#All these years I was so sure they LITERALLY meant dirty talk..... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fan-goddess · 1 month

Note

can you hotd characters (mostly alicent and rhaenrya) when the reader almost passes in child birth? thank youuuu :3

A/N: Yep can do! I’ve never given birth, gotten pregnant nor seen anything resembling child birth apart from the Aemma scene in HOTD so I hope I did this justice!? Sorry this has taken so long!

Character Roll Call: Rhaenyra, Alicent, Daemon, Aemond and Jacaerys (All romantic love)

Warnings: Child birth, talk of infertility, talk of not able to have children, pregnancy, she/her pronouns used in some places for reader, talk of death during childbirth, talk about smut but no smut, dirty talk, a most likely inaccurate childbirth telling, graphic detailing of blood and gore, this is not proofread! (if I miss any please let me know in a way you’re most comfortable!)

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

It was not the typical marriage you and your husband shared. For whilst you had never had a particular fondness for goose, he understood that and went after his own interest in tasting the variety the world provided him with.

So while he was off exploring, you were in the chambers of the heir of the realm. Showing her your devotion in the most unexpected of ways.

Yet soon, after nearly two years of marriage with no children, people were beginning to become suspicious of your womb. More specifically, your husband’s own family. There was talk of them already arranging a second marriage for him as your womb was supposedly infertile. So after a talk with him, you and your husband for a whole of three months, with the help of Rhaenyra. And just when you thought your efforts were unsuccessful, the maester greeted you with a smile, and told you you were with child.

Your lover took the news surprisingly well, as Rhaenyra spent all hours of the day with you comparing possible names for the baby. Your husband had done his part in this game. Now, you and Nyra could spend your days eating the cake and kissing the days away. Acting oblivious to the hateful world surrounding the two three of you.

“What about Aurion?” Nyra suggests, a lazy smile on her lips as she places a fork with a large chunk of vanilla cake on the end between your lips.

“Hmmmmm” You hum, smiling in thought. “Perhaps let’s not raise more suspicions than we’d like my darling. How about something not so Valyrian?”

She laughs, and yet agrees with you with her smile turning strained and sad. Her hand reaches for your own instinctively and you quickly move to grab it and squeeze it tight. “Alright alright! What about Rhys? Ivan? Those are some more boring names!”

You laugh, and yet make sure to note them down somewhere in your head. You discuss names of girls also, just in case. Yet months later as you sat screaming your heart out on the birthing bed, those names disappeared as pain became all you know.

“You must push my lady! The baby is trapped you must push!” One of the ladies in waiting says as she positions herself by your bottom half.

“I’M TRYING TO FUCKING PUSH!” You scream, sweat dripping down your face as your eyes screw shut. Your voice loud as the pain spreads further through you, till eventually you feel it all over.

Soon, the pain that blooms all over becomes numbing. Especially, when you feel your eyes becoming heavy, eventually shutting so all you see is black and the world becomes silent.

“What is happening?!” Rhaenyra screams, her face becoming pale as memories of her mother come flooding to her head. “What is happening to her?!”

“The lady is haemorrhaging!” One of the maesters yells, a multitude of rags of all sorts in his hands as he attempts to stop the blood from further dripping onto the floor. The babe that had quite literally fallen out of your whilst you had fallen unconscious was quickly taken away by the ladies in waiting to be cleaned and attended to. So now, all focus was on keeping you alive. By order of the future Queen of Westeros.

It feels as thought it had taken hours to stop the bleeding. Yet that meant nothing till Rhaenyra who waited anxiously by your side with your hand in her own. Her fingers poised by your pulse so she can reassure herself that you were truly living beside her and not dead like her mother.

By the time you had finally begun to rouse from your deep slumber, the day had turned to night. And all those in the room were exhausted from the effort it took. The maesters in particular, who knew that if they allowed themselves to slack, the princess would soon be upon them with the fury of the dragons.

“My love….” Rhaenyra whispered, at this point uncaring of the multiple people in that room who’d scuttle themselves to her father and the hand at the slightest chance of a scandal. “Do you hurt?”

“As much as childbirth allows me to be in…” You laugh, yet wincing as soon as your body moves. “I am glad you were here… i fear if you weren’t-“

“Do not speak of such things!” Rhaenyra begs, her hands clutching your own tightly as if she was fearful you would drop dead. “I forbid it!”

“Do you say that as my future queen or as my friend?” You murmur, both knowing the true meaning of the word.

“I say that as both..” Rhaenyra whispers, kissing the top of your head as one of the ladies in waiting comes in holding the bundle containing your baby.

“It’s a daughter, my lady.” She says, walking over and placing her in your arms.

“She’s beautiful…” you can’t help but say, brushing away one of her curls from her eyes. You can feel Rhaenyras eyes on you, and so you take her hand and somehow manage to pull her closer.

“I wish to name her Arya.” You firmly say, locking eyes with your daughter who begins to cry in hunger.

“Beautiful…” Rhaenyra says, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of you beginning to breastfeed your child.

Alicent Hightower:

Even while Alicent was married to the king, yours and hers unique relationship had never once wavered. When Alicent had her children with the king, who did not even enter the room when the time of birth came, it was you who held her hand in place of her mother’s, and murmured soft words of encouragement and affirmation into her ears.

While you had your own, even though your mother was there to be by your side as a place of comfort, it was only Alicent name that sprung from your lips. Begging for her to come closer so you can hold her hand and beg her for mercy and encouragements.

Most recently, your third pregnancy had been said by the maesters to be the most difficult one yet. Pain was all you knew through those last few months. Pain in your legs from when you were forced to walk to the dining hall. Pain in your belly from where not only did the baby insist on kicking but also from the cramps the maesters insisted did not need to be further looked at.

Yet Alicent was always close by ready to lend a helping hand whenever the moment allowed her too. According to her, she still has the old treatment the maesters had prescribed her with just in case she fell pregnant again after Daeron.

“You… my utter darling, are my world!” You moaned, eyes shut closed as Alicent carefully massaged the soothing ointment into the base of your feet. She continues to help whenever she can. The ointments and herbs she providing you with being much better than anything the dreading maesters could’ve ever given you.

Yet like most treatments, the effectiveness wore off. Soon, not even the most obscure of medicines would work on you. Pain was always lingering in every part of your body. Even in places you had no idea were on your body.

“I just want this babe out of me!” You groan one night while Alicent once again attempts to stop your pain using this time a supposed miracle working ointments from Lys. “Nothing is fucking working!”

“Well complaining won’t solve anything!” Alicent attempts to jest, though quickly haults any other further attempt after a harsh glare worthy enough to rival the Strangers is sent hastily her way. “Perhaps it is the gods way of telling you how strong you are for having this child? A way to tell you how powerful your son will no doubt be in the future?”

“I would not care if I was to birth a dragon for gods sakes I only with for it to come out of me so I can no longer feel so fucking horrible!” You groan, “I have already told my lord husband that this shall be my last time on that fucking bed! If he even brings his cock within inches of me it’s being torn off his body and fed to your children’s dragons my love!”

“Oh hush now!” Alicent scows, a rare bout of anger coming about her. “The gods have their meanings and their ways! Though I for once shall agree with you. You will be having three beautiful children my love, and that is all you need. Perhaps you could give birth to a daughter and we can betroth her to Aemond?”

“Perhaps…”

By the time the ninth moon has passed, it is quick to say that you were very much serious about this being your last child.

“GET THE FUCKING CHILD OUT OF ME!” You scream, the maesters wincing at the volume rivalling that of a child being born. Something your own child it seems is refusing to let happen. “RIP IT OUT IF MUST BUT IF I DIE I SHALL HAUNT THIS KEEP FOREVER MORE!”

“There shall be no talk of dying on this bed from you!” Alicent yells, her grip on your hands almost as tight as your hand on hers.

The maesters voices cutting through though as they announce how they can see the babes head. Meaning to much your relief the pain will hopefully be soon over and you can hold the thing that’s been hurting you for nearly nine moons in your arms to give it a stern talking off.

You make sure to push hard when the maesters tell you too, even pushing when they don’t so you could hopefully get the babe out quicker. But even when you feel the babe quite literally fall out of you and hear its cries, the maesters make their own cries far more audible.

“Alicent what is happening?!” You ask, feeling what feels like warm liquid gushing from your lower half. Only she does not respond. Only turning paler than the sheets that with horror, you realise are turning a deep red from blood. Your blood.

And It only turns worse when you realise just how faint you feel. A once iron grip you had on Alicents hand turning weak and feeble as your eyes slowly begin shutting.

It’s all a blur when you feel your body waking. Yet still your eyes have not grown enough strength to open, so it’s with great horror you realise you are still conscious but are practically unable to move. You are alive but it is as if your body is dead.

You can hear Alicent beg for your sake. And you realise with your heart beating frantically in your chest that you can also hear her hushing a baby you had not realised was crying this whole time. Your baby.

“Your mother is sleeping now…” You can hear her say, tears building in your eyes when you hear how damaged her voice sounds. “She is strong, your mother. She will wake and see what a beautiful baby boy she has waiting for her… it won’t be long now. I promise.”

You try as hard as you can to open your eyes, yet your attempts prove to be impossible. Yet somehow, you manage to utter two words to your lover while your lower half screams in pain at you.

“Thank you…”

Daemon Targaryen:

It was no surprise to anyone when after a few mere moons after your marriage to the rogue Prince Daemon, you were announcing you were pregnant with his child.

The king had said his congratulations and announced a feast in his nephew or nieces name, and even Daemon had to admit the whole ceremony was wonderful.

Yet like everything in life, all good things must come to an end. The announcement of the first babe of the rogue prince turned sour as news quickly spread about how much pain you were in from them.

The babe refused to let you rest for even a second. All it did was kick and kick, and make you feel shitter than any other possible ailment in the world. You almost felt like having a conversation with the stranger after one too many bouts of particularly bad spells.

“You must let your muña rest ñuha trēsy… let ñuha jorrāelagon rest…” Daemon murmurs one night against the swollen bulge of your stomach. The warmth his dragon like body providing you with being possibly the best thing he’s given you since the day you married him.

“You know I do not understand a single thing you say in that tongue of yours…” You say, eyes closed as you relish in the lack of kicking and blinding pain. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was at least obvious now that your child had chosen favourites.

“Just because you cannot understand something does not mean you cannot understand the beauty of it.” Daemon murmurs, his voice gentle and nurturing as he continues attempting to soothe you.

His words to others would be considered strange and out of character. But as you’ve come to realise over the time of your betrothal and marriage, even though that shared time has lasted around only a year, you know deep down beneath the hardened dragon scale skin of his is a heart that bears solely for the life of those he loves. The latest addition being of course the babe of his own blood nestled in your belly.

It was such a lovely moment, and yet it seemed that would be the last of its kind the rest of the time your babe was steadily growing inside. The more time passed the less Daemons unusually warm body worked in soothing your unrelenting aches and pains.

“Are you okay ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asks one evening, his brows furrowed in what has become a near constant state of stress and worry for you. For is has now nearly been a full nine moons of pregnancy, and with that, it means the babe will hopefully be born.

“Unless you can get this child out of me with no pain,” You grunt, mentally cursing Daemons cock for being what it was. “Then I suggest you leave me be and allow me to wallow with the seed you yourself placed within me!”

For the first time in a while, Daemons worried stricken face turns cheery as he laughs at the familiar wit of yours that helped him to fall in love with you in the first place. The rest of the day is filled with similar circumstances, as while the babe continues to make your days a misery, Daemon is right by your side never ever venturing too far away from you.

You suppose it is why he insisted on being by your side when two days pass and you were on the birthing bed, his hand locked firmly in yours while your screams echo off the walls. You swear you can feel your cunt tear and drip with blood, yet with how much you screamed you honestly couldn’t be able to hear it.

“Please Daemon!” You beg, a multitude of tears running down your face. “Please make it stop!”

“It’ll be over soon ñuha jorrāelagon…” Daemon tries to comfort you with soft words and a tight reassuring grip, and yet his face clear as day is struck with fear and nervousness.

“You said that hours ago Daemon!” You sob, screaming even more as you feel the dragon spawn within you break even more of your innards. “I just want it out!”

“You will my love you will! You are strong and brave and a fighter! You will not die today do you hear me!?”

Daemons hands envelope the sides of your head to force you to look and him, and yet he’s utterly horrified when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hand that was once clutching his shirt for dear life falls limply by your side.

Daemons words reach no bounds as he insults the maesters and common people alike, swearing if his wife was to die then all shall die with her. So even in the seven hells his wife can make sure she achieves the justice she deserves.

Yet it somehow enrages him further when by the next hour, the maesters have managed to successfully take out the babe from within you, and present it to him as his first born, whilst other maesters make quick work of stemming the bleeding and disposing of the evidence.

Daemons eyes watche as a wet nurse moves to take his son into her arms and takes him into another room so she can clean his son, and it’s not until they’ve left does he begin to shout.

“IS THAT ALL IT TOOK? MY WIFE WAS SCREAMING IN AGONY ON THE BED, BLOOD POURING OUT, AND YET IT IS ONLY WHEN YOUR LIVES ARE THREATENED DO YOU HELP HER?!” He yells, his hand clutching the hilt of dark sister as a reminder that he has the upper hand. He’s the prince of the realm. The rogue Prince. If he wanted to kill people then he will fucking kill someone.

The maesters faces turn ashen as they stand there, practically shaking as they fear for their lives. Daemon is almost tempted to actually kill them. To send a message that no one fucks around with the rogue princes wife. That is however, until he hears a stir behind him and feels a familiarly soft hand clutch his own that previously had clutched dark sister.

“My love!” Daemon breathes, his face one of pure joy as he drops the sword hastily and moves to clutch your still weak body in his arms. “I was so worried!”

“What have you done with my Daemon?” He can hear you say, the laughter in your tone surprising considering what had just happened.

“Don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon, he was here a few moments ago, about to kill some pathetic fucking maesters…” Daemon begins, turning with a dark glare when he sees the said maesters still standing where they were before in fear. “But I suggest they scarper before dark sister becomes hungry for rat blood once more!”

This time, Daemon doesn’t turn back to watch them all practically run from the room. Not when there is someone in front of him so much more important.

“Where are they?” You say, your movements still sluggish as you wince while trying to turn your body to look around the room.

“Where is who ñuha jorrāelagon?” Daemon asks, preoccupied with finding the cup of milk of the poppy one of the maesters had said was somewhere in the room. A hum of satisfaction slipping his lips when he eventually sees it and grabs it, before placing it by your lips to try and force you to drink it.

“Where’s our baby?” You murmur, wincing again when the bitter taste of the drink runs down your throat. “I want to see them!”

“I will get him for you jorrāelagon.” Daemon says, moving to the direction of where the wet nurse had taken his son too. When he does find her, he does not care for whatever she has to say. Instead just moving to take the boy in his arms and walk back to you, who’s already sat up through the pain ready to see your son.

“Oh Daemon…” You breath, your eyes focused solely on the babe in his arms. “He’s beautiful…”

“He takes after you…” Daemon murmurs back. A soft smile on his face as he moves the boy into your arms. “What shall we name him my love?”

“What about Aenor? First of his name…”

“I love it…” Daemon murmurs, kissing the top of your sweat soaked head and moving to perch against the edge of the bed transfixed by the holy sight in front of him. “I love you…”

Aemond Targaryen:

Your husband wasn’t anything except attentive. Every moment after finding out you were with child he spent within meters of yourself. Even when you slept, his hand was always placed on your stomach.

“I would never allow myself to live if you were hurt ñuha vēzos.” Aemond would murmur against your skin, amongst other Valyrian words this time against the curve of your slowly swelling belly. Each one sending your skin further and further aflame with desire and love for your husband.

The whole pregnancy though, for the most of it, was smooth and ordinary. The baby had begun to kick a little after the fifth moon of your pregnancy, and Aemond was eager to experience every part of it. Yet when you’d passed the eighth moon, that was when everything began to turn on its head.

Pain was blooming in your stomach nearly everyday, and even with the maesters having to forcibly pour milk of the poppy down your throat, you had resisted firmly, not wanting the babies health to be put as such risk especially so close to the due date. Especially when you have been in the presence of the king, who openly abused the opioid near daily.

Yet the maesters with stern eyes and unwavering faces, claimed that if anything, it was the pain inside you that would risk the babies health. So whilst you wished pain on the maesters, they stood there stiffly with a near full to the brim cup of the drink. They watched every time you were needed to drink it. Even going as far as to make you open your mouth wide to make sure you weren’t resisting.

Aemond though like he had done so earlier in your pregnancy, was never as far as an arms reach. He never said anything to maesters face to face, yet he certainly did not hide his anger from you when the two of you would lay in bed holding one another in a close embrace.

“If it weren’t for the babe, I’d strike them where they stand…” He’d begun to murmur. Starting his now usual evening moan about how according to him, they weren’t good enough to care for his pregnant wife. Sometimes it’s sad as you realise how he at his lowest points believes even he is not good enough for you.

“Don’t let that stop you…” You indiscreetly murmur back, a clear glare on your face as you try to drink something to wash away the bitter taste of milk of the poppy.

“Dont you tempt me now ñuha vēzos… I very much can and will make my way to wherever those men lie and slaughter them before it’s time to break fast tomorrow.” Aemond chuckles, a comforting hand on your stomach where near instantly you can feel the babe kick twice. As if the babe was eager to say hello to its father.

“That’s right ñuha valītsos… kepa is here…” Aemond murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your very spine. If you weren’t already eight moons pregnant, you very well would be eager to take him right at this moment and take his seed deep inside till it takes root.

“You are getting distracted valītsos…” Aemond says, smirking at the dark blush that spreads on your face. It matters not how long you’ve been married to Aemond for, since he’ll always manage to find a way to fluster him. You suppose it’s as fun for him as it is for you to fluster him. Though you suppose by doing that is how you ended up in this position in the first place…

“How can I not, when theres such a beautiful man in front of me?” You say, grinning triumphantly when Aemonds own face turns a light pink. It’s not as dark as your own, but even seeing Aemond blush without him trying to hide himself away counts as a win to you.

The two of you revel in the rare soft moment between you both, and it’s not long before you both fall asleep holding each other.

It felt so perfect at that moment, as all the previous worries about the babe swept away. The both of you honestly didn’t think the whole ordeal could get worse. That is however, until your waters broke and you were lying on the birthing bed. Your screams breaking Aemonds heart as he tries his best to comfort you to the best of his ability.

Yet his controlled anger and frustration comes out in waves as your screams continue further and further into the day, and the maesters it seems are no further to helping you than from when they started.

Aemond withholds every single urge to kill them for their insolence for your sake, given that they are supposedly they best men available to help bring his and your child into the world. Though when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body go limp after attempting to push the babe out again per the maesters instructions, all hell broke loose there and then.

“What have you done!?” Aemond yells, his voice whilst commanding also torn with how scared he feels at that moment. His uncles wife, and his grandsires wives had died in childbirth attempting to bring a child into the world. He cannot have such a thing happen to you.

“You are meant to help my wife not fucking kill her! If she is to die today then so shall all of you! Your blood shall stain these walls if she dies do you all understand!” He yells, tears brimming in his eyes from how emotional he currently feels. Aemond refuses to let go of you hand as the maesters scurry around like rats to appease him.

It’s not long before the sound of a babes cry brings him from his sorrowful thoughts.

“It’s a daughter my Prince.” One of the maesters says, before handing her off to a nearby maid presumably to go clean her off of all of your blood and other bodily fluids Aemond most certainly does not wish to be thinking of right now.

Instead, Aemond chooses to grab a lone damp cloth free from any uncleanliness, and carefully uses it to wipe away the sweat on your face. Yet even with all of that Aemond still believes you to be as beautiful as when he first ever saw you.

The sound of your blood onto the floor that Aemond had tried to ignore for his own sake earlier finally stops, and he’s grateful that the maid comes back with his daughter then so he doesn’t have to think about any of that.

“I will give the baby to a wetnurse my Prince for her first feed.” The maid begins to say, about to walk away. That is however before she feels the princes hand clutching tightly on her shoulder forbidding her to leave.

“She will feed from her mother.” Aemond says firmly, moving to take his daughter away from the silly woman’s grasp. “‘Twas a decision me and my wife made and you shall respect that. Now leave.”

The maid stands there a moment surprised, even looking to the maesters for guidance in the situation. But when Aemond looks up at them with a cold glare on his face and a sneer on his lips, both the maesters and the maid make quick work on leaving the Prince with his daughter in his arms and his unconscious wife by his side.

He does not know how long it is till you finally begin to stir, and yet it does not matter. All that does matter is that you woke at all.

“How are you feel ñuha vēzos?” Aemond murmurs, his daughter in one arm as in the other he holds the cup holding the milk of the poppy he makes you drink. Making sure you don’t waste a drop.

“Like I’ve given birth…” You simply say, suddenly focusing on the baby in Aemonds arms. “Is that-“

“Yes ñuha vēzos. This is our daughter.”

Aemonds hands her to you, and when she begins to stir it’s almost instantly you bring down your dress and place her near your breast. Hissing slightly as she begins to immediately nurse from it.

“She’s beautiful.” You find yourself saying, refusing to take your eyes from her. “She looks like you sweet husband.”

“She may look like me but I believe she has her mother’s beauty.” Aemond says, moving to hold your hand in his. “What shall we name her my love?”

“What about Elaenor?”

“It’s perfect…” Aemond says, kissing the top of your head. “She’s perfect…”

Jacaerys Velaryon:

It appears Jacaerys was ever as loyal as they say. As even after being married in an arranged fashion, and finding out you were pregnant with his child after consummating the marriage, his presence was never far from you.

When in the middle of the night sickness plagued your body, it was Jace who was right there next to you with a bucket in hand. Even going as far as to hold your hair back with his hand so no sick could ruin it.

“Is this what it is like for all women?” Jace asks, attempting to smooth you while you once again throw your dinner up into a bucket, groaning whilst you do so.

“Only the lucky…” You moan, about to turn to look at your husband before you find yourself immediately needing to throw up again.

At first, it was strange to you to have a husband be so close and eager to be by up side, given the stories that your mother had told you. Yet now, you honestly could not think of your marriage without the little services Jace provides you with.

Whenever you find yourself craving a certain food, no matter how bizarre or disgusting it may seem to him, Jace was always willing to call a maid and inform her to make it for you.

“Thank you husband.” You sigh in delight, chewing on some honey dipped carrots in the comfort of yours and Jaces bed.

“It is no problem my lady.” He says, awkwardly perched by the edge of the bed covers while he watches you eat.

“You can come closer Jace…” You laugh, patting the side of the bed indicating your want to have him closer to you. His warmth comforting. His smile kind. “You have seen me naked before. I do not think you have the ability right now to be shy. Call me by my name Jace. It is only fair since I have been calling you by yours.”

“Of course… wife.” Jace smiles, a strange girlish sounding giggle leaving your lips as he moves himself closer and opens his arms so he can enclose you in them. “Has the babe been bothering you much today?”

“Only as much as usual.” You sigh, choosing to invite his pointed stare in honour of eating another one of your special foods. “Though not as much as I have been eating these.”

“That is good.” He simply says, softly kissing the top of your head as he touches the skin of your arms with his hand. “That is good…” He repeats again more gentler than the last.

The next few months all went smooth as they could go. You were still throwing up in the mornings and some evenings, and experienced some horrible cramps once every few weeks. What was the most difficult and painful thing you had to endure however, was the birth of the babe itself.

It felt like it was ripping out of you. Screams pierced the air as it felt as if the babe was determined to take your insides out with it.

“It hurts!” You cry, holding Jaces hand so hard he has to hide any audible winces in pain, as whilst he is not the most experience man with women, he knew at that moment to not even think about saying his own pain. Not when he could tell his pain was like a mere headache compared to your own.

“It will soon be over!” Jace says, trying to squeeze your hand in an attempt to comfort you and let you know he is here. But with how much pain is flowing through your system he honestly doubts you can feel it right now.

“I just want it out!” You yell, screaming again as the maester intruders you to push. It’s almost like a rhythm, as when the maester tells you to push, you push. And when you push, you scream at the top of your lungs. It’s like that for what feels like hours and hours on end.

Yet soon, it’s finally over, as the maester finally steps away from you holding a crying baby. The maester looks at him, and shows him his crying daughter.

“A daughter my Prince.” The maester says, placing her in Jaces arms. Your husband’s eyes unable to tear away from the smallest child he thinks he’s ever seen. Possibly smaller than Joffrey from when he saw him as a child.

He turns to you to show you with a smile on his face, but that soon disappears when he sees your face.

“My love?” Jace begins, looking worriedly at your pale sweat layered skin. “You do not look well…”

You try to answer, and yet you even with all your strength you cannot even find yourself able to move your lips, your head even.

That though is when Jace turns his own head and sees the frantic moving of all the maesters and ladies in the room. It’s when he hears a most frightening of sounds. The sound of your blood falling and dripping onto the stone floor. It’s almost worse when he sees how deeply stained your dress is by your own blood.

He’s frozen as he stands there, completey horrified by what he’s seeing and hearing and yet he cannot find himself able to move. His daughter still in his arms, only it’s when she begins to fuss and make sound does another lady in waiting take her into her own arms to put her from the room.

The maesters are beginning to yell now. At the ladies in waiting mainly but to each other a handful of times too. They sound too loud. But that may be because Jace hasn’t said a word since you collapsed against a bed. He does not know what it is he should say. He does not know what it is he should do. His mother has insisted he be in the birthing room alone with his wife, and yet here he is standing alone in the middle of it looking like an idiot.

Yet while he’s thinking, it’s like some sort of driven force when he suddenly realises he’s been holding your hand. Your skin feeling cold and damp from sweat, and Jace stays there the entire time holding onto your hand and staring at you face. He commits to memory the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and the feeling of your heartbeat in his hand. He blocks out the sounds of chaos and panic, and chooses to focus on you.

Jacaerys slowly watches the colour bloom back into your face when the maesters finally manage to stem the flow of your blood and keep it inside you. Yet when he sees you open your eyes sluggish and exhausted, he cannot help but have his heart speed in happiness and joy. The smiles may have to come later though.

"My love, how do you feel?" Jace asks, still clutching your hand as he edges himself closer to you.

"Like l've given birth.." You simply say, even smiling as you slowly turn your head to look around the room. "Where is the babe?"

"She is with one of the ladies in the other room, if you wish me to fetch her I shall." He asks, watching as your eyes widen and your mouth fall open in what he can only say in a comedic fashion. Not that he'd dare mention that here though that is.

"We have a daughter…" You say, so silently that he barely even heard you. "Yes. Yes I want to see her!"

"I will go get the lady." Jace says, letting go of your hand for the first time in hours and admittedly as soon as he escapes your sights wipes the thick layer of sweat lingering on his hand on his shirt.

When he arrives back with his daughter in his arms though, he cannot help but smile as he watches your entire face light up at the sight of the babe with what could only be utter awe.

"We did that..." You say, reaching out and immediately rocking the small girl when she's in your arms. "We made her..."

“Yes…” Jace can’t help but agree with you, placing his hand on you as he sits beside you on the bed, watching you as you hold his and your child closely to your breasts. “We made her…”

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aemond x reader #Aegon Targaryen/reader #aegon targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra targaryen/reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon Targaryen/reader #alicent targaryen #alicent hightower #Alicent Hightower x reader #Alicent Hightower/reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon/reader

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blockgamepirate · 3 months

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youtube

This is my petty complaint time, this video annoys me SO MUCH and even more so what annoys me is that the latest comment on it is this:

HE TAUGHT YOU SO MUCH BULLSHIT, PLEASE NO, DON'T LISTEN TO HIM

And yes, I've been thinking about this stream for nearly three years now, I've been meaning to go through it to critique Wilbur's arguments, I just never got around to it

Wilbur: "Tubbo, you've created an anti-state capitalist dystopia"

So all Tubbo had explained so far was that his town had a big company that owned two other big companies. Nothing about the government or anything. It's true that one company owning all the major businesses is pretty dystopian, sure, but I have no idea where Wilbur got the "anti-state" thing from, usually capitalist companies are fine with the existence of states, states do a lot of dirty work for the capitalists

Spoiler alert: Tubbo's city turns out to be pretty much a city state so Wilbur is just wrong anyway, not that he ever acknowledges it even when it does come up

Also it's not like corporate acquisitions are completely unheard of in the UK, as far as I know. Admittedly the UK is also arguably a capitalist dystopia but you know what I mean, the concept shouldn't be all that shocking to Wilbur

He's being so dramatic and trying to make it sound like he's caught Tubbo in a mistake or something. He also keeps asking questions and then not letting Tubbo answer properly before taking like one word Tubbo says and running with it

But this is the one that I find the most obnoxious:

T: "I did some research into like economics and stuff and I discovered this thing called UBI, have you heard of it?"

W: "What's it stand for?"

T: "Universal Basic Income"

W: "Yeah, I know about that"

He clearly does not know what UBI is.

It becomes very apparent very quickly:

W: "So you've got universal basic income but then also the rich exist still?"

T: "Yeah! Yeah they do."

W: "How does that come about then,"

T: "So in my mind--"

W: "is this universal basic income different for different people?"

T: "No, no, the universal basic income is better for everyone, just the people who have--"

W: "In order for there to be a 1% that means someone's earning more,"

T: "Yes, someone is earning more"

W: "but that means the universal basic income isn't universal!"

T: "No no no, not everyone's getting paid the same but everyone gets the same to begin with, okay? But then you can build on top of it."

