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wheresarizona · 2 months

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Learning to Live Part 30

summary: Sunday—it’s Javier’s 40th birthday, and you have some sexy surprises planned for when you get home from dinner. Monday—you’re back at work after your lovely vacation, and it’s time to bite the bullet and tell your disapproving family that you’re getting married. You can probably guess how well that goes over…

rating: E (18+! A good chunk of this is about birthday sex. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (around ten years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (m & f receiving), 69, face sitting, butt plugs (f), anal play (f receiving), double penetration, breeding kink, lingerie, nude photos, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, waxing poetic about Javier’s dick, getting KO’d from orgasms, banter, domestic fluff, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, death of a parent/grief, dysfunctional family, arguing, period typical sexism, spoiling Javier for his birthday, nurse stories (humorous), Javier being the little spoon, discussion about eating habits, Javier making you post-sex food, a special guest makes an appearance)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (reader is a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 16.8k (Why am I like this?)

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be solely about birthday sex, but something happened, I’m not sure what, and somehow there’s a lot of plot in it now? I apologize. I am at the mercy of the characters. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul, for betaing! You’re incredible.

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

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There was a game Javier liked to play when you went out to eat with people and were seated next to one another. It was kind of like Chicken, where two cars drive toward each other, and one of them has to swerve, or else they’ll crash—basically, it was a test to see how ballsy you were and how much of a risk you were willing to take to come out as the victor. In Javi’s version, it involved his hand under the table on your knee that would slowly creep up your thigh and under your dress, if you were wearing one, or along your pant-covered leg to try and make it to his goal nestled between your thighs—it was up to you to determine how far he’d get. Were you going to chicken out and stop his movements? Or were you going to be ballsy and let him get to the finish line? Honestly, it depended on how you were feeling and who you were with because it was really distracting when he rubbed your pussy in the middle of trying to have a conversation with someone. Still, the game was a lot of fun, and sometimes you liked to mess with him by letting him get almost all the way to his prize before you denied him, just to keep him on his toes.

Another thing was that there wasn’t always one round. Sometimes, he’d wait a bit and try his luck, again and again, to see how many attempts it’d take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of your Tootsie Pop—unless you told him to stop, then his hand would make itself at home, holding your thigh.

Tonight was Javi's 40th birthday, and you'd gone out to dinner with his father. Usually, on such a special day—and the fact you were always horny for him—you'd allow his palm to reach its destination. This evening, however, you had stopped all of his attempts and wouldn't let him get very far since you didn't want to ruin the surprise that was hiding under your dress—and your fiancé was very, very curious about what your undergarment situation was, getting to the point you kept his hand still between your closed thighs until it was time to leave.

The meal and catching up with Chucho had been wonderful—hanging out with your soon-to-be father-in-law was always a great time.

On the morning that you called the older man to tell him about your engagement, you laughed when he said he'd have something put in writing about his promises that he'd love you both living with him and wouldn't mind if there was a newborn there, too. You were well aware of his eagerness to have grandchildren and bet Javi twenty dollars his dad was going to show up today with legal documents on the matter, and you'd been right—he had a large manila envelope with an agreement he had his lawyer put together inside for you. Once dinner was done, you found out that wasn't all he brought; Chucho presented Javi with a Tupperware container filled with a big slice of tres leches cake his tía María made from his mother’s recipe. As he ate, his dad quietly serenaded him with a song called “Las Mañanitas,” much to his chagrin, the first part being:

“Estas son las mañanitas, que cantaba el Rey David, (This is the morning song that King David sang), Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti, (Because today is your saint’s day, we’re singing it for you), Despierta, mi Javi, despierta, mira que ya amaneció, (Wake up, mi Javi, wake up, look it is already dawn), Ya los pajarillos cantan, la luna ya se metió, (The birds are already singing, and the moon has set).”

There was a promise between the three of you that the restaurant staff wouldn’t be alerted that it was Javier’s birthday in order to avoid the employees bringing attention to him and singing; he didn’t, however, put any restrictions on his father or you singing to him, and Chucho was happily exploiting that loophole while his son grumpily devoured his cake he shared with you.

Javi wasn’t actually annoyed with his dad—he had the Tupperware practically licked clean by the time you were ready to go, and before you left, he gave his dad a big hug and whispered his thanks for having the cake made since it was something his mother always baked for their birthdays.

The big 4-0 was a milestone that usually involved a celebration, but your fiancé had declined his father and three tías offers to throw him a party and told everyone he didn’t want any gifts—he was determined not to make it a big deal, and only desired to have dinner with you and Chucho; the tres leches cake was a wonderful surprise, and definitely appreciated, though.

All of that brings you to where you were currently—sitting beside Javi on the bench seat of his truck as he drove you home. He’d pulled up your dress to bare your knee, resting his hand on it, and you were wondering when he would give his game another go; you knew him and that there was no way he’d be able to resist trying again, now that you were alone.

"Did you enjoy your birthday?" you asked, doing your best to keep your squirming to a minimum as you tried to find a comfortable position.

"Yeah," he answered, glancing at you with a smile. "I loved spending the day with you, seeing my mom—" You stopped by the cemetery on your way to dinner to tell her about your engagement. "—and going to dinner with Pop. Today was nice."

You hugged his arm. "I'm happy you had a good day, even though a certain someone—" Lorraine. "—tried to ruin it. Do you think she'll listen and leave us alone?" There'd been an altercation with her on your walk to the restaurant, and Javi finally had his chance to give her a piece of his mind and threaten her and her family with restraining orders if they didn't stop bothering you.

His eyes were back on the road, a frown replacing his smile.

"Maybe? She's been dead set on making my life difficult since I left her, and I don't know if she'll be able to give up."

"Guess we'll just have to see." A change in subject was needed. "Sooo, do you have any requests for tonight?"

His fingers stroked the inside of your knee.

"What do you mean?"

He started slowly moving his hand along your thigh, your palm resting on his jean-covered leg.

"You know exactly what I mean. It's your birthday, so you get anything you want."

He turned his head your way for a few seconds.

“I thought you had tonight planned.”

"I do." You nodded. "But you're the birthday boy, and I wanna make sure to include any specific desires you may have for this evening."

His focus went to what was in front of him, his fingers skating up your inner thigh and under your dress.

"Hmmm," he hummed. "I know you don't want to spoil tonight, but will I get to eat your pussy?"

"If you want to, sure."

"Are you gonna suck my dick?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Will I get to come inside you?"

There was a pause for a moment as you figured out how to respond. "...yes?"

He looked over at you with a curious expression. "That's... interesting. With how you answered, I'll be coming inside you, but not where I imagined…"

You frowned. "Javier, it is your birthday, and I won't have you ruining my surprises by you going all Detective Peña on me." To end the sentence, you squeezed your thighs shut to trap his hand and keep it from moving any further.

Your reaction made him pout and turn his attention back to the road.

"Fine," he said. "I won't think about it." He sighed. "I know you're not wearing panties. I won't be ruining any surprises if you let me touch you."

"Sure, but I want you to wait until we get home so you can undress me."

"Okay."

You rubbed his arm with your free hand. "Patience, baby—you're gonna have a great time."

His eyes met yours, and he smiled. "I know, mi amor (my love), and I'm fucking excited." He moved his hand out from between your legs to grab your smaller one on his thigh, pressing your palm against where he was half-hard beneath his jeans.

"You are excited,” you purred, rubbing him over his pants. “Better get you nice and hard before we get home.”

“With what I’m hoping will happen tonight? That won’t be an issue, Cielito.”

Once you arrived at your shared apartment, you hung up the jean jacket you were wearing, setting your purse onto the console table near the front door, Javi emptying his pockets into the large bowl on top of it. Both of you kicked off your shoes, and your fiancé laid his folded sports coat over the back of the couch before he was on you, his lips hungrily colliding with yours in a searing kiss—one of his arms went around you to pull you flush against him, his other hand cradling the back of your head, making you moan when he eagerly licked into your mouth.

His kisses were sweet from the cake, tasting it on his tongue, arousal burning hot in your abdomen. He had your toes curling and skin vibrating, wanting him so bad, and he seemed to want you just as much when he turned and walked you toward your room with your lips fused together.

Anticipation was swelling inside you, butterflies going wild in your tummy at hoping Javi really did enjoy what you had in store for him.

As your feet moved, your hands worked open the buttons on his shirt, rubbing your palms up the warm skin of his torso once it was bared, feeling the soft give of his belly to his muscular chest—moving higher along his neck, cupping his cheeks, then pressing your fingers into his soft hair.

