’s snatched from you,” he whispers, ignoring your pleas, dragging you to the brink only to pull the vibrator away once again, leaving you a shaking, furious mess.

A strangled sound escapes your throat, torn between anger and need, barely feeling like yourself.

Javier chuckles, bending down to nip at your chin, his teeth grazing your skin before his tongue traces a line up your jaw. “That’s how you’ve been making me feel for months now, nena,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy. It’s only fair that I make you feel even a fraction of it.”

“Y-You’re an asshole,” you try to retort, but your voice comes out barely above a whisper, your tone more a helpless whine than any real protest.

He grins, mocking your pout with one of his own, voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Don’t say that, baby. You’re breakin’ my heart.” He brushes one last kiss against your lips, pulling back just as you lean into him, already aching to feel him close again, his warmth a cruel tease.

He undresses fully, and your mouth literally waters as your gaze traces the sculpted lines of his stomach, following the trail of hair that leads down to his thick, throbbing cock.

The head is swollen and red, already dripping with precome, and you can’t help the moan that slips from your lips, your hips shifting instinctively, every nerve ending primed and desperate for him. You’ve been dreaming about this moment for so long, craving it with every fiber of your being.

You need to fuck this man.

As he climbs back over you, his hands reach to pull you closer, your legs wrapping around his waist as if they belong there, your hands clutching at the solid warmth of his shoulders.

You pull him down to you, your bare breasts pressed to the hard plane of his chest, as he balances himself with both hands planted beside your head, his eyes burning into yours.

“You okay?” he asks, voice soft, and you nod, kissing the corner of his mouth before tangling your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Mhm,” you breathe, staring up at him, completely wrecked and totally ready. “I’m just ready to take you, Javi. Need it so bad.”

He groans, the heat in his eyes darkening as he adjusts his hips, hovering right there, just out of reach. “Go ahead, baby, take it. Put it in.”

His words are like gasoline to a fire, and a shiver runs through you at the sheer, visceral need in his command.

Reaching down, your fingers wrap around his length, both of you gasping as you feel the heat and hardness of him pulsing in your hand. You squeeze gently, stroking him slowly, and he hisses, rolling his hips into your grip.

You swirl your thumb over the head, spreading the bead of precome across his skin, the silky-slick texture making you dizzy with anticipation.

Drunk on him, on everything he evokes in you, you guide the head of his cock to your soaked, swollen entrance, rubbing it slowly against your aching slit.

The sensation has you trembling, but when he finally pushes forward, easing himself into you, you let out a loud, breathless whine. The stretch of him is so perfect, so utterly fulfilling that your back arches, your toes curling as your head falls back into the sheets.

“Oh, fuck—Javier, you feel so good,” you gasp, your walls clenching around him, holding him deep as your body adjusts to every thick, pulsing inch. It’s even better than you ever imagined.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he thrusts forward, filling you to the hilt. “Nena,” he grunts, voice ragged, “I’m not gonna last—shit.” He sounds as wrecked as you feel, his hips pressing flush against yours as he sinks in deep, your inner walls gripping him as if you’ll never let him go.

“Please,” you whimper, grinding your hips up to meet him, urging him on. He sinks his teeth into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking until he’s left a mark, his mouth hot and relentless as he peppers kisses and bites along your throat.

He’s holding himself back, giving you a second to catch up, but every inch of you craves him.

“Give me, fuck, gimme a second,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and controlled, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss, your bodies locked together as he builds a rhythm, deeper and more intense with every movement.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as he grinds just right, the coarse hairs of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit, making you babble helplessly against his parted lips, your own pleasure climbing higher with each thrust. “Right there, Javi, right there—I’m so close, please…”

He speeds up, his strokes hard and unrestrained, driving you to the edge. But even as he tries to keep his control, you feel him faltering, his body tensing as the pleasure becomes too much.

“Fuck—puta madre, nenita—you feel so good—” His voice breaks, and he gives one, two, three hard thrusts, burying himself deep as his release finally takes over, his warm, pulsing release spilling into you as he groans loudly, hips grinding as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm.

Your chest heaves with every breath, your body still humming with tension. As much as you’re flattered by his performance, you’re left tingling, unfinished, after all the edging and teasing he put you through.

“Javi…” You murmur softly, your hands sliding from his tousled hair down his shoulders, the heat radiating off his skin.

He responds with a low grunt, still draped over you, his weight grounding you.

“Javier,” you say again, a bit more insistently this time, and he lifts his head, eyes heavy and glazed, looking at you as if you’ve just broken him in the best way possible.

You’ve never seen him look this wrecked, his breath still uneven and his face flushed—all because of you. Fighting the urge to smirk, you can’t help but revel in the sight of him.

Men can be sensitive about finishing quickly, but he looks nothing but smug.

“Pussy’s too damn good, baby. Fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, a grin tugging at his lips, his words breathy and awed.

Now you let yourself smirk, feeling the flush of satisfaction. He nuzzles his nose against yours, murmuring, “Gotta make up for that.”

You raise a brow, intrigued. And then he’s moving, slowly pulling out of you, making you hum as the absence of him sends a small flutter through your sensitive cunt, his warm, milky cum trickling out and coating your thighs.

With determination in his gaze, he begins his descent, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, his breath a delicious tease against your skin until he’s nestled between your legs.

His broad shoulders press your thighs open, and then he throws them over his shoulders, eyes locked on yours, his look nothing short of ravenous.

Javi nips and kisses along your inner thighs, each bite and lick sending sparks straight to your core. When he finally reaches your swollen, aching pussy, his thumbs slide over your folds, parting them to reveal the slick mess he left behind.

Then, you feel the first swipe of his tongue, warm and slow, tasting you both. His groan is deep and low, the sound vibrating against you as he begins to devour you, licking and slurping at your mixed arousal with a hunger that’s overwhelming.

You can’t hold back—you’re too wound up, too sensitive, and you grab at his hair, your fingers twisting and tugging as your release crashes through you, every wave building on all the ones denied before.

You’re left gasping, body arched and taut, thighs clamping around his head as you scream his name, mindlessly babbling through the pleasure.

“Javi! Fuck—fuck, yes, oh god—”

He growls against you, mouth working as he drinks in every pulse, his tongue relentless as he wrings every last aftershock from your shaking body.

It’s beyond anything you’ve felt before, overwhelming and intense, leaving you utterly spent as you finally start to come down, your body melting beneath him, weak and utterly satisfied.

As he finishes devouring you between your thighs, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before he’s thrusting into you again, harder and deeper this time, with a fierce intensity that rips a loud, shameless cry from you.

Right, he’s got that pornstar stamina.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you up with him as he sits up, his brows knitted in concentration, his tongue peeking out as he watches you completely unravel around him.

“That’s right, baby,” he growls, “Gonna give me one more on my cock, show me how bad you wanted it.”

You used to roll your eyes at the exaggerated moans you’d hear on set, doubting anyone could actually be that good.

But he is that good. Beyond that good. He’s better.

Now here you are, body trembling, head thrown back, moaning his name so loudly it might echo through the whole building. Every hard thrust feels like it’s driving into the core of you, filling you so perfectly that the room spins.

His grip tightens, hands splayed across your hips as he finds a rhythm that sends shocks of pleasure coursing through you. The thick drag of his cock hits every spot, and he knows just how to read every gasp, every shudder, adjusting his pace and angle to push you higher and higher.

He pulls your legs up, folding them against your chest, his hips angled to grind against that one perfect spot that has stars dancing across your vision. You’re lost to him, mimicking those moans you used to scoff at, now higher and even more desperate as he laughs, deep and husky.

“Got you singin’ like a fuckin’ bird, nenita,” he teases, his laugh tapering off into a low groan. “And to think you didn’t want this. Now look at you—all fucked out and creamin’ on my cock”

Your bed creaks with every hard thrust, the scent of sex thick in the air, but all you can focus on is him—his rough hands, the way he looks down at you, utterly in control.

He’s all you can feel, all you can breathe, and as he digs his nails into the plush skin of your thighs, you know you’re on the edge, your pussy clenching tightly around him.

Your gaze meets his, and somehow you manage a blissful, shaky smile, a small act of defiance just before he pushes you over.

“There she is,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Come on, baby—let me feel it.”

“Javi… oh my fuck, I’m coming!” The words are a gasp, strangled and desperate, as your body locks around him, your orgasm crashing through you in waves that leave you breathless, gushing around his cock as every muscle in your body clenches tight.

It feels like you’ve drifted to the heavens, like he’s drawn out every last ounce of strength from you.

You’re dazed, floating, but he’s still there, whispering to you, “Good girl, that’s it. I’ve got you,” his voice a warm balm as he slows his movements, matching the rhythm of your aftershocks, soothing you with each gentle thrust as he holds you close.

Your body shudders, tiny jolts of overstimulation sparking through you as he stays with you, coaxing you back down from the edge, until you’re nothing but a soft, sated mess in his arms.

He gently eases your legs down, pulling out of you with a slow, tender touch before settling by your side.

His arms wrap around you, drawing you in close as you both lie there, utterly spent, skin warm and sticky from sweat and the lingering traces of your wild fucking.

His lips press a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let out a contented sigh, burrowing into his chest. You crave the solid weight of his body, the grounding warmth of him as you slowly come back to reality.

“You’re not real,” you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled but laced with awe. His chuckle vibrates against your cheek, a low, comforting sound that makes you smile even wider.

“I’m very real, and very yours, nena,” Javi replies, his hand drifting lazily up and down your back in gentle strokes that make you melt even further. The warmth of his words seeps into you, and your heart flutters.

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest, and take a moment to really admire him: the deep brown of his eyes, the dark sweep of his lashes, the fullness of his mustache, and that defined jaw you love tracing your fingers along.

Your hands wander, tracing faint shapes on his shoulders, running over the hard lines of his triceps, relishing the feel of him beneath your fingers.

“I need a shower. And to change these sheets,” you murmur, glancing around at the disheveled bed.

“Yeah, someone made quite the mess,” he teases, pinching your ass, which makes you yelp and swat his chest with a playful smack.

“Asshole,” you grumble, but he just laughs, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss that’s softer, and you melt into him all over again.

“I’ll go start the shower for you, then change the sheets while you’re in there.”

“Catering to my every whim already? I just became your girlfriend,” you tease.

“Yeah, and I’m trying to keep it that way for the foreseeable future,” he says, brushing a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose before slipping away from you.

You can’t help the little pout that forms as he sits up, rolling his shoulders back, his muscles jolting, which makes you weak in the knees.

You watch him as he moves throughout your room then into your bathroom, your eyes trailing over every muscle, every line of his body, unable to resist biting your lip.

He really is gorgeous—so damn hot—and he’s all yours.

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year ago

Text

Scrapbook: Epilogue

Title: Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home (Epilogue)

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Mike x Black!OFC (Dimples)

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: A collection of moments with Mike and Daisy (Dimples) and their daughter Aisha (Honey).

Chapter Summary: When Honey turns 2, Mike and Dimples have to make an announcement. When Mike turns 25, Dimples gifts him something special.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: This is the end of the road, folks. Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this little story. I hope you enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by Me

Support/Reblog banner by Me

Cover Art by Me

Spotify Playlist is here.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

One Year Later

“Happy Birthday to you!” Everyone is gathered around Honey while she sits in her highchair with a tiny cake all to herself, made by Auntie Erika. She waits until everyone is done singing before she blows out her two candles. She claps along with everyone else when they cheer for her. Digging into the cake with her hands, Mike and Dimples have their cameras out taking photos of their daughter.

After everyone has their cake and Honey opens all her gifts, the party starts to die down a little. Cherie takes Honey inside to play with her toys and the grownups sit outside in the backyard. While Dimples and the ladies are busy getting all the trash together, Mike sits with his grandpa Gus, his father, and his uncle.

“So, when are you two gonna tell us about the baby?” Gus starts, nursing a beer like he hadn’t just put Mike on the spot.

“Tell you about what baby?” Mike asks, unconvincingly.

“Walter, look at that girl. Tell me that isn’t the tell-tale sign of a bump.” Gus nudges Mike’s elbow while Mike looks to his dad for help.

“Gus, leave the boy alone. If they’re not ready to announce it, they’re not ready. Simple as that.” Walter shrugs and pats Mike’s knee.

“It’s gonna be a boy.” Sy offers, and Mike’s eyes widen.

The other three men look at Sy in disbelief, wondering how he could possibly know the sex of a baby that wasn’t even confirmed yet.

“Well, her skin is still clear. And it looks like she’s carrying low. When she was pregnant with Honey, she carried high and had acne. Just like Nettie did with Cherie. I mean, it could be an old wives’ tale. But it still came true twice, so...” Sy trails off and laughs with the older men while Mike nods and laughs to himself.

When he looks up, Dimples is walking over and pulling him away from everyone.

“They know. Nettie and Hope know I’m pregnant and I didn’t have to tell them at all.” Dimples almost shrieks when she tells Mike that their happy announcement is kind of ruined.

“Yeah, Grandpa Gus and Dad and Uncle Sy pointed it out as well. Oh, and Sy says we’ll have a boy which is exciting.” Mike tries to lighten the mood and Dimples chuckles despite herself.

Honey comes running out of the house behind them holding her favorite pink triceratops. She runs into Mike’s legs and raises her arms up. “Daddy up pwease?” Cherie comes out of the house shortly after, going to sit between Sy and Nettie.

“Come here, Honey,” Mike picks her up and gives her a bunch of kisses on her face and Honey bursts into a fit of giggles. Mike holds Honey and grabs Dimples’ hand and walks over to where the other adults are sitting.

“Daddy? When baby coming?” Mike and Dimples look at each other and realize there is no point in hiding it anymore.

“Seems like everybody already knows, but just to make it official, Dimples just made it through her first trimester a couple of days ago with our second baby.” Mike kisses Dimples’ temple and pulls her close.

“I’m very emotional right now. So, please don’t take my crying for being upset. I’m actually really happy, I promise.” Dimples wipes at her eyes and the group of adults laugh and stand up giving hugs all around.

Grandpa Gus watches as his family grows larger by the minute.

Six Months Later

Henry “Bubba” Marshall is born at 9 lbs 10 oz and 21 inches long. Mike is so proud of himself that he didn’t faint at all during this pregnancy. He cut the umbilical cord and is surprised at how big this baby is. When the doctor laid him on Dimples’ chest, it is a miracle she could hold him.

Mike and Dimples name Evan and Hope as godparents for Bubba. Grandpa Gus makes his way past the rest of the family so he can see his great-grandson. When he finally sits down and is handed Bubba, he chokes up. A few silent tears fall, and he laughs a bit to himself.

“Grandpa Gus, you okay?” Mike asks from his perch on the side of Dimples’ hospital bed.

“I just can’t believe how handsome he is. Just like his father, his father before him, and me of course. I guess he had no choice but to be a looker,” Gus chuckles and looks down as Bubba yawns and shifts in his arms, “Also, this boy is big as hell. He is gonna eat you out of house and home. Good luck with that.”

“Gus, don’t scare them,” Walter walks over and pats Mike’s shoulder before leaning in to whisper, “But you know he’s not gonna fit any of that newborn clothing you got for him, right?”

Mike and Dimples look at each other and can’t help but laugh at their little predicament.

Another Six Months Later

At Honey’s 3rd birthday party, Bubba crawls around the party. And boy, is he fast! He keeps not only Mike and Dimples on their toes. But he also keeps his big sister busy trying to keep her toys out of his mouth.

“Bubba, no! Don’t eat Pinky!” Honey takes her pink triceratops out of her brother’s hands and replaces it with one of his Little Peoples toys.

When Mike and Dimples catch up to where the two kids have gotten to, they are out of breath. Honey can only laugh which makes Bubba laugh. And the chain reaction sends their parents into a giggling fit as well.

“Daddy? Can we open presents now?” Honey asks, trying to wrangle her brother into staying in one place.

“I think that is a perfect idea, Honey.” Mike picks up Honey while Dimples picks up Bubba and they make their way over to the oversized present pile.

Bubba tries his best to help open gifts but ends up playing with the wrapping paper and the boxes that Honey’s toys come in. Nothing makes Bubba happier than making his big sister laugh and Honey loves to play with her little brother. She treats him like her own personal baby doll, and he adores her for it.

After the party dies down and the backyard is cleaned up, Mike decides to take a nap on the couch. Honey and Bubba were playing in the living room but when they see Daddy laying down, they decide to crawl on top of him. At first, they try to wake him up but when that doesn’t work, they just get comfy and go to sleep as well.

Dimples comes into the living room when she notices it’s oddly quiet. The sight she happens upon makes her swoon. Mike is sprawled out on the couch; Honey is laying on her back across his chest while Bubba is wrapped around Mike’s thigh. Their soft snores are filling the room and it’s the cutest thing Dimples has ever seen.

She takes out her phone to capture the moment and another idea pops into her head for what to do for Mike’s birthday gift. Putting her phone away, she pries Bubba from around Mike’s thigh and gently wakes Mike so he can put Honey to bed as well. Mike and Dimples go to bed, and they are both so tired that they just cuddle up to one another and are asleep within moments.

A Few Months Later

Getting Mike out of the house for most of the day is the trickiest part of Dimples’ plan. She gets Walter and Sy to take him to lunch and a movie. When he comes back home, the house is too quiet and too dark, so he goes into the backyard to look for his family.

He is genuinely shocked when everyone jumps out and shouts “Happy Birthday!” Dimples runs up to him with the kids following her. He hugs and kisses all of them, so happy to see that they (mostly Dimples) planned a surprise party for him.

Mike makes his way around the guests at the party and thanks them for coming. Looking around the backyard, he notices that photos are lining the fence around the yard. Moving closer to one photo, he smiles to himself and wonders how Dimples got this one.

“I hope you don’t mind I took that one from your phone. It’s one of my favorites,” Dimples is at his side, looking at the photo that Mike took of the day Honey was born and they were still in the hospital room. It was the day they became a family, “If you like that one, you’re gonna love your gift.”

Mike just looks at her and smiles, feeling so lucky to have her as his spouse. Dimples grabs his hand and brings him over to the present pile. She hands him a large box and wishes him a happy birthday once again.

Taking the box, he sits down to open it. Inside the box is a beautiful leather-bound book. Mike opens it and is surprised to see photos of himself. The photos include moments of his childhood, of his and Dimples’ wedding, and over the years with the kids. With every page he turns, he is transported to different moments of his life. The last page that is decorated has a large photo from Honey’s 3rd birthday with Mike asleep on the couch with the kids asleep on him.

“I really hope you like this scrapbook baby. I figure we can keep adding memories to it with photos or paintings from Honey and Bubba. So, do you like it?” Dimples asks, her sweet face showing her hopeful expression.

“I love it, Dimples. I love you so much. This is such a great gift! I can’t believe you got all these memories together. Thank you, baby.” Mike hugs her and kisses her neck.

“You are very welcome, Mikey. I love you too. Now, I suggest we do cake soon, the kids will have their sugar crash then you can see the other gift I got you for your birthday.” Dimples wraps her arms around his neck and waggles her eyebrows.

“Would this gift happen to be on the sexy side of things?” Mike looks around before grabbing a handful of Dimples’ backside.

“Oh, my goodness, Mike! You'll find out later. Now, enjoy your party and be patient and you’ll be rewarded handsomely.” Dimples pecks his lips and walks away to wrangle up everyone for cake.

Mike watches her walk away to get the kids where they are hanging off Grandpa Gus. Looking around, he is surrounded by everyone he loves. He is so lucky to have a wonderful wife, adorable kids, and a loving extended family. He smiles to himself and realizes he won’t have much to wish for when he blows out his candles.

And that’s not a bad problem to have.

A/N: Now, does this make up for Make That Kitty Purr? Can I write other Mike stories now? The song for this chapter is Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift (feat. Ed Sheeran).

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @geralts-yenn

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😀

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wonlouvre · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and angst word count: 3.7k WARNINGS: hospital setting, mentions of surgery/operation, blood, violence

a/n: so, this is it guys. the final part of ifliys :( i would like to extend my sincere thank yous to each and everyone who have read, liked, commented and shared this series. this is the very first fanfic i was able to finish/complete because of the support, love and motivation you all gave as i wrote this. don’t worry! there is an epilogue and i will announce what i have in store for them in the near future. in the meantime, this is part ten. thank you very much!

ten: moonlight | masterlist

The Queen is talkative. That’s one of the many quirks she has that you noticed when you were growing up. It’s not the uncomfortable or annoying kind of talkative. You really don’t know how to exactly put it, but she’s talkative in an elegant and easy-going way. One time, she decided to take a walk on a particularly busy street with only one member of the security detail assigned to tail her a few meters behind. She told you the whole story, excitedly. She was casually strolling and asking typical questions like what time is it to some vendors, passersby and the like. She even held a conversation about olive oil that lasted a good twenty minutes until the stranger she was talking to recognized who she was. You can tell that she had a blast as she laughed all through the evening.

