#FUCK OVERHEAD SHOWER HEADS

[pirateswhore]

watching American home-reno shows, and every time they don't include a hand-held shower head, I die inside.

#FUCK OVERHEAD SHOWER HEADS #fuck fixed shower heads #HOW am I supposed to properly wash my ass n feet ? #by the time the water drips from my head down its gonna be dirty #how do you wash your crotch ? you don't. #hand held shower heads with wall hangers >>>>>

[humenkuube]

i wish showering wasnt such a difficult task as an autistic person i hate ittt its so embarrassing but thinking about showering fills me with so much dread even though i like feeling clean after its not enough to motivate me. and the worsr part is that theres literally nothing to do about it except get over it

#barks #autism #take a bath instead? i hate baths because i see all the dirt in the water #change the shower head? literally already did that and it doesnt help bc i live somewhere with really hard water #i have an overhead light so all the light in the room is even #i have a curved shower curtain and i even got stuff that i liked how it looked so i have something to look at and pay attention to #i just hate the sensory input of going from dry and comfortable to wet and hot to wet and cold #and DONT GET ME STARTED ON DRYING MY HAIR #i have to towel/air dry it or it looks fucking stupid blow dried but it takes so long that way and i cant lay down or put headphones on #and that process takes hours! #so i usually wait until i like have to leave my house so i have something to fill the time but thats once a week at most and i need #to shower more often. fucking agony

[futureman]

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long? 

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever. 

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane. 

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. 

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency. 

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons. 

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver. 

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever. 

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal. 

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault. 

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less. 

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here. 

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying. 

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go. 

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again. 

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far. 

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it. 

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust. 

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later. 

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.  

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him. 

The girl he waited for. 

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out. 

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for. 

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option. 

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you? 

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan. 

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

[rafescurtainbangz]

House-Sitting (JJ Maybank One Shot) +18

Minor DNI

JJ x female reader

You're house sitting and smut ensues

Warning: SMUT, shower stuff, lots of pet names, lovey JJ, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, practically plotless

I haven't written OBX before; usually just stick to Stranger Things. So I hope I'm doing this right. I wrote a Rafe one the other day. HERE Gah. Anywho... Enjoy.

Y/N's POV:

Your feet pound against the sand, as the sun rises high in the east. My lungs are on fire. Silent screams of pain flood your mind. You glance over at JJ, totally unfazed. His eyes meet yours; a devilish smirk follows. No, JJ. He moves a little faster, just a smidge, a few inches in front of you. You pick up your pace, running next to him.

He chuckles, breathlessly. You return a scoff in annoyance; picking up your speed, and moving ahead of him. JJ breaks out in a sprint, tearing down the beach.

"Jayj!" You scream.

Fuck. He's fast.

You're streaming after him; your feet unstable in the sand; birds scuttling out of the way, screeching and swirling overhead.

There's no way you can keep up. His feet kick up sand; peppering you as you take up the rear. "Stop. You little shit," you hiss.

He throws on the brakes. You run past him at full speed.

Oh my god, JJ.

Turning around your eyes meet his; your hands on your hips, reaching for air.

"Y/N... when did you get so damn slow," he smiles; voice barely audible. His abs flex tightly with his breathing, sweat drips down his stomach.

Agh... He's in trouble. But damn... does he look fucking good... His tanned skin glistens in the sun. Two chiseled v's on his tight waist; his grey shorts clinging tightly to his thighs.

His smile widens.

"Did you hear me? Or are you too busy gawking, sweetheart? I can repeat myself if you'd like?"

"Mmm..."

"What?"

"To think... I was going to suck you off in the shower this morning." You pant He looks at you wide-eyed, regretting every single word.

Turning pace you trudge back through the sand, making your way to your house sitting house. "That would have been fun. Right, Jayj?" You yell loudly, giving him the finger.

You hear him jogging up behind you; you wipe the shit-eating grin off your face.

"No... No. No. No!" JJ barks. "Don't be a sore loser, baby." He paws for your ass, giving it a squeeze.

"Knock it off," you say flatly, pushing him away.

"Mmm... come here, beautiful. Don't be like that," he croons, reaching for your arm, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you close. He pinches the rim of his hat, flipping it backward.

Ugh... he knows that drives me crazy.

He lifts you up, walking you towards the house. You wrap your legs around his waist; your arms draped lazily on his shoulders.

"You're glowing, baby."

"Fuck off."

"No! I'm serious," he burns, licking his lip, his head tilted slightly.

"Yeah... yeah... serious about getting your dick wet..." You roll your eyes. "Please."

"What? Me? Never," he smiles, leaning in closer, you do as well.

"I'm not kissing you, JJ," you whisper onto his lips. "And I'm sure as shit not showering with you either."

Can I change your mind?"

"No..." You clip.

"Y/N..."

"JJ..."

"Baby..."

"Maybank..."

"Please..."

"Not a fucking chance."

"But you need me..." he smiles. "You obviously wanted something from me."

"My fingers will do the trick but thank you for your concern."

He smiles wickedly. "Nah... Those things are too small. Look at these," he chuckles as he wiggles his finger high, showing off his come hither motion.

"Can you set me down?" You scoff.

He steps into the grass, moving towards the house. "Not a fucking chance," he mocksvwith a sly smile. His eyes drift to your chest; your breasts pressed together in your black sports bra.

He hops, adjusting you in his arms, watching as your chest bounces.

"Ugh...You're a fucking dog."

"Yeah... But I'm your good boy. Right?"

You scoff; your smile trying hard to push its way through. JJ grabs the door handle, pulling it open; the chill of your air conditioner hitting your glazed skin. You shiver; goosebumps fall over your body.

"Wow... you look chilly, baby. We should probably warm you up." He presses the door shut. "With like... a shower or something."

"Enough."

"Please..."

"Let's just wait until we get back to The Château. The Williams trust me. If they find out they'd kill me for sure or, at least not let me house-sit. The money's too good Jayj."

"They won't find out," he pouts. "And, the little note said 'make yourself at home'. What do you do in a home, doll-"

"Jayj," you cut him off.

"You fuck," he finishes his sentence, drawing out the word in an overly seductive tone trying his best to get you to laugh.

"You're trouble."

"No shit, baby," he smiles. JJ jumps again, watching your cleavage recoil on impact; his blue eyes roll back, meeting your gaze with a stare that makes you throb.

"Fine." 

You wind up, smacking him roughly on the ass. He lets out a fake moan one second, charging at you the next, tickling you as you fight him off; the two of you scampering down the hall.

"I said 'leave me alone'," you squeal.

"Eh. You don't want that, darlin'," he chuckles. JJ grabs you, easily pinning you against the wall; kissing you deeply.

"Can we make it to the bathroom at least?" You tease.

He grabs the bottom of your sports bra, tugging it over your head. You clasp your hands to your chest, letting out a gasp. "Hey! I wanna see 'em," he groans. You give him a little swat on the arm.

"No. They probably have cameras and shit.”

"So?”

You smack him again, making him clutch his arm jokingly. “Are we gonna fight fight?" He taunts, swiftly taking you into his arms.

"We are already fighting" You answer flatly, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. "I just slapped you."

"And, you think you'd win this fight, Y/N?"

"Absolutely."

"You're probably right," he smiles.

"I'm always right," you sigh as you work your finger into his hair. His eyes shut softly, leaning in for a kiss as you pass through the threshold.

"No. No way. Not their room." JJ kicks the door shut, not letting you out of his arms

"What's the point in havin' a girlfriend if you can't bone her anywhere you'd like?" He holds back his laugh as the words pass his lips, your mouth, hanging open in disgust.

"What's the point in having a girlfriend? What? Are we twelve? You're kinda bein' a dick."

"Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how awful I am?"

"Stop. Guest room now."

"Uff... I love when you boss me around. Do it again."

"Now. The shower's nicer anyways."

"Yeah?"

"Were you thinking about doin' this," He taunts. "Were you dreamin' about me all wet and sexy?" JJ whispers, fighting back a chuckle, but he's not wrong. 

"'Course I was," you whisper. Making him smile against your kiss.

"My girl." His tongue slips between your pout, rolling slowly as you moan softly into your kiss.

He turns the handle, water spilling from the head, still cold leaving you the perfect amount of time to play. Your lips meet his neck; a soft kiss, feeling his heartbeat under your lips. You palm his cock; rolling your fingers gently over the fabric. He moans deeply, vibrating against your lips.

You work a little lower; JJ, setting you down as you kiss and trace his toned chest and abs, working to your knees. Your fingers run softly against the indentations of his v-lines, making his muscles flex. You smile up at him sinfully, catching your fingers under the band of his shorts, pulling them to his feet. You watch as his aching cock springs free.

JJ meets your eyes; his guide shifting as you start to touch your tits as well.

"Fuck, Y/N," JJ groans.

You take your hands, running them gently against your breasts, circling your nipples with your fingers as he eyes your every move. Steam gathers above as the shower gets warmer; JJ's features, a little hazier than before. You return your focus below, running your nails up his thighs.

"Fuck you're huge, Jayj," you praise as you take him in your hands.

"Yeah?" He groans, watching you near his tip, a pearl of precum gathers on his head, rolling slowly down the length of his cock.

"Mmm... Mhmm." You hum, cleaning him up with your tongue. JJ closes his eyes, tilting his head back to the ceiling.

You continue to toy with him; little licks and flicks. JJ cradles your head in his hands as you swirl slowly. "Oh my god, Y/N," he grunts.

JJ's eyes open, watching as you kiss him sloppily, teasing him with the thought of your lips wrapped around him, the warmth of your mouth swathing him.

"Shit," he whines; sexual frustration painted all over his beautiful face. You smile wickedly, lips parting slightly. His mouth mimics yours, watching in anticipation as you squeeze the tip of his dick. "Those fuckin' lips, Y/N. Please."

"Please what?" You taunt. "You were being a dick to me... Why should I suck yours?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he soughs; pitching his hips forward. You snake your tongue around his head, working in slow circular movements as you play with his balls. JJ's eyes shut tight when you alternate directions. "C'mon, baby. Give me what I want," he drawls. You open your mouth wider. JJ chuckles lustfully as you comply with his request. You take him into your maw. "Fuck," he moans; drawing out the word with a deep breath. You bob back and forth, gagging on his cock each time. He takes your head in his hands as you increase your speed.

JJ starts to quaver on your tongue, mumbling words of praise as you add your hands. He tugs your hair causing you to moan, JJ, answering with the same.

He seizes control, stroking slower, taking a different grip entirely. His strong hands holding your cheeks. The head of his cock kisses the back of your throat, spit seeping from the corners of your lips.

"I'm sorry I teased you, darlin'... I just couldn't help myself," he sneers, not an ounce of remorse in his voice. He lets out a deep chuckle. "So fuckin' good at suckin' cock, Y/N. Jesus Christ" He thrusts deeply a few more times before giving you back the reins. You draw off him fully; a gasp for air releases from your open lips. You spit on his cock, stroking him with your hand, letting your breasts bounce with each movement.

"Do you want my mouth, JJ?"

"Yes, baby."

"Beg."

He shakes his head and smiles wickedly."Yeah, angel? You want me to beg?"

"Mhmm..."

"Please, Y/N. Can I please have your mouth?"

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for more.

"Fuck, Y/N... I need that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock... I'm beggin' ya... Please, baby." You wrap your lips around his tip, creating a suction that makes him groan. Your hands wrap around, gripping his ass; as you start to stroke. Lewd noises fill the bathroom; JJ, panting and moaning, and you slurping and squelching with each bob.

He hisses out a breath as you drag your nails along his skin. Tears run down your cheeks; eyes, locked on his, watching as he starts to near his peak.

"So good, baby... I'm gonna - Fuck."

You run him even quicker, sucking a little harder as his brows knit tight. His blue eyes soften on yours, fighting to keep them open. You feel him quake on your tongue. Releasing him from your lips you pump fast; arm, wrapped around your ribs, pressing your breasts together. Your mouth opens wide; tongue flat

"Holy shit," he grunts; inhaling sharply, surrendering to his finish, warm, white ropes landing on your tongue and chest. You bind your fingers a little tighter, milking out his last bits of pleasure, skimming your tongue along JJ's tip, cleaning up the rest, making his hooded eyes roll back.

JJ takes a clasp on your wrists, pulling you up and into his arms. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, melting into him as he breathes laboriously, coming down from his high."God damn, baby. You're so fuckin' good at that," he mumbles breathlessly against your lips. "Do you know how good you make me feel?"

You smile against your kiss, sucking off his plump bottom lip slowly, taking it between your teeth. "You make me feel so fucking good, Jayj," you respire between kisses as he steps into the large walk-in shower.

The water is warm; remnants of his release rise off your body, swirling down the drain. Steam and heat hang heavy in the air making it almost impossible to see. You hook your ankles, driving your body closer as he presses your back into the cool tile wall. He shuts the glass door. JJ's large handprint streaks across the gathered vapor.

"That feel good, baby? Not too hot?"

"No. It's perfect," you whisper.

"Beautiful."

JJ reaches for the shower head, taking it off the base, turning it to a steady stream. He kicks your foot out gently. A smile spreads on his kiss-swollen lips as he sees you start to put the pieces together.

"Jayj?" You giggle breathlessly.

"You ever done this before?" He questions; gripping the detachable shower head in one hand, the other pinned just over your shoulder as he looks down at you.

"I mean maybe," you smile.

"No one's ever done it for you?" He groans, letting the warm water spray against your thigh, working higher and higher.

You bite your lip and shake your head 'no'. Your focus shifts, drifting lower, watching as he brings the stream of water to your pussy, hitting your clit, making your knees buckle. You let out a moan, echoing through the bathroom.

"Y/N... Fuck, baby. Too much?"

"No. It's good, Jayj. So good," you sigh. "Don't stop."

JJ moves his arm from the wall to your waist, drawing you closer; rocking slowly, increasing and decreasing the intensity, making you throw your head back in pleasure. JJ's lips quickly lock onto your skin, kissing you harshly before biting down, making you squeal.

He watches your body carefully; your face, changing with each passing second as you drift closer and closer to your breaking point. You feel your pleasure building fast, the pressure of the water stronger than any toy you've used in a while."You like that. Huh?" He grunts. You nod your head rapidly. JJ leans down, taking your nipple in his mouth; sucking and flicking, causing you to arch your back.

"JJ... Oh my god," you hail as your vision starts to cloud; stars in your eyes.

"I can't wait to fuck you baby. This is just a warm-up, sweet-"

"JJ!" You cut him off, crying out in pleasure as you wrap your arms tighter, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He lets out a devilish laugh, forcing the stream a little closer. "Jay-JJ," you stutter.

"What, princess?" Your body jolts as you fight him slightly in overstimulation, continuing to ride the waves of your orgasm, pussy clenching tight. "Does it feel good, baby?"

"Yes. Fuck!"

"Then just take it," he rasps in your ear; sending chills down your spine.

You feel your body relax; heart, pounding in your chest as you reach for air.

JJ returns the water head to the base, cranking up the heat, pressing you into the wall once more as you continue to kiss; your ears ringing slightly, feeling the after-effects of your bliss.

"Fuck me?" You whimper, desperation laced in your tone. "Please."

"Anywhere, baby? Where do you want it?"

"Bed… Start here."

"The bed? You sure? I'd hate to upset the Williams." JJ reaches down, taking a grip on your thigh, looping it in his bicep, muscles flexing as he lifts you slightly.

"Just fuck me." You tilt your forehead against his, the two of you watching as his long cock nears your warmth. "Shit," you whine as he circles your sensitive clit with his velvety head, making him smirk. JJ moves a little lower, gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance with his tip.

"JJ. Please."

"Please what?" He teases you again.

"Fuck me."

"Baby..." He lets out a gravelly laugh. "Beg harder." JJ swipes his head across your bud again making you gasp.

"JJ, can you please fuck me? Ple-" He thrusts his cock into you, rutting up; breasts pressing against his chest as he steals your breath. JJ grabs your ass and picks you up swiftly causing you to sink deeper on his cock making you mewl onto his lips.

"Y/N," he moans.

"Yeah," you stammer.

"I fucking love you."

"I fucking love you, JJ."

He pins you to the wall, leaning in, rutting quickly. His strokes are merciless; incredibly deep as you cling to his shoulders again. The hot water cascades down your body, increasing your pleasure as it flows between the two of you, the stimulation alone making you feel like you could climax.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," you mumble against his lips.

JJ draws open the door, his cock still buried deep as he brings you to the bedroom. He's sauntering; a slow stroll as you kiss at the perfect cadence. He sits down on the large mattress, letting you straddle his lap.

JJ adjusts slightly; his cock, reaching a different angle, making you suck in some air. You lift your body, rising up fully before spreading your thighs wide again. JJ grips your ass in his hands, following you as you move. "F-Fuck," you whine, bottom lip quivering, as you feel him stretch you out.

JJ looks down watching where your bodies connect. A low moan releases from the back of his throat. "You're so fuckin wet, Y/N. Holy shit." You hook your hand behind his neck, leaning back slightly, changing the angle for a better view. Watching JJ's thick cock glisten with essence.

Throwing your head back, you hit the perfect spot, feeling every curve and ridge as you push yourself further. JJ's thumb presses against your throbbing clit rubbing circles on top causing your thighs to shake. "Takin' me so well, baby girl," he drawls. "So fucking tight."

"JJ..." You sigh; feeling yourself about to cum again, head, pounding with your heart.

"Yeah? That's the spot. Huh?"

"Y-Yeah," you stutter, cock-drunk, thighs quivering uncontrollably, making you lose your rhythm.

"Let me, baby. Let me," he groans.

JJ fucks into you, striking the perfect angle, making your muscles tense up. "Shit... Right there, Jayj. You're gonna make me cum."

"Yeah? This pussy was made for me. Cum on my cock, Y/N..." Your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure hitting you harder than your first release. Toes curling as you're sent into ecstasy. You lock down around him, JJ taking his cue; pounding into you at an even quicker pace.

Before you can come down, he picks you up; throwing you on the mattress, thrusting into you suddenly. The sounds of his skin clapping against yours echo through the large room. You let out a cry; far louder than intended, in a house that's not your own, even if it's empty. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

JJ quickly grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your mouth; shaking his head 'no' as he tacks it and the other against the plush mattress. "Never do that again," he pants through a smile, punctuating each word with a thrust.

"Closer," you beg. JJ leans in, pressing you against the bed, knees wide, striking deep inside, making your eyes slam shut. He loosens the grip on your wrist; fingers weaving into yours. Your mouth falls open; a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Look at me, baby."

You do, seeing every muscle at work, water still glistening on his tan skin, his blonde fringe, wet and messy.

"JJ..."

"Me too, Y/N. Fuck. Me too," he moans. He drops a hand, pressing two fingers between your lips. You suck them roughly as you fight to keep your eyes open. JJ slips his hand low, his skilled fingers brushing fast.

"Yes, daddy! Just - Just like that. Fuck. JJ," you murmur. "Oh shit-" Your orgasm spills over, soaking his cock, wetting the sheets below. The sound of his strokes intensifies as he works you through your climax, stimulating your clit, brushing through spurts as he makes a mess of your thighs and his. "That's it... Good fuckin' girl."

His hips snap into you one last time, filling you with his warmth, toppling down on top of you. You can feel everything at this moment, his release and your own, the two of you glazed with sweat, soaked from the shower. You focus on the sound of his heartbeat, complementing your own; the way your body fits in his, JJ's weight on top of yours.

"That was amazing," he praises, kissing you sweetly.

"So good... So fucking good."

#jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank smut one shot #jj maybank one shot #rudy pankow #outer banks smut #outer banks smut one shot #jj maybank x reader

[strniohoeee]

Amorous

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: Chris and Y/N never have alone time, so they decided to go for night drive, and take a pit stop🤫

Warnings⚠️: this is smut based on my request I just got! It’s obvious there’s sex, but it’s nothing intense. It’s pretty short imagine too🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: Wus good/Curious-PARTYNEXTDOOR

⚠️This is a 18+ imagine so minors DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

Chris and I had been dating for about a year now, and we loved spending time together going on dates, shopping, watching movies together, laughing and overall just enjoying each other's company. However he did live with his brothers, so they would usually join us on certain things like movies and games.

Although Chris had the downstairs room it still made it insanely impossible for us to have true alone time. Matt and Nick always wanted to sleep in his room, or stay with us watching movies till 3am. We loved them dearly, but sometimes Chris and I really needed alone time, and by that I mean we really needed to have sex

The last time we actually had decent sex was a good two months ago, and it was decent because as soon as we finished Matt came barging in the room looking for something of his he left the night prior. So it 100% ruined any lasting mood we might’ve had.

The most we have been able to do in the past two months was over the clothes stuff, and 10 minute quickies in the shower, but we were yearning for some dirty intense love making.

Chris had asked me if I wanted to take a drive with him. Honestly I wanted to stay home, but I know what he wanted, and I knew Nick and Matt would be home soon, so I agreed.

It was 9pm when he decided to take us for a “drive”

“Where are we headed baby?” I asked him as I shuffled his music library

“I’m thinking that little secluded area up on that hill” he said looking over at me

“Ahhh yesss where everyone goes to fuck” I said laughing

He sucks his teeth and looks at me “babe”

“Sorry! I’m serious though. Are you taking me there to fuck?” I said wiggling my brows

“I mean…..we can’t get more than 10 minutes alone, and I really need to fuck the shit out of you” he said glancing over at me

“True. I’ve been needing this too” I said kissing his hand that I was holding

We had gotten up to the hillside, and surprisingly there were no cars, and it was pitch black. All we could see were the city lights overhead

Chris had put the car in park, and turned the outside lights off, so it was extra dark, but he turned the lights on, on the inside.

“You looks so good right now” I told him as the warm light reflected off his facial structure and his blue eyes

“Oh yeah?” He said in a smug way

“Let’s go to the back,” I said. We got out of the car and opened up the back doors, putting down the seats in the van.

We both hopped back into the car, and immediately Chris pulled me down into him to kiss him. As we were kissing Wus good by PARTYNEXTDOOR started playing

“Look at that! It’s a sign” he said with a goofy smile

“You’re so corny” I said before going back to kissing him, he started to kiss down to my jawline and neck peppering light kisses. We slowly started to remove our clothes

I started palming Chris’ dick, but he grabbed my hand and stopped me

“Although this feels so fucking good. I’m trying to cum from fucking you, so please no more with the hands” he said laughing

“Sorry baby I can’t help myself” I said kissing him again

“Want me to fuck you, or you wanna ride” he asked? Massaging my boob

“Can I ride” I asked moaning as he’s groping my breasts

“Fuck yeah” he said. I didn’t need much foreplay because I was so dick deprived just looking at Chris had me wet

I hovered over his cock, and he helped me align himself to my entrance, and slowly I started to sink down onto him. My mouth falling slack at the stretch

“Fuck Chris I forgot how big you are” I said as I bottomed out

“Don’t boost my ego baby” he said, grabbing my chin and pulling me in for a kiss. I began to bounce on his dick immediately moaning at how good this felt

“Chris you don’t know how badly I needed this” I said as I continued to bounce on his dick

“Fuck Y/N use me. Milk me of all my cum please baby” he said running his hands up my sides and gripping my breasts

“Oh fuck” I said throwing my head back

I started to clench down On Chris, and he let out a whine that sent shivers down my spine

“Whine like that again, and I swear I’ll fucking cum so hard” I said looking down at him. He had both his hands behind his head propping his head up a little bit.

“Fuck if it means I get to see your beautiful face as you cum all over me I’ll keep doing it” He said biting his lip

I moaned at this and started grinding against him. My clit hitting his pelvic bone in a delicious manner. I continued to clench down on him as I grinded against him. His dick pounding against my g spot

“Chris im gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, can I please cum” I asked grinding faster

“Yes baby cum, cum for me please cum all over my cock” he said in such a raspy voice, and with that I was cumming all over his cock. Shaking and falling limp down on him.