The moment you stepped into your room, he unzipped the back of your dress and moved you a little further inside to have you at the end of your big, king-sized bed. Javi broke the kiss, shrugging off his shirt that fell to the floor, his hungry gaze focusing on your chest—he was careful when he took the red, satiny shoulder straps into his hands, and pulled the dress down and off your arms, revealing your bosom, and letting gravity take the rest of it to the ground, where it pooled around your feet.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Javi was unable to stop himself; it was as if there was some kind of magnetic pull that had his hand reaching to palm your lace-covered breast. His eyes had darkened, the front of his jeans bulging where he was straining against the zipper. "This is what you've been hiding all night?" he asked, his free palm massaging your other tit.

His reaction made you feel good about your choice of lingerie.

The red teddy covered most of your breasts and down your ribs in sheer lace with laces crisscrossing from one side to the other on the front and back to keep the pieces together; the best part about it, and what you knew was Javi’s favorite part, was the fact nothing was covering your crotch or ass—it was put on like a one-piece swimsuit, your legs going through two thin straps, with the rest of the bottom completely bare.

There was a similar teddy you owned in a pretty plum color that covered more of your skin in lace.

"Yes," you answered. "Do you like it?"

His gaze met yours, and he stepped into your space, his big hands going around to grab your bare backside.

He was smirking with his eyebrow raised. "Do I like it?" he rasped. Javi squeezed your ass. "You know I fucking love it, mi amor (my love)." His lips met yours, kissing you quickly before he ended it with a playful nip to your bottom lip, pulling his head back to look at you. "You're so fucking sexy—Christ, I want you so fucking bad."

Your hands slid up his chest to caress his cheeks, smiling at him.

"I have another surprise for you..." you said.

His eyes rounded. "There's more?" he asked.

You booped him on the nose with your finger. "Yep," you answered. "You're getting spoiled tonight."

"You don't need to spoil me."

"Um, yes, I do. It's your special day. Plus, you spoiled me on my birthday by letting me tie you up and edge you—this is me making sure your night is just as wonderful." You poked him over his pec.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles as he smiled. "Happy fucking birthday to me."

"Yes, now, pants off, mister,” you ordered. “I don't want you coming in them." The sentence was punctuated with a wink.

What you said made him chuckle. "Yes, ma'am."

Stepping back from him, his hands went to the front of his jeans to quickly get them off. His belt clinked as he worked it open, hearing the teeth separate when he undid his zipper, the pants getting shoved down his legs, Javi having to do the awkward dance of lifting each foot to tug them off, along with his socks.

Once he was completely naked, he closed the distance between you, his big palms holding your face when he crushed his mouth to yours, kissing you hard. You snaked your hand down into the tight space your bodies had created to grab his throbbing cock, the skin velvety soft and hot to the touch, making him moan into the kiss. His hips bucked forward in your grip while you slowly pumped him. His hand massaged your breast and tweaked your nipple through the lace, his other palm tracing along your jawbone, the shell of your ear, and down to your neck, he gently held as you kissed, leaving a trail of fire under your skin.

"Let me show you your surprise," you murmured against his lips.

"'Mmkay," he said and didn't stop kissing you.

It was up to you to break away from him, Javi chasing your mouth when you did, making you grin and press your hand to his chest to softly push him back—his eyes were closed, his lips turned up in a smile, looking so unbelievably happy.

"Adorable," you whispered.

His chest was slightly heaving from his heavy breaths, his lips red and shining from saliva.

"Open those pretty brown eyes, babe,” you told him. “It’s time for your surprise." They blinked open, and he grabbed your waist.

"What is it?" he asked, his head dipping to kiss along the column of your throat. You took one of his hands and slid it behind you over your ass to between your cheeks.

His breath caught in his throat, his face popping up to meet your eyes with a look of surprise.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “Is that…?”

His reaction made you grin even bigger. “A very cute butt plug? Yes, it is.”

The plug was made out of smooth pink-colored glass with a tapered tip and bulbous body, the slender neck making it easy for your tight muscles to wrap around it and hold it in place, the flared base covering your hole shaped into a daisy flower.

As you said, it was very cute and filled you nicely—any time you moved, it had a tingle dancing up your spine, fueling the arousal sparking in your tummy.

His fingers were mapping out the flower, gliding over the petals, his gaze locking onto yours, seeing his cheeks had a lovely pink tint.

"Does this mean what I think it means…?" he asked with hope gleaming in those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his.

"That you can fuck my ass? Yes." You nodded. "I figured the toy would save us some time stretching me out."

He looked beyond delighted. "I am so fucking hard right now—how long have you been wearing it?"

"Since I excused myself at dinner to use the ladies' room—spoiler, I was in there getting this inside me; I brought lube and everything."

He was smiling. "My dirty fucking girl." His hand, not on your ass, came up to cup your cheek. "You kept adjusting in your seat when you got back, I thought you were horny—it's why I kept trying to touch your pussy—confused the fuck out of me that you wouldn't let me."

"I didn't want you to discover the lingerie or accidentally feel the plug."

"I get that now—can I see it?"

"Of course." You kissed him quickly and took a few steps to crawl up onto the bed, your hands and knees sinking into the mattress as you got onto all fours to present your ass to him. Seconds later, his warm palms were grabbing your asscheeks, spreading them.

You looked over your shoulder, and his eyes were glued to your backside.

"It’s so fucking pretty," he mused, rubbing a thumb over the base. “Can I take a picture?”

“Need it for your spank bank collection?”

In his bedside table was a stack of your nude Polaroids he liked to jack off to when the need very rarely arose.

His gaze lifted to yours with a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then go for it.”

He walked away from you to grab the Polaroid camera off his dresser, returning seconds later. One of his hands pushed aside a plump cheek to give him a better visual.

“I fucking love this,” he murmured. The camera flashed, then whirred as it ejected the photo, Javi setting both out of the way on the bed. He was back behind you, staring at what he’d just photographed. “Am I allowed to touch it?” he asked.

"It's your birthday—you get to do whatever the fuck you want to me; mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo (my body is your body)."

He looked you in the eyes.

"I love you so much. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky—you're perfect."

"You're perfect."

His thumb circled around the edges of the glass flower, making you moan when he experimented by pulling it out a little and pushing it back in, loving the stretch—he did it again and again, and, again, Javi leaning his head down to spit on your pussy, the fingers of his other hand spreading it through your slit to rub your clit.

There was no way to stop your gasping moans as the toy was fucking in and out of your tight hole at the same time his hand strummed your bundle of sensitive nerves like a virtuoso—the sensations had your eyes rolling back in your head, the muscles in your abdomen starting to tighten as he built you up, higher and higher.

You had to face forward, your arms giving out, and crossing in front of you to rest your head on them—this was going to end quickly with how fucking good it felt, and you weren’t surprised when your orgasm hit, pleasure washing over you with a loud cry of his name.

Your breaths were ragged, sweat beginning to form on your skin.

“My good girl,” Javi purred. Both of his hands suddenly stopped, and a palm smacked the side of your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp.

"I need to eat your pussy," his voice was deeper and huskier.

Your entire body flattened onto the bed, and you turned on your side to look at him. The words came out hoarse, "How do you want me?"

"We can do anything I want...?" he asked. "Is there, uh, anything you're not in the mood for?"

Your eyebrow lifted. "Aside from my regular things I'm not into, nope—I'm down for whatever you want. What do you have in mind?"

He smirked. "You sitting on my face?"

You smiled. "Of course, you'd wanna drown in my pussy on your birthday."

"Yeah, and, uh—" He scratched at the back of his neck. "—would you wanna suck me off while I did it...?"

With how much you guys fucked, you were pretty sure Javi had put you in every position imaginable, but this request was new. Sitting on his face was something you’d done many times, but adding in having you blow him at the same time had your cunt clenching hard around nothing.

"Um, yes," you answered, nodding your head. "That is definitely something I want to do. Get your cute little ass on this bed and get comfy." You patted the bedding beside you. "I wanna take that perfect mustache for a ride."

Javi chuckled as he got onto the mattress and moved up it to flop over on his back, resting his head on a pillow he fluffed to get cozy. His hard dick was lying against his belly, the tip glossy with precum and dripping into the happy trail of hair on his stomach.

It took him a second to get settled before he tapped his chest, his eyes heavy-lidded and crookedly smiling.

“Get up here, baby—this mustache isn’t gonna ride itself.”

You snorted and started to crawl his way.

"Dork," you said.

"One you love."

"That I do.”