Spending time with her gradually dwindled because of your job paired with your official duties as the Crowned Princess. But when opportunity arises, you make sure to make it worth the wait. Conversations are easy with her because she’s trustworthy and most importantly, she’s your mother. She usually asks you random, yet unexpectedly relevant questions whenever the two of you share a cup of coffee or tea or when you go shopping and even now is no different, as you’re about to choose the right fabric for your wedding dress.

“Describe the person that brings the best out of you.”

Ah, here we go. Your mother is surely not distracting you but her intent stares as she props her arm against the armrest of the white couch she’s sitting on is definitely pulling you away from the matter at hand. The look on your eyes is telling her really? and she fires back with an expecting one telling you a silent, “well? Come on. Tell me.”

You snort and shake your head, bringing your attention back to the table. You’re not denying your mother an answer because you know who to describe. It’s not that hard to figure out and you know she’s smart enough to know.

Jeon Wonwoo.

“How do you want me to describe? Personality or physical features?” You ask back and humor her as you fiddle with one lace material.

“Both,” she challenges with a mischievous grin and you’re not one to back down.

“Well, the person is quite tall and sharp in terms of physical features,” you start, doing your best to describe him implicitly. “Has a way with words, but they are all genuine and honest.”

Unbeknownst to you, your mother’s fond smile confirms your assumption that she is smart and that she knows who you’re talking about. But she presses on, loving how you describe this mysterious person.

“What about those features then? How do they help you?”

You thought for a moment and when the right words came to mind, you didn’t hesitate to say, “They inspire me to do and be better not only for myself but for everyone else. Mostly it’s their genuineness and honesty that inspires me.”

You and your mother laugh together at your last sentence.

It’s true though. After witnessing Wonwoo in the light of his Kingdom, something tugged at your heartstrings. You don’t exactly remember when, maybe it was around high school, but you remember adamantly telling your friends that you would want to be with someone that will bring the best out in you. Someone that can fuel your desire to be of service for the greater good. It sounds awfully used too often and you’re sure you’re not the only one who thinks this way, but as you have already said, it’s the truth.

Despite the circumstances, you found that someone. You found Wonwoo.

A few seconds later, Jeongyeon comes in with a knock and announces, “Your Majesty, Prince Wonwoo has arrived.”

Your eyes spring up at the name, distracted once again. And when you see the “tall” and “sharp” Prince, you’re quick to your feet and run towards him. He stumbles a little when you jump at him in a tight hug, arms clinging around his neck. Nonetheless, he smiles and welcomes your enthusiastic embrace with a soft smooch on the side of your head.

“Wait,” you abruptly pull away. “You’re not supposed to be here, though.”

Wonwoo acts dumb, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean? Her Majesty invited me to be here.”

“Calm down, Y/N,” you hear the culprit say behind your back as she stands up to greet her future son-in-law. “There’s no dress yet. It’s okay for him to be here.”

You subtly roll your eyes. You’re not one to be superficial but if there were a dress already, she’d take her words back. You return your arms back to Wonwoo’s waist and lean your chin against his chest, your lips pulling into a pout. He leans down to meet your lips with a quick peck but your mother was quicker to push you aside and to take her turn in giving him a hug.

Your jaw drops and your pout is exchanged with a scowl.

Wonwoo tries his best to hold his laughter but to no avail, fails as he formally greets the Queen. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Always good to see you, my Prince,” the Queen replies and gently pats his cheek. “And now that you’re here, I can finally take my leave.”

“Leave? We haven’t even picked a fabric yet,” you remind her and stand in between them.

“Honey, you have been going back and forth since nine in the morning,” she retaliates and walks back to the couch to pick her bag up. “Let’s schedule for another day. Unless you want Wonwoo to leave and we continue.”

Your stance immediately takes a hundred eighty degree turn. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s clear Saturday next week and we’ll take it from there.”

“I thought so.”

With a knowing wink, the Queen takes off.

That memory was from about three weeks ago after your visit and vacation at Wonwoo’s Kingdom. Wedding planning was back and the two of you went your separate ways for the time being to prepare your respective attire and accessories. Wonwoo didn’t know you had that conversation with the Queen not until she told him here at the hospital where you lie unconscious and fighting for your life.

The Royal Hospital was once again swarmed with a plethora of men in black suits because the Crowned Princess of the Kingdom has been shot twice, one on her shoulder and another on her left leg. It was a failed attempt in assassinating the King but Kim Mingyu took the opportunity to target your vulnerability and let his men shoot you instead as if it was his plan b. Kim Mingyu, whom he never desires to meet, is finally in police custody. He didn’t try to elude his impending arrest. In fact, he knew he would get arrested. He just wanted to toy with people until he couldn’t anymore.

Wonwoo has no words to spare to describe him and seeing his face and hearing his name everywhere and everytime is just making his blood boil.

The Queen has never left the hospital from the moment she arrived while you were undergoing operation up to being placed in a private room. She was calm when Wonwoo stood up from the bench to respectfully address her. She just nodded her head when he couldn’t say a word without his lips trembling and enveloped him in a warm hug as he cried on her shoulder.

She told him that the two of you haven’t spoken since your father’s arrest and it has been unbearably painful and challenging. She acknowledges how terrible and neglecting she has been as a mother when she knows how absolutely difficult this is for you. It’s even more heartbreaking because you never once complained. Instead you respected her silence and distance. She regrets her absence and seeing you lying on a bed, looking so cold and fragile is making her world completely fall apart.

“Wonwoo, I’m so sorry that this happened,” the Queen solemnly says and holds his hand tightly. “The Kingdom promises that everyone involved will be held accountable.”

Wonwoo nods. “I understand, Your Majesty. Our Kingdom will do so as well.”

“I also want you to know that Y/N never wanted to end the engagement,” she adds. “She was just afraid that someone like her doesn’t deserve to receive your love.”

Wonwoo didn’t know that you looked up to him. If anyone should be admired, it should be you because you were ready to drop everything just to uphold justice. It’s been three days after the operation and you still haven’t opened your eyes. The operation was successful. No artery nor major organs were damaged, but you did lose a lot of blood. Just like the Queen, Wonwoo has been by your side, patiently waiting. Right now despite your stable condition, he still feels like dying.

The love of his life almost died before his eyes.

Wonwoo rests his head on the small space beside your arm, similar to the first time he took care of you a few months back. He gazes at your peaceful face, silently begging for you to wake up. He wants to kiss, hear and hug you again. He wants to be with you again.

“Wonwoo.”

He sits up straight at the sound of his name and finds the Queen sadly smiling at him.

“How about you go back to your apartment for today?” She suggests, taking the seat on your other side. “Take a long shower and have some shut eye? Hmmm?”

Wonwoo bites his bottom lip, hesitant to leave and not have his eyes on you. He badly wants to stay and be here when you finally wake up. But the Queen is right. You’re safe now so he has nothing to worry about anymore.

Slowly, he stands up from the chair he’s been sitting on for who knows how long. He clasps his one hand around yours while the other sweeps the hair that’s covering your forehead and lands a gentle kiss there. You’re starting to warm up and that’s a relief.

He talks to you every single day, hoping you’d hear his voice. For now, he’ll keep it to himself.

I love you.

Later in the evening, you find your mother quietly dozing off, her head swaying from left to right and vice versa as she remains upright on the couch placed near the wall. You blink your eyes and adapt to the sudden brightness greeting your senses. You try to move your head and take in your surroundings and after a few minutes of contemplating, you recognize where you’re at and remember everything.

Dad.

Your violent gasp immediately roused your mother from her sleep and seeing you struggling to sit made her jolt up and hurry beside you.

“Darling,” she calls and holds your thrashing arms down, worried that you’d worsen your wounds. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Dad,” you voice out against the dryness of your throat. “Mom, where’s dad?”

“He’s okay too.” You can see the tears welling up on her eyes as she caresses your hair and gently pulls you in a hug. “He’s safe.”

Together, you shed the tears of anguish that you have been holding back for so long.

The King couldn’t be here because the court didn’t allow his appeal to accompany nor visit you even just for a day. He couldn’t even carry his daughter’s body to the ambulance because he was handcuffed and heavily guarded. He couldn’t even protect his daughter from the harmful consequences of his mistakes. Your mother told you that he desperately wants to be by your side and you do know that. You’re way past his inability to be here and that’s none of your concern anymore. As long as he is safe, you’re more than content.

The trial has been rescheduled for next week and your father has to be detained until then. You’ll try to visit him again once you’re discharged and together with that, you’d also find the strength to accompany him at his trial.

Your mother was firm on staying and insisting that she’s fine when you tried to urge her to go home, but you can clearly tell how tired she is from the lack of sleep so you didn’t let her win. It’s already late in the night when she finally gave in. Your mother kisses your cheek one last time after the doctor assessed your condition. Jeongyeon would stick around for the evening in her stead. Poor girl cried so much the moment she saw you widely awake.

Once it’s only the two of you left, Jeongyeon helped you sit on a wheelchair and wheeled you next to the window before she left to grab some extra bottled water. You can’t stand properly yet because of the wound on your leg so a wheelchair is necessary if you want to be mobile. You’re starting to feel the back pain after lying down for so long, you need to move. The doctor was a bit apprehensive about allowing you to leave your bed, but gave in when you promised to stay inside the room.

The moon, shining in all its glory, up in the dark sky looked so enticing, you had to take a closer look. The three days went by so fast and running through all that ensued leaves a sickening sensation down to your stomach. You shake your head, not wanting to relive the frightening memories.

Your attention goes back to the moon and one person comes to mind.

It makes you selfishly wonder if he ever visited once or asked and worried about you as you bring your hand up to your neck. When you don’t feel the lifebuoy pendant, your heart skips a beat. You then looked down to your hand, your engagement ring is also not on your finger. You frown, growing upset. They could have removed it, but it should be back to you by now. You looked around the room, hoping to find your precious gems within reach. Just in time before you could wheel yourself around to search for them, you hear the door open.

“Hey Jeongyeon, have you seen my necklace and ring?” You ask to the void as you tilt your head back to the moon.

When you don’t hear any answer other than the sound of heavy breathing, you remove your gaze from the window to see who came in if it’s not your assistant. To your surprise it’s no other than,

“Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo didn’t keep count of the exact times, but he knows how long and how much he begged just to hear your voice call his name once again. He didn’t even have the chance to change from his sweatpants and sleeveless shirt when he received the call from Soonyoung (whom Jeongyeon told to). Honestly? He didn’t bother at all because he just wanted to be right here at this moment.

To be with you.

He takes slow steps as he calms his breathing. Meanwhile, you remained seated and let him come to you. You’d run to him just like you did back then, but your leg wouldn’t appreciate that.

It felt like forever for Wonwoo to get to you. But when he finally drops on the floor and lightly rests his head on your lap, there’s no reason for him to complain anymore.

Your tears fall again for the nth time tonight. You caress his wet locks, probably from the mixture of his shower and sweat. He cries too because you can feel it seeping against the pants you’re wearing. He wraps his arms around your lap, careful from crashing his weight. You, on the other hand, bend your head down to kiss the crown of his head.

Both of your hearts are shouting, finally.

The beautiful moonlight shines on the two of you as you both silently settle down there for a moment, not giving a care in the world because this is just what you’ve been yearning for and you’re not allowing anyone nor anything to steal this away ever again.

Your long face doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo and he knows why you’re pulling it against him. But no, he is not falling for it. Instead he ignores your silent plea and continues tucking you back on the bed. You glance up at him and try to win him again with your attempt at puppy dog eyes and when he doesn’t, you give up.

“You know that this bed is too small to fit two bodies, Y/N,” he states the obvious and drags a chair to sit on. “I know you’re smart enough to see that.”

You huff and pull the covers closer to your chin. If it wasn’t for the wound on your shoulder, you’d turn your back against him.

Wonwoo just rolls his eyes at your antics and holds your hand under the warm blanket.

After your short reunion, Wonwoo decided to get you back to your bed because it was nearing one o’clock in the morning. You haven’t brought up what happened and it’s alright because you still have another chance to do so. Hopefully.

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo,” you whisper under your breath but his ears can hear your words.

He nods and kisses the back of your hand. “I know, baby. It’s not your fault.”

Baby.

You never use pet names or terms of endearment and hearing him say it for the first time almost made you faint. It’s an exaggeration but you’re weak at the moment and anything that flusters your heart can potentially weaken your whole body.

Wonwoo then brings something out from his pockets and your eyes brighten at the sight of the necklace he gave you. He chuckles when he sees your excited expression and stands up. His fingers tenderly graze the skin of your neck when he puts it back to where it rightfully belongs.

“I thought I lost it,” you say, holding the pendant between your fingers.

He sits back down and what he mutters next makes you feel a twinge of guilt.

“I thought I lost you.”

You sigh and coax him to you, grasping the hand enclosed to yours. “Come here.”

This time you let him take the small space on your bed. You sit up as well so that you can reach his height. He helps you and once you’re comfortably situated, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest.

Wonwoo smiles at your affection and lets his hand smooth against your hair. You have always been brave when it comes to touching him and he’ll never forget how you kissed him on the lips first. He’s so glad and relieved you’re finally awake. He doesn’t think he can go on for another day without you. And now that you’re holding each other like this, he wishes for this night to never end.

“I’ll probably not inherit the throne,” you say against his shirt. “I don’t think your family would want you to marry an abolished monarch.”

Wonwoo’s hand drops and he breathes out a disappointed sigh. He is not having this conversation with you right now. Why must you ruin the moment?

When you don’t feel his hand against you anymore, you look up and steal a kiss under his chin. However, that doesn’t suffice because he’s still upset and it’s evident on the frown adorning his handsome face.

“But I realized I love you, so if it means I have to beg all the way to their Majesties for your hand then—”

Wonwoo doesn’t let you continue and shuts you up with a searing kiss. He softly squeezes your cheeks with one of his hands, almost as if commanding you to pucker your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise but when he put his other hand at the side of your neck, you surrendered.

It’s no secret that you and Wonwoo kiss. Oftentimes they’re just quick brushes, but sometimes they get a little bit more intense, deeper. You won’t get into detail though, because that’s a story to tell for some other time.

For now, you eagerly meet Wonwoo’s passion as he lays you back down on the bed, of course with caution. He doesn’t fully drop his weight on top of you, one arm carrying his upper body while the other gingerly cupping one side of your face.

His chest is firm and his shoulder broad as you grip your hands on them and continue kissing him. You should be asleep by now because you are still recovering. But Wonwoo is a doctor himself, right? So if he took the initiative to kiss you until sunrise, then it must be alright.

Okay, maybe it’s wrong to mock his profession like that. But, you’re just grateful to kiss him like this again. Because the last time you shared one, tears were streaming down your face and you two were on the verge of breaking up.

“I should really put you to sleep now,” Wonwoo whispers against your lips, breathless.

You hold your laughter, still basking in his taste. When you open your eyes, Wonwoo is already hoisting himself back up. Your lips draw into a pout again and the cause of it just rolls his eyes.

“I promise there will be more, but for now rest, okay?” He pinches your cheek lightly and sits back on the chair.

“You can take the couch,” you tell him.

“Sleep, Y/N.”

You no longer defy and close your eyes.

You remember the first time he commanded you those words and looking back, they are all fond memories of your then developing relationship. There were many questions when you and Wonwoo got along so well and so fast. There were many doubts and insecurities. The two of you shared those in silence, which could have endangered your hearts. However, even though your relationship was shaken and tested, the two of you persevered.

For you, Wonwoo persevered and words and actions are not enough to thank him. You couldn’t have overcome this without his support and patience. So from now on, against all odds, you’ll do exactly the same.

#seventeen #wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenario #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #wonwoo fanfic #seventin fanfic #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #fic: ifliys

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waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

Note

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie @slightlyobsessedwithissues

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

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barnesandco · 3 years ago

Text

Little Hands (II)

Series Masterlist

You, Bucky, and Anastasia pay Bruce Banner a visit.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1836. Square filled: “You don’t wanna know.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Sad Child. Needles, fear of. So much overthinking.

A/N: Gosh, I’m so glad I got this chapter edited in time. I hope you like it and I’m sorry for skipping out on y’all last week! To make up for it, there’ll be two updates this weekend, so look out for the next chapter tomorrow! Lmk what you thinkkkk

The Avengers Compound is every bit as spectacular as you could have possibly hoped, and yet you’re unable to fully appreciate it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. Your hand is in the vice-tight grip of the supposed daughter of your neighbor, who happens to be an Avenger.

Said neighbor is pacing back and forth in front of you as you sit in Bruce Banner’s laboratory, with Anastasia beside you while you wait for Bruce to arrive. Ana is remarkably calm, her young features – the round cheeks, still-wet eyes – made mature by her abnormal silence. Something about her makes you think she’s used to this kind of tension. Something about her screams war-child. Perhaps this grip she has on you is the first demand she has made in a long time, the only tantrum she has ever been allowed to throw.

While you aren’t particularly experienced with children, you think you want her to feel safe with you, because it seems she hasn’t been elsewhere. Ana’s eyes flit around the room in the only behavioral indication of her youth – a childlike curiosity, shining in the face of this fancy, new place that gleams like a toy store. Every now and then, her gaze jumps back from the alien appearance of the lab to her father (?) who seems intent on wearing a hole in the tiles with his pacing.

It is beginning to wear on you: both Bucky’s pacing and Ana’s steadily increasing anxiety. He hasn’t said a word to her since he opened the envelope, only asked that you accompany him to the Compound seeing as Ana won’t go alone with him (You would have gone with him even if that hadn’t been so. Though the nature of your relationship is ambiguous at times, the strength of your friendship is not. You’ll figure this out. You won’t leave him alone). Clearly, there is some unspoken memory that has him convinced the claim in the letter is plausible. Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t.

Bucky doesn’t talk too much about his past. He has offered a few of the shattered shards of his past reflection to you in the few night-caped moments you have hammered on his door upon hearing shouts across the hall. Between that, and what you know thanks to Black Widow’s file dump, the big Avengers’ in-fight in Europe last summer, the consequent resolution to the Accords, and Bucky’s publicized pardon, you can guess at the traumas that lurk in the depths of him.

They’re traumas that are closer to the surface of his eyes now, pulled forth by this new life, this little soul that has no business with such dark things, and the implication that this holds. Ana, innocent as she may be, is an insinuation of what else might have been unwillingly torn from Bucky.

You don’t want to think about it, because it hurts to do so, because you care for him, in many, many ways. It seems that Anastasia is also starting to tire of it. With every step Bucky takes, her hand tightens on yours. Fortunately, soon, the door to your left opens, and Bruce Banner enters his lab.

He's appropriately disheveled for this hour in the morning. Under his pristine lab coat, one of his shirt buttons is done into the wrong buttonhole, but his eyes are alert, frantic even, though you get the feeling that this is a man always on the edge of escape.

Bucky lets out a breath he seems to have been holding at the same time as his shoulders tense. “Thanks for coming so early, Doctor Banner. I wouldn’t have called if—”

“You never call, so I know it must have been important. But it looks like I’ve kept you waiting anyways,” Banner says, his eyes widening as they move from Bucky, to you, to the little girl at your side. “What’s the matter? You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” He asks, putting a work bench between himself and his visitors.

Bucky clears his throat, and doesn’t quite know how to say what he needs to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, in which Banner waits patiently, Bucky extracts the envelope containing the fateful letter from his pocket, and hands it over.

The furrows in Doctor Banner’s brow multiply spontaneously, and when he looks up, Bucky gestures with a subtle nod of his head to Ana. He has yet to explain your presence, but you think Doctor Banner is a smart man. It won’t take more than Anastasia’s tight hold on you for him to put two and two together. Sometimes, a scared child is just that, no matter how unusual.

Most of their ensuing conversation is held at a lowered volume, set by Bucky, probably out of courtesy for Ana. You can hear snatches and phrases, most of them confirmations of things you had expected and some, not so much. Lobby security cam footage… fingerprints… paternity test… serum… blood sample…

By the end of it, some facsimile of a plan seems to have evolved between the two men, because Doctor Banner turns away with a smile and you, taking it as a welcome, stand and approach him. He rounds his desk and shakes your hand, exchange introductions though he hardly needs one, and then, he crouches, the way Bucky had, and offers Ana his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Ana.”

Bucky steps forward. “Anastasia—” the name is clumsy on his tongue, because he’s scared. You can see it, and you hope he knows you are, too, but you’ll stand with him regardless, “—Bruce is going to check that you aren’t sick.”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Okay.”