Chris grabbed my ass and pounded up into me chasing his release, and this made me moan from the over stimulation, and hearing Chris’ grunting in my ear

“I think I’m going to cum again” I said sobbing into his neck

With that Chris came in me whining and moaning and shaking, and seconds later I came on his dick for a second time a mixture of our cum running down his dick

“That was so well needed” he said kissing me as we came down from our highs

“Oh god yes. I don’t know how I lasted that long” I said slowly starting to sit up, so I could get off of him

“Me neither, I needed that badly” he said as I got off of him searching for something to clean us up with

“Oh Matt left napkins in the glovebox” he said, and I reached over grabbing napkins to clean ourselves off with

After cleaning ourselves off we got back into our clothes and fixed the back seats. Chris threw the napkins on the floor outside

“Chris don’t litter” I said getting back into the car

“Oh yeah let me carry around a cum covered tissue to properly dispose of it” he said sarcastically

“Oh shut the fuck up” I said smacking him on his arm

As we got situated and he turned the car lights back on he got a call from Nick

“Sup bro” he said as he put the car into reverse

“Where the fuck yall went we have a car video to film” Nick said

“Oh shit my bad I didn’t realize the time. Y/N and I went out to eat and then went to see a movie” he said lying straight out his ass

“Yeah well it’s 12pm get home so we can film” Matt said from a distance

“Alright we should be back in 20. Be ready to hop in so we can film” they replied with okay, and he hung up

“Chris they’re going to know we fucked” I said laughing

“No they will not! We cleaned everything up” he said grabbing my hand

“Yeah let’s hope” I said blushing

After 20 minutes we arrived at their house, and he reached out to his brothers saying he was ready to pick them up. They got to the car, and hopped in the back seat.

“Y/N I MISSED YOUU” Nick said all giddy

“I missed you too Nick” I said laughing at him

Matt got in the car, but squinted his eyes before saying anything

“It smells like sex in here” Matt said looking at both Chris and I

“What the fuck you saying kid” Chris said

“It smells like sweaty hot sex” he said laughing, and Chris reached back to smack his brother

“Shut the fuck up” Chris said

“Omg omg wait yall fucked in here” Nick said getting loud, I slightly nodded at him

“OH MY GOD YALL FUCKED IN HERE AND I JUST SAT IN HERE AND PUT MY SNACK DOWN IN THE AREA YALL FUCKED IN?? IM SICK” Nick said screaming and thrashing around

“Nick shut the fuck up and calm down” Chris said getting annoyed

“CALM DOWN I DONT WANT TO SIT WHERE YALL FUCKED” he said pretending to cry

“Grow up” Matt said laughing at him

After 10 more minutes of that. They decided to finally drive to a location and film their YouTube video. Nick is ever so often being reminded of what just went on an hour prior.

And all Chris can do is give Y/N small smiles and flirty smirks here and there.

The End

For the person who requested this I HOPE it was good😭😭 as of right now my requests are still open. I’m currently working on Matt imagine, and then I have to work on a friendship imagine again🤭🤭

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #Spotify

[thegnomelord]

What about Monster!AU for prompt 5. Male reader and price please :)

Sure thing anon, made it a mage reader again, was trying to study for a 'lovely' surprise test but inspiration decided to strike me :/. Play the game HERE

Prompt: “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot.”

CW:NSFW, switch/power bottom Dragon Price, Male Mage reader, Oral, Anal, shower sex, semi public sex, reader is oblivious for a bit.

Price swears his hair and scales are going to go completely gray because of you.

You've been avoiding him for a week now, and all the base knows why — Price can still hear your desperate voice begging and bargaining with whatever will listen "I'll buy you dinner please-just stay alive- I love you- damn it you slimy bastard don't you dare die on me-" as you try to keep him alive, magic flowing from your arms to heal the gaping hole in his side despite the bullets raining overhead; a valiant knight protecting him like he's a prince instead of a dragon.

And Price can remember the way his heart had fluttered at your words, at the way you had hugged him so firmly to keep him safe as your magic raged all around you like a wild force of nature, at the way you looked at him so tenderly— eyes burning with mana like the gaze of a god he's your most prized possession —right before the blood loss made him black out.

But now that Price was out of the hospital, his side permanently marked with your magic and a hefty load of paperwork on his desk, you were acting like you never said anything. Anytime someone brings it up you just ignore them, ignore him, throwing yourself into training as much as you can. And it's getting on his nerves, his draconic blood making anger and malcontent burn in his bones because you'd looked at him like a mate but now it's like he doesn't exist beyond training and missions.

He knows it's against the rules, knows he shouldn't hope for much when he sets out to find you, but he does. It's not hard; though his sensitive nose easily picks up the stench of magic, it's the lingering mana burrowed into his skin that tugs him in a direction, even the foreign parts of him wanting you. He finds you alone in the training room, the ground around you scorched beyond hell.

"We need ta' talk lad." Price rumbles as he closes the door behind him, the deep thrum of his voice hiding the anxious pressure he feels in his chest.

Your head whips to look at him. Price cherishes the way your eyes soften when you see him like a glittering gem. Then a sea of ice settles over your eyes, and you turn your head back to the target dummy as if looking at Price makes you sick. "Nothing to talk about captain."

"That so?" Price asks like he doesn't believe you, because he doesn't. Ancient instincts tug on his mind and he follows them. You know he knows what's plaguing your mind, both of you are aware of the elephant in the room and Price can see the way your shoulders progressively tense as he draws near. But you're a stubborn fool, you refuse to show how his presence makes your heart beat faster despite how each of his steps rings like a gunshot in your ears.

Your mind fails to conjure up words but you force an "Hmh," out of your throat, trying to ignore how Price is so close to you, the heat of his body radiating into yours. His remaining wing stretches out, scales and leathery membranes barely brushing over your shoulder, but the intent is clear; the claim is clear.

You try to ignore him, ignore yourself, clinging to the sensation of your sharp mana digging into your veins as you summon another bout of magic to shoot at the training dummy, whisps of formless energy quickly forming into your preferred element.

His hand settles on your hip, not enough to make you loose focus just yet. "Because last ah remember," He leans in closer, the smell of black coffee and cigars on his breath. This close he can smell you instead of your magic, his chest rumbling against your back with a happy purr. "you promised me dinner if I lived."

You nearly choke on air, your magic sputtering out like an old car engine. "I-" You whirl around, your noses almost touching from how close you are. "-that's not what I'd meant!"

His heart should break at that, but before it can his sensitive ears pick up how rapidly your heart's pounding in your chest, reptilian eyes noting how you're flushed more than usual, breathing rapidly without even noticing it.

"Really now?" That greedy part in his bones urges him on, begging and pleading for him to just take you. His other hand settles on your shoulder, keeping you in place, close to him just like he wants. "Then ah suppose all that 'bout me bein' a slimy bastard was also not true?"

You want to flinch away but can't, your own body a traitor to you, a deep frown tugging on your lips. "Price, I wasn't-"

"And-" He cuts you off by leaning even closer, his forehead resting against yours and fuck, your head fits perfectly between his horns, like you belong there. "-I must've misheard you when you said you loved me?" He raises an eyebrow, voice both teasing and serious, holding his breath.

Just that small contact of skin on skin has your resolve crumbling like sand, "Listen, just-" You suck in a sharp breath, the situation both bliss and hell for you. “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot. Okay? And just-" You try to stammer the same lies you'd tell yourself every time you'd catch yourself thinking of him more than just your captain (which was way too often).

Price's clawed hand grips your chin and manually closes your mouth, his smooth scales cool against your warm body. You forget to breathe, your eyes flickering all over his face as he smirks, voice deep and guttural like the rumble of moving tectonic plates. "Then I'm an idiot too."

The world goes completely silent as he kisses you, holding your head still so he can claim your lips for himself, his deep purr shaking both of your chests when you submit so easily to him, like getting a gulp of fresh air after years of drowning.

You're so lost in his taste and his scent and just him you don't notice when Price roughly pulls you into the showers, tail and wing and arms holding your body; as if your brain could even conjure the thought of leaving. Bursts of awareness assault your mind every time you part for a breath and to displace a piece of clothing, his sharp claws tickling your skin as he can't wait and just cuts through your remaining clothes.

Clawed fingers grip your hair and tilt your head back, exposing your throat to sharp fangs and you submit easily, trusting him not to hurt you too much. Low sounds rumble in your throat as Price marks you, biting one spot until it bleeds your mana rich blood, greedily drinking up the crimson droplets and soothing the wound with his tongue just enough for the sting to become pleasant before biting again. Bite, lick, bite, lick, bite, lick— chest rumbling with satisfaction he pulls away, "Oh, look at you," He growls, your throat turned into a warzone, "So handsome, like a charming knight."

You snort and grip his hips, the water of the shower raining down the two of you. "Yeah?" You ask as you turn him around, pushing his chest against the wall as you drop to your knees. "Gonna let me lay you?" You ask, kissing down his spine, your rough hands groping and fondling his ass.

"Wanker," Price growls and lifts his tail, revealing his hole to you. You almost cum on the spot from the sight of it, looking every bit what you'd imagined he'd look like. But you don't get to look for long before his tail wraps around your throat, soft underbelly scales scraping against your bruised throat as he pulls you closer. "Only, if you prove your worth."

You don't need a formal invitation, pushing your tongue out as you slobber all over his hole, your hands keeping his asscheeks spread so you can worm your tongue into his hole, feeling him clench around your tongue, his moans ringing like angel song in your ears. His claws tangle in your hair, pushing your head even closer to worship him better. And you do, like a pious believer you lick and suck and nibble around his hole, your nose buried in the space between his ass and tail, barely able to breathe but it's a small price to pay.

Finally he grows greedy for more, his tail releases a fraction and he shoves you, making you fall back on your ass, your cock standing like a flagpole. You only manage to rise up on your elbows before Price jumps on you like the beast he is, thigh powerful thighs bracketing your own, his clawed fingers scraping against your skin as they settle on your shoudlers.

"Now then," Price rumbles like an ancient mountain, reptilian eyes hooded with lust. He feels on top of the world with the way you look at him, like a desperate mutt, your cock hard like a rock between his legs. "Stay still, mighty knight, an-" Price lifts himself up, positioning your cockhead at his puckered rim. "-relax."

The running water muffles your combined groans, his walls hot and tight like the fire in his chest. His weight bears down on you, wing stretching out in a show of pleasure, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants. "Fuck," Price growls, grinding his hips down into yours. "Feel so good, lad."

You grunt, your hands fitting on his hips like they always belonged there. Magic sparks across your arms as pleasure steadily erases your ability to think, but his thick scales keep him safe, a pleased groan leaving his chest as he starts bouncing on you, chasing his own pleasure. You can do nothing but hang on, your hips rising to meet his downward thrust, Price's lips swallowing your moans. You don't have enough sense in your head left to care if anyone was to come in and see you, your mind fully consumed by him.

You cum way too soon, your orgasm sneaking up to you, lightning rushing down your spine and magic sparking across your arms as your brain leaks out of your ears, shooting cum up into his greedy walls.

"Good- good lad." Price grinds his teeth, never stopping his bouncing, lewd sounds ringing through the showers from the way your cum squelches inside him. He rides you past the sting of overstimulation right back to hardness. His hand grabs yours, placing it over the scars on his abdomen where your magic had stitched him back together, greed and lust fueling his desires. "Protected me so good, yeah?" His hips never cease moving, that draconic endurance coming in handy to absolutely wrecking you. "Let me take care of you,"

And like a proper mate, you let him do as he pleases.

#Gnome's Prompt Game #cod mw2 #x reader #gnome correspondence #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #captain john price #top male reader #john price x male reader #john price x reader #cod x male reader #cod smut #cod modern warfare #monster cod au #monster 141 au #mage reader

[macfrog]

soaked

started replaying tlou1. can't get qz joel out of my head. inspired by this work of art by the insanely talented @thefriendlypigeon !!!

summary: boston qz. the days are slow, the nights are long. joel wakes up alone with a problem that needs fixing. enter: his shower (literally)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) joel jacks off in the shower. that's p much it

word count: 1.5k

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His fist locks tight around it; gives one long, slow jerk. The sensitive skin moves with his fingers. His hips shift forward, body asking him for more – and he obliges. He glides through his curved hand, halting when his fingers reach the dark hair at his hilt, slowly soaking under the messy spray from overhead.

He hasn’t slept all night. Not a wink.

It isn’t anything new. He rarely sleeps anymore; prefers to let himself drift in and out, teetering against the edge of slumber and then pulling himself back again. Staying in this life, instead of being dragged into a past one. Stops the nightmares. Stops the memories.

Usually, he can let himself rest, though. Let his eyes close over, let his ears deafen to the sounds of the world around him. Heavy footsteps fade into a numb knocking on the walls, the steady heartbeat sound of the QZ. Roars and yells from the street below are the blood twisting violently through the veins of the place.

But tonight – fucking hell, tonight. Tonight, he lies and stares at the distorted rectangle of amber light on the wall opposite his bed. When he closes his eyes, it’s still there. He can still see the peels of torn wallpaper, the way the harsh glow from the streetlight outside licks at the faded pattern like a flame, dousing his apartment in some ugly shade of nauseating orange. Like he’s living inside a fucking pill bottle.

Tonight, he teeters nowhere. He looks up at the pale ceiling – rotten paint slowly succumbing to the claim of the brown stain of damp. He looks at the apartment door – considers how easy it would be to kick down, how little effort it’d take against the rusted lock and molded wood. And he looks out of the window – to the inky black sky canvasing a jungle of buildings and power lines, lit by the moonlight of watchtowers.

Eventually, morning comes. The first break of day replaces that harsh, dirty glow with something softer, fresher. He runs his palms down his face, digs the heels into his eye sockets until he sees stars. His fingers swipe through his beard. His lashes flutter open.

It can’t be later than six. The sun’s only just clawing herself over the horizon. Peering over the ledge of his window, shooting like a bullet through the bottle he left on the table last night, rays refracting all over his kitchen.

When he pulls the mottled white sheets from his body and shifts to the side of the bed, there’s a tightness between his legs. A stiffness. It beckons his chin lower, draws his puffy eyes to the swelling in his boxers. The outline of himself, rock solid through the worn cotton. He curses under his breath and pushes from the mattress, groaning at the ache of his back and the throb of his cock.

The water only runs warm when no one in the surrounding apartments is using it. His only neighbor spends every night on the streets – Joel doesn’t bother to question why. He would’ve heard, though, if the guy had already hammered back into his own apartment; if he’d slammed the door shut, hinges rattling; if he’d sank into squealing bed springs. Joel would know.

So he hauls the curtain back, cranks the metal knob in a white-knuckle fist. The shower coughs up some pathetic spatter of freezing cold water, soaking the ends of his graying hair; and then, right before he yanks if off again with a sigh of contempt, it surrenders a burst of stronger, warmer water.

He holds an open palm under it for a few seconds. Turns his hand over, lets the water break across his wide knuckles. He feels a strain beneath his underwear. He tugs the fabric down and steps beneath the stream.

His cock slaps against the trail of rough, dark hair dappling his groin as he moves. He growls as the water cascades down his chest, running over the curve of his stomach and teasing tiny, pattering kisses along the wide base.

He glances down at himself. Spits into the palm of his hand, then uses it to cup his heavy shaft, running the pad of his thumb up the vein pulling at the surface of his skin. He shivers when he reaches the head, red and raw and angry, and swipes at the precome beaded there. He drags it back down, spreading it gently around, the skin glistening with saliva and sweat and arousal.

His fist locks tight around it; gives one long, slow jerk. The sensitive skin moves with his fingers. His hips shift forward, body asking him for more – and he obliges. He glides through his curved hand, halting when his fingers reach the dark hair at his hilt, slowly soaking under the messy spray from overhead.

The direct stream of water is broken by the arch of his shoulders, splashing against the nape of his neck. The droplets of water race down his spine, sinking between the valleys on his back where his body slopes and swells with muscle. As he tightens his grip with his right hand, his left jumps up, palm smacking heavily against the grimy tiled wall.

His head dips, eyes full with the sight of his cock fucking his hand. At fifty, living in a wasteland with little companions outside of those he nudges past in the hallway on his way to the ration line, he forgot how it felt to fucking do this. He feels like a damn teenager – all hormones and chasing. Chasing a high, chasing a release. He doesn’t even remember the last time he felt himself this hard in his own hand.

It feels fucking good. Feels sweet. He smirks, letting his eyes slowly close, and imagines it isn’t his own hand wrapped around himself. Imagines the gentler, nimbler grip of someone else. The touch of another person, the warmth. The intimate feel of them around him, giving him what he needs, listening to the sounds he lets fall from his lips, responding to them. Doing what he asks for. Doing what he begs for.

He thinks of the last woman he had wrapped around him. Her pussy – warm, wet, velvet soft – squeezing him until he came. He was careful then – pulled out in time to coat her belly and the inside of her thigh with his come.

Right now, in the shower, with his eyes closed and his fist beating furiously up and down his length – he doesn’t pull out. He fills her deep with his seed. Fucks her so good until she draws in around him, pulling the orgasm from his body, taking everything he gives her. Every last fucking drop.

His wrist jacks. He whimpers, breathless and weak. It’s drowned by the time it hits the flow of water. She’s such a good girl. Takin’ it so good. Lettin’ me fill her up so nice. Prettiest pussy I ever felt, sweetest sounds I ever heard.

He’s close. His hips start to falter. Belly sucks in, tightening around the coil he’s desperate to let snap. Harder, faster, tighter. His finger curls around the top of his shaft, squeezing with his thumb to tug just below his tip. Harder. Faster. Fuckin’ – tighter.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, and he realizes his entire body weight is being held up by his one hand, splayed out on the slippery wall in front of him. “Fuck, darlin’…”

His left hand drops to cup his balls, kneading slowly as his right focuses hard on nailing the arrow in the center of the target. The bullseye. He thrusts into his fist. His head falls back as it approaches. Mouth agape, filthy moans scratching from the bottom of his throat to the ceiling. The shower pours onto his chest, water trickles down his hairy torso. It’s following the rush, fleeing southward. Thundering through his body as his lungs start to freeze up, breath solidifies in his throat. His back begins to arch. Knees bend a little. And then –

His head snaps back down with a grunt to watch his release; thick, white ropes spurting from the tip of his cock and coating the tile, running down the wall towards the drain. The moans and curses which slip from his tongue follow at its heels, the water rushing them off to the shower floor and ushering them down the steel pipe. He groans, the noise reverberating against the shower walls, the echo of his own depraved sounds relaying in his ears only spurring him on more.

He's panting, hand slowing as he works his way through his climax. White heat floods over his body, crashing like tidal waves on his shoulders. His breath slowly returns, chest rising and falling again as his lungs restart, regain function. He feels dizzy. He feels shaky. His hand pulls up to the tile again, and his arm tenses as he leans forward, cock still dripping with come.

When he feels empty, satisfied, his hand stops. Holds his soft dick steady at the base, fingers gently massaging his balls. He’s still regaining composure, breath still finding a rhythm again. His entire body feels alive, thrumming and pulsating with energy and blood and the aftermath of his orgasm.

The water chokes in the shower head. The flow disappears, and then returns a second later, weaker and colder. The neighbor.

When he can feel his knees again, when his head feels like it’s back on his neck, body whole again – his weak fist twists the valve off.

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're too late for Bradley. It doesn't matter that you left your heart with him while you took some time for yourself, you need to move on like he did. But the truth is, he was ready for more weeks ago. 

Warnings: Swears, broken heart, drunk Bradley, angst, fluff (18+)

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley sat on his kitchen floor with the half empty bottle of cheap tequila Nat left at his house after they made margaritas for her birthday. It tasted disgusting, but he was already hungover, and it was the only thing he had left. You and he had opened that nice champagne that was stashed away in his refrigerator five weeks ago. The empty bottle was tucked away with his pots and pans, because for some reason he just couldn't get over you. 

He just tried calling you until his phone died. He tapped your contact name in his phone, right there at the top of the list, no fewer than sixty times before his screen went black. But it never even went to your voicemail, and he had no idea what to send you in a text. He didn't even know what he was planning on telling you if you answered his calls. He just couldn't believe you'd been here.

He fucked things up royally by sleeping with Shannon. "Fuck," he moaned before downing a few more gulps, silently judging Nat's taste in booze and wincing. You were gone. Again. You'd been on his porch for about seven minutes by his best estimation, and then you left again after dealing the critical blow to his useless heart. You loved him. 

He set the bottle down on the floor and stretched out on the cold tile with his palm resting on his face. His floors always felt a little chilly, even during the summer. He could picture you wearing his socks around his house along with his jersey. He could picture you in the hotel rooms, sitting on his lap with all of the buttons undone. 

Bradley rolled onto his side and started to cry. You were wearing that fucking thing today. You'd all but told him you had been wearing it around for weeks. He closed his eyes against his throbbing headache and his tears and the overhead light and pressed his cheek to the cold floor. 

You told him you loved him, and that hurt so fucking bad right now.

Hours later, Bradley woke up with his stomach churning, shivering on the kitchen tile. He sat up and his stomach lurched. A few seconds later, he was throwing up tequila into his toilet and praying this was all just a nightmare that he would wake up from. Shannon meant nothing to him, and he was an idiot for thinking she could help him move on from still being in love with you. He crawled over to the tub and turned the water to hot, hoping a shower would help him clear his head. 

As he stood under the scalding stream, he leaned against the wall with one hand. He still had the selfie you sent him from his shower when he was at work. He had all the photos you sent him saved on his phone. He was dying to look at them again, but his phone was dead. The hot water was making him feel better and worse at the same time as he scrubbed every inch of his skin. 

All he could remember was the way he felt so good when he was with you for those seven minutes earlier. If he knew how to reach you or where to find you, he'd do it in an instant. You told him you were writing for another media outlet, but he had no idea if you were still living in New York or not. All he knew was what you told him about going to Anaheim for an exclusive interview with the Ducks. 

"Oh, shit," Bradley gasped as he quickly rinsed his shampoo out of his hair. When he was with you in Anaheim last month, you told him that you always stayed at the same hotel. The one next to the ballpark. Maybe you stayed there when you were covering hockey, too. 

His heart was pounding faster and harder now. If there was a chance you could be there, he'd go up and try to find you. Perhaps you'd let him try to explain himself and hear him out when he told you he loved you. As he quickly climbed out of the shower, his head was still spinning. He grabbed onto the sink vanity and looked around. His house was a mess. He was a mess. His life felt like a disaster, but if there was even a small chance he could see you one more time, he was dead set on bringing you back here with him. 

He fought through the urge to be sick again as he cleaned his bathroom while his bedding was in the washing machine. He finally folded all the laundry he'd been dumping onto his chair. Then he forced himself to eat some crackers before scrubbing the kitchen and making his bed. And all the while, he let his phone charge. 

When he powered it back on, he tried calling you again, but you were still not answering him. He tried not to consider the idea that this time you really may have blocked his number. "Ace," he whispered, replaying everything you'd said to him this morning in his mind. You mentioned that article you wrote about the Detroit Red Wings, but it was posted earlier this week when he deleted the New York Times app from his phone. 

Bradley collapsed on his couch in his clean underwear right in front of the coffee table which was still covered in baseball cards, and he downloaded the app again. His stomach was feeling better, his head was clear, and when he found the article, he started to read. It took him a bit to get to the part that he now understood was meant for him, and when he did, he read it over and over again.

I love Detroit. This is my seventy-ninth time visiting this city and eating the delicious square shaped pizza in the eight years that I've been writing for the New York Times. I've seen every major city in the United States countless times, and I've traveled all over the world. And while the articles I've written will live on in this format forever, the time has come for me to move on. 

I'm leaving the Times, but I'll still be around, hopping from city to city. Just maybe with a little less frequency. I left my overworked heart in one particular town, and I'm hoping to get back there as soon as I finish my next piece. Ten days just wasn't enough. I'm going to need a lot more. I'm ready for more.

He'd been ready for more since he met you, and all he wanted right now was to find you and bring you back home with him. If you loved him this morning, Bradley was hoping like hell there was a chance you could still love him tomorrow.

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

The drive up to Anaheim was filled with tears as you replayed in your mind every embarrassing thing you'd told Bradley while you stood on his porch like an idiot. You poured your heart out to him while he had another woman inside. That bartender no less. He got back together with the bartender. 

This is what happens when you drag your feet and take too long to get your shit together; you lose out on the only man who seemed to really care about you. Bradley told you he was falling in love with you that last night in his bed with his arms wrapped securely around you. And you'd wriggled out of his grasp and called a cab while you cried so you didn't have to feel the pain of a proper goodbye when he dropped you off at the airport.

