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pinksturniolo · 15 days

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Switch - Chris and Matt Sturniolo (Part One)

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

Summary: Cherry Bomb - The largest underground BDSM club in Los Angeles, California. Its member list is extremely exclusive, only granting access to celebrities, influencers and the filthy rich. No one really cares who you are or what you do, they come for one thing and one thing only. Whatever happens at the Cherry stays at the Cherry….

Content warnings: smut, oral, fingering, protected sex, bondage, spanking, teasing, threesome

this story has heavy themes and descriptions of bdsm, so if you’re not comfortable with that pls don’t read <3

word count: 3,879

Neon lights bounce off the shiny black walls, loud music playing but not too loud that you can’t hear what the blonde guy next to you is saying. He’s been talking your ear off for the last 20 minutes, while you zone out, sipping on your lemon club soda. This was the only time you wished they served alcohol here so you could at least be tipsy enough to endure the men that have been approaching you tonight.

Your usual partner hasn’t shown up yet and you have already been here for almost an hour. You try to ignore the slight ache in your chest though, focusing your attention back to the man next to you.

“So, how long you been coming here?” He asks.

“About 6 months now.” You reply.

“Damn, I feel like an amateur." He laughs, “This is only my second time.”

Obviously.

You hated to think so rudely but every person you’ve talked to tonight just wasn’t the one you preferred. You were starting to get extremely impatient, wondering where he was. He was never late.

As if your internal monologue has been heard by a higher power, you feel a hand on the back of your neck and turn in your seat to see the same man you were just thinking of. He has a dark look on his face as he eyes the person next to you.

“I don’t think she’s very interested buddy, why don’t you go bother some other poor girl.” He says to him, his hand now curling around your shoulder possessively.

The blonde guy’s face reddens with embarrassment as he quickly scrambles up from his chair. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was yours.” he says and quickly walks off.

You scoff as your partner sits next to you, ordering a water from the waitress.

“That was unnecessary.” You say, his face still annoyed as he relaxes into the chair, his arm still slung around the back of you. He takes a long sip of his water, avoiding looking at you. You see his jaw clench and he runs a hand through his hair before speaking.

“What were you doing talking to that loser anyways?” He finally asks, making eye contact with you and he looks pissed.

“Oh my god, are you jealous Matt? Maybe you should’ve been here on time before other guys had the chance to talk to me.” you reply, a teasing smile appearing on your face.

He then grabs the side of your chair, pulling it forcefully towards him, causing you to gasp out. Your thighs are touching, and his hand moves from the back of your chair to the nape of your neck, sliding up to knot his fingers in your hair and pull slightly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t entertain other men when I’m not around and wait patiently for me like a good girl. Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to? Hm?” He whispers in your ear threateningly. Your core pulses with arousal at his words, his warm breath on your neck causing tingles to shoot down your spine.

So of course, this leads to you replying with a smart remark, which makes him take you to the candy room and punish you until you beg for forgiveness.

There were numerous rooms in the club that members could use, their time limit being an hour. But the main rooms that were larger and you could reserve for however long you wanted (at a high price) were only four. The star room, the red room, the flower room and the candy room.

The candy room is where you and Matt spend most of your encounters together at the Cherry Bomb. However, there’s nothing sweet about it besides the name. Its walls are painted red, a black bed with silk sheets in the middle and glossy black floors. There’s a cabinet of floggers, ropes, leather and fuzzy cuffs, vibrators and anything else you can imagine.

There’s no particular reason why it’s your favorite but Matt has been reserving it for you since you met him here and it’s become a routine on a Saturday night, twice a month.

Cherry Bomb has been around since the late 80s and has done a particularly good job at keeping its participants a secret, mainly due to the NDA you have to sign upon your first entry, along with a recent STD panel and heavy entrance fee. They also prohibited alcohol and drug use.

You were referred by one of your friends, which made it easier for you to get in. The money was no issue for you, but the wait list was long and having a friend on the inside had its benefits.

You instantly loved it from the first time you came. The atmosphere wasn’t grungy or too dark like you would expect a typical sex club to be. No one seemed to care who you were here, there was no judgement, and it was a safe place to act out your wildest fantasies, with whoever you choose.

You had had experiences with a couple different men and women, all which were satisfying for the most part. Most people had a habit of choosing a particular partner and being loyal to them, while others constantly swapped, not staying with one person too long.

When you met Matt, you instantly clicked, and found something in him that you hadn’t felt with any other member. He approached you one night, his demeanor confident but also calm. The energy flowed between you two, and once he got you to the room alone, it was fireworks. He was very clear on consent being an important aspect and boundaries were established before anything else.

Matt was a switch, like you. While most of the time he preferred to be dominate, he could also be submissive which was heaven to you. You loved it when he took control, using your body however he pleased, and he knew the best way to handle your brattiness. Because as much as it felt good to submit to him, you also had a fiery attitude which only made the pleasure of his punishment better.

He made you beg till you cried, spanked you so hard you had marks for weeks, and would tie you to the bed and fuck you until your brain was fuzzy, and your throat was raw from screaming his name. Making you cum over and over again until you were numb.

But when he was the submissive for the night… it was a whole different experience. There was nothing better than the feeling of him begging you to please him, demanding him to do whatever you wanted. Edging him until he was whimpering for you, teasing him and seeing how much he enjoyed it. Nothing compared.

And the best part about Matt that you liked, was that he always took the time to make sure you had the proper after care after each session. Cleaning you up, getting you water if you needed it, and even massaging your body if he went particularly hard on you that night.

He was currently holding you after tonight's session was done, rubbing small soothing circles on your back, your head cradled against his chest. You can hear his heart beating at a relaxed pace, calming you as your own heart slows down to match his tempo.

He breaks the sweet silence, his velvety voice pulling you out of your trance. “Y/N… I have a question for you.”

“Mhm?” You mumble, your fatigue settling in.

“How do you feel about a threesome?” He says, his hand stroking over the top of your head.

You’re alert now, lifting your head to turn and look at him. His eyes are half closed, a lazy smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

“I think it’s pretty hot. Is that something you want to do?” You reply.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I’ve experienced them before, yes. Depends… who would it be with?”

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth, a contemplative look on his face.

“I know someone that’s interested. In you. He’s always wanted to come to Cherry but he’s hesitant.” Matt says and your heart rate picks up a little at his words.

“He’s interested in me?” You ask, surprised at the fact that Matt talks about you outside of the club. That would be breaking the NDA.

He strokes his hand over the side of your face, caressing your jaw with his fingers. His eyes are soft, like they always are at the end of the night, adoring you with affection.

“Sorry, princess. I know I’m technically not supposed to talk to anyone about this. But I trust him… and I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you would be upset.” He says.

You sit up now, fully facing him, and place your arms on either side of him, one hand resting on his chest and the other on his bicep.

“I know, I’m not upset. I’m flattered actually.” You say, smirking, the idea of what he’s proposing piquing your curiosity.

“Mm. Don’t get too cocky. But if you would like to try it out, I’ll tell him to come with me next time.” He tells you.

Your mind races at the thought of a threesome with him and another man, wondering how exactly that would change the dynamic between you two. Matt could be a little possessive and you were more than satisfied with just him as your partner but it made you think of how he would be able to share you. It excites you. He must trust this other person a lot.

“Who is it?” You ask him and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you with an amused look.

“It’s a surprise.”

✰✿

You return to Cherry Bomb two weeks later, more nervous than you had been any other time you’ve come. But your anticipation outweighs your nerves as you sit at the bar, patiently waiting for Matt. You’re wearing a skin tight black lace dress that’s basically see through, showing your matching black lingerie set underneath. Sleek red heels are on your feet, your hair falling in soft loose waves that frame your face and a light coat of mascara through your eyelashes.

You took the time to put extra effort into your appearance tonight, and practically everyone in the club notices, staring at you as they wander around. But you pay no mind, your focus on the soda in front of you. Matt would be fuming with rage if he knew you were entertaining anyone else tonight and usually you would play with fire but given the special circumstances, you decided not to mess with him tonight.

The waitress hands you a note, pulling you out of your thoughts. She smiles at you politely before walking off, attending to another customer.

Meet me in the red room.

It’s Matt’s handwriting. He’s never done this before, always meeting you at the bar and then escorting you to your usual room. Your palms sweat as you stand from your chair and make your way to the large room at the end of the hall with the red door.

The red room. It was the largest room in the club, and the only one you hadn’t been in before. You’ve heard rumors of how luxurious it was which is why it was so hard to book. How Matt was able to get it tonight, you’re not sure.

You take a deep breath and adjust your dress, pushing the door open. The cool air of the room hits you, tiny goosebumps erupting on your skin. Your heart picks up speed at the sight of Matt centered directly at the center edge of the bed. He’s also dressed in all black, his eyes roaming up and down your body in hunger as you saunter over to him.

Wait. Is that Matt? You pause in front of him, a few feet away. His hair is longer, and his face is extremely similar but with a slight difference. And his aura is arrogant. But when you make eye contact with him, you feel butterflies gather in your stomach, his blue eyes making you drown with attraction. It’s the same feeling Matt gives you but there’s something different about him.

You now realize it’s not Matt at all.