When you got to his side, you swung yourself around to face his feet, getting your leg over his torso to straddle him. Javi gripped your thighs and pulled you back to have your wet pussy hovering over his face, two of his fingers spreading open the lips of your sex.

"So fucking pretty," he murmured. He inhaled deeply. "You smell so good, too."

His cock was in front of you, and you held yourself up with one arm to wrap the fingers of your other hand around his length.

"In case I haven't said it lately," you started, languidly stroking him, "you literally have the prettiest dick I've ever seen.”

It was true.

He did have the prettiest dick you've ever laid your eyes on—at full mast, he was just shy of eight inches, cut, not too thin, but not too girthy, either; it was just the right size that when he was inside you, there was a nice stretch and perfect fullness. On the underside of his shaft, two throbbing veins were crawling up the sides and another along the top you liked to trace with your tongue; licking around the velvety soft ridge at the tip and over his frenulum was a surefire way to drive him crazy and get him to make absolutely delicious noises, and when he was coming, you could feel him get bigger and jerk in your mouth, hand, or cunt. If you were looking, you could see his balls draw up and his cock pulse as he unloaded spurts and spurts of his come.

It was truly a work of art.

“And being in a medical profession,” you continued, “I’ve seen a lot of dicks—95% I wish I hadn't seen."

He snorted. "Thank you—you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of pussy."

"The prettiest pussy?" You didn't mean to sound so surprised. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, the prettiest and the fucking tastiest."

It was evident Javi was done with the conversation by how he tugged your hips down onto his face and began feasting—which was an apt descriptor for how he eagerly dove in and the groans he made that sounded like he was eating the best meal of his entire life.

He licked through your wetness and over the lips of your cunt to get every last drop of your arousal he could find on his tongue; it felt so amazing you forgot for a minute you were supposed to be sucking him off. Gripping him at the base, you took him into your mouth, your head bobbing as you sucked down more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.

His lips wrapped around your perky little clit, and when he sucked, it was like having lightning shock through you from the pleasure, your loud moan muffled by his cock in your mouth—it was hard to concentrate, and you put what little attention you had on the tip of him, licking along the sensitive ridge, pumping the rest of his spit-slick shaft with your palm that twitched, and loving how it made Javi whine.

He tasted salty from the steady leak of precum and clean, the scent of his skin smelling like the body wash he used in the shower. The lingering note coming through was Eucalyptus—woodsy, fresh, minty.

It was embarrassing that you were struggling to give him a basic blow job, doing your best not to get overwhelmed by his determined mouth trying to take you apart piece by piece as he licked, sucked, and tongue fucked you with abandon.

Fire was burning in your tummy and getting hotter with every second that passed. His dick was sliding along your palate to kiss the back of your throat, and you almost choked when he pulled and pushed on the toy in your ass.

It was skating the line of too much, how the plug was moving a little out to stretch your hole and being shoved back in to fill you again—thinking was hard, and you had to come off of him, unable to keep from moaning or stop your limbs from trembling.

“Oh, god,” you whined. “Oh, fuck.”

With how intense it felt, there was no way you could focus on sucking him off. What you could do was continue stroking his length, your hand gliding easily up and down while you were rocketing toward your end from him fucking you with the toy and sucking your clit. Your hips were moving of their own accord, rocking back to help fuck yourself and grind against his mouth.

Sixty-nining sounded fun in theory. The problem you ran into was your fiancé was relentless in wanting to make you come as hard as humanly possible, which made it practically impossible for you to do your part—it was too distracting. The pleasure had consumed all of your thoughts, and you could barely function.

The coil was winding inside you, getting tighter and tighter until it snapped, and euphoria was exploding from your center with a cry of his name, feeling your orgasm throughout your entire body from the tips of your fingers to your toes. Immediately, he shoved his tongue inside your fluttering hole to lick up your release, refusing to let a single drop of your come go to waste, and you could feel and hear his moans as you experienced the aftershocks of your climax.

With how hard you came, your hand paused on him, your upper body dropping, resting your head on his thigh to catch your breath and ride out your high.

Javi stopped behind you, lifting you from his face and inhaling deeply, taking big gasps of air.

"You okay?" his voice was rough.

"Mhmm," you hummed, speaking seeming too hard.

"You need a minute?"

"Mhmm."

"Let go of my dick."

You did as he asked and squeaked in surprise when he pushed you over to fall to the bed on your side.

"Sorry," he said. The mattress jostled, and pained grunts sounded from him, finding yourself seconds later getting wrapped up in his arms with your head on his chest.

“Did it feel good?” he asked and kissed your hair.

“Mhmm.”

“You come so quick with stuff in your ass.”

You smiled, finally finding your words. “You also come quick with stuff in your ass.”

“Yeah, I do—do you want me to fuck you while you’re wearing it?”

“Do you want to fuck me while I’m wearing it?”

“I wanna see how tight it makes you.”

“Uh-huh, and you wanna come in my pussy because you are on a mission to knock me up, and you would hate missing a chance.”

“That’s not all—it helps me last when I fuck your ass.”

“That’s true. It’s basically a medicinal cream pie. You know, earlier this year, they came out with a pill to help men keep it up, and we had a guy come into the ER who’d taken one—which, just so you’re aware,” you sidetracked, “if you have an erection lasting more than four hours, you need to seek medical help, and this dude was at almost six hours with a raging boner.”

He was frowning. “Did it go down on its own…?”

“Nope. A doctor had to use a syringe to remove some of the blood.”

"Jesus Christ, just thinking about that makes my dick hurt."

"Sorry." You rubbed your hand over his pec. "Let's talk about something else."

"Where'd you get the toy?"

A reasonable question, seeing as the closest sex shop was hours away in the big city.

"Okay, remember last month when you, me, Robyn, and Seb—" Sebastián, or Seb, was Robyn's boyfriend and Javi's cousin. "—spent that weekend in San Antonio, and you guys let us have our girls-only spa day while you and Seb went to see that movie about corrupt NSA agents that annoyed the fuck out of you because they got a lot of the government shit wrong, which you explained in excruciating detail to Seb at a bar afterward? Well, after the spa, she took me to a sex shop, and we bought some stuff."

"If you’re gonna make a movie about a government agency, you should do the fucking research,” he grumbled. His tone changed to intrigue, “What else did you buy…?"

"Some flavored lube and fluffy handcuffs. I was super picky about the kind of plug I wanted because you’d be surprised how many people come into the hospital with things stuck in their asses.” A memory made you snort. “Oh my god, so one time, this man came in with probably twenty or so of those bigger marbles? You know, the ones that are about double the size of a regular one? Lodged up his butt. When he was asked how they got stuck in there, he told everyone he was at home, standing on a step ladder, cleaning the cobwebs from the ceiling when he accidentally fell off and onto a container of them—this man stood by his story that instead of the marbles scattering everywhere when he fell on them, they magically made their way inside him.”

“What the fuck?” Javi said in disbelief. “He really thought people would believe he was cleaning without pants on, fell, and marbles just went up his ass? That makes zero fucking sense.”

“People come up with the stupidest lies when they’re embarrassed.”

“Like when you told the hotel staff we were checking out early because my nephew was viciously attacked by a duck?”

“You’re a jerk.” You pinched his nipple, making him flinch and laugh. “You’re just never going to let me live that down, huh?”

He grabbed your hand to kiss your palm. “No—you’re a terrible liar.”

“Rude.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed each of your fingers. “Did you buy anything else at the shop?”

“No, because I wanna go there with you to pick out things we’d enjoy."

He perked up, immediately responding, "We could go next weekend?"

"Shopping the weekend before Christmas? That would be a special kind of hell. Sorry, babe, we'll have to wait till next month." You got your hand free of him and patted his chest.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. "Fine."

Things needed to get back to being horny, so you threw your leg over his waist and moved to sit on top of him with your knees bracketing his hips. His cock was wet from saliva and hard beneath you, and you leaned forward to kiss him, holding yourself up with your arms on either side of his head—this wasn't a peck on the lips or something chaste; this was a kiss that told him you wanted him. The kind of kiss that had his big hands grabbing onto your behind and groaning into your mouth. A kiss where things quickly heated up, and he was helping you grind your wet cunt over his dick, coating it in your slick. A kiss that turned into desperation for him to be inside you.

“Mmm, need lube,” you said into his lips. Sitting up, you leaned to get under the large, folded, black towel near the edge of the bed to grab the small bottle. You popped the cap, pouring a little bit into your palm before closing it and letting it fall onto the mattress beside you.