W: "Oh no, you've got a-- Tubbo, you've got a fucking social point system!"

T: "Have I made a social point system??"

W: "Tubbo, you've made China!"

None of what Wilbur says makes ANY sense here. The only explanation I can think of is that he didn't know what UBI was, made an assumption that it just meant "everybody gets paid the same amount of money" or something like that and then just spoke fast enough that Tubbo couldn't correct him

Tubbo is correct here, Tubbo knows what he's talking about, but he can't out-speak Wilbur who is just throwing so much bullshit out of his mouth that there's no time to even respond

So, UBI means that everyone in the society gets a regular payment of a specific amount of money that's the same for everyone regardless of their life situation (and generally a requirement would be that it has to be enough to live on, altho people do like to water this down a lot...) This would be completely irrelevant to your wages or salary or capital gains. You can choose to either live on the UBI or you can just do the regular capitalist things to earn extra money on top of the UBI

Obviously I'm not one of those people who think that UBI would solve all of world's problems, I mean I am an anarchist and all (and not an ancap either), but it's literally just a very streamlined welfare system. That's all. It would probably be a lot better than the current models we have but it's not fundamentally different. There's nothing particularly weird about it, the point is just to make sure that everyone has enough money to live on, in every other regard it's just normal capitalism

Wilbur completely misunderstands the whole thing (because, again, he does not know what UBI is so he's just trying to imagine what it might mean based on what Tubbo is saying) and jumps immediately to something he apparently has heard of, which is the Chinese social credit system, which has nothing to do with UBI. In fact I'm pretty sure it also doesn't actually have anything to do with income either, or at least not directly, so I don't think Wilbur knows what the social credit system is either

He's literally just talking in buzzwords

Like if you actually wanted to make a leftist critique of Tubbo's city, you could, don't get me wrong. But instead Wilbur keeps insisting that he's made a social point system despite Tubbo trying to explain why it's not that at all

Wilbur just keeps yelling over Tubbo until his own chat turns against him and finally Tubbo himself also kinda gives up

And from there Tubbo also kinda just starts playing into the bit and just lets Wilbur direct the whole conversation, the rest of it is just them getting more and more into the roleplay. Wilbur keeps talking about the state pension plan, even though Tubbo already tried to explain that it's part of the UBI (this actually is how UBI is supposed to work, it does indeed streamline most of the welfare spending! Obviously you can still raise questions about that (I can think of a few at least) but Wilbur didn't let Tubbo explain so I have no idea what Tubbo actually had in mind)

I could try to go through all of what Wilbur says here but it's just too much, so maybe some other time. Although to be honest there are so many other streams that I probably should talk about instead that some fans unfortunately took a bit too seriously because they assumed Wilbur knew what he was talking about

My point here is mainly that just because someone sounds really confident and knows a bunch of buzzwords doesn't mean they know what they're talking about.

#wilbur soot #tubbo #this is literally just petty grumbling #not a serious post #altho i do genuinely hope that people reconsider all the things they've 'learned' from wilbur

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pandorxxx · 1 year

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Hard to please

Neteyam x Omatikayan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: Cursing, fingering, p in v, bratty reader, brat-tamer Neteyam, dom-Neteyam, multiple orgasms, squirting, choking, oral (for like 2 seconds, nothing crazy), bondage.

Synopsis: it’s finally your 21st birthday, and every warrior has pitched in to make sure that their favorite girl gets whatever she wants. They all have eyes for you, but you have eyes for one, and one only…

Outfit/Hair inspo:

You were the most spoiled girl in the clan. Your father, being jakes right hand man and your mother being one of the greatest hunters. You were automatically among the elite kids in the clan. You were very prissy, not one to get your hands dirty. Your father got you everything you wanted, and he spoiled the hell out of you. Every girl wanted to be you, and every male wanted to be WITH you. You were one of, if not THE most popular girl in the clan.

So, when your 21st birthday rolled around, you better believe it was the most talked about event all year. It was so big that your father and Jake sat down with many of the warriors to plan this out. It was endless nights of building and preparation, and every warrior in the clan was hands on. It didn’t take much for the young warriors to agree to such a task, considering it was all for you.

To say that you had every male warrior around your age wrapped around your finger was an understatement. They all wanted you, and would do anything to get you. Even if that meant signing up to help with a stupid girly birthday bash.

“Shit, this turned out kinda nice.” Lo’ak smiled, hands on his hips as he looked around the forest, admiring all of the work he and the other warriors put in for your party. There was no theme in particular, your only rule was the main color being PINK. And so, what y/n wants, y/n gets.

Pink lights hung from the tall trees, illuminating the forest just right. Pink balloons, streamers, and glitter imported from earth. This idea had been in your head ever since you were 16 years old, and your father did everything in his power to make sure everything was the way you wanted it. Beautifully decorated desserts sat on a long pink table. Along with all of the alcohol possible. It was truly a fairytale.

“Well, anything y/n wants, y/n gets. I hope she likes it with her ungrateful ass.” Neteyam spoke with a drink in hand, watching the forest fill up with members of the clan.

“She better like it. I’ve got glitter in places glitter shouldn’t fucking be.” Lo’ak scoffed, rolling his eyes. Neteyam followed with a snicker.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been washing pink paint and glitter off of my body for the past couple of weeks.” Neteyam sighed, taking another swig of his drink. The brothers slowly looked at eachother, silence falling between them before the famous line left their lips in unison.

“aNytHinG fOr y/N!” They mocked, bursting out into roaring laughter. It was sad but true. You had every warrior right where you wanted them, and that included Neteyam and Lo’ak. They’d do anything to see your spoiled ass happy. Not to mention you were hard to please.

Suddenly, the lights went low. Literally turning the entire forest a deep pink shade. The music cut, as your father took the main stage that the warriors hand built and painted pink for you.

“I just have a few words before we reveal my beautiful baby girl.” Your father started, immediately quieting the clan. He sighed with admiration before speaking again.

“Y/n, my daughter, my princess. We have been planning this party ever since you were 16 years old, and now…Tis finally time. Tonight is all about you, and I hope you have the best time. I love you so much baby girl.” He finished. The crowd immediately clapping for him.

“Now, I would like to turn the mic over to Jake. I believe he has a few words.” Your father spoke before handing the mic off to Jake.

“Yes, thank you. Firstly, I want to start off by wishing y/n a very happy birthday. I’ve known her all of her life. And she has grown to be a beautiful, lovely young lady.” Jake started with a lighthearted smile.

“Yeah, she’s grown alright. Have you seen that ass? Eywa took her precious fucking ti-“ lo’ak whispered before Neteyam covered his mouth. “HUSH!” Neteyam strained, trying to hold in his laugh.

“I want to thank my warriors for setting this entire party up. I’ve never seen them volunteer for something so goddamn fast.” Jake joked, eyeing all of his warriors all knowingly causing them to erupt into laughter.

“Anyway, I hope you have a great time baby girl. We all love you. Tonight’s all about you.” Jake ended, causing the crowd to hoot and hollar. Suddenly, The brightest pink light flashed on you and your friends in your own private section. Gasps from the girls and whistles from the men filled the forest.

Your hair was twisted in the front, as loose curls hung down your back. Decorated with gorgeous pink accessories. Your body was covered in loose glitter, glowing under the bright lights. Your outfit was revealing, diamond embroidered nonetheless. Diamond chains hanging down your waist. Diamond chains laid perfecting along your round ass. Your thigh-band matched your diamond outfit perfectly as well as your other accessories. You smiled, blowing kisses into the crowd as you waved at everyone.

“Oh my…” lo’ak spoke in a trance like state, watching as you stood up to spin around, showing off your little outfit. “Mmm that girl is practically fucking naked. Who ever made that outfit needs a raise or something.” Lo’ak continued, eyeing you up and down before licking his lips.

“Mhm.” Neteyam hummed, watching you through his predatory gaze. Muscles flexed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. You and Neteyam were kind of close, considering both of your fathers brotherhood. He really couldn’t stand your attitude. You were rude, cocky, and prissy. Your relationship was mostly him giving and you taking, without as much as a simple thank you. If it wasn’t for his father, he would’ve been taken care of that bratty attitude of yours. There was no denying that he was sexually attracted to you. Hell, every warrior was. And tonight just amplified it.

The music turned back on, and the party resumed. You spent your time mingling with everyone there. Singing and dancing with your friends, and drinking/smoking the entire time. Until it was gift time. This was always your favorite part of any celebration. Even though the only person who was good at giving you gifts was your father, he knew you so well.

The warriors fell in line, right in-front of you. Most of them bowing at your feet before handing you their gifts. They all ranged from handmade jewelry, cloths, and accessories. Nothing that really peeked your interest.

“Lo’ak, what the hell is this?” You smiled sarcastically, holding a very short pink loincloth with “lo’aks property” written across it in black glitter.

“Oh, come on mama! you know we would be good together. Just thought everyone else should know that ass belongs to me.” He shot you a cheesy smile, rubbing his hands together as if he just gave you a block of gold. You couldn’t hold your laugh in as much as you tried.

“Tempting. It’s too small.” You giggled, holding it up with your finger. He smirked, eyeing you up and down. “Exactly.” He whispered, biting his lip with a stupid smile on his face.

“Yeah Yeah, where’s your brother?” You rolled your eyes before blushing slightly at just the mere thought of Neteyam.

“Bro, I don’t know. I don’t care either. Kiss me already!” He spoke in an irritated tone, puckering his lips as he closed his eyes. You threw the loincloth at him, landing perfectly on his head.

“Kiss that.” You laughed, your friends right behind you. And the gifts just kept coming. Warrior after warrior. Same old same old. Until one of your favorite ones stepped up, stealing your undivided attention.

“Y/n, you look beautiful as always.” Said Nazu before signing a greeting. He was one of the most promising warriors in the clan around your age. He was strong, confident, sexy and you couldn’t deny that.

“I know I’m pretty. Give me the gift now.” You spoke sensually, bringing him closer by his war belt. He smiled, eyeing you up and down before following your orders. He handed you the box, both of you locking eyes as you took it out of his hand. Your gaze met the box as you untied it. The most beautiful headpiece you’d ever seen shimmered under the pink lights. Encrusted with rare pink diamonds, only the most skilled hunter would be able to find. You and your friends audibly gasped. Your mouth hung opened in shock. Nazu was visibly proud. Proud that he impressed you, and that was very hard to do.

“A headpiece I made myself. Your favorite colored diamonds are woven together, see? Only fit for a queen, such as yourself.” He explained, his voice low, as he admired his handy work in your hand.

“Oh my eywa, Nazu….” You spoke in a surprised tone. Admiring the headpiece before meeting his gaze. “You’re always the best gift giver.” You smiled, immediately placing the headpiece on. And ofcourse it went with your outfit so well. Everything on your body was dripping with diamonds, so expensive as it all danced under the low lights. He was utterly speechless as he admired everything about you, eyeing you up and down with a slight smirk.

“Y/n, if you’d do me the honor, I want to court you. I’d take such good care of you, better than any of these other warriors and you know that. I’d give you the life you deserve, and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. I’d shower you with gifts like this everyday.” He confessed, bringing your dainty hands to his lips, leaving a small kiss as he stared into your soul. You couldn’t help but smile, listening to the same old song you heard from the warriors before him. His hands shifted to your back, scooting you closer to the edge of your throne with aggression. He leaned down to your ear, placing a soft kiss.

“I’d fuck you right. However you want it, whenever you want it. It’s all yours, my love.” He spoke sensually in your ear, sliding his hands down your back to grip your ass. He was making you hot. He knew what he wanted and he went for it, there’s nothing more attractive than that. But you couldn’t help but turn your attention to the warrior behind him. The last warrior of the night. Neteyam stood tall, gift in hand as he glared at the scene unfolding in-front of him. He huffed with every breath, face screwed in anger.

“As tempting as that sounds. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t have eyes for another.” You hummed, staring directly at Neteyam, making sure he heard every word. He smirked, shaking his head all knowingly. Nazu let you go, backing up to look at you. He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around.

“Ha! Who? Who could you possibly want more than me?!!” He shouted, eyebrow cocked as he waited for an answer. You looked back at Neteyam briefly, as he seemed to be in defense mode, just in case he need to kick Nazu’s ass for the way he was shouting at you.

“I want you! Can’t you see?!” Nazu growled lowly, gripping your dainty arm tightly. Shaking you out of your trance.

“Move.” Neteyam said firmly, standing directly behind Nazu. His lip twitching with anger as his tail swayed high in defense. Your eyes went from the grip on your arm to Neteyam within an instant. Nazu huffed, letting you go harshly before throwing his hands up in surrender. He turned around, meeting Neteyams hard gaze.

“She’s all yours.” Nazu smiled sarcastically, backing down immediately. He turned his head to you eyeing you up and down before walking away. Bumping neteyam’s shoulder in the process. Right as Neteyam went to snatch Nazu by his queue, he felt 2 dainty hands grab his wrist, turning him around.

“Hey Hey! Don’t worry about him. Fuck him.” You reassured Neteyam, bringing him dangerously close.

“Did he hurt you? Huh? I’ll fucking kill him.” He growled, examining your arm for any marks. Jaw clenching and unclenching in anger. You grabbed his chin, titling it up to meet your gaze.

“I know you would. But it’s no need for that. I’m fine.” You smiled, glancing at his lips, before bringing your eye contact back to his eyes. He sighed in relief, finally calming down in your embrace.

“What’s in the box?” You asked with a smirk, letting his chin go before pointing at the small box in his hand.

“Why’s it so small? You of all people know I like big presents.” You snarled, sitting back in your throne, crossing your legs slowly. Thighband flashing with every sudden move. He chuckled, glancing down at it before handing you the box.

“Such a fucking brat. Just open the box!” He laughed, placing it in your lap when you wouldn’t take it from him. You rolled your eyes, lifting the lid to be met with the most beautiful thigh band you’d ever seen. It was pink ofcourse, covered in bioluminescent flora and huge diamonds so bright that they reflected on your face. Bigger and shinier than the ones Nazu gifted you. You were speechless, jaw dropped to the ground as you watched it dance under the lights.

“N-Neteyam I- Thank you.” You stuttered, in complete awe as you stared at the beautiful craftsmanship on your new favorite present.

His eyes widened, ears perked up from your words. Out of everything he’s ever done for you, he’d never gotten a thank you until now.

“I-umm.” He threw his head down, chuckling at himself for getting choked up. “I know how much you like those things. You always look so good with them on, so I thought I’d make you a personal one. Your favorite color, and the biggest diamonds I could find.” He finished, hand on the back of his neck as he glanced at the thigh band you had on, trying his best to keep his composure.

“I love it. I love it so much! Put it on me, please!” You screeched in excitement, handing him the thigh band. He shook his head with a light smile before bending down in-front of you. He ran his strong, calloused hands up your leg slowly. You uncrossed your legs immediately, letting his tender touch consume you. He grabbed the piece of fabric that was already on your thigh, pulling it down slowly as he watched you Intently.

Once he got it off of you, he tried to hand it back to you. You shook your head, pushing his hand away. “You keep that one.” You spoke, eyeing him sensually. He smirked before placing it between his teeth, grabbing the one he made for you. He slipped it on you slowly, making sure it was in place before sliding his hand all the way down your leg softly.

“Perfect fit. You know me so well.” You giggled, admiring the band dancing in the lights. He admired too as he took the old band out of his mouth, placing it on his wrist just for it to scrunch to his size perfectly.

“Finally got your ungrateful ass to say thank you. I think my job here is done.” He joked, standing to his full height. You placed your foot on his chest, and he quickly grabbed your ankle, massaging your lower leg with a slight smirk.

“What are you doing? Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head with a confused look on his face.

“I wanna show you how grateful I am. Let’s go somewhere more private.” You smirked.

“And miss the rest of your party? I don’t think so.” He said sarcastically, shaking his head in disagreement.

“Let’s take the party elsewhere.” You demanded, eye fucking him as you looked at his loincloth. Bulge growing by the second.

“Now you know your father would kill me for fucking his precious little princess.” He spat, letting out a chuckle before placing your foot back on the ground.

“Oh come on, Tey! He won’t find out. I know you want me.” You giggled, leaning back in the chair before shifting your hips up sensually. He clenched his jaw in restraint, watching your body move, and the diamonds glisten around it.

“Mmm what gave it away?” He hummed. You bring him closer by his wrist, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Oh, I dont know. Maybe the growing bulge in your loincloth babe.” You whispered in his ear before backing away to look into his eyes. He raised a brow, a slight smirk forming across his lips. “We can’t, y/n.”

“Give me what I want, Neteyam. It’s my birthday!” You whined, bottom lip poked out as you pleaded with him. He sighed before he let a smile creep across his face.

“You sure know how to get what the fuck you want, don’t you?” He asked with a slight smirk, picking you up out of your chair. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist as you kissed his neck shamelessly, not caring if anyone saw you. He glanced back at your friends, shooting them a fake smile.

“Uhh, if you ladies would excuse us. I’ll bring her back in a few.” He chuckled nervously, bowing his head slightly at the girls before walking away with you in his arms.

- -

He walked you to a secluded place in the forest behind the party. Music from the party could still be heard from where you two were. Your lips were still attached to his neck, purple hickeys forming all around his neck. He laid you down on the moss before hovering over you, indulging in a passionate kiss.

“Fuck, lay back!” You commanded, flipping him to the ground before straddling his lap.

“Goddamn, woman. You want me that bad, huh?” He chuckled watching you take the headpiece that Nazu gifted you, throwing it to the ground beside you.

“Oh shut up!” You rolled your eyes, bending down to kiss him again. He obliged, humming in your mouth as he slid his hands down your back to your round ass, gripping it tightly. He smacked it a few times, causing you to moan in his mouth.

“Take it off of me.” You moaned breathily in between kisses. He obliged, untying your diamond skirt from around your hips, throwing it to the side. He moved on to your diamond thong, untying it from around your hips. He pulled it from under you, throwing it to the side as well. You sat up on him, grabbing his hand to run it down your entire body. He bit his lip, watching the diamonds on your outfit dance under the night sky.

“You look so good, I-I don’t even wanna take this off of you.” He spoke in his melodic tone, running his hands across your diamond top.

“So don’t.” You smirked, yanking his loincloth down just enough to expose his throbbing cock. The veins pulsated as his swollen tip leaked precum. Your eye’s widened, licking your lips as you stared at his huge cock in awe.

“I want it. Right now.” You spoke in a trance like state, completely hypnotized by his gorgeous shaft.

“It’s all yours, Princess. Now let me give it to you, ok?” He spoke calmly, nodding his head as he tried to sit up, but you just pushed him back down. Immediately lifting up to attempt sliding down onto him.

“I I-wanna ride it!” You moaned, trying to push him into you, to no avail. You really didn’t know what you were doing, but you knew that you wanted him, right now.

Come on, y/n. g-get up, it’s not working this way.” He sighed, tapping your thigh.

“Nooo teyam, I wanna ride it. Just a f-few more seconds! I-ngh! It’s almost in!” You whined, gripping his shoulders tightly as you tried to shimmy your way down his shaft.

He growled, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration. “It’s n-nowhere near in you. J-Just let me change positions. I can help you out, ok?” He explained, voice calm as he maintained his patience with you.

“No! Just put it in me already!” You huffed, still trying to use him as your own personal fuck toy, but failing miserably in the process.

“Shit! You’re going to hurt yourself!” He shouted in frustration, stopping your hips with his large hands.

“STOP IT TEY!” You shouted back, sending him over the edge. He growled loudly flipping you both over, him now hovering over your half naked frame. You tried to lift your head up to speak before he grabbed your neck, pushing you back to the ground. You immediately backed down to him, the only man that could put you in your place.

“I know you’re not used to being told no. But that shit ends today. If we do this, we do it MY way. You’re not the fucking boss, I AM. Got it?” He spoke lowly, shaking your neck with every word. You held onto his wrist to ensure that he wouldn’t squeeze your neck any tighter. You nodded your head frantically with wide eyes.

He bent down, crashing his lips into yours. Your tongues fought for dominance, but his won. He began to slide his hand down your body slowly, until he reached your bare cunt, rubbing firm circles into your clit.The surge of electricity made your body jolt under his touch. You tried to evert eyes from Neteyam by turning your head side to side frequently, but all he did was follow you with his eyes.

“No, look at me y/n.” He said breathily with a dark tone before tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He deemed this the perfect time to slide 2 fingers into you nice and slow. Your back bowed to the mossy ground, breasts just barely touching his chest as you let out a series of whimpers. He curled his two fingers into you at a steady pace while he used his thumb to massage your clit harshly.

“FUCK I- I…” you moaned, squirming around underneath him. He grabbed your neck, holding you in place before he drilled you with his fingers, working loud squelching noises out of you. Your jaw dropped suddenly, deeming you completely silent. He was nose to nose with you, you two breathing the same air as you listened to the wet sounds of your cunt.

“You wanna be a good girl and squirt for me? Hmm?” He asked, staring into your blown pupils.

“I-I YES! Im gonna be a good girl!” You squealed, face screwing in pleasure as your legs started to shake. If your eyes weren’t wide before, they were bulging now.

“TEYAM! I think I-I THINK!” You gasped, your orgasm completely taking over your body. “Mhm, give it to me baby! Don’t hold back.” He moaned, getting completely turned on by your pornographic release. You screamed, gripping his strong arm as your juices flowed out of you with each rough pump of his fingers. He suddenly took them out of you, smacking your clit at a harsh and fast pace. Surges of electricity ran through your veins, making you twitch with every other smack.

“Cum for me AGAIN!” He growled, watching you come undone for a second time, squirting all over his hands and wrist. Your legs closed around his hand tightly, as you lazily backed away from him.

“P-Please Teyam!” You whined, gaining some distance away from him as he watched you back away. He chuckled, sitting up on his knees as he jerked his cock at a painfully slow pace.

“Come back. I thought this was what you wanted?” He asked sarcastically, yanking you back down to him by your ankle.

“No, I-I do want it. I-I just-“ you stuttered until he cut you off. “You just want it YOUR way. And I won’t let that happen, sweetheart.” He continued your thought, he knew you like the back of his hand.

“Not true!” You whined, crossing your arms.“ Yes the fuck it is.” He spoke lowly, slapping his cock on your sensitive clit, smearing your juices on his shaft. You lifted your head up just to get a peak, licking your lips as you hummed with each slap.

“You want it in you?” He bit his lip, now rubbing his cock in between your soaked folds. You sat up on your elbows, watching the source of pleasure, listening to the squelching noises.

“Yesss! Please Teyam. Im begging you!” You moaned, bucking your hips against his cock. To hear you beg was like music to his ears, and all he could do was give you what you wanted, no questions asked. He lined his cock up with your aching hole before sliding in slowly, making sure not to hurt you in any way.

You were already drunk off of him. Your head dipping back slowly to every single inch he slid into you. Your eyes rolled back and you had a delirious smile plastered on your face from finally getting what you wanted.

He bottomed out harshly, smashing the last few inches into your sweet spot before continuing that movement with deep strokes. He grabbed your leg, pulling it over his shoulder to open you up alittle more.

“Ohh my- Teyam FUUUCK!” You moaned, gripping the moss beneath you. You whined with every thrust, back still bowed to the ground. He started at your neck, rubbing his calloused hand down you entire torso, sending chills through your spine. He reached your clit, rolling it between his fingers before massaging the bud of nerves with his thumb.

You jolted uncontrollably from the pleasure. You reached down to grab his wrist tightly, trying your best to stop his movements as the pleasure became too much for you. He smacked your hand away immediately before glaring at you, stopping his movements all together.

“You don’t fucking listen! I told you, I’m in charge. Not you!” He growled, pulling out of you just to flip you over on your stomach. Your eyes widened, realizing that you’d ticked him off for the last time.

“Teyam, I-I’m sorry! It was j-just too much! It won’t happen again please!” You pleaded with him, and he loved to hear you beg. He stayed silent, all you could hear were loud huffs. So loud and intense that you could feel his hot breath on your back.

He took your diamond thigh band from around his wrist. He pulled your arms behind your back, wrapping the piece of fabric around your dainty wrists a few times before it was tight enough.

“Arch it. NOW.” He commanded, sending a hard smack to your ass. You whimpered, yet and still lifting your knees up, arching your back and exposing your dripping cunt to him. He chuckled, watching your stubborn ass follow his direct orders.

“All it took was my cock to make your prissy ass bow down, huh?” He grabbed your hair, yanking it back to the point where your eyes met his. Your eyes were filled with desperation and he loved it.

“Watch me destroy this pussy. Don’t take your eyes off of me.” He growled, sliding his clock into you slowly, watching your eyes roll back from the sudden fullness. He began to drill into you, hard and deep. And all he could do was watch you fall apart, moaning and whining deliriously as he fed you long, hard strokes.

“What would your father think about his precious, innocent, Princess getting dicked down like the slut she is, hmm?” He asked, watching your face screw in pleasure as he sped up his pace.

“You’ve really got everyone fooled. Thinking you’re so fucking innocent. Saying you don’t get dirty, but look at you. So fucking dirty for me, right?” He snarled in your ear, gripping your hair tighter as he drilled so deep into you.

“Mhm! Yesss!” You moaned, voice rippling from his hard thrusts. He pushed your cheek back down into the ground, pushing your knees farther apart. He gripped your hips, using them to bring you back onto his throbbing cock repeatedly.

“Tell me you’re my dirty little slut.” He growled, smacking your ass a few times, leaving numerous purple handprints on the flesh. Using your tied up hands, you tried to block his hits, to no avail.

“Te-yammm I- I can’t!” You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his swollen tip slam against your sweet spot with each stroke. The pleasure mixed with pain was too much for you, it consumed you to the point of delirium. But you knew if you didn’t obey him, it would get worse for you.

“I-I’m your dirty little slut!” You muttered before biting your bottom lip, trying to suppress the screams threatening to pierce through the still forest.

“Mhm, Good girl. Good *thrust* fucking *thrust* girl *thrust*” he moaned through gritted teeth before tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, watching your ass meet his pelvis with every hard thrust.

“I-I’m so fucking close, Teyam!” You whined, shifting your head on the ground to look back at him. He grabbed the restraint around your wrist, using that as leverage to pound into you slowly, creating the loudest smacking sounds that rang through the forest. Your jaw dropped, legs shaking from your oncoming orgasm as you clenched around him repeatedly.

“Mhmm! keep squeezing me with this pretty pussy. Cum on this dick and milk me dry, Princess.” He moaned, shooting you a devilish smirk before smacking your ass once more. There was nothing you could say, your moans got caught in your throat, and your jaw still hung opened. He watched your eyes roll back again, shaking uncontrollably from the steady strokes he sent you.

“Best birthday present ever I’m guessing?” He chuckled, eyebrow cocked as he awaited an answer. You nodded your head slowly, still spasming underneath him as you finally reached your peek.

“SHIT!” You squealed sharply, juices flowing down your legs with every stroke. He pulled out, smacking your clit with his cock repeatedly, working your orgasm out of you. You shook violently, screaming as you squirted all over his cock.

“Fuck yes! Let it out all over this dick.” He moaned, sliding back into you to chase his high. Your knees buckled, sending you and him flat against the moss. He still kept his pace inside of you, thrusting hard and deep. You lazily squirmed under him, trying to crawl away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“No, come back. I’ve got one more present for you.” He growled in your ear, wrapping his entire arm around your neck, using it as leverage to Buck his hips into you hard.

“Mmm too deep, too deep!” You moaned, using your tied up hands to push down on his lower abdomen. But you were too tired to use any real force.

“I’ll go as deep as I want to in this pussy. It’s mine!” He growled, tightening his grip on your neck as he thrusted into you harder. You were on the verge of another orgasm. Twitching with every stroke, whimpering his name as tears welled in your eyes.

“Y-You’re gonna make me cum again!” You screamed, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen tighten. “Go ahead baby, I’m right behind you.” He moaned in your ear before kissing the lobe.

That was all you needed before your eyes rolled back, cumming on his cock for the second time. His cream coated shaft revealing itself with every thrust. You let out a series of moans as you came down from your high. Neteyam felt your walls contract around him, trying to milk him dry.

“Fuuuck! Get on your knees!” He grunted, pulling out of you, walking around your trembling body to stand in-front of you. You managed to use your knees, pulling you up to kneel in front of him.

“Mmm you look so fucking pretty like this. Ready for your gift, Princess?” He moaned jerking his cock hard and fast. Sliding his hand from the base, all the way to the tip, smearing the precum oozing out of his tip. He let out a few grunts before painting your face with his seed. You smiled deliriously, sticking your tongue out for him.

“Juuust like that baby, let me feed you.” He moaned, grabbing your hair to push your mouth onto his cock. You obliged, wrapping your mouth around his entire length as he came in your mouth. You hummed on him, sucking the rest of his nut out of him. Your cheeks filled with his seed and you swallowed it greedily before detaching from him with a loud popping sound.

He grabbed your chin harshly, smearing the access cum across your lips. “Happy birthday, my little brat.” He muttered through gritted teeth. You stared up at him through hooded eyes, a delirious smile plastered across your face.

“Thank you, Teyam…”

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ahsxual · 6 months

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Dark Sins

Pairing: William Afton x Fem!Reader (and a little of Stu Macher x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You and Stu have been together for a while now. You didn't like his friend Billy, because in your opinion he meant trouble. But Stu didn't care about it. In fact, it only made him want to hide you from Billy. So when the two of you were at Stu's house and Billy showed up, Stu made you hide yourself in the bathroom... little did you both know that his dad was taking a shower.