But you were paying for it now in spades. This was much, much worse. Your heart wasn't made for this kind of aching feeling. It was hard to breathe, and your eyes were stinging so badly as you parked at the hotel, you could barely see. It wasn't even check-in time yet, but you carried your luggage inside anyway. Luckily you'd been to this hotel so many times, they gave you a room that was ready and let you have the key early. You were just thankful it wasn't the same room you and Bradley had spent three evenings in together. 

Next time you stayed in Anaheim or San Diego for work, you'd have to find new hotels. As you let yourself into your room, the tears started up again. You wrenched Bradley's Padres jersey off and tossed it onto the floor along with your shoes, and then you curled up in bed. Your body shook as you sobbed and thought about the stupid golf ball that was in your suitcase. 

For some reason, you thought you could have it all. You took the time you needed to cut ties with Greg and the New York Times in favor of a job that would give you more flexibility with a boss who was mellow. You did that because of Bradley. He'd been right the whole time, about everything. But at the end of the day, you could have the job you never dreamed you deserved but not the man who you wanted to be with.

You napped for most of the day, and when you woke up, you felt somehow even worse. You couldn't stop thinking about the way Bradley had touched your cheek this morning as you took a hot shower. He was looking at you with longing in his eyes, you knew that much for sure. It must have just been a shock to his system to see you there. You should have called him back sooner. You should have done a lot of things sooner, but it was too late now.

An hour later you were sitting on the bed eating a pizza while you dabbed at your eyes with a napkin. You turned your phone off earlier when you stopped to get gas after Bradley kept calling you. The idea of turning it back on was almost too much. You didn't want to listen to him explain that he was sorry, but he'd moved on. You didn't want to read a bunch of texts from him either, but you had to turn your phone back on eventually. 

When you did, you swiped your notifications away without looking at them. And then you set an alarm for the morning so you'd have enough time to go out and get some coffee. There was no way you'd be able to sit in the same place you'd eaten the bad continental breakfast with Bradley. If you tried, you'd never make it through the interviews tomorrow. 

Eventually you fell asleep to thoughts of Bradley's voice and his big body curled up behind yours. In your dreams, you hadn't missed your opportunity with him. In your dreams, you never left him in the first place.

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

Your alarm woke you up, and you got ready for the day. Your agenda was simple enough. Coffee. Hockey interviews. Then getting the fuck out of California. There would be no loose ends here now. No reason to keep your return date open ended. You could book your flight back to JFK for tomorrow morning. Maybe even a red eye tonight.  

And maybe it wasn't too late to extend your lease in Manhattan after all. The east coast suited you. California was probably an overrated place for you to put down some roots. It was all just a dream anyway, and you'd woken up from it yesterday on Bradley's porch. 

As you rode the elevator down to the lobby, you started slipping and thinking about his rough hands on your face. That was enough motivation for you to book your flight right now. You could fly out of Los Angeles tonight at 10:15 and land in New York as the sun was coming up. You were about to purchase the ticket as you walked through the hotel lobby when you heard his voice. 

"Ace."

Your steps slowed to a halt as you squeezed your eyes closed. He was here. You shivered at the deep raspy sound of the nickname he'd given you, and when you turned to your right, you saw him. He was actually here.

"Ace," he said again, softer this time as he took a tentative step closer to you. He looked tired, but his brown eyes were sincere as you really took him in. He was wearing a Toronto Blue Jays shirt along with his snug jeans. You'd missed him so much. Tears stung your eyes as you thought about how you had just wanted to get yourself sorted out before letting him know you were ready for him.

You sobbed softly as Bradley closed the distance to you, both of his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. He looked like he was in agony as he tilted your face up, and you could see tears in his eyes, too. "I'm sorry, Ace," he whispered. "I never want to hurt you."

You tried to shake your head, but he didn't let go of you. Instead he wiped your tears away with his thumbs as your lips quivered. "No, Bradley. I'm sorry," you replied as you cried. "I'm sorry I just barged in on you without any notice yesterday. And I'm sorry it took me too long to figure my shit out. I'm just really sorry I'm too late."

Even when you squeezed your eyes closed, tears were leaking down your cheeks. You should have been embarrassed as Bradley kissed your forehead, but you melted into him instead. "Ace, you're not too late. You could never be too late."

You gave yourself three more seconds of the comfort of his body against yours, and then you took a step away from him and wiped your eyes with the backs of your hands. "I should have never come to your house like that."

"I told you to," he replied immediately. "I reminded you that you knew where to find me. I wanted you to come back to me, but I thought you didn't want anything to do with me. Ace, it's been over a month, and I hadn't heard a word from you."

You nodded. "It's my fault. You moved on, and that's okay. I'll get over it." You started to turn away, not sure exactly where you should go, and then his hand was reaching for yours. 

"I don't want you to get over it. I don't want you to get over me." His voice was pleading, but you couldn't even meet his eyes now as he held onto your hand. "I can't believe I fucked this up," he muttered looking at you with the saddest eyes.

"You didn't," you whispered. "I did. That girl you're with.... she's the one who works at the bar. I'm happy for you. She's the one you should be with. She'll be easier for you to date."

"What?" he asked, sounding confused as you pulled your hand away from his. You needed to get out of this hotel right now. You needed to be literally anywhere else as your tears started to overflow again. "Ace, there's only you."

When you headed for the exit, he was in front of you, reaching for you. "I need to go. I just... really need to go," you repeated, trying to get away from him, but you ended up in his arms as you cried. 

"Baby, I'm not dating anybody. How could I? Not after you," he whispered as he held you snug against his body.

"You're not?" you whispered, wiping your face on his shirt.

"No." He kissed the top of your head. "Of course not. I've been a fucking mess without you. The last five weeks have been miserable for me since you left. I convinced myself I'd never get to see you again," he said, his voice breaking on the words. "And on Friday night, I got drunk and told myself that getting her to come home with me would take some of the pain away." 

You held onto his shirt and forced your gaze up to meet his. "Did it work?"

He shook his head as he held eye contact with you. "No. And I'm an idiot for even thinking anyone else could come close to you. You're the Ace."

You licked your lips as Bradley took your hands tentatively in his and guided them around his neck. "So you're not dating her?"

"No. She and I are nothing."

"And you don't want to date her?"

"Absolutely not. I want to date you."

You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your face along with more tears. "Are you sure? Because it's still going to be hard, even though I switched employers, and I don't know if-"

But then he was kissing you, those strong arms holding you in place as you tipped your head back. You had missed this so much, the steady feel of his body and the prickle of his mustache. He kissed you like he was afraid you were still going to leave.

He didn't let go of you as he begged, "Tell me you meant what you said about me in your Red Wings article. Tell me you still love me."

You smiled and pulled him closer so his lips met yours again. "I meant every word. I left my heart with you, because I knew I needed to change some things before I could have you." Your lips brushed his as you promised, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Ace," he replied right away, letting his forehead rest on yours. He was finally smiling now as he said, "Let me take you home. You should stay there with me. We can ship your stuff out, but you should stay."

He kissed the tears on your cheeks and then your lips until you were both smiling. "I have to interview these hockey players first. Feel like coming on another exclusive with me? Being my assistant again?"

His mustache brushed along your cheek, and he whispered your name. "Yes, but after that, you're coming back to help me organize my baseball cards after you change into a pair of my socks. And you're staying forever. It's non negotiable."

"It's non negotiable," you agreed.

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

Twelve weeks later...

You dragged your suitcase out to the living room where Bradley was just putting the finishing touches on the new bookcase you and he got to hold all of your important things. He had lined up some of his dad's baseball cards that he got certified next to your growing collection of sports biographies. You actually had time to read now that you weren't writing on the road nearly every day. 

"Don't forget about this," you said, and he turned just in time to catch the blue golf ball you tossed at him.

His brow furrowed. "You're not taking it with you to Tampa?"

"No," you replied casually. "I don't really need it since you're joining me in a few days."

He set it down on the shelf next to the empty champagne bottle before stepping around the world's laziest dog and heading your way. "Okay, so I fly in on Friday night after Nat drops me at the airport here. Then you'll pick me up from the Tampa airport in your rental car. We'll make love in the hotel room, and then on Saturday we get to watch the Blue Jays play together."

Your boyfriend looked so excited, you ran your fingers back through his hair and kissed him softly. "We get to watch the Blue Jays together. Even though it's just a spring training game."

"It's a warmup for when we go to Toronto this summer," he reminded you. "And honestly, I'm just excited to get to do this with you." 

He was wearing his Blue Jays shirt again, the one he told you he bought in a moment of weakness when he was missing you in November. He looked so good in it, you really didn't want to leave right now. But you had to. Velocity Report had been more than generous with their flexibility, and they let you hand pick most of your assignments. You'd chosen major league baseball spring training so Bradley could tag along with you.

"Can't wait until my best intern joins me in Florida."

"Shit. I guess I really am your dog walker now," he mumbled, leaning in to try to kiss you as you laughed. 

You made out with him until his hands were up inside the Padres jersey you were wearing with your leggings. "I love you. I'll see you on Friday."

"I love you too, Baby. Friday night, you're all mine," he rasped as you walked toward the door. 

"Oh, before I forget, you should check my new bio on the Velocity website. Abigail just uploaded it." You watched Bradley scrolling on his phone as you left the living room behind with a smile and headed out on your next assignment

....Known as 'Ace' to her friends and family, she's likely to be trying out all of the local foods when she's working. But when she's not globetrotting to bring you the best sports stories and interviews around, she can be found in San Diego where she lives with her boyfriend and their extremely lazy dog, Blue Jay.

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

Thanks for reading about Bradley and Ace! I love the comfort and care they so obviously give each other, and I think they belong together. Put down some roots in Cali, Ace. Thanks Kevin Costner from 1999. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 25

summary: Javier is taking you on a trip to Miami to meet the Murphys, and baby fever hits hard when you see each other interacting with their small children. 

rating: E (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, chair sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, anal play (f receiving), kinda double penetration, masturbation (m), sneaking around (you don’t want the Murphys to hear you), baby fever, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spanking, (1) Papí, spit as lube, traveling, Javier being really cute with children, Javier losing his mind at seeing you with children, Steve giving Javier so much shit, Steve trying to keep you from fucking in the guest room and you two doing it anyway, grumpy Javier, feelings of insecurity/body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), pregnancy discussion/talks of the future)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.2k+

a/n: Happy Halloween! This is my treat to you for Halloween and the end of Kinktober. I hope you enjoy! This Miami arc is either going to be two or three chapters long. Thank you to the lovely @senorabond for betaing! And also, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish makes sense! 

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

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Javier’s cell phone only rang for four reasons: his dad was calling, you were calling, it was one of the Murphys; Steve for their regularly scheduled Thursday chat, or Olivia wanting to talk to her tío and sometimes needing help with her Spanish homework. Last, and the phone calls he always ignored outside of business hours, were from his office. 

The first time your boyfriend took a call while he was with you, you’d barely been dating a week. 

While the two of you were cuddling on the couch on a Monday, watching some movie you couldn't even remember the name of because your brain at the time was focusing on getting naked instead of actually watching it, his phone on the coffee table in front of you started ringing. He apologized when he picked it up to check the caller ID and apologized again when he told you he had to answer it since it was his niece and got up from the couch. 

It should’ve been an endearing moment, but your confusion had overshadowed it because you knew he had no siblings. You could admit it was pretty cute overhearing him in the kitchen talking to her in the sweetest voice he clearly saved for children, asking about how her summer was going. 

After he hung up and returned to you, he’d explained: she was his best friend, Steve’s daughter, and he was her godfather, a role he took very seriously by being the best uncle to her and her younger brothers. 

That was many months ago, and with today being Friday and Javi’s phone ringing on his bedside table in your shared bedroom, you had a feeling it was Olivia since he talked to his dad on his way home—the problem, though: your boyfriend was in the shower. 

This seemed like an order-in kind of night, with it being the end of the week and you both wanting to relax. You’d just set the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table when you heard his phone going off. In less than thirty seconds, you had it in hand, the caller ID reading ‘Murphys,’ which was their landline, and confirmed your suspicion. Stepping inside the bathroom, the sounds of water roaring and splashing in the shower stall and the overhead fan humming greeted you; the large mirror over the sink was fogged up, steam permeating the air. 

“Babe?” you said loud enough for him to hear. 

The frosted glass door rolled open enough for Javi to stick out his head, his hair lathered in shampoo. 

“Yeah?” 

“Olivia’s calling.” You held up the ringing phone. 

“Can you answer it and tell her I’ll call her back later?”

Now, Steve and his family were well aware of who you were, and you knew all about them, but you’ve never spoken to any of them. So this request had a nervous flutter erupting in your belly. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “I can do that.” 

A swoon-worthy smile appeared on his face. “Thanks, mi amor (my love).” 

Immediately, you clicked the answer button, putting the phone up to your ear as you said, “Javi’s phone,” before making your way back into the bedroom and shutting the bathroom door behind you. 

“You’re not Javi…” said a deep male voice that had your eyes going wide. 

“You’re not Olivia…” 

There was amusement in his tone, not expecting the smooth southern drawl. “No, I’m not. I’m her father, Steve Murphy, and you must be the woman my best friend is madly in love with.” 

With a smile, you replied, “That’s me,” and introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—well, talk to you, at least. I gotta say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Javi this happy in all the time I’ve known him. You’ve been real good for him, and I’m glad he finally found someone who can put up with his grumpy ass.” 

Warmth spread through your chest, his last comment making you giggle. 

“You wanna know a secret?” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” 

“When he’s with me, he’s not grumpy. He smiles a lot and laughs. He’s really adorable, to be honest.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him adorable, but he’s like that with my kids, too.”

“Oh, Javi with kids is my kryptonite—he’s so good with them.”

“Let me tell you, when I came home to Miami after getting Escobar, he stayed with us for a while, and it shocked me how good he was with Olivia.” That didn’t surprise you. He’d grown up with practically all his cousins being younger than him, and he has a lot of them. “I don’t know if he told you, but not too long after he quit the DEA, he lived with us for a bit ‘cause he was having a hard time being in Laredo—from what I understand, there are some people there who aren’t too kind to him.”

“That’s an understatement, but yes.” 

Javi staying in Miami for a time was something you were aware of. 

Being back in Laredo had been hard for him, like Steve said, and he was known to run from his problems, so he went and lived with the Murphys for almost a year in their guest room. Then, one day, his dad called and told him not to worry, but doctors were running some tests after finding a mass on his liver that could possibly be cancerous. Javier’s mother, Antonia, died from breast cancer that wasn’t caught in time, so when he got off the phone, he packed his bags and was on the first flight home. 

It was the kick in his ass he needed to realize his dad was all he had left and was worth braving his hometown. Chucho’s mass was benign, and Javi annoyed the fuck out of him his first month back by being a mother hen and fussing over him nonstop.

“Well,” Steve continued, “he came and lived with us and was a huge help with Olivia and Stevie. He was a natural with them—they love Javi more than their actual uncles.”

A grin was on your face, loving to hear that he’d done so well helping them with their children. “And he loves them like they’re his biological niece and nephews.”

“He really does.” There was fondness in his tone. “You know, when we were in Colombia, all the guys we worked with thought he was a giant asshole since he didn’t put up with their shit—I was his partner, and I thought he was a giant asshole, but all the women in the office seemed to love him because he was sweet to them. Your man only lightens up for women and children ‘cause I sure as hell did not have a partner who smiled and laughed a lot. Like, I’m looking at this holiday card y’all sent, and I barely recognize him with that big ‘ol grin.”

The holiday cards had been your idea. 

Chucho did the photo shoot, and the picture you both chose had Javi and you in matching outfits of red sweaters and jeans, with him holding you from behind as you both smiled at the camera. Daphne and Velma, the seven-month-old calves you lovingly called your bovine children, were on either side of you wearing fake antlers, all of you in front of the red wooden barn, the bottom of the card reading, ‘Happy holidays from us to you,’ typed in a fancy script. 

It was very cute. 

It delighted you people were finally getting them, now wondering when you’d get that disapproving call from your mother. You knew it was looming on the horizon when your parents finally got theirs. 

“It’s nice, though, right?” You chewed on your lip. 

“Oh, it’s more than nice—it’s fuckin’ great! That man has been to hell and back, and it’s about damn time he finally gets to be happy and relax for once. Which reminds me why I called—were you guys able to get that time off next week?”

The two of you hoped to go to Miami the following week; there were just some issues with you getting days off. 

“Yes! Javi was going to call you tonight. We can do Thursday through Saturday, but we need to be home Sunday for his birthday because we’re celebrating with his dad.”

“That’s fine! We’re just happy you can come! Excuse me, ma’am, Connie just came in the room and has a question for me,” It sounded like Steve covered the phone, hearing his muffled voice say, “Yes, baby, they’re coming… Thursday through Saturday, they need to be home for Javi’s birthday Sunday… It’s not Javi, it’s his girlfriend… She’s great… You know Javi, he doesn’t want a fuc-flipping birthday party… Fine, I’ll ask her.” Now you could hear him clearly. “My apologies, ma’am. My wife wants to know if you’d like us to throw Javi a birthday party?”

“Oh, you guys are already letting us stay with you. I couldn’t ask you to throw a party.”

“Okay.” He spoke to his wife. “She says that’d be too much since they’re staying with us.”

Noise sounded over the line like the phone was being passed, followed by a woman’s voice now speaking, “Hi, is this Javi’s girlfriend?” 

“Yes,” you replied, giving her your name. “Is this Connie?” A baby was babbling in the background, and you thought she might be holding their youngest child. 

“It is! It’s so nice to meet you! I can’t wait for you to visit next week.” 

“I can’t wait either! I’ve heard so much about all of you, and I’m excited.” 

“We’re just as excited! Now, it’d be no problem throwing Javi a little party, and the kids would love to celebrate with him. I mean, they love any excuse to eat cake.” 

Giggling, you replied, “Well, we can’t deny the kids cake. If you insist, I’m sure Javi would be touched by the gesture.”

“Great! We’re going to have such a wonderful time. Javi’s told us how much you love the beach, so we’ll have to spend a day there, and I need to go grocery shopping. Is there anything you want to eat while here?” 

You were hoping to go to the beach, and happy she mentioned it. 

“I can’t think of anything. I’m not picky.”

“If you think of something, just give me a call. We want you to have a great trip.” 

“I know it’s going to be amazing,” you said truthfully. 

“I hope so! Okay, Steve wants the phone back. Nice to meet you, bye!” 

“Nice meeting you, too!”

“It’s me again.” Steve was back on. “Are you guys going to need a ride from the airport?” 

The bathroom door opened, and you looked over your shoulder to see Javi coming out in just a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair blow-dried and styled. 

“I don’t know…?” you distractedly answered. With you going on the trip soon, you had been refraining from sucking marks into his skin to avoid any awkward conversations with the Murphy kids. Still, there were fading hickies your eyes took in as they moved down his torso to the tantalizing trail of hair that disappeared beneath the cotton. 

With the fan on in the bathroom, he could hear Cielito on the phone; however, he was unable to make out anything she was saying, thinking she might be talking to Robyn or one of his family members. He walked into the room, and she looked over her shoulder at him, his chest puffing out a little at how she was checking him out. 

“Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Steve,” she answered just as quietly. 

That had him taken aback since he was pretty sure his best friend and wif-girlfriend had never spoken before. Was it Steve who called and not Olivia? Has she been on the phone with him this entire time? 

What were they talking about?

“What does he want?” Javier asked. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she said to the other man. “Javi’s here, so give me a sec.” She turned in place to face him, covering the speaker. “He called to find out if we could visit next week—which I told him yes, but he just asked if we’ll need a ride from the airport, and I don’t know the answer.” 

Immediately, he held out his hand. 

She uncovered the phone, talking to his friend again, “Steve, Javi wants to talk to you.” A big smile was on her face. “It was nice talking to you, too… Oh goodness, that’s so sweet… He makes me happy, too. Like super happy.” She shielded her mouth so Javier couldn’t see it, her eyes locked on his, while she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s an amazing boyfriend and so goddamn dreamy. Literally, the best partner I’ve ever had, and I cannot wait to marry him, so he’s mine forever.” What she said made him smile, and his heart skip a beat. Steve must’ve said something funny because she laughed. “Bye, Steve.” She passed the phone to him. 

“Hey,” Javier said, with the cell phone pressed to his ear. 

“Hey, Jav. Your girlfriend’s great, and we can’t wait to meet her.” 

After his last relationship with Lorraine, and how he missed the red flags and ignored his mother’s warnings about her, having his family love the woman standing in front of him, and now Steve also liking her, it reassured him he was making the right choice for who he was going to marry—not that he had any doubts. Javier knew for a fact she was the one he was spending the rest of his life with. It just made him feel great that others could see how amazing she was. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking incredible.” 

“You’ve got it so bad for her.” Steve chuckled. “I got your holiday card, and I couldn’t believe my fucking eyes—the way you’re smiling, the matching outfits, and the dressed-up cows—” 

“Daphne and Velma,” Javier interrupted. 

The girls behaved well for the photoshoot—with the help of many treats and pets. He loved how the card turned out and was beyond happy Cielito even wanted to do something like that with him. It made him think of the future and the cards featuring the additions of tiny Peñas and seeing their family grow with each holiday season—showing their friends and relatives how their family had grown. Not that he loved the idea of rubbing their happiness in her parents’ faces or anything…

“These are your—what do you call them? Your bovine children?” He’d mentioned the calves on previous calls. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “The red one is Daphne, and the other is Velma.” 

“Okay, I’ll admit they’re pretty cute.” 

“They are. So anyway, we don’t need you to pick us up,” he said, getting back on topic. “I’m gonna rent a car like I always do.” 

“Sounds good.” 

He turned away from his future fiancée as he spoke a little quieter, “Did you say anything embarrassing about me?” 

His question made his best friend laugh, and he frowned. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Javi. We talked about how great you are with my kids and that you’re only nice to women and children.” 

That didn’t sound too bad. 

He whispered, “How’d she react about me being great with the kids?” 

Steve laughed again. “Positively. A direct quote is, ‘Javi with kids is my kryptonite.’”

Javier smiled. “Good. Tell mis sobrinos (my niece and nephews) I need them to be extra cute when we visit.”

“Will do. Speaking of the kids, Connie needs my help, so I gotta go.” 

“Give them all my love, and I’ll see you next week.” 

“I will. Bye, you asshole.”

“Adiós, pendejo (Goodbye, asshole).” He clicked the end call button, walking over to set the phone back on his bedside table. 

“You’re a dork,” she said. 

Turning toward her, amusement was clear on her face. 

“Why am I a dork?” he asked, taking a few steps to stand in front of her.

“Asking my reaction to how good you are with his kids.” 

His hands went up to cradle her face. “He said I was great with his kids.” 

“Yeah, he did, and he said you were a natural with them.” Her eyes had darkened, her fingers dipping into the top of the towel at his waist as she bit her bottom lip—she was turned on, and it made him smirk, his cock beginning to harden. 

“You like that?” he asked, leaning forward until his mouth was a hair's breadth away from hers, her eyes closing. “You like that if I got you pregnant, I’d be great with our baby?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. 

This was the moment his brain decided to remind him he needed to book everything for their trip right away.

His eyes squeezed shut, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I’m sorry, Cielito,” he sounded pained. “We can’t fool around right now. I’ve got shit I need to do.” 

“But we were about to have really kinky sex,” she groaned.

“I’ll make it up to you after I get all our stuff booked and we eat dinner.” He sweetly kissed her. “Anything you want,” he said when he broke away, looking her in the eyes. “Anything.”

“Okay. That’s acceptable. I both love and hate that you’re a responsible adult.” She pouted. “Use my credit card and book us in business class since it’s two seats in a row. That way, we won’t have to worry about anyone sitting with us.” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t want anyone sitting with us either and planned on booking business—maybe first, depending on the price.” 

“Meh, stick with business.” 

“Okay. Window or aisle?” 

“Window.” 

“Good, ‘cause I like the aisle.”

That made her grin. “It’s like we’re meant to be or something. Next, you’re gonna tell me I can have your peanuts.”

“Oh, yeah, I never eat them. I usually just have a drink.” 

Whiskey on the rocks. 

“We’re soulmates.” 

“We are.” He agreed with a nod. 

“Ugh.” She stepped away from him, and his mouth turned down, his hands falling. “You’re basically naked, and I want to jump your bones. Put on some clothes, you saucy temptress.” Her head turned, shielding her eyes with her hand. 

“Saucy temptress?” he chuckled, walking so close as he passed her their arms brushed, heading toward his dresser. 