“With how huge your dick is,” you started as you lifted your hips up. “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna fit without some help.” Javi’s mouth fell open when you grabbed his cock under you, getting it nice and slick with the strokes of your hand.

His throat bobbed, swallowing. “Good call.” With how his eyes widened for a split second, you knew an idea had come to him. He grabbed your thighs. “Wait,” he said.

Your hand paused. “What’s up?”

“I wanna change positions.”

That had your eyebrows lifting in interest. “Oh?”

He was crookedly smiling. “Hands and knees, baby,” he replied, with a light slap to your hip.

“Oh, hell yeah.” You’d finished lubing him up and quickly moved onto the bed next to him, getting into the position he requested, your hands and slightly spread knees sinking into the mattress. Javi groaned when he flipped over and rose up onto his knees, the bedsprings complaining as he shuffled around to get behind you.

The smartest decision you made when you moved in together was upgrading to a king-sized bed—there was so much room for sexy activities.

Bending forward, he reached to grab the camera and set it in a place where it was easily accessible but not in the way.

He slid his dick through your drenched folds, notching himself at your entrance, his other hand holding your hip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said. “Okay?”

Looking over your shoulder, you met his eyes that were more black than brown. “Yes,” you answered.

He smiled. “Good girl—ready?”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes closing for a moment. He looked at you again. “Me vas a matar (You’re going to kill me).”

“If by kill, you mean la petite mort, then yeah, handsome, I’m gonna make you come so hard.” You winked. “Now, stick it in.” You pressed back the tiniest bit to have the tip of him starting to enter you.

“And you call me bossy when I’m horny,” he mumbled.

There wasn’t a chance to respond since moans sounded from the both of you as he slowly started sinking into you, taking his time to let your body adjust to being stuffed with each glorious inch of him until he was buried all the way to the root inside of you.

Full didn’t accurately describe how you felt with the plug in your ass pressing against his thick cock—you were beyond full. You honestly couldn’t believe he was able to fit; you couldn’t believe you were able to take him. It was so overwhelming, it had you whimpering, squeezing your eyes shut.

Javi’s voice came out strained, “Are you okay?”

There was no way you could hold yourself up on your arms with it requiring too much concentration, so you let your upper body fall to the bed, cradling your head with your limbs.

“Yes,” the word was said on a breath.

All of the nerves in your body were aflame, feeling like static was thrumming under your skin. You were okay—you just needed a minute to get used to having both of your holes filled at the same time.

“Okay, baby.” He rubbed a comforting hand along the line of your spine. “Tell me when you want me to move.”

He picked up the Polaroid camera.

“Definitely gonna jerk off to this,” he murmured, and you heard the camera snap the picture and the gears whir to spit it out—he’d taken a photo of himself inside of you while you wore the plug.

The camera and picture were set aside.

There was a question you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “Am I tighter?”

He huffed out a breath. “Feels like you’re choking my dick with that toy in your ass—so, yeah, you’re tighter. You’ll probably cut off the circulation when I make you come, and you squeeze around me.”

Even though it was a struggle to think of anything other than the fullness, he made you worry. “Are you uncomfortable?” you asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”

“Mi amor.” He bent over your back to kiss the hair behind your ear, speaking softly, “I’m okay—I like how it feels. I’m really fucking worried I’m gonna come too fast.”

That made you feel better.

After an ample amount of time had passed for you to get used to everything, you said, “Move.”

He nipped at the shell of your ear, grunting as he straightened. He gripped your asscheeks and slowly dragged his cock halfway out of your sopping cunt before thrusting back in, stealing your breath. His pace started out languid to allow you to adapt to the feeling of him moving inside you, rough sounds rumbling from his chest, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

The plug made it easier for him to rub against all those spots that made fireworks dance behind your eyelids. Sweat glistened on your skin, the pleasure making you dizzy, and even though it had only just begun, you were already on the cusp of falling over the edge—intense was an understatement for how you felt. The heat was growing deep inside you, deeper than it usually did, the muscles in your tummy constricting.

His hips were slowly fucking into you, Javi grunting, and it was like nothing you had felt before—feeling so full and falling apart with every thrust.

“Oh, god, Javi,” you whined. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come.”

With how he spoke through clenched teeth, you knew he was fighting for his life not to finish so soon, “Come for me, baby.” He smacked your ass, the pleasurable sting making you clench and his rhythm stutter. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re so fucking tight—it feels so good.”

It was wet and sticky where you were joined, Javi coaxing wave after wave of arousal from your pussy that soaked his cock and dripped down to coat his balls—his thrusts were loud, squelching sounding every time he pushed in. Moans were escaping your lips while deeper noises ripped from his chest.

Javier wasn’t a tiny guy—just his cock made you feel full, and now you had it pressing into your sensitive walls against a rigid toy that turned up the sense of fullness to a ten and felt so fucking incredible that when he sped up his strokes, you were done for; pleasure erupted from deep in your depths that had your mouth opening in a silent scream and every muscle in your body pulling taut, hearing the man behind you let out a strangled groan as he suddenly stopped moving.

No thoughts could form in your brain, your chest rising and falling hard, your pussy pulsing as you rode out the high. Your ears rang, and you were too out of it to make out what Javi was saying, him sounding like the adults in a Peanuts film; a muted trombone going, ”Wah wah wah.”

A body pressed against your back, feeling hot breaths on your ear.

“Cielito?” he whispered.

“Mhmm?” you hummed.

“You okay, mi amor?”

“Mhmm,” you answered and gave him a thumbs up.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

The words slurred from your mouth, “Yes, please. I want you to come.”

“Okay. If it gets to be too much, tell me.” He kissed your hair, a pained sound leaving him as he moved up on his knees again.

Each time you’d done anal in the past, he’d made you come so many times you ended up passing out afterward. This time, though, the orgasms had been much stronger, and it was already hard to keep your eyes open—there was a chance if you had another, it was going to put you to sleep, and you knew Javi wouldn’t care, but you felt bad about possibly needing a little nap before he had a chance to fuck your ass.

“Javi?” you said.

“Yes, baby?” His palms slid along your sides from your waist to just below your ribs.

“I’m sorry if I fall asleep…”

He sounded confused. “Why are you apologizing for that…?”

“Because I know you’re super excited my ass is up for grabs tonight, and I feel bad I might have to make you wait while I take a little snooze.”

“Cielito, mi amor, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m gonna tell you something that might surprise you.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting to fuck your pussy like this is better than fucking your ass.”

That surprised you so much that your eyes popped open, and you almost couldn’t believe him, except you knew he wasn’t lying since he was always truthful with you. Your knees were still under you with your butt up in the air, and Javi nestled all of the way inside you, your chest pressed to the mattress. You twisted your upper body to look back at him.

His forehead was shiny with sweat, his hair sticking wetly to it, a beautiful flush rising from his chest up to his cheeks, his darkened eyes meeting yours.

“Are you serious?” you asked.

His eyebrow arched. “Yeah? Why would I lie? Think about it—the plug makes your pussy so fucking tight, and I get to come in it.” He put it into plainer terms, “You’re tighter than hell, and I could knock you up.”

“Oh, you’re having the best time.”

He smiled. “I’m having the best fucking time.”

“You like the plug?”

“I love the plug. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, makes me come harder.”

“Then stop feeling bad.” He slapped your ass, and it made you tense, his mouth going slack and eyes closing at you clenching around his dick. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his throat worked as he swallowed hard. “It’s okay if you pass out,” he said. “I might pass out, too.”

He pulled himself almost all of the way out of your cunt, and pushed back in, the fullness making your head spin and pleasure simmer in your belly. He was definitely going to get you off again, and you no longer worried about what would happen when you did.

He was going to come, and it'd only been—he looked over at the red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table—eight fucking minutes since he first put his dick inside her, or more accurately, worked his dick inside her.

Javier knew it was going to be a tight fit, but what he hadn't expected was it feeling like when he pressed into her ass: the ring of muscle squeezing him hard as he fed himself into her. With the addition of the plug, there was the same tightness, yet it wasn't only at the opening; it extended further into her, massaging his cock with her hot, tight, velvety walls. He was balancing on a razor's edge to not blow his load, and her coming didn't help with how it made her pussy strangle his dick to the point it was toeing the line of being painful.

He was in heaven.

And when he made her come again, he knew she was going to take him with her.

He was rock hard, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, and skin coated in a thin layer of sweat—Javier was wound up so tight, a ball of tension had formed in his gut that was threatening to burst; she said the toy made her come harder, and it looked like it was going to be the same for him.