Banner pulls out a chair, and you’re about to sit Ana down on it, when she pushes you gently into it, and sits on your lap. You can do nothing but wrap your arms gently around her, so she doesn’t fall. The apology in Bucky’s eyes is melted with a sympathetic smile. It’s alright. A child developing an inexplicable affection for you is not the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ana is warm and a comfortable weight on you, and you hold her as loosely as you can, feel the movement of her chest against your arms with each breath. Her hair is a mix of wool-thick and silk-soft against your chin, smelling faintly of the sugar-sweet strawberry scent found in children’s shampoos. Someone took care of her.

Someone she isn’t asking for. What kind of child doesn’t ask for their mother, past the initial, momentary heartbreak? How has she come to terms with the apparent change in custody, when the new custodian hasn’t?

Whether Bucky is to be the new guardian has yet to be determined. You can see Bruce pulling out a syringe and preparing a vial. You wonder if she’s scared of needles. Bucky flinches at the sight of them, even now. He’s said that his disdain for the cold clinicism of medicine dates back to long before Hydra. Medical equipment reminds him of worrying that his best friend was going to die. It’s the fear he has harbored longest, longer than his fear of war, of gunshots in the dark, of blood on his hands.

Ana shares it. When she sees the needle, she screams, and Bucky lunges forward to help you hold her in place. She’s so, so much stronger than you thought and while you can hold her limbs, her head thrashes about, and so does her torso, making it impossible for Bruce to get to the inside of her elbow.

In the chaos, your eye lands on a trinket on a nearby desk, sitting there like a peace offering, literally beckoning to you. “Hey, Ana,” you whisper-yell, trying not to get hit in the jaw by her head. “Do you like animals? Cats? I have a friend who has lots and lots of cats, and I could take you to see them.” It’s working. You’re out of breath, but she’s quieting. Most little kids love cats. You love cats. “I think Bruce has a toy cat. See, over there?” You dare to lift an arm to point at the maneki-neko on the table. Ana stills. Her eyes follow the hypnotic movement, and the syringe at Ana’s elbow does its job.

When the bandage is put on, you and Bucky let go with twin nervous chuckles of relief and disbelief, and Bruce puts the vial in a machine. Ana hops off to approach the desk, and bats at the paw waving at her like a mirror of it.

“We should have the results soon. I think the others are starting to wake up, if you want to say hi,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the corner of his lab coat.

“Maybe later,” you say, seeing that Bucky is hardly in any position to converse casually with his teammates right now. Not to mention, it’d be a lot of work to explain Ana, especially before having any sort of confirmation of who she is.

Bucky pulls out a chair next to you while Bruce opens a laptop a few counters away, and an x-ray machine lifts its head behind Ana, who has moved on from the lucky cat, and is stroking the leaves of a flowering plant.

“Peace lily,” Bucky says, startling you. You look at him, the bags under his eyes, the way he almost looks his age right now, and fight the urge to hold his hand. “It’s the first flower I bought for my apartment. I put it in a community garden after a nightmare about the war. Didn’t feel right for me to have it.”

He's talking about the Second World War. The war always refers to his first war. You think he’s talking about peace, and not the lily, after what he’s done. After what he was forced to do.

“It’s not your fault,” is an automatic response, and never enough, especially for the war, because at least he was in his own senses, even if he was drafted. It always elicits a self-deprecating laugh, but right now, he’s too tired for even that.

Right now, he can only watch as the x-ray camera follows Ana around the room, from the peace lilies, to an Amazon elephant’s ear, to a strange sculpture made from Coca-Cola cans glued together by what looks like spider-webs.

Too soon, Bruce calls you over to his work station. You follow Bucky, one eye on Ana.

“She’s yours,” Bruce says, and Bucky inhales sharply. Now, you do take his hand, stroke the metal ridges with your calloused thumb. “But she has disproportionately more of your DNA than her mother’s.”

“What does that mean?”

Bruce wrings his hands. “She’s not a complete clone, but nearly a genetic copy. 80% of a clone, if you will.”

Bucky is growing increasingly uncomfortable, shifting next to you. “How’s that possible?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #reader insert #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel #mcu #fanfic

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haechanokeh · 4 years ago

Text

I'm Right For You [pt.2 ]

[teaser/ prologue] [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ]

(you can play Die For You by The Weeknd while reading this 😌)

pairing: popular college! mark x average! reader

genre: romance, smut, angst, series.

warning (chapter): handjob, public, fingering,

warning: corruption, oral sex (both receiving and giving), cream pie, rough sex, anal sex, mention of religion, rough sex, self-esteem, psychology, public sex, sub! reader, sex toys. possessive mark two-faced mark

I think I'm right for you, babe. You know what I'm thinking, see it in your eyes. You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry. It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect and I know that you're worth it I can't walk away. (Die for you by The Weeknd)

class ended and you're packing your things, and so your seatmate for today- mark.

"mark, do you want to eat with us?" your other classmates always invite mark.

"sure, wait. Do you want to eat with-"

you carry your bag and immediately left the room. he's the last person you want to be with, after what happened yesterday. mark confessed that he likes you and now you just can't talk to him.

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you're in the library trying to be "productive" and pretending to be "studious". you tied your hair, hyping yourself that you will study but 3 minutes after opening your thick pharmacology book, you took a nap.

mark entered the almost empty library. there's a lot of vacant tables and chairs but he's looking for the best spot, until he saw your sleeping face... from a far. mark has a keen eyes, especially when it comes to you. he walked towards your place and carefully sat beside you cautious in his movements to prevent waking you up. he put his bag on the vacant seat beside him and turned his head on you. you're squished side of your face against the table made him smile. lying at his classmates is worth it.

unaware of your surrounding, you didn't know mark was now sitting beside you. he saw your book was opened in diuretics chapter so he opened his own book at the same page as yours. he started writing notes, for you.

mark likes you but he's having a hard time to get close to you. not sure but he thinks that you're avoiding him, you immediately dismisses his presence when he's approaching you. you weren't rude when you do that though, you just speak very shortly with him. mark doesn't have a concrete reason why he likes you, but everytime he looks at your serine personally and your innocent face t brings him calmness. sometimes he just catching himself staring at you during class.

after he wrote the key points, he transferred all the sticky notes on the pad. he clicked the pen and look at you.

"you're still sleeping, wow." he whispered but with amusement. you're sleeping for 2 hours already. his eyes landed on your slightly parted plump lips.

dirty thoughts running in his head. he imagined your lips wrapped around his dick. yeah, the mark everyone look up to thinks like this towards you. he's not like this to anyone except you, he was also shock to on the effects you give him. mark was afraid you became an obsession, well too late for that.

he removed your specs, folded it and put it on the top of the table. he just watches you sleep, not caring whether other find it creepy.

suddenly your phone alarmed, you woke up immediately and to your panic you can't find your phone which was actually just infront of you, so mark was the one who off your alarm. you turn your head to look at him.

"thank you." you gave him an awkward smile. you look around and you saw from afar the librarian was glaring at you. you gave her an apologetic face and she returned to her seat.

he extended his arms and his thumb touched the side of your lips down to your chin. you felt a burning sensation from his thumb.

"welcome." he gave you his signature warm friendly smile.

you look down because you felt uncomfortable once again. your eyes caught a wet pool on the book, later you realize that mark wiped your drool. heat of embarrassment took over your face.

"let's eat?" he asked, lowering his face and moving it close to you. he wanted you to see his face, which you did. you're heart beating so fucking fast.

"i have to study." you said as an alibi.

"really?" he was unconvinced and playfully gave you a doubt look.

study my ass! I JUST WOKE UP!

"tomorrow is the case study, aren't we supposed to study together?" he sat up straight.

"we already did yes-" suddenly, his confession popped out from your head. "yesterday." you whispered, a ball of saliva almost stuck on your throat.

"really? i really don’t recall anything though.” he pretend to be naive. your eyes widen.

“you can’t remember anything? that’s impossible, you even confess to me... i mean...” shame crossed in you. please, swallow me my dear land. "mark, please let me study. i'm not like you."

he chuckled. "okay, but use my notes. here." he pushed towards you the notes he did while you were sleeping. your eyes gleamed like a sun.

"really?" you said excitedly.

"shhh!" you heard the librarian, you covered your mouth.

"really?" you asked again as confirmation. he giggled and nodded his head.

he admiringly stared at you goshing over his notes, he felt a weird sensation in his heart. mark was smiling like an idiot, this was his first time to see you smiling or happy when he’s around.

"thank you mark for saving me." you definitely forget the awkwardness between you. you looked at him sending him gratitude look.

without any words, you excitedly study his note. you're so oblivious that you didn't notice mark placed his hand on your thigh. horniness strike him.

your concentration broke when he squeezed your thigh. you turned your head to face him, there was uneasiness in your stomach when you face him again. the other mark that melt your knees.

he moved his face closer and whispered in your ears.

"y/n, i had a hard time sleeping last night. you know why?"

"why?" voice shaking and hands are sweaty while you're holding his notes.

"you never left my head, you kept on bothering me. i fantasize you last night, crying and begging to suck my dick with your small mouth and juicy lips." he huskily said and gripped your thigh tighter.

you squeezed your thighs together as you felt ache on your pussy. your breathing became ragged, chest rose heavily. you stare in those dark-lustful pair of eyes.

"i was horny last night, like what i'm feeling right now." his eyes glued in your lips.

he reached for your right hand and guided it to his hard cock. you gasped, and in surprise you take away your hand from his hardness but mark caught you and put it back.

"can you feel how hard i am right now? do you know how painful is it for me?" he grunted low. his lips touches your every time he speaks. "i need your help, y/n please." there was urgency in his voice.

"h-ow?" stuttering because of nervousness but with hidden excitement.

you heard a zipped sound. you look down and his hard flesh peeking through his boxers. he pulled it down revealing his standing cock. you almost drool, it's thick, veiny, and long. he planted a small kiss on your ears and folded your hands wrapping it around his dick. your lips parted letting out a breath.

his dick was hot, hard, and has a lot of texture- you can feel his vein. you don't believe that when a guy's hands are veiny, and so their cock... but mark is the living statement.

"move." he commanded. you pushed down your palm around his cock, and start pumping it slowly.

"like this?" you asked innocently.

mark saw your submissive look again, doll-like eyes shinning with innocence but full of lust.

"yes, baby. fuck faster, you're doing great." he complimented you, teeth gritting. he put his left arm across your shoulder and his other arm resting on the table.

both of you didn't care whether you're about to get caught or not. you enjoy the playful desires you share with each other. he smashed his lips to your soft lips. tongue caressing each other but careful not to produce noises. you're pumping him hard and fast, you felt cramp in your wrist but didn't stop. his hands formed into fist, knuckled getting white.

he moaned inside your mouth when he reach his climax. you felt the hot sticky liquid on your hands. you broke the kiss and look down to see what does it look like to have his cum on your hand. your eyes looked up and gaze into his eyes, he saw guilt, regret, and shame.

“what am i doing mark?” you bit your lower lip and your eyes watering. you know this is wrong, but when you’re with him all the rationality in you just evaporates. you became terrified of what you became and what you will have become. “what are you turning me into?”

mark was satisfied when he heard that coming out from your mouth, that means he has effect to you. he knew, because he felt the same from you.

“same goes to me, y/n. don’t you get it there’s something bet-” he was cut off when there were tiny voices. both of you turned your head towards the library entrance and there were bunch of seniors coming in. mark quickly zipped his pants and you wipe his cum on his black sweatshirt. you both looked at each other, you just realize what you did.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered and shoved your head against the book. he snickered on your cuteness and clumsiness.

“hey mark.” you froze when the girl seniors approached mark. you stay still, face against the book.

“oh, hi.” he greeted back, giving them a forced smile.

“i saw them on the pizza house, i thought you’re there? i was about to go. good thing you’re here.” she said and you heard some chairs being pulled out.

I need to go fudge, this is probably why i don’t like mark, he’s surrounded by people. knowing you, you’re allergic to people.

you stood up and gather your things.

“where are you going?” mark asked in curiosity and confusion while watching you.

“hmm?” you look at him and carried your back and book. the seniors were staring at you too. “oh, my mom said i have to go for groceries, heheeh empty fridge.” you LIED again. his brow rose.

he was looking at you but not in your face though and you have no time to pay attention to that.

“again? yesterday you went-” you did not let him finish.

“i have to go bye!”

“SHHH!”

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you couldn't ignore your wetness beneath you. you were having a hard time walking because of the weird feeling and you felt discomfort on your abdomen part. obviously, you're horny and you knew that. you quickly turned to the right corner to use the girl's comfort room. you masturbate especially everytime you watch porn, and you badly need to masturbate right now without watching porn. you entered one of the cubicle and when you were about to close it, a hand appeared stopping the door.

mark?

he stepped inside the cubicle which made you step back , the behind of your knees touched the toilet seat. you heard and clicked sound, he closed the door.

“wait, weren’t you...” you were speechless as you point your finger outside but you were actually pertaining to the library.

why the hell is he everywhere? does he have roller blades on his feet?

"i can smell you." he said looking down, you were curious of what he was looking at but you were offended from his statement.

"excuse me?" you scoffed.

"you were standing infront of me before you leave me, too close and i'm not sure if that's the smell because it was my first time but..." he gaze straight into your eyes. he palmed your pussy which made you yelp. "it was sweet and erotic, are you horny right now?"

you gulped in embarrassment, you want to be swallowed whole by the soil. you were that wet from giving him a handjob!

"were you planning to masturbate?" his eyes switched into dark and dominating. you wonder, how can he guess everything right?

his palmed between your legs made it hard for you to control your desire. you grabbed his wrist.

"i need to cum." you gave him your pleading eyes.

your pleading sweet voice and eyes, and the way you say the word cum went straight into his dick. he never expected that word to come out from your mouth. when it did, he want to grant you.

"you're so special." he whispered. he unzipped your jeans and pulled it down above your knees which slightly made him annoyed because it was hard to pull it down. he gave your dump panty and glance because he can smell it, it wasn't a bad smell it was the opposite. it was sweet, very aromatic.

you just watch him while holding on his shoulder for balance. he stood up straight. you where biting your lips while staring at his handsome face through your lashes.

"mark..." you murmur as you were growing impatient. mark chuckled.

"okay, baby." he called you baby, and your heart lifted... and so as your right leg using his left arm. he hang your leg on his arm.

"what are you doing?" he didn't answer you.

he palmed your already sticky and wet pussy which made you bite your lower lip. he rubbed it in circular motion, you suppressed your moan because goodness it feels so good but you're afraid someone will hear you. he pulled your panty aside and rubbed your slit and clit, hard but slowly. your eyes were squeezing shut and enjoy the feeling. his lips pay attention on your jaw.

"mark, i want to cu- go. please." you whimpered.

he inserted his two finger and started to thrust it inside you while his thumb were flatly rubbing your clit.

"ah... hmmm" you couldn't suppress your moan anymore. "it feels so good." you cried and throw your head back gripping mark shoulder.

mark switched his attention from your jaw to your neck, licking and kissing it. he started to fasten the pace. your were producing a squelching sound.

"please, please, please i need to cum... oh f- yes yes." your eyes rolled back, you almost saw your brains. your legs felt tension causing your leg being lifted to flex straight, toes folded.

"are you cumming now, y/n? hmm?" he said against your neck. you nodded aggressively.

"i'm so close, so close" you were mewling. "ahh!" you clenched mark's fingers and produced a long cry when you finally reached your climax.

you became weak, your limbs became jelly. you were about to fall, good thing mark catched you before that happened. your arms have no energy to hold onto mark.

"are you okay?" mark genuinely asked. "did i overdo it?" growing concern feed him.

you shook your head, head empty, and catching your breath. you have low stamina, this already made you almost pass out? what more if he fuck you?

you shook your heard want to remove those perverted thoughts, and why the hell you thought of mark?

"seat down y/n." he made you seat on the toilet. suddenly, your phone rang. mark, without hesitation looked for your phone inside your bag. he looked at the name. "your mom." he cleared his throught and was about to answer but you quickly snatched it.

there's no way you want your mom to hear a male voice.

"mom?" you answered through your heavy breathing.

"y/n? why are you panting? are you okay?"

"ah, y-yes. i just ran from ahm nevermind i just ran that's it. why are you calling me?" mark intently watching you.

"oh, i forgot a file in our house, it's on top of my table, bring it here, okay?" she asked for your favor.

"yes." you sighed. your mom always forget something.

"okay, love you!" and she hang up.

you stood up. you look down as you felt your stickiness between your legs. you just pulled up your underware and pants.

"i need to go home, i'll go out first and make sure the coat is clear then you'll go out. okay?" you were still panting, catching your breath.

"i can drive you home." he said. there goes again, the warmth in his eyes. you were staring each other, mark looked so determined.

"promise me you will not do anything. i have no energy, mark." you sighed in defeat.

he laughed and pinched your cheek.

"sure." he said, smiling but deep inside he was disappointed. might not be visible because his sweatshirt was covering it, but he is painfully hard right now.

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secretsniper2 · 4 years ago

Text

Part 4: New Life

You wake after a rough night, tear stained cheeks, your mouth dry and your body aching, blinding back tears you look down your body and see nothing, the contacts doing their job, you can barely see your own breasts. A loud slam as the door at the top of the stairs opens and closes, footsteps as he approaches and stopping at your bed, “awake already cunt? your too eager for the fucking!” blinking back more tears as the blurry figure standing over you grabs your breast and squeezes hard drawing a sharp gasp from your dry lips, his other hand brushing against your delicate nether lips and parts them easily, dragging fingers up your labia forcing moans to burst out your mouth now. Pushing deep a finger plunges into your pussy and moves around inside you, stirring up your insides as if he is looking for something that isn't there

Thrusting harder and harder your hips push up as he finger fucks your pussy, seemingly going deeper with each thrust. “what a needy cunt you have! would you like to cum? would you like this metal shield to come off?” Screaming out at that last part “YES PLEASE!!!” throat almost breaking, your so thirsty, “PLEASE LET ME CUU-!” you break off as your throat gives out as the man flicks the shield sealing your clit away, sending ripples through your entire body as your clit receives some desperate stimulation for the 1st time in what seems like a lifetime. “ill leave it on for now, if your a good slave i may remove it for the night” he says with a smile as he begins to mount your body once again, intent on pumping you full so he has reason to clean you out later.

Cock lining up with your pussy he pushes in hard, lips parting around his member he goes straight to your womb, your head flies back into the mattress as your arousal and mind both soar into the clouds! fucking vigorously as the bed squeaks beneath you both as his cock pulls out and thrusts back in over and over again, your blinking back tears as your teeth seize your lower lip as your pleasure reaches newer heights with no end in sight, the source of your release locked behind a shield and out of sight.

Finally cumming inside your womb the man pulls out of you and stands up at your side, seemingly looking down on his pathetic piece of fuck meat. “ill give you a favour, slave.. “ he says as your face is seized and your eyes forced open. you can see his blurry fingers get closer and peel away the contacts that made seeing impossible from your eyes. Blinking madly your eyes adjust to being useful once again and you look up at the man. Hes tall, long black hair and a beard, his shirt is open revealing a hairy chest with a still hard cock between his legs. Turning away your given a chance to survey your new room, its horrible! a chair sits alone in a corner with a chain dangling from the ceiling and a horribly painful looking dildo sitting on top. Multiple shackles nailed to 1 wall at various distances and heights, likely meant for wrists and ankles, there are nails holding more shackles a foot further across. Various other devices lay around your room, likely inspired from medieval times, a rack and a random barrel surrounded by anchor points, a Sybian which scares you, you tried 1 once and you came hard and it wasn't even on half power, a series of stocks ranging from different sizes with bigger and smaller holes..

The man returns with a trolley, too high for you to see what's on it as he wheels it to your bedside, you know that there's nothing on that trolley that your going to enjoy.. Seemingly on cue the man takes 2 clamps and a series of wires from the table and rests them between your supple breasts, taking a clamp and lowering it on your nipple, he looks into your eyes as you whimper in fear as he releases the clamp and it slams down on your hard nipple, biting deep forcing tears to swell up in your eyes. Blinking as the tears run down your cheeks your greeted with the other clamp held over your other nipple, already knowing how it ends you look into his eyes as he releases it, slamming it down on your nipple and wrenching more tears from your eyes.

Pulling the wire from your cleavage he attaches 1 wire to 1 clamp then the remaining wire to the other clamp and trails the wires up to the trolley top. You hear him push the wires into something but your certain its a electrical device that your going to hate. Shaking your head in frustration your eyes catch something hanging on the wall facing you, its a digital clock, large red numbers showing 09:15 illuminate the surrounding wall in the darkness, at least you will know what time it is as your tortured and raped. Lifting the control box from the trolley its placed on your stomach making it difficult to see as your wired tits are blocking your view.

