#they make me fucking screech with laughter
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What is this love triangle 😵💫😵💫
#one day i will make like a horrible compilation of all the various Fernando x ron dennis articles me and min(renaulonso) found#bcs theyre actually sickening. SICKENINGLY FUNNY!!!!#they make me fucking screech with laughter#its been months since we discussed it and went on a deep dive#but whenever i go back at look at those article titles and snippets#i am actually in tears of laugher bcs theyre so unwell#the title of the article this snippet is from btw is:#'Seven years after their acrimonious split love is in the air again for Ron Dennis and Fernando Alonso +'#'+ as the driver’s need meets McLaren’s desperation#LIKE WHAT THE FUCK!? WHY ARE THESE THE WORDS YOU CHOSE!?!?!?!?#there was also another article decribing their 'wedding' as jenson button watched on as the best man#like what the fuck made them write these#but yeah sorry suddenly needed to post this after that flavio quote from the doc#bcs im like wow...he lowkey sounded jealous as fuck talking abt ron dennis and fernando#as i said. describing it like a marriage and mentioning that they had to divorce at the end of 2007#and saying that ron wasnt strict enough w the implication that he WAS#flavio briatore#ron dennis#fernando alonso#f1#formula 1
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Had to be You
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)
Word Count: 2,270
Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?
Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending
“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”
Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”
“STEVE!” you screech.
His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.
“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.
“I’m going to kill Steve.”
When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.
“Get in line Barnes!”
“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.
With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.
“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”
Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.
“Why the hell did he do this?”
You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”
You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.
“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.
You face him fully and take a step closer.
“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”
Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”
He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.
“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.
“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.
With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”
You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.
“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.
You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.
“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.
He smirks.
“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”
As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.
Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.
“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”
Bucky simply grunts in agreement.
“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”
While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.
Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”
To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.
You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.
“Are you drunk Barnes?”
His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.
“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.
He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.
“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”
You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.
He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.
“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”
At his admission, your expression hardens.
“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.
“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”
His answer makes you sigh.
“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.
He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.
With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”
You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.
Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.
Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.
“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”
The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.
“I don’t hate you.”
Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”
When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.
“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”
At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.
“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”
When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”
“I want to know why.”
“Why what?” you ask.
“Why you don’t trust men.”
His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.
He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.
“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”
He scowls. “In what ways?”
You shrug like it’s nothing.
“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”
“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.
“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”
“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”
He stands slowly, visibly agitated.
“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”
“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.
“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”
You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.
“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”
“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”
He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.
“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”
You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”
Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.
The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.
“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”
“Bucky.”
You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”
His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.
“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”
He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.
“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”
You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.
His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.
Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.
Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.
You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.
He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.
“What…?”
“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.
Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.
You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.
It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.
When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.
“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”
He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.
“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Thank you.”
It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.
You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.
“Bucky?” you ask.
“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.
“Oh,” you breathe out.
He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.
The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.
“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”
The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.
His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.
You whisper his name, your voice shaky.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”
His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.
“They aren’t worth it.”
“You’re worth it.”
Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.
“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”
Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.
“Do you want me to go?” he asks.
You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”
He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.
Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.
He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.
“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.
His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.
“Why won’t you kiss me?”
He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.
“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”
When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.
The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.
He can’t stop.
@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#enemies to lovers#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan#bucky
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Agent Peña
Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.
Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)
Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)
A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪
This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!
“Are you sure this is the last box?”
“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”
“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.”
You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space.
You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder.
“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp.
“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.”
“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised.
“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment.
“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!”
“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture.
“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again.
“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle.
“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip.
“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.”
“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…”
“Osita…”
“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.”
“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt.
“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed.
“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened.
“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi.
Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker.
Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.
As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom” into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner.
You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.
You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see.
It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways.
With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front.
You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.
You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them.
Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box.
And holy fuck did he look hot.
Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground.
While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen.
Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.
Holy fuck.
You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it.
You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box.
“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.
He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.
“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view.
“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up.
“Hermosa, are you okay?”
“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.
But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind.
Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade.
“What’s going on, baby?”
With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you.
“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.”
“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you.
“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-”
“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.”
Oh, fuck me.
“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?”
“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it.
“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body.
“Like, right now?”
“Like, right now.”
Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest.
“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.
As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.”
“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat.
“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room.
“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal.
You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming.
“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…”
“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function.
“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further.
“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”
“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?”
In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth.
You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers.
Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal.
It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic.
“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils.
It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin.
“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came.
That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly.
“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor.
“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace.
You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible.
“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-” You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him.
Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure.
“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.”
You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear.
“You still okay, Osita?”
“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again.
“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response.
“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again.
“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.
He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt.
You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser.
Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him.
“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.”
The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core.
Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him.
“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came.
“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high.
“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath.
Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point.
“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.”
“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.”
“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-”
“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.”
The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics.
“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.”
“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”
“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.”
“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.”
Taglist:
@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#javier peña narcos#javi pena#javi peña x reader#javier pena#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena fic#javier pena fluff#javier pena narcos#javier pena imagine#javier pena smut#javier pena x f!reader#javier pena x female reader#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña smut#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña x female reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña fic#narcos#joel miller#pedro pascal characters#madeline’s mail
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she was an angel, he did video games
author's note. while i struggle with my reqs here u have a small thingy that was inspired by me going into a rabbit hole of watching old vids of my fav childhood youtubers (rezi to taki crush still like OH MAAAA GAAAD ++ jego stare filmiki = top tier)
also val @kyrjnie tis is for u,, bc it may or may not have also been inspired by the gyu edit u sent me 😁😁😁😁😁😁
warnings. c u r s i n g. so much cursing. also mention of shooting n dying (they’re playing gta lol)
summary. you can’t sleep because of your yelling gamer bf,, that’s literally it (gamer bf!gyu)
word count. 618
“fucking hell! shit, shit, shit–!”
beomgyu let out an inhuman screech, leaning on his chair. the sound of his friend’s laughter echoed in his headphones as he held his stomach that started to hurt from laughter too.
“please, please taehyun!” beomgyu whined, leaning forward and running after his friend’s character in game.
“gyu?”
he yelled when he got shot again, this time by yeonjun.
“you fucker! no, no, no don’t run away!” he didn’t seem to hear your quiet voice.
you never complained about beomgyu’s passion being playing video games. everyone needed their de-brainer that would make them relax and enjoy life. you were glad he got to spend time with his friends and have fun but–
“haaa, eat shit!”
“gyu!”
he squealed upon feeling your hand on his arm.
“oh my f–” he turned around instantly, heart rate picking up. but when his eyes met yours, his brows knitted “y/n?”
ignoring the way he went afk and his friends used that fact to kill him (again), he patted his thigh. taking in the sight of you in his oversized t-shirt, messy hair and two different socks on your feet he couldn’t help but grin that you’re his and–
“could you be a little more quiet?” you asked gently, voice barely above a whisper. his ebony eyes softened, flickering quietly between the screen and you.
“oh”
a small chuckle left your lips and it was quickly followed by a yawn.
“yeah, i couldn’t fall asleep” you mumbled and leaned closer to place a kiss on his forehead.
“no, wait. actually, i’m done playing. they’re assholes either way” he breathed out. a sudden wave of guilt washed over him.
“what? it’s you who sucks!” soobin whined offended “also say hi to y/n”
“no” he grunted and with a devilish smirk used the sniping to point at the friend. then, he turned around at looked at you with a joyful yet mischievous spark in his eye. beomgyu just mouthed: “one sec!”
“y/n’s such an angel, bahi always screams at me” kai mumbled.
“same, my mom just smacks me in the head out of a sudden. i almost shat myself when she did that when i was playing the forest” yeonjun sighed “y/n is the best–”
“what the hell was that?!” soobin yelled out when his screen flickered black and then he saw the text: wasted. beomgyu gunned you down “you fu–!”
beomgyu left the voice chat and game giggling, proud of himself. then, he turned around and smiled upon seeing you wait for him. your eyes were closing slowly, fighting the sleepiness.
“i know, sorry. if i cuddle you, will you forgive me?” your boyfriend pouted, sneaking his arms around your waist. you nodded lazily and felt his lips brush against the corner of your mouth. letting out a small sigh, you tugged his hoodie.
“let’s just go, my stinky little gamer of a boyfriend…” you mumbled, fighting a smirk.
“yah!”
“also i wasn’t mad at you to begin with. just… the bed was cold, or whatever” you said, dragging him to the bedroom. beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat – something that he’d think he’d get used to while dating you. but such cute gestures still made him flustered.
“you’re really an angel, huh?” beomgyu mumbled into your hair once you were in bed. you snuggled closer to him, embracing the warmth.
“huh?” you asked drowsily, sleep creeping up on you way faster than when you were in bed alone, without him.
“sleep well, angel” he just hummed, hands pulling you even closer. fingers drawing shapes on your (his) t-shirt absentmindedly, beomgyu realized that he liked spending time with you way more than on his silly games.
masterlist <3
taglist. @primoppang ,, @mirxzii ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @ocean-minho
#txt boyfriend#txt imagines#txt fluff#txt x reader#txt x you#txt x y/n#tubatu#beomgyu#txt scenarios#txt drabble#txt soft hours#txt beomgyu#beomgyu fluff#beomgyu scenarios#beomgyu x you#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x y/n#beomgyu soft hours#beomgyu drabbles#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu soft thoughts#txt drabbles#txt soft thoughts
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"i was hoping i wouldn't have to resort to this."
A 'PERKS OF BEING A HOUSEHUSBAND' DRABBLE.
pairing: min yoongi x reader
plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.
warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi unintentionally scares people
masterlist + disclaimers.
note: go on tell me d-day!yoongi isn't tatsu I DARE YOU 😤 btw u don't need to watch the way of the househusband before reading this, but i swear u won't regret it if u do lol it's so funny (and it gives great visuals for this fic!). anyways, enjoy!! i'd love to hear ur thoughts so drop by my askbox and let's chat :)
Water drips down his neck as he washes his face. Droplets fall down his tattooed back, tracing the meticulous lines and bold colors that contrast his pale skin.
After rinsing and drying off, he dons on his outfit for the day – a fitted, white, short-sleeved shirt that shows off the intricate tattoos on both his arms and some black sweatpants – and puts on his signature apron – a beige, cotton apron with a drawing of his brown poodle on the front. Said poodle is staring at him from the bathroom door as he takes one last look at the mirror.
An old, bumpy scar runs down his right eye.
"Perfect," he says to himself before heading to the kitchen with his dog following right behind.
Min Yoongi never used to wake up this early. But these days, he wakes up bright and early at six o'clock because he has an important assignment.
"What do you think, Holly? Too big?"
The poodle barks in response, and taking its opinion into consideration, Yoongi adjusts his gimbap slices accordingly, making them a tad bit smaller and just the perfect size for your lunchbox.
"Shit!"
The door to your shared bedroom opens and you run out, already dressed in your corporate attire. You run to the kitchen where your husband is and get a huge glass of water.
"I'm late!" you screech, all while gulping down the whole glass.
"But you still have a few hours," he points out in confusion.
"I forgot I have an early meeting!" you explain in a hurry, putting on your heels before giving your husband a big smooch on the lips and blowing Holly a kiss. "Sorry, Yoonie! I'll see you later!"
And you're out the door.
Yoongi blinks for a few moments before shaking his head. He's chuckling in amusement at your mishap, but if any outsider hears his laughter, it just sounds a bit manic.
"Well, looks like it's just you and me, Holly."
Holly barks.
"Huh? What was that?"
Holly barks.
Yoongi stares at the poodle, then at your Hello Kitty lunchbox he meticulously prepared, then back at the poodle.
"She forgot her lunchbox?"
Holly barks.
"Fuck."
Yoongi snaps into action, securing the lunchbox and putting it inside a Hello Kitty cloth bag before running out the door with his cute apron still on. He mounts his bicycle and speeds towards your office – which, if he was driving a car, would have broken numerous traffic regulations but luckily he isn't a stranger to breaking a law or two.
He's almost to your office. He's halfway there.
But unfortunately, there's a bit of a situation.
"What's your occupation, sir?"
The two police officers stare at him hesitantly after flagging him down for pedalling too fast with his bicycle. They're debating on giving him a ticket but then Yoongi answers.
"Househusband."
They stare at him.
"What?"
Yoongi sighs. At this rate, he won't be able to catch you before you clock in.
"Wait a second," one of the officers says, eyeing the tattoos peeking out from Yoongi's shirt and the big scar on his eye. "Are you..."
They stare at the name on the ticket. Min Yoongi.
"...Agust D?"
No way, the other officer thinks. There's a rumor about an infamous gangster called Agust D who used to slaughter his enemies with his own two hands. This guy can't be him. Right? Right?!
They hold a breath when Yoongi reaches into his pocket.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this," he murmurs.
"Wait, sir. There's no need for violence—"
"Here," Yoongi shuts them up by thrusting one of his most precious possessions.
A gift card for discounts at the local grocery store.
The police officers stare at the gift card, bewildered.
"As much as it pains me to let go of this," Yoongi continues, "take it. Now, I have to go."
And he pedals away, leaving behind one gift card and two very confused cops.
COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
#bts x reader#bts fic#min yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts suga x reader#yoongi x reader#agust d x reader#bts imagines#min yoongi fic#min yoongi imagines#bts suga fic#yoongi fic#suga fic#bts suga imagines#yoongi imagines#suga imagines#agust d fic#agust d imagines#min yoongi x you#yoongi x you#bts suga x you#suga x you#agust d x you#cat.writes
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Lock your windows
Pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader
Genre: smut, "dark" romance
Word count: 1.8k
Summary: After a discussion with your experimental boyfriend, you two are able to play out one of your long awaited fantasies
Warnings: MDNI, "stalker" wooyoung, role playing?? oral (m/f receiving), fingering, mention of a safe word, it seems noncon but just read til the end please trust me😭
Network: @newworldnet
A/n: idk why but the idea of wooyoung being a stalker is so hot to me. I also know he would be such an experimental partner to have, it's driving me insane. I need him so very badly
You and your friends screech in laughter as someone says something hilarious. You and your friend group have been out for a couple hours now, drinking, eating, shopping, just having the best night out ever. The air is warm and stale, the humidity making your hair puff up in frizziness.
As you stumble along the path in your black high heels and sparkly silver dress you stand out, like a shiny pearl in the ocean. The glitter makes shadows on the dimly lit walls, making the light bounce off. You start laughing at something again when you suddenly stop.
A shiver slithers up your spine and makes the hairs of your nape stand up in alarm. Your friends realize you’re not following them anymore and they stare in confusion. They ask if you’re ok but you’re too busy looking around, trying to find the source of the eerie feeling.
You can’t seem to find anything in the shadows and tentatively take steps forward. Your friends look at each other with raised eyebrows but choose to shrug it off. You keep walking but you don’t say anything until you reach your doorstep. They say goodnight and leave you to your apartment.
You walk in and throw yourself on the cushiony couch, resting your eyes from exhaustion. You tap your foot quietly and hum a random tune that’s been stuck in your head all day when you hear a distant clatter from the direction of your bedroom and your eyes shoot open and foot stops tapping. You stand up curiously and walk towards your room.
As you walk in you can feel a cold breeze and you blink in confusion. You see that your window is wide open, blinds pulled apart. You don’t remember leaving your window open but you must’ve been in a rush and didn’t even realize. You shake your head at your inattentiveness and close it shut. You return to your spot on the couch and shut your eyes once more.
There’s clattering coming from the same direction again and you sit up in alarm this time. You warily go to your room, trying to inspect what the noise is. You see the window is open again, making the curtain billow in the wind.
“What the fuck.” You exclaim. You’re convinced you’re going crazy. You’re sure you closed it, but maybe the day is really getting to your head. You take a step and are thrown down to the ground in an instant. You gasp from the impact, managing to catch yourself on your elbows, but your knees are on fire from the carpet burn.
You try to turn on your back and find that your movements are restricted from a weight on your lower back. It feels like a boot is pressing you down, pushing the air out of your lungs. You breathe in tightly and your whole body tenses. You whimper in pain and the pressure lifts a little and you sigh in relief.
“Hi my love, we finally meet.” The stranger speaks with a low tone.
“W-who are you?” You wheeze out.
“I’m your lover of course, who else would I be?” He says matter of factly. You furrow your eyebrow in confusion.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” You try to talk without your voice betraying your fear. He chuckles at that and completely removes his boot.
“Oh you’ll understand what I mean soon.”
He reaches down to turn you over. As you lay on your back in the dark room, you observe his face as best you can, the only light provided being the single lamppost outside. He has long jet black hair and dark glimmering eyes. His nose has a perfect point and his mouth is turned up at the corners in a sneer.
He also studies you in turn. Your beauty up close does not compare to the months of watching you from afar. The hundreds of photographs hanging in his room pale in comparison. He’s filled with so much pure excitement at seeing you face to face finally.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. For the day I get to caress your face, for the day I get to hear your sinful noises brought out by me. I’ve been very, very patient and this is my reward.” He looks into your eyes deeply, as if he’s mentally willing you to believe his words.
You feel a shiver go up your spine as you realize that the man is completely serious. He truly believes his delusions and it isn’t up for a discussion. He looks down at his silver watch, as if he’s on a mission. With a growing dread and arousal you realize that he is on a mission.
You are the mission.
You continue to stare at him with wide, fearful eyes as he straddles your still form. He leans into your neck and just stays there, nose taking in your scent deeply. He inhales and exhales and groans quietly. With his mouth muffled against your collarbone, he speaks.
“I can just smell the arousal coming off of you. You really love this huh.” You let out a small whimper at that and he raises his head.
“Don’t worry angel, Wooyoung is here to take care of you. I got you.” He speaks with a promising tone.
He leans in once more and he can feel your rapid heartbeat, which only aids in exciting him further. He kisses you with ease, almost intimately, caressing your bare arms and leaving goosebumps in his wake. You try to use your knee to push him off and he growls into your open mouth. The sweet kiss turns into an animalistic one. He gropes your breasts and kisses you breathless. As he rocks back and forth across your abdomen you can feel his growing bulge.
You feel your cunt throb emptily, needing something you’re too ashamed to admit. You submit to his feverish kisses and try to relax your body. He notices the change and grins in response.
“There you are, my love. Let’s get to the bed, shall we? I’d rather take you on a softer material.” He mockingly pouts and furrows his eyebrows. He lifts you up with ease and gently sets you on the bed. His hands settle underneath your shirt, slightly tickling your stomach. You squirm in hopes that he touches you sometime soon, or else you’ll explode.
He trails down your body, reaching your flimsy shorts and teasingly blows air on you. You buck your hips instinctively and he holds you down, clucking his tongue in disapproval.
“Nuh uh baby, I thought you were gonna be good for me?” He cocks his head sideways, questioning you.
“Yes, yes, I will, I promise.” You babble, feeling fucked out already.
He gives you a soft smile and rubs your thighs soothingly before landing a harsh smack. Your body jolts in reaction but you manage to hold in your yelp. Without wasting another second he pulls your shorts aside and dives in.
You muffle your moan into the palm of your hand, feeling like you need to scream. The stimulation is making you feel relief but so much torture at the same time. Wooyoung’s expert tongue is lapping up your slick, almost like a hungry animal and when he looks up at you, his gaze is as sharp as a predator.
His finger finds your clit with ease and twists and pulls as you mewl pathetically. Not once does he come up for air, he practically buries his head in your pussy, prodding his tongue into every crevice.
“You taste so sweet mmhh.” Wooyoung moans into your pussy, sending vibrations up your body. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you even closer. You have to bite on your hand now to keep yourself quiet. He slightly bites down on your clit and you let out a shriek. Your body jolts up and you cum with a shuddering breath.
He finally removes himself from you and stares down at the state of your cunt. It’s a sopping wet mess, covered in spit and slick. His face is also covered in your juices, and he greedily licks up what he can. You close your eyes in an attempt to recover, but it’s interrupted by his fingers.
He rams two fingers deep into you until he’s knuckle deep. He finds your g-spot immediately and you see stars, making you hold on to his wrist in a desperate attempt, but he simply pins your hand to your side. You grind your hips deeper into his fingers, needing to feel more. He reads your mind and adds in a third finger.
You moan at the stretch and clamp around him. He looks at your face intently, watching your screwed up face of pleasure. He wastes no time adding a final fourth finger. You gasp at the sensation and convulse from the intensity. Your whole body shakes as you reach the peak of your climax. You cry out and gush around Wooyoung’s slender fingers and he fucks you through your orgasm.
You groan lightly, feeling the energy escape your body. Wooyoung softly caresses your stomach to bring you down and you close your eyes and breathe out. He crawls to you slowly, and you open one eye from feeling the dip of the mattress.
Wooyoung takes your hand and puts it over his hardened bulge. He grinds into your hand slowly, letting out groans of satisfaction. Due to your exhaustion he chooses to go easy on you. He pulls down his pants and gets closer to your awaiting mouth. He slides in slowly, only going halfway. You let your mouth go slack and have him use you gently. He moves in and out, poking the inside of your cheek occasionally. You land a soft hand on him once more and attempt to help out. He throws his head back and enjoys the sensation of your warm mouth.
With a few more soft thrusts he pulls out of your mouth and cums all over your breasts. Once he comes down from his high he grabs towels to clean you up. He gently dabs at your used cunt and slick thighs, including your now cum stained breasts. You feel sleep calling your name and let out a content sigh. Wooyoung notices and lets out a giggle whilst cuddling up to your side.
"Thank you for trusting me baby." He expresses his gratitude by giving small pecks to your face.
"I told you I wouldn't have to use my safe word. You were perfect." You mumble, only half awake.
"I know love, but it's always good to be prepared. It would kill me if I ever hurt you." He speaks reverently, like you're a goddess to worship.
You give him a grunt of acknowledgement to let him know you're still listening even though your tired body is screaming for sleep. Wooyoung looks at your serene face, remembering how wild and frenzied you had looked only moments prior. Before you're completely out he leans down to whisper in your ear.
"I guess this is what happens when you don't lock your windows baby."
