#we will love you and want you as one of our own only if you can let us in and let us help you when you need help...
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navybrat817 ¡ 3 days ago
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Feeling in a mood today. Would you consider some angst with Bucky? You can ignore!
I feel like angst isn't my forte, nonnie, but I'll try?
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Stood Up
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky asks you out on a date and doesn't show.
Word Count: Almost 1.2k
Warnings: Angst, sadness, insecurities, embarrassment
A/N: This may get a Part 2. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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You chose a simple black dress for your first date with Bucky. It wasn't too dressy or over the top, but still nice enough that you hoped it caught his attention. If the sight of you could put a soft smile on his face and warmth in his stunning blue eyes you'd consider it a win. Maybe he'd even tell you how beautiful you looked.
But your date was supposed to start almost an hour ago, and he still hadn't arrived.
You perked up when you looked toward the door, only to feel disappointed yet again when it wasn't Bucky who walked in. Checking your phone, you scrolled back through the messages. You had texted him earlier in the week to be on the safe side and he confirmed all of the needed date information; date, time, restaurant. You arrived at the right place at the right time on the right date. It was all you looked forward to this week.
You thought Bucky was looking forward to it as well since his last message was, “Can't wait to see you, doll.”
The sergeant looked almost nervous when he asked you to grab dinner with him. You were pretty sure he ran a hand through his hair three times before he got the question out. But the way his eyes lit up when you said yes, it was a look you’d never forget.
“It’s a date,” he had smiled, your heart fluttering. “Maybe we can go dancing after? Or we can dance in one of our apartments? Or we can play it by ear.”
“I’ll wear my best dancing shoes.”
You were trying to stay optimistic that he would show, but the knots in your stomach tightened when you realized he still hadn't replied to your follow up messages since you got to the restaurant. Did he have to take a last minute mission and couldn't let you know? Was he just running late? Or did he simply change his mind about the date?
“Where are you, Bucky?” you whispered, praying he wasn't hurt or worse.
The server cautiously approached your table once you set your phone down. “Is there anything I can get for you?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m fine,” you forcefully smiled, gesturing to the untouched glass of wine in front of you. “I’m still… waiting,” you added, your voice cracking on the last word.
A look of pity crossed the server’s face. Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt other eyes on you, too. You didn't want their sympathy or anything else for that matter. “Please let me know if you need anything.”
You managed a nod and nothing more, your eyes burning as you blankly stared at the menu. It didn't make sense. Bucky wasn't the kind of man to stand someone up. He wouldn't leave you in the middle of a restaurant by yourself without a good reason. Right?
Your hands shook when it went past the hour mark and you typed one more message to Bucky. “I’m still at the restaurant and worried since you aren't here. I hope you're okay.”
It took another fifteen minutes for it to finally sink in that Bucky wasn't coming. As much as you didn't want it to, it hurt. So much. Luck wasn't on your side when it came to relationships, but you thought this would be different because, well, Bucky was different. You should've known better though. You should've known him asking you on a date was too good to be true.
The server made eye contact with you across the room and quickly made her way over when you took out your wallet. “Oh, that glass is on the house. Unless there's anything else I can get for you?”
“Oh. Um. Thanks.” The gesture brought tears to your eyes, and you wished you could bury yourself in the ground then and there. “I don't need anything else, but I still owe you a tip for taking up the table for over an hour,” you said, leaving some cash on the table and giving her one last smile as you stood up on shaky legs. “Have a good night.”
“Ouch. Stood up. Been there before.”
“Oh, shit. I think she’s crying.”
“Poor thing. She was sitting down before we got here.”
The whispers from the patrons were practically screams in your ears as you left, and you had to steady yourself once you got outside. The cool air did nothing to soothe you, and wiping your cheeks didn't stop the tears from falling. Humiliation aside, your heart ached. Putting yourself out there wasn't easy, but this sort of rejection hurt more than a firm “no”.
Worry seeped in because you didn't want to believe Bucky would do this on purpose. What went wrong? Why didn't he show up? There had to be a reasonable explanation.
You dialed his number, your heart stopping when his voicemail popped up after a few seconds. “Hey, this is Bucky. Leave me a message.”
You cleared your throat to speak. “Hey. It’s me. I waited for you… at the restaurant, but I guess… I guess you just couldn't make it, so I'm heading home.” You paused to sniffle and prayed he wouldn't catch it if he listened. “Can you just… let me know you're okay? Please, Bucky?” you asked, hanging up before you could say more.
The little optimism you had left faded completely when you checked your messages one last time. The messages had gone from delivered to read. He got them and didn't respond. Not one single word. He just… ignored you.
Maybe everything was fine with him after all and he realized you weren't good enough to go on a date with.
Choking on a small sob, you tucked your phone away. You didn't bother with a cab. The walk could help clear your head. You didn't care if the distance would ruin your shoes. It wasn't like you had anyone to dance with tonight or any other night.
“I’ll be fine,” you whispered to yourself, curling in on yourself as you walked. It hurt, but you’d be fine. You'd suck it up, put a smile on your face, and convince everyone that all was well because that was the way it had to be.
But how would you face Bucky come Monday? You still cared about him, but how would you be able to look him in the eye and hide the hurt you felt from being left all alone in that restaurant? How would you move forward together if he didn't want you?
No, not together. There was no togetherness at the moment since Bucky stood you up. He clearly didn't want you. Maybe he never did and he only asked you out as a fluke or some obligation so people would stop trying to set him up.
You wiped at your cheeks again. The unknown was going to keep your mind racing until he told you why he didn't show. He owed you some sort of explanation.
But tonight, you'd walk home alone with a heavy heart and hoped that whatever Bucky was doing that he was okay.
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I need a happy ending for them immediately. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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simpurnatural ¡ 2 days ago
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“Our Little Secret” || Short-Fic
XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader
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Note from Nat: "Okay, but me coming back to Tumblr after binging xo kitty wasn't on my 2025 bingo card. We are so back babe! Enjoy these crumbs whilst I dust off my keyboard ToT"
Warning(s): Spoilers for "XO, Kitty" seasons 1 & 2, Smut, Language, Not Proofread
"I swear, if you get caught one of these days then you're on your own!" Q warned, Dae chuckling lightly as they watched Min Ho slipped on a pair of shoes.
"I won't get caught," Min Ho replied as he turned his head to face them. "When have I ever gotten caught?" he scoffed as he examined himself in the mirror.
"Uhm literally last week when you sprinted around campus in the early morning and only wearing underwear and socks," Q retorted from the couch before realizing, "That was a bit more of a close call if I'm being real here,".
"Exactly, never got caught and never will," Min Ho said with a sly smirk, "Plus, Y/n is in the solo unit dorms," he reminds before walking out the door.
"It'll only be a matter of time," Dae sighed, shaking his head at his best friend's recklessness.
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You heard the sound of a knocks on your dorm room door, instantly recognizing the specific pattern to inform you that it was Min Ho waiting to be let in.
Hurriedly yet excitedly, you made your way to the door and swiftly opened it. Min Ho was taken aback by the clothes or rather the lack thereof it on your small frame.
"Why are you here so early?" you whispered, yanking him into the room before shutting the door behind you. "I haven't gotten my nightly dorm inspection yet,".
"Well, I couldn't wait to see you and who said we couldn't have some fun til’ they get here?" Min Ho replied in a hushed yet seductive tone, his eyes taking in the sight before him. "You wouldn't mind a little inspection of our own, would you?" he smirked as his has slithered their way around your waist.
You suddenly felt as though any clever retort you had bubbling in your system faded away. Min Ho pulled you in closely, allowing for you both to be basically sharing the same breath of air. He leaned in, catching your lips against his while tightening his hold on you.
With every kiss, the difficulty to pull away became more intense. You brushed your tongue against Min Ho’s lip as he backed you into the wall adjacent to the front door. His hands began to hike up your silk night gown.
“I could just take you right here,” Min Ho muttered under his breath, his cold hands making contact with your warm, soft skin.
The palm of his hand gently gave your breast a squeeze. You let out a whine as his icy cold touch messaged your chest. This only made the tent in Minh’s trousers tighter.
“But someone might hear us,” you say, an aching feeling beginning between your legs. “They could be here any minute,” you remind as Min Ho effortlessly lifted you off the ground.
“Then you better stay quiet,” he said without a hint of worry in his tone.
With one hand on your ass to keep you in place, he utilized the other to undo his belt and trousers. By this point, you were sure a whole waterfall had made its descent down your leg. Min Ho chuckled as he kicked his pants away from him after they pooled around his ankles.
He felt your clothed cunt throb, with only your panties and his boxers in the way. The notorious playboy has slept with countless girls but you were just so different. He had never been with someone who looked just as good on the outside as she felt when he’s inside
Wasting no time, Min Ho removed all remaining articles of clothing. The tip of his cock teased the lips of your pussy. He loved how your wetness basically coated his manhood like a glazed donut.
“M-Min Ho-“ you whimpered impatiently, just wanting to feel his dick be buried deep inside already. “Fuck,” you gasped as half his length pushed inside your walls.
“So tight for me,” Min Ho groaned before pulling out, just to thrust right back in.
His hips rhythmically jutted up against yours. Your body was in compete ecstasy as Min Ho’s breaths grew heavy. He yanked the thin straps of your night gown down just to watch your tits bounce with no restraint.
Min Ho loved getting you like this, so lost in how good he could take care of you. He smirked as he listened to your minimum efforts to conceal your moans. Your tightly sealed lips didn’t stop any NSWF noises.
Just a not began to form inside of you, a knock at the door and an unaware voice greeted you, “Y/n L/n! It’s time for your nightly dorm room inspection,”.
“Shit!” You mumbled as Min Ho gently placed you on the ground before scurrying off into your bedroom to find a hiding spot. “One moment please!” You replied, kicking your’s and Min Ho’s clothes under your couch.
Hurriedly, you grabbed one of your appropriately sized coats to conceal your naked body. You quickly yanked the door open which startled the more senior student who stood at your door.
“Hello,” you nodded as you raked a hand through your potentially messy hair. “Please come in, sorry about the mess,” you say with an embarrassed smile.
Whenever Min Ho was over while inspections took place, you always held your breath for the worst outcomes. Min Ho usually hid in your closet, behind your suitcases and other articles of clothing that could easily conceal his frame.
As the inspector searched the unit half interestedly, you acted as calm as possible. Your attention slightly wavered as you reminisced how Minho was fucking you just mere moment ago.
What caught your attention was the creaking of your closet door being opened. Your eyes widened as the student stepped inside and left your gaze for a moment just before stepping back out.
“Y/n,” they said, to which your ears perked up anxiously, “Make sure to have the light bulb in your closet changed, it seems to almost be out,” they explained.
“Of course,” you nodded assuringly, the breath you were holding in dissipate as they made their way to the front door.
“Thank you for your time,” they said politely as you unlocked and opened the door for them.
“Anytime,” you waved before the shutting the door again.
You shedded your coat and made your way back into the bedroom, were a naked Min Ho laid. He wordlessly motioned for you to join him.
Right as you crawled onto the bed, Min Ho immediately had you under him. Both of you wearing a smug grin on your lips.
“Where were we?” He said before leaning down to kiss you.
You ran your hands through his perfectly cut hair while his kisses began to trace your jaw, your neck, and started to leave love bites alone your collarbone. He pulled away and watched as your chest rose and fell exaggeratedly. Your completely naked body yearned for his touch.
With your eyes focused heavily on Min Ho, you watched as he stroked his cock. The groans that erupted from his lips were like music to your ears. As he climbed back on top of you, he lifted and spread your legs farther apart. His length inching closer and closer to your pussy.
Your breathing hitched as you felt him slide into your walls with full force, a loud moan escaping your mouth. Min Ho placed his mouth on yours as an attempt to stifle your noises.
But it became harder to remain silent as he continuously rammed his cock into your cunt. The wet sound of you taking his dick so good only made Min Ho fuck you rougher.
“You better stay quiet,” Min Ho muttered, “Or else everyone will find out how damn good I am at fucking you,” he smirked, watching your eyes roll back. “Taking it so easy, huh?”
You could only muster a groan as the pit in your stomach returned. Min Ho loved the feeling of your walls tightening as you got close to climaxing.
“Gonna cum for me?” he asked, knowing full well that any further response from you would be at max volume. “Come on my dick Y/n,” he ordered.
Min Ho spared no space between the two of you began slamming his dick so deep inside your pussy. Your back arched, allowing his dick to repeatedly hit your sweet spot.
“That’s it,” he said, as your body began to quiver and your warm cum covered his length. He slowed down momentarily, allowing you to feel the high. “Was that good?” he asked as you caught your breath.
“Yeah but what about you?” you questioned unknowingly.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done with your pussy yet,” Min Ho huffed before meeting a proper pace.
You tiredly watched as he used your cunt, telling you how good are for him. He loves showering his affections towards you after making you come, knowing that only he gets you like that.
As the rhythm of his thrusts began to stutter, you felt his cock twitch slightly. Min Ho hesitantly gave a few more thrusts before quickly pulling out.
“Fuck,” he groaned as his cum covered your lower abdomen.
Grabbing a couple tissues from your nightstand, Min Ho gave you a proper wipe down before laying down beside you.
“Our little secret?” You asked, raising your pinky.
JAN 2025
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lostatsea-blog ¡ 3 days ago
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Bringing Home the Gold (Part 1)
Alexia Putellas x England Reader
Warnings: None
What happens when one wins and one loses.
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The early morning sun had not long ascended the horizon casting a warm glow over the pitch that would bare witness to this afternoon’s battle. As you stepped out onto the immaculate turf for the pitch inspection, your eyes took in the sheer scale of the stadium. Tonight’s match would bring with it a record attendance for the women’s game and that thought made your heart flutter. Tonight, two of the best teams in the world would step out onto the turf and battle it out for the ultimate prize in football. You were lost in your musings when you heard it; the soft laugh that you would recognise anywhere and your heart instantly began to flutter. Your eyes snapped up immediately finding hers looking back at you. The way your heart reacted made you feel like a teenager in love for the first time. Her face broke out into the most beautiful smile and before you even knew it your legs were moving, carrying you towards her. It felt like the longest walk of your life but in reality was less than thirty seconds. Her arms opened and enveloped you in the most comforting hug you had ever shared
“I’ve missed you amore” she whispered in your ear. You wanted to hold on longer to bask in her arms for as long as you could but you knew that cameras and managers were watching so with a squeeze you let go. As you pulled away you managed to look at her properly and were quickly flooded with concern. She looked exhausted, like she had not slept for the whole of the tournament.
“Lex?” you asked and even though it was one word, she knew what you had seen and knew what you were asking.
“Not now” she shook her head and plastered on a smile which only fuelled your concerns further. This fight with the RFEF was taking a toll on Alexia who just wanted to play the game she loved and be treated fairly
“In a matter of days, we will be home together” You smiled gently and she understood what you were saying returning your smile with one of her own.
“Promise me, whatever happens here today, we do not bring it home.” She begged.
Before this tournament had started, you both knew there was a good chance you would have to face off against each other at some point. You also knew that the most likely event, would be the final. Both of you had dreamed of winning the World Cup and today that dream would come true for one of you. You nodded your agreement before turning and heading back towards your team.
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As the final whistle rang, you crumpled to the ground; the dream was not to be. Your lungs heaved as you fought to take in much needed oxygen. Both sides had battled to the dying seconds and in the end, it was only one goal that separated you. One goal or ten goals it did not matter, England had lost and Spain had won. On one side of the pitch blue shirts littered the ground, all in various stages of grief and denial. At the other end a jubilant huddle of red. You wanted to be happy for your girlfriend and you knew that once the disappointment had gone you would be but at that moment all you could feel was sadness, regret and disappointment. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted a flash of pink but you couldn’t right now and jumped to your feet. You flashed Alexia an apologetic look hoping that she would understand as you backed away. Arms circled your neck as your teammates commiserated with you and promised that next time it would be our turn but having just turned 30 you didn’t know if you would make the next world cup.
The medal ceremony was a painful experience for any team that just missed the big prize. People would say how well England did and how we should be proud of reaching the final and while that is true, second place is the hardest. To be so close to the main prize and just miss out leaves a bitter feeling inside you. When you make your way through the tunnel of Spanish players, Alexia grabs your hand and whispers how proud she is of you. you turn your head to return the sentiment and catch a glimpse of the name plastered across her chest and any words you were about to say die on your tongue replaced by a sense of betrayal. Alexia looks down to see where your eyes are glued and realises why your demeanour changed but she has no chance to speak because you are dragged along by the line to collect your silver medal. After Spain have collected their medals and raised the trophy, you leave the pitch quickly not ready for any sort of conversation. Of all the people she could have exchanged shirts with; of all the people whose names she could have emblazoned on her chest, she chose her ex. These images would appear on every news outlet tomorrow bringing with it speculation about your relationship and their relationship which only deepened your feelings of betrayal. Sometime later, after the team have finished speaking with their families they start to make their way into your dressing room. The mood is sombre as you would expect. You are stuffing your kit into your bag when a voice breaks you out of your thoughts
“Y/N, Alexia is asking for you” Lucy says coming to stand next to you. You and Lucy are close being two of only a few English players on the Barcelona team so you are not surprised that Alexia had asked Lucy to get you.
“Lucy, please just tell her not now and not here” You plead not ready to face any of this yet
“Look, I know we lost but…” Lucy begins but you cut her off
“Luce, it is not about us losing and them winning. I am proud that she has achieved this dream but I am devastated by what she did after” You explain
“The shirt?” she asks and you nod
“Please, can you just tell her not now and not here” You ask again and she nods making her way back to the main door. When she comes back it is with a message.
“She asked me to tell you, please remember the promise you made” Lucy relays Alexias words and you feel your anger rise. The promise that no matter what happened you would not bring it home but you felt that promise did not extend to this. You felt humiliated and that was not something you could let go of easily.
Your flight back to England was the next day and you spent the whole night ignoring Alexia’s texts and calls. This was not a conversation you wanted to have over a phone call. You sent one message telling her to go and celebrate with her team. This was a dream she had worked hard for and you did not want her to miss out despite how you felt. She asked you to come and meet her but you declined.
The flight back to England was exhausting. While you had tried to sleep on the plane, the constant array of thoughts bombarding your brain would not allow it. By the time your flight landed, it had been over 24 hours since you had slept and all you wanted was to lock yourself away. It was a habit you had learned during your teenage years and one you found difficult to break. When things in your life felt out of control you would run away. Not literally run away but cut yourself off from people while you tried to deal with everything. It had been years since you had felt the urge to run away but right now everything was too much. You sent Alexia a text telling her that you would not be returning to Spain tomorrow, like you had initially planned and that you would be staying in England for a couple of weeks but gave no more information. Once the text hand sent you turned off your phone and made your way towards the exit……
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likeumeanit9497 ¡ 2 days ago
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you jealous? pt. 2 | c.s. & m.s. |
chris sturniolo x fem!reader x matt sturniolo
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read pt. 1 here <3
summary: y/n hasn't quite figured out how to share, but sure as hell wants matt to learn.
warnings: NO THREESOME; smut; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); fingering; dirty talk; all 3 of these mfs are toxic af tbh; choking; SEVERE lack of girl code (booooooo); 18+
notes: omg i have wanted to write a pt. 2 for SO LONG but genuinely could not figure out a way to write it without making it a threesome (not yucking anyone's yum here i just physically recoil any time i've tried writing that stuff) (i do eat it up when other ppl write it tbh). anyways i finally sat down and forced myself to come up with a plot bc this has been hands down my most requested pt 2 of any of my work and my sole purpose on this earth is to please. sooo i hope u all enjoy reading this absolute freak show love u alllllll <333
oh yeah btw this is 7,322 words dkm
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
“Fuck Chris, keep going.” I whined, digging my nails into his bare shoulders and tightening my legs around his waist as he drove his cock into me relentlessly. His dimly lit room was hot and provocative, filled with the erotic sounds of our bodies slapping against each other. “Mmm baby, you f-feel so good.” Chris groaned, his curly brown hair feathering across my cheek as he buried his face in my shoulder; sinking his teeth into my delicate skin cruelly. I felt a bead of sweat drip down my temple as Chris’s rhythm began to grow sloppier. “You want my cum, pretty girl?” His crude words made my stomach tense as he breathed them against my skin. Wrapping my legs even tighter around his rolling hips, I nodded my head despairingly. “G-god, yes!” I cried out, running my hands through his damp hair.
I let out a sharp moan as Chris brought his thumb to my clit and began rubbing it in rhythmic circles. My body was set on fire, not far from my own orgasm as I felt his cock begin to swell inside of me. “I-I’m close.” I breathed, my jaw slack as I began to lose myself to the pleasure coursing through my veins. My senses began to fail me. Chris’s room suddenly became a black hole. I could no longer feel the soft mattress beneath me or hear the music playing from the tv. As I grew closer and closer to my orgasm, the only sensation that I was able to comprehend was the feeling of Chris’s heavy body pinning me down as his cock slid through my trembling walls. I released a sharp, desperate moan as I felt the rubber band in my stomach grow tense; so close to snapping. All I needed were just a few more sloppy thrusts from Chris, a few more circles against my bundle of nerves and I—
“Shut the fuck up sickos!” I gasped as Chris stilled above me, the sound of my best friend’s bellowing voice and a harsh knock on Chris’s bedroom door pulling us out of our trance. “Y’all need to hurry up, we’re leaving for dinner in 20 minutes!” Nick shouted through the door. Chewing on my bottom lip to stifle a laugh, I looked up at Chris in disappointment. His heaving chest was rising and falling as he smirked down at me, before leaning down and playfully biting my nose. I grabbed onto his forearms — each one confining me underneath him — and tried to gently push him off of me with a sigh.
“We should probably get ready, Chris.” I admitted, feeling the disappointment radiate through my unsatisfied body in ripples. As I attempted to adjust my body, I felt the remnants of my nearly-there orgasm in the pulse of my core around his thick shaft. Before I could make any real progress in climbing off of the bed, Chris paralyzed me with one sharp snap of his hips. I gasped, unable to deny my need to cum, as he snaked his hand to the back of my head and laced his fingers through my roots; keeping me in place. His eyes were still glossed over with desire, and he licked his smirking lips before he spoke. “We will, just as soon as we cum.”
𓆩☆𓆪
After hurriedly getting dressed and fixing my makeup, I climbed up the basement stairs on wobbly legs with Chris just behind me. Tugging down my short black dress, I walked into the kitchen and found Nick leaning against the counter with a knowing look in his eye. “You look a mess.” Nick deadpanned, rolling his eyes at me. I felt my cheeks grow red under his playful glare, avoiding eye contact as Chris chuckled behind me. “You’re weird as fuck for even walking downstairs to begin with kid.” Chris snarked back, draping his arm lazily across my shoulders. Nick scoffed. “Sue me for wanting to be on time for our reservation, dumbass.” I stifled a laugh listening to their flying insults. “Maybe if you figured out how to go five minutes without sticking your dick in my best friend you would have seen one of my many texts, and we could have avoided all of this.”
Although I had been trying to hide the fact that Chris and I had been sleeping together from Nick, I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t felt a flood of relief when he had ended up catching us on the couch together a few weeks ago; me with my face pressed into the cushions and Chris lining himself up behind me. Nick had been more than a little pissed at first — likely due to the crude imagery of us burned into his retinas — but after a long, honest conversation filled with more than a few vile insults thrown our way, he calmed down tremendously. Since then, he had seen enough of Chris and I slipping away to the basement that he really didn’t seem bothered by it anymore. I had felt guilty about keeping such a big secret from my best friend, but he seemed to understand why I had.
One thing I still hadn’t told him, however, was what had happened the night of their last party. What he didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t his only brother who had kissed me, touched me, slid himself in between my thighs. Wasn’t his only brother who ran his soft lips against my warm skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. Wasn’t his only brother who had whispered filthy words in my ear; who had made me cum so hard that I dissolved into a puddle. Chris wasn’t his only brother who had fucked me, and it was crazy, because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about any of that since Matt slipped out of his dark room that night.
As if reading my mind, I was pulled from my dirty thoughts by the sound of Matt’s door creaking open. Looking up from my shoes, my eyes immediately locked onto his; twinkling in odd amusement as he seemed to examine my appearance. He walked into the kitchen casually, sliding into a seat at the table before pulling his phone from his pocket. Nick walked up behind him and fixed the back of his hair. “Did you hear how loud these fucking losers were?” He asked Matt. I watched as Matt’s shoulders seemed to tense up before he shook his head wordlessly. To this, Nick groaned. “Then I guess I’m just the lucky one.”
My eyes were glued to Matt’s profile as he seemed to aimlessly scroll on his phone, his body language seemed fairly relaxed but I could see the tense muscles in his flexed jaw. “Uh, anyways,” I began, pulling my attention back to the rest of the room, “We ready to head out?” I looked up at Chris and shot him a quick smile. “Soon,” Matt replied, looking up from his phone and directly at me; his eyes shining with provocation, “Sophie will be here any minute.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Matt hoisted himself from the chair and sauntered over to answer it. From where I stood frozen in shock, I heard Sophie’s familiar voice as she greeted Matt, and cringed when I heard the unmistakable sound of them kissing. After a moment, Sophie breezed up the stairs and into the kitchen where we were all still congregated, her sweet-smelling perfume preceding her as she air-kissed first Nick and then Chris. With a smirk, Matt walked up behind her. “Y/n, you remember Sophie, right?”