“You heard me—seducing me with your manly wiles and, god, your rockin’ bod. Okay, I’m going to the living room because you are so close to getting your dick sucked.” He opened a drawer, pulling out his sweatpants. “You know,” she said, still standing in the same spot but shuffling to face him. “You’re gonna be on the phone, right?” The towel dropped to the floor as he pulled on the pants. 

“Yeah,” he answered. 

“So, I mean, while you’re talking, theoretically, I could suck your dick while you’re doing it.” 

He sucked in a breath, his half-hard cock twitching at the thought. 

“You’re the saucy temptress,” he rasped, bending down with a groan to grab his towel and moving to toss it in the nearby dirty clothes hamper. “No, mi amor (my love), that’s how I end up accidentally booking us on a flight to fucking Australia or some shit.” 

“You’re no fun.” She was pouting again, looking adorable. 

“But I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

The Laredo Airport wasn’t very big. 

Built by the U.S. Government during World War II, it was used by the United States Air Force, then during the Cold War, it was a pilot training base. With the defense cutbacks after the Vietnam War, the military presence ended by the tail end of 1973, with commercial air service not arriving until the summer of 1975. 

The commercial air service? It would take you to exotic destinations, like Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston-Intercontinental. Basically, you flew from Laredo’s tiny airport to one of the larger Texan airports and, from there, headed to your desired location. 

This is how you ended up on a flight from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport at 8:45 AM on a Thursday morning in December. 

The trip would only be three days long, so you both packed carry-ons that Javi insisted he carry, or roll, for your suitcase; he brought a leather duffle bag for himself. He safely stored the luggage in the overhead compartment, and you had seated yourself by the window and buckled in, your boyfriend beside you in the only other seat in your row.

For a comfortable flight, you wore leggings, an oversized T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Javier? The man refused to look anything but his best out in public, so he was in his usual tight-ass jeans, a white button-up with a blue patterned design, and his black leather jacket—to go to Miami, where the weather was hot and, from what you were told, humid. 

The things he did in the name of being the sexiest man alive. 

Your leg was bouncing, your shoulders tense, chewing on your thumb. 

Warm fingers laced with those of your free hand, Javi gently squeezing it. 

“You a nervous flyer?” he whispered. 

Turning your head toward him, you answered, “Little bit. It’s mostly take-off and landing. Once we’re in the air, I’m fine.”

“Yeah? How can I help?”

“I don’t know. Talk to me? Are you a nervous flyer?” 

A little smile was on his lips, barely shaking his head. “No. I’m used to it with all the traveling I did for work. I will say I prefer planes over helicopters, though.” 

The last of the passengers were boarding, but you aren’t paying any of them mind, in your little bubble with Javi. 

“Did you fly in helicopters a lot?” 

“Thankfully, no. We used them mostly when we needed to go out into the jungle, which I always fucking hated.” 

“The helicopter ride or the jungle?” 

“Both. It’s hot in there, and the animals. I, uh, don’t like snakes…” 

His answer made you smile as you replied, “That’s very Indiana Jones of you.” A thought came to you. “Oh! Would you wear a fedora if I got you one?”

His eyes squinted. “No...” 

The pilot came over the speaker. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight AA319 with service from Dallas/Fort Worth to Miami. We are currently second in line for take-off and should be in the air in approximately ten minutes. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for flying American Airlines. We hope you enjoy your flight.”

You frowned at Javi, going back to your conversation. “But you’ve got the leather jacket—” You patted it over his pec. “—and the button up, that we can sluttily unbutton to show some skin, and we’ll get you a pair of khaki pants.” 

His eyes remained narrowed. “Why do you always want me to dress up as characters played by that guy—what’s his name? Harry Ford?” 

“Harrison Ford, and it’s not my fault he’s played some iconic characters that you’d look hot dressed up as—don’t lie to me and say you wouldn’t enjoy dressing up as Han Solo. You think he’s the coolest guy.” 

He was frowning now. “Han’s okay, but Boba Fett’s cooler.” He shrugged.

Your eyebrow rose. “Do you want me to get you some Boba Fett armor so you can pretend to be a space bounty hunter, and we can make it horny and have you hunt me down?” 

The wheels were turning in his head, and he seemed to be thinking it over, which made you giggle. 

“It’d be too uncomfortable,” he finally answered. “And I wouldn’t be able to see shit in the helmet. If I’m gonna dress up as a Star Wars character, I’ll stick with Han.” 

“Smart man.”

Javi kept talking to you about nothing important to keep you distracted as the plane started moving, only pausing when the flight attendants went over the safety briefing. 

What you didn’t expect was right before take-off, he kissed you, and not a chaste kiss but a toe-curling, forgot-how-to-think, skin-heating, breath-stealing, tongue-tangling kiss that had you so caught up in him, you didn’t even notice the plane had left the ground, or rose thousands of feet into the sky. 

When you finally broke away for air, you felt dazed; your eyes had closed, panting breaths and smiling. Arousal swirled in your belly and dripped into your panties, feeling the cotton dampened and sticking to your skin. 

“Still feeling nervous?” he asked, kissing your chin. 

“God, no.” You replied breathily. “Feeling horny.” 

A ding sounded, the light showing ‘seat belts needed to be fastened’ turning off, a flight attendant announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin.” 

“Javi?” Your eyes opened. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

Leaning close to press your lips to his ear, you quietly asked, “Have you ever joined the mile-high club?” 

He audibly gulped. “No.”

“Would you like to?” His jacket was unzipped, and you walked your fingers over the skin on his chest, revealed by the top few buttons being undone, his aviators hanging in the dip. 

“Hold on.” Suddenly, his seatbelt was clicking open, and he was rising, keeping his head ducked until he was in the aisle, hastening toward the front of the plane. Watching curiously, he opened a lavatory door and went inside, coming out a minute later, a grumpy look on his perfect face as he made his way back to you and sat down beside you with a grunt. 

“It’s too fucking small,” he said, turning his torso to face you. “And I think we’d get caught if we tried.” He looked so disappointed, and the news made you sigh. 

“It’s good one of us is a responsible adult making the right decisions.” 

Leaning closer, he whispered, “I can get a blanket from the flight attendant and finger you under it if you really want to get off while we’re flying.” 

The idea caused your cunt to clench hard around nothing. 

“That sounds so good, but I’d want us both to get off. Guess we’re just gonna have to fuck when we go to bed tonight, and you’ll have to keep me quiet.” Your hand rubbed along his thigh, his eyes darkening. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he rasped. 

“I love you, too.” 

“Steve would hate us fucking in the guest room.” 

“That just makes you want to do it more, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He smirked. 

“You’re such an asshole to him,” you giggled. 

“He deserves it,” he replied, closing what little distance was between you to kiss your lips. 

The flight was barely three hours long, which you spent reading the small book stashed in your purse, your boyfriend beside you with his reading glasses on, his big hand holding his own book you’d kept for him. 

When the flight attendant came down the aisle with the drink cart and snacks, Javi got a whiskey, while you got ginger ale and both bags of peanuts. 

The books were put away when it was time to land, and he held your hand tight while the other caressed your face as he distracted you with another mind-blowing kiss—you’d never enjoyed taking off and landing so much. 

Off the plane, Javi had the bags—carrying his duffle by the handles and rolling your luggage through the airport to the rental car agency. You took his bag when you got to the counter so he could fish his wallet out of his back pocket, passing the employee his driver’s license with you standing beside him.

The dark-haired man on the other side was smiling as he read the card and started inputting the information into a computer, his name tag reading Martin and beneath it, ‘Hablo Español.’

“Welcome to Miami, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Martin said, his words heavily accented. Your eyes rounded, Javi’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “I hope you had a pleasant trip!” 

“It wasn’t too bad,” your future husband replied. “Right, Mrs. Peña?” He was smirking when he turned his head toward you, looking beyond delighted. 

“Right, Mr. Peña,” you answered with a smile, getting closer to him by hooking your arm around his middle, resting your head against his chest. “The flight was pretty great.” 

“Awe,” Martin replied. “Newlyweds, no? Here on your honeymoon?” He glanced up from what he was doing. 

“Something like that,” Javi responded, kissing your hair. 

The conversation transitioned to business, with your boyfriend having to sign a lot of paperwork before he handed you a small stapled stack and the employee directed you where to go to get the car, which involved getting on a shuttle bus. 

The sun was shining down from the clear blue sky, the temperature hot and humid, Javi having to take off his leather jacket. You were more than happy to carry it along with the papers for the car while he took care of lugging around the bags when they dropped you off at the car lot. A stop had to be made in a small, blissfully air-conditioned building to get the keys and have someone take you to where the vehicle was parked. You would think for such a short trip and the small amount of stuff you had, he would’ve rented a full-size sedan at most—nope, Javi rented an SUV, a brand new forest green ‘98 Ford Explorer, to be exact. 

His aviators were on, leaving you with the bags on the ground at your feet. At the same time, he meticulously inspected the SUV’s exterior for any scratches or dings that needed to be reported so they weren’t blamed on you, rubbing his thumb over some spots. 

Sometimes—well, a lot of the time when you were out in public—he had an intimidating aura about him, ‘just don’t fuck with me’ vibes wafting off of him with the grumpy expression on his face and how confidently he moved about. It came in handy when you were in crowded places because people stayed out of his way and didn’t bother you—instead of scary dog privilege, you had scary boyfriend privilege. An issue with scary boyfriend privilege: he was making the rental car agency worker extremely nervous, the poor man holding his clipboard and sweating profusely, which you didn’t think had anything to do with the weather. 

He was standing by you as Javi did his thing, shorter than your boyfriend with light skin, brown hair, and if you squinted, he kind of looked like Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle—same hairstyle, same forehead. 

“He’s a teddy bear,” you whispered to the employee. 

There was confusion on his face when he looked at you. “What?” he asked. 

“Javi—” You nodded in the direction of the man, who was crouched at the passenger side door and using his thumb to see if a mark was dirt or a scratch. “—he’s a teddy bear. It’s just how his resting face looks. Watch this.” You called out to Javi, “Find anything, baby?” 

“No,” he answered, grunting as he rose to stand. His hands were on his hips as he gave the side of the vehicle another look over. 

“I love you,” you told him. 

His head turned in your direction, giving you a beaming smile. “I love you, too, mi amor (my love).” 

He looked back at the SUV, and you said quietly out of the corner of your mouth, “See.” 

“I didn’t notice anything,” Javi told the employee, heading your way and wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“That’s great, sir,” the worker replied. “I just need you to sign here.” He pointed at a place on the paper clipped to his clipboard with the pen he showed your boyfriend. Javi was quickly signing and taking the offered keys. 

“Thank you,” your boyfriend said, shaking the other man’s hand. 

“No problem. If you have any issues, just give us a call.” 

“Sounds good.” 

The employee went away. 

The vehicle was already unlocked, so Javi walked over to the front passenger-side door. “Let me get your door, Mrs. Peña,” he said as he opened it. 

It made you giggle, moving his way with his jacket and the paperwork still held in your arms and hand, avoiding the bags on the ground. “That really made your day, didn’t it?” you asked, leaning in to kiss him when you were in front of him. 

“Yes, Mrs. Peña,” he murmured against your lips, feeling him smile. One of his hands was on the top of the door with the keys tucked in his palm, his other grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“You’re adorable, Mr. Peña.” Breaking away, you continued, “Give me the keys so I can get the AC going.” There was a grin under his perfectly trimmed mustache as he dangled the keys in front of your face, and you maneuvered the stuff in your arms to free up a hand to grab them—he pulled them away before the tips of your fingers even touched the metal. 

You glared at him when he said, “Ask nicely for them this time.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

Inhaling deeply, you let the air leave your nose in a huff. “My love, may I please have the keys so I can get the AC going?”

“Of course, baby.” He handed them to you. “I’ll take care of the bags.” Leaning in, his lips met your cheek in a loud smacking kiss, slapping your ass before he walked away.

Miami had become a home away from home for Javier. It was a place where he could relax and be surrounded by the Murphys, whom he considered family even though they didn’t share blood. 

Colombia never felt like home. 

He knew he wasn’t welcome down there, finding his sparse apartments cold and lifeless, the only personal touch he made in the later years being the ofrenda for his late mother. There was no relaxing in South America when each morning he woke up could’ve been his last. Sure, he had Steve and Connie for a lot of it, but they were just as stressed as he was, and more so when Olivia came about, to the point Connie just up and left, back to the States. 

Colombia was never home, and at the time he was sent back to Texas after his fuck up with Los Pepes, Laredo didn’t feel like home either. 

He hadn’t known where he belonged when a good portion of the people in the town where he was born and raised still judged him for something he’d done over a decade earlier, a handful even hostile toward him. 

After Steve finished their work and got Pablo Escobar, he returned to Florida to his wife and kid. They invited Javier to visit and stay in their guest room for however long he needed, and he had. They wouldn’t take any money he tried to offer them, but they accepted his help around the house and caring for Olivia, who was five by then.  

Then he was called back to South America, and upon returning to the U.S. after that stint, he stayed with his dad for a month before he was in Miami again, that time for about a year, where he helped out with their barely ten-month-old, Stevie, and seven-year-old Olivia.

After going back to Laredo to be with his dad, he’d take occasional weekend trips like he and Cielito were doing now to stay with the family. Those trips became less frequent when they adopted Nate—he felt it was important they all had time to bond with their new addition without him being in the way. 

He spent so much time in this Florida city, he knew his way around pretty well, like how it was faster to take 874 South instead of Ronald Reagan Turnpike, and as a bonus, they’d avoid tolls. 

The air conditioning was cranked high, whooshing loudly while a Spanish station played loud enough to hear. He had one hand gripping the steering wheel, the fingers of his other laced with those of the woman he was going to marry, resting on her thigh. 

She was looking out at the scenery in interest as they drove. 

“Why’d you get this car?” she asked, staring out her window. 

“So we’d have room for the little passengers.” Bringing her hand up, he kissed the back of it. 

She looked at him. “The kids are gonna want to ride with us?” 

He glanced at her, resting their hands back on her leg, smiling. “Oh, yeah. At least Olivia and Stevie—Nate’s too young to care. Doing the whole car seat thing in a smaller car fucking sucks.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is we will be getting something like this when the baby-making starts and my car will have to go?” 

Her car was a tiny two-door Honda, and just thinking about getting a car seat in it was making his back hurt, her question also causing his chest to go tight from happiness.

His eyes were back on the road. “Sorry, baby.” He squeezed her hand. “I know you love your car. I was thinking something bigger than this.” 

“True,” she replied. “We gotta have room for all those babies you’re gonna knock me up with.” 

A shock of arousal shot through his belly. 

He had to clear his throat, his voice a little deeper. “Yeah…” 

“I can’t believe that innocent comment turned you on,” she laughed, and he frowned. 

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, having to wiggle a tiny bit in his seat with how blood had rushed to his dick. 

Immediately, she stopped but still sounded amused. “I’m sorry, babe. I know it excites you a lot.” 

“Excites you a lot, too.” 

“Yes, it does. So, let’s talk about something safe. How long before we’re there?” 

“About fifteen minutes.” 

“That’s not too bad.” 

She questioned him about what they lived close to, and he answered they were near a zoo, some parks, and the ocean was a ten-minute drive.

The Murphys lived in a one-story ranch-style house with an A-shaped gable roof extending over the front porch. The stucco on the outside was painted a golden yellow with crimson trim, and the window panes were outlined in bright white. 

In the driveway, Connie’s minivan and Steve’s little truck were parked. Javi pulled in behind his best friend’s rig, and not even thirty seconds later the front door was opening, hearing muffled, high-pitched squeals. 

“Hey,” he said to Cielito, getting her attention. “Relax. They’re gonna love you. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“Promise?” 

He smiled, letting go of her hand to hold up his pinky. “I pinky promise.” That made her smile as she looped hers with his, and he leaned in to kiss her quickly. 

“Okay, we better get out,” he said. 

“Okay.” 

Out of the vehicle, Javier walked around the front, a tiny dirty blonde toddler screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran out of the house, “Tío (Uncle)! Tío! Tío! Tío! Tíoooooo!”

It made him smile, crouching and opening his arms to catch the little boy, holding and hugging him as he stood back up. “Mi sobrino (My nephew)!” The child was securely sitting on one of his arms, looking more like his dad than the last time he saw him. “You’ve gotten so big, Stevie!” He tickled the toddler’s belly, making him laugh and squirm. 

Connie came out with Nate on her hip and Steve smiling beside her. 

“What are you feeding him?” Javier asked his friends. “How has he grown so much in, what, eight, nine months?” 

“Kids grow fast, Javi,” Steve answered. “Nate’s already walking.” 

His eyes went wide, getting a good look at the baby who’d only been six or so months the last time he was here and now was over a year old and a toddler—he was bigger, his olive-colored arms not as chubby, the black curls on top of his head longer, and eyes still as dark as he remembered.  

“You’ve gotta be fuc—” The other adults gave him looks, quickly correcting himself. “—freaking kidding me. He’s walking? Already?” 

“Yep,” Connie answered. “And talking. Right now, he’s tired because it’s nap time. Isn’t that right, baby?” she cooed, kissing Nate’s hair, his head resting against her shoulder and babbling. 

He was stunned at how quickly they grew in so little time, feeling a ball of anxiety form in his gut, thinking about his future children and losing so much time with them because of work. Dread was heavy like a stone on his chest at the thought of missing milestones of his kid’s growth. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face to get his attention, hearing his name and realizing it was Steve, Javier swallowing hard. 

“What?” he asked. 

His best friend’s eyebrow rose. “I asked if you were gonna be polite and introduce us to your girlfriend.” 

“Oh, shi-shoot.” She was on the side with his empty arm, and he rubbed his hand up her back, smiling. “Sorry, Steve, Connie, this is the woman I’m gonna marry—” He told them her name. “—or I just call her mi Cielito, my little heaven.” He kissed her temple. “Cielito, these are my best friends, Steve, Connie, Connie’s got Nate, and—” Straightening, he looked at the child in his arms. “Hey buddy, you wanna tell her your name?” he asked gently. Stevie hid his face in Javier’s neck, and his big hand went to the back of his head while his parents laughed. “Awe, it’s okay, bud.” He rubbed over the boy’s hair. “I know she’s a new person. She’s really nice and excited to meet you, and she makes amazing cookies.” 

His little head popped up. “Cookies?” his tiny voice asked. 

Javier smiled. He knew that’d get him. “Yeah, she makes amazing cookies.” 

“I want cookies,” Stevie replied. His attention turned to Connie. “Can we have cookies, Mommy?” 

“One second, baby boy.” She walked toward Cielito to whisper something in her ear. 

His girlfriend nodded her head, answering, “Sure! I can do that!”

“Is it really okay?” the other woman asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Yeah!” 

“Okay.” Connie looked at her eldest son. “The nice lady says she’ll make cookies with you, but you’ll have to tell her your name.” 

The boy looked past Javi to excitedly shout at Cielito, “Stevie!” Reaching his little arms toward her, and it made warmth spread through him when, without missing a beat, she took the toddler from him. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

They were facing him, and Javier pointed at her. “She’s gonna be your tía (aunt), Stevie.” 

The child’s eyes moved from him to her. “Tía?” he asked, shoving a finger at her chest.

“Yeah, bud, she’s your tía (aunt), and I’m your tío (uncle).”

Tiny blue eyes met his. “Tío—” His head turned to her. “—Tía.” 

“Yes.” She confirmed. “And you’re Stevie.” She gently poked his chest. 

“Stevie!” He clapped his hands. “We’re gonna make cookies, Tía?” 

“Yes, your mom said after your nap.” 

“Well, let’s head inside then, guys,” grown-up Steve announced. 

“Come with me,” Connie told his girlfriend. “The men can get the bags, and I’ll put the boys down for a nap.” 

“Okay,” she replied. 

It made him smile how easily she went, his eyes on her back with the toddler on her hip, whispering to him, and Javier thought it looked so perfect, so right; his mind was running wild with images of what she’d look like holding their child—wishing she was holding their child. Stevie looked like a miniature version of Steve; would Javier’s child with his future wife look more like him or her? Or would they be a mix of them both? What he knew for sure was they’d be perfect, and he would love them more than anything in the goddamn world. 

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get married.

Hands landed on his shoulders from behind. 

“Jesus Christ, Jav,” Steve laughed, giving him a playful shake. He got out of the hold, spinning around to see his friend’s grinning face that made him clench his jaw. “I knew you had it bad, but this is something else—you’re really in love with this girl.” 

His eyebrows creased, frowning. 

Steve had known about his girlfriend since their relationship began and even gave him wanted and unwanted advice when he did and didn’t need it—he knew damn well Javier loved her. He’d been on his ass to fucking tell her, like how he’s been on his ass to get him to fucking propose, and only now was he actually believing it was all real? 

It pissed him off that his best friend doubted his feelings for her.

“Fuck you, man,” he replied, shoving the other man’s shoulder and watching his face fall. “Yeah, I fucking love her. I’ve fucking told you.” 

“Hey, hey—” Steve put up his hands in a placating gesture. “—I know you love her, Javier. I’ve known from how you’ve talked about her, but seeing it in person is something else.” 

“What do you mean?” His hands were perched on his hips, ignoring the beads of sweat dripping down his spine under his shirt. 

Steve smiled. “That ugly mug of yours—” He gestured at Javier��s face. “It’s clear in how you look at her. It’s like you’ve got fuckin’ hearts in your eyes or some shit,” he chuckled, Javier sighing. “I’ve known you for a long fucking time, Javi, and I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.”

The explanation mollified him.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone but her.” 

“I know.” His friend clapped a hand on his bicep. “And I’m really fucking happy for you, Jav.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m sweating my balls off. Let’s get inside.” 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hot,” he replied, heading toward the back of the rental. 

He didn’t need help carrying the bags or directions to the guest room. 

The house was nice and cool as he walked inside along the stone tiled floor and directly into their formal sitting room containing a long beige couch against the far left wall with a walnut-colored coffee table in front of it; a smaller version of the sofa along the wall beside the front door and under the large white-framed window, a chair that matched the same style across from it, and end tables at the sides of the couches. 

They never actually used this area unless they were hosting guests or during Christmas when Connie would rearrange the furniture to make it picturesque with their tree. Steve thought it was a waste of space; his wife could never know that.

His shoes came off with everyone else’s by the front door, where Connie had a shoe rack overflowing with pairs for adults and children, leaving his next to Cielito’s on the floor. Going further into the room, Steve headed for the kitchen while he turned down the hallway that opened to the right and led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Olivia’s was the first door on the right. The second was a full bath themed around dolphins, her favorite animal, with them on the shower curtain, the art on the walls, painted on the toothbrush holder, and soap dispenser.

Next was Nate’s room, his door closed and across the hall from his parents’ master suite. 

The two boys’ rooms happened to be connected by a bathroom between them. Javier stopped in his tracks at Stevie’s open door—the woman he came here with, the one who made him the happiest man in the world, who he was going to marry and spend the rest of his life with, was sitting on the edge of his nephew’s bed with her back to the door, her attention on the child lying on his side facing her with his eyes closed under a light blanket as she rubbed small circles on his shirt-covered back.

Javier’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, a soft sigh leaving his lips. 

“She volunteered,” Connie whispered behind him, causing him to jump in his skin. “Sorry for scaring you—“ She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “She volunteered,” she continued. “Asked me how she could help and what Stevie’s nap time routine was, and it looks like she’s a pro. She’s great with him.”

“Yeah, she is.” He spoke just as quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “Rubbing his back still puts him to sleep?”

She playfully slapped his arm. “That’s your damn fault.”

“It makes him fall asleep, doesn’t it?”

“Quickest way. We do it with Nate, too.”

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“It’s not right you out-parented us. Now, you better marry this woman, Javier. It’s about damn time you become a father.” 

He scratched at his mustache. “You, uh, think I’d be a good dad?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. 

“Javier, you’ve always been so much help when you stay with us, and the kids adore you. Yeah, you’re gonna be a fantastic father.”

His throat was feeling tight. Steve arrived at Connie’s back, holding a beer. 

“What are y’all whispering about?” the other man quietly asked. 

“Javi being a great dad,” his wife replied, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Oh, yeah, we’ve known that for years,” Steve said. “We just didn’t think you’d ever pull your head out of your ass and settle down.”

“Didn’t find the right person until now.” Javier shrugged. He peeked into the room, seeing his future wife was still occupied. Turning his head, he told the other two, “Follow me to the guest room. I need to ask you a favor.”