His fingers dug into the soft skin on her hips, sliding himself in and out of her wet heat and having to take a big, calming breath, slowly letting it out to get himself under control and focus on not finishing so quickly.

Shifting his gaze down, he could see his cock covered in her juices, glimmering under the lights of the room before sheathing it back inside of her, and the pretty, pink glass flower covering her asshole. He was so sensitive from being close to losing it, the pressure from the toy's solid body and the warmth of her were driving him crazy and making him throb.

He increased the speed of his movements, gritting his teeth, her sounds spurring him on. He wanted to make her come once more, but he didn't have much time with the pleasure welling up in him and growing with every passing second.

His hand gripped her asscheek, his strokes not waning as the fingers of his other hand got ahold of the plug's flared base, pulling on it to stretch her hole until only the tip remained, and slipping it back in, doing that over and over again, and out of sync to his own thrusts.

The way she loudly moaned his name and stretched her arms out in front of her to clutch the bedding with her cheek to the mattress had him twitching inside of her, electricity shocking through his body. Her pussy was pulsating around him, her arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his sack, and he knew she was close.

"You gonna give me one more, Cielito?" he grunted, continuing to fuck her with his dick and the toy. "Does it feel good getting both of your holes fucked?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Oh my fucking god, it feels so good, Javi." Her hands clenched the sheets, her body shaking. "You’re fucking me so good—marry me; put a baby in me." His rhythm faltered for a second at the stab of pleasure in his belly, and he groaned.

The muscles in his groin started contracting, his orgasm imminent, and he tried to hold it off. His hips moved faster, beads of perspiration dripping down his face and the small of his back.

"I will," he panted. "I'll marry you; I'll fuck a baby into you. I'll do anything you ask me to." His eyes were cinched tight, and he was so lost in her that his thoughts were flowing freely from his mouth. "Dime cuándo, y te haré mi esposa (Tell me when, and I'll make you my wife). En cualquier momento, soy tuyo (Any time, I'm yours). Siempre seré tuyo (I'll always be yours). Puedes tener mi apellido (You can have my last name). Seguiré intentándolo hasta que estés embarazada con nuestro bebé (I'll keep trying until you're pregnant with our baby). Serás la madre de mis hijos (You will be the mother of my children). I can't fucking wait—come for me," he ordered. "Give me one more, and my come is yours. I'll pump you full of it. I'll put a baby in you. Come for me," he all but begged.

That was it.

She gasped his name, her body going stiff, and cunt spasming, wringing out his own orgasm—his hips went flush to her ass, burying himself as deep as possible in her depths, the tightly wound ball in his belly snapping hard enough, he fell forward, blanketing her back. The sounds he made were guttural as pleasure seared through his entire being, his cock pulsing and pumping so many spurts of his come he thought it might never end.

His brain went blissfully blank, his body completely lax, his soul possibly leaving him for some seconds since everything went dark, and he couldn't think of a single thought.

When he came to, he was bone tired and on the verge of falling asleep. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to bring her with him as he moved to lie on his side, her limbs trembling, and he knew she was sleeping when there was no reaction to him removing the toy from inside her; it was tossed onto the bed near them, and then he tugged on the duvet behind him to pull it over their bodies and hugged her close with one arm, pressing his nose into her hair to breathe in her comforting scent, the ring on the hand he was holding causing him to pass out while happily thinking about how pretty soon she’d be his wife.

Time passed as they slumbered, minutes turning into hours. They shifted in their sleep and he woke when the warmth of her front pressed along the line of his spine disappeared, the springs in the mattress softly squeaking as she moved to get off it with a whispered, "Sorry." He heard her walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

He threw the blanket off of him and got out of bed, not caring at all that he was naked as his bare feet took him to the kitchen, where he got two large cups of cold water.

When Cielito came back into the bedroom, she found him standing by the bed chugging one of the glasses, and she joined him to drink her own. He finished before her, setting his empty cup on the nearby bedside table and taking some steps to end up behind her, wrapping his arms around her lingerie-covered middle. His lips met the side of her neck, kissing up it to nibble on her ear.

She hummed in appreciation, resting her free hand on one of his arms. She swallowed her drink of water. "Did you have a good time, baby?" she asked.

He spoke softly in her ear, "Yes."

Her fingers slid along his arm.

"Good. Are you up for another round, or do you wanna shower, and we can cuddle on the couch and watch something?"

Truth be told, he was exhausted from how eventful the last four days had been, and he didn't think he had the energy to go again—he was drained, and his dick was starting to ache from using it so much in Miami.

"Shower and couch," he answered, kissing a spot behind her ear. Her hand came up to press her fingers into his hair, and it made him shiver.

"Sounds good. Let me finish my water, and then we can go get clean."

"Thank you for today." He was peppering kisses along her shoulder now.

"You're welcome, babe. I'm happy you enjoyed it."

"I loved it."

"I love you."

"I know. I love you, too—I love you so fucking much."

"Same."

Forty-five minutes later, they were clean and changed—Javier was wearing his grey sweatpants, and his future wife was in a faded, thinned, oversized purple t-shirt and her underwear. She was sitting on the kitchen counter beside him eating a grilled cheese while he made his own sandwich on the stove.

At dinner, he noticed she didn’t eat much, and when he quietly asked if she was feeling okay, she told him she was fine and just not very hungry, which turned out to be a dirty fucking lie with how her stomach loudly grumbled on their way to take a shower. So, the first thing he did after they were dressed was feed her; she tried to fight him that it was his birthday and she should be cooking for him, and he responded by telling her it was his birthday and he wanted to make her something to eat. She agreed to grilled cheese sandwiches, and he had to sit her ass on the counter and tell her not to move in order to keep her from trying to help him.

“This is the best grilled cheese I have ever had in my entire life,” she said around the food in her mouth.

He huffed out a breath, flipping the sandwich in the pan with a black plastic spatula. “You’re only saying that because you’re fucking starving,” he replied.

She swallowed. “Lies—it’s the world’s best. You could win awards for how good this is.” Half of her sandwich was already eaten, and she took another bite.

Javier set the plastic utensil onto the counter on his other side and stepped to have himself standing between her legs. He rubbed his palms up her bare thighs, kissing her forehead. “I’m glad you like the sandwich, Cielito,” he said, looking at her. “Do you want me to make you another?”

She was chewing and shook her head, swallowing. “No, thank you. One is enough.”

“I can cut up some fruit? We got enough today at the grocery store for me to make you a fruit salad?”

Her hand pressed to his cheek, her gaze turning soft, and he leaned into her palm. “I’m okay, Javi,” she said. “This one sandwich is enough.”

He frowned. “You told me you were fine at the restaurant and not very hungry, but that wasn’t true, mi amor. I know it was because of the sex tonight—”

“Birthday sex,” she interrupted. “Birthday sex is special and worth going a little hungry for.” “I disagree with that…” His sandwich was finished, and he moved back to the stove, sliding it directly from the pan and onto a waiting plate next to the spatula.

“What do you mean you disagree with that?” she asked.

He put the pan on one of the cold back burners and switched off the stove, returning to his spot in front of her. His eyes were on hers, smoothing his hands along her thighs and under her shirt to hold her hips. “I mean that we’re trying to have a baby, and I don’t like the idea of you not eating enough for yourself and our child just so we can fuck.”

“Oh.” Her attention went to her lap.

“In the future, eat as much as you need—do something light if you’re really worried.” He lifted her chin with his finger to look at him. “Can you promise me that, Cielito? Can you do that for me so I won’t worry?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Thank you.” He slotted his lips against hers, kissing her tenderly. When they separated, he asked, “Another sandwich or fruit?”

“Fruit, please,” she answered. “Can you do it with Tajín and chamoy like the fruit cart?”

She was talking about the fruit cart on the side of one of the busier streets downtown where you could get freshly cut fruits like mango, jícama, papaya, and watermelon, and they did vasos de frutas (fruit cups) similar to the street vendors in Mexico; cups filled with a variety of cubed fruits and topped with Tajín (a powder made of chile, lime, and salt), and chamoy (a thick sauce made out of pickled fruit like mango, plums, and apricot that was mixed with spicy chiles, and a salty brine—it’s a tasty mixture that was sweet, spicy, salty, and sour).

The combined ingredients created a refreshing snack that perfectly balanced the sweet, tangy, and spicy flavors.

He smiled. “Of course, mi amor.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips before making his way to the fridge to start getting out the fruits.

She hopped off the counter after she finished her sandwich to stand next to him, holding up his grilled cheese for him to take bites of while he chopped the fruit and chatting with him about random things on her mind.