The smug smile on his lips that’s been growing since he noticed the confusion on your face only widens, his hands gripping the sides of the bed, making the muscles in his arm flex. He looks incredibly strong.

“Looking for someone?” He asks teasingly and you can already feel the pool of wetness growing by the second in your underwear.

“Where’s Matt?” You ask sweetly, tilting your head. Your arms are crossed and your eyes narrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through.

Let the games begin.

The stranger in front of you chuckles, leaning back on his arms now, his legs spreading slightly in jeans. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again. You can’t help but do the same.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Don’t like what you see?” He says, his bottom lip stuck out in a fake pout.

You smile at him, mocking the tone in his voice. “I prefer princess.”

He laughs lowly, biting his lip and looks behind you. “You weren’t lying when you said she was a brat.” He says and you whip your head around, shocked to see Matt sitting in the love seat at the corner of the room.

You hadn’t noticed him at all when you walked in, given the darkness of the room and the fact he was so quiet during your exchange.

Matt has a blank expression, not looking at you. “Call her whatever you want, Chris.”

You can see that he’s dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans. It’s simple, like the clothes he usually wears but he still looks incredible.

You’re still turned towards him, giving Chris a full view of your ass now, which you’re sure he’s appreciating.

“I didn’t know you had a twin.” You tell him, your eyebrows raised in amusement.

The corners of his lips twitch as he fights a smile, exchanging a look with Chris that you can’t decipher. “There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

He gets up from his seat now and crosses the room to where you are. You’re about to respond with a witty remark but he’s suddenly gripping your arms, turning you around forcefully to face Chris again.

Your ass is pressed into his crotch, and you feel him harden against you. You gasp lightly as he places his mouth next to your ear, whispering lowly.

“That’s enough from you, Princess. I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless it’s a yes or no. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and Chris watches with fascination at the way Matt handles you. You can see how visibly turned on he is, his boner straining through his jeans.

You’re more aroused than you’ve ever been, the feeling of Matt’s strong grip on your arms, as he places soft wet kisses on the curve of your neck and the look in Chris’ eyes as they burn into yours, his pupils blown out.

“Are you comfortable? You know your safe word, right?” He asks you, his tone a little lighter. He wraps one hand around your throat, the other on your left hip and squeezes.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Good.” He replies, releasing you completely and you feel him back up from behind you. “Now get on your knees.”

Your heart races as you sink down, Chris’ eyes following your every moment. He hasn’t taken them off you since you entered the room and something in his eyes made you very nervous but incredibly excited at the same time.

Matt is now seated on the opposite side of the room, in a large leather chair. He’s directly in front of you now, to the side of Chris. You sit obediently on your knees, your eyes still focused on him as he speaks his next set of instructions.

“Why don’t you show Chris how you put that mouth to good use.” he says, nodding his head for you to continue.

You swallow and look away from Matt now, to see an enticing smirk on his brother’s face. He spreads his legs farther open as he adjusts himself on the bed, unbuckling his belt from his jeans. He places it on the mattress next to him and pulls his jeans down and off his legs.

You scoot closer to him, positioning yourself between his legs, your hands resting on top of his thighs. The look in your eyes is enough to get his heart racing like yours, and he curls a finger under your chin, tugging your face closer to him as he leans down.

“Let me taste your lips, sweetheart.” He says softly and connects his mouth to yours.

Now you can tell the real difference between them. Matt is harsh, yet caring. His energy penetrates you with a feeling of deep connection, a tie that binds you to him in one more ways then one. The trust you two have built over the past few months comes through when your bodies mesh with one another. He knows just what to say to please you and you in return, love to obey his every wish and command.

But Chris… he kisses you like he’s starving. He’s sweet, yet strong. It’s all new territory to explore, and you can almost taste the desperation on his tongue. His hands are soft against your face, warmth flooding your body at the feeling of his touch. You wonder just how much Matt has expressed to him, what secrets he’s revealed about all the sinful, delicious acts you’ve conceived with him in the candy room.

Chris is magnetic, his wet, hot kisses making you ache in your core. He finally pulls away from you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in a dark look. “Take your dress off.” He speaks.

You pull it off with no hesitation, up and over your head, now in your lingerie beneath him.

He drinks in the sight of your half naked body, your tits pushing against your bra, the hem of your black thong high on your hips and you slip your heels off.

He pulls his dick out, red tip leaking with precum already. He’s practically the same length as Matt, with a little more girth. It’s a little intimidating but your needs overpower, your mouth watering as you look at him.

You open your mouth, puckering your lips to let a pool of saliva drip down onto his length and you make eye contact with Matt, the look he gives you making a spark run through you.

Chris groans as you look back at him, spreading your spit down him with your hand before you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue. “Shit… feels so fucking good.” He rasps.

His chest is moving up and down as he breathes deeply, exhaling from his nose as he grits his teeth, and you take him further into your mouth. It’s a little hard to adjust to his size but you do, bobbing your head as he brushes the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

He moans loudly, bucking his hips up slightly. He pulls your hair back from your face, holding it into a ponytail, tightly, pulling at your hair a little. This makes you moan in return around him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the pleasure. The air in the room is thick now, the sounds of Chris fucking your mouth and his groaning filling the space. You can feel Matt’s stare on you, and your knees dig into the softness of the shaggy black carpet, your grip on Chris’s thighs tightening.

“Fuck.” He pants, and moves his hands down your back, your body bending slightly so your ass poked out, allowing him access to feel you up. He caresses the flesh of your cheeks, massaging them before he brings one hand down to smack you.

You jolt slightly, not expecting him to do that, and hum around him, your thighs clenching.

“Yeah? You like that?” he says, smacking you once more, making it sting a little. You make another noise of approval, his cock still stuffed down your throat but then pull out, with a response you’re later bound to regret. “Not hard enough.”

You look up through your lashes at him and your heart races from how mad he looks. When Matt gets that mad, his eyes glaze over, and his face is cold. But Chris smiles. Even though his eyes are hard, there’s a grin on his face that says, ‘You have no idea what you just started.’ It’s insanely attractive.

He then reaches next to him, the metal of his belt clanking. He folds it, and you see the genuine leather thick in his hand.

He grabs the back of your head, knotting his fingers in your hair. “Did I tell you to stop?”

You glance at Matt and his hand palms over the hardness in his jeans, his other hand gripping on the arm of the chair.

Fuck.

You take Chris into your mouth again, your ass in the air for him. He sighs as he slips back down your throat, dragging the belt across you. He does this agonizingly slow, your head working on him. Finally, he slaps your it on your ass, hard. You moan loudly, your nails digging into his thighs. “How’s that, princess?”

You breathe out hard from your nose, the harsh sting of the belt lingering. Chris rubs his hand over your cheek, soothing the skin there, allowing you a few seconds of relief before he brings it down against you again, a loud smack ringing in the air.

You cry out, tears forming in your eyes and bring your head up slightly, gasping for air.

See, the pain… the pain sucked. You saw red each time you were punished like this but after the few seconds of hurt passes, you feel a rush of euphoria, and tingles of pleasure you just can’t get enough of.

“Hm? Don’t got anything to say now? Is this what you wanted?” Chris says, his large hands squeezing and rubbing you, before bringing his belt down once more against you. All you can do now is whimper, your actions on Chris at a complete stop, while you grip his thighs, tears now streaming down your face, mascara running.

You look up at him through your pitiful tears, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. Your face is flushed, lips red and swollen. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He whispers and your heart flutters at his compliment.

You wonder if Matt heard and flick your gaze to him again. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his black boxers showing, his hand still on himself but not moving. He smirks, enjoying the fucked out look on your face.

Chris then grips your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look back at him.

“What do you think Matt? Think she deserves to cum?”

“Give her what she wants.” He replies.

a/n: soooo this one was supposed to be a full one shot but i had to split it into two parts or else it was gonna be too long lol i had this idea in my head i just had to write it out, so i promise i'll work on the final part of my matt series soon!!

taglist <3 :

@christhopersturniolo @sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @junovrsmp4 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @stingerayyy2 @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @muwapsturniolo

#matthew sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic

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notjustjavierpena · 1 month

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you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

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Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

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The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days.

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl.

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice.

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance.

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.”

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him.

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.”

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo.

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen.

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear.

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply.

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face.

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight.

“Where are the rascals?” He asks.

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello.

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you.

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk.

“That’s what I said,” she huffs.

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm.

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time.

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.”

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago.

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says.

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat.

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!”

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?”

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly.

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks.

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles.

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time, chicos (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed.

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day.

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth.

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips.

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while she laughs and laughs.

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too.

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head.

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender.

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—”

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later.

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment.

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?”

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip.

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes.

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room.

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family.

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on.

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console.

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go?

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder.

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).”

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to.

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand.

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead.

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile.

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests.

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed.

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up.

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch.

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off.

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring.

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass.

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well.

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon.

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you.

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically.

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system.

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it.

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes.

“What?” He acts oblivious.

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh.

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.”

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress.

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter.

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass.

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed.

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together.

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk.

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet.

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body.

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest.

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked.

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already.

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs.

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along.

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits.

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command.

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?”

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth.

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and.

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief.

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough.

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue.

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest.