To be honest, you were really nervous about helping with nap time and stayed a little longer than necessary, rubbing the sleeping three-year-old's back to ensure he truly was passed out.  

There’d been whispers in the hall that hadn’t helped your nerves, wondering what the other three adults were saying amongst themselves and knowing it was probably about you, hoping it was positive. Steve and Connie seemed to like you, and she had trusted you to help with her child, so that was a good sign. They’d disappeared into the guest bedroom, down and across the hall, Connie had pointed out earlier when she gave you a very quick tour. 

You figured it was probably safe to leave now, ensuring the toddler was tucked in under his dark blue blanket before you’d gotten up and quietly tip-toed out of the door you closed behind you with a soft click. 

It didn’t take too many steps to get to where the guest room door was cracked open, with light spilling out into the hallway, and muffled voices could be heard. You entered, finding your boyfriend and the other couple huddled at the foot of the queen-sized bed directly in front of you.

The walls were painted a soothing greige, the greyish-beige color accented by the eggshell white ceiling, trim, and doors for the closet and en suite. An interesting choice was the wrought iron bed frame that looked old and out of place alongside the nice newer black bedside tables and dresser across from it and the stone-colored armless accent chair in the corner—even the lamps were modern, making the dark, possibly rusting, iron stick out like a sore thumb. The large framed photos of ocean waves crashing and rolling decorating the walls made up for it, though, enjoying the room's atmosphere. 

Javi’s head turned toward you, and he smiled. “Hey, baby.” He took a couple of steps to grab your hand and pulled you over to the Murphys. 

“What were you guys talking about?” you asked. 

“Going to the beach tomorrow,” Connie answered with a big smile. “Olivia’s staying home from school, and we were thinking we’d spend the day there.” 

That made you grin. “I’d love that!” Javi pulled you into his side. 

Your bags were on the ground in front of the dresser. 

“I know,” your boyfriend said, kissing your hair. 

It had warm fuzziness spreading through your veins at how thoughtful they were. 

“Well, glad we’ve got that figured out,” Connie announced, clapping her hands together. “Javi knows, but let me show you where everything is.”

“Okay.” 

She took you into the pretty standard bathroom—the combination shower/bathtub against the furthest wall from the door with a floral printed shower curtain on a golden rod; the bathroom vanity on your right as you walked in, painted white with a similar color laminate countertop and sink with red handles to open the drawers and cabinets under the sink, a large mirror hanging on the wall above it, and the toilet in the space between it and bath. She opened the doors under the sink so you could see where the towels and washcloths were kept and led you back into the bedroom to open the closet door so you knew where the extra blankets were. 

“—and I’m sorry about the bed.” Connie grimaced. 

“Yeah,” Javi interjected. “What happened to the old bed frame?” His hands were on the top of the footboard that looked like a wide, upside-down U made out of a thick pipe, with two smaller ones going across and others connecting those two in the middle. He gave it a little shake, the metal squeaking loudly.

“Steve saw this—” She pointed at it. “—and said it reminded him of a bed he’d slept in at his grandparents, and he just had to buy it. He thought it’d look great in here.” 

“Right…” Javi replied, turning his head, and even though all you could see was the back of it, you knew he was glaring at his friend.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I have fond memories of spending time with ‘ol peepaw and granny. Like when he’d take me duck hunting.” 

You were pretty sure you heard Javi mutter, “Fuckin’ hillbilly.”

Obviously, he was not happy about the sounds the bed was making, and you were a little disappointed about it, too—he hadn’t been joking about Steve hating you fucking in here. 

The blonde man was smirking. “What was that?” 

“I said it’s great you’ve got fond memories,” Javi sighed, looking forward again with the fingers of one hand pressed to his forehead. 

“So,” Connie began, “again, I’m sorry about how squeaky the bed is—”

“I’m not,” Steve interrupted, which earned him a middle finger from your boyfriend, whom the blonde man simply laughed at. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you said, trying to keep things civil. 

“Hopefully,” the other woman replied with a nervous smile. “Well, we’re gonna get out of your hair ‘cause I’m sure you wanna freshen up after your flight.” 

“If it’s okay with you guys, I might take a cat nap after I shower. Getting up so early and traveling has exhausted me.” 

“Oh, that’s absolutely fine, honey.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got a little over an hour before Olivia is home, and the boys will sleep until right before she gets home. Come on, Steve, let’s leave them alone.” 

“Yes, dear,” her husband answered, following her as she walked out of the room, Javi moving to close and lock the door after them. 

He turned around with a grumpy expression, letting out a loud, long sigh. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” you told him as you took a couple of steps to the bed and started getting on it—immediately, high-pitched squeaks sounded with any kind of movement you made on the mattress. “Okay, so it’s worse than your bed at your dad’s…” 

“He did this on purpose,” he seethed, putting his hands on his slim hips while all his weight went to one side. 

You were lying on your side with your head propped up on your arm to look at him standing over by the door. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s obvious. It was a lot of effort to put into cock blocking you. He really doesn’t like the idea of you fucking under his roof.” 

“I told you he’d hate it—didn’t think he’d do this.” He pouted. 

You didn’t like how upset he was, and you had a great idea of how to cheer him up. 

Ignoring the ear-splitting sounds as you got up from the bed.

“Keep standing there, looking pretty. I’ll be right back.” 

You saw the confusion on his face for only a moment before you were walking around the front of the bed and away from him to go through the bathroom door beside the dresser. In seconds, you were back in the bedroom and tossing a white towel onto the grey chair in the corner on the other side of the en suite door. 

“Are you taking a shower?” he asked, watching with curiosity as you moved toward him, his eyes on yours. 

“Not right now,” you answered. “I’ve got more important things to do.” 

Finally, you were in his space. “Like what?” 

“You,” you answered, grabbing him by his open collar and tugging him toward you to crush your mouth against his, swallowing his moan. His arm went around your waist, the other hand on your back, allowing you to lick into his mouth, his tongue eagerly moving with yours in a familiar dance you both knew all too well. 

Arousal was burning in your belly, feeling your heartbeat at the apex of your thighs, your need for him seeping into your underwear. 

Your fingers started working open the buttons on his shirt. 

“We can’t fuck on the bed,” he breathily said between kisses, a big palm grabbing your ass. 

“The chair,” you replied, nipping at his bottom lip. 

Suddenly, he was pulling back to look you in the eyes, his reddened lips glistening from spit while his shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open. 

“The fucking chair,” he rasped, a look on his face like he was only just realizing. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “There’s also the floor, the counter in the bathroom, the shower, and the clear space at the wall right there—” You pointed behind where the door opened. “—if you were in the mood for wall sex, but you’re really upset about the bed—” You rubbed your hands up his bare chest. “—so I thought you’d enjoy getting ridden on the chair.” 

His lips turned up in a toothy grin. “I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you quickly.

You matched his expression, looping your arms around his neck. “I love you, too, and I’m not letting a sabotaged bed stop me from getting dicked down. We just have to be… creative and quiet.” 

His eyes darkened, the pink of his tongue peeking out for a second, and when he spoke, his voice had gone deeper and raspier. “You’re not tired,” he said matter-of-factly, his arm pulling you into him so your bodies were flush.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p.’

“You don’t want to take a nap.” 

“I don’t want to take a nap,” you confirmed. 

His fingers slid along your cheek until he cradled your face, his gaze stuck to yours. “You want me to fuck you.” 

“Very much.” 

His head moved until his lips were grazing yours, nuzzling your nose with his. “What got you so worked up you couldn’t wait until we went to bed tonight, Cielito?” 

His proximity was fanning the flames of arousal inside you, making your entire body heat, your nipples tighten, and your lips tingle where his barely touched.

Snaking your hand between your bodies, you palmed his hard cock straining against the zipper of his pants. “Probably the same thing that has you hard as a rock—I can’t stop thinking about having babies with you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting into your hand. “I can’t fucking wait.” 

“To get me pregnant?” you purred, stroking him over his jeans. “Or to fuck me?”

“Both,” he growled, grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt and saying as he roughly pulled it up and off your arms to land carelessly on the floor, “and you fucking know it.” You did, and it made your pussy throb. 

“I do.” You helped him shrug off his button-up, your hands going to his belt next. “And I can’t fucking wait either.” The buckle clinked as you effortlessly worked it open and unbuttoned his jeans, hearing the teeth pull apart as you unzipped them. 

Warm palms held your face to make you meet the dark pools of his eyes. 

“To get pregnant,” his voice had gone lower, seeing his tongue quickly wet his bottom lip. “Or for me to fuck you?” 

His pants were undone, and with there being no underwear in your way, you reached in and took him in hand, his shaft feeling like steel wrapped in heated velvet—hot, hard, and silky to the touch. A thrill moved through you at his mouth falling open and eyes closing, his groan going straight to your cunt. 

“Both,” you answered. 

One word and he became ravenous, desperate, smashing his mouth to yours in a passionate kiss while he went about undressing you as he walked you backward toward the chair—your bra getting tossed somewhere to your left, his lips leaving yours and stopping long enough for him to tug down your leggings and underwear in one fell swoop. He ghosted kisses up your body when he rose again until your mouths were attached once more, continuing the journey to the corner chair, his arm holding you around your middle to help guide you, your hands hanging onto his shoulders. 

He spoke between presses of his lips to yours, “You looked so fucking perfect holding the kid…. You’re gonna be an amazing mother to our children…. I need you so fucking bad…. I wanna give you a baby…. Let me fuck a baby into you…. Please.” The last bits made you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin. 

The lines were blurred, and you weren’t sure if this was him leaning into the kink you shared or if he was being serious. It was true you couldn’t wait to get pregnant, but you both were well aware the apartment you lived in wasn’t big enough for the addition of a baby and had been actively working with one of the only two architects in town to design the home you planned to build. There was also the fact you wanted to get married first, and the proposal was months away. As much as you both wanted a child, you couldn’t start trying for another year at minimum.

Why were you overthinking this? You would just have a discussion with him after the sex to make sure you were both on the same page. 

“God, yes,” you gasped. “I want it.” 

The soft fabric of the chair hit the back of your legs, his big hands gripping your asscheeks, murmuring against your lips, “Let me eat your pussy first.” 

“Later,” came your muffled reply. “This has to be quick, so we don’t get caught.” 

You could feel him frowning before he broke away. 

“I don’t fucking care if we get caught.” His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were turned down.

What he said made you sigh, another thing that had you overthinking. “I know you don’t care,” you kept your tone as gentle as possible, rubbing your hands over his bare back. “But I do. They’ve been your friends for years and already love you. I’m only just meeting them, and I don’t want to give them a bad first impression. Yeah, I’m okay with going against Steve’s wishes and fucking here, only as long as he doesn’t know. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was an asshole for even thinking of letting us get caught.”

“It’s okay.” Your hands skated along his naked sides. “Now, let’s get back to the sexy—I am so horny.” 

His hand fell. “Do you need me to finger you?” 

“I think I’m wet enough. One second, though.” You held up a finger before turning around and spreading the towel over the seat. Facing him again, you ordered, “Pants off, Mr. Peña, and sit,” and moved out of his way. 

He huffed out an amused breath, pushing down his jeans. “As you wish, Mrs. Peña.” Stepping out of them, a pained groan slipped from his throat as he straightened, taking the seat as you requested. 

The armless chair was about as wide as a dining room chair with some cushioning and a channel-stitched back, covered in grey velvet, the wooden legs painted black. Javi sat down, getting comfortable as he sat back and spread his legs. 

The sight before you had your mouth going dry. 

His lust-filled gaze was looking up at you, taking in the broad shoulders, the expanse of his golden chest down to his soft tummy, where below his belly button, a trail of hair led your eyes to his big hand slowly stroking his hard cock; the tip was red and shining from the steady dribble of precum leaking from it, that he was using to ease the glide of his palm—he was the perfect picture of seduction and you were under his spell, willing to do anything he wanted.

A crooked smile appeared under his mustache. 

“You wanna watch me jerk off?” he asked. “Or are you gonna ride me?” 

The questions snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, stepping to stand between his widened knees. “You’re just so sexy, and you know, watching you jerk off really gets me going.” 

“I know, mi amor (my love),” he chuckled. 

His hand left his dick, the long shaft resting against the coarse hair on his belly. Gently, he tugged you by the arm down for a kiss, and you took over, slowly stroking him at the odd angle, making him groan into your mouth when you went lower to fondle his sack, his large palm reaching around to trace the curve of your ass before giving it a squeeze.

On occasion, your husband-to-be had the tendency to get caught up in kissing—Javi loved kissing, so when he pulled you forward by your backside, your arms went around his neck for balance, and you welcomed his tongue when it pressed between your lips. His palms slid up your sides to rest on your ribs as he plundered your mouth, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling slick coating your inner thighs. 

The needy ache in your core got worse and worse with every passing minute, finally getting to the point where you had to get him inside you, or there was a chance you were going to combust from the pent-up tension. 

You broke away, his lips chasing yours. 

“I need you,” you panted. 

His eyes met yours, his pupils blown so wide that only a thin sliver of chocolate brown remained. 

“Okay,” he said through heavy breaths with a nod. “I’ve got you, baby. Stand up.” 

You did as he said, watching as he spit on his fingers and rubbed the saliva onto his cock, doing it a couple of times until his entire length glistened in the bright overhead light. 

Once satisfied, his hands were on your upper thighs as he helped you get one leg over his onto the ground beside the chair, then the other to have you standing on either side of him and straddling his hips. Not wasting any more time, you reached between your legs, guiding him to your entrance, and slowly lowered. That first stretch always stole your breath, resting your arms on his freckled shoulders, one of his going around your back to bring you flush to his front, his free hand skating down your back to grip one plump cheek of your ass. 

Javi’s eyes had squeezed shut, his breath hitching, feeling how your walls were having to make space for the girth of him and relishing the slight burn from the lack of foreplay. He wasn’t even halfway in, and you rose until only the tip remained, dropping again to take a little more, doing the same thing over and over, taking more of him each time until he was fully seated inside you. 

The familiar fullness made you smile, a deep sigh leaving you at how good it felt. Your skin was buzzing just below the surface, your body hot all over, sweat beginning to form on your brow, and you were in heaven. 

His face was against your collarbone, his warm breath hitting your skin. “You feel so fucking good,” his voice was muffled, the hand on your ass tightening. “Fuck, te amo (I love you). No sé cuánto tiempo voy a durar (I don’t know how long I'll last). Úsame para hacerte venir (Use me to make yourself come). Úsame, por favor (Use me, please). ¿Puedes hacer eso por mí, Cielito (Can you do that for me, Cielito)? ¿Puedes hacerte sentir bien (Can you make yourself feel good)?” 

“Sí (Yes),” you answered. “Sí, Papí (Yes, Papí).” 

His chest rumbled under you from his groan, a hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap that made you clench around him. 

“Monta me (Ride me),” he ordered, smacking your backside again. “Monta me duro, mi amor (Ride me hard, my love).” 

Grabbing the hair at the back of his head, you pulled on it as you straightened your spine to make him look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded when they blinked open, while yours narrowed in a glare. 

“Javier, stop smacking my ass,” you hissed. “We have to be quiet, and you better make sure I don’t get too loud.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

“Lo siento, cariño (I’m sorry, sweetheart).” His warm hands rubbed along the sides of your spine. “Prometo, estar más callado y evitar que hagas mucho ruido (I promise, I will be quieter and keep you from making too much noise).”

“Thank you,” you replied, pushing his hair back from his face. Leaning in close, you gave him a gentle peck on his lips and the tip of his nose. “If you come before me, it’s fine—it would probably take me with you, anyway.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling him twitch inside you. “With how you’re soaking my dick, I think you’ll get off pretty fucking fast.” 

“Probably.” You shrugged and started rolling your hips, watching in delight as his mouth fell open in a moan and his body shuddered. 

His arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your jaw, keeping his eyes locked on yours, your own arm over his shoulder, and free hand caressing the side of his face. Both of you were sharing in the pleasure, your bodies fitting together so perfectly like two puzzle pieces, breathing each other in, losing yourselves in this moment. 

He wanted you to use him to make yourself feel good, so you did. 

Standing made it easy to rise on your legs, sliding up his hard cock to leave only the head and fall back down, thrusting your hips forward on the downstroke to take him to the hilt and make him raggedly groan. 

Heat was blooming in your belly, getting hotter with every second you worked yourself on his dick. He pulled you in for a kiss, and you slowed to a grind, the rough curls at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against the swollen bud of your clit, adding gasoline to the fire inside you.

Like this, he was in so deep you were sure you could probably feel him if you pressed on your stomach, and you knew if he knew that, he’d be a smug bastard about it, which was valid.

You started moving again, the kissing becoming sporadic as you rode him in earnest, your arousal spilling down his shaft to coat his balls. His fingers were digging into the cheeks of your ass, his arms flexing as he gave you momentum and helped you move. 

The two of you were trying your best to stay quiet and hold back your sounds, Javi’s face flushed and forehead wet with sweat, both unable to keep some noise from slipping out. The loudest sound was between your legs, hearing the wet suck of your slick gushing around him when his dick pushed into your drenched hole. 

Something about fucking in places where there was a chance of getting caught really turned you and him on. Add in, you were told without explicitly being told you weren’t allowed to have sex here, and the higher risk had you rocketing toward your orgasm—Javi was right; you were going to get off quick. 

His hands went to your tits, his thick fingers zeroing in on your pebbled nipples, pinching and rolling them before his mouth's hot, wet heat pulled one stiff peak into his mouth. 

“God, yes,” you moaned, pleasure shooting directly to your cunt as you bounced on his thick cock. 

The muscles in your belly were tightening, adjusting your hips so every time you sunk down, he was pressing into that one spot that dotted your vision with stars, his mouth giving your other breast the same treatment. 

This all felt amazing, but there was something you needed…

“Touch me,” you panted, rising and falling in his lap.

His head popped up, glazed over eyes looking at your face.  

“Anywhere?” he breathily asked, and the question made you stifle a moan. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll get you there.” And you had no doubt. 

He started with tweaking your wet nipple, roughly pinching it, his other hand going between your bodies to rub his thumb against your sensitive clit, the sensations feeling like electricity arcing up your spine, making your rhythm stutter for a moment—the heat in your stomach was growing and getting hotter, the closer you were to your climax. 

“Hang onto my neck,” he told you.

“What?”

“Lean forward and hold onto my neck.” 

You did as he said, pressing into his front and hanging onto him. 

His hand on your breast moved to cup your bottom, and he adjusted in the seat, grunting as he sat up, the chair creaking beneath him. Your tempo slowed while he continued circling your bundle of nerves with one hand, his other arm reaching around your thigh to spread two fingers around where his cock was impaling you, feeling how he was stretching you open.

“Your tight little pussy takes my dick so well,” he spoke into your breasts with how you were raised up on your feet, his cock halfway inside you. “I swear I was fucking made for you.” 

A moan slipped from your lips unbidden when those same fingers slid through the abundance of your slick on his length and continued up, swiping along the edges of your puckered hole, causing sparks to dance in your center. One thick finger slowly pushed into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle, your eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling at the added fullness, biting your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. You worked yourself faster on his dick, tilting your pelvis so he was pressing into all of the right spots, his digit fucking in and out of you at the same pace, it all making you go dizzy with pleasure. 

Your inner walls were fluttering. 

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, not stopping what he was doing. “Once you come, I’m gonna fill you up.” His head lifted. “Gonna fuck you full of me.” He kissed your clavicle, maintaining your pace. “Stuff you so full of my come, I knock you up.” You whimpered and were almost there. “Isn’t that what you want?” His fingers were still circling your clit and pushing in and out of your asshole, your hips rolling on his cock. “For me to finally get you pregnant?” he asked. “I’ll fuck a baby into you, Cielito, all you have to do is ask.” 

And you knew he meant it, the thought entering your mind that you could throw out your birth control today, and odds were he’d have you pregnant by next month—that was what made you crest, sitting all the way down in his lap as you came, your body tensing up tight as euphoria exploded out from your center, spreading through your system. His hand on your front was suddenly over your mouth to smother your loud cry, your body trembling as you slumped into him. 

“Good girl,” his words came out thick and rough. “You’re so good to me.” 

Your chest was heaving, enjoying the aftershocks and the feel of your cunt spasming around his dick that was still hard inside you. 

His hand left your lips to ghost up and down your spine, and he removed the finger from your ass. 

“This baby stuff is getting dangerous,” you sounded drunk, slurring your words, your face in the crook of his neck. 

“What?” 

“Our breeding kinks. You wanna know the thing that fucking got me?” 

“Yeah.” 

Leaning back to look him in the eyes, you told him, “The thought that if I tossed my birth control today, you’d probably have me pregnant by next month.” His cock jerked hard inside you. “I got off on you being fucking virile.” 

His eyes were practically black, licking his lips before he spoke. “We, uh—” He cleared his throat. “—we, uh, could test your theory…?” The hope was there on his face, and it made you feel like utter shit to have to deny him of his dream. This man wanted to be a father so fucking bad, and you more than wanted to make him one. It just wasn’t feasible at this point in time.

You held his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks. 

“Javi, I love you,” you started. “I want to have all of your babies, but as we both know, the apartment is too small for us and a baby. There’s also the whole I want us to be married thing, too.” 

“Pop said we can move in with him while the house is being built, and we’ll be married before a baby is born.” He sounded very sure of himself. 

Your eyebrow lifted. “How are you so positive we’ll be married in less than ten months?” 

He smiled. “Because you pre-accepted my proposal and told me you didn’t want a big wedding.” 

That was something you told him. 

Standing in front of a giant room full of people you actually only knew a fraction of and being the center of attention sounded like a literal nightmare scenario. A tiny wedding with only close friends and family in attendance was something more your speed—hell, eloping seemed like a goddamn dream. 

It hit you then the possibility of how soon the two of you could be married, and excitement bubbled up inside you, doing the first thing that came to mind and kissing him deeply, cradling his smooth cheeks in your palms. His lips were soft and plush, his tongue delving into your mouth with a moan, it turning into one of those kisses that drove you wild. 

You needed to make him feel good. You needed him to feel your love and happiness.

His dick was still throbbing in your pussy, and you started rolling your hips, his hands cupping your backside, keeping you in charge of the rhythm while he assisted in your movements. 

The way he liked it when you were on top was for you to go hard and fast, so you lifted and slammed back down in quick succession. It was slippery between your thighs, his cock sliding easily in and out of your wet heat, the kisses turning messy with how you were moving on him. 

In this position with both of you sitting up, you could get him to come pretty quickly if you sloppily made out with him and occasionally clenched your cunt around his cock; he’d say that was playing dirty if this was a regular romp, but under current circumstances, they were legal maneuvers like how he toyed with your clit and put a finger in your ass. These were all finishing moves that generally only came into play during quickies, though, when he was in the mood to make you come multiple times, he was liberal in their usage—and every time you were about to utilize a move, the fatality screen from Mortal Kombat came to mind, hearing in your brain the announcer say, “Finish Him.” 

His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were closed, the effort he was putting into being quiet causing pitiful whines to escape his throat. He was tense beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring close to snapping, and you knew he was almost there, clenching up around him on your downstrokes. 

“‘M close,” he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your behind and spreading your cheeks while helping you rise and fall.  

“Yeah?” you replied through heavy breaths. “I want you to come for me, Javi.” Your kiss landed on the side of his mouth. “I love you.” This kiss made it onto his lips. “I want to marry you, have your children, and spend the rest of my life with you.” 

He pressed his face into your chest, kissing what he could while you moved up and down—over the tops of your breasts, along your collarbones, up the line of your throat; all the while, he was saying against your skin, “Te amo (I love you). Me voy a casar contigo (I’m going to marry you). Te voy a dar todos los hijos que quieras (I will give you as many children as you want). Voy a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you). Fuck, te sientes tan bien (you feel so good). Eres perfecta (You’re perfect). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).”  

“Embarazada con tu bebé (Pregnant with your baby),” you panted. 

A strangled noise came from him, shoving his face in your neck to mute it as he pulled you down to completely bury himself inside you. His teeth sunk into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, and you hissed at the pleasurable pain; his dick thickened, feeling it jerk, and the familiar wet pulse of spurts and spurts of his come gushing deep in your depths to fill you. 

You ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, his heaving breaths hot against your skin as he soothed over the bite with kisses, your own chest rising and falling rapidly, his arms hugging you close to him. 