They were sitting on the couch, her legs on his lap, and had just finished their vasos de frutas (fruit cups), which ended up being tazones de frutas (fruit bowls) while they watched the first Jurassic Park movie. His empty bowl was on the coffee table in front of them, his hands busy gliding over her legs and thighs. She leaned forward to set her dish down beside his as Dr. Malcolm discussed the moral implications of the island's scientists only caring about what they could and couldn't do and not if they should. Cielito moved to get up, and his face lifted toward hers.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Her eyes met his. "First, I'm gonna go put the bowls in the sink." She bent to pick up one in each hand and straightened. "Then I need to go grab something."

"What do you need, and I'll get it?" He started to stand, wanting to help so they could get back to cuddling quicker.

"Nope,” she said, and he stopped. "I'll get it. You just sit there and keep looking pretty." She smiled.

He frowned. "Okay."

She left the room, and he couldn't pay attention to what was on the television, instead listening to her rinsing the bowls out in the kitchen sink, followed by her footsteps as she made her way back through the living room, his head turning to watch her on her journey into the bedroom where she disappeared from view.

He wondered what she needed—maybe she wanted to paint her nails and had to choose a color of nail polish. Or she was going to get the stuff for face masks, which was something he enjoyed; his skin hadn't looked this good since he was in his early twenties.

"I'll be out in a minute, babe," she called from the other room. "I need to check the message on the answering machine."

"Take your time," he replied, hoping she didn't.

The fingers of his right hand were tapping absentmindedly on his knee.

His gaze went up to the clock on the wall, seeing it was a little after eleven, his eyes following the big hand as it ticked away each second.

Tick, tick, tick.

A whole minute passed before she returned to him, his eyebrows pulling together at her frowning face.

"Who called?" he asked.

"My mother."

That explained it.

"What did she want?"

"She said she had some exciting news and needed to talk to me about something important."

"Any idea what either could be...?"

A long, drawn-out sigh left her. "Yeah, most likely it's to tell me my brother's wife is pregnant again—they've been trying for months."

She found out they started trying the night he first told her he loved her. His face relaxed, understanding now that she was upset by the possible news.

He rose from the sofa and went to her in three steps, wrapping her in his arms to hold her close. He kissed her cheek and whispered, "It'll be us telling people the same news soon—they just had a head start. Don't let it get you down, okay? Everything is okay. We're okay. We’re happy, and that’s all that fucking matters."

He felt her relax in his hold.

"You're right—they've had more time."

He pulled back to look at her, smiling softly.

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure I can knock you up in the same amount of months. Hell, maybe I'll be so fucking good at it that I’ll get you pregnant with twins."

That made her giggle, and her mouth turned up in his favorite smile.

"You're ridiculous," she said. "It's not a competition."

"It is now—we're gonna beat their time."

She playfully rolled her eyes.

"I love you, you goober." She kissed him, and when she broke away, there was a serious look on her face. "Let's stick to one baby for my first pregnancy, please."

"That's not how it works..." he said slowly. "It's a gamble, Cielito."

"Yes, I know that Javier, but let's not put the idea out into the universe."

"Okay—un bebé (one baby). That's all I'll wish for or whatever the fuck."

"Even though I know you're being a lying liar who lies because you'd be beyond happy if there was more than one baby—“ That was true; he’d love getting two babies for the price of one. “—I appreciate the thought. Now, enough about me. You need to open your birthday present."

His face scrunched in confusion. "Didn't I do that when I took off your clothes…?"

"That was only the sexy birthday present. I also got you an actual present."

He was so worried about her that he hadn’t realized she was holding something. She held up a rectangular gift wrapped in solid, bright red wrapping paper.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. “Today was perfect.”

“Sure, but as I told you when you were undressing me, you’re getting spoiled tonight. Please open this. I’m nervous about it.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking it from her.

“Because I put a lot of time into it, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it, but there’s a chance it’ll make you sad.”

That had him curious. He stepped away and grabbed her hand to lead her to the couch, pulling her down to sit beside him.

It wasn’t too heavy or light, and when he felt it, it was firm. He thought it might be a book. Tearing open the wrapping paper, he discovered it was actually a maroon-colored leather-bound photo album.

He glanced over at her.

“We have our photo album of us we put together. What’s this one?”

He asked the question even though he had an idea of what it could be.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Open it, and you’ll see.”

He did as he was instructed, and his breath caught in his throat—the first picture was of him as a newborn being held by his mother in a hospital bed. His birth hadn’t been the easiest, and the exhaustion was clear on her face, yet she was grinning. The next photo was in the same spot, but this time, she was gazing at him in her arms with a look that showed she was in love and unbelievably happy. His eyes started watering, turning to the next page to find more pictures of newborn him and his mom now taken at home. All the pages after that featured the same thing: it was always just him and his mom. Some of the photos he’d seen in other albums his father had, there were many, though, that this was the first time he’d come across them.

He lost count of how many were of them in the kitchen, seeing them both age through the years and him doing more to help her as he grew.

There was one where he was maybe three, standing on a dining room chair with his mother beside him as he used a tortilladora (tortilla press) on the table to flatten tortillas, one perfectly done on the plate. His face was turned up toward her with a toothy grin, and she was gazing upon him fondly and clearly proud—it was the first time he had made a tortilla.

He was maybe six in another, using a stool in order to reach the stove with her watching from behind him as he stirred a giant pot he knew had the sauce for her tamales—it was the first time she walked him step by step on how to make them, and it reminded him of something she said that day: “Un día, tu esposa hará esta receta y necesitas poder ayudarla, así que presta atención, Javiercito (One day, your wife will make this recipe and you need to be able to help her, so pay attention, Javier).” And she was right. He had used what she taught him to help his wif-fiancée make her tamales. He even showed Cielito some of the techniques his mother used to make the process easier.

His father had captured a lot of wonderful moments, including one when he had to be about ten with how he’d shot up in height and was almost as tall as his mother—they had matching grins and were mid-dance in the kitchen, her left hand held in his right and their arms around each other’s backs.

So many memories came back to him of times they spent together, and there was even a picture of the last time they made a tres leches cake for his birthday, both laughing about something he couldn’t remember, and it made him smile at how happy they looked.

The final photo was of him in his senior year of college after a swim meet. He’d changed back into his clothes—some jeans and a baby blue button-up shirt, his hair still wet, and a gold medal around his neck. His mother was embracing him from the side, her head barely reaching his shoulders, Javier hugging her back; big smiles were on their faces, and happiness was shining in their matching chocolate-colored eyes as they looked at the camera.

Seeing all of the sweet moments they shared already had him on the verge of tears, and this one broke him, knowing it was his last competition before he met Lorraine—his shoulders shook with sobs as he let himself cry.

The album only contained the memories of before his life went to shit—when he was on track to make his dream of swimming in the Olympics come true, his mother was still alive, he hadn’t hurt his parents with his bad choices, and life was good and still made sense.

“Oh, Javi,” Cielito’s voice was soft, and he welcomed her arms that enveloped him. “I’m so sorry—I worried it’d upset you. I shouldn’t have made this. I’ll take the pictures back to Pop’s.” She reached for the album, and he held it away.

“No,” he said through the tears, his words coming out gravelly. “It’s perfect—I love it.” Closing the book, he set it on the coffee table in front of them before he twisted his body to pull her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. Her hands were rubbing soothingly over his back. “Thank you,” his muffled voice said, tears wetting her skin. “Thank you for making it—it brought back so much happy shit I’d forgotten.”

“You really love the album?” she asked.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes and nodded with a little smile. “Yeah, it really is perfect. You wanna know something?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to show it to our kids one day.” Her face brightened. “I know you’ll probably cook with them, and they’ll love seeing photos of their abuela (grandma) and papá (dad) doing the same.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely cooking with our kids,” she said, and it had warmth spread through his veins. “Your dad let me go through the boxes, plural, of loose photos he has—side note, I have never seen so many, and I’m pretty sure he’s single-handedly keeping the one-hour photo kiosk in business.”

“Probably,” he chuckled.

Growing up, whenever his father wasn’t working out on the ranch, he was spending time with Javier and his mom, and it was pretty typical for Chucho to get out his camera or video camera to snap pictures or record whatever they were doing—his dad was a sentimental guy. With Javier being his only child, he wanted to ensure they documented as much as possible to look back on fondly.

“Anyways,” she continued. “I went through hundreds, maybe even thousands of photos, and in every single one of you with your mom in the kitchen, you both look so fucking happy, and then add in that some of your favorite memories are cooking with her, and I want that for our babies, too. I want them to have happy memories of learning to cook with their mom and dad.”

His vision was blurring with unshed tears, feeling so unbelievably happy he might combust.

“You want me there, too?”

“Um, yes, Javi. As your mother would say, ‘Eres mi buena suerte (You’re my good luck).’ You gotta be there to at least take a ton of pictures.”

He was smiling. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” She kissed him, just a press of her lips to his, and it wasn’t enough; he deepened it with a swipe of his tongue along her bottom lip, and when she granted him access by opening her mouth a little, he was delving inside to tangle their tongues.

He didn’t know how he got so lucky finding her—she was perfect. Somehow, she made him fall more in love with her with each passing day.

Hearing her say she wanted their children to experience the same happiness he did with his mother had him feeling over the moon and even more excited about them starting their family—she was going to be an incredible mom to their kids, and it filled him with joy knowing, without a doubt, they’ll get to grow up like him with parents who will not only love them more than anything but each other to the point their children will be disgusted by their open affection. Their kids were going to have happy childhoods where they knew they were loved and cherished and got nothing but encouragement for their dreams. It would be drastically different than how Cielito was raised, and that was what she wanted; she couldn’t fathom treating her children the same way her parents treated her. There wouldn’t be one kid who was loved more than another, and they definitely were going to be proud of their babies no matter what. She was breaking a cycle of neglect and impossible standards to ensure their children only knew love and acceptance.

Their breaths were coming out heavier when their mouths detached.

She smiled, the sentence coming out breathy, “Happy birthday, Javi.”

He shared her look. “Thank you for making it amazing—made me almost forget I’m old now.”

She huffed in exasperation. “You turned forty, Javi. You’re not old. If it makes you feel any better, I’m happy to report you’ve still got a bangin’ bod and continue being a sex god.”

“You’re calling me a sex god again?” His eyebrow rose.

“I never stopped calling you a sex god, and let’s look at the facts:” She held up one finger. “Stamina of someone in their twenties.” The next digit went up. “The experience of a forty-year-old that’s spent a lot of time fucking.” Another finger rose. “Makes his partner come every time.” The next digit extended. “Actually knows how to use his mouth and fingers.” The final finger went up. “Has the biggest and prettiest dick known to man—face it, babe, you’re a bonafide sex god; I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a statue of you in some sex temple somewhere.”

His chest had puffed out a little from her praise, and what she said made him snort, Javier, smiling. “What is it with you and statues of me?”

She pushed his bangs off of his forehead. “Um, did you not hear the part where I said you have a bangin’ bod and the biggest and prettiest dick known to man? You’d make a sexy statue—hotter than Prince Eric’s, and that’s saying something.” Both of her hands came up to hold his face as she stared him in the eyes. “What you should get from this is I find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies, and I’ll still find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies next year, and the year after that and the year after that; you get the picture. Basically, I do not give a single fuck about how old you are because you are aging like the finest wine, sweetcheeks, and I am so unbelievably horny for you.”

From the way she was looking at him, he knew she was telling the truth, and it made him feel some relief. He’d been dreading this day, and he was starting to realize there was no reason to—he was older and wiser, engaged to marry the most amazing woman on the planet, in the process of starting his family, working a job he didn’t hate, and he was back home, where he belonged (even if some of the townspeople thought otherwise). He was happy, truly happy, and yeah, it wasn’t an easy journey, and it took him a while to get to this point, but he made it, and that was all that fucking mattered.

Mondays were the worst.

Mondays after a lovely vacation were the worst of the worst.

Honestly, it should be illegal having to go back to work on a Monday after being away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, so here you were sitting at the nurse's station desk, a bit past ten in the morning, notating a chart, and nervously waiting for your first break that was in—you glanced at the watch on your wrist—five minutes.

"Still nervous?" Came the Texas twang of your coworker/best friend, Robyn, who pulled out the rolly chair beside you and sat down.

Her long, chestnut curls were pulled back into a ponytail, and she looked ready to model with how perfectly she’d done her makeup; firetruck-red lipstick was coating her full lips, her big blue eyes accentuated with an outline of black mascara and eyeliner, her cheeks rosy, and face blemish free without being caked in foundation and concealer—she could be on the cover of the American Journal of Nursing magazine with her being in her blue scrubs.

Your head turned her way, frowning. "Yes, because I know, in my bones, it's not gonna go well."

She gave you a reassuring smile and put her hand on your arm. "And that's why you're doin’ it on your fifteen-minute break. It gives you a time limit, and havin’ to get back to work is a great excuse to end things."

You weren't convinced. "I guess..."

"I'm sorry, girl, but this is somethin’ you have to do and it'll be better to just rip off the bandaid."

"Maybe I'd prefer to keep the bandaid on and continue living in my perfect little bubble with the love of my life."

"Because the bubble is goin’ to burst one way or another, and at least this way, you're in control."

"I really don't want to do this…" you said truthfully. It had you feeling a little sick.

"I know, girl." She patted your forearm. "I can't promise it'll go well, but just remember you've got Javi and me for support, and you know as well as I do that man will up and leave work without a word to come here for you."

"That's true. He, uh, doesn't know..."

The other woman's eyebrows dipped. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"It's Javi—he'd worry too much and wouldn't be able to work. Now that we're doing this whole baby thing and getting married soon, it's like his caveman instincts have turned up to the max, and he's in protection mode 24/7. So, he's not going to find out about what's going on until after it happens."

"If you think that's best." Her eyes went to her wristwatch. "Looks like it's time." She met your gaze. "Go do it in the on-call room so you'll have some privacy."

You took a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering nerves in your belly. "Okay," you said as you pushed back in your chair to get up. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, you better come to get me."

She smiled. "That was the plan."

"You're the best."

The closest on-call room wasn't anything more than a small windowless room with a twin-size bed and a desk with a lamp and telephone atop it. The overhead light was on, and you'd locked the door upon entering, taking a seat at the desk. Picking up the phone's receiver, you pressed it to your ear, your other hand punching in the string of numbers from muscle memory, and hardly any thought.

Ring.

"Hello?" the familiar voice answered.

This was it. "Hi, Mom, it's me."

"Oh, good, you got my message. I was expecting your call yesterday."

"Sorry, it was Javi's birthday, and we went out to dinner to celebrate."

Her voice went tight. "I see... Remind me again how old he turned?"

"Forty."

"Forty years old, and he doesn't own a house or have a career? When your father turned forty, he was already the chief of surgery and had invented a procedure, but I guess they're two different men from two different backgrounds."

Your jaw clenched. "I don't appreciate you belittling the man I love, who had a very successful career in the DEA and helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and the Cali Cartel before he was forty—but please, go on about his ‘lack of career,’ and how he doesn’t measure up to Dad in your eyes; I’d be more than happy to end this call right now.”

The older woman sighed. “I’m just looking out for your best interests, but since it’s a sore subject, I won’t talk about him at all.”

The ‘best interests’ excuse made you roll your eyes so hard they were at risk of getting stuck in the back of your head.

"Fine—what's the exciting news you have?"

"Oh, yes," her tone shifted, hearing her excitement. "Your brother is having another baby, and it's a boy!" You fucking knew that was why she called, and you didn’t have it in you to be excited, not when the same news from you would have a vastly different reaction. "Your father and I are so excited to have another grandson," she continued. "I can't believe how blessed we are to have three grandchildren, a fourth on the way, and they’re all boys!"

"God forbid they had a girl," you mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said, wow, that's great," you spoke normally. "Well, give them my congratulations, and if that was all you wanted to tell me, I'm going to get back to work—I'm on break."

Yes, you were chickening out on telling her about your engagement.

"That isn't the only exciting news!"

"Yay, there's more," you deadpanned.

“If your father was home, he could give you more information, but his hospital is going through some staffing changes, and he got you a job to be the director of nursing—you can finally move back home!"

Um, what?

He got you a job you never even asked for or wanted?

The audacity of them doing this behind your back in an attempt to lure you home had stunned you into silence, anger threading through your chest and tummy.

"Are you still there?" she asked.

"I don't want a new job," you said calmly.

"You don't know what you're saying, sweetie. This would make you the head of the nursing program at his hospital and is much better than whatever it is you’re currently doing. You’d make substantially more than what you are right now, and it brings you closer to us, your family—it’s about time you come home, anyway. You’ve been away long enough and haven’t been making the best decisions.”

Tears were burning in your eyes at the blatant disregard for your feelings.

"I'm not leaving Laredo."

She sighed again. "What does that backwater town have to offer you? That hospital you're working for can't compete with what your father’s hospital is willing to pay, and there isn’t anything there worth staying for or tying you down—thank god you've been smart and haven't done anything stupid like get pregnant."

She managed to insult Javi and the life you built without outright saying the words, and it pissed you off how fucking rude she was in regards to your future husband—she could say whatever she wanted about you and the way you were living, but you wouldn’t stand for such vitriol toward your fiancé.

"I'm getting married,” you blurted.

Her line went completely silent, and you thought she might’ve hung up until she said, “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. What did you say?”

“Javi proposed—we’re getting married, and that isn’t the only exciting news; we’ve started trying for a baby.” Informing people that you were getting fucked raw and filled like a Boston cream donut on the regular made you wish the earth would completely swallow you up so you didn’t have to feel such embarrassment; it being socially acceptable to openly discuss your sex life when it had to do with procreation would never make any sense to you.

“I know Javier doesn’t meet your standards,” you continued, “however, he more than meets mine, and I wish you could see how incredible he is and how happy he makes me, but the only things you care about is the amount of money in his bank account and career choice; which, again, people all over are aware of who The Javier Peña is because of the work he did with the DEA. He was a hot commodity when he returned to the States, and agencies all over the country were trying to bag him.

“Just because he’s not in the same tax bracket as you,” you kept speaking, “and he can’t buy me a big mansion we don’t even need, doesn’t make him any less of a person. Honestly, he’s better than you—he’s better than you. He’s better than Dad, and he’s definitely better than that golden child you worship, who couldn’t even make it into his Ivy League school without you buying his way in. Javi got a full-ride scholarship to his dream university because of how talented he was at swimming,” you said proudly.

“My fiancé is an amazing man who treats me like a queen and will be the best father to our children. Now, let’s circle back to your question about what Laredo has to offer me—the answer is everything. Laredo has everything I could ever need or want. The man I’m marrying and the future father of my kids is here. I have a family here—a real family that loves me. I have friends and a great job here. This is the place where I’ll raise my children and grow old with my soulmate. This is my home and where I’ve always belonged. So, thank you, but no, thank you for such an amazing job offer I didn’t ask for. I’m not leaving Laredo—you’re just gonna have to get used to the fact that Javier and I are a package deal and that he’ll be your son-in-law one day and the father of your grandchildren. If you can’t stomach that, then don’t ever call me again because Javi means more to me than anyone else in the entire universe.”

Silence.

Many seconds passed before she spoke.

“You’re sure he’s the one…?” she asked slowly.

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

“You don’t care about how much money he has because he makes you… happy…?”

She made it sound like a foreign concept, and you huffed in amusement.

“I know, it’s crazy to fall in love with someone for them and not their money.”

“This is what I get for allowing you to watch those cartoon fairytale movies when you were a child. Your ideas of what’s important in life have been skewed by fictional nonsense, and you failed to notice at the end of those films, the girls become princesses—rich—when they meet their princes and finally get their—what was it?—happily… happily…” She was struggling.

“Their happily ever afters?” you said.

“Yes, that’s it! They only got their happily ever afters once they became princesses, and you should strive to want that kind of status or meet a man who will give it to you.”

“Weird take, but to me, they get their happily ever afters when they meet their one true loves, and the fancy titles are just bonuses.” You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you.

She let out a sigh. “You need to understand that real life isn’t like those whimsical cartoons. You might think you’re in love right now, but you haven’t even known this man for a year. How do you know if you will feel this way about him a year from now? Or two years? There’s no guarantee that your relationship will last, and you’re throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to advance your career and make a name for yourself because you’re infatuated and living in some dream world.”

“I am in love, and it’s the real thing. What you’re not understanding is my career is secondary to my happiness. I care more about being happy than making money, and I’ve made my choice that I’m going to marry Javi because he makes me happy—get it through your head that he isn’t going anywhere.”

“Very well, if that’s your decision, then so be it.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you answer a question about Javier?”

“Uh, depends on what you’re going to ask...”

“He helped take down Pablo Escobar and that other cartel, which wouldn’t have been small feats. I’m assuming a lot of opportunities would’ve opened up to him within his agency, and he was probably on track for promotions. Why did he quit when he was at the height of his career?”

You smiled. “Because he decided his career was secondary to his happiness, and he cared more about being happy than advancing in a job he’d grown to hate.”

“Oh.”

“You know, he only went to work for the Sheriff here, so I wasn’t the sole provider in our relationship—he makes decent money, too, and tries to pay more than his fair share. He took the job to be able to take care of me, and if I couldn’t work, we’d be more than okay on just his salary.”

“Really?” She didn’t attempt to hide her surprise.

“Yes—someone with Javi’s expertise is paid handsomely to consult. He’s gotten a ton of offers to do paid talks at universities and conferences. He’s actually kind of a big deal in that community.” It was lovely getting to brag about him.

“Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“Because from the moment you found out I was dating him, you were convinced he wasn’t good enough for me, and it seemed like nothing I could say would change your mind.”

“I guess I might have rushed to conclusions…”

“You did.”

“Well, congratulations, honey,” She sounded genuinely happy, not as jazzed as the imminent arrival of another grandson, but happy enough it had you taken aback. “This is exciting! I hadn’t realized things had gotten so serious between you two. Have you picked out a date for the wedding?”

To say you felt thrown off kilter from the complete one-eighty she just made on her views of your relationship would be putting it mildly; you thought there was a chance you were in the Twilight Zone with how bizarre this reaction was.

Did you actually convince her of Javi’s worthiness?

That didn’t seem right…

“Um, no?” you answered.

“I’ll call the wedding planner who helped plan your brother’s, and don’t worry about the cost, we’ll take care of it, along with the wedding itself—we’ll have to look at venues in your town that can hold at least, I think, one hundred and fifty guests, maybe? I’ll also have Jerry—” The family lawyer. “—get a prenup together—I’ll bring him with me.” Uh, what was happening? “Let me look at the calendar.” Pages flipping could be heard over the phone, and you knew she was going through her daily planner. “Your father and I have prior engagements over the next month and a half, but I could visit in February with the wedding planner and Jerry to get started on everything.”

The thought of her visiting had you feeling sick to your stomach, the anxiety hitting you like a bucket of cold water over your head.

“Woah, woah, hold on a second,” you said. “We’re not having a big wedding, so there’s no need for a wedding planner. We’re not doing a prenup, either, so Jerry doesn’t need to be bothered, and we want to get married sometime next month.”

“I won’t sour our conversation with legal talk, so I’ll discuss it with you later—you want to get married that soon?” There was a frown in her voice. "I told you we’re booked next month... We wouldn’t be able to make it…”

“We’re not doing much of a traditional wedding anyway, so you won’t miss much. We can send you a copy of the video—” Javi was planning on buying a camcorder to record your nuptials and other erotic things. “—and maybe in February we could visit you.” That was something you didn’t particularly want to do, but her change in attitude and desire to help seemed like she was extending an olive branch for all of the hurtful things she had said about your future husband.

“That would be fine. We’re dying to meet this man you’re in love with.”

Your eyes narrowed. “The one you didn’t approve of five minutes ago…?”

“You gave me a lot to think about in those five minutes, and I’m doing as you said and accepting that he’s going to be my son-in-law. Am I not allowed to change my opinion of someone?”

“Sure, you can change your opinion. You’re really okay with me marrying him?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

A knock sounded on the on-call room’s door, Robyn’s voice coming from the other side, “Hey, I need you out here.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, but my break’s over, and I need to get back. I’ll talk to you later.”

“No problem. Have a great day, and tell Javier hi from me.”

That will freak him out.

You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, getting up to walk over and open the door.

Robyn was standing there. “How’d it go?” she asked.

“That’s the thing, Robyn, I think it went well, and I’m so fucking confused—I think my mom might even like Javi a little bit now.”

Shock appeared on her face. “Um, what…?”

“Makes zero sense, right?”

“Yeah… You need to call Javi?”

She was the best.

“Would you mind?”

“Nope! I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thank you!”

This time, when you sat down to use the hospital-provided telephone, you dialed your fiancé’s desk phone from memory.

Ring.

“Peña,” he answered.

“Has hell frozen over?” you asked.

“Cielito?” He was clearly confused.

“Yes, it’s me—let’s focus. Has hell frozen over?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?”

“Are pigs flying?” You heard him roll back in his chair and the rustle of him looking through his office window’s blinds.

“I don’t see any pigs with wings, but that Sheriff’s deputy whose wife won’t let him have red meat so he can lower his cholesterol is in his car eating a burger with the same enthusiasm I have when I eