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writingwithciara · 3 months

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18 (Part 2) ~Matt Sturniolo~

summary: back in la, things start heading south for y/n & matt while a little bit of jealousy drives y/n into the arms of chris

word count: 10.4k (longest thing i've ever written. holy)

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader, brief chris sturniolo x fem!reader

notes: i wasn’t sure i wanted to write another part of ‘18’ but i had an idea the other night and had to write it. wasn't aware it was going to fit with ‘18’ but i’m happy it did. insecurity, jealousy & swearing throughout. toxic matt & sweet chris. a few suggestive moments & allusions to sexual content, smut at the end. enjoy!

part 1 !

masterlist

as soon as y/n and matt walked through the door to the triplets house 3 days later, chris was attacking them with questions. matt ignored every single one of them and went straight to his room. chris looked at y/n hoping she had an answer but all she did was shrug.

“he was like that the entire plane ride. don't know what’s wrong with him.” she sighed and sat down on the couch. chris took the seat next to her and resumed the tv show he had been watching.

“he’s normally moody. wouldn't worry too much about him. he’ll snap out of it eventually.” chris took a moment to look at his friend. “did anything happen in miami that could’ve caused this mood?”

“not that i can remember. everything was great while we were there. and even after we kissed, everything seemed to be perfect between us.” y/n shook her head.

“you guys actually kissed?!?” chris nearly yelled, pausing his show and giving her his full attention. “i knew it. nick owes me 10 bucks.”

“chris, now is not the time to be thinking about that.” y/n sighed. “what if matt only said all those sweet things and kissed me because it was christmas? what if he only did it because my dad had just proposed to crystal and he was caught up in the moment?”

“y/n, i’m sure that’s not why he kissed you.” chris looked up at her with sad eyes. “he’s just being stupid right now. it will definitely blow over.”

“i hope you’re right because valentine’s day is coming up soon and i was hoping that matt and i would be doing something that day. something romantic.”

“if he doesn’t snap out of his mattitude soon, if worst comes to worst, i’ll be your matt replacement for the evening.”

“i appreciate the offer, chris. thank you.” y/n let out a small chuckle and looked at the tv.

“anytime.” he looked at his phone quickly before turning his show off. “it’s getting late and i'm heading to bed. nick is gone for the night so you can sleep in his room if you want. but you are more than welcome to come crash in my room if you don’t feel like being alone tonight.”

“okay.” y/n grabbed her phone and followed chris downstairs to his room. chris sat in his chair and faced the bed.

“if you want, we can play some fortnite or something. shooting things might help take your mind off of matt for a while.” chris picked up his controller. “you up for it?”

“sure. why not?” y/n pulled his extra chair over and looked at the screen. “i wish matt was as easy to read as you or nick.”

“what do you mean?” chris opened the game and looked at y/n. “you think that i’m easy to read?”

“well, easier than matt. i can mostly tell what you’re thinking at any given moment.”

“okay. what am i thinking of right now?”

“you’re thinking that i'm a better fortnite player than you, obviously.” y/n smiled.

“wow. lucky guess.” chris rolled his eyes playfully and started a match. as they took turns playing, y/n’s worries about matt began to fade. she focused on taking out as many opponents as she could while chris watched in amazement. after a few hours of playing, chris pointed out it was nearly 4 am. “we should probably get some sleep. that jet lag should be hitting you soon.”

“you’re right.” y/n stood up and took her spot on the left side of chris’ bed. he quickly joined her on the right side and plugged both of their phones into the chargers.

“see you in a few hours, y/n.” chris yawned and quickly passed out after. y/n stayed awake for another half hour before she dozed off herself.

around 7 am, matt was in the kitchen getting some water when he nearly tripped over y/n’s suitcase. he thought she had gone home but realized how late they got back to la and went to check nick’s room for her. when she wasn’t in his bed, he began to panic. then he remembered that y/n and chris liked to play fortnite together. so he ventured down to chris’ bedroom and opened the door as quietly as he could.

chris' arm was placed delicately across y/n’s waist and she was snuggled up close to him, essentially being the little spoon to chris’ big spoon. matt swore he could feel his heart break at the sight. he slowly closed the door and headed back to his room, his thoughts taking over and keeping him from going back to sleep.

a few hours later, y/n stretched and looked behind her. at some point in the night, she and chris had moved into a cuddling position and although it wasn’t a rare thing, she felt guilty. part of her knew that if matt had seen them, he would be heartbroken and she couldn’t deal with that. she felt chris’ arm move slowly as he began to wake up. y/n turned to face him and smiled.

“good morning.” he returned the smile and removed his arm from her waist completely. “sleep alright?”

“yeah.” she sat up and pulled the sleeves of her shirt down to cover her hands. “i still feel a bit upset about the whole matt thing though. he keeps running through my mind and i hate that.”

“don’t waste all your energy trying to solve the mystery that is matthew sturniolo.” chris sat up and looked at y/n. “he’s my brother and i still haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

“i suppose you’re right.” y/n moved herself off the bed and grabbed her phone. “i should head back to my apartment soon and unpack. i'll stop by later though, okay?”

“yeah. alright.” chris grabbed a shirt and followed her out of his room. “um, do you want a ride home?”

“well seeing how you can’t drive and the only other person in the house who can is matt, i think i’ll pass.”

“i can ask matt & if you think it’s going to be awkward, i can come with you guys.”

“it’s fine, chris. i only live a few blocks away. i've made the walk before.”

“yeah but you never had to do it with a large, heavy suitcase.” chris pleaded with her and when she sighed, he knew she was about to give in.

“i hate when you’re right.” y/n went to lift her suitcase but almost fell over. “i really hate it.”

matt wasn’t as willing to drive her home as chris was hoping but he did it anyway just so he would have time to think without her around.

when y/n walked into her apartment, the first thing she did was facetime nick. his bright smiling face appeared and even though he reminded her of matt, y/n couldn’t help but smile back.

“hey. you back in la?”

“yeah. we got back last night and i crashed at your place. i was really sad you weren’t there.” y/n sighed and looked around her apartment.

“i know. but I’ll make it up to you later when you come back over.” he paused for a second after taking in her expression. it was pensive. “you are coming back over, aren’t you?”

“i don’t know, nick. things have been really weird between me and matt since we got on the plane.” y/n sighed. “i did promise chris that i would come back later.”

“then it’s settled. and if things seem awkward with matt, chris and i will act as buffers.”

“i love you, nick.” y/n smiled at her best friend. he didn’t even have to ask what happened or why it was all of a sudden awkward. he believed her wholeheartedly, without question.

“i love you too.” he offered her a kind smile. “so i’ll see you later?”

“yeah. about an hour or two. still gotta have a shower and unpack.” y/n glanced over at her suitcase and sighed. the memories of the trip filling every vacant part of her brain. “talk to you later, nick.”

“can’t wait.” nick smiled and hung up. y/n set her phone on the coffee table and headed to the bathroom. while the warm water washed over her, she thought back to the last day of the trip

matt and y/n were sitting with brooke and jackson on the lounge chairs around the pool. matt’s hand rested gently on y/n’s thigh as he talked to jackson. brooke was on the other side of y/n and she was observing everything matt did to show affection to y/n. she gently nudged her cousins shoulder and pulled her attention away from matt.

“what’s up, brooke?”

“your boyfriend is perfect. just thought i would let you know.” brooke beamed. “he’s hot, funny, sweet & most importantly, he treats you like an absolute princess. and an added bonus is he gets along with every member of our family. that's almost impossible.”

“he’s pretty perfect, i suppose.” y/n nodded and faced matt, only to find him already staring at her.

“hey.”

“hey.” y/n smiled and it felt like they were the only two there.

“when did you want to head back to the hotel?”

“after dinner. dad and crystal are making my favorite meal.” y/n played with the necklace around her neck.

back at the hotel that night, y/n was stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her body when matt decided to walk right in.

“matt!”

“sorry. thought you were dressed already.” he turned around and left the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door. just as y/n reached for the handle, matt came back. “for what it’s worth, you look amazing.”

“matthew bernard!” y/n pushed him out of the bathroom and got dressed quickly. she got in her bed and faced matt’s direction. “i can never thank you enough for coming with me this week, you know.”

“you don’t have to thank me. it was a lot of fun.” he smiled widely and placed his phone down on the nightstand between the beds. “we’ve been sharing the same bed all week so why are you over in that bed?”

“not quite sure.” y/n glanced over at him. “instinct i guess.”

“well is it okay if i join you over there?” matt looked at her hopefully. she nodded and matt wasted no time climbing into the bed behind her. he cautiously placed his arm over her waist, doing his best not to put too much pressure on the situation.

y/n noticed his behavior and placed her hand over his much larger one, turning her head just enough to see the awkward half-smile on matt’s face.

“you okay with this?” matt whispered into her ear. y/n felt a shiver crawl down her spine at the thought of how close they were. instead of focusing on that, y/n began to play with the rings on matt’s fingers. she nodded in response to his question and felt him loosen up a bit. he got as close as he possibly could and placed a soft kiss just beneath her ear.

“matt.” her voice came out as more of a soft moan than the intended whisper. matt smirked to himself and placed more kisses on her neck, causing her to to pull her bottom lip between her teeth. the hand that was resting over her waist began to wander her body but matt stopped when y/n turned to face him.

“i’m sorry. i should’ve checked with you to make sure that was alright.” He began to stumble over his words so y/n shut him up with a kiss. as their lips molded together perfectly, y/n took matt’s bottom lip between her own, causing him to groan. something stirred inside y/n for the first time and her confidence took over. she climbed onto his lap and deepened the kiss as he held her hips tightly.

the kiss went way beyond the confines of their friendship and even though they had admitted their feelings the day before, it still felt like uncharted territory.

matt's hands moved from their place on y/n’s waist to just beneath the bottom of her shirt. or rather, his shirt that she had managed to steal from him at some point in time. his fingers danced delicately on the bare skin, causing y/n to shudder a little bit. matt pulled away from the kiss and raised an eyebrow.

“you alright?”

“yeah but your fingers are cold.” y/n hid her face in the crook of matt’s neck, gently placing a kiss there. she then rolled off his lap and pulled herself into him. matt didn’t question the sudden change. instead, he opted for holding y/n as close as possible and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “good night, matt.”

the water in the shower was nearly ice cold by the time y/n was finished. and when she got out, she realized that maybe part of matt’s sudden mood change was her fault.

she got dressed and headed out to her car. there were so many things she needed to talk to matt about.

when she got to the house, she knocked hard and waited. matt answered the door and silently let her inside.

“matt, can we talk?”

he ignored her question and headed to the kitchen. “chris is in the shower right now and nick still isn’t home. you're free to hang out here until one of them returns. i'll be in my room.” matt turned away from her and headed down the hall. but y/n wasn’t about to give up. she stepped between him and the door, causing him to sigh in annoyance.

“you can’t just ignore me, matt.” she followed him as he turned to head back to the kitchen. “we need to have a serious conversation and you need to stop acting like a child.”

“how am i acting like the child?” he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, sipping on the root beer he had pulled from the fridge.

“matt, seriously?” y/n mirrored his position and pinched the bridge of her nose. “this is ridiculous. you're ignoring me and acting like nothing happened in miami.”

“well that’s because nothing happened.” matt shrugged casually and looked at her.

“really? you're still going to act like this?” y/n scoffed. “matt, we had a really heated moment and then it was over. how can you say nothing happened?”

“because it didn’t.” he sighed. “look, you can live in your little delusion all you want but i'm sticking with the facts.”

“so what? the kisses meant nothing?” she grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face her. “tell me they meant absolutely nothing to you and i'll leave it alone.” she searched his eyes for an answer and when all she got was silence, she felt tears begin to fall. her hand dropped from its position on his shoulder and she took a step back. “silence is all the confirmation i needed. see you around, matt.” y/n grabbed her keys from the counter and began heading for the door.

chris had finished his shower and was on his way up when he heard the argument taking place. he froze on the stairs until he heard y/n’s voice crack. he could tell she was crying and he wanted to punch matt for the silence. y/n said goodbye and chris could hear her footsteps heading down the front stairs. he emerged from his spot and went after his best friend, not sparing a glance matt’s way as he followed y/n out to her car.

“y/n, stop what you’re doing. you are not about to leave in this state. i refuse to let that happen.”

“i need to leave, chris.” y/n leaned her head on the car door and sobbed. “how can he say that the kisses meant nothing?”

“well, he never actually said they didn’t.” chris pointed out, earning a glare from y/n.

“the silence was all i needed to hear, chris.” y/n turned to lean her back against the door. she slid down until she was sitting on the driveway. chris sat next to her and sighed.

“i told you my brother was an idiot, y/n.”

“chris, in case you haven’t noticed, i'm not in the mood for an i told you so.” y/n almost snapped until she saw his face. she hardly ever raised her voice and it was never towards him. “i'm sorry. i-i didn’t mean to yell.”

“it’s okay. you should let it out. get angry.”

“i am not going to take my anger out on you, chris.” y/n smiled and chris saw it.

“i got you to smile!” he clapped his hands together excitedly. “if you want, we can go to a rage room.”

“i think i just want to go to your room and play some fortnite.” y/n bumped his shoulder and stood up. chris took her outstretched hand and ushered her back inside. he took her keys from him and they both headed down to his bedroom.

from his own room, matt could her them laughing whenever they killed an enemy player. little snip-its of their conversation could also be heard and it caused matt’s blood to boil. he shouldn’t be feeling this way, considering how he had just treated y/n not even 10 minutes ago.

a few more hours went by before nick came home. at this point in time, y/n and chris were in the living room laughing at a stupid movie they picked. when y/n saw nick, she jumped off the couch and hugged him.

“oh how i missed you. really glad you and chris didn’t kill each other while we were gone or else i would be forced to live a life without my 2 favorite people in the world.” she squeezed nick tightly and chris joined the hug.

“it wasn’t easy because chris is very annoying.” nick chuckled. chris punched his arm and almost fell backwards. y/n caught his arm and smiled.

“easy there, chris.”

“guess you could say i'm falling for you.” chris shot a smirk her way at the exact moment matt emerged from his room. the air around the group suddenly became heavy and quiet.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he questioned. y/n was staring at her feet while chris sent a glare his brothers way. nick had a sense of what had happened but didn’t want to ask any questions so he just looked anywhere else. “fine. don't answer me.”

“wasn’t planning on it.” chris spit out. matt grabbed a can of root beer from the fridge and looked around the room quickly before turning his attention to nick.

“remember how we were going to film a vlog on valentines day since none of us had plans?”

“yeah what about it?” nick shook his head and looked at y/n.

“turns out i have a date that night so i will be unavailable to film.” matt smirked and y/n wanted to slap that stupid look off his face. the only person he should’ve made plans with that night was her. she scooted closer to chris without even thinking.

“really?”

“yup.”

“who with?”

“madi.” he turned and headed back to his room. nick stood in his spot, completely speechless. chris put his arm around y/n’s shoulder and rubbed her arm.

“what the fuck?” she muttered under her breath, her voice beginning to crack. chris removed his arm and stood in front of her while nick took his place. they were trying their best to comfort her but the gestures weren’t working. y/n felt like her heart had been ripped out twice in one day.

“that’s it. you and i are definitely making plans now.” chris pulled her in for a hug, feeling extremely protective of his best friend. “i promise to make that kid regret his choices today.”

“how do you plan on doing that, chris?”

“gonna do everything for you that he should be doing. i'll write you love letters and shower you with gifts all day.”

“you don’t have to.” y/n tugged at the sleeves of the sweater she was wearing.

“i know i don’t have to. but i want to. i promised you earlier that i would be your matt replacement for the night, remember?”

“of course.” y/n looked up at him and smiled. he always knew how to pull her out of the worst moods.

“kinda wish i had been here earlier so i would know the full story.” nick shook his head and went up to his own room. y/n and chris went down to his room and played fortnite for a few hours.

after what felt like the 50th round, y/n stood up and stretched her body. chris averted his gaze out of respect when the sweater she was wearing rose up a little, revealing the small sun tattoo she got with nick last summer.

“i should get going. thanks for making today a little better for me.”

“you don’t have to thank me. you’re my best friend and i was just doing what any good friend would do.”

“well you’re the best friend in the entire world, chris.” y/n smiled and ruffled his hair playfully. “i love you.”

“love you too.” he smiled widely before checking his phone. “wanna stay for dinner? i was going to order a pizza. pepperoni, your favorite. we could even sit in the living room and watch your favorite movie.”

“you had me at dinner.” y/n ran up to the living room and laid on the couch. chris lifted her legs and placed them in his lap. matt walked out of his room, saw the way they were sitting together on the couch and rolled his eyes before looking down at his phone.

“hey matt. i'm ordering pizza for dinner.” chris didn’t look towards the kitchen as he informed his brother of their dinner plans.

“okay cool.” matt glanced up from his phone long enough to see chris place his hand just above y/n’s right knee. they were always affectionate with each other and matt knew there was no attraction between them so why was this bothering him so much? “i'll be in my room facetiming madi. come get me when the pizza gets here.” he nodded in their direction and went to his room. he wasn’t going to be facetiming anyone. he only said that to get a rise out of y/n. and judging by the way he saw her tense up, he knew it had worked.

y/n waited until she heard matt’s door shut completely before speaking again. “chris, do you think matt likes madi?” her fingers played with the strings of her hoodie as she spoke.

“i doubt it. but who knows with him?” chris focused on y/n as she began fidgeting in her spot. she was laser focused on the strings.

“am i only good enough when we’re not in la?” she glanced up at chris and felt like crying. chris noticed her intake of breath and his hand began tracing circles on her thigh. slow at first but speeding up every 5 seconds. it was the most effective way to calm her down.

“stop talking nonsense. you're more than good enough everywhere, y/n. matt is just being ridiculous.”

“i think his sudden shift in mood is because of what happened on our last night in miami.”

“what happened on the last night?” chris raised an eyebrow as y/n dove into the story. she explained how they almost hooked up and why she stopped it. chris didn’t judge her. he understood everything.

over the next week, whenever y/n was over at the house, chris would make sure to hand her little love notes when matt was around. he also called her every pet name he could think of. and did the bare minimum of what a ‘boyfriend’ should do.

every day, matt observed their interactions and with each passing day, he started to regret trying to make y/n jealous of madi. he wanted to be the one to write y/n notes and he wanted to be the one she adored endlessly. but he was too blinded by his own jealousy to realize what he had given up.

it came to the point where whenever y/n was at the house, which was pretty much all the time, he would have to stay in his room until she ended up in chris’ room for the night or went home. 9 times out of 10 she stayed overnight & it almost made matt sick seeing her with chris.

at some point in their little charade, the love letters chris gave y/n to feel real. to him, at least. he knew that the way he was feeling was wrong but he was so mad at his brother that he didn’t care about moving in on his girl.

one night, while y/n was laying on his bed in his fresh love crewneck & scrolling through tiktok, chris couldn’t help himself. he ended his game and laid beside her. he moved a piece of her hair out of her eyes and carefully placed it behind her ear. this little action drew y/n’s attention away from her phone, causing her gaze to go elsewhere, meeting the blue eyes she adored.

“hey.” she smiled, causing chris to blush profusely. “that’s really cute.”

“what is?”

“the way you’re blushing. and all because i smiled at you.” y/n kissed the tip of his nose and smiled again.

“you’re the cutest human being alive.” chris tried hiding the blush that crept up on his cheeks but y/n noticed it and held his face.

“excuse me but do i look like a fucking mirror, christopher? because how can i be the cutest human being alive when you also exist?” she looked into eyes and smiled at him again.

that smile. that damn smile. it’d be the death of him at this point. if there was ever a moment of tension to do something that could potentially make or break a relationship, now would’ve been the perfect time for him to make his move. but he didn’t have any time to react as y/n’s lips quickly found his.

he was shocked at first but after a moment, he kissed her back, pulling her close. he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. y/n was now straddling him and the kiss didn’t break.

y/n deepened the kiss and ran her hands down his chest, causing chris to groan and pull away for a second.

“wait.” he looked at her. “i need to know something before this goes any further.”

“what?”

“are you only doing this to get matt jealous? or are you actually into me?”

“can we just not complicate things right now, chris? you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“yeah of course.”

“then let’s just go with that. no need to make things more complicated than they already are.” y/n looked at chris and bit her lip. he was a sucker for her, that’s for sure.

for the remainder of time before valentines day, y/n and chris began an arrangement that really stretched the boundaries of their friendship. they never slept together but they were both willing to do whatever they could to please the other. chris was never one to leave a girl unsatisfied so there were times their encounters lasted hours. and chris loved every second of it.

matt tried to drown out the noises he heard coming from downstairs each time but even through his headphones, he could still hear it somehow. whether it was the sounds y/n made or the way she said chris’ name, matt couldn’t get it out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

how can she sleep with chris when she wouldn’t sleep with me? he often thought to himself. it was a constant reminder that falling for his brothers best friend wasn’t a good idea.

when valentines day finally arrived, chris woke up incredibly early and decided to make y/n some breakfast in bed. just as he finished plating everything, matt came out of his room and eyed chris’ neck before scoffing and opening the fridge.

“happy valentines day, matt.” chris smiled and grabbed the tray of food before heading down to his room. when he entered, y/n was sitting up, scrolling through her phone. she looked up when she heard his footsteps come closer.

“what’s all this?” she smiled and inspected the tray.

“well, it’s valentines day. the day of romance. and since i agreed to be your matt replacement today, i thought it’d be nice to wake you up with something delicious.”

y/n took a bite of the french toast and moaned at the taste. “this is the best fucking french toast i have ever had.”

“you think so?”

“yeah. it’s delicious.” she kept eating while chris sat next to her. “so what’s the plan for tonight?” she asked with a mouthful of food.

“i was thinking we could stay in and i could make you your favorite meal.”

“you can make chicken cordon bleu?”

“no.” he chuckled. “what’s your second favorite meal?”

“i like cheeseburgers and i love your cheeseburgers.”

“if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get tonight.”

“you’re the best.” y/n slipped on one of chris’ hoodies and walked towards the door. “i'm gonna go see nick for a minute but when i get back, i'm going to thank you properly for the breakfast.”

y/n left the room with a devilish smirk and headed up to nick’s room. she knocked lightly and waited before walking into his room. he was still asleep so she jumped up on his bed and tickled his nose. he quickly swatted her hand away and opened his eyes.

“let me sleep. you and chris are two floors below me and i could still hear everything that was going on down there.” he closed his eyes and turned away from her. “you guys are disgusting.”

“okay mr grumpy pants. i was just coming to wish you a happy valentines day.” she giggled, kissed his forehead and left the room. as she made her way through the kitchen, matt came out of the bathroom. he took in her attire and rolled his eyes. “what the fuck is your problem, matthew?”

“i just think it’s pretty funny that you wouldn’t sleep with me, someone you were supposedly ‘in love with’ but you’ll sleep with chris every chance you get.”

“well if you hadn’t been a jerk the entire time we’ve been home, you’d probably be the one who gets to do things to me. you’d be the one getting to leave these marks on me.” she rolled up the bottom of the hoodie and showed off the inside of her thigh. dark marks littered the skin there. matt clenched his jaw and stared at her.

“this is ridiculous.” he shook his head. “can’t believe you’re acting like such a whore.”

“fuck you, matt.” y/n shot him the finger and headed back down to chris’ room, slamming the door and causing herself to jump. “sorry, chris. didn’t mean to slam the door.”

“it’s alright.” he walked over to her and looked at her face. her eyes were welling up with tears and chris felt bad.

“i know i said when i got back from nick’s room that i would thank you properly for the breakfast, but can we just lay in bed, please?”

“of course. don't worry about it.” he ushered over to the bed and laid down with her, holding her tight. “are you alright?”

“matt’s an asshole.” she sighed, wiping away at the few tears that fell down her cheeks.

“what did he say to you?”

“he said i was acting like a whore.” she sniffled. chris shot out of bed and headed for the door. “chris, please don’t.” y/n fiddled with her fingers and looked at chris.

“i'm sorry but he can’t just say something like that and get away with it.” chris turned the knob and it was y/n’s turn to get out of bed. she hurried over to the chris and wedged herself between him and the door, gently placing a hand on his cheek.

“please?” she whispered lowly, on the verge of tears. chris crumbled and let her lead him back over to the bed. she played with his hair as they cuddled on the bed. it was clear they needed each other on a deeper level than just intimacy.

an hour later, chris noticed y/n had fallen asleep. he slipped out of her embrace and made his way up to matt’s bedroom. he knocked twice before matt yanked the door open.

“what do you want?”

“i want you to apologize.”

“i'm not apologizing to you.”

“no. you need to apologize to y/n for saying she was acting like a whore. last month, you were so madly in love with her and now you’re acting colder than you ever have. this is not the way you’re supposed to treat the person you love.”

“i'm over her, chris. she’s yours now. you can have your turn.” matt tried shutting his door but chris stopped it.

“look, matt. that girl is still hurting and she’s blaming herself for what’s happening between you guys.”

“then she should’ve thought about that before she started sleeping with you after basically rejecting me in miami.”

“she didn’t reject you, matt. and we’re not sleeping together.”

“oh please. save it, okay? i can not only hear you guys going at it in your room but i’ve also seen the marks you left on her. if those aren’t clear signs you’re having sex, then i don’t know what is.”

“it’s literally everything but sex.” chris ran his hands through his hair. “did you ever stop to think about why she didn’t sleep with you in miami? it’s because she was scared, okay? she was terrified that if she gave you everything that you would just turn around and hurt her. and you guys didn’t even have to have sex to do that. you’re killing her slowly, matthew. and honestly, i hate you so much for it right now.”

“don’t hate me for your girlfriends choices.” matt checked his phone. “now, if you don’t mind, i have a date to get ready for.”

chris stood in shock as matt closed the door roughly. why was his brother not understanding the situation clearly? it was driving him crazy.

instead of going back down to his own room, chris headed up to nick’s.

“nick, i need you to ask madi to be your date tonight.”

“what are you talking about? doesn't she have a date with matt?”

“yes but matt and y/n need to go on a valentines date. they're supposed to be together. not him and madi.”

“wait, i'm confused.” nick held up his hand and shook his head. “why are you trying to set your girlfriend up with matt?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.” chris ran his hands down his face. “her heart belongs to matt.”

“so? if he doesn’t want to be with her, then you gotta take a chance.”

“but he does want to be with her. you should’ve seen the way he got jealous when he thought i was having sex with y/n.”

“you guys aren’t having sex? then what the hell are you doing that makes so much noise?” he questioned, the realization hitting him a few seconds later. “oh. ew.”

“so, can you text madi or not?”

“i can try. but if she’s into this date, there’s not going to be a way to get her out of it.” nick began typing on his phone. within seconds, madi was requesting to facetime. nick answered it quickly and it didn’t take long for madi to start speaking.

“what are you even talking about, nick? i don’t have anything planned with matt tonight.” she raised her eyebrow and got closer to the camera. “why would he say that? oh my god. do you think he likes me?”

“no.” chris shook his head and turned to nick. “he’s an idiot.”

“i agree. why would he say he’s going on a date with madi if it’s not true?”

“because he was trying to make y/n jealous, obviously.” chris sprinted out of the room and almost fell as he took 2 steps at a time to get back to his room. y/n jumped back as he threw the door open, as she was just about to go looking for him.

“you look like you’ve been running laps around the house. what's going on?”

“change of plans tonight. instead of me cooking dinner for you, i'm taking you out to eat.” he smiled and looked around his room.

“okay. i'm not complaining, but why the sudden change?”

“just want an excuse to dress up.” he held her face gently and smiled widely.

“oh, how about you still cook for me and i'll still get all dressed up.”

“that sounds like a better plan.” he leaned in to kiss her and smiled when she kissed him back. “do you have something at the house you can change into?”

“yeah. it’s up in nick’s room.” she looked at him. “be right back.” y/n dashed out of chris’ room and went upstairs to nick’s room. she paused outside in the hallway when she heard nick and madi talking.

“so if he likes y/n, why doesn’t he just tell her? i mean, didn’t they just spend a whole week together in miami?”

“they did and from what i learned, something happened and it screwed up their relationship. i’m not sure what it was exactly, but matt’s been ignoring her since they got back and y/n’s been spending all her time with chris.”

“so, are y/n and chris together now?”

“no. well, i'm not quite sure. they might as well be.”

“but she needs to be with matt. maybe you should tell her that matt’s ‘date’ with me was never actually a thing.”

“no. it’s gotta be matt who tells her.”

y/n knocked on his door and looked at nick. “hey.”

“hey. how much of that did you hear?” nick turned towards her, still on the call with madi.

“almost everything.” she shrugged her shoulders.

“hey y/n.” madi waved with a smile.

“hey.” y/n returned the smile and looked back at nick. “i came up to get that dress i left up here. need it for my date.”

“it’s in my closet.” nick nodded towards the door and y/n walked in. nick was right behind her. “who’s your date tonight?”

“chris.” she reached for the baby blue piece of clothing. “instead of going out to a fancy restaurant, we came to a compromise. he's going to cook for me and we’re going to dress up as if we actually were going out tonight.”

“why are you still going on this date with chris if you know matt’s date with madi was never happening? i thought you would be happy.”

“why would i be happy about something matt lied about, especially after he basically called me a whore?”

“he did what?!?” both nick and madi exclaimed.

“not going to get into details. but he called me a whore earlier. well, he said i was acting like one because i was sleeping with chris.”

“but you’re not. does he know that?”

“no and let’s not tell him. he doesn’t deserve to know.”

“you two are incredibly stubborn and i hate it.”

“what are you talking about?” y/n turned to nick and eyed him.

“you and matt. one minute, you’re in love & the next it’s like you’ve never met before. why can’t you guys see that you’re supposed to be together?”

“we’re not meant to be together, nicolas. if there was any indication of that, something serious would’ve happened in miami.”

“what the fuck even happened while you guys were gone?”

“do you really want to know?”

“duh. that's why i asked.”

“okay, smartass.” y/n carefully set the dress on nick’s bed and looked at him. “it was our last night in miami. we were alone in the hotel room and we were cuddling on my bed and things started to get…intimate.”

“so you slept with him?”

“no. after a really steamy make-out session, it was over. that’s as far as we got.”

“who broke the moment first?” madi questioned.

“technically, he pulled away first. but he was only checking on me to see if i was okay with what was happening. his fingers were really cold and it made me shiver. but after that, the moment was over.”

“so let me get this straight. he touched your skin and it caused you to shiver. he then pulled away to check on you and the moment was over?” nick raised an eyebrow. “sounds like it might have been your fault, sorry.”

“nick, are you crazy? matt's the one who pulled away first. it’s totally his fault.” madi shook her head on the other end of the phone.

“it’s both our faults, i will admit.” y/n sighed. “and it sucks because i really, really liked him too.”

“then fucking tell him, dumbass.”

“nick, be nice.” madi scolded him. “it’s hard to tell a guy how you feel.”

“i am well aware.” nick chuckled then looked back at y/n. she was focused on the dress. the dress she bought for a party, hoping to get matt’s attention with the color since it was his favorite. she didn’t notice if it caught his eye. he had spent most of the party talking to some random girl she didn’t know but whenever she wasn’t looking, matt would look over at her.

“what am i supposed to do?” at this point, y/n was sitting on the edge of the bed. “i obviously still love matt. but now there’s the thing with chris. so no matter which brother i choose, i know i am going to break someone’s heart.”

“right now, you’re breaking my heart, y/n. i don’t like seeing you upset.” nick sat beside her and sighed. “i wish there was a better to go about life.”

“me too.” y/n looked at him.

“i've lived with them both my whole life and i know enough to tell you that no matter who you end up choosing, the other one will for sure get over it. neither of them hold grudges.”

“you’re right. now the only issue is trying to talk to matt without an argument breaking out.” y/n looked back at the dress. “and i also have to talk to chris. damn it.”

“you can do this, y/n. i believe in you.” madi grinned, happy to know she was helping a little. “i'll come by tomorrow to see you if you want.”

“that would be nice. maybe we could have a girls day.”

“yes that would be nice. in the meantime, good luck with the boys.” madi waved goodbye as y/n grabbed the dress and headed down to chris’ room to shower.

after an hour of getting ready, y/n took a look in the mirror. nick stood behind her and smiled.

“you are so gorgeous.” he rubbed her shoulders in a calming manner. he then quickly checked his phone. “well, it’s time to head up to your dinner. good luck.”

y/n took one last look in the mirror before heading up the stairs. chris turned away from the stove and whistled.

“wow. you look so good right now. well, you always look good. but tonight, you’re just…glowing.” he smirked and walked over to her. “ready to eat?”

“you bet.” y/n smiled and sat down when chris pulled the chair out for her. he hurried over to his chair and handed her the plate he prepared for her.

“enjoy.”

the two of them began to eat in near silence. the only sound they could hear for the first few minutes was the background music chris had picked out. after y/n finished half her burger, she looked up at chris.

“i really appreciate you, chris. you know that right?”

“yeah of course.” he set his food down and gave her his full attention. “this last week or so has been insane, right?”

“yeah.” y/n kicked her feet slowly. “can we talk about that, actually?”

“sure thing.” chris rested his head on his hands and let her do most of the talking.

“what we’ve been doing has definitely been fun. the most fun i think i have ever had.” she blushed. “and although i thoroughly enjoyed it, i think we should stop.”

“you’re not gonna believe this but i've been thinking the same thing.” chris let out a breath. “obviously, i will always care about you and i will cherish the time we spent together. but you and i both know that you’re supposed to be with matt.”

“this is why you’re the best, chris. you’re so understanding and you’re the sweetest person i know.” y/n reached across the table and took ahold of his hand. chris absentmindedly ran his thumb over her knuckles. "thank you for the most amazing 2 weeks of my life.”

“i should be the one thanking you.” he placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles and they both went back to eating. after their meal was done, y/n stood up slowly.

“guess it’s time to talk to matt.” she sighed and looked towards his bedroom. chris walked up behind her.

“good luck, y/n.” he kissed her forehead and headed down to his own room. y/n approached matt’s bedroom door and knocked lightly. while she waited, she thought of what she was going to say.

when he pulled the door open, he wasn’t expecting to see y/n standing before him. his eyes widened as he took in the way she looked. and when he saw she was staring at him, he quickly placed his gaze elsewhere and replaced the confusion with anger.

“what are you doing here?”

“matt, stop. you and i are going to talk and there’s nothing you can do about it.” she pushed him backwards and closed his bedroom door behind her. matt tried to protest but instead, she sat him down on the edge of his bed before taking a seat on his computer chair. the air grew thicker the longer they both stayed silent.

“well, you wanted to talk. so talk.” matt couldn’t help but let his attitude out in the moment. this caused y/n to roll her eyes but she started talking.

“look, i'm sorry about what happened in miami. i shouldn’t have just given up when the moment got a little too intimate.” she looked down at her lap and sighed. “truthfully, i was so scared. i know how experienced you are and i didn’t want to let you down with my lack of experience. i've never had sex with anyone and i thought that if i wasn’t good at it, you would stop talking to me. and as soon as i got off you that night, i regretted it. i was so stupid and i thought i was ready. even now, i don’t think i am. i'm still so terrified that i'll make a fool of myself and it’ll get spread around like a sickness.” y/n’s leg began to shake and matt watched as a tear landed on her lap. he wanted so badly to reach over and wipe it away but he wanted to be respectful. so he waited for her to go on. with a shaky breath, she continued her speech. “i hate that i drove you away. i hate that i loved you enough to introduce you to my family and then i threw it all away.” she shot her arm out to emphasize her point and it was then that matt noticed the necklace he gave her. it laid perfectly around her neck, only moving when she took a deep breath. “i’m so sorry i put you through what i did. i never wanted to hurt you and i only wish i could’ve explained why it happened the way it did.”

“you don’t owe me any explanation.” matt spoke. it shocked her to hear his calm voice again. he saw her head jerk up at it but he continued to speak. “i never should’ve gotten so pissed off that you wouldn’t have sex with me. that’s not who i am. if anything, i should be the one apologizing to you. you didn’t deserve the way i treated you and you most definitely did not deserve hearing what i said to you this morning. that was the lowest blow i could’ve dealt out and i'm so very sorry for it. i don’t think you’re a whore. you’re the farthest thing from it. i was just insanely jealous because chris was the one doing what i one day hoped to do. and i know jealousy is not an excuse but it was wrong. y/n,” he got on his knees and held her hands. “i am so fucking in love with you and i need you to know that. i may have dated other girls in the past but i have never loved any of them. you are by far the most kindhearted person in the world and definitely the most breathtakingly gorgeous. you could wear a fucking garbage bag and i would still love you. hell, i would love you even if you were a fucking worm.” matt met y/n’s gaze and smiled. “you look really good in this dress and i swear i meant to tell you at that party the first time you wore it but i was scared that you would just laugh in my face and call me stupid or something.”

“i do think you’re stupid. always have.” y/n nodded and smiled even with the tears cascading down her cheeks. matt chuckled and reached up to wipe them away, causing y/n to sigh contently.

“god, you are so perfect. i want everything with you. not just the sex. i want the stupid future with you. the one where we have 2 or 3 kids and a nice house in the suburbs where our kids can play safely. i want the late night conversations with you. fuck, i even want the stupid fucking rom-com shit with you. it’s always been you. there is absolutely nobody else and there never has been. god, you are it for me. you’ve ruined everybody else for me.” he looked up at her. “i just…i want you in every possible way. good and bad.”

“fuck, matt. i want you too.” y/n caved and pulled him in for a kiss. one he was more than happy to return. her hands went to his hair while his moved from her knees to her face. he craved every part of her. he detached his lips from her to place rough kisses trailing from her jawline down her neck. with every tug on her skin came a gentle kiss to soothe the pain.

matt stood up but y/n was not willing to break the kiss. thankfully, matt picked up with ease and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her over to the bed. the strap of her dress hung loosely on her shoulder as matt kissed every part of her he could. her hands remained in his hair as his lips explored every part of her body.

y/n felt matt getting frustrated with the strap of her dress so she slid it off her arm entirely. he was more than eager to show how thankful he was for the simple action. and as he kissed her now bare shoulder, she took the opportunity to slip the other strap off as well. her dress staying in place only because of the position she was in. if she had been standing or even sitting upright, the top of her dress would’ve already slipped down to reveal the black lace bra she wore.

“fuck, matt.” y/n bit her lip as he kissed just above the top of the dress. she could tell that her being fully clothed was causing matt to grow impatient. “want me to take this off?”

“fuck. yes please.” matt groaned and watched with hungry eyes as y/n maneuvered herself in a way that was so sensual to matt. the dress came off and matt wasted no time exploring the new territory. there was a faint mark just above the top of her panties, next to her sun tattoo, that matt knew chris had left. he took it upon himself to bite the skin with a little bit of pressure. not too much to hurt her, but enough to make a new mark.

y/n moaned as he left a trail of sloppy kisses up the inside of her thighs, stopping every few seconds to make new marks over the ones chris left behind. the idea of his brother getting there first only made him slightly more aggressive. his kisses on her thighs halted as he made his way back to her lips. his hands held her hips as he kissed her. instead of fisting his hair, she dug her nails into his back, causing him to let out a quiet groan.

“fuck. keep doing that and i'm gonna be finished before my pants come off.” matt whispered in her ear. he placed a kiss just beneath her earlobe, exactly like he had that night in miami.

he retraced his steps and traveled back down her body, stopping when he was just above where she needed him the most. he looked up at her and she didn’t hesitate to silently answer with a nod. matt slid his finger in the waistband and pulled them down her legs. once they were off, matt placed a kiss on both of her thighs before diving right in.

as his tongue moved in all the right places, y/n’s left hand clung to his bedsheets while the right one grabbed a fistful of his hair. he groaned into her and picked up his pace.

“jesus christ, matt. not gonna last long if you keep that up.” she spoke with a strained voice as she tried not to be too loud. matt just smirked and pulled her as close as he possibly could. she threw her legs over his shoulders and he was suddenly able to hit a new angle.

y/n could feel her orgasm approaching as matt continued to devour her. when the knot began to take its shape in her stomach, matt slowed down, but only a notch or two. he was trying to make it last as long as he possibly could, wanting to savor every moment.

it wasn’t long before her orgasm reached its peak and she was releasing all over his tongue. matt was more than happy to clean up all her juices, making sure he didn’t miss a single drop.

“fuck that was hot.” y/n breathed out, releasing her right grip of the bedsheet.

“and we’re not even close to being done, baby. i'm just getting started.” matt smirked.

“what do you mean?” y/n was about to ask him again but ended up biting her lip as matt shoved two fingers inside. the moans came spilling out of her mouth faster than she could even process them. as he worked on pumping his fingers in and out of her, he kissed up her body and stayed on her lips. she could taste herself in the kiss.

matt inserted a third finger, causing y/n to bit his lip. he groaned and she almost came right then and there. but she held out. nearly 2 minutes passed before she felt the knot build back up.

“matt, fuck. i'm gonna-“

“i know. come on. you can do it, baby.” he placed a gentle kiss on her nose as she came all over his fingers. he licked them clean very quickly.

“this isn’t fair.”

“what do you mean, princess?” matt raised an eyebrow.

“i’m completely naked and you still have clothes on.” she managed to get out with strangled breaths.

“you’re not entirely naked, since your bra is still on, but i'm willing to level the playing field.” he kissed the top of each of her breasts before making quick work to rid himself of his own clothing. y/n eagerly took her bra off and bit her lip as her eyes travelled down his body. she had heard many stories about his size but none of them seemed accurate. he was definitely larger than the legends said and easily the biggest she had ever seen in her life.

“jesus, matt.” she continued to chew on her bottom lip as she took him in her hands. she began to pump him slowly, almost like she was teasing him. the precum leaked from the tip slowly and matt watched as y/n expertly moved her hand up and down. he was not able to last very long.

“y/n, i'm about to-“

“i know. come on, baby. let it go.” y/n looked up at him and bit her lip as he came in her hand.

“fuck, that was hot.”

“i’m not even finished.” she repeated his words from earlier and before he could even ask what she meant she was taking him in her mouth.

“oh god!” matt threw his head back and propped himself on his elbows so he could see exactly what she was doing. “wow. you’re doing such a good job at taking all of me. holy fuck.” he closed his eyes and without warning, he was unloading into her mouth. the sight of her swallowing it all was enough to make him come again but he knew better. he wanted to last as long as possible for her. he wanted the experience to be just as pleasurable for her as it was for him.

y/n placed a kiss on his tip and stood up. matt grabbed her waist and positioned her on his lap. before anything went further, he looked at her.

“are you sure about this?”

“yes absolutely. wouldn't have it any other way, matty.” she kissed him deeply and without breaking the kiss, he flipped them over so she was laying on his bed. he hovered over her and gave her another look, silently asking if it was okay, to which she nodded. matt lined himself up with her entrance and started moving slowly. he took note of the way y/n winced so he stopped for a second. “okay. you can move now.”

matt kissed her gently as he began to move at a faster pace than he ever had before. the way their bodies moved together so perfectly sent chills down their spines, but in a good way.

his thrusts were powerful and addictive and y/n dug her nails into his back, moving them up and down his back with every movement he made.

the sounds coming from their mouths were crazy.

matt began to slow his pace and his thrusts became sloppy, signaling that he was close. y/n was close as well, digging her nails in further and locking her legs behind his back.

“do you want me to pull out?” he asked timidly.

“no. need you to fill me up, matt.” y/n kissed his neck, making sure to prolong the orgasm. he released inside her at the same time she finished too. as matt pulled out of her slowly, he placed a kiss to her neck and grabbed a towel from his bedside table to clean up their mess. he also noticed that he left both of her boobs untouched the entire time.

“oh my. how could i forget to give you any attention?” he chuckled and placed a gentle kiss to each nipple. y/n looked down at him with most loved up look she had ever given anyone. “you doing alright, y/n?”

“i am doing absolutely perfect. thank you for asking.” y/n grabbed her clothes and placed them neatly in a pile on the floor before grabbing some of matt’s clothes and putting them on. she crawled into bed and matt joined her seconds later, throwing his arm around her and holding her close.

“fuck, that was the hottest thing i've ever seen in my life. easily the best sex of my life.” matt chuckled, his breath still a little shaky. “how about you? how are you feeling?” y/n looked up at him and grinned.

“well, lucky for you, i have nothing to compare the sex to so clearly it was the best of my life too. as for the other things, you’ll be happy to know you beat chris.”

“oh, really?” matt grinned smugly.

“yup. a landslide victory. one for the record books. gold medal performance.” y/n giggled as matt began attacking her with kisses.

“i'm so in love with you.” he stared at her face and couldn’t help himself as he placed a soft kiss on her neck. “so so in love with you.”

“i know. and i'm so so in love with you too, matty.” y/n whispered, causing matt to sit up straight with her still in his arms. he looked like he was suddenly deep in thought. “what’s going on in that pretty little mind, huh?”

“just thinking of how we can now have sex whenever we want now.”

“so, you have sex with me once and think you’re going to be the only one now?”

“oh i better be.” matt sounded offended but when he looked down at y/n’s face and saw her smiling, he started to laugh. “don’t say shit like that. are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“of course not.” y/n smirked. “i love you, dummy. why would i want to have sex with anyone else?”

“i'm glad i'm the only one.” he kissed her head. “i am the only one, right? like, you’re completely done your thing with chris?”

“yes. it's over between me and chris. now it’s just you and me.”

“thank god.” he smirked and leaned in to kiss her. y/n slowly climbed onto his lap and wrapped her around his neck, deepening the kiss. “you up for a round 2?”

“with you or chris?” y/n smirked playfully and kissed him passionately when he rolled his eyes. how could he think for even a second that she would want to sleep with anyone else? she was glad he could take a joke and she would forever be grateful for the way he loved her.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @carolinalikesthings

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader

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bones4thecats · 2 months

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Can I request Nikola, Qin Shi Huang, Buddha and Leonidas with a s/o that's like Nyx?

How Past! Them Met Their Nyx! S/O

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Nikola Tesla, Qin Shi Huang, Buddha, and Leonidas Name: How Past! Them Met Their Nyx! S/O Requester: Anonymous

A/N: I only have four of Nyx’s kids mentioned (Aether, Hemera, Thanatos, and Hypnos), so just roll with it. By the way, the reader here is considered (in thought) to be a female, but it is left ambiguous so that you male and other readers feel accepted.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

I am downright in love with this man

🧪 When you first met Nikola Tesla, you were just relaxing at night, taking a stroll underneath your sky as your long dark cloak faded into stars at the ends flowed in the air

🧪 You had just spoke to your old friend Hades during a meeting in the Underworld about your second-youngest son’s, Thanatos’, efforts of bringing souls down to the Underworld for Hades to handle

🧪 At the moment, you just wanted some peace, and knowing that your two youngest were busy with work, one being on guard for dying souls and the other watching over many different people in order to help them sleep

🧪 Though, hearing the sound of soft feathered wings moving, you looked up and noticed a bright white pigeon flying around while carrying moonflowers, chrysanthemums, lotuses, and sunflowers in its beak. These all reminded you of the cute flower crowns that the youngest Valkyrie sister, Göll, would make you and your children

🧪 You smiled gently as the bird landed on your outstretched hand and dropped a moonflower into your palm before flying off

🧪 The bird began to fly farther from your gaze as you heard the patter of small feet coming from behind you, making you turn around expecting to see a young child, and a young child you saw

🧪 He looked no older than 4 years in humans, and you noticed that he nearly had fallen older, making you lean down and catch him so he wouldn't crash and hurt himself, it reminded you of helping Aether walk all those centuries ago

" I am so sorry, ma'am/sir! " " It's alright, young man. If I may ask, why are you in such a rush? " " Oh, my pigeon flew that direction carrying some flowers I grabbed for my mother. It's so hard to catch up to, troublesome bird. "

🧪 You chuckled at his expression, he really was quite the interesting mortal, now wasn't he? You could see great potential in his soul, making you look back to where you once stood where the dropped flower laid on the ground

🧪 Picking it up, you opened the boy's palm, dropping the flower once again, not onto the ground, but into the soft hand of the young boy

" I may not be able to retrieve the rest of your flowers, but, here is one that the creature left. I also have something that may help you out! "

🧪 Reaching into your pocket lacing your cape, you summoned some flowers from one vase in your home that you shared in Valhalla with your sibling, Gaia

" Here are some flowers freshly picked from my sister's garden, they, by what she tells me, symbolize things such as motherly love and whatnot. I hope your mother enjoys them. " " Thank you so much! What's your name, if I may ask? " " I am... (Y/N). What is your name, young man? " " Nikola Tesla! " " Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Nikola Tesla. " " Nikola! Where are you, lil' brother? "

🧪 Looking up in shock as the boy turned around, you stiffened, being discovered by a mortal child was nothing, but a possible adult was something truly bad. A child could pass it off like nothing, an adult could not

" I'm over here, Dane! " " Oh thank God. Who were you talking too? " " The lady/man- where did they go...? "

🧪 Nikola looked around for the sight of the person who gifted him the glorious flowers, only for his older brother to pick him up and begin bringing him home in a rush

🧪 As the elder boy ran home with his brother in arms, the younger's mind wandered, where did that nice woman/man go? And will he ever see them again?

👑 Taking a nightly stroll was something the Emperor of China was familiar with, it was a time that he could have to himself, no guards right behind him and no duties clawing at his door for him to deal with

👑 Just himself and the night sky that he admired

👑 Meanwhile, a cloaked being was walking through the woods, passing through the trees with ease, as they had been on the same path multiple times throughout their limitless lifespan

👑 Due to being in an argument with the Head of the Gods, a headache was pounding through the head of the person as they rubbed their temples with their fingers

👑 As they traveled through the shady lands, they stumbled across a large temple, one they recognized as the very one the Emperor of China resided in

" What a sight, I never realized just how dazzling these building looked from such a high point. "

👑 The star-covered eyes of the mystery person burst with light as the sound of another's voice came from behind them, causing them to turn around, gripping a blade underneath their cloak

" Whoa there! There's no need for that. I apologize if I startled you, uhm, whoever you are. I just saw you walking alone and decided to go with you. " " It's- it's alright, I suppose. "

👑 A stern silence cracked between the two individuals, allowing the pitchy sound of a blade being laid back in a case to echo across their ear-shots

👑 Looking at the stars, Qin Shi Huang sighed deeply and back at the cloaked person who decided to stay alongside him, and he had to ask himself; did this person not know who he was? Could they be a traveler of some kind?

👑 A traveler of some kind you were...

👑 Qin looked down at your feet and noticed that your skin was dipping into a very pale looking shade as your cloak became very faded, as if it was turning into dust

" So... to make this far less awkward and save us a few moments of boring silence, may I ask what your name is, possible traveler? " " It is Y/N, and yours? " " Emperor Qin Shi Huang, but you may call me Qin Shi if you wish. " " Alright then, Qin Shi. "

👑 Qin Shi Huang sat down on the grassy plain, his masked face still looking up at the star-littered sky with such happiness obvious, despite his eyes being hidden

👑 You smiled gently and sat beside him, crossing your legs as you manipulated a star to sway across the sky in what humans seemingly began to call a 'shooting star'

" Ah, it seems that a shooting star has crossed the sky. What shall I wish for? I know! "

👑 Looking at the Emperor, you were shocked at how normal he seemed. Normally the high-ranking humans that you came across were tyrannical and fairly crude in their words and actions

" There! What did you wish for, Y/N-san? "

👑 When Qin looking back over at you, he was shocked to see that instead of you sitting there, a moonflower stood bravely, its petals pristine without any scuffs, as if it bloomed just second before

👑 Where in China had you gone?

🍭 Ever since Buddha first became a God, many weren't fond of him, though most of the Deities littered across Valhalla have only heard about the God of Buddhism through word of mouth from the few Gods that had met him so far

🍭 You, the Deity of the Night in the Greek Pantheon, had only hear about the man through your children's words, mainly Aether and Hemera, who were by-far your most patient children

🍭 And even during present time, you loved to stare at the stars and remember the first time you met your soon-to-be husband

🍭 It was a lovely night in one of the many fields in Valhalla, and normally you would watch over your domain of the starry sky as Humanity was being dealt with by your youngest boys, Thanatos and Hypnos

🍭 You had dressed yourself in your long star-covered cloak, hiding yourself from any prying eyes, since many feared you just by hearing your name. Even the strongest of all Gods, Zeus, feared the mention of your name

🍭 Holding yourself high while hidden, you walked through the grassy plain, brushing past tree by tree as the wind pulled the cloth covering you back lightly

🍭 To describe it in a few words; you were in Paradise

🍭 As you walked carefully around many plant-life and sleeping creatures, Buddha was laying in his hammock, starring at the same sky you controlled, admiring the stars as they flickered delicately in the vast land known as space

🍭 Sucking on a lollipop from his stash hidden away, Buddha sighed and stretched his back, allowing it to pop as he caught onto the sound of grass being pushed down and let back up in the form of footsteps

🍭 Grabbing his Six Realms Staff, the God held it up for whoever was around to see as he let out an annoyed groan. After all, having your peaceful silence interrupted would be annoying

" Alright, whoever ya' are, come on out. I don't wanna waste anymore time than necessary. " " I apologize, Lord Buddha. I was just taking a walk around to admire the stars and must have awoken you. "

🍭 Cocking an eyebrow at the light-and-honey-coated voice, Buddha looked up and noticed your form walk up from behind the one tree holding up the front of his hammock and once he saw your face, his eyes widened

" Holy shit! You're Y/N, the Deity of the Night! I never thought I'd be seeing you walk around in Paradise so late at night. "

🍭 Chuckling lightly, you nodded as you pulled down your hood, allowing your hair that faded into the dust of space to run out freely, making Buddha laugh at your smile

" I knew you were powerful and all from the stories told, but they never said how dazzling you looked~ "

🍭 Rolling your eyes at his attempt of flustering you, you just looked up at the sky as Buddha stood up and planted himself right beside you to look at the stars and moon with you

🍭 It was nice sharing such a moment with a lovely person like you, maybe you guys could do it again some other time?

🚬 As one of the classic Greek Gods, you were held at a fairly high standard once your myth became the talk of the land

🚬 But, ever since Zeus and the rest of the Olympians came along and destroyed your whole time with your siblings and rest of your allies, you became more of a side-god when it came to standards of worshiping

🚬 Leonidas wasn't fond of the Gods ever since his demise, blaming the demise of him and his 300 (though really 299) soldiers on the Greek God Apollo, whom your oldest children, Aether and Hemera, served alongside

🚬 You, on the other hand, had no-one to place a blame onto, though you weren't fond when someone were to try offending Apollo, as you had treated the male like a son since he was a young God making his way in the Pantheon

🚬 Holding his title far from the grasp of the Gods, Leonidas despised being told what to do, so, when your second youngest, Thanatos, began to hold himself to a standard against Leonidas, you were called in by Hypnos to help out

🚬 Watching as parts of the sky began to fall down and form a humanoid shape was something far new to Leonidas, and because of that he stepped back and readied his weapon to protect himself in case something happened

" There is no need for that King Leonidas I, I am merely here to retrieve my pain in the ass son. " " Pain in the ass? But Mom/Dad, he- " " Enough! I will listen to your side of the story when you take a break in the next few millennia, Thanatos. "

🚬 The King of Sparta watched as you grabbed Thanatos' ear and tugged on it like a parent would when scolding a child for doing something badly, like hitting a kid for example

🚬 Watching a Deity of your stature just treat your son like a human parent would made Leonidas' guard come down slightly, sensing you weren't going to attack him out of nowhere, you had a sense of understanding radiating off you

" Hypnos, please bring your brother back home and also let Aether and Hemera know that he is grounded for the next few months. No using his scythe during that time, only his old training stick. " " What?! "

🚬 Sighing as Hypnos dragged his brother through a portal he summoned, you turned to look back at the human and you smiled nervously, holding your hands out in defense

" I apologize for my son's actions, he sometimes gets in his own head and begins to believe himself to be more powerful than he really is. I think he's spending to much time with the Olympian Brothers... " " It's... alright, I suppose. "

🚬 Smiling gently, you held your hand out for the mortal to shake, making his raise his eyebrows slightly, he was surprised that a Deity of your ranking would actually try touching a human

🚬 Allowing his weapon to lean back up against the building's wall, Leonidas shook your hand, making you mentally sigh, thanking your creators for allowing him to forgive you and shake your hand as a sign of that forgiveness, since every other human just tried disrespecting you for your parenting skills

🚬 Letting go of his hand, you pulled your cloak's hood down and allowed your markings of stars and the moon to shimmer out against the sunlight, making Leonidas mentally swoon; you were quite the looker, how could Zeus fear you and not admire you?

" I hope I see you once again, King Leonidas I of Sparta. " " Just call me Leonidas. And I agree, I hope we meet once again. "

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

AHHHHH THANK YOU FOR SAYING MY WRITING ABOUT VELVETTE WAS IN CHARACTER :))) YOU GORGEOUS BEAST. Oh yeah. Yes. 🫶 anon is me, I am 🫶 anon. Here with some fresh baked goodies (art I finished the second you responded to my ask) I'd like to share with The Public™ !

Before that though, thank you, and I mean THANK YOU for being so kind to my mid writing! You're a real angel, thank you truly. And also thank you for disregarding any appaling spelling mistakes I may or may not have made, I started learning english 4 years ago ahaha x-)

I just had to get out of anon so I could share my abominations (art) with you! Calling whatever I'm making "art" is still a bit of an overstatement considering how. Uhmm. Well, not good I am at that, but, never the matter! All of this preface is irrelevant.

I am ecstatic to hear that you'd like to hear my thoughts on Lucifer, however. Because I drew about precisely that.

Not my proudest work, considering it was made in like 20 minutes with my fingers at the end of my shift, but I had to do something about the thoughts festering in my brain about him after I started reading your blog. I made it a point to not crop the fact that the reader is kneeling to his height, I found it to be a fun little addition.

ANYWAYY!! I have a few words about this piece, as always. Wait. Well, not always this isn't routine yet. You'll be bombarded by my artwork on a practically daily basis from now on ahaha :))

Anyway².

It was always a maddening feeling for him, when you pulled him into the nearest unoccupied room in your line of sight. The way that his breath would get heavy and uneven, he felt overwhelmingly hot as you nearly kneel down to his height, sliding your hands over his body like you owned it. Owned him. He'd grab onto your thigh for support since his own legs betrayed him and started to get all wobbly, he couldn't trust himself to stay standing in his current state.

Whenever you decided to do these things to him he'd feel like it was the first time all over again, his mind would go blank; it was always so exciting, he was practically losing his mind already, really. All of his confidence built up by the both of you due to your insessant reassurance and praises that allowed him to tease you when he felt particularly bold (having now the knowledge that you wouldn't leave him if he weren't "perfect", whatever perfect may mean to him, anyway.) quickly drained out of him, all he can feel is this...desperation to feel you more, no matter how close you two already were. He needed you so terribly much, the way he couldn't keep his own noises down got a giggle out of you. It made the strain in his pants ever the more noticeable for him.

Were he any more coherent, he'd probably try to shut such thoughts down, they would have made him feel like any other cheap sinner he'd openly look down with disgust upon. He was, still, the king of pride, the feeling was so completly alien to him, this.. lust? He couldn't attach a word to his thoughts in these moments. Don't ask so much of him! He was never so overwhelmed by (what we both know is) love, not with his ex-wife, at least. It enticed him equally as much as it terrified him.

"Ex-wife". A title that permeated through your brain as you got a hold of his hand and gently slid the wedding band off his ring finger. You mindlessly throw the sign of his hold on the past across the room, a sharp metallic noise is heard as it hit the wooden floors. He flinched at the noise, but not once did he look away from you. In fact, he leaned back on you further after you had thrown the ring onto the floor, bright, glowing eyes looking into yours with palpable anticipation. A clear solidification of your victory, according to yourself.

You won! You can't help the grin that grew on your lips as you tugged on his pants, the friction of that movement earned a yelp from him.

Oh yes.

You should be proud of yourself.

This was going to be a long, long, long night.

AHAHAHAAAA! I LOVE HIM. I am the Anne Boleyn to his Henry the VIII sometimes. Oh yes, in case you were perhaps wondering, the piece I had previously made inspired by your works was relating to the post where his wings and horns came out during sex. A lovely mental image, that post earned. But, that abomination is too horrifying to be unleashed onto The Public™. Your stellar writing also forced me to learn how to draw Vox, so, be proud of yourself for that one!

About trying to get you to post about adam; don't worry! Or do, who knows what your goal is, but I will talk about him in your asks like a maniac and attempt to appeal to whatever in your brain makes you like a pathetic man. I want to eat him, like, actually cut him open and eat his heart and gnaw on his bones. (Whats up with cannibalistic ace/aros? Me and alastor twinning on occasion fr.)

About literally everyone else; I must inform you that sir pentious drives me nuts. Woe the snake flood be upon ye. You're about to listen to me talk about his 2 dicks insessantly.

I await your response! I would adore to hear your thoughts. Your reactions to my last ask tasted of a pâte sucrée tart with vanilla custard and strawberries for the filling. (By the way this isn't like a joke or anything? I taste and smell words, feel textures when listening to music and attach colors to textures. Like, this is actually what that felt like to me. I hope you are aware of that.)

Signing off from another abhorrently long ask,

-🫶 anon, now revealed to be a coquette coded woman.

AAAAAAHHSJDJDJDKKDJ

Let me compose myself because OH MY GODDDDD.

This reveal is absolutely crazy omg HIIII👋👋

ALSO THE ART IS INSANE YOU DID THAT IN 20 MINUTES????? WITH YOUR FINGERS????????

I’m going nuts over here. Thats actually amazing from the way that Lucifer looks to the lighting of the scene. I’m absolutely awed.

Also the little drabble you wrote had be gagged like I so didn’t expect it to hit that hard what?? You’re a really good writer to be honest, oh my god!

Oh and… if you wanna message me that one piece of art inspired by the pegging Lucifer fic… actually let me rephrase. PLEASE message me that one piece of art inspired by the pegging Lucifer fic.

“Your reactions to my last ask tasted of a pâte sucrée tart with vanilla custard and strawberries for the filling”

By far my favorite compliment yet from you. They just keep getting more creative HELP I LOVE THEM.

Oh and, lastly, I am SO looking forward to more artwork from you. You’re truly amazing!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #inbox open #dom reader

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thelastofhyde · 5 months

Text

you cut your hair, and take some space.

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 2 !

warnings. no use of y/n, age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, undetailed depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 15k

hyde’s input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peña. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 30k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in two parts. part two will be posted within the following weeks.

(it'a nearly 4 am as i post this, please look the other way at any typos or editing errors.)

“i told you, corazón mia (my heart),” he can't meet your eyes. “made it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.” “i know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “but if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?”

I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.

The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.

Where there are usually your eyes, there’s a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you don’t care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.

It’s something new to fidget with.

On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.

You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, you’ll regret it.

If you do, you’ll blame him.

Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.

You’d dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, you’d giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girls’ night.

They’d ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.

Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.

You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.

You were careful all night to never speak of him.

One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who you’d gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.

And then it happened.

You didn’t say his name, no.

Not aloud.

You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink you’d watched him nurse time after time. It wasn’t him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.

But it was enough to make you want to leave.

Giving up your space, you’d made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesn’t have white wine?

They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.

The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your father’s stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.

“Hey kiddo!” Your dad’s a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing you’d been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. “You here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ain’t that right, boys?”

It was only then that you’d realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a week’s work.

There were usually three of them.

"We’re just waiting on Peña." Oh god, it makes you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.

“And raising bets on his tardiness,” one of your father’s friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. “I’m saying he’s chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boy’s been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."

It’s a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.

“My guess is he’s pulled some muscle in his back and can’t get himself out of bed,” a nudge from your father’s elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. “Whatcha think, kiddo?”

You didn’t have an answer.

You didn’t get to give an answer.

“You need to quit speaking ‘bout me like you’re not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),” it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.

Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkempt facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.

Javier Peña was none of that.

The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.

The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.

His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.

It was like, nothing.

And, yes, that’s what you’d asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?

But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?

“Hey officers, sorry to interrupt but,” a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your father’s smile. “She’s ours for the night. We’re going clubbing!”

That was never part of the plan.

Neither was skipping dinner, though.

You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.

His hair, freshly cut.

“‘S getting too long,” a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. “Lo sé (I know).”

A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, “no. It’s nice, I like it.”

That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped up on your sternum. He’s sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks, like he even needs to. “You like it, corazón (sweetheart)?” You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. “Guess I better keep it this way, then.”

Now he’s gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.

In a way, it feels like he’s cut you off with them.

We don’t speak cause it’s too tricky But if I’m tricky, why’d you kiss me?

The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.

He sits on the groom’s side, you sit on the bride’s.

It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldn’t he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousin’s brother-in-law’s wedding?

The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.

Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.

He’s already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. He’s still staring at you when they’ve passed.

The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night you’re booked in for.

An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you don’t get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.

You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.

You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. You’re back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

If it weren’t for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, you’d gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, you’ll be damned if you don’t get to sleep in it.

So you stumble to the elevator.

Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it might’ve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, that’ll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purse’s zipper, trying your best to pry it open.

You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.

You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.

“Déjame. (Let me.)”

Scuffed shoes come into view as you’re halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.

He catches you.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve never left his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room.” You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.

He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.

Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. There’s a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.

He’s still warm. He’s still steady. but his cologne’s different and it makes your eyes sting.

You’d warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.

“You look like you had fun,” he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.

“I did,” you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if he’d stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you can’t say that, because he doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad.”

It turns out your floor is the ninth. He’s careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.

It’s easier to let him open the door, he tells you.

It’s easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.

Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.

You’ve never shared a space like this with him, one that’s hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature that’s long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.

Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.

A thud against the nightstand.

You roll onto your side and find he’s still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.

The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.

Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.

“Get in bed, please,” you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. “Javi.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like he’s going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.

He looks like he wants to.

His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.

Against your forehead, lips that linger.

Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.

On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source

Vermont, ‘98.

That’s where it all began.

Your dad, turning fifty.

Javi just hit forty.

It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the station’s rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.

Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?

Wrong.

The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.

Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.

A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.

Peaceful and quaint, until it wasn’t.

The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lion’s roar in the dark of the Saharan night.

The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.

You put your head down, breathed more subtly.

The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.

The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.

They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.

One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.

You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.

Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.

“Woo! Look at you,” just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. “Ain’t seen an ass like that since we left the city!”

Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.

“Why don’cha come join me and my buddies over there?” He nodded back at them, like they weren’t the obnoxious centres of everyone’s attention.

You were not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.

So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, “thanks, but I’ve got an early flight. Have a nice night-” He told you his name, like you cared. “Yeah, thanks, bye.”

And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.

Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.

You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.

“Oh don’t be a buzzkill!” He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. “It’s early, stay. Have a drink.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“To have fun?! C’mon, it’s too cold to be out here by yourself.”

“I have an early flight.”

“It’s just one drink, sweetheart. I ain’t asking you to sign your life away.”

A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.

“Hey!” He called after you. Your steps sped up. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

It didn’t even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!”

The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.

Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.

He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.

You wouldn’t give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.

It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.

He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets you’d never walked.

You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.

You don’t remember which direction you turned.

“Quit running, you bitch!”

He was still following, how was he still following?

Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.

He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.

You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.

Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.

“...Gotta let me know, nena,” the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. “Fucking Christ, look at the state of you.”

You’d not known much about Javier Peña at the start of the trip.

Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that he’d enjoyed the pumpkin pie she’d brought to the station’s Thanksgiving feast.

There’d been one time you’d caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. You’d left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.

You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.

He didn’t like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?

“You’re bleeding,” he announced it, fresh news for you.

A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.

His thumb swiped over your palm.

Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.

He held you in place.

Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.

He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. You’d not really been looking, in the first place.

The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.

You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didn’t let him stray too far.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, furrowing his brow. “I’m just cold.”

He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.

He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.

“Leave it, he’s not-” The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. “It’s not worth it.”

You said it not for the agent’s sake, but the boy’s.

The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.

It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.

He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.

“C’mon, the lodge is this way,” he pointed in some direction.

You didn’t bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.

“Put this on.” It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

Somewhere along the path, you realised you’d lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.

Officer Peña offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodge’s bar with the rest of the men.

You shook your head, told him your dad couldn’t see you in that state.

He took you back to his own cabin instead.

Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.

Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.

If you don’t love me, Why’d you act it?

Late june brings nothing but gloom.

You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes it’s way through the cafe.

Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease you’re becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.

Tonight, you’re appeasing them.

Some line dance event, downtown in a bar that’s only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. It’s missing a horn and no one seems to know why.

Truth be told, you don’t want to go.

You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.

Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.

In the mirror, it’s still lopsided.

The clock sits at eight forty-seven.

They’re 2 minutes late.

You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in it’s contents, searching for your keys.

You pull on something and- it’s a pack a gum.

Dive back in, search again.

An empty tube of lipbalm.

Third time’s a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.

A broken earring.

A familiar car honk’s outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.

Bile burns the back of your throat.

He opens on the fifth knock.

Any other night, he practically rips the door off it’s hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.

Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You don’t think too much into it.

He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, it’s hard to read his eyes.

The air’s uncomfortably quiet.

You think’s it’s all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.

“My earring snapped today,” there’s a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-”

“The hearts dangling from them.” He finishes, on your behalf, and it’s the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.

The silence returns.

You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place you’ve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.

He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.

You notice his bedroom door is shut.

It’s never been shut before.

“Is- Am I-” You don’t have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. “Do you have someone over?”

He blinks, slowly.

It’s hard to tell if it’s from guilt.

“Because if you do, that’s fine!” It’s not. “I understand,” You don’t.

He doesn’t answer.

You keep talking.

“Totally chill, I’ll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Won’t risk interrupting again-”

“This needs to stop.”

You don’t have to question it.

You do, anyway.

“What?”

“Us. This-” He’s pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. It’s like he’s rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. “Thing we’re doing. It’s done.”

“I don’t underst-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

He’s stern.

Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.

“I,” you’re beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. “Uh, I had a bad day.”

“Okay,” he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. “What’s that got anything to do with me?”

Everything, you want to tell him.

For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.

“I just thought-”

“You thought, what?” His face twists up, just like your insides. He’s angry and you’re the one to blame. “This isn’t a- I’m not your boyfriend.”

I know, you mouth.

Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.

When he calls to make sure you got home safe.

When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out ‘where’d you go?’ whispered into your neck.

When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.

Javier Peña is not your boyfriend.

So why does he act like it?

“Look, kid, you’re young, and I know-”

Kid.

That makes you angry.

He wasn’t calling you kid when he bent you over your parents’ bathroom counter.

“Don’t call me kid.”

“And I know,” he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. “This can be a lot at your age. Don’t blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think you’re feeling for me, it’s not-”

“Is this about the p-” The word won’t come out of you, so your change the verbiage. “The hospital? Because I told you, Javi. We’ve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-”

“No, this is about me needing to do the right-”

At this point, you’re just interrupting one another.

Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.

He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. You’d imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.

Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.

Silence.

You take the lead.

“So, what? That’s it just... over?”

“I told you, corazón mía (my heart),” he can’t meet your eyes. “Made it clear from the start I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “But if it wasn’t serious, why’d you treat me like it was?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. There’s a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.

Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.

The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.

“I got caught up,” his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he won’t let you be that. “In the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.”

He breathes out your name, the most painful melody you’ve ever heard.

“This has to end,” you’re unsure if it’s only you he’s attempting to convince. “Before someone gets hurt.”

Too late, you want to say.

You’re already being torn apart by his hands, and he’s standing ten feet away.

“Corazón, I’m so sor-”

The car honks, again.

You breathe in, and find it’s hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.

Another honk.

You never make it to the line dance.

You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandler’s bickering.

Love’s a verb And not a bandage

In retrospect, it’s hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.

A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.

Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you don’t recall the exact date.

All you remember is a pounding at your front door.

1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.

You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-

Pause.

This could be anyone, anything.

You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.

He’s on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, you’re too distracted to notice.

You let him invade your senses.

Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-

You pull back. He follows.

It’s flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.

Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.

“My dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, Peña?” It’s meant to be a joke.

There’s nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.

He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.

Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise he’s inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.

This time, you do trip over them.

It’s okay though, Javi’s there to catch you.

He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.

The gold of his skin shines brighter.

The red on his skin appears darker.

“What happened to you?” You don’t need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.

“S’not important,” it’s spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll tell you later.”

Later with Javi never seems to come.

‘If you’re not busy, I’ll make you dinner later.’

‘Keep it up and I’ll be fucking that attitude out of you later.’

‘I’ll get these back to you later.’

He’d never made you that dinner.

He’d dragged you into the station’s bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.

You’d never gotten those panties back.

You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if you’re “gonna put on a show for me, corazón?”

The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.

You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.

Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.

He’s insisting he’s okay, yet he’s hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.

“I,” he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.“It’s stupid.”

“Javi,” you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. “The less you tell me, the more I’ll worry.”

It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.

“I was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably don’t care about that,” he has no idea you’ll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. “Heard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-”

He hisses.

You’re pressing too hard on his fragile lip.

There’s no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.

A splotch of red stains your skin.

“Corazón,” he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. “You’re exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), I’m fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.”

It’s a tempting offer, and one you’ve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.

A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.

There’s bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.

“But, what?” You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.

Javi sighs, gives in.

He always gives in, to you, eventually.

“I just- I don’t know, it’s crazy, but I kept thinking of you,” his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. “In that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He doesn’t need to.

“So what did you do?” It’s best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.

“I followed them outside,” he admits with a tinge of shame. “Tried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,” you’ve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. “I thought I’d maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and they’d got a cab back to her place. Or his.”

He’s rambling.

Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.

You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.

“It was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,” his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. He’s burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. “Rustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-”

He chokes.

On his words, on his breath, on his failure.

You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.

Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.

“Didn’t think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.” He’s still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you can’t switch off. “I must’ve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-”

“Did you arrest him?” You cut him off.

He nods.

“Did you help her?”

Another nod.

“Did you get her someplace safe?”

This time, a reply.

“An officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.”

“Then Javi,” you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when he’s not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer Peña. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. “You did enough.”

A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.

“I didn’t,” frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.

“What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know... I could’ve-” He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. “I should’ve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldn’t have let...” A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. “Shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

You whine out his name.

The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.

The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.

He’s searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.

Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.

“Not everything about that night was so bad,” you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. “If I hadn’t gone out, then maybe we wouldn’t be...”

The words catch in your throat.

Partially because you don’t know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.

But mostly because he kisses you.

Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.

He’s a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.

Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.

The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance that’s unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.

He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.

When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.

The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.

He’s slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.

When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his forehead’s pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.

“There’s not a universe where this doesn’t happen, corazón,” you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. “Want you too damn much to miss out on you.”

Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.

When did Javier Peña stop wanting you?

And I’m spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is I’m good at pretending (oh and you)

By July, things change.

The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.

The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.

Boredom leads to hobbies.

At first, you try pottery.

Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.

Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.

You hate it, running.

You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.

But when you’re gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you don’t think about it.

The heartache.

The headache.

The agent.

You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your body’s shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.

Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of it’s usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.

The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.

But you’re not thinking about it, or it’s previous owner.

Not right now.

Now, you’re balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.

The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, you’ve discovered.

No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.

You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.

Today, however, it’s more challenging.

The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your father’s the one to blame.

You have to come, kiddo.

The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.

Because it wouldn’t be the same without you there.

You’d wanted a better explanation than that.

Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.

You had no plans.

Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!

You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your father’s light didn’t deserve to be dampened by your shadow.

C’mon, kiddo! I’ve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!

You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.

The whole station’s gonna be there, you have to come!

He said it, like that would persuade you.

Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.

The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.

Just last night Javi was asking how you’re doing!

You’d hung up.

Immediately.

Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.

Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.

All this heartache and pain, it’s not good for the soul.

Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isn’t your dad’s closest confidant.

It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. There’s a sting of tears in your eyes.

Until you come to a screeching halt.

Double over.

Place your hands on your knees.

Dry heave.

You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.

Nor to the dog that’s chasing it’s ball back forth between it’s owner’s throws.

You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.

You’ll have to see him.

Spend time near him.

Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.

It’s unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.

For not quitting the force.

For being your dad’s friend.

For not wanting you the same you wanted him.

Want him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots you’d tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.

You’re usually more careful.

You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.

You pick your pace back up.

Manage only a handful-or-two steps.

Your feet fly out in front of you.

Land ass-first on the gravel below.

Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab it’s ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.

You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.

You’re met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.

Big mistake.

The hand tugs you.

You glance up.

And meet the eyes of Javier Peña.

“Easy, tiger,” he coughs up a laugh, like you don’t wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. “You trying to break my ribs?”

It’s no less than you deserves, you think.

And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.

You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you can’t smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.

He asks you how you’ve been, and tries his best to smile.

It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.

You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.

You come up empty handed.

Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.

Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?

There’s a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.

Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.

Wedding attire, a post-party glow.

It’s toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you can’t quite form of him tucking you into bed.

Had he smiled, then?

Had he even been there?

Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-

His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.

His eyes don’t greet your own. Instead, they’re focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.

“Hmm,” he’s so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.

He’s still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your father’s, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.

Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.

He’d slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.

“You suit the ring,” his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. “I prefer it to that stud.”

“I- What?” Confussion.

You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.

He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.

Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.

It’s hard to breath, but you do it anyway.

Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.

His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing it’s ball and failing to catch it.

You wonder if it’s a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.

And then you wonder if you’re the dog or the ball.

Or both.

“You never answered me,” his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. “I want to hear how you’ve be-”

“Peña, if you don’t report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, I’m putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.”

A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.

Your father’s voice.

It’s enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.

He’s not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.

He’s Peña, your dad’s best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.

His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.

Maybe it’s sadness you see.

There’s definitely remorse.

Guilt, too.

“We... Your dad caught the guy that’s been breaking into college girls’ apartments.” He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. You’ve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. “Do that and I’ll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commit an indecency within your parent’s bathroom.

But none of that matter, anymore.

You’re already walking away.

Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.

He calls out your name, loudly.

Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.

People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.

You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.

He reaches out for your hand.

And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.

“I’ll, um,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. “I’ll see you at the barbecue, right?”

He knows the answer.

You still give him it, “yes.”

Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think I’m alright

You’re laughing but it’s mostly fake.

A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that you’re still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.

She’s a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.

Today, she’s paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.

You’ve known her since you were a kid, even if you can’t remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dad’s height.

You’d got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.

That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.

It’s not her fault. You know.

She’s not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.

Your dad is.

And right now he’s stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier Peña’s shoulder clapped under the other.

Even from here, you can hear him bragging.

So then Peña’s on his ass.

Chases this guy, whilst he’s driving down the street!

Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.

All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your father’s praising.

He’s exaggerating.

The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!

He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.

Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.

He’s happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.

Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.

If you step inside the frame, it cracks.

Shatters.

And maybe he knows that.

Knew it all along.

Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.

And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.

The feeling lasts all but four seconds.

“Kiddo!”

Your father’s voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.

It takes a moment, but you wave.

“Come over ‘ere!”

Not the response you were hoping for.

Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.

Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.

“You having a good time?” Your dad’s got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you can’t bring yourself to ruin with the truth.

“I’m having a great time,” you barely manage out before he’s squeezing you into his side.

The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.

He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.

“I can’t believe it,” he laments, speaking to no one in particular.

In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

It’s hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.

Perhaps you’re going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.

It’s not a sight you want to see.

It fills you with dread.

Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.

“My little girl’s spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-”

“London.”

Javi’s voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.

All eyes snap to him.

Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely he’s staring back you.

Your mother’s, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husband’s.

Your father, confused and perplexed, “I- Yeah...” He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been, you know?” Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. It’s a nervous habit, of Javi’s. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. “To London.”

That peaks your interest.

Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a few times, actually. I’ve got some friends out there.”

With Javi, friends could mean anything.

A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.

For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.

So it’s best you don’t inquire on it.

“Where do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?”

“Mr... Bond?”

The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.

You can practically hear it, in his voice.

“You know, like James Bond.” That’s the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. “‘Cause you were an agent and you like London, and he’s an agent in Lon-”

He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.

The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.

And, though it goes unaddressed, because it’s been too long since he’d last done it.

Even if he’d done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard, corazón,” somehow, the words don’t bruise your ego.

Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.

His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.

“I’d need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.”

“Maybe I need a tour guide,” a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. It’s lulling you to sleep, at last. “Y’know, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.”

“I could,” he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and it’s hard to tell where he stops and you start. “I could check my calendar. See how many holiday days I’ve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.”

It’s too late though.

You’re already snoring against his skin.

“How does he know?” Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. “I mean, seriously, are you blind!?”

For a minute, it feels like she knows.

She knows why Javi knows.

You should be panicking.

Both of you should.

Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.

But you aren’t. Neither of you are.

You’re just staring at each other, as if you’re working to commit each other’s face to memory.

“He knows because you won’t shut up about it!”

Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.

Your mom rolls her eyes.

Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.

“Ok but,” your father’s back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least that’s the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. “I bet I’ve not told you what she’s decided to do on her travels!”

“You have,” your mother’s tone is pointed.

Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.

There’s a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.

You try ignore the fact he’d promised you he was working on quitting.

“Shh,” your father waves a hand in your mother’s face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.

Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.

Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.

Open, celebrated, acknowledged.

Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.

Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your father’s arm.

As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.

“She’s gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,” your father reveals. You’re frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. “What was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when you’re decorating the tree with your kids, you’ll think of the places you’ve been and tell them all about it?”

Your heart drops.

Javi’s seems to do the same.

For a moment, you worry he’s stopped breathing.

Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your father’s stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.

“Uh, yeah,” the ground can’t swallow you sooner. You’re already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dad’ll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him you’ve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. “Something like that.”

But I’m actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy

There are moments in one’s life where they must question their own sanity.

You’ve lived plenty of such moments.

But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.

And all because you heard his voice.

“This is what you’re craving?” Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. It’s hard to see what exactly he’s holding, though.

He’s facing a woman.

She’s pretty.

With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.

And a well-rounded belly.

“No, Javi, this,” she doesn’t say his name the same way you do- did. There’s a jovial tone, but there’s no awe, no seduction. Maybe that’s just what your bias hears. “Is what the baby is craving.”

You’ve never seen her before.

Not on the mantel of photos that line Javier’s television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.

She’s a total stranger, to you.

But that doesn’t mean she’s a stranger to him.

A very pregnant, non-stranger.

“We gotta get this kid some better taste.”

His hand rests on her bump.

She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.

The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.

The blood drains from your face. There’s a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

You won’t let it fester.

Take deep breaths, pretend there’s no shake in your exhales.

It’s not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.

Was she the reason things between you and him ended?

Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?

Was he with her, all along, while he was with...

Surely, he couldn’t have.

But, then, why couldn’t he have?

You were never exclusive.

You were never anything.

“Did-” Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. “Did it just kick?”

Your heart’s palpitating.

Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.

Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.

Because, how could he do this to you?

Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?

Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?

Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-

“He’s a real kicker, ain’t he?”

At first, you think it’s spoken to you.

But, no, it’s too distant. Too far.

A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.

He’s handsome, in the typical sense.

Blonde haired, a nice smile.

There’s a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.

“He?” It’s Javi who echoes.

“Don’t get him started,” the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.

The man nods, pride on his face, “I’m telling ya, Peña, it’s gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, ‘else I’m gonna be overrun by little girls.”

The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later he’s following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girl’s side and “little girls who I love very much.” Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. “I still want a son, though.”

“Olivia,” the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. It’s hard to tell if there’s a drool mark on the man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?”

The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.

The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.

Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.

And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.

Friends his own age.

Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.

Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girl’s eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffe’s tail.

“Glad you liked it, Olive,” curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. “I had to go all the way to Africa to find him.”

The little girl perks right up at that.

Eyes widened, head off her father’s shoulder.

“Really?!” She’s amazed, and how could she not be? Javier Peña is beaming at her, ear to ear.

“Mhmm,” he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll go back next year and get you a zebra.”

“Quit lying to my kid, Peña.”

Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girl’s smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath “Your dad’s a right grump, Olive.”

You begin to wonder how long Javi’s known this couple, how he knows this couple.

“Just wait till you’ve got your own kid and I’m feeding it lies.” The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javi’s forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. “Speaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?”

In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.

Your breathing stops.

Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, “not any time soon.”

“Really? What about that girl you’ve been seeing, the-”

“That- We- It didn’t work out, we wanted,” you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. “Different things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-”

“Sorry, can I just,” your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. “Grab one of those?”

You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.

They walk away and you’re left alone, again.

Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-

He’s no longer standing on the other side.

You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.

Try as you might, you can’t shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.

I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton

You wake up early.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re seizing the day.

Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.

The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.

The truth lies in that you can not sleep.

Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.

Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.

A quarter past six.

Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.

Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.

It’s picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt more gloom.

In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, you’re startled.

Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.

Your ringtone is the culprit.

Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.

Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.

You question if it’s one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find you’re not there, and press the green button.

“Corazón.”

It’s funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.

Anger that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier Peña’s voice in nearly two months.

Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.

“I- Shit, I can’t tell if I’ve even dialled the right number...” He’s muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. “... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-”

“I’m here,” it’s only a whisper.

It’s enough to shut him up.

Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.

“You’re in London,” he states.

“I am,” you affirm.

He hums, sips something.

Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.

“How have-” His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe it’s the poor connection. “Was your flight okay?”

“Yeah,” you spare him the details.

The truth.

The boredom, the turbulence. The fact you’re dreading the flight home.

“I’m glad,” he sighs the words out, worry going with them. “Know you’re not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.”

“I wasn’t alone,” it’s defensive, and ironic.

You sure felt alone.

“That’s right, corazón, you weren’t,” something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. “You’re never alone.”

“Are you...” The street’s a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and you’re still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. “Drunk?”

“No, I’m javi.” If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. “Had a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, that’s all.”

For a moment, it feels like you shouldn’t be here, in London.

You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.

Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.

You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.

“Why’d you call me, Javi?” It’s a desperate plea.

For answers, for clarity, for closure

“I wanted to hear your voice,” that’s too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. “Wanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.”

“It’s your fault,” that’s as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.

Even then, it kills you to do so.

“’S half my fault. Joder (fuck),” you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much he’s drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. “Wanted to give you my answer, too.”

Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.

You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.

“What answer?”

“Where you should visit, Mrs. Bond,” he says it, like it doesn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.

He’d woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.

“There’s this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, don’t you, corazón?” You nod, and it’s almost like he feels it. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But it’s some of the best gin I’ve ever had, in the greatest company.”

You try to picture him, sat amongst friends you’ve never met. Friends who don’t know your dad.

You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.

The image doesn’t quite form.

“Want you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier Peña sent you, and that you’ve not to pay.”

It’s like he’s given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace he’s sought out refuge in his lowest moments.

Refuge he’s willing to share with you.

That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.

You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.

“Promise me you’ll go, corazón.”

Your reply is instant, “I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” it’s solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didn’t work last time. “Enjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.”

“Javi, I-” the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. “Miss you.”

I’m gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner

“How you feeling, kiddo?”

You startle awake at your father’s voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.

“Not good,” he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. “Got it.”

Stepping off the plane, you’d managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.

All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.

Just till you’re back on your feet, she’d said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.

She’s not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.

Neither of them have, really.

“Actually,” your tone is matter-of-factly. “I almost smelt something earlier.”

“That’s great, kid!” And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. “Now we just gotta figure out if it’s your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.”

Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.

“Hey, I’m just saying! You’ve got the flu, you ain’t dying! Could be a little courteous to those who’ve gotta be around you and take a shower.”

“You’re literally in my room!”

“Which is literally in my house!”

Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.

Likely, she’s telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.

Making eye contact, you both can’t help the roll of laughter that comes out.

He steps a little closer, and that’s when you spot it.

Tupperware, clasped in his hand.

The contents are hard to decipher.

Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.

“Your mom said ya wouldn’t be up for eating much but, if you’re hungry,” he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket you’ve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. “One of the guys down at the station made you some stew.”

Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.

The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.

In fact, you can’t think of anything better.

“It’s a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.”

He’s popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes.

Immediately, you spot chicken.

Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.

You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.

Your father continues, practically talking to himself.

“What’d he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?”

“Cazuela de ave.”

A change into warmer, drier clothes.

Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.

Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where he’d spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.

It would’ve only taken him seventeen minutes if he’d dropped you at your apartment.

And that fact is partly what warms your insides.

You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.

Objectively, you think, he’s gorgeous.

Yet the word somehow doesn’t seem like it’s enough to summarise him, when he’s making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.

He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of it’s contents over it’s edge.

And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.

The scent alone is enough to have you salivating.

Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.

“It smells delicious,” you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.

And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.

Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.

A real date.

Only, this isn’t even a fake date.

You guys don’t do that.

“It’s- It was my mom’s recipe.”

Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.

He’s never mentioned his mother.

Or much about his family, really.

There’s the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dad’s ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.

But you’re no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.

A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javier’s existence.

Across the table, he’s relaxed. At ease.

Open.

His eyes, his mind, his heart.

And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.

“Was she a good cook?”

Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.

“No,” and he laughs at his own admission.

Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.

A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.

It’s disturbingly beautiful.

You wonder if there’s a life where it could be like this, always.

Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.

“No, she, uh,” he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. “She was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.”

You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing.

It’s hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.

In spite of his reputation, and the career he’s undertaken, Javier Peña is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.

A modern-day hero, a knight who’s exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.

“Tell me more about her,” the words are out before you can reel them back in.

Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.

“She not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.” It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. “She was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time she’d be out on the field, driving the tractor.”

There’s something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.

Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.

“She was brave, too. I’d like to think I’m just like her in that respect. She didn’t let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,” he’s getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didn’t even know how to swim!”

You don’t know what to say.

You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.

Your stomach rumbles, but it doesn’t ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.

“Listen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,” still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. You’re still trying to process the possessive adjective he’d used to address you. My. His. “Eat up.”

Both of you settle back in your seats.

You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-

“Asi no, corazón (not like that, sweetheart),” he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. “You drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.”

Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.

When your lips part and rest against the bowl’s edge, he tilts it and you feel it’s warmth invade your mouth.

And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.

You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.

“Javi, this is...” You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and you’ll get your taste of the stew’s fillings. “Amazing. Your mum would be proud.”

Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.

“She would have liked you.”

You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.

They’re as open as before.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.”

“Kiddo?”

You’re ripped out your own head by your father’s voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.

“Hmm?”

“You okay there? I was talkin’ to you but you seemed lost in thought.” There’s a little excitement in you father’s voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.

“I’m- Yeah, just tired, s’all.”

“Ok, let me know when you’ve finished your food,” he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. “Need to get the tupperware clean ‘fore I give it back to Javi.”

Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.

#javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña oneshot

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 2 months

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The Set Up - S.Snape

Summary - Severus and Y/N had liked each other for a long time, not going unnoticed by the students. So they decide to set up the two professors and hope for the best.

Pairings - Snape x professor!Female!Reader

Warnings - Pining, use of Y/N, female reader, profanity

Based on a request by the lovely @acupnoodle

Author's Note - Request #3 is done! I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd work through my requests! This was a fun one to write since I tried a different POV, I hope it turned out well!

Expect delays in my posting! My semester has started and I am taking 4 classes! Please be patient with me!

My requests are open!

my masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

The students had noticed long before he had, watching as their Herbology professor got quiet around their Potions professor. It wasn’t lost to them how she felt about the man, trying to get his attention but failing miserably every single time. It was almost pathetic so they formulated a plan. They were going to write notes to each professor telling them to meet in the Astronomy tower after dinner.

The notes were planted early in the morning during breakfast, the students witnessing the professors reading the note, Snape looking unfazed and Y/L/N looking flustered. The day felt like it dragged on, feeling longer than it should have. They set up stations for some of the students to spy and see what would happen between the pair.

It was finally after dinner, Y/N practically skipping her way to the tower, dressed in her best robe and her hair done her favorite way. She had gotten there before Severus, anxiously pacing as she waited. He got there shortly after, stopping her pacing that surely would have put a hole in the floor.

“You left a note to meet?” Severus asked her.

“You left me a note?” She said, confused.

“Well it seems we’ve been set up, probably some of the students.”

“I guess so,” She trailed off, “Since we’re both here, there’s something I want to tell you.”

“Go on,” Severus added, his voice lightening a little, something that could have made a couple of the girls nearly squeal.

“I really admire you and I like you a lot, you’re my favorite person here and I don’t think anything could change that,” She confessed.

“Then it seems our feelings are mutual, I too admire you and I like you a lot,” He proclaimed, “Would you like to go on a date in Hogsmeade?”

“Of course!”

He kissed her cheek before leading her back down the stairs to take her to her quarters. It was only then the girls could squeal and the boys could celebrate. They had successfully brought together the two professors that were pining after each other.

“50 points will be taken from all of your houses if you aren’t in bed in the next 5 minutes, I will be checking,” Severus called from the bottom of the stairs.

A plethora of profanity came from the students as they scrambled to get to their dorms before the potions master came back. It was safe to say the unity was celebrated not only by the students but also the professors.

#harry potter #professor snape #severus snape x reader #pro snape #severus snape #snape #request

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cielelyse · 3 months

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Favourite 5 Saezuru Scenes

I recently reread Saezuru for the umpteenth time and just needed to gush about it like a crazed person who constantly hallucinates about Yashiro being happy and soOooOOooo.................

1. Why now? (Chapter 25)

These 3 panels kill me always... although it's the entire chapter 25 actually, and not just these panels. This broke me when I first read it nearly a decade ago, and it breaks me every time I reread it. I recently just listened to the drama CD for the first time and wanted to hear how this scene played out (a.k.a. wanted to hear Yashiro moan wkegh;ghwle) and I did not expect to start bawling and sobbing uncontrollably when his flashback appeared. WITH THE MUSIC AND EVERYTHING. THEY DID NOT SPARE ME. FUCK. What was supposed to be a tender and gentle and loving and intimate scene between them turned into Yashiro facing the effects of his childhood trauma -- that will never cease to hurt me. Doumeki saying "kashira, kashira, kirei" right before that broke me in a way reading that scene in English couldn't. I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS and if I keep writing about it I'm gonna cry again so:

2. Car ride back from Kageyama's clinic (Chapter 4)

This is mostly for nostalgic reasons, really. I first read Saezuru in 2013, and I wasn't used to Yashiro at first. I didn't know what to make of him.

So what happened was that I read "Don't Stay Gold" first and was like... there's a manga about this mildly threatening and unreadable yakuza dude who's Kage's friend…? Who played cupid for him in a weird way? HMMMMM dubious, dubious. Would I even like him? It took me a while, but I finally gave Saezuru a shot anyway, and I remember feeling uncertain about Yashiro up until those panels. I remember it so starkly, because this was the instant I fell in love with him. I think it was because this was the first time I understood the depth of his loneliness (since I hadn't read his high school oneshot yet at this point).

There's just something about how Yoneda Kou-sensei draws these kinds of pages that just resonates with me so well. I CAN'T EVEN DESCRIBE IT. It just connects with me the way Yashiro connects with me, and that was pretty much it for me. Obsession sealed. Life signed away. For the next 10 years I would follow the story closely and routinely check every few months for updates. Yashiro became one of my only 3 comfort characters, and rereading Saezuru always gives me a catharsis and sense of peace that I didn't know how to find elsewhere.

3. "To go on living this strained existence... no longer holds any meaning to me." (Chapter 34)

This scene is one that I come back to every time I'm down. AM I A MASOCHIST? I really like the June translation too: "To go on living this strained existence no longer holds any meaning to me." I think the way the panels divided up those thoughts were brilliant!

This especially hurt me because for the entire manga up to this point, Yashiro has stated that he completely accepts himself and he's happy with who he is. It wasn't until his realization during the sex scene with Doumeki and how much he's said/done hurtful things to Doumeki afterwards -- who he considers pure and sweet and good -- that he thinks this.

4. "Falling in love feels like this" (Chapter 33)

The first time I read this, I had to set my PC down, go out to my apartment balcony, and just silently stare out into the night and resist the urge to smoke (that was half a joke) (I did feel a pang in my chest though) (and I did have to fight very hard not to smoke lwkehg;hge). I love the dialogue right after these panels too, when Yashiro said, "Your sister was lucky that you were there." That, along with Doumeki's reaction, hurt.

This was such an intimate scene between them. Yashiro was so vulnerable. So was Doumeki. I hadn't realized this until I reread Saezuru this year, but these two have always had such intimate scenes right from the start. It was a slow burn, yes, but they had always been instantly drawn to each other: Doumeki thinking Yashiro was beautiful and captivating, and Yashiro doing something he doesn't normally do with his subordinates the first time he met Doumeki. And it didn't clue in for me back in 2013, but their conversations with each other were much more intimate than the conversations they'd have with anyone else, right from chapter 1. I find that so precious.

5. Dream (Chapter 40)

I couldn't not include a scene from post-timeskip, BECAUSE I LOVE POST-TIMESKIP. I love Darkmeki and I love Yashiro and I love that the theme of post-timeskip centers around "change". Wish I could include that conversation Yashiro had with Tsunakawa about it, because I thought that drive-home was brilliant. I really appreciate that Yoneda Kou didn't have Yashiro and Doumeki get together right away after they have sex, and I really appreciate that the question was raised of: Do people change? Can people change on their own, or would you have to force them? Or are we always the same at our core? And I think the answer is of course a mixture of all of it, and that it's very much circumstantial and subjective, but I love how we're able to see the shifts in both Yashiro and Doumeki. How both men aren't quite the same people we knew pre-timeskip. Ten years ago I didn't think I would meet a version of Yashiro that wouldn't talk about sex 24/7, but here we are.

(Not to say that they're completely different now. They're still our Yashiro and Doumeki of course; I just wanted to gush about how well Yoneda Kou were able to flesh out her characters in such a complex, multidimensional way.)

ANYWAYS, I went on a rant without even mentioning these panels of Yashiro's dream. I love everything about it: Doumeki's face not showing, Yashiro running away and turning back to see Doumeki not there anymore, and that last panel of him standing in the middle of nowhere, lost and empty and lonely -- all of that was so incredibly told in pages of no words. UGH YONEDA KOU IS A GENIUS. It reminds me of that page of Yashiro looking at a mother and child in the rain; it's one of my favourite scenes too.

Honourary Mention (Chapter 4):

I should end with a more light-hearted one. THIS WAS CUTEEEE. I remember reading this for the first time and thinking Yashiro was just salty that his roleplay got ruined. But upon second reread (and maybe I'm delusional here), I thought he might've been happy to hear Doumeki say that.

We know Yashiro gets angry and irritated whenever he's happy to hear something sweet from Doumeki (like that extra when they ate together LOL), and that he had the same reaction of kicking the chair when Doumeki said he can't touch Yashiro's hair anymore. Which was cute to say. So I thought Yashiro might've lashed out in annoyance because he was glad that Doumeki doesn't mind. (I tried putting myself in Yashiro's shoes so many times trying to imagine how I would feel if Doumeki had said this............. and somehow came up with "happy" xD)

...........or maybe this was obvious to everyone and I've just been clueless. AAAAAAAA THIS IS WHY I LOVE ABOUT SAEZURU SO MUCH. It never spoon-feeds you information and lets its readers interpret :")

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #yashiro #doumeki chikara #囀る鳥は羽ばたかない #twittering birds never fly

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keravnous · 11 months

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treat me like a s!ut ; tangerine x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 2 here | read pt. 4 here

Tangerine comes home to you scrubbing the blood out of one of his button-downs in the bathtub. He always had a thing for seeing his favourite plaything on its knees.

word count: 9,5 k

warnings: spanking, fingering, oral (male receiving), cumshot, toys, bimbofication, housewife kink (that a thing??), mean/strict dom!tangerine (but he's actually a big softie), negotiated objectification, uh face slapping - once or twice, daddy kink, pet names, spit kink, size kink, name calling, multiple orgasms, edging, (heavy) squirting; this man is into some nasty shit - convince me otherwise, my feminism left my fucking body alright, the angry man™ makes my knees go weak

i listened to kim petras' slut pop ep and listen, it-, I-, so -, yeah. Lost control, I guess. I also saw the pictures of atj in a million little pieces and that didnt help much

thank you mel for encouraging me and thank you v for enduring me while writing this

You barely hear the door of the town house falling shut over the splashing of the water.

You are currently kneeling - very much to the protest of your upper back, which has been causing all sorts of pain during work at the office today - over the tub in your spacious bathroom, water still running into the already half-full, half-bloody bathtub. Your arms are wet up to your elbow from trying to scrub out some nasty and very resistant bloodstains out of one of Tangerine's shirts.

He had been in a nasty pub brawl after last week's West Ham victory and, knowing it was one of his favourite shirts, you had tried your best to get it clean. But even two rounds in the washing machine didn't do much. Thus, you decided to give it a good old handwash.

"Love?", you hear a familiar voice calling out and you huff with exhaustion, sinking back onto the heels of your feet.

"Yeah, I'm in the bathroom!", you answer and a moment later he appears in the opened door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

"What're ya doin' there?", Tangerine furrows his brows. He is wearing one of his suits, hair still neatly combed back like he hasn't been out for 8 hours, doing God knows what.

"Hand washing this shirt of yours, stains won't go out in the machine", you pull the fabric out of the tub, water slushing down. There's little improvement. You decide to rub a little harder.

Tangerine says nothing - just watches you, dressed in nothing but a big shirt and what he assumes are panties hiding underneath its hem; watches the way it scoots up every now and then when you scrub with more force, confirming his suspicions. It is a tiny light blue string made from fine lace, one, that he had bought for you a while ago.

He swallows, feeling himself growing hard in his slacks. It is not just the sight of you - even more so it's you doing this for him. Cleaning something up, that he had messed up.

Actually, he's thankful that you are going out of your way to clean up his clothes. He knows that it is a hell of a job to get blood out of any sort of fabric and he feels guilty for somehow putting you through it, especially since it is painfully obvious where the stains come from.

He knows it was your decision to stay - to stay with him - to keep up with the life he leads, and the job that brings in the tons of money keeping you afloat comfortably.

Still, he feels like making it up to you. There is something about you kneeling there, doing chores, that remembers him of something you had said to him a while ago. Something that now has his blood pumping, making him feel like he's about to burst.

"Darlin'?"

"Yes?", you say, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead, a few drops of water running down your cheek.

"Get up, love."

You look up, eyes furrowing with confusion. "Why? I am nearly done with -"

"Wanna properly say Hello to my little housewife, me", there is a mischievous gleam in his eyes and it has your heartbeat picking up immediately.

You know what that means. You have been speaking about this: the idea of him coming home after a long, maybe even dangerous day and just taking you, bending you over the nearest surface because it pleased him - that the thought of him treating you like nothing more but an obedient housewife, cleaning up, keeping everything tidy and clean for him, and taking his cock whenever he pleased, made you wet. That the thought of being nothing more than a stupid little hole to him excited you.

The first time this particular thing had come up, had been after Tangerine returned home late after a delayed flight. You'd been up still, cooking him dinner. What was intended as nothing but a sweet gesture of adoration - knowing that he'll be both hungry and exhausted - turned into something else, after he had grabbed your hips from behind and bent you over the countertop for a quick fuck. It made something in your brain click, a new desire taking over your fantasies.

Now, you swallow, his shirt slowly sinking back into the soapy water - with its swirls of dried and darkened blood of some poor soul who was unlucky enough to meet your man on a particularly violentday - as you get up.

"You don't have to, you had a long day", you say softly.

"It's fine, lemme do this for ya", grabbing the nearest towel you dry off your arms and hands before coming closer to him. He stretches one hand out.

"C'mere", Tangerine smiles, all bright teeth and lines around his eyes and you do - taking his hand and then he pulls you against his firm chest, your hands resting on his shoulders. You inhale deeply, taking in his scent - wood, vanilla, orange - that wraps you in like a heavy blanket and you sigh.

"Don't burn yourself out over this fuckin' shirt, dove", he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapping around you, one hand confidently grabbing your ass cheek.

"I wasn't", your nose brushes over his throat, lips peppering gentle kisses to the soft skin. His hand firmly brushes over your tense shoulders, feeling the hardened tendons and both of you know that you are lying.

"Relax, love", he whispers, lips ghosting over your ear, "Let Daddy take care of ya."

And your body obeys to him as quickly as it always does: sinks against him, muscles going a little slack. You allow yourself to surrender to him fully, body going limp and mind going blank as you hand control over to him.

Tangerine's hand brushes through your hair, cups the back of your scalp and gives you a few gentle, patronizing strokes while one of his strong arms wraps around your waist, keeps you pressed against him upright.

"Y'good, love?", he says quietly and you release a satisfied hum.

"Words, poppet, be a good girl."

"Yeah -- yeah, I'm alright, keep going", you whisper against his chest, "Please."

The hand stroking your scalp vanishes, fingers brushing over your cheek and cupping your chin until it is lifting your head up. Your eyes meet his.

"So, what did I say?", Tangerine says sternly, gaze boring into yours.

You swallow, breath hitching a little and your chest heaves with it. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, your tummy tingling with want. The hand on your cheek is warm, the cold tingle of his rings on your skin grounding you.

"What did I say?”, he says again, squinting at you. It makes your knees buckle.

"N-never scrub without a brush", you whisper, lust making you choke on your words.

"Mhm, exactly", he hums, nods, "Then, why didn't ya do it?"

"Because --", you suck in air through parted lips, thighs rubbing together, eyelids fluttering, "Because I am stupid, stupid girl."

"That you are, m'little airhead", he says softly, voice growing deep, "And what do stupid little girls get?"

"Punished", you whisper, eyes glowing with excitement and stomach tingling with it just the same. You know, that he is not really mad and it sure does feel like a lot like it, making you bite your lower lip.

Tangerine nods again, thumb caressing your cheek. "Get on the bed, get naked - ya can still do that for me, can ya, silly? Or did ya little brain already leave your pretty head, there?"

You shake your head, fingers clinging into the expensive jacket of his suit as you stand up straight again, mind already a little hazy.

"Good", Tangerine nods slowly, eyes darting down to where your bodies meet. His hand leaves your cheek and you whine but it crawls down, one long finger hooking in the collar of your shirt and pulling it down. He tilts his head a little, as he's looking at your cleavage, tits pressed up nicely by his chest. You're not wearing a bra and he smiles - cold and cruel. "Get going, love, I wanna see what's mine."

You nod, swaying a little on your feet as you take a step back, arousal pooling in your abdomen. "Don't take too long", he says, gives your ass a lazy slap as you walk past him.

You do as you're told, carelessly dropping your shirt and panties on the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, before climbing onto the soft mattress. Splaying out on your stomach with your feet dangling in the air you wait for him until he finally, finally enters the bedroom. He is still wearing his suit, only dropped his jacket, and is carrying a small pink bag. You know what's inside, stomach tingling at the thought.

Tangerine tosses it onto the bed and sits down next to you, hooks his slender index finger beneath your chin, guiding your head up. His thumb brushes over your lower lip and your jaw goes slack, tongue darting out and rubbing over it. He grins and pushes the digit in, has you obediently closing your lips around it, sucking on his thumb.

His other hand wanders up to his tie, loosens it and then carelessly drops it to the floor, pops open a few buttons of his shirt.

"Stupid lil' thing, hm", he hums, "Sucking on my thumb like it's my cock? That needy already?"

You nod nod nod, blinking up at him and his other hand cups your chin, keeps your head in place. Your tongue rubs over the pad of his thumb and Tangerine licks his lips, eye twitching a little. "Listen here", he bows down a little, voice nothing but a growl, "Ya gonna take what Daddy gives ya, y'hear me? If I wanna see your little cunt cum ten times, then that's what we're gonna do, 'lright?"

You nod around his thumb, excitement fluttering in your tummy but he just tsks at you. "Thought so -", pulling his thumb from your mouth he pats his thigh, "Time for your punishment, love. Only good girls get rewarded, don't they?"

"I wanna be a good girl", you whisper, as Tangerine deliberately and carefully rolls his sleeves up. Eagerly you crawl over his lap and then sink down, upper body on the mattress, hips on his thighs with your ass in the air. You can feel his already rock-hard dick pressing into your stomach and your whole body tingles with lust at the sensation.

"You wanna be a good girl?", Tangerine says, mocking your tone, as one large ringed hand grabs your ass, kneads the flesh, "D'you know what good girls do?"

Biting your lip you shake your head, looking at him over your shoulder, through your lashes. "They don't fuck up simple tasks."

"'M sorry, Daddy", you say cutely and he fucking growls at that, a dark shadow dancing over his blue eyes, turning them navy - into a stormy sea. Tangerine's hand rubs over your ass, the other presses down between your shoulder blades. The stretch in your back is delicious, and the way it presses one side of your face into the mattress has your head swimming, eyelids fluttering. "Legs together, dove", and you obey, pressing your thighs together, "There ya go. What d'ya think? Fifteen?"

You mewl, feet kicking with excitement, wetness pooling between your legs. "Want you to say it", Tangerine's hand plays with your ass, grabs one cheek and spreads it apart, thumb digging into the flesh and kneading it, "Go ahead and tell Daddy you want him to hit ya."

"Uuh", you mumble dumbly, heart racing and pussy already wet, and he scoffs at that meanly, "Wanna - Daddy, please - want you to hit me!"

"For?"

"F-for being a stupid girl."

"Atta girl", his hand gently strokes your ass cheek, "You'll get fifteen - no whinin', no yappin'."

"Y-yes", you nod, biting your lip in anticipation, readying yourself for the first hit. And he wastes no time, gives your ass a light squeeze and then his ringed hand comes down, hits your right cheek with a loud smack. You gasp, eyes falling shut as you feel the tingling burn spreading through your backside.

The second and third hit follow, making you moaning quietly - warmth spreading on your skin, the slight burn tingling.

Tangerine watches your skin slowly turning into a soft pink and grabs a handful, thumb brushing over the forming bruise. He hums quietly to himself, hand wandering down, caressing your inner thigh - his rings are cold, bracelet rustling, and shivers run down your spine.

He squeezes the flesh of your thigh, hand wandering dangerously high and you hum, but it vanishes before being close enough to your cunt. The other hand on your back adds a little more pressure, and you gasp at the stretch.

"Such a pretty girl", he hums, bounces you on his legs a little, "What a shame you're so silly."

You whimper, hands aimlessly darting over the sheets. You want him to hit you again, with your ass already feeling a little sore and the way the slight pain runs straight to your core, makes your pussy so so wet.

"Can't even clean a fuckin' shirt", he tsks just as his hand comes down once more, two quick blows on your left and right cheek, has your ass jiggling with the force of it. He watches it, then grabs a handful and feels you up.

His thumb digs into the flesh close to your crack as he toys with your ass, and you can feel the way it spreads your folds apart. Your pussy is desperate for any sort of friction and you gasp as your clit throbs, rubbing your thighs together.

"Uuh-huh", is all that leaves your mouth dumbly, with his hard cock pressing against your stomach, hot and twitching through his slacks. It's hard to think, to form a coherent thought - all that's on your mind is his thick cock. "Daddy--", you gasp, rutting your hips down on his thigh, fresh wetness running down your legs and onto his trousers.

"Stop - fuckin' - movin'", each word lands another blow and you cry out, trying your best not to move on his lap, but the sharp pain has your hips jolting upward, shoots riiight into your cunt, hole clenching.

"Oh, you're really enjoying this, aren't ya, poppet?", Tangerine scoffs as you moan, your legs falling apart a little, "I can smell how wet you are, darlin'. Lemme see."

Your fingers claw into the sheets, wanting nothing more but the smallest touch. His large hand brushes over your ass, rings cold on your hot and reddening skin and then it dips between your cheeks, brushes down your crack and between your thighs.

"Fuckin' hell", he whispers as his index finger runs through your folds. He wasn't wrong - you are incredibly wet, thick watery slick makes his finger slip over your pussy smoothly as he assesses your arousal. Easily, he slips one ringed finger into you, bottoms it out. Your cunt clenches around it and he marvels at how tight you are, a trembling moan leaving your lips. It's not enough, you want him to fuck you - hard and fast - but it has your chest fluttering nonetheless.

The finger retreats as quickly as it entered you, circles your hole and thehand on your back crawls down, gives your left cheek a light pat that has you squirming.

"Nothing but a set of pretty holes f'me, aren't ya, love?", and you mewl, feet kicking a little as his fingers continue to run through your folds, his other hand now landing another blow on your ass. It stings nicely and you moan, desperately trying to roll your hips onto the finger rubbing lazy circles over your clit.

"D'ya want Daddy to put it back inside?", and you nod nod nod, but he just laughs.

"Words, silly, good girls use their words, don'they?", and you inhale a shaky breath, before lifting your head a little, looking over your shoulder.

Tangerine looks at you, one brow smugly cocked, and it's only the slight flush of his chest visible underneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt that betrays him. That, and his hard dick pressing against your stomach.

It makes your head swim, blinking up at him dumbly, lips falling agape a little. "Uhh", you breathe, "P-please--"

Tangerine lands another blow on your ass and you gasp loudly, followed by a desperate noise leaving your throat. "Words, slut."

You look up at him with big, watery eyes. "P-please", you say, voice shaking a little, "Finger m-me."

"There ya go", he says softly, finger abandoning your clit and pressing into your hole a moment later. He slips it in with ease, buries it deep inside of you and immediately starts to thrust it in and out.

"Yeah, wan'me to use you, eh love?", he fucks into you fast and deep, squelching sounds filling the air, "Want Daddy to stuff your pretty little hole, don't ya?"

"Y-yes", you plead, feeling his finger brushing over your walls, his golden ring against your hole. You can hear him hum and then his hand comes down for two more hits on your ass, has you clenching around his finger, moaning against the sheets.

Tangerine wastes no time, adds a second finger, stretches your tight hole out with the way he pushes them in, cold rings slipping in a little.

The sensation nearly has you going insane on the spot, rutting back on his fingers which earns you nothing more but another blow on your right cheek. "Keep on movin' and I tie you to a fuckin' chair for the rest of the day, whore", and you moan, hips stuttering and he pushes a third finger in.

Obscene squelching sounds of your hole being fucked and filled, of your slick wetting his fingers, emerge between your legs and you gasp as his digits brush over your favourite spot. Your loins ignite with it and your abdomen clenches, cunt squirting against the palm of his hand.

"Please, p-please - oh - fuck, fuck", you brabble, eyes tearing up and he tsks, shakes his head.

"Ah ah ah c'mon, words, love. Don't ya curse - you're too pretty to curse like Daddy always does, aren't ya? M'pretty lil' thing, eh?"

His hand comes down on your ass hard, has you gasping loudly, wincing in pain while his fingers continue to fuck you.

"One more, baby", and your hips buck, "Can my slut take one more?"

Tangerine's hand caresses your reddening ass, where a bruise in the form of his hand forms, an angry red and dark red where his rings hit your skin. His bracelet rustles and he grabs a handful, jiggles your left cheek. "Y-yes", you moan, his fingers rubbing your walls, making your legs tremble.

"Ready up", he says and you can hear him grin. Still, nothing can prepare you for how hard his hand comes down and how loud the blow echoes off the bedroom's walls, how the pain shoots through your ass and right between your legs, has you crying out with both: pain and pleasure.

Your walls contract around him as your lower belly contracts, squeezes his fingers and he knows what's about to happen, knows your body like his own.

"Don't you fuckin' cum, now", he says sternly, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, pushing your slick in and out in and out, and then in once more, as he nestles his fingers deeply in your tight and hot cunt halting any movement, "Be a good girl and hold it fo' Daddy."

Your muscles clench and your thighs contract, as you're giving your best to hold back your release, chest heaving as you moan into the mattress.

Tangerine leans down a little, his other hand wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Don't" - he whispers, the fingers inside of you start moving again, their pads very very slowly rubbing along your walls - "You" - his tongue darts out, licks over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling a little, "Cum now."

Your chest heaves with every ragged breath that you suck in, hips trembling and cunt squirting against his fingers, lust pulsating wildly through your loins and making your head swim as you are trying your best to just not cum. Tangerine chuckles lowly, gaze wandering over your body, taking in the way your legs tremble and feet kick - he can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers and he really, really wants to get you on all fours and just bury his cock inside of you, fucking you senseless until you're a brabbling, drooling mess. His dick is so fucking hard, pressing against his slacks and it has him on the edge, the beast inside him tearing at the seams, but he knows better than to just act upon it, wants to make it better for you.

Tangerine watches the muscles is your legs and back relaxing over the passing minutes that you warm his fingers, walls and pussy growing plush and warm warm warm, as you hold him inside of you, breath slowing down a little with it, too.

"Mhm, there ya go", your hole flutters around his fingers as he pulls them out and you mewl, legs wobbly with your denied orgasm, cunt aching for just another small touch. You can feel it pulsating, your clit throbbing.

"Daddy", you whine helplessly, hips lifting a little, "N-need your cock." And he's gonna give it to you, feels like he's about to burst anyways.

"Shh shh", Tangerine coos, sticky hand rubbing over your sore ass, the slight pain igniting your lust even more, has fresh wetness pooling between your folds, "Good girls get rewarded, don'they?"

You nod frantically, thighs rubbing together. "Well," you can hear the grin forming on his face, "Get on your fuckin' knees, then."

Tangerine parts his thighs a little and you scramble from his lap hastily, sinking down between his spread legs. Your ass is sore and burns and as you sink on to your thighs you can feel the sting, eyes tearing up a little and you blink up at him - hands resting obediently on his knees.

"Look at ya", he whispers, a dark shadow dancing over his eyes, as he licks his lips.

Tangerine cups your face with both hands, carefully brushing a few loose strands from your cheeks and forehead. Your hands brush over his thighs, feeling his muscles twitch beneath the expensive fabric and then you lean in. You're all cock-drunk, needy and wanting with your cunt pulsing between your legs. Your tongue runs over the outline of his clothed dick, leaves a damp stripe behind and Tangerine groans, eyes growing even darker. "Fuckin' hell, you really need't be stuffed, huh", he watches you running your lips over his bulge and he feels like he's about to burst; creaming into his pants like he's fucking 16 and living on the streets again, watching some hooker giving a City man a gobby behind a dumpster.

"Stop it", Tangerine husks, grabs your hair, and yanks your head away, breath already a little ragged, "Fuckin' behave ya'self."

Your eyes gleam up at him and he grins, thumb brushing over your temple gently. "C'mon, get my dick out, will ya?"

You comply, fingers hastily fumbling open his belt and pulling down the zipper, opening the fly of his pants and yanking his satin boxers down.

Tangerine inhales sharply as his long and thick dick springs free against his abdomen, tip flushed pink and glistening with precum. Your mouth waters at the sight and he wants to drag it out, he really wants to, feel arousal pumping through his veins - gets high on it like only adrenaline usually does it for him.

But it's physically impossible - the way you're looking at his hard cock with watery, dopey eyes and flushes cheeks while kneeling in front of him naked has his boner fucking aching. "Fuckin' get to it already, slut."

And you do, one hand grabbing his dick at the base, tongue darting out and licking a wet stripe up to the tip, flicking your tongue over it and licking his precum up.

You love his cock, you really do. Nice and long and thick, cut and resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair. You love the way he fucks you with it, too, how it never misses the spot that has you seeing stars and white spots, how it feels like it has been made for your pussy and yours alone.

You love how it tastes, salty and musky, and you wrap your lips around its tip, resting it on your tongue - not sucking, not licking - just feeling and tasting his dick.

It's fucking huge anyways, looks like it too, wrapped in by your slender fingers. You close your eyes, tongue swirling around the tip before your close your lips around it, gently sucking while your hand strokes the base of his cock.

"Mh, that's how it's supposed t'be, ain't it, sugar?", he hums, hands brushing through your hair, "Me coming home to ya, my pretty little housewife, ready to please."

You hum around his cock, slowly letting him in deeper, tongue rubbing over the bottom while your lips suck. You can hear him breathe deeply and your gaze flicks up to him.

Tangerine looks down at you, eyes dark and shining with lust, one hand gripping the edge of the bed, his chest flushed. The look on his face makes you wet wet wet, wanting to please him.

You keep your eyes on him as you take more of his dick into your mouth, relaxing your jaw but still gagging a little as the tip grazes your throat. He chuckles meanly.

"C'mon love, you can do better than that, can't ya?", Tangerine fists your hair and you hallow your cheeks, your jaw going slack as you let him in further.

You want to be good for him - good girl good girl good girl - your body practically igniting with every little praise he grants you and you want to hear it again. Thus, you move your head around his cock, sucking him off, tongue rubbing over the bottom his dick.

Quickly, you are overdoing it, choking, and gagging around it, eyes tearing up as you hastily suck in a few breaths through your nose.

"Look at ya, all pretty tits and tight holes, but no fuckin' brain", Tangerine mocks, thumb stroking your cheekbone, rubbing over your temple, and then wandering through your hair, cupping the back of your head, "You look so pretty with my cock in ya mouth like that. Only thing you're good for, eh?"

He doesn't wait for you to regain your breath, rolls his hips once, holds your head in place as he thrusts into your mouth.

You relax your throat, letting him in, the tip of his cock hitting the back of it. Still sucking in air through your nose your eyelids flutter, readying yourself for what you know is about to come.

Knowing him, you're not wrong as he starts to roll his hips again and again, groaning with the sensation of his dick burying itself deep in your throat.

Tangerine watches how his cock vanishes in your mouth, bulges your throat a little and he can't hold back anymore. His hand grabs your neck, thumb pressing against your scalp and starts to fuck into your mouth. "Fuckin' hell", he huffs, your spit slicking his cock as he slips in and out of your mouth.

You moan, sending vibrations through his cock that has it twitching in your throat, making your eyes tear up, gagging a little.

Being used by him like this has your heartbeat picking up, bruises on your ass still stinging and cunt throbbing and you rub your thighs together, hands clawing into his slacks.

"Yeah, that's it -- get's you all fuckin' wet choking on my big cock like that, dunnit?", it does, has you sputtering around the thick base, spit running down your chin, wetting his trimmed pubes.

Holding your head in place Tangerine fucks into your mouth, groaning and moaning occassionally, watches your chin turning wet with spit, eyes wet with tears - your thighs rubbing together. The way he ruts into you has his bracelet and chain rustling.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ", he groans and you can feel his thighs clenching underneath your touch, the muscles underneath his waistcoat hardening and his cock twitching, pulsating on your tongue. You know he's close and you ready up for --

Suddenly, Tangerine pulls his dick from your mouth - has you gasping for air - and takes your hand, the one still firmly resting on his thigh. He holds it in his and then wraps it around his cock, your hand resting beneath his on his dick as he starts to jerk himself off with it. His hand is so much larger than yours, cold jewellery hard and heavy against your fingers, that wrap delicately around his hard cock.

"Keep your eyes open 'n look at me", he rasps, and you can feel his dick twitch in your hand as your gazes lock and then he moans, deep and feral - thick, hot ropes of white cum shoot out of his cock onto your cheeks. He strokes himself through his orgasm with your hand, sucks in a sharp breath as he paints your face white, marks you up.

Your eyelids flutter as you try your best to keep them open, his cum missing your eye by mere millimetres.

Tangerine groans as the last bit of cum lands on your face, goosebumps raising on his skin. His dick slowly goes flaccid after he sucks in a few breaths. Looking at you, he grins, licks his lips.

His free hand brushes through your hair, keeps the strands out of his cum, gently stroking your forehead. "Put m'cock away, will ya?"

You comply, kitten licks cleaning the few droplets of cum from the tip and then his hand lets go of yours, allows you to carefully put him back into his boxers, pulling the zipper back up.

Watching your blown-out dark eyes and puffy lips, he sucks in another deep breath, cheeks reddened a little and the colour spreads down down down his throat, tints his chest in a pretty pink beneath his chest hair, vanishes underneath his unbuttoned shirt. "Y'wanna cum, too, hm silly?"

And you nod, nod, nod.

"Atta girl, jus' a second - we should get ya cleaned up, shouldn't we?"

Tangerine's slender fingers run through his cum plastered on your cheek, scooping some of it up before tapping your lips. You open up obediently and he wastes no time pushing them in, feeding you his cum like it's cream. "There ya go, lick 'em clean", and you do, tongue swirling around his fingers, before he pulls them out and moves them across your face, collecting some more of his cum until he is pushing them back into your opened mouth, "Least that ya clean up well."

You can feel your cheeks turning red, the taste of them mingling with his cum and the remaining taste of sucking him off, has you moaning around his fingers. "Maybe I should fuckin' cum on everything I want'ya to tidy up? Would you like that, whore?"

Your eyelids flutter, nodding like you are fucking possessed. "Yeah, bet you love that. House would be fuckin' spotless. Bet I could fuckin' shoot a load on the floor and you'd lick it up, huh?"

You hum around his fingers and his lips tilt up. "And what would you say then, hm?", his clean fingers, sticky with your saliva, slip from your mouth.

"T-thank you for keeping me busy", you croak.

"So ya do have manners after all", he mocks, looking genuinely amused and gives your cheek a light pat, rings connecting with your sticky skin, "Alright, get back on the bed. I ain't fuckin' done wit'ya."

Tangerine gets up, grabs your hand, and helps you back on your feet, watches your naked form as you crawl onto the mattress. He is still fully dressed and your whole fucking body tingles as you catch him staring, eyes roaming over your flushed backside, your plush and aching cunt resting firmly and exposed between your thighs as you kneel on all fours before rolling on your stomach. You bite your lower lip and - deciding to make a show out of it for him, to finally, finally get what you want and need - you stretch one leg out delicately, arching your back a little.

Tangerine huffs. You look so fucked-out, used, with your swollen lips and dark, lustful eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair a mess, nipples hard and cunt all puffy. But you can't help it - you feel like you're on fire, hands darting out for leverage as you spread your legs, exposing yourself to him.

He kneels between your spread legs, the mattress dipping a little and his hands run over your thighs. You hum, gaze flicking over his strong arms, as one of his hands brushes higher, over your hip and waist, cups your tit and squeezes your nipple.

"Back to actin' like the whore you are, eh?", you squirm as he toys with your nipple, pleasure shooting through your body, fresh wetness pooling between your legs. His other hand brushes up your thigh and his fingers quickly dip between your legs, running through your slick. "C'mon, spread your legs f'me", following his command your knees fall to the side, giving his gaze way to your wet and aching cunt.

Tangerine licks his lips, giving your tit one last squeeze before running down your body, spreading your folds apart with both hands.

"Jesus Christ, you just have the prettiest cunt, don't ya?", Tangerine's thumbs stroke your outer labia, pulling them apart while he watches your cunt throb, hole fluttering open, wanton for his attention. "Wouldn't want to fuck another one, 's perfect."

He grabs the pink bag that had been laying discarded on the mattress and ziiips it open, reaches inside. You stomach tingles as he pulls your favourite vibrator out of it, tosses a bottle of lube onto the sheets. It is slightly curved and has just the right girth and length to be sufficient; you love to fuck yourself with it when he is away, having him cooing pretty things into your ear over the phone while he jerks himself off to your sweet sounds.

Your breath hitches and you watch his every move, cunt aching for any sort of friction and the unspoken promise of being fucked by him with the toy has you going a little dizzy. It's not quite like being fucked by his dick, but it's strong and usually leaves you with shaky legs.

Tangerine's gaze flicks over your face and a smug grin dances across his lips, one hand running over your thigh. "Y'gonna let Daddy have some fun with your cunt?", he brushes the toy over your sensitive clit and the cool silicone has your hips bucking immediately, "Wanna see ya come, such a pretty thing." You roll your hips onto the cold and quickly dampening toy, the friction being nice enough to make you moan quietly.

"P-please", you whisper, "T-turn it on."

Tangerine lifts an eyebrow. "You gotta speak up, whore, don't act like you still got cock in ya mouth."

His command has you blushing, eyelids fluttering. "C-can you", you swallow, speaking up a little, voice shaky, "Can you please turn it on?"

He scoffs, one hand grabbing your thigh. "Oh, of course. Why didn't you say that earlier, hm?"

And then, his thumb presses down onto the little button, has the vibrator coming to life in an instant, presses the tip down on your clit.

"Oh my god", you gasp, throwing your head back, hands grabbing the sheets. "Jus' me, love", he grins, licks his lips and presses the toy flatly onto your cunt. The vibrations are running through your abdomen, and you moan lewdly, grinding against it.

Your cunt pulsates and your clit throbs against it, mouth falling agape - moaning and panting in rhythm with your hips rolling onto the toy.

"Look at my silly little whore", he grabs your chin roughly, his gaze boring into yours as you look at him heavy-lidded, mouth slightly agape. Tangerine runs the vibrator through your folds and you arch your back into it. Squeezing some lube onto your cunt he is running the toy through it, until he decides it's slick enough and pushes it into your hole with one rough, quick stroke. Your hips buck with the sudden intrusion, the way you can feel it vibrating inside of you has you moaning, throwing your head back.

Tangerine gives you no time to assess to the feeling as he starts to immediately fuck you with it fast, obscene sounds filling the air as he pushes the toy in and out of you.

You gasp loudly, closing your eyes and fisting the sheets below you. Incoherent, dumb little sounds escape your throat as you moan and gasp, lips parted a little. The stimulation quickly becomes a lot, nearly too much, has your head falling to the side and eyes darting open, watching how his hand shoves the toy in and out of you. It's also not enough, had your stomach tingling and loins feeling they are on fucking fire, a strong pulling sensation in your lower belly that makes you feel like you might go insane.

"Daddy", you plead uselessly, clenching around the toy, "'S not enough."

"Ah, you poor thing - too bad", Tangerine tilts his head a little, smiles at you meanly, "You'll take it."

His hand abandons your chin and runs over your chest, roughly cupping your tit and giving a light slap before running back up up up, over your throat and then grabbing your chin again. Your gazes meet and something dances over his, dark and dangerous and you know that he is holding back just a little. And you know, that you don't want him to. Do it you mouth and his eyes fall shut for a split second, before opening up again, dark navy hazy with lust.

Your brain goes all foggy and swims with anticipation, as his hand vanishes. It comes back down on your cheek with a loud smack, throws your head to the side.

You moan like you are some cheap whore out of some fucking porno - high-pitched and loud -, throwing your head back with your hands grabbing the sheets hard as your body rocks down on the vibrator.

Tangerine scoffs at you - watches the way your slick mixes with the lube and spreads around the pink shaft - makes his fingers all sticky with it - shakes his head a little. "Needy fuckin' thing."

It's all too much and your legs fall shut, knees pressing together as your body tries both: to flee the immense stimulation and to embrace it, drown itself in it. But Tangerine is having none of it, grabs your knee forcefully and spreads your legs back apart, grabs your thigh and holds it down onto the matress. You whine, chest heaving and body shaking, has your tits bounce with it - his eyes follow the movement hungrily.

"'S too much", you whine, throwing your head to the side, eyes falling shut. You feel like you're on fire, toes curling and eyes rolling back, your cunt all plush and plump and throbbing and so so ready to fucking cum already but you just can't, it's just not enough.

"You'll take what I fuckin' give ya", and your whole body rocks with it, the pent-up pleasure running rampant through your body and you pull one knee up, angling your leg, feeling the toy gliding in deeper. You moan desperately, eyes watching how it drills into you, hips and legs starting to shake.

Tangerine grins at you, tilts his head a little. "Oh", he pouts at you playfully, cocks an eyebrow while his eyes gleam down at you, "Does she wanna come? Does she, yeah?"

His tongue kisses his teeth as his thumb flicks over the button on the vibrator. The sudden increase of the vibration has you gasping loudly, a very vocal Oh leaving your lips, followed by a high-pitched moan. One of your hands darts out and grabs the pillow above your head, giving you some more leverage to thrust down onto the toy.

You can feel the vibration of the toy pulsing through your whole lower body and it has you gasping with it.

"Yeah, that's it, innit?", his thumb presses down on your clit, rubs small circles and it has you coming loose, finally, a near scream ripping from your throat, shaking, and rocking onto his thumb and the vibrator. You squirt, wetting his arms and wrists, jewellery shining with your juices and the sheets get sticky and wet with it. Tangerine whistles lowly, watches how you come undone in front of him - tits bouncing and cheeks flushed - moaning and gasping, the ecstasy has your face in a near angelic expression.

And it gets him so fucking hard.

He knows that you will be ready for him again in no time, edging you leaves you wet and horny even after an orgasm and he just has to feel you now.

Tossing the toy onto the mattress, he runs a finger through your hot and sticks folds, has you whining and squirming. He feels you up, asses your slick and teases your hole for a short while, until sweet sweet moans replace your whining, until he can feel your clit throbbing beneath his finger.

"C'mon", Tangerine unbuckles his belt, "My stupid little whore has another one in her, don't she? One more f'Daddy?"

You whine, knees falling apart like you are his personal fucking sex doll, hole clenching around nothing. Your hands run over your tits, squeezing them while you watch him getting undressed - shredding the waistcoat first, followed by his tie and shirt and then his pants - one of them wanders down down down your body, lazily circles your clit.

Your eyes dart down to his hard dick that springs free as he tosses his boxers away, curving against his abdomen, the taste of it still on your tongue and your head swims with it.

"Don't ya fuckin' touch yourself", he swats your hand away and leans in, spits onto your hot and plush cunt, thumb immediately rubbing over your sensitive clit. Your legs shake, hips bucking and it takes only a few strokes of his finger for you to squirt again, adding fresh wetness to the sticky sheets below you. "No one touches you like I do, eh?", and you shake your head, eyes tearing up a little with lust, "Mh, thought so - not even yourself. Always need me to get ya off nice and proper, don't ya?"

He's right. Whenever he is gone and allows you to touch yourself over the phone you do come, but it's nowhere as good, toe-curling and le-shaking as it is when his tongue and fingers are on your cunt, dick buried deep deep inside of you. And thus, you nod -Yes yes yes escaping your lips like a chant.

He is so much taller, so much stronger than you - could snap your neck in a blink of an eye, rip your throat out with bare hands - and it has your head swimming while you watch him stroking himself, tip of his hard dick flushed pink and your brain practically shuts down fully at the sight. It tips you over, has your mind enter a foggy state and limbs going slack as subspace embraces you.

"You like that? You like being my slut, don't ya?"

"Y-yes, Daddy -- l-love it", you moan sweetly and then he looks up at you, lips curling into a crude smile.

Stretching his hand out towards you, he tilts his head a little. "Spit then, slut", and you do, leaning forward and spitting into his hand. Some of your saliva runs down your chin and he scoffs at that, wets his dick with your spit. You watch how he spreads your saliva around the flushed skin and your lips fall agape, a soft moan crawling from your throat. Your legs spread further, hands running over your thighs - up up up - spreading the lips of your cunt apart.

His gaze flicks up, watches how you expose yourself to him, practically offering him your hole, stretching it out for him. "Jesus Christ", he huffs, feels his heartbeat picking up and then he grabs your ankle forcefully, pulls you closer. You barely have any time processing him manhandling you as he lines his cock up with your entrance, pushes in with one strong stroke, buries himself fully in your pussy.

He grabs your hands and pulls them away from your folds, carelessly drops them at the sides of you body, holds your hips up by your waist - watches the way you split on his dick while you gasp and pant.

His cock is so much bigger than the toy, longer and thicker and you gasp as he pushes in. The way your hole stretches around him is delicious, slight pain igniting your loins. No matter how often you take his dick, you are never fully used to it - the dull pain increased by a tenfold with your overstimulated and plush cunt, welcoming his cock home. "Ssh, there ya go, take it all", Tangerine coos, and you moan as his cock pushes in all the way, rests between your walls, hot and pulsating.

"Such a tight fuckin' cunt", he hisses, as you squeeze around him, while he starts to move slowly inside of you. Tangerine watches your lower belly bulging a little with his large cock, sees where it is fucking into you through your skin. One of his hands hooks around your knee, lifts your leg up a little, the other one gently caresses the small bulge in your lower stomach, feels himself beneath your skin.

Tangerine starts to roll his hips faster, angles his thrusts deeper as he looks at you, brows furrowed a little, hand cupping your lower stomach. You whine and mewl with the agonizingly slow way he pushes his cock into you, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches your face slowly coming apart, eyelids fluttering while you watch him fucking into you.

"You feel so fuckin' good, takin' me so well, eh", Tangerine's thrusts speed up, and your body slightly rocks with it, your hips meeting his. Your head falls to the side and you loose yourself into the way he fucks you - losing all track of time, your body going a little numb, feeling nothing more than his cock inside of you, his hands on your body.

"You fucking slut - fuckin' made to only please me", and you hum, a little drool gathering in the corner of your mouth, slooowly creeping out and dropping onto the mattress. Tangerine's gaze follows it hungrily and his eyelids flutter, while you look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Shit", he huffs, hips bucking into your hole wildly, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into them hard.

You are so fucking pretty to him, all fucked-out with your body obedient to him and your mind buried deep deep in subspace and a part of him wishes you'd never come back - staying in this blissful and stupid state, chasing nothing but pleasure and waiting for him at home, on your knees and offering your waiting holes to him.

And Tangerine can't stop his mind from going there, conjuring up the delicious image of you bend over the kitchen table in nothing but a tiny apron, cunt stuffed with some fucking toy, waiting for him to come home and take you. And that's what he'd do, drenched and dripping in blood, would leave red stains all over your soft skin when he grabs you, pushes his dick into your hot cunt.

It makes him moan, head falling forward a little, a few strands of hair coming loose. He has to hear you say it, feels his balls tensing at the thought. His eyes dart up at you through hooded eyes and dark lashes.

"Who d'ya fuckin' belong to?", he growls.

"'M all yours, fuck fuck fuck", sweet sweet moans fall from your lips and it has him going fucking feral. Tangerine moans deep in his throat, wraps one arm around your waist and with all his strength pulls you up, rests you on his muscular thighs. His shins are resting on the mattress as he hammers you down onto his dick and it has you seeing stars, the way his body presses against you, cock pushing into your hole deeper and deeper.

Desperate for any sort of leverage your arms wrap around his neck, fingers clawing at his shoulders while you turn into puddy in his arms, as he lifts your hips up and bounces you on his dick, manhandles you while you fuck yourself with it. Your tits bounce against his firm and sweaty chest, his breath tingles on your throat.

"There ya go", he grunts as you roll your hips, toes curling with the way the thick head of his dick brushes over the spot that has you seeing stars. You moan and gasp, head falling back as you rock onto him, chasing your release.

"D-daddy", you pant, breath hitching in your throat, blinking away the tears forming in your eyes. It's all too much but not enough and you need him to say it - need him to tell you that it's alright, that you're allowed to come. "'M gonna cum, p-please, I-I -- y-you", you whine incoherently, looking down and watching how his cock drills into you, your juices wetting his pubes and abdomen, running down your thighs, sounds of naked skin slapping onto each other filling the air.

There's a heavy pull in your loins and you gasp loudly, sweetly, hips stuttering.

Small tears of pent-up arousal run down your cheeks and he cups your face with one hand, leans in and licks them away, tongue gliding over your cheeks. "Shh shh", he murmurs, his dark blue eyes prettily framed by long lashes as they transfix your fucked-out gaze, "I'll let ya cum, love - whenever ya want, jus' let go."

"C-can't", you stutter, goosebumps on your skin as you gasp, fingers entangling his dark locks that curl right above his shoulders and pulling on them lightly. And that, that gets him fucking going.

Tangerine moans loudly, his cock twitching deep inside of you. He grabs your chin roughly, holds your head in place. "You fuckin' slut", he growls and you can't help but to tug again, completely out of it and unaware that it might have consequences for you - you just need to feel his cock twitch inside of you again.

It does, has you moaning, lips falling agape. "Fuckin' behave", he growls and then, in a blink of an eye, his hand leaves your chin and connects with your cheek with a loud smack, throwing your head to the side. It tips you over.

You squirt heavily around his cock as you cum, milking him, while rocking down on it and spreading your slick, making it shoot up and wet his abdomen, skin glistening with it. His trimmed pubic hair rubs your overstimulated clit and you release more wetness, obscene squelching sounds filling the air.

Tangerine's cock pulses inside of you as he comes, too, shoots thick ropes of hot cum into your cunt that seem endless while filling you up. You squeeze around him and you feel so so full, his cum already pooling at the base of his dick, pushing out of you, and mingling with your creamy release.

He roughly pushes you back onto the mattress, hands grabbing your knees and then he is rutting into you with near inhuman strength, fucking both of you through your cojoined orgasms. Tangerine's cum squelches in and out of you and you cry out as waves of pleasure roll through your body, makes your limbs tremble and squirt shooting against his dick, wetting his pubic hair and abdomen like you're a broken hose. You can feel it run down your legs, dripping down onto the sheets.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you cry out, shaking wildly and then everything goes white - your own body feeling far far away. Your limbs feel so so heavy but you also feel light, like flying, not a single thought remaining as you feel your orgasm running through your veins, making you shake with it.

It takes a while for your body to snap back out of it, slowly drifting back into reality. The first thing you feel, is a warm body pressing against your back.

"Are y'lright, love?", Tangerine whispers, strong hands running over your arms, your sides, your hip. Your body feels so, so heavy as your mind is slowly coming back.

"Yeah", you croak, throat sore and voice raspy.

"Don't ya move, dove - I'll get ya cleaned up", you turn your head and blink at him, still a little out of it and he smiles at you, presses a soft kiss on your sweaty forehead, his stache tingling a little, "You did so good for me, didn't ya? 'M so proud of ya."

You nod lazily, your hand brushing over his strong forearm. "Thank you, babe", you whisper quietly, all worn out and tired, "I really needed that."

"Mh, you're welcome, love."

***

It's the faint smell of coffee in the air that carefully tickles you awake the next morning. Outside the opened window birds are chirping.

The first thing you notice is, that your legs hurt. The second thing is, that the other side of the bed is empty.

You call out your lover's name, his actual, real name but there's no answer. Groaning, you get up, legs heavy and sore from last night, and walk out of the bedroom. You can hear water running and follow the noise.

"Babe?", you peek through the half-opened door of the bathroom. There he is - in all his glory, with no shirt on - freckles dusted over his back like stars, scars and tattoos on full display, a cigarette dangling from his mouth while he is hunched over the sink. His hair curls over his shoulders, a little damp from what you assume must have been a recent shower. The air is still a little damp, despite the opened window. You can hear water splashing.

"Mornin'", Tangerine says, puffs out a cloud of smoke.

"No smoking indoors", you sigh, suppressing a yawn and he chuckles at that, deep in his throat.

"'M sorry, love, won't happen again."

"We both know it will", your hands brush over his shoulders and then you lean against him. You inhale his scent, feel his warmth against your palms. The muscles in his back and shoulder are working, flexing beneath the skin and you close your eyes, feeling the way his body works beneath you. He is oddly alive like this and you hope that he'll be home for a long time, won't leave again soon.

"Why are you up already?", you mumble against his firm back.

"Wanted to wash the stains out", and he sounds so, so annoyed by it, "But it's no use - it's either gonna be the dry-cleaner's or the bin, innit?"

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #smut #tangerine bullet train #tangerine imagine #my writing #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you

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buckybarnesb-tch · 5 months

Text

A Wolf’s Perfect Mate -Klaus M.

I’ve been hesitant to write stuff like this, despite the fact that I write fics like this just for me all the time, but I’m glad to know I’m not he only depraved person here. I hope this is everything you want it to be.

Dead Dove-Do Not Eat

Don’t Like=Don’t Read

Klaus never meant to find her in the first place.

Klaus found out who his real father was when he was 6, his mother had to tell the truth so that he wouldn’t be alone when he first began turning. Werewolves shift for the first time during puberty. Klaus’ father was a very good teacher, and treated the boy much better than Mikael, so Klaus enjoyed their time together. He began shifting at 11, the full moons being something he can’t resist and it took another few years for him to gain control during them but by the time he was 14 he was spending all night every full moon running with his pack…until he turned 16.

Y/n had moved to town 2 weeks earlier and while Klaus quite liked her, she was almost instantly popular and he knew he had no shot. That full moon however his wolf didn’t give him a choice, Klaus had thought he was insane for hearing his wolf talking about her in his head (his wolf never really caring for anyone before) but here he sits, fully shifted, in the woods behind her house as she does her homework in the shed which seems more like a bedroom from what he can tell from the window.

He couldn’t control his paws for the first time in years as his wolf brought him here and now he refused to leave, staring at Y/n in awe. Klaus could practically feel his cock swelling desperately as he stared at her and it seemed his whines were too loud when her head snapped up and she moved to the door to peek outside.

Once again Klaus couldn’t move as he tried to keep her from seeing him but his wolf said “no” very clearly when his feet wouldn’t move. ‘Holy shit!’ She gasped, lunging back as she saw him staring at her, the abnormally large wolf clearly startling her. ‘Um…hi? Are you okay?’ She asked and Klaus had to remind himself that she doesn’t know who he is and wasn’t actually asking him, though he found it touching that she was asking his wolf if he was alright…his girl is so sweet. ‘Are you hungry?’ She spun around to go back inside and while he knew she would come back he once again couldn’t stop as he walked into the small shed (that he took up nearly a quarter of), making her gasp as she turned around. ‘Don’t hurt me, please?’ She pleaded softly as if to not startle him and he shook his head. ‘Woah…do…do you understand me?’ He dropped his chin in a nod and her jaw fell, dropping the bag of chips to the floor where he licked a few from the plastic and ate them before sitting down. ‘So you’re an overly large wolf that can understand me and answer my questions…cool. Okay Y/n, don’t panic.’

Klaus whined, creeping closer and resting his big head on her lap which caused her to gasp but she didn’t push him away, taking a moment before petting his head and beginning to scratch behind his ears. He whined again, rolling onto his back on the floor and waiting for her to rub his belly and he wasn’t sure if it shocked her or him more.

‘You’re such a sweet boy, aren’t you?’ Now Klaus understands why dogs love this so much, belly rubs feel incredible!

He ended up laying beside her on her bed while she did the homework Klaus still hadn’t done himself and every now and again she would take a break to give him scratches. He was actively ignoring his pack searching for him but there was something about this girl that pulled him in, and not just him but his wolf.

Y/n drifted off somewhere around 1 am and he stayed there with her, she hadn’t needed a blanket as she wrapped her arms around his body and eventually he drifted off as well. It wasn’t until 4:30 that he awoke again knowing he was close to changing back and woke her to let him out. He knew she was waiting for him to come back and it hurt his heart but he couldn’t and this time his wolf begrudgingly listened to him, running back home before he shifted back. He ran back to the home he stayed in with his father since he had turned 10, finding his phone and not taking but 2 minutes to find her on Instagram and spending the next 20 minutes looking through her pictures, his wolf howling in his head as he saw her again. It was at that point that his father walked into the house, a questioning look on his face.

‘Would you like to tell me where you were?’ He asked and Klaus settled himself to be screamed at before explaining exactly what had happened tonight. ‘Oh my boy, you’ve found your mate. Congratulations!’ He grinned, clapping Klaus on the shoulder. He had heard the term ‘mate’ a few times since meeting his father but not often and he didn’t really know what it meant. ‘Every wolf has a mate, their other half, though we’re not all lucky enough to meet them this young, you have truly been blessed son-‘

‘Blessed?! How have I been blessed?! A girl like her will never give me the time of day! She’s pretty, and popular, and perfect! I’m just a freak who’s only friend is the howling animal in my head!’ His dad rolled his eyes, finding his sons excuses to be stupid and pointless.

‘Klaus, our mates are our mates for a reason, they’re perfect for us. Popular or not, that doesn’t matter, she will feel it too. Not quite as strong as you do until you’re mated, but she will. Trust your wolf, he knows what he’s doing, and he knows what he needs. He is driven to care for and protect his mate, she will notice you eventually, I promise. She’s also the only non-pack member you’ll ever be able to tell about what you are, she is your mate and that makes her family. Try not to worry Niklaus, I’m sure she’ll be yours soon enough.’ With that his father told him to go to bed, always taking him in for a half day after a full moon so that he could get some sleep. All he saw was her though, his perfect little mate staring back at him with a smile on her face.

He dreamed of her arms wrapped around him again, a comforting warm feeling of having his mate snuggle up with his wolf…his dream turning much less innocent quickly when it comes to his wolfs desperation to rut his mate and while he had never imagined it before, it’s all he could think about now, his perfect little mate presenting herself for him, tasting her perfect little cunt before mounting her and-

He jumped up in his bed as his alarm went off, groaning at the raging erection he was going to have to deal with before getting up to get in the shower.

The half day was long as he was so tired, but at least he got to see her, staring at her in the library as they all worked on a book report that Klaus couldn’t give less of a shit about. It wasn’t until the end of the day after that, that he saw her again and Klaus felt his feet moving without his consent again. As he tried to stop he was overcome by the growl in the back of his head and the sound of his father telling him to trust his wolf. He was stood at the bottom of the stairs when he finally stopped, hearing a squeal before he looked up and thanked God for his wolfy reflexes as he opened his arms and caught his mate as she tripped down the last few steps. He held her to his chest and they both froze, looking into each others eyes as if in a trance, Klaus’ wolf howling in his head at having his mate in his arms and her seeing those eyes from last night all over again…but that’s impossible.

‘What the fuck? Put her down you freak!’ A voice snapped and just before a hand grabbed onto Y/n, Klaus placed her on her feet and grabbed the hand, twisting it painfully away from her.

‘Oh God! You are really strong, aren’t you?’ She asked him and all Klaus could do was blush.

‘You fucking freak, you are gonna pay for that.’ The jock that Klaus had never bothered to learn the name of snapped.

‘Sean! That’s enough! He saved me, stop behaving like a caveman!’ His mate was…sticking up for him?

She’s adorable when she’s angry.

‘Thank you, um…it’s Klaus, isn’t it?’ He nodded his head and she smiled. ‘I’m Y/n. Thank you Klaus, you just saved me some major embarrassment…and probably a few injuries.’

‘You’re welcome Y/n.’ Sean threw his arm around Y/n’s shoulder and pulled her away before she could say anything else and Klaus glared back at him, hating the asshole that gets to touch his mate, that should be him!

By the time Klaus got home he was ready to collapse into bed and call it a night, even if he’d only been at school half a day. That’s when his phone chimed and he looked down to see he had a new follower on his Instagram. He saw Y/n’s page shining back at him and a notification that he had a message from her, opening it to see a phone number. His stomach was doing somersaults as he quickly saved the number and texted it, her name and a question mark as if she would give him someone else’s number.

Mate: Who else would it be🤣

Her response put him at ease as he messaged her back again, and she promptly answered him. They spent the rest of the night like that, texting back and forth, getting to know each other and he couldn’t believe the fact that his father was so right!

They texted through the next few days before they decided to hang out, Y/n coming to Klaus’ place after school on Friday and spending time together for the first real time since he was a wolf. Speaking of wolves.

‘You have a lot of wolf stuff in your house.’ She commented as she looked around the living room and they did, decorations and carvings, their pack emblem being almost everywhere.

‘Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing I guess. If it freaks you out we can go to my room.’

‘No, it doesn’t freak me out, I like wolves…we can go to your room though.’ She shrugged and he thanked God for his abilities again because he could smell just how nervous she was. He didn’t understand how she came off so calm and relaxed while she was so nervous, but he admired it. He took her hand, leading her through the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. His fathers room was the entirety of the basement so Klaus had the master bedroom which he loved, having to share a room with Kol his whole life until he moved here at 10. ‘Wow! This is huge!’ Klaus smiled, sitting down on his bed with her beside him as she looked around. ‘You have a lot of art work, do you paint a lot?’ He nodded.

‘Yeah, it’s a hobby. I hoped to go to school for it but I already have a job here lined up after school so I get to just keep doing it whenever I want.’ She smiled at that.

‘That cool. It’s nice that you know what you’re gonna do…I don’t want to go to college, I’m garbage at school and I know I’m just gonna flunk out but my parents insist. I have savings and they want me to use that to pay for the first few semesters and then go into debt after so that I can get a job that will suffocate me for the rest of my life…I’m sorry…I don’t know why I just told you that.’ She blushed a deep shade of red and his wolf howled in the back of his head, pushing him to comfort her.

‘It’s okay, I…I like that you’re so comfortable around me. If you don’t want to go to school then don’t, use the money to figure out what you want…maybe you’ll know by the time we’re done school.’ He shrugged but she shook her head.

‘I doubt it…I’ve always felt like my parents just want rid of me. I’m their last kid and once I’m gone they’re done, they’re shit parents already anyway but…I always wanted a real family, one that just feels comfortable and safe, you know?’ He nodded right away.

‘Honestly I do. My dads family is like that for me, once I moved away from my mom and step dad I felt so much better, this place is…home.’

‘I’m glad you have that Klaus. You deserve it.’ He hugged her to his side and she rested her head on his shoulder.

‘You do too.’

He quickly found out that Sean wasn’t Y/n’s boyfriend which he thanked the Gods for, giving him the chance to ask her out himself and he did. Since that first weekend at his house they spent almost every day together and he took her on dates every weekend, loving that he got to make his girl feel special. He wanted to give her everything. Klaus knew that Y/n wasn’t the normal girl their age, she didn’t want to attend college or get a fancy job, even if she never said it out loud he knew she just wanted to be safe and loved for the first time in her life. It’s what he had wanted before finding out what he was too and he knew that’s why she was his perfect mate, and he wanted so badly to give her that. To give her a home and a family, to protect his mate the way he was driven to and he thanked the Gods that she seemed happy around his pack because he knew he could give her everything here.

Klaus spoke to his father about Y/n, and he knew that once they graduate she could come and live with him, he’ll have a job in the pack, his own place on their land and be able to take care of her…as long as she knew about him first. He didn’t know how to go about that though, it’s not a normal conversation to have honestly, he worried for a while about how to tell her but thankfully he didn’t have to. She figured it out herself.

It had been a month since Klaus had met Y/n and once again his wolf was excited to go and visit his mate, sprinting all the way to her house, seeing her in her room which he now knows is the she-shed out back that she turned into a bedroom so her parents didn’t bother her. He whined as he approached the door, scraping it gently and it opened quickly, her smile growing wide at seeing him.

‘Hey buddy! You came back!’ She moved to let him in and shut the door behind him before turning and petting his head gently but still cautiously. ‘Where have you been, huh? I was starting to think it was all a dream.’ He hopped onto the bed beside her and ate the cheese puffs she fed him for a few minutes before she reached for her phone. ‘Klaus is never gonna believe this.’ She spoke, FaceTiming him quickly and he watched her face fall when he didn’t answer. ‘He always answers, he answers me at 3am, what the hell?’ She tried again and once again he didn’t answer. ‘I hope he’s okay…’ Klaus felt guilty for not being able to answer her but what could he do? He just wanted to stay right here and snuggle up next to his mate. He laid his head down on her lap, smelling the heavy scent of her crotch right next to his nose and suppressing the response his body desperately wants to have. He could suddenly smell fear coming off of Y/n and he looked up to see her staring right back at him with a weird look on her face. ‘…Klaus?’ She asked and he felt his eyes widen and his ears go flat against his head. ‘You have the same eyes…you don’t answer your phone…the wolf can understand me and it’s a full moon every time you show up-Oh My God!’ She jumped from the bed and moved for the door making him lunge in front of her to stop her from leaving. She backed away slowly, clearly scared of how he was going to react so he whined, laying down on the floor and covering his nose with his paws as if to show her that he won’t hurt her and she seemed to agree to calm down, sitting back on her bed and staring at him. ‘Werewolves are real…cool…that’s cool, right? I mean it could be worse…’ he whined, nuzzling under her arm and making her scratch him. ‘Okay, I’ll chill out.’ She laughed, scratching his neck until he rolled over and enjoyed a belly rub once again. ‘This is the strangest thing I think I’ve ever done, I’m rubbing my boyfriends belly.’ He didn’t notice right away, enjoying the scratching that she was giving him though he realized quickly when she gasped and pulled away from him that she could see his erection coming out at the wonderful feeling she was giving him and he quickly jumped up. ‘It’s okay Nik, it’s not a big deal.’ She said, moving to touch him but he leaned away. ‘Hey, it’s not your fault, do I look upset?’ She didn’t, she looked as understanding as she always did and he both loved and hated it. ‘I don’t get upset when you’re human and it happens, why would I get upset now? Now let me rub your belly, come here.’ He rolled back over and did as she asked, enjoying the belly rubs she continued giving him. ‘It doesn’t hurt, does it? Like do you…do you need help?’ Did he hear her right? Did she just offer to help with his erection while he’s a wolf? He whined, feeling his cock begin to throb even harder as he pictured his mate with her hand wrapped around his red, swollen cock. He looked up at her as she stared at it before shrugging and reaching out to touch it, her fingers grazing down it before taking it in her hand and pumping it gently. His tongue flopped out of his mouth and he was panting like crazy as his cock just got bigger the more needy he got, his hips thrusting up into her hand and prompting her to move faster. ‘I’m not hurting you, right?’ He shook his head quickly from where it rested against her thigh. ‘It’s really hot…’ It was only another second of her stroking him before his cock began shooting out a truly impressive amount of cum. ‘Oh Fuck!’ She stroked him through it before using tissues to clean the mess off of her. ‘I can honestly say I did not see this being how my night went.’

It took a moment for him to begin thinking clearly again, feeling as if his wolfs mind was overtaken by the lustful ecstasy she had given him, staring up at her in awe before licking her face and making her giggle like crazy. His nose then trailed down her top, smelling her deeply and knowing how wet she is, practically tasting it on his tongue already making him whine and sit back to look at her.

‘No, it’s okay. You don’t need to-Ah!’ He cut her off, biting onto her pajama pants and pulling her forward quite hard, her whole body jerking with his firm yank. ‘Holy Shit, you’re strong! Okay! But no teeth!’ She warned and he rolled his eyes. Klaus may not have ever done this in his human body before but he did understand that she wouldn’t take kindly to teeth against her pussy…especially wolf teeth. She was dripping as she removed her panties, leaning back against her pillows awkwardly. He really wanted to be human right now and enjoy eating her out for the first time while he had opposable thumbs but he would be happy with this. ‘Klaus, you know you don’t have to-Oh Fuck!’ She shouted as he licked his long tongue straight up her cunt, lapping at her roughly. She tasted like magic on his tongue and he knew he would never get enough of this making him wonder if she would continue letting him eat her out as a human. ‘Don’t stop! Never Fucking Stop! Oh God!’ He buried his long tongue into her hole as far as he could, his cold nose nudging against her clit and making her hips jump hard before he flinched back, watching her body go rigid as she came, squirting a bit onto the blanket covered bed. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry-‘ she was startled as he cut her off with a growl, not liking the idea of an apology for something so perfect and sexy before he licked at her pussy again, tasting her even stronger than before. ‘Okay, too much...Come here and snuggle.’ She instructed, pulling a fluffy blanket over her half covered body before stripping off the top layer and just laying there naked. With that he nuzzled back into her arms, feeling her hold onto his fur.

Y/n spent the rest of the night snuggled up against him asking every yes or no question she could think of since he couldn’t really answer her, she asked all she could about werewolves and him and his family but never once did she say anything about how she feels about any of it…or him.

Klaus left at the same time as last time, her scratching his ears and yawning a ‘goodbye’ before watching him run off and as soon as he got home and shifted back he jumped into the shower, getting ready for school and completely forgoing any kind of sleep. He ran passed his father who was taking a nap on the couch and made his way to school a bit too early, waiting for Y/n to get there, texting her repeatedly but not getting an answer.

The longer he waited the more sick he felt, she was always at school no matter how much she had slept…and she always answered him…

He felt like he was being a bit stupid for being so worried but he couldn’t help it. He had never told anyone his secret before, not even his family, and now that she knows the only thing he can seem to picture is her telling him that she can’t see him anymore, that she’s afraid of him, that he’s a monster and she regrets ever letting him touch her…he needs to see her.

He never walked into the school as she never arrived, running back through the woods all the way to her house and trying to peek into her room only to find the blinds shut. Klaus knew he shouldn’t just walk in but he needs to see her, the near constant growl in the back of his head now controlling his actions. His wolf had never controlled his human body before but it feels as if he is when he can’t stop his legs from taking him to her doorstep or his fingers from reaching for the handle. He opened her door to see it was unlocked which was odd and he immediately thought she must be in the house or gone but when he peeked in he saw her asleep in her bed, clearly unconscious. ‘Y/n? Princess?’

‘Mmhmmm…’ she hummed and he smiled. ‘Finally…come snuggle me.’ She held her arms out tiredly, moving over and making room for him to crawl in where he had been snuggled up an hour before. He locked her door, dropping his bag and stripping to his boxers before he climbed in. ‘Why didn’t you come when I texted?’ She asked, clearly still half asleep.

‘You didn’t text me Princess, I’ve been texting you.’ He picked up her phone and opened it to see a message typed out.

Just come back when you can and skip with me, too tired to go to school.

‘Y/n, you never sent it.’ He chuckled and she giggled, snuggling into his warm chest and pulling the blankets around him more. ‘Y/n?’ He questioned and she grunted. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you?’ Her eyes flew open and she moved to look down at him with an aggravated look on her face.

‘Seriously? You think I would have let you in here, and let you stay the whole night talking to you if I was scared? Invited you back?’ He shook his head and she leaned down, nose to nose with him. ‘You think I would have touched your cute little cock if I was afraid?’ His eyes widened and he growled playfully, pulling her against him tightly and pressing his lips to hers.

‘Thank you…I just needed to hear you say it.’ He admitted. Klaus had never been vulnerable with anyone but with Y/n it was easy…it was comfortable. She felt safe to him, as safe as he felt to her.

‘I love you Nik. And I would never tell anyone if that’s your next worry.’ He shook his head.

‘It wasn’t. I trust you.’

‘Good. Now go to sleep wolf boy. I’ll ask the rest of my questions later.’

‘Good. By then it will be time for you to meet my family.’

Please let me know your thoughts on this one. I’m very set on doing a part 2 cause even I want to know what happens next🤣

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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