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved.

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you.

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back.

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you.

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable.

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again.

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick.

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it.

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much.

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.”

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed.

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit.

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give. When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close.

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily.

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words.

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says.

You sit up at that, “What?”

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you.

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him.

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you.

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness.

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips.

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

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ayyy-pee · 5 months

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist.

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling. “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?”

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell.

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these.

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’?

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing.

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now.

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

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becca-e-barnes · 4 months

Text

As a romantic, sentimental shit, I decided to add a little spin off to the Moving In series.

While I'm not a huge fan of Christmas, Christmas Eve always felt really special to me. Christmas Eve traditions in our family have changed a lot over the years but I'm really excited to start my own! I've been trying to imagine what my perfect Christmas Eve would be like next year and it'd be pretty damn close to this.

If you celebrate it, have a lovely Christmas tomorrow! If you don't, I hope you have a wonderful day!

There's no way to keep the cat off the twinkling fairy lights on the tree. You've tried every trick the internet could offer but nothing stops her; except her own sleepiness.

After a long afternoon fighting the lights (and losing), she's curled up in the armchair, peacefully sleeping.

The tree is safe.

For now.

"Your fluffy murderer is asleep." Bucky hums contentedly, pulling you impossibly closer to him on the sofa.

"Good." It's about time. Even the TV playing Olaf's Frozen Adventure doesn't seem to be disturbing her and she loves that movie.

You're surprised the heat hasn't knocked Bucky out yet. Between your body heat, the matching pyjamas you're both wearing and the glowing embers of the fire, you're surprised he's not asleep too.

"What's Santa bringing tomorrow?" Bucky teases, running his hand from your hip to your waist, slipping his hand under you top and letting it rest there.

"I don't know! Hopefully the stand mixer I asked for... Maybe some baking supplies... Some cat treats maybe." You smile at the thought and feel Bucky laughing against your back.

"That cat of yours has not made it onto the Nice List, sweetheart. No chance. Santa won't be visiting her." His lips are curled into a smile as they drift from your collar, up the back of your neck.

"She's been good the rest of the year. She's only been naughty since I put the tree up." You feel like you have to protest on her behalf, even though you know Santa will be bringing her plenty of cat treats.

"So there's hope for you too then if that's how Santa works. If he excuses short bursts of naughtiness, you might still make it." His hand trails its way back to your hip, slipping just under the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"I've been good this year and you know it!" You tease, pressing your ass back against him.

"Oh see no, this is naughty." Bucky corrects you, kissing your neck with a little more pressure.

"I don't think so. You seem to like it so this is me being nice." You wiggle your ass against the front of his pyjamas, enjoying the evidence of his interest.

"Don't argue sweetheart, that'll put you firmly on the Naughty List." He knows you hate reasoning like that.

"Well, if you've been so good this year, what's Santa bringing you?"

There's a short pause but the kissing over your neck doesn't stop.

"I don't know... I don't need anything." He didn't ask you for anything for that same reason. "I have everything I need here."

"That's gross. Grow up." You know he can't see the way that made you smile so you're free to affectionately bully him for saying it.

"You're so right." He laughs, somehow shuffling even closer to you.

"I'm sure if I got down on my hands and knees in front of the tree and looked right in at the back, I could find a gift with your name on it." You go back to rubbing your ass against his crotch, tempting him to escalate.

"Sweetheart, that view alone would be enough of a gift." He's got a special way of making you feel like a temptation, without ever objectifying you. God, he's wonderful. "But I want to see that pretty face. I want to lay you down under your tree and unwrap my gift properly."

"Unwrapping your gift early will put you on the Naughty List!" You try to feign disgust at the very suggestion but really, that's all you want.

"Then I'll be the happiest man on the damn Naughty List this year." He laughs, scooping you up and laying you down on the plush carpet.

"You're more of a terror than the cat." You giggle before his lips are pressed to yours, kissing you with an intensity you really quite enjoy. His tongue slips past your lips, rubbing against your own and it's almost dizzying to start so intensely.

Your fingertips dig into his broad, muscular back and shoulders. It's easy to let need cloud your brain and he doesn't seem to mind as he sheds his pyjama top.

"We aren't matching anymore." You smile, reaching for the bottom of your own top, pulling it off in one swift motion.

"Excuse me. You're unwrapping my present for me." Bucky pretends to be horrified but your decision has its perks. He's now got full access to your breasts and it's like Christmas came early for him.

He wastes no time, sucking and kissing and licking your breasts. His tongue flicks over your stiff nipples, enjoying the way the sensation makes you squeal and writhe under his mouth.

"Bucky... Please." You whine after a while, desperate for him to move on.

"Someone's needy." Bucky smiles, raising an eyebrow before he reaches down to remove the bottom half of your pyjama set.

Fuck, he's not wrong. His fingertips trail against your sex, checking to see whether you're as aroused as you sound and he's almost surprised to find you are.

"God, you're so wet. I'm going to make this pretty little pussy gush for me." He slips a thick finger into you, followed by a second and he's thrilled to realise you'll be able to take him already. He can take the edge off for you now and then take his sweet time licking his own load out of your fluttering cunt once he's given you what you need.

"Please." You whimper, noticing he's offered you nothing awfully useful. He hasn't curled his fingers to stroke your walls, he hasn't moved at all actually.

"I wanted to take my time with you." Bucky begins, removing his fingers and taking off his pyjama bottoms. "But that's not what you want right now, is it?"

You shake your head, giving in to your own desperation freely, knowing he'd want you to be honest.

"That's okay, sweetheart. Let's take good care of you." The residual heat of the fire warms your bare skin as Bucky arranges your thighs, settling himself between your legs.

"Good girl." Bucky hums, dragging his thick, bare cock through the evidence of your arousal, coating himself in the slick mess between your legs. "So pretty for me."

He watches the way your body accommodates him so willingly and your whines remind him not to keep you waiting.

His thick, leaking tip presses to your entrance and the feeling of him sliding into you is breathtaking. It always is.

Both of you stop breathing for a few short seconds until he's slid the whole way home, buried as deep inside you as your bodies will allow.

"Hey, look at me." Bucky whispers, holding the side of your face gently with one hand, making you realise you'd closed your eyes.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He begins to pull back slowly before pressing back in, setting a slow rhythm.

If feels wrong not to tell him the same. It's wrong not to tell him how wonderful you think he is. It's not fair to let the moment pass without mentioning that you love getting to do this with him and be vulnerable but still feel safe. You love having him in your space and spending time together and getting to enjoy these tender, intimate moments at the most random of times. But those aren't thoughts for now. Those are thoughts for when you're both fully satisfied and cuddling together, breathless and tired and entirely aglow on this same carpet later this evening.

That feels right.

"You are the most incredible man I've ever met." You reply instead, tugging gently on his soft, dark hair to pull him into a kiss.

You hear him groan against your lips, offering the same intensity as before. He speeds up his thrusts to match his mouth, sliding in and out of you with purpose and a delightful need to spill his release into you as he's coaxing yours from you.

"Play with yourself." His instruction is clear and driven by his own need. He needs to feel you cum before he can allow himself to do the same and his orgasm really seems to have snuck up on him.

Your hand slips between your bodies with a practiced ease, finding the little bundle of nerves between your legs, rubbing it in tight circles.

"Good girl. Fuck, I wish you knew how you feel. So wet and soft and warm." He hasn't taken his eyes off your face and that only lets you see how pleasure is evident all over his. He's almost overwhelmed and it's so lovely to watch.

"Fuck, I'm so close." You whine, begging him not to change a single thing. Not his pace, not his angle, nothing. This is perfect.

"Cum for me, sweetheart. Go ahead, I'm right behind you. I've got you."

The release is all consuming for a good few seconds, your body fluttering and twitching, milking Bucky's from him and he so willingly gives it to you. He groans gentle praises as he works both of you through your highs, taking every ounce of pleasure he can get from you while giving you as much as possible.

When your peak and his have both subsided, he slips out of you, giving himself a second to catch his breath.

"If you weren't on the Naughty List before, you definitely are now." You giggle, kissing his forehead repeatedly.

"I'm just getting started." He smiles, kissing your lips before moving down your body to kiss between your thighs.

#Bucky Barnes x reader smut #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #becca writes spice #Olaf's Frozen Adventure is a top tier Christmas movie and I will hear NO SLANDER #We weren't allowed to watch Christmas movies growing up #so I might watch the Grinch for the first time tonight #I sat for hours last night and did a lovely set of Christmas nails #with little handpainted intricate snowflakes #and I'll have to take the nails off on Wednesday morning to go work in the coffee shop :(#I did ask Santa for a stand mixer so cross your fingers for me

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mattheo-riddles-princess · 3 months

Text

Madripoor || Bucky Barnes X Reader

Agent Bucky X Bratty/Agent Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Plot: Making Bucky jealous didn't totally go where you thought it would.

Warnings: praising, dirty talk, language, pet names, jealousy, a little metal arm kínk, no condom (but they are both clean and r is on birth control), implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

I can see Bucky standing by the bar with the same stoic expression on his face. He knows I'm here but he hasn't noticed me yet. I walk up to his left side, so he doesn't see me coming.