Even with my racing heart and heavy limbs I ignored his jeering tone, unwilling to give him the reaction that he so clearly desired. “Of course!” I replied, internally cringing at the high pitched faux-excitement in my own voice. “You’re coming to dinner!” I did my best to sound pleased, but by the look Matt gave me outside of Sophie’s view, I knew that I hadn’t convinced him.
Sophie had been an on-and-off again fuck buddy of Matt’s for a few months. She and I actually got along really well, and we spent a lot of time together at parties before the night that Matt and I fucked. When Chris and I began freely hooking up, I was always worried that she and I would cross paths on the nights that I slept over, but it had seemed that Matt and her hadn’t been spending any time together for weeks. Now that they seemed to be back on again, I couldn’t shove down the red hot jealously burning in my veins.
Sophie giggled, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. “They didn’t tell you, I presume. I should have just texted you myself, can’t trust these guys to relay information.” She sidled up to Matt as she spoke, wrapping her arm around his waist possessively. Nick scoffed. “I would have told her if she ever left her and Chris’s sex dungeon.” I blushed from Nick once again sharing my business with everyone in his general vicinity, and watched as Matt quickly grabbed Sophie’s arm, pulling it from his waist. “We’re gonna be late, let’s go.” He mumbled, holding onto Sophie’s hand haphazardly as he began leading us to the garage.
As we reached the car, I watched as Matt opened the passenger door for Sophie before getting into the driver’s seat. As Chris opened the door for me, I grabbed his arm and gave it a soft squeeze. “Sit in the back with me?” I asked, looking up at him with doe eyes and adding a whisper of seduction to my voice. He looked down at me with a smirk, arching his eyebrow before following me into the back seat of the car.
I settled into the seat beside him as Matt began pulling out of the garage. It was dark outside, so as I looked up at Chris, all I could see was the burred outline of his gorgeous features. “You okay pretty?” He asked, his voice low as he looked down at me with slight concern. I nodded reassuringly, realizing that I needed to get my act together because even Chris, the most oblivious of the triplets, was picking up on my sudden strange mood. “Just hungry.” I lied, shooting him a forced smile. The car filled with the sound of Nick and Sophie’s laughter as Matt drove. “Oh my god! Matt was telling me…”
I forced myself to tune out the conversation that was happening at the front of the car, willing the night to be over so that I could seethe with jealousy in private. As I tried to absolve my embarrassing bitterness, my eyes fluttered to the rearview mirror, where I caught Matt’s vision already burning into mine. My breath hitched under his intimidating gaze, and even in my growing anger with him I couldn’t ignore the pit of arousal that I felt growing in my core. I knew that he was trying to get some sort of reaction out of me — wanted me to feel the way I was feeling. He had been purposely trying to make me jealous, so I decided that I would do the same.
Keeping my eyes on his, I lifted my leg and draped it across Chris’s lap; causing my short black dress to hitch up to my hips. As if reacting on instinct, Chris immediately responded by bringing his hand to my bare skin, exploring it for a moment before finally leaving it to rest on my upper thigh; just inches from my exposed lace panties. I watched Matt’s gaze darken as his eyes followed his brother’s movements against my skin, and I shot him a menacing smirk before dropping my own hand onto the crotch of Chris’s jeans.
Matt’s eyes widened briefly as he watched my hand delicately run along Chris’s growing bulge, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Even in the dim light, I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, doing his best to focus on the road despite all of the thoughts that I knew were racing through his head. My gaze was pulled from Matt as I felt Chris’s warm mouth against my ear. “Didn’t get enough earlier, baby?” He whispered, nibbling delicately against my soft earlobe. His hand moved even higher along my leg, until his fingers reached my barely-covered heat. Satisfied with the reaction that I was getting from Matt as well as the feeling of Chris’s fingers gently dancing against my core, I felt my anger begin to diminish and instead be replaced with burning desire.
Turning to face Chris, I placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his sharp jawline, causing him to grab onto my hip and pull me so close to him that I was practically on his lap. His hand laced through my hair and he jerked my head up before attaching his lips to mine. I palmed him roughly through his jeans as his tongue slipped into my mouth, and even with my back turned I could still feel Matt’s fiery gaze burn my skin.
“Oh my GOD! Get off of each other!” Nick shrieked, turning to face Chris and I in the backseat. “I swear to fucking god I will punch you both in the mouth.” Chris pulled his lips from mine, a goofy smile taking over his face. “You’re such a fuckin’ spazz Nick.” He retorted as he tried to pull my dress down slightly. Nick replied by burying his face in his hands and screaming dramatically. “A SPAZZ? You were swallowing my best friend’s face in DIRECT EARSHOT from me! You’re lucky I didn’t just projectile vomit on you.” Nick retaliated, smacking the leather seat as he spoke.
“We’re here.” Matt deadpanned, stopping the argument between his two brothers as he parked his car. I looked up at him once more through the mirror, but this time his eyes refused to meet mine. Once parked, Matt turned off the ignition sharply, his jaw clenched, before immediately jumping out of the car as if it was on fire. I noticed the slightly concerned look on Sophie’s face before she tentatively followed him.
Feeling surprisingly giddy, I crawled out of the back seat and hopped out of the car; embracing the cool breeze against my burning hot cheeks. “Let’s eat!” I exclaimed as Chris climbed out after me and pulled me harshly against his front; bringing his lips to mine again. As he kissed me, I listened as the rest of our group began walking in the direction of the restaurant. His hands moved from my waist down to my ass, where he squeezed gently before pulling his mouth from mine just enough to speak. “I know what you’re doing, Y/n.” He whispered against my lips.
Feigning innocence, I looked up at him through my eyelashes as I waited for him to continue. “What, one night with Matt wasn’t enough for you?” He asked, his gentle voice laced with amusement as his hand snaked up my dress, finding my clit through my lace thong and rubbing soft circles against it. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I shook my head no. Chris smirked at my admission, and his eyes filled with an indecipherable look that made goosebumps raise on my skin. “It’s okay baby, you know I don’t mind.” He replied, his encouraging words and working fingers making my stomach tie itself into knots. Running his middle finger through my soaked folds, he shot me a charming smile. “I’ve already showed you how well I can share.”
With that, he gave my ass a sharp slap before placing one final kiss to my nose. Using his grip on my flesh, he guided me in the direction of the restaurant where everyone was waiting for us in front of the doors. My head spun from the notion that Chris was so willing to let me have exactly what I wanted, which coincidentally was both him and his brother. I practically floated in the direction of the restaurant, riding the high that his words gave me, until I noticed Matt pressed against Sophie, peppering her with kisses.
Matt’s eyes lifted as he heard Chris and I approach and, upon noticing Chris’s arm draped around my waist, appeared to deliberately deepen the kiss he was sharing with Sophie. I watched as she giggled against his lips, seeming to still be oblivious to the unspoken battle playing out before her. Doing my best to seem care-free, I let Chris guide me into the restaurant and to our table. I sat down with Chris to my left and Nick to my right, while Matt and Sophie sat across from us.
As the waiter set down menus in front of each of us, Matt’s eyes briefly locked with mine across the table. I watched as he seemed to be studying the dynamic between me and Chris. His eyes traveled from Chris’s long arm that was draped over the back of my chair to his fingers lazily drawing circles against my exposed shoulder. Sitting much closer and under a much brighter light, I suddenly felt deeply exposed in the restaurant with Matt’s eyes on me. I did my best to ignore him, keeping my sight on the menu in front of me as I listened to Chris, Nick, and Sophie’s chatter.
As I continued to study the menu, I could see Matt pull Sophie’s chair closer to him in my peripheral vision. Swallowing harshly, I used all of my strength to keep my eyes trained to the blurred words in front of me instead of focusing them on Matt’s hand grabbing onto Sophie’s upper thigh. Feeling overwhelmed with conflicting desires, I wanted nothing more than to sink into my chair and disappear from the restaurant. Every time I saw Matt move closer to Sophie or heard them speaking to one another in hushed tones I felt flushed with anger, yet my core flooded with arousal as it flexed around nothing.
The waiter came to begin taking our order. Once it was my turn and everyone’s attention was on me, I suddenly felt the all-consuming need to get away from the table; sure that if any one of them looked at me hard enough, they would be able to pick up on my unspeakable desire. Unable to take it anymore, I suddenly shot up from my seat. “Uh, I — Chris, just order me, uh, order me whatever. I’ve just gotta, um, run to the washroom!” I stammered, taking off in the direction of the restrooms before anyone had the chance to reply.
My head spun as I walked calmly towards the hallway leading to the washrooms, sure that once I took a few moments to collect myself that I would be okay to go back out there. I took deep breaths as I approached the women’s washroom, just a few short steps away. I just needed to be away from the group. Away from the bright lights. Away from Nick’s scolding tone. Away from Sophie. Away from—
Just as I placed my hand on the door knob, I gasped as I felt a strong hand grab my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “Y/n.” That familiar voice was in my ear, barely above a whisper; his words hot against my skin. Snapping around to face him, I was immediately taken aback by our close proximity. Blaming it on my maddening arousal, I quickly recovered before crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “What’s going on?” Matt asked, his eyes filled with the same look of frustration that was surely mirrored in my own.
“Nothing’s ‘going on’,” I lied, doing my best to keep my voice steady and inconspicuous. “Go back to your fuck buddy over there,” I nudged by head in the direction of our table, out of sight from where we stood outside of the washrooms, “Don’t want her thinking she’s wasting her time tonight.” I cringed at the bitterness of my words, and mentally apologized to Sophie for them. Matt’s eyes narrowed. “She’s alright out there.” He replied, his words biting the air between us. “Come on Matt,” I scoffed, leaning against the wall, “If you want her to crawl into your bed tonight the least you could do is spend time with her over dinner.” My voice was filled with indignation, but I was no longer able to control it.
“She’s not crawling into my bed tonight.” He replied, his hushed tone somehow still sounding exasperated. I let my head fall back, releasing a sarcastic laugh. “Oh really? Then why the fuck did you invite her to dinner?” I replied, finding his lie humorous. “Maybe because I knew it would drive you crazy.” He growled, taking a single step forward to close the gap between us. My confidence wavered at his sudden change in personality; the Matt that I was so used to now long gone. I watched, silent and stunned, as his eyes flicked down to my lips for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “You don’t like seeing me touch her, do you?”
I tried to maintain my expressionless face and avoid reacting to his question, although my body had already begun to vibrate with desire. “Why would I? I’m fucking Chris, remember?” I smirked, satisfied by the reminder that he’s not the only one who can play this game. Taking one step closer to him, I leaned close — so close that I could smell his cologne and see his pulse hammering against his neck — before whispering. “His cum is still drying to my legs.”
Matt’s breath hitched at my words, and as I pulled back slightly I watched as his eyes darkened with lust. He took one final step towards me, his lips almost touching my ear as he seemed to struggle against whatever was running through his mind. Recognizing the shift of energy in the space between us, I decided to prod him even more. “What, now you’ve got nothing to say? You jealous or something?”
He stayed silent for a moment, the only sound being his heavy breathing against my ear. The feeling of him so close to me was suddenly heightening my senses, and I grew overwhelmed with heat. It wasn’t long before my breathing began to match his — ragged and desperate — as I waited impatiently for what he had to say. Suddenly, a sharp gasp fell from my lips as Matt’s hands ran up my bare thighs, snaking up to the sides of my skirt where he hungrily squeezed my fleshy hips; pulling me harshly against him so that I could feel his throbbing bulge against my radiating heat. As soon as my body made contact with his, a soft whine fell from his lips before he finally managed to whisper.
“My car.”
Unable to even attempt to think twice, I began following him back through the restaurant door and towards his car. As the cool air hit my skin, Matt grabbed me and began pulling me in the direction of the black car as though he couldn’t wait another second. Frantically, Matt opened the back door and hurried me inside, quickly following after me and closing the door shut behind him. Before I could even process what was happening, he pulled me onto his lap, his hands roaming everywhere at once as he claimed my mouth in a bruising kiss.
In an instant, all of the tension that had been simmering between us all night came to a boil, and I found myself at the mercy of his devouring lips. I whined against his greedy, open mouth as I straddled his lap, my dress riding up to my waist. His uncharacteristic aggression and desperation caught me off guard, but I embraced it with a submissive moan. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other moved to grip my ass firmly, grinding me against his hard length. I gasped at the relief that the friction was giving me, and as I did he released a sharp hiss. “Fuck, Y/n.”
Responding to his powerful control over me, I rolled my hips against his bulge, relishing in the satisfaction of its rigidity against my clothed heat. “Matt.” I cooed, my lungs constricting from what could only be described as deep-rooted, insatiable need. Looking down to our writhing bodies, I recognized the small pool of arousal that I had already left on him; tainting his jeans a darker shade of blue. Following my gaze, he looked down and discovered the wet patch as well. Cursing under his breath, his eyes seemed to lock onto the spot as he continued to roll my hips against his lap shamelessly. “What got you this soaked?”
My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I bit down on my bottom lip as I ignored his question, caught up in the waves of pleasure surging through my body. In my silence, Matt groaned before his hips bucked up involuntarily to meet mine. “Answer me Y/n,” He said, his voice low and menacing, as he grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his wild stare, “Is all this for Chris?” My brows knit together in almost uncomfortable pleasure, and I writhed at his obvious jealousy. Looking down at him through hooded lids, I shook my head slowly.
Matt’s eyes searched mine intensely, his grip on my chin tightening slightly as he demanded an answer. “Then tell me who made you make this mess.” He rasped out, his free hand sliding up my thigh to press firmly against my clothed clit. Reacting immediately to his thumb’s pressure against my clit, I let out a desperate cry as I rolled my hips against it. I tugged at the base of his t-shirt before running my hands along his skin beneath it. “Y-you Matt.” I finally replied, growing wild with lust.
“Fuck,” Matt breathed out, his dilated pupils radiating desire. “Get these fucking panties off now.” He whispered, but without giving me the chance to slide them down my legs he grabbed onto the waistband; ripping them in half and leaving me exposed. I whimpered from the raw desperation of his actions just as he pulled down the top of my dress; letting my tits pop free before he slipped one hungrily into his mouth. Without wasting another moment, Matt grabbed onto my ass with both hands and used his grip to lift me up. Gasping, I leaned against the driver’s side door as Matt propped me up in the air; my legs spread and my glistening core just centimetres from his face.
My legs shook in anticipation as Matt seemed to take a moment to admire my cunt, his eyes glossy and unblinking. “The things you fucking do to me…” He muttered, more to himself than to me, before finally attaching his mouth to my throbbing clit. Immediately, my back arched off of the seat behind me as Matt’s tongue drew relentless circles against my bundle of nerves. His lips acted as the perfect suction, drawing guttural moans from the depths of my soul. My hands slipped into his hair, holding him in place as I fell into an erotic trance. “Oh god…oh god…” I shakily cried out like a mantra, unable to control any part of myself as his tongue set my soul on fire.
Matt released soft moans against my sensitive skin, his own satisfaction palpable as he devoured me into shambles. My clit responded to his movements like an obedient servant, sending jolting shockwaves through my body on each lick. “Fuck M-Matt.” I whined out, incapable of forming any cohesive thoughts besides the dizzying image of his blissed face contentedly pressed to my folds. I grew hyper aware of each movement of his tongue, and recognized the steady pattern that he stuck to; consistently drawing me closer and closer to an orgasm. My body began to contract, and I found myself writhing under his firm grasp on me as I nearly fell apart in his hands.
“G-gonna cum!” I cried out, my own squeaky voice unrecognizable as I was washed away by a full-body orgasm. My grip on Matt’s hair tightened as his tongue worked tirelessly against my pulsing clit, making sure to work me through the crashing waves of my orgasm. Moans spilled past my gasping lips as I trembled against the driver’s seat, so far gone that I could barely feel anything beyond the radiating pleasure surging through every nerve in my body.
Even after I had ridden through my high, Matt continued running his warm tongue through my folds, collecting all of my arousal on his tongue and moaning in satisfaction. My body jolted as I came down from my high, needy for more. As if he was reading my mind, Matt finally pulled himself away from my core, glancing up at me once before admiring my swollen folds once again. I watched as he sucked on his bottom lip, using his grip on me to spread me open even more and marvelling at the mess he had made.
Growing impatient, I squirmed under his gaze. “Matt,” I whined, watching him as he looked up at me with a smirk. “Somethin’ on your mind sweetheart?” He asked, his voice filled with amusement. Incapable of caring anymore, I nodded fiercely. “Say it.” He taunted, bringing his finger to my opening and sliding it in, before quickly pulling it back out and admiring my slippery wetness that was now dripping from it. “N-need your c-cock.” I admitted, earning a grateful smile from him.
After sucking his finger clean, he gently lowered me back onto his lap. “You’re drowning in your own juices thinking about my cock, huh?” He began unbuckling his belt with shaky hands. The needier I became, the farther my walls dropped, yet I was still shocked by the filthy words that spilled from his mouth. My eyes fell to his hands as they worked against his shiny belt, and I licked my lips hungrily. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” I admitted, unable to pull my eyes away from his crotch as I waited for him to remove his jeans. “I need it so fucking bad Matt.” I confessed, my voice wavering.
The moment his belt came undone, he cursed under his breath, clearly turned on by my desperation. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either.” He admitted, his soft words riddled with gruffness, before shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his rock-hard length. My eyes soaked in the sight of his swollen member, deep veins travelling up to his dark red tip where a bead of pre-cum was slowly dripping. After a moment, he grabbed my hips and yanked me back down onto his lap, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He groaned at the contact. “Fuck, so soaked.”
My core trembled in anticipation, the heat of his raw member pressing against me almost too much for me to bare. “S-sorry.” I replied, feeling my arousal begin to drip onto his thighs. “Don’t ever apologize for being this wet for me.” He breathed, the proximity of our bodies seeming to calm him slightly as one of his hands slid up my waist and up to my tits; where he toyed with my nipples gently. “Jesus.” He breathed, voice hitching as he adjusted me in his lap, his tip just barely entering me.
As he sunk me down his length, my jaw dropped as I felt my walls begin to stretch around his head as it crested my entrance. I was still raw from Chris earlier in the day, and I whined softly from the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. Noticing my sensitivity, Matt released a sharp hiss. “You okay?” He asked, holding me still for a moment. I nodded rapidly, desperate to be filled. “Y-yes.” I replied shakily. Matt let out a strained groan as I began pushing myself further down his shaft, rolling his hips upward to bury another inch inside me.
“You f-fill me so g-good.” I moaned as I slowly took more and more of him. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that sweetheart.” His nails dug into my hips as he pushed me down further, finally bottoming out deep inside me. A gruff moan escaped his lips once every inch of him was engulfed by my pussy, and he gave me a moment to adjust to the pressure. He must have felt my walls begin to relax, because after a moment be began lifting me up slowly, until just the tip remained inside of me; teasing. Then, with a powerful thrust, he slammed me back down burying himself to the hilt once more.
I gasped as all of the air left my lungs at the feeling of his cock filling my insides. My nails dug into his shoulders as I struggled to keep my composure while he slammed me up and down his powerful length. “Fuck, Y/n. F-feel so g-good.” His voice strained with lust, he kept one hand on my hip and the other moved to my throat, gently squeezing as he began to drive up into me. He began fucking me with brutal intensity, his movements so much angrier and desperate than the last time; all of his emotions on full display. “C’mon baby, n-need to see you l-lose your m-mind.” He groaned, his head falling back against the headrest.
“Fuck!” I cried out, completely engulfed in the pleasure of Matt taking out all of his pent-up frustration on me. “W-want your cock a-all to m-myself!” I moaned, so recklessly caught up in him that I didn’t care how greedy I sounded. In response, Matt grabbed onto my hips and flipped me so that I was the one in the seat. Leaning over me, he pulled the lever so that the seat moved back, making me lay down slightly. He only took a brief moment to adjust himself between my legs before plunging himself back into me, slamming his cock relentlessly through my spongey walls.
“Fuck, you’re so selfish,” He hissed, slamming into me harder with each thrust, “I have to hear you moaning my brother’s n-name almost every goddamn night but you d-don’t want me to fuck anyone else?” Recognizing the despair in his tone, I grabbed onto his fluffy brown hair, tugging at the roots gently as I smirked at him through hooded lids. “Does anyone else f-feel as g-good as me?” I asked, my voice punctuated by each of his thrusts. “You’ve got t-to be fucking k-kidding me.” Matt growled, his pace turning almost punishing if it weren’t for the anguish of his voice. Growing even more aroused by his state, I bit my bottom lip flirtatiously. “D-does Sophie f-feel this good?” I asked again, knowing his answer just by the look across his face.
“N-no.” He huffed out, snapping his hips into me harshly as though this fact was distressing. “N-not this g-good.” He added. His hand slid from my throat to grasp my chin roughly; forcing eye contact. His harsh grip along with his words drove me crazy, and I felt animalistic as I stuck my tongue out; running it along his salty skin. “You’re making me lose my fuckin’ mind.” He groaned, his eyes locked on mine intensely.
I greedily pulled his thumb into my mouth, wrapping my lips around it before sucking on it fervently. Obsessed with the new-found power I had over him, I locked my arms around his waist as he continued pumping into me. I moaned, my lips vibrating around his thumb before I let it drop from my mouth. I watched through my eyelashes as his eyes glazed over, completely lost in the pleasure he was feeling as he seemed to rapidly approach his orgasm.
“N-need you t-to learn how t-to share m-me.” I whined, my body growing burning hot as I fought against my own impending orgasm. “Jesus Chris.” Matt’s grip on me tightened painfully as he slammed into me again and again, his body tense in my hands. “The—the f-fact that you…” He struggled to speak, his cock twitching inside of me, “D-don’t say shit…like that.” He grunted, his rhythm growing sloppier. I dropped my mouth to his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along his clammy skin. “P-please,” I cried, urgency laced in my words as I balanced on the edge of my orgasm, “N-need both of y-you.”
“You’re gonna fuckin’ k-kill me.” Matt choked out, his movements so sloppy now that I tightened my legs around his waist to hold him steady. His head dropped to my chest for a moment, seeming to contemplate what I was begging him for, before he suddenly grabbed a fistful of my hair; pulling my head up to look at him. My eyes dropped to his swollen red lips as I let him hold me in place. “Please,” I mouthed, “Please f-fuck me w-whenever you w-want. W-whenever Chris isn’t u-using m-me.”
His eyes stayed locked onto mine, burning with possessiveness and desire and telling me that he had moved past his deliberations. He brought his lips to mine and engulfed them in a heated kiss. Pulling away, he kept his forehead pressed to mine as he spoke in a gravelly tone. “When you’re not in Chris’s room, you’re mine.” I bit my bottom lip at his words, their intensity shooting straight to my core. Nodding my head, I felt myself begin to lose the battle. “F-fuck. I’m…I’m s-so close Matt.” I whined.
“Say it,” He begged, his fingers digging into my scalp, “Say you’re m-mine.” I moaned at the feeling of his cock as it began to pulse against my walls, his orgasm so close I could practically feel him falling apart. “I’m y-yours.” I squeaked out, and as soon as the words left my mouth I was consumed by my orgasm. As he continued to pound into me, seemingly re-charged by my words, my legs began to shake and a plethora of moans fell from my lips. “Oh fuck.” Matt choked out as my convulsing walls milked his cock, and as my back arched off of the seat and my nails dug into his skin, I felt his warm seed shoot deep inside my trembling cunt. His hips continued snapping into me as he came undone, guiding both of us through our highs until we simultaneously fell into a peaceful trance.
Matt collapsed forward and I leaned against his sweaty frame; my body heavy with exhaustion. My arms wrapped around his neck, where I brushed the wavy tips of his hair gently as we both came back down to earth. His breath slowly steadied against my neck, his lips brushing feather-light kisses against it as he calmed down. After a moment, I felt his lips turn up into a smile against my skin. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.” He chuckled. Straightening myself up, he pulled himself off of me and I locked eyes with him. “Do you have a problem with that?” I asked, my voice still breathless. His gaze lingered on mine for a moment, a soft smile still plastered to his face. “I wish I did, but I don’t.” He replied, pressing a gentle kiss to my eyelid before pulling himself slowly out of me.
Finally able to recognize the kind Matt that I was so used to seeing, I smiled in relief. “Well, we should probably get back to the table. I’m sure they’re all wondering where we’ve been.” I sighed before adjusting my dress, wincing as I did from how raw I felt. Matt and I quickly fixed ourselves so that we didn’t look freshly fucked, and before long we were out of the car and walking back towards the restaurant on shaky legs. As we reached the front doors, I whispered to him, “I’ll go sit down first, and you come join us after a couple of minutes.” Matt nodded, shooting me a soft smile before I slipped through the doors and headed back towards our table.
Thankfully Chris, Nick, and Sophie were all laughing; deep in conversation as I arrived at the table meaning they likely didn’t see my limp as I walked towards them. “Hey, you okay? You were gone for so long.” Nick asked with concern once he noticed me. Doing my best to seem casual, I chuckled softly. “Yeah, I’m all good. Just bumped into an old friend in the washroom.” I lied, surprising myself by how quickly I came up with a rather believable cover-up. Seeming to accept my response as the truth, Nick began chattering again to Sophie. Satisfied, I gingerly slid back into my seat beside Chris, shooting him a quick smile. I noticed a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he peered at me with curiosity.