#ateez#mingtinysworld#ateez smut#ateez fic#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios#wooyoung#ateez wooyoung#wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung
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Can you write Vox x reader where like the reader just says like really unhinged things and just like vile things whenever they rage and stuff like the internet could be slow or smth and the reader is just like “IM GOING TO RIP OFF MY SKIN” idk man I’m kinda just self projecting rn like you can right anything with it tbh idk sorry for rambling anyway you don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna
THIS IS SO MEEEEE I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!! sorry it took me a hot minute to reply to this i have over 70 hazbin hotel requests in my inbox 😭
🥀Cw: fluff, crack, silly vox
when he first met you, vox was charmed by your seemingly sweet nature- that is, until you were pissed
your unholy screech of how you were going to rip off your skin if he cut the wifi again was both endearing and confusing in his eyes
vox would just short circuit for a second, just blinking at you while he tries to process what you just said
once it clicks, he just starts giggling. vox very rarely genuinely laughs, most of his laughs are professional or part of the persona he adopts as the leader of vox enterprises, but when he's so shocked by what you just said, he can't control the booming laughter thay fills the room
he's wheezing and gasping, each barking laugh only pissing you off more
"what's so funny? if you keep laughing i am going to fucking break ur fingers like carrot sticks!" you snap, and vox only giggles harder
after a few seconds, you can't help but notice how adorable his laughter is, and soon you don't mind it as much
once you two are officially together, you notice how stressed vox often is, yet how he seems to visibly relax around you
the batshit crazy things you say, which normally disgusts other people, only seem to amuse him
its actually a wonderful dynamic because you bring some spontaneity and slight insanity into vox's otherwise irritating and depressing lifestyle, and vox balances out the crazy things you say and calms you down every time
you often find yourself searching for new phrases to baffle him with, and for new ways to make him laugh
after vox has a stressful day, he enjoys just listening to you ramble about the most insane things and adores hearing whatever fucked up saying you've adopted recently
vox notices himself beginning to copy your speech patterns. he only begins to realize when he slips in an exceptionally odd metaphor into a work meeting and everyone stares at him, yet his heart skips a beat at the thought
there's something so charming to him about the fact that he's adopting your mannerisms, and you truly make him laugh when no one else can
whenever another one of the vees pisses him off, he always comes to you for advice on incredibly deranged comebacks, and you never disappoint!
he's won multiple arguments by just repeating one of your fucked up sayings and the other vees being too lowkey shocked to disagree
vox LOVES IT when you diss people he hates, hearing you ramble some fucked up insults about alastor made him fall in love with you all over again
"that worm on a string fucked up karen cut bob looking ass- if i see him around here again im going to eat a fucking brick" *cue vox looking at you with the biggest heart eyes*
overall, you are both menaces, but you're menaces in love ♥️
vox lay with his head in your lap, the blue light of his screen illuminating the dim room as you rambled mindlessly about your day.
"and THEN, this fucking asshole tried to flirt with me! ME!! as if he doesn't know were dating! ugh, it makes me feel like i have an entire beehive living beneath my skin. i swear if he even looks at me again im going to lick wet cement i can NOT deal. how can you even work with him? he's such a fucking CREEP voxy, i'm going to cut off those ugly ass wings and shove them so far down his throat- hey, are you even listening?"
you look down to see vox half asleep, his eyelids drooping as his light dimmed. "keep talking.." he murmurs, looking up at you with a lazy smile on his face. "you're my favorite person t' listen to.."
i love the idea of vox with a partner who challenges his very idea of power. he clearly wraps himself in a sort of persona, surrounding himself with powerful people and acting like he's so serious and important. i love the idea of him falling in love with someone who can break down his walls in seconds, someone who can dismantle his entire bravado act and who allows him to truly be himself. this is such a wonderful prompt and i am eating this up. nonnie ur awesome!!!!
#vox x reader#vox x you#vox x oc#vox x y/n#vox fluff#vox headcanons#vox headcanon#vox imagine#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x oc#hazbin hotel vox x you#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x oc#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel headcanon#vox my beloved#the vees
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charlando is a pairing i dont rly think ab often but … i feel like they are both vv adventurous and it comes out in dif ways, in the bedroom of course, but i think they would love going on ridiculously expeditions together. gf asks what they want to do for break and she thinks lando’s joking when he suggests climbing a mountain but charles jumps at the idea and next thing she knows she’s being dragged to some summit. -cait/@leclerced
A/N: hehehe love this idea
"You know," You suck in air as you stop the icy cold wind whips your face like a slap, "when you said the mountains," You take another deep breath and start climbing again, "I thought you meant, hey let's go to the mountains, and rent a remote gorgeous house," You huff and hear Charles chuckle.
"Maybe some great sex in front of a fireplace, but nooooo," Your voice echos off the empty range which has Lando stopping to cover his mouth before he started to cry with laughter, "You two, jackasses, decided to climb the fucking mountain, and DRAGGED ME ALONG!" You scream, and whine as your body was crying at you from how much pain you were in.
"Come on, ma petit, it's not that bad," Charles drops back and waits for you, his arms wrap around you, but you're not in the mood and shrug his arms off. "No, you don't get to touch me. I bought special lingerie, and this is how I'm thanked for it? Ungrateful!" Lando whips around and you see his eyes glowing.
"No!" You wag a finger at him and he groans, like a rejected puppy. "You don't get the nice and fuck me lingerie, you're making me climb a fucking mountain. I hate you both so much," You grumble and stalk past Charles in the heavy snow. "Do I get to see the lingerie?" He asks, and you turn towards Charles and glare. "Hell no, you're the one who agreed with him." You glare and pick up your pace as you grumble to yourself.
"Should've gone to Spain with Carlos," you grumble, heading past Lando who rolls his eyes and grabs your pole and pulls you back. Yelping, Lando takes the full blunt of your weight as you two fall into the thick blanket of snow.
Charles starts laughing as you and Lando tumble in the snow you turn smacking him in the face with a ton of snow. "Die!" You yell laughing and jump back down on him which has Charles screeching out laughter and Lando also turning red from laughing.
"Not so bad climbing the mountain huh?" Lando gasps out between catching his breath. "Fuck off, I should've been climbing my boyfriends, not this fucking mountain. Now, can we please leave?" You beg giving them the big puppy eyes. "No, we need to finish the hike." Charles helps Lando up and cleans the snow off of him, giving him a gentle peck which has Lando smiling.
"Okayyyy, well I guess Tom won't come out to play," You sigh and fix your stocking hat and notice how quite it's gotten. Looking up you see Charles face has turned dark and Lando into a blushing mess. "Okay, we're leaving. Let's go," You giggle clapping your hands happily and bump your shoulder with Lando's smirking. "Come on, baby boy."
#formula 1#f1#f1 fandom#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 scenario#f1 fluff#f1 smut#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#f1!poly#poly!f1#charlando#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris blurb#lando norris smut#lando norris fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc fanfic
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Harder.
╰﹒ sometimes a slip of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley’s hand is all the push you need.
content/warnings: swearing and suggestiveness; gn!reader; wc: 1k
a/n: gods, it's been years since I've last posted my stories online, but I couldn't sleep after playing CoD and... well. those who get it, get it. feedback and requests are welcome! ♡
Your feet pounded the cement as you ran through the cargo hold, finding security from the midst of the rusty metal containers.
All around you shouts and calls erupted from your friends' lips—some followed by warm laughs, others by deep curses, as the Task Force 141 submerged into the practice session.
"Gaz, do you copy?" The call passed your lips as a warm chuckle, as you crouched behind an oil container. "I've just gotten Soap's dog tags."
"Oh, I know." The reply was spoken with a laugh. "He's sent Ghost to come and find you. Fuckin' dumb on his part, considering that—"
"His tags are the last ones we need to win." You nodded your head. "Any visual on him? The last I've seen him was when he swiped poor fucking Roach off his—"
"I only needed his dog tags, didn't I?"
You grinned at the deep voice echoing from the other side of the container. You should have focused on listening to him approaching, but then, when did you ever really hear him coming?
"Funny," you chuckled back at the man, as you planted your feet steadier against the ground, careful to not make a sound. "You see, Lieutenant, your tags are exactly what I need. So why don't you just go ahead and toss them to me? We can take it real nice and easy."
"'Cause that's how you fuckin' like it, eh?"
You could hear the laughter in his voice, slightly breathless from the time spent dashing around under the scorching sun. Just moments before you had cursed the heat under your breath as you'd felt the pearls of sweat rolling down your forehead. Running in full gear tended to get to the fittest of the force, yet it did have its benefits, too.
Benefits, such as the sound of Ghost's vest brushing against the metal of the container. At your ear level, right around the corner to your right.
You wet your lips with your grin. "Want me to show you just how I like it, Lt.?"
"Darlin', you and I both know that I can read you like an open fuckin' book."
You could hear the brush of his vest against the metal again, as he moved closer to you. You knew he was out of paint-ammo: Gaz had gotten away with his tags from mere luck only moments prior, which meant that you had the higher ground. The moment he moved to lunge at you, could take him down with a single pull of the trigger, and grab his tags off his soon-to-be paint-covered vest.
Yet what was the fun in that?
With an arched brow, you laid your gun on the pavement. The screech of it against the ground, as you kicked it out of both your reaches, did not go unnoticed by Ghost.
”Sure you wanna do that, love?”
"Just to make it fair and square," you chuckled.
"You know I can't just kick off half my fucking body, yeah?"
"Wasn't it just this morning that I wiped the floors with your—"
A gasp and a curse were all you could manage, as your back collided with the hard cement of the ground. Handling the shock of the impact was one thing, but seeing him towering over you, fucking victorious, was another pill to swallow.
"Jesus fuck, Ghost." Despite your voice being a mere pained groan, you could not shake off the laughter from your features: the same laughter that glimmered in his eyes. "You know we're just fucking practicing, right?"
"I know. But you see, whatever the fuck it was that you said about takin' it nice and fuckin' easy—," he chuckled, as he crouched by you, "just doesn't do it for me. So what do you say I take these…"
His skeleton-patterned gloves reached for the chain around your neck, and just as you rolled your eyes at the certainty of your team having lost over you letting down your guard, the events began to unfold.
Whether it was from his finger slipping on your glistening skin, or from you turning your head at the exact wrong moment—perhaps it was from the combination of both—his hand did not wrap around the chain of your dog tags.
Instead, Ghost's fingers wrapped around your throat.
One moment he was sure of the victory of his team. Next, his brain could not function. For there you fucking were, on your back with your eyes slightly widened and lips parted, and his hand—his goddamn gloved hand around your throat from all the fucking places.
The worst of it all was not the wave of embarrassment that flushed through him. The worst of it was how fucking good you looked.
Yet he knew.
He knew.
No, he should have known better than to let his guard down: to allow himself to get distracted by the tug of the corners of your lips, as you tilted your head ever so slightly, chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths, your eyes fucking twinkling.
Yet as the fingers of your hand rested on his and the word passed your lips, fucking pretty, who could blame him?
"Harder."
To hell and fucking above. From your breathless request, his lips parted involuntarily under his mask. To say what, he did not know: plead, maybe, for the first time in his life.
No, it wasn't pleading and begging you wanted from him, was it? Quite the fucking opposite.
No. Focus.
Fucking focus, Lt.
Using the fleeing moment of his racing thoughts to your advantage, you pushed off the ground and brought your knife—sheathed—to his throat. The twinkle in your eyes was brighter than ever, and as you laughed, the sound was all but menacing.
"Really, Ghost?"
"Don't even fucking begin," he cursed, breathless, as your fingers wrapped around the chain around his neck, and tugged off the dog tags.
Yet as long as he had tried to deny it, it was not the slight touch of humiliation of having lost that made his head spin. You—he wet his lips, as he watched you twirling the tags around your finger—were going to be the goddamn death of him, and for one reason or another, he was ready to welcome it with open fucking arms.
“Ready for round two, sarge?” His chuckle was deep as you tossed his dog tags back to him, your eyes twinkling with challenge. “You know, I’m not gonna take it fuckin’ easy on you now.”
“Oh, that’s mutual, Lt.”
That—Ghost wet his lips with a chuckle—that he was fucking counting on.
#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fluff#ghost cod x reader
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Hello! May I request 94. With Rook?
I certainly wouldn't mind the smoot if you think it fits into what you write-
Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt
Word Count: 1.2k
Prompt 94: "Don’t act innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago."
🌶️ Warning for Mild Spice
[EVENT MASTERLIST]
“Just a bit of chase!” he says.
“The thrill of the hunt can be so fun!” he says.
Except now you’re covered in sweat and doubled over panting like you’re going to go into cardiac arrest. Because Rook’s idea of ‘oh, just a little run around, je promets!’ involved nothing less than a full fucking sprint through the wooded areas of the campus—over hill, and under hill, and godyou were so out of shape.
You gasped into your knees, bent over in anticipation of just, I don’t know. Death? Vomit? All of the above?
“Ah, don’t tell me you’ve given up already, mon cher!” the aforementioned demon cooed from somewhere in the trees. In the trees! Like a literal, freaking hunter of old, and not your coddling boyfriend smiling all pretty when he says ‘just a bit.’ Absolute bullshit. You wanted a refund. “We’ve only just begun!”
“It’s been—” you gasped, swiping a furious hand over your dripping brow, “—an hour! You fucking masochist!”
“A true predator knows best that a subtle, steady approach is always the most satisfying, mon petit lapin,” he hummed, voice echoing discordantly over your head. “And how could I not take my time, when the reward is bound to be so sweet, hmm?”
“What reward?” you snapped. ���Me doing this at all is the reward!”
The blonde’s trilling laughter curled through the air like the tinkle of a windchime. Light, and airy, and pleasant. Which was deceptive. And entirely unfair.
“Ah, but mon favori. I doubt you could ever say no to a little death, hmm?” he cooed. And the continued, with an air of faux consideration. “A bit for you, and then perhaps a bit for me. And then a bit more for you—”
Fuck his poetry. It was going to be a big death. A literal death. With rigor mortis, and decay, and a bloating corpse if you didn’t have a chance to collapse into a puddle in the next five minutes. Normally Rook’s sweet sonnets and romantic ramblings were something you found quite endearing. But surely anyone would be pushed past their Cutesy Bullshit Tolerance after being chased like a bat out of hell for the past literal hour. You felt woozy, and wrong footed, and like maybe that muffin you’d snagged for breakfast might be in the process of making up its mind to come back up to say hello.
“You have to run, petit lapin,” that chittering voice called again. “That’s the whole point.”
“No!” you snapped, stomping your foot like a toddler. “I give up! I’m a dumb rabbit! A lame rabbit! A rabbit with no legs! Just—get me already!” you shouted into the leafy canopy.
Silence.
You glared up into the kaleidoscope of greens, eyes narrowed as you searched the shadows. Surely he was somewhere. Somewhere close. You just had to—
And then you were crashing forward with an inelegant screech—a familiar, gloved hand pressing into the skin at the back of your neck and the other twisting into your uniform jacket to push you down into the dirt. And then Rook was sitting astride your hips, looking down at you with a sharp, brilliant gleam in his emerald eyes.
“Ah, mon pauvre lapin perdu,” he sighed, all faux sympathy, and shifted to lean forward so that he could grin into your flushed face. “Whatever shall I do with you, hmm? Rolling over to show your belly so readily. Certainly that’s far from safe.”
There was a tight, warm, whoosh in your gut. A twisting thing that you knew far too well at this point. And it spelled nothing but bad things.
You raised your chin as best as you could, meeting that toothy smirk of his head on, and then—
Ah. Nope. That had been the muffin after all.
Your face went green and you rolled onto your side to barf chunks of banana-nut-nonsense all over the grass.
.
.
“Mon cher, how can you ever forgive me?” Rook wailed, dabbing a soft, silk cloth against your heated forehead, nearly in tears. “I have failed you so horribly! So completely! I deserve to be cast from your good graces! Cursed to errer seul! Mutilé par des chiens! Jeté en enfer! Forcé de se repentir pour toujours!—”
“Enough, please,” you whined, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’d rather you just, I don’t know, got me a glass of water.”
“Right away!” he chirped, shooting to his feet and darting out the door and down the hall. He was back hardly a moment later, depositing a clean cup into your hands and plunking a curling, purple straw into the center of it.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, leaning forward to take a sip.
“Anything at all for you, mon cher!”
This was almost worse somehow.
“Would you cut it out,” you sighed. “It’s fine. Really. Shit happens.”
He stared up at you from where he was kneeled on the floor at your side with the largest, most doleful eyes you’d ever seen. Like a kicked puppy dog had a sad, sad child with, like, an even more pathetic, more kicked, kitten. You jabbed at him with your foot.
“And stop that!”
“Stop what?” he asked, blinking those stupid, stupid green eyes at you.
“Acting all innocent!” you complained. “You literally had me pinned underneath you, like, five minutes ago!”
“I did, didn’t I?” he hummed, sounding almost pensive. He reached up to tap at his chin, like he was chewing over a thought. “And I wasn’t even able to keep my promise, was I?” he lamented, deflating.
“What promise?” you frowned.
“For a bit of mutual demise,” he sighed. “Une petite mort.”
You felt heat crawl up your cheekbones and all the way to the tips of your ears. Because this had been some whole, elaborate setup, hadn’t it? Something that you’d only agreed to because he’d seemed so, ah, enthusiastic. And then you’d gone and barfed up banana chunks and ruined the whole thing.
“Sorry,” you mumbled.
Rook’s head shot up and he reached out to snare your hands in his.
“Non, non, mon cher!” he gasped. “This was hardly your fault to speak of! It is I and my poor planning that ought to make recompence,” he said.
And then, a terribly acute sort of brilliance came over his face. Like a lightbulb went off in his brain. Those green eyes went sharp with focus. He seemed to roll the his words around on his tongue, as if deciding exactly how they ought to taste when he let them fall back out again.
“And recompense I shall make!” he chirped, determined and shifted so his chin was resting in your lap. He sent you a coy little grin that had shivers racing down your spine.
“I literally just threw up,” you complained.
“This will certainly help you feel better,” he offered.
“That’s not the point!” you squawked. “Shouldn’t I—I don’t know—at least brush my teeth or something first?”
“Forgive me, mon petit lapin,” he laughed against your thigh. “But last I checked, I don’t think your mouth has anything do with this. And besides,” he crooned, reaching up to press a firm hand against your shoulder and help ease you down to the mattress below. “That was from overexertion, I’m afraid. Not illness. And I can promise, mon cher, that this time, you won’t have to bother putting any work in at all~”
.
.
#4k Event#twisted wonderland imagines#twst x reader#Rook Hunt x Reader#Rook x Reader#Rook Hunt#My Writing#Writing Prompts
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Learning to Live Part 28
summary: It’s a beautiful day in Miami, and you’re spending it with Javier and the Murphys at the beach, where you discover there’s a limit to Steve’s annoying behavior your fiancé can handle before he loses his cool. That evening, you, Javier, Steve, and Connie go out for drinks and find out you really will fight anyone who disrespects your future husband, leading to him having to calm you down.
With his dick.
In the bar bathroom.
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, kinda rough sex (he’s gotta fuck the anger out of you), dirty talk, breeding kink, spanking, spit as lube, Javier being bossy, mention of lactation/pregnancy kink, mention of panty sniffing, slice of life beach day, Javier being cute with the kids, physical altercation (Javi and Steve get into a tussle), decorating for Christmas, insecurities, feelings, yelling, insults, Angry Javier Peña, Angry Reader, almost bar fight (you get angry enough to throw hands), Javier having to physically remove you from the situation, Javier saying romantic things in Spanish)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader
word count: 21.5k+
a/n: I’m sorry about how long this took! The holidays threw off my groove, along with all the shit I’m dealing with in real life. As always, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish made sense. And thank you to @senorabond for betaing!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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The sun was high in the clear, blue sky, its rays beaming down and heating the salty ocean air, while you stood on the shore, your feet atop the sturdy wet sand; you were wholly mesmerized as you stared down, watching the water as it lapped against your ankles before it was pulled back out to the Atlantic like a yo-yo on a string.
There was a beach you'd go to growing up where even on the hottest day of the year, the ocean was too cold to swim in—you'd lie in the sun, play in the sand, fly kites, build bonfires, collect sand dollars and seashells, and when you got too warm, you'd cool off by dipping your toes in the chilled water that washed ashore.
It was December, the month before the coldest of the year here in Miami, and you were in your bathing suit, basking in the sun's hot rays and the salt water soaking your feet that was at a temperature more than comfortable enough to swim in.
The waves crashing was the loudest sound, followed by children's laughter and birds screeching in the distance, but splashing is what caught your attention, lifting your head and your hand shielding your eyes from the brightness as you took in what was before you. Out in the waist-deep water, a handsome man's head popped up above the surface as he threw it back, seeing his profile while he rose to stand, sliding his hands into his hair, the sun hitting the drops rolling down his bare upper body to make him glitter in the light.
There was the beautiful curve of his nose and plush lips, the softness of his belly, and the prominent muscle tone in his arms, watching as he wiped his face with one large palm.
He was gorgeous and had your heart picking up in speed and butterflies fluttering around in your stomach; then he was facing you, his chocolate-colored eyes meeting yours, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that had you forgetting how to breathe as he started walking—no, strutting—your way, with the confidence of James Bond on a mission.
There was a chance Javier Peña was going to be the death of you by simply being too damn pretty.
More of his body was revealed as the ocean got shallower, allowing you to see the salmon-colored short swim trunks he wore that didn't even make it halfway down his thighs. The moment he was within reach of you, his long arms were wrapping around to pull you flush against his wet body, not even caring because his lips sought out yours, tasting of salt and coffee.
The kissing stopped, and his nose nudged yours.
"Come swim with me," he said in a low rasp.
"Okay," you whispered and understood why sailors were so afraid of sirens; Javi could ask you to do anything at this moment with his smoky-sweet words, and you would—like joining him in the ocean when you planned on sunbathing.
He took your hand and led you into the warm water, and once it was to your chest, he turned your way, looping your arms around his neck and grabbing onto the globes of your ass to lift you, your legs immediately going around his waist like he wanted.
"This isn't swimming," you said, smiling.
"It's better than swimming," he replied, nuzzling his face into your neck and kissing up the column of your throat to your jaw.
Tiny waves were hitting against his back, the bigger ones a distance away.
"And you better keep things PG—there are children on the shore who can see us."
The three kids in question belonged to Steve and Connie Murphy.
You were at the same little stretch of beach Javi had taken you to earlier that morning to propose, and you were both caught in a compromising situation by a lifeguard. It was away from the busier, touristy areas, so you and his friend's family were the only people there.
His head came up while his hands tightened on your backside, the front of his swim shorts grinding into you.
"They can't see shit under the water," he said, looking you in the eyes. "We're too far away."
“I guess we are.” Your lips met his, kissing him hard and welcoming his tongue that licked into your mouth.
Both of you were still riding the high of being newly engaged, even with your beautiful ring staying behind at Steve and Connie’s to keep it safe. And that wasn’t the only exciting thing to happen that day—you’d finally given the go-ahead to start trying for a baby, and your fiancé was beyond ecstatic and utterly insatiable, which you were loving and not even a little surprised he was getting handsy.
As if on cue, there was a loud shout of "Tío (Uncle)!" followed by splashing. Turning your head, you saw the Murphys’ nine-year-old, Olivia, paddling toward you on a bright yellow boogie board. Her parents were at the shore with her two toddler brothers, the tiny Murphys looking adorable in their swim trunks, shirts, and little floppy hats as they played in the water.
You untangled yourself from Javi, your feet sinking into the sand under you. He smiled, looking past you at the child heading your way in her black wet suit.
"Tesorito (Little treasure)!" he called. "¿Vas a ir a las olas (Are you going to the waves)?"
"Si (Yes)! Dame un empujon (Give me a push)."
The small waves were crashing not too far from you, and as soon as she was close, Javi was giving her a shove toward her destination. He stood beside you with his arm over your shoulders, both watching the young girl as she easily caught a wave with her belly on the board, riding it all the way ashore.
"She's pretty good at that," you commented.
"You wanna try it out?" he asked, kissing your hair.
Olivia was running down the beach, heading to where the rest of her family was to get back into the ocean.
"I'm good. I just wanna enjoy the water." You moved to have your body floating on the water’s surface, closing your eyes.
"I'm gonna do some laps."
"How do you have the energy to do laps?"
"Could be how great my day's been." He kissed your cheek, and it made you smile. "We're engaged, getting married soon, and hopefully starting our family. Plus, I got a couple of hours alone with you to fool around. It's been a great fucking day."
"My money's on that large black coffee you chugged when we stopped at McDonald's to get Olivia and Stevie apology Happy Meals for getting back to the house so late."
He sighed, and you just knew he was pouting. "Maybe it's the coffee, but I like my reasons more..."
"I like your reasons more, too. Go swim your laps. I'll stay right here." The little swells had your body rocking softly.
He kissed your cheek again. "Okay."
Splashing sounded, telling you he’d started swimming; you also heard Olivia kicking her feet nearby to paddle back out to the waves.
"You're really good at shredding those waves, kiddo,” you said.
"Thanks!" she replied. "It's fun!"
"It looks fun."
She was close to you now.
"You wanna try it?"
Your feet touched the sand as you stood up to look at her with a smile.
"I'd rather watch you."
"Okay!"
She continued her journey toward the crashing waves, seeing her feet behind her disturbing the water as she kicked them for momentum. Your hand was shielding your eyes again, finding it interesting how the girl took a minute to decide on the wave she wanted before paddling hard to catch it.
It seemed quieter, and you realized you could no longer hear Javi swimming, turning your head from side to side and not spotting him, looking over your shoulder to see if he'd gone to shore and not finding him there either.
You'd be lying if you said you weren't worried, but right away, your mind was thinking the worst, like he got swept out to sea or something got him... That had you starting to freak out, the Jaws theme playing in your head not helping.
Something under the water grabbed onto your hips from behind, and you screamed, the following bite to your ass causing you to scream louder—your heart was pounding in your chest, adrenaline making you turn in place and push the man away by his broad shoulders.
Javi chose to stand then, rivulets of water dripping down his face and off his arms as he laughed; his grinning smile was so big it made his dimple appear, his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure glee, his hand flat against his chest.
His merriment had you scowling.
"It's not funny!" you exclaimed, lightly shoving his shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me!"
He wiped the wetness from his face as he calmed down.
"I'm sorry, Cielito." He was still smiling, his hands gripping your waist to step into your space so your bodies touched. "I didn't mean to scare the shit out of you." His head dipped to kiss over your thudding pulse point, shivering when his lips trailed up to your ear, feeling his hot breath tickling your skin as he spoke softly. "How can I make it up to you?"
"Are you seriously seducing me to get out of me being mad at you?"
"Is it working?" He nipped at your earlobe.
“Of course, it’s working, and you’re rude for exploiting my weaknesses."
He huffed in amusement and straightened to meet your gaze, his large hands coming up to cup your face.
"I'm sorry for scaring you, mi amor (my love)." His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. "I was just having fun."
You smiled, touching his hands. “You’ve got my fucking number and know all the ways to get me to stop being mad at you—I’m fucked. Apology accepted ‘cause you’re so damn cute.”
He leaned in to kiss you sweetly.
Within a minute, he had your legs wrapped around his hips again while you made out in the warm water. At some point, you found yourself clinging to him from behind as he swam you around and watched Olivia bodyboard.
When you finally went to lie in the sun on the beach, Javi stayed behind to play with Steve, Olivia, and Stevie.
Connie was sitting in a chair under a large umbrella with their one-year-old, Nate. There were two more seats on either side of her, along with towels on the sand, a gray cooler, and a wagon they used to haul it and the rest of their stuff. You got into a tote bag that had yours and Javi's things to grab your sunglasses and sat down next to the other woman in a chair outside of the umbrella's shadow for the sunlight to dry you off.
"I've never seen him this happy," Connie said. Nate was in her arms, drinking a bottle filled with water.
"Seen who happy?" you asked, looking at her through your dark lenses.
Connie's sunglasses were resting atop her head, and she was smiling at you. "Javi," she answered. "I've known him for a long time, and he's never been this happy.” Her face shifted to something thoughtful. “Even when he came to stay with us here, he'd try to hide it, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. This time, though?” She smiled once more. “All I see is happiness and excitement when I look at him." She reached over to put a hand on your arm. "Thank you for making our friend happy and helping me get that guest bedroom remodel."
When Steve found out Javi and you had fucked in their guest bedroom, he freaked out and decided that room and the bathroom attached to it needed to be completely redone, including new furniture and bedding, after you left. This was a project Connie had wanted done for quite some time, but her husband always said they couldn’t afford it.
Her gratitude for the remodel made you laugh, and you patted her hand on your arm. "You're welcome," you told her. "If there's anything else you want done around the house, Javi and I are more than happy to offer our services."
"I'm sure you are," she teased. A wistful sigh came from her. "I remember what it was like when Steve and I first got together—we couldn't keep our hands off each other. We were like that up until we moved to Colombia, and he got real busy with work. Then we had Olivia, and I know you guys are excited about having your own babies, but sweetie, between working full time, taking care of my kids, and keeping the house from being a complete disaster, there's hardly any time for us to be alone. We are so busy, I haven't even had a chance to decorate for Christmas, let alone think about getting properly laid."
A big frown was on your face, feeling bad for Connie and worrying your relationship might meet the same fate.
You took her hand in both of yours. "Here's the plan," you said. "When we get back to the house, we're decorating." She started to say something, but you cut her off. "—we'd love to help, Connie, and with two extra adults, there are enough people to wrangle the children while we get it done. Then, it might be last minute, but we'll need to find a babysitter that I will pay whatever amount they ask, so the four of us can go out to a bar, have some drinks, and hopefully get you properly laid."
There was a little smile on her lips. "That's sweet of you, but I can't ask you to do any of that."
"And you're not asking me; I'm insisting, and Javi will insist, too. We're gonna help you out. It's the least we can do."
She seemed to be weighing it in her mind. "You're sure?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah," you answered immediately. "Us women gotta stick together, and it's my duty as your friend to help you get dicked down."
She snorted. "I think we're gonna be best friends."
You smiled. "I'd like that."
"I'd like that, too."
After the conversation ended, you returned to relaxing in the sun. There was a thin layer of sunscreen on your skin, Javi was more than happy to help you put on when you first got there, having done the same for him.
Out in the sparkling ocean, Steve was playing with his son, and Javi was crouched down under the water with Olivia standing on his shoulders and abruptly rose to launch the girl into the air, hearing her laughing and the loud splash when she cannon-balled into the saltwater.
In your mind, you imagined Javi with little kids who looked so much like him that he'd splash and play in the water with, making your heart squeeze.
It wasn't much longer when the four of them returned to where you were sitting, each getting water bottles from the cooler, Stevie a sippy cup. Your fiancé kissed your head, then plopped down on a towel beside you, chugging his drink and lying back, his hand reaching up to hold your thigh.
Looking over, he had his other arm over his eyes.
"Having fun, babe?" you asked.
"Yeah."
"Do you want your sunglasses?"
"I don't wanna move."
"I can go grab them."
"I don't want you to move."
You smiled, lacing your fingers with his on your leg.
"I'll stay right here."
Steve was in a chair beside his wife with Stevie perched on his leg; Olivia was sitting on a towel in front of them, the children snacking on sliced watermelon.
"You two want any snacks?" Connie asked you.
"I could go for some watermelon. Javi?"
"Sounds good," he said, groaning as he moved to sit up, and you took the two pieces offered to you, passing one to him.
It was chilled, seedless, and juicy; Javi’s hair was sticking wetly to his forehead, seeing the cute little pudge of his belly, and his hand still in yours while the other held the slice as he ate it, pink juice dripping from his plush lips down his chin.
Truly, it was ridiculous that the most mundane things he did managed to turn you on.
He finished eating, and you let go of his palm to take his chin between your fingers, turning his head your way—his big eyes were curious, and you were unsure of what possessed you to lean down and lick the watermelon’s juices from his skin and lips that turned up into a smile.
He caught your mouth with his, dropping the fruit’s rind to cup the back of your head and pull you closer to deepen the kiss.
“Oh, come on!” Steve shouted. “There are children here.”
You broke apart, Javi’s forehead resting against yours as he sighed.
“I'm gonna kick his ass," he hissed, "if he keeps interrupting us."
"You're not gonna kick his ass," you whispered back.
He sighed again in defeat.
"Fine." He pulled back. "All we were doing was kissing," he said loud enough for Steve to hear.
"Yeah, inappropriate kissing," Steve replied. "If they wouldn't see it in a Disney movie, it's inappropriate."
"Jesus Christ," Javi breathed. "That won't be a rule in our house—I'll kiss you however I want."
You stroked his smooth cheek. "Yes, you will," you said, kissing the tip of his nose.
You went back to eating your watermelon, and the man you were going to marry got up from his towel to throw away what was left of his fruit and get his aviators.
It was cute watching Stevie hold up his little arms toward Javi and excitedly repeating, "Tio!" until your fiancé picked him up, taking him quickly into his arms.
"You wanna go play in the sand, bud?" he asked the toddler.
"Yes!"
"I want to play in the sand, too!" Olivia said.
"Okay, Tesorito (little treasure)," he replied, facing her. "Can you grab the bag with sand castle stuff, please?"
"Yeah," she answered, jumping up and moving to grab a tote bag with what looked to have a plastic bucket, tiny shovel, and sand castle molds.
You watched them head closer to the water, staying a little away from the tide, moving up the sand, Javi sitting down and getting into the bag. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but it looked like he asked Olivia to fill the bucket with water since she grabbed it and took off in a sprint to the ocean, Stevie taking the little red shovel to start digging.
Connie had passed Nate to Steve while she drank a can of soda.
"It's crazy to me that man never thought he deserved to be a father," you mused.
"Javi's his own worst enemy," Steve said. "For as long as I've known him, he's let his past mistakes eat away at him and has had the biggest chip on his shoulder. It's good he's finally seeing he deserves to be happy."
"It wasn't easy convincing him of that…"
Steve covered Nate's ears as he smiled at you. "I can imagine—Javi's a real stubborn asshole. He gets something in his head, and good luck convincing him otherwise."
"He's a cute stubborn asshole, though, and I love him a lot."
"We know," Connie said, patting your arm and smiling. "It's obvious how much you both love each other, and we're happy he has you—Steve was right yesterday when he said our kids need more cousins, and just imagine the fun we'd have. We could take trips to Disney and other places."
The thought of Javier walking around Disney World wearing a pair of Mickey ears and carrying around your child made you smile big enough to make your cheeks hurt.
"Okay," you started. "In the future, what are the odds I can convince Javi to wear a Disney-themed button-up and Mickey ears?"
Steve had moved his hands away from Nate's head.
"Oh," he said. "If you're the one asking? He'll do it. He'll pretend like he hates it, but I think he'd love it."
"I think you're right, Steve," you replied.
There was something soothing about the beach—maybe it was the warmth or the rhythmic drone of the swells crashing toward shore. All you knew was it had a relaxing effect on you and calmed your busy mind. Not to mention how beautiful it was to see the ocean stretching out to the horizon; the sheer magnitude of it was breathtaking.
Since you were probably Stevie's age, maybe even younger, you loved going to the coast. It explained your love for aquariums, your fascination with sea life, and why The Little Mermaid was your favorite Disney movie—you loved the ocean. If your parents hadn't put it in your head early on that you were destined to be a doctor, and you didn’t end up falling in love with nursing, odds are you probably would've become a marine biologist.
Javier was with the two older Murphy children building an impressive sandcastle and doing his best to keep the three-year-old from wrecking the entire thing—which was like trying to wrangle a drunk person who’s lost their motor skills and wanted to touch everything.
You'd gotten up from your chair to join them, and your betrothed greeted you with a beaming smile and a pat to the spot beside him that you sat down in. From talking to Javi and Olivia, she was the mastermind with a vision for how she wanted it to look, and he was walking her through what she needed to do to bring it to life while also making sure Stevie felt involved but not letting the toddler roam free—a true testament to Javi, in regards to children, having the patience of a saint.
The sandcastle had fortress walls connected by four towers, and in the center of them, it rose up to look like a castle, topped with three pointed spires, the center one the tallest. Olivia added details of windows and doors with a twig to really make it pop. Honestly, it was impressive.
"Are you going to put in a moat?" you asked.
The girl had a serious look on her face. "That's a good idea," she answered, quickly getting up to her feet and grabbing the nearby bucket. "You guys start digging. I'm going to go get water!"
"Aye, aye, Captain," you replied, using your hand to start scooping out sand from around the perimeter.
"Use your shovel, buddy," Javi said gently to the three-year-old, helping him dig with his tiny red plastic shovel.
"We're helping Sissy!" Stevie excitedly exclaimed.
Your fiancé was smiling softly. "Yeah, we are. You're doing a really good job."
"I'm thirsty," the little one said. "Can I have juice, pleeeaaassseee?"
"Let's go ask your mom." Javi looked over at you, and you nodded at him with a smile, saying that you were okay to stay behind and help Olivia. He got up, and Stevie had to raise his hand high for Javi to hold it as they walked to his parents.
Olivia arrived with a bucket of water, and most of the moat had been dug out, the two of you finishing it fast. She dumped the water into it to harden the sand, then went and got another pale and another to fill it.
"It's very impressive," you told her as she stood beside you, both admiring it.
"Thank you!” Her head turned to meet your eyes. “Now I'm hungry."
“Hi hungry, I’m Cielito.”
“Ugh.” She made a face. “That’s something my dad would say, and Cielito isn’t your real name.”
You smiled. “Well, your tío seems to think it is. He never calls me by my real name.” Which was kind of true. The only time your actual name passed through his lips was when he was moaning it, and that was for you to know and no one else.
She was clearly wracking her brain to see if you were telling the truth. “Tío does only call you Cielito or his amor (love),” she finally said. “Yuck.” She had a disgusted expression.
You giggled. “I told you. Now, let’s get you a snack. You spent all that time building this masterpiece; you deserve one.”
Javier was sitting on a towel in the sun with his long legs out in front of him, having just finished a meat and cheese sandwich on white bread Connie had given him and everyone else from the cooler. Uncapping his cold plastic water bottle, he brought it to his mouth, relishing the cool liquid traveling down his throat as he chugged.
This wasn’t the first time he’d visited the beach with his Cielito.
Back in August, Javier had surprised her with a weekend away to Corpus Christi as his way of showing his appreciation for all she’d done when he started his job at the Sheriff’s office—and he needed to do something special for her after she finally let him fuck her ass.
He’d gotten them a nice room at a beachfront hotel with a private balcony—the first night, while the moon was glowing over the ocean, they’d been a bit tipsy after dinner, and he fucked her against the railing. And, he had to say, it was pretty romantic.
They spent the majority of that Saturday at a beach he used to go to as a teenager that wasn’t overrun with tourists and partying college kids. It was a place where he was comfortable messing around with her in the water and out of sight of the other beachgoers and had no qualms feeling each other up when they laid under the sun together.
He knew how much she loved sushi and took her to an expensive restaurant that served it for dinner that night.
On their last day, they explored the city before heading home.
It was a great weekend.
She loved it.
A lot.
So much so she let him fuck her ass the following weekend.
This trip was different.
They were here with his best friend's family and had to keep things tame—he couldn't freely touch her no matter how much his fingers itched to feel the swell of her ass in that swimsuit; the way he wanted to kiss her was off-limits, too, according to Steve, and it was driving him crazy that he couldn’t wrap himself around her and get as close to her as possible with his tongue in her mouth.
He knew Steve was a bit of a prude and judgmental about his sex life, but his friend was being a goddamn Puritan with a righteous stick up his ass. It had Javier beginning to think his holier-than-thou attitude had little to do with morals and was actually just 100% pure, unadulterated jealousy—his conclusion: Steve needed to get laid. And even though his best friend was being a grade-A dick with his rules and trying to sabotage Javier from getting to fuck, he wanted his friend to get some and was going to talk to his fiancée about them babysitting the kids so Steve and Connie could have a date night.
Basically, Steve needed to chill the fuck out, and Javier was going to figure out how to make that happen because, on a day like today, Cielito would fondly call him clingy with how he needed to be near her and constantly touching some part of her body—like the back of his freehand currently pressed against the side of her thigh. Feeling her skin on his soothed something deep inside him and made him feel less restless—it grounded him. It calmed him. It was better for his nerves than a glass of top-shelf whiskey. They'd make millions if they could manufacture the way he felt just from simply touching and being close to her.
And because he had to watch himself with everyone around, he was keeping some, not a lot, but some distance with her so he didn't fuck up.
It felt like when he'd tried quitting smoking cold turkey and the overwhelming craving for nicotine; how he needed it more than anything, and was the only thing he could think about, consuming his every thought. She was right there, sitting criss-cross on the towel next to him, eating her sandwich; the woman he loved, the woman he was going to marry, have children with, and spend the rest of his life with. So close, so beautiful, with so much skin on display, and he wasn’t allowed to rub his hands all over her body.
This was torture.
He’d finished drinking, and his frustration had his jaw clenching and his fist crushing the empty plastic water bottle.
What Connie was doing caught his attention as she put more sunscreen on Olivia, who was standing before her.
"Can I borrow that when you're done, Con?" he found himself asking all of a sudden, dropping the mangled plastic next to him in the sand.
She held the lotion in one hand, rubbing it in on her daughter’s face with the other.
"Sure thing," she replied, closing the lid and tossing it his way, which he caught easily.
"Thanks."
He moved onto his knees, ignoring the ache while shuffling onto the other towel beside his to get behind Cielito. He snapped open the cap, pouring a generous amount into his palm, shutting the lid and setting it down within reach, rubbing his hands together to spread the lotion on them. His eyes were on the back of her neck, and he was like a moth to a flame as his head dipped to kiss the side of it right behind her ear.
She hummed in the back of her throat, her arm coming up to push her fingers into his hair since she'd finished eating.
"Hey, handsome," she purred. "I was wondering when you'd find a way to get your hands on me without causing Steve to clutch his pearls."
Her nails softly scraped against his scalp, and it made him shiver.
"You've noticed how fucking ridiculous he is, too?" he whispered against the shell of her ear.
"Babe, he went to absurdly great lengths to keep you from boning in the guest bed; he just about goes into hysterics if we do anything more than peck each other on the lips or if he sees your hands wander," she said, for only him to hear. "Yeah, I've noticed how ridiculous he's being, and I'd ask if this is normal behavior for him, but I know I'm the first girlfriend you've brought for a visit, and you probably don't know."
"I knew he was vanilla, and he's been judgmental of my... history. He, uh, forbade me from bringing girls back to the house when I'd stay with them—I wouldn't do that in the first place, and this last time in Miami after quitting the DEA, I was giving celibacy a try."
"Wait," she quietly asked, "was I...?"
He smiled. "The gorgeous woman, who was too tempting, shattered my resolve and ended my, honestly, really fucking impressive amount of time as a celibate? Yeah, you are."
They were having the conversation low enough that no one else could hear them.
"This is doing wonders for my self-esteem."
He kissed her neck. "Good." The temptation was too much, and he slid his hands along her arms, rubbing the sunscreen into her skin, feeling the tension leave his body.
"So, was Steve super annoying when you stayed here after getting fired and weren't celibate...?"
The only reason she was asking that was because she wanted to know what his sex life had been like, and that made him curious, seeing as she'd never paid his past dalliances much mind.
"He wasn't any more annoying than usual. You know, I don't talk about that shit unless someone asks, or I'm being an asshole, and Steve never asked. But you don't care about how he was—ask me what you really want to know."
He got more lotion on his hands and started working on her neck and shoulders.
"I want to know, but I also don't want to know."
His eyebrows pulled together, and his palms slowed.
"Why wouldn't you wanna know?"
"Because, um, it's dumb and makes zero sense, and I know it all happened a long time ago, and I swear I'm not possessive, but you're mine."
Hearing her say it had sparks dancing down his spine.