“lets start with number 3.” you hear him mumble as your nipples begin to tingle with the current being forced from 1 nipple to the other. “number 5? he says and as he pushes the button “ahhh!” it hurt, not not as bad as it will if that was only 5, 5 out of what? “number 9? he says, through your cleavage you can see the button he presses, his thumb hovering over it, looking up a bit you lock eyes with him, with a smile on his face, his thumb drops! “AHHH HA HA! FUCK!” you scream, he held the button down a good 10 seconds, clearly enjoying the setting your on, or perhaps your at max power he pushes again drawing more cries of pain from you, Head launching side on your eyes search for the clock on the wall as he continues pressing that red button, “09:25?.. fuck.

Your nipple torture seems to have lit a light in the mans head, as he pulls the wires free of the clamps and walks away, only to return holding a piercing gun.. Removing your nipple clamps your nipples are lined up and the gun is loaded, a quick shooting pain signals your nipple has a fresh hole that's already filled. Looking down you see a metal bar protruding from your left nipple, you stare in fear as your right nipple is lined up to be pierced, and moments later it looks the same as your left. fresh pain flooding your breasts as blood trickles out of your freshly punctured nipples, cleaned up by the sadistic man, but you wonder why he pierced your nipples so suddenly..

Seeing more wires be placed on your chest your eyes widen as you realize the piercings purpose.. wrapping 2 wires per piercing at each end of the bar your nipples will be filled with their own hellish currents! As his thumb lands on the button you feel a dull current pass through the bar and into your sore nipples, “number 3? he says. Cranking it higher you hear him say “number 7? and you nipples flood with power that makes you moan out loud, it hurts but it also feels good, but you know he isn't planning on making YOU feel good. your confirmed as he says “number 10? and as he pushes the button you scream out in pain as your nipples begin to course with electricity, too strong to be pleasurable!

“number 13..” he says and your eyes shoot down to meet his gaze, as he hits the button your head launches back once again as your lungs draw in air and you scream “FUUUUUUUCKKK!! STOP PLEASE!!” and he does, only to press it for a second to make you scream for that second, making him laugh you hear 2 more clicks and a “number 15? and once again your button is pressed. Higher number but not that big a leap, your ready for most of the pain but not all, your mouth tears open again as you scream out “NO MORE PLEASE!!” and after a hellish 8 seconds he stops. your head falls to the side and your eyes lock to the clock, 09:58.. worst morning ever..

“Number 20? and it just got worse! eyes tearing off the clock and visually stabbing the man in his eyes you can only meet him for a heartbeat then the button is pressed and your eyes shoot into your own head, “AHHHHH FUUUUUUUUCK NOOOOOOO!! you shriek! your back arching painfully as your body does everything it can to fight the pain and free your nipples, but bound as tight as you are your efforts are reduced to a pathetic jerking motion.

Clearly having fun with your poor nipples he continues to press a number 20 on your body, holding you in that hellish place for ages, or so it seems. Shaking eyes roll down to find the clock and your shrieking only grows as you see the time.. 10:01.. its only been 3 minutes and it feels like hours.. Tears flood down your cheeks as you look back at the source of your hell, smile still plastered on his face as he pushes the button again, pulling more screams from your mouth! Your eyes still locked on his own you beg and beg with all your might hoping that it'll sway him so he will stop tormenting your nipples. and after 1 final minute long press of the button, the wires are removed from your freshly pierced and throbbing nipples..

Returning to the trolley the man picks up a rather large dildo and pushes the head of it against your tight ass, you clench in denial but there's little your ass can do to stop him with your legs bound wide open, soon enough he fills your ass painfully with a solid cock, pushing it deeper inside you and finally letting it rest in your already sore ass. A long, thin, ribbed vibrator is pulled off the trolley and with a smile he sits between your spread legs. you expect him to insert the uselessly small toy in your wet pussy but you jump as its your urethra that gets the tip.. ”OH GOD NO NOT THERE PLEASE!!” you scream! no longer seeming too small, its turned into a monster that will tear you apart on entry! dipping it inside your pussy to lubricate the toy its then pushed slowly inside your pee hole.

Pushing harder and harder the vibrator slides painfully inside you, stretching you wide around the monster toy you can feel every bump along its surface as it continues its penetration, at last you feel it reach the end, his thumb brushing against your pussy, you now have the entire length inside your urethra. Hearing a light click your rewarded with a strong buzz in a place you have never considered being stimulated, its strong and easily takes your mind off the pain, your hips begin thrusting dully as the man pushes his still hard cock back into your pussy. eye zipping to the clock 10:30..

Fucking hard inside your pussy like a madman you hear him grunting into your ear “fucking hell cunt, i can feel the buzzing from in here! must make you feel good!” he isn't wrong.. your pussy is gushing from the stimulation, its incredible your only sad it isn't making you cum, each time the man slams into your pussy your shield takes the blow, protecting your desperate cum button from being hit! Dumping another load inside your pussy you reel from the stimulation, legs pulling uselessly against the bindings that pin you to your bed, you have never wanted to cum this badly in a long time, though you have never intentionally kept yourself on the edge of release for days on end before.. “please let me cum..” you cry out through a flood of tears “i cant take it anymore..”

Feeling the shield blocking your clit get pulled away you moan loudly, the air hitting your little bud you look at the man expecting him to pinch or twist your clit to make you cum through pain, but as he holds up the piercing gun your eyes almost shoot out of their sockets “NO PLEASE NOT THERE!! NOT MY CLIT PLEASE!!!” you scream! not interested in your complaints or begging he plants himself back between your wide open thighs and leans in close to your helpless clit, you can feel his hot breath blowing against your little nub as tears stream down your face in fear of what's to come..

Nuzzling your swelling clit with the tip of the gun you hear him whisper “lets see if you can cum from this..” and as you look down between your breasts at the man you hear a loud *clunk* and a stabbing pain, your clit now has a friend, and your mind is screaming! Breaking into tears over the pain, your clit throbbing with a mix of unending arousal and a flood of pain, your ass and urethra still buzzing wildly serving as a minor distraction to the pain, then you see a piece of metal in his hands with some weird things inside it, he brings it closer for you to see.

“its your new shield, ill put it on you later” he says with a grin, “oh fuck no…” you whisper, its got 2 hooks, likely to attach to your new piercing at the sides, the centre is covered in tiny rubber spikes, they are all going to land right against the tip of your clit, and every move you make is going to drawn them back and forth across your sensitive button, its going to feel incredible but if your forced to walk around alot, you wont be able to stop cumming no matter how tired you get.. Placing your new shield at the foot of the bed, likely so to not misplace it, your pussy is invaded by another dildo, large and ribbed “for your pleasure” he says with a laugh, pushing it deep into your womb he clicks it to life, now all 3 of your holes are filled with buzzing toys, and you cant cum..

Grabbing something new from the table he closes in on your face, most likely to use whatever it is on you. not wanting to go blind again you slam your eyes shut to keep the contacts out, only to have your jaw grabbed and pulled open and a ring inserted behind your teeth, pulling it up your mouth opens wider and wider until its physically impossible to open your mouth any further. Your tongue pushes against the ring only to find its lodged in place, its not going to budge, with your mouth now free for use your chest is straddled and his cock pushes once again inside your mouth and down your throat, with the stimulation your receiving your forced to moan onto his cock as he puts 2 loads of cum down your throat as he holds your head close with each shot.

Taking his cock out your head drops to the side, 11:20, time flies when your getting fucked. “i got some errands to run and a few things to pick up so ill leave you with something to do!” he says as he unlocks your feet and your wrists, locking your hands in front of you. Pulling you off the bed by your hands your led around a corner and taken to a iron horse.. the wedge on the top looks both dull and sharp at the same time. your wrists are chained over your head and the chain pulls you closer to the horse, he lifts you up and your pussy rests on the iron wedge at the top, your lips parting and your clit almost slicing into the wedge. Crying out in pain you know that begging gets you nowhere, even so your mouth gets a ballgag to go with the ring holding your mouth open. The man bends under the horse and attaches something to your ankle, then your other ankle, pulling your legs up you find it was a spreader bar, though your legs are already spread it now serves to keep you seated. another clock is in front of you 11:25 on the front, you notice it has 4 screws in the front, at 12,3,6 and 9, each with wires leading to the horse, the long hand on the clock has a wire of its own, with a piece of metal at its tip. “every 15 minutes your going to get a treat. don't cum too hard you desperate cunt!” as he watches the clock in front of you. tick tick tick tick you watch in horror as the hand gets closer and closer until 11:30..

Your pussy and ass course with high voltage as your shriek through the gag, tears rush down your face as your mind races with sensations of pure pain and pleasure! but no orgasm! the pain keeps her denied now! a moment of sensations then 15 hellish minutes of anticipation. “ill be back in a few hours!” he says drawing another scream from your lips. Hearing him walk upstairs and slamming the door and the faint sound of the bookshelf sliding over the doorway, your isolated and in a lot of trouble. Eyes locking to the clock, its already 11:43! you moan and scream but its no use and you know it. tick tick tick goes the close till inevitably your body is assaulted with more electricity! your captor just left and you can barely take anymore!!

Your eyes glance back to the clock 01:28. you brace for another round of hell when you hear something! the door opens and closes and footsteps as he walks down the stairs! Just as his foot lands on the ground 01:30 and your body convulses and you scream in pain as he laughs! “fuck! nice timing huh cunt! so did you cum or not?!” he said as he walks over to your shaking body. “i asked you a question slave, did you cum?!” “MNNN!” is all you can manage but it gets the point across, you couldn't cum once.. Switching off the device your taken over to another device and strapped down, a long dildo pushes effortlessly into your pussy, ass and urethra as you groan out loud, still delirious from the previous torture. mentally gathering yourself you look at your new torture tool.

Eyes shooting open you realize you just got strapped onto a Sybian.. your going to cum hard on this, and the man isn't likely to keep you on ¼ power! so you'll keep cumming till you faint! trying desperately to get off the device your completely restrained on its evil seat! locking your arms behind your back your shown the remote to your new seat. Clicking it to life your rewarded with a soft hum as it roars to life, watching the remote as your captor rotates the dial to half way in a single go you cum instantly! and again and again! constantly orgasming your head launches back as you scream into your gag!

Pulling your head by the hair back to face the control you watch as he ramps you up again to ¾ power and your body convulses harder than it did on the horse! constant streams of cum leak out of your pussy as your orgasms have combined into 1 constant orgasm, no end in sight, the only thing in sight is the controls as he maxes the sybian out, your orgasms now coming every single second! blinking tears out of your eyes you begin to see spots in your vision, each orgasm adds a new dot to slowly block your vision. It isn't long until the pleasure has rendered your eyes useless due to the dots and you black out finally!

Waking up rebound to your bed, pussy still shaking from the orgasmic onslaught your eyes slowly turn to the clock on the wall, 05:47, your glad you blacked out from that, you know you would have gone insane from the orgasms if you were awake. Hearing something in your head you find you have earbuds in your ears, and something holding them in place, its a white noise, nothing more, at least you hope. Waking up further you find your 3 lower holes have been refilled with buzzing toys and your clit has its old shield back in place. Hearing your captor returning you look over and see through the haze you can see a hose, cleaning time.. fuck. your pussy is emptied and then refilled with the cold hard cock designed for 1 thing, and sure enough your pussy is flooded with cold water, fucking you hard with it your womb is washed clean of all the cum he's loaded into your pussy today. Shaking from the internal wash, your pussy is refilled with its toy and a latex hood is pulled over your head, leaving only your eyes exposed. Your going to learn how to live with your new life you have now. its going to be long and hard but you'll learn to love it eventually.

#Stories #Custom

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clonecest-bin-account · 4 years ago

Note

May I request some Fox/Rex nsfw? Perhaps somewhere they’re not meant to be/run the risk of getting caught :3c

(HELL YEAH! Fox/Rex is my guilty pleasure otp ngl, so I’m happy I’ve got the chance to write something about it!)

(Fic under the cut!)

It shouldn’t take too long, Fox said. It’s just a small errand he has to run at the Senate building.

Rex really hopes it’s the case; sure, they have some days of leave - the General pulled some strings so that he can spend a decent amount of time with his wife - but it’s been a long time since he and the Commander of the Guard have seen each other. They have a lot of catching up to do.

“You could come with me,” Fox suggests. “That way once we’re done we can go do whatever you please.”

Mmh, that’s not a bad idea at all, thinking about it.

“Alright. I’ll come along.”

How bad can it be?

The building is an imposing structure, but Rex tries not to feel intimidated by it, though he can’t match Fox’s confidence in the way he walks, like he owns the place - in a way, he kinda does.

Rex is expecting a dull afternoon, at least until Fox is done with his duties, so he almost sighs in relief when, once the two of them hop on the elevator, Fox pushes him against the wall and, once he removes his helmet, kisses him breathless, then he remembers where they are, which prompts him to push Fox away, even though he was really enjoying himself.

“W-Wait, Fox! We can’t!” he exclaims.

“Why not?” Fox replies, pressing against him again in a way that is making Rex melt, but…

“Fox! We’re in an elevator! They’ll catch us!”

That’s the last thing Rex needs, to be caught by a senator. Not only it would be highly mortifying, but they’d surely be sent to decommissioning, and that’s not something Rex wants, at all.

When Fox pulls away though, there’s a certain smile on his face, a smile that is more than enough to tell Rex that he must have something in mind.

To confirm his suspicions, he walks to the elevator’s control panel and presses a series of buttons, making the elevator come to a halt. Then he turns towards Rex, smirk on his face.

“Oh no, looks like we’re stuck,” he says. “We’ll have to wait for security to reach us.”

He saunters towards Rex as he continues.

“Too bad this is a secondary elevator that rarely gets checked.”

The shabuir. He’s planned everything from the start, hasn’t he?

“I should’ve expected it,” Rex says then, rolling his eyes, but it all changes when Fox drops on his knees in front of him; it makes Rex shiver from the anticipation.

“I expect to be thoroughly fucked later,” Fox says, already undoing Rex’s codpiece. The other swallows.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

By the way Fox almost chokes on Rex’s cock, as he takes him in his mouth with too much eagerness, he must’ve missed him.

Well, Rex has missed him too, so he doesn’t really mind the sloppy way with which he’s getting blowed, as long as Fox doesn’t stop.

Eventually, however, it becomes too much; Rex has no idea of how much time they have, and most importantly he doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to get hard again if he comes now. If Fox still wants to get fucked, and Rex really wants to fuck him, then they have to stop.

That’s why, although reluctantly, he pushes Fox away. At least he doesn’t try to resist, having probably understood where this is going.

“C’mon, up,” Rex says then. “Hands to the wall.”

Fox rolls his eyes, but he obeys, if anything because he’s dying for a good fuck, and also… Well, let’s just say that the elevator isn’t the only surprise for today.

Speaking of that, once he’s where Rex wants him to be, the Captain wastes no time getting rid of his lower armor and blacks, and once his hands go to cup his ass… Ah, there it is.

“O-Oh…” is all that comes out of Rex’s mouth once he notices the plug stuck in his asshole. Kriffing son of a chakaar.

“And where does this come from?” he asks then, grabbing the plug by its edge and wiggling it inside Fox, making him whine. At that, Rex smirks, pressing himself against Fox, licking the back of his neck, making him shiver. “You really couldn’t wait, couldn’t you?”

“Nope,” Fox chuckles, wiggling his hips against Rex. “Reeeex, c’mon!”

If only Rex wasn’t so horny, he would’ve toyed with him more, so much more, but he wants him, he wants him so bad, so he’ll have to do that another time.

He pulls the plug away with a sudden motion, making Fox squeak from the surprise, and then whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, as he clenches his rim around nothing.

Luckily for him, it doesn’t take long for Rex to fill the void, thrusting inside his heat. As soon as his length begins to be enveloped by Fox, Rex groans, as he rests a hand on the wall, at the same height of Fox’s head, while with the other he holds his hip.

“Fuck…”

“Indeed,” Fox can’t help but to joke, gaining a harsh thrust for the trouble, which makes him exclaim in return: “Oh fuck!”

That’s better.

For once Rex doesn’t hold back at all in the way that he fucks Fox; they’ve been apart too much for that.

Fox, on the other hand, looks more than pleased by the rough way with which he’s being handled. The happy moans that leave his mouth are clear signs of it.

With this rhythm, neither of them lasts long, which is good since someone might come at any moment. Fox barely manages to muffle is voice as he comes, with Rex following right after.

For a moment, he forgets where they are, as he turns Fox around after slipping out of him, to kiss him with all the hunger he’s felt during all the days they’ve been apart.

Eventually, still, he has to pull away.

“Shabuir,” is all is able to say, although his voice is fond. Fox chuckles.

“Shut up, you liked it,” he points out in retort. Well…

“Fair,” Rex replies. He doesn’t like to let Fox win this easily, but after all he’s right: he liked it quite a lot.

They’d love to go for a second round, but they know now isn’t the right time for that, so they begin getting their armor in place again before someone catches them with their dicks out.

It’s good that they thought to do that, because as soon as they’re done, they hear a voice from outside.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Took you long enough to reach us!” Fox replies, as if that weren’t exactly what he wanted. Rex shakes his head.

“Yeah, sorry about that… But we’re going to get you out of there now!”

“You better!” Fox exclaims, only to turn towards Rex with a grin on his face, something that Rex can’t help but to return.

Ah, he has the feeling that there’s much more Fox has in store for him.

He can’t wait to find out what.

Tag list: @maulusque @captainrexwouldnever If you want to be added feel free to let me know!

#assorted clonecest fics #clonecest #cloneshipping #foxrex #commander fox #captain rex #my fics #spicy tag #Anonymous

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thedanceronthestreets · 4 years ago

Text

PEDRO PASCAL GQ GERMANY - OCTOBER 2020

Original text by Esma Annemon Dil

Fotos by Doug Inglish

Styling by Simon Robins

Translated by @thedanceronthestreets

Intro: A broken tooth could almost have been the reason for our meeting with Pedro Pascal to be cancelled - and with that our conversation about roots, his new movie and times of change.

Interview: It is almost eery how empty the streets of Los Angeles are under the gleaming sun. While Europe is finding its "new normal", people in L. A. are cutting their own hair even without being neurotics. Many of them have not seen their friends in half a year. The pandemic is out of control. So are the reactions to the situation. Inviting someone to a "distance drink" in the backyard can lead to the same consternation as proposing a relationship partner exchange.

All the more of a surprise was Pedro Pascal's immediate confirmation. To the drink, not the partner exchange. He is one of the winners this year - and if Corona had not forced the movie industry to go on a holiday, he probably would not have had the time for this drink. After "Game of Thrones", the series in which his head was squished, followed 2015 the leading role in "Narcos" as a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar, and now the leap onto the big Hollywood screen. As of 1. October the Chilean will appear in the blockbuster "Wonder Woman 1984". Furthermore, the second season of the "Star Wars" series "The Mandalorian" will start in October with him as the main character - unfortunately underneath the helmet. But we all seem to be under the same helmet in 2020. It is this man we want to meet, who worked as a waiter in New York a couple of years ago. Whose parents are political refugees that settled in Texas, and one day their son decided to walk into a drama club in high school.

And then the cancellation. While we were preparing the house and garden for Pedro's drink and fashion shoot, which isn't an easy task under L. A.'s restrictions, his management called in with terrible news: Pedro has - no, not Corona - had to receive emergency surgery due to a sore tooth and is now lying in bed with a swollen cheek, making talking or shooting impossible. The sun shines onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later, he stands in front of the door anyway, no huge bulge in his face, but stitches in his gum. No limousine service that dropped him off, he arrived in his own car and picked up his makeup artist on the way. He helps her to carry in all the equipment and states first and foremost: "I've got time today!" What a star! It does not seem like we are about to ask him how he managed to become a Hollywood sensation, but rather him asking us that question. Pedro Pascal! So, what kind of star is he then?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for ruining your plans. The operation was a total emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling was the result of a secret trip to the plastic surgeon. Apparently, because of the quarantine in Hollywood, their schedules are packed.

Sorry to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I raced to the hospital with a tooth fracture and the worst pain I've ever felt - a hospital where the severe Corona cases are treated. I was unable to contact any dentists! Right before I parked, a specialist called back. I'll spare you the details of the surgery, gruesome. The pain was excruciating despite the 10 anaesthetic shots. The doctor said I wasn't the only one going through this, a lot of people grind their teeth at night thanks to stress.

What are you most afraid of at the moment?

The way the government is handling the pandemic scares me more than the virus itself. The lack of intelligent crisis management is a moral disgrace. The leadership crisis makes orphans out of all of us - we're left to fend for ourselves.

How have you spent the last few months?

With frozen pizza in jogging trousers in Venice Beach. I live in a rear building that's in the garden belonging to a family. In reality there are enough good takeout restaurants around that area, but for some reason I like salami pizza from the supermarket.

That doesn't exactly sound like the movie star lifestyle. What does it feel like to be forced from top speed to zero?

Considering the things happening in this world, my own state really isn't the top priority. But I would have to lie, if I said I wasn't disappointed. The entire cast and crew of "Wonder Woman 1984" put so much heart and soul into the production. We had so much fun on set. I had hoped to carry this feeling of exuberance around the globe to the openings of this movie.

You are part of a political, socialist family that fled the Pinochet regime in Chile. What do you remember from back then?

My sister and I were born in Chile, but I was only nine months old when we claimed asylum in Denmark. From there, we moved to San Antonio in Texas, where my dad worked as a doctor in a hospital.

Texas isn't exactly considered to be socialist utopia. How well did you settle in?

San Antonio isn't a cowboy city but rather very diverse with large Asian, Afro-American and Latino communities. In my memory it's a romantic place, culturally inclusive. The cultural shock only hit when we moved to Orange County in California later. Suddenly, the environment was white, preppy and conservative.

How were you welcomed in California?

To this day I'm ashamed when I think about how I let my classmates call me Peter without correcting them. I'm Pedro. Even without growing up in Chile, the country and language are part of me. I was quite unhappy in that place. At least I was able to switch schools and visit one in Long Beach, where I felt more comfortable. With its theatre programme, I found my path.

Could you visit your family's homeland as a child?

Yes, after my parents ended up on a list of expats that were permitted to re-enter the country. First, there was a big family gathering, then me and my sister were parked at some relatives' place for a few months while my parents returned to Texas. They probably needed a break from us. They'd had us at a very young age, had a vibrant social life, and my mother was doing her doctorate in psychology.

Was your mother a typical young psychologist that tested her knowledge at home?

You mean whether I was her lab rat? Absolutely. I can remember weird sessions camouflaged as games, where someone would watch my reactions to different toys. Even though I couldn't have been older than 6, I knew what was happening. My favourite thing was to be asked about my dreams. That was always a great opportunity to make up fantastic stories.

Was that your first performance?

Definitely! My strong imagination alarmed my mother, because I'd rather live in my fantasy world than in real life. I didn't like school. I ended up in the "problematic kid" category. At some point the subjects got more interesting and my grades improved. So many children are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be daunting. Why is it acceptable to be bored out of your mind in class, when there are more stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

With everything happening in the world this summer: Do you believe that social hierarchy structures are genuinely being reconsidered?

Hopefully. After the lockdown my first contact with people was at the Black Lives Matter protest. The atmosphere was peaceful and hopeful until the police got involved and provoked violence. At least during these times we can't avoid problems or distract ourselves from them as easily as we usually do. It seems that the pandemic provided us with a new sense of clarity: we don't want to go on like this.

The trailer of "Wonder Woman 1984" represents the optimism of the 80s. That almost makes one feel nostalgic nowadays.

That holds true. It's two hours of happiness. Patty Jenkins, the director, managed to make a movie full of positive messages. We shot in Washington, D. C., then in London and Spain - which now sounds like a different time.

Do you miss travelling?

I've only now realised what a privilege it is to just pack up your things and fly anywhere. With an American passport you can travel freely. And that's why the small radius we live in now is kind of absurd. Over the last few years I often retreated in between takes, because I was always on the road and overstimulated. Friends complained about how comfortable I had become. We all took social interactions for granted and realise now how reliant we are on human connection. Now, I wistfully think about all the party and dinner invitations I declined in the past.

In L. A., people spend more time indoors or in nature than in other metropolises. Could this city become your safe haven after New York City?

My true home is my friends. Ever since I was young I've lived the life of a nomad and haven't set roots anywhere. Until recently, my physical home was a place for arriving and leaving and hence I didn't want to overcomplicate living by owning lots of things. The opposite actually: Without having read Marie Kondo's book, I got rid of all the stuff that was unnecessary and lived a very minimalistic lifestyle.

Is there something you collect or could never say goodbye to?

Books! I still own the literature I read during my teen and university years. Recently I found a box of old theatre scripts and materials back from my uni days at NYU. I can't separate from art either, same as lamps or old pictures. Furniture and clothes are no problem though, they can be chucked.

Do you remember any roles that were defined by their costumes?

Yes, "Game of Thrones" comes to mind immediately. During that time I first understood what it means, as an actor, to be supported by a look. I owe that to costume designer Michele Clapton. She developed these very feminine robes and brocade cloaks for my role that looked very masculine when I wore them. I felt sexy in them. And very important were of course Lindy Hemming's power suits and Jan Sewell's blond hair for the tycoon villain Maxwell Lord in "Wonder Woman 1984". Relating to the style, I couldn't really see myself in the role since the shapes and colours of the 80s don't really fit my body. My type is the 70s.

Do you adopt such inspirations into your private closet?

At this point in time, I'll choose any comfortable outfit over a cool look. Sometimes I mourn the days when I defined myself with fashion. It's a bit mad when I think about how, in the 90s as a teenager, I would go to raves; a proper club kid with crazy outfits: overalls, chute trousers, soccer shirts and a top hat like in "The cat in the hat knows a lot about that!" by Dr Seuss. Later in NYC I was part of a group that placed immense value on wearing a certain style. The fact that I only walk around in joggers nowadays is actually unacceptable!

Normally, actors who work on comic screen adaptations become bodybuilders and eat ten boiled chicken breasts per day. You don't?

My body wouldn't be able to handle that. I find it difficult enough to maintain a minimum level of fitness. As of your mid 40s, you suddenly need a lot more discipline. Until the tooth incident happened, I worked out a couple of times a week with a trainer to keep the quarantine body in shape.

What would annoy you the most, if you were your own roommate?

I can be very bossy. I have to gather all my goodwill not to force my movie choice on to everyone else. When I want something, I'm not passive aggressive about it, I attack head on. Also, I can get caught up in tunnel vision: When i feel down, I can't imagine that I'm ever going to feel better again. I have difficulty with seeing the bigger picture when experiencing problems or emotions. Method acting really wouldn't be my thing. That's why I try to only work on projects that feel good and where people encourage and lift each other up.

While you were trying on the outfits you pointed out a lack of self-esteem. How does that coincide with your career?

Isn't it interesting how traits and circumstances go hand in hand? Self-esteem comes from the inside, but it's also influenced by what society believes. We use critical stares from the outside against ourselves. I lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and worked as a waiter up until my mid 30s, because I couldn't live off acting. It was always so close. The disappointment of always just barely missing a perfect part or opportunity is exhausting. When is the right time to stop trying and what's plan b? That's not just a question actors ask themselves, but anybody who struggles to earn a livelihood - unrelated to how much potential they have or how close their dream may seem. We are beginning to see now how our narrow definition of success is destroying our communities. At the same time, it's becoming obvious that, until this day, your family background and skin colour determine your chances of living a dignified existence.

What are the positives of becoming a leading man later in life?

I have the feeling that I've got control over my life - without the pressure of having to accept projects or be a social media personality. That surely also has to do with the fact that I'm a man. Women are surely pressured to appear quirky at any age.

Life is always a management of risks - especially at this time. For what would you risk losing something?

Usually, if you don't play the game you're not going to win anything. That applies to friendship, love, work, creativity. Anything that really means something to me, is worth the risk.

Wonder woman 1984 will appear in cinemas 01.10. The 800 million dollar earning DC comic franchise is moving into the New York 80s with its sequel. It looks spectacular - only Pedro Pascal with blond hair in a three piece Wall Street suit looks better.

#pedro pascal #gq germany #Gq

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vicecityhq · 3 years ago

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██████████████]99% loading…suspect into the apd database…

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: glasses, academia, coffee shops . with a slight resemblance to JEON JUNGKOOK of/the BTS.

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FULL FILE:

last name, first name: lee, david alias: electro realm of birth(if earth, nationality): earth age: 23 date of birth: september 1, 1997 gender: cis-gender male preferred pronouns: he/him, they/them species: cyborg level 1, civilian sexual orientation: questioning

VISUAL FILE:

skin color: light tanned eye color: dark brown, blue tint when using eye enhancemets scars: none reported piercings: both ears tattoos: a simple black star on left wrist hair color: black, dyed a variety of colors at times abnormalities: none reported horns/ wings/ etc: none transformed form: none

PERSONAL FILE:

powers & abilities: enhanced vision, lens screen, vital monitor and data collection, temperature scanning, night vision, light adjustment vision, app synchronization (photo, video recording, downloading) traits: determined, aloof

BACKGROUND CHECK:

date of birth: september 1, 1997

date of death: -

crime record: a clean record

BACKGROUND/BIOGRAPHY:

david was the 2nd born in his family, to a career solider and a

struggling

opera singer. his sister was 1st and her words upon seeing him as a baby was “i’m cuter.”at times he felt neglected given that his sister was getting more attention that him, she was the golden child while he was …david, quiet most of the time but had moments of intense energy. his parents enrolled him a variety of sports which kept him in check. he excelled in martial arts (taekwondo and kumdo) and basketball which was used as leverage to keep in ballet. that was something his mother wanted for both of her children, though he never got a reason why. near the end of elementary school his parent’s divorced and his mother remarried a “rich man”. though he was kind he was very distant to him. his sister however took a liling to increases social status she had.

it was during middle school did david and his sister start to grow apart. sneaking out, skipping class, among other things became his sister’s focus. he had an idea of some things but didn’t speak on them since it would lead to an argument. “boring and straight laced” was what she called him, he and to edge to him. the young boy’s concern was to make in on a national team, it didn’t matter the sport. david used his studies as a shield against the chaos around him, not just at home and school, but the city in general. sometimes it felt like a comic with how crime was almost normalized be it in the background or directly involving you. he kept his circle small and hid most information about himself, his image had to be pure for the scouts and his future career.

given the reputation of his father, david knew military enlistment was the next step college or not. now being in the army was a double edge sword. there wasn’t this pressure to perform like say the marines but he was held to a higher standard. sometimes he was afforded privildges like extra time but also more severe punishments for making the same mistake as others. just going for 2 years wasn’t enough, he was expected to stay for 3. not for his own goals or wants but that of his father. it was during this time did david see that he had lived a rather comfortable life compared to others in his unit, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any issues. the constant question on his mind was “where do i belong?”. well the military wasn’t the answer, his discharge date couldn’t come soon enough and when it came, he was already in another system. college.

a bit older and wiser, david could fully focus on his studies (again) something he was happy about and rebuild some parts of his past that he couldn’t while serving. while he is aware his parents expect to major in something like medicine or law, he has no interest in either. his duties to his family and country are complete. it’s for david to live for himself. during his 1st year of college his sister got married much to the joy of his parents. his brother-in-law was “well put together” despite being a little off in his manners. it wasn’t until a few months later did his sister reveal she married a vampire along with hints of her planning to become one. their step-dad was willing to overlook all of his since it met more access to money and power however their mom had reservations. knowing her relationship was rocky with her daughter, she asked david to look after her.

this was 1 of the few times in his life he went against his parents wishes. david had a real chance to be a top athlete and having a gang affiliation wouldn’t help. even if he did have access to money and in some ways protection it was too big of a risk. his sister made her choice to get and stay involved, if she did need help he would but only from her directly. not going through with it put distance between the young man and his mom. maybe it was pressure of college, stress, or still trying to answer the question but david had a chance to “be better” and secretly got an enhancement on his eyes. this afforded him the ability to study in any lighting and pick up on details he would other wise miss. his grade improved greatly but the bigger reward was that his physical fitness was fine tuned to the point he could stay at his peak. with his enhancement he could monitor his calorie intake and vitals, adjust his work out plan so his whole body performing at it’s maximum. this offered him some stability as he had something to thrive for and could take his mind off of the less appealing parts of his life.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (PARA SAMPLE): “JUST RUN US THROUGH WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT”. - OFFICER

he was nervous looking at the “window” of the home unsure if there was others on the other side. running his hand through his hair was a ploy to cover his eye and scan for temperature, a rather unused feature of his eyes. he sighed out of relief not “seeing” anyone though he knew to not let his guard down. again the officer repeated their statement. this time he looked at them directly hands under the table quietly toying with the zipper of his jacket, “i was going home from the library but stopped at the store for a drink.” that was true, it was all true. though now he wished he just went straight home. “but you didn’t see the fight?” the officer raised a brow not totally convinced. “no, i wasn’t focused on that. i heard people yelling but didn’t look that’s how you get jumped. it wasn’t my business so i kept going,” he answered. “uh…david, you’re in school right? what do you want to be?” this sad attempt to relate to him. “that’s really irrelevant to why i’m here, shouldn’t you be talking to them or the store owner? i don’t know why i’m here, when i didn’t do anything.” his words had a hint of annoyance, he wasn’t a child. “you are a witness, maybe not a good one but still one regardless. even if your details are…missing. it’s enough with common sense to help confirm the series of events.” the officer replied, “you may go.” he was didn’t need to be told twice with his bag already on his shoulder and made his way out of the station.

#vcaccepted #vccivilian #krp #new krpg #oc krp #jeon jungkook #bts face claim #jungkook fc #supernatural rp #gang rp

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secretsniper3 · 4 years ago

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Part 2: Wet..

I wake, rolling over my alarm says 08:00, my day starts now. Blinking and drinking in my surroundings im surprised that im not bound anymore, Master probably released me from my situation before he too went to sleep, makes sense since I still have my morning routine to do. Spreading my thighs my hand creeps under the sheets and massages my clit, moisture instantly wetting my fingers as i rub up and down, fingers dancing expertly over my throbbing clit, being denied for so long my reaction is second nature now as my back arches up off my bed as my hand continues its assault on my senses. 1 edge moments later my mind abuzz with desire. Another edge, 3 to go and my morning can really begin. On and on my fingers go, dancing circles around my needy clit. Stopping just shy of another orgasm, 3 edges down. Pushing a finger and then another into my wet pussy I rub the walls and pull out seconds later. 4 edges down, returning my fingers to my box as my other hand clutches my breast, back still arched high, I slams down to the bed and thrusts my hands to my pillow. 5 edges done.

Climbing out of bed I go and brush my hair and then my teeth. A outfit is already laid out by my Master. A latex sleeveless shirt and matching pants, black high heels and a corset. My day will clearly be a tough one for me. Looking around I cannot find anything even resembling underwear. Knowing my punishment would be beyond measure if I were to dress my pussy myself I don my latex outfit for the day. Shirt, then the pants, sliding easily up my smooth legs as my juices made for handy lubricant. Pressing the latex on my pussy I pause. A simple deep breath removes my hand from what I know is forbidden to me now my morning edges are complete. Sitting on the bedside I clip my heels on so it doesnt fall off and put on my corset, only being able to loosly cinche it without help.

With great care, I walk out my bedroom door, slow paces in my high heels, my pussy rubbing against the latex with every step sending chills down my spine making my mind drift to my little buzzer throbbing away relentlessly. down the stairs, Master was waiting for me. Standing before him I assume my position on my knees, legs open palms up, head down.

“Good morning Master” I say keeping my head low.

“Morning my dear, sleep well i hope, i have a few fun things for you to enjoy today” my Master sounds eager.. its a little unsettling.

Standing up at his command I follow him to the dining room. Breakfast is already served. Im stunned, something is going on and Im concerned by what this means, my Master has almost never made breakfast for me. Heading to my seat I spot it. A large dildo, right where my pulsing pussy would lay, with my Masters guiding hand I ease down onto the large toy. The latex over my pussy parting at the intrusion! how could I not notice that gap when I put it on?? sliding down the thick cock my pussy serving to lubricate it all the way to the base. With a wet shlop Im completely full and I havnt even touched my bacon and eggs! perhaps a drink to calm my nerves, as I take a large gulp I feel warm.. a little too warm. Looking to my Master, he confirms my suspicions by raising his own glass. My pussy now spasming around the dildo as the aphrodisiac runs its course as I lean forward and stifle a moan.

My Master laughs at my situation. “Eat up my dear, your going to need your strength.” he says sending a flurry of chills down my spine leading right to my throbbing womanhood! gasping for air I raise a shaking hand to my fork and eat my food, likely spiked as well.. yes, its spiked. With each piece I swallow I feel the heat burn hotter, like a raging inferno my body craving the 1 thing my mind knows it must never have without consent! finishing my drugged meal my Master takes me by the hand and raises me up. Stopping several times to prevent a unauthorised orgasm. Leading me to the play room I see a device I have never seen before but it scares the hell out of me.

Standing, or lying in the middle of the room is a series of Stock restraints circling a large padded seat, leading me over to it, my Master lays me down flat. locking my wrists in their own personal Stock holders, followed by my ankles. Breathing faster at this development and my need constantly rising im hoisted in the air by the cushion im laying on, my restraints following suit. Standing beside me my Master reveals more holes in my latex, a hole per nipple with which he inserts a suction cup with a wire and covering it with the latex again, leaving just the wire exposed. moving down to my clit he reveals a suction cup, its thin and long and now, attached to my maddening, throbbing buzzer, he begins pumping. My eyes fly open in a combination of fear and arousal as my clit starts to get sucked into the tube, further and further its pulled from its hood till I feel it. Something hard is touching my clit, looking down Im greeted with a wire, pressing the tip of my isolated clit with the means to make me thrash around were I not restrained already. My drug ridden mind flooding with thoughts of my soon to be, hellish day that started too calmly as my Master slides a thick metal cock into my ass. I cant see it but I can bet theres a wire attached to it as well.

Moving to my head Master puts a dildo gag in my mouth and a latex hood over my head, my long red hair pulled through the back and the hood sealed tight. I cant see, I can barely hear and I can only weakly moan around this toy in my mouth, and as my thoughts go to the toy in my mouth, it expands, and again, and again! My mouth now completely full with cock my pleas and moans now a dull grunt, barely audible to those outside my hood. My pussy feels cold air, Master has moved the latex away from my drooling slit, heat radiating off my hungry hole, I breathe deep as Master presses his tongue against my slick folds. If I could scream, I would have. instead my legs tremble uncontrollably and my arms spasm, locked in my restraints thats all I really can do. Master licks again and again drawing more fluid from me. My breathing now very audible as air rushes in and out through my nose, Then I feel it. its coming, shit IM CUMMING! and then.. pure agony. My nipples cop it first, but only by microseconds, as they light up with electricity, followed by my ass and worst of all, my throbbing clit. My eyes shoot up into my skull as Im torn down from the plateau I was cresting mere moments ago! My pussy spasms in need as my Masters tongue only redoubles its assault knowing he has me, right where he wants me.

A full hour passes, and Masters Tongue leaves my pussy as another orgasm is slammed away by the electricity as this setup is designed to deny, not reward so I scream into my inflated cock gag. A few moments pass by idle as Im left to stew in my burning need, electricity occasionally zapping my nipples to make sure im denied release from my drug fuelled arousal. I hear Master say something outside my latex hood, I cant make out the words but he seems to know that I was only moments from cumming just now and thats led his to this pause to let me calm down, if that were possible with the drugs coursing through my veins and the intoxicating latex still coating my body and head Im swimming in a sea of arousal and Im not allowed to cum even a little even in my intense exhaustion im allowed only this peace of not being dragged kicking and screaming to more denial! A familiar sensation returns as Masters tongue reaffixes itself to my Labia and once again im lit of with electricity as another orgasm is beaten back, Round 2 begins.

2 Whole hours of torturous orgasm denial at Masters hands and tongue pass as im finally lowered to the ground, it only took a minute to unlock my limbs from the hellish devices that held me down, and another minute to free my ass, nipples and clit from their own hellish devices. A flick to the clit confirms Im still conscious. My Master picks me up and carries me to the nearby lounge, there he removes my hood and gag, and rests my head on his lap and runs his fingers through my sweat soaked hair. Stripping me of my latex suit, leaving only my heels on he continues my massage, as I regain my senses slowly.

“Master.. Thank you for training this slave to serve” I say weakly, as he cups my cheek with his tender hand, I roll over and fish out his throbbing cock and begin sucking, after all that pain and denial i need something I love, i need Masters cum in my mouth to savour the taste then swallow like the Good Slave I am. Eventually im rewarded with a mouthful as i drink every drop im given and swallow, it really is delicious to me now, I cant go back to a normal life, I belong to my Master.

Taking me to the loungeroom Master instructs me to edge for my lunch. A simple task but as he turns to leave he gives me the number. 30 edges.. My pussy pulses again and the flood gates reopen, I still havnt had that orgasm my body just remembered it was desperate for. oh god could I really do 30 in a row without stopping or spilling over? My Master seems to think so. Already days into my denial and with drugs wracking my brain I begin my edges. It only took a hour but I finally got them all. Another dose of drugged lunch and Im back to normal, if horny out of my mind is normal. The rest of my day is fairly standard compared to my morning training, part of me wants to do it again but not any time soon.

Pleasuring my Masters cock I polish his shoes after that in my favourite maid outfit, remembering to always bend at the waist, never the knees, my Master loves a good show. My daily chores complete Im taken to the shower and cleaned by my Master, taking great care not to rub over my pussy too hard. A lovely steak for dinner with some wine, I could hardly taste the drug in that wine, but my pussy sure felt it. My Master, eager to set me to bed attaches a chastity belt tightly to my pussy. I dont see the point as I would never touch without permission.. right?

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partnersatfazbear · 4 years ago

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Fazbear Frights: What We Found Analysis

Here’s my analysis for What We Found, the third story in Gumdrop Angel. I wrote this as I read so it may be a little different than my previous analysis where I read the story first and went back.

If you’re a Michael Afton fan I highly recommend this. Also, there’s possibly some insight into William Afton, Mrs. Afton, and Henry too, so it’s worth a skim.

Pg 144 '...a place thirty-some years forgotten' Just reconfirming FNAF 3 is 30 years past *one* of the FNAF closings, presumably FNAF 2 location.

Pg 145 "The whole building was giving him [Hudson] a headache." FIX THE VENTILATION BRUH

Pg 148 '...they were able to use salvaged derelict equiptment original to the old pizzerias.' Another confirmation of something we heard from Phone Guy.

Pg 147 "How old are you?" "Twenty-three, same as you." I think this gives us Michael's age during FNAF 3.

EDIT: This kept me awake last night. Obviously this is impossible because he has to be alive for at least 10 years before 1983, BUT maybe its just reconfirming FNAF 3′s year? 2023?

Pg 149 "Hudsan's dad died and his mom married Lewis, a ridiculous balding man who wore plaid vests and smoked a pipe" Did... Did this book just seriously imply Mrs. Afton left William for Henry? Really? (Yes, there's differences; the husband is dead and the man wears plaid 'vests' but it seems very odd to include that detail. This could just have been the writer's own imagination, though.) I have seen this as a fan theory and 100% explains the jealousy aspect of William, but I can't help but kinda hate it. I think this is very important, though, and probably Scott's intention. "This horrible little man [Lewis]... would make Hudson's next ten years a living Hell" This REALLY intrigues me given the context I just went over. The text implies Lewis was fairly neglectful to our main character / Michael stand-in Hudson. Maybe I'm wrong and for some reason Mrs. Emily left and went to William? XD Haha, I'm reading too much into this page. Maybe I'll come back to this later. I figure it's more of Scott possibly including double-details (contradicting stuff with the same character that really applies to two, which has been something I heavily pointed out in previous anaylsis on this blog) Having said that, I'm going w/the former because I can't imagine Henry being abusive (neglectful yes, abusive no) and he's never been portrayed that way in official works like William has in the novels.

Pg 150 "Hudson began to screw up in class...a product of spending the night in fear that his stepfather [Lewis]... [would] beat him just for the fun of it." Ooof. Big confirm on William actually being abusive. Unless we stick with the Henry theory for Lewis (combined with Midnight Motorist Henry theory / alcoholic). "...near-daily beatings..." "his mom started taking pills to get through the day..." So, whoever Mrs. Afton is, she was definetly not paying attention. But then, most people married to serial killers either don't notice because of denial (like this) or because the killer is so manipulative / careful they can't notice.

"Barry, who had red hair and freckles..." Yo?! Is that a description of Fritz?! These friends in the story could be the other kids Michael knew's stand-in's, aka the two gravestones with names he used (Fritz and Jeremy), as shown in the checks for the games and FNAF 6. I've long figured Michael was probably friends with the victims--it makes them easier, although riskier, targets [for William]. The two friends are male, too, like Fritz and Jeremy. If you're curious about Duane's description (our stand in for Jeremy), it's "tight black shirt... muscles... black hair long enough for a glossy ponytail..." I'm not sure if this matches anything found in the novels or contradicts them, though. (The novels = TSE trilogy)

"And so it went... until the night of the fire." For context, this is before FF burns down. We're learning of Hudson's life from his close friends in childhood, his father's death, his mother remarrying, to his abusive stepfather, to his grades slipping to this line. This would be a new fire not seen/mentioned in the games...

Pg 151 "...go to Charlie's for a sundae..." Really. Really Scott. Just gonna use this name again. OK. I'm not even gonna discuss this because it's probably irrelevant. *This is confirmed on pg 158 to be an ice cream shop. No lore relevance aside the annoying name coincidences Scott loves to troll with.

"This is not... an advance into enemy territory, a fight with demons, or a descent into Hell..." Uh, what? What is Hudson talking about? XD I'm only noting it because it seems so out of place. He's probably talking about video games or something.

Another note, although I don't have a specific reference since it is mentioned off-hand many times, is that Hudson keeps referring to his "history" which is implied to have kept him from getting a well-paying job and a girl he's crushing on doesn't know this "history" which is good for him. Seems good old "Michael Stand-In" has done some jail time or something. Edit: On pg 154/155 the girl asks Hudson, "Did you do it?" Seems he may have killed his stepfather or been involved with something else just as bad. Edit 2: No, I was thinking too deep into it. This probably refers to Evan's death at Fredbear's. DUH.

Pg 156 describes an actual "prize corner" in FF! What am I even reading? IIRC this is in FNAF 3, too. So they just hand out these scary gift boxes to people that complete the attraction? (Hudson says he *would* have fun handing out the scary toys to kids when this location opens--kind of a bully thing to do, eh?)

"[Hudson] avoid[ed] glancing in any of the mirrors..." I'm only pointing this out because it could be reference to one of two things. 1) We know because of one of UCN's music tracks, William has a fear of his reflection. Michael probably shares this trait, especially since 2) after Ennard and all... and later on pg 157 it also says, "he never wanted to face: himself" Sounds like guilt, my guy.

Pg 157 "blonde hair... blue eyes..." Hudson shares an eye color with Michael. It's possible Michael had blonde hair as a child and it changed to brown (it's common, something I personally went through being technically blonde/ blue eyed myself)

"He [Hudson] knew from personal experience that toys could turn from fun...to torture ina heart-beat" Fairly self explanatory. Either Hudson's worked at a creepy location before or he doesn't like remembering Fredbear's.

*checks how much is left.* There's still 35 pages (not counting back/front) left of this... This is gonna be a lot of notes.

Pg 158 Hudson doesn't have a car. Poor Mike, probably having to walk everywhere. Especially as a corpse.

Pg 160 This page describes many physical issues Hudson has that prevents him from entering the Navy, all from the abuse of Lewis. Obvious paralell to Michael becoming an undead [because his father sent him to CBPR indirectly causing his condition]

Pg 161 "How's your granny, Hud?... ...Is she still alive?" "I don't think she can die." Does anyone in the Afton family really 'die'? XD

Pg 162 These few pages discuss Hudson's grandmother. She's described as "a seer who claimed to know the future... ...wore big men's plaid flannel shirts with baggy jeans" Um, more plaid / flannel? AGH. STAHP. Lowkey, I would totally headcanon my Aunt Jen like this, though.

Pg 163 "Hudson's mom... the way she was before Hudson's dad had died... never... particularly warm and fuzzy... but... effiencient and responsible..." More about Mrs. Afton, so that's kinda neat.

"Hudson's dad was fun and attentive." There's a good Dad in this series?

"Unfortunetly, he also struggled with mental illness." "invisible low points" (Pg 164) Kinda reminds me of how Henry is described after Charlotte's death in the books.

Pg 164 "When Steven got himself into a bad deal that cost him his small business... he'd taken his life." Oh, it is Henry! SMH. Way to use confusing paralells. So, from our understanding thus far, Hudson's real father, Steven, is our Henry stand-in. His step-father despite being described similar to Henry, is actually our William stand-in. Fair game, Scott.

Pg 164 "...he [Hudson] was locked into a supply closet..." Oh shit, you guys. So, let me go on a tangent here, because this IS important! I just watched a retrospective on Sister Location and FNAF 6 earlier and one theory for Midnight Motorist was the person in the chair was the mother and the kid was Michael. I think this little line may confirm that. In fact, the story may be the key to figuring things out. Obviously, the line is a paralell to FNAF 4's scene in which Crying Child was locked in the supply closet of Fredbear's. I know some people, including Matpat, believe[d] CC was Michael, and in this book's context, it sort of works. This does contradict Step Closer and 1000 other things that make Michael the older brother, but maybe it's hinting at MM? Abusive stepdad (possibly Henry... maybe William is gone at this point), checked out Mom (hey, grey couch lady with Foxybro's font). IDK, but its definetly something to think about.

Pg 165 Lewis is mentioned as calling Hudson "nothing" and saying "you're nothing" on several occasions on this page. Just more abuse, for those accurate fanfic writers like me. Also I kinda wanna watch Morel Orel again. Yall know my fav character is Clay. Yall know.

"You're smoke." <-- Lewis / The text later reads, "...there was some irony, given what eventually happened." BRUH. Why did your stepdad die in a fire? :V TELL ME.

"When his family's house burned down at the end of his senior year..." Huh. Is there a fire we don't know about in the game-verse? Could this explain what happened to the FNAF 4 house before MM house?!

"...it purged Hudson of Lewis and his mother." MRS. AFTON BURNED ALIVE, TOO? Bruh. I can't with this story.

The text later describes the fire is concluded to be man-made and Hudson was blamed for it. Can't say if this ties to Michael, but it IS interesting... TBF, there is a small paralell to draw between Henry in FNAF 6 and his history of suicide in the books, too.

Pg 166 "...this place's [FF] busted thermostat.." I just find this line funny.

Pg 167 "...after three weeks of keeping an eye on the place" Some more timeline context for FNAF 3. We know that Michael worked there a little while before we start playing the game thanks to one of the phone calls, IIRC, so this makes sense. If Michael was accused of [something] and also wanting to hunt down his father, then it makes perfect sense why he's working a dead end job at Freddy's over and over and over. Fun fun fun.

Pg 169 "He hated to think about a functional character [Foxy]" This line is in regards to Hudson not liking the set up of Pirate's Cove and Foxy's hook to scare people. Sounds familiar, don't it? (For Michael anyway.)

Pg 173 "Some big find is arriving tomorrow." SPRINGY BOI! COME ON BOOK, get on with the show?

Pg 176 "Granny was wearing a red-and-green plaid shirt and her baggy jeans." Nothing special, but it was specifically brought up twice. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to understand what the point of this character is outside of "woooo everything is haunted don't you know that" kind of character.

Pg 180 "...dropped the crate on the linoleum with a resounding thud." HEY. Poor Springtrap, just gettin' tossed around like the trash he is.

Pg 186 "If you weren't so stupid, I'd tell you more about it." Springtrap bringing the burn. =:)

"A voice with a burr-like rasp...hint of a Southern accent" I'm going to assume this is because it's Lewis probably in the suit in this story and not our old British lad.

"It's was Mr. Atkin's voice." THE MATH TEACHER? *goes back to check* 'The algebra teacher'. Okay...

Pg 190 Okay, so Hudson hear's Lewis' voice this time. Okay, I get it now. Springtrap in this kind of imbodies all of Hudson's old bullies, including the teacher. He also has PTSD, just FYI. IDK if anyone finds that important, but it's fairly obvious by the line "He wasn't in his bedroom. Lewis didn't just slam his head into a desk; his head had been slammed into the [arcade] game."

"Why did he hallucinate a scene from his childhood?" Oh, it's not PTSD, then. It's just the VENTILATION ERROR. lol Okay.

Just a note, as I'm reading through the more action-based stuff, I kind of feel bad for Michael if he had flashbacks like this guy. They're intense.

So, Lewis' voice finally comes out of Springtrap on Pg 213. There's that.

Pg 220 "You can just stay there [in his room]" Kind of a paralell to Midnight Motorist. Lewis is saying it to Hudson. I really feel like the kid in the MM game is Michael because of this story...

Pg 223 "Heat purges. Fire heals." I'm sure that's Henry's life motto.

The ending was stupid, but most in these stories are. Hudson is hallucinating and is implied to have burned himself alive in FF's oven. Meh? The first half of this one is A TRIP and a little insight into what I 100% believe is Michael's childhood. I think the saddest part of it all is that we never got Springtrap speaking to Michael in FNAF 3--and if it's ever remade I hope we get more of them interacting.

#fazbear frights #fnaf spoilers #spoilers #what we found #michael afton #springtrap #fnaf theories #fnaf theory #fnaf 3 #midnight motorist #mrs. afton #henry emily

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dadsbongos · 4 years ago

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Brother’s Keeper

Movie/Game/Show: The Boy Dynamic: Brahms Heelshire/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: idk The Veldt spoilers if you’ve never read it (it’s really fucking good), the parents suck and they’re emotionally manipulative Summary: Brahms likes to play with his baby sister. ~~~

“What a pouty little face you have,” Mrs. Heelshire pinched at her daughter’s cheeks, stretching them upward, “Come on, let me see a smile.”

(Y/n) swatted at her mother’s hands, “I don’t want to.”

Brahms adjusted his tie as best he could for the family picture, letting his father take over after a minute of fumbling, “She’s not going to smile; little brat.”

“Hey!” the three-year-old girl whined, lips pulling into an even deeper pout, “You can’t be mean and the birthday boy at the same time, it’s not fair!”

The boy rolled his eyes, “You’re just upset your birthday isn't for five more months.”

“I’m seven, I’m too old for dolls,” (Y/n) muttered, not wanting to mention why exactly she didn’t want the porcelain doll, “Besides, he’s too fragile, if I drop him he’ll die.”

Death was a new fascination with the young girl after the incident. Though, to be fair, most fascinations didn’t last four years nor did they start with the horrific death of your older brother.

“Nonsense,” her father grinned, taking the doll from his wife and holding it out to his young daughter, “he was Brahms’ favorite.”

Brahms was a word that had become similar to “fuck” in the parents’ minds. Off-limits by the punishment of spanking or grounding unless you were one of them.

“Oh,” she murmured, carefully taking the toy and holding it to her side, “I never saw him play with it…”

“Too scared to break the poor thing,” Mrs. Heelshire reasoned easily enough, “Named after him.”

(Y/n) looked at the glassy object, “Why do I need to have him?”

“You’re going to take care of him, Brahms would want you to,” Mr. Heelshire brushed the girl’s hair from her forehead before leaving a small kiss to the patch of skin, “Be good to him, sweetheart, won’t you?”

Mrs. Heelshire nodded from behind her husband, “You wouldn’t want to disappoint Brahms, would you?”

She glanced between her pleading parents and the doll, pursing her lips before hesitantly nodding, “Alright, I guess…”

By the time 1999 rolled around and the only living Heelshire child was to turn eleven, there were no more friends to play in the house with. Emily, who in many ways had been an older sister to the girl, was murdered by some sick monster who lit the playhouse she was inside on fire. Well, maybe the killer didn’t light the playhouse on fire.

“You’re three, how are you going to take it from me?”

Instead, (Y/n) was left to play with her doll. With a party hat on her head, courtesy of the new grocery boy, Malcolm, she wandered aimlessly through the halls. Birthdays were no longer a celebration in the manor; unless it was Brahms’, of course. She held the doll to her hip, looking at the series of paintings decorating the wall; most of them portraying her big brother.

She frowned, settling a hand on the wall just below the largest mural in the hall. Her fingers brushed upon a small crevice dip in the split of colors in the striped wallpaper, brows furrowing at the ledge. She curled her fingers around it, beginning to pull when suddenly it popped apart from the wall. A panel opening up in the middle of the hallway, she looked down each end before climbing through.

Her eyes adjusted quickly enough, arms squeezing Brahms tighter to her form. She began creeping down the secret passageway, not noticing the sounds of her parents screaming her name.

A sudden turn and she took it. A curve in the path and she rounded it. Losing herself in the hidden walkways within her home. It was only when she realized how lost she was that panic settled in, “Mama…?”

She held Brahms even tighter, freehand leaving the doll to bang on the interior of the wall, “Papa! Mama?!”

It was half an hour before the panicking parents found their weeping little girl hidden behind a panel close to the fireplace. She was crying into the sweater on her doll, cheeks heated in the force of her tears. Not even Mr. Heelshire’s gentle hugging and cooing could relieve her of the emotional aches.

“You’re to never go in those walls again, do you hear me?” her mother grit through clenched teeth.

Never? As much as (Y/n) wanted to be on board with the idea, she wasn’t sure about never being able to go in again. Maybe… maybe she just had to be older, more mature - yeah - that sounded about right.

“Just once more,” she immediately calmed down, now speaking through a raspy, whiny post-crying voice, “I won’t get lost this time, I promise.”

Mr. Heelshire looked over to his wife, “Just one more couldn’t hurt, she should learn about the walls, shouldn’t she?”

As soon as the words left her husband’s lips, Mrs. Heelshire shook her head, “Not a chance. Haven’t you read The Veldt? That’s how the parents die.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened, glancing between her parents as tears began springing into the surface, “You guys will die if I go in the walls again?”

Neither parent confirmed it, though they didn’t deny it either, before sending her off to bed with Brahms. Leaving her to question what the walls were in the dark solitude of her lavish bedroom; empty winnings for a girl who felt guilty enjoying them.

By fifteen, there was an influx of nannies coming in and out of the Heelshire home to care for a supposedly haunted doll. She wasn’t sure if she believed it but the messes and thumping and flickering lights were beginning to be too much to ignore. They all started after the wall incident - the second incident she could add to her fault - and she was forbidden from going back inside.

Panels were left open and soft, high-pitched whines ringing from behind them; it was more terrifying than alluring.

With no more Brahms by her side, in the real body or in doll form, (Y/n) was left to wander aimlessly down the halls thinking about how unfair it was of her parents to rip the doll away from her. All due to the walls’ tunnels.

They handed her a memento to her older brother - they used her guilt; her fault against her - just to steal it away eight years later. She hated her parents for it, no, not her parents. Her mother. Mrs. Heelshire barely even let the nannies do their job half the time, she just wanted Brahms all to herself. She gave that doll a surplus of her attention and countless replacement caretakers and never even gave (Y/n) the acknowledgment of their shared grief.

Barely gave her the mind to say, “It’s not your fault.”

Whipping around at the frail whisper, (Y/n) peeked around every visible inch of the hallway to see if one of the nannies was following her or her father was finally ready to free her of guilt. Yet nobody was there, no mouths to whisper and no audible drafts to blame.

She turned back around and continued walking down the hallway, not as alone as before.

“I’m nineteen, don’t you think I should, I don’t know, explore the real world?”

Mrs. Heelshire simply shook her head, “You can’t leave us!”

“I won’t be leaving!” (Y/n) tossed her arms out in a display of exaggeration, “I just can’t be in this house for the rest of my life!”

“So you will go eventually,” the older woman huffed, crossing her arms, “Brahms and now you.”

That made the teenager freeze. Nothing like the mention of her dead brother to make her question herself. She pulled back from the yelling match to judge and critique every inch of herself. Her leaving the nest wasn’t comparable to dying - and Brahms didn’t abandon them, he couldn’t control the flames. It wasn’t like he purposefully lit the playhouse on fire at his own birthday party.

No, but she could’ve stopped it. She knows she could have.

“That’s not fair,” (Y/n) muttered, though it sounded less like a genuine response and more like she was trying to point it out to herself.

“You know what else isn’t fair?”

“Don’t.”

“Having two kids and the only one alive wants to abandon you.”

Mr. Heelshire watched from the kitchen table, sipping on his afternoon tea quietly to give more space for the sound of his wife and daughter’s argument to permeate through the room. Through the room and into the walls where even the biggest rat hiding inside could hear.

(Y/n) rubbed at her arm, regretting her decision to even bring the topic up, “I’m sorry…”

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Heelshire cooed, cupping her daughter’s cheeks and pulling at any fat her fingers could get to in the pockets, “It’s okay. Don’t be so pouty, it’s alright.”

She didn’t bother pushing her mother��s hands away this time.

(Y/n) silently dipped her paintbrush into a dollop of vibrant, cherry red on her palette, glancing over her canvas to the muse every so often.

A house can appear incredibly eased and soothed from the frontline and nobody would ever know that inside a family of four was being murdered. They wouldn’t know until the corpses were discovered and the extended family was beating at each other. Vultures flocking to the values left to them by death.

Maria, the newest in the line of nannies, was holding position rather well for somebody who’d never modeled before. Clutching Brahms to her hip with a bright, pearly-toothed smile.

“I saw a few of your works around the house earlier,” the black-haired woman spoke, “Impressive for only twenty-three.”

“Thanks,” (Y/n) strained a grin, she didn’t necessarily prefer silence - you could hear the walls whispering when it was silent - but sadly, her focus wavered with noise, “I just like to paint the nannies; don’t like to forget them so quickly.”

“Oh,” Maria awkwardly chuckled, “well, that sounds nice of you…?”

“Just a personal thing,” the young woman shrugged off before catching something in the frame of her eye, “You’re about to drop Brahms.”

“Shit!” the other woman murmured, readjusting the doll in her arms, “Thank you so much.”

“My mom will go crazy, I don’t want to watch her yell at somebody over nothing,” she pursed her lips, “Not nothing; just something small.”

“Are you serious?” (Y/n) narrowed her eyes at her mother, “You and Dad are leaving for a two-month vacation right before my birthday?”

“You’re turning twenty-eight, dear,” Mrs. Heelshire smiled faintly, “I think you’ll be fine, now if you don’t mind, I’ll go downstairs and teach the new nanny how to properly care for Brahms.”

(Y/n) crossed her arms, watching her father continue to pack his bags, “You’re really just letting her drag you out of town right now?”

“She didn’t drag me into anything, honey,” he sighed, whether he knew how much it hurt her feelings to hear that or not didn’t exactly matter.

“Fuck you,” she grumbled, rushing out of the room and down the stairs, the twenty-seven-year-old woman went into her bedroom, fully prepared to ignore her parents and the new nanny. Blissfully unaware of the pest in her walls, watching with sad eyes and wanting to see her smile.

“Knock it off!” (Y/n) cried out to the man swinging the doll around - a protective instinct burning at her gut as she thought of him breaking it. She immediately regretted the harsh tone when Cole’s furious gaze snapped back to her, “Please… just give him back…”

“Watch it,” Cole threatened, holding the doll further away from her than before, “Pull any funny shit and I’ll break in your pretty little face.”

Yet another mistake against the brute, not that anybody but the secret rat was counting. The first, of course, being his arrival. The last, naturally, was bashing the doll’s head against the lip of a seat.

(Y/n) hiccuped wildly, her burst of tears nearly choking her as Cole shushed the room during one of Brahms’ fits. She’d experienced countless ragers with that doll to blame but this was the worst. Cole put a finger to his lips, commanding the people behind him into silence as he went to the wall, knocking a few times with his ear pressed to it. He went to the mirror next, grinning slightly, “There’s something- “

Before he could finish his sentence, the glass burst apart and forced him onto his back.

As Greta screamed and (Y/n) held her head in her hands in the midst of her hysterics, Malcolm called to the two women.

Large hands pulled onto the mirror frame first, then out came a fully grown man. Brahms Heelshire was alive - and he was big.

(Y/n) fell onto her ass, watching as her previously dead big brother stabbed Colt in the neck with a piece of his broken doll. Brahms lunged for Greta only to be beaten down by Malcolm and when the two were away; (Y/n) did not leave.

She crawled over to his sprawled out form, taking his shoulder into her hands and shaking him slightly, “Brahms…?”

He jerked once - then twice, then pushed himself up, taking a moment to look at his little sister before standing. In a fashion similar to when they used to sneak around the manor as children, he pressed a finger to his mask’s lips before running off.

“I came back for you, Brahms.”

(Y/n) fiddled with her fingers as her older brother was swept upstairs by Greta, following after them like a lost puppy. As Greta pulled back the covers, (Y/n) felt her heart thump wildly in her chest.

Of course, it never helped when he threw a woman across the room.

“Brahms!” (Y/n) shrieked, latching onto her brother’s back and attempting to pull him off Greta, only succeeding when he fell back from his own stab wound.

Greta stopped at the doorway, turning to watch as the Heelshire girl cradled her big brother’s head in her hands in her panic-rich state, “(Y/n), come on. We have to go.”

Looking between Greta and her brother, (Y/n) felt the memories creep back up from the dip of her spine.

“Is that Papa’s lighter?”

Emily nodded slightly as Brahms watched the flame flicker, the little boy speaking up first, “I was interested in it, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

(Y/n) clutched at a lock of her own hair, “You better give it back or I’ll take it myself!”

“You’re three, how are you going to take it from me?” he scoffed before shooing her out of the playhouse, “If you tell Dad, I’ll break all your toys and cut up your dresses.”

She hadn’t told Father - she didn’t take the lighter.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) looked back to her older brother, burn scars on the visible half of his face and suddenly the guilt was rising to her throat again. Her hands smoothed over to the clasp of the mask, carefully unclipping it as Greta ran off to find Malcolm. A wicked sob racked her throat, her voice squeaking up soft and whiny, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

A hand came up to brush her tears away, Brahms watching his little sister continue to cry, a small, childlike voice peeking through his lips, “Please don’t cry, (Y/n)… I don’t want to see you cry…”

Calming down only slightly, (Y/n) helped her brother sit up, “I’ll stay, I’m sorry.”

Brahms continued to watch his sister’s tears spill, “You’ll stay.”

It wasn’t a question, he barely even bothered to disguise it as such.

“I’ll stay…”

She didn’t really have a choice, not when her parents kept her under lock and key so strictly. But maybe they anticipated Brahms coming back; maybe they wanted her to have no independence so she wouldn’t leave her big brother.

Not that she’d be able to ask them.

#brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire x reader

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ficsnroses · 5 years ago

Text

Worried - John Wick x Reader Oneshot

From the Comfort Series of Fluffy Oneshots :)

Word Count : 3.5k

Warnings : So Much Fluff. Angst. Brief hospitalization (nothing serious!) Also, will I ever come up with a creative title?

Summary : On his way to pick up his girlfriend, Y/N, for an evening out, John receives a call from the hospital.

A/N : Alright. I’m nervous about this one because it didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted, but I worked really hard on it & would love to hear what you all think ❤️ This was requested by @cynic-spirit , I hope its alright! I’m not 100% happy with how I approached this request, so I may re write something similar in the future to toy with the concept more. Enjoy!

*Also, I included date outfit pictures at the end, because it’s a fun thing to do, right? It’s cute!*

Spring is near, and the longer evenings are here to prove it. The sun has bid goodbye, leaving a violet hue channeling the sky outside John’s bathroom window. The trees stand in black silhouettes, the smell of apple trees blossoming filters in subtle.

Dog sits at the doorframe, with his paws tucked secure under his resting head, watching John dry his hair with a cotton towel. His chest and torso are peppered with aqua globes, skin still steaming lightly as he’s stepped out the shower. With a towel held around his waist, he grasps Y/N’s favourite cologne of his – a sophisticated blend of spice & wood. He dabs some around his neck, collarbones, and wrists, setting it down for an exchange with a hairbrush.

The sound of his phone vibrating diverts his gaze, to the picture of his love reflecting on his phone screen.

Y/N was facetiming.

Tonight, John was taking her to a nice dinner date at a restaurant by the water. Sure, they’d technically seen each other every night that week, but they hadn’t been able to go out together in a while.

John loved to treat his lady.

Picking his phone up, he accepts the call, holding the camera to his face.

“Hi baby,” he greets her, eyes lighting up, with those beautiful laugh lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

“Ooo hello handsome,” She giggles, eyeing his clothing clad, bare chest. “Quick question, are we going somewhere really nice?”

Her beautiful locks shine under the lights, her makeup looks seamless, light, just enough to compliment her elegantly stunning features. John’s heart must have skipped a beat, he still found it hard to believe that this wonderful, amazing women, was all his.

His for the keeping.

John chuckles a bit, running a hand through his fluffy locks. “It’s not formal, but it’s a nice little place. Why?”

“I’m not sure what to wear.” She flips her camera, showing him the array of dresses she’s laid out, a navy blue, a black, and white. “Help me decide!”

John smiles, letting out a content sigh. He let out a lot of those recently, ever since she’d came into his life, made it brighter than what he’d been used to.

“You look beautiful in anything, sweetheart.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, whining.

“John! Can you not be a softie for just one second and help me out?” She sits down on the bed, holding the camera to her face. “Come on, which one do you wanna see me in?”

John lightly scratches his chin, voice deep. “Well, I think you look amazing in white. Makes me go weak in my knees.” He chuckles, giving her a warm smile.

John didn’t know if it was too early, regardless, he’d dream of the day his Y/N would wear a white dress for him, in front of all their family and friends, as he waited for her at the end of the isle.

Someday. Whenever that someday may be.

“Do you want to stay over tonight? Dog misses you.” John proposes, grabbing his beard trimmer.

Y/N snickers, grabbing the white dress on the hanger. “Sure. I miss Dog too. Besides, I like falling asleep beside you way better than here, on my own.” She holds the phone steady in front of her face again. “You’re like, the fluffiest pillow I have.” She giggles again.

John watches her in awe, as always. The way her eyes glimmer when she speaks, the way her tone shifts, highlighting the happiness in her voice. Each word, from her mouth, felt as if a song to him.

His favourite song.

“Glad to be of service.” He winks, letting out a laugh. “Are you almost ready, babe?” He questions, retrieving his hair dryer from the cabinet drawer.

“Yeah, I just need to throw on outfit, and pack a bag for tonight.” She replies, shuffling around her room.

“Aren’t most of your things here already?” John chuckles. “It looks like you own this counter space, not me.” John flips the camera to showcase all her creams and moisturizers, her scented perfumes and skin care routine gadgets. She’d been spending a whole lot of nights at John’s place, leaving her belongings nicely peppered around his bedroom.

“You’re right. I’ll just sleep in one of your shirts.” She bites her lip, looking him in the eyes. “Or maybe, I won’t need one tonight…” Smirking, the tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Alright then, I’ll see you soon?” She confirms.

John nods his head, replying. “I’ll be right over in an hour. I love you, sweetheart. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t. I love you too. Bye.” She blows him a quick kiss, ending the call.

Grinning to himself, John blushes at the though of her still, returning to his closet to throw on his outfit for the evening. As each second passes, he anticipates seeing his love soon, being embellished in her company and grace all evening.

Exactly where he loved to be.

With his cellphone propped on the seat beside him, John navigates through the busy New York evening traffic, checking his reflection in the rear view mirror every so often. He runs his fingers through his hair, positioning it just how Y/N liked it.

Before Y/N, John never tried too much to look good. He didn’t care if his hair got lengthier than normal, or if his beard had a few strays in it. But ever since he’d met her, fallen in love with her, he cared. He cared for himself more, tried his best to stay healthy, and presentable.

For her. Because she deserved, to get the best version of him.

She deserved for him to be his best self.

As John drives in silence, his ears pick up the occasional traffic honk, or speeding car beside him. Night has fallen on the city, leaving it to light up brighter than the stars, glowing, glimmering lamp posts and restaurant lights igniting the city streets. He sees couples walk arm in arm, holding hands as they explore the town.

To himself, he smiles.

Smiles, that he had that, finally, for himself. He finally had someone.

To the ring of his cellphone, John snaps out of his thoughts.

An unknown number.

His brows knit in confusion, wondering who it could be. He thinks to ignore it, however, decides against it ultimately, in case it was someone from work.

With his eyes locked on the road, John manages to slide the phone onto speaker, letting wonder lace his tone. “Hello?”

“Hello, sir. Am I speaking with Mr. Jonathan Wick?” A woman speaks on the other end, her voice calm, present, monotone as could be.

“Yes, can I help you?” His deep, ridged voice starts.

“I’m calling on behalf of New York General Hospital. I have you listed as a secondary contact for a recently admitted patient, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?”

In that moment, John felt his heart drop. His eyes widen, and the world around him seems to stop turning. The traffic seems to pause, the city folk seem to cease walking, the stars seem to melt into the darkness above.

The darkness above, seems to swallow John whole.

With his mind terminating to work straight, his heavy, racing voice speaks. “Y/N? Is she alright?! What happened?! I just spoke with her not too long ago, please tell me she’s okay?!” John almost yells, fear overtaking each nerve in his body.

“Mr. Wick, we need you in urgently for an update on her condition, and form work.”

“I’ll be there, I’m coming, I’m coming!” John shouts, breathing heavier by the second. He feels his body run cold, his mind racing a million a second. “Is she okay? Please, Ms., I need to know.” John begs, foot trudging the accelerator to sprint through traffic.

“She’s going to be alright. Unfortunately sir, I can’t disclose anymore information over the phone, for confidentiality.”

John ends the call in fury, throwing the phone across the seat. “Dammnit!” He hollers, to no one but himself.

In a long time, he hadn’t felt this way. He hadn’t felt a single negative emotion, since she’d came into his life. But now, in this moment, he felt, a mixture of everything he hadn’t felt in a while. But most of all,

He felt fear.

He felt fear, for the thought of anything happening to her. Anger, for not being there fast enough. Fright, for not knowing if she was okay.

Guilt. For not protecting her, as he’d promised himself he would, from the second she gave her heart to him.

His body is tense, his fist clenches beside him, his feet only route the path so quick, leaving his mind paces ahead.

He needed his Y/N to be okay. It couldn’t be any other way.

He wouldn’t let it.

As he finds himself at the door of 116, the room the receptionist had claimed to be Y/N’s, John swings the door open.

There Y/N sits, on a chair, with a band aid on her arm, and a juice box propped on the chair beside her.

She looks alright. John makes note, to thank the sky later.

The nurse has just finished her work beside her, greeting John with a warm smile.

“Hi! You must be John. I’m Y/N’s nurse for this evening.” She extends her arm out, for John to shake. “She is perfect, nothing to worry about. Her iron had dropped very low causing a minor fainting episode, but her neighbour called just in time. I’ve given her a stabilizing injection for now, which should restore all her red blood cells over the course of the next few days. She’s all good to go, and ready to be discharged immediately.” The nurse smiles, walking out of the room, leaving them alone.

John looks to her, worry still shone in his eyes, looking her up and down. His mind seems to stay skeptical, unable to believe that she was actually alright.

That what he loved, hadn’t been taken away from him this time.

“John, I’m so sorry.” She frowns. “I’m all okay. See?” She proposes.

John stares at her for a few seconds longer, before walking up to her, dropping to his knees. He kneels in front of her, both his hands coming forward to hold both of hers tight in a clasp, pressing kisses all over her palms, her knuckles, her wrists. He lets out a weary exhale, resting his forehead against their connected hands for a few moments.

“John, you seem shaken up. I’m so sorry, I forgot to take my medicine this morning. I swear it’s really nothing big though, I’m alright. I’m sorry, I should have-”

John cuts her off, with a shake of his head. “It’s okay.” He stands, subsequently helping her up, placing a hand on the small of her back as he holds her other hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

John holds her hand tight, fearing she’d vanish any second. He guides her, holding the door open, keeping her tucked secure with his arm wrapped fitted around her smaller frame.

As the forms of release had been taken care of by John, he guides Y/N to his car, hand never leaving hers, with his arm still placed on the small of her back. He holds her close to him, making sure to never let her out of sight. As they arrive to the car door, he holds it open for her, helping her get settled in. Neither of them have spoke a word the entire way down.

As she sets herself in, John leans down to plug her seat belt in across her. “John, it’s alright. I can do it.” She assures, placing a hand on his arm.

Crouching down beside her again, John looks up at her, sadness still littered in his eyes. With a calm tone, John reasons, grabbing hold of her hand again. “Please.” He sighs. “Let me do this for you.”

Shutting the passenger door for her, John walks over to his side, taking place. He places his hands on the steering wheel for a moment, staring at the view ahead. Y/N watches him, worry in her own eyes. John seemed incredibly shaken, uneasy still. She feels horrible, and a heaviness overtakes the feel in her chest.

Reaching over to place a hand over his, she sighs, breaking the silence.

“John, baby, I’m really sorry. I should have been more careful, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our night, I know you had an evening planned, reservations and all. But I promise, its nothing. I’m really alright.” She smiles, grasping his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Please cheer up?”

John lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. Slowly, he turns his gaze her way, locking their eyes. “I couldn’t care less about the reservations.” He grieves, eyes unable to connect with hers. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart.”

She grips his hand tighter, offering him a small smile, hoping his eyes would light up to his normal self again, glimmer as they do in the moonlit night.

But they didn’t. She frowns, bringing her thumb to brush the delicate skin under his eye, cupping his cheek. “It’s hard for me to see you like this, John. Talk to me. Please?” She whispers, pleading.

John sighs again, before turning his body to face her better. “Its just…that call, Y/N.” He exhales, shaking his head. He firms his eyes tight shut, facing down as he continues.

“It was so hard to hear your name on the other end.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking at the distant city lights again. Y/N rubs her thumb over his hand as she holds it, soothing him, trying her best to calm him.

He stays silent for another moment. As the city out in the distance moves, flows to pace as the night falls, Y/N feels her world standstill. She grips his hand tighter, her soothing strokes brush across his skin, refusing to let him wallow in his thoughts alone.

She’d always be there for him, she’d promised herself. She’d be there for him, because the world had failed to do so.

“Y/N,” He begins, gloomed, tense. “Anytime I get something good, its always been taken away from me.” He looks down at his lap, collecting his thoughts. His eyes are heavy, and they seem to be glistening.

But not in the way Y/N wanted to see them glisten. They were glistening with tears.

“Today, when I got that call, I felt all those things again, all those feelings of hopelessness, guilt, fear…I felt like something was being snatched away from me again. Only this time, it was as if all of the other things combined together, but so much more.” He shakes his head. “It was you. Y/N.”

Her heart drops. She feels the ache.

“I can face anything. I’ve been built that way, I’ve learned, because these things happen to me. I’ve accepted that maybe I’m not deserving of... good. But I can’t…I can’t bare the thought of you being taken away from me. Not you.”

She feels her heart break, shatter for the man in front of her. The man who thought, that he didn’t deserve good. The man who in her eyes, deserved the entire world, if she could give it to him. She brings her other hand to hold both of his, assuring him, that she’s there.

“I just felt so fucking hopeless. I felt guilty that I wasn’t there with you, that I didn’t protect you like I promised I would.” He frowns again.

“Y/N…I don’t have anything. All I have is you. I never had a family, I never had friends, everyone sees me as…” his aching tongue halts to finish he sentence. “I’ve never had anything. And after all I’ve done, all the blood on my hands, I don’t deserve anything.” He tries to hold himself together, staring in disgust at his hands that she held tight.

He sees them as an omen.

“You are all I have, Y/N. Just you, and Dog. And today, when that operator called, I felt like my entire world was being taken away, and I couldn’t do a single thing about it.” His voice cracks. “Like always.” He looks down again, trying to keep himself together.

Y/N watches him, with eyes full of sadness. She felt daggers in her heart with each word he spoke. Trying to channel a smile, she brings her hand to cup his cheek, making him connect his eyes with hers. She leans forward, cupping his face with both her hands, pressing delicate kisses to each inch of his face.

She showers him in love, because that’s what he deserved.

“I love you,” She whispers between kisses. “So much, John. You deserve so much. You deserve more than you think.” She whispers, looking him in the eyes. John brings his arms around her, holding her close as he buries his face in her neck. She rubs up and down his back, running her hands through his hair, making him feel ease.

They hold each other, for what feels like an eternity, eyes closed, sulking in each other.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, Y/N breaks the silence, still holding him close.

“John? Do you feel that?” She waits a moment, before speaking. “I’m right here. In your arms. Exactly where I belong,”

John smiles into her shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around her now. She was right. She was right here, where she belonged. Her silken voice speaks again, in just above a whisper.

“And if I’m not, I’m always just a daydream away.” She smiles.

John chuckles, pulling back, to look her into her shining eyes. “Just a daydream away, I like that.” He presses a kiss to her lips, resting his forehead against hers, as they close their eyes briefly. “Gosh. I love you so much. Don’t scare me like that again.”

She giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you more, John. You deserve everything. And I promise, I’ll say it to you each and every day until you believe me. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

~~~

As they reach home, John, to no surprise, falls into full paranoid boyfriend mode. He helps her each step of the way, holding her hand as they climb the stairs to the front door.

“John, I love you, but you do realize that I’m not hurt in any way? I just have a bandaid from the injection, silly.” She giggles, showing off her patched arm.

“I don’t care, Y/N. You’re not doing anything tonight and you’re going to let me take care of you, okay?” He shimmys the keys in the lock, opening the front door. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” He eyes her.

Y/N smiles, heart content at the man in front of her. She ruffles his hair playfully, pressing a kiss to his bicep, as he takes hold of her hand again, leading her in.

“Jonathan, there’s nothing to take care of. I’m fine.”

Hanging his coat on the coat hanger, John rushes to Y/N’s side to take her coat off for her. Being the gentleman he is, he bends down to unstrap her heels, gently taking her shoes off her feet, storing them away for her.

“John, I’m okaaaaay.” Y/N tries again, although John lets it in through one ear, and out the other. There was no way he was letting his girl do anything at all, until she’d fully recovered.

Placing a hand to the small of her back again, guiding her to the sofa, he ponders out loud. “Spinach is high in iron, right?”

“Yeah?” Y/N replies, getting herself comfy.

“Good. I’ll go make you a spinach smoothie then.”

Y/N scrunches her face in disgust, debating. “John, no. That’s gross.”

“Come ere boy!” John calls out to his Dog. As Dog runs to the room, Y/N hears John’s deep voice speak, as he pets his ears. “Keep mommy company, okay?”

Y/N blushes, at the thought of being Dog’s mommy.

As the night falls further, John helps Y/N change into one of his oversized shirts. It comes to the same length as a dress would on her, John finds her absolutely adorable in it. He feels his heart full at the way she wears a piece of him on her.

A symbol that she was truly, undeniable, fully, his.

After more of John’s antics, trying to help Y/N recover as fast as possible, they lay together in John’s bed, John’s mind partially dozed off to dreamland already. He’d have an eventful evening for sure, but in the end, it was all going to be okay, with the love of his life rest beside him.

As the midnight sky covers the city horizon, moonlight filters in through the window, with a cool breeze flowing through the curtains, as steady, ocean like waves. The world is falling asleep, with the stars scattered in the black and blue marbled sky, the moon gleams around them, beaming its light, radiating over the busy New York night.

To the rise and fall of her lover’s chest, Y/N hums in contentment.

Tight in each others embrace, John and Y/N are tucked away, holding each other after the events of the night. John holds her to his chest, providing her a haven, where no harm could reach, no matter how strong. He places lingering, soft, drowsy kisses to her temples, to her shoulder, to her cheeks, as he pleases, letting her know he’s close, protecting her.

That he’d always be.

The fear, has brought along an overwhelming plethora of love. Nothing but pure, unconditional love. As they lay, secure next to the one who matters most, Y/N’s honeyed voice murmurs into the evening air, thick with sleep,

resting her head further into John’s chest as she pulls him closer,

with a gratified smile on her face.

“The fluffiest pillow I have, indeed.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Johns Outfit!

Y/N’s Outfit!

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

#john wick oneshot #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick imagines #john wick #john wick x y/n #john wick fluff #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves oneshot #keanu reeves #keanu reeves imagines

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

Text

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 11 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // epilogue

Summary: Spencer and Reader haven’t been able to spend the kind of time together that they’d like to. When they finally have the chance, they’re all to eager to take advantage of it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Female Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.8k for Chapter 11

Content Warning: Smut. Pure smut. Oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, femdom, pegging, bdsm themes, slapping, spitting, degradation, mild humiliation, the usual for the series.

A/n: For those of you that don’t want a cheesy epilogue, this is it for our love birds. I just want to thank you all for sticking with me on this massive undertaking. Your messages have meant everything to me. The epilogue will be out tomorrow.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

-- Chapter 11 - I love you too --

The wonderful thing about working with my boyfriend is that even when we were away on cases, we got to spend time together.

It was just never the kind of time I wanted to spend with him. I had told Spencer in the beginning that I had always viewed our BDSM sex scenes as just a part of our sex life. I was fine doing things that weren't in the realm of the dominant and submissive relationship. I wouldn’t trade sleepy morning sex with my boy for anything. And even when we were away on cases, we were still able to do some things.

But, while I'm as sex-positive and progressive as the next person, I just couldn't put a strap on or a butt plug in my go-bag.

We’d only had that one weekend together at my apartment, but I was ready for more.

And I think my boy was too.

“Alright, once we touch down in D.C., I need everyone to submit their paperwork for the Wilcox case,” Hotch told us while our plane was fast approaching Virginia. “That case goes to trial next week and the ADA needs to make sure everything is set.”

Morgan scoffed from his place across from Rossi. “I mean, I feel like it’s a pretty open and shut case anyway, Hotch. She all but admitted to it!” Emily was nodding, not looking up from her book. “Plus, the only work they should need is the profile y/l/n came up with.”

I felt Spencer tense beside me; I placed my hand on his thigh in an attempt to calm him. “It was a pretty solid profile, Morgan,” I said easily.

Morgan’s eyes kept jumping back and forth between me and Reid, a smirk turning his lips up. “I just wanna know, in this little relationship, who is calling who ‘Daddy’?”

I could feel Spencer flush beside me, but I maintained my composure. "I don't think either of us has called the other Daddy, have we, Spence?" I looked over at him, quirking one of my brows. Come on, baby. Don’t take his bait.

My boy cleared his throat. “N-not that I remember.”

I nodded, my gaze never wavering from his. “If you want me to call you daddy, just ask.” I shot him a wink before I turned around to face the rest of the team.

Rossi and Emily looked equally amused, JJ looked horrified, Hotch looked like he had never experienced any sort of human emotion. Morgan looked like it was his birthday. "Na-uh. In Nebraska, you said men have called you daddy.” He pointed his finger at me, then gestured back and forth between Spencer and I. “So, how bout it, Pretty Boy? Have you called y/l/n Daddy?”

I should have learned to never underestimate Spencer Reid.

“She hasn’t asked me to call her daddy, but I would,” he said simply. “She prefers Ma’am, though.”

A choked laugh bubbled out of my mouth a few moments before a roar erupted from the rest of the team.

I was smiling so wide I was worried my face would split in half when I felt Spencer’s fingers lace through mine.

I was still laughing when I unlocked the door to my apartment later that night. “I will never forget the look on Morgan’s face for as long as I live.”

My boy chuckled behind me. “I have to admit, I’m pretty proud of that one.” He shut and locked the door after we walked inside, dropping his bag right beside mine. “At least he has stopped asking me if I’m a virgin.”

Turning, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders while his hands settled on my hips. “There isn’t a part of you that’s a virgin, Spencer Reid. I’ve seen to that.” His smile delighted me to my core. “Why did you say ‘ma’am’?”

He laughed softly. “I love Morgan like he’s my brother, but if I heard him call you Miss, I might try to fight him.” I pressed a kiss to my forehead when I laughed. “He’d kick my ass, but I’ve had my ass kicked before.”

I stood on my tiptoes, bringing my lips to his in a soft kiss. “I love you; you know?”

“I had a feeling.”

I scoffed, pulling away. “You’re still a brat.”

He just nodded in acknowledgment. "Can I ask you a question?"

I turned around from my place in front of the fridge, giving him an eye roll. “Shoot, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer fidgeted slightly. “Was that true? What you told Morgan? Has someone called you daddy before?”

"Oh, yeah, once," I confirmed with a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I break during sex scenes because sex is objectively funny. But…to this day, I have never broken out of my dom mode faster.”

Spencer walked into the kitchen, accepting a bottle of water from me. “So, it wasn’t planned?”

I snorted. “No, not at all. I was pegging him, and I said…something, I don’t even remember. But he just moaned out, in this very high-pitched voice, ‘daaaaaaddddyyyy’.” I was laughing in earnest now. “I don’t have a problem with daddy kinks, at all. I wouldn’t even mind if someone wanted to call me daddy. It was just unexpected. And I was still a baby dom. I didn’t know what to expect yet.”

Spencer regarded me thoughtfully. “I’d call you daddy.”

“You would?” I grinned at him while I moved to stand in front of him. “Well, I appreciate that, my love. But, right now, I just want you to call me Miss.”

His breath caught. “N-now?”

I nodded. “If you want. Or, we can wait til tomorrow. But I’m going to fuck you, Dr. Reid.”

I heard the whimper leave his throat. “Can it be now?”

“Needy boy,” I murmured. “Go into my bedroom. Take off all your clothes and kneel by the left side of my bed. You’re not to look at me until I tell you.”

Spencer scrambled to my bedroom, much to my amusement. I took my time putting the water bottles away, thumbing through my mail on the counter.

I wanted him squirming by the time I got in there. I started undoing the buttons of my shirt while I made my way down the hallway, but not before I stopped to get something out of my bag.

Such a good boy, I thought when I saw him. His clothes were put neatly on the chair, his eyes were downcast, his palms resting on his thighs. I made no move to acknowledge him; instead, I went to the chest at the foot of my bed. I could feel the tension radiating off of him, but his eyes stayed on the floor.

I removed my pants, leaving me in just my bra and panties before I went to stand in front of him. “Look at me, Dr. Reid.”

His eyes moved up my body slowly, and I reveled in the groan I heard. I may have been expecting this, so I wore my favorite underwear set. They were black and lacy; the panties hugged my hips low, and the bra made my tits look fantastic. I reached out to brush my fingers through his hair. “Do you like how I look, Dr. Reid?”

"Yes, Miss."

I tugged on his hair slightly, pulling a whimper from him. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Dr. Reid?”

“No Miss,” he muttered, licking his lips.

“First, I’m going to make you lay on my bed while I put my pussy on your face.” My fingers continued to scratch along his scalp. “And if you eat my pussy well enough, I’m going to fuck you. And if you make me cum, then I’m going to have you on your hands and knees for me.”

His eyes were wide, his pupils blown with lust.

“Lay on the center of the bed, Dr. Reid.” He moved so quickly I’m surprised he didn’t fall over.

I got on the bed more leisurely, straddling his stomach before I started to drag my center up his body. Spencer had been hard since the moment he looked at me, but I wanted him to be a desperate, whimpering mess.

“Miss,” he murmured. “Your-your panties are…”

Slap.

“Did I tell you to speak, Dr. Reid?” My hand stung with the force of the impact. “You’re my little fuck toy, do you understand? You only do what I tell you to.” I pinched his face in my hand. “You haven’t earned my pussy. So,” I mumbled, leaning over him, bringing my face above his. “You’re going to use that pretty mouth of yours to lick me through my panties. Assuming you can do that right, and I get wet enough, I might let you really taste me.”

He nodded frantically. “Open.” I spit into his mouth, he swallowed it instantly. “You’re very dirty Dr. Reid.” With that, I brought my body all the way up. My hands gripped the headboard while I lowered my panty covered pussy to his mouth.

His first lick was hesitant, his tongue running over the lace softly. “This isn’t going to get you anywhere Dr. Reid.” I let out a sigh, moving my hips off his face. “Do you want to eat my pussy?”

“More than anything,” he moaned.

“Then fucking act like it.” I lowered over his face again and to my delight, his response was immediate. He sucked the lace into his mouth, wetting it before he released it. His tongue massaged against the fabric, rubbing directly against my clit. I let out a breathy moan. Always the quick study.

My hips were shamelessly rocking against him, I could feel his frustrated groans against my panties. “What’s wrong, Dr. Reid? Do you want something?” Come on nervous boy, beg me.

“Please,” he breathed in a broken plea. “Please let me taste you, Miss. I need it.”

I pretended to consider him for a moment before I moved off of his body. His cock was hard against his pelvis, the head weeping with precum. His fists were balled up at his sides; his entire body was tense. Slowly, I hooked my thumbs in my panties, pulling them down.

“Is this what you want, Dr. Reid?” I said, running my fingers over my drenched lips.

"Yes, Miss. Please.”

Grabbing the headboard, I swung my leg over his head again, bringing my pussy just above his mouth. “Since you asked so nicely.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than Spencer attacked my pussy. His mouth felt like it was everywhere all at once. I felt his tongue spear into me before it circled my clit. He opened his mouth and covered my entire pussy, sucking softly, causing my hips to buck.

“Fuck,” I moaned, grinding against his mouth. Your mouth is a fucking treasure, baby.

Very reluctantly, I pulled off of him when I felt my orgasm approaching. His head lifted up off of the bed, trying to follow me. I smiled down at him. “As much as I love that pretty mouth, I want to cum all over your cock, Dr. Reid.”

I moved off the bed to the chest again. This time I grabbed 3 different things. I tossed the first two on the bed while I kept the other in my hand. “Do you know what these are, Dr. Reid?”

He nodded, biting his lip.

“Put your arms up.” He put his arms against the bars of my headboard, moaning softly when my handcuffs clicked in place. I moved down his body, pressing a kiss to his mouth, tasting myself on him. “Now, just think about how hard that pretty cock is going to get every time you see those at work.”

Spencer whimpered loudly. “Those are your w-work ones?”

I nodded, grabbing the butt plug and the lube before I settled between his thighs. “That they are, Dr. Reid. And I have to say, they look very nice on you.”

His teeth dug into his bottom lip when I pushed his legs up and apart. “We’ve talked about this, baby,” I reminded him, giving his thigh a sharp slap. “I’m going to have you face down in this bed while I fuck you. Don’t be embarrassed now.”

Once it was coated in lube, I started pressing the plug into him. It was slightly larger than the one we had used previously, and that’s because I wanted to use a bigger cock. I smirked at him when he groaned while I started fucking the plug into him. Pushing inside a bit before pulling back out.

I leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his inner thigh. My teeth bit down on that skin right when the butt plug was seated inside of him. He let out a strangled moan, his back arching up. ‘Fuck, Miss. Fuck.”

My tongue flicked over the bite mark, soothing the skin. “That’s the plan, Dr. Reid.”

I moved my body over his, lining up my drenched pussy above his cock. My eyes were on his face when I slowly began to lower myself onto him. We’d never had traditional sex while he had a butt plug in; and I was very excited to see how my boy reacted.

My pelvis met his hips when he bottomed out inside me, my hands braced on his chest. “Fuck, baby. You have such a nice cock.” I started to rock against him slowly. “Such a nice cock on my little fuck toy, isn’t that right?”

“Yes Miss,” he breathed out, his eyes shut tight. “Miss, you feel so good. I…I’m close…”

Slap.

“No.” My voice was hard as his eyes snapped open. “Fuck toys like you don’t get to cum until their miss says so, is that clear, Dr. Reid?” I rose up, sliding up and down his cock, my fingers ghosting down my stomach until they found my clit. My other hand tugged the cups of my bra down. “You may have other people out there convinced that you’re not a dirty, needy, little thing. But I know better.”

My fingers sped up against my flesh, my other fingers pinching and rolling my nipple, as I sought out my pleasure.

“You’re nothing but a needy fucking slut, isn’t that right, Dr. Reid?”

His words were strangled, his eyes fixed on my pussy taking his cock. "Yes, Miss. Fuck, Miss.”

“Good boy,” I said softly. “Such a dirty fucking boy. Now, hold still while I cum all over you. Can you do that, Dr. Reid? Can you be my good boy?”

Spencer’s head was thrashing on the pillows when my pussy finally clamped down around him. I threw my head back, my vision going white. “Fuck!” I worked my hips desperately against him, seeking every ounce of my pleasure.

Once I came back down, I collapsed against him, pressing open mouth kisses against him. His teeth caught my lip, tugging me to him while his tongue slicked over my own.

“Such a good boy,” I mumbled against his mouth. I reached out to grab the keys to my cuffs, releasing him. I inspected both of his wrists, kissing the indentations softly. “Now, I want you to turn over for me. Can you do that, Dr. Reid?”

I knew he was still uncomfortable; things were still new to him. It’s always your choice, baby.

My darling boy just nodded. “Yes Miss, I’ll do anything for you.”

And I you, Spencer Reid.

Moving off the bed, I returned to the chest, picking up my harness before I selected the 8-inch dildo attachment. I looked back up on the bed, taking in the mess I had made of Spencer Reid. His ass was in the air, the base of the plug clearly visible. His cock hung heavy between his legs. His fingers were gripping my sheets tightly.

“Normally,” I said, moving behind his hips. “I’d want you to suck my cock before I fucked this tight little ass.” I slowly started to pull the plug out. “But, since you were such a good little toy, I think you’ve earned this.”

Spencer moaned loudly. “Thank you, Miss.”

I couldn’t control my smirk. You’re a natural at this, my darling boy.

Lining my dildo up against his asshole, I slowly started to pitch my hips forward, one hand on his ass, the other at the base of my ‘cock’. “Look at how well you take cock, Dr. Reid. You’re just pulling me in. Such a filthy fucking boy.”

I started a slow rhythm, still not having entered him fully yet. “Fucking- fuck, Miss. Please!”

“Please what, baby?”

He groaned, partially in embarrassment, partially in desperation. "Please fuck my ass, Miss. I need you to fuck me, please.”

“All you have to do is ask, Dr. Reid.” My hips thrust forward, my pelvis meeting his ass. “Such a pretty fucking boy.”

I started to move in and out of him, my eyes fixed on how he was taking the dildo. “It’s a shame that you’ve never had a real cock fuck you, Dr. Reid. You look so fucking pretty like this.” My motions sped up. “But, you’re my pretty boy now.”

When he didn’t respond, I reached out and grabbed his hair, pulling harshly. “Isn’t that right Dr. Reid?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Miss. Fuck. I-I,” his voice was pleading. “Miss, please.”

I kept my grip on his hair, my hips now pounding into him. “Touch your cock for me, pretty boy. Jerk your pretty cock off while I fuck your tight little ass.”

His right hand moved down to fist around himself. His upper body was only supported by his left arm and my hand in his hair. “There’s my good boy,” I praised, keeping my pace up. “I like fucking you like this, Dr. Reid. The only problem is, I can’t be the one to make that nice, pretty cock cum. So, I think tomorrow I’ll have you bounce on my cock again.”

Spencer was moaning loudly now. “Miss, I’m going to cum.”

"Cum for me, Dr. Reid." I pressed a kiss against his back, a moment of gentleness in such a rough, beautiful act.

His face dropped down into my pillow and he screamed. Spencer Reid screamed while I pounded into his ass, his hand jerking his cock quickly, cumming all over my bedsheets.

He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I worked myself out of him, still giving a few pumps to help prolong his pleasure. When I was sure he had come down completely, I pressed another kiss to his back. "You did so well, Spencer."

I hopped off the bed, unhooking my harness and hustling to the bathroom. I returned with a wet rag and some ointment for his wrists. Spencer had all but collapsed on the bed.

“You did so, so well, Spencer,” I praised, wiping the lube from him. “Can you turn over for me?”

With a groan, he flipped his body over slowly, his eyes glassy but focused. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

I smiled at him, pulling his wrists into my lap. “I didn’t have the cuffs on tight, but you kept pulling,” I teased.

Spencer just smiled; his expression blissful. “I love you so much.”

His soft words made emotion rise up in my throat. “Not half as much as I love you, Spencer Reid.” I pressed a kiss to his sweaty brow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I feel…I feel fine, it’s not like last time but I-I still feel like I need to be near you.”

“Good,” I said pressing a soft kiss to his lips this time. “Because I always want to be near you.”

I hopped off the bed, reaching my arms for him. “Can you come shower with me? I got you very dirty.”

He chuckled tiredly but let me pull him into the bathroom.

I turned on the shower, waiting for the water to get warm before I got inside, tugging Spencer in after me. We stood under the spray together, arms wrapped around each other for several long moments. He needed to be with me just as much as I needed to be with him.

I almost felt guilty for how happy I was in that moment. How could one person feel this? What have I done to earn having this miraculous man in my life?

“You’re wrong, you know,” my boy mumbled against my hair.

“Beg your pardon?” I said, pulling back to squint at him.

Spencer was smiling at me. Really smiling. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, happiness radiating from him. "You said I didn't love you half as much as you love me. That's simply untrue," his voice was grave, with just a hint of teasing.

I poked his side. “This isn’t a fight you’re gonna win, Doc.” Pulling away from him, I reached for my shampoo. I squirted some into my hands before I passed it to him. “You should just start leaving stuff here,” I said, giggling when he put some of my citrus shampoo into his hand.

“I don’t mind. I like smelling like you.”

My laugh was cut short when I lifted my arms. I hadn’t realized how stiff my shoulder was until I reached up to begin washing my own hair.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, having seen the grimace on my face.

“Yeah, Doc. I’m just a little sore.”

Spencer frowned. “Turn around,” he instructed. I obeyed his request with a roll of my eyes, surprised when I felt his fingers on my scalp.

“Are you washing my hair, Spencer Reid?”

He made a noise of affirmation before he reached for the shampoo again. “I’ve never washed anybody else hair before,” he said softly. “Let me know if I mess up.”

My heart squeezed while his fingers massaged my scalp. “Impossible, Doc.” I felt his lips press against the back of my neck a few moments later, signaling that he was done. Once I opened my eyes again after rinsing my hair, I saw my boy’s eyes clouded in sadness while he stared at me.

I didn’t have a chance to ask before he made his thoughts clear. His hand lifted to my chest, his fingers pressing against my collarbone, tracing the shiny new skin of my scar. “The moment you got this was the worst of my entire life,” he whispered, his fingers ghosting over the raised skin. He pulled me to him, engulfing me in a hug that only he could give. “I was so afraid to lose you…but I didn’t think you were ever really mine to begin with.”

I felt tears prick in the corners of my eyes, causing me to hold him to me tighter. “I think I’ve always been yours, Spencer.”

He chuckled, pulling away to look down at my face. “Then why did you make me wait so long to have you?”

“You should have asked me before Nebraska,” I teased.

Spencer’s hands came up to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “Now that I have you, I hope you know I’m never letting you go again. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Forever and ever, my darling, nervous boy. You wonderful, wonderful man.

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