Just as we had agreed on, a few minutes later Matt appeared at the table. “There he is!” Sophie cheered happily as he sat down beside her. “I thought you got lost!” She attempted to joke, though behind that veil I could see the concern in her features as she examined him closely. I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth, filled with nerves, as I waited to see what excuse he had come up with. “Sorry, I got an important phone call I had to take.” He replied, the lie slipping off of his tongue effortlessly. That seemed to be enough to satisfy Sophie, as she visibly relaxed before leaning against him cheerfully.
Matt’s lie didn’t seem to work on Chris, however, because in my peripheral vision I noticed him glance between Matt and I; staying completely silent. My breath hitched as I felt him suddenly pull my chair closer to him, and my heart began to race as he gently pushed my legs apart; hidden from everyone else by the table cloth draped over my lap. I felt my cheeks begin to grow warm as I slowly understood that he hadn’t been fooled by Matt and my lies, and I trembled in wait.
Suddenly, I had to stifle a cry as I felt Chris’s finger press against my sore — and completely bare — heat; and I heard his throaty chuckle as his finger ran along the small pool of cum still leaking from my opening. Casually, he swung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into him. I felt his lips curl into a smile against my burning ears before he whispered in a low tone, “That’s my girl.”
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
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ditzydoe444 ¡ 1 day ago
Note
Beefy ak Jason using doll reader as nothing but a free use fleshlight anytime anywhere he wants :3
Also may I be 🪼?
MDNI 18+
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a/n: you've been added as 🪼 anon!!
“bed now,” jason grumbled lowly the moment he stepped into your room, his large imposing figure hovering over yours. he was big in every single possible way, broad shoulders, thick and muscular thighs and biceps so damn big he could crush your skull.
the moment you laid on your back on the mattress waiting for him, he roughly tugged you forward by your ankles towards the edge of the bed. jason wasted no time taking his cock out of his boxers, pumping it quickly in his hands.
“gonna be good for me hm?” he taunted, watching as you nodded obediently. “i’ll be good to you,” you spoke softly, eyes glued to him gently pumping his thick cock. “good to who? finish the sentence doll.”
“g-good to you sir,”
he sly grin appeared on jason’s face, “that’s exactly what i wanted to hear, now since you were so obedient i’ll reward you yeah?”
jason fucked you like his own personal toy, it was free-use at home. he would take you in the shower, against the wall, bent over the counter or sprawled out on the couch. he fucked like an animal, rutting against you at a speed that made you so dumb you were babbling and drooling like a dumb animal.
jason wasted no time shoving his cock into you, splitting you in half from the sheer size of him. “so damn tight as always aren’t ya?”
he took great pride in watching how fucked our you got, the way your eyes would roll and shut tightly as the most pathetic moans left your body. “s-so big,” you whined, your fist gripping the mattress tightly.
“shut up and take it.”
jason was never one to tolerate your behaviour, his only solution? to fuck you dumb, sometimes if you were too bratty he would edge you until you cried and fixed your attitude. jason didn’t do the lovey dovey love making, he was rough and passionate, getting every single bit of your last drop, essentially milking you dry.
the room was filled with noises from the bed creaking, his groans and your whines and mewls. “squeezing me so damn tight like a toy.”
you were his toy, his own personal fleshlight to fuck and fill with his cum. jason had no shame in making you his cum dump, filling you to the brim until it leaked from your thighs. it didn’t just fill your cunt, he filled every single hole.
he would fuck your ass, making a cream pie, then fuck your mouth until you were drooling with his cum.
“this is just the beginning sweetheart, don’t get too dumb yeah?” jason groaned as you squeezed tightly against him.
it wasn’t just his dick that he knew how to use, it was his fingers, the way they rubbed against your clit as he fucked you was enough to send you over.
“g-gonna come jay,”
jason chuckled, “already coming so soon? we just started sweetheart, need you to keep your stamina up ok?”
“but i can’t hold it,” you whined as he pressed down on your sensitive nerve, your swollen and puffy folds taking him tightly.
“you can come sweetheart, but trust me, we won’t be stopping anytime soon.”
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nor-ay ¡ 1 day ago
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Our first masquerade ball - (unrequited love story) 
Shadow Milk Cookie thinks that you are... Odd. Different, if you will. It’s in the way you roll your eyes at White Lily Cookie, in the harsh tone that slips out when you find someone annoying, or in the way that you always seem to be out of place. But don’t get him wrong; he certainly enjoys that. He thinks that you have great potential to be his right hand. He just needs to give you a little push on the right path. Sweet talks to you a little until he gets in your good graces and WHAM, controls you like a puppet. It's a win-win situation; he gets to have you on his team and breaks your friend's spirit. 
At least, that is what he initially thought, but that changes when you accept his gift and lie to your supposed friends. You lie to Pure Vanilla Cookie, and that has him clapping and laughing like a king entertained by the best jester there is in his kingdom. He almost can’t believe it! There is no need for him to break your perception of Pure Vanilla Cookie or the nature of Cookies. You already have resentment towards them. 
… 
You think that Shadow Milk Cookie is testing you. That has to be the only explanation for the gifts and fever dream. It’s not like it bothers you, but when you look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, you feel guilt growing and wrapping itself around you. He’s not deserving of this whole situation… Shaking your head, you try to push all these thoughts away. You’re not evil—
Apple Faerie Cookie’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Cookies! Let’s go to the top of the Spire!” 
“I sincerely hope we’ll find what we’re looking for!” You find Wizard Cookie’s reply relatable. You’re tired too. And desperately wanting to get out.
“I bet you will! Now, shall we?” 
“Um…you guys can go ahead, I have to go, I mean, I forgot something.” You hate how your voice sounds so suspicious! Cringing at yourself, you try to smile. 
GingerBrave is looking at you strangely, and Pure Vanilla Cookie is unusually silent. Strawberry Cookie is the one to break the silence. “Really…? Are you sure?” 
“Yeah! I mean, what's wrong? I’m sure you all can live without me for a bit, right?” You try to laugh, but it sounds forced. When did you become so awkward around…your friends? 
Wizard Cookie frowns “Well, the way you—“ 
“All right! [Name] Cookie, I trust you; I’m sure you’re going to do something helpful! Just be careful.” GingerBrave without realizing it, saves you from being interrogated. And again, your lungs fill with guilt. You find it harder to breathe and the smile on your face falters. You’re not evil. 
“Can you not—ugh, never mind.” Wizard Cookie gives up. And you internally thank the witches for it. 
“Right. Thank you. And- please…be careful on your journey.” Ah, this is what you’re doing now. You don’t feel part of them. You never did. Not even with the five ancient heroes. You were always more of a confidant. Hearing Pure Vanilla’s worries, comforting White Lily Cookie after discovering her other half. Playing along with Golden Cheese Cookie, helping out Dark Cacao Cookie and Holyberry Cookie with their tasks. You never felt like you belonged. And so you grew resentful. 
You turn around and go in the opposite direction. Silence is the only thing you hear while going down the stairs, and you have to blink quickly to stop the tears from falling. You were not lying before when you said that you forgot something. When you arrive at the same spot where you woke up hours ago, the doll is still there. Sitting down, you pick up the mini-you and hug it tightly. Closing your eyes, you confess to no one. “I don’t know what to do… I miss when things used to be easy… I don’t want to hurt them. I’m just, so so so sick and tired of the same things over and over again…it’s like I’m trapped in a loop.” 
…
You don’t know how long it’s been since you parted ways with GingerBrave and company. But, unexpectedly, the doll in your arms starts moving on its own. So you let it go, waiting for its next move. 
Clap
A Colombina mask appears in front of you. It’s beautiful. You smile, thinking it’s a bit ironic. Perhaps even mocking that he gives you a mask. Is this his way of telling you that you’re two-faced? 
Nevertheless, you still put on the mask and follow the doll through some large hallways. Arriving at a luxurious ballroom. “How did we not see this?” You ask, completely in awe. The tiles on the floor are so white that you can see yourself reflected on them.
“Well… I had it hidden, of course; did ya forget that you’re in my domain, mhm?” It takes you a second for your brain to register who answered. 
“S-Shadow Milk Cookie!?” 
“Awe…are you really that surprised to see me? Well? Go ahead!” You notice how he’s also wearing a mask similar to yours. 
“Uh…ah-“ You don’t know what to say. Sweat begins to collect on your forehead. You begin to panic. You have to say something!! But, what can you say that he doesn’t know already?
Before you can think of anything to say, you hear Shadow Milk Cookie groan, as if annoyed. “Ughh right, I’m going too fast, this is a masquerade ball, you’re not supposed to know who I am.” 
“O-kay, let's start over!” You watch dumbfounded as he claps twice and the ballroom fills with different puppets who are dancing and talking to each other. 
You watch all this and can’t help but laugh, and, oh, it feels so freeing to be able to be as loud as you want. Everything is so out of the blue that you just can’t help it. Shadow Milk Cookie seems to be interested in what is making you laugh so much. “I’m sorry…this just doesn’t make any sense, and I love it.” 
He smiles, seeming pleased. “Now, THIS is the type of audience that I like! Alrighty! Let's get to it.” He closes the distance and takes your hand. He runs cold, you shiver at the contact.
You feel relaxed, and that should make you worry, but, as Shadow Milk Cookie gives you a twirl and spins you around the ballroom, you can’t. The giggles don’t seem to stop coming out and your eyes are all teary from all the laughter. Your hands are tightly grasping his shoulders and it doesn’t surprise you how agile he’s on his feet. It’s so easy to let him guide you. 
“Awww look at you! You’re enjoying yourself so so so much! Aren’t you going to ask me where are your frieeends?” 
“Well…,” you start—
“Oh, wait, WAIT, don’t tell me! You finally realize that it’s not with them that you belong? Especially that dreadfully, painfully, unbearably Pure Vanilla Cookie?” You can’t fully read the tone in his voice; it seems playful, but the hate he has for them inevitably seeps in. 
“That’s right,” Your smile wavers as you revert to your natural state of being. “It took me a long time, but… I’ve finally understood who I am and what I want.” A sudden bravery fills your heart as you finally ask him- “Please, take me with you!” You surprise yourself by the loudness of your voice.
Have you always been that desperate to escape your life?
“…” His eyes blink several times and it feels like the whole ballroom has grown silent. You start to feel self-conscious and—
His laugh fills the whole ballroom, and in just a second, Shadow Milk Cookie dips your body back dramatically. You grip onto him like a lifesaver and- and you’re out of breath. “Perfect,” you hear him say. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard. “Alright, since you asked so nicely…you’re with me now!” 
“Huh, so…”
“Oops, looks like I have to go, feel free to explore my humble domain, hehe!” 
He’s gone in the blink of an eye. All the puppets that were dancing vanished too, all left behind in the ballroom was the mini-you doll and your racing heart. 
“…Did he lose track of time?”
Okay!! I actually struggled a bit with the dialogue. In my mind, there were so many different things about what Shadow Milk would say in certain situations! But, I’m happy about how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it too!! AND, this is important, the story is going to be on hold until we get episode 8 of Beast-Yeast. It’s not like I can’t improvise, but if I continue, and then they release ep 8, I know that I’ll end up rewriting everything, and I don’t want to do that, to be honest. 
Besides that, I’m already thinking of writing Shadow Milk x reader with a trope that I really enjoy!! Orr some headcanons (maybe nsfw, still unsure about that).
@notboomm @fyodors-belovedxoxo
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salemlunaa ¡ 23 hours ago
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౨ৎ why a “void state pact” isn’t gonna work ౨ৎ
no drama, just saving you from waisting your time.
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When the idea of people joining a “pact” to induce the state of pure consciousness for each other first came up, many bloggers have come out to debunk this view that we can all enter the void state for eachother, because you can’t.
And the person who brought up a… lemme just be nice and say a thoughtless idea, and decided to make this post ,with multiple comments agreeing under it, sighhhh
“these bloggers talk about how we are limitless yet we apparently can’t enter the void for others”
“not everyone is the same”
“So nothing is logical, but it’s apparently illogical to manifest others into the “I AM” state?”
I will say this now: the void state pact cannot exist, why? because what you are doing is quantum jumping, reality shifting. For example if i want to manifest my friend Joey to induce the void, I will quantum jump to a reality where she induces the void, she won’t come with me. The reality where she hasn’t managed to induce is still a thing. What i’m experiencing is a reality where Joey induces, but she cannot share my experience. It’s not possible to share an experience with someone as it is our “I AM”. You’re not going to change because of someone else’s “I AM” state intentions.
This may be triggering to read, but to better understand: in the same way, it’s like if someone hated you so much induced void pure consciousness so you could die (like top tier level hatred 💀) , you wouldn’t just randomly drop dead. You’d still be here. But them? they have quantum jumped to a timeline where you’re not here. It’s not a limiting belief, it’s just fact that it’s their experience, you’re not going to die because of someone else’s experience.
Here’s another analogy, let’s say you’re painting in class with your friend, and you all have big canvases to paint many little pictures. Your paintbrush only works on your canvas, it’s not possible for you to paint on your friend’s canvas or anyone else. You can create a small drawing on your canvas depicting your friend eating an apple, but it’s not on their canvas. You can’t paint that picture on their canvas, And it’s not a reflection of their own experiences or preferences. They have to do it themselves or their canvas will NEVER contain a picture of them eating an apple, the version of your friend that is on your canvas is eating an apple but the version of your friend on their own canvas isn’t.The outcome of your friend having a picture of them eating an apple on their canvas is 0, unless they paint it themselves. It’s not a limiting belief because you can paint ANYTHING you want on YOUR canvas, it just won’t show up on theirs.
Again it’s not a limiting belief because you CAN do anything, but YOU are the one who is everything, therefore YOU are the one who experiences everything, and let me just preface: that doesn’t make it any less real and it doesn’t make the loved ones in your life disposable. It just means that you and you alone can experience every single version of someone. You can experience a reality where all your friends induce the void, but only you experiences that. They don’t induce the void with you so they can’t go anywhere with you.
Again, if you would just read bloggers posts and stop trying to force things you would see that the state of pure consciousness is not hard at all, in fact it is first nature to you.
If you believe that this is something you need to work hard for, you don’t understand the void state. If you can’t grasp the fact that no one else can trigger your “I AM” experience, you don’t understand the void state. If you believe that you genuinely can’t do it, you don’t understand the void state. If you believe that there are other people “more capable” than others in doing this, you don’t understand the void state.
If you don’t understand you’ll never get in. It doesn’t take alot to understand. Truly
And as a blogger, I can speak for a lot of us when I say I feel disrespected when I and a lot of others try and explain the state of pure consciousness, and it’s like you completely ignore the help. As if you’re a child blocking your eyes telling yourself you can’t do it on your own. We try and break down the simplicity of it all and it’s like you completely disregard everything we say. I’m not gonna lie, it’s very, very frustrating.
And if you’re feeling even a little bit swayed, where do you see their success stories??💀💀 if one person had already induced then all of that pact should’ve induced right? im waiting for the influx of success stories….but notice how all they’re doing is waiting and complaining… no success in sight
so i’m urging you to please do not follow this void pact thing before you’re still here with them in 2030 relying on others to help you experience YOUR OWN dream life.
Lets be serious pls
🩰🍨do it yourself, it’s the only way
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chososcutie ¡ 2 days ago
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⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ─── BOUND BY VOWS, TORN BY DESIRE ─── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰
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pairing ── satoru gojo x reader
teaser ── your kingdoms have been at war for what seems the longest time, ancient ancestors dating back bloodlines never ceasing in their feud. but now, with the upcoming of a new age, and a desperate need for heirs with an old, dying king on the throne, you are forced to resolve and seal the peace by marrying prince satoru, of an opposing nation.
content ── fluff, slow burn, heavy angst, eventual smut, royal!au, forced proximity, arranged marriage, one bed troupe, mommy issues, jealousy, historic!au, language, mention of drinking, kissing
count ── 5k
author’s note ── thank you to everyone who voted for this series!! this is going to be a multi part story, and i hope to continue if it does well, also i think i’m going to make more series’ down the line because this was fun :)
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in two days you were to marry prince satoru.
it was at the crux of the two kingdoms' warring, and father was weak and desperate in those times.
your mother had grown unusually cruel, even more so than usual, her voice sharp and reprimanding, put under pressure by the ongoing conflict that never seemed to be getting better.
you were heartbroken when they told you, but not surprised. you had hoped you would get to choose your own partner to spend the rest of your life with, but it seems cruel fate had other plans.
you had tried to reason with your mother to get out of it, that there were other ways to resolve a war other than sending off your daughter to be married to an unknown man from another kingdom, but she was having none of it.
it was really a matter of convenience. a way to set up a peace treaty, arrange a marriage, and combine two impossibly rich kingdoms? you had known your parents long enough to know they never loved in the way they were supposed to, always king and queen before mother and father, and that they’d take this opportunity in a heartbeat, no matter the cost.
you hadn’t however, known how soon everything would progress, until days later when you received an invitation in the mail, unsigned, and enclosed in a thick brown envelope, complete with the royal seal stamped pristinely on the front.
we hereby invite you to the royal marriage of… it read in rich gold lettering, looping cursive filling the page. little illustrations litter the margins, and a single grainy folded-up picture flutters out upon its opening.
when you unfurl it, it reveals the man you were to marry.
prince satoru gojo, in all his glory, wearing a pristine white and gold suit, a coy smile curving his lips, and soft, cloudy white hair fluffed up, a sword at his hip and azure blue eyes boring into yours.
for a second all you can do is stare, taken aback by his beauty.
you had heard of how gorgeous the prince was, being the talk of almost every woman in the kingdom for his good looks and charm, but you had never seen him up until now.
he was drop-dead ravishing. the kind of beauty one saw only in dreams.
“i see you’ve received the invitation.”
your mother’s calculated voice.
you quickly wheel around, her eyes fixed on you coolly. “we’ve gotten word to head to the gojo clan estate now. they will receive you there.”
“but..” you start, hoping against hope that maybe you could get through to her, and beg her not to send you off.
“please don’t disappoint us.” she eyes you disdainfully. “this arrangement means a lot for our kingdom, and it’d do you well to start thinking about what’s best for your disciples rather than your own wants.”
you stare at her. was she calling you selfish for not wanting to wed a man you had never met?
suddenly, the heavy hoofbeats of a horse-drawn carriage breaks the silent tension stretching between you two, a graceful steady gait of horses coming toward you causing you to quickly turn back to your mom, eyes pleading.
“please.. don’t make me.”
in your wildest dreams, her eyes soften and she looks at you with something different then, something resembling love, before scooping you up into her arms and kissing you on the forehead like a mother would, calling you her precious only daughter, and promising to never send you off, and what was she thinking, before calling off the wedding completely.
but instead, she stares at you, detached as if you were nothing more than a pawn in her intricate chessboard of royalty, your worth determined only by what you could provide for the kingdom.
the carriage comes to a halt in front of you, horses snorting and whinnying as you stare back at the face that looks so much like your own, only lacking the empathy you had always longed for.
“get in the carriage.” she says simply.
and realizing she’s not going to change her mind, you study her face for the last time, as if committing it to memory, that same stony unchanging expression that had been with you all through your childhood, before opening the door, and looking ahead, eyes hollow.
maybe this new husband wouldn’t be that bad, after all.
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after a few hours of the carriage lurching and bumping along cobblestone trodden pathways, your head craning to look out from the slightly drawn curtains, you make it.
and just as you imagined, prince satoru's estate is big.
in fact, big didn’t even begin to describe it, with towering iron-wrought gates, and a winding driveway all leading up to a fairy-tale like palace.
statues of noble figures stand tall, outlined against its magnificence, and the castle itself is a rich ivory color, accented with shimmers of golden turrets reaching up into the sky, their tips brushing the clouds themselves.
quickly, you are ushered out, the carriage door held open for you by the coachman, and before you get a chance to take in the elegant grounds of the estate, royal servants are already waiting to greet you, all polite smiles as they advise you to follow them inside.
on the way, they tell you that you were to be properly welcomed to the gojo clan before tomorrow's highly anticipated ceremony, in the form of meeting the king and queen in charge, along with your husband to-be.
you take the chance to glance around, taking in all your surroundings, everything ancient and wooden, with small adornings of mythological figures decorating the walls along with paintings dating back to centuries-old wars, history written all across the panelling prominently.
finally, the royal attendants come to a stop in front of a long-winding corridor, leading all the way down toward an ornate wooden door, its magnificent size amongst the others causing it to stand out notably.
"this is master gojo's suite, and where you will be staying with him for the rest of your time here." says the servant nearest to you, beginning to back up slowly, the others in tow. "the king has asked that you meet with him beforehand, so you two can become acquainted. we shall leave you to it."
and with a final bow of his head, he's gone, leaving you to stand in front of the intimidating mahogany door, its broad outline almost menacing in the dimness of the passageway.
as you make your way to it, you push on it hesitantly, only to be met with resistance as it groans in protest, unwilling to budge.
you try the door handle. locked.
you look up again. you know this is the right door. so why isn't it..?
it opens so suddenly, you with all your weight resting on its frame can't stop yourself. you immediately topple over, letting out a soft oof! of surprise as you crash into something warm yet solid, your body pressing hard against it.
budging.
regaining yourself, you can't help but feel the flexing muscle under your palms, looking down to see a man's chest, his quick exhale of breath making you retract immediately.
and looking up, you're met with the sight of none other than soft white hair and blue eyes coming to blink hazily at you.
a vaguely familiar smirk curving his lips as he sets sights on you.
the man in the picture.
your husband to-be.
satoru.
"hello wifey.." he drawls out, tone almost mocking as he stares down at you, dressed in traditional heavy white robes. "i take it you're excited for the marriage?"
pointedly, his eyes fix on where your other hand is dangerously close to gripping his... lower half, so to speak.
flustered, you instantly step back, face blushing immensely. "m-my apologies my lord, i didn't mean to be so forward. i was sent here to meet you before the meeting, and.."
you notice his teasing grin seems to drop for a moment, eyes searching the halls for signs of life. once he knows you two are the only ones, his expression hardens, blue eyes becoming unreadable.
you were alone together.
"lets get one thing straight, princess. you're here to fulfill your role, nothing more, nothing less. i don't care for pleasantries. there's no reason for us to pretend we're anything other than strangers bound by a marriage of convenience."
you try to back away, eyes wide as you make a small involuntary noise in the back of your throat, but he doesn’t let you, coming closer.
"we'll carry out the duties expected of us, and that's all." he continues. "do what is necessary, but don't make the mistake of thinking i'm interested in anything beyond that."
you bristle slightly at his words. "oh, you think i want this? you think i want to be married to you? in a foreign enemy kingdom i don’t even know? because i don't! but there's no way of getting out of it, so why can't you at least afford to be nice?"
he scoffs. "nice? you and your kingdom have ruined my life! you've robbed me of any chance i had at making my own life choices, and i'm supposed to be "nice?"
"why are you acting like i made this marriage? it's not my fault! that's the whole point of an arranged marriage, it's arranged for you!" you don't even realize you're raising your voice until your words begin to echo off the vast walls, bouncing around you tersely. "and if i had, i certainly wouldn't have picked an asshole such as yourself.”
he steps closer, tilting his head at you. “careful what you say about your husband, sweetheart. or you just might get yourself in trouble.”
you know you should stop before you escalate things, but you can’t help it, jutting your lip out at him in a mocking pout. “yeah? make me then.”
in a heartbeat, he has you pinned against the wall behind you, one thigh holding up your weight as the warmth of his bulky frame surrounds you, cerulean blue eyes raking across your face steadily.
you let out a small gasp of surprise, but quickly recover, eyes narrowing on him fiercely.
he leans ever so slightly closer, crowding your space completely as his loud, sultry patchouli cologne surrounds you, alluring and familiar all at once.
his breath ghosting over your lips, is warm and cinnamon-y, as he stares down at you, eyes lidded and just daring you to defy him again.
"excuse me, mister and mistress gojo? your presence is requested now."
immediately, satoru jumps back as if stung, eyes lingering on you a moment longer, before stalking away in temporary surrender.
you push off the wall, feeling the servant's eyes on you questioningly, but not bothering to indulge him, simply brushing yourself off before rapidly following suit.
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“your majesties, it is truly an honor to meet you both.” you take a small curtsy to the king and queen you were standing before, lifting your dress to show respect.
satoru rolls his eyes subtly, shifting beside you.
his father shoots him a look, all graying hair and wise crinkling eyes. “the pleasure is all mine, my dear. it’s nice to meet someone with proper mannerisms and respect for the crown.”
you smile. “yes, well i was raised in a kingdom, after all.”
beside him, satoru’s mother, the queen, grants you a kind smile, long white hair flowing around her mirroring her son's. “that you were.” she agrees. “which is why we are so honored to have you here at our own, and to finally resolve the peace that has been fleeting for so long. you have no idea how much this marriage means to both us and the kingdom.”
satoru sighs.
instantly, the queen’s eyes bore into him. “i’m sure you’ve been acquainted with your husband, prince satoru. he is just as pleased as the rest of us for this opportunity you and your kingdom have bestowed upon us, it was rather benevolent of them, and we are eternally in their debt.”
you get the feeling that they've been having disagreements with the arranged marriage, judging by their body language, and instantly the air grows thicker, more tense.
before the situation can progress however, the queen clears her throat, smiling politely at you. "why, it's been a long day, and i'm sure you're tired, sweetheart."
her attention turns toward her son, her voice holding a warning to it that you can't ignore. "satoru. walk with her to your rooms please, and accommodate her."
he nods, and doesn't even wait to see if you're following before retreating hastily, leaving you to chase after him.
finally, you find yourself back in front of the long-winding hallway leading to his─your─ bedroom, and he pauses, as if remembering something.