"Are you going to ask me to dance?" I lean against the bar, not looking at him.

He turns his head to look at me. He doesn't say anything, just staring at me. God. I hate when he stares at me like that. Or...more that I hate the way he makes me feel when he looks at me. My muscles tense up and my breath hitches. Shit. I pause, trying to plan my next moves very carefully.

I smirk and start to speak, "Well, if you don't want to dance with me, I'm sure somebody else will."

I know he watches as I disappear into the crowd of dancing people. The music blares as I push through people. I walk up to a random guy. I've been watching him since I got here. He's been trying, (and failing), to flirt with girls all night. I know Bucky's seen him too. I pretend to be drunk and stumble into him making sure to place my hands where his abs should be. Emphasis on should be.

"Fuck. Oh my god. I'm soooooo sorry. God." I pat where my hands were just moments before and slowly look up at him. He's moderately attractive. In a conventional way. He looks like you would imagine an attractive guy to look. He's taller than me. Around 5' 11". I can't tell what color his hair because of lights but its styled to look messy. He's not in bad shape but you can tell he's not one of those gym guys. "Oh. Wow. You're... wow." He smirks like he expected my reaction.

He grabs my hand and pulls me on the dance floor. I start grinding against him. We're dancing for about 10 minutes. All of the sudden, I have a feeling that someone is staring at me. It all happen so fast: Bucky walking up behind us, him grabbing the guys shoulder and pushing him away from me, him grabbing my arm and pulling me off the dance floor, the guy following us, shouting, and Bucky punching the guy in the face. He pulls me further down the hallway. There are a few people in the hallway. Some making out against the wall and a few smoking joints.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?" Bucky's voice low.

I cock my head to the side, confused, "What are you talking about? I wanted to dance and you wouldn't dance with me. So I found someone who would."

He doesn't say anything and I notice the position were standing. My back up against the wall and Bucky in front of me, his face close, and his arms holding himself up by my head.

"You know," my voice playful and teasing, "if you're jealous-"

"I'm not jealous," He cuts me off immediately. His voice short.

"Oh. Of course not. But, if you were, that would be fine." I smirk my eyes not leaving his.

He grunts in response.

"Well, if we're done here," I duck under his arms and start walking back toward the dance floor.

He grabs my arm and pulls me back towards him. Within a millisecond, his lips are locked on mine, and they don't seem to have any interest in leaving.

I break away and Bucky look at me. Before he can say anything, I grab his arm and pull him the opposite direction down the hall. I've been here before so I know exactly where I'm going. We enter a room and I shut the door, locking it behind us. As soon as the door is locked, I'm back to kissing him. He picks me up and puts me on the bed, not separating his lips from mine. I feel his metal arm sliding up my thigh until he's at my panties. I moan at his touch.

I sit up and start working on his belt. It doesn't take long and as soon as its off, I'm unzipping his jeans. He pulls his boxers down with his jeans and I take off my panties.

He stares at me in awe. "My god. Are you sure you want to do this? With me?"

I nod.

"Doll," he looks at me expectantly, "I'm going to need you to use your words."

"Yes, sir." I pause, unsure of how he feels about me calling him sir.

He takes a deep breath, "Fuck."

I pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and pumps his cock in his hand a few times before pushing it inside of me. He's slow at first, making sure to constantly check in on me.

He starts pulsing in and out, faster. He picks me up and flips us over so I'm on top.

He has his metal arm on my waist, guiding my movement, and his other arm works to unzip my dress. Within a matter of seconds, my dress is on the ground and he leans back as both of his hands guide me.

He sits up guiding me but also kissing his way down my neck until he reaches my breasts. He flicks his tongue and I moan as he does. Everything he does drives me crazy. His hands grip my waist tighter.

He leans back so he can see all of my on top of him. Riding him. Enjoying every moment of it.

"Oh. FUCK! Bucky- oh- fuck," I try not to scream.

"Scream as loud as you want, doll. You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you. Taking all of me. Good girl. Oh. Fuck. Keep going, love. Oh. That's so good." His voice is low and he moans as he speaks.

I buck forward and lean over him. He keeps guiding me but he takes more control. His hips thrusting his dick in and out. Over and over. Hitting the spot every single time.

"Fuck. Oh. GOD. Right there. Oh. That's it. Right there." My arms give out and I'm laying on top of him.

He chuckles under me followed by a deep moan.

My can feel myself reaching my high and I know he can feel it too.

"That's it. You're so close. Oh. That's it. Good girl." His voice is breathy and full of pride.

My eyes roll into my head and my back arches. I let out a loud moan as I orgasm.

"Oh. Good girl. Oh. Thats so good. Fuck." I can feel Bucky finish. We lay there, still, listening to each other breathing.

"Fuck, Bucky. That was amazing." I let out a small laugh as I speak.

"Doll, you can call me James."

I look up at him in surprise, "Really?"

"Of course, love. You can do whatever you want to me. I fucking love you. I've wanted to tell you for so long but I love you so fucking much."

I pause. "I love you too. I can't tell you how much I wanted to kiss you every time I saw you. Every time you look at me, I just want to fold and give you everything. I love you so fucking much."

We lay there in silence for a while, neither of us wanting to move.

"I love you." Bucky whispers.

"I love you too, James."

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine

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random-twst-things · 8 months

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Question - of all the characters, who: doesn't know twst isn't a dating sim, knows it's not but aims for it anyway, knows and suffers, and doesn't know - just vibing? Feel free to add more categories

Oooh! That's an interesting concept. I had to think about this for a while bc I wanted this to be the most accurate I could make it. And I'm SO sorry this took so long, I got busy with school and first semester tests I'm so sorry 😭

Contains: Tiny(very tiny) bit of possessiveness(Malleus) angst(?)(idia, jamil, azul, cater, sebek) most certainly some spelling mistakes here and there (English is not my first language I'm srry 😭)

Doesn't know twst isn't a dating sim:

Riddle: Did you really think Riddle would even know what a dating sim is? Absolutely not, especially not with the way he grew up. He has no idea why he loves you (he does, he's just in denial) he's so shy trying to pursue you, he has this act he tries (tires) to put up but it's so easy to see the effect you have on him. He's not as strict on you about the rules as he is the rest, he seems to have developed a soft.

Trey: (I'm so sorry, I don't know much about the guy 😭) Gentleman. That's its. Ty for coming to my TED talk. Okay, but srsly, hear me out on this; He's a whole gentleman when he has a crush. He definitely uses his great baking skills to his advantage with you. He definitely sees how others look and act around you, I mean, who wouldn't when it comes to you. Wanna learn how to bake? He'll gladly teach you and take this as a chance to get to know you even more.

Ace(1): I honestly don't think he'd know twst isn't a dating sim. He's mosy definitely smug about being close to you, after all he is your best friend, right? Bro thinks he has rizz but he's just a fumbling mess when he tries it just makes him look clumsy (sorry ace)

Deuce: he's so sweet. He's glad he's one of your best friends and get to be close to you without worry. Part of his delinquent side does come out a little when it comes to you, it's not directed to you! Not at all! More like directed towards those who did you wrong and didn't even try to say sorry. Don't worry, he won't do anything to reckless! He still wants to be an honor student after all. He's gonna do his very best for his mom and you.

Ruggie: oui, he's hard to tell on what category. He likes you. He likes how you are. It never bothered him one bit that your home was semi broken. God, the things he would think and want to say to you (He's romantic like that yall), but he's too shy to actually say (yall he's making me blush eeeee)

Kalim: he's too busy hanging out and being happy with you he doesn't even notice. All he knows is that he loves you and wishes to show you the world (see what I did there? Eh? Eeeh?) He's not at all shy about the compliments he gives you, he's really creative with them, tho. Invites you to every single one of his parties and makes you take home as much food as you want.

Epel: He's going for you most definitely, even with all these people. He does his very best to look strong and manly in front of you, that it's cute. He doesn't really mind if you call him cute or pretty, if that's what you like, but he's still gonna act (only a little) like he hates it, but he never tells you to stop.

Floyd(1): Two words; good luck. This guy will not try to hide his favoritism with you. He will not hide his desire to steal you or keep you from the rest. His very (very) open about it, too. It doesn't even matter if he knew twst wasn't a dating sim. He's still gonna be the same. You don't mind his (bone crushing) hugs? He's allowed to squish you? ....you shouldn't have said that bc now every time he sees you he squeezes you so tight he cracks your sore muscles like those chiropractors on TikTok.

Jade: hmmmm (good luck, again) He's a gentleman, but in an offsetting way, yk? He's the silent one. The type to smile when provoked and just bc, it's hard to tell the difference but its there. He's a watcher. He knows almost all of your special interests (Don't ask how he knows that). Putting the creepy aura behind, he's a nice guy (?) He'll most definitely rant about his mushrooms to you. You don't mind? You like hearing about his mushrooms? Oh my.... good luck

Malleus(?): I feel like he does, but doesn't at the same time? I don't think he knows what a dating sim is, but he notices the way the others act and look at you. He notices the way things seem... different. But he isn't one to back down when something precious to him is to be taken away from him. He is a dragon, after all. (Not that he'd let that happen to begin with, you'll love him dearly in the end....won't you?) Talks to you about his gargoyles, all the different facts. You dont mind the long talks about it? Youre asking to know more?? Oh great sevens....

Silver: (AWWWWW) he's so sweet. He tries so hard to show he likes you but in such a subtle way that it's hard to catch on it even notice. He's a gentleman at heart. He loves how understanding you are of his sudden sleepiness and tiredness and don't get angry at him for something he can't control as much as he'd love to. You wanna watch over him while he sleeps? Why? Oh, so nothing harms him when he's asleep? Oh dear... His heart is beating so fast he might not even be able to sleep now (he does anyways, but with tinted cheeks)

Knows it's not but aims for it anyway:

Leona: he's the type of guy to somehow always know something you don't expect him to know. Anyways. The dude could care less if the game wasn't designed to be a dating sim. He's still going for it in his own way. Unlike the past, this is something he can't give up on. you're something he can't give up on. But oh, is this man so so smug when he uses you as a pillow.

Vil: it's either Rook told him or he figured it out on his own before Rook told him. Even if twst wasn't meant to be a dating sim with love, he will turn zero into something like he's always done. He will by any means do his utmost and his best to pursue you all while being himself. He cherishes the moments you have alone when he's giving you advice on how to take care of your skin. The small and soft lingering touches when he teaches you how to apply moisturizer correctly.

Rook: Okay, he's bound to find out twst isn't a dating sim. He's a sharp guy. Even with the knowledge of knowing twst isn't a dating sim, it isn't going to stop him from pursuing you. He himself finds this situation funny with how many hearts you've captured even with twst not supposedly being capable of that. Oh? How did you know he was watching you? You could feel him? Oh dear trickster you sure do know how to pull his heart strings.

Floyd(2): Good luck once again. I couldn't decide whether he knew or not. But! Same situation regardless. Instead, tho, he's a bit more.... more him? He's gonna find this all so much more hilarious and funny.

Lilia: This cheeky old man most definitely knows. He's seen dating Sims and knows what they are. Just bc twst isn't designed to be a dating sim doesn't mean he can't aim for it. He's not at all shy when it comes to pursuing you. He's been alive for hundreds of years, what's there to be afraid of?

Knows and suffers:

Cater: (I'm so sorry, I had to 1.0) cay-cay gonna slay-slay, more like cry-cry. I feel like he's a "2nd male lead syndrome" type of guy, yk?? It's a bit hard to explain, but yeah. Anyways. 2nd male lead, we all know how that ends, don't we? (Hint: tears) He's cautious when it comes to love, hes scared of it at times. He does know he loves you but he's going to watch you being happy instead. He wishes you the best, truly! (he hates the little feeling in his chest when he says those words bc his words and actions say their happy for you, but the little feeling in his chest says otherwise)

Azul: he loves you, he really does, but would you? He knows he isn't the ideal guy. He knows he's done some shady things. And most of all, he knows (thinks) that with all these suitable people for you, he'd never be considered a choice. So he's content with just watching you from afar living a happy life. Every time you enter the lounge he finds himself between wanting to hide away or catering to your every need but he knows that if he gets any closer to you it'll just hurt more in the future.

Jamil: He's a smart guy, he knows. He also knows that he doesn't stand a chance with all these suitors going after you. A prince, an heir, a model/actor, knights, etc. He'd like to think he did stand a chance, but standing next to them, he can't help but let his insecurities get the better of him. But, oh... when you offer to help him with his chores he can't help but think that maybe... Just maybe there's a chance.

Idia: he most definitely knows, I mean, look at the way they all look at you!! He knows and suffers with the thought that he'd never stand a chance. You're being pursued by all these SSR characters!!! Surely you'd never pick someone like him when you could do so much better. He'd stuff himself in his room even more (if that's even possible) He'd avoid you even with his tablet. Every time he rejects the offer when you invite him to play video games he hates himself even more. Stop giving him false hope... Please

Sebek: (I'm so sorry 2.0) Malleus. That's why. His master, he can't seem to accept that his master would aim for a human like you, but he's hurt. He doesn't know why he feels that way. He doesn't understand why his chest hurts when he sees malleus and you interacting in such a way. (He'll begin to understand after a while, WHILE) once he realizes why it hurt, he is distraught. He won't show it, but you can see the subtle changes in his composure every now and then. He knows he has to let you go. He feels as if he has lost you. Lost something that wasn't even his to begin with and never would have been.

Doesn't know and/or just vibes:

Crowley: Dudes clueless

Grimm: he's just confused as to why everyone is after his henchmen. He doesn't know what a dating sim is either.

Ace(2): he's having the time of his life seeing you struggle with all this. He has absolutely no idea why so many are after you, but he's just gonna watch as they all struggle. (He knows why they are after you, after all his best friend in kinda cool, but he'd never admit to that) also has a laugh with watching riddle try (don't tell riddle he said that tho)

Ruggie(2): another that's gonna have the time of his life with this. Laughing like the hyena he is, watching the struggle (especially Leona's struggle 💀)

Jack: He's just vibing. This whole situation is a mess, really. He watches out for you most of the time just in case. (*caugh* floyd *cough*) He's a bit worried for you ngl so he wants to teach you self defense just in case, if you already know how to handle yourself thats great! (*cough* floyd *cough)

Bonus

He does know and tries to be supportive

Ortho: he knows. His brother told him in his ramblings, and he noticed that idia is thinking smth negative. He tries to encourage him in every possible way to just try, that is a chance, but nothing seems to work.

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bill-the-dog-for-the-check · 2 months

Text

I feel like I'm constantly talking like a broken record, lol, leftists this, leftists that.

Sometimes it's surreal to see myself typing that and agreeing with it, given I used to be very left wing myself until the response on the left to October 7th. And I hate the idea that it's giving other people the impression that I'm conservative--I'm not. I have some views that I'd share with conservatives--being a Zionist being one of them... obviously.

But I'm literally bisexual. I support same-sex marriage. I think democracy is the best form of government, that the US should have universal healthcare, should abolish the Electoral College (National Popular Vote Interstate Compact, I'm praying for you). I think the invasion of Ukraine is a monstrous crime and Putin is a threat to world peace. I think systemic racism is a real thing in the United States, as is police brutality against black people. I think vaccines work, and mandates are a good idea. I think most right-wing politicians are right-wing populists more interested in causing democratic backsliding and peddling conspiracies than they are in fixing literally anything.

But I can't call myself a leftist anymore, even with this set of values. Why? Because--oh, God--I believe Israel has the right to exist. And to defend itself.

I'm not even some radical on Israel unlike some friends of mine--I think it's a travesty that Israel hasn't yet legalized same-sex marriage or established a civil marriage system. I think the 2018 Nation-State Law was racist in making Arabic no longer a co-official language with Hebrew. I think Bibi is one of those aforementioned populists. I think Israel has a democratic backsliding problem.

But the rest of the left--the rest of the queer community, especially--has made it clear in no uncertain terms that I am not welcome among them anymore. Like, they genuinely think I'm a genocide defending fascist, which is just so weird to me sometimes. Yeah, me, the fascist who thinks queer rights should be non-negotiable in any society. And they, who are posting pro-Hamas slogans, are the ones standing against genocide and bigotry. Uh huh. Oo-kay.

I don't want to constantly be saying 'Oh, the left...' and 'Leftists when...' like I'm some boomer posting shitty memes on Facebook. The right has its share of problems, too. And I'm sure they'll do something soon to make their antisemitism known as well--especially as the 2024 presidential election draws nearer.

But right now, the immediate threat isn't in Ron DeSantis, Nikki Haley, or whoever. I'm more worried about being accosted by pro-Palestine protestors with something to prove than I am about neo-Nazi gangs. And so are most Jews right now. And that's why I'm posting about the left more than the right here... even though my values are mostly left.

Oh, the wonders of being politically homeless!

#jewish #jumblr #anti zionisim #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #israel #judaism #pro israel #zionism #antizionism #left wing antisemitism

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catboybiologist · 17 days

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I don’t know if I believe in god, but I believe god would celebrate trans people. I think human diversity is beautiful, natural, and unique to all of us. I’ve also seen that the vatican released articles protecting transgender people under similar logic(please correct me if you see otherwise). Anyway, just wanted to counterbalance that anon semen hate thing.. lol

I know this is from a good place, and I'm gonna be the asshole here, but its difficult for me to accept the kindness you're trying to extend.

I think that seeking validation and a moral code from anything other than "live your life in a way that's going to make the most people the most real and happy, including yourself", including seeking that from some kind of being of external influence, makes you susceptible to guilt and manipulation by people who use the ever-changing "interpretation" of that will to get people to live to their interests as opposed to yours, and that this philosophy isn't limited to situations where the will of that being is interpreted as something that benefits me specifically because that feels like a shortsighted mental trap of constantly validating my own life decisions to myself in a nonstop cycle of searching for approval from an influence that, by definition, doesn't communicate with me.