"I am yours, and no one before you matters.” He kissed her hair. “I know it's shitty, but if they weren't an informant and I only slept with them once, I probably don't even remember their name. Now you—" He poured more sunscreen onto his hands and reached around to rub her thighs. “—I couldn't stop thinking about you after the first night, and there was no way in hell I was forgetting your name, that cute yellow sundress you wore or those beautiful eyes that saw me for me and not the town fuck up, a joke of a hero, or a quick fuck.” His hands paused. “I mean, I could tell you found me attractive, and I thought you were going to start drooling when you first spotted me at the bar, but you were never interested in me for just my looks, and I liked that."
Her tone was somber. “It always hurts my heart how lonely you were before we met.”
“And the fact you even give a shit is one of the reasons why I’m marrying you.”
“I love you.” Her head turned, and her upper body twisted so he could lean in at an awkward angle to kiss her lips.
"I love you, too,” he said into her mouth. They separated after a second, and he whispered in her ear, “No one compares to you in bed—you’re hands down the best lay I’ve ever had, and you’ve got me so fucking whipped with your perfect pussy, I’ll do anything for you—fucking anything.”
“Why is that so romantic? You know I’d do anything for you, too? You bring out my inner Gomez Addams—I’d fight for you, I’d die for you, I’d kill for you, and I’d choose you over anyone else in the entire world.”
Everything she said was true, and it had energy thrumming in his veins and happiness overtaking every cell in his body.
“I know, mi amor (my love). It's the same for me. You're the most important person in my life." His hands were rubbing all over her thighs, and he nuzzled into her neck. "Is the insecurity gone?"
"Yes, but I have a question."
"Yeah?"
"When you were here, where did you pick up chicks?"
"A bar, away from where the college kids and spring breakers go, that was more low key."
"That definitely sounds like your kind of place."
He moved, taking the bottle of lotion with him as he walked on his knees to in front of her crisscrossed legs, getting more sunscreen on his hands and extending one of her arms that he massaged it into.
They were still whispering so the others wouldn't hear them. "I think I know why Steve's being so fucking obnoxious." He had her hand in his, rubbing each of her fingers.
"Because he needs to get laid?"
His head popped up to look into her dark, lensed-covered eyes. "How'd you know?"
"He smells of jealousy, and Connie was saying she hasn't had a proper dicking down in a while."
"Would you be mad if we spent tonight watching the kids so they can have a date night?"
Speaking of the children, the two tiniest Murphys had been put down for a nap on a blanket under the umbrella.
She smiled. "Javi, baby, I'm two steps ahead of you. I've already planned it out with Connie. I'm paying for a babysitter, and the four of us are going out."
Don’t get Javier wrong, he loved babysitting the Murphy children and had done it so many times he’d lost count and was more than willing to do it again tonight. Still, he’d much rather go out with his fiancée and best friends and didn’t want to turn down the chance to do so, not when it was something so rare; he was pretty sure the last time he went to a bar with both Steve and Connie, all of them were still living in Colombia and Olivia hadn’t been born yet. Usually, it was just Steve and him having a couple of drinks and shooting the shit while Connie stayed at home with the kids. Or it was Javier watching the kids so their parents could have a date night.
“You’re perfect, and I don’t know how I got you to fall in love with me.”
He got more lotion on his hands and started working on her other arm.
“Oh, stop that.” Her free hand swatted away his words. “And I fell in love with you because you’re a goddamn catch.” Her fingers were smaller than his as he massaged sunscreen into them.
“Hard to believe I’m a catch,” he said and kept talking, even though her mouth opened to say something, “But, I’m not gonna argue with you since I know you meant what you said.”
“Kiss me.”
Smiling, he leaned forward and pecked her on the lips.
She was frowning when he pulled back.
“Javier, kiss me.”
“Steve will yell at us.”
“Steve can kick rocks—I wanna make out with my husband-to-be. Now kiss me." She puckered her lips, and he chuckled.
He'd let go of her hand, and this time, when he kissed her, she grabbed his face and made him follow her as she laid back, her legs uncrossing for him to rest his hips in the crux of her thighs while he was on top of her, kissing every last bit of air from her lungs. His arm beside her head held up his weight, his tongue plundering her mouth, the sun's hot rays beaming down against his bare back.
Javier loved moments like this where she encompassed his every sense, and the world fell away to leave only her—she was all he could smell, all he could taste, all he could feel, her breaths were all he could hear, and if he opened his eyes she was all he could see. It was all her, and nothing else mattered.
She was his everything and forever.
Ice cold water landed on his spine, Javier's body tensing at the sudden chill, his surprised, 'Fuck!' muffled with his mouth on hers.
Steve was laughing as he screwed the cap on the empty water bottle, anger swelling inside Javier to the point he thought he might explode.
He was scrambling onto his feet, ignoring his fiancée shouting, "Javi, no!" All he saw was red, and the moment he stood, facing his asshole of a best friend, and noticed the ground behind him was clear and the children weren't close, Javier launched himself at the other man, completely catching Steve off guard. A wheeze sounded as his shoulder rammed into his friend's stomach, followed by a pained grunt when Javier tackled him to the ground onto his ass.
In his rage, he failed to remember a very important fact: Steve Murphy wrestled in high school and was the Tennessee Secondary School Athletic State Wrestling Champion back in '72.
The water bottle was long forgotten, Steve somehow managing to twist out from under him with Javier's arm getting put behind his back and shoved face-first into the sand.
"You really wanna do this, Jav?" the blonde man panted.
He did, and he was angry enough, thinking that with strength and weight in his corner, he stood a chance.
Truthfully, Javi could take a lot of shit, and it required an astronomical amount of it to make him snap. In the time you’d been together, you could only think of one other time when he lost his cool: Stechner. That weasley fucker deserved the broken nose he had to get repaired at your hospital’s emergency room and the lack of good bedside manner from the nurses in that unit—word had traveled fast to watch out for the asshole, thanks to Robyn, and if there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s fuck with nurses.
There was the bullshit with Lorraine he had to put up with, and Tammy, the girl at the farmers market who dared to hit on him with you there that pissed him off; how insanely annoyed and jealous he got at all of the guys who wouldn’t leave you alone in San Antonio, and your fight when he told you he loved you.
Then you had Steve, who you’d been staying with for going on two days, poking the bear, if you will, and repeatedly doing things to annoy your fiancé until he finally reached his breaking point. The only reason you weren’t freaking out was that neither man had thrown a punch—they weren’t looking to cause the other any outright harm or too much pain; it was them letting off some steam.
Now, here you were watching.
It wasn't that you thought Javi couldn't take Steve in a fight. You just didn't see how he could get out of the position his friend pinned him in—he was fucked, and his only choice would be to tap out.
Your eyes rounded when he seemed to leverage his weight to roll them and somehow break the hold—it was pretty impressive, especially since his aviators had managed to stay on his gorgeous face.
The two men were grappling now, neither wanting to give in.
You got up from the towel, dusting your legs off to sit in the chair beside Connie's, the other woman over at the cooler. Her two sons were asleep on a blanket under the umbrella's shade, Olivia sitting in the seat previously occupied by her father, watching the wrestling match with fascination and mindlessly eating a bag of Goldfish like it was popcorn.
Connie returned with two bottles of beer, handing you one as she sat next to you.
"Thanks—should we break this up?" you asked, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink.
They were tussling on the ground, and you couldn't tell who was winning with how they were rolling around.
"We should let them get it out of their systems," she replied. "I know Steve hasn't been easy, and it's better than Javi getting fed up and punching him."
You looked at her. "Has he punched him before?"
She met your eyes, her sunglasses on. "No." She shook her head. "But he's gotten real close. Steve knows just how to push his buttons. This time around, though, you're here, and Javier's very protective, so he's not putting up with Steve's crap as well as he usually does."
You frowned. "I'm sorry I'm causing problems."
"There's nothing to be sorry for." She patted your knee. "They'll fight this out and be so tired and sore, they won't have the energy to do it again."
Javi had Steve in a headlock, seeing the muscles in his arm and naked back flexed, his skin shiny with sweat and dusted with sand from tumbling around in it—his sunglasses were defying all odds by staying on his face, now just a little crooked.
"You're obviously rooting for Steve," you stated, taking a swig of beer.
Connie had just finished taking a drink. "I'm required to since I'm married to him."
"And if you weren't married?"
Her gaze was on yours. "I'd root for the underdog. Steve was a pretty good wrestler back in high school, and he'll tell you all about it." She rolled her eyes. "We have all his trophies and medals in a box somewhere because I will not have him displaying the ugly things in our living room. Anyways, he knows Javi swam, but where he's from, all that matters is wrestling and football, so he doesn't consider swimming a real sport—as I've told you, Steve knows how to push Javier's buttons, and he likes to tell him bowling requires actual skill and is more of a sport than Javi splashing around in water. So, I'd love to see a swimmer kick his butt, but that’s our secret." She winked, and you smiled.
Your eyes went to the old partners, seeing your fiancé was down on his stomach with Steve half on top of him, Javi's bicep in the bend of his elbow as he pulled it back in a lock to try and immobilize him. Perspiration was dripping down their faces, and you had no idea what the next play would be since your betrothed had a lot of surprises up his sleeve.
"I would love to see the swimmer kick his butt, too,” you said. “It's about time Steve gets knocked down a peg."
At that second, Javi got his knees under him and twisted, flinging the blonde man off of him.
"Yes!" you cheered. "Get him, babe!"
"Get him, tío!" Olivia shouted. "Beat him up! Do you think he’d really hurt Dad?” she asked her mom.
“No, baby," Connie answered. "Your father will be fine. They’re just roughhousing like a couple of giant kids."
Her dad was on his back, Javi straddling his stomach and leaning forward to trap Steve's bent arm under his chest. You knew the man you were marrying had to know how to fight without a gun or weapon, as you imagined he would've been trained when he first joined the DEA on all sorts of ways to protect himself.
What you didn’t expect was his next move, which was executed so smoothly it made you gasp.
Turning his body across Steve’s torso, his ass and feet were on the ground, knees bent, squeezing his heels against the other man’s side to hold him still while yanking Steve’s arm to his chest from up between his legs and pulling it with him as he sat back, causing the appendage to go uncomfortably straight—and if he went back any further you knew, it’d break.
It looked painful.
"I give!" Steve said through heavy breaths, his free hand hitting Javi's thigh. "I give!"
His sunglasses were sitting lopsided on his nose, his lungs heaving and making him pant as relief washed over him that Steve finally tapped out.
He let go of his friend's arm immediately and moved off of him to lie in the sand with his feet going the opposite way than Steve's to catch his breath.
He was too tired to be happy he won.
Javier had gotten up at ungodly hours the last two mornings, and for him to think it'd been too early was saying something since he usually was up before the sun rose, and his fiancée woke almost every day. Add in traveling the day before, spending a couple of hours fucking in a hotel today, playing at the beach, and now finishing whatever the fuck Steve and he just did (Was it fighting? A brawl? A battle for dominance? Javier taking out his anger on the subject of it?), exhausted, didn't correctly describe the bone-deep, having-to-fight-to-keep-his-eyes-open tiredness he was overcome with.
The sound of footsteps sinking in the sand was heard coming in their direction.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Olivia asked his friend.
Javier's head lifted to see the girl kneeling beside her father and lowered it again.
"I'm fine, baby girl," Steve answered. "Your tío—now Olivia, your brothers are asleep and can’t hear what I’m about to say, so you better not make me put money in the swear jar when we get home—but your tío is a real sonofabitch and a cheating asshole for using his goddamn Brazilian mumbo jumbo bullshit that’s fucking illegal to do in real wrestling matches.”
Steve didn’t care for martial arts, especially the ones that allowed choking and locking joints as valid ways to make opponents submit.
“I didn’t realize we were having a regulation match, Steve,” Javi said. “You got a spare singlet? I left mine in the high school locker room back in Laredo ‘cause I never—mi tesorito (my little treasure),” he said to Olivia. “If your dad doesn’t have to put change in the swear jar, I don’t either.” He went back to talking to Steve, “I left mine in the high school locker room back in Laredo ‘cause I never wore that shit. Now, stop being a sore fucking loser. You’re setting a bad example for your child.”
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” Steve apologized. “I shouldn’t have said all that and accepted my loss with more grace. Losing never means you’re a failure. It’s a chance to learn from your mistakes and do better next time. You got that, kiddo?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good.”
Javier's head was back to resting in the sand, fixing his aviators, and closing his eyes—which was a mistake, feeling himself start to doze.
He groaned as he sat up and moved to stand, holding out his hand for Steve to take. The other man let Javier help him to his feet.
Steve and Olivia headed toward the rest of their family as Javier wiped the remnants of the beach off of his body to remove whatever of it he could.
His eyes found Cielito's the moment he looked forward, and it made him smile, his feet moving in her direction without him having to tell them. It seemed she was drinking the rest of her beer in one go, her throat bobbing with each swallow.
His attention moved to her breasts covered by the swimsuit top, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip at the thought of how easy it'd be to pull it down to play with them—they'd get bigger when she was pregnant, and she might choose to breastfeed... a hot spike of arousal shot through him and it caught him so off guard, he stumbled wondering why the fuck it turned him on thinking about sucking on her tits while she was lactating.
They didn't keep secrets from each other, and he wouldn't call them secrets; there were just things that turned Javier on that he was too ashamed to tell her about—like how it made him hard to sniff her panties after she'd worn them all day; she loved that he'd taken over doing their laundry and had no idea it was him being a fucking pervert, smelling her clothes.
And now she couldn't find out he wanted to taste her milk because he was also apparently a freak.
He must've had a look on his face because when her beer bottle lowered, he was met with a concerned expression. She sat the empty drink down in the sand and got out of her chair to have them chest to chest with barely a second passing.
"What's wrong?" she asked, framing his face with her hands.
His head turned to kiss the center of her palm while he grabbed onto her hips. "Nothing's wrong," came his muffled response. "I'm just tired."
Her other hand swept his bangs off his forehead. "You wanna take a nap? Connie's gonna go play in the water with Olivia and Stevie, who just woke up, while Steve watches Nate sleep. We can rest for a bit—it's honestly surprising you're even still awake."
"Barely."
"Then it's naptime, babycakes." She smiled and grabbed one of his hands, pulling him over to their towels on the ground, letting go of him to fix the terry cloth and leaving no space between them. She got down on one and tugged him to join her, Javier going immediately to lie beside her on his side, removing his sunglasses, her doing the same, with his arm going under his head and bringing her front to meet his, tucking her under his chin.
He kissed her hair.
Her finger was drawing circles on his pec, and he was so relaxed and content he felt boneless.
"I'm not saying I condone you attacking Steve," she said. "Even if we both know he had it coming. I will say it was very sexy of you to kick his ass."
"You're not mad at me?"
She didn't seem angry, but then again, he hadn't listened when she tried to stop him from going after his friend.
"Nah," she answered. "It wasn't a try-to-do-as-much-damage-to-the-other-person-as-possible fight and was more a let-me-show-you-I-can-kick-your-ass fight—basically, you were showing off and taking your anger out on him."
"How was I showing off?"
"Well, let's start with the fact you decided to wrestle a wrestler and all those flashy moves—especially the last one. Definitely showing off."
"Was just trying not to have my ass handed to me." He yawned, cuddling closer to her.
"Uh-huh. Sure, Javi."
"Knew I had a chance of beating him."
"Your final move was fucking brutal. You know you could break someone's arm like that?"
"In real combat, you do break their arm."
"Jesus."
His eyelids were heavy, his words slurring a little.
“When I got my assignment to Colombia, I looked into what I was getting myself into. I had the information the DEA gave me, but I wanted in-depth shit about how people fought down there, like preferred weapons and fighting styles.” He yawned again, speaking through it, “I found out about this Brazilian self-defense martial art—” His tone went back to normal. “—called jiu-jitsu and took some classes while stateside so I wouldn't be completely fucked—has come in handy a few times, but the cartels preferred guns.”
"Of course, guns. Where's the finesse, though? The skill? Guns are so boring and loud, I wanna see people actually fight."
He smiled.
"Shooting a gun isn't as easy as it looks."
He was the best shot in basic training, all thanks to the fact he was born and raised in Texas on a ranch and was taught early on how to properly handle firearms—he’d do target practice with the empty cans his mother would save for him while she was cooking; when he was older, he’d go out with his father and cousins to hunt coyotes who threatened their cattle.
"You aim and squeeze a trigger; how hard can it be?" she asked.
"If you'd let me teach you, you'd know—we can do targets out at Pop's."
"No, thank you. My hands are for healing, not killing."
He breathed out a sigh.
This was something they'd argued about before, and he didn't have the energy to fight with her right now.
Javier wanted her to know how to use the gun he kept locked up under their bed in case of an emergency—it would give him peace of mind to know if he wasn't home, she could protect herself. She didn't know this, but since starting his new job consulting, he'd gotten a surprising amount of offers to speak at events and universities on his expertise and time with the DEA. He was shocked by how much they wanted to pay him to do forty-five-minute to an-hour talks, and he was willing to do them, but it'd mean going out of town for days at a time, and he'd worry too much about something happening to his fiancée while he was gone.
Stechner shook him up with his dossier on her, and Javier wouldn't put it past the bastard to do something if he was out of town. This was why she needed to know how to defend herself and why it was such a point of contention for him—he was scared.
He couldn't lose her; it'd ruin him, and if something happened to her because of his past, there would be no coming back from it. He loved her more than anything, and if she wouldn't protect herself, he was going to do it for her until the day he died.
"Go to sleep, baby," she whispered, softly kissing his chest.
His words came out mumbled. "I-love-you."
"I love you, too."
The steady crash of the ocean waves, the comfort of holding the woman he loved in his arms, and the warmth radiating from the sun lulled him to the point that his consciousness was slipping free, falling into sleep.
—★—
He didn't know how long he slept.
He did know he woke up because a small, wet body collided with his back.
They were leaning over him, a tiny hand stroking his cheek, speaking quietly, copying how their parents always woke them up, "Wake up, tío. It's time for you to go bye-bye." It was cute and mildly threatening. "You gotta get up, tío."
His wif-fiancée was still snuggled in his arms.
"Where am I going?" his sleepy voice asked.
"Home."
"To my house? You want me to go home?"
"No! MY house. I don't want you to leave!" Stevie sounded on the verge of tears, and Javier felt terrible.
He turned his head and moved his arm behind the child to rub comforting circles into his back.
"Hey, mi principito (my little prince)," he said softly. "I'm not leaving yet, bud. I'll go back to your house. Are we done playing at the beach?"
The boy nodded, his hat flopping with the motion. "I wanna go home. I miss Moose."
Moose was his floppy-eared, stuffed dog.
"Yeah? Did you wake me up so I can take you and your Sissy home?"
"Yes, it's time to say bye-bye to the ocean."
"Okay, principito (little prince). We'll say bye-bye to the ocean, and I'll take you home to Moose."
The child smiled and hugged his neck, choking him a little.
"Thank you, tío!"
"You're welcome."
Stevie let go of him and ran around toward the rest of his family, Javier seeing they were packing up.
He looked down to see Cielito was still sleeping. He slid his fingers along her cheek, whispering, "Wake up, baby. It's time for us to go bye-bye."
"Why is that vaguely threatening?" her tired voice asked. "We might be at the beach, but I am not gonna be sleeping with the fishes, thank you very much."
"That's fucking dark."
Her head tilted up to look at him with squinted eyes from the light.
"Too much?"
After what he was thinking about before he passed out?
"Today? Yes."
She frowned. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I was in my head earlier."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not today or while we're on this trip. It's something for when we're home." Because it will end up being a fight, and they'll need the privacy of their own space to have it out and make up by fucking.
"Okay. Guess it's time to get up."
With that, they were getting up and helping their friends pack everything and clean the sand off the children and themselves. Only a little later, they were in their vehicles and hitting the road.
When Connie said she'd been too busy with work and taking care of her kids to decorate for Christmas, it saddened you because Javi had told you once that when they all still lived down in Colombia, she was one of those people who decorated the day after Thanksgiving. Which wasn't a bad thing, and you completely understood since a Christmas tree was put up in your living room the weekend after Turkey Day—you were also one of those people who loved decorating the first chance they had, and it broke your heart a fellow enthusiast was missing out on something they loved doing.
So, after getting back to the Murphys and washing away the beach in the shower like everybody else, you asked Javi to keep the children busy while you helped Connie and Steve get out her big plastic storage totes with the decorations and the giant box with the artificial tree.
The Christmas tree went up first in the sitting room at the front of the house in a spot between the couch and dining room, and for a fake tree, it looked pretty real with how full the limbs were.
You helped her string it with colorful lights, and once the red skirt was put down at the base, Connie called for Javi to bring in the kids to help her decorate with ornaments from an open, almost full bin.
This seemed like an intimate family moment with Christmas music softly floating in from the room past the dining room, Connie holding her one-year-old who was looking at the pretty lights in wonder and speaking nonsense, Olivia and Steve laughing about something you didn't catch as they grabbed ornaments out of the container to hang on the tree with Stevie.
It was the perfect picture of a happy family, and it made you yearn so hard to one day have the same thing, your chest squeezed tight.
What made your eyes start to water was the realization that you were going to have something like this—this was a taste of your future and what you had to look forward to.
A large palm wrapped around yours, and your head turned to see Javi beside you. He nodded once toward the front door and quietly led you out of it so as not to disturb the family.
He was in jeans and a pastel pink button-up that matched the color of the t-shirt you were wearing with large, thin, teal letters across your chest spelling out, 'Oregon.' It was something you picked up on a visit to the rainy state years ago.
He faced you, wrapping you up in his arms once you were outside on their porch, that was nothing more than slightly raised pavement under an outcropping of the roof.
"You okay, Cielito?" His face was pressed into the side of your head.
"Yeah. I'm great." He tightened his arms around you a little.
His lips were close to your ear, softly rasping, "I was thinking about what our Christmas could look like next year. We could be in our new house. It could be our first Christmas with a baby, or you'd be pregnant at least. But what I know for sure is we'll be together, we'll be married, and we'll be so fucking happy."
Tears were brimming in your eyes, moving your head to meet his gaze, smiling.
"We will, Javi. We'll be so fucking happy, and we'll be a family."
His hand cupped your cheek as he softly smiled.
"You know we're already a family? You, me, Pop. We're a family, and mi mamá is gonna watch, wherever she is, as it grows, and I know she'll be so happy." He made sure your eyes were on his. "Cielito, mi amor (my love), I don't want you to think that we become a family when we get married—you don't need my last name to be family, and we've been one for a long fucking time now, at least to Pop and I, we have."
There was a lump in your throat, and your eyes burned with unshed tears.
For as long as you could remember, you'd always felt out of place within your family. Your brother got all of your parents' attention, your cousins all shined with their 4.0 GPAs, attendance to the top schools in the nation, and on your father's side, graduating with medical degrees and going right into internships at the best teaching hospitals. And there was you, the one who went to a state school to save on tuition; you did get good grades, but it was for a degree that wasn't flashy enough.
There wasn’t a time you felt good enough or loved by your immediate family.
All of this meant that you'd never had a family like Javi or the Murphys. There was never any warmth or unconditional love for you. At least there wasn't until this man in front of you came into your life. He gave you a family with him: his dad, his tías, tíos, and primos (aunts, uncles, and cousins). They all welcomed you with open arms and open hearts, treating you like you'd been a part of the family for years and weren't a stranger. Knowing Javi thought you were already a family made you so happy you struggled to keep yourself from crying.
It wasn't blood that made a family. It was love; pure, unconditional love.
"Thank you," your voice was small.
His eyes got a little bigger. "For what, baby?"
"Loving me and giving me a family, at least one that cares about me." You could see how sad it made him to hear that. "And," you continued, "wanting to have tiny Peñas with me, so I'll have even more family to love and love me.” You took in a breath. “This is the first time I'm saying this out loud, but I've felt so fucking alone for I don't even know how long. I tried to drown it out by working—which didn't work. And it led to me moving to Laredo where I’d have a better work/life balance, and by fucking serendipity, I met you my second week there." Tears started falling down your cheeks. "I met my soulmate in the produce section of an H-E-B and absolutely cannot look at tomatoes anymore without remembering how small they look in your enormous mitts." There was a slight shift of his head, and you knew there was a question on his mind. "Yes, Javier, I get a little horny looking at tomatoes now because they make me think about your hands. Are you happy? I get turned on by a fucking vegetable."
"Strawberries."
Your eyebrows creased. "What?"
He was looking at you seriously. "Strawberries turn me on."
Your brow lifted. "The time with the whipped cream?"
He smiled. "And I got your come all over a strawberry and ate it? Yeah, can't look at them without getting half-hard."
"That makes me feel so much better. I'm not the only weirdo." He grimaced for a split second.
"No... You're not..."
His mouth was suddenly on yours, kissing you tenderly, a hand caressing your cheek while the other slipped into the back pocket of your jean shorts.
There happened to be another reason he'd brought you outside, you came to find out after making out for a few minutes. One of Connie's Christmas totes was out there with lights for the house, the long green wires dotted with multi-colored glass bulbs.
Javi procured a metal ladder from god only knew where, and you wondered how exactly the lights were going to be hung—they had a tiled roof that overhung a little over the front and back of the house, and there weren't any wooden edges or gutters that could be used.
Another thing about their roof was it was a tad steep, yet you watched as Javi climbed up the metal rungs of the ladder with a string of lights in his hand to get up onto the tiles and, to your absolute horror, laid down on his belly to lean over the edge.
This was how you found out there were nails in the home's exterior wall for the sole purpose of Christmas lights, and your dumbass of a fiancé was choosing the most dangerous way to put them up.
You didn't want to spook him, so you whispered harshly.
"Javier, why are you doing it like that? Use the ladder."
His voice was strained from how he was positioned. "I hate going up and down and moving it, when doing it like this, I just have to move over."
"You're gonna fall and crack your head open."
"I've done this before. I'll be fine."
Your arms crossed over your chest, hmphing.
"Well, I don't like it."
His head tilted to look at you.
"We should make sure it's not this fucking hard to put up lights on our house. Remind me to check the plans when we get home." The draft plans for the house you were having built; they weren't the final ones since you had yet to make all the edits and additions you wanted.
"Will do. Be careful. You're stressing me out."
He scooted over.
The front door opened, and Steve came out.
"What are y'all doing out here?"
"Javi's risking his life to make your house pretty," you said, pointing at the man.
Steve moved to stand next to you.
"If you fall, we're not paying the medical bills," Steve called out.
Javi flipped him off.
The blonde man turned his head toward you. "Thank you for doing this. You don't know how happy it's made my wife. This is her favorite time of the year, and I know it's been killing her that she hasn't had the time to decorate."
"We're happy to help," you replied.
"She used to do it first thing the morning after Thanksgiving. She'd always make sure she had it off from work and I'd come home to our place looking like Santa Claus moved in." He chuckled. "Then, after the kids, it got harder for her to find the time, and the thing is, she doesn't even need to work full time. I make enough to support our family, but if I were to suggest her becoming a stay-at-home mom? Hey, Jav?" The man in question had slowly been making his way across the roof.
"Yeah?"
"What would Con do if I suggested she became a stay-at-home mom?"
"She'd have your balls."
Steve spoke to you, "She'd have my fucking balls."
Your eyes were on his blue ones. "Well, she loves her job, and I completely understand where she's coming from. Why is she the one who has to quit her career to take care of the children? Aren't you tired of the DEA's bullshit? Why don't you quit and become a stay-at-home dad?"
He made a face. "Might as well let Connie take my balls. I wouldn't want my wife being the breadwinner." He looked toward the roof, saying loudly, "Javi, would you want your wife to be the sole breadwinner?"
"No."
That wasn't the full context of the question.
"He didn't give you the full scenario," you told your future husband. "Would you be okay with your wife working full time? She wants to do it and loves her job while you were a stay-at-home dad?"
He completely stopped moving and was silent for some seconds.
"Javi?" you said. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, sorry. To answer your question, yes, we both pull our weight and love what we do."
You turned to Steve, "See, there's nothing wrong with a woman being the breadwinner if you're equally putting in the effort for your family. She works, and you handle the kids and everything with the house. It's an even trade and doesn't make you less of a man. You gotta work on being more of a feminist, Steve. You've got a daughter with an absolute boss bitch of a mother showing her it's possible to have a successful career and a family. Sure, Connie doesn't need to work, but she loves it, and maybe next year you could surprise her by keeping the kids out of the house all day on her day off or hire a babysitter so she can do this one thing that makes her so fucking happy."
"I never even thought of that," he said quietly.
You gave his arm a pat. "That's why it's good to have an outside perspective sometimes. Now I swear to god, you better grab that ladder and take care of the lights on that part over the patio—" It was a steep A-shape, and you didn't want Javi on it. "Or, I will have your balls, and Connie will absolutely back me up."
"Yes, ma'am." He started moving toward the ladder. "Javi," he said to his friend. "That woman you're marrying is scary—it's no wonder she and Connie got on like a house on fire."
"I hate admitting we both like strong, independent women, who can kick our asses," Javi said.
Steve chuckled. "They're sexy as hell."
While the men finished the lights outside the house, you went inside to see if Connie needed help.
The tree was beautifully decorated with the lights, shining ball ornaments in many colors, some decorations made by the children, a string of beads around it, and at the bottom was a train track at the perimeter of the tree skirt with a model train slowly chugging along.
On the couches and chairs in the sitting room, festive pillows were put out that were white and had red poinsettias as a design on them, one small rectangular pillow in red velvet, and white cursive writing reading, 'Jingle Bells.'
Stockings were hung for each family member, with their names neatly embroidered on them on the wall beside the tree. The dining room table had Christmas-themed table settings atop it, and in the kitchen, the towels were all replaced with red and green ones.
The mother and her kids were nowhere to be found at the front of the house or in the kitchen, but there was laughing at the back in the family room where you headed.
Connie was outlining the windows with a string of rainbow-colored lights while Olivia danced with her brothers to “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” by The Jackson Five—Nate doing more of a shimmy while Stevie did a shake and their sister twirled about.
This was another one of those moments where you felt like you were intruding on core memories being made—these children, the older ones at least, would remember dancing their hearts out to Christmas music after spending the day at the beach with their favorite uncle.
A special day for them.
Like how it was a special day for you and memories were made you'd never forget.
You'd always remember the warmth of Javier's leather jacket over your shoulders, the smell of the salty, briny air, how your hand felt in his, the beautiful colors of the sky as the sun rose and the light reflected off the ocean, and the moment you realized he was proposing, the surprise, the shock, the unbridled happiness, and seeing the gorgeous ring you'd find out belonged to his mother. He tasted of mint when you kissed him the first time after you said yes. When you finished breakfast, his kisses were laced with coffee and the sweetness of fruit and glazed pastries. The words of his love and devotion were etched in your brain, and how he knew he would marry you on your third date during another moment you could never forget, of dancing in the kitchen with him for the first time.
This was a day you'd think about on the bad days. You'd use these memories in the future to remember why you loved Javier Peña so much when he pissed you off, annoyed you, or fucked up. Your children would hear about their mother's best morning of her entire life.
You turned around and started walking toward the kitchen to get a glass of water.
One day, it’d be Javi and you making core memories with your own children, and the thought made you smile.
The Christmas lights were a pain in the ass to put up on the house, but he'd gotten it done and didn't fall off the roof and crack his head open—he had to change his shirt, though, which annoyed the fuck out of him because he wouldn't match his fiancée when they went out.
It was later on in the evening, they'd eaten dinner, the kids had been put to bed, and the last-minute babysitter willing to come and charge them an arm and a leg had shown up to make bank watching TV and eat his friends’ food.
They were on their way to the bar in their rental while Steve and Connie took his little truck.
"Why are you pouting?" Cielito asked.
"I'm not pouting."
"You're absolutely pouting. Is it the shirt?"
"No..."
"We can go to a bar not looking like twinsies one time, baby." His hand was holding hers on her thigh, and she rubbed the back of his with her other one. "Besides, the shirt you're wearing is still a shade of pink."
"But not the right shade."
"I like your coral shirt. I'm sorry my matching shirt to that one is absolutely disgusting from today's events. We'll match again tomorrow."
He deflated as he sighed.
"Anyways, we're going to a bar in Miami. Is this like a party bar? Should I be expecting a bunch of college kids? Or something low-key?"
His face scrunched up.
"Definitely not a party bar. We're going to my usual place."
"Oh."
He glanced over at her.
"Is that okay?" he asked. "Or do you want to go to a party bar? I can take you dancing if that's what you want. Steve and Connie won't give a fuck. They're just happy about getting a night without the kids."
She was looking at her lap.
"The place we're going is fine."
His bullshit detector in his head was going off, looking back at the road.
"What's wrong with this bar? Why don't you want to go to it?"
"I didn't say anything was wrong with it or that I didn't want to go to it."
"Your reaction when I told you where we're going begs to differ—cut the shit, mi amor (my love). What's wrong?"
She let out a long sigh and mumbled a reply he couldn't understand.
"What?" he asked, looking over at her. "Use your words, baby."
"I said I don't like that we're going to the place you'd find women to fuck at! There, are you happy?"
Her outburst caught him off guard, and it took him a second to respond.
"You've never had a problem with the bar in Laredo..." he said.
"That's different." She slumped.
"How is it different...?"
"We're just really digging into my insecurities today."
"What are you talking about?"
He was so confused. She was the one who wanted to go to a bar, and he was taking her to one that had a decent atmosphere she’d like.
"The women you hooked up with in Laredo are all around your age—I'm an outlier. Then we have Miami, that's a whole different playing field because it's filled to the brim with young gorgeous women—like so many chicks walking down the street who could be models, and then there's fucking me who isn't even looking her cutest and was dumb to not pack a single pretty dress, and we're going to the place you used to pick up hot ladies to bone!"
"I don't give a fuck about anyone else at the bar, and you're the one wearing my mother's ring. Cielito?" He glanced over at her, and she met his eyes. "Anywhere we go, it doesn't matter the place or how many people are there, you're the one I look for—nobody else matters. They don't fucking exist. It's you. It's always only you that I search for in the room.” He focused forward again. “Yeah, we're going to the bar I used to frequent, but that's because it's a nice place that I know you'll like. If you're really bothered about it, we'll go somewhere else. But you need to understand that—name a female celebrity the world thinks is the sexiest." He sure as fuck didn't know. The only one he could name off the top of his head was Farrah Fawcett.
"Um, Jennifer Aniston."
"I have no fucking clue who that is."
"Rachel on Friends and the main chick in that movie we watched where the woman gets pregnant and wants to raise the baby with her gay best friend instead of her boyfriend and the baby daddy."
He vaguely remembered the movie and what the actress looked like.
"Okay, yeah. You need to understand that Jennifer Aniston could be in the room, and I wouldn't fucking notice because I'd be too busy looking at you."
"Well, if we're out in public, there'd probably be fans flocking her and paparazzi, so she'd be pretty hard to ignore, on top of that fact, she's stunning."
He took a deep breath and let it out.
"Cielito?" His head turned toward her.
"Yes?" She met his gaze.
"I love you and only have eyes for you. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, and I'm a little overwhelmed by how sweet it is that you search for me, and I do the same thing and search for you, and literally Harrison Ford could be in the room, and you'd be the one I was ogling."
"Really?"
"Yes, because, as I've stated, you are the sexiest man alive."
That made him feel really good about himself.
"Do you want me to take you somewhere else?"
"No. I'm okay now. You made me feel better."
"Good."
He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles and the large diamond on her ring.
When Javier spent a lot of time somewhere, he looked for three things: a decent barber, a good bar, and Mexican food. This meant his first couple of weeks were spent getting acquainted with his new surroundings and searching for his big three.
In Colombia, he didn't have a barber but instead went to a woman-owned salon, where an abuela, her two daughters, and a granddaughter ran the place, and he had the best time listening to the chisme (gossip) while the old woman did his hair.
Aside from the bar everyone at the embassy went to, there was also this little hole-in-the-wall place he liked to go to when he didn't want to be seen by colleagues called La Sirenita (The Little Mermaid) that Cielito got a kick out of when he told her about it.
He managed to find Mexican places in each place he lived while in South America, though Bogotá had the best tacos.
Miami, Steve told him to get his hair cut at the place he went to, and Javier laughed because he thought it was a joke. He found a barber within the first week by simply asking a guy working at the mall with a nice, fresh haircut where he'd gotten it done.
There was a huge nightlife scene and more bars and clubs than he could count, but his preference was dive bars where the atmosphere wasn't too rowdy, and the drinks were poured well, which led to him finding a joint whose name was taken from a euphemism for drunken hallucinations, called The Pink Elephant—he got a kick out of the name, and the place wasn’t half bad.
It wasn't flashy; the lights were dimmed, with a handful of bright neon signs on the walls advertising different brands of beer. The wall behind the long bar had dozens and dozens of liquor bottles displayed behind it on shelves. The seating options included the bartop, tables, and booths, and a small stage was at the back for live music with a dance floor that wasn’t too big. A hallway separated the kitchen from a small room attached to the main one that had a couple of pool tables and down the hall led to two single-stall bathrooms, a janitor’s closet, and a door to the outside where people could smoke if they wanted air, and didn’t want to do it inside.
Since it was a Friday night, there was already a light haze of cigarette smoke when they walked in, and a cover band was playing hits from the 80s. Only a few seats were empty at the bartop, and it wasn't looking good in terms of tables until Connie spotted some people leaving a booth and snagged it before they even made it out of the door.
It wasn’t terribly loud, but he had to speak in Cielito's ear as they walked to the bar with his arm around her. "Go sit with Connie. Steve and I will get the drinks."
"I'm staying with you," she said.
He shrugged to himself. "Okay," he replied and kissed the side of her head.
Steve and she were on either side of him when they got to the bartop, and her right arm was around his waist with her hand on his ass. Her left elbow rested on the top of the bar, and she seemed to be really interested in touching her hair.
He smiled as they waited for the bartender to come over and take their order. His head turned to speak in her ear again. "You want me to get up on stage and say in the mic for everyone to hear I'm yours and marrying you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I simply wanted to spend more time with you."
"You wanted to mark your territory, is what you wanted to do." He hugged her closer to his side. "And I fucking love it—flash your ring back a little more. I don't like how that woman's looking at me."
Her head quickly turned toward him.
"What woman?"
"The one at the table.” He nodded over her. “Seven o'clock. Blonde. Fake tits. Won't stop eyefucking the back of my head."
Cielito's head whipped in the direction he said, and her glare must've been deadly with how the other woman paled, his fiancée flipping her off with her ring finger, followed by the middle one.
He laughed, pressing his face into her neck and kissing her skin, saying into it, "I love you so fucking much."
Her hand went into the hair at the back of his head, and she pulled to make him look at her. "I love you, too."
Those perfect lips of hers smashed against him, and he grabbed a handful of her ass, opening his mouth for her tongue to slide against his.
It might be fucked up, but one thing that really got him going was when she got territorial and needed everyone in the vicinity to know they were together. He loved being wanted so much that she was broadcasting he was hers, and she was his, and she’d fight anyone who tried to make a pass at him. That was why he was all over her, too, so anyone with eyes would see she was off limits.
It was her protectiveness of him, like he was of her, that also did it for him. Without even thinking, she’d put herself between him and another to defend him if she had to—which he’d never allow her to be in any actual danger. She could eviscerate his enemies with her words all she wanted; anything physical, if it came to that, would be left to him no matter how feisty she got, and she could get real feisty.
God, he loved her.
He was no damsel in distress or princess trapped in a tower—he could take care of himself, but he didn’t have to anymore because he lucked out and got a knight in shining armor for a wife, and he was going to worship the ground she walked upon every damn day for the rest of his life.
"Are y'all just gonna suck face or order some fucking drinks?" Steve asked. He must've turned his attention to the bartender. "Sorry about them. They got engaged this morning, and I swear they're stuck together with glue or some shit."
He broke the kiss, turning to glare at Steve.
"Congrats!" the large man behind the bar said. Blue light from a neon sign was reflecting off his bald head, and he had an impressive full handlebar mustache that put what Javier had going on to shame. With how big the man’s biceps were, he could probably benchpress Steve and Javier at the same time. "Let me see the ring."
Cielito immediately held out her hand, and Javier’s chest puffed out a little.
"That's a beauty." He looked between them both. "What can I get you two? On the house, in celebration this beautiful woman actually said yes to a guy with a face like yours."
Javier's eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked, Steve laughing beside him.
The guy grinned. "I'm joking! Thought you were gonna kill me with how you looked at me. You're a real handsome man—a pretty boy, and you’ll make some cute babies together."
That had him going soft. "Thanks, man," he said.
"No problem. Now, what can I get you?"
They ordered their drinks, Javier sticking to his usual, a whiskey, the bartender surprising him with some spendier stuff than he normally got. Cielito, on the other hand, ordered a drink he'd never heard of with an interesting name that, after she told him everything that was in it, turned out to basically be a blue Long Island ice tea or something that told him he was in for an interesting night.
At the table, the Murphys were on one side while they were on the other with her pressed against him and his arm over her shoulders.
"So, what are y'all’s plans for Christmas?" Connie asked before taking a sip of her colorful drink.
"I'm working," his future wife answered. "It's a bummer since it's our first Christmas, and Javi has it off. We'll do most of our celebrating on Christmas Eve with his dad, and then when I get home from work on Christmas, we'll open presents."
Connie looked sympathetic. "I know what it's like having to work on holidays. Sick people don't stop being sick for a day. Hopefully, next year, y’all will have it off together."
“I sure hope we do.”
And he hoped they’d have a baby by then.
The four of them chatted while they sipped their drinks. Connie was interested in hearing if they had any plans for their wedding yet or an idea for their honeymoon, which they told her the truth of how they were hoping to have a small ceremony with his dad officiating at the ranch, followed by a big party with their friends and family they were invited to, and that their honeymoon was going to be on an island—they hadn't talked about it yet, they both just knew that's where they'd wanna go and shared a look when Javier had said it.
When he finished his whiskey, he had a nice buzz and decided to go get a beer since he had to drive later that evening.
His friends were telling Cielito funny tales about being parents, which she was enjoying.
"I'm gonna go get another drink," he whispered in her ear. "You want anything?"
She looked at him, and he could tell she was just as buzzed. "Can you see if they have fries or mozzarella sticks? I want food."
"Okay, mi amor (my love)." He kissed her forehead.
He got up from the table and made his way through people standing and past tables, unable to help himself from looking back over his shoulder to see Cielito watching him as she spoke to Steve and Connie.
Javier wasn't paying attention and ran into the back of someone.
"Shit." He looked forward. "Sorry." It was the woman his fiancée had flipped off earlier, and her face shifted from anger to delight when she saw it was him.
She turned around to face him and put a hand on his arm that he immediately shrugged off as she said, "I knew you'd come find me—" She leaned in close, and he could smell the booze on her breath. "—why don't you let me take you out back and we can do things that stuck up bitch you're here with wouldn't think of."
He was already on edge, but that had anger flaring up inside of him. He stepped back from her with his eyes glaring, and when he spoke, his tone was icy enough to freeze the Sahara. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about my wife like that. She’s better than you in every fucking way, and I wouldn’t even look at you if you were the last woman on earth, let alone touch you—that woman—” He pointed behind him. “—is literal perfection, and I’m the luckiest man on this fucking planet because she’s with me. So, get it through your head. I’m not interested and very happily taken.”
She looked mad. "You could've just told me no, you asshole."
"You disrespected my wife and, in turn, disrespected me and lost any chance of me politely turning you down. Now get the fuck out of my way, my wife's hungry, and you've wasted enough of the time I could've been spending with her."
She scoffed and moved, muttering ‘Fucking prick’ under her breath.
He paid attention this time when he continued walking to the bar and only turned to look toward their table when he reached his destination—"Shit," was said under his breath as he immediately booked it the way he came at the sight of Steve blocking the woman he loved from leaving their side of the booth as the blonde he’d told to fuck off backed away from their table with her middle finger raised.
Connie was making her way toward him, meeting him halfway. "Thank god," she said, continuing to walk with him. "Your fiancée is gonna beat that woman's ass."
"What happened?"
"Well, she didn't care for the blonde talking to you, but when it was clear you were telling her to fuck off, she was fine. Then..."
He was at Connie's back as they pushed through people.
"Then what?"
"Then you apparently pissed off that woman enough she came over to our table to tell your girl she could keep you since you had no taste, were probably bad in bed, and some demeaning shit about your masculinity—I've never seen Steve move as fast as he did to get between the two of them, 'cause Javi, the look on your fiancée's face said she was ready to spend the night in jail."
"Fuck, did you see where the blonde went?"
He’d lost her in the crowd, his head turning to try and spot her.
"If she knows what's best for her, she left, but you need to calm your lady down."
They were at the table, and Steve was standing with his arms crossed, swaying from side to side with how she was trying to get around him.
"I just want to talk to her," she said.
"You wanna do more than talk to her," Steve replied.
"She deserves to be more than talked to."
Javier patted Steve's shoulder twice, and the other man glanced over to see it was him.
"Hey, look who's back," Steve said, stepping to the side so Javier could take his place.
Her face was scrunched in anger, and he crouched to be at eye level with her. He pressed his hand to her cheek.
"Cielito, baby, it's okay," he said soothingly. "She's gone. Stop thinking about her. She doesn’t matter."
“Not after what she said about you,” she seethed.
"Let's get some air, mi amor (my love)." He stroked her face. "How drunk are you?"
His eyes moved to her drink, which wasn't close to empty.
"Buzzed—I didn't want to get drunk."
He nodded. "Okay, come on, baby," he said, taking her hand firmly into his and getting her out of the seat. He leaned into Steve. "Thanks, man—I'm gonna take her outside for a bit so she can cool down. You guys enjoy yourselves. We'll be back."
"Sounds good."
She was behind him as they weaved through people to the hallway leading to a back door. The corridor was empty, the music getting quieter and quieter the further they walked away from it and toward the fire door at the end of the hall, a red glowing 'Exit' sign hanging above it.
Right before they got to where they were headed, there was a little alcove with unisex single-stall bathrooms across from each other and a janitor's closet between them. They passed it and were coming upon the back door when it suddenly opened—"Fuck," Javier said, coming face to face with the blonde. He spun around, immediately grabbing onto Cielito's hips, trying to turn her, too. "Other way."
He knew the moment she spotted the other woman because she tried to push past him.
"Hey, bitch!” Cielito shouted. “Say that shit to my face again!" That was a bad idea, and he put his arms around her waist, keeping her in front of him no matter how much she struggled. "Let me kick her ass, Javi!" He was forcing her to move backward.
"No, baby," he grunted. "I'm not letting you get arrested. She’s not worth it."
"I told you," the woman loudly slurred, "your husband is a shitty fuck and a pussy—look at this, he has you fighting for him!"
His head turned. "Are you fucking serious, lady?" he asked her.
The sound his fiancée made would best be described as a roar, and he had no choice but to haul her away with his arms around her middle while she thrashed in his hold and screamed some very creative profanity at the blonde—his favorite was ‘You stupid, fuckitty, fuck, fuck, fucking thundercunt bitch!’
He didn't think he could get her all the way back down the hall, so he took her into the one empty bathroom with the door cracked open, getting it shut and locked behind them.
What was he supposed to do now? He needed to get her mind off the confrontation or, better yet, make her forget about the whole thing.
He did the one thing he knew would distract her, crushing his mouth to hers, muffling her surprised sound. His large palm was cupping her cheek, his other holding her hip, as he guided her some steps to press her back against the sink on the wall opposite the door. When his tongue swiped along her bottom lip, asking for entry, she opened, and he eagerly delved inside to tangle his muscle with her own, tasting some notes from her drink—tequila, gin, blue curaçao, sour mix.
Her fingers were on his chest, and where once it was to push out of his hold, now she had his shirt clutched in her fists, trying to pull him closer. The first moan he earned from her made him smile into their filthy kiss that was nothing more than a practiced dance of their tongues sliding along each other.
Blood was rushing to his groin, feeling himself beginning to harden, and he wasn't sure if this would be enough to get her mind off of what had happened—they were alone, someplace semi-private, all he'd need to do is pull down those jean shorts, turn her around and slip his cock into the wet heat of her pussy and he knew he was a good enough fuck to make her forget that other woman even existed.
When they needed to take a breath, he nipped at her bottom lip, his mouth making a path of kisses along the line of her jaw until he was at her ear, letting his hot, hard breaths fan against it, causing her to shiver.
"Let me make you feel good," he rasped. His hand on her hip moved to palm at the front of her bottoms, where she was extra warm. "Let me make you forget, Cielito—I’ll fuck you nice and hard. I'll make those pretty eyes roll back, and the dick will be so good, I’ll have you drooling. Can I make it all better? Make you forget?"
“Babe, no amount of good dick is gonna make me forget about what that fucking twatwaffle said—and it’s absolutely on sight if I see her stupid, jealous bottle blonde ass again.”
His nose nudged into her ear. “Is that a no or a challenge?”
“It’s a—“ She ground against his hand. “—I’ve always fantasized about you fucking me in a bar, so I’m down for a quickie, but it’s not gonna make me stop being angry.”
He smiled and kissed her cheek. “A challenge then.”
Her eyebrow rose as he looked her in the eyes. "You really think you're that good?"
He smirked. "Look at who you're talking to. I know I'm that good, and I'll make you so fucking cock dumb you'll forget that spiteful woman even exists." His hands went to the front of her shorts, quickly popping the button and pulling down the zipper. "Now be a good girl for me and don't make a sound no matter how good it feels—I don't want us getting kicked out. Steve would be so fucking annoying about it."
She palmed over his half-hard dick, and it made his mouth go slack, her eyes darkening. "He would," she said. "I'll try to be quiet."
"You will be quiet, or I stop."
Her eyes went a little wide. "Sexy Star Wars," she whispered.
"What?"
"It's like the sexy version of the line Yoda says in Empire, 'Do or do not, there is no try.' I either will or will not be quiet, there won’t be any trying—I make noise, and you'll withhold the dick." To end the sentence, she lightly squeezed his cock.
He huffed out an amused breath.
"I love you." Leaning in, he kissed her. When he pulled back, he said, "But I can't believe we're about to fuck and you're thinking about Star Wars."
She looked at him madly, and he wondered what he said wrong. "I'm sorry, what you said reminded me of a line and that I don't happen to be the king of dirty talk, unlike some people."
"King of dirty talk?"
"You, Javier, and I'm just a fucking mood killer."
He needed to get things back on track, and clearly, he accidentally upset her—he knew just what to do.
"Stop it," he told her and took her face into his hands, smashing his lips to hers in a hard kiss.
It was one of those kisses where she was a little disoriented afterward and hungry for more—wanting his hands on her, to feel his cock inside her, more of his mouth on hers—it was a kiss that made her greedy and grabby, and she definitely got his pants undone to get the hard, hot shaft of his cock into her palm, languidly stroking him.
He slid his hand into her panties, slipping two fingers through her slit to find her cunt wet and slick enough to take him.
“Fuck, baby,” he murmured into her lips. His mouth moved to rasp in her ear. “I haven’t even touched this perfect pussy, and you’re soaked—it turns you on to know I’m gonna fuck you in here?” Her answer was a moan. “—It turns you on that if we’re not quiet enough, someone could hear how good I make you feel?”
The pads of his digits were swirling around her perky little clit.
“Yes,” the word was a gasp, and he smiled.
“My dirty fucking girl—I bet you want people to hear us—you want everyone to know this pussy is mine—” He cupped it in his palm. “—and I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had.”
She’d told him as much on many occasions.
Her hand left his pants to make him look at her with a tug of his hair, her eyes dark and face serious.
“I want that stupid bitch to hear you giving it to me so good she leaves the bar crying out of pure jealousy.”
And she was still angry at the blonde. She was going to make him work for it, and he was ready for the challenge.
License plates from different states and countries, some old and beat up, others newer, lined the top half of the walls in colorful metal stripes, the lower portion painted black; a decent-sized mirror was over the wall-mounted white porcelain sink, the toilet beside it, and a hand air dryer hanging near them—most notably, Javier had room to work in since the space wasn’t cramped at all.
Wasting no time, he shoved her shorts and underwear down, spinning her around to face the mirror and sink, and he took a couple of steps back, bringing her with him.
He looked at them both in the mirror with his head beside hers, pressing his lips to her ear, and eyes locked on one another's. “I know you want her to hear,” he whispered, “but I’m gonna need you to be quiet.” He rubbed her bare hips. “Promise me that no matter how fucking good it feels, you’ll keep those pretty noises I love to a minimum.”
She gulped. “I promise, even though I think we should just go for it and be that couple.”
He smiled. “The couple that doesn’t care and has noisy sex in a bar bathroom? You get brave when you’re pissed off.” He kissed her jaw under her ear. “And no, we’re gonna be quiet.”
Getting kicked out at minimum and arrested at worst didn’t sound like a good time to him.
She pouted, and it made him chuckle.
“This isn’t something you would’ve done before me,” he said as he shimmied his jeans down his thighs to free himself. He took his dick in hand, giving it a few strokes. “I’ve created a monster.” He needed to make sure he was nice and slick, so he spit on his fingers and used them to lube himself up.
“A horny monster—stick it in.” She wiggled her behind.
He kicked her feet apart. "A fucking impatient monster—bend forward, hands on your knees," he ordered, lightly pushing on her spine, and she did as he said, sticking her ass out. It only took him seconds to notch at her opening and push right in, her hot, tight walls hugging him all the way down to the hilt.
The first, initial thrust was always his favorite when they both couldn’t help the soft sounds that escaped their throats and the heat of her cunt giving way and enveloping him, Javier fitting inside her so snugly, he thought his cock had to be just the right size for her—not, too big, not too small, simply perfect.
It gave credence to the fact he was made for her.
He knew he had big hands, yet he loved how perfectly they held her smaller ones. Their lips fit together like two matching puzzle pieces snapping together. His arms were long enough to hold her close to him.
They were two halves of a whole that managed to find each other on a planet with billions of people—he found his media naranja (soulmate), and right this second, he was going to fuck away all of the negative shit that had happened tonight, because he loved her more than life itself, and wanted her to enjoy the rest of her night.
This was going to be quick and dirty, hard and rough.
His hands were gripping her hips as he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, tugging her ass back when he thrusted forward to penetrate as deep as possible. Her back arched, and on the next stroke, a choked noise came from her, and he knew his dick was pressing in just right to hit that spot that made her pussy weep uncontrollably and her thighs tremble.
He set a punishing pace that had his hips slamming into her from behind with a smack of skin against skin, and it was so wet where they were joined, he could hear his cock working in and out of her, soft moans spilling past her lips, while he grunted, sweat forming on his brow and down his spine.
If someone were to put their ear to the door, they'd know exactly what was going on—hell, there was a chance the rhythmic beat of his thrusts were echoing loud enough to be heard out in the hall.
The thought that people knew what they were doing had pleasure slicing through him like a knife's edge, ramping up what was already building in his gut.
"Touch yourself," he said through his teeth. "Play with your pussy."
With how she was fluttering, he knew she was close.
She didn’t acknowledge he said anything or did as he ordered, and it had pride swelling in his chest that he was fucking her so good, she was lost in the pleasure and probably couldn’t even think a coherent thought.
The bathroom’s lighting wasn’t the brightest, but when he looked down, he could see his dick shining in her arousal as it disappeared into her sopping cunt, in and out, with a wet suck; her asscheeks were spread enough her puckered hole was in his line of sight, tempting him to slip in the tip of his thumb inside, but he knew that’d trip her up with how far gone she was, and he didn’t want to ruin her orgasm.
He knew one thing he could do that’d get her attention and keep her going, though.
There was a chance your legs were going to give out with how they were trembling; the tight walls of your pussy were hugging his cock that filled you perfectly, making you feel full, each thrust hitting that spot that had stars dancing behind your closed eyelids.
The way he was pounding into you made it to where you couldn't think, not with how pleasure was coiling in your belly and making your skin vibrate.
A hand came down hard on the side of your ass, the sweet sting causing your cunt to clench, and you gasped out a moan, realizing he was trying to get your attention because he said something you missed.
"What?" You asked roughly since you'd been doing everything in your power to hold back your noises, your nails digging into the skin of your knees.
"Touch yourself," he gritted out, his pace not wavering. "Make yourself come."
You slid a hand between your legs, going low enough to spread your fingers around where he was fucking into you, feeling how his cock was drenched in your juices and your pussy stretched around him. With your digits wet, you moved them to circle the swollen bud of your clit, and it had heat starting to tighten in your belly.
Your mouth fell open at the combined sensations, all of it rocketing you toward your release, making it hard to keep quiet when it felt so fucking good—soft whimpers were leaving your mouth as you lost your mind.
There was no way anyone outside the door didn't know what was going on in here, not with how the slap of his hips echoed in the small room and Javi grunted behind you—he probably didn't even realize how much noise he was making.
His hands had a death grip on your waist as he pulled you back on his cock with each thrust, and it had him going so deep you were pretty sure if he went any deeper, he'd be in your stomach. Your eyes were rolled back, and you weren’t embarrassed to admit you were drooling a little.
How did you end up bent over and getting fucked within an inch of your life in a bar bathroom?
This was something you’d wanted to happen for a long time, and even though Javi was generally adventurous and risky in terms of places he’d have sex, he had turned down all of the times you tried at the bar back home—the closest you got was him fingering you under the table while you sat beside each other in a booth, but that was it.
The coil inside you was close to snapping with how tightly it was wound, and it didn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—there was the excitement of Javi railing your brains out in a semi-public location, the need to be quiet, your friends at the table oblivious to what you were doing, and the actual act itself; your fingers on your clit and his hard dick pistoning in and out of you that finally had you cresting. Your body tensed up tight as you came, and you must’ve made too much noise because Javi turned on the hand dryer with one hand and leaned over to cover your mouth with the other.
Pleasure spread through your body and out to your limbs while air blew loudly. Javi pulled you up to lean back against his chest with your head on his shoulder, his lips kissing your neck while his mustache tickled you.
"Good girl," he said against the shell of your ear. "Can I come?"
His palm had moved off your face. "Yes." Your hand went behind you and into his sweaty, damp hair. "Use me—come inside me."
What you didn’t expect was him pulling out of you—and you were only left to guess what he was doing for a second before he crouched behind you, roughly tugging down your jean shorts to your ankles, getting one of your shoed feet out of a leg.
He groaned as he stood up, and you gasped in surprise when you found yourself getting pushed with your back against the wall and a man immediately in your space, pulling your leg up on his hip. Javi wasted no time to sheath himself back inside you, his mouth colliding with yours to muffle your moan; his fingers dug into your thigh, bracketing his waist, his free hand snaking its way up your shirt, pulling down your bra cup to massage your breast in his large palm.
His rhythm was hard and fast, making your body jolt with every steady thrust, his breaths coming out labored, and your fingers in his hair. He was chasing his high, and you were happily going along for the ride.
The dryer had stopped, and you pulled his head back to make him look at you, his eyes more black than brown, glazed over, and heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted and glistening, sweat coating his brow, hair sticking wetly to his forehead. It was rude how he always looked so hot during sex—even when he was coming, especially when he was coming.
“Come for me, Javi,” you said, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Fill me up, baby.”
“I will,” his voice was strained. “I said I was gonna keep you stuffed with my come today, and I am.” He was talking about your rendezvous at a hotel that morning when he promised to fuck you as many times as you’d let him to keep you full—this was number four. “I’m gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby—fuck—” His eyes squeezed shut. “—we keep up like this, and you actually will be pregnant when we get married.”
The thought thrilled you. You moved his head forward to your shoulder and got your lips close to his ear. You whispered, “You’d love that—me already being pregnant when you make me your wife. You want that, Javi?” you purred. “You gonna fuck a baby into me?”
“Fuck,” he groaned, his strokes speeding up. His hand squeezed your breast. “I want you pregnant,” he grunted. “I wanna get you pregnant. I wanna see you pregnant with the bigger tits and the belly. You’re gonna look so fucking sexy.” His pace was getting jerky. “God, I love you. I love you so fucking much. You’re perfect. You’re amazing. You’re gonna be my wife.” He was rambling, so you knew he was close. “You’re gonna have my children. You love me.” He sounded wrecked, pushing his face into your neck. “You love me.” The words were muffled and followed by a ragged moan as he pushed in all the way to the root and came, feeling his cock jerk hard and the warm, wet pulse as he filled your inner depths.
His hot breaths were panting against your skin, and like always, you pressed your fingers into his hair, and he slumped into you.
“There’s no falling asleep, mister,” you said.
“‘M not, jus need a sec,” he mumbled.
“Uh-huh, one sec, and next thing I know, you’re snoring.”
He sighed. “It happ’n’d one time.”
“That’s a damn dirty lie, and you know it.”
His head came up to look at you with a frown.
“Don’t I deserve one minute to get my head straight after giving you some amazing dick?”
“Of course, you deserve a minute—you deserve five minutes, but babe, we’re kinda, sorta, not really in a situation where we can lollygag and luxuriate in the post-sex goodness. Like, I would love to cuddle with you right now. There’s literally nothing more I want to do. However, we are in a bar bathroom with your dick inside me, and our friends are probably wondering where the fuck we are.”
This sigh was long, and he visibly deflated.
“I’m getting really fucking tired of not being able to fuck like we normally do,” he grumbled.
You cupped his cheeks. “You’re spoiled rotten—we’re on a trip. What were you expecting?”
“That we’d be able to fool around at night, but Steve decided to be a fucking prick and ruined the guest bed.”
“We have our floor mattress.”
He was pouting. “Can’t make too much noise.”
“But isn’t that fun?”
“The first time, yes.”
“Spoiled. You’re gonna have to tell her.”
He looked confused. “What?”
“You’re gonna have to break it to Connie that next time we visit, we’re getting a hotel room because, one, we can’t go too long without fucking, and two, you’re accustomed to sex a certain way that when you don’t get it how you like it, you become a big ‘ol grouch.”
“I can’t do that to her. It’d upset her.”
“Then you’re gonna have to get used to making compromises. We better clean up and get going.” You started to move, but he stopped you.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
His eyes went a little bigger. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’m gonna say some sappy bullshit.”
You giggled. “Thank you for the warning—go for it.”
He smiled. “This is what I was thinking about when you told me not to fall asleep.” He pressed a hand over his heart. “Te pertenezco como la luna le pertenece a las estrellas—uno no existe sin el otro (I belong to you like the moon belongs to the stars—one does not exist without the other).”
Oh, nutting put him in his feelings. He did get incredibly romantic after coming. It was probably allowing himself to be so vulnerable.
“—Cuando estoy perdido y llega la oscuridad, tú eres mi estrella brillante que permanece a mi lado y me guía a casa (When I’m lost and the darkness comes, you are my shining star that stays by my side and guides me home). Te pertenezco (I belong to you). No soy nada sin ti (I am nothing without you). Estaría perdido en la oscuridad sin ti (I’d be lost in the dark without you). Tienes todo mi amor y devoción (You have all of my love and devotion). Haré cualquier cosa por ti (I will do anything for you). Y cuando tengamos hijos, también haré cualquier cosa por ellos porque tú eres mi vida (And when we have children, I will also do anything for them because you are my life). Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito). Gracias por amarme (Thank you for loving me).”
And with that, he leaned in and kissed you, putting in all of that love and devotion he had for you, making you feel it with every press of his lips.
Afterward, you quickly righted your clothes and cleaned up, forcing Javi to stare at the door as you peed and him not caring one single bit if you looked while he went—you didn’t.
Once you both looked presentable, he took your hand and led you out of the bathroom, where there was a small line of people waiting to use the restrooms, who either glared or leered at you both as you walked by, which you tried to ignore.
Back at the table, Steve and Connie looked very cozy on their side of the booth, with his arm around her shoulders and her tucked into his side as they laughed about something. Javi let you scoot into your seat first.
“Hey, you’re back!” Connie said, and she looked like she was feeling good.
“We are!” you replied.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
Javi was sitting close enough to you that you were touching, and he wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his head on your shoulder, or he was acting like a giant cat who wanted your attention. Your arm went across your body to play with his hair.
It took you a second to answer Connie’s question because you didn’t know what she meant—you felt fantastic.
“Oh!” It finally came to you, the whole altercation with that woman, and frankly, you didn’t care about it anymore. “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” you answered.
“That’s good.”
“Con,” Steve started, “tell them what happened.”
“What happened?” you asked.
Connie was clearly excited to tell you both the gossip. “So,” she said, leaning closer toward the table, “a little bit after y’all left, the blonde apparently had a death wish or was drunk as a skunk and was all over another woman’s man on the dance floor, which ended in a fight the blonde did not win and got her kicked out.”
“It’s what she deserved.”
“That’s not all—well, about the blonde, that’s all, but I have more to tell y’all.”
“Okay.”
“The other thing that happened was I went to go use the bathroom, and there was a couple fucking in the other one.” Your eyes widened, and Javi went still. “They were so loud,” she continued, “and really going at it—I don’t think they realized the music doesn’t make it down that hall and those bathrooms echo. We could just hear—” She clapped her hands to the same beat Javi was railing, and you cringed each time, wanting to crawl in a hole and die. Thankfully, she finally stopped. “—and grunting. I couldn’t make out if they were saying anything.”
Thank god.
“Wow,” you chuckled nervously. “That’s so embarrassing. Who does that? Who thinks it’s a good idea to fuck in a bar bathroom? I know, I wouldn’t—I’m a privacy of a bedroom kinda girl.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed, and you knew you fucked up.
“Javier Peña,” the other man hissed. “Are you fucking serious?”
The man accused sat up, pressing fingers to his forehead. “We ran into the blonde at the back door, and my amazing future wife was on a fucking warpath, so I had to do something to get her mind off it.”
“And that something was getting your dick wet in a public bathroom?”
Javi’s hand fell, and he glared at Steve. “What would you have done if it was Connie? Would you have let her fight a woman for you or done something you knew would make her forget, even if it was risky?”
Steve seemed to be thinking it over.
“There was no way of getting her home?”
“Steve, I practically had to carry her into that bathroom with how she was screaming and trying to go after the other woman.” Heat was creeping up your neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t have much choice.”
“If it was a last resort, then yeah, I would’ve done the same.”
“That’s so romantic,” Connie said, and her husband looked at her with a smile.
“You really think that’s romantic?” he asked. “I’d do anything for you, baby. Even if it’d send me to jail.”
Javi’s head turned, and so did yours to meet his eyes, the look on his face screaming, ‘Can you believe this fucking guy?’
The other couple were whispering amongst themselves.
Your fiancé leaned in. “He’s judgemental one minute, then his wife thinks it’s cute, and suddenly he’s Mr. I’d-Do-It-For-You.”
“Javi?” You rubbed a hand over his shirt-covered chest.
“Yeah?”
“I know it’s annoying as fuck, but I want you to think about the fact we’ve probably had more sex in the last two days than they’ve had the entire year.”
He looked horrified, his head snapping in their direction.
“Steve, Con,” he said, getting their attention. “We’re best friends. Be honest with me, with work and the kids, how many times have you fucked in the last year?”
The couple looked at each other and seemed to be counting in their heads.
“I can only think of five times where we actually got through it uninterrupted,” Connie said. “Add maybe an extra two incompletes.”
“Yeah,” Steve confirmed. “I’m counting five, too.”
Javi checked his watch, then moved forward to get his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it, pulling out two bills.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, passing over a couple of hundred dollar bills. “Go rent a hotel room for the night and check out late. We’re gonna watch the kids until you’re back tomorrow.”
“You’re sweet, Jav,” Connie replied, “but we can’t—that’s too much.”
“Like hell, it’s too much,” Steve said, picking up the money. “We have to remodel because of this asshole, and I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s go, honey—we’ve just been offered an opportunity that’s not gonna come back around until he visits again.” The blonde man was already out of his seat and holding his hand out to his wife.
“Thank you, Javi,” Connie told him as she scooted out with her purse. “Thank you, both. This is really nice of you.”
“Yeah, thanks, Jav,” Steve added, grabbing his wife’s hand and practically dragging her from the booth with quick goodbyes.
Your future husband looked at you with worry. “We’re gonna fuck more than five times a year after we have kids, right?”
“Oh, yeah. See, the difference between us and them is we’re opportunistic and will do it just about anywhere. It might not be as frequent as we currently are, but we’ll still fuck regularly—I promise.”
He held up his pinkie. “Pinkie promise,” he said seriously.
You giggled, wrapping your pinkie around his larger one. “I cannot believe you want me to pinkie promise about our sex life.”
His forehead pressed to yours, and your eyes closed.
“It’s a big enough deal that it warrants a pinkie promise. I love sex, not just because of how good it feels, but also the intimacy—my favorite part is afterward when I get to hold you in my arms and cool down.” A wistful sigh left him. “I haven’t gotten a lot of chances to do that while we’ve been here, and I, uh, miss it.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m saying is, I love spending that time with you naked, and honestly, we don’t even have to fuck. So, I just want you to pinkie promise me that after we have kids, we’ll put aside time for us to keep going on dates and having sex when we have the chance and cuddling naked.”
“I pinkie promise to that, but, babe?”
He pulled back to meet your gaze.
“Yeah?”
“You’re gonna have to get used to quickies and come to terms with the fact we’re gonna get interrupted.”
“It sounds like we’ll need a reliable babysitter, and it just so happens our children will have an abuelo living three minutes down the road who will happily watch them.”
“We better get a headstart on making up excuses for why we need to leave the kids with him for two to three hours.”
“Eh—” He shrugged. “—Pop and mi mamá used to leave me with mis abuelos y tías (my grandparents and aunts) so they could have time alone—he’ll know exactly why he was watching our kids.”
You smiled. “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”
“Yeah, if things had gone differently, I probably would’ve had ten siblings.”
“With your attitude toward Steve, who I consider your adopted brother, you’d be in hell with actual siblings. Well, your dad is getting the award for Father of the Year.”
Javi grinned. “He gets that award every year.”
“As he fucking should. Let’s get a plaque made to make it official. He’d get a kick out of it.”
He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and it was like you could read his thoughts.
You held his cheeks. “You’re gonna be an incredible father, Javi, and you’ll get a plaque, too—your dad will transition to Abuelo of the Year ‘cause, let's face it, he’s gonna be great at that, too.”
“You’re sure?”
“That you’ll be an incredible father? Oh, yeah. I’m positive. You’re gonna knock it out of the park! I’ve honestly already come to terms with the fact the tiny humans I will grow inside me and birth are going to love you more, and I’m not upset about it at all—you deserve it.” You stroked your fingers through his hair. “I promise you, Javi, you’re going to be an amazing dad, and our kids are going to be obsessed with you—I pinky promise you that.” You held up your little finger, and his eyes were misty as he looped yours with his.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too.”
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#pedro pascal#javier peña#javier Peña/reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x reader#javier peña smut#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
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"you act like you just saw a Ghost."
"all your games, all your lies"
synopsis// satoru gojo is horrible at pranks.
pairing// satoru gojo x gn! reader
word count// 1.3k
contents// the prank in question is playing dead, maybe borderline hurt/comfort?, angst maybe but regardless there's a happy ending?
notes// this is how im coping. gege is just punking us that's all. i also just thought this was such a stupid oneshot idea i love it i think im such a fucking comedian for this. but this is kinda (very) half-assed... anywho it was inspired by the song ghost by fefe dobson (dont play with me rn.)
"Satoru, I'm home!”
When you get no response, you find yourself gazing about your eerily empty home. You hum to yourself. Odd. Satoru usually greets you right at the door.
“Satoru?” You call out again, trying to ignore how your anxiety rises as you slowly enter your bedroom.
Red immediately floods your vision; it’s everywhere. It’s on the walls, it’s on the bedsheets, it’s on the floor—there’s practically no place left untouched by the liquid. You swallow harshly and make a point to not step into the liquid that seems a little too similar to blood for comfort, albeit the task is to no avail because it's everywhere.
“Sato-“
Your voice dies in your throat the minute you see him on the ground. Satoru is laying there lifeless, covered in blood. There's no rise or fall of his chest, only an empty, vacant stare in his glossed-over eyes. You freeze. For far longer than you should have.
This isn't real.
This can't be.
There's no way Satoru is laying here dead, in a puddle of his own blood. You inhale harshly, not even aware you were holding your breath in the first place, as you drop down to your knees and crawl the rest of your way toward him, oblivious to the fact that you're now coated in just as much blood as he is. The moment you're by his side, It all hits you at once. Holy shit, Satoru is laying here in a puddle of his fucking blood. You hesitantly shake him.
“Satoru?”
You wait a second to see if he’ll say anything or do anything—even a twitch of his fingers would suffice, but nothing.
"Satoru, please,” you say, desperation flooding your voice as you shake him harder.
When nothing happens again, you shake him once more, but this time you don't stop. You simply keep shaking him, hoping that if you shake him hard enough, he’ll do something to prove he’s still alive.
"Satoru, this isn't funny." Your breathing is labored as panic fully seeps into your veins. "Satoru, wake the fuck up!” You slap his face, only for his head to merely loll to the side.
And that was the last straw. Suddenly you're thrown into a sob so violent it racks your whole body, shaking as you can do nothing but rest your head on his chest and sob for him to wake up, to stop messing around because this isn't funny, to just please wake up, yet he doesn't. You don't notice how his chest is starting to contract; you're sobbing so hard that you think it's just you who’s making him move, when suddenly a loud choke of laughter rings in your ears. You sit up immediately, still ugly-crying as you look down at Satoru, who is currently finding something absolutely hilarious.
Oh, you’ve lost it.
You’ve actually lost it; here you are hallucinating that your dead boyfriend is laughing.
Satoru wipes imaginary tears from his eyes. “Oh my god,” he says between laughs, “you should’ve seen your face!”
You blink at him, tears still freely flowing, as you lean back down and place your head against his chest.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Satoru goes stiff but does as he’s told, and when you can hear his heart beating rhythmically, thumping perfectly fine as all hearts should, you grow cold, like maybe you’re the one who was actually dead a few seconds ago. You sit back up.
“Gonna tell me what you were doing now or-“
His sentence is interrupted by you abruptly standing up and screeching in a fit of anger, or maybe more so, betrayal, “You fucking asshole!”
Satoru, clearly taken aback, scrambles to stand up along with you, holding his hands out in front of him placatingly. "Woah, woah, babe, calm down-"
“Calm down?” You snap, staring at him with an animosity he’s never seen from you before. "Don't tell me to calm down when I thought you were just fucking dead!”
He sheepishly glances down at the fake blood-covered floor. “It was just a prank..."
“Fuck you!” And you snap, thrown head first into another sobbing fit, wrapping your arms around yourself in a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself while you babble incoherently: "I don't—I can't."
Satoru’s heart breaks right inside his chest, and he doesn’t think he’s ever regretted anything more than his stupid idotic antics right now. He can't bear to see you like this; this might actually kill him. He can't take it. He can't take knowing that he’s the entire reason you're in this state in the first place. He takes a step closer, opening his arms up to hug you, and you flinch away from him the moment you notice.
"Don't touch me, Satoru.”
Satoru frowns, ignoring the tears stinging his eyes and the burning sensation of rejection that encompasses him whole. He thinks—no, he knows—that whatever he could say right now wouldn't help, but maybe giving you some space will, so he steps back and clears his throat. "I'm gonna go shower.”
You sniffle and turn away from him, brusquely waving him off. “Do whatever you want."
☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
Satoru walks out of the bathroom with one towel in hand, drying his hair, and finds you sitting on the edge of the bed. He can’t help but notice the new sheets laid out and how the room is squeaky clean, quickly realizing you were left with the unfortunate task of cleaning up the last remaining remnants of his prank as he showered. You finally notice him in the doorway, but you hardly even spare him a glance.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks as he makes his way toward you, tossing the towel on the floor before taking a seat next to you.
“You’re an asshole.”
"I know, I'm sorry,” he mumbles as he subtly scoots in closer toward you, and when you don’t bother moving away, he draws you into his arms, your back to his chest as he places his head on your shoulder. "I just wanted to play a prank on you.”
You stay stiff, refusing the innate need to melt into him. “You’re horrible at pranks.”
He buries his face in the crook of your neck and mumbles, "I know that now.”
You hum curtly, ignoring the shivers down your spine—though your resolve is very quickly turning nonexistent, you’ve never been anything but putty in his hands.
Satoru places chaste kisses against your neck, murmuring, “How long are you gonna torture me for?”
“Till you've thought about your actions.”
He pulls away from you and twists your body around so that you’re face-to-face. “I have! I thought about them the whole time in the shower.” He leans in and nudges his nose with yours, whispering, "I'm sorry.”
You stare at him blankly for a moment before sighing, your entire body sagging in relief as you finally give in to your desires and close the distance between you two. Satoru, overjoyed with the fact you’re kissing him, can’t help but return the favor with vigor. Each kiss is followed by him mumbling, "I'm sorry," and it goes on for god knows how long—though you don’t really care, you just care that he is alive, that he is kissing you, that he is here, and it was just a very poor, poor prank that hopefully he’ll never do again—no, a prank you’ll make sure he never does again. You take back the initiative and kiss him deeply, taking his bottom lip between your teeth that has a whine escaping Satoru’s mouth before it transforms into a full-on wince of pain from you biting him.
He pulls away abruptly, his fingers darting up to cradle his bottom lip. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”
You stare up at him innocently, even going as far as tilting your head to the side like you’ve done nothing wrong at all—though your facade is quickly shattered when you lean back in and Satoru instinctively leans back, but you grab him by the back of his neck, forcing his head in place harshly, whispering through a menacing smile, “If you ever pull something like that again, Satoru Gojo, I will personally make sure that you die by my hands.”
“…Noted.”
©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD
#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x gender neutral reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo oneshot#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru oneshot#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#bimbo's one shots#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#bimbo’s one shots; jjk#jjk oneshot#jujutsu kaisen one shot#jjk x gender neutral reader
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PERIODS — harry lewis
pairing: harry lewis x fem!reader
warnings: periods… NOT REALLY A WARNING BUT YKKK, swearing, suggestive-ness, medication
Whoever said people your age couldn’t have sleepovers, could go and do one—because you absolutely fucking could, you and Talia proving said notion right now; your boys were off again, somewhere abroad for a sidemen shoot and leaving you and your best friend alone. Instead of getting all weepy and mopey (over a boy, never you) you and her decided to make the most out of the lack of testosterone—after you’d dropped your boyfriend off at the airport, all innocent smiles and pretty fluttering lashes, you’d zoomed off (probably breaking several speed limits) to get to your best friends new home.
When you got there, she’d opened the door with an excited screech despite expecting you and you returned it despite knowing she’d been the one to open the door. After of long embrace where she didn’t wanna let you go, you finally convinced her with the promised of pizza and brownies. Hauling your overnight bag in, you’d began your girly night—music booming, comfy clothes on, gossip upon gossip and so many laughs your whole body was in tatters as you made pizzas and brownies (admittedly, hers were better but she was literally Mario’s second cousin, it’s to be expected)
Food in hands and smiles never leaving your faces, you’d taken off into a race into a race for the living room (you won, obviously) and began your evening of movie watching—from 10 things i hate about you to It, then legally blonde and Tangled, and many more, . . .you had quite the night. However both of your highlights was when you discovered you both started your cycles on that particular day—before your boyfriends had left and around basically the same times: it had you both in tear inducing laughter for two minutes. You’d ended up taking a Polaroid of you both grinning while holding up Flow (the period tracker app) and showing you both having the exact same cycles.
Twins.
That was yesterday—now you were both lying in a miserable heap of pain and exhaustion in Talia’s king size bed, hot water bottles on your abdomens and remaining snacks being shovelled into your mouths as you both snuggled and occupied yourselves on your phones.
You smiled slightly when your boyfriends name popped up over TikTok but grimaced afterwards as your stomach turned horribly.
harry🤍
gd mornin xx yu okay luv ?
me
you’re actually illiterate
harry🤍
and you can’t punctuate, we all have are own flaws. anyway i hope ur good, we’re landing at 3, want me to pick u up anything?
You grinned wider, deciding to piss about.
me
yeah actually can you get me some jumbo tampons!! thank youuu x
harry🤍
what. they do JUMBO? i mean thats, at least their being inclusive. good on em 👍 wait bloody hell love, you’re on again already? swear i don’t know how you still have blood in ya
me
yeah it happens to be a monthly thing, harry. 😄😄😄😄😄 also im with my gf so you might have to whisk me away before me elope xxxxx
harry🤍
she’d get you a shitty ring anyway i’ll get in simons lift home then and you can drop us off. … i love you, gotta go, see you soon gorgeous
me
love you too smelly 😜
You looked over at Talia at, miraculously, the same time she looked up at you and when she wordlessly showed you her phone, showcasing messages of her asking Simon for XXL pads, you gasped laughingly and showed her your messages to Harry. She made a shocked face before meeting your eye and you both burst out laughing, only to groan as you ached all fucking over.
“I hate being a women.”
It was now half two and while Talia was effectively making your day better—you both were still in immense pain. You’d migrated to every living room (you loved it so much, you could cry) and both had a sofa to yourself, Mushu (their adorable dog) was nipping at some toy from where he was sat by the telly. You both were on your phones for the most part, last nights episode of Love Island that you’d absently recorded now playing on the TV as you both munched away on the breakfast Talia got delivered—McDonald’s breakfast for you and she had a spiced cheesy omelette from this little breakfast place.
“When do you think Harrys gonna ask. .?” Talia looked at you from her place on the sofa, wiggling her ringed finger mischievously with a glittering smile, one hand still firmly against her stomach.
“Probably never.”
“Bullshit!” She shot back instantly, sitting up and pointing firmly in your direction as she ignored the pain she was in in favour of reassuring you. “Babe, you have not seen the way that man looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. Like, seriously, he has literal heart eyes for you and don’t even get me started on how he speaks about you. It’s like your the best thing in this entire world to him, really. Like you’re some kinda goddess or somethin’ he always looks so awestruck by you.”
“. .probably cause I cook him dinner.” You offered with a shrug, smiling lopsidedly, and Talia snorted with a head shake.
“Or you are his dinner.”
“I mean, he does—“
“Ah! WAIT, NO. Stop, no more, please.”
You grinned at her, sparing a wink before cooing at Mushu happily and urging him to jump up on you, which he did. Your entire demeanour seemed to soften as you wrapped your arms around the large grey ball of fluff.
“He’ll probably ask you soon.”
“Natalia.” You threw her a mock serious look and she put her hands up in a surrender motion, finding herself all too funny.
“What—have you seen you?” Talia retorted, faking a dreamy sigh as she readjusted herself on the plush material of her sofa. “I’d kiss you, marry you and fuck you. Repeatedly.”
“Miss Mar. . .” You jokingly trailed off.
“Have my babies?”
“I thought you’d never ask!”
“We should really do this more often.” Talia pouted at you, friendly love bright in her irises as she pulled her blanket more around her body. “I miss hanging with you, sexy bum.”
“Miss you more, baby cakes.” You winked at her dramatically, mouth falling open just like Fred Weasley and she giggled back at you, snapping a candid photo.
“Speaking of babies—“
“NATALIA HADDOCK.”
Approaching four o’clock was when your boyfriends finally rolled up—you and Talia didn’t actually notice at first, you were both laying down on the living room floor with Mushu next to you and a mediation video on the large screen, giggles slipping past your lips even as you attempted to be quiet. You would’ve sat up but considering your cramps. . .‘twas a no go.
“Keep your fake lips shut, Cruella.”
Talia squawked in offence at your comment but kept her eyes shut for the purpose of mediation, blindly lifting a manicured hand to swat at you.
In that moment, your boyfriends both walked through the door, trading odd looks at the silence in the home (if there was anything you and Talia were together, it was not silent). Simon lead Harry through the house, more confused than anything to where his fiancé was but when they heard whooshing sounds from the living room, they both stopped uncertainly.
Harry quickly picked up a random umbrella from where they were sat, just in case.
However, when you hesitantly stalked into the living room they didn’t expect to see both of their girlfriends laying sprawled across the floor in starfish position with a mediation video playing on the large TV. They both paused, trying to repress their amusement and Harry instantly got out his phone—zooming into you to take some photos.
“Feeling zen, yet?” Simon inquired.
“So zen.” You both confirmed, simultaneously.
There was silence for no more than a second before you and Talia both let out startled exclamations and sat up straight—immediately groaning out in pain after as your stomach cramped and ached (day 2 was your personal worst day for pain/cramps).
“Woah. Woah, woah.” Simon paused at the in sync groans of pain, “listen. . .I know you both have like, interlinked emotions but please don’t tell me you can feel what the other feels?!”
“Boy.” Talia gave him a deadpan stare.
“Help.” You urged your boyfriend, reaching out your hands expectantly and he rolled his eyes fondly as he walked over to you, large hands taking your smaller ones in his own and he tugged you up from the ground, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “Hey stranger.”
“Hey.” Harry mumbled back, grinning widely as he pulled you flush against him, digging his head endearingly into the crook of your neck and leaving two swift kisses, your sweet aroma surrounding him and clouding his thoughts as you hummed, running your fingers through his short hair.
“No PDA in my house!” Simon exclaimed.
“Shush,” Talia tutted—unimpressed with her fiancé, “don’t listen to him. Harry, kiss my girl all you want just. . nothing more, preferably.”
“She’s not your girl.”
“Am I not?” You played clueless, faking a confused look at him before going to step over to your best friend, only for him to tug you back against him, large, muscled arms wrapping around your front to hold you back.
“Disgusting.” Simon blanched. “Do that in your own home, please.”
You and Talia both rolled your eyes in sync: you turned your head to smile up at your boyfriend, pressing a loving peck to his soft lips and then his bicep before gently tugging his arms off you, getting ready to say bye to your friends.
“Bye beautiful.” Talia grinned, her arms coming to wrap around you with a careful tightness. “I love you, let me know if you need anything—also, we should really really do this again soon. I love spending time with you.”
Feeling your heart warm, you smiled back at her genuinely. “I love spending time with you too, Lia. Next time we can make lasagna and cupcakes. . .the Tom and Jerry ones.”
Talia squealed slightly, pulling away from your hug to press kisses to both your cheeks and then your forehead.
“You’re the best. Miss ya’ already.”
“Missing you more.”
A few minutes later, you and Harry were finally out of the mini-mar household. Your boyfriend had finally resigned to carrying you when you had fully stopped walking and hunched over slightly in pain from your cramps—he’d sighed, like the tired boyfriend he was, then gently picked you up bridal style and ignored Talia’s obnoxious awes and how she took several pictures.
(She totally didn’t put them on her story)
“Spoiled princess, ‘s what you are.” Harry shook his head jokingly as he carefully put you down in the passenger side of your own car that he was driving cause you were in pain.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
He grinned at you, looking up through his lashes as he did your seatbelt for you, one of his large arms caging you in and the the other free arm reaching over your lower half to tug the seatbelt tighter. He looked similar to an angel in that moment—sun illuminating his features, those fucking blue eyes you were a sucker for and you felt a trail of sparks on the skin his hand purposefully brushed over.
“That tight enough?” Harry inquired, cheekily.
“So tight.” You responded with a snicker of your own and he rolled his eyes at you, tugging a strand of your hair briefly and you feigned a dramatic wince as he left you, shutting the door to your side and climbing in the drivers side.
You looked over, rolling down your window readily as you knew what was coming—when your car started to take off, Talia opened up the window closest to the driveway, popping out her head with a gorgeous gleaming smile.
“BYE BYE BEAUTIFUL, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON!”
“BYE GORGEOUS—SAME GOES FOR YOU, CALL ME!”
As you did the ‘call me’ symbol with your hand and gave her a dramatic wink, she giggled before ducking her head back indoors.
“Might as well date her.”
“Might just, y’know.” You smiled at him sweetly, turning on the radio for background noise like you always did, “Smells a lot than my current partner anyway?”
“He can’t be that bad!”
“No, really, he stinks of piss.”
“I beg you fu—“
He cut himself off, grin faltering as he heard you wince in pain, frowning softly as he looked over at you.
“Hanging in there alright?”
“Mhm.” You hummed, smiling tensely.
“I got you something.” Harry mentioned, peering over at you and when he saw you looking him with that adorably confused look, he nudged his head backwards and your eyes followed—landing on the Tesco bag in the backseat.
“My jumbo tampons?” You cackled to yourself.
“No—I did look though—“ Your laughter increased in volume, ignoring the aching pain overcoming you as best you could, “Oh—Oh. I see now, they aren’t a thing. You played me.”
“What? No, never.”
“I smell deceit.”
“I smell piss. Oh, wait, it’s just you.”
You giggled at yourself and while he tried to playfully glare at you, he couldn’t quite keep his smile at bay as he stared at you.
Curiously, you reach behind you and tug the Tesco bag from its space in the back, lugging it into your lap and opening it up—your mouth immediately pops open in an awww when you take in the two sets of cupcakes, your favourite chocolate bars, the sanitary products and some pain medication.
“Harry. .”
“Don’t mention it, I beg.” A sheepish crimson blush coats his pale cheeks at your tone and your evident heart eyes. Jesus Christ, were you pretty. He was so lucky to be able to call you his, that much he knew for sure.
“Thanks, handsome.”
“Yeah, yeah anytime man.”
You arch a brow.
“Anytime, love.” Harry corrects, flashing you an equal parts amused and sarcastic smile as you nod your approval to the changing pet name.
When you finally arrive back at your apartment complex—Harry’s already out of his side of the car as soon as it stops, and then he goes over to you, opening your door and looking down at you. He lets at a dramatic heaving sigh at your doe eyed look, scolding his skin for flushing and heart for picking up.
Effortlessly, he takes the bag off your hands with one hand and pulls you from the car with the other, once you’re out the car he lifts you up easily with one arm and you wrap your legs around his hips, arms around his neck.
“Hi.” You mumble, grinning mischievously as your acrylics scratch at his beard.
“My pretty troublemaker.” Harry huffs affectionately, squinting down at your bright smile fuelled by mischief. “Don’t you dare bring attention to us, this is embarrassing enough.” He nearly whines.
You merely smile, a kiss to his cheek to tide over his anxieties.
The walk was going pretty smoothly, but as soon as Harry stepped foot into the elevator, another set of footsteps followed and his eyes shut miserably, leaning down and sighing into your neck hopelessly.
“Hi Effie!” You immediately perk up at the sight of the older woman—Effie was this sweetheart fifty six year old who lived on the floor below you and Harry, a vast lover of plants and animals with a hatred for men (you loved her, Harry was scared of her).
Harry barely refrains for niping at the soft skin of your neck in reprimand. Of bloody course.
“Hello dearie.” The older woman, hair a dyed purple shade and silver septum hanging from her button nose, greets you with a calm smile. Effie was evidently unfazed by the scene in front of her—if anything, she was proud that you were putting your man to work. “How are you today?”
“Oh I’m grand, Ef.” You smiled so charmingly that as Harry stared down at you, he almost forgot he was even supposed to be annoyed. “How are you? How’s Tia, I miss her!”
“I’m well, thank you, dearie. Tia misses you too, I assure you. Perhaps you come down tonight, I can bake us some cookies just how you like them.”
Harry paused, bewildered. Did his girlfriend just get hit on by a grandma?!
“I—“
Before you could even get a word out, the elevator dinged open to your floor and Harry wasted now time practically sprinting out with his arms possessively entangled around your frame; you quickly exclaimed a startled ‘bye Effie’ over your boyfriends shoulder before the elevator doors shut.
You quickly distracted yourself with how you could feel your boyfriends muscular biceps as he held you up, your acrylics took to touching and tracing them as he bounced you up further on his hip. You closed your eyes, leaning further into him and humming at the delightful scent of his cologne, the soothing vibrations of his body as he quietly chatted away helping to dull the aches in your own body.
“You alright there, y/n?”
“Never been better.” You smiled up at him and he gives you an amused one back, kissing your forehead softly as he finally opens the door to your shared apartment—once inside, he readily manoeuvres the both of you to the sofa where he carefully places you down, handing you the bag of food and your favourite blanket he spots on the lone armchair. “Thank youuu.”
“Spoiled princess.” He names again, but the smile on his face is enough to melt you despite his words.
Harry then goes into the kitchen as you try and adjust on the sofa more comfortably, face screwing up as a particularly harsh pain washes through you—your abdomen clenching. To distract yourself, you search through the Tesco bag and smile to yourself as you take out the first batch of muffins.
You mindlessly click onto WhatsApp, taking a photo of the bag of goodies and sending it to the girls groupchat with a little ‘make your men do this for you, pretty ladies’ and instantly being met with gushing from them all.
“Showing off my expert shopping skills?”
You startle—gaze flickering to your boyfriend who smiles at you, that smile he saves just for you and it makes you feel so special and warm every time. Your eyes dart over him, noticing the hot water bottle he now clutches (you love that hot water bottle—it’s got this absolutely adorable cover of a lama).
Fucking hormones, you think, as you feel a wave of emotion hit you at how much he’s done for you.
“Hey,” Harry noticed the quivering frown you now adopted and internally panicked, did I do something? Hot water bottle in hand, he hurried towards you, kneeling down on the floor beside where you were laying and twirling a pierce of your hair around his finger. “Hey. What’s wrong, love, hm? You in pain?”
“Yeah.” You answer him shakily, that’s not why your suddenly upset. “I love you.”
If he’s confused—he doesn’t show it, he merely smiles at you comfortingly, leaning in to gently press a kiss to your lips.
“I love you more.”
You smile up at him and his face softens completely at you—he’s so fucking in love. And yes, these thoughts of his are incredibly soppy, but, he couldn’t help it. The girl of his dreams, the love of his life, the prettiest person in the world, was currently staring at him like he hung the moon and the stars. . . he’d never tire of your beautiful face, your radiant smile that flustered him every damn time.
When you move so he can slide in behind you, he eagerly takes the invitation. He slots in behind you on the sofa, pulling you atop him with your back against his chest; he takes the hot water bottle, your favourite one, and carefully moves up your shirt before pressing it against your lower stomach and keeping his hands there to hold it in place, pressing a thoughtless yet meaningful kiss to the side of your head and you snuggle back into him.
“Oi, give me a bite.”
“Fuck off, it’s my scran.”
“Yeah—and who’s card did it make a dent in?”
“Our card, handsome.”
“. . . Spoiled princess.”
And that’s how you spend most of the rest of your day—intertwined limbs, goofy grins, soft kisses and joking insults.
(He’s never been more in love)
#harry lewis#w2s#wroetoshaw#harry lewis imagine#w2s imagine#w2s x reader#sidemen#harry lewis x reader#sidemen imagine#sdmn#miniminter#zerkaa#behzinga#ksi#vikkstar123#bog#youtube#british youtubers#youtube fanfic#sidemen fanfic#tobjizzle#social media#harry x reader#w2s fic#wroetoshaw x reader
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Hullo fabulous writer! If you're still taking requests, could I beg kindly for a Genya x female reader? While I would love an NSFW with him, I understand if you would prefer not to. I love the boi so much and he needs love!
Fuck me
Shinazugawa Genya x Fem! Reader
He thought you were a boy. He was wrong.
Horny thoughts took over, sincerely sorry this doesn't have more plot
orz
Tags: sex pollen trope, first time, exhibitionism (kinda? they're alone in the forest tho)
Word count: 1,3k
Masterlist
You had met during training under Himejima.
Him, a kid hurt and hurting, and you, a runaway trying to find a place to go on in.
Genya was confused why you had a separate room from him in the sanctuary but he reasoned it had something to do with your past, and given his own, he wasn't about to pry.
You bonded over the brutal training Himejima put you through.
Sitting under a waterfall for hours brought you closer, shared misery from the cold and the aching muscles forging a friendship based on silence, on gritted teeth and on wet hair. Both of you had to shave most of it off as it took too long to dry, and the risk of catching something was too high. More than once, you'd stripped off your tunics and huddled close to share your warmth.
That was before either of you hit puberty though.
You had learned Total Concentration Breathing from Himejima, where Genya was unable to do so. That sent you to the Final Selection a year earlier than him - and while you came back victorious, you also came back with a bandaged chest. You never took them off in Genya's presence. It was alright; if he could, he'd also hide the facial scarring he had.
A year went by and he joined you in your journey as a demon slayer, the pair of you traveling together, training together, eating together. You would sometimes get irritable, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Everyone has a grumpy week here and there.
Despite your closeness, there was still a wall between you - you never went to the onsen together, you never slept in the same futon, even if sharing one would be easier, and you each did your own laundry.
Years passed.
The demon you faced today was elusive. That was all there was to it. It ran to the forest and hid in the mist, the air smelling like overripe fruit as you trudged through the flowers growing from moss.
Genya had his gun out and loaded, you held your katana ready, both of you covering each other's blind spot. The darkness of the forest made your hunt crawl at snail's pace.
In the end you didn't find the demon, it found you.
With a screeching laughter, it launched itself at you, you barely blocked its claws with your blade. The force of it knocked you off balance, and you fell to the soft mossy flower bed, clouds of white mist spewing up from the ground, the tumble making the demon roll off of you.
A gunshot rang through the forest. A few soft steps.
"Are you alright, pipsqueak?"
You groaned, a strange heat spreading from your lungs outward, the strange sweet scent overpowering. “Just fine. I-” Then, it hit you like a landslide.
You cried out, oversensitive and overheated. You rolled onto your side, sheathing your katana. Your binder chafed against your nipples, sending electric shocks to your pussy, and you knew you were soaked in seconds. “Fuck-!”
“What’s going on? Hey-”
Eyes unfocused, your hand brushed against the flowers you were laying on when you tried to get up. It was the damn flowers. A fog as heavy as the flowers created settled over your mind in that moment.
"Fuck me, Genya," you rasped out in desperation. You had tears in your eyes as you clumsily tried to unbuckle your belt, kneeling now.
He was staring at you wide-eyed, arms raised in a placating gesture. "But, we're both men." A flush took over his face, and his breathing deepened. He’d also inhaled some of the pollen.
You froze momentarily. "Genya, I swear to god-" You finally undid the belt, and ripped open your jacket, being a little gentler with your shirt. "I'm a woman."
His flushed face became even redder, this time it was him who went as still as a statue. But despite that, there was an incessant need crawling under both of your skins. The aphrodisiac made you stop undressing to paw at his clothes instead. You needed him.
"Fuck, get naked. I can't go on much longer-!" You tugged his purple tunic off, undoing the buttons of his jacket as he hesitantly reached for his belt.
“Are you-?”
“Yes! Now, strip!” you gave up on his shirt and just undid his belt, pulling both his pants and underwear off. Tsk, as if you wouldn’t be sure. Not sure when molten rock flowed through your veins and urged you to be faster, to find something to fill the emptiness, to stop the heat, to-
Genya’s world was spinning. Not only because of you manhandling him in ways that made his dick throb, nor because of the fog you’d both inhaled, but because he just found out his best friend of years and years was in fact a woman.
How had he been so blind? You pushed him onto his back into the damned flowerbed that rocked his world. How had he not noticed? He grabbed your hips and pulled you against his aching cock, dry humping against your covered cunt, the feeling so good but not enough.
“Genya~”
“Fuck-”
You moaned his name so prettily, he needed to hear more, to feel more of you, he needed-
You rolled to the side to tug your pants and panties off. As fast as you disappeared off his lap, you re-appeared and now it was your wet cunt against his cock and it felt so good he never wanted it to stop.
If you continued for much longer, he’d cum before he even got to be inside of you. “[Name], I-” he was about to tell you so, but you only raised your hips a little and lined him up to your entrance. His hands gripped your thighs in a bruising hold when you started to sink on his cock, both of you moaning in sync as you felt a small amount of relief.
You didn’t hesitate and started a pace of rising and dropping down, quick and messy. Each time your ass met his thighs, you felt like screaming; it sent shocks of pleasure from your tummy outwards, your pussy kept fluttering and tightening as you chased the ecstasy you needed.
Genya was struggling to hold out. Your snug cunt was too divine - the first time you sank down, he was about to lose his mind. He could do nothing but take it, hips bucking up to meet you erratically, as desperate for his pleasure as you were for your own.
Who knew sex felt this good?
This was better than his own hand by far.
Before he knew it, he cried out, grabbing your waist and slamming you down onto him, spilling deep inside of you, making you groan in turn. Genya cursed like a sailor, gritting his teeth.
He may be finished but you weren’t.
You dug your nails into his arms so he would let go of you. When he did, you continued your desperate movements.
Genya keened like a wounded animal, overstimulated. “Wa-wait-! I can’t-!”
“You have to-!” You stared at him as you rode him through the pain and pleasure; his face was red, eyes glazed over, lips open and a little bit of drool gathering at the corner of them, tears streamed down his cheeks. You could not stop, would not stop. It felt too good to stop.
“Ngh-” He clenched his eyes shut, clawing at the moss underneath him. This wasn’t how he imagined losing his virginity.
One hand braced on his shirt-covered chest, you slipped the other to your clit, trying to get off quicker.
You were riled up enough that one, two, three tight circles on it made you shatter.
You threw your head back, muscles taut, pussy milking Genya’s cock for all it had left. Your ears rang, someone was whimpering, someone was whining, you didn’t know who did what, you just collapsed onto a warm chest, arms wrapped around you as you trembled in post-orgasmic bliss.
“That was… something,” Genya panted out, hands rubbing your back as you tried to catch your own breath.
“Thank gods- hah- that you killed the demon, ugh, before this hit, huh?”
Taglist: @sunandflame @flametrashira @misty-angerose @irene9900 @i-literally-cant-with-this @gingerspicelattemix
dividers made by the amazing @/benkeibear
#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#desi's ask box#shinazugawa genya#shinazugawa genya x reader#genya#genya x reader#smut#demon slayer smut#kny smut#genya x y/n#genya x you#kakushino
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thinking about ellie being so horny where she’s being so overly enthusiastic to everything you say especially if you make a joke she’d laugh but it’d be sooo dramatic like her slapping her knee and hunched over bc she’s trying to fuck and you’re not getting the hint so u sit there like IKR 🤣…. until you do catch on bc she laughed at something that wasn’t even supposed to be funny and give u bedroom eyes so u look at her like FR 🙂 and she’s like yeah 😛 and ur like okie how can I say no 😽 and y’all 👉👌
this is so that one “yes you can hit” meme
“Yea so basically, I’m never eating a blueberry again,” you sniffle gently, cheeks sore from laughing so much over previous conversations.
Honestly, you didn’t think you were that funny. Or at least not as funny as Ellie seemed to find you. Every single joke you made had her freckled cheeks red in amusement, doubled over dramatically with laughter, spurting out in choked giggles and belly laughs as her hand grazed over your jeans, your own body leaned back against the couch you shared.
You didn’t clock how fake it all was until now, your blinking eyes meeting her own. It was only now did you catch the glint in her eyes. The little shine of frustration, begging for you to pick up on how her knees were turned toward your bedroom door. On how her knuckles were turning white with the grip she had on the poor pillow settled on her lap, or how her fingertips lingered a bit too long on the scratchy denim that covered your thighs whenever you made another shitty joke. Now you noticed it.
“God, babe, you’re so funny,” she hummed, chin tilting just a bit toward you. Ok, she was definitely being dramatic. The blueberry story wasn’t even funny. The heavy gaze was a tipping point, but her drawled-out words were the nail in the embarrassing coffin you had to lay in. She was totally just laughing to get laid.
“Ellie,” you scoff, turning further away from her. “That wasn’t even a funny story.”
Ellie’s cheeks heated for another reason this time.
“Have you been laughing this whole time just for my attention?” You accuse, eyes narrowing.
“Whatttt?” Ellie tugged out the last syllable, shaking her head in a totally unconvincing way. “No way, babe, you’re so funny.”
The auburn-haired girl leaned in, smiling at how your lips pulled into a pout, your ego bruised from your girlfriend’s obvious sucking up.
“El,” you whine, letting her lips find your cheek in a soft kiss, “Swear I’d never do that. You’re soooo funny,” she added.
“Oh my god,” your tone boarded on a high-pitched screech now, stinging your own eardrums as your eyes squeezed close. She couldn’t be any more obvious.
“Yes, Ellie, yes you can take me to the bedroom,” you eventually groan, three wet cheek kisses deep.
“Finally,” Ellie muttered, giving up the whole comedic fan act as a hand wrapped around your waist.
“You are so awful,” you complain as she hoists you up to follow her to the bedroom.
“And you aren’t funny.”
#rins reqs ❀.#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x fem reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams smut
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We’ve seen Hobie drunk but may I request drunk reader?
Yes you may!!! Thank you for requesting! 🫶
Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader
Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW drinking, CW vomit. FLUFF
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
Hobie enters the rowdy pub, weaving through the crowd and avoiding the eyes of his mates from across the pub or else he might get dragged into their drinking. It's not usually a bad thing to have a spontaneous drink with the mandem, but tonight he only has one mission: get you home.
Before he left for patrol, you've specifically given him explicit instructions to get you home before the sun starts to peek up from the horizon because you know if you don't manage to go home by then, oh your friends would most definitely get you blacked out drunk. You needed a scapegoat, and that's Hobie. You had it all planned, he would burst into your group, saying there's an emergency at home and you got to get out and help him quickly.
Well that was supposed to happen but seeing you down five shots in a row, feet wobbling from just standing, he knows he's in for a ride.
Hobie guesses that your friends managed to figure out your plan beforehand and got you to drink so much that your loud laughter triumphs over the already noisy pub.
He sidles up to you, a hand over the small of your back to help stabilize you on your feet. The group cheers when they spot him next to you, numerous shots and pints get shoved in his face to which he refuses immediately.
Meanwhile, you stare at him with wide eyes, mouth agape, hand tapping on his chest to get his attention.
“Yes, love? What's got you like that?”
“You.” Sighing, you say it breathlessly. “How are you so handsome?” The low light of the pub illuminates his face, casting shadow in all the right places.
He chuckles, hand squeezing your hip. You sharply turn to your friends, gesturing wildly at him. “It's Hobie Fucking Brown!” You yell at the top of your lungs. Said man blinks at you in surprise.
Your friends cheer drunkenly except for the designated driver who just shakes her head, the glass of orange juice swishing as another one of your friends suddenly loops their arms around her neck.
“Look at him!” You screech again, getting the entire pub's attention. Grabbing his face, you squish it in your hands. “So fucking handsome!”
Hobie chuckles as everyone's eyes look at the chaotic scene. A friend of his notices this, he whistles, hooting and hollering a ‘fuck yeah, he is!’ You seem to agree by yelling back a cheer towards their table.
He's never seen you this drunk, you're usually quiet when you get remotely tipsy, this is a new side of you that he's never seen. He loves it, if only you're not in public then he'll tease you back a hundred times more.
Holding your wrists, he takes your hands away from his face to your dismay. With a pout, you watch him gather your things, saying a quick goodbye to everybody before he gets roped into drinking too.
Knowing that you'll squirm and protest, he drapes your jacket over your face like he's done with a bat that accidentally entered the houseboat a few years ago. Sure enough, you try to wiggle out of the fabric, but you're too drunk to find the end of the jacket.
With his arms around you, he leads you outside of the pub, your muffled curses falling on deaf ears.
Hobie takes the jacket off you, your pout and glare greeting him. The fresh air flutters your lashes, waking you up a bit from your drunken stupor.
“You'd thank me once you're sober.” He's the one that takes your face this time, pressing a chaste kiss on your warm forehead.
“You took me outside like a wild animal” you pout as Hobie puts the motorcycle helmet on your head. Clipping it on securely.
“It was needed or I wouldn't have gotten you out in time before they started dousing me in beer. ‘m sorry,” He takes your pout in between his fingers, moving your head from side to side. “I'll make it up to you tomorrow, yeah? I'll take care of your hangover self.”
Your liquor addled brain makes you open your mouth wide, almost taking a bite of his fingers. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he dodges it.
“Awwe let me bite, Hobart”
“Later”
“Really?” you say, smiling.
“No”
You look at him with puppy dog eyes, Hobie doesn't falter, shaking his head with his hands on his hips. Inside, he's fighting the urge to scoop you up and let you bite wherever you want.
“Get on the bloody bike.” you do as you're told with minimal groaning.
The wind whips at your face, eyes closed, savouring the cool breeze.
Hobie's driving slower than usual, his hand flying back to you everytime you lean too far back in your seat.
While idling in a red light, his arm tucked behind him to grab your hands and enclose them around his waist.
Surprisingly, you don't grumble. Instead, you lean closer to him, face nuzzling on his back leaving a goosebump inducing kiss on his nape.
Hobie could only tap your hands that's holding his waist tightly. Glad that the helmet obscures the giddy smile on his lips.
—
He kind of regrets living in a houseboat now that he has to guide you down home. With you still wobbly on your feet, you hold on to him for dear life as he tests his balance.
“Fuck it.” Hobie grabs the back of your legs, carrying you effortlessly.
You almost puke from the sudden movement. “I'm gonna be sick.”
“I’ll point you right on the water then”
“Noooo, I'll hold it in!” You mumble a ‘poor fishies’
Finally getting you to bed, all clean and in clean clothes that he has to wrangle you to get it on. You cuddle nicely in bed, arms reaching up to hold him.
“Hobieeee! Cuddle?”
“What in the bloody hell did they let you drink?”
You giggle, flexing your hands to beckon him closer.
With a roll of his eyes, he flops down on you, earning a happy screech from you. Long arms enveloping you, you bask in his warmth while he rubs affectionately at your back. You fall asleep not long after, with your hand balling his shirt, using his chest as your personal pillow.
Oh the hangover would be horrible for you but Hobie's more than ready to help you with so much care and love.
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