The solutions he had so you could have a baby were rolling around in your head, and you wondered if it really would be that easy. 

Chucho would be over the goddamn moon if you guys temporarily moved in with him, and then a baby on top of that? His first nieto (grandchild)? The thing he constantly brought up? Chucho wanted to be a grandfather just as bad as Javi wanted to be a dad, and you knew he’d do anything for you both. 

Why were nerves fluttering around in your belly? You should be ecstatic, but there was a voice in your brain that sounded a lot like your mother pointing out you haven’t even been together a year. For all intents and purposes, you were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, and that’d have to end at some point. Would you both still feel the same after a year has passed? Two? Five? Ten? Would he still be as attracted to you after your body changed from pregnancy? 

These questions were stressing you out. 

“Javi?” 

He hummed in reply. 

“You know how you feel about me right now. Do you think you’ll still feel that way in a year?” 

His head came up with his eyebrows pulled together. 

“Yeah?” he answered. 

“What about in two years?” 

He was giving you a look like the answer was obvious. 

“Cielito, I’m gonna love you like this for the rest of my fucking life.” 

Your voice was small, “How can you be sure?” 

His hands had started rubbing comforting circles on your hips, looking at you with a tender gaze. 

“I’m my father’s kid,” he said, “and when we find the person meant for us, that’s it; it’s game over. We dedicate our lives to them, and we love them so fucking deeply we feel it in our souls—this is going to sound stupid, but Pop says we’re penguins.” 

“Penguins?” 

“Yeah, he watched some nature documentary and found out they mate for life—we’re penguins.” 

It made you grin. “That is the absolute cutest shit I have ever heard.” 

He smiled. “I knew you’d like it. Does that make you feel better?” 

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “We’re mated for life.” 

“Yeah, we are, and I know it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. We’ll have our ups and downs like all couples do, but there’s no one else I’d rather go through the good and bad with.” The look on his face changed to something unsure. “Do you, uh, think your feelings will change?” 

“I don’t think so. My love for you is so embedded inside me that it sometimes feels like you’ve always been with me, and I just didn’t know. So, I think I’m a penguin, too.” 

He chuckled, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. When his lips left yours, he nuzzled your face. 

“Anything else you need reassurance about?” he gently asked with his nose sliding along yours. 

“Um, the other thing was if you’d still be attracted to my body post-pregnancy…” 

A thing you loved about Javi was how you could basically tell what he was thinking from the expression on his face, and right this second, as he stared at you, he was trying to work out how to politely tell you it was stupid to think he’d find you unattractive after having his baby.

“Are you talking about the body that grew our baby and kept them safe for nine months?” he asked, and yeah, you realized now how dumb it was to think something so absurd. “Yeah, I’m still gonna be attracted to you,” he continued, “the woman I love, who made me a father. I’m not gonna care about stretch marks or if you put on weight or any of the other shit that’ll change. You did something fucking incredible, and honestly, it makes me hard thinking about you being pregnant, so if there are things to remind me of that, I’m probably gonna be all over you constantly. Feel better?” 

That eased your worries. 

“Much.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s go take a shower.” You started to move, and he stopped you. 

Hope was swirling in his eyes. “Is this a yes to a baby?” 

“This is a maybe on the baby, and we will need to have a long discussion with your father.” 

The smile he gave you was so blinding, you were sure it outshined the sun, a joyous laugh coming from him as he hugged you into his arms and squeezed you tight. 

“I’m so fucking happy.” The emotion was heavy in his voice. “Thank you so much.” He sniffled in your ear. 

Your hands slid over his back. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not set in stone.” 

He pulled back, his eyes rimmed red, tears falling down his cheeks. 

“No,” he replied. “Thank you for loving me and being with me and wanting to have kids with me. I know it’s not a sure thing, but it’s the fact there’s a chance.” His voice cracked when he said the last word, his shoulders shaking. 

“Oh, babe.” You wrapped your arms around him and held him close to your body. 

This reaction for a maybe made you want to throw all caution to the wind and say fuck it, and just start trying, the rational part of your brain telling you to cool your jets. It was an angel and demon on your shoulders situation, with you leaning toward the baby, and it wasn’t going to help that the two of you would be around children for the next few days. 

The way Javi interacted with Stevie? Almost killed you. He was so sweet, and the child clearly loved him so much it had your ovaries aching. Three days, you were going to have to watch him with the Murphy kids, and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive or keep from throwing your birth control in the trash. 

You had to be strong. 

Javier knew this trip would be important since he was bringing his wif-girlfriend to meet his best friend’s family. He just didn’t expect also to get the news they might be able to start trying for a baby sooner than they had planned. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was excited about having their house built and getting to have a say in the design, but they were looking at twelve to fourteen months before it’d be ready to move into, and he did not want to wait that long to start their family—he was feeling… impatient. He’d already wasted enough of his life, and with him turning fucking forty on Sunday, he’d been plagued with thoughts of how many years he had left above ground. 

A couple of weeks ago, his therapist told him he was having a mid-life crisis, which he scoffed at because he sure as hell wasn’t buying some expensive sports car or chasing women half his age—he outright owned his dependable truck and was more than happy in his amazing and healthy relationship with a woman slightly younger than him. Then the therapist went for his jugular over why he’d begun wrestling with feelings of his mortality and how it started with him planning their trip to Miami and thinking about the Murphys and Cielito. What it boiled down to was he regretted the time he lost to his job and now felt unfulfilled that, at his age, he didn’t have a family of his own like Steve. 

The guy was right, and it annoyed him. 

It gave him a swift kick in the ass to figure out some things, though. 

Like how he went out to his dad’s last Tuesday after work to have a beer with him and ask if he was serious about them living with him if they were ever expecting and their home was still under construction—he said yes, and told Javier when Cielito eventually got pregnant he was planning to turn the guest bedroom into a nursery anyway. 

There was also the ring box he rolled up in a pair of socks tucked away at the bottom of the duffle bag he brought.  

He was ready to make some big changes, and by the end of this trip, he hoped more than anything he’d have a fiancée. 

After he got all of his happy tears out, they kissed and got off of the chair to take a shower, stopping on the way for her to grab her toiletry bag from her luggage. 

They washed each other and stole kisses, his hands wandering over her soapy skin with her giggles echoing in the stall. It didn’t take them very long to finish, going through their after-shower routines to get dry and do their hair. They changed into clean clothes, and he put on a lavender-colored button-up and some jeans, his eyes glued to her ass in the high-waisted denim shorts she was wearing as she bent over to put on her socks. He found himself closing the distance in two long strides to grab her hips, carefully bumping and rubbing the front of his pants against her backside. 

“Are you seriously humping me while I put on my socks?” 

He frowned. “I’m not humping you. You’d know if I was humping you.” 

“Fine. Are you seriously grinding on me while I put on my socks?”

“Maybe…”

She finished what she was doing, her socked feet planted on the floor, standing back up and turning in his arms. 

There was an exasperated look on her face as she smiled. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.” Her arms went around his neck. 

“They’re nice shorts,” he replied, making her laugh when he grabbed handfuls of her ass.

“Well, you’ll be excited to know I only brought shorts and leggings.”

He smirked. “I’m very excited about that.”

“Good. Have we been in here long enough that they’ll believe we showered and napped?”

Checking his watch, he answered, “We’ve been in here about an hour, so I think we’re in the clear.”

The look on her face shifted to something nervous. 

“Do you think we made too much noise?” 

For her comfort, he slid his hands up and down her sides. 

He’d never lie to her, so he told her the truth. “They’re on the opposite side of the house, and between them and us is their master bathroom that’s on the other side of that wall—” He pointed at the wall next to the door to the guest room’s en suite. “—then their walk-in closet, their big fucking bedroom, and finally you’d end up in the kitchen. Unless they used their bathroom or came down the hall to check on the boys, which I doubt because they have the baby monitors, I don’t think they heard anything.” 

“You’re sure?” 

The smile on his face was reassuring. “Yes. I’m not lying, Cielito.” 

She let out a breath, and her body seemed to relax. “Okay, fingers crossed they didn’t hear anything. Let’s head out there.” 

“Bésame antes de irnos, por favor (Kiss me before we go, please),” he said, puckering his lips.

“So polite.” She leaned in to kiss him.

When they separated, he took her hand, leading her out to find his friends. 

They found Steve in the actual living room they used at the back of the house, having to walk through the kitchen and dining room to get to it. There was a massive brown leather sofa in the middle of the room, Steve’s recliner next to it, a coffee table, and a decent-sized television in their entertainment center against the wall in front of the couch that had an abundance of VHS movies aimed towards children, and it looked like Connie had cleaned up after the boys, all of their toys put away in their toy box or back in their designated spots in the part of space designated for the kids. 

Walking in, they were behind the sofa, seeing Steve was watching ESPN and the highlights of a basketball game from the previous night between the Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic, a beer held in his hand. 

His head turned toward them, his lips turning up in a shit-eating grin. “How’d y'all sleep on the bed?” 

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “Like babies.” 

Cielito moved to stand beside him in his friend’s view. 

Steve sputtered into laughter, and Javier frowned at the sudden outburst. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” the other man finally said. “Matching shirts?” He looked over at his future wife and her V-neck that was the same lavender color as his, he matched out of habit—all the shirts he brought had counterparts to what she had in her luggage. It was their thing. His friend wiped at his eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my asshole of a best friend?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is about us matching,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So what if we like to look good together? Where’s Connie?” 

“Doing laundry.” He nodded toward the door that led to the laundry room, and as if she were summoned, it opened, and she came in holding a large basket full of clothes against her hip with one arm. 

“Oh, great!” she exclaimed. “You’re up!” She paused after shutting the door. “Be honest with me, how bad is the bed? If you can’t sleep on it, I’ll pull out the air mattress.” 

Just the thought of sleeping on an air mattress made Javier’s body ache.  

“It’s pretty squeaky,” Cielito answered. “But we’ll survive. It’s seriously okay.” She waved away the concern.

“If you’re sure.”

Sounds started coming from the baby monitors on the coffee table, Stevie and Nate both in their separate bedrooms calling for their mom.

“Oh,” Connie said. “Looks like the boys are up. I’ll go put the laundry in our bedroom and get them.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Connie,” Javier told her. “I’ll get them.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s not a problem.” His head turned to the woman next to him. “Do you want to come with me or stay out here?” 

She smiled at him. “I’m sure you can use an extra set of hands—I’ll come with.” 

He nodded with a matching look, taking her hand once more and guiding her back to the hallway where the bedrooms were located. 

First, they stopped in Nate’s room, finding the tiny boy standing at the railing of his crib, crying for his mom. 

“Oh, mi precioso (my precious),” Javier cooed, quickly making his way over and scooping the child up. He held him on his hip, bouncing a little while rubbing his back. “You’re okay, buddy. Shhh, you’re okay. We’ll go see your mom in just a minute.” Turning to look at Cielito, she had a soft expression on her face. “Baby?” She was just staring, and it made him grin. “Mi amor (My love)?” 

She visibly jolted. “Sorry. Yes. Did you say something?”  

“Was trying to get your attention. I need to change his diaper. Do you wanna go get Stevie?” 

“I can get Stevie, yes,” she answered, nodding. “Be right back.” Immediately, she turned and left the room.

Nate had calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore, murmuring mom over and over again with his hand in his mouth. 

“That was your ​​tía (aunt),” he informed the little one as he walked him over to the changing table. “I know you can keep a secret,” he whispered, laying the child on the cushioned top. “I’m gonna propose to her tomorrow.” Grabbing a clean diaper and the wipes from the shelf underneath, he went about changing the toddler. “I figured out how I’m gonna do it last weekend,” he continued talking, his hands working. “So, she’s gonna be your tía, and hopefully soon you’ll have some primos (cousins).” He tossed the dirty diaper into the lidded bin he opened with the foot pedal, the kid now in a clean one as Javier buttoned back up his turquoise onesie with a sleeping long-eared, white, spotted dog on it.  

“Who’s that?” Came his soon-to-be fiancée’s voice from the doorway. He turned his head to see her holding the other boy in her arm while she pointed at him with a smile. 

“Tío!” Stevie shouted, grinning. “Tío and Nate!”

Javier picked up the younger of the two children and smiled. 

“That’s right, buddy,” he said, turning toward them. “Who’s holding you?” 

The three-year-old pressed his finger against Cielito’s chest. “Tía!”

“Good job!” He was close to them now, affectionately ruffling the kid’s dirty blonde hair with his hand and making him laugh. “You’re so smart.” 

Stevie held out his arms to Javier, and he quickly took him in his free arm, both boys sitting comfortably on each of his hips.

“Oh, no,” his future wife breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Concern was etched on his brow. “What?” 

“My ovaries feel like they’re gonna explode.”

“Is that a bad thing…?” He wasn’t sure. 

“For my self-control? Yes. For you getting that thing you want really bad? No.” 

“What thing do I want…?” 

Her answer was to point at Nate, and his heartbeat stuttered, sucking in a breath.

This meant she really was contemplating them not waiting to have a baby, and it made hope swell in his chest. He didn’t want to be an asshole and deliberately wear down her resolve. Still, he also couldn’t control how he usually interacted with the Murphy kids, which apparently was getting to her—it made him happy that she was so affected by him being great with the children. He was beginning to think this trip was going to show her that he’d be a decent father.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, hearing from down the hall in the living room, Olivia shouting, “Is he here?!”

She must’ve just gotten home from school. 

“Sissy’s home!” Stevie exclaimed. 

“It sounds like she is,” Javier replied. “Let’s go see her.” He looked at Cielito. “Ready to meet the oldest?” 

“Yep.” 

Running footsteps could be heard as they made their way out of the room, his wif-girlfriend behind him on their journey toward the sound of voices. The young girl seemed to have run to where her father was in the living room because she came speeding back through the dining room that connected it to the front sitting area and finally found them. 

“Tío!” Olivia had a big grin, missing a couple of baby teeth in the front, throwing her arms around his middle when she reached him, hugging him hard. 

“Hola, mi sobrina (Hi, my niece). Lo siento, no tengo brazos para abrazarte en este momento (I’m sorry, I don’t have arms to hug you right now).”

Steve and Connie felt that Olivia should learn Spanish and had enrolled her in after-school classes for it since she first started going to school. Her dad’s Spanish was shit, and her mom’s wasn’t much better, so any time she needed help with homework she’d call Javier.  

“Está bien (It’s okay). Estoy feliz que estás aquí (I’m happy you’re here).”

Connie was walking up, having come from the kitchen. Nate immediately reached toward her and chanted Mom.

“I’m here, baby,” she said, taking him from Javier and returning to where she’d been. 

With a hand free, he patted Olivia’s back. 

“Hi, Sissy!” Stevie greeted. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she replied. 

“¿Cómo te fue en la escuela (How was school)?” Javier asked the nine-year-old. 

She let go of him to look up and meet his eyes. 

“Bien (Good). Aprendí sobre (I learned about), ¿cómo se dice dinosaurs (how do you say dinosaurs)?”

“Los dinosaurios. ¿Qué te enseñaban sobre los dinosaurios (What did they teach you about dinosaurs)?”

“Oh, my teacher wasn’t teaching us about dinosaurs today,” she said, switching to English. “I don’t know what she was teaching.” The girl shrugged. “I was too busy reading this book I got in the library about dinosaurs.”

He smiled. 

“Which dinosaur is your favorite?” 

“Triceratops! They could take on T-Rexes. I want to look for dinosaur fossils when I’m older!”

“You want to be a paleontologist?” 

She looked confused. “What’s a pale—a palien-tol-gist?”

“Paleontologist,” he said slower. “They’re scientists who study fossils.” 

“Yes, I want to do that!” She nodded enthusiastically. 

“Sissy!” Stevie loudly called, bouncing in Javier’s hold. “Sissy!” 

“Yes, Stevie?” 

“Tía’s gonna make cookies with me!” 

Confusion was on her face again. “Tía?” 

It made him realize he hadn’t introduced the young girl to his other half. 

“Yes, your tía,” Javier told her and moved the toddler from one arm to the other so he could wrap the free one around Cielito’s waist. “Olivia, I want you to meet the woman I’ve told you about who I’m gonna marry.” He introduced her to Cielito. 

“Oh! Cielito!” She looked over at the older woman. “Hi!” She waved.

Cielito was smiling. “Hi,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I wanna make cookies! What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.” 

“My favorite!” 

“Mine, too.” 

“Cookies!” Stevie shouted, making Javier snort and his future wife giggle. 

“Better head to the kitchen,” Javier said. 

“Yeah,” Cielito responded. “Let’s all go make cookies. You too, Olivia.” 

“Yes!” The girl did little jumps of excitement. 

In the kitchen, they found the ingredients for the cookies waiting for them on the counter, Connie having already gotten them out along with measuring cups and spoons, a large bowl, and an electric hand mixer. Hands were washed, including Stevie’s, who had a little stool to stand on so he could help as well as a toddler could. 

Cielito entranced the children as she walked them through step by step how to make the cookie dough, and Javier left the room for only a minute to run to the bedroom and grab his camera. 

She had Stevie in front of her on the stool, holding the toddler’s little hand to help him scoop the flour and sugar into the bowl, and Olivia next to her. She showed the young girl how to crack the eggs, and when they got to adding the chocolate chips, they all took handfuls to snack on—and through it all, Javier took pictures, getting candids of them laughing and others where he asked them to look and smile at him, Stevie always grinning big and saying cheese. 

Baking with a three-year-old was chaotic with how he wanted to touch and get into everything, but Cielito handled it like a champ and had the patience of a saint. 

It all had him thinking about their future, easily picturing her doing this same thing with their own kids. It reminded him of how some of his favorite memories growing up were cooking with his mom, and it made his eyes burn that his children would get to have similar experiences.

What he has known, and was being proven right, was he’s found his perfect match and the person he was supposed to spend his life with. 

From the moment he met her, there was something about her, some kind of pull—he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and as he got to know her, she engulfed him, and he fell hard. After their first date, on his drive home, he experienced something new: he imagined what his future would look like with her in it. A lifetime played out in his mind of them dating, getting engaged, married, buying a house, getting a dog, and he’d never felt so much hope before. 

He didn’t think he had a chance in hell to make it a reality. He was positive he’d fuck it up before the third date. 

By some miracle, he didn’t. 

When he thought about those first few dates, the second was when he fell in love with her—that was when he knew she was it. By the third date, he knew he was going to marry her. 

A thing about Javier was when he put his mind to something, he got it done, and he didn’t like to waste time—this evidently also included relationships. He fucked up when he said he’d propose on their anniversary because there was no way he was going to be able to wait that long—and he cracked quicker than an egg hitting a wall. 

How could he not when she was so perfect?

Life was dull before her, empty; he always felt like something was missing. She was what was missing, filling that space inside him, turning everything vibrant and lively. There were an infinite number of ways their lives could’ve played out, and he knew in every single one the path he chose would always lead him back to her—they were meant to find each other. 

His love for her burned brighter than the brightest star in the night sky, and she was a part of him now—he could feel her burrowed deep down in his bones to the point there was no him without her any longer. She was his first and the only love of his life; there was no one before, and there wouldn’t be anyone after because she was the one for him. 

And when he held her, he held the entire world in his arms. 

She was his world. 

She was everything. 

And in less than twenty-four hours, she would hopefully say yes when he asked a particular question while holding a ring. 

Until then, he’d try to stay calm while watching her interact with his friend’s kids and ignore how his chest was filled with so much happiness he thought it might burst. These glimpses of what she’ll be like as a mother were driving him crazy, and it was taking everything in him not to haul her back to the bedroom and show her how much he loved it—they couldn’t, anyway, with the kids wanting to spend time with them and the damn bed. Fucking Steve.

He didn’t want to rile himself up, so he’d do his best to avoid thinking about her being the mother of his children or how earlier she said maybe to a baby.

Who was he kidding? It was all he could think about, and he was dying to get her alone.

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[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Six

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of violence and injuries

“Why didn’t you call me? Esto nunca debería haber sucedido.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Keep your eyes open ok?”

“Mantén los ojos abiertos. Stay awake, Y/n. Mantente despierto por mí.” 

“Is she going to be ok?”

“What’s going on? What happened?!”

You forced your eyes open, blinking the sleep and time from them as your mind slowly worked to clear out the fog. Voices had murmured to you throughout your sleep, whispering words that sounded kind and gentle, but you couldn’t hold onto the specifics of what they said. 

Pain shot through uncooperative arms when you tried to sit up in bed, grimacing at the gross taste in your mouth. How long had you been asleep for? The soreness in your back told you it had been a long time.

“Hey, kiddo. Might not want to try that.” Peter said as you struggled. His hand was strong against your back as you shifted restlessly. The sheets smelled of laundry detergent and lemons. Overhead the lights of the Spidey med bay hummed softly.

“Peter?” You muttered groggily. Your vocal cords were tight and gruff like a car engine that had been left idle for too long.

“The one and only!” 

You finished clearing out your eyes and your voice. It was good to see a familiar face. 

“How long have I been out? I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit too.” He said with a forced grin like he hadn’t just lost one of his best friends, “Do you remember what happened?” 

You accepted the water he handed you, downing it in five seconds with a groan. Your hands and arms were wrapped like a mummy’s and you could feel the soft gauze rub against the sensitive skin beneath whenever you moved.

“Yeah… Yeah I think I do.” The IV drip, drip, dripped saline steadily into your arm, “How long have I been out, Peter? You never answered.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, still wearing his pink bathrobe and matching slippers when Mayday was nowhere to be found. At this point fatherhood had become a new superhero role for him, so it made sense he should dress accordingly at work.

“Ten days?”

“Ten days?!” You sat up with a grimace, “Joder.”

Did someone call me out of work? God, I’m hungry. Isn’t Miles’s reference letter due soon? I need a shower. Fuck.

Peter held you down gently when you tried to roll out of bed. If Miguel discovered you’d gotten up on his watch, he’d never hear the end-

“You’re awake.” 

Miguel’s frame filled the doorway, a small tray of food held within white-knuckled hands. 

You were here. You were safe. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Shit. Peter B. spun around on his heels, letting you go and spreading his arms open wide like he’d just unveiled a marble statue at a ceremony. 

“Surprise!” He sang, your irritated face appearing in Miguel’s vision from around Peter’s back. 

You may have been the one to nearly die, but Miguel looked like he’d been put through the ringer. His red eyes were bloodshot and bruised, curls tousled, and shoulders slumped over like a deflated balloon.

“She’s awake! A real fighter, this one.” 

Miguel stalked forward, sinking into the seat next to your bed that Peter had abandoned and sliding the tray of food in front of you. Everything about him spoke of exhaustion, but he hid it well as he pressed a hand to your forehead, feeling for a fever. His palm was warm, chasing away some of the pulsing pain in your head.

“How are you feeling?” 

Peter B. pouted from behind Miguel. Hey, I’m here too! His expression said, drawing a small smile from you. 

“Pretty terrible, I won’t lie. But at least I’m not dead.” 

Miguel winced and fell silent. You regretted saying anything. 

Peter fluttered around the room like a honey bee, chatting your ear off and taking the edge off of the tension that radiated from Miguel as he dutifully checked over your wounds. He barely said anything, only asking you to open your mouth so he could take your temperature or lift your arm so he could wrap the blood pressure cuff around your bicep.

Everyone had been worried about you, taking turns to sit at your bedside and wait for you to awaken (although the rotation was also made so that Miguel would be forced to take time to rest… He didn’t). 

Even some of the Spiders you weren’t familiar with left behind cards and small stuffed bears - a consistent get well gift across universes, although Spider Cat did bring you a packet of catnip. They formed a small mountain of trinkets on the coffee table. 

“We’ll leave you alone to rest.” Miguel said bluntly, stopping Peter’s rant in his tracks after seeing your eyes begin to glaze over and flutter shut.

“Oooof, sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. Hey! If you need anything, just call. I’m sure Miles will stop by later, but I told him you’d be upset if he skipped school. Oh! And I’ll bring Mayday with me next time I visit. She always makes people feel better. Doesn’t she, Miguel?” 

Miguel’s neutral expression didn’t budge when Peter nudged him with an elbow. He only continued to herd Peter closer and closer out the door.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later!” Peter said, finally disappearing around the corner. Miguel huffed. Took him long enough.

“Wait!” You called out before Miguel could escape back to his office to brood. “Could-could you stay?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them and you cringed. You didn’t like to ask him for things but… considering the circumstances…

He walked back to you, rigidly sinking back into his seat and pushing the tray closer to you.

“You should eat. Build up your strength.” He said, clasping his hands tightly against his stomach as you hesitated and then began to eat ravenously. 

He’d been in your position before - exhausted and confused and reeling from a near-death experience. A pit of shame formed in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to protect you from it. He’d been on edge ever since you’d joined Spider Society and he thought - he’d hoped - that by keeping you from the more dangerous corners of the multiverse, you’d never experience what you’d just gone through. First the incident with the Spot and now this...

“How bad was it?” You asked tentatively, poking at the leftover fries on your plate. You obeyed the comfortable stretch of your stomach, cautious of getting sick after not eating solid food for over a week. “How bad was I?”

“Pretty bad.” Miguel said gruffly and honestly, staring at a blank spot on the wall, “We didn’t think you’d make it for a while.” 

You nodded. You remembered bits and pieces of the moment between sending the anomaly back to his dimension and passing out. The electricity flowing through your body had made your skin feel like it was being peeled off the bone, every nerve screaming out in pain until your brain had short circuited and shut itself off. You were lucky that the burns on your arms were all that remained.

“But I did.” You said, gently reminding him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t think… he couldn’t.

“Migs-” 

The nickname threw him off guard. No one had called him that since his wife died. 

He stood up so quickly the chair squeaked in protest.

“Get some rest, Y/n.” He said without looking at you, “Call if you need anything.” He tapped the touchscreen device he left on the table - his universe’s version of a cell phone - before striding out the door without another word. 

You clenched your jaw and sank back into the pillows, part of you wishing you’d stayed asleep for a little while longer.

It took time for your body to feel like your own again. Most days you shouted at deaf limbs to move smoothly and carry things properly. Miguel had already written to Brooklyn Visions Academy about your medical leave of absence and had even gone so far as to visit your apartment to clean your kitchen and fridge while you remained bedridden at Spidey HQ. But for all the big and small ways he showed you that he cared, he neglected to do one thing - actually talk to you.

You shoved the sketchbook off the table, colored pens and pencils scattering on the floor as you dropped your head into your arms and silently screamed. Nearly a month after your injury and you still couldn’t quite hold things properly.

Your fine motor skills should return over time. Was what Dr. Parker had told you and the words should and time had been rattling around in your brain ever since.

Should or will? And how much time would it take?

“Fingers still not quite working right?” Hobie asked, leaning so far back in his seat with his legs propped up that he was nearly parallel with the floor. He held a tattered book in his hands, shifting colors with every page flip like the world’s worst chameleon.

“No.” You said, smoothing back your hair. You’d lost the bandages, but your skin was still tender to the touch in places and numb in others. Lichtenberg figure scars trailed up from your hands all the way to your collarbone, growing there like lichen on a tree. “It’s gotten better. A lot better. But it’s still not the same.”

“You’ll get there eventually.” Hobie said. He knelt on the floor and started to clean up the mess you had made, “Then you’ll be good as new.”

“How do you know?” You sighed, joining him.

He shrugged, “I don’t. But I was right before about you being able to send someone back to their own dimension without a watch. I’ve got a good feeling I’ll be right about this too.” 

He offered you a small smile and a helping hand, both of which you accepted.

You spent the rest of the day together, joined by Peter, Gwen, and Miles who cheered you through your daily exercises. You were getting strong again, albeit slowly. 

“I want to see you kiss the ground!”

“Show that stress ball who’s BOSS!”

“Yeah, THROW THAT DONGLE!”

“What did you just call-”

Miguel hovered by the door, never stepping foot into the training room with you in it. Never speaking to you, although he desperately wanted to. When you caught his eye, blinking in surprise as you kneeled in the training ring sweaty and tired, he bolted.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He muttered to himself as he strode to the office you’d affectionately coined his “vampire lair.” Although he’d kept his distance, he’d never left you alone. When you asked Peter about getting things from your apartment, he was the one who visited your dimension. When you initially had trouble walking after your injury, he was the one who tracked down the best physicians and physical therapist variants he could find. He was breaking protocol left and right to make sure you were ok and he knew it. But...

“Lyla, could you pull up the video?” She didn’t need to ask for clarification on which video. It was always the same one. Always the same happy memory, followed by a terrible and harsh reality. 

Gabriella’s smiling face flashed on the screen, her bubbly laughter rising high above Miguel’s own baritone chuckle as she threw her arms around his shoulders and slapped that silly blue bow on his head. He’d taken that video to send to you after she scored the winning goal. You never made it to the game.

It was a painful reminder of everything that was at stake. He’d taken too many liberties, allowed himself to get too close to you. If he lost you like he’d lost Gabriella. He-

“Is that her?�� 

Miguel’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. 

“Is that Gabriella?” You asked, swallowing thickly as Miguel turned around, leaving the video paused on two smiling faces. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Yes.” He answered softly, guilt heavy on his voice as you moved closer and inspected the girl on screen. 

Your breath caught in your throat, coming out as a strangled gasp. 

She looked like Miguel… She looked like you… 

“She’s got your smile.” You said softly, brushing away the unexpected dampness that had collected in your eyes. 

You’d been frustrated all day. Frustrated at yourself for your slow healing and your uncooperative body. When you had come to Miguel’s lair it was with the purpose of yelling at him for not visiting, and part of you still wanted to do that. But seeing him vulnerable and tired in front of his daughter your daughter Gabriella had taken some of the fight out of you.

“I always thought she had yours. Well, the other-”

“I understand, Miguel.” 

Silence stretched between you, tense and thin and waiting to be sliced through. You made the move. 

“Why haven’t you visited me?” The words came out sharper, more accusatory than you’d expected them to. 

Although Miguel flinched on the inside, he forced himself to take that pain and longing and shove it back into the little box he’d crafted for those feelings in the corner of his heart. The little box that you’d been steadily hacking away at from the very moment he met you.

“It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”

“Appropriate? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not appropriate for you to visit a friend?” 

His jaw clenched at the word friend. It was a flimsy word, too weak to hold up all the feelings you held for each other. He ignored your question and barrelled through his next words, words that he’d been contemplating over the last month you’d been stuck in the med bay.

“Peter J. says you’re well enough to go back home and back to work if you feel ready. He wants you here every Wednesday at 7pm for the next six weeks-”

“You’re not answering my question-”

“I’ve got a write up for you to bring to any physician in your dimension-”

“Miguel, stop ignoring-”

“If you need documentation. In the meantime-”

“Y ni siquiera me estás escuchando-”

“I’m taking you off the team.” 

You took a step back, the realization of what he’d just said hitting you like a slap. “What did you say?”

Miguel gritted his teeth, eyes sliding down to the floor so he wouldn’t have to see that quiet look of devastation on your face. You were having none of it, immediately getting close to him and pressing your hands against his chest. The pads of your fingers were delicate but forceful as they tilted his chin up, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Miguel, look at me.” Quiet. Desperate.

“I’m taking you off the team.” He repeated, clenching his jaw so tightly he could feel the grinding of his teeth.

“What-why would-why?”

“You almost died, Y/n. That stunt of yours could’ve gotten you killed.”

“Stunt? Is that really what you’re calling it?”

“You’re not cut out for this.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

It was bullshit and he did know it. 

“We couldn’t call you.” You prodded him with a finger, “We couldn’t trap him using the usual methods. We could barely hold him off long enough for anyone to come help. If I hadn’t done what I did, who the hell knows what would have happened? To Miles. To Gwen. To the millions of people living in New York. You need me Miguel, and not just for the superhero crap.”

What hadn’t occurred to you was that he knew exactly how much he needed you… and that was what terrified him so much.

“The decision’s been made, Y/n.” 

“By you. So change it.” 

“I’m not changing my decision.” Miguel growled, grabbing the hand that you’d been jabbing him with.

So this was the Miguel that everyone had told you about. Not the soft, brooding, sarcastic man you’d come to know. Not the Spider-Man whose humor revolved around making quippy comments. Not the Spider-Man who claimed to be the roughest and straight-laced of them all while still letting the cooks put his face on their signature burger. Not the smiling, laughing Miguel from the video with a blue bow in his hair.

No. This Miguel was short-tempered and hammered from steel. 

So why did he still hold your hand so gently, clutching it to his chest like he wanted to keep you there?

He shrugged you off, finally closing the screen on the video of him and Gabriella. Something about that made your blood boil.

“So what now?” You seethed, refusing to let this go. Not even as his fingers started to fly over the keyboard and his mind struggled to go elsewhere.

“You can go home. You can go back to the med bay.” 

You can stay here with me. You can help me get through all of this. 

Miguel’s heart screamed at him. His brain screamed back so loudly he felt his hold on his emotions stretch to its breaking point.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

Your voices had been steadily rising throughout the argument. So when his broad shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh, one hand coming up to rub at his temples, you thought you’d finally gotten to him. 

“¡Dime la verdad, Miguel! Why are you taking me off the team?” 

“I told you the truth earlier. You’re not cut out for this.” 

“BULLSHIT!”

He slammed his hand down on the keyboard, cracking it in two and sending keys clattering to the floor.

“I’M NOT LOSING YOU!” He roared, eyes alight and burning like the sun itself. “Not again!” His eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t stand the sight of you, chest rising and falling with desperate gulps of air.

You stood there, lightly swaying on your feet like a boat caught in an unexpected storm.

“I am not your fucking wife.” Your voice cracked, “You didn’t lose me before and unless you tell me to walk out that door right now, you will never lose me. Ok? I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to.”

You expected something, anything, from Miguel. But after a minute of silence passed with him standing like a statue in front of you, you swallowed your tears before they could fall and blinked away.

It wasn’t your intention to go home. You’d planned to go back to the med bay, curl up, and sleep away your troubles before stealing a watch in the morning. But like a broken dam can’t hold back water, your emotions and powers couldn’t be contained. 

When you looked around at your cleaned apartment, the faintest smell of Miguel’s cologne still stuck to the couch pillows, you sank to your knees and started to cry.

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_________

Author's note:

Autumn is here! And the colder, somber atmosphere in the coffee shop today helped inspire this chapter. I had a plan for this fic... I abandoned it long ago. But, that being said, I hope to have things wrapped up in the next 2-3 chapters and to bring some closure to the first multi-chapter fic I will have ever truly completed.

As always, I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and that your Autumn drinks are tasting ✨delicious✨

Love,

Florence B.

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#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel x spidersona #miles morales #gwen stacy #spider verse #atsv #hobie brown #peter b parker #angst

[shunshunrika]

How about showering with megumi fushiguro? It was all innocent but then your thoughts won't keep the innocence anymore and ykykykyk.......

hello hello. Foremost, you are my very first ask! Cheers! Here's a star for you: ⭐

Now coming to megumi-chan~

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┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

warnings: smut, groping, nudity, cursing

characters: Megumi Fushiguro (Jujutsu Kaisen)

minors do NOT interact

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you were a sworn hot-shower person and you were willing to die on that hill. Maybe scalding hot water wasn't a good choice for your skin and hair but you liked it that way. Lately though, you had been switching more to lukewarm or colder water. Why? Because Megumi blockhead Fushiguro would walk into the shower with you and increase the environmental temperature anyway! "It's faster. I've to get to work early. Hope you don't mind Y/N." was Megumi's matter-of-fact response when all of this first started. Now, it wasn't unusual for you to get lost in the suds, dancing along to the song playing in your head while Megumi snakes into the glass cubicle and squeezes your soapy waist.

Focus. Shower. This isn't the place to let your thoughts run stray.

You would bite your lips and continue scrubbing yourself as Megumi pooled shampoo into his palms and rubbed them together. His busy hands weren't doing a great job of hiding his decadent looking abs and semi-hard boner though. The drops of water from the shower trickled down his body, running in the creases formed by his muscles. His lashes dripped with crystalline water, making his green eyes pop and look ethereal.

"Help me, will you?" he says innocently, lowering his hand and bending his knees a bit so that you can reach his sud covered hair. You gulp as you hesitantly run your fingers through his sleek dark locks that usually stick out like an urchin.

"A little more thoroughly, please." He says, holding onto your forearms when he feels his feet slip a little on the slippery shower tiles. The increase in your rinsing force makes him lose his balance again anyway and awkwardly enough, he lands face first into your ample chest.

"M-megumi, are you alright?" you ask, concerned.

"Ah fuck. I was specifically trying to avoid something like this." you hear him mutter, his ears turning red as he doesn't quite distance himself from your chest, his grip on your arms only getting tighter. He then proceeds to latch on to one of your nipples earning a gasp from you.

"This will do. I don't want to do anything else here, it might not be safe. Don't mind me y/n" he says guiltily, removing his right hand off you and proceeding to stroke his hard on.

Don't mind, he says. Creating the perfect set up for something exactly like this to happen and then he says 'Don't mind'. What a cunning fellow. You continue soaping his hair although probably his hair was clean by now but you need something to keep you distracted while Megumi literally chewed on your nipple, making loud suckling noises like a baby while his fist pumped his cock. He lets go of your arm and presses you against the wall of the shower, his breath and heartbeat picking up pace and he mushes his face into the softness of your breast. He wastes no time moving from your chest up to your lips and enveloping you in a kiss that makes your head spin. He sucks on your lips as his climax chases him.

"Y- y/n. Ah, Ahhh shit!" he grits his teeth as spurts out his creamy sap onto your thighs. "Goddamnit, y/n."

"Well don't damn god or me, you silly thing." you say, looking at the milky art on your thighs, being diluted by the drops of water falling from overhead.

"I'll pay you back for this, tonight, in our comfy bed." he says, kissing your cheeks, preparing to leave. "Thanks sweetheart!"

you shake your head, turning off the shower. "And that's what he says everyday."

#megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #geto smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #fanfic #fluff #itadori #megumi fushiguro drabble #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro thirst #anime smut

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The biggest, brightest, gaudiest display in all of Indiana

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 5

Prompt: domestic fluff

Rated: G

CW: one slight mention of PTSD

Tags: Post Vecna; everybody lives; pining; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Christmas

It's starting to snow by the time Steve gets home, white flakes floating in the headlights of the beemer like balls of cotton. It crunches under his feet as he sloshes towards the front door. 

Even with Christmas more than two weeks away, they've been swamped with customers lately, the cold wind and unending snowfalls luring people inside. Now, away from the buzz, the world seems quiet. Peaceful, covered under its white blanket. 

Except Steve still hasn't learned to trust that peace. Even after more than a year, even with El assuring them time and again that it's over, they've won, … he still flinches at sounds in the night, looks for escape routes and things to fashion into weapons when entering a room. He isn't sure he'll ever stop.

He shakes his head to chase away the thoughts as he scales the steps to the front porch. He isn’t sure where they're coming from. Probably a combination of stress and the looming depression that always hangs over him at Christmas time, when all of his friends are with their families and he's left in this big, empty house, alone. He’ll take a shower, heat a microwave meal, and see what's on TV, that will-

The front door is unlocked. 

He's certain he turned the key not once, but twice before he left. 

Steve slides into the dark entrance hall on silent feet. He passes the umbrella stand, eyes scanning his surroundings, and his hand finds the hilt of the nail bat. There's a creak from overhead, like feet on floorboards. 

The attic. 

The hatch is gaping open as he creeps upstairs, the foldout ladder down. 

He holds his breath and inches his way upwards, rung by rung, bat clutched in one white-knuckled hand. 

"Hello, Steven," growls a voice, and he abruptly comes face-to-face with a grimace full of too-large teeth. 

Steve yelps, slips on the ladder, and goes sprawling on his ass. The nail bat rolls off into the shadows. 

"Oh, shit!" Another face appears behind the monster. One haloed in a mane of dark curls and crowned by a fuzzy Santa hat. "You okay, man?" 

"Fuck," Steve curses, clambering to his feet and rubbing at his sore butt. "Eddie? What are you doing up there?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and flashes him a toothy grin. It tugs at the scar on his jaw, the one he claims looks totally metal but hides under his hair most of the time. The one that Steve wants to map with his lips.

"Picking up that drill Wayne wanted to borrow. Told you I'd swing by after my shift at the garage." 

Steve settles down on the dusty floorboards and frowns. "Wasn't that at noon or something?" 

Like he doesn’t know. Like he hasn't memorized all of Eddie’s shifts. Only stopped dropping him off and picking him up every day because Eddie told him to stop. No satanic panic mobs left, no need for a bodyguard.

Eddie cocks his head in confusion and glances at his watch. "Why, what time is i- … whoops. Guess I got side-tracked." 

He shakes the monster- which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be a life-sized nutcracker. Its red-cheeked, too-wide smile mocks him and Steve just barely manages to not flip it off. 

Instead, he looks over the cardboard boxes around Eddie, all in various states of unpacked-ness. String lights coiled in thick tangles, dusty elves and reindeer and sugar canes. 

"Dude," Eddie says. He's pulled several colorful baubles from somewhere and is looping the strings over his ears. It looks ridiculous. It looks adorable.  "You never told me you're hiding Santa's village up here." 

"Didn’t even know we still had this," Steve mumbles, pulling the nearest box closer. It contains the huge neon letters spelling MERRY XMAS. "It's been forever since we got them out. Way before-"

He trails off. The words hang unspoken in the stale air. 

"I always wanted this, y’know?" Eddie says. His fingers are tracing Rudolph's shiny nose. "The whole shebang with the lights and the decorations and the music. Only so much you can do at the trailer." 

Steve hums vaguely, watches the way Eddie’s eyes crinkle, how the tip of the Santa hat flops into his face, and represses the urge to brush it back, trace those dimples with the pads of his thumbs. 

Eddie is looking at him with big, expectant cow eyes. 

"Huh?" 

"I said," Eddie repeats, sways into his space. "We should totally do it. Get all this stuff out. The biggest, brightest, gaudiest display in all of Indiana." 

Steve bites back a laugh, ignores how his stomach flutters at Eddie’s huge, excited grin. 

"I dunno. Sounds like a lot of work for just me." 

"Yeah, about that …" Eddie’s smile dims and his gaze drops. "I've been meaning to ask …" 

He starts to pick at his cuticles, so Steve habitually reaches for one of his hands to stop him. 

"Ask what?" 

Eddie sucks in a breath, and the next words rush out on the exhale, all at once. 

"So Wayne sort of took the holiday shifts because a guy got sick, so it'll just be me, and I thought …since you'll also be … alone, y'know, maybe we could …" 

"Eds," Steve says. The flutter in his stomach is turning into a hurricane. "Are you asking if I wanna spend Christmas together?" 

"What? Nah!" Eddie winks at him. "As if you'd deny me, please! I'm asking if we can get your ridiculous light show out." 

Steve snorts a laugh, chest warm and tingly and bright. "What, all of it?" 

"Hell yes, all of it," Eddie throws his head back and cackles, almost losing the hat. "It's gonna be our year, big boy!" 

They stay up in the attic for a long time, bickering and joking and unpacking boxes upon boxes of sparkly decor. Outside, the snow continues to fall. 

Steve hopes they'll get a white Christmas. 

Part 2

All of my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

[slutforsilverfoxes]

A very smol blurb inspired by the end of NCIS ep 11.2 so I can cope with my very big feelings (no spoilers, just discussion of our poor honey’s injury)

Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x wife!reader

__________

The door is unlocked and the lights are off when you come home which, normally, would be par for the course if not for the truck in the driveway with its hood still warm. Slipping inside and shaking off the fall chill, you drop your coat and keys by the door before stepping out of your shoes and making your way further into the house.

“Jay?” you call out into the darkness. “Y’here? You know I don’t do well with jump scares.”

“Better brace yourself then,” he counsels, and you can tell now that he’s in the kitchen. The small overhead light flickers to life, and you take in a shuddering breath, followed by an eloquent, “Son of a fucking whore, who did this to you?” Shaky fingers reach up to graze the fresh bruise blooming on his face, and you wince at the sight of multiple cuts and his bloodshot left eye. “I bet that fucker’s regretting messing with you, huh?”

“Easy, love,” he murmurs with a smile, delicately taking your wrist in his hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Your mouth could rival a sailor’s.”

“Oorah and all that jazz,” you fire back easily. “Answer the question, Jethro.”

“Which one?”

“Jethro.”

“Name’s not important. Locked up and taken care of,” he finally provides as he pulls you into a hug. You nuzzle into his solid chest and tease, “Bet he’s got an uglier mug than you now, hm?”

“You married this ugly mug.”

“And aren’t I just the luckiest gal in the world?” You guide him over to the small table and gently nudge his shoulder. He takes the hint and settles into the chair, finally releasing some tension from the day while you card your fingers through his hair. “I’ll get you some ice.”

Tilting his head back to rest against your tummy, he looks up at you with the closest thing to puppy dog eyes he can muster in his current state. “Make it a beer? It’ll be a twofer.”

“Got it,” you answer, sliding milk and eggs aside to reach for the six pack of your husband’s favorite local brew. You hear the phone ringing as you extract yourself from the fridge, and when you return to his side, Jethro heaves a sigh before lifting the device to his ear with a quiet, “Hey, Ziver.”

You twist off the cap to his beer before placing it down by his hand, then give his shoulder a firm squeeze and press a delicate kiss to his cheek. He places his hand over your own and squeezes back, looking up to meet your gaze with a small smile.

After one more brush of your lips against his temple, you head upstairs to shower and change. He’ll come find you when he’s ready.

__________

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24

#i am sad #big sad #i needed this #tw injury #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x you #leroy jethro gibbs x you #leroy jethro gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs x female reader #leroy jethro gibbs x female reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis imagine #ncis reader insert #ncis x reader #ncis gibbs #ncis fanfiction #gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #gibbs #hurt/comfort #ncis #ncis fandom

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @subeddieweek, day three.

Menace to Society

Prompt: Brat/Wet/Choking | Word Count: 2556 | Rating: E | CW: Gagging | Tags: Established Relationship, Teasing, Taunting, Bratty Sub Eddie, A Bit of Orgasm Denial, Choking (on Cock), Light Biting, Light Spanking, Rimming, Unprotected Sex

He's a nuisance. A little shithead. A menace to society and Steve's life, as a whole. 

And Steve wouldn't have it any other way. 

Eddie is dripping water all over the hardwood floors of the bedroom as he stands in front of the closet, totally naked. His wet hair is dripping down his back, and he has to be freezing cold. The fan is whirring overhead, the window AC blowing full blast. But Steve just watches, waiting to see how long the little brat can hold out. 

He's pretty sure Eddie didn't even attempt to ghost a towel over himself, let alone dry off. 

Flicking through the shirts, Eddie's acting like he's never seen any of them before. Like, this is a brand new wardrobe and not his same old, ratty ass clothes that he refuses to replace, like, ever.

Steve waits. And Eddie stalls. 

He finally selects a plain black shirt, and pulls it over his head and slides on a pair of red plaid boxers. They're both clinging to his wet skin, and it can't be comfortable. But Steve says nothing, not even when Eddie slides into bed, his cold, wet hair soaking into the pillow, not even when he slides right up against Steve, pushing his face into Steve's neck. 

This cold, wet, rat of a man. 

And he's all Steve's. 

"You're a little brat," Steve says, and he can feel Eddie's smile against his skin, pressed against his pulse point. He's sure it's hammering away, giving away that he's not exactly as unaffected as he hopes he seems.

"And what are you gonna do about that?" Eddie asks, licking a wet stripe towards Steve's ear. 

"If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask." 

"Where's the fun in that?" Eddie questions, and Steve laughs. He's not sure how he's the boss here, he doesn't feel like he's the boss of anything that happens in their house. 

Long, long ago he was yanked off his feet by the living, breathing tornado that shares his bed. And he knew he could either ride out the storm, or take cover.

And he'll ride out the storm, always.

Eddie leans in and bites him hard on the neck, and it's his cue to act. He knows it, so he manhandles Eddie off him, and over onto his knees, until he's draped over his lap and draws back his hand and smacks Eddie on the ass. Once, twice, three times, a little harder with each blow.

Eddie just laughs. 

"Tickles," Eddie mumbles into the pillow. 

So, Steve strikes him again. Harder.

Then yanks on the damp boxers, wrestling them off Eddie, and pushing his t-shirt up his back. 

And Steve finds that Eddie has clearly worked himself open in the shower, despite knowing how much Steve likes to do it himself. 

"You disobeyed me," Steve says, spanking him again, then pressing his thumb against Eddie's stretched hole. 

"Well, if you'd be a little more competent at the job," Eddie says, and Steve grips his hip. 