And funnily enough, the Vatican is the perfect example. The statements you're talking about basically amount to the same "love the sinner, hate the sin" shit we've all heard for pretty much our entire lives, and was basically only written with the intent of inviting lgbt people in to try and save their poor little misguided souls:

https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/pope-francis-calls-studies-into-ugly-gender-theory-2024-03-01/

But thanks, I guess. Sorry to be a dick, I know this came from a good place, but its hard for me to mask my opinion on this kind of thing. I'll fully admit there's a personal sting here. I was the most patient, good little, explaining and validating tranny with a couple Christian "friends" earlier this year, only to find that they were stringing me along so they could try to "save" me. Trying to find validation in organized religion will always be a losing battle. These are organizations built upon decades of power structures that require specific family dynamics for population growth and control. I don't know if there's a god or not, by definition its really impossible to say one way or the other. But the Christian God is so transparently a tool for political manipulation in a way that should be obvious to queer people, and efforts to make the church seem "okay" for queer people more often than not have that same, thinly-veiled disgust associated with them. "oh, don't worry, we all have our little sins! Jeff gambles, Tom is gay, John smokes..." that kind of shit. That's not acceptance. It's thinly veiled disgust that will drop the moment there's an excuse.

Are there truly accepting Christians? Yeah, of course. But if you hand me a gun and claim its not loaded, I'm not testing it by pulling the trigger in my mouth.

#cw transphobia #trans #queer

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pigcowboys · 7 months

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hcs for percy x child of athena!reader that’s like, badass and super good at fighting/using knives/swords/other weaponry/ in a fight but is like super emotionally closed off?

-bitey anon (if that’s not taken)

pairing: percy jackson x artemis!reader

summary: headcanons for percy with a reader who's a child of artemis.

warning(s): slight mentions of blood, cursing, weapons (even if that even counts lol!), established relationship and sickeningly sweet fluff.

a/n: OMG HELLO BITEY ANON!! its not taken yet!! this is such a cool request i hope you enjoy what i did, sorry it took a moment!! and im so so sorry to anyone who's sent in a request!! i swear i'm trying to finish them all :( life is just..lifeing rn.

requests are currently closed!

okay so first of all i HAVE to talk about the beef percy and artemis must have.

like yo who is this guy? and why is he interested in her child? her only child too.

she's like that one person who's secretly praying on your downfall and really doesn't care if you two know it.

she most likely warmed up to the idea of you two dating over time because, to be honest - she likes percy.

would never say it to his face though, he has a big enough head.

BUT ON TO THE DATING!

hmm percy with a more closed off s/o is kind of hard to imagine.

hes so expressive and open i feel like he'd try his hardest to get his s/o to open up.

would NEVER push you to do anything though - he'd never wanna make you feel uncomfortable, after all.

"good morning my beautiful demi-god, how'd you sleep?" "like a rock., those bed are so fucking hard" "i may have a solution to your problem.."

"percy you've been caught like 6 times trying to sneak into my cabin.." "7th times a charm."

bro he probably fell in love with you the first time he saw you fighting.

you two were probably on some random quest and you had gotten ambushed by a couple of monsters.

he wanted to the boyfriend-y thing and help fend off the monsters so he could impress you.

he was doing great for little till you joined in and started helping him fight as well.

literally could NOT keep his eyes off you, you were so cool!!

he was going to make some really cool and suave quip while you were fighting to see a smile or something when he was hit in the face by a particularly angry monster.

attack sent him flying back a bit - totally made him scuff his shoes.

was happy you were able to finish off the monster that hit him but was slightly embarrassed that he got hit.

though, he did enjoy you feeding him some nectar per his own request.

i think he'd be like obsessed with the way you fight.

i mean, how couldn't he? you look so cool when you're doing all that swinging and slicing..he's so proud of you.

may or may not have been victim of a slice to his cheek from getting to close to you while you were training but seriously doesn't count it as you being reckless - he needed to be more careful.

"holy shit — are you okay?" "uhh..probably..? why is there something on my face?" "i think i..nipped you." "nipped me?" "you're..bleeding." "oh."

percy's a great guy but i feel like he'd also worry like 10x more about you because of you being slightly closed off.

checks in with you like every few minutes even if you've already told him you're okay.

you'd be woken up at like 12 pm from his texts alone.

always calling to make sure you're okay while he's away from camp half-blood on a quest or just hanging out somewhere on his college campus.

you do love that he's so caring!

you just..hate getting that stupid notification sound every few hours.

he'd be crushed if you ever told him that though so, you just deal with it.

honestly i don't think he'd care too much if you were closed off - it's all the same to him!

your aversion to speaking up while not stop him from going out of his way to surprise you with different gifts or with random hugs.

may or may not sniff your clothes slightly when he does hug you.

don't tell him you notice it, he'd die.

"what's that?" "a plushie, for you." "..why?" "didn't you say this was your favorite animal?" "oh..perce.. "

though, i feel like the only time you being closed off would be a problem would be when you two have an argument.

he's very open to hearing your side but hates when you don't let him know you have a problem

how else is he supposed to find a way to help?

overall though, you two would get along just great!!!

invites you out with him after you're done training whenever he can just so he can spend time with you.

doesn't even matter where you two are going.

yeah no, he thinks you're so awesome.

#percy jackson #percy jackson fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #x reader #x reader fluff #pjo fluff #artemis!reader

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 months

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I feel like Gangle needs a close friend,so can I request Gangle being bestfriends with and being protected by a Intimidating and large Y/n who is the same species the Gloink(i think that’s how it’s spelled? :0) Queen is?..like this large monster creature being friends with this silly alive mask and string makes my day,i hope you have a nice Day! ^^

Thank you! Hope you have a nice day too!

Also for anyone 21+ take a shot every time you see the word "Gloink" in this fic /j

........

As if Gangle's day wasn't already bad enough...some Gloinks appeared out of nowhere and stole her comedy mask.

She was rightfully upset, especially as she recalls Caine casually mentioning that those pesky shapes tend to run wild from time to time throughout the digital circus.

That was also an indication that something else was creating new Gloinks. Not the Queen, as she became abstracted, but another creature like it.

Much to Gangle's dismay, nobody wanted to help her retrieve her beloved mask considering what happened during the first "Gather the Gloinks" adventure. All the performers--Zooble especially--preferred staying away from the nest at all costs.

Yet she couldn't.

Jax made a passing comment that she didn't have the guts to go down there by herself....and that gave her enough motivation to do exactly that.

She was done being so afraid.

Knowing the Gloink Queen was gone did give her some peace of mind, albeit not a whole lot. For all she knew, something far worse could have taken up residence in her place..

But nevertheless, she bravely descended the escalators, bidding a momentary farewell to the safety of the above-ground section of the circus-

Only to have instant regrets as a growl resounded through the dark cave, echoing off the gem-embedded walls.

She squeaked in fear, wanting to run back upstairs and forget about this whole thing...but she forced herself to press on, looking around at all the Gloinks who were seemingly minding their own business.

She could always take the easy way out: hiding in her room, accepting her old mask is gone forever, and crafting a new mask in its place.

Not today, though.

Today she was going to prove Jax wrong and become the bravest-

"Waahh!!" Nearly tripping over a Gloink, Gangle skidded to a stop and watched a mini parade of them bouncing towards something, the line leader carrying her mask.

She could only freeze in terror upon realizing that "something" was you:

Another monster similar to the Gloink Queen--with different colors and patterns and half as many eyes. You looked utterly terrifying as you slithered around, checking on some newly-produced Gloinks.

'Okay, maybe they won't see me...get it together, Gangle!!' Huffing, she shook her head, trying to hype herself up. 'You'll be fine. Just be firm and tell them you want-'

"A nongloinkian..made of strings? Interesting."

"Eek!!" She flinched, seeing every single one of your eyes staring down at her. You didn't seem angry at her intrusion, but she was utterly terrified right now.

"Come here. I won't bite." Your voice rumbled, and she had no choice but to listen to you...lest she suffered the same fate as Zooble.

Tears dripped from her tragedy mask as her legs shakily carried her closer to you, noticing some Gloinks hobbling behind her in case she thought about turning back.

There was no escaping you now.

'Oh god, this is where I die...or turn into a Gloink forever. Does anyone realize I'm gone? Would they even care if I-?'

"My Gloinks love to steal everything in sight, but I believe they wrongfully took something of yours."

"H-Huh?" Confused, Gangle looked to see the line leader approaching her with something she treasured more than all of her anime drawings and manga.

Her comedy mask.

"You're...not going to eat it?" She picked it up, not finding a single chip or crack in the ceramic texture. Then she gazed back up at you. "Thank you, but I um...thought you guys hated anyone who wasn't a Gloink.."

".....oh, uh...not me." You shook your head. "It's the queen who did. She thought everything had to be Gloink. I wanted us all to live in harmony. I tried to persuade her...but she never budged. I thought we had enough Gloinks to go around...but she was never satisfied. So with her gone, you have nothing to fear."

"I see..th-thank you again." With a meek nod, Gangle put her mask back on, which took effective almost immediately as she grinned and hopped in place. "You are too kind! How could I ever repay you o'mighty Gloink?"

You blinked, feeling flattered by her compliment. "You may call me [y/n]...for some reason, it's a name I hold near and dear to me. I'm not expecting any repayments, but...I do wish for a small change."

"Like what?"

"Maybe...seeing the upstairs? This nest gets lonely even with all these Gloinks to keep me company. But I could use a real friend." You gazed back down at her. "And I can tell you need one, too."