"we're going to have to share a bed."
your heart skips a beat, breath catching in your throat as he opens the door to reveal a mahogany bed, draped with quilted covers and over-extravagant silk pillows slightly rumpled by sleep. you had forgotten that as a married couple, it would be custom for you two to sleep together, just the thought of being in such a close, intimate space with him causing your pulse to race, whether with anger or.. something else, you can’t tell.
"no we're not." you move toward the bed, grabbing spare pillows and blankets to make your own on the plush carpet, vowing to stay as far as possible from that stuck-up prince.
you hear him sigh from where he's leaning against the doorway watching you.
footsteps pad across the floor toward you, before coming to a stop. "listen. i know this isn't ideal, but it is part of our arrangement to sleep in the same bed, as a married couple."
you gaze up at him coolly. "i'm sleeping here."
he runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "this is part of what is expected of us, and we need to fulfill our duties as a royal couple. just.. get on the bed, and face the other direction, if you must."
you ignore him, tucking yourself into the blankets you had set up with a small yawn, turning to face away from him pointedly.
all is silent for a single, peaceful moment, but then, two unfairly muscular arms are wrapping around your frame, and lifting, scooping you up into him as with a squeal, you kick, trying to get away.
one of your feet makes contact with his side, and he lets out a low grunt before throwing you roughly onto his stupidly huge bed.
"keep fighting all you want, sweetheart. i can do this all night."
for some reason, his words come off more provocative than anything, and you can't help the fact that the stern sultry purr of his coupled with it tinges your cheeks pink ever so subtly.
"i'll tell you one thing about this arranged marriage. as my wife, you are going to listen, and you are going to obey what i tell you, okay? i will not put up with attitude and immaturity.”
your cheeks warm at being scolded like a child, and all you can do is scoff in disbelief before turning over, resigned to your spot on the bed, vowing to stay as far away from him as possible.
you scoot all the way to the edge, squeezing your eyes shut angrily as tears of frustration prick at you.
just who was he to boss you around?
a few terse minutes tick by, with both of you silent, facing away from each other, the only sound being satoru's soft puffs of breath, sleep eluding you further.
you’re trying your best not to let your skin make contact with his in the slightest, but it’s proving difficult with the way his weight makes the bed dip in the middle, trying to draw you toward himself.
this was going to be a looong night.
you figure you eventually fall asleep at some point, because when you open your eyes again, sunlight is peeking through the windows, and something hard and hot is pressed stiffly against your back, insistent with its prodding.
you reach down, half-asleep, to move it away, but your hand connects with something pulsing and.. large. you trail your hand further up, eyes scrunching in confusion only to feel a small shudder under your palm, someone breathing fast and loud right next to you.
satoru.
you instantly scramble away, eyes wide, in your haste falling off and hitting the floor with a low thud.
this wakes him up, half-lidded eyes opening to take in your tangled form on the ground. “what are you doing?”
“y-you..!” you sputter out, frozen as you stare at him in disbelief.
he follows your gaze to his pants, a straining bulge printed on the front clearly.
his cheeks warm, and he looks down, mumbling under his breath. "mornin' wood.."
before you can bring yourself to speak however, two sharp knocks against the door break the awkward silence, followed by the voice of a servant outside.
"madame and master, it’s time to prepare you both for the wedding ceremony."
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“ow!”
you scrunch your eyes tightly, pain washing over you in waves.
the stylist pauses, taking in your expression sympathetically before resuming to tug at your poor hair, putting it up into an intricate updo, a plaited bun with face-framing hairs and bangs, hot curlers and bobbypins attacking you left and right.
"just sit still, dear." one pushes your head back, while another tilts your face to the side to furiously blend foundation on your cheeks.
this day would only come once, in your lifetime at least, and being a royal wedding, of course, everything had to be perfect.
you and satoru were being relied on as human peace treaties to prove to the world that for the first time, your kingdoms were united, marking the official end of the war.
which is why, not only were appearances important, but also your actions towards satoru had to be convincing enough for the clan to wholeheartedly believe you two were in love, and effectively stop the fighting at hand.
so today was more important than ever that you look fully and maddeningly in love with satoru gojo.
you sigh to yourself, but suddenly your thoughts are cut off by the proud voice of your main stylist taking a step back to admire her handiwork.
"perfect. absolutely perfect." the rest nod in agreement, and with a few last touches, you're ready.
and as you all head to where the ceremony would be held, to describe how you're feeling right now as overwhelmed would be an understatement.
currently, there's about two thousand people waiting for you, all elegantly dressed, their heads held high with self-importance.
even the palace is decorated for the occasion, banners and emblems of the gojo clan stamp hanging proudly over the room, while decorative flowers in vases cover every available surface.
you shift your feet nervously, waiting for your signal to walk the aisle, praying that you wouldn't trip or embarrass yourself, fidgeting with your dress anxiously.
the wedding dress in question, was a classic take on a vintage ball gown look, with a too tight-fitting cream-colored corset billowing out dramatically from the waist into a poofy, tulle skirt, and currently it was killing you as you tried to take deep breaths, its taut stiffness practically constricting your lungs.
to make matters worse, it pushed your breasts obnoxiously up, and showed off your outline far too much to be comfortable, contouring every curve distinctively.
before you can try and pull it down however for what seems the hundredth time, the renowned quality of a simple elegant instrumental begins playing, signifying your entrance, and time seems to stop.
your heels click softly on the marbled stone, each step seeming to magnify in the large room spread out before you.
highly prestigious people, who had dismissed you before as nothing but a simple child princess living in her daddy’s kingdom were now all craning their heads to get a better look at you, hushed gasps and chatter sweeping through the crowd as you pass.
slowly, you begin to make your way down the dramatically decorated aisle, and as you get closer to the altar, you spot satoru, leaning slightly, cerulean eyes focused solely on you.
he’s dressed elegantly, in a frilly suit that matches the color of his eyes, all extravagant buttons and poofy sleeves, with crisscrossing gold lace, and a white overspilling cravat on the front.
he tilts his head as if to study the dress you're in, intense blue gaze raking up and down to ravish your clearly outlined figure.
your cheeks flush, his effect on you instantaneous as unbearable though he is.
slowly, you come to stand at your spot beside him, nervous as you look around at the crowd.
what happens next, you hadn't been expecting at all.
as one, they get up, and shower you both in applause, claps as precise and unified as their owners, the sound heard all the way around the entire palace, as they all give a standing ovation to their new king and queen of a new era.
the blush creeps up your neck, and you look around at your new subjects, all of them cheering for you.
after a minute or so of this, they begin to gradually quiet, sitting back down while both you and satoru turn to face each other.
the royal priest clears his throat for attention, and begins his long winding speech, garbled words slurring together as you stare at satoru.
he was so beautiful, breathtakingly so. his white hair is fluffed up, showing his high cheekbones, and he even has a bit of makeup on him, contour and powder.
in fact you’re staring at him so intensely, so swept up in him, you don’t even realize the priest is talking to you until he’s raising an eyebrow at you expectantly, the crowd hushed.
“huh?” you hear yourself say, embarrassment pinking your cheeks.
he clears his throat, speaking a little louder. “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better..”
when you glance back at satoru, he’s looking at the priest, but there’s a curve to his mouth, amusement glinting in his eyes.
insufferable.
you take a second to let your eyes roam the audience, and happen to land on a particular face, one you hadn’t seen before.
she's wearing a knee-length navy blue dress, one that highlights her chubby figure and pudgy stomach, and a hat which covers most of her face. her head, though covered, is bowed low, as if in shame, which stands out to you as most of the audience is gazing up, at you and satoru, heads perked for a better look.
before you have time to further analyze however, you’re snapped back to the priest who is finishing up his speech.
“..till death do thy part. do you pledge your faithfulness and devotion, and promise to be thy loving wife, forevermore?”
your head starts to spin, the weight of his words sinking into you fully. you were to be with this man, whom you hadn’t even met before yesterday, for the rest of your life. all your hopes and dreams outside of the kingdom may as well come crashing down on your head once you were to speak those forsaken words.
after today, you would be queen, alongside your husband, the king.
at the very thought of being so responsible, the words stick in your throat, face paling. you have the urge to say no, to call the whole thing off, to truly disappoint your parents and disgrace satoru’s family for eternity, because this was your life. your life, and nobody got to take that from you.
you force a smile. “i do.”
the ring-bearer comes up to you, a ring on a fluffed pillow for you to take, its band gold and cool in your palm as you pick it up, a baby blue gem encrusted with the gojo symbol across it staring back.
you had never chose, nor seen this ring in your life.
he turns to satoru. “and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to..”
you turn to satoru, expecting to see that same playful smirk, but something else has replaced it, more open and raw.
maybe he was feeling the implications too?
“..promise to be thy loving husband, forevermore?”
he swallows, pauses for a second too long, before speaking, the words cool and strangely detached. “i do.”
his ring comes, silver and chiseled with symbols of royalty, all sleek metal and polished, shining pristinely in the light. it has diamonds encrusted all over it, each worth more than a house, along with his precious initials, s.g, carved into it.
he takes it without looking at it.
“then by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife.” he turns toward satoru. "you may now kiss the bride."
your mouth goes dry, and for a second, all you can do is gape at satoru while the priest's words register in your head.
shit. how could you have forgotten you would be expected to kiss him? it was a wedding after all.
satoru's mouth curves up as he leans in slightly toward your ear, his hair brushing you. “c’mon princess, kiss your husband for the audience, yeah?”
you blush, and oblivious to all the people and the priest standing less than a foot away, he goes on, “although, don't be too good of a kisser, or i might get used to..."
before he can continue, you grab his face in your hands, pressing your lips hard against his, if just to make him shut up, and he pauses, taken aback, before slowly his hand creeps up to cup your cheeks gingerly, hesitantly leaning in to it.
the crowd all cheers around you, but you can’t even hear them anymore, all of it fading around you.
he's your first kiss.
he tastes like cinnamon and clove, like something spicy and reckless, his tongue already coming to meet yours in a brash tangle.
as quickly as he had been on you however, he draws away, wiping his mouth with that same lopsided smirk tilting his lips upward, leaving you practically dizzy.
and as the rest of the ceremony drones on, you can't help yourself from wanting more.
it wasn't enough to leave you satisfied, and now that you've gotten a taste, you fear you might not ever get enough.
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after the wedding ceremony, there was to be a reception where only the most prestigious and important of people would attend.
it was held in the palace ballroom, lavishly decorated for the occasion with crystal chandeliers, and silk draped tables filled with shiny silverware, everything overly classy and elegant.
when you enter beside satoru, they're already serving flutes of champagne, people milling about amiably and making pleasant conversation.
and if you thought you were popular before as a princess, you had no idea the kind of attention being a hot topic like you were now would bring.
before you're even two steps inside, there's already people surrounding you to congratulate you on your marriage, kiss you on the cheek in greeting, and welcome you as newfound queen to the throne.
after a few minutes of this, with no sign of the crowd of people easing up, you begin to get nervous.
there's just no way you can see to get out of it, and as you start to feel claustrophobic, your body being pushed and jostled by all these people wanting to meet, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the crowd.
satoru.
“i think it’s time for a dance.” he says before grabbing your warm, gloved hands in his, and twirling you out to the center of the dance floor, where a few couples were already swaying to a slow tune.
satoru takes his hands, placing them on either side of your waist, just above your hips, a lazy smirk curling his mouth up as his touch seems casual, natural almost.
it seems almost genuine, the way he flirts with you in the public eye only to blatantly disregard you in private.
well, two could play at that game.
you wrap your arms around his neck, and draw yourself closer, lips hovering above his, your front rubbing against him dangerously.
he inhales sharply, eyes flickering with heat for a second but before you get the chance to revel in the fact you could draw a reaction from him, he starts spinning you.
you gasp as he whirls you around, before starting to glide back and forth with you across the dance floor, a smug grin on his face as you try and keep up.
luckily for you, as royalty you were expected to know how to dance, and your parents had enrolled you in private lessons weekly, your feet falling into familiar steps as you swept along the floor with him.
he takes notice, hands gripping your waist tighter as he sways with you, quickening the pace. “who taught you to dance, princess?”
you can't tell if he's teasing, or being genuine so rather than answer, you glance down, pretending to focus on your steps as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest.
and finally with one last dramatic twirl, your hands tracing delicate arcs in the air, the music crescendoes and satoru catches you in a perfect dip, your head tilting back with a flourish.
instantly, cheering erupts, the room absolutely filled with clapping and whistling as your chest heaves up and down, still in his arms.
you had been so caught up you hadn't even realized everyone had stopped to watch you two, and with your finish, you were now the center of attention.
and as you seat yourself in a chair across from satoru, the formal banquet about to begin, you finally answer his question, seemingly out of nowhere, making him come to a start as he looks at you.
"my mother put me in dance classes from a young age." you smile bitterly as the memory washes over you. "you know it's funny, she was always the most beautiful dancer in the ballroom at my kingdom, but she wouldn't teach me. said i was "too slow", "had two left feet", "didn't pick up quickly", and i was nothing like her. she had someone else instruct me, and every day i would go and practice as much as i could, in hopes of getting better and pleasing her."
"did you?" satoru presses.
you sigh sadly. "i did, but it was never enough for her. nothing was. i remember thinking when i was younger, that maybe there was something wrong with me, and that's why she couldn't love me. why anyone couldn't love me, really. i've always felt like just a mere decoration in my palace, just another step on my mother's agenda."
what he says next surprises you. "i get what you mean. ever since i was little, my parents have been telling me, "you're going to be king" "one day you're going to overtake the throne" and "think of your future kingdom", when all I ever wanted was to be a child."
he draws nearer to you. "but, that gets taken from you once you're born into a monarchy, right?"
you nod. "that, and everything else down to your way of life, your interests, your dreams.." you break off, eyes flickering down to his lips for a moment. "..your husband."
the conversation between you becomes more intimate as he leans in too, lips above yours, and just as you start to close the distance..
the distinct sound of a fork clinking against a glass.
the royal toasts were starting.
it was from satoru's father, the king, his wise, crinkled smile looking around at all his subjects. "hello everyone. we thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the birth of a new age, as my son and the daughter of a rival kingdom have come together in marriage, forever binding our palaces as one. this marks the start to a new era."
he pauses, letting the people around break out into clapping, some cheering, before going on.
"as you are aware, i will be stepping back from my role as king, knowing our future is in capable hands, by your new king and queen.."
at that, he lifts a glass toward your table, winking solemnly.
"to satoru, my successor, my pride, and the future of this kingdom. may your reign be long, your rule wise, and may you bring many heirs to this kingdom."
wait.
heirs?
you turn to look at satoru, his face paling.
"to the future, to the kingdom, and to the continuation of our legacy!"
"long live the king!"
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arabella0001 ¡ 3 days ago
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my maladaptive dreaming kicking in
cn: just fluff, marriage&kids
you and satoru have only been apart for two days while he’s away on a mission with his students, but you already feel the weight of his absence. you reassured him multiple times that it was okay for him to go, even though he tends to overreact when it comes to how you’re feeling after delivering your second baby. and while you’re so grateful for all the love and support he’s given you, today was a rough day.
your two-month-old baby has been feeling worse than usual, crying inconsolably because of stomach pain. you’d hoped your seven-year-old daughter—who adores the baby—would be her usual patient self. but today, she threw a tantrum, refusing to listen to anything you said. all the while, the baby cried endlessly, and you didn’t even have a second to take care of yourself—your face was still unwashed, and the postnatal pain was nagging at you. your emotions felt completely out of control.
when satoru finally came home that evening, he called out softly, “sweetheart?” raising an eyebrow as he looked over at your daughter, his expression playful but concerned.
you didn’t greet him, didn’t kiss him, didn’t say a word. instead, you rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and leaning against it as you tried to steady your breathing.
“baby, what’s going on?” he asked, his tone gentle.
“just... leave me alone for a second, satoru,” you managed to say through the door.
there was a brief pause before you heard his dramatic surrender, raising his hands “of course, my lovely wife. take all the time you need.”
he turned his attention to your daughter, crouching in front of her and noticing her pouty expression—one that reminded him so much of yours.
“hey, my little one,” he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face. “remember what i told you? let’s not make mommy sad, okay? when mommy’s sad, daddy gets sad too. she’s working so hard, so why don’t we work together to cheer her up, yeah?”
meanwhile, you sat on the cold bathroom floor, fighting back tears and guilt. you’d convinced yourself today would be easier—that your baby’s discomfort would ease up, that your daughter would be more patient, that everything would go smoothly. instead, nothing had gone right, and the pressure felt suffocating.
in the living room, satoru stayed busy. he played with your daughter, making her laugh again, or checked on the baby, gently rocking him in his tiny bed. but he couldn’t help glancing at the bathroom door, his usual playful expression fading into something more serious. he drummed his fingers against the couch, bit his nails as he stared beneath the rim of his glasses.
the second you stepped out of the bathroom, he was on his feet. his worried expression softened into a small smile as he walked up to you.
“my pretty wife,” he murmured, placing a hand on your back and pulling you close. “what happened? talk to me.”
“it’s okay, satoru. i’m sorry. let’s just—”
“no, no, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “we don’t do that here.” he led you to the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.
“talk to me,” he said again, his voice so gentle as you hesitated, looking anywhere but at him, but the moment your eyes met his, the tears started to fall, making his eyes widen a little.
“i’m so sorry, satoru,” you whispered, voice cracking. “i don’t want you to think i’m too dependent on you. i know how much i wanted you to keep working, and—”
“hey, stop,” he said softly, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed away your tears. “do you really think i’d ever feel that way about you having a bad day? i know how much you’re dealing with. and our feisty little girl?” he chuckled. “she’s not easy to handle, especially when you’re on your own. what can i say? she’s both of us combined.”
you let out a weak laugh, tears still slipping down your face.
“and listen to me,” he continued, his voice serious. “you’re not less of a mother if you call the babysitter to help out when i’m away, okay? you’re an amazing, strong, intelligent woman—and, might i add, incredibly beautiful,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling faintly.
“but i need you to take care of yourself too. your body’s still healing, and you need time to breathe, especially when i’m not here to remind you. promise me you’ll let someone help next time?”
you nodded slowly. “i know, but—”
“no ‘buts.’” he pressed a finger to your lips. “don’t talk about my wife like that. have a little faith in her, like i do, yeah?” he kissed your temple, the warmth of his touch calming you.
“okay,” you whispered, sniffing.
“good.” he stood suddenly, scooping you into his arms and starting to walk.
“now,” he said with a grin, “let’s relax for a bit. i’m running you a bath.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest with a content sigh. “i love you so much, you don’t even understand.”
he chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to your temple. “oh, sweetheart, believe me—I do. because i love you just as much.”
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wlwsoccerfics ¡ 2 days ago
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The Tattoo(MapiXIngridXTeenReader)
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Summary: you tried to hide a tattoo from your moms but failed.
You knew your moms said you needed to wait for a tattoo until you are 18 cause they really wanted you to be sure about this. Well you had other plans & didn't want to wait for two more years. So you got one of your friends who wanted to become a tattoo artist one day tattooed you. You got a little Shooting Star on your ankle. You were quite Happy with the outcome. Now you only had to make sure your moms wouldn't see the tattoo for a while.
Turned out this was harder then expected because your moms became suspicious of you when you started wearing socks around the house cause you never did that. "estrella fugaz(Shooting Star), why the socks around the house?" Mapi(your mami) asked you. "I might be getting sick, my feet are cold and i don't feel well." You told her, before your mami could say anything your mama almost leaped out of the kitchen to feel your forehead. " min lille kjĂŚrlighet(my little love), are you having a fever? do you need to lay down?" Your Mama(Ingrid) wanted to know. Feeling relief when she realized you don't have a fever. "Maybe a little nap will help!" You answered. Just glad to leave the situation without your parents finding out the real reason.
Your mama and Mami were waiting till you closed the door to your room before your mami spoke up. "Ingrid what happened to our little girl? She was acting weird. I miss the days where she sat on my shoulders playing airplane or Rollercoaster, giggling like crazy and yelling 'mami you are the fastest!' and now we have this 16 year old mysterious and grumpy Teenager!" She asked was almost pouting. Your moms had adopted you when you were 10 years old. You were always on the smaller side though. So when you were 10 you looked more like an 8 year old. Your Mama shrugged her shoulders. "Like you said Angel! She is a Teenager now! But she is a good Kid! I don't think she is hiding anything from us!" She replied. Oh If she only knew how wrong she was.
When your mama went to check on you she walked into your room since you didn't close the door entirely. "Are you feeling better, Love?" She asked. "I feel fine! It's nothing!" You Tell your Mama. "Okay. Why don't you take a shower then and Join me and Mami for a morning walk?" She suggested. You always went on morning walks with them so saying no wasn't an option. "I will be ready in 10 minutes!" You told your Mama. "Alright! We will be waiting!" Your mama replied and walked into the living room to your mami. "She is gonna join us for our walk!" Your Mama informed your mami.
You went to take a shower, humming one of your favorite songs gently. After 15 minutes you were still in the shower. "cariĂąo! hurry!" Your Mami yelled out. You didn't hear her though. After a little longer you stepped out of the shower, dry yourself off, put on some clothes, only thing missing were socks. So you went to your room, which was outside of the bathroom cause thankfully you had your own bathroom attached to your bedroom.
You sat on your bed about to put on the socks when the door was pushed Open. You should have fully closed it. That was on you because if it would have been fully closed your Mama would have knocked. "kjĂŚre(Sweetheart), what is taking..." Your Mama stopped talking, her eyes went to your ankle. "Y/n Ebba Engen CebriĂĄn! Is that a tattoo?!" Your Mama asked, she wasn't yelling but she was loud enough to make your Mami Show up. "What tattoo?" She asked your Mama. "Care to explain, y/n?!" Your Mama stated. "I am sorry, i love you both!" You tried to tell them. "Nice try. We Love you too but you don't get out of this that easy! Why do you have a tattoo that we told you not to get before your 18th birthday!?" Your Mami wanted to know. "I didn't want to wait! I know i shouldn't have! really i am sorry for trying to hide it from you? but it's not such a bad thing. I mean i didn't drink or do drugs. Just got a tattoo!" You told them. "You better didn't have done either or you will be grounded till you are 25!"your Mama replied, sighing softly. "Agreed! You still are in trouble for this! You are grounded for a week. you are going to practice with us, play the game & can be part of team stuff like dinners, but no friends and no phone!" Your Mami answered. You have just made your debut playing with your moms on the team. So at least you could to that. "Seems fair!" You didn't even argue and handed your Phone over to your moms. "Again i am sorry!" You admitted & looked at them. "Can i get a hug?" They both hugged you. Having a Family hug. "Of course love." Your Mami said, she wouldn't never deny you a hug. Neither would your Mama. You went on your walk together.
Turned out you didn't miss your Phone that much at all during the week. Being grounded was over quite fast. But you still wouldn't keep stuff like that from your parents anymore.
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mocchii-writes ¡ 2 days ago
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can you do a dae ho fic, with him being super protective and defending the reader, but she shows her own strength (maybe even saving him) and he is so star struck and falls in love immediately
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She's the Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene
Paring: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader Summary: Dae-ho felt the need to protect you, but didn't expect how starstruck he could be when you returned the favor. Words: 1k Warnings: death, guns, swearing, violence, normal squid game stuff lols A/n: I hope I didn't make this too Y/n lmao ♡ ~🍡🍡
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It's definitely hard to trust people here, to say the least. You see it all, just about. The blood of hundreds stains your clothes, and the screams you’ll probably have in your nightmares feel like a fever dream. Your survival instinct can only get you so far, though, and you know it. You need to find a backup.
You expect some kind of weapon to fill the gap in your barrier. You could break a mirror in the bathrooms, maybe? It's an understatement to say the supplies are limited, and you just barely make it through the last game. You can tell you're a target. Maybe not a huge one, but everybody here has someone after them, and it's easy and difficult at the same time to be discreet here.
But it isn't a weapon you get for help--it's a man. He doesn't hesitate to help you out when you need it, and you know that he’s valuable in this setting. You call him Dae-ho. Probably because that's his name, but it still has some meaning to you. Hopefully to him, too. It feels right, rolling off of your tongue, but you digress.
He seems to care about you, at least compared to some of the heartless shells of people here. You've both found solace in each other, and he truly made you feel safe, even if you had only known each other for a few days. You talk to one another. He tells you about his life, his past. You tell him about your past, your life. It's a small feeling of comfort, at least to you.
You're snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of lights out being announced by that cold voice that makes your skin shiver. You kick your legs, sitting on a bed as you look at Dae-ho across the room. He's discussing something with his little group. He'd previously invited you to join, but you said you'd rather keep your circle small. You swing your legs, looking at his face. It's very serious, but he's pretty far away. He says something, and then you feel his eyes on you. He nods briefly at someone else as he heads to you. Your face shows concern as his serious demeanor doesn't falter.
"You need to be near us tonight, preferably in our base." You think he's joking, but you don't laugh, just in case.
""Base"?" You ask, smiling. "Why?" He rolls his eyes a bit, but you can't say you blame him. "I can handle myself." He raises an eyebrow and smiles.
"I'm not going to argue with you about that, but I could." You squint at him but chuckle. "Mr. Seong says people are going to fight tonight. He has a plan to keep us safe, and he said you can join."
"I thought we were gonna place bets." You smile. "My money is on that greasy guy who hangs out with the purple-haired asshole." He doesn't look amused, so you sigh. "How do you know he's not trying to get you killed?" You ask, dropping your egotistic demeanor.
"All he does is try to help us. Please." He says, pleading with you to have some common sense. You knew you would eventually accept, but you didn't like the thought.
"I'll think about it, alright?" He sighs and smiles a little. He knows he should take what he can get, but he hates the thought of someone hurting you.
Dae-ho isn't sure why he's taken the responsibility to protect you, but he has. He thinks of you like a flower sometimes. He can't make you take care of yourself if you don't want to, but he knows he's going to protect you anyway because everybody deserves a chance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were lost in your thoughts, breaking out when you hear the robotic voice again.
"Player 230, 401, 299, 331, and 268, eliminated."
What? How? Your eyes track the room and land on Dae-ho, who's staring at the guards, confused. You make eye contact briefly, before people emerge from the bathrooms.
They go on to accuse each other of attacking the opposing team, creating an edge in the room. You're not listening very closely, though. Maybe Dae-ho was on to something when he said you should hide tonight.
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Update: He very much was right.
But you can't really think about that because there are far bigger issues at hand.
The lights are flickering so intensely you're afraid they might explode, and there's too much yelling and screaming to organize your thoughts. People are moving everywhere like scattering ants, and everything is a weapon for everyone. There's blood, a lot of it, all over the floor. You run, but it's like playing operation with corpses. You have scrapes from falling off your bed and defending yourself as you regret acting tough to Dae-ho.
Your ears are ringing, only because of a punch you just took. Everything is moving at the speed of light, and you don't have time to catch up. You kick back and stun the other person enough to run away. You feel a hand on your shoulder as you whip around, ready to fight.
To your brief luck, it's Dae-ho. He says something you can't hear and then pushes you behind him. You almost scoff if you weren't truly afraid for your life. He punches the person following you but quickly takes one himself. You try to move him, but he blocks your entrance again. You shout to him, telling him to let you help, but he probably can't hear you. You see someone holding a glass bottle sprinting to you, and your instinct finally kicks in. Literally.
You shift to the left and swiftly kick them, stunning them enough to drop their bottle as you punch them, their head ramming against a bed frame as they slide down, eyes closed. You force yourself to look away from the small pool of blood forming and push down the sick feeling in your stomach. You look for Dae-ho, to see him still fighting. He appears to be losing, though you can't hold it against him.
You don't hesitate to pull the guy off of him, grabbing his shirt from behind and throwing him down as best you could. He sits up, but you kick him hard in the face, knocking him out. You're better at this than you thought. You see another lady running to you, screaming. You quickly pick up the discarded glass bottle and shatter it against her skull. The lights turn on as guards rush in, appearing to stop the fighting.
You pant, wiping unknown blood from your face as you look to Dae-ho. You expect him to look horrified at least, but he's simply staring at you. You tilt your head at him.
"You... handled that." He says, grabbing your arm and bringing you to his "base".
"I said I could," you smirk, "You seem surprised."
"No, I'm impressed." He laughs dryly.
That stressful moment didn’t feel like it would ever end, but it did, and you found yourself still standing. Or at least, still breathing. Dae-ho was too, which was the only thing you cared about at the moment. You leaned against the wall, your body trembling from the adrenaline. He was sitting across from you, his eyes anywhere but you.
"You're full of surprises," he says, his body seemed to hint at something softer than what his voice did.
"You thought I wasn't?" you say, a smirk tugging at your lips.
"I never said that." He pauses, looking at his hands before looking at you. "I'm just happy you're okay."
His words linger in the air for a moment, and you’re unsure how to respond. You’d only met him a few days ago, but Dae-ho had become more than just an ally. He was someone you could trust in a place where trust was a gamble most people couldn’t afford to make.
"You didn't have to stick your neck out for me," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavers slightly.
"I wanted to," he replies simply, as though the decision had been easy. He finally drags his eyes to look at you. "You make this mess... bearable."
You feel your cheeks flush despite the blood coating your skin. His honesty is unexpected, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Not anymore. You’d seen too much in such a short time to waste moments of purity.
"Dae-ho," you start, but his name on your tongue makes you falter. You take a breath and try again. "I don’t know how much longer either of us will make it here, but... you give me hope in this place, I guess."
His smile is small, but it reaches his eyes this time. He shifts closer, closing the space between you two. "Then we survive for each other. Okay?"
You nod, a warmth blooming in your chest that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years.
For the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside of this moment feels small. The chaos, the blood, the fear—all of it fades away. In its place is Dae-ho, his presence holding your soul in an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.
You're both specks of dust in a hurricane, and you both know it. But, for this moment, you know you'll have a place to rest in the heart of this chaos. You can't say you're in love, but as he gently rests his hand over yours, you can't say you couldn't be.
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So, I kind of love this, lmk what you think ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
~🍡🍡
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gothcsz ¡ 19 hours ago
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final part of the neighbors series. well, everyone... we made it to the devastating end of our beloved neighbors! did i think we'd get here so fast? absolutely not, but alas we must face the truth that these two were doomed from the beginning 💔 thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this little series, i so appreciate it more than you know! please let ya girl know what you think hehe happy reading 🖤 thank you to @persephone-girl, @myownwholewildworld and @ovaryacted for helping me along the way 🥹
javier peĂąa x f!reader. ~16k word count. the angst we've become familiar with, some new years vibes, canon typical violence (please proceed with caution), speaking of canon the timeline is way out of wack but we don't care okay (?), spanish heavy dialogue at times because i love writing in spanish (translations included), character death (bye bye mateo), reader has a mild case of agoraphobia, smut (hopefully it makes up for the heartbreak), unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction be smart irl), oral (f receiving), creampie kink!!!, hurt/no comfort?, guess what: javi is a piece of shit, no happy ending!!!, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay thanks.
The days bleed into one another in a haze of pain, anxiety, and Javier’s unwavering presence.
His apartment has become your sanctuary as your body mends—slowly, achingly—but the weight of the world outside these walls makes every step toward recovery feel like a climb up a mountain.
He hovers without smothering, a balance that only someone as attuned as him could manage. He cooks poorly, though his effort is enough to warm your heart. 
And when dinner inevitably becomes charred beyond recognition, he humors you with a begrudging sigh before ordering takeout from a local spot.
Connie checks in as often as she can. Her competence is a balm in itself, bringing company in the form of the orphaned baby girl they’ve taken in, and gentle scolding when you try to do too much too soon.
You’re definitely going stir-crazy on top of all the other shit you’re still processing.
His bedroom is practically yours now, the space filled with your things from a hurried list you’d made after he went to clear your apartment, ensuring it was safe and untapped. 
You could go back, but you don’t want to. Not yet. Not when every shadow feels like it’s going to swallow you whole, and not when the thought of leaving Javi’s protection makes your stomach tighten with anxiety.
Tonight is no different, the silence of his apartment familiar. Javier is sprawled on the couch in the living room, his gun within arm’s reach on the coffee table, the TV playing some late-night soccer game at a low volume.
You’re in his bed, wrapped in the blankets that carry the scent of him.
The nightmare rips you from your sleep and into a cold sweat. Your screams shatter the quiet, piercing through the walls like a siren. Javier is on his feet in seconds, gun in hand, his instincts sharp as ever, heart pounding as he rushes into the bedroom.
He bursts through the door, his eyes scanning for threats before they land on you. You’re sitting up, clutching your head in your hands, your body shaking with sobs.
Javi approaches slowly, cautious yet reassuring as he sets the weapon down on the nightstand. “It’s me, cariño. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
The sound of his voice breaks through your panic, and you look up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your breathing ragged. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his embrace, your face burying into his chest as his strong arms wrap around you.
“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you sob into his shirt, your fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.
Javier keeps you cradled in his lap, feeling helpless as he tries to console you, resting his chin on the top of your head, rubbing your back soothingly. He doesn’t know what to say, and he hopes you don’t take his wordless comfort the wrong way.
Your tears don’t stop, but the steady thumping of his heart and steadying breaths begin to calm the overpowering emotions that stab at you all over. “They k-keep finding me,” you whisper hoarsely. “In my dreams. Mateo, his men�� They hurt you, Javi. They kill you, and I-I can’t stop them.”
His jaw tightens, the familiar strike of anger igniting deep in his chest. But he controls it, his focus entirely on you. “That’s not going to happen,” he says with quiet intensity. “I won’t let it. You’re safe here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. They’ll never touch you again.”
Even though the fear still lingers, you nod against him, your tears finally slowing. “I’m scared,” you admit in a hush, as if the city can hear you.
“I know,” his lips replace his chin with a soft kiss placed at the crown of your head. “You’ve got every right to be, but not for much longer. Te lo prometo.” (I promise you)
He holds you close, his mind racing. He knows the nightmares won’t stop until Mateo is dealt with, and the thought of you living in fear makes his blood boil.
Tomorrow, he decides, he’s going to make a move. Berna’s contact information has been burning a hole in his wallet, reminding him of the quickest way to get his justice.
Whatever it takes, whoever he has to call in, Mateo will pay for what he’s done.
He stays with you, his arms a fortress around your trembling body as you finally begin to drift back into an uneasy sleep.
When your breathing finally evens out and sleep welcomes you again, Javier doesn’t move right away. He keeps you in his embrace just a little longer, as if afraid that letting go might wake the nightmares again.
Eventually, he carefully shifts, lowering you back onto the bed. He tucks the blanket snugly around your shoulders, his movements unhurried. For a long moment, he doesn’t leave, his gaze fixed on your face.
Your lashes rest against your cheeks, still damp from tears, and your lips curve downward in a soft, unconscious pout. There’s a faint crease between your brows, as if even in slumber, you’re holding onto the pain. His heart aches at the sight.
Even like this, fragile and hurting, you’re still so beautiful.
He leans in without thinking, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for just a moment longer than they should, as if willing his affection to seep into your dreams and chase away the darkness.
With gentle fingers, he smooths the furrow from your brow, hesitating as he straightens. His eyes trail over you one last time before forcing himself to turn away and leave, returning to his spot on the uncomfortable couch.
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Every step he takes toward the usual meeting spot feels heavy, hindering, like the universe is daring him to find another way; a constant reminder of the ethical line he is about to cross yet again.
He’s not about to let what happened to you fall into the cracks of this crumbling country.
Does this really make him any better than Mateo? Than the rest of the assholes he’s spent his career hunting? The question whisks around in Javier’s mind, relentless and accusatory, every time he looks in the mirror or stares down the barrel of another wasted day.
He tells himself the same justification every time: You’ve got to do bad things to catch bad people. You have to stoop to their level to get the job done. Get your hands dirty alongside them. 
But the words taste bitter, even as they leave his mouth. It’s not a mantra—it’s an excuse. One he clings to, because if he doesn’t, he’d have to face the man he’s become.
It’s a betrayal. Of the ideals he once believed in. Of you.
You wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t dare accuse him outright of something so low, but he can see the questions in the way your eyes search his when he comes home in the middle of the night, reeking of sweat and moral compromise. 
He’s doing this for you. It’s about justice, about making things right. But deep down, he knows it’s not just that.
It’s about vengeance.
He steps into the shop, the smell of authentic Colombian food and coffee hitting him all at once.
Berna is already seated, a bulky figure crammed into a chair that seems too small for him, like a predator disguised as a civilian.
His beady eyes flick up as Javier approaches, a greasy grin spreading across his face. “¿Nos volvemos a reunir tan pronto? ¿Me extrañas o qué, Peña?” (Meeting again so soon? Do you miss me or what?) he asks, lifting the tiny cup with fingers that seemed more suited to take lives than hold porcelain.
Javier slides into the seat across from him, the legs scraping against the tile floor. “¿Obtuviste la información que te pedí sobre el banquero?” (Did you get the information I asked for about the banker?) His voice is clipped, wasting no time on pleasantries.
He reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out the photograph of Mateo to remind the other man why he’s here. The paper is crumpled from how many times he’s clenched it in his fist, a physical manifestation of his frustration.
He unfolds it carefully and places it on the table, sliding it between them.
Berna doesn’t even blink, his gaze dropping to the photo with all the urgency of a man just leisuring about. He stirs his coffee lazily, adding another spoonful of sugar. “¿Y yo que gano?” (What’s in it for me?)
Javier’s jaw ticks, the muscle feathering beneath his stubbled skin. He knows this game, has played it too many fucking times—it grates on him. “Lo de siempre,” (What it always is) he replies gruffly. “Esto no es diferente a nuestros otros acuerdos.” (This isn’t any different than our other agreements)
Berna leans back in his chair, his bulk shifting the chair with a creak. “Seguro?” (You sure about that?) he asks, patronizingly, as he taps the edge of the photo with a stubby finger. “Javiercito, ¿sigues dejando que las mujeres dirijan tu vida?” (Javiercito, still letting women run your life?) He tuts, “Pero no te culpo. Una buena perra debilita hasta al hombre más fuerte.” (I don’t blame you. A good bitch debilitates even the toughest man)
He curls his fists under the table, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms, willing himself to stay seated. His patience is running thin, making his leg bounce rapidly. 
“No se trata de eso,” (That’s not what this is about) Javier grinds out through clamped teeth.
Berna barks out a laugh, leaning forward slightly. “Esto no funciona si nos decimos mentiras.” (This won’t work if we tell each other lies) His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper now, though his smug smile remains wide. “Lo estás buscando por la orden que envió.” (You’re after him for that call he sent out)
Javi’s irritation is momentarily replaced by intrigue. He straightens slightly. “¿Cual orden?” (What call?)
Berna’s grin grows wolfish, pure amusement bubbling into an obnoxious, rumbling laugh that fills the small space. “¿Ves? Lo sabía.” (See? I knew it) He wags a thick finger at Javier, like a teacher scolding a disobedient student. “Tu banquero hizo una llamada para deshacerse de su mujer. Una empleada de la embajada. Americana. Vos lo sabes mejor que nadie cómo se sienten estos tipos cuando matan a un Americano, especialmente a una tan insignificante… y muy bonita, por lo que he oído.” (Your banker made a call to get rid of his girl. An embassy employee. American. You know better than anyone how these guys feel about killing an American, especially one so insignificant… and very pretty, from what I hear)
Javier’s gut twists at the confirmation of something he practically already knew.
“Emputó a muchos con ese truco. Huyó como un cobarde. Supongo que por eso estás aquí. Por ella.” (He pissed a lot of people off with that trick. Ran away like a coward. I guess that’s why you’re here. Because of her)
Javier flicks his tongue across his teeth.“Eso no importa,” (That doesn’t matter) he retorts lowly. “Sólo necesito saber dónde está... el y esos hijos de puta que cumplieron la orden.” (I just need to know where he is... and those two motherfuckers who followed through with the order)
Berna hums as he strokes his chin like he’s considering it. “Cartagena,” he finally gives him a location, something to fucking work with, as simply as if he were giving directions to el mercado. “Ahí se esconde. Sin embargo, consiguió protección, pero no es nada que los gringos no puedan manejar.” (That’s where he’s hiding. Got himself some protection, but it’s nothing the Americans can’t handle) That last bit said mockingly to purposely annoy the agent.
“¿Y los otros?” (And the others?) Javier presses, not letting him ride his nerves so easily.
“Santos y Rico,” Berna supplies, shrugging nonchalantly. “Siguen en Bogotá. Frecuentan un club allí sobre los barrios. El Flamenco. Bebidas baratas, música de mierda... tu tipo de lugar, ¿eh?” (They’re still in Bogotá. They frequent a club near the barrios. The Flamingo. Cheap booze, shitty music—your kind of place)
He doesn’t rise to the bait again, simply nodding as he stands, swiping the photo of Mateo off the table and back into his pocket, switching it out for his trusty pack of cigarettes.
“Ten cuidado, Peña,” (Careful, Peña) Berna calls after him, his tone still mocking. “No dejes que te vuelva estúpido.” (Don’t let her make you stupid)
Javier doesn’t look back as he walks out into the crisp night, his mind already focused on the next steps. 
The capital for Santos and Rico. Cartagena for Mateo. But first, back to you.
He isn’t sure how he’d explain this to you… or if he even would. All he knows is that he has to see your face, remind himself why he’s doing this, using you as an excuse to help justify the violence that has tainted his soul.
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Javier is gone. A lot. You try not to let it get to you, especially after he promised to not leave your side ever again. Though, you should have known better than to take that literally.
The rhythm of his comings and goings is erratic, like a broken metronome that keeps you off balance.
At first, it was just a couple of days here and there—late nights bleeding into early mornings, his tired eyes explaining everything and nothing all at once. Then the days stretched into weeks, his absence carving a yawning void in the already fragile sanctuary of his apartment.
Your ribs mend. The bruises fade, the cuts scab over, but none of it feels like progress. Healing should feel like a triumph, not this hollow ache of emptiness of what you’re left with.
You are in Javier’s apartment like a ghost confined in purgatory, aimless and haunted.
You’re supposed to be dead right now.
The thought comes at odd moments—while folding the laundry, when washing the coffee mug he used one morning before he was urgently called back to work, standing at the edge of his bed staring at the empty space where his body should be.
You can’t stop it. It circles you like a vulture, picking at what little resolve you have left.
Connie’s gone too. She had been your lifeline for a while, popping in and offering comfort when her own world was crumbling. But her absence was inevitable, torn between spontaneous parenthood and a marriage fraying at every seam because of the job.
Now it’s just you. Alone with your thoughts, the muffled chaos of the world outside seeping through the walls. It’s a torment you never imagined possible, let alone one you’d find yourself living through.
The country seems to be devouring itself. The news on the small TV mutters of violence that is neverending.
Sometimes, you’ll stand by the sliding glass door that leads to his balcony, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. You tell yourself you’re just looking, but the nagging fear of being watched creeps up your spine.
The blinds never stay open for long, your courage retreating as quickly as it came. Javier has trusted agents dropping groceries and meals off for you at the doorstep, and even then you’re very cautious about opening the door to bring them inside. 
Loneliness, paranoia and insomnia have become your closest companions. The reflection in the mirror becomes a stranger with a melancholic expression and sleepless eyes.
You collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is who you are now: a woman afraid to live.
The rare moments Javi manages to call leave you clinging to the landline, his rough voice over the static of the phone your only escape.
His words are rushed, heavy with exhaustion and tension. Sometimes it’s just an update—he’s okay, thinking of you. Other times, it’s the smallest sliver of intimacy:
“I miss you. I’ll be back soon.”
It’s selfish, you know, to want him here when you know the stakes of what he does for a living. The weight of what he deals with is an unwanted companion in his life.
But that doesn’t stop the longing, the ache to have him wrap his arms around you and make the world feel safe again.
The memory of his love confession that night in the bathroom is all that keeps you going. You cradle it like a fragile ember, feeding it with every shred of optimism you can muster. Which isn’t a lot as of late.
One day, you tell yourself. One day this will all be behind you. The darkness will lift, the scars on your heart will heal.
Until then, you have to endure. Love is a painful and ugly thing.
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He gets all three of them in the end. It’s not clean, not quiet, but it’s done.
Berna’s information leads Javier straight to the first two—a pair of low-rent sicarios who’d been dumb enough to let their guard down in a hole-in-the-wall bar back in Bogotá.
The two were slouched over the counter, their laughter slurred and careless, oblivious to the shit storm about to hit.
He didn’t even have to lift a finger. The group moved swiftly, their boots loud against the grimy floor, and in seconds, the sicarios were on the ground, bloodied and begging.
Javier didn’t stay to watch them get dragged out into the alley, their pleas echoing in the narrow space before two distinct gunshots were heard.
He was already planning his next move: Cartagena. Mateo.
No time is wasted when he touches down in the coastal city, greeted by Berna and some of his men. 
Flanked by the grim crew, they make their way to the luxurious safe house perched in one of Cartagena’s wealthiest enclaves.
Criminals like Mateo always hide out in opulence after orchestrating such violence.
The assault begins the moment they breach the front gate. Chaos erupts. Gunfire cracks like thunder, tearing through the pristine silence of the night. 
Bullets shatter glass, ricocheting off marble columns and embedding themselves in the cream-colored walls. Screams echo as Mateo’s protective detail fights back hard, but they’re outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and out of luck. 
It’s ruthless yet efficient, and Javier moves through the pandemonium suavely, his focus singular, expression stern, as he searches for the asshole he is here for.
By the time he kicks in the door to Mateo’s hiding spot, the man is cornered. He’s standing by the balcony, sweat dripping down his face, his silk shirt clinging to his torso. A pistol is gripped tightly in his hand and pointed right at Javier.
“Suelta el arma,” (Drop the gun) Javier sneers, his lips curled, weapon steadily trained at the other’s chest. 
The temptation to end it all here—one clean shot—burns in his veins. He could do it, drive a bullet straight into the bastard’s heart and paint the wall behind him red.
But no. He won’t give him the ease of a quick death. Not after what he did to you.
Mateo scoffs as it dawns on him that he’s standing off against the DEA agent that’s been shadowing him since the moment he met you.
“Tú primero.” (You first)
“No estás en una posición para pedir ni mierda.” (You are not in a position to ask for shit)
Their eyes lock, and the room feels impossibly still despite the carnage wreaking outside.
Mateo’s hesitation is all the opening Javier needs. He lunges forward, disarming the man in one swift motion and landing a punch squarely across his face. The force sends Mateo sprawling, his pistol clattering uselessly to the floor.
It’s a struggle and Mateo fights back, dirty and desperate. They grapple, fists flying, grunts filling the air as they roll across the polished floor. Javier takes a few hits to his ribs and jaw, but his anger drives him forward. 
Every punch is laced with the memory of you—of what this fucker had done, of the fear in your eyes and the pain in your voice, how he broke you.
Finally, with a grunt of exertion, Javier manages to force Mateo onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back. The cuffs click into place, metal biting into his skin.
“¿Crees que eres un héroe o qué?” (Do you think you’re some hero or what?) Mateo spits out, blood mixed in his saliva landing with a glop on the floor and Javier yanks him up. “¿Qué va a pensar tu preciado gobierno cuando les diga con quién lluegaste? Me estás arrestando sin ningún puto motivo factual.” (What is your precious government going to think when i tell them who you showed up here with. You’re arresting me with no real fucking cause)
Javier laughs, the sound bitter and hollow, devoid of humor. As he walks him towards the opulent front doors, he makes sure to twist Mateo’s wrists in the restraints until the jagged metal digs enough to make him bleed.
“¿Crees que esto es un arresto?” (You think this is an arrest) The rhetorical question is asked condescendingly, “No, Mateo, no voy a arrastrarte tras las rejas para que te pudras. Ese es un futuro demasiado misericordioso para malparidos como tú.” (I’m not going to drag you behind bars to rot. That’s too merciful of a future for bastards like you)
With a shove, he pushes Mateo forward. The armed men are waiting at the bottom of the marble steps, and they move quickly, forcing a black bag over his head. His muffled curses are cut short by a sharp blow to the gut.
They throw him into the waiting van like cargo, slamming the doors shut before the engine roars to life.
Javier exhales, his hands flexing at his sides as he watches the vehicle pull away into the darkness. He’s about to tail it, his mind already running through the long night ahead, but then his thoughts veer to you and the way you look at him like he’s more than the monster he feels he’s becoming.
Berna steps up beside him, his presence as calm and calculated as ever despite the massacre that has occurred. His hands are clasped neatly behind his back, but there’s a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or curiosity—dancing in his dark eyes.
“¿Y ahora qué?” (And now what?) he asks, his tone deceptively casual, like he doesn’t already know exactly what Javier’s next move is going to be.
Javi doesn’t even glance his way. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”
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The basement reeks of damp concrete, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. The single bulb overhead swings with a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm, casting broken shadows that dance across the cracked walls and the man tied to the chair.
Mateo’s head hangs low, chin resting against his chest, blood trailing from his broken nose, pooling on the stained floor beneath him. His chest rises and falls unevenly, each breath a wheeze as pain ripples through his bruised and battered figure.
Javier leans against the base of the stairs, his leather jacket discarded over a rusty chair nearby. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, revealing forearms taut with tension, veins bulging beneath his brown skin.
His knuckles are raw, split open from earlier blows, and they throb with a dull ache that he’s long since chosen to ignore. His dark eyes are devoid of their usual sly charm; instead, they smolder with a cold, relentless fury. 
Mateo coughs, spitting blood and phlegm onto the floor. “Todo esto... ¿por ella?” (All this… for her) His voice is weak, rasping, but the mockery in his tone is unmistakable. “I don’t believe it.”
Javier pushes off the wall, his boots echoing on the concrete as he takes measured steps toward the chair. He grabs a stool and pulls it up, straddling it directly in front of the other man. His face is inches away, close enough to make him flinch.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” Javier reaches out, gripping his jaw with one hand, forcing him to meet his gaze. Mateo winces as Javier’s thumb presses hard against a fresh bruise, the pain blooming anew. 
Still, he manages to huff out a wet and gurgling chuckle. “Realmente te tiene envuelto alrededor de su maldito dedo. Estás haciendo todo esto para qué, ¿vengarla? (She really had you wrapped tight around her fucking finger. You’re doing all this to what, avenge her?) Some gringa who barely gave it up. Podrías encontrar una puta mejor en la ciudad, eso sería más creíble que esto—” (You could find a better whore out in the city, that would be more believable than this)
The crack of Javier’s fist connecting with his cheekbone cuts him off mid-sentence. Mateo’s head snaps to the side, and more blood spatters the floor. Javier shakes out his hand, fidgeting his fingers.
“You tried to have her killed.” He spits, voice trembling with restrained rage. “And now you’re going to reap every second she’s had to live in fear because of you.”
Mateo lifts his head weakly, shooting daggers at the agent despite his beaten state. “And this rights the wrong? Makes you better than me? Us? Look at you. Torturing a man in the dark. Working with killers.” 
Javier steps closer, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him forward, their faces inches apart. “You’re goddamn right it doesn’t make me better,” he growls. “But I don’t give a fuck anymore. My moral compass? That broke the day I realized just how low you motherfuckers get. The day I realized the only way to protect people like her is to become just like you.”
He shoves him away with enough force to send the chair rocking precariously, the screech of its legs grating against the hard floor.
Javier’s hand closes around a nearby crowbar, it’s cold metal chilling against the heat radiating from his palm. He grips it tightly, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he stalks forward.
He presses the tip of the bar against Mateo’s knee, letting it rest there just long enough for the man’s wide eyes to meet his. The anticipation thickens the air like smoke, and then Javier swings.
The impact is sickening, the crack of bone like a firework detonating in the basement, followed by Mateo’s shrill and desperate scream.
It’s a sound that would make most men hesitate, flinch even, but Javier doesn’t stop.
He brings the crowbar down again and again, obliterating both knees and then moving downward, snapping tibias and fibulas like kindling. Mateo’s pleas are incoherent now, sobbing gasps and wet, broken cries of “Stop!” and “Please!” that Javier doesn’t hear—or perhaps chooses not to.
The cool iron gleams under the dim, swaying light. Blood trickles down it, some of it spatters across Javi’s shirt, his arms, but it doesn’t faze him.
It all becomes a distant hum, drowned out by the roaring in his ears. He doesn’t see the man in front of him anymore; he sees your pain, the fear etched into your face, the scars you’ll carry forever because of this piece of shit.
When Mateo’s legs are little more than pulp, Javier tosses the crowbar aside, the clang of metal on concrete echoing like a death knell.
He doesn’t stop, though. He doesn’t even hesitate. His fists take over, slamming into the other’s face brutally.
Mateo’s head lolls to the side, his breaths coming in ragged, wet gasps. Javier pulls back only when he’s sure the man is teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, his face swollen and unrecognizable.
Breathing heavily, Javi staggers back and pulls his pistol from its spot tucked at his lower back. The deafening click of the safety switching off snaps Mateo out of his stupor, his swollen eyes flying open in panic. 
He tries to speak, but his words dissolve into choked sobs. His ravaged legs twitch uselessly, bones jutting through torn skin, his face an unrecognizable mask of swelling and gore.
Javier steps closer, raising the gun. The barrel points squarely at Mateo’s chest, unwavering.
There isn’t anything left to say.
The first shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space. Mateo jerks in the chair, blood spraying from the wound. Another shot follows, then another. Every pull of the trigger is cathartic, each bullet an exclamation point to the anger and anguish he’s carried for too long. 
It feels like ripping a piece of his soul away, but he doesn’t stop. Not until the clip is empty and Mateo’s body slumps forward, lifeless.
Silence falls, heavy and oppressive. Javier’s chest heaves as he lowers the weapon, tasting the burnt sulfurous in the air, his fingers trembling slightly. Blood pools around the chair, a deep crimson stark against the dull gray of the concrete.
He stares at the heap for a moment, his body and soul untethered. There’s no satisfaction in his expression, only exhaustion and a shadow of something darker—loathing, maybe.
He tucks the gun at his lower back again and turns away, his boots crunching over spent shell casings as he heads for the stairs, grabbing his jacket on the way out.
He doesn’t look back as he ascends out of the basement, men trailing in to clean the mess up. Javier doesn’t let himself linger on what he’s done. 
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You’ve been pacing the apartment for hours, too restless to sit still, too wired to even think about sleeping.
“I’m coming back tonight.”
He sounded different when he called. Blank, almost, but you told yourself not to get hung up on it. You haven’t been feeling like yourself lately, either. 
The only thing that mattered was that he was coming back to you.
By the time the doorknob rattles at one in the morning, you’re wide awake, perched on the edge of the couch with your legs tucked beneath you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the door creaks open, and there he is.
Javier’s silhouette fills the frame, outlined by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. His broad shoulders are hunched, the leather duffle dangling limply in one hand. His jean jacket hangs off him like it’s too heavy, his hair mussed, his face unshaven.
The grim line of his mouth and the absent look in his eyes tug at the emotions you harbor for him.
You don’t even realize you’ve moved until your feet are carrying you to him, the silver of the moonlight pours in from the glass doors that lead to the balcony, illuminating the room. “Javi…” you whisper, the name leaving your lips before you can think. 
You throw yourself into his arms without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him like if you hold him tight enough, it will make all this despair go away.
His duffle hits the floor with a dull thud as his arms come around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks, as you cling to him. Your affection, your tenderness. Still, that doesn’t stop him from being selfish and bathing in the warmth of your body pressed against his.
His embrace is crushing, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, but you don’t care. If he could press you into his skin, you’d let him. If you could crawl inside his chest and be near his heart, you would.
“I missed you,” you murmur against him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his jacket. His grip tightens in response, but he doesn’t say a word. His silence makes your throat tighten.
You pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. His skin is rough beneath your fingers, the scruff on his jaw rasping against your palms. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see it all—the weariness, the anger, the shame, the pieces that make him who he is. 
He opens his mouth to respond, but whatever he’s about to say dies on his tongue when you lean in and kiss him.
It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, like you’re trying to pour every word you haven’t said into the press of your lips on his.
They’re softer than you’d imagined in your countless daydreams, but the way he moves them against yours carries an unmistakable authority. Even as you take the lead, it feels like he’s in control.
Javi’s hands rise, cradling the back of your head as he holds you steady. His mouth moves like he’s been waiting for this, needing this, as much as you have.
You are his sanctuary and his torment, the single thread keeping him whole in a world that threatens to disentangle him. 
It’s vaster than love, more potent than lust. It’s the way his heart pinches every time you look at him, as if no matter how far he falls into the darkness, you’ll always be there to pull him back.
Your fingers curl into the denim of his jacket, tugging him closer while you take small, shuffling steps backward. He tastes so forbidden and intoxicating. You’ll never get enough.
As you guide him further into the apartment, he follows without question, mouth never leaving yours, until you stumble slightly over the sunken step into the living room.
His hands move to your waist to steady you, the brief break in the kiss filled with a shaky exhale against your lips, your name leaving him so softly, you almost miss it.
“What are we doing?” His question is rough around the edges, like gravel under silk. He swallows hard, the muscles in his neck moving. His touch remains on your hips, as if he’s caught between holding you close and pushing you away.
You don’t answer with words. Instead, you surge forward, capturing his lips again as your hands fumble with his jacket. He hesitates, just for a split second, before shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor.
You’re already tugging at the hem of his shirt as you guide him toward the couch with a determined push, his legs folding beneath him as he sits.
You climb onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.
“Wait,” he says your name, this time a little more sternly. “We can’t—” His fingers flex against your curves, tone strained with the conflict that’s written all over his face.
“Javier, please.” Your plea wavers with emotion, your hands balling into the fabric of his shirt. “I just… I need to feel something else. Make me feel something else.”
His brown eyes meet yours, and the anguish he finds there strikes deep within him. It’s a look he knows all too well, one he’s carried in his own reflection more times than he can count.
It hurts him to see it mirrored back at him, to know that you’ve reached the same depths he’s had to endure.
He should say no. He should tell you that fucking him won’t fix anything, that it won’t make the hurt disappear. If anything, it might make it worse.
But as he takes in the sight of you—your pleading eyes, your trembling hands, the way your lips are still swollen from his kisses—he knows he can’t resist. Not when he’s wanted this, wanted you, for so long.
“Are you sure?” Your noses brush and the heat between you is almost unbearable.
“Please fuck me, Javi,” you whisper, the raw need in your voice obliterating the last shred of his trepidation.
His lips find yours with renewed fervor, hands roaming your body with reckless abandon, no longer hesitant.
Your own are just as eager, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you rock your hips against his bulge. His sharp inhale tells you he feels it too—the spark, the friction. 
Clothes begin to fall away piece by piece, the space narrowing until there’s nothing but the press of your bodies and the sound of ragged breaths as you expose more to the other’s hungry gaze.
The moonlight filtering through the blinds casts Javier in a way that makes him look otherworldly. You’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count, but tonight, under the spell of the lust simmering between you, his body appears almost unreal—every ridge of muscle, every faint scar, illuminated and tempting.
Your touch moves at its own accord, spreading over his firm chest, tracing the curve of his pectorals, feeling the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat. You move to cradle his face once more, his skin warm and taut under your palms as you guide him down to your neck.
Javier presses his lips to the delicate skin just below your ear, the scrape of his facial hair making you keen. His teeth nip at your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you, and his tongue follows to soothe the sting.
His kisses blaze a trail lower, past the hollow of your throat and down to the swells of your tits, where he pauses, his breath fanning over your charged skin.
Your breath catches softly as his tongue flicks across the sensitive flesh, and then one of his hands slides up from your waist to cup the other. His thumb brushes over your nipple, teasing it until it peaks under his touch, and then his mouth is on you again—hot, wet, and maddeningly skillful.
He sucks the tender nub gently and you arch into him, whimpering from how good it feels.
“Javi…” you moan, your fingers burying themselves in his hair. His tongue circles your pebbled nipple, flicking it with just the right amount of pressure before he grazes it with his teeth, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core, slickening your cunt with each lick.
He doesn’t neglect the other for long, moving over to give it the same attention, making you feel like you’re coming undone one nerve at a time.
His mouth feels delicious against your skin, and your skin tastes delicious on his tongue.
Even as his desire threatens to consume him, he’s cautious. He notices how you flinch slightly when his fingers press a bit too firmly into your soft skin and guilt prickles at the edges of his hunger; but it only makes him gentler, more intent on making you feel good without causing any more pain.
Javier kisses his way back up until his lips are at the corner of your mouth. Then, with a fluid motion, he shifts your position, guiding you onto your back. The worn cushions cradle you as he hovers over you, his broad frame shielding you from the world, one hand planted firmly beside your head as he kneels between your parted thighs. 
The sight of him above you, his polished amber eyes smoldering with want, makes your stomach flip.
Your hips tilt instinctively, seeking more, and the throbbing at your pussy grows insistent. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, the denim of his jeans rubbing tantalizingly against your inner thighs.
He doesn’t speak, but the tension in his jaw, the way his breath is ragged as his fingers find the waistband of your sleeping shorts, says everything.
You lift your hips to help him ease them off, the cool air brushing against your damp skin making you shiver. He undresses fully, and you watch in anticipation as he rids himself of his jeans.
The room is almost fully dark, shadows swallowing the details, but you feel the heat of his cock as it presses against your slick folds.
Your head falls back against the couch, a shaky moan escaping your lips. “Oh…” you whimper, thighs trembling as the blunt head of his length glides along your throbbing seam, gathering your arousal. 
The rough pads of his fingers slither down, brushing through the untamed curls at the apex of your thighs. Your upkeep has been the last thing on your mind, given the chaos of your life lately, but Javier doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter. If anything, the unfiltered, raw intimacy of it seems to spur him on.
He strokes your pussy gently, his touch reverent, as if every part of you is something to be savored.
The pearl of precum that leaks from the slit on his cock smears against your thigh as he brings his hand up, licking the tips of his fingers, tasting you. 
Your heady taste is an aphrodisiac that almost has him pouncing on you like a rabid dog.
There’s a glistening sheen of his spit on the pads of his digits as his hand descends again, sliding between your folds.
His touch is confident, and when he circles your clit with the calloused texture of his fingertips, the sensation hits you like a jolt of electricity, bending your back off the couch as his name tumbles from your lips.
“You ready?”
You nod eagerly, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer. “I need you.”
He tries not to let those three simple words affect them as much as he knows they can. Instead, he adjusts, making sure you’re both comfortable, bringing you up onto his lap, steadying you by cradling your lower back in his large hand as you loop your arms around his shoulders.
Your thighs tighten at his waist as he aligns his dick at the mouth of your pussy, slowly sinking in, which has you shivering and him hissing out. 
You cling to his wide frame as he fills you completely. The world narrows down to nothing but the feel of his cock.
Having you in his arms feels like a paradox—so right and yet so wrong. It’s a storm of conflicting emotions that Javier barely has the bandwidth to process, but all those doubts dissolve with every inch of his length that slides into your wet, tight heat.
The feel of you gripping him so snugly makes his head tilt back slightly, lips parting with a soft groan.
The stretch is both foreign and delicious as your body adjusts to the thickness and size of him.
Your nails bite into the taut muscles of his shoulders, your breath catching in your throat before spilling out in a desperate, trembling moan as he buries himself into your body.
The subtle burn gives way to an irrepressible wave of pleasure when he begins to move, slow at first, testing your limits, before he finds a rhythm that has your head spinning.
“Javi,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as you hold onto him.
Your hips begin to move with his, grinding down in a desperate attempt to take him deeper, to feel every inch of him claiming you.
He groans as he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours. The hand at your lower back moves up to sprawl at the middle, keeping you steady, as the other cups your ass and guides your movements to match his thrusts.
His head nudges yours, his silent request clear, and you pull back just enough for your mouths to collide in a messy, hungry embrace. His tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours, the kiss as consuming as the rest of him.
Every powerful stroke of his hips wipes away the hollow ache that had rooted itself in your chest. In its place is a blissful sensation that threatens to engulf you.
You can feel the intensity of his passion in every thrust, every growled exhalation of your name, every flick of his tongue against yours.
Javier has a way of making the world disappear, of pulling you so completely into him that there’s no room for pain, for doubt, for anything but how good he’s fucking you. 
In his arms, with his body wrapped around yours and his cock filling you to the brim, you feel more than safe. You feel wanted. Protected. Cherished. Taken care of.
“Did you really mean it?” you whimper as your hips grind steadily against him, taking him entirely with every downward roll of your body.
Your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly. The wet, obscene sound of your arousal meeting his cock fills the air, a symphony of lust underscoring your whispered question. “Do you actually love me?”
Javier groans, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as your walls flutter and squeeze around him. 
He doesn’t answer immediately, too lost in the sight of you—your furrowed brows, the sweat glistening on your skin, the way your lips part on every gasp and moan.
And you, despite being desperate for his assurance, can’t bring yourself to stop riding his dick.
I’ve killed for you, he thinks, but doesn’t dare say aloud. Instead, his rough voice finally breaks. “I do,” he rasps, his hands gripping your ass possessively, continuing to guide your pace as his strokes grow frantic. “So fuckin’ much. You’d never—shit— you’d never understand.” His mouth latches onto your collarbone, licking and biting with a feral need as if he could brand his love into your skin.
“Make me understand,” you demand in a breathy moan. Your pussy quivers as he adjusts his angle, his cock dragging against a spot inside you that evokes something new. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back, exposing the arch of your neck to his ravenous kisses.
The ecstasy isn’t just centered at your pussy anymore—it conquers your entire body, an all-encompassing euphoria.
Javier doesn’t waste time with more words. Where they fail him, his actions overcompensate.
In a blink, he shifts, pinning you beneath him on the couch. His hands slide under your thighs, hitching them high around his hips as he starts to thrust with unrelenting rhythm. The head of his cock feels like it’s brushing against your heart, making you cry out incoherently.
Each roll of his hips is a declaration, a confession. This is how much I love you. This is how much I need you.
“Oh my god,” you mewl when it starts feeling like too much. Your hands scramble for purchase, one landing on his cheek while the other claws at his back. Your eyes roll back, and sounds you didn’t even know you could make spill from your lips.
Javier’s face is tight with concentration, his brow pinched together, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. He leans in closer, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that’s as nasty and desperate as his love making.
You can taste the impending bliss on your tongue as your orgasm begins to crash over you. “I love you, Javier,” you moan, high pitched and sweetly.
Your declaration is his undoing. With a loud grunt, Javier pulls out swiftly, his fist wrapping around his cock as he pumps himself. His release comes in hot, thick spurts, painting your stomach as he shudders above you, hips jerking reflexively.
“God damn,” he mutters hoarsely as he collapses forward. His forehead rests against your chest, peppering kisses all over, as the two of you come down together, tangled and spent.
When he regains his composure, he moves off the couch, tugging his jeans on in a practiced, effortless motion before disappearing into the bathroom. You remain sprawled against the cushions, your body still humming from the pleasure he gave you.
A haze of contentment blankets you, leaving you feeling like a new woman. For the first time in weeks, the suffocating mass on your chest feels lighter—his touch, his presence, the way he fucked you—it all feels like a salve on your wounded spirit.
He returns swiftly, a damp, clean rag in hand. His movements are gentle as he crouches beside you, wiping away the sticky remnants of his release from your stomach.
The care in his actions is almost as endearing as the passion you just shared, and you find yourself watching him, entranced. The lines of exhaustion etched into his face don’t take away from how devastatingly handsome he looks in this moment.
It’s only when his hand brushes yours as he adjusts the rag that you notice the state of it—knuckles battered and scabbed over. You’d been too lost in the zeal of your coupling to notice, but now it has a pang of worry cutting through your post-coital haze.
“Javi, your hands—” you start, softly yet concerned. As you slowly sit up, a subtle twinge in your back reminds you just how thoroughly he’d fucked you into the couch. You grimace but press on, your brows knitting together as you reach for him.
Out of habit, he flexes his fingers, his lips tugging into something meant to be reassuring but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he answers with a nonchalance that brushes off the concern in your voice.
Rising from his crouched position, he tosses the rag aside, going through the motions of lighting a cigarette. He sits beside you, pulling you close and wrapping the familiar, colorful quilt around both your bodies, blowing the smoke away from your face.
You don’t give up so easily. Curling into his lap, you nuzzle your nose against the crook of his neck, planting a featherlight kiss against the birthmark there. He smells like sex, tinged with the fading scent of his cologne.
Wordlessly, you reach for the arm around your shoulder, cradling his hand gently. You bring it to your lips, brushing them against his injured knuckles. Your eyes stay locked on his, the act full of care, as if you’re trying to kiss away the pain written in every crack and abrasion.
“It’s over,” He announces steadily, his words sinking like a stone dropped into water.
You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
He pauses, taking another drag then licking his lips with a flick of his tongue. His gaze is fixed on where your fingers are still curled around his hand. “Mateo.” The name makes your body tense instinctively at the mention of it, and he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. “The intention was to bring him in alive, but… he got caught in the crossfire.”
It’s a lie built on necessity and self-preservation, but a lie nonetheless. His dark eyes search your face, gauging your reaction. 
Your lips part slightly as you process what he’s just said: Mateo. Dead.
You can finally be in control of your own life again… good riddance, right? You should feel relief, maybe even vindication.
And yet, the feeling is muted, tangled up in something you can’t quite place. 
Is it the lingering haze of sleeping with Javier clouding your judgement? Or is it the unsettling knowledge that this death, even while deserved, will find a way to sneak back into your mind when you least expect it? Will it resurface in the future, leaving you grappling with emotions you don’t want to feel for a man who tried to have you killed?
You look up at Javi. His eyes are a deep, earthy brown of aged mahogany—steadfast, enduring, yet weathered by time and trials. You search them, hoping the steady intensity might offer you some clarity.
Instead, all you find is an intangible burden. What would it take, you wonder, to dim that tragic glint that eclipses his beautiful eyes?
Still, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Good.” You tighten your grip on his hand, your smaller fingers pressing against his rougher, calloused ones. “Thank you.”
Javier’s molars grind together at your quiet gratitude. It’s like chewing glass, and he has to toke on the cigarette to ease the feeling. 
Would you still feel this way if you knew the truth? If you knew that Mateo’s death wasn’t just a convenient win, but a calculated decision with the help of bad men just like him.
Would you still be thankful then?
Your fingers slip from his hand to his cheek, tilting his face toward you. The softness in your touch undoes the tension at his jaw. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” you say quietly, like you’ve somehow caught onto the turmoil simmering beneath his stoic exterior. “Not with me.”
He closes his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch despite himself. You have no idea just how much shit he’s already hauling, how much he’ll never let you see. “You’re safe now,” is all he can bring himself to say, and it feels like both assurance and a deflection. “That’s all that matters.”
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Javier stands in the lone office, his mind weighed with the heaviness of recent conversations. Stechner’s words reverberate like a stinging slap.
“For everything you know, you’re extremely naïve.”
The condescension was thornier than he wanted to admit, piercing through his frustration more sharply than the looming fallout.
He’s been fired. Reassigned. Whatever bureaucratic label they slapped on it.
The scandal of his ties with the vigilante squad has finally blown up in his face. By morning, he’ll be on a flight back to Laredo with nothing but his duffel bag and a bruised sense of self.
He should have seen it coming. Hell, he did see it coming, but he still walked straight into it, didn’t he?
This is what happens when you gamble with drug traffickers and criminals, people whose loyalties shift like sand.
Trusting them had been an obvious mistake. But trusting the U.S. government to have his back? That was downright foolish. Those assholes were playing their own games under the guise of diplomacy.
Stechner was right—he is naïve, thinking he could wrest something just out of this mess on his own terms. Justice could never be carved out of deceit and bloodshed.
There’s no victory to claim. Just dirtied hands and sleepless nights.
Well… it wasn’t all for nothing. There’s you. The one silver fucking lining in this entire shitshow.
But even that was about to collapse under the weight of his failures. He’d have to tell you. But how the hell could he look into your eyes and explain everything he’d done? The compromises, the lies, the violence he had incurred. 
That he’s leaving?
Javier drags a hand down his face, the lines on his brow deepening with each thought.
Disgust. That’s what he expects to see when he tells you. Maybe judgment, too. 
He knows himself too well. The moment he looks into your eyes, he’ll falter, take the coward’s way out and give you only half-truths wrapped in feeble excuses.
The clock ticks on the wall behind him, each second louder than the last, a metronome counting down to his own undoing. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, he’ll drown in his own misery and ruin the night before it even begins.
You have been looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party. The embassy’s farewell to another tumultuous year, held at some ritzy bar downtown.
Javier would have skipped it without a second thought if it were up to him. But you’d been excited, your eyes lighting up at the prospect of something normal, craving it, so he agreed to be your date.
The timing couldn’t be worse. The night should be about new beginnings, but all Javier can feel is the heaviness of his impending departure. And he has no idea when—or how—he’s going to find the words to say goodbye.
His body moves on autopilot until he’s standing outside your door, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side before rapping his knuckles against the wood.
The door swings open, and there you are—radiant, with that smile that could light up even the darkest corners of his life. It’s so warm, so genuine, it hurts more than it soothes him.
“Hey,” you greet cheerfully, stepping aside to let him in. “That was a lot quicker than I expected. Is everything okay?”
For a moment Javi hesitates, an explanation stuck in his throat. He crosses the threshold, shutting the door behind him.
His eyes sweep over you almost involuntarily as you turn and head back toward the bathroom. The skirt of your dress sways with each step, modest in length but criminal in how it hugs your figure. His gaze locks onto the swing of your hips, hungry and selfish, his feet moving as if tethered to yours.
“Everything’s fine.” The words come out clipped, his tone consciously flat. He doesn’t want to invite more questions, doesn’t want you to see through the cracks forming in his wavering facade.
You don’t press him, too preoccupied with the mirror, inspecting your makeup. You swipe another dab of blush across your cheeks, leaning in closer to scrutinize your reflection. “Too much?”
He stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame as he leans against it, watching you with an enamored look he doesn’t bother hiding. “Looks perfectly fine to me,” he replies gruffly, though he means it.
Things between you two have settled into uncharted waters. That night on his couch had been electric, a collision of want and need that left you both reeling. But since then, you’ve held back, keeping the boundaries undefined.
It’s not that you don’t want him—every time he’s near, your body remembers the way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel whole again.
However, there’s something he’s holding back, and you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers on you for too long. You've decided not to push, not while you’re still piecing yourself back together, taking cautious steps on your own journey of healing. 
Still, the love between you is undeniable. You feel it in the way he holds you at night, his arms firm yet tender as you drift off to sleep. It’s there in the softer timbre he uses when you talk over the phone while he’s stationed in Medellín. 
Even though you’re been back in your apartment now, every night he’s in the capital, he’s either at your place or you’re at his.
You’ve returned to work, and while it’s helped you settle back into a sense of normalcy, it doesn’t feel the same. 
The small routines you’ve fallen into do bring you comfort, despite the bigger questions that loom in the background. 
You find yourself wondering if it’s time to leave the clerical work behind and seek something greater, something that aligns with the new version of yourself you’re trying to uncover.
Then there’s the question of where you’ll go from here—literally. Colombia has become more than a temporary home, and you’ve realized there’s little waiting for you where you’re from. Truthfully, you could go anywhere. But do you want to?
The answer is clear: the only person you want to be with is standing in your hallway.
“Thanks for coming out with me to this. I know it’s not exactly your kind of night.” You glance at him over your shoulder, adjusting the last details of your appearance in the mirror. “Want a drink?”
“It’s not,” he concurs, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “but there’s no way I’m letting you go out there alone looking this beautiful.” His gaze sweeps over you once more as he follows you back out into the living room, his flattery leaving no room for misunderstanding.
The compliment lands as intended and you feel the apples of your cheeks tingling warmly. “You’re sweet,” you murmur as you pour both of your drinks at the bar cart. 
A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the crackle of the record player in the corner, spinning a soft tune you both half recognize. For a moment, it feels easy. Natural.
When you turn back to him, you hold out his glass with a small, shy smile.
Should he tell you now? Get it over with and rip it off like a bandaid. But as you take a step closer, your voice breaches his spiraling thoughts.
“¿Estás seguro que todo está bien?” (Are you sure everything is alright?) You ask, your brows knitting with quiet concern.
His grip around the glass tightens slightly. He swallows the bitterness lodged in his throat, the words forming in his mind before dissolving into silence. Instead, he forces a half-smile, his tone turning light, almost flippant.
“De mí no te preocupes cariño,” (Don’t worry about me) he tells you softly. “Debemos celebrar el Año Nuevo sin ninguna mamada.” (We should celebrate the New Year without any bullshit)
You search his face, sensing the weight he’s trying to hide, but when his hand lifts to brush against your cheek, your resolve falters. The back of his knuckles are rough, calloused, but his touch is achingly gentle. You lean into him instinctively, your eyelashes fluttering as a sense of calm washes over you.
He’s right. Whatever weight he’s carrying, whatever darkness lingers behind his eyes, it can wait until tomorrow. Tonight is about enjoying the fleeting moments of joy.
“Okay.” When your eyes meet him again, there’s gentleness there, a silent agreement to leave the worries behind.
Javier tips his glass toward yours in a silent toast, a half smile pulling at his pouty lips. “Salud.”
“Salud,” you echo, clinking your glass against his.
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From his spot at the bar, Javier’s eyes stay glued to you, the knot in his chest tightening with each laugh that escapes your glossed lips. You’re standing with a group of your coworkers, your head tilted back as you throw yourself into some joke he couldn’t hear.
The sound of a countdown filters through the bar, and the announcer’s voice booms that there are five minutes left until the new year.
As if on cue, you start making your way back to him, your expression alight with excitement.
“They’re setting off fireworks on the roof! We should get up there before it gets too crowded,” you suggest, the words spilling out with the eagerness of someone who’s had just enough to drink.
Javier nods, his lips twitching into a faint smile in one of those rare moments where his amusement is genuine and unguarded. He finishes the last sip of his drink, sliding off the barstool suavely. 
Before you can take more than a step, his arm loops around your waist, pulling you closer.
The haze of the drinks and his steady warmth make you feel like you’re walking on air as he guides you to the stairs leading to the rooftop.
When you step outside, the cool night air nips at your bare shoulders, making you shiver. You turn on your heel, already halfway to suggesting going back for your coat when Javier beats you to it.
“Just take mine,” he says, shrugging out of his leather jacket gallantly. He drapes it over your shoulders, the weight of it heavy but comforting, the potent scent of him wrapping around you like a second skin, making you giddy.
The sleeves fall far past your hands and you let out a contented laugh. “Gracias, Javi,” you angle yourself to press a kiss to his cheek.
With his hand in yours, you tug him toward the edge of the rooftop, where the city sprawls out below in a sea of twinkling lights.
“You know, despite all the violence and corruption, this country really is so beautiful.”
Javier doesn’t respond right away. His gaze shifts from the city to you, longingly. “Yeah,” he agrees in a raspy timbre, “it is.”
But his words aren’t meant for the city. They’re meant for you.
An eager, ill-timed firework crackles in the distance, a single streak of light exploding into a shower of gold and white over the skyline. 
“Look at that,” you whisper, the sound barely audible over the growing cheers and whistles of the crowd.
Javier doesn’t look at the fireworks. He can’t. His gaze is glued to you, the way the vibrant colors illuminate your features, casting you in a kaleidoscope of light. 
He’s memorizing everything about this moment: the tilt of your lips as you smile, the slight raise in your brow as you lose yourself in the spectacle, his jacket draped over your shoulders.
The countdown begins, voices around you picking up in excitement.
Ten… nine…
You glance up at him, your face glowing with the anticipation of a fresh start with the only person you want by your side. “Javi,” the way his name rolls off your tongue jabs at his crumbling walls.
Eight… seven…
He manages a fleeting smile, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite the leaden weight of his turmoil on his back.
Six… five…
Your free hand comes up to rest lightly on his chest, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you for being here.”
Four… three…
“Always,” he replies, even though it’s a lie.
Two… one…
You both lean in at the same time, as if pulled by some invisible thread. Your lips meet his in a kiss that feels as inevitable as the sunrise. It’s soft at first, tender and unhurried, but it shifts quickly, urgency fueling it.
The rooftop erupts in cheers as the first moments of the new year are ushered in with a thunderous cascade of fireworks. The sky is alive with bursts of red, white, gold.
For you, it feels like the perfect moment, the start of something good. You can’t imagine wanting anything else but this—him, here, now.
For Javier, it feels like a bittersweet end. Laced with his unspoken heartbreak, a desperate attempt to memorize the taste of your lips, the way your body fits so perfectly against his, before everything comes crashing down.
When you finally pull back, your cheeks are hot, your smile radiant as you look up at him. “Feliz Año Nuevo.”
He forces a smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Happy New Year, cariño.”
You surge forward again, the pull of him irresistible. Your hands cradle his jaw as your tongue teases against his bottom lip, a silent plea he answers without hesitation. His mouth parts, letting you in—hot and enthralling, making your toes curl in your heels.
His fingers slide lower, grabbing a possessive handful of your ass. A soft moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth, and your thighs instinctively press together, trying to quell the thrum of arousal beginning to pulse at your cunt.
“Take me home,” you whisper desperately as you break away, all shaky and breathless. Your eyes meet his dark and hooded ones, mirroring your own need.
For a second, Javier doesn’t move, caught in the crossfire of his own thoughts. But as he looks at you, sees the way, your pupils are blown wide with desire—any lingering hesitation crumbles.
“Let’s go.”
He leads you through the crowd, his broad shoulders parting the sea of people like he was made to shield you from the chaos.
Your pulse races, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach as the fireworks continue to explode above, unnoticed by either of you.
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You love how his weight settles over you, his hands traveling in hunger across every inch of your skin. The way you grind against him feels like second nature, your body responding to his every move with an unrelenting need. 
You hadn’t expected him to take his time like this, stretching out every moment of foreplay as if he’s trying to make it last forever.
It’s the third time tonight he’s taken you apart with his mouth, but this time, his fingers are joining in, plunging into your soaked heat while his tongue flicks over your clit in a rhythm that makes you see fireworks erupting against your vision.
Your legs tremble uncontrollably, your body twisting against the damp sheets as you struggle to stay present.
Javier’s tongue drags slow circles over your swollen nub before he sucks it into his mouth, the gentle pull sending sharp jolts down your spine. 
His fingers curl inside you, brushing against that devastating spot that has your back arching clean off the mattress.
“Javi!” you cry out, hips stuttering against his face as the wave of your climax crashes over you. His hooked nose presses against you as you fall apart.
He doesn’t stop. He’s utterly lost in you—your sweet headiness, the way your walls squeeze around his fingers. You have to yank hard on his hair to finally pull him away, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he looks up at you, mouth glistening with your release.
He licks his lips slowly, savoring every last bit. There’s a desperate intensity in his eyes, like his palate is memorizing the taste of you.
Javier kisses his way up your body, stopping to worship your breasts, his tongue and teeth teasing each peak until you’re squirming, your pussy continuously drooling for him.
When his lips finally crash against yours, it’s messy as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue.
Your hands roam over his broad back, tracing the curve of muscle and sinew, appreciating the feel of his skin against yours. You sigh softly, content to be pinned beneath him.
“Turn over. On your stomach.”
A shiver runs down your spine at the order, and though your body feels overwhelmed from his attention, you obey without hesitation. Your desire for him outweighs everything else.
Javier shifts back, giving you room to move. You reposition yourself, chest and stomach pressed flat against the mattress while your hips lift, aided by the pillow he slides beneath you.
The cool air kisses your exposed skin, and you hear him groan behind you—a deep sound that has your pussy clenching in anticipation.
“Tan hermosa,” he whispers hoarsely, his rough hands caressing your ass before delivering a playful smack that makes you gasp. The flesh jiggles under his touch, and he leans down to place a tender kiss on your shoulder, biting softly as he aligns himself behind you.
You feel the head of his cock drag through your folds, gathering the slick mess he’s drawn from you before pressing against your wet entrance. He pushes in slowly, the stretch making your mouth fall open in a silent cry.
“Javier,” you whimper, your fingers clutching the sheets as he fills you inch by inch.
The angle is devastating, reaching places you didn’t even know existed, and all you can do is hold on tight.
His strong thighs cage yours, while his broad frame looms over you, his toned arms braced on either side of your head. Each measured thrust sends his heavy balls slapping against your puffy, soaked clit.
“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight like this.” He lowers more of his weight onto you, pressing you further into the mattress, his thrusts growing more delirious.
The force of his movements pulls unrestrained moans from your lips, each one echoing with pure, unfiltered satisfaction.
Your trembling hands fumble over the sheets until they find his calloused palms pressing firmly into the sheets. 
Without hesitation, you intertwine your fingers with his, your softer touch setting off something feral inside him. He starts to pound into you, his hips snapping hard and fast as though the world outside this room doesn’t exist.
Your pussy clamps around on him in response, helplessly succumbing to his pace. Your hips instinctively try to push back against him but his weight over you, so dominant, keeps you in place, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock.
“I-I—” The words tumble out, but they’re incoherent, your mind too clouded with the way he breaks you open, your sex swallowing him in even deeper.
“Another one already? I should’ve taken care of you and this perfect pussy a long,” he thrusts hard, “time,” another sharp snap of his hips, “ago.”
“Ah!” you shriek, your nails digging into his hands where your fingers remain entwined, your vision crossing as he hits that spot inside you that flares your orgasm. “Just like that. Don’t stop, Javi.”
He doesn’t falter nor considers easing up, inducing another wave of stickiness from your cunt.
The obscene sounds of your bodies meeting—wet and raw—fill the room, punctuated by the shameless cries spilling from your throat. Your climax slams into you with breathtaking intensity, your pussy spasming and gripping him so tightly, it pulls a scratchy groan from his lips.
Javier finally stills, buried to the hilt, letting you ride out the aftershocks as your shaking body collapses beneath him. He peppers soft kisses across your damp shoulders and down your spine, his mustache bristling deliciously against your skin.
When his lips find the curve of your neck, he lingers, licking at the delicate flesh there as though he can’t get enough of you.
Four orgasms in, your body feels utterly spent, your thighs trembling as the weight of exhaustion begins to set in. You turn your head, your voice soft as you murmur, “Javi.”
He lifts his head, his eyes searching yours with concern. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” you hum, a lazy smile curling at your lips. “Just… hold me.”
His chest rises and falls with a staggered breath, the weight of his departure lingers like a shadow over the moment, threatening to sour it. But he pushes it away.
He pulls out of you slowly, the wet slide drawing a hushed whimper from your lips. He rolls onto his side, gathering you into his arms and tucking you against his chest. His still-hard cock, satiny and heavy, presses against your stomach, impossible to ignore.
You glance up at him, fingers trailing down his sternum toward his length. “Do you want me to…?”
He catches your wrist gently, stopping you. “No. Not yet.”
You hum your understanding, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing the top of your head as the two of you settle into a lull of lazy, unhurried affection.
Kisses are exchanged between whispered words, hands mapping the planes of the other’s body.
Everything about him is so damn addictive. 
The lust that simmers reignites, pulling you under its spell, and this time, you don’t wait for permission. Your palm wraps firmly around his cock, tugging him languidly.
Javier’s lashes flutter, his head falling back slightly, exposing the strong line of his throat. A low sound escapes him as his hips move instinctively to match your strokes. “Fuck,” he groans, strained, “Así mero.” (Just like that)
Your thumb brushes over the bead of precum glistening at his tip, smearing it down his length, making him shudder. His jaw tightens, a muscle in his cheek twitching.
The whisper of his name is laced with need as your lips trace his neck. “I need you again.”
He hooks one of your legs over his hip, the other tangled with his in a side-styled missionary, your bodies pressed so tightly together that you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your breasts.
Your pussy lips part open, eager for him, and the anticipation buzzes through your body. You guide him where you need him and he lets his hips take over, the thick, spongy tip sinking into you until he’s fully seated.
A gasp escapes your lips as he starts to move, slow and purposeful.
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he keeps them hidden, burying his face against your throat, engulfing you in his arms entirely.
The thought of losing you cleaves at him, and a desperate idea flits through his mind—if he could just open up, let you see the broken pieces of himself, maybe you’d understand. Maybe you’d come with him to Laredo, let him show you, and himself, the quiet beauty of a life together on his family ranch.
The fantasy swells in his chest, making his thrusts grow more passionate. His teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder, almost enough to hurt.
You’re barely human anymore, lost in the voracious sensation of his cock stretching and filling you; just a mass of feverish energy.
Your fingers dig into his back, nails raking across his sweat-slicked skin as you cling to him, completely uncaring of the sticky warmth where your bodies connect or the thick scent of sex that permeates the air.
“Oh god, Javier,” you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as you tilt your head back. “Keep doing that—oh my god—I love you.”
Your words are a jolt to his system, breaking down every defense he has left. He groans your name as his mouth trails up your throat, leaving a broad stripe of his tongue in its wake before nipping gently at your jaw.
“Say it again,” he breathes heavily as his hips grind deeper, the motion pulling an uncontrolled cry from you, your body jolting against his.
“I love you,” you babble as his movements turn rougher, more desperate.
He presses his forehead to yours, his gaze dark and wanton. “Kiss me,” he rasps.
You obey without hesitation, your lips finding his in a feverish clash of need and devotion.
Tongues tangle and teeth graze as if you’re trying to devour each other, your bodies writhing, desperate to become one.
“Where do you want it?” Javi grits out, hovering on the edge of his release. His chest heaves, feeling your nipples brushing his skin while his muscles turn taut as he tries to hold himself back for your answer.
You’re quivering from the aftermath of what feels like your fifth orgasm, maybe sixth—you’ve lost count.
Your mind is hazy, clouded with exhaustion and bliss, that his question barely registers. Your fingers clutch at his forearms, nails leaving crescent moons in his skin as you look up at him.
You manage a soft pout with trembling lips. “Inside,” You need it badly, your pussy instinctively clenching around his cock at the prospect of him filling you. Then, with more desperation, you plead. “Please, Javi.”
The way your lips purse, the edge of tears in your voice have his instincts taking over. A greedy, lustful desire too overpowering to resist.
He has to give you what you’re begging for.
“Fuck,” Javi groans, his head dropping against your shoulder, his voice muffled as curses and ragged breaths spill from his lips. He finishes inside of you in hot, shuddering waves.
The heat of his cum stuffing you has a blissful mewl escaping your lips. Your pussy insatiably holding onto every drop, milking him as though your body can’t bear to let him go.
He remains there, his cock twitching inside as the both of you ride out the ecstasy.
Javi makes no move to pull out, instead his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as his spend drips out around his cock and down to his balls.
Time feels like it bends and stretches, the minutes melting into hours as you lose yourselves in each other.
You fuck, you make out, you touch each other so tenderly that you’re certain you somehow managed to retrieve a slice of heaven right here in your bedroom.
The night gives way to the distant glow of dawn. The room is bathed in a soft, golden light as the sun peeks over the horizon.
You’re both exhausted, your bodies aching from the endless push and pull of pleasure, yet neither of you seems willing to stop.
Javier hovers above you, half lidded gaze locked with yours. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his middle while his hips move suavely. 
“Just one more,” he’s practically begging as those brown eyes of his bore into yours. He just needs one more. “You can do it, pretty girl. I know you can. Been doin’ so good all night.”
His lips finally find yours in an ardent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him yet again. You’re lost in all he’s given you, your world spinning as your final orgasm tears through you.
He follows shortly after, his hand wrapped around your jaw as he holds you steady while he pumps you full of his cum.
Javi turns gentle as he plants sweet kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. He caresses your thighs then up your side as your breathing slows.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”
He continues to knead and fondle, murmuring soft praises until you’re completely at ease, melting into him.
You’re drifting toward sleep, limbs heavy and utterly spent, your body glowing in the soft light of early morning. The faint sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, catching rays as they filter through the curtains.
Javier leans against the headboard, eyes tracing the length of your body beneath the sheets. The serenity in your expression tugs at a longing so profound, it’s painful. When his gaze flicks to the alarm clock on the bedside table, the time glares at him in bold red numbers.
His flight boards in a little over three hours.
The lump in his throat swells, a heavy, choking pressure that makes it feel like it’s going to explode and rupture his neck. He prays you can’t feel the way his heart beats erratically or how his body seems to radiate a fever level temperature as the anxiety settles in. 
Fuck.
He moves slowly, not wanting to wake you. Carefully, he shifts your body, rolling you to your side. You’re so pliant, so exhausted that you murmur something unintelligible before nuzzling into the pillow. 
He hesitates, watching as your breathing deepens again.
His jeans are tugged on first, the soft rustle of fabric barely audible in the quiet room. He doesn’t bother buttoning his shirt, draping it over his shoulders as he moves around, collecting his belongings. 
Maybe this is the cleanest way, he thinks bitterly. To just leave. Slip out before the inevitable fallout. You’ll hate him either way—better to make a quick exit than to sit through the heartbreak, to explain the compromised morals that led him here.
But as he tugs his boot on, you stir. Your arm stretches across the empty space where he once was, craving his warmth. When you feel nothing, you open your eyes, squinting against the pale light.
“Javi?” You call out drowsily and a little confused.
For a moment, he considers staying silent, waiting to see if you’ll fall back into slumber. But then you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heel of your hand.
You don’t care about the mascara smudged beneath your lashes or the eyeliner smearing your waterline. All you care about is the sight of him standing there, half-dressed, looking like he’s about to bolt.
“Why are you getting dressed?”
Javier licks his teeth, buying time he doesn’t have. His fingers flexing as if searching for something to hold onto. You catch the pained set of his jaw.
“I’m leaving.”
You blink, slow and disbelieving, as if the action will somehow help you make sense of what he just said. “Leaving? Where are you going?”
“To the airport.”
“Airport?” You’re more awake now, moving to the edge of the bed and reaching under where your robe lies in a heap.
The soreness in your muscles makes you wince as you bend to grab it, slipping it on as you stand. Your legs are wobbly, the remnants of the all nighter making themselves known. “Why? Did you get called back to Medellín?”
Javier watches you silently, his teeth grinding when you walk to him, your expression expectant and confused.
“I’m going back to Texas,” he finally answers.
“Texas?” The frown on your face deepens. “Is your dad okay?”
For you to assume his departure is over his father’s wellbeing somehow makes this worse. His lips press into a thin line, eyes darting away. “He’s fine.”
“Then why are you—” You pause, exhaling sharply, exasperation bubbling at his curt replies. You hate when he gets like this. You figured you’d be past it now.“Why are you going back?”
He struggles to form but a few words at a time. “I got suspended,” he tells you. “Indefinitely. Flight’s out at nine.”
The room falls silent. That’s the last thing you expected to hear.
“How long have you known?”
“Found out this afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You glare at him. “You were just going to leave without saying anything?” That hurts.
“I didn’t want to ruin your night. I was trying to make it easier.” He stupidly answers.
“Easier?” Your voice rises slightly, incredulous. “Sneaking out after spending all night with me makes this easier? For who, Javi? You or me?”
His expression blazes with guilt. “You don’t understand what this is—what I’m trying to… protect you from.”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” you fire back, your hands trembling as you tuck them into the pockets of your robe to keep from reaching for him. “You tell me that you love me and give me all these empty promises only to sneak out after you’ve fucked me.” He winces. “What are you protecting me from now? From you? From us?”
Javier’s nostrils flare, his breathing ragged. Every point you make is so valid and it crushes him. “From the mess I’ve made.”
“Then tell me what the hell happened.” You can’t help him if you don’t know what’s killing him. “Be direct. Stop shutting me out and just talk to me! I deserve that much.”
For a moment, you think he’s going to deflect again, to retreat into the same cagey silence. But then he exhales sharply, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.
“I killed him.”
The simplicity of it leaves you puzzled. “Who?”
“Mateo.”
Your chest tightens, trying to recall what he’s already told you about the other’s demise. “You said he died in the crossfire—”
“I lied.” The admission lands with the force of a hit, and Javier’s eyes meet yours, pleading for understanding but knowing it’s a futile hope. “I found him. Holed up in Cartagena. I dragged him out myself. Took him to a warehouse.” He grows quieter with each word, but the confession barrels forward. “I beat him. Then I emptied the entire clip into his body.”
The room goes deathly still, the echoes of his words lingering in the air. Even the rhythm of your breathing slows, like your body needs time to process what you’ve just heard.
“You… you dragged him out,” you repeat, as if saying it again might change its meaning. “You took him to a warehouse.”
He nods once, a sharp, curt motion, feeling as if he’s watching this outside of himself.
“And you—” The words burn in your throat. “You killed him. Like that. You… tortured him.”
“I had to.” The anguish bleeds through his words.
Had to.
It feels like the ground has just given out beneath you. Your lips part, but no words come. You’re staring at him like you’re seeing someone entirely different.
“Had to?” you can’t help but parrot, the excuse tastes bitter on your tongue. “Why couldn’t you just arrest him?” Mateo deserved all his suffering, sure, but it wasn’t up to Javier to enact it as so.
You’d made peace with the idea of his death when you thought it happened in the chaos of a raid. But this? This is something else entirely.
“It’s not that simple,” he tries, his voice rigid with frustration, but it feels like an insult to your intelligence. 
“Is this why you got fired? Because they found out you killed him?”
Another pause. His hesitation only stokes the fire burning in your chest.
“No.”
Now you’re spiraling, your mind racing to conjure something worse than killing a man that could’ve cost him his career.
You take a step closer, toe to toe now, your robe hanging loosely off your frame, his shirt still unbuttoned and exposing his chest. It’s hard to believe you were just entwined in carnal bliss. “What did you do, Javier?”
There’s so much hurt laced in your question, it’s a wonder the room doesn’t shatter around you. He looks away, his lips rubbing absentmindedly, mustache twitching as he struggles to form a response.
“I cooperated with them,” his confession feels jagged. “The cartels. The paramilitary assholes. Get Escobar—that was the goal.”
Your legs move on instinct, a shaky step backward, and Javier follows reflexively, his hand half-reaching for you before he thinks better of it. His presence only makes it worse, his body too close, his words too loud in your ears.
It’s like every fear wrapped into one devastating realization. After everything you went through—after the pain he watched you try to claw your way back from—he still went out there, trading his soul for deals made in blood.
“You knew what they did to me,” disappointment strings your words together, and while you understand that it wasn’t the same men who jumped you—they are all still cut from the same cloth. “You saw what they took from me, and you still…”
“There wasn’t another way,” he insists, desperate now, the plea in his eyes almost unbearable to look at. “I did what I had to do to bring him down.”
“There’s always another way!” You yell, the words ripping from your throat like they’re trying to drag the hurt out of you with them. “But you didn’t care. Not about the innocent people they killed or the lives they ruined.”
His face twists in anguish, as if he hadn’t been beating himself up for all the civilians that became casualties, but you don’t stop. The distress boils over, spilling out of you in a torrent. “The job always takes priority. Above everything—above everyone.”
Your hands act on their own, shoving at his chest as if the force could make him feel even an ounce of the pain you’re carrying. Javier doesn’t resist. He lets you push him, lets your palms land against him over and over, taking it all because he knows he deserves it.
“How am I supposed to look at you the same?” You demand, tears streaming freely down your face now, each one a testament to the betrayal sinking its claws into you. You shove him again, harder this time, backing him toward the living room. “How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”
His own eyes glisten, cheek tensing in distress, but he doesn’t say a word because he can’t.
“You’re no better, Javier. You’re just like them.”
You begin to get flashbacks of your confrontation with Mateo. His callous words echo in your head, overlapping with Javier’s explanations. The two begin to blur together, their justifications eerily aligned, like different faces of the same haunting coin.
“This world isn’t all black and white like you think it is. People like me—we do what we have to, to survive.”
You stare at him, and for a moment, he’s not the man you love anymore. He’s another wraith from the nightmare you barely escaped.
“I know.”
He’s such a self-aware asshole, and it makes you livid. The way he stands there, bracing himself like he knows he deserves everything you’re throwing at him—like he’s already written himself off as the villain in this story. It’s infuriating.
The morning light streams in through the windows, slicing across the room in uneven beams. It’s amplifying everything: every emotion, every movement, every goddamn look he gives you as you stand off in the middle of the living room.
“Despite it all… you still found the time to fuck me. And I let you.”
You can feel the fire licking up your neck, but it’s not from embarrassment—it’s from the sting of humiliation. How you let yourself be fooled twice by two different men. 
You tighten your robe around you, the soft fabric suddenly feeling like sandpaper against your skin. Everything feels wrong now.
He watches you, his expression etched with guilt for making you question your worth. Despite it, he doesn’t regret taking you to bed.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” you continue, more to yourself than to him, carrying anger and self-loathing. “For trusting you again. For ignoring every single red flag you waved in my face. You weren’t just a shitty friend, Javi. You were a walking disaster, and I still let you back in.”
He flinches, but it’s not enough. You want him to feel it, to feel the way your heart aches and how your trust, fragile and carefully rebuilt, crumbles to dust at your feet.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” you state with another shove, forcing him closer to the front door. He continues to comply, stumbling backwards in silence, letting you release it all.
“If you cared about me at all, you would’ve stayed away. You just had to come back, had to get your hands on me again. And I was so desperate—so fucking desperate to believe you’d be different.”
You laugh tearfully, hands falling to your sides as you stand in the short hallway that leads to the entrance. “But you’re not different. You’re just a man with nothing but a big ego that’s drowning in his own penitence.”
He swallows hard, your words reverberating with the sickening truth and he wills himself to speak.
“Nothing was getting done,” Javi begins, the weariness of it all finally breaking him. “No one fucking cared. That motherfucker kept killing people, bombing the streets all while getting richer and untouchable. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, it wasn’t enough. And then—” His voice tapers, gaze dropping for just a moment before moving back to yours.
“And then you got hurt. That was one thing I could fix. I could right the wrong, make you feel safer. I did it for you!”
“For me?” You scoff out a doubting laugh. “So, what, you decided you’d be judge, jury, and executioner? You think killing him—brutally, no less—makes any of it better? That it erases what he did to me?”
“It was a start—”
“You didn’t do this for me, Javier,” you cut him off, your voice teetering with fury and hurt. “You did it for you. To ease your guilt, to feel like you had control.”
His breathing grows ragged, his hands trembling at his sides. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to get so fucking lost I couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad anymore? I did what I had to do!”
“Stop saying that!” 
“I don’t know how else to fix this,” he fires back.
“And I don’t know how to believe you,” you whisper, the fight draining from your voice as tears spill freely down your cheeks. “All you do is hurt me, Javi.”
Javier steps back, his shoulders slumping, his entire frame caving in. Desperation flickers in his eyes as he reaches for the only card he has left to play—the last, sapped attempt to salvage what little remains.
 “I’m sorry,” he breathes, though it’s barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Your body freezes when he gets closer. His large hands tremble slightly as they cup your face.
“I never wanted to hurt you. Te amo.” He murmurs, his voice soft and pained as his forehead presses against yours. His lips brush yours, and it sends a jolt through your body, a cruel reminder of all the ways he’s managed to slither his way back into your heart and mind. 
Your lips quiver, salty wet trails streaking your cheeks. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head and pushing against his chest, your palms meeting his bare skin where his shirt falls open. You manage to break away, the distance between you offering only the barest reprieve.
But Javier doesn’t stop. He steps forward again, crowding you, his desperation palpable. “Please, cariño,” he implores. “I love you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry—so sorry.” The words tumble out of him in a desperate loop, growing more frantic each time, as if sheer repetition might somehow undo the damage. 
And fuck do you hear the genuine ache there, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve heard it all before—the apologies, the promises, the declarations. None of it fixes this. 
Despite your actions, your body betrays you. Even as you try to shove him away, you feel the magnetic pull, the infuriating draw that keeps you tangled in his orbit. It’s a push and pull, your hands shoving at his chest while your heart screams at you to stop.
And you hate him for it. For the way he makes you feel. For the way his arms still feel like home even as your love for him falls apart.
“All I hear is excuses. Like always. Get off me, Javier.” Your voice shakes, but the resolve in it is ironclad, each word laced with finality. You swallow back your sobs, forcing yourself to sound strong—for him, for yourself. He hears it too; the end is in your tone. You’re done.
His hands linger on your waist for a moment longer, the satin of your robe bunched helplessly in his grasp. Reluctantly, he lets go, his back brushing against the doorknob as if the exit is pushing him to leave.
Javier’s gaze lingers over you one last time, absorbing every detail like a man cataloging his losses.
The swollen redness of your eyes and how you seem to fold into yourself as if shielding your heart from further harm. Because of him. The betrayal etched deep into your expression cuts deeper than any wound he’s ever felt. Because of him. It all screams painful vulnerability, lowered self-esteem you didn’t have before.
All he’s done is hurt you. Him and his inability to separate his good intentions from his devastating habits. Him and his selfishness, pursuing you when he knew better.
Now you get a good look at him: disheveled, bags shadowing his weary eyes, faint bruises staining his jawline, his heaving chest exposed and slick with the sweat of desperation.
You both stand in silence, weighed down by words unspoken because there���s nothing left to say. The air between you is charged with the knowledge that you despise what he’s become.
He reaches for the door and opens it, the sound of the bolt sliding back loud in the tense silence.
Time marches on, indifferent to your heartbreak, and Javier hesitates, his boots heavy as they meet the threshold.
Gathering every ounce of strength left in you, you find your voice. “Please leave… and don’t come back.”
Your voice prompts him, cold and resolute, and it takes everything in him to obey. He steps out, the apartment door left wide open behind him.
He turns, desperate for one last look, the soft daylight framing him like a man on the edge of a cliff. “I love you.”
You grip the edge of the door, willing yourself not to fall apart further. “Not anymore,” you whisper, venom interwoven through the statement. “Never again.”
And with that, you shut the door in his face, turning the lock with trembling hands.
The weight of it all crashes over you now that you’re alone and you stumble back, collapsing right there on the floor. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow to muffle the sobs racking your body as you begin to mourn the loss of the man you loved.
On the other side of the door, Javier stands frozen, the loss sinking into his bones. The worn numbers of your apartment stare back at him, mocking him with their permanence.
He blinks slowly, a single tear leaking from his eye as his fingers brushing the wood one last time before he turns away, dragging his feet next door, knowing that he’s lost you forever.
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Months later, you receive a letter.
The envelope is creased and smudged, the handwriting unmistakably his—slanted, hurried, like he couldn’t get the words down fast enough. You almost toss it, but that small, unhealed part in your heart with his name carved on it keeps you from doing so.
I’m sorry. For everything. I think about you every day, and I know I have no right to, but I do. I hope you’re happy. You deserve that much…
You read it over and over until the words blur.
You never write back. There’s no reason to.
Some love stories don’t end with a clean break or a tidy resolution. Some just… linger, like a wound that scabs over but never truly heals.
And that’s what you and Javier become: a scar, a memory that neither of you can fully let go of, no matter how hard you try.
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tag list for my works can be found here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤
🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @thundermartini . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @biapascal .
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odysseys-blood ¡ 22 hours ago
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for context on my answers i'm nonbinary (and consider myself trans)
1) Black trans, intersex, nonbinary, etc people are stuck living trying to navigate at least two different sets of expectations around gender and gender expression at all times. Not only are we stuck being scrutinized for how well we fit into eurocentric beauty standards and gender roles despite not being our primary culture, we then STILL have to worry about how well we fit into and how we want to subvert gender and expression in Black communities. I think for the most part we try to work around gender expression in our own culture instead of what broader white society dictates so we're not gonna have the same feelings about smthn like. a celebrity or character that you think is "transition goals" and oftentimes those examples given are a direct opposite to how we already look. like my androgyny is nowhere near the same as a Black person as yours are.
2) kinda piggy backing off the previous one: i don't ever really fit what a general "nonbinary" character looks or feels like in media and in fact its an odd thing to navigate while Black. Most the examples I do see on nonbinary culture is very white and even being in Black LGBT spaces sometimes it feels like there arent many of us (In the whole like 100+ people GSA on my campus i believe i was the only person who was nonbinary but that school was also in the boonies lmao). I think in general all nonbinary people tend to express ourselves differently with a general aim towards androgyny, but at least theres more examples with white or nonblack characters because i can only think of...1. And that one was retroactively revoked by the creators so not even a 1 😭
3) I don't even hold out much hope anymore for one brsides other people's ocs but i'd love to see ANY kind of Black nonbinary character in a main role. idc what they're doing. just any one. because like i said the one I had known of was changed and im still bitter about it.
I am reaching out to Black trans, intersex, and people with a societally-deemed "unconventional" relationship to gender!
I am currently working on a future lesson involving gender and sexuality. But for certain things, I am not comfortable speaking for a community when I think it would be better to let them speak for themselves. I too am still learning (so I ask for grace).
What I want to do is either have a post to link to the lesson with your opinions in the tags/notes, and a summarized section of bullet points to show the range of perspectives on what I'm about to ask you. You don't have to answer all of them (or any if you don't want, it's volunteering). You can even send asks that if you don't want to be published, I will not publish. Succinctness will help me read everyone's responses, I will admit 😅
My questions:
1. What's ONE thing you wish nonblack people would understand the most about your experience?
2. How do you think you see or experience the world and media in comparison to white or nonblack people with a shared gender identity?
3. What's a story you'd like to see of yourself in media? Are there current examples?
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bitchface24-7 ¡ 2 days ago
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Heyyyyyyyy v so like I wanted to request something perhaps you could do a skyvik fic with a female reader(smut if your comfortable) but also lighthearted and fluff I don't really know what exactly to request so like you can do whatever trope or like situation you want cuz I'm nervous
Thank you sooooo much❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️
HE’S A MAN, USE IT AGAINST HIM - SKYVIK X READER
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synopsis: you and Sky have been in a relationship for awhile now, and the two of you have been in love with your lab partner Viktor for some time. He's completely focused on Hextech, tunnel-visioning the success Hextech can bring. You two want him to relax, so you do what you need to do to achieve that. He's a man, you know exactly what to do.
warnings: pre-established SxR, flirting, teasing, banter, purposely coming on to Viktor, dressing provocatively, flustering the poor man, blue balls, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, marking, creampie, squirting, smoking cigarettes, Grammarly is my beta
genre: m/f/f
p.s. Poor Viktor, he’s got two hot ladies all over him and his brain is frying. He didn't expect you two to act like this; but he's not complaining.
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You see Sky grumbling as she gets ready in your bedroom. She's huffing and puffing as she gets ready, her minor makeup, her hair, her clothes. You watch from the sidelines as your girlfriend gets ready.
“What’s wrong my love? Why’re you huffing and puffing?” You ask sweetly, coming up behind her and kissing her on the cheek. She smiles and adjusts her glasses, before sighing a bit.
“It’s Viktor.”
You nod in understanding, “Ahh, our resident genius who is somehow oblivious and extremely pretty.”
Sky laughs at your description of him, “You’re not wrong. But our plans aren't working! No matter what we do, he brushes us off. He can't be that oblivious, he's probably just trying to let us down gently.”
Your hands rub up and down her arms as you look at her through the mirror, “I don’t think so love. He knows we are together. He probably just assumes we’re being nice, you gotta be more out there. Communicate in a way he understands.”
“I have been.”
“Not as a scientist love. As a man.”
Sky looks at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she contemplates your words, “What do you have in mind?”
You smirk, kissing the crook of her neck, “Just… changing a few things…” as you removed her academy vest and undid some buttons on her top. She gasps when you cup her breasts, “He’s a man Sky, we’re going to use it against him. Change out of your pants and put a skirt on, the red one I like.”
Sky sputters, “That’s against the dress code.” You huff out a laugh at her embarrassment, “Not if it reaches past your finger tips.”
Your girlfriend just shakes her head fondly and does what’s asked of her. She does look great. The shirt exentuates her chest, her skirt looks amazing on her; showing off her long legs and complimenting her skin. She wear a simple pair of flats to make the outfit whole.
She sees you in the corner of her eye getting ready too, you're only in a lacy black number that makes you look drop-dead gorgeous. The bra makes your breasts look fantastic, and the cheeky cut of your underwear makes Sky want to spank you, so she does.
You gasp lightly at the stinging, and turn around and playfully swat at your girlfriend; a fake look of annoyance on your face. “Sky, you ass!”
“Your ass actually. It looks great in those panties. What're you gonna wear?”
She sees in your arms you have a light blue button up, a black blazer, and black jeans that lean a bit grey. She's a bit confused at the outfit choice, until she sees you put it on.
Your shirt is barely buttoned, but its still appropriate somehow. Your jeans hang lower on your abdomen giving a tantalizing peek at your skin there, the blazer is oversized and hides everything necessary before getting to the lab. Your tits look phenomenal, Sky can even see a bit of your bra poking out. You put on a few of your favourite necklaces, some perfume, and you fix your hair.
Sky adds her own finishing touches as she admires you. She feels so lucky to have you; and the fact you want Viktor too makes it all the better.
Some black loafers are all that's left and your outfit is complete. You look to Sky and smirk, “Ready to get our man?”
“As I'll ever be.”
And with that, you two leave your apartment and head to the lab, with one task on your mind.
Seduce Viktor.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Jayce almost bumps into you two as you go to enter the lab, and he quirks an eye at you both. Sky’s always looked presentable, but she's gone above and beyond today wearing a skirt. You on the other hand look a bit more casual, until he sees your cleavage.
You smile at the man, “Enjoy your meeting with Councillor Medarda, Jayce. No need to rush, Sky and I will keep Viktor company.” You subtly wink, and Jayce knows exactly what you two are doing.
He snorts a laugh as he claps a hand on your shoulder, “Take good care of him.”
“We will.”
With that, Jayce walks away with a small pep in his step. He hopes Viktor survives this encounter, cause you two looked like you were out for blood.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Viktor is working in the lab as he hears two individuals enter. He knows Jayce has an… “appointed meeting” with Councillor Medarda, so it must be their two girls coming to help.
He looks up to greet you two and his mouth goes dry at the sight of you. All he can see are Sky’s long legs and tiny waist. Your abdomen and ample cleavage as you remove the jacket and bend forward a little. He even sees some of your bra. It’s black and appears to be lacy.
He wants to touch it.
“Hi Viktor! What’re you working on?” Sky greets sweetly as she walks over, the sway of her hips more prominent now that she’s wearing a skirt. Viktor gulps.
“Just— ah— the hexarm. Trying to make it move smoother. But it’s not working.”
He then hears you coming and has to surpress a groan, he gets a light flash of your abdomen as you walk, your cleavage is out and proud, your necklaces draw focus to it, and your hips sway as well.
He's not sure if he could handle you separately, but the two of you together are deadly.
Sky essentially sits on the corner of his desk as you walk to his back and lean over his shoulder, your tits are resting on said shoulder and he knows if he looks to the side, that's all he’ll see, “You forgot to carry the two. Your equation isn't balanced.”
Viktor inhales sharply and musters out a thanks as you just smile sweetly at him, as you walk away your hand brushes the nape of his neck and Viktor has to suppress a shiver and a groan.
What the hell are you two doing? He knows you two are together, he knows you two have been flirting with him, but he didn't think anything of it.
Now you've pulled out the big guns, and Viktor feels like a bug in a spiders web. Trapped and ready to be taken whole.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The two of you are awful. Touching him, teasing him, taunting him with innuendoes. He wants to tear his hair out, he wants to rush to the bathroom and deal with the aching erection he's had since the two of you walked in.
But he does nothing. He continues to work as the two of you plot and plan away.
“He’s close to breaking. I can feel it.” You state confidently as you whisper, Sky looks at you apprehensively, “I don’t know... Wouldn't he have already? We've done everything.”
You sigh, “Not everything. Next time you go over, offer to make a sweet milk for him, he'll never say no to that. Then before you go, lean down and kiss him on the cheek as your hand is on his thigh to brace yourself. Make the sweet milk and I'll just be blunt and tell him what we want in filthy detail. That should do it.”
Sky looks a bit nervous about that idea, “Are you sure it'll work?”
“Positive. He's on the breaking point. He can't ignore a blunt statement. Not even if he wants to. C'mon, let's do it.”
The two of you split a part and do your assigned roles. You lean against his desk as Sky does her bit. You can see Viktor looking at her lecherously, down her shirt, her legs, everywhere he can get his eyes on. He gasps when she kisses his cheek and squeezes his thigh, you gasp when she kisses you briefly before going to the kitchenette to make the sweet milk.
You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your boobs up further. He immediately locks onto that, “Stop it.” He says, his teeth clenched as he tries to look away, he fails.
“Stop what?” You tease, leaning forward slightly as you readjust your position on his desk, this causes him to finally groan.
“This. This game you have going on. I want no part of it.”
You sigh, “There is no game, Viktor. Is it so hard to imagine we want you? That we've fantasized about you, talk about you all the time. That we want you desperately. To make you feel good, to make sure you're taking care of yourself. That we think you’re the most attractive man we've ever seen?”
Viktor sits there stunned at your words. He doesn't snap out of it until he hears Sky put the milk down onto the desk.
“Did you tell him?” Sky asks, shyly looking at Viktor, you snort, “I think I broke him.”
“You— want me?”
You and Sky look to one another before at the flustered man before you, the two of you have a smirk on your face as you simultaneously say, “Desperately.”
You lean in and kiss Viktor, it’s chaste at first before all the heat comes out. You moan lightly at the feeling and Viktor groans, you pull away and before Viktor can realize what's happening, Sky takes your place.
You take one side on his neck and kiss it sloppily, a few nips, bites, and sucks here and there to mark his neck a lovely purple. You also leave red lipstick stains behind.
Sky mirrors you, except she leaves a more mauvy-brown colour behind. Viktor is covered in bruises and kiss stains, you want to see that all the way down his chest.
But before that can happen, you usher your loves from the desk to the futon in the corner of the lab, its always nice to have something to nap on.
But you three definitely are aren't napping.
Before you know it, you're all naked. Viktor’s laying down on the futon, you hover above his cock and Sky hovers above his face.
Viktor feels like he can die a very happy man right now.
You moan as his cock stretches you out. Its a wonderful cock, you can feel your pussy moulding to it’s shape. Sky hesitaes, not wanting to suffocate Viktor. He gives her no choice and yanks her down by her thighs to sit. She whines out in surprise and pleasure, fuck, Viktor's good with his tongue.
Sky ruts against his face and you bounce harder and faster on Viktors cock, you use Sky’s shoulders to help keep you balanced. The two of you kiss, muffling each other's moans. Several minutes go by and Sky’s moans crescendo, she breaks the kiss and sighs. Slowly getting off Viktor’s face so he can breath.
A loud moan is what you get in return. You put your hands on Viktors chest to support know since Sky is off to the side winding down from her orgasm, but she's still rubbing her clit watching the two of you.
Viktor's cock keeps hitting your g-spot, your mouth is open, your eyes are rolled back, and filthy moans escape your lips. Viktor doesn't look much better.
“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum!” You squeal out, and a gush of slick leaves your pussy. Viktor groans and thrusts up into you slightly, prolonging your orgasm and bringing himself closer to his.
“Me too— where do I—” You cut him off, “Inside. Please. I want it inside!”
Viktor brokenly moans at that and makes sure he's balls deep inside you as he cums. Sky whines at the sight of you two and cums for a second time.
The three of you are panting in exhaustion. With no strength to clean yourselves up, you just pass out. The two of you guarding sky who just had enough energy to move herself closer to you two.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You wake up a few hours later to see only you and Sky in the futon, you look off to the side and see Viktor relaxing on the balcony connected to the lab. You go to join him, putting your button up back on and your black lace panties. You then search your blazer for your cigarettes and lighter.
Quietly padding our of the lab, you join Viktor. The night is nice and warm, there's a light breeze, but nothing that'll make you cold.
Viktor looks over at you in admiration. Your shirt isn't even rebuttoned, allowing him full view to your breasts, your panties are snug against your hips, and your legs look lovely. There's no makeup on your face and your hair is a mess.
This may be the most beautiful version of you Viktor’s ever seen.
You start the cigarette and inhale lightly, you offer it to Viktor who takes it in appreciation. Only you two know the other smokes, and you two are gonna try your best to keep it that way.
“Well…” Viktor starts as he breathes out some smoke, god he's gorgeous, “That was unexpected.”
You snort when you take the cigarette back, huffing your own hit, “No it wasn't. You were just purposely blinding yourself.”
Viktor sighs when you hand him the cigarette, “You’re not wrong, but still. Can you blame me?”
“No. No I can't. But aren't you happy it happened?”
“I am.”
The two of you finish the cigarette in silence before sharing one last kiss, this one much sweeter than the rest, “C’mon, let's go to bed. Wouldn't want to worry Sky, and I know you haven't been sleeping well.”
“How?”
“Jayce ratted you out.”
Viktor tisks as you two get back into bed. There's a conversation to be had, but that can happen later. For right now, the three of you sleep in peace.
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Somebody needs to sedate me frfr. Hope y'all enjoyed this smutty little fic xoxo ❤️
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wachtelspinat ¡ 1 day ago
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do you have any advice, resources or practices you recommend for making your art more expressive? I adore how you push expressions and body language, and the way it keeps its weight is phenomenal! I wanna learn how to do that, too!
hey thank you so much <3
one of the most important things that i've learned on my way and that i've kept in my mind ever since is what makani states in [this post] sometimes i go into a drawing and just try to construct it bit by bit, only to realize that the eyes don't fit the mouth etc... then i remember to treat it all as ONE expression and (second very important lesson incoming) i erase everything and start anew (i know it feels bad to just delete a sketch of a head (you don't have to delete it right away, you can always just take another layer) but believe me it not only saves you tons of time, you also learn more when you just start over from scratch. the thing i do is as follows, i keep the bad sketch open and try to figure out what i don't like about it, and put extra focus in those areas in the new sketch. like i think the eyes were too dull in the first try? the solution is to draw them open even wider, turn up that expression a nodge, try to "bend" it). i know this sounds exhausting, you might think isn't it easier to just try to fix the first sketch? i thought so too for many years, but believe me, if you don't like it, start a new one. you will always be amazed on how good it can turn out (and, as said before, the benefit of analyzing your own art and trying to figure out what went wrong and fixing it in a new attempt is HUGE.)
third thought on this is "don't be afraid to push the boundaries". like i grew up being a huge ren & stimpy fan as a kid, i love classic cartoons, i love exagerated expressions so much, eyes popping out, sweat drops flying around, over the top visualisation of feelings. that's my shit (pizza tower i'm looking at you). then on the other hand i also love things feeling palpable and real, hence the weird mix of my style i guess... what i want to say is: don't be afraid to push your expressions a bit. not only is it fun, with the right balance it really adds to it all (in regards of body language and facial expressions likewise).
and last but not least, so important: use references. i often take photos of myself doing weird gestures just to see how the mouth or the eyes would look like for a specific expression, how the nose wrinkles, how the shoulder come up when trying to visualize that someone is tense etc etc. use ref, please, not only photos but also drawings, try to figure out how other artists translate certain gestures in their art, how can you stylize this (everything ofc without copying directly from them... like for personal practice everything is cool and chill, but respect the rules of the artist community)
it is hard to pinpoint down how everything we do in our art lives comes down to what we draw at the end of the day, like everything i post, how it looks, is the result of almost 2 decades of drawing with a purpose, but i hope this helps a bit.
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blxxmingrose ¡ 2 days ago
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june’s words felt like a song in a familiar melody that hans had grown to love over time, the cadence of his voice making hans relax in his husband’s arms. it was one of those moments where he felt safe and assured of everything, no questions to worry about or any doubts to linger. there was just him and june and all the possibilities for their future. 
as he mirrored june’s own smile, he looked into june’s eyes, his own orbs filled with the happiness that could only come from being so filled with love. “we’ll only get better,” he spoke softly, every word filled with more love. “we’ll learn more about how to treat each other well, and soon, we will have little testaments of our love.”
his head scanned the room, dreaming up a future with it decorated with frames on the wall and laughter all over. “we will need more furniture—enough for everyone to sit and talk comfortably. i want us all to gather here and tell everyone about their day.” he remembered the family room in the palace, one that had grown unused as his siblings moved out, and one he had hoped to fill with his own family someday. but the location did not matter. his home, his family, was where june was. 
thinking about how easily he fit into june’s arms—how perfectly they fit together—it filled hans with hope. for their wedding, for all their dreams to start coming true. it made him want to be better too. his hands reached up to cup june’s face, holding him in place as he looked deep into his eyes. “you are the most important to me. i will take good care of you every day. when my other half is happy, then i am happy too.” 
june listened quietly, his expression softening with each word hans spoke. there was a warmth in his chest, a steady, undeniable pull toward the man in front of him, as if hans’s words were stitching together the fragments of his past and turning them into something whole. something new.
“i think,” june began, his voice low and deliberate, “we’ve always been good at knowing our priorities because we’ve always chosen each other. even when it wasn’t easy.” his gaze lingered on their joined hands, the ring catching the light, a quiet testament to everything they had built together.
he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he thought about hans’s words. “as much as i love the idea of us being ‘inseparable in the eyes of the law,’ i don’t think we’ve ever needed a contract or a ceremony to know that, have we?” june leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to hans’s temple, letting the moment stretch between them. “but still… i can’t wait for that day.“ he pulled back just enough to meet hans’s gaze again, his thumb tracing slow, thoughtful circles over hans’s hand.
a soft, wry smile crept onto his lips as he glanced toward scooter, now snoring softly, oblivious to the weight of the conversation around him. he exhaled, leaning back slightly but never letting go of hans’s hand. “we’ve got time to figure out the details.but right now? all i care about is us.”
june’s smile widened, a quiet, unshakable certainty shining in his eyes. “and for what it’s worth? i think you’re pretty good at this whole ‘other half’ thing, too.”
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