Genre: Smut

Warnings: minors don't interact +18, cheating (I don't support this, only wrote it for the fic!!), Stu not being the best boyfriend, implied age gap (reader is on her 20s, William is 50), fingering, oral sex (f&m receiving), squirting, dirty talk, mentions of daddy, chocking, cursing, degrading and humiliation kink, cnc, almost getting caught, perv!William, Dom!William x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 2,8k

Part II & Part III

A/N: In this fic, William is Stu Macher's father. I just love this idea, so I decided to write this crossover. I haven't written for so long, so I'm sorry for any mistakes or the low quality fic. I missed writing for you guys, so here I am! I'm trying my best <33

You and Stu Macher had been together for a few weeks now. He was your crush since you met him last year, and things developed over time, specially after one of his parties. You guys had sex in his bedroom at one of his parties, and let's just say it was the best fuck you guys ever had. The adrenaline running through your veins from the alcohol, the passion between you two and the risk of getting caught by one of your friends was too much. You were extremely happy when, after a couple of months, he wanted to make it official. It was like a dream coming true... I mean, who wouldn't want to be Stu Macher's girlfriend? But like in all relationships, nothing is completely perfect... and when you met his best friend Billy, you couldn't help but hate the guy. He had this creepy look whenever he looked at you both and you talked about it with Stu. Apparently the guy hated you too, so Stu decided to hide you from him. Like, literally.

It pissed you off even more. How can your boyfriend prefer his best friend over you?? The PDA between the two of you didn't exist anymore whenever Billy was around, and that hurted you. So today, you decided to go talk about this with Stu.

"Hey... can we talk?" you asked Stu when he opened his house's door for you. He already knew what you wanted to talk about, so he rolled his eyes and let you enter his house.

"Sure babe, come in." he said in fake excitement, which annoyed you to no end. How can he still think it's your fault and there's nothing wrong with what he's doing... or better, allowing others to do. It's like he cares way too much about what Billy thinks or not. What a weird relationship they have...

You both went to his room for some privacy, since his dad was at home. Talking about the man, there was something strange, maybe even creepy about him too. He barely talks to you or says anything at all, always busy with work on the few times he's at home. However, his intense eyes always seemed to analyze your body like a predator analyzes its prey. At least, that's how you felt. And it sent shivers down your spine every single time, for whatever reason unknown to you.

"So... I assume you already know what I want to talk about with you..." you were the first one to break the ice, since you and Stu have had been silent for a few minutes now. You shouldn't be feeling so nervous and you didn't want to bother Stu, but things had to be talked about when something bothers you. Communication is the key for a good relationship and that's what you decided to do.

"Yeah, I think I do." Stu seemed way too relaxed for your liking, his arms supporting his body onto his bed like he didn't care how this conversation would end.

"Can you just pretend that you care about how I'm feeling instead of like, running away? Because that's what it looks like you're doing and it annoys me, Stu. Deeply." you shouted at Stu, your patience disappearing by each second. But when he looked at you with those hungry eyes, you immediately knew what he wanted to do. Again. Every single time.

"Come on babe, we can do so many interesting things instead of arguing, don't you think? You look so fucking hot when you're mad at me." a large smirk was planted on his face, before he pushed you down onto his bed, his tall and lean body over yours while he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and pinned them on the bed. He started sucking and kissing your neck, while his free hand grabbed your tits hard, making you moan.

"Stop it Stu, we have to talk about..." you tried to sound serious, but the truth was that you forgot what you wanted to talk about in the first place. You couldn't resist Stu: he had that power over you, and even tho you hated it sometimes, it was simultaneously the thing you loved about him the most. The way he made you weak to your knees by a simple touch. You felt like you were in heaven for a few minutes, before Stu's phone started ringing. You both looked at it annoyed, and when you thought you couldn't be more bothered, you saw Billy's name on it. Stu immediately got up, before sending you an apologetic look.

"Hey man, what's up?" Stu's face went from excitement to fear in a second, and you looked at him asking mentally what happened. "Yeah sure, just give me a sec." and then Stu hung up the call.

"What happened? What did he want?" your tone was a little bit harsh towards Stu, but you couldn't control it. What did Billy possibly want this time??

"I'm sorry baby, but... Billy is actually on my doorstep. He's outside and needs to talk to me... like right now." you could tell your boyfriend was feeling bad for interrupting your intimate moment, but he still didn't say no to Billy.

"You're kidding me, right? Does he know that I'm with you? Can't you tell him that??"

"Come on y/n, just cooperate with me! It will be fast I promise, just..." he paused for a second, before grabbing your arm and taking you to the bathroom. "Just stay here for a minute, okay? Don't come out until I tell you so! Love ya!" he then kissed you and put you inside of his bathroom way too quickly to realized that it might be occupied...

"Wtf!" you shouted quietly, visibly pissed off by the ridiculous situation you were put in. How could Stu do this to me?? Hiding his own girlfriend, because his friend didn't like me? You thought. When you were walking backwards, you didn't even realized that the bathroom was in fact, occupied. By your boyfriend's father.

"Shit!!" you screamed when you collided with a strong, bare and wet chest. When you turned around, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was your boyfriend's father, William Afton, completely naked with just a towel around his hips. You stared a little too long to his tall, nice built body for his age, before you closed your curious eyes. "Omg, I'm so so sorry Mr. Afton, I didn't- this is all that asshole's fault!" you whispered to yourself the last part, referring to Billy. Well, in reality it was Stu's fault, but you didn't want to think about it that way.

"May I know why you haven't left yet? Seems like you're enjoying being here... in my presence." William's tone was serious and his eyes roamed all over your body, since you were wearing a short dress. If you weren't feeling so embarrassed, you could tell that he was in fact teasing you.

"I-I can't Mr. Afton... Stu doesn't want me to get out of here... I don't know what to do... well, on second thought, I should probably go." you never felt so embarrassed in our entire life. You didn't know if you should leave and go against your boyfriend's stupid request, or if you should just stay there being confronted by Mr. Afton lustful eyes and semi-naked body. This was his opportunity, he thought. Just the two of you... alone.

He wanted to show you how much his son didn't deserve you. He wanted to show you who could be a real man to you. Someone who didn't refuse to pleasure you like his son did to you just now, even tho you could be caught. What you didn't know, was how long William have been desiring you. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to be with you and make you forget about his son only with his dick. To prove to you that you didn't know real pleasure until he fucked you until you're begging for his mercy.

"Who said you're getting out of here, huh?" how dumb and innocent you are, he thought. Thinking that now that everything was according to his plan, you could escape him. It made him laugh, actually.

"I-I don't understand, sir..." your back was against the bathroom door, not allowing you to escape his slow approach towards your small body compared to his. The moment you called him sir made his cock harder, and when you noticed it through the thin towel, you gasped loudly not just by the unknown effect you had on him, but at the size of it. It was huge and you could tell that it was thicker than Stu's dick.

He noticed you staring at his cock and smirked at your reaction. He knew deep down you wanted him too. You naughty, dumb slutty girl. He suddenly approached you faster, not even caring about the fact that his towel fell on the ground, leaving him completely naked in front of you and showing you his dick fully erected because of you. Before you tried to say something, he covered your mouth with his big hand.

"Shhh. Don't say a single fucking word, you understand me? You don't want my son to find out that you're about to get fucked by his father, now would you?" his voice was deep and low, and you could hear the lust in it. You felt scared. Terrified actually, for what was about to happen. But then, you felt something that betrayed your mind. Your panties were dripping and your clit was throbbing, wanting desperately to be touched. All of a sudden, you heard the door being locked by William.

"Please Mr. Afton, I-I don't want to cheat on Stu, please..." you were so desperate not to sin, since you're completely against cheating. But it seemed like you had no choice... and the worst of it, was that you couldn't deny how much attracted you felt to the older man. By this point, you didn't know if you were talking to William or to yourself. Suddenly, you felt William's cock against you, hard and desperate for your attention.

"Too late for that, bunny. I'm gonna teach you how a real man can pleasure a sweet thing like you... don't lie to yourself. You want this as much as I do." he suddenly grabbed your hand and put it on his hard cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip. You started to jerk him off, not being able to stop since he was controlling your movements. "That's it, you dirty slut. Now be a good girl and suck daddy's cock." William forcedly grabbed your hair and pushed you to your knees, making you gasp in pain. He then opened your mouth and shoved his dick in, making you gag around him.

You started to suck him off since you had no option but to obey, before he pushed you back by your hair and took your dress and bra off, leaving you only in your panties.

"Don't worry, I'll rip them out soon." the older man promised before he pushed you against his cock again. After a few minutes, he felt himself almost reaching his limit, so he pushed you back once again, this time for good. He then grabbed you and put you onto the long bathroom vanity, before tearing your white panties in one move.

"Mr. Afton! Those were my favorite panties!" you were shocked by his rough action, realizing that when he said something, he would do it. William laughed at your face, realizing that you and Stu apparently never had real fun.

"If you behave and cum for me, maybe I'll give you new ones for Christmas." he promised before circling your extremely sensitive clit. You moaned loudly, so he quickly covered your mouth once again. "What a dirty fucking whore you are. Can't keep your mouth shut while being fingered by a man old enough to be your father... leaving aside the fact that it's actually your boyfriend's father too." he degraded you, before shoving 2 long and thick fingers inside you, not giving you any time to adjust to him. His movements were cruel and faster than any man you had ever been with before, making you cum in a few minutes.

"Fuck Mr. Afton, I'm gonna cum!! Please s-stop!" you didn't know why you were pleading him to stop if you didn't want to. Maybe you thought that if you didn't cum, maybe it wasn't real cheating... How stupid you were to think that. Obviously there was no going back now.

"You're fucking dripping, bunny. Look at my fingers, fucking you so easily and being all drenched in your cum. You should be ashamed of yourself, you fucking slut. I bet my son never made you cum so fast and hard." and those degrading words, which were the truth even tho you didn't want to admit it, were enough to make you orgasm. Hard. The way Mr. Afton humiliated and deprived you to breath properly with his hand covering your mouth and nose, was all you needed to squirt onto his big hand. Your moan was muffled by William's hand, otherwised Stu and Billy would hear you without any doubt.

"Oh fuck..." you said once you looked at the mess you made. William's fingers and cock were drenched in your cum, and he hadn't even fucked you with his cock yet. "I'm so sorry Mr. Afton-" your apology was completely ignored and immediately replaced by a loud gasp from you when William opened your legs and licked your cunt like he was a starved man. His tongue expertly sucked your wet clit before he fucked your hole with his long tongue. He continued to suck on your clit and fuck your hole just the way you loved, when suddenly you heard Stu's voice. You wanted to scream from fear of being caught in such a vulnerable, embarassing position and act, but William knew you too well already, so he put his hand over your mouth before you could make any sound and continued his attack on your dripping pussy.

"Wait man!" you heard Stu saying to Billy. Apparently, Billy wanted to go to the bathroom, but Stu stopped him just in time. "You should go to the bathroom downstairs. I took a shit on that one before you arrived." if you weren't in this situation, where your boyfriend's dad was eating you out like a madman, you would have laughed at the poor excuse that your boyfriend came up with. However, you were too focused on cumming again, this time on William's mouth since he didn't stop fucking your cunt with his tongue the whole time. Oh, that mouth... you definitely wouldn't forget it. It even looked like somehow, William did want to get caught to prove his son that he could make you cum harder and faster. That even if he was older, he was better nonetheless.

You started to feel your second orgasm approaching. "Fuck Mr. Afton, I'm gonna fucking cum again." you didn't know why would you tell him that or why you were saying it out loud, if you felt ashamed about all of this.

"Come on, babygirl. Cum for daddy one more time, squirt all over my face." and that was it. Somehow you managed to squirt once again, this time on William's face. Even tho it wasn't as much as before, you still covered his face and mouth with your cum. "Good girl. I know you could do it. You're being so nice for me, just one more time." when he said that last part, you looked at him with wide eyes.

"I-I can't anymore sir, please..." you were breathless and covered in sweat from his actions. He suddenly grabbed your neck and chocked you enough to make it difficult to breath.

"Yes you can, and you'll do it for me." for the first time, you were scared of him. Scared about what he could possibly do to you and the fact that you could be caught anytime now. He lined his big cock against your overstimulated pussy, ready to fuck and destroy you, before you both heard Stu's voice again.

"Alright man, see ya later! Don't forget to bring my things tomorrow!" Stu said before closing the front door downstairs, saying goodbye to Billy. You looked desperately at William, and even if he wanted to destroy you right there and then and couldn't care less if Stu caught you both fucking, he didn't want you to be in big trouble. You and William started to hear Stu's footsteps, so William took your damaged panties with him, grabbed his towel from the ground to cover himself up and got ready to go to his bedroom before Stu came in and saw you two together.

"Get yourself presentable. You don't wanna look like you just had been fucked, right? Next time bunny, I'll make sure there's no one to interrupt us. Prepare that tight and sweet pussy of yours." he said in a serious and cold tone, like he didn't just say the most sinful thing to you. Before he left, he smelled deeply your ripped and drenched panties and stuffed them inside his mouth.

And there you were. Left alone naked, covered in sweat and cum and thinking about how William's cock would feel deep inside of you, ripping you apart.

And that's when reality hit you and slapped you hard in the face. You just cheated on your boyfriend with his own fucking father.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 5 months

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🖤 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖆𝖓 🖤

🖤 Pairing: ex boyfriend!choi san x chubby!fem!reader (mingi's spoken about but doesn't appear)

🖤 Genre: angst/fluff/smut

🖤 Summary: You make a living stepping on men's necks, literally and metaphorically speaking. Men spend every dime they have for the chance to be your lapdog. You are their weakness. Your dirty little secret? You have a weakness of your own, one you've tried your hardest to leave in the past, but you've managed to make him jealous and, oh, I think he's knocking on your door right now.

🖤 Word Count: 2.3k-ish

🖤 Warnings: reader works as a dom so she does qualify as a ✨sex worker✨ & it's treated as a positive cause slay queen, jealous /possessive San, unprotected sex, fingering, nibbling, scratching, reader for sure has a lil praise kink, this man does not pull out, San's giving dom vibes & reader's quite subby for him, pet names (baby, my girl, good girl) & that's all darlings

🖤 A/N: My chubby girl smut agenda continues with this fic as it will with all others and the best part is, no one can stop me. Mwahahahaha. No, but really, I hope you lovelies enjoy reading it.

Also a big thanks to @anyamaris for test reading everything my brain throws out all of the time. Love of my life, truly.

Your night routine is sacred. Never more so than on nights like tonight when you take extra steps to make it particularly romantic for yourself. You treat yourself like a lover, running a nice warm bubble bath and preparing your favorite fruits to snack on while you soak in it. You don’t rush to cover your body afterward, instead taking the time to find pleasure in every stretch mark and every curve as you massage rich tropical oils into your skin.

The rain is your companion, singing to you in the form of raindrops patting at your window. Candles burn on your windowsill, tiny lanterns reflecting shadows in the darkness of this place you call home. Crawling into your bed, you slip beneath your freshly washed sheets and scroll through your phone to find the right song. It doesn’t take long to find it. You hit “play” and close your eyes, ready to be swept away by the sweet notes emanating from your phone.

This is serenity. This is heaven. This is—

“What the actual fuck?” you shout, shaken by an unexpected knock at your door. The knocking is impatient, the agitation of the person on the other end undeniable. You jump from your bed, the sheet still clinging to your figure, and cautiously approach the door. You specifically didn’t schedule any sessions for tonight and your clients know better than to pop up unannounced.

“Whoever you are, go away! I have a gun!” You do. You have to. In your line of business being able to protect yourself is a necessity. It’d be silly not to have one and if ever there were an example why, this has to be it. The knocking stops. A brief moment of silence passes and then—

“You have a gun?” San asks, more confused than he is threatened. You don’t notice until now that you’ve been holding your breath this entire time but at the sound of his voice, you can miraculously breathe again. “San? What are you doing here?” you frown, cracking the door enough to get a good look at your ex.

The look is, in fact, good. Better than good, it’s wonderful. For all of this mysterious frustration he seems to be carrying, he still manages to be the most handsome thing you can imagine finding in your hallway near midnight.

San pushes past you, marching into your cozy studio apartment as if it were his own. “We need to talk. Now.” You roll your eyes, holding back laughter as you close the door behind him. “Someone’s sassy tonight” you tease, watching as he removes his wet boots and coat. He places them exactly where they’re meant to go.

You smile to yourself, finding it sweet that he still remembers how things go after nearly a year apart. “Don’t patronize me.” “I’m not patronizing you,” you say, approaching him with a hand outstretched to stroke his cheek, “Sannie—”

San takes a step back, the darkness in his eyes intensified by your attempt at affection. “And don’t call me that!” “Lower your voice! This is my home. You can respect me in it or get out.” Seeing you upset cools him down a bit. Enough to question the emotions that led him to drive over here to begin with.

He shouldn’t be here. He has no right to confront you. To care what you do or who you do it with. But it’s been eating him up inside for days, plaguing his every waking thought. Some part of him is still tethered to you and that’s why, against his better judgment, he’s here.

“Are you…” he stutters, the anger bubbling up once more at the thought of what he’s about to ask, “How long has Mingi been coming to you?” “Ah,” you gasp, fully realizing the awkwardness of the situation. Dodging eye contact, you head for the kitchen, busying yourself with the tea kettle. “You want some tea? We should have tea.”

Raking his fingers through delicate strands of pitch black hair, he approaches the kitchen and lets himself, for the most fleeting of moments, enjoy seeing you like this again. He’s missed you making him tea late at night. This would be everything he ever wanted under any other circumstance than this. “I don’t want tea. I want you to answer my question. How long?”

“A few weeks” you sigh, abandoning the kettle on the counter, “We ran into each other at the club one night and we started talking then, I mean, I don’t know, it just sorta happened.” In an instant, he’s on you, fingers squeezing your wrists as he presses you against the counter. “Things like this don’t sorta happen!” “Oh, come on, San. I have bills to pay. If I don’t take on clients, who’s gonna pay them? You?” “Haven’t I before?” Something about being reminded of before makes you as breathless as he is. “That was a long time ago.”

A long time ago but why does it feel like yesterday when he last had your body pressed against every wall in this apartment? So many hours were spent using your fingertips to traverse every exquisite muscle on his body. There are new ones now, you see them flex when he readjusts his grip on you. How good they must feel to touch. God bless the gym.

Shaking yourself free of your lust fueled daze, you break your wrists loose from him. “If that’s all you can go.” Why are you doing this? Why are you so stubborn? You don’t want him to go. Your body—your heart—begs him to stay even if it’s just to argue for the rest of the night.

“Fine, I’ll leave, but not until you tell me one more thing. Does he touch you? Like I did?” he asks, his expression cold as he tries to contain his jealousy. “Touch me like you did?” you giggle, reaching to stroke his cheek again. This time he doesn’t step away. He lets you touch him, your soft hand warming the cool raindrops on his cheek. A fire ignites in his eyes, not unlike the flames dancing atop the candle wicks. It’s distant, buried somewhere deep, but you see it and it makes you smile.

“I never let anyone touch me like you did” you whisper, “Mingi just wants someone to boss him around. I happen to be good at that. There’s nothing sexual. I could…” San tugs the sheet tightly around your body, gathering the two loose ends at your hip where his knuckles just barely graze the plush of your thigh. You let out a sound that’s almost a moan but not quite. He smirks, bringing his other hand to your side to massage the softness of your love handles. You're so cute when you’re flustered.

“I, uh, I…” you stutter, watching as his lips grow nearer to yours, “I could stop seeing him if you want.” “You’d do that for me?” San asks, teasing your lower lip with his. “I would do anything for you. You know that.” This is what he does to you and this is why you broke things off with him. San’s love brings you to your knees. You fold for him in a millisecond. You’re supposed to have every man in the palm of your hand yet you find yourself, delicate and fragile, nestled in his.

“Will you do something else for me?” “Like what?” “Kiss me.” And you do. No hesitation. No time for second guesses. Anything for him. A rush hits you, threatening to knock you off of your feet. San only holds you closer, his tongue tangling with yours, indulging in the taste of you. A craving much overdue to be satisfied.

“Do I still have to leave?” he pants, his voice a low rasp as he kisses his way down your chin. He buries his face in your neck, his kisses growing more passionate with each passing second. You smell good enough to eat and he almost does, nibbling at your neck sharply enough to send chills down your spine. You shake your head, wrapping a leg around his waist to grind against him. The simple act of kissing you has him hard enough that not even the few layers of fabric between you can suppress his need.

“Fuck, baby” he groans, his eyes nearly rolling back from the rhythm of your hips. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him back up for another kiss. “Don’t leave me, Sannie. Please.” You’re prepared to beg more, as much as he wants you to, but your words turn incoherent at the sensation of his thumb stroking your clit. His other fingers dance dangerously close to your entrance, happily collecting the juices dripping from your core.

You look down to find that the sheet barely clings to your body, except for a small corner stuck between you and the counter. Everything has fallen away leaving you completely exposed. San’s favorite way to have you. “You’re so wet for me. My girl” he coos, easing two fingers deep into you, “Still my girl? Hmm?” You’re trembling, gripping his shirt as you ride his fingers in time with the flicking of his wrist.

Only he could do this. Make you feel this unbelievably good with just his fingers. "Always your girl. Always—ah” you moan into his mouth before he’s kissing his way down your neck again. The way your back is arched makes your breasts sit so deliciously that he has to taste them. San needs to feel the weight of them in his hands as he captures your perked nipples between his lips, circling them with his tongue.

His mouth is so full of you that every moan that leaves him vibrates through your chest making sure that you never once underestimate the intensity of his longing. Your thighs are soaked, your pussy dripping—pulsing—clenching around his fingers. Your little squeaks and moans are too pretty. Too addictive. San picks up speed, his only mission to make a complete mess of you or to make you make a complete mess of yourself. Either or both. Definitely both.

“Sannie. You’re gonna make me—fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you cry, feeling the pressure build within you. “Mmm,” he hums, releasing your nipple but not without taking one last lick of your overstimulated bud. You didn’t need to tell him. You never do. He knows when you're close, down to the second, which is why his timing is perfect when he pulls his fingers away leaving you hanging on the edge of oblivion.

You whine at the unexpected loss, your clit twitching and your walls greedy for something to hold onto. San moves out of reach, taking his time to shed his clothing. “Not on my fingers, baby,” he says, flashing that devilishly handsome smile of his, “On me.” He disappears around the corner and you trail behind him like a bright eyed puppy who wants more than anything to be the object of its owner's affection.

San sits on the edge of the bed, admiring the way your body jiggles as you skip over to him. He takes you by the hand, lowering you onto his lap, and the skin to skin contact sends a shot of adrenaline coursing through both of you. “I could just look at you all night. So beautiful” he muses, palms slapping your ass. His fingers dig in, keeping your hips raised enough that the tip of his cock almost presses at your slit.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, kissing him on the bridge of his nose, “You can look at me all you want.” One of San’s hands disappears beneath you, stroking his length as he lowers you down onto him. He stops at the tip, letting your arousal run down his shaft. “All I want because you belong to me?” You bite down on your bottom lip, eager to take him. “Yes,” you mewl and he feeds you another inch. A reward for being his good girl.

“No more Mingi?”

“No more. I swear.”

Another inch and your heart skips a beat. This is evil. “No more anyone else” he demands, taunting you with one more inch before taking it back, “I’ll take care of you, my sweet girl. Only me.” “Only you” you promise, unintentionally batting your eyelashes in the most innocent way. San grabs your hips, slamming you down onto him, “Good now cum for me.”

Being stretched by him, full of every thick rigid inch of his cock, is intoxicating enough. But the feeling of handing over control, of letting him have you completely, has you buzzing. San bounces you in his lap, kissing you everywhere his lips can access, whispering every praise he’s saved up for you over time.

Precious. Perfect. Never letting go. Love you. My everything. My world. Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Sannie—” you draw a breath in. A flash of heat hits you and you’re lost to pleasure. Your body explodes and implodes. Heavy and weightless all at once. You gush down his length, every inch of him drenched with your juices. San doesn’t stop, not even when your nails dig deep into the skin of his shoulder. He only goes faster and harder, wanting to break you, his precious girl, and put you back together then do it again.

But his body’s as sensitive as yours and he can’t hold back, spilling into you to the point of overflow. There’s so much warmth and fullness. It’s comforting, soothing you as you gradually float back down. Lying back on the bed, San cradles you in his arms, not wanting to be anywhere else than right here with you.

You rest your head on his chest, feeling his love for you in every breath he takes. How you ever pushed him away you can’t understand but you know, as he softly kisses your forehead, that you never will again.

#choi san x reader #choi san x you #choi san angst #choi san smut #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez angst #chubby reader #plus size reader

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goquokka00 · 2 months

Text

Want So Bad

This was requested by @mamnaimiefrankie, and so I really hope you enjoy!

Summary: Jisung, Minho, and Hyunjin were hanging out. Upon getting some munchies, Jisung found some gummies that seemed to look appetizing enough. However, someone forgot to read a label...

Pairings: Han Jisung X Reader (F!)

Genre: Humor (I mean come on, Paboracha is involved, of COURSE there's gonna be humor), Smut (MDNI), fluff at the end

Warnings: Use of aphrodisiacs, mention of cunnilingus, grinding, pet names, Switch! Jisung (man is whiny, needy, and begs a LOT), Switch! Reader, dirty talk, oral (m! receiving), overstimulation, unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, bunny fucking, scratching, 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 4.1K

Saturdays were always something that Jisung looked forward to. Sure, he loved being with you, as you two had been together for almost 2 years now, but he also loved spending time with his friends. Specifically, Minho and Hyunjin. And every Saturday, while you worked your shift at the nearby bakery, Jisung would hang out with Minho and Hyunjin.

These hang outs could be anything from watching movies, to playing board games or video games, to having deep conversations about the stresses of work and being idols, to being on the floor laughing about literally anything. It was fun for them, and they always looked forward to it.

Today wasn't any different.

The three men decided to meet at Minho's house, as his girlfriend was gonna be gone for the day at work. That meant they had access to the Nintendo Switch. And that meant they could play Mario Kart. A game they all liked, but only one was good at.

"JISUNG, NO FAIR!" Hyunjin whined, watching as Shy Guy passed the finish line in first. Jisung could only laugh as he watched Hyunjin and Minho struggle through the computers they were playing against, constantly running into bananas or being hit by shells. "You really can't take it easy on us ONE time?!"

"Where's the fun in taking it easy when I can wipe the floor with both of you?" Jisung laughed, watching Minho finally pass the finish line in fourth with Tanuki Mario. Hyunjin finished soon after in seventh with Princess Peach, practically throwing his controller down on the sofa.

"I think you play this game too much." Minho said, crossing his arms. Jisung could only shrug, standing up and stretching as the final results played. Jisung got first in the Grand Prix, while Minho got 5th and Hyunjin got 8th. "Find another hobby."

"No can do, sorry." Jisung said, watching Minho roll his eyes.

"Whatever." Minho said, looking to Hyunjin. "Let's do a round with just you and I, Hyunjin."

"Okay. I'm down for that." And with that, Hyunjin and Minho started a two-player race. And as they did that, Jisung walked over to the kitchen, looking for something to snack on. After all, he hadn't eaten much that day, and he knew that he should eat something. Otherwise, he'd get an earful from you.

And so, into the snack closet he went. He always knew Minho was stocked and really didn't care about what he ate from his stash, so long as it wasn't any of his girlfriend's food (which had all been labelled after the Changbin incident 3 years ago). And sure enough, when Jisung opened the door, the closet was filled.

Candies, chips, pretzels...you name the snack, it was in there. But the thing that caught Jisung's eye was the gummy hearts up on the top shelf. They didn't have Minho's girlfriend's sticker on them, which meant free grabs. And so, Jisung took a good handful from the bag, before closing the closet and going back to the couch.

"Jisung, how do you drift again?" Hyunjin called out. Jisung quickly threw some of the gummies into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as he sat back down onto the couch.

"It's the right trigger." Jisung said, watching Hyunjin do so. And then he spun out of control. Jisung laughed as Hyunjin freaked out.

"You liar!"

Finally, after a nice hang out with the boys, Jisung had said his goodbyes and made his way back to the apartment. He loved hanging out with them, but he also wanted to actually be home when you got home. He always felt bad that he'd return so late after you've gone to bed, and tonight he wanted to see you awake.

But...it was when he stepped inside of the apartment when he noticed how weird he felt.

The first thing he noticed was how hot it was. At first, he thought it was the apartment, which would've been weird since the both of you loved keeping the apartment cool for wearing hoodies. But when he went to the thermostat, it read 68°. Right where it always was.

And upon walking back to the living room, he noticed how fuzzy his head was. He wasn't dizzy, just...he couldn't focus on anything. His body felt like it was in the clouds, too. Not just his mind. That's when he noticed that it was him that was also feeling hot.

Okay...weird, but whatever. He could ride it out, and he'd be fine. Right? R-Right?

Well, that's when he noticed just how much his shirt was grazing his nipples. He...never noticed that before. Every movement caused the shirt to graze oh, so lightly against them, and it made Jisung's breath hitch. That wasn't the only thing. He felt like his pants were really tight. Really, really tight. And that never happened unless...

Oh...

He had a boner. A really, really bad boner. He could see it through his jeans, and he could never see his boners from his jeans before. And that made him concerned. Not to mention how much it just...hurt.

He was hot, sensitive, hard...he couldn't think straight... what the hell was going on with him?

His first thought wasn't about figuring this out, though. No, it was about getting his damn pants off. They were just too tight, his dick was so sensitive and hard that if he kept those jeans on any longer, he might cry. And so, he did exactly that. And the sight afterwards of the hard-on in his boxers?

Oh, it was just worse.

Jisung just groaned, leaning back against the sofa as he ran a hand through his hair, squirming. This was so bad, he needed to fix this issue before you got home, he'd die if you saw him this hard and horny. It would just be straight up embarrassing--

But all of his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

Fuck.

Jisung's head whipped around to the door, his face flushed as you walked into the apartment, setting your bag down. And the second you looked over at him in your outfit you decided to wear to work? Oh, it just made him whine. God, this was so embarrassing...He didn't even know what to say. Thankfully, you spoke up first, still not noticing the issue at hand here.

"Oh, you're home? I thought you were planning on staying over at Minho's for a lot longer." Just the sound of your sweet and smooth voice washed over Jisung, making his cock twitch. God, you sounded so heavenly, he just wanted to hear you moaning his name, screaming out from how good his cock felt when he--

Immediately, he got that thought out of his head.

"I-I just wanted to surprise you, my baby..." Fuck, why did he have to stutter? He never stuttered; you knew he never stuttered. And so, he winced as you walked over to him with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh? And you wanna tell me why you just stuttered?" You asked. You didn't sound mad, just curious. But Jisung didn't have to say anything to you, because it didn't take your eyes long to notice the large tent in his pants. And immediately, your eyes widened. "Oh, Jisung, what--"

"I-I don't know, okay? I've been feeling really, really weird and-and I don't know why, I just walked through the door and immediately I just got horny, and hot, and hard, and I don't know what to do or why I'm like this, and-"

"Hey, hey, hey, slow down." You said, kneeling down to look at him. Your eyes were so warm and comforting, they always felt like home to Jisung. It was nice, and always got him to calm down no matter what.

"Sorry..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? Do you want me to call Minho and see what's going on?" You offered. "Knowing him and Yejin, they'd know what's up with you."

"Ye-Yeah, okay..." Jisung said. It made sense. After all, he knew that Minho and Yejin were a freaky couple. They've tried everything under the sun, and had sex all the time. So if anyone would know, it'd be them.

And so, that's what you did. You dialed Minho's number, waiting for him to answer. And he picked up after the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Minho." You greeted, hearing his audible sigh on the other end of the line, as well as a moan.

"Okay, what did I do this time? And can it please hurry, I'm in the middle of something." Minho grumbled.

"I'm sure you can spare getting your dick wet for 5 seconds so you can tell me what's wrong with my significant other."

"What do you mean? Is he dying or something?"

"No, but he's hornier than a dog in heat."

"Well, that's probably because he thinks you're hot. Can I get back to going down on my girlfriend now--"

"No, because he doesn't get that horny when it's just me. He's literally panting and is non-stop squirming."

"Oh. OOOHHH--"

"What, oh?"

"Shit, I knew we didn't use that many!" Minho waited a second, getting a question from Yejin. You couldn't quite make it out, but you definitely heard the response. "Well duh, we literally just bought those gummies a few days ago!"

"The gummies? What gummies?" You asked.

"The gummies?" Jisung also asked, feeling his heart drop.

"Yeah, so, Yejin and I invested in some aphrodisiac gummies a few days ago. They look like hearts, kinda coated in some sugar, they're actually pretty damn good. But you shouldn't eat like, more than 5, I think."

"Did you eat heart shaped gummies covered in sugar?" You asked Jisung, watching him go pale at the question. And his lack of an answer gave you all of the information you needed to know. "Jisung!"

"I was hungry, okay! And they were in the snack closet, so I thought they were good!" Jisung whined.

"Why the hell would aphrodisiac gummies be kept in a fucking snack closet?!"

"I didn't know where else to put them, so I put them in the top of the shelf." And that resulted in Minho getting an earful from Yejin. You could only roll your eyes, hanging the call up.

"Okay, so you ate a few laced gummies that will make you horny. That's fine." You said, going back over to Jisung, giving him a small smile.

"I-I'm sorry, my baby, I-I should've read the packaging, I-"

"Jisung, it's fine. Really, it's not like we haven't fucked before, right?" You asked him, going to straddle his lap. Jisung immediately blushed, seeing you on top of him. It was a beautiful sight, one of his favorites. But in this situation?

"Wa-Wait, I don't know about this...I don't think I can control myself, baby." Jisung told you. "I-I don't wanna end up hurting you or anything..."

"Then let me be the one to help you, okay?" You told him, kissing his cheek. That's when you lowered yourself over his boxers, your shorts grazing against his boner deliciously. Jisung let out a pathetic moan, throwing his head back at the feeling. "Can I help you out, Sungie?"

"God...please, baby..." As Jisung spoke, he bucked his hips up against yours, moaning at the feeling of grinding up against you. And with that, you smiled, pulling him into a kiss.

The two of you grinded against each other as you made out, Jisung moaning out like he hadn't been touched in his life. The kiss you both shared was messy and sloppy, but Jisung loved it like that. And so did you. And his tongue immediately went to exploring your mouth, only making the kiss sloppier.

But before long, Jisung pulled away, getting louder. It was an indicator that he was getting close already. You immediately slowed down, watching his brow furrow and his jaw hang open. You knew that look. But when you heard the displeased whine of you slowing down, you were shocked.

"N-No, gunna--please, baby, lemme cum..." Jisung whined, looking up at you. God, his pouty lips, the way his eyes begged you for that sweet release...You couldn't help it.

"Fuck, baby..." You groaned, sliding off of Jisung. You immediately took your shirt off, as well as your bra before slipping his boxers down, seeing his angry cock spring up and slap his stomach, leaking precum.

You didn't even stop to admire him like you usually did, you immediately gripped him and put his tip into your mouth, sucking. You let your spit leak from the sides of your mouth, making it as wet as possible. And Jisung immediately wailed, bucking his hips up at the feeling.

"Hoooly fucking shit! Oh, please, just like that baby...I...I'm gonna fucking blow, oh my god! Keep--Keep going, please!" Jisung moaned out, closing his eyes and clenching his thighs. God, your mouth always felt so damn good to him, he could never get enough of it.

And sure enough, he came a few seconds later.

"Cu-Cumming! I'm cumming, oh...fuck, keep--keep me in, baby!" Jisung cried out, holding your head down on him. You did as told, staying put as he shot his seed into your mouth. And once you were sure he was finished, you slowly lifted up and off of him, swallowing his load. And that got a low groan out of him. "Holy shit, baby...you're so hot..."

You just giggled, moving back up to him and pecking his lips. Jisung could only whine though, still feeling weird. And you were quick to notice. Your eyes immediately grew concerned, looking down to see that he was still hard.

"How...what?" You questioned. His cock was practically inflating like a balloon, ready to go again within a few seconds. Your gaze went back to Jisung, who was already starting to softly whine again. "How many of those gummies did you eat?"

"I-I don't know, maybe like, 13?" Jisung guessed, making your eyes widen.

"Minho said that the recommended dosage was only 5..." You trailed, looking back down at Jisung's cock. Once again, it was leaking precum with an angry red tip. And once you heard Jisung whine again, you let out a huff. And upon seeing your determined face, Jisung immediately whined again, his cock twitching. He knew that look.

"Baby, y-you've done enough, you don't have to--"

"No, I do." You said, standing up. And once your gaze hit Jisung, that determined and frustrated glint in your eyes, he immediately whimpered. "Lay down."

"B-But I don't wanna lose it and hurt--"

"Lay. Down. And don't make me repeat myself, Jisung." You told him.

Your voice was stern, and God, Jisung loved when you got like this with him. When you took charge in the bedroom, it was the hottest thing. The way your face would get so determined, so confident...shit, Jisung could get a boner just thinking about it if he didn't already have one.

And so, Jisung did as told, going and laying down on the couch. As he did that, you pulled your shorts and panties down before walking back over to Jisung and straddling him again, bringing a hand up to your face and spitting in it before grabbing Jisung's dick and covering it. And then, you lined it up with your entrance while Jisung waited in anticipation.

And the feeling of you sinking down on his cock as slow as you were taking it make Jisung let out the filthiest, most scrumptious moan. And once he was fully sheathed, you rolled your hips, Jisung's jaw opening in a silent moan, his breath stopping. Before he knew it, you were bouncing on him, doing your best to get a nice pace for the both of you.

"Holy...baby, you-you're so tight, this is...I-I don't--this is too much!" Jisung whined, his hands going to your hips. Moans left the both of you as you rode him, your eyes focused on his, as well as where the two of you were connected. You were bound and determined to get him to cum again. You wanted him to feel relief.

"Feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yes! Baby, please, more, can-can you move more?" Jisung looked up at you, panting as you tried your best to move quicker. However, there was the single inevitable fact both of you knew.

You weren't the best with riding Jisung.

Sure, Jisung loved when you were on top of him, and you loved it too. However, you could only bounce so fast before it felt like your legs were gonna give out. And so, when Jisung was in the right mindset, he'd brace you before fucking up into you, which always felt incredible. But that sadly wasn't the case.

"Ji, I can only move so-fuck...so much, baby...I can hit deeper, but--"

"Do that! Please, just give me anything, m'close!" Jisung whined. And so, that's what you did.

You slowed your pace by a lot, but you lifted yourself almost completely off of him before letting yourself drop back down on him, causing both of you to cry out. After a small grind on his hips, you repeated, doing the same thing, except going a little faster.

"Fuck, just like that, baby...holy-m'gonna cum! Keep going, don't-don't stop!" Jisung wailed, gripping your hips tightly. And so, you did exactly that, moaning out as you continued to lift yourself up and drop down. And before you knew it, Jisung let out a sob, slamming his hips up into you, causing you both to cum at the same time.

"Shit shit shit, Jisung!" You cried, your front collapsing a bit. You were able to catch yourself on his chest, feeling his hips jut up into you as you ground yourself down onto him. You were panting now, trying to collect yourself as Jisung tried to calm himself down as well.

But you missed the fact that Jisung's cock wasn't softening inside of you. And you also missed the dark, lustful glint in Jisung's eyes.

"Holy...wow, that was something-ELSE!" You squealed.

You didn't even have time to realize what had happened, as Jisung had managed to muster up the strength to pick you up and flip both of you around. Now he was on top of you, both of your legs on his shoulders as he practically folded you in half. His face was inches from yours, his mouth hanging open as he slipped inside of you again, somehow hitting deeper.

And the second he managed to just kiss your cervix, he began to thrust mercilessly into you. He fucked into you so fast, his mouth near your ear as panting moans left Jisung as you let out cries. Both of his elbows were on either side of your head, his hands cradling you and holding you close to him as he pounded you.

"Fuck fuck fuck, you feel so fuckin' good, so tight and wet, I-I can't take it, baby...god, you're pussy's talkin' to me, I can hear it while you suck my cock back into you..." Jisung growled, before humming so lowly it practically shook your core. Every time his hips slammed into yours, his pitch would bump up for a second, before going back down. And that low hum was what got you to cum for a second time.

"Jisung, I'm cumming!" You cried out, gripping onto him. Your nails dug into his skin as you clung onto him for dear life. His pace never slowed as your body trembled, hell, he probably went faster at that.

"Hell yeah, you are...fuck, you're creamin' me, baby...god!" Jisung growled. He could feel your juices dripping onto his cock and down his leg as well as yours. And he could hear your cunt squelching. "Cum again--cream on my cock, make it messy...just how I like it, baby..."

And that's exactly what you did. You moaned out at his words, feeling your third orgasm rip through your soul. If there was anything that was gonna do you in, it was the combination of Jisung practically fucking into you like a rabbit, his hips unfaltering, and his fucking voice.

"Good girl, such a good girl for me..." Jisung growled into your ear. Of course, he continued his merciless pace. And due to you having gone through your third orgasm, you were sent right into overstimulation, meaning it wouldn't take you long to hit your fourth.

"J-Jisung, I-I can't...s'too much, I can't--"

"You can, baby...do it for me, you're takin' me so well, just a bit longer..." Jisung wasn't gonna take no for an answer. To make things even worse (not really), he quickly brought his hand up to his face, licked his fingers, and slipped it in between your bodies, only to start rubbing tight circles around your clit, which sent you reeling. You practically let out a sob, scratching Jisung's back harshly.

"JISUNG!" And without any warning, your fourth orgasm shot through you, making you wail. Feeling you hit your fourth orgasm is also what did Jisung in.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, baby...m'gonna fill you so much, m'gonna stuff you so full..." Jisung mumbled, his rhythm getting sloppier. You just wailed, just getting over that fourth orgasm, feeling that fifth one approaching quickly. "Fuck! I'm cumming!"

And with that, Jisung slammed his hips into you one last time, painting your walls white with his seed as you also hit your last orgasm of the night, your entire body shaking viciously from it. You felt like you had practically ascended, seeing god for the nth time.

Jisung slowly pulled out after that, finally feeling satisfied after that, and went to grab the cum towel you both kept in the bedroom. As he left, you continued to tremble, feeling aftershocks from your orgasms. And once Jisung came back, already cleaned up and in sweatpants, he immediately went over to you, kneeling next to your head and peppered your face in kisses.

"Good job, baby...you took me like a champ, you did so well, my baby..." Jisung said gently. His small kisses didn't stop once, making sure that you actually came down from your high before cleaning you up. And once you did, you let out a small giggle, letting Jisung know that you were back. "There she is..."

"Stop it, it's not like I blacked out." You said. Jisung pecked your lips, caressing your face for a second, just admiring you and your features.

"I know, but you definitely weren't here." Jisung told you, going over and wiping you down. He was nice and gentle, making sure he didn't accidentally make you uncomfortable.

"I scratched you, didn't I?" You asked, giving him a slightly concerned look as he continued to clean you up.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it." Jisung told you, giving you a smile as he kissed your thigh.

"You sure?"

"Mhm. Trust me, it didn't hurt, and if they stay, then it means that I get to show off how good I can make my baby feel, right?" Jisung asked, making you blush. Of course he'd wear those scratch marks around like a trophy. He'd do that with any marks you left on his body.

"Do you have to put it like that?"

"Of course I do!" And with that, he got back to work. Once you were clean, he left once more to put the towel away.

When he came back again, he had a pair of clean clothes for you. Kind of. It was a shirt of his that would be way too big (not that either of you minded) and a pair of panties.

He sat you up, kissing your cheek three more times before sliding his shirt over your head. And then, he slipped the pair of panties on your legs, getting them as high as possible before stopping and setting your arms around his neck.

"Alright, and... up!" Jisung said, standing up. Since your arms were around him, you stood up too, and he quickly slid the panties the rest of the way up. And finally, once you were fully dressed, he readjusted the two of you slightly before picking you up, making you squeal.

"Jisung!" You held onto him tightly as Jisung walked you to the bedroom, laughing at your reaction.

"What? I'm just taking care of my baby." Jisung told you, pressing yet another kiss to your cheek.

"But I can walk myself!"

"See, you say that, but we both know you're legs are gonna be the equivalent of Jello."

"Jisung!"

"You know I'm right!"

And with that, he gently set you on the bed, getting you underneath the covers. And after he quickly turned off the lights, he went to join you, pulling you close to him and holding you in his arms. Every here and there, he'd place gentle kisses on your head, admiring you with him. Neither of you could stop smiling either, just enjoying everything in this moment.

"I really love you; you know that. Right?" Jisung finally said, watching you nod.

"Mhm." You replied, tilting your head up before kissing his lips gently.

"And I love you."

194 notes · View notes

wongyuseokie · 1 year

Text

Snuggly | k.m.g

Summary: It’s cold outside, and your annoyingly handsome roommate keeps leaving his very comfy leather jacket everywhere around the apartment, and you’ve returned it to him multiple times, but this time you’re sure you’ll just keep it if he forgets it again. Except for the one time he returns to retrieve the jacket, he finds you in the most compromising position possible.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 2732 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Frenemies (?) to lovers. Smut, angst, fluff. Basically, a smutty fluff piece to keep y’all warm during the colder months.

Content Warnings: Smut and fluff, mentions of Mingyu’s chapped lips. DO NOT EVER GOOGLE IT IS TRAGIC. They both tease and like each other and are just kind of adorable and cute. Mingyu is confident and shy all at once, and it's devastating.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do this, wrap it before you tap it). Masturbation (female), Mingyu walks in and volunteers to help her out. Fingering, overstimulation. Oral (female receiving). Nicknames? Mingyu calls her baby, and pretty girl. Nicknames, Mingyu calls her Kitten, Princess, Baby. Teasing. Dirty talk, but its mild. I think.

Authors Note 1: Literally no reason for this fic, aside from Rock With You Mingyu being the reason I got curious about Seventeen and remembered him as a ‘handsome guy with the leather jacket.’

Authors Note 2: Thank you to @here4btsfics, for always listening to me go on and on about Seventeen and Mingyu. Thank you for beta’ ing and helping me out with the smut. I struggled. I adore you and love you 💕 A huge thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for listening to me fret about this fic, up until posting!! I adore you. Also, thank you to @seungkwansphd for listening to me worry too. Thank you so much for hearing me out and listening to me!! Ilysm 🥺🥺💕💕

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen my jacket? Oh, you’re wearing it,” Mingyu spoke as he walked into the kitchen that evening.

“I keep telling you, Kim. If you leave this lovely jacket around. Then one of these days, I’ll keep it, and I won’t return it,” you teased. Even if you meant every word, his jacket was insanely comfy, and you would gladly take it.

Mingyu smiled as he flopped down on the couch next to you. “Even if you look adorable in it, no,” Mingyu said as he made himself comfortable.

“I’m adorable?” You asked with a grin, and Mingyu nodded.

“Yes, but I still think I look better in the jacket,” Mingyu added, making you roll your eyes.

“Of course you do. With a face and body like that, you could wear anything,” you blurted out, making Mingyu grin.

“You think I’m hot?” Mingyu asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Shut up, Kim,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“It’s okay. I’d say the feeling is mutual. Remember that kiss we shared last Christmas?” Mingyu asked.

“We were standing under the mistletoe,” you countered, and Mingyu shrugged.

“It doesn’t take away from the fact that a peck turned into a proper kiss,” Mingyu added, and you shrugged.

“I hope you are at least consistently wearing lip balm this year. I recall those dry lips,” you teased, making Mingyu gasp dramatically at you.

“Just because I had dry lips the first time we met doesn’t mean I always have dry lips,” Mingyu defended, making you laugh.

“Besides, I know my lips were damn soft that year because one, I kept using the lip balm that you not so subtly gifted me as a housewarming gift and two, you went in for more after, when everyone left,” Mingyu babbled, making you grin shyly.

“I also remember you pawing this exact jacket while kissing me,” Mingyu teased, and you huffed at him pouting.

“Maybe I was only kissing you for the jacket,” you retorted, making Mingyu laugh.

“Possibly, but somehow I still have the jacket, and you keep conveniently ‘stealing’ it,” Mingyu joked, and you sighed in frustration that he had a point.

“But I’m heading out to the gym now. Want me to get you anything for dinner?” Mingyu asked as he stood up, and you shook your head.

“Won’t you be cold? You can have this back for the night,” you offered, and Mingyu smiled.

“Nah, I’ll drive there, besides. I think this shirt accentuates the biceps more. That jacket would hide the hard work,” Mingyu teased, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Ugh, go away, you’re so annoying,” you mumbled, making Mingyu laugh.

“Bye, bye,” Mingyu said as they bent down to place a kiss on your cheek.

It was just something he did. When he first moved in, you discovered he was cuddly and affectionate. If you had to describe Mingyu’s personality, it’d be like a golden retriever with the clinginess of a koala. It was incredibly adorable and endearing and very hazardous to your health. You had a little crush on him just from the first day you met him because he was incredibly handsome, tall, and built, but when you got to know him, you fell for him. Mingyu was kind, caring, intelligent and clumsy, the perfect balance.

Granted, he broke more things in a week than most people did in a year, but never did he break your trust, plans or anything that ever hurt you. He was incredible, and you knew you were dancing on a fine line, constantly cuddling, flirting, and teasing him, but it was mutual that you both did it. You just knew that if both of you kept going this way, you’d implode and tell him in the most rushed way possible. You couldn’t lose a good roommate over it, so you just kept it to yourself, but oh boy, did Mingyu make that difficult for you.

Mingyu was hell-bent on riling you up, you two were snowed in, and Mingyu had to get his exercise in, so he decided to go shirtless and wear his grey joggers and work out in the living room. Now, you didn’t care what he did. This was your house as much as it was his, but it was sinful. The way his muscles flexed and the sweat trickled down his body accentuated every muscle on his body. You were sure he was Adonis incarnate.

You didn’t mind Mingyu working out. You just minded that he looked that fucking good doing it.

“Twenty-six,” Mingyu huffed out, counting out his reps as you walked into the kitchen.

You had a plan, too. If he wanted to rile you up with working out nearly naked, you could prance around the house doing the same. You wore a lace bralette and tiny shorts and headed into the living room under the pretence of finding something.

“Aren’t you cold?” Mingyu yelped when he saw you. He tried hard not to stare, but he was only human, and all he could see was how little you wore and how wonderful you looked.

“Aren’t you?” You shot back.

“Kitten, I’m working out. I’m sweating, you, on the other hand,” Mingyu responded, and you bit your lip at his mention of ‘kitten.’

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu asked as he walked closer to you.

“Ew, you’re sweaty,” you whined, but you didn’t mind. You had often imagined Mingyu’s sweaty body close and hovering over you. Granted, he was buried deep inside you and in your dreams.

“I don’t think you’d mind if I were sweaty and staring at you like this?” Mingyu teased, calling you out on your bluff and making you bump your hip into the corner of a table.

“You okay, kitten?” Mingyu asked, and you glared at him.

“What is this kitten business?” You asked.

“Just testing to see which one you liked,” Mingyu responded.

“What if I didn’t like it?” You asked.

“How about princess?” Mingyu offered, and you shook your head at him.

“No,” you mumbled, making Mingyu grin.

“Don’t you worry, pretty girl, I’ll find out what you like,” Mingyu said, determined, and you turned away from him to head into the kitchen. You hoped he didn’t notice how you bit your lip at him calling you ‘pretty girl’ or the gasp you stifled.

You were going to kill Kim Mingyu, that much you were sure. You just didn’t know how. You had tried to get to sleep, but every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Mingyu, sweaty and huffing, his muscles flexing, and your depraved mind could only imagine him like that on top of you, inside you.

“Fuck it,” you cursed, kicking the blanket off your chest, so it covered your lower half. Sitting up, you pulled your bralette off, threw it across the room, and laid back on the bed. You started slowly, hands on your breasts, moving to rub your nipples, moaning as you felt them harden under your touch. While massaging your breast, your other hand travelled down to your pussy. You imagined Mingyu’s large hands on your breasts, flicking and pinching your nipples. You were already dripping, sliding a finger up and down your wet folds, soft moans leaving your mouth as you touched yourself. You circled your clit slowly, moaning, as you slid your fingers down to your dripping entrance. You pushed a finger inside and immediately groaned at how it did nothing for you, and pushed in another and moaned. Two of your fingers at least did something. You fingered yourself, trying so hard to reach your g-spot that you knew Mingyu’s long fingers could reach. You found it useless, so you pulled your fingers out of yourself, placed them back on your clit, and rubbed again, adding more pressure and speed.

It felt good, just not as good. God knows how long you were rubbing your clit, but you felt yourself getting closer to the brink of the release you had been dying for. “Hey, Y/N, do you know where my jacket is? Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry!” Mingyu yelled out, ducking and covering his eyes once he barged into your room. “Knock much?” You groaned out. You were extremely grateful for the blanket covering your lower half, even if your breasts were exposed. “Sorry, I just heard my name. I think it was quite faint, and I, hang on,” Mingyu slowed down as realisation hit him. “Were you getting off, imagining me?” Mingyu teased, and you groaned. “Maybe, now, can you go so I can deal with this, and you can tease me later?” You barked, and Mingyu shrugged.

“Or,” Mingyu started to say. “Or what?” You snapped. “I could help?” Mingyu offered, making you pull your fingers away from your clit and jump up in shock. “Uh,” you fumbled. Your resolve was melting under his gaze, making you squirm. “If you need some help, all you have to do is ask,” Mingyu suggested, making you clench at his words and tone. “Let me make you cum. You know I’m the only one who can,” Mingyu purred, making you give in. “Fuck, please,” you begged. Mingyu sat down next to you and moved the blanket away. He quickly pulled off your shorts and panties along with it, groaning when he saw your glistening core.

Mingyu moved his hands, trailing up and down your thighs until his fingers could no longer resist the urge to play with your aching core. “Breathe, pretty girl, I got you,” Mingyu eased as he slowly moved his hand down your dripping core and pushed two long fingers inside, making you buck into his touch immediately. “Fuck, pretty baby. You were thinking about me while you were fucking yourself, weren’t you? That’s why you’re making a mess of these sheets?” Mingyu asked, and you could feel the smirk in his voice as he pumped his fingers in and out of your pussy. You could feel yourself starting to unravel and fall apart at his ministrations. “Yes,” you moaned out, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could think about them. You grabbed his forearm, indicating your orgasm was close. “C’mon, pretty baby, cum all over my fingers. Show me how much you want to cum,” Mingyu spoke as he kept thrusting his fingers in you, rubbing against your g-spot every time.

Something snapped in you, and you came. You whined as Mingyu kept moving his fingers, making you hiss at the overstimulation. “Fuck, I can’t,” you cried out, trying to move his arm away and fingers out of your cunt, but Mingyu had other plans as he leaned down and attached his lips to your swollen clit and sucked harshly, leaving you a whimpering and moaning mess. Mingyu finally showed mercy and sat straight, taking in your fucked out expression as he palmed his growing erection. “Good baby?” He asked, his lips wet and shiny with your release. “So, fucking good,” you mewled.

There was a moment of silence that passed where you noticed Mingyu palming his hardened length, it was then you noticed that he was shirtless, and his sweats were slung very low, dangerously low on his hips.

“More,” you mumbled.

“Use your words. What do you want?” Mingyu responded, his voice deeper and huskier than usual, and it made you clench even more.

“Touch me, Mingyu,” you choked out.

“I just did, pretty girl,” Mingyu responded, making you groan.

“Mingyu,”

“Yes?”

“Fuck me,” you said breathlessly, making Mingyu groan as he palmed his hardness.

“Gladly.”

Mingyu moved quickly as he kicked off his sweats and climbed between your thighs. You felt yourself drool as you took in his naked form. Every inch of him was carved beautifully, and you weren’t sure if you’d call a penis pretty, but he had it. Every inch of him was attractive.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Mingyu teased when he caught you staring at him.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

“Oh, trust me, kitten, that’s exactly what you’ll get,” Mingyu replied as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds, pressing it against your aching clit.

“Fuck,” you gasped, and Mingyu grinned as he slowly pushed his length into you.

“Fucking hell,” Mingyu cursed as you immediately clenched around him.

“You’re so tight, fuck, you feel so good,” Mingyu groaned as he praised you.

You were babbling absolute nonsense as Mingyu pounded into you. Mingyu reached down and rubbed your clit as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” you moaned and held onto his toned arms.

“You close?” Mingyu asked, and you simply nodded, unable to speak.

“Then cum for me, pretty girl,” Mingyu said, sending you over the edge and making you cum, making Mingyu groan and almost growl in pleasure as you clenched around him.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as Mingyu pounded into you. His thrusts were quick and deliberate. You could tell he was desperate for a release. Mingyu moved his fingers down to your clit, rubbing roughly against it. He wanted you to cum with him.

“Come on, pretty girl, one more time, cum with me,” Mingyu encouraged as he picked up the pace, making you whimper as you felt him bring you to another orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu groaned as he pounded into you, making you moan when you felt him release his warmth into you.

Mingyu groaned, burying his head between your breasts as he came, and finally lifting his head, once he caught his breath, capturing your lips in a soft kiss as he gently pulled out of you, rolling onto the bed and pulling you into his side.

“So why did you barge in?” You asked as you turned to place your head on his chest. “I know I didn’t say your name that loudly,” you added with a grin. “I was looking for my jacket,” Mingyu mumbled. “Why were you looking for your jacket at midnight?” You asked, making Mingyu grin shyly as he tried to hide under the blanket, and you tickled him until he poked his head out from under the blanket.

“I wanted to see you, so I was standing outside your door, conflicted, and then I heard the moans. I just kept thinking about that damn bralette and those shorts you were wearing, and I couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking about you,” Mingyu admitted.

When you smiled at him, Mingyu took it as a cue to continue speaking.

“I’d leave my jacket out on purpose, I didn’t think it’d end up like this, but I guess. I wanted you to keep stealing it so I’d keep finding you and maybe use a cheesy line to make you fall for me,” Mingyu confessed shyly.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like, I’d say something like, if you want to keep wearing my clothes, you should date me at least,” Mingyu mumbled shyly, and you smiled fondly at him.

“Why are you so damn shy?” You asked, making him blush.

“I’m confessing. I’m a shy boy,” Mingyu whined.

“You weren't shy when pounding into me a few minutes ago,” you teased, making Mingyu whine again.

“I’m taking my jacket back if you tease me,” Mingyu joked with a pout. “Fine, then I’ll be the only girl whose boyfriend doesn’t let her borrow clothes,” you replied, making Mingyu's eyes widen as he smiled.

“So, as my girlfriend, you are entitled to all my hoodies and comfy jackets?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded.

“I’m entitled to something else,” you mumbled into his chest.

“What’s that?” Mingyu asked.

“Your love,” you said, feeling shy as the words left your mouth.

“Oh, that? That’s always there,” Mingyu replied as he pulled you in closer, making you look up at him as he pulled you in for a kiss, and you knew with the way his hands were on your waist you were in for a long night. You weren’t sure how you’d tell the story of you two getting together, all because of a leather jacket and a lack of knocking. You smiled into the kiss. It was a cute story. You’d leave specific details out when retelling it.

2K notes · View notes

cowboyjen68 · 6 months

Note

Hi!!

I just wanted to ask some advice from one butch to another.

I recently got my dream job of being a warden on a nature reserve (and i love it!), while interacting with people there I get called a young man very often (i am 18 lol) and it gives me euphoria to know im masculine enough to even pass as a man. I've also had some volunteers ask if I was a man or not (despite my feminine name).

But recently I got called a "lady" outside while out with my mother. It drove me INSANE I cried alot.

Don't get me wrong I do identify as a woman but I hate being seen as a lady.

I've even thought about using he/him pronouns recently and changing my name but i'm too scared to as most people won't understand bc im still a lesbian.

Is this strange?

ps love u and ur blog lots xx

This is an easy answer because I was 18 once and looked enough like a teenage boy that I got "hey sport" and "hey young man" all the time, especially when in my work clothes. I worked for The Mayor's Youth Corp in Iowa City in the summers of my 15th and 16th year. Mom and Dad let me get a work permit AND bought me a used Datsun Pickup so I could drive myself the 20 miles there and back each day.

I was a volunteer with the Corp of Engineers youth from 14 to 16 and Dad knew I was super excited about this job. Mom was not thrilled that I wanted to cut my hair but my "grand mullet" was really hot under the hard hat in the summer heat of Iowa. (in the 1980's boys and girls had the short in front long and permed in back look) We compromised and I cut the sides really short. (photo of my me at 16 in my uniform for reference)

Using "he" would never have occurred to me because "EWWW Boys". This is not to say, however, that I hated being mistaken for a boy, on the contrary, it felt good. When someone thought I was a young man it meant they treated me as such. They didn't talk down to me, I knew they assumed I was capable and willing to get dirty. I knew unconsiously that along with the mistaken identity came many perks. This was nothing I analyzed but little girls see very early on the difference in treatment they recieve from their brothers, male cousins and neighborhood boys. This difference leads us to become negotiators to control our circumstances and not entittled to treatment based on our skills and actual personalies.

When an adult recognized me as a boy, even for a second at first glance, I knew I didn't have to prove myself. They, for an instant, assigned to me words like "strong, capable, demanding etc". No negotations required.

When someone realized I was a girl they literally had a change in their face. They smiled at me, softened their voice. When I was called "young lady" or "Miss" it always seemed to be backed my the worst assumptions (in my mind anyway). Lady is steeped in all kinds of traits I didnt want assigned to me. "quiet, weak, likes to dress pretty"OR "motherly, submissive, meek" Nothing good in my teen brain, that is for sure. Lady felt so OLD, so married to a man and reliant on him for survival, so polyster pants and ugly flats and scratchy blouses with a flower imprint. NONE of these things are inherent to being a woman or even socially forced on us but that is not how things work sometimes. Words that describe people get stereotypes and myths and traits attached to them all the time. Woman and girl are no different.

I can tell you, the best feeling in the world when I was in that job was when my supervisor, who damn well knew I was a young woman, trusted me with all the same tasks as the boys. Who valued my opinions and abilities equally to the young men. He took time to teach me what I didn't know, just like with them and didn't assume I couldn't or didn't want to learn things on the job. He didn't shame ANYONE for not being strong enough or for getting tired or needing a break.

Don't let the assumptions of others force you into another box of conformity. You don't need a boys name or to use any pronouns you don't feel connected to just to please others. In fact, none of that effort will change perceptions of those around you. I can promise that one day being called Lady will just be another word that you can hear and know it does not change your personality or your interests or control the hope you have for your future. What does waste a lot of time and energy is trying to adjust things in your life to fit incorrect or snap assumptions about you as a person. You can never control the thoughts of those around you but what you can do is stop worrying about it and enjoy YOU.

You have a job you love and are sure to thrive in. You are solid in your sexuality and love of women, you are in a unique position to possibly change the perceptions of others when they think of "young women". Your interactions with the public are sure to effect the assumpions of at least some people when they think of young women and their roles in our society.

Congratulations on your new career and I bet you rock that uniform.

#lesbian #butch #stereotypes #careers #words #lady

383 notes · View notes

altsvu · 5 months

Note

Congrats on the followers!

🧞Barba + 53 from the smut prompt list (re: tattoo) please & thanks! 💜

tattoo ridden

pairing: rafael barba x fem!reader

prompt used: “Is that a tattoo?” from the 100 smut prompt list!

wc: 700

summary: your first time having sex with rafael is a magical one, and when he notices a fairly interesting tattoo on your body, it’s almost like he went feral.

cw: dirty talk, smut (oral, teasing)

a/n: anything smutty with rafael is like the best, so thank you so much for sending this in lovely, i’m so sorry it took so long for me to write it! 🥲

law and order svu masterlist! ✯ taglist!

✯✯✯✯

Rafael wasted no time getting intimate with you. It was literally out the car, out the clothes, and in the bed.

A year back, you and Rafael got together, but you wanted to take things slow, and he agreed.

But now, you felt ready.

It was another long day at the precinct, for you at least. It had gotten to the point where Liv even told you to go home. You liked to get ahead of things because you knew you would dread drowning in paperwork after the fact.

This particular night, however, was a different story for Rafael. He wanted to surprise you. It was you and his’s 1 year anniversary and he wanted to make the day special as can be.

You didn’t forget about your anniversary, you had gotten him a gift, you just didn’t have the time to go drop it off at his office.

So there you were sitting at your desk filling out paperwork when a very familiar figure appeared in your sight. You quickly found out that it was Rafael.

“Rafa.” You smiled, getting up from your desk.

“Hi baby.” Rafael smiled back, pulling you into a hug. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary.”

Rafael planted kisses on your lips. You then went back to your desk, and Rafael followed suit, pulling up a chair to sit next to you.

“Paperwork again?”

You nodded. “You know how I am Rafa.”

“I’m staying here until you finish. I wanna take you home tonight.” Rafael said, reaching over to stroke your thigh.

You smirked, knowing what he meant.

“Duly noted, Counselor.”

✯✯✯✯

Rafael finally got you home. Beforehand, you gave him your gift, which was a watch he’d been eyeing for months. He was ecstatic when he opened the box. After, he pulled out his gift, which was a matching gold necklace and bracelet set. He took the liberty of putting them on you.

Out the car.

Out the clothes.

In the bed.

“I know we talked about it, but are you sure about this? About everything?”

“Yes, Rafa.” You responded, helping him out of his suit. The only suit you wanted him in was his birthday suit.

“Okay.” He smiled.

With that, the two of you wasted no more time getting in the bed and each other naked. Clearly the second step was ignored.

Rafael loved your body and he wanted to admire it all night long. When he touched your naked body for the first time ever, you felt chills running throughout your body and you didn’t want him to stop. His hands felt so nice against your skin. In this moment, his hands were creeping up to your boobs and something special resided in that region.

Your infamous side boob tattoo.

To be quite honest, it was a simple flower, but it was your favorite tattoo.

Rafael’s hand reached it and the chills stopped for a moment.

“Is that a tattoo?”

“Yes.”

The room light was on, so Rafael was able to take a peek under the covers to look at it.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered, starting to suck on your nipples. He kissed all around the area, as well as the tattoo, and that made you so much more aroused.

He was good with his mouth. So when he finished with your boobs and went to your pussy without a warning, you knew you were going to fold instantly. He made you feel good, and that’s all that mattered in this moment. His lips touched your clit and he sucked on it softly to get you started. He started using his tongue in all the right places, and pushed a finger inside. His intentions were to get you to come for him.

Hard.

“Rafa” escaped your lips numerous times while he was doing this.

“I love when you say my name like that, Y/N. It’s so hot.” Rafael mumbled against your thighs. He got up and leveled with you, and pushed his fingers inside you again, all while he planted kisses on your lips and chest.

The next thing you knew, he was inside you, and it felt amazing. He felt amazing.

It was a good thing the two of you waited.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @storiesofsvu @averyhotchner @ssaic-jareau @detective-giggles @lapaquerette @itsjustmyfantasyroom

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cheolhub · 1 year

Note

IM STUPID i thought you meant we can send in a max of three number and member pairings for you to choose from for ur milestone event 🧍‍♀️pls ignore my first ask (ONLY IF U HAVENT GOTTEN TO IT YET AJDJSK)

can i have “Could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” For gyugyu 🥺 i still haven't recovered from the oneshot you posted yesterday 🧍‍♀️

FWB!MINGYU

prompt. “could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

wc. 915

warnings. fwb!gyu, fem!reader, mirror sex, jealousy, possessiveness, gyu is a bit rough, dirty talk, pet names, cumshot, tears, kinda angsty? — MINORS DNI 18+

note. god u sent this the first week of march for my THREE KAY event… now im at 4k, and i am so sorry 🤣 anyway this wasn’t proofread and it’s literally a mess, but i hope u like it anyway ;-; thank u sm for requesting (even if it did take me 8 years to get to haha)

“would you look at that?” mingyu laughs against your ear. “might wanna redo your makeup once i’m done, baby, you’ve cried it all off.”

he’s not wrong. when you open your eyes and take in the sight in front of you and nearly choke on a sob. you’re a mess– smeared eyeliner, mascara staining your cheeks and lipstick smudged around your mouth– no longer ready for your date. the one that starts 15 minutes from now.

when you’d told mingyu– a friend who you occasionally frequently fuck– you were ready to start dating again, he thought you were bluffing. how could you want to date anyone else when he was right in front of you? you and him are practically dating– you go out and do couple-y things then you go back to one of your places and you fuck– you just lack the label.

and that’s because both of you needed something sexual, but neither of you were ready for a relationship.

now that you are– now that you’re going on a date with some fucker who probably doesn’t even deserve you– he’s upset. beyond upset, actually. he’s livid.

that’s why he bent you over your bathroom’s vanity, pushed your dress up and makeup products to the ground and thought to prove himself to you.

now his hand tugs at your hair, essentially forcing you to stare at yourself while he reduces you to a mess like he does every time his cock is inside of you.

“mmh, could he make you feel as good as i do, huh? you think he knows how to make this pretty pussy feel good?” the question comes through gritted teeth and it finally clicks in your dumb little brain. “i don’t fucking think so.”

“y-you’re jealous?” you’re able to ask, though it’s choked. his reply never comes, but his thrusts get harsher– merciless– and you take it as a wordless admission, crying out your next words, “me ‘n you are jus’ friends, g-gyu!”

he tugs at your hair harder and the other hand that resides on your waist squeezes your skin gratingly. “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” he replies, voice hushed and raw with emotion.

you do. you know it. you and mingyu are glued at the hip both figuratively and literally. there’s no one on the earth that makes you feel a quarter of what you feel for him. and you also know there isn’t a single man who could fuck you as well as mingyu does.

but when you told him you wanted to start dating, he brushed you off with a “yeah, right,” and it made you believe that there wasn’t a chance with him. you figured that the idea of you and mingyu being together was simply a dream that would never happen.

though, you’re not so sure anymore because he’s spewing out possessive words faster than you can comprehend while his cock stirs you up.

what you didn’t know was that you’ve always had mingyu in the palm of your hand. he was whipped. wrapped around your finger. he doesn’t want to share you– he never has.

“he’s never gonna make you feel this good,” he confidently states. “you’re made for me.”

“fuck!” you cry, tightening around his cock at the affirmation. “mingyu, please!”

“that’s it, pretty, say my fuckin’ name.” he moans, sloppily thrusting into you as his mind runs away from him. “look at me and tell me how much you like it.”

your eyes nearly cross as they try to find him in the mirror, but when they land on his, you feel yourself grow even hotter. “love it. i love it, gyu.”

he smiles triumphantly like he’s won the lottery. he’s sure that this is better, though. you? admitting to the fact that you love the way he fucks you? fucking priceless.

“yeah? you love my cock?” he asks, cockily, yet he knows the answer.

you give him a broken nod, “so much!”

“why don’t you cum for me, baby. cum all over this cock ‘n show me how much you love it.” he coaxes breathily, continuing to fuck you into oblivion.

you can’t stop yourself as soon as you hear his request. the tight coil in the pit of your tummy comes undone as you sob out his name. you trap his twitching cock between his spasming cunt all the while he fucks you through your blinding orgasm. every second feels more euphoric than the last, more tears running down your face at the pleasure.

mingyu isn’t far behind you with the way you grip him so heavenly. he’s quickly pulling out, the hand in your hair coming to wrap around his cock. you whine at the loss of his warmth, but you’re pleasantly surprised when you hear the lewd noise of his hand vigorously pumping himself and the sounds of his pretty groans.

he lets out a string of curses, hand moving quicker before his body jerks and his ribbons of his cum spurt out. some of it lands on your bare ass, but the majority ends up on your date outfit. he can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s ruined your pretty outfit. one meant for someone who isn’t him.

“actually, i think you should cancel your date.” he pants. “ be sure to tell him that you’re taken now.”

he watches the way you nod and he can’t help but feel proud of himself. you’re his and he’s yours.

#mingyu smut #svt smut #3k milestone #[💌: cryoculus]#★︎ — kai !

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whathorselegs · 3 months

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This is probably going to be controversial take (I mean no harm by it, and its not hate directed at anyone), but the reason Dazai shooting at Akutagawa in Dark Era is so shocking to people is because he did it to a character we've had time to get attached to.

If Dazai had shot/killed/wounded a random subordinate for messing up his plans, it would be in all the PM!Dazai remixes as one of his dark and cool moments. Like when he's repeatedly shooting that guy in fifteen. It's messed up, but it doesn't happen to a character we're attached to, it happens to an enemy, so we swallow Dazai doing it much easier. If Akutagawa had been a random subordinate, people might even say Dazai was right to do it because that subordinate did a dumb thing that led their investigation to a dead end. (This is theoretical example not my opinion, I don't agree with what Dazai did)

I'm not justifying what Dazai did, but it's the framing that makes this so much more "evil" and unforgivable for people than anything else PM!Dazai did. It's stated multiple times Dazai was terrible to his enemies AND his own subordinates. Akutagawa wasn't the exception, he was just the one we care about. (Q too, though I see less talk about that and we're not actually shown what happened to Q)

Yes, it is cruel, no denying that, he hurts Akutagawa to teach him a lesson, that what's the mafia life has taught Dazai is effective. I'd argue though, it's not anymore cruel than what Yosano does to Tanizaki and Kunikida. She literally tortures them, but it's fine because it's played off as a joke and they're healed in the end. When in reality it's Yosano taking out her trauma on her patients and friends, and she's enjoying it. She didn't need her patients to be half dead in the flashbacks, that came after the trauma. She hurts them to discourage them from getting hurt again in the future. (Again, no hate intended, I love Yosano and all her complexities)

Dazai hurt Akutagawa the same way. Except it's never told as a joke. It happens brutally because it is and the show wants you to feel it in those moments. There is plenty brutal things that Dazai does that are played off as not serious. What he does to Ango with the airbag in his car is brutal. Yet its framed as a dark but necessary action, we're supposed to agree with Dazai because it ultimately saves Kyouka and Dazai gets to have some vengeance. It's a framed as a victory over Ango that we're supposed to support.

Chuuya is constantly being brutal in fights. He kills those people in the woods when he goes to retrieve Q and it's not a gentle killing either. He enjoys the fight, he's happy to get his hands dirty, he likes throwing bullets at people. And we accept this because he does it to the "bad guys".

Yet when Chuuya murdered the guards at Meursault, people thought this was out of character for him. It wasn't. These characters simply seemed more like innocent bystanders to the audience so the reality of how vicious Chuuya's actions were, kicked back in.

So many characters do messed up things in BSD, to pin one as irredeemable because of them doesn't make sense when so many characters are guilty of similar actions. People put Oda up on a pedestal just like Dazai does, because he stopped killing and took in some kids, but he was still a murderer, he still shot and maimed people with ease, as long as they were breathing he was fine with hurting them.

Sure, you can certainly say, "I no longer like this character because of their actions." and that's perfectly fine. You have no obligation to like a character, your preferences are perfectly valid. I just don't believe there's meant to be such a thing as irredeemable or truly evil in BSD. Just people who choose to keep hurting others, and those who try to be better than who they once were.

Dazai has hurt literal hundreds of people during his mafia years but that's off screen and to nameless background characters, it's easier to dismiss. The way he treats Akutagawa is a reminder to the audience that all the characters' actions have consequences. That Atsushi's hero was another person's nightmare and that BSD has many characters like this.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd akutagawa #rambling #bsd #I'll say it again in the tags #no hate is intended here #this is not a post saying you have to like Dazai #I'm just writing out my thoughts about BSDs framing of actions

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wheresarizona · 1 year

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Learning to Live Part 20

summary: Javier has a shitty first day at his new job—thankfully, you thought ahead and planned some surprises that will turn it all around.

rating: E (18+! No y/n, age gap (around 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, (massive) breeding kink, sneaking around (secretly fucking in a house full of people), dirty talk, spanking, praise kink, domestic fluff, family fluff, family bonding, PTSD (panic attack), food as a metaphor for love, emotional hurt/comfort, hanging out with Chucho and fam, Javier in love, Javier saying very romantic things in Spanish, Javier holding a baby, baby fever)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

a/n: Hello there! This is a very important chapter that I literally hammered out in less than two weeks (I don’t know how I did it). We meet some new characters, and there’s a lot of Chucho content. It’s also very plot heavy. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing. You're the best!

word count: 22k (this is who I am)

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The Webb County Sheriff’s Office was located in the heart of downtown Laredo, a hulking two-story building with a tan stucco exterior and grey metal lettering on the front declaring, ‘Sheriff’s Office.’ Their jurisdiction spanned over three thousand miles and was the largest in southern Texas—whereas the Laredo Police Department only handled the town itself.

Javier had opinions about the local police.

None of them were good, seeing as the department’s Chief for the last twenty-something years has been Lorraine’s other uncle.

If it seemed like her family was everywhere, that was because they fucking were.

Her father’s side, the Smiths, have lived in the area going back generations and were the wealthiest family in Laredo, all thanks to the large transportation company her great-grandfather started back in the early 1900s. Their family made a name for themselves and were known for their philanthropy and pursuits to better the town—at least, that was true before her father took over the company from her grandfather and used all of the good his predecessors had done as a means to run for Mayor, making what turned out to be empty promises after he was elected.

He wasn’t the worst Mayor in Laredo’s history, but he wasn’t the best, either.

The philanthropic endeavors decreased when the business was handed over to her dad, who was more concerned with filling the family’s pockets, yet they still remained the town’s biggest benefactor and were held in somewhat high regard. The Smiths were well known, and two out of his three brothers had notable careers in town: one was the Chief of police, another had been a judge down at the courthouse before he was nominated by President George H. W. Bush to work on the federal level, and then, of course, there was Javier’s former barber.

Lorraine also had siblings and a hell of a lot of cousins who still lived in Laredo, so her family was fucking everywhere, much to his annoyance. He did his best to avoid them at all costs, especially if Cielito was with him. Javier was pretty sure there would be a physical altercation if she saw his ex, which made him smile, but it also meant he had to be on high alert when they were out and about. He was proud of how good he’d gotten at distracting her to keep them from crossing paths, usually feigning interest in a nearby store or restaurant. There was also the time they hadn’t even left his truck yet, and he’d spotted Lorraine down the street, so he kissed his girlfriend and made out with her for a solid five minutes to make sure the coast was clear—that one was his favorite.

Thankfully, none of the Smiths worked for the Sheriff.

There were five minutes to spare when he arrived at the office downtown, spending the first hour with the only Human Resources employee, Juana, a lovely older woman, half his size who kept calling him ‘Guapo (Handsome)’ and trying to wheedle his mom’s tamale recipe out of him. He’d filled out all of the necessary paperwork, frowning when he had to mark ‘Single’ on many of the forms. He got his picture taken and badge made, Juana commenting it was ‘Guapísimo (Very handsome),’ and he couldn’t wait to show Cielito to see her reaction, wearing it around his neck on a black lanyard. Then the older woman gave him a tour of the building, the only places of interest to him being the supply room, conference room, records room, evidence room, and where the nearest pot of coffee was located to his new office, which was their final stop.

Most of the people who worked here, he either knew or knew of, and they were all very aware of who he was if the looks and whispers he ignored were anything to go by.

His office wasn’t anything special and didn’t compare in the slightest to what he’d had in Colombia. It was small, with room enough for a cherry wood L-shaped desk against one wall, his desk chair putting the door in his line of sight, two chairs in front of it, and two bookcases behind it on either side of the window that had a breathtaking view of the parking lot. A computer was atop the reddish-brown hardwood, the bulky thing situated against the wall. A typewriter, which was more his speed, was on the other side near the edge, and a landline office phone between them in the corner. Aside from those three things, everything else was bare and empty—his plan was to raid the supply room, which could more accurately be described as a closet, for all the shit he needed.

He was standing just inside the door and finally alone, shuffling the stuff in his hands to free one up to grab the door handle and pull it forward to look at the other side, smiling when he saw there was a lock. Making his way around the desk, he set the things in his hand down on top of it, pulling out the chair and taking a seat.

The first item did not belong to him, and he’d never be caught dead with it, which was a fucking lie since it was sitting on his desk—The Empire Strikes Back Metal Lunch box was blue with art of Han, Leia, Chewie, and C-3PO in the Millennium Falcon cockpit, and did belong to his girlfriend, who’d packed his lunch the night before. She realized they hadn’t gotten him a lunch bag of his own, so she handed him this fucking thing at the door, giving him a kiss and a smack to the ass, telling him to have a good day.

He moved it off the desk and down behind it on the floor where it wouldn’t be seen.

The other two items were small black-bordered picture frames, setting the first one up: a picture of him and Cielito in his dad’s backyard, her standing in front of him with his arms wrapped around her chest, her hands holding them to her, his head beside hers as they smiled at the camera, the happiness clear on their faces. He put the second one next to it that had a Polaroid he’d taken while they made dinner one night in their kitchen of her grinning brightly at the camera and looking unbelievably adorable in his Fleetwood Mac shirt.

They made him smile, his mind going back to that morning and how fucking good it was. He sighed softly, touching the knot around his throat. He loved having her watch and help him get ready, then seeing how much it turned her on when he was dressed, wishing every morning was like that—the woman he loved choosing his outfit and keeping him company. They usually got dressed together, sometimes even asking each other opinions on what to wear, but it had never been like today. He wanted to look good for her, he wanted to wear what she wanted, he wanted to do something so simple to make her happy.

Then there were the things she did to him that had his slacks suddenly feeling a bit tight.

Javier felt like such a dick for arguing with her. He doesn’t know what came over him except that he didn’t think it was fair that only he was getting off—which was dumb because they both had times when they just wanted to pleasure the other without getting anything in return.

Fuck, her mouth, her tits. He looked at the Polaroid and her breasts under his shirt. She was so fucking beautiful between his knees, fucking him with them and letting him come all over her chest. Coming inside her was his favorite, but seeing her painted in his spend was a close second… Unless he could finish in her ass. His brain shortcircuited for a second, imagining how fucking tight she’d be while he filled her, and if she orgasmed at the same time, she’d tense up and squeeze his dic—

There was a low whistle from the door, a familiar deep voice saying, “Te tiene loco esa muchacha, se te sale la baba (That girl’s got you going crazy, you’re drooling).”

Javier frowned, his cheeks heating, clearing his throat as he looked at the older man standing in the doorway. He didn’t get up from his chair since his cock was at half-mast, confirming he was, in fact, crazy about her.

The newcomer had a similar build to his dad, the short cropped hair on his head and around his mouth grey with age, wearing the Webb County Sheriff Department uniform of a khaki short sleeve button up and army green pants with a yellow stripe down the sides, the golden Sheriff star badge pinned to his chest, glittering in the lights.

Unrelated to him, Sheriff Arturo López was about his age when he was elected into office back in the 70s. He was the county’s longest-serving Sheriff, and for good reason: he was an honorable man. Javier was very aware of this because he’s known him his whole life; Arturo was a good friend of his father’s.

“You’re as annoying as Pop,” he grumbled, straightening in his seat. “He’s told you about her?”

The other man’s face lit up, walking into the room to stand behind one of the chairs in front of the desk, resting both hands on the back.

“Talks about her and you—” His finger was directed at Javier. “—all the damn time. When I went out to the ranch last week, he showed me all of the pictures he took last month on his birthday with that fancy new camera you got him.”

He and Cielito had celebrated with his dad by barbecuing at the ranch. Daphne and Velma were in attendance; the two calves he’d practically raised, whom they affectionately called their bovine children, were given apples as treats, happily lying in the sun or chewing on the grass with their humans nearby. Chucho loved Cielito’s cooking almost as much as Javier did and had requested a peach pie for his birthday, which she, of course, made for him, much to his delight—he wouldn’t shut up about how much he loved it, and that was completely understandable, it was a really fucking good pie; so good, in fact, that Javier had stolen an extra piece before they’d left for the night. The picture of them on his desk was from that day, Cielito looking beautiful in a lavender-colored dress that he’d managed to match his button-up to—his eyes went back to it, thinking they looked so good together.

Perfect.

“¿Me oyes o que (Can you hear me or what)?” Arturo said a little louder, snapping his fingers to get his attention. Javier immediately looked up at him, seeing the other man was amused.

“Shit, sorry,” Javier replied, running a hand through his hair.

Arturo chuckled. “Tu papá tenía razón (Your dad was right). Estás arrebatado (You’re completely enraptured).” He slid a chair out and sat down, kicking his feet up on the desk’s edge.

His jaw ticked, annoyance creeping up on him, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve got it bad—are you here to give me shit about it, or are we going to discuss the scope of this job you’ve been on my ass about since I got back?”

The other man huffed out a breath, his face going serious, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “Your dad also said you get very defensive about it—tu novia (your girlfriend) is off limits. I read you loud and clear.” He put his feet down, sitting up in his seat, his eyes on Javier’s. “Remember when I offered you a job when you graduated from A&M?” he asked.

Javier did—it was his backup plan if swimming hadn’t panned out. He’d wanted to get into law enforcement, and it would’ve been a good start, but then Lorraine fucked that up for him, too, since he had to get the hell out of Laredo.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I saw your potential all those years ago—determination in your eyes to do something good and look at what you did in South America.”

Javier scoffed.

A crease appeared between the Sheriff’s eyes. “You know you’re a hero, right?” he asked.

Javier’s elbows were on the desk, his fingers laced in front of him. “I’m no hero.” He shook his head. “I just did my fucking job, and that’s it. Not like any of it mattered, anyway—the war on drugs will never fucking end.”

“On a large scale? No, there will always be drug trafficking, but things can be done here at home to crack down on it and keep our community safe.”

His eyebrow rose. “That’s why you need me?”

The older man smiled. “Partially.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re aware of the drug smuggling problems we’re having here in Laredo?”

He nodded.

Arturo continued, “We know it’s coming into Laredo and then being distributed out to the bigger cities—we’ve got a whole narcotics unit, and they’ve done some decent busts throughout the county, but things can turn violent quick. You know how it is, people have drugs—”

“They’ll have weapons,” he cut him off, nodding.

They have to protect their cargo.

“Well, our current strategies aren’t making much difference, and even with some wins, it’s not enough. You personally took out the Colombians, and with them gone, the Mexican cartels have been taking advantage, and things have gotten bad, and that’s why I needed you to take this job. I need a new set of eyes. I need your expertise.” He pointed at Javier. “I need you to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. I want you to work with the team and make a better plan of attack. Have you kept up on the Mexican cartels?”

He has. Steve still works for the DEA in Florida and updates him about the goings on in South America and Mexico on their weekly calls.

“Yeah.”

“Good, we know they’re supplying.”

“Of course they are. So, you want me to look over the situation here, consult, and help plan? Can I meet the head of the narcotics unit?”

“You’re the head of the narcotics unit.”

His eyes widened, taken aback. “...what?”

That definitely wasn’t in the job description—he was supposed to be here for informational purposes only, training people, consulting, not running a team. He promised Cielito this would be an office job, and he absolutely would not go back on his word to her; he’d quit first and work somewhere else; hell, his alma mater, had put out feelers on if he’d like to teach. Anger was bubbling in his belly that this was turning out to be a fucking bait and switch, the Sheriff putting way more responsibility on him than he agreed to.

His face pinched in anger, glaring at the other man, his voice low, menacing, not brokering any room for argument, “When you pitched me this job, you said I’d be consulting, bringing in my knowledge and training people, shit like that. I didn’t sign up to head a fucking unit. I promised my girl this job would be nothing like the fucking DEA.”

“Cálmate (Calm down), Javi, it isn’t.” The Sheriff waved away his concern. “I’m sorry for springing it on you like this. I thought you’d like to be in charge since you wanted a desk job, and that’s what it is, a desk job—you’ll never see any action. You don’t even need a gun. You’ve got a lot of experience we could benefit from, so it makes sense you’d be the best person to lead and advise them. You’d help them do their jobs better.”

Javier had the upper hand here—the other man needed him more than he needed this job.

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want the fucking responsibility of running a team—if that’s the case, I’m walking out that fucking door.” He jutted his finger toward it.

Arturo frowned, sighing deeply as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll forget the title. I’ll assign one of the other guys as the leader. You’ll consult—look into the situation here, help train, and plan. Is that better?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I am not in charge of them, is that understood?”

The other man sighed again. “Yes, Javi. You’re not in charge—no responsibility for them.” He leaned forward, offering his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” he replied, shaking the offered palm.

“Good,” the Sheriff said. “Welcome aboard.” He got up from his chair. “The team is scheduled to meet with you at one in the conference room for introductions—they’re expecting you.” He was walking toward the door, stopping before he exited to look at Javier over his shoulder. “There’s one other part of your job I forgot to mention.”

Javier let out a loud breath, feeling beyond annoyed. “What’s that?”

“You’ll be the point of contact for the DEA when they come knocking—I’ve got Southern Texas’ largest county to worry about. I don’t have time for their bullshit.”

He scoffed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re here, Javi. Thank you for doing this,” he said as he left the room.

“Fuck,” Javier breathed, pressing his face into his hands.

Did he make a fucking mistake taking this job? He felt like he’d bit off way more than he could chew. He was starting to get a headache, reminding himself that this wouldn’t be anything like the DEA; he wasn’t going after cartels, he wasn’t having to put his life at risk, he was keeping his promise to Cielito, and that was all that fucking mattered.

Thinking of her, he remembered the day before when they were eating breakfast, hearing her voice clear in his mind saying, ‘...since you love challenges, you should dig into a problem…’

Find a problem to solve.

What was going on in Mexico wasn’t his problem; that was for the feds to worry about; what was a big fucking problem to him were drugs somehow making it past heavy border patrol and DEA intervention, but could he solve it?

The woman he loved was into that astrology shit, and the stars, or whatever the fuck, seemed to want him to.

Jesus Christ, was he really taking advice from something somebody probably pulled out of their ass?

He thought about it more rationally.

Laredo was his home, even if he wanted to leave it with his girlfriend most of the time. He had Cielito and his dad here; one day, they’d have children. Did he want to bring their kids into a world where there was a possibility of danger? He was remembering Colombia and the horrible shit he’d seen when drug busts went sideways, and innocent people got caught in the crossfire. What if Cielito was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and something happened to her? His memories of South America were fueling the worst-case scenarios playing out in his head of things that could happen to her or their future kids, his heart starting to pound in his chest, dread feeling like lead in the pit of his stomach.

He was beginning to panic as he thought of the potential consequences if he didn’t do this. He needed to keep his family safe; he had to make sure their home was safe, needing to protect his future wife and their future children.

What if I fail to protect them like I failed others before?

His breaths were coming out quick, the room suddenly going dark around the edges, it feeling stifling—he couldn’t breathe.

With it being the beginning of August in Southern Texas, it was barely ten a.m. and already scorching hot outside.

After sending Javi off to work with the coolest lunch box that he sighed really loudly at taking, a kiss and a smack to his ass, you’d showered, putting on some black bicycle shorts and the white t-shirt you’d gotten at a Prince concert the year prior. It had his symbol on the front with ‘The “Jam of the Year” World Tour 97/98.’ written on it, wanting to wear comfortable clothes since you’d be cooking all day—something that required you to leave your apartment.

But not to go to a store… yet.

The air conditioning was turned up as high as it would go in your car, Salt-N-Pepa playing loudly over the whirring of it as you drove down the road.

Ringing sounded in the passenger seat from the cell phone in your purse Javi got you when he moved in; you hadn’t wanted it, but the man worried about you getting stranded on the side of the road, or having an emergency, so to mollify him you’d accepted it.

Your eyes stayed on the road as you reached into your bag, fumbling around until you found the hard plastic Nokia phone that seemed practically indestructible. Pulling it out, you turned down the radio, the screen on the cellphone glowing green showing Javi was calling—which was a surprise, immediately hitting the answer button.

“Hey, babe!” you greeted, driving one-handed.

“Talk to me,” he said between heavy breaths, sounding like he’d been running.

It made you frown, worry curling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Javi, what’s going on?”

“Talk, please.” There was desperation in his tone, understanding he needed you to calm him down.

“Okay, um, gosh, I am so sorry for this stream of consciousness, it’s going to be unfiltered, just straight brain to mouth,” you rambled. “I’m driving right now and wearing those tight, stretchy shorts that I swear to fucking god are a magnet for your hands—you know the ones. Like, you smack my ass so much in these that I know if I’m within reach of you, I’m getting spanked—which, I’m only telling you this because you’re, you know, but I love when you do it so much—I love you, too, a lot, an insane amount, and I can’t wait to see you, so I can give you a big hug and smother your face in kisses—just smooches all over that sexy mug of yours. Um, I hope you’ll like the dinner I’m making—it’s gonna test my skills, and I’m excited to attempt it; hopefully, it’ll be edible.”

His breaths were beginning to even out, continuing to speak your thoughts, “I’m super worried about you right now since you’re calling me before your lunch and needing me to talk. So, just focus on my voice, baby—you’re gonna get through this. Breathe, you’re okay, and it’s gonna pass—everything is okay. Um, fuck, what else can I talk about, oh! I really liked that movie we rented Friday before last—the one with Harrison Ford? It was honestly so on point that the woman fell in love with him while stranded on that deserted island—how could you not fall in love with Pilot Harrison Ford? Which, I mean I wouldn’t—” you added quickly. “—I’ve already got a hunky, grumpy man I’m disgustingly in love with, thank you very much, and Harrison Ford can kick rocks—you’re my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with if that wasn’t clear, and if I got stranded somewhere I know you’d find me—I don’t know how you’d do it, but you would. I know I said it already, but I love you, Javi—I love you so much sometimes I feel like I’m going to combust—”

“I love you, too,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“There you are,” you replied, smiling in relief at hearing him. “Feel better?”

“Yes.” He audibly swallowed. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me, and you’d never bother me, Javi. I love you.”

“I love you, too—I fucking knew you wear those shorts on purpose.” The smile was evident in his voice.

You giggled. “Kinda. They’re just really comfy.”

“Uh-huh, right. I’m also happy to be your hunky, grumpy man you’re disgustingly in love with.”

“Good, ‘cause you are.” The reason he called had you sobering up, asking, “Javi, do you want to talk about what happened?”

He sighed. “The, uh, smuggling problem is worse than I thought, and I started thinking about if something happened to you or our kids, and it, uh—”

“Triggered a panic attack,” you finished for him. “Javi,” you said softly. “It’s your first day, and you already had a panic attack. Are you sure you should be doing this job?”

“I promise, I’m okay—it won’t happen again.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know,” he sighed again.

“You can quit and go back to work with your dad on the ranch while you look for another job that won’t be so triggering.”

“I know… But I want to do this.”

A frown was on your face again. When he told you he’d gotten a job with the Sheriff, you’d been worried it’d make him miserable and lead to him resenting you. He was adamant that wouldn’t happen, and his new work wouldn’t be anything like the DEA, promising you it was just an office job, but with this phone call, your worries were back. He’d been there—you glanced at the clock on your radio—two hours, and he’d already had a panic attack—it didn’t bode well that his PTSD was acting up. Then there was the determination in his tone, hearing how he felt like this was something he had to do, and it made you feel uneasy.

“Okay,” you replied. If this was what he wanted, you wouldn’t fight him on it. “But if this happens again, you call me.”

“I will.”

“Promise me, Javier—don’t hide it from me.”

“I promise, Cielito. I won’t keep it from you.”

“Thank you. Now, do you need me to come down there right now? It’d take me like twenty minutes.”

“No, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“Alright. How’s your first day so far?”

“The woman from HR kept calling me guapo, but I think she was just saying it to get mi mamá’s tamale recipe.”

You snorted. “Eres guapísimo (You’re very handsome). ¿Ella tuvo éxito (Did she succeed)?”

He chuckled. “No, Cielito. No se lo diré a nadie excepto a ti (I won’t tell anyone except you).”

“I don’t know why, but that’s very romantic, and I’m touched.”

“Ella hubiera querido que lo tuvieras (She would’ve wanted you to have it).”

You were smiling big.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I should probably get back to work.” He sounded like he didn’t want to get off the phone.

“Wait, promise me, Javier, if this job gets to be too much or you feel yourself slipping back to how you were before, you’ll quit. Promise me.”

“I promise, Cielito—I pinky promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it. I love you. Call me on your lunch.”

“I love you, too, and I will.”

Goodbyes were said, the call ending, tossing the phone back into the passenger seat.

Chewing on your lip, your brain was stuck on Javi as you drove.

You really fucking hoped he’d be okay, but your boyfriend was stubborn, and when he put his mind to something, he didn’t let anything get in his way—including himself. It was one of his flaws, yet also a strength, that made him good at his job.

Colombia was a looming shadow, always following him around, and he still hadn’t shed a light on it for you. You knew the overview of his time there—he’d worked with Steve to help take down Pablo Escobar, but he’d fucked up and was sent home before they’d gotten the fucker; A lot of his informants were prostitutes that he’d slept with; He was sent back a second time and was put in charge, working his ass off to take down the Cali Cartel, and once he finished, he’d resigned from the DEA—and now he’d found another thing to put his mind to, and you were worried it would consume him.

You wouldn’t let him fall back into old habits and would talk to him and lay down some ground rules, the first being work stayed at work—when he came home, it was time for him to relax and forget about the day. It was what you did; it was how you survived being a busy emergency room nurse in a hospital in Dallas, where there was so much death. Once you clocked out for the day, your shift was over, and your worries over work ceased until you clocked back in for your next shift. There was no dwelling on things when you’d go home. If you did, you would’ve been miserable and the job much more difficult. You knew it would be really fucking hard for Javi to do, but you were determined to make sure he didn’t revert back to the miserable, depressed man he’d been in Colombia.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not if you had any say.

Your mind had been so preoccupied you suddenly found yourself at your destination, pulling into Chucho’s driveway, the gravel crunching under your tires, seeing him sitting in one of the two white rocking chairs on the porch, waiting for you with a big smile on his face. Pulling off to the side in front of the house and parking, you shoved your cell phone back into your purse, grabbing it and the little notebook from the passenger seat, and getting out, walking along the stone path in front of Javi’s mom’s beautiful flower garden, her husband still tended to.

“Buenos días, Mija (Good morning, Mija),” the older man greeted as he got up from his seat in jeans, a white short-sleeve button-up, and cowboy boots to hug you when you made it up the few stairs.

Smiling as you hugged him back, you replied, “Buenos días, Chucho.”

He let go of you, meeting your eyes with a happy grin. “The house smells amazing,” he said, moving over to the screen door, the springs screeching as he opened it for you, making your way inside the house.

“I hope it turned out amazing.” You were hit with the smell of cooking meat permeating in the air, heading toward the kitchen, the older man following you with the screen door slamming shut behind him.

“I’m sure it did.”

It warmed your heart how much faith he had in you, setting your purse and notebook down on the kitchen table to go look in the Crock Pot and finding the pork you put in it the night before was done. Turning it off, you smiled, seeing that Chucho had already set out a giant bowl and tongs for you to use. Grabbing the utensil, you looked over your shoulder, clicking them twice. “I see this isn’t your first rodeo—thank you,” you said.

He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Mija. It can cool while we go to the store.”

“Very true.”

Your attention moved back to the slow cooker, removing the lid and using the tongs to transfer the big pieces of meat into the bowl.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

Memories of Javi getting dressed came to you, your skin heating when you thought of the dirtier things you’d both done.

“Pretty good—your son let me choose his suit and tie,” you answered, moving another piece of pork.

“A good man.”

“The best, and we had a lovely breakfast before he went off to work.” You’d stood in the kitchen drinking coffee together, and he took a granola bar for the road. “How was yours?”

“Not bad. I made sure all of the pots and pans you’ll need are where I saw them last, and I extended the kitchen table so you have more room.”

You’d noticed it was bigger, going from being able to seat four to about six.

The last chunk of meat was put in the bowl, discarding the utensil into the sink as you said, “You are the fucking best, Chucho.”

“I’m just excited,” he laughed.

After unplugging the Crock Pot, you faced the older man. “I’m excited, too, and really fucking nervous.”

“You’re going to do great,” he reassured, making your heart clench.

“Thank you, Chucho. I really hope it’s good. Do you have aluminum foil?”

He pointed beside you. “Second drawer.”

“Thank you.” You got the foil out, tearing a piece to cover the bowl, putting it back where it belonged, and turning toward your boyfriend’s dad again.

“Okay,” you started. “So, I watched the video of Antonia’s instructions again this morning and tried to take some notes.” You put it on after Javi left, doing your best to write stuff down. Frowning, you continued, “You know I’m getting better at my Spanish, but there were some things I missed.”

He had a warm expression.

“Don’t stress, Mija. I watched and helped mi amor (my love) make her tamales so many times I’ve lost count. I may not know measurements or remember all the ingredients, but we’ve got her recipe cards we can use.” He gestured to the dining table next to him, where your things sat atop it beside a small oak wood dovetailed box that you knew when you opened the hinged lid, it contained his wife’s handwritten recipe cards.

The idea to make Javi’s mom’s famous tamales came to you while watching the home video of her explaining how they were made. You knew they were his favorite food, and wanted to make his first day at work special because, even though he acted like the job was no big deal, you still worried it’d fuck him up—which is exactly what happened, and now you were really happy he’d have your attempt at his mom’s tamales to comfort him.

There was nervousness about asking Chucho for permission. The recipe was a heavily guarded secret and something his wife was known for, and you were just some random woman dating his son. He’d been ecstatic when you called, though, telling you he’d get out Antonia’s recipe box for you to use, which was such a huge honor, you teared up.

The first time you got a chance to look inside the box was the night before when you brought over the pork to cook—the cards inside were old and some stained, able to see which ones she used the most, her recipes written out in beautiful script, all of them in Spanish and finding some she added little notes to—one for Pozole she’d crossed out radish in the ingredients, noting Javi hated them.

It was a little overwhelming knowing each one this incredible woman had touched, each one she’d made, and even though you never got a chance to meet her, it felt like you had—as odd as it was, you felt closer to her, seeing the tweaks she’d made to some recipes and completely understanding why she did them.

Antonia Peña was alive through the stories her family told, the pictures in old albums, the many home videos, and the food she’d once made that you were now getting the chance to make to honor her memory.

Smiling, you said, “Yes, we’ve got the recipe.” Walking over to the table, you picked up your notebook, looking at him. “I wrote down our grocery list in here.” You tapped the cover with your finger. “But in the video, she mentioned a secret ingredient in her red sauce. She spoke too quickly for me to understand what she was saying, and I didn’t see it listed on the recipe card…”

He held up four fingers. “Four arbol chiles. No more, no less. Four.” Your eyes went wide, grinning as you flipped open your notebook, grabbing the pen tucked between the pages. A hand covered the paper, looking at him in confusion. “You can’t write it down,” he said. “It’s a secret only Javi, and I know, and now you do, too.” He smiled.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, feeling so honored to have been told. You were careful of the notebook and pen you were holding as you threw your arms around him in a hug.

Javi said you were the only person he’d tell the recipe to, and here was his dad saying the same, feeling so unbelievably loved by this family.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you said.

He patted your back. “You’re family, Mija—mi futura nuera (my future daughter-in-law), you get to know, but you can’t tell anyone. Es un secreto (It’s a secret).”

You pulled back, nodding, “Yes, of course.” The pen was put back in the closed notebook, using your free hand to wipe at your teary eyes. “You ready to go?” you asked. “You’re my inside man on where to get the best ingredients.”

Chuckling, he replied, “I’m ready. I’ll drive. We’ll go out the back.”

Grabbing your purse, you followed Chucho down the hallway to the house's rear. The walls were bright teal with artwork of flowers Antonia had picked out, passing a guest bathroom, another hallway that led to a spare bedroom, the laundry room, and the staircase that went up to the master bedroom. He stopped at the coat hooks behind the back door to put on his straw cowboy hat and grab car keys from a row of tinier key hooks.

On your first visit to Chucho’s, you learned they didn’t lock the house during the day, so it wasn’t a surprise when you shut the door behind you, and he just kept walking. The gravel driveway fanned out behind the house where many cars and trucks were parked beside each other, knowing most belonged to Javi’s cousins and uncle, who all worked on the ranch.

It confused you when he passed his pickup, having assumed that was what you would be riding in and ending up at a smaller vehicle with a white cover over it and a dusting of dirt.

“It’s a special occasion,” he said, going to the front and beginning to pull off the covering. “So, we’ll take my baby.” Removing it as he walked toward the rear, he slowly revealed an old, red, soft-top convertible sports car in impeccable condition.

“Wow, I get to ride in the fancy car,” you replied, delighted. “This is so nice.”

The cover was set aside, Chucho unlocking the driver’s side door.

“Thank you.” He patted the top. “She’s a ‘68 Ford Mustang. Got her the year she was made.”

You went to the passenger side, looking through the glass at the black leather interior, two seats in the front, and two squished in the back, the lock disengaging with a click.

Getting in, you used the crank to lower your window, the older man starting the engine, and it roaring to life.

“I’m sure Javi had a blast riding around in this,” you said.

He was leaning to the left to press a button near the steering wheel, the top slowly moving back to open with a whine.

“Oh, he did.” Chucho smiled. “I don’t drive it much—drove it more back then than I do now. Javi would beg me to take him for rides and always was an excited little guy when I’d pick him up from school in it.” The top was completely down, and he rolled down his window, too. “But, Antonia, mi amor, was my regular passenger.” He tapped the dashboard. “Brought out the Mustang for date night.” He grinned.

“I love that so much,” you replied, putting on your seatbelt and Chucho doing the same. “Once Javi got his license, did you let him drive it?”

He put the car in reverse, his arm going to the top of your seat as he looked behind him to back out.

“Hell no,” he answered, making you laugh.

He had you both on the road heading into town in no time, the wind whipping past you, unable to stop from smiling. There wasn’t any awkwardness, feeling comfortable casually chatting with him. Chucho told you more stories about Javi and Antonia that had you laughing, having the best time with him.

There was a small lull in the conversation, and turning your head toward him, you said, “Thank you for helping me with this, Chucho. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”

Smiling, he glanced at you. “You’re welcome, Mija, and you know, you can call me ‘Pop’ if you want,” he replied. “I already think of you as my daughter and don’t mind.”

Your eyes were watering, and it had nothing to do with the top being down.

In all the time you’ve known this man, he’s been more of a father to you than your actual biological dad. He welcomed you with open arms and was so warm and caring, able to see how much he loved his son and now you, too. It was a stark contrast to the coldness you were used to from being the family disappointment, not even sure when you last spoke to your father, thinking it was probably when you visited your family months ago.

Your mother was the one who stayed in contact with you, though her calls have become less frequent since you’d gone off on her for saying shitty things about Javi. The next time she called after the incident, you had put your foot down and threatened to go no contact if she continued to belittle and say horrible things about him. She hadn’t liked the threat but begrudgingly agreed to your terms, and you assumed the lack of phone calls was because she didn’t have anything nice to say.

Honestly, you knew her weekly calls were to make sure you weren’t bringing more shame to the family name, and it was nice not having her breathing down your neck.

You’ve never known what it was like to have such a loving parent like Chucho, and you were over the goddamn moon you had him now.

“Thank you,” you replied. “You’re a great dad, and I’m happy you’re in my life.”

“I’m happy you’re in my and my son’s lives. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all you’ve done for him. I just love seeing how happy he is and those smiles. So, thank you, Mija.”

“You’re gonna make me cry!” Tears were threatening to spill.

“Don’t cry! This is a happy day.” He patted your knee. “We’re having a great time and almost there.”

La Tapatía Market was a hidden gem on the west side of town in a more residential area, inhabiting what was probably once a neighborhood grocery store back in the 1920s if the old painted brick on the outside was anything to go by. It was on a corner lot, a stone wall separating it from the homes that resided next door to it, and it wasn’t large nor tiny but a decent enough size to offer a variety of goods straight from across the border.

The market also happened to be family-owned, as you learned walking through the front door, hearing a bell jingle above it.

Entering, there was a long counter on the right where the register was, and a young man behind it, who was maybe in his thirties, his black hair buzzed short on his head, and face clean shaven, wearing dark green flannel, his attention immediately on the two of you.

“¡Hola (Hello)!” he greeted. “Me alegro de verte aquí otra vez, Don Chucho (It’s good to see you here again, Don Chucho).”

“Buenos días, Martín (Good morning, Martín),” Chucho replied, smiling. “¿Cómo están tus padres (How are your parents)? ¿Están aquí (Are they here)?”

“No, no están aquí (No, no, they’re not here).” He shook his head. “Tenían que ir a un mandado y deberían volver pronto (They had to go run an errand and should be back soon).”

“Bueno, bueno (Good, good),” he replied. “Oh, Martín, me gustaría que conocieras a mi nuera (Martín, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law),” he said, stepping aside and ushering you forward as he told him your name.

“Hola (Hello),” you said. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).”

The other man’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“¿Javier se casó (Javier got married)?” he asked.

“No, todavía no (No, not yet),” Chucho chuckled. “Pero espero que más pronto que tarde (But hopefully sooner rather than later).”

“Sí, Don Chucho (Yes, Don Chucho). Es maravilloso que haya conocido a alguien (It’s wonderful that he met someone).” His attention turned to you, smiling. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).” Looking between you both, he asked, “¿Qué los trae por aquí hoy (What brings you here today)?”

Chucho’s arm went over your shoulders, grinning as he answered, “Ella es una cocinera increíble y está haciendo los tamales de mi esposa (She is an amazing cook and is making my wife’s tamales).”

The praise had your cheeks feeling hot, thinking it was very sweet how highly he regarded you, but it also was a tad nerve-wracking, feeling the nervous flutter in your belly.

Surprise was on Martín’s face. “Los famosos tamales de la Doña Antonia (Doña Antonia’s famous tamales)?”

“Sí,” Chucho replied excitedly, and it was honestly very adorable.

“Guau, buena suerte (Wow, good luck). Avíseme si necesita ayuda para encontrar algo (Let me know if you need help finding anything).

“Gracias, Martín (Thank you, Martín).”

“Gracias,” you also said, smiling.

Just inside the door and to the left were metal shopping carts, Chucho grabbing one while you opened your notebook, telling him the first thing on the list, and him leading you to the aisle. There were only a couple of other shoppers moseying around, your boyfriend’s dad greeting them by name when you happened across them.

The recipe from Antonia’s cards said it’d make about two dozen tamales, and you were very confused when Chucho had you get five times the ingredients on the list.

Did he want to make sure you had extra in case you fucked up? Five times seemed a bit excessive for that...

You were standing in an aisle, many different kinds of chiles in plastic bags hanging on pegs in front of you. The older man was looking at the labels with concentration etched on his brow before grabbing a bag.

“These ones,” he said, showing it to you. “How many do you need?”

“Uh, twelve chiles.”

“Okay.” He nodded, looking in the bag and counting how many chiles it had in it, then once again, he was quintupling the amount, throwing in more bags, and doing the same with the arbol chiles.

“Chucho?”

“Yes?” His attention turned to you.

“Why are we getting so much extra stuff?” You pointed at the growing pile of goods in the cart.

“So there’s enough for everyone,” he answered.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Who’s everyone?”

“You’re making tamales…” he said slowly.

“Yes… and that means?”

What were you missing?

“You don’t make tamales alone…”

“Yeah, you’re helping.” You gestured at him.

He smiled warmly. “Mija, you’re going to need more than just me. So, I invited people to come over and help.” He shrugged.

It felt like a record scratched in your brain.

“What people?”

“Just my sisters and some of their kids—they’re very excited to meet you.”

Well, this new bit of information did not help with your nerves at all. Now there would be more people judging your food, and your worry that you’d fuck up was running rampant. You took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. You were doing this for Javi—you needed to do this for your boyfriend, and thinking on the bright side, it will be good to have people who know how to make tamales there.

“Oh, wow, okay. I’m meeting the fam. That’s cool. I’m excited to meet them, too.”

Aside from Javi introducing you to a couple of his cousins who work at the ranch, you hadn’t met anyone else in his family—not because he was ashamed of you or didn’t want you to meet them, he was just being selfish, and hogging you all to himself. His tía María had everyone over at her house after church every Sunday for food and to catch up, and there was an open invitation for Javi and you to attend, but he preferred spending the day with you instead. It was romantic of him, but you were dying to meet the people you’d heard stories about and seen pictures of in the photo albums of him growing up.

You hoped they’d like you.

Chucho was back behind the cart, and you were beside it. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he said in a gentle voice you could imagine him using with the animals at the ranch. “They’ve heard all about you and are happy Javi has such a great girlfriend. They already like you.”

There was doubt in the back of your mind.

“You’re sure they like me?”

He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Rebeca had some of the peach pie you made for my birthday and wanted the recipe. They all can’t wait to try your tamales.”

That made you feel better.

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

"You won't."

A thought came to you. "Fuck, I don't think I made enough pork!"

"You did."

"I did?"

He grinned. "Yes, when you called to ask how much to buy, I made sure you got enough."

Smiling at him, you replied, "You're very sneaky, Chucho and I love it."

"Thank you. What's next on the list?"

“You won’t. What’s next on the list?”

The cart was fuller than you anticipated, with Chucho getting a variety of fruit-flavored sodas called Jarritos and some beer by the time you reached the register. He also refused to let you pay, which was annoying, but after the third time you tried, he gave you a grumpy look that was strikingly similar to your boyfriend’s, so you’d given up.

Everything fit in the trunk of the Mustang, and the two of you were off back to the ranch, Chucho turning on an oldies radio station while you guys made a game plan for the day.

He told you Antonia cooked the red chile sauce first, making the filling next, then the tamale dough called masa after. That was a good idea, deciding that was what you’d do, too.

Returning to the house, everything was brought inside, and you organized it all into piles for each step of the process on the kitchen table. Chucho put all the drinks in a giant cooler with a ton of ice stationed out of the way in the big kitchen.

After washing and drying your hands, you got to work, starting with shredding the pork that cooled while you were out. Chucho turned on the kitchen radio, you telling him to keep it on the Spanish station his wife had loved, and he’d gotten you guys some cold beers out of the fridge.

While you dealt with the meat, he took care of soaking the corn husks in hot water where they’d need to stay for hours to make them pliable and easy to work with when it was time to construct the tamales.

When you finished with the pork, it was put aside, and you started on the red sauce.

The two of you were standing next to each other at the kitchen counter, a big wooden cutting board in front of you both with kitchen shears and a chef’s knife you were using to cut the stems off of the chiles, then using the knife to slice them open and remove the seeds by hand—it was a somewhat tedious process.

“Did you always help your wife with this part?” you asked him, adding another cleaned chile to the pile on a baking sheet beside the cutting board.

“Sí (Yes), well, at least until Javi got old enough to remember not to touch his eyes.” He chuckled.

“A rookie mistake.” You shook your head.

“Oh yeah, I remember the first time, he was maybe five or six, she told him, ‘No te toques los ojos—es owie (Don’t touch your eyes—it’s owie),’ and what did he do? Rubbed them. Antonia had to soak cotton balls in milk and put them over his eyes.”

“Oh god, poor little guy!”

The pile of chiles was getting bigger.

“She felt bad, so I’d help her with the chiles, and he’d be her shadow through everything else.”

“He loved his mom a whole lot.”

“Yes, he did. Surprised he even bothered with me.”

Frowning, you turned your head toward him, pausing what you were doing to reply, “You know he loves you a lot too, right?”

He sighed, “I know.” His hands were still working.

“No, I mean he loves you so much, he won’t leave Laredo, we won’t leave Laredo. He needs to live close to you because he loves you, and he can’t fathom ever being away from you again. I think it’s those talks you guys have over beers.” You smiled, knocking your shoulder against his.

Chucho huffed out a breath. “Maybe it is. We had a good one after he watched the video of his mamá cooking.”

“Oh?” You tried not to sound too curious, returning to what you were doing. “Is there like father-son confidentiality, like doctor-patient?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “But,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “you didn’t hear it from me that he’s planning to propose in less than a year.”

Grinning, you replied, “On our first anniversary! I know; I weaseled it out of him.”

He laughed. “I should’ve known you’d find out. Mija?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a betting woman?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. What are we thinking?”

“I’ll bet you fifty dollars he does it before.”

“See, I thought maybe he’d break, too, but he is adamant about this one-year thing. Apparently, he has a whole romantic plan. So, I’ll take you up on that wager. I see him waiting.”

“We’ll see what happens.”

“Yes, we will.”

He spoke a little softer, “You’re really not moving away when you get married?”

“Hell no, Pop. Our kids need to be close to their abuelo.”

You heard him sniffle, so you bumped your shoulder into his again. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The recipe for the sauce was pretty easy to follow, Chucho seeming to know what appliances you would need and getting them ready: preheating the oven, pulling out the blender, bringing you a good-sized saucepan. When it was simmering on the stove, you thoroughly washed your hands with soap and water to clean off the chile oils, Chucho already doing so.

It was now time to wait as it finished cooking, the anticipation swelling up inside you, praying to whatever deity was listening for it to turn out okay.

The black-rimmed reading glasses were on his face—they’d been kept in the inside pocket of his jacket, that article of clothing draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, his eyes scanning the words on the document from the opened file in front of him on his desk, while his right hand scribbled notes on the yellow pages of a legal pad, his styrofoam cup of coffee, empty.

Before he met Cielito, it was nightmares that plagued him—not every night, but enough that there was a familiarity to the shadows of his dark room, the bright moon outside his blinds a regular companion. What happened earlier was… new, yet he knew he had to call her; she told him to if she wasn’t there, and he had a nightmare, and this seemed pretty fucking close to one. Her voice gave him something to focus on, grounding him, soothing him to the point his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened out. The whole thing was entirely unexpected, and he fucking hoped it didn’t happen again.

She wanted him to work out the shit in his head, and he hated admitting it, but maybe he needed to see a professional.

Fuck, he couldn’t go to any in Laredo because people would talk. He set his pen down, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pushing through his hair as he sighed. A neighboring town was an option. It’d be a bit of a drive—worth it, though, if they could help with whatever the fuck was wrong with him. He’d talk to his wif–girlfriend, he mentally corrected, frowning. He’d talk to her tonight since she could probably find a place with her connections at the hospital.

After the panic attack, he focused on work, stocking his office with supplies from the supply closet before going to annoy the fuck out of the Sheriff’s assistant. Her desk was right outside Arturo’s closed office door, a coffee mug on her desk with the University of Texas crest and the words, ‘Class of ‘98,’ so she was a fresh graduate, her nameplate reading Joy, looking like a deer in headlights when Javier rattled off various documents he needed from the Sheriff. Eventually, he sighed when he realized she wasn’t listening and asked for her pad of paper and pen to write them down instead, telling her he needed them as soon as possible.

Half an hour later, she’d brought him a small stack of files and apologized profusely, explaining she’d only worked there a month and had no idea what he was talking about, needing help from the Sheriff.

Javier then spent the time up until now reading and jotting down notes to work out his plan.

He flicked his wrist up, looking at the silver watch face, seeing it was a little past noon and time for lunch.

Closing the manilla folder, he moved it back onto the stack, pushing his notepad aside. His hips shifted forward in his seat as he shoved his hand into his right pocket to pull out his phone, hitting one, then the call button to speed dial Cielito, bringing it up to his ear. Sitting up in his chair, he rested his elbows on the desk, taking off his glasses with his free hand.

She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, babe!”

He smiled. “Hi, baby.”

Spanish music played softly in the background on her end, making him smile bigger, warmth radiating in his chest.

“I’m happy to hear your voice. Has everything been okay since we last talked? Anything else happen?”

“Aside from me confusing the fuck out of some girl and, I think, accidentally scaring her?”

She’d been very apologetic and wouldn’t look him in the eyes, bolting once he told her she didn’t need to apologize and that everything was fine.

“Was your face grumpy, and were you bossy?”

His smile fell.

“Maybe… a little?”

“So, that’s a yes. How old are we talking?”

“Just graduated from UT.”

“Then she was probably really intimidated. Be nicer. You’re working with these people five days a week, don’t make them hate you.”

He frowned, thinking about how everyone in Colombia called him an asshole because he didn’t put up with their shit.

Sighing, he replied, “I’ll… try.”

“Good. So, did the Sheriff give you better details on what he wants you to do?”

His face pinched when he thought of the conversation he had with Arturo.

“Yeah, he tried to fucking saddle me with a goddamn team and have me run the fucking show,” he seethed.

“Excuse me?” There was anger in her tone. “Javier, you told him to get fucked, right?”

“Told him I’d quit on the fucking spot.”

“That’s my man.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made his own lips tip up. “What happened?”

“We came to an agreement, and I’ll be doing the work I was promised.”

“And you’re positive you want this job?”

What choice did he have? He needed this job to protect her—he had to do this for her and their family. The work wouldn’t be too difficult, and it was a desk job, so he’d stay safe.

“Yeah, Cielito, I do.”

“Okay…”

“I promise I’m okay, baby. I’ll, uh, need to talk to you about this morning at home.” He scratched at his mustache.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

Changing the subject, he asked, “I hear you’re in the kitchen. What are you working on?”

“Right now? A sauce that I am stressing the fuck out about because I’ve never made it before and don’t really know what it’s supposed to taste like, so I’m basically doing this blind.”

“I know it’s gonna be the best fucking sauce, Cielito.”

“You think so?” He could picture her perfectly in his mind chewing on her bottom lip.

“I know so because you’re making it. Haven’t had cooking as good as yours since mi mamá.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and you fucking know it. I tell you every day.”

“You do really like my cooking.”

“I do, Pop loves your cooking, too, and I know you’ll kick this sauce’s ass.”

She snorted. “I’ll try. Speaking of your father, after work, drive out to the ranch. We’re having dinner with him.”

His brows furrowed.

“Are you cooking at the apartment or Pop’s?”

“Your dad’s because that was easiest for all the work I have to do.”

He smiled. “Is he with you?”

“Oh, yeah. Took the day off to be my sous chef, but I’m missing my good luck, especially with this sauce!” She said the last word dramatically.

The idea of his girlfriend and dad cooking all day together delighted Javier and had him wondering what she could possibly be making. He was assuming some kind of complicated pasta dish with a complex sauce—he was excited to try whatever it was.

“Baby, don’t stress,” he said calmly. “It’s gonna be so fucking good, and you know I’ll love it. I always love your cooking.”

“I have to be real, babe. There’s a lot of pressure with this one.”

“And you’re gonna knock it out of the fuckin’ park.”

“You’re so nice to me, and I am upset I cannot kiss your stupidly handsome face right now.”

He huffed out an amused breath, smirking. “Glad to know I’m your hunky, grumpy man, you’re disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face.”

“It’s true!” she exclaimed. “You are my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face I wish I could kiss right now!”

He heard his dad laughing in the background.

“I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too. I don’t want you to waste your whole lunch on the phone with me. Go eat.”

“I’d rather waste my lunch on the phone with you.”

“That’s sweet, but please eat for me. It will make me feel better.”

“Then I’ll eat my lunch.” He moved the phone into his other hand, pressing it back to his ear, as he leaned over the side of his chair with a groan to grab the metal lunch box off the floor. “You couldn’t pack it in a paper bag?” he asked, setting it on the desk in front of him.

“You keep acting like my lunch box is the worst thing on earth when literally Empire is your favorite Star Wars movie, and I know you think it’s cool.”

He sighed. “Yeah, but I’m almost forty, walking around with a fucking children’s lunch box.”

“A cool children’s lunch box.”

“I guess it’s kinda cool.”

“Stop lying to yourself—you love it.”

“I don’t love it,” he grumbled.

“You do. I’m so sorry, babe, but I gotta get back to cooking. Don’t forget to come out here after work!”

“I won’t forget. I love you.”

“I know.”

He chuckled. “Smartass.”

“You love me, and I love you, too. See you after work!”

“Bye, Cielito.”

“Bye, Javi.”

They hung up, setting his phone down next to the lunch box, his hands moving to flick open the two clasps on the metal with his thumbs, flipping the top back.

He snorted, smiling, as he looked at the decent-sized sandwich, three—he pulled out the foil-covered sandwich—no, four little baggies of fruit snacks, a clementine, and a Hi-C Ecto Cooler drink carton.

God, he loved her.

Pulling open the foil, he sucked in a breath, lifting the top piece of bread and seeing she had made him one of her BLTs.

The previous night, they had breakfast for dinner before she’d left to go do her secret thing, and she’d made too much bacon, which he’s discovering was to make his sandwich—seeing the arugula, tomato, avocado, and aioli on bread from Anna’s bakery.

Something caught his eye in the lunch box, realizing it was a small piece of paper from the notepad on their fridge. Setting the sandwich down, he grabbed the folded note, unfolding it to see her familiar handwriting, a cute heart over the I in his name:

My dearest Javi, I love you SO FUCKING MUCH and hope you have the BEST DAY at work! I know it’s probably going to be a lot (even if you’re stubborn and won’t admit it), so your favorite sandwich to comfort you since I won’t be there and an Ecto Cooler because I know you secretly like them. I’ll be thinking about you ALL DAY and am going to give you so MANY kisses when you get off. Te amo, mi amor. Your Cielito xoxo

His eyes were a little watery at all of the thought she’d put into his day—that she fucking knew it wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he hoped it would. Why was he surprised? She knew him better than he knew himself, and of course, she’d go out of her way to try and make everything okay.

Because she loved him.

Aside from his parents, no one had ever loved him so selflessly. It was a little overwhelming that she loved him with the same ferocity that he loved her. The Sheriff had said he was completely enraptured, but that wasn’t all—he was enthralled, enamored, entranced, she consumed him, and he consumed her; she wasn’t just the most beautiful and perfect woman on the planet, she was the one.

The cell phone was put back in your bag on the kitchen table, relieved Javi was doing good. Even though he reassured you multiple times he was okay after the panic attack, you still worried about him, but he sounded fine on the last call, and now you could really focus on what you were doing. Going back to the stove, you took the lid off the pan, stirring it with a large metal spoon, determined to kick its ass like Javi said you would.

“Does this seem too thick to you?” you asked, and Chucho came over to look.

“Sí, it’s an easy fix. Just add a little more water.”

“Right.” You nodded, doing as he said with some water in a glass measuring cup until it was the consistency you wanted. “Okay,” you said, the cup getting set aside. “Do you want to do the honors and taste it? Be brutally honest.”

Chucho was beside you, taking the silver spoon from your hand. Chewing on your lip, your tummy was all aflutter with nerves. You had followed every step on Antonia’s recipe card and got the secret ingredient, hoping you did her sauce justice, not sure what you’d do if you failed—that was a lie, you’d cry hysterically that you were a failure and let your amazing boyfriend down.

He inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful.” You were basically on the edge of your seat, watching as he scooped a little of the sauce onto the spoon and brought it up to his lips, blowing on it softly. He paused, looking at you. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “I need to know if I brought shame to your amazing wife!”

His eyebrows creased. “Mi Antonia would be so happy that you tried to make her sauce, and she’d tell you what her mamá told her when she was learning how to make it.”

“What did she say?”

“You didn’t make it wrong; you’re creating your own.”

“Oh.”

“Now, let’s see what your sauce tastes like.” And he ended the sentence by putting the spoon in his mouth and tasting it.

He hummed appreciatively, nodding his head, moving to put the dirtied utensil in the sink. “It’s very good, Mija,” he said after swallowing. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. He was standing in front of you, his gaze on yours. “Wow.” His eyes were getting a little misty, taking off his glasses to wipe at them. “Haven’t had a sauce that good since mi amor. God, I miss her,” he mused, putting his glasses back on. His hand went to your shoulder. “It’s very close and very good. Antonia would be proud, and Javi’s going to love it.”

Happy tears fell down your cheeks, your arms going around him for a hug.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, hugging you back.

It made you cry harder, squeezing him a little tighter, roughly saying, “Thanks, Pop.”

After you calmed down, it was time to make the pork filling, which required using a large lidded Sauté pan, combining the meat and sauce, and having it simmer on the stove.

Chucho was making himself busy by cleaning and clearing off the counters of the stuff you no longer needed.

He had the dishwasher open, filling it with dirty things from the sink.

“I��m happy you had all the kitchenware I needed,” you told him.

Groaning as he bent to put the glass blender jar into the appliance, he said, “Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.”

“That’s understandable.” You nodded. If something happened to Javi, you’d be the same.

He straightened. “And it’s a good thing I kept it all because now you can use it.”

“Yes, I can.”

“May I ask a favor, Mija?”

Turning to face him, you said, “Yeah, of course—anything.”

“I know you’ll want to make more of her recipes. Can the next one be her flan?”

It made you soften, well aware that Antonia’s flan was his favorite dessert, loving it so much he named his horse after it.

Smiling, you answered, “You got it. We’ll have to go on another store adventure.”

He gave you a big grin. “We’ll take the Mustang.”

“I hoped we would.”

Once the filling was done, you tried a bite, loving the rich savoriness with a slight kick of spicy, the pork infused with the chile sauce was absolutely delicious. It was finally time to make the dough, reading over your notes about what Antonia had said in her instruction video. Chucho had gotten out her nice avocado green KitchenAid stand mixer that was probably a good twenty years old and in fantastic condition.

The dough was called masa and made out of a special ground-up corn, and in Antonia’s recipe, she added some of the red sauce to it and used the broth made from slow-cooking the pork, you doing the same. The mixer was on, hearing the mechanical whir as it mixed all of the ingredients, needing them to become the consistency of smooth peanut butter. Chucho was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his beer, the corn husks in two tall piles on a baking sheet, and the pork filling in a large bowl on the tabletop next to them.

There was the sound of the front door opening and the screen door slamming closed.

“¿Donde está la muchacha (Where is she)?” A feminine voice shouted, footsteps coming closer to the kitchen.

“No la asustes, Lupita (Don’t scare her away, Lupita),” another woman said. “Tenemos la suerte de conocerla (We are lucky to be meeting her).”

“Sí, y me muero por conocerla, María (Yes, and I’m dying to meet her, María).”

Two very short older women entered the kitchen, both smiling and holding aluminum foil-covered glass Pyrex baking dishes. The two had similar hairstyles of their hair cropped short, the one with black hair, her curls framing her face with bangs, wearing a purple floral blouse; the blonde with a choppier cut, a gold cross necklace laying over her dark blouse.

“Aquí está (She’s here)!” The lighter-haired one excitedly announced, moving quickly to put her dish on a part of the counter you weren’t using.

Turning toward her, you smiled, a white rubber-ended spatula in your hand, greeting her with, “Hola!”

“¿Hablas español (Do you speak Spanish)?” she asked.

“Un poco (A little),” you answered. “Todavía estoy aprendiendo (I’m still learning).”

“Then I’ll use English,” she said with a heavy accent. “Chucho has shown us pictures, and you’re much prettier in person.”

“Thank you?”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “That’s my sister, Guadalupe—”

“You can call me Lupe,” she interjected.

“And María,” he added. The other woman had set down her glass dish, too, both now standing beside you, Chucho introducing you to them.

“It’s nice to meet you,” María’s accented voice said with a warm smile.

“So, nice to finally meet you,” Lupe told you. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hopefully, good stuff,” you replied. “It’s nice meeting you both.” Your attention moved back to the mixer, switching it off.

“Lots of good stuff, Mija,” Lupe said.

“You’re making the masa?” María asked.

“Yes.” You nodded, lifting the mixing arm out of the bowl and scraping the sides with your spatula to check the consistency of the dough, smiling when it was smooth. “I think it turned out okay—I have to do the water test.” That was a way to determine if it was ready; if it floated, it was done, and if it sank, you needed to add more fat.

“I’ll get the water,” Lupe said, moving to get a cup out of a nearby cabinet and turning on the sink.

“Did you have a hard time making the sauce?” María asked.

Looking at her, you answered, “Not really? Antonia did a great job of writing out her recipe, so I did what it said, but boy, was I nervous about how it would turn out.” You chuckled.

“Oh, yes,” María said. “It’s the biggest worry.”

“It was,” you agreed, nodding your head.

A warm glass of water was set next to you on the counter. “Thank you,” you said, getting a small piece of the dough, holding your breath as you dropped it into the cup. It was floating, “Yes!” You pumped your fist in the air. “I did it, Chucho!”

“I knew you would!” he replied. “María, Lupita, ven aquí y prueba la carne (Come over here and try the meat).” They went over to the table, and nerves were once again making your stomach flutter, hoping they’d like it. You were distracting yourself by using your rubber spatula to get the dough off of the flat beater.

“¡Dios mío (Oh my god)!” María sounded surprised. “Es bien bueno (It’s very good). ¿Esta fue la primera vez que lo hizo (This was her first time making it)?”

“Mmm,” Lupe hummed. “Esta muy sabroso (It’s very tasty).”

“Sí, es su primera vez (Yes, it’s her first time).” Chucho sounded so proud, and it had your eyes brimming with tears. “Te dije que es una cocinera increíble (I told you she’s an amazing cook). Sabe casi como el de mi amor (It tastes almost like my love’s).”

“Sí, sí (Yes, yes),” María agreed. “Estoy sorprendida (I’m shocked).”

“¿Ella conoce el secreto de Antonia (She knows Antonia’s secret)?” Lupe asked.

“Sí,” he answered.

“¿Tú se lo dijiste a ella pero no a nosotros (You told her but not us)?”

“Sí, porque mi Antonia dijo que la esposa de Javiercito puede saberlo y creo que se casarán antes de fin de año (Yes, because my Antonia said Javier’s wife can know and I think they will get married before the end of the year).”

You spun around, your eyes wide. “Before the end of the year?” you gasped.

His gaze met yours, smiling as he nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Javi can be… impulsive, and I don’t think there’s a chance in hell he’s going to make it to your anniversary.” He looked beyond amused.

Swallowing hard, you asked, “Really?”

“He’s right,” María added, looking at you, her lips lifted in a smile. “When Javi was still working out here, and I’d stop by, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He’s head over heels for you, Chula (Cutie). That boy won’t be able to make it.”

“I agree,” Lupe said. “You’re going to be family sooner than you know.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, feeling positively giddy that the people who’ve known Javi his whole life all agreed he wasn’t going to make it to your anniversary. It wouldn’t even bother you if Chucho won the bet. You’d still be a winner.

“Wow,” you replied. “And I’m happy you like my cooking. I was super nervous.”

“With how good this is?” María pointed at the bowl of meat. “There was nothing for you to worry about, Chula.” She walked over to you, giving you a hug, saying, “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” you said, after separating, Lupe came over to hug you, too.

“You did good,” She told you. “We’re happy to have you here.”

María said to everyone, “There’s lunch on the counter. I made tortas ahogadas, and Lupita made some arroz y frijoles (rice and beans)—Rebeca’s bringing her tres leches cake.”

At the mention of lunch, your stomach grumbled, realizing you hadn’t eaten since that morning.

With everything done to make the tamales, it was time to take a small break, finding out a torta ahogada was a type of sandwich with pork carnitas and red onions smothered in a red chile and tomato sauce served on a crusty bread roll and was amazing.

Eventually, Rebeca showed up, the youngest of Chucho’s sisters and a couple of the wives of Javi’s cousins who worked at the ranch bringing along their young kids, who were happy to watch cartoons in the living room and eat snacks their mom’s brought, everyone else eating and drinking the food and drinks that were in the kitchen.

There wasn’t any awkwardness for you, the family very welcoming as you all talked and laughed, and then it was time to get to work making the tamales, forming an assembly line on both sides of the table—the first person spread the masa on the husk, passing it to the next person to put in the filling, the final person folding and tying them with a thin strip of corn husk. It was obvious all the adults had done the process before, continuing to chat as you worked, the children screaming as they ran around the house, and everyone having a great time.

Chucho was folding and putting the finished tamale in a large pot at the end of the table while you sat next to him, spooning on the pork before passing it to him.

He told the table, “She thought she was going to do this with just my help.” The whole table laughed, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“I didn’t know!” you defended, putting a large spoonful of meat on top of what María handed you.

“It’s okay, Mija,” he reassured, taking it from you.

“This is something you do with family,” Rebeca said, across the table, spreading masa. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, her kind eyes glancing at you.

“In December,” Lupe started, folding on the other side of the table from Chucho, “we have a big Tamalada at María’s and make hundreds of tamales.”

Your eyes went wide. “That must take hours,” you replied.

“It does.” She smiled. “But we have a great time.”

“When Antonia was alive,” María said, “she did even more. It took her days to prepare the filling and masa, then our whole family and her older brother’s would come out here, and we’d have the table like this and switch out people when they got tired. It went the whole day, but she made tamales for the family and others in town who’d order from her.”

“I’m surprised we could fit so many people in our house,” Chucho chuckled.

“You couldn’t,” Rebeca laughed. “People were always in the backyard partying.”

“And we’d finish making the tamales,” Lupe said. “And everyone would stay out here until one, two in the morning hanging out and drinking.”

“That’s something you need to know,” Chucho told you as he took another tamale you passed him. “When the family gets together, it’s never a short visit; we’re together for hours.”

It was hard to imagine wanting to spend that amount of time with your own family—it would be literal torture. But with this family? You’d love it, with how much fun everybody was having and the way the conversation flowed so easily. It was apparent there was a lot of love between these people and that they enjoyed each other’s company, finding it refreshing. The thought that this was how Javi grew up made you really happy—so many people who loved him and were open with their affection; each person at this table had given you a hug and welcomed you into the family, including the daughters-in-law who were excited to have another one who would join their ranks.

You’d honestly never had a better time with so many people, feeling like this was where you belonged.

The rest of his day hadn’t been too bad.

The meeting with the narcotics unit had gone mostly well, Javier taking a lot of notes as they all discussed what they were currently doing, relaying what was working and what wasn’t, him already having ideas of how to help them improve. He was expecting there to be some pushback with him coming in—assumed there’d be dick-measuring contests, but he quickly learned the Sheriff only hired people who actually cared about their jobs and wanted to be better at them—except for the kid on the team who was in his twenties and Javier had to tell to fuck off when he asked if the government really paid for him to get pussy; Travis quickly learned that Javier did not tolerate that disrespectful bullshit.

His Cielito had told him to be nicer to the people he worked with, but they made it so fucking hard.

He’d left at five on the dot, carrying her Star Wars lunchbox out of the building and to his truck, stopping on the way to his dad’s at the florist. Mrs. Taylor, the owner, had a smile on her face when he walked into her tiny shop, asking him which bouquet it’d be this week, her not even remotely surprised when he told her his girlfriend’s favorite, sunflowers.

The flowers were carefully laid in the passenger seat as he drove out of the city limits toward the ranch, thinking about everything Cielito had done for him today—taking the day off to watch/help him get ready, making him come before work, answering the phone when he called and calming him down, hanging out and cooking with his dad, making his favorite sandwich for lunch with a sweet note that he saved in the top drawer of his desk. She was right when she wrote it’d be a lot for him to go back to work, but all those things she did had eclipsed any of the bad shit, and he was in a great mood, feeling so unbelievably happy.

He didn’t know how he could possibly thank her for it all, thinking he’d probably go down on her for a couple of hours and get her off so many times she passed out—that would be after he fucked her nice and slow, needing to feel her come around his dick.

His eyebrows furrowed when he turned onto his father’s long driveway and noticed more cars than usual parked along the gravel in front of the house and out back, spotting a couple belonging to his tía’s. Confused, he put the truck into park in front of his girlfriend’s car, grabbing the flowers before getting out.

The sunflowers were in his left hand, his right loosening his tie while he walked along the stone path to the front steps, it untied and resting on either side of his chest by the time he made it to the door. Once inside, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where he abruptly stopped at the doorway.

She was catty-corner to him across the kitchen, the angle allowing him to see her side as she stood at the kitchen counter next to his tía Rebeca at the stove, a tortilla press in front of Cielito, her grabbing some dough from a bowl beside her, rolling it in her hands to make it into a ball, and putting it in the press, pushing down on it hard with two hands. Tía María was next to Rebeca, cooking, tía Lupita nearby making what looked to be a salad, all four of them laughing as Cielito handed the flattened tortilla to Rebeca to cook on the hot pan.

He was stuck in place, shocked at how easily she was making the tortillas like it was something she’d done hundreds of times before and having a lively conversation with his tías, the familiarity in which they spoke making his heart squeeze tight.

Hearing them call her Chula (Cutie) made him smile because it meant they liked her.

Tía María’s head turned, spotting him, moving what she was cooking onto a cold burner to immediately make her way over to him. “Ahi estas! (There you are)!” she said. “Te demorastes! (It took you long enough).”

Rebeca stopped what she was doing, heading his way with Lupita.

He soon found himself crowded by his tiny tías glaring at him, Lupita reaching up to cup his cheeks, saying, “Cómo te atreves a mantener a este ángel lejos de nosotros (How dare you keep this angel from us).”

“Sí,” Rebeca agreed, pinching his arm. “Ella es maravillosa (She is wonderful).”

“Y una cocinera increíble (And an amazing cook),” María added.

“Nos debiste haber introducido antes (You should have introduced us sooner),” Lupita said.

María spoke, “Podríamos haberle estado enseñándole nuestras recetas (We could have been teaching her our recipes).”

“Y las de tu mamá (And your mom’s),” Rebeca told him, poking him in the arm.

“Que no se te ocurre venir sin ella el domingo que viene (Don’t you dare come without her next Sunday),” María threatened as she jabbed his other arm.

“Sí, más te vale (Yes, you better),” Rebeca agreed. “Necesito su receta de pastel de melocotón (I need her peach pie recipe).”

“Deja de ser codicioso y manteniéndola para ti (Stop being greedy and keeping her to yourself),” Lupita said, patting his cheeks. “Es grosero (It’s rude).”

“Muy grosero (Very rude),” María added.

Javier’s mouth was opening and closing, unsure how to respond, finally clearing his throat to say, “Lo siento, lo siento, fue mi error (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was my mistake).” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Yo era muy codicioso pero cómo no iba a serlo, la has conocido, ella es increíble y la amo (I was very greedy but how could I not be, you met her, she is amazing and I love her).”

The anger left their faces, replaced with fond looks.

“Ella también te ama, Chamaco (She loves you, too, Little Guy),” María said, rubbing his bicep. “Ella te ama mucho y también la amamos a ella (She loves you a lot and we love her, too).”

“Encontraste una buena (You found a good one),” Rebeca told him.

He smiled. “Sé que lo hice (I know I did). Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo (I’m the luckiest man in the world). Ella es con quien me voy a casar (She is the one I’m going to marry). Vamos a tener hijos (We’re going to have children). La amo mucho (I love her so much).”

“Si dios quiere (God willing)!” the three exclaimed simultaneously.

María said, “Javiercito, tu mamá la hubiera amado y querido que te casaras con ella (Javier, your mom would have loved her and wanted you to marry her).”

“Sí,” the other two agreed, nodding their heads.

“Si, lo se (Yes, I know). Ahora, ¿puedo hablar con mi amor por favor (Now, can I please talk to my love)?”

They all moved away from him, finding that Cielito had washed her hands and was standing behind them. The moment her path was cleared, she was rushing him, flinging herself at him with enough force he grunted when her body collided with his, having to take a step back to keep his balance as her mouth fused to his, kissing him hard.

He was thankful for whichever of his tías took the flowers so he could hug her close to him, melting into the kiss that deepened quickly, her tongue slipping past his lips to slide along his own, her fingers digging in his hair. The older women were laughing, giving them some semblance of privacy as they returned to what they were doing.

Something like calm came over him, his body relaxing as they kissed, his hands rubbing all over her back, needing to feel her. It was the contentedness and knowing deep down in his bones this was where he was meant to be—when he was with her, he was home, she was home, she was forever and everything to him.

His lungs began to ache, and her mouth left his, breathing hard as she kissed all over his face, her hands grabbing his head to tilt it forward so she could reach his forehead, smothering him in loud smacking kisses that had him smiling so big she was able to kiss his dimple.

She finally pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile on her swollen lips, “Hi,” she greeted.

“Hi,” he replied.

“How was the rest of your day?” she asked, her fingers fixing his hair.

“Not bad.”

“That’s good.”

“Look at my badge.” He lifted it up for her to see his picture.

“God, you’re hot—it is unfair how photogenic you are.” She glanced up at him. “It’s a good thing, though.”

His eyebrow rose. “That I’m photogenic?”

“Yeah, means our kids will probably be photogenic, too. There are going to be so many pictures—I can feel it in my bones that you are going to be worse than your dad.”

He’d gone soft at the mention of their future children, smiling at her.

“Probably.” He shrugged because she wasn’t wrong. Javier was always using the Polaroid camera, and they started their own album—he’d been meaning to get a better camera. “I see you’ve met my tías,” he said.

“And a bunch of your primos (cousins) who work out here, their wives and kids, and your tíos (uncles). Most of them are out back.” She jutted her thumb behind her. “Your dad is barbecuing, and I was learning how to make tortillas, which aren’t too difficult. I’m basically a pro at making masa now.”

“You made masa?” He asked with his eyebrows up in his hairline.

“Yep. I actually have a surprise for you—take off your jacket, and get comfy at the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, doing as she said and shrugging it off while she walked away. He went over to the kitchen table, putting his suit jacket on the back of his chair, the wood scraping across the floor as he pulled it out to take a seat. The sunflowers he brought were in a small vase on the tabletop.

First, she brought him a cold beer, the bottle sweating in front of him.

“Thank you, baby,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She winked before heading over to the stove.

He picked up the beer, taking a drink, finding it cool and refreshing before setting it back down. His elbows rested on the table as he fiddled with the label on the glass.

All the women were whispering to each other, and it made him curious as to what the surprise was, watching as someone grabbed a plate from a cabinet.

“Did the sauce turn out how you were hoping?” he asked loud enough for Cielito to hear.

“According to your family, yes,” she answered.

“It turned out real good, Chamaco,” Maria said.

“It did,” Lupe added. “She did a great job.”

“A really great job,” Rebeca agreed.

His eyebrows creased, thinking about how she said it was a sauce she’d never made before and how she was stressed about it, his family now saying she made it well. Did she make a Mexican dish?

“Close your eyes!” Cielito said.

“What?” he asked.

“Close your eyes!”

“Okay…?” he replied, closing them.

Moments later, the beer was removed from his hands, moving his arms out of the way to make space for the plate that was set down.

“Now, before you open your eyes. I need you to know I tried really fucking hard, and if you hate them, it’s fine; I’ll never make them again.”

He snorted. “I’m not gonna hate it.”

“I mean, you might, and it’s okay if you do.”

“I won’t.”

Her hand rubbed his upper back, feeling her kiss the top of his head, her muffled voice saying, “This is why I love you. Okay, open your eyes.”

His breath hitched in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest, not believing what he was seeing.

When she said she was working on a new recipe all day that involved a sauce, he assumed pasta or something along those lines—he never in a million fucking years would’ve guessed she’d try to make tamales, staring at the two wrapped in corn husks on the plate in shock.

“What are they filled with?” he whispered, and the thing was, he knew her answer before she even said it, his eyes burning and his bottom lip starting to tremble.

“It’s your mom’s recipe,” she gently confirmed, the first tear falling down his cheek.

He needed to try them, his hands moving to unwrap one, the tamale steaming as he grabbed the fork she’d set beside his plate and took his first bite.

Javier has had years to grieve the loss of his mother and come to terms with the fact she was gone—he’d never see her, talk to her or get to eat her food again. She was gone. Yet, the spices of the red chile sauce and the sweetness of the pork hit his tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she was alive again, the taste so close that his shoulders started shaking, and more tears fell, savoring each bite he took, until the first one was finished, and he was quickly digging into the second.

It was like coming home after being away for years and feeling the warm embrace of your loved one—the instant comfort, happy nostalgia, and overwhelming love, Javier remembering the many times he’d sat at this same table with his mamá nearby, eating her tamales, feeling like she was here with him now.

“Are they okay…?” Cielito asked. “I hope you’re not mad at me for making them…”

The last tamale was gone, his head turning to look up at her with wet cheeks.

His voice was rough, telling her, “I’m not mad. I’m so fucking happy. You—” His voice cracked, his eyes squeezing shut. “—you,” he tried again. “You gave me a chance to eat mi mamá’s food again, and I’m so happy.” There was no way he could keep from crying, shoving his face into her stomach and hugging her tight as he sobbed.

This woman loved him so goddamn much, it was making him cry harder. He couldn’t believe she went through all of this effort for him—she did it for him. He didn’t deserve all of this. He didn’t deserve her. What was she doing with him? How had he lucked out so much? With all of the shit he’s been through and how life has always kicked his ass, there was a fear in the back of his mind that things were too good and she’d realize he wasn’t worth it. It just seemed so fucking impossible that he found someone who truly loved him—she didn’t even have to say the words, he could feel it in what she’d done, and it was crazy to him she loved him that much.

Was it crazy, though?

He was just as in love with her. He’d do anything for her, anything because she had embedded herself so deeply in his heart, he was sure if something happened to her, it’d stop beating—his love for her felt as bright as the burning sun and would keep shining even when he was no more.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered, rubbing one hand on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. “I love you—I love you so much, and had a feeling today would be tough. Your dad said I can make any of your mom’s recipes, so if there’s something you want, I’ll give it a go, and your tías all offered to help me learn.”

Leaning his head back to meet her eyes, he asked, “You want to make more of her recipes?”

She stroked her fingers through his hair.

“Absolutely. I promised your dad I’d make him flan.”

He smiled. “Pop would love that.”

“I know, so I gotta make it for him. He said he’d take me in the Mustang again to go shopping for the ingredients.”

His eyes went wide. “He took you in the Mustang?”

“He did! Top-down and everything. It was a blast.”

“You should see if he’ll let you drive it...”

She huffed out a breath. “To see if you’re the only one with a Mustang ban?”

“Yeah.”

“I highly doubt he’ll let me.”

“You should still ask.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if by some fucking miracle he says yes, you’re not allowed to be upset,” she said, poking his nose.

“Deal.” He nodded.

“You feeling better?” she asked.

“Yeah. They were so fucking good. Please tell me you made more.”

“There are so many. Your dad had me make a ton.”

Tía María said from over at the stove, “She thought she and your papá could make them all by themselves.”

“I didn’t know!” Cielito exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Wait,” Javier started, “was there a tamalada? Is that why everyone’s here?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Your dad sprung the news on me that he invited everyone while at the store. It was a lot of fun. I did filling.”

He was frowning, feeling sad he missed it.

“I liked to fold,” he sighed.

“Hey.” She held his cheeks. “We can do it again on a day you have off.”

Smiling, he replied, “I’d like that.”

Leaning down, she gave him a tender kiss.

“I love you,” he murmured into her lips.

“I love you, too.”

His mouth left hers, his chair squeaking as it moved back, so he could stand, turning so their bodies were chest to chest, his big palms cradling her face as he looked her in the eyes.

“No,” he said, “te amo más que a nada y mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (No, I love you more than anything, and my life would be empty without you). Vivo para ti, respiro por ti, mi corazón late por ti, soy nada sin ti (I live for you, I breathe for you, my heart beats for you, I am nothing without you).”

“Javi,” she gasped, seeing the tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking romantic, but I don’t deserve that kind of devotion.” She shook her head. “I’m nobody, and I’m waiting for the day you realize I’m a big fucking loser.”

His eyes squinted, his eyebrows knitting together, not understanding why she would say that.

“What?” he asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re fucking incredible and everything to me. You’re not nobody. You’re my all—you’re it, and I hate the self-deprecating bullshit because if one of us doesn’t deserve love, it’s fucking me.” He patted over his heart. “I don’t deserve you, and I’m really fucking aware of it. So, stop it, and let me fucking love you.”

“Esto es mejor que mi telenovela (This is better than my telenovela),” tía Lupita whispered.

Rebeca shooshed her. “Se está poniendo bueno (It’s getting good).”

“What the fuck are you talking about that you don’t deserve me?” Cielito asked. “I can’t be self-deprecating, but you can? No, unacceptable. You’re a fucking amazing man, and I will not tolerate you thinking that you do not deserve me—you more than deserve me. Thank you very much. So, you fucking stop it—” She poked him in the chest. “—and let me fucking love you.”

He smiled, grasping her hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. “You can love me, and I’ll love you, so that’s settled.”

“Good.”

He kissed the center of her palm. “I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too.”

His lips pressed to her wrist. “Estoy enloquecido por ti (I’m crazy about you).”

A kiss to her arm. “Mi corazón es tuyo (My heart is yours).”

Another press of his lips further up. “Soy tuyo (I’m yours).”

One to the bend in her arm. “Eres todo para mi (You’re everything to me).”

Straightening, he gently cupped her cheeks. “Eres el amor de mi vida, mi Cielito (You are the love of my life, my Cielito).” Finally, kissing her on the lips.

Javi demolished seven of your tamales, and when there was a minute with you two alone in the kitchen, you watched him fill two gallon Ziploc bags with probably twenty more that he hid in the fridge to take home, which made you so insanely happy. There was still a bunch left for everyone else to have more than one, not feeling too worried about it since Javi’s tíos showed up with a ton of meat and other things for Chucho to cook on his massive grill and ingredients for his tías to make sides.

Your boyfriend had draped his tie over his suit jacket on the back of a chair at the kitchen table, stuffing his badge in the pocket, rolling his sleeves up his forearms, and popping open a few buttons on his dress shirt before you’d gone out back. A beer he was nursing was in one hand, the other over your shoulders, keeping you close to him.

A dozen or so kids, all under the age of twelve, were running around laughing and screaming in the backyard. The glass dining table on the patio had paper plates, plastic utensils, condiments, a big bowl of fresh-cut fruit, and a tiny stack of tamales on it. The adults sat at a picnic table on the grass, others in plastic chairs pulled close, talking animatedly while eating and drinking their sodas and beers, waiting for more food to be ready, a boombox out playing music.

Javi’s dad had an array of things he was grilling, pointing at each one with his giant metal tongs and telling you what each was: costillas (pork ribs), entraña (skirt steak), chorizó (well-seasoned pork sausage), cebollitas asadas (grilled green onions), and elote (grilled corn).

“The elote,” Chucho said, flipping one over to grill the other side, “we dress it in mayo, cotija cheese that’s crumbly, chili powder, and lime juice. It’s very good.”

“I’m sure I’m going to love it,” you replied, Javi pulling you closer into his side and kissing your hair.

“Ask him,” he murmured in your ear.

“Ugh, fine, hey Pop?”

Your boyfriend jolted next to you, “Pop?” he whispered.

“Yeah, babe—” You rubbed his chest. “—there was a lot of bonding today; he said he thinks of me as his daughter, and real talk, he’s the best dad I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, Mija,” Chucho said, smiling at you. “I’m happy to have another kid, and who knows, maybe I’ll finally get those nietos (grandchildren) I want soon.”

Javi was in the middle of taking a drink and choked, coughing into his arm while you patted his back.

“We’re waiting until we’re married,” you told him. “And gosh, we’d probably want to have a house, too. There’s no space for a baby in the apartment.”

Chucho was nodding his head. “Of course, of course, if anything, Javi’s got his room here, and I’ve got the spare bedroom we could turn into a nursery, so that’s an option.”

It made you grin.

“That’s so sweet of you, Pop. We appreciate it.”

“Anything for my kids and future grandkids. Now, you had a question.”

“Oh, yes! Would you ever maybe possibly let me drive the Mustang…?”

“Sure.”

Your mouth fell open, Javi saying loudly, “What?!”

“But I’d be your passenger,” Chucho continued. “You can drive when we go to La Tapatía for the flan—it’s the least I can do.”

“Can I drive the Mustang?” Javi asked.

His father met his eyes. “No.”

“¿Por qué (Why)?” he said in rapid Spanish, his tone laced with anger. “¿Por qué ella puede conducir y yo no (Why can she drive and I can’t)?”

“Ella me está haciendo el flan de tu madre (She is making me your mom’s flan). Por eso. (That’s why).”

“¿Qué tengo que hacer (What do I have to do)?”

The older man thought about it for a second before a big toothy smile appeared on his face.

“Cuando te casas con ella, puedes conducir el Mustang (When you marry her, you can drive the Mustang).”

Javi sighed loudly. “Esta bien (Fine). Estas bien agresivo (You’re very pushy). Me voy a casar con ella (I am going to marry her).”

“Yo sé, Mijo, pero no lo suficientemente pronto (I know, Mijo, but not soon enough).”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, you want your grandkids. You’re gonna have to hold your fuckin’ horses and wait.” He took another drink.

“I’m not getting any younger.” Chucho’s attention went back to the barbecue, flipping meat and vegetables.

“I’m aware.”

The two of you migrated over to where everyone else was, standing off to the side as they all talked in Spanish, Javi’s arm around you, his finger drawing circles on your hip.

“I can’t wait to get home,” he whispered in your ear for only you to hear.

“Why’s that?” you asked just as softly.

“So I can spread you out and eat your pussy for an hour or two.” He nipped at your earlobe, your breath catching in your throat. “But first, I want to fuck you nice and slow—want you to feel how I stretch you open and make you squeeze my dick when you come. Gonna pump you full of me.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your cunt, squeezing your thighs together.

“Javier,” you gasped. “We are with your family. Stop making me horny.”

“Yeah? Your panties drenched? If I stuck my hand inside those stretchy fucking shorts I love, would I feel you all wet for me?”

You were, and you hated how smug he sounded.

“Of course, but we’re going to be here for hours. Don’t rile me up.”

His hand moved from your hip to squeeze your ass.

“Maybe I want to rile you up. Have you dripping for me and needy. Get you so fucking horny that we barely make it into the apartment, and I fuck you right there on the floor.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You fucking love it. You don’t give a single fuck where I do it as long as I fuck you full of my come—you love being stuffed.”

“Javier,” you hissed.

“Yes, mi amor (my love)?”

“You’re being a goddamn menace.”

“I’m being your menace.” He kissed your cheek.

A tiny child was suddenly hugging your legs, looking down to find Javi’s cousin, Danny’s toddler, holding her chubby little arms up for you to pick her up, bending to do just that. The little girl was wearing a pink sleeveless dress, her little bit of dark hair pulled up in two pigtails, sitting her on your hip.

“Hola (Hi),” you greeted her with a smile. “¿Cuál es tu nombre (What is your name)?”

She was rubbing her hands together, not looking you in the eye.

“So-feee-a.”

“Hola, Sofia (Hi, Sofia). Tu nombre es muy bonito (Your name is very beautiful). ¿Cuántos años tienes (How old are you)?”

“Dos (Two)!” she announced, holding up two fingers. “Sí, dos (Yes, two)!”

“Muy bien (Very good). Te estás divirtiendo jugando con tus hermanos y primos (Are you having fun playing with your siblings and cousins)?”

“Sí, corren rápido (Yes, they run fast).”

Looking over at Javi, there was a soft look on his face, you asking him, “¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

He was just staring, your eyebrows creasing, jabbing him in the side with your elbow, “Javi?”

“What…?” he asked.

“¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

“Oh, uh, corren muy rápido para ti?”

Nodding, your attention moved back to the child. “¿Corren muy rápido para ti?” you asked her.

“Sí, muy rápido (Yes, very fast).”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry) ¿Cuál es tu color favorito (What’s your favorite color)?

She tugged on her dress. “Rosadooo (Pink)! Y amarillooo (And yellow)!”

Her answer made you giggle.

“También me encantan esos colores (I love those colors, too).”

Sofia frowned. “Tengo sed (I’m thirsty).”

“Oh, um, Javi.” You looked at him. “Can you tell her we’ll take her to her mom?”

He set his beer down on the grass, straightening and holding out his arms. “Ven aquí, preciosa, te llevaremos a tu mamá (Come here, precious, we will take you to your mom),” he said in that sweet voice he always used with the animals, taking the child from you.

He held her easily in one arm, hearing him speaking softly to her in Spanish as he walked her over to her mom at the picnic table—your eyes had gone wide, gulping as you took him in, your ovaries going haywire at how perfect he looked; how natural, thinking those broad shoulders of his would come in handy to carry more than one baby.

Oh.

Oh no.

You had to fan yourself with your hand, it suddenly feeling very hot, doing your best to ignore the ancient, primal part of your brain screaming that he was the perfect man to father your children, and he needed to put one in you right that second—the temptation to toss your birth control when you got home was too damn high.

Dear god, was this baby fever? Were you experiencing baby fever?

The way arousal was burning in your gut and making your pussy throb with need told you, yes, you did, in fact, have baby fucking fever.

You were so unbelievably horny, annoyed it was at the most inopportune time, needing to go splash some cold water on your face to calm yourself down.

Javi was returning to you, your eyes darting away as you said when he was close, “I’m, um, gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Pointing with your thumbs toward the house. “I’ll be back.”

He was in front of you, his hands rubbing your upper arms, your body shivering at the contact.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” you said a little too quickly. “Fucking fantastic, not horny at all, no siree, perfectly fine. I’ll be back.”

“Okay…?”

You practically bolted away from him and into the house, passing the guest bathroom to go to the one in Javi’s room. Two of his tías and a daughter-in-law were in the kitchen making side dishes, their husbands in the living room, relaxing in the air conditioning, and watching something on the television.

Safely locked away in Javi’s en suite, you took care of your needs and washed your hands, leaving the faucet running and turning the temperature as cold as possible. Leaning over the sink, you splashed some water on your face, which helped a little, still feeling on edge as you walked over to get a small towel out of the in-wall cabinet to dry off.

The sink was turned off, staring at yourself in the mirror. “We will get married, we will buy a house, and then we will have babies,” you said out loud. “Don’t you dare give in just because your boyfriend is a goddamn DILF without the children. Oh, god,” you whined. “He’s going to be such a fucking DILF! Why does he have to be so sexy?! We can’t even fuck until later. Focus!” You pointed your finger at yourself in the reflection. “No babies, no matter how fucking tempting it is, no. Cool your fucking jets. You’ve got this.” Nodding your head once, you turned to toss the dirtied towel into a nearby hamper.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, squeaking in surprise when the hulking figure of your boyfriend was right there, immediately invading your space, his hand on your jaw as he crushed his lips to yours, his other arm wrapped around your back—walking you backward, kissing you like his life depended on it, his tongue quickly pressing into your mouth to tangle with your own, your hands landing in his hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers.

He kicked the door shut, his lips not leaving yours as he reached behind him to lock it.

The horniness was back at full force, wanting him, no, needing him to ease the ache between your legs, snaking your hand down his front, finding his cock hard under his navy blue slacks, his boxer briefs making it stretch up at an angle toward his belt, Javi groaning as you stroked him over his pants.

He pushed you back against the bathroom counter, his hips pressing into you, moaning as his tongue plundered your mouth.

A moment of clarity hit you, remembering where you were and the many people outside his bedroom door, reluctantly breaking the kiss to say, “Javi, your family’s in the other room.”

Kissing you again, his words were muffled, “I locked the bedroom door.” He squeezed your breast, his other hand grabbing your ass.

Pulling back again, he chased your lips, moving your head to dodge him. “We can’t fuck with them out there, Javier.”

There was a grumpy expression on his face as he stared at you. “Why not?”

“They could hear us?”

“They won’t—we’ll be quick and quiet. Nobody will know.” He licked his plush lips, your attention drawn to them.

There was his bedroom and the entryway separating you from everyone else, so as long as you weren’t too loud… Christ, were you really thinking about fucking in a house full of people? Yes, you were, knowing Javi would make it so good—remembering how he said you didn’t care where he did it as long as he came inside you, which was apparently true, your resolve disappearing in an instant, wanting him so fucking bad nothing else mattered.

“Fuck, okay—a quickie, Javier, and you better make sure I’m not too loud,” you said, poking his chest. “God, I’m so fucking horny.”

His mouth was on yours again, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his lips moved to your jaw, saying into your skin, “I know you’re horny, baby—” He nibbled on your chin. “—could tell outside.” His mouth was against your neck, kissing down it, his hand moving between your legs, making you moan when he rubbed over your sex. “You think I’m a DILF.” He sucked on your pulse point before his head popped up with a confused look, “What the fuck is a DILF?”

“Oh god, you heard my pep talk.” Embarrassment had you covering your face with your hands, Javi immediately prying them off, looking at you fondly.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Cielito,” he said, kissing you quickly. “I loved the pep talk—we needed the pep talk ‘cause seeing you with the baby fucked me up, too. You didn’t answer my question, what’s a DILF?”

“You know a MILF is a mother I’d like to fuck, so a DILF is a dad I’d like to fuck—you’re a fuckin’ future dad I’d like to fuck.”

He kissed you, smiling into it. “You’re in luck,” he said, ending the sentence with a nip to your bottom lip. Stepping back, he spun you around to have your front to the counter, his body flush with yours, seeing you both in the mirror with his lips at your ear, his dark eyes meeting your gaze in the reflection. “You get to fuck me,” he said in a deep timbre that had tingles moving down your spine.

“Good,” you replied, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. “I need you to fuck me, Papí.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, seeing his throat bob as he swallowed. His body left yours, pulling you with him as he took two steps back. “Arms on the counter, baby,” he rasped, his big hand sliding up your spine and gently pushing you forward, bending at your waist to rest your forearms on the countertop beside the sink. “Fucking love these shorts.” His hand came down hard on your asscheek in a loud smack, your cunt clenching, gasping his name.

“You’re also gonna love what’s under them,” you purred.

Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, his gaze was on yours in the mirror, smirking under his mustache. “The red one?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

He tugged the bike shorts down, the air cool as it hit your bare skin, Javi sucking in a breath, his eyes locked on the red thong you’d worn, unable to keep himself from squeezing handfuls of your ass. “I love you so fucking much—fuck, it’s pretty.” He glanced up to continue, “Thank you for spoiling me today, mi amor (my love).”

Smiling, you replied, “You’re welcome, Javi. Now please fuck me.” You wiggled your hips.

“Are you needy for me, Cielito?” he asked, his hands going to the front of his pants, hearing the clink of his belt and the teeth of his zipper coming apart.

“Needy in the sense that I need your dick inside me right now, and we can save the ass worship for later.”

He chuckled, his slacks and underwear getting shoved down his thighs. “I’ll put my dick inside you, then,” he said, using one hand to pull the soaked fabric of your thong to the side, spitting on the fingers of his other to slick up his cock.

Anticipation was thrumming in your veins, your pussy weeping for him, needing Javi to fill your achingly empty center in the way only he could satisfy. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing the tip of his length to your sopping entrance, gasping yes as he started pushing in, your head dropping between your shoulders, resting your forehead on your crossed arms in front of you. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, cursing under his breath as he slid home in one smooth thrust, making you moan when he bottomed out—it felt so fucking good, his thick cock stretching your tight walls, carving out space inside you while your cunt tried to suck him in deeper, feeling so goddamn full.

The hem of his dress shirt was brushing against your ass, Javi pulling almost all the way out, and thrusting back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, setting up a punishing pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”

This was going to be hard and fast, the goal to get off as quickly as possible.

You could hear the wet slap of his hips connecting with your ass, the flesh jiggling—his hand landed on your asscheek hard enough the smack echoed in the small room, your pussy squeezing him tight as you moaned. Looking up, you saw him behind you in the mirror, his mouth slack, eyes dark and half-lidded, his attention on you, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone, seeing the flush crawling up his chest to his beautiful neck, the taut skin glistening in sweat.

“Does it turn you on, baby,” he asked through his teeth, pistoning into you, “thinking about me as a dad?”

The beginning threads of your orgasm were starting to weave in your belly, feeling the familiar heat growing.

He slapped your ass again. “Answer me, Cielito.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your words stuttering from the pounding, “Fuck, it’s so good, Javi. It turns me on—turns me on so fucking much,” you babbled. “You’re fucking me so good. Harder, Javi.”

“You want it harder, mi amor (my love)?”

“Yes.”

Bending over your back, his arm went under you and across your chest, pulling you up to stand. His thrusts didn’t wane, shoving your shirt up your chest one-handed to reveal one bra-covered breast, tugging the cup down to pinch your stiff nipple, the sensations shooting straight to your pussy.

He kissed the side of your neck, grunting in exertion.

“You really want it harder?” he asked breathily in your ear.

“Yes, Papí,” you moaned.

His big hands moved, grabbing your biceps near your elbows, pulling you back as he thrust forward, fucking you so hard your mouth was open, gasping out moans. Your mind was a pleasure-addled mess, unable to think about anything except how good he was fucking you—the knot in your belly was getting tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, until euphoria exploded outward from your core, coming with a shout of Javi’s name that was quickly muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

“Shhh, Cielito—such a good fucking girl for me” Your cunt had clenched up so tight his rhythm slowed to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he worked you through your high. His head was beside yours, speaking in your ear, “I know it’s good, baby—need you to be quiet, just ride it out.” He kissed your neck again, his free hand rubbing over your stomach and up to squeeze your breast. “I love you so fucking much.”

Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving after climaxing, Javier waiting for her cunt to stop fluttering around him, his throbbing cock slowly moving in and out of her, it wetter where they were joined.

He loved watching her come and knowing he was the one that got her there, pride always swelling inside him that he made her feel so good.

She was saying something, not making out the words with his large hand over her mouth, quickly removing it.

“What’s that?” he asked, kissing just behind her ear.

Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him in the mirror.

“I said I love you, too,” her rough voice responded.

One sentence, and it had his body going warm, unable to keep from smiling at her with how fucking happy she made him.

He was close to his end, the heat in the base of his spine threatening to explode with how fucking gone he was on her. All he could think about was everything she’d done for him that day, all of the things, big and small, showing him without her saying it how much she loved him, and he wanted to give her the entire fucking world—it was more than what she deserved, but that wasn’t possible so he was settling with giving her such good dick, it made her drool.

“You’re cute when you’re fucked out of your mind,” he said, placing a kiss on the spot where her shoulder met her neck. Her aftershocks had finally ended, and it was his turn. “I’m gonna move you,” he told her. She gasped when he pulled out, getting her closer to the counter where he turned her to face him, bending to tug down her shorts and underwear, impatiently taking off her shoe to get one of her legs free. When he stood back up, he gripped her bare thighs, grunting as he lifted her onto the counter's edge, spreading her legs to make space for himself.

She was wide open for him, seeing the puffy lips of her pussy shining in the light, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, wishing he had time to taste her. She leaned back on her arms, Javier taking his place in the cradle of her thighs, quickly sheathing himself back in her wet heat.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, slowly rocking deep inside her.

Her legs wrapped around his middle to lock at the small of his back, her cunt warm and welcoming, beckoning him to come, feeling the build low in his belly.

There was a need to have her like this, his lips smashing into hers in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he started moving faster. His hand held her face, the other pushing her shirt all the way up her chest to get both of her breasts free from her bra, palming the bare skin and tweaking her pebbled nipples while his tongue slid along hers in the way he knew made her toes curl.

Her soft sounds and his rougher ones were quieted with their mouths being connected, his hips swinging into her with strong, even thrusts, hearing the wet suck of her pussy, the slick friction of her velvety walls pushing him closer to his release.

She put all of her weight on one of her arms, her free hand grabbing his hair to pull his head back, her lips wetly trailing along his jaw, her voice saying into his skin, “It’s so good, Javi—you feel so fucking good inside me.” Her tongue licked up the column of his throat, and it had his eyes rolling back, his rhythm stuttering for a second.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, her mouth sucking a mark on his jugular. “You’re gonna make me come.” The muscles in his abdomen were beginning to tighten.

His pace sped up, able to tell he was fucking her good when her head fell back, and her sounds started getting loud enough he had to cover her mouth again.

“It feel good, Cielito?” he asked roughly. “You like knowing you’re gonna make me come? That this pretty fucking pussy is gonna milk me dry? You love that I’m gonna give you what you want and fill you up—stuff you full of my come?” He licked his lips. “Bet you wish you weren’t on birth control.” Her moan was muffled, squeezing her eyes shut, causing a jolt to run through him.

Seeing her earlier with the baby had ignited a fire inside him, something instinctual telling him he needed to give her one of her own—that they needed one of their own, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he fucked his come deep inside her. From the look on her face, she was also feeling some type of way, which was why he’d followed her into the house, her pep talk confirming he was right. There had been no way for them to wait until they got home to fuck, he was too riled up, and she wasn’t any better.

She looked at him, her eyes glazed over in lust, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead, looking absolutely fuck drunk as she tried to say something he couldn’t make out, still fucking in and out of her.

He lifted his hand.

“What?” he asked through heavy breaths.

She sounded wrecked. “Fuck a baby into me—please,” she begged.

The sentence was his undoing, a strangled noise ripping from his throat, his head falling against her shoulder, his balls tightening, and cock thickening—two more quick strokes before he was burying himself to the hilt, sinking his teeth into her flesh over her shirt as he came so hard his vision went white and he lost hearing in his left ear.

He rolled his hips, working his spend as deep as he could get it, the overstimulation causing a whispery hiss to leave his lips before he finally stilled, his body so relaxed he slumped into her. A euphoric haze came over him, his mind as slow as molasses.

Her free hand stroked through his sweat-damp hair, her nails scratching lovingly along his scalp, which felt so good, he was humming appreciatively.

A few minutes passed, and she finally broke the silence to croak out, “Well, that was unexpected.”

His ear was still ringing, lifting his head to look at her. “What was unexpected?” he asked.

“The sex—” She delightedly smiled, poking his nose. “—and your massive fucking breeding kink.”

Confusion came over his face.

“My what?” he asked.

“For a man who has had a lot of sex, and I mean a lot, it’s always surprising when you don’t know a sex thing.” She pushed some of his hair off of his forehead. “Your breeding kink; it gets you off thinking about knocking me up.”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, looking away from her.

“Shit, I didn’t want you to know…” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Her hand gently moved his face to meet her eyes, her brows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

Letting out a long sigh, he answered truthfully, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I’m fine with waiting,” he quickly added. “Really fucking fine with it, especially after this morning, but the fantasy…”

“Really gets you going. Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a massive breeding kink, too. I like to imagine you getting me pregnant when we fuck, and also, the whole there being a one percent chance that you actually could really gets me going.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over her thighs. “So, it’s okay..?”

She smiled, resting her palm on his cheek. “Oh yeah. It’s more than okay. We can have our fantasy for now, but my god, imagine how good the sex will be when we’re actually trying.”

That had arousal stirring in his belly. “Fuck,” he breathed again. Cupping her cheeks, he said, “I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky with you, but you’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much. Eres la mejor novia del mundo y soy feliz de compartir cada instante de mi vida a tu lado (You’re the best girlfriend in the whole world and I’m happy to share each moment of my life by your side).” He kissed her softly, murmuring into her lips, “Siempre has sido tú, incluso antes de conocerte, y siempre serás la elegida porque eres el amor de mi vida y tú eres la única para mí (It has always been you, even before I knew you, and it will always be you because you are the love of my life and you are the only one for me).”

She pulled back to look him in the eyes with a smile.

“I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world, and I’m happy I get to spend my life with you and have your babies.” She pecked him on the lips. “It’s cheesy,” she continued. “But before I met you, it felt like something was missing in my life, you know? And now I feel like everything is right—you feel right; you were what I was missing,” she said, poking him over his heart. Javier grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles, listening to her speak. “So, you’ve always been it for me, always, and life just waited for us to both be lost before allowing us to finally find each other.” She shrugged. “You’re it for me, Javier Peña—you’ve always been it; yesterday, today, tomorrow, a year from now, it’s always going to be you because I was meant for you, and you were meant for me. In summary, I love you so fucking much, too.”

He chuckled, kissing her a little harder this time, feeling so happy he thought he might be floating.

He knew she was the love of his life—knew it with every fiber of his being, and he would spend the rest of his days with her just to prove it.

When your lungs begged for air, you broke the kiss, Javi smiling so big his dimple was showing, the love for you clear in his gaze.

“Today was good?” you asked.

“Today was fucking amazing.”

“Good, good,” you nodded. “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?” His hands were skating up and down your bare thighs.

“I have another surprise for you that can’t happen until tomorrow…”

“Baby, you’ve done so much. I don’t need anything else.” He quickly kissed you.

“Oh, you’re gonna really fucking want this.”

His eyebrow lifted, looking curious.

“What is it?”

“Well, after a lot of thinking and working up my courage, I thought maybe you’d wanna try fucking my ass?”

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