Once again, you've surprised her..as she stopped jumping and thought about your request for a few moments. "That would be nice..a real friend. I could talk to Caine and see about getting you upstairs. Maybe you can meet my um..fellow performers at dinner?"

Your eyes lit up. "You mean that?"

"I do! But you must promise not to steal any of Zooble's parts."

"I promise you that...um...."

"Oh! I'm Gangle, by the way." She chuckled.

"Gangle....Gangle..." You took a few moments to register the name into your brain, before your toothy smile returned. "Very well, then..go."

.........

"Gangle? Making friends? That's as impossible as finding an exit."

"Is it an NPC? Or someone absent from today's musical number?"

"Do they like insects??"

"Guys, guys..don't worry. They're really friendly!" Gangle smiled at the other performers as they all gathered around the dinner table. She had gotten such a huge confidence boost ever since her meeting with you, and she was excited to introduce them to you!

Yet the more they pressed about this matter, the more nervous she became.

Even with her comedy mask still on, anxiety was seeping through as she rubber her ribbon hands together. "So um..just as a heads up, they're big so don't be scared if-"

"How big are we talking?" Zooble raised an eyebrow. "It's not some giant monster from one of those anime things you watch, is it?"

"No, but-"

"Hello, colorful cast of nongloinkians."

All at once, everybody fell silent upon seeing you rounding the corner, your large snakelike body slinking towards the table.

You had just enough room to squeeze your head between Gangle and Pomni--the former smiling and patting your snout in greeting, and the latter looking absolutely horrified.

"U-Um..Gangle.." She stuttered. "You do realize this is-"

"Oh don't worry, Pomni. This is [y/n]. They're nothing like the Gloink Queen. They just wanted to coexist with us, but it was hard when they were down in that cave all alone...so Caine allowed them to come upstairs!" The ribbon beamed proudly.

Everyone was certainly caught off-guard by her optimistic attitude, given they haven't seen her wear that mask in a long time. But a few smiled, glad to see her genuinely happy.

Although of course..the moment was short-lived.

"...pfft haha! Are you kidding me, Gangs? You just got yourself a big ol' pet!"

You and the others looked at Jax, who was shaking his head and kicking his feet back onto the table. "Man, you must feel really lonely to find a friend in something like that."

"Jax, that's very rude." Ragatha warned. "Gangle did nothing to you. Why are you always picking on her?"

"I mean..it's cool she tamed a giant Gloink. It could bring something new to our adventures...but I think she forgot the part where these things despise everyone who's not like-"

"Sure, little rabbit..go ahead and talk as if I'm not here.."

Tensing for a moment, Jax's gaze darted to your hostile glare. "You don't scare me, ya know....but you sure are scaring the rest of my pals." He jerked a thumb towards the trembling Kinger and Pomni, as well as the concerned Ragatha and Zooble.

You paid no mind to them, however.

"Oh, but you should be scared of me the most, rabbit." You sneered lowly, making yourself look bigger as you continued staring him down. "If what your doll friend says is true...then heed this warning: if you dare upset my new friend Gangle, you will face the wrath of my Gloinks. We will not turn you into Gloink, but we will ensure every precious item you hold dearly is consumed to make more Gloinks who will watch your every move. You will not eat nor sleep without feeling our presence all around. And we will take...and take...and TAKE until you have nothing left but those silly overalls. Are we clear?"

There was a long pause as Jax froze in his seat, for once looking genuinely terrified of your threat..although when he realized everyone else was staring, too, he brushed off the fear he felt. "Yeah sure..whatever you say, [y/n]." He then checked his imaginary watch, standing up. "I got a hot date somewhere so.....c'ya."

And with that he dashed off, leaving a cloud of bunny-shaped dust in his wake.

"Good riddance.." You huffed as you curled around his chair, looking to Gangle. "Was that good? Was I intimidating enough?"

"....y-yeah.."

"Oh no, what's wrong?" Concern flashed over your face upon seeing her tearing up. "I didn't mean to frighten you, I'm-"

"N-No..these are..happy tears.." Sniffling, she wiped the blue marks off her ceramic cheeks, giving you a big smile of reassurance. "Thank you for defending me.."

"...you're welcome." You smiled back in relief, glancing at the other performers. "Well..I hope I didn't make any of you nongloinkians lose your appetites. Eat."

"W-Well..we don't exactly need to eat." Kinger muttered. "This food's just for show. For simulation!"

"Ah, I see.."

"Can you promise your Gloink buddies won't try kidnapping me again?" Zooble asked, fidgeting with her pincher hand. "That was f---ing hell to go through....but by all means take Jax if you want. Nobody will miss him."

"Dualy noted." Nodding, you looked back at Gangle, who gave you a thumbs-up (or at least, the best thumbs-up she could muster given her ribbons), and you suddenly felt extremely welcomed by everyone here.

It was nice to finally leave the nest.

#clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc gangle #gangle x reader #tadc gangle x reader #monster reader #tadc gloinks #platonic

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nutzworth · 2 months

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was on twitter (oops) and theres a ton of people going apeshit over kanaya in the upd8 (hs:bc upd8) right obviously and i saw one (1) post about "still hating hs2. jade would not fucking do this" and like. huff.

fosmf if youre there and youve read the hsbc update tell me your thoughts on this. im so curious

in MY opinion, i really like jade in postcanon in general. OBVIOUSLY, the stuff with davekat SUCKS + IS WEIRD + outb of character (i doubt jade would cross boundaries in such a weird way? like a girl can take a hint esp for the people she loves.) but in the update it goes over jade and why she did what she did and like a cute little summary of the yiffy situation. i never really hated yiffy? and i hate yiffy even less with the update. narration + backstory with reasoning did its job.

SUMMARY, AS I SEE IT: jade was dating around mortals but came to the conclusion that they dont want HER, they want to say they dated the GOD OF SPACE. they wanted clout and she hated it. and i dont know. i think she went a little crazy cus of it. she was like I am truly alone in this world. Im cursed to be alone. Im doomed because of my aspect. How can i fix this. solution: HAVE A BABY. and it needs to be one of her god friends. she cant have a baby with a random mortal. john and dave are boys; they cant bear children. she cant have a baby with roxy or jane because she doesnt know them well. that leaves: rose lalonde so jade has a baby with rose lalonde and keeps it a secret. she talks to jane, and this is fine because its largely professional, and she makes sure yiffany (the baby) doesnt become a celebrity. yiffy is normal. yiffy is a normal kid and she has a normal life. jade needs her to have a normal life. jade needs to feel that connection with normality that she never had, jade needs to make sure yiffy doesnt go through the same damn thing she did. and she keeps it a secret. she bonded with rose. if kanaya finds out, thatll tear all three of them apart. jade craves the company. jade craves friendship and closeness. but of course, shes a space player and shes doomed. so they find out. and yiffy gets on the news. and everything is torn

ANYWAY: i think thats so cool. i think thats a great explanation. i think jade WOULD do that is the thing. its a logical train of thought and she makes some stupid mistakes and bad decisions but overall its rational. if i was in her situation i would probably do the same thing. yiffany longstocking is like jade harleys' my love mine all mine by mitski you get me. jade harley yearns for the closeness and having a baby can fill that. what other option did she have? she was crazy

interested to hear other peoples thoughts on this. i may just be biased because i love jade harley

#me #homestuck #jade harley #upd8 #homestuck: beyond canon #to be honest the most ooc person in the upd8 was rose i think #and that might be because shes also going crazy cus of her light powers #so thats ALSO not the WRITERS fault #probably.

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starsreminisce · 23 days

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The bonus chapters do provide context and throwbacks to the main books, and it's frustrating to think they wouldn't impact the overall story. After all, the ACOMAF bonus chapter cemented Nessian's relationship and added depth to their story. SJM excels at weaving these elements seamlessly. Therefore, it feels like a step backward to argue that Elain will face a choice when the bonus chapter clearly shows Azriel's feelings for her and his developing friendship with Gwyn.

Elain demonstrably showed interest in Azriel, but he rejected her. Rhys reminded Azriel that Elain and Lucien still have a bond, and Lucien has the right to defend it. Elain returned his necklace, which Azriel then gave to Gwyn.

Both ACOSF bonus chapters establish context. Azriel's chapter clarifies his sullen behavior at the solstice, and Gwyn starts calling him "Shadowsinger" after he reveals the title. Feyre's chapter explains their choice of the name Nyx for their son.

Therefore, it's confusing why SJM would regress Elain and Azriel's interactions. The bonus chapter clearly showed Azriel hurting Elain to the point of returning his gift. Additionally, it focused on his growing investment in Gwyn. Elain's book likely won't start with a love triangle involving Lucien and Azriel. The bonus chapter suggests Elain has already made her choice.

Ideally, Elain's book will explore her reasons for accepting Azriel's rejection and delve into her feelings for her true mate. Most importantly, we should see Elain stand up for herself against Azriel. This is the third time he's acted without considering her, similar to how Tomas motivated Nesta to overcome her fear.

ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:

He didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit as she rose up on her toes, her mouth nearing his— Pain exploded between his legs, knocking the breath from his chest as that gods- damned knee of hers indeed found its mark. Cassian staggered back, swearing viciously. She snorted, looking down at him as he fell on his ass into an armchair, clutching his stomach, trying to reorder his brain— “You’re all the same,” she said, imperious as the night and cold as the dawn. “Perhaps being an immortal makes you predictable.”

In ACOMAF:

I’d had one break from Cassian’s brutal training—just one morning, when he’d flown to the human realm to see if my sisters had heard from the queens and deliver another letter from Rhys to be sent to them. I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.

In ACOSAF:

He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered. Even from the start. Even after she’d kneed him in the balls that one afternoon at her father’s house.

ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:

No, she had not been with any male, Fae or human. Tomas had wanted to, and she . . . some part of her had known no future lay with him. Knew about his hateful father, and that he did nothing to prevent the man from beating his mother. She had barely let Tomas kiss her, and that day when she had ended it, he’d . . . She swallowed, shutting out the memory of what he’d said and done. The sound of her tearing dress. No—it hadn’t gone that far, but . . . The blind terror in those moments he’d tried, before she’d screamed and clawed her way free. And never told anyone. Something must have shown on her face, in her scent. Because his annoyance vanished—no, it shifted. Into something else, something . . . Rage. That’s what stilled Cassian’s face. Pure, burning rage.

In ACOSF:

Three days afterward, Nesta broke it off with Tomas. Enraged, he’d launched himself at her, pinning her against the enormous woodpile stacked along the barn wall. Spiteful whore, he’d growled. You think you’re better than me? Acting like a queen when you haven’t got shit. She’d never forget the sound of her dress tearing, the greed in his eyes as his hands pawed at her skirts, trying to raise them as he fumbled with the buckle on his belt.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #antie/riel #antielriel #gwynriel

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writing-for-life · 8 months

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Nuance in (The Sandman) Fandom

Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!

I thought a lot over the past few days, partly prompted by discourse on here, partly due to a couple of “interesting” asks and messages I received (the type you don’t answer). I *think* they might have been prompted by engaging in discourse on topics like anti-blackness/racism, misogyny/sexism, TERF characters etc in The Sandman.

Fandoms are always getting super sensitive if someone shines a critical lens on their favourite works, authors and characters. So to make this clear (in case it isn’t already obvious from my brain-rot blog):

I love The Sandman. I love Neil Gaiman. I have an extremely soft spot for Dream (and Desire btw, who deserves a lot more character analysis than just being summed up as “villainous, sexy bitch”. One day, perhaps ;)).

I can read The Sandman and just get lost in the story, even after decades and many rereads.

But I can also view it through a critical lens—these things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Not critical enough or too critical?

As fans, we can get trapped in certain thinking patterns, like:

“My blorbo can do no wrong”-syndrome

“Characters with flaws are inherently problematic and imply authorial endorsement of those actions”

“Characterisation and problematic subtext are one and the same” (aka overanalysing and looking for problems where there are none is the death of every story, but failing to see problematic patterns where they are clearly visible is a problem, too).

Don't say anything bad about my favourite character

I think this doesn’t need much further exploration. It’s not my personal way of looking at stories through permanently rose-tinted glasses (I always feel it stalls my experience, but my experience is not everyone else's). Some people prefer that type of escapism, and I’m good with that (although the downside is of course that by not willing to engage with issues, we can unwillingly perpetuate them). Live and let live, ship and let sail. But please, for the love of god: Don’t insult people via their inboxes or messages just because their opinions and preferences don’t align with yours. I’m not going to sugarcoat it or phrase it “nicely”: It’s infantile (and a form of bullying btw), end of.

How can you even like a character who's so horrible? And that author must be equally horrible, too

We have to separate flawed characters, even those who are written to be really problematic, from real-life endorsement of these actions.

Author, narrator and character are three fundamentally different things, and don’t overlap as much as some people seem to think.

We can write vile, despicable characters to make a point (for me, Thessaly was always a prime example for this, and I explained why here). We probably hate them as we write them. I don’t know what else to say, but this facet of writing seems to get more and more lost on people, and it’s a worry. Crying for sanitised characterisation is one step away from censorship. We explore what is problematic about people and humanity through story. That’s how we process and learn. It’s nothing new, but it becomes impossible if we can’t write flawed and even disgusting characters.

Face value…

Since I’m mostly in The Sandman fandom, I often read that its ending is hopeless, and that’s supposedly the entire message.

It is agonisingly sad, yes. But is it truly hopeless? I personally see it as quite the opposite, but of course that’s my opinion, coloured by my life experiences.

I also get that show-only fans often haven’t read the comics, or at least not the whole arc. And as such, their outlook from what they’ve seen so far (and choose to focus on) has to be different by default. I also understand that many people are quite new to the comics, even if they have read them in their entirety. I’ve sat with them for 30 years, and I still find new things on every reread (and I read it more times than anyone should 🙈), and I still don’t feel like I’ve understood it all. Perhaps because I still haven’t fully understood myself (and it’s unlikely I ever will). If there’s one thing The Sandman isn’t, it’s one-dimensional and easy to grasp in its whole depth.

I just wrote a ginormous meta on it, if you’re interested, it’s here:

Subtext, (not so) glorious subtext

This is where it gets complicated:

We shouldn’t mix up characterisation and story subtext. Overanalysing every line to death will always make us find something that’s “problematic”, when it really isn’t in the wider context of the story.

Zooming in is NOT always a good thing. Sometimes, we actually need to zoom out.

But subtext *can be* (accidentally) problematic. Even in stories we love. And none of this negates what I previously wrote.

Stories have real-life implications of sorts, and we need to be able to talk about it. That’s where those slightly flabbergasting, hostile inbox messages come in, and I want to expand on that "topic of contention" a bit:

Neil himself confirmed that the Endless basically warp reality, and that this is why, after Dream’s failed relationship with Nada, many black women in his vicinity suffer terrible fates (Ruby and Carla in particular). And that this spell is only broken when he dies, and that it is the reason why Gwen doesn’t suffer the same fate. And said Gwen then gets used as a plot device to basically absolve Hob (who canonically really is a problematic character, whether show-only fans like it or not) from his slaver past. Once again, very clearly: No one is making this up. Neil confirmed it (for the comics, and that was over 20 years ago. It remains to be seen if his stance has changed as we move into that arc in the TV show).

I don't think it is correct to imply that Dream as a character is racist (I've read that, too) because he logically can’t be. He holds *all* the collective unconscious. He is also, strictly speaking, not white. He is everything and nothing, and he shows up in many different ethnicities throughout the whole arc, depending on who looks at him. But Neil played with a subtext here (reality warping due to a bad relationship which then affects everyone with similar physical traits) that will read very differently to a black person than it reads to a white person, and we have to understand why that is an *extremely* slippery slope.

Plus, we are supposed to see Hob, who *was* a racist at some point (you can’t not be if you’re a slave-trader—it’s impossible by default) as redeemed. And yes, he *does* regret deeply, good for him (and if I were saying this aloud, you would hear the sarcasm in my voice, because it is indeed all about him. We are to sympathise/empathise with him and his character growth while there isn’t much mention of the people he maltreated). But also: it was a black woman who basically forgave him (with dialogue that personally makes me cringe). And that black woman who offers forgiveness is not truly a black woman—she is a character written by a white man. And as much as author and character are not the same (see above), there is an inherent sensitivity in that power imbalance that we can't brush under the carpet.

I don’t think Neil is racist. Probably quite the opposite, and I can even see that his intentions were good from a storytelling point of view. BUT intention and impact are two fundamentally different things, and telling the story this way (comic version) betrays blindspots only white people have. Just like women have blindspots when they tell stories about men, and men have blindspots when they tell stories about women (and there are a few of those in The Sandman, too). And and and…

As storytellers, we can’t always speak from lived experience. It’s impossible. And that also means we occasionally make mistakes that look bad in hindsight, even if our intentions were good.

I guess the proof is in the pudding: What do we do when people who *have* that lived experience tell us it looks bad? If they inform us why it is hurtful, plays into old stereotypes etc?

Are we willing to listen and yield (both are the foundations of allyship btw), or are we insisting that our viewpoint as someone *without* lived experience is right? That lived experience extends to all lived experiences (sex/gender, sexual orientation, age...), and from all we’ve heard from Neil so far, it seems important to him to rewrite what he sees differently today. Whether they’ll always get it right for the show—we’ll see. At the moment, it looks a lot better than in the comics, and certain issues are already being handled with a lot more sensitivity, but a few problems remain.

Pushing back on criticism that comes from people with lived experience is problematic—I’d encourage us to think about what it looks like if a white majority in the fandom is basically saying that the opinions of POC are essentially “overreactions” (and yes, that happened).

It’s complicated. The Sandman was written in a different time, and I think we have to distinguish between things that weren’t really problematic at the time but have aged poorly (again, Thessaly springs to mind, and I have lived experience as a queer person during that time, so I can see it in context while at the same time acknowledging that I would make changes to bring it to the present day), and things that were always a problem due to blindspots. They were a problem in 1990, and if they don’t get changed, they are still a problem today.

This fandom is generally so much more open and nicer than others I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s infallible, because it’s full of humans.

Nuance is sorely needed, in both story interpretation and interaction between said humans.

#fandom discourse #fandom blindspots #sandman meta #sandman spoilers #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #nada #morpheus #sandman

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