"Hey," Steve says, firm, unyielding. It's effective, and the tone is all Eddie needs to change directions and back off. To mind. Steve's made it clear he doesn't like to be degraded or shamed, doesn't like to feel like he's bad at things, like he's bullshit, and Eddie knows better, even if he's being a fucking brat right now.

"Too far, sorry," Eddie says, and he reaches back to pet Steve's hand. 

"That's what I thought," Steve says, dumping Eddie onto the bed, moving to stand in front of Eddie. He tugs down his own underwear, just over his ass and palms his dick. 

Then he crooks his finger at Eddie, beckoning him closer.

"On your knees. Hands behind your back." 

Eddie whines, "But I'm ready…"

"And you'll still be ready when I am," Steve says firmly, pointing at the floor, "on your knees."

Eddie slides off the bed, and does as he's been told, but has a bitchy look on his face the entire time. It's a big job, but Steve will try to fix that attitude, so he grabs Eddie's cheeks between his fingers, pinching, forcing him to open up his mouth. Demanding that he lowers his jaw. 

He does, and Steve pats him on the cheek, softly, "That's my good boy. So docile, so giving, such a soft boy."

Steve's paying him back, even if Steve knows him well enough to know this won't rile him. Eddie wants to submit, even if he isn't exactly docile. Isn't soft. And doesn't want to be. 

When he lets go, Eddie is still sitting there, his mouth open. Waiting. Waiting. Eyes hooded.

Steve palms his own dick, stroking the length of himself, right at Eddie's eye level. Making him watch. 

Eddie sticks out his tongue, and Steve grins at him, can't help it, but still tells him, "You're a goddamn brat." 

And Eddie clamps his mouth shut, defiant. 

Loving Eddie, is living with constant consented to chaos.

Steve does nothing, just keeps stroking his own cock, lazily. Nothing works better on Eddie's bratty bad attitude than simply ignoring him. Lack of attention, that's what gets him to shape up.

So, Steve fists his own dick, and closes his eyes, tilting his head back. Long, smooth strokes, showing that he can please himself. That he doesn't need Eddie. That he can do this without any of his input.

Steve knows the silence won't last, can't. Eddie'll get jealous of Steve's own hand. He'll get too impatient. Steve's not wrong.

"Well, are you gonna do anything about it?" Eddie snaps.

Steve grins, wicked, opening his eyes as he leans down to get closer to Eddie's face.

"Of course I am. I was just waiting to see how big of a hole you were planning on digging for yourself, first."

Eddie's jaw drops back down, mouth open and pliant. Willing and waiting. Not wanting to be left out.

And that's more like it.

Steve rewards him for it by sliding the head of his cock against Eddie's bottom lip, then the tip of his tongue, before sliding in, in, in. Bumping the back of Eddie's throat. 

Eddie gags, he always does, and Steve's instinct is still to pull out. Even after all this time. Even after Eddie has told him not to, again and again. And Eddie must know that, must feel it happening, Steve withdrawing, so Eddie disobeys the order he was given and takes one hand out from behind his back, grabbing a handful of Steve's ass, pulling him in even further into his mouth. 

His cock sliding into Eddie's throat deeper than before, gagging him even worse.

Steve buries his hand in Eddie's hair, close to the scalp, and pulls him backwards. Off his dick completely. And Eddie makes a choked noise at the loss, but lets go of Steve's ass, and puts his hand back behind his back where it belongs. But he looks up at Steve with wet, betrayed eyes.

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's forehead, and Eddie nods. Just ever so slightly. 

He's okay, just pouting. 

"Do I need to hog-tie you and set you in cement? Or can you behave for once in your goddamn life?" Steve asks, and Eddie offers up his wrists, more belligerence than an actual offering, and Steve ignores him. "Behind. Your. Back," Steve repeats slowly, and Eddie puts them back where they belong.

Eddie nods, lowering his eyes, finally submitting.

So, Steve presses back in. Pressing, pushing until Eddie's eyes are watering more. Big and shining with unshed tears, but locked in on Steve's. Unwavering. 

Begging him, silently. 

Pupils blown wide, as he's getting lost in the scene, and it's a look Steve adores to get out of him.

So, Steve gives him what he wants, and bottoms out, choking him. He holds his cock in Eddie's throat for a few breaths. 

Then pulls out. Eddie gasps for air, just for a second, then opens his mouth for more. 

Steve gives him more. Over and over, until he's ready to torment Eddie further. Or, well, until Eddie's ready to be tormented further, seems more accurate. Steve's in charge, but this is always, will always, be about Eddie and his wants. His needs.

How they get there will be in Steve's hands, but the end game has always been clear to Steve. Make Eddie happy, even if he has to torture that happiness out of him, inch by inch, squeeze by squeeze.

"I'm gonna come," Steve tells him, "right down your throat."

Eddie whines, and attempts to shake his head no.

"Are you telling me no? Are you the boss of me?" 

Eddie whines again, shaking his head.

"All that work, and for what? Nothing," Steve says. "What'd you use? Your fingers? A toy? Hidden away, stretching yourself open, unable to wait for me to take care of you."

Eddie can't answer, not with Steve's cock in his throat. 

"Yeah, like that," Steve says, and then grips the back of Eddie's head. 

Eddie whines.

"Here it comes," Steve tells him, and presses as far in as he can. Eddie's nose is buried in his pubes, taking it. 

He doesn't come, never planned to, but he jerks his hips and groans like he has, and when he pulls out, Eddie swallows like he did. Giving him the big, sad doe eyes as he does it. Really laying on the patheticness.

Steve tucks his still hard dick back into his underwear, like this over. Because Eddie likes that. Likes to feel denied. Even as he whines, and kicks up a fuss, he is getting off on it. Steve knows he is. 

So, Steve crawls in bed, and Eddie follows. Steve lays his head back on his cold, wet pillow and sighs, like he's settling in for the night. 

And Eddie curls up right next to him, settling against his body. 

Steve reaches up and pets Eddie's hair, leaning over to kiss him on the head. 

"You're perfect," Steve says. 

Eddie doesn't miss a beat, "I know." 

Steve laughs. 

And Eddie grins. 

"You gonna be good for me a little bit longer?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, adamant.

Eddie is bent over on his knees, and Steve is caressing his skin. Worshiping him. Everything about him. 

Before Eddie, before this life he loves, Steve hadn't thought about being in charge in a long time, his king's crown long thrown away with flourish and good fucking riddance. But Eddie wants Steve to drive. Even when he's being a little brat. He's still begging for Steve to take charge. To lay a firm hand against his body, guiding him. 

Steve never used to feel comfortable being in control of anything, not really, not even in his King Steve days. But he's learned to enjoy it, to do this with Eddie. Would do anything for Eddie.

He's slicked up his dick, and made sure Eddie is actually ready, and he is, before pressing inside. 

Eddie makes the most beautiful sound Steve's ever heard. A happy whine, and Steve thinks he's done good. Done right by Eddie. 

And that's all he ever wants to do. 

Make him happy. No matter what that entails. 

Even that comes from making him suffer, just a little bit, first.

"Don't you even think about coming before me," Steve demands, and Eddie whines about that, too.

Steve presses his fingers into Eddie's hips as he fucks him, and Eddie is finally behaving now that he's gotten exactly what he wanted. Head hung low, relaxed in his total submission.

That won't do. Not at all.

"What? Nothing to say now? No running commentary?" Steve goads.

Eddie says nothing, and Steve's not sure he can right now.

But he squeezes down on Steve's dick, and it makes Steve smile. He rubs his hip bone, thumbing the sharp point of it. 

"C'mon, it's the closest thing I get to hearing a sports play-by-play these days." 

Eddie scoffs, and Steve is baiting him. He watches sports all the time, much to Eddie's pissing and moaning. 

"This is entrapment, Harrington," Eddie finally breathes out. 

It is. It definitely is.

"I think you like it when I'm bratty," Eddie adds, his forehead resting against the mattress, his voice a little muffled.

Steve smiles, where Eddie can't see, "Lies." 

He feels so good, open and slick, and Steve fucks him with long, hard strokes. Well practiced, after so many years together. Eddie's so fucking wet, he must have used an overabundance of lube.

Steve shifts his hips, changing his angle, and works over Eddie's prostate. Over and over, with precision, trying to shove Eddie to the precipice without toppling him over it. He wants Eddie to feel like he's gonna fail, but not actually fail. 

Eddie whines, hanging his head, loose and limp. Finally, completely pliant. Trusting Steve.

And Steve keeps him there, dangling on the edge. Brushing past his prostate on every third stroke, then every fifth, every tenth. Backing off as he reads Eddie's body language. Eddie's loose, basically melted, but Steve can still tell. Can still read him like an open book. He knows everything there is to know about Eddie Munson.

It's the hardest he's ever studied in his whole life.

And Steve knows that Eddie's gonna come, soon.

So, Steve lets go of his own control, and shoves right into Eddie's prostate one more time, dick jerking as he empties himself into Eddie and Eddie whines, coming untouched all over the sheets below.

After Steve, as directed, like a good fucking boy.

Steve pulls out, and slaps him on the ass one more time, but this time in a good game sort of way, and Eddie laughs, wet and amused. 

"I have no bones, my bones have gone," Eddie says, collapsing to the sheets, laying in his own wet spot and not giving a flying fuck. 

Steve will just have to clean him up. Take care of him. So, Steve rubs his back, and then presses his thumb against Eddie hole. Loose and wet, so fucking wet.

Steve leans down and runs his tongue over it, flat and soothing, and Eddie sighs, content, "That feels good."

Steve rubs his hand on Eddie's ass cheek, and Eddie tries to spread his legs further, as Steve presses his tongue to him, over and over, cleaning him up, soothing him. 

And then Eddie is finally quiet, finally still. Because he's fallen asleep.

Steve will have to move him, have to clean up the bed, but for now, he just rests his cheek against Eddie's bare side, throwing his arm over Eddie's damp thighs, now wet with sweat instead of water from the shower, and closes his eyes.

And smiles.

Steve does like it. The brattiness. Lives for it, honestly. Longs for that spark in Eddie's eyes, asking, begging, pleading, trusting Steve to do something about it. Trusting Steve to do so many things that Eddie will love, even if he pretends he doesn't, the whole goddamn way.

That is, until Eddie is finally settled and still, satisfied, just like he is in this very moment. Lightly snoring, a sound that is music to Steve's ears. Background noise that means he's home.

And Steve presses his lips to Eddie's skin, loving on him a little bit more.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @subeddieweek and follow along with the fun! 🖤

My other fics for this challenge week:

Day One Day Two Day Four Day Five Day Six Day Seven

#subeddieweek #steddie fic #brat/wet/choking #sub eddie munson #thisapplepielife: subeddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

[mintmatcha]

ennoshita x reader

cw: cisfem reader, intercrucal sex, fingering, shower sex, established relationship

Minors DNI banner by @/benkeibear

takes place 6 months after just the tip

“You know what I’m going to say.”

You try to play off your smile as annoyance, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. You drop your bags by the foot of the bed and shed your coat, letting it crumple on the floor. “I’m going to take a shower. I remembered to bring conditioner this time.”

“You wouldn’t have to remember conditioner-” Ennoshita sing-speaks, watching you from his spot on the top of the mattress- “if you’d just move in.”

You exchange knowing looks. The idea makes something glimmer inside your chest, shiny and exciting. Your relationship is inching towards the year mark; moving in together is the obvious next step, especially when your lease is ending in two months.

You’re going to give in and live here, obviously.

But it’s fun to tease him.

“Hmm, nope,” you shrug, “I like my apartment.”

“I could move into your place,” Ennoshita replies too easily. He’s already prepared for bed, pajamas on and hair washed. It’s still early, but tomorrow’s a work day and he needs to be up early for the clinic. 

“And commute an hour to work?” you scoff, “You’d hate that.”

He smiles with his eyes, real and true. “I’d love other parts of it.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask, “Seeing me change?”

As you shimmy your jeans past your hips Ennoshita shifts, moving ever so slightly in the corner of your vision. He tilts his head just a couple of degrees to watch you move with an uninhibited view, smiling slipping down, down, down, until his bottom lip catches between his teeth, pearly white against the deep hue of his vermilion.

“That’s one benefit.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

His eyes crease with amusement, narrowing into half moons, sharp and hungry. “Like what?” he says, an edge of teasing on his voice as he adjusts deeper in his seat, legs spreading almost on their own as if you wordless invite you in. You step out of your pants, then strip off your shirt as well. Your underwear is the practical kind, skin tone with too much coverage, and yet he still reveres you all the same, that pearly clutch only growing tighter the more he marvels.

“Like you’re gonna eat me.”

Your boyfriend's smile only grows. “Come here and maybe I will.”

You take a delicate step backwards, hands reaching behind your own back to unclasp your bra. 

“No.” You let it fall and his eyes latch on to the curve of your tits, “You come here.”

When you dip around the corner, the bed creaks with the sudden release of weight and Ennoshita is quick to follow, fingers nimbly undoing his shirt buttons as he pursues you, sure yet patient, like a wolf on the hunt. By the time you make it to the bathroom, he’s eclipsing you; his bare chest presses into yours, squishing your tits against him as he catches you in a kiss.

The physical contact between you has developed. It’s more natural now, with edges of neediness that are so sharp that you think he might break-

But he hasn’t. 

Not that you’re upset. You cum more often than most of your friends, but you still find yourself craving a good hard fuck-

Especially in times like this, where you can feel his cock starting to harden against your stomach.

“I really do need a shower, Chichi,” you mumble halfheartedly. 

Ennoshita chuckles at the nickname, only squeezing you tighter. His eyes sparkle under the overhead light, their color melting into the black of his pupil, endlessly dark, yet bottomless with pure affection. You’d never tell him this to his face in fear that he’d take it the wrong way, but they remind you of a cow's eyes, soft and sweet and large, with  deep lower lids and thick eyelashes that sweep downwards over his iris. 

“Go ahead," he says, "I’ll wash your back.”

You love him. The ooey, gooey kind that sticks to your ribs and keeps you full well into the night. It makes you a little sick to think about, like you could choke on it if you swallow the wrong way. 

You let him peel the rest of your clothes from your body and you return the favor, both of you naked in the door of his bathroom and bare to each other. The tile is cold against the soles of your feet, but the rest of you is warm.

“Stop doing that,” you scold as Ennoshita departs with a kiss. He starts the tub, testing the heat with his fingertips every couple of seconds, rushing the water to heat faster. 

“Doing what?” he hums.

“Being so sweet.”  Steam is already starting to cling to the mirror as you both step into the tub and pull the curtain back. The warm spray pulls a sigh from both of you as you settle, facing the shower with Ennoshita to your back. He maintains a boundary, but you can feel him there, moving in the space right off of your skin, electric in anticipation it builds.

“I’m sorry," he says with no remorse in his voice. His lips brush over the nape of your neck, breath cool in contrast to the steam. "Can I make it up to you?”

You lean back, head against his shoulder, damp hair clinging to his skin as you try to see his face. The drum of water against your chest dulls your hum, steals the playful sounds in your throat as he finally touches you, pushing his hands up your sides until they are cupped under the curve of your tits. He lifts them slightly with the press of his fingers and you can feel how he swallows against you, thick with desire. 

”Can I?” he asks again. His touch travels up, greedy hands squeezing and pinching at your nipples, the slickness of water gliding between your skin. “Can I make you feel good?”

You nod and press back into him to savor the soft comfort of how his hands wander. One still cups at your chest while the other dips low, fumbling to part your pussy. His middle finger curls and bumps over your clit a bit too roughly as he tries to find it, eager yet clumsy. A runnel of warm water follows his arm, the flow pleasantly warm where it moves against you and the trickle between your legs teasing.

 With tentative circles, he falls into a rhythm, brushing over your hooded clit over and over as he mouths the back of your neck. The build up is slow, but there, and your hips wiggle reflexively against him when the urn becomes too much. His cock is now fully hard and nestled into the dip of your ass. It kicks in time with your whines.

“Chikara, ah-” You cling to his wrist, holding him in just the right place as heat overtakes your senses. Wantonly, you throw your foot on to the rim of the tub, knocking over bottles to give him more space to maneuver. He uses the space to stroke you more freely, in neater, cleaner motions.

“Right there, like that.” Your core tightens and you suddenly feel more empty than ever.

The longer you wait, the more ravenous for him you’ve become, your ache to be fucked almost physically painful some days.

“Move in and I’ll do this every night.” Ennoshita’s voice drips with want, “M-make you cum all you want. All you need.”

He pulls you closer. “Just say yes.”

You throw him a look. “You can’t ask now, that’s not f-air.” You squeak out the last syllable as he squeezes his other hand, grip slipping against the slick fat of your tit.

“Move in.” His teeth nips at the back of your neck, “And I’ll-” He stumbles over his words, then refocuses, voice firm, “I’ll fuck you.”

Shock stiffens your spine straight. He’s never suggested breaking his rule. Sure, you’ve skirted the line many times before, but you’ve never fully broken it. It’s his boundary to cross and, despite how much you want him, you’ve never pushed him on the issue. 

“Chi-”

“I want to.” He interrupts your worry by rutting his hips into your ass, water lubing his cock as it moves between your cheeks, “Fuck, I want to.”

He readjusts and you’re greeted by the firmness of his cock, pressing through the petals of your cunt. He grips on to your hips, tight enough flesh bulges through his fingers, and drags you back across his length. With every movement, he swallows back a groan, chest high and heavy with sounds he doesn’t want you to hear. Everything between you is slick from the shower, but when you look down, the head of his dick is glazed with thicker, shinier excitement. You are still pulsing, so close to your own high, and you wonder if he can feel your pussy twitching against him.

“I think about it all the time,” he says, voice fucked past the point of recognition,  “Holding you like this. Giving you what you want.”

He pulls back and pushes forward, faux-fucking you at a slow, controlled tempo. The shower provides its own lube, mixing with your own body’s excitement to ease his thrusts through the valley of your thighs.

“What you need.”

He pressed on your lower back to angle your hips forward and suddenly the sensation changes. The ridge of his cock catches against the sensitive bump of your clit, pulling another shock of pleasure from you. Each stroke makes you jump, pushing on to your heels with a whine. The rhythm is just enough for you to both get lost in it, hopelessly, aimlessly grasping for each other. 

“I’m honestly obsessed with you,” he teases, throwing your own words from way back when back at you.

Tight heart builds in you with every stroke, pulling infinitely stronger until every muscle in your body is taut in anticipation.

This isn’t enough, you realize. You need just a bit more.

You bring your leg back to the ground and cross your ankles, squeezing your thighs together tight. Ennoshita chokes at the sudden sensation, hips stuttering against your ass with sharp, wet claps. The new tension means his member smushed against you and every vein and ridge and texture is apparent with each rut into the makeshift pussy your legs have formed.

“Oh, shit-” he grits out, head dropping to your shoulder and arms wrapping around you tight, locking you in place against him, “Shit-

He spills on to your thighs with a mangled sob, cock jerking with each ribbon of spend. His whole body flushes with heat, all the way down to his shaking thighs. The feel of him, the sound of him, it's insanely hot, but your stomach still sinks as your own high starts to drift away. 

"Did you cum?"  he asks after a moment. Ennoshita trails sweet kisses down the curve of your spine as he lets you go, cock still locked between your thighs.

You shrug, trying to reach awkwardly behind you for him. "No, but it's fine."

Ennoshita pauses. "No." He runs his fingers through the last remnants of his cum that cling to your thighs, "It's not."

Slicked fingers find their way back to you, dipping deep within your folds to roll your clit. This time, he’s more confident, playing with you faster, needier, pulling whines out of you much easier than before. The feel of his spend adds to the delight, everything about both of you just wet, wet, wet.

The position is awkward, but he still manages to reach around and work his fingers into you, pushing his cum deep inside you. The fullness gives you a tremendous release, but also stokes the fire, forcing you to want more and more- more of him, more of his cum inside you-

“Where it belongs,” he says, as if he can read your mind, and you nod in agreement. Yeah, inside you is where it belongs.

Ennoshita grinds the heel of his palm into your cunt and it’s all suddenly too much. The string inside you breaks and you cum, hard. The sensation makes you sob, pulling in air so hard that you inhale the shower stream and you immediately erupt into a coughing fit. Ennoshita laughs, incredulous.

“Are you alright?” He pats your back. You gather yourself with a sniffle, standing to face him. His dark hair is wild, half wet and smeared across his forehead as he coos with sympathy, calm smile pinned deep into his cheeks.

“You came so hard you’re crying.”

“I did not,” you retort weakly.

“Okay, okay. If you say so."

He holds his arms open for you and you shuffle into them, that shower drizzle already starting to lose its heat. You should hurry and stop running up the utility bill, but instead you linger, savoring the innocent part of skinship. Ennoshita doesn't seem to mind, occasionally dotting kisses onto your crown.

“I will, by the way,” you whisper,  “Move in.”

He's unphased. You both already knew that you were going to agree. “Good.” 

“Not because of the sex,” you clarify, speaking into the crook on his shoulder. “Because of the ‘you.’”

“I know."  He hums to himself, throat buzzing under your touch, “Want me to wash your hair?”

You shake your head with a sigh. "Can't."

"I can't? Am I that hopeless?"

You peek up. He's watching you with those round, round eyes. "My conditioner is still in my bag, Chichi."

He laughs a bit too hard, sputtering a bit on water himself. "

"You know what i'm going to say, don't you?" His fingers tickle at your side, "If you lived here-"

"I already said yes!"

He laughs again and its musical to your ears.

[dameronscopilot]

That was really nice of Steven to take care of us after Marc and Jake fucked us raw. What can we do to take care of Steven? He’s got needs too. There must be SOMETHING we can do even though we’re spent. 😈

You're right, nonnie. Marc and Jake had their fun, but Steven deserves to feel good, too.

Context: Aftercare with Steven

Steven Grant x f!reader

Content: NSFW, aftercare, soft and horny Steven, sub!Steven vibes, dry wet humping

Despite the fact that his body found its release not once, but twice after your rough, thorough, ruthless fucking by both Marc and Jake, Steven ultimately can’t help the way his shaft begins to stiffen again with interest as he helps you into the hot shower.

He's only human, so he tries not to be too hard on himself when blood rushes to his cock as he takes in the sight of the cum all over your naked body under the bathroom's bright overhead lights—dripping from both of your overstimulated holes, splattered all over the inside of your thighs, painted across the swell of your tits, and some still lying fresh on your swollen, spit-soaked lips.

You look so beautiful like this.

But Steven can address this later, after he takes care of you. You've already given them so much of yourself tonight, he'd never ask for more.

He knows how badly you need him right now, to be your safety and comfort as you come down from your ecstasy and face the exhaustion that's now hitting you.

He bites his lip, willing his erection to go down as he stands behind you under the steaming spray of water, his hands deftly moving across the planes and curves of your body as he washes you clean. Though it's a fruitless effort, he tries to avoid the mental image of what he knows you look like from the front—eyes closed, lips slightly parted in contentment, soap sliding down your wet breasts and peaked nipples.

Steven thinks he might just make it through and get you tucked back into bed without a hitch, until you reach for his arms, urging him to hug you from behind. And it's then that he's caught, unable to hide the way his throbbing shaft presses insistently against your backside when he embraces you.

"Steven."

He's already on the verge of taking a step backward when his name leaves your mouth quietly, but what he's not expecting is the way you grab both of his hips and pull him back where he was.

"Yeah, love?" he croaks out.

And he can't stop the moan that tumbles from his lips when you arch your back, gently grinding your ass into his cock.

"Go ahead."

"You need to rest," he argues weakly, his words contradicted by the way he's begun to unconsciously rut into you, hands now gently resting on your hips.

"I want you to come first" you murmur, turning your head to the side and tangling a hand in his curls, pulling him in for a kiss. "You were so patient waiting while Marc and Jake had their turn."

A whine bubbles up in Steven's throat as you tug on his hair.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The word has hardly left your lips before Steven presses you up against the cool shower tiles, cursing under his breath at the sight of you now brazenly presenting your backside to him.

It's there that Steven finds his own release—dizzy with desire and arousal as you urge him to be a good boy and come for you, to paint you in it like Marc and Jake did.

And he does, desperately sliding his thick shaft in between your wet, soapy asscheeks until his hips are stuttering. Until he's gasping and panting and moaning. Until there's so much cum spraying from his cock all over your naked body, he's not sure it's ever going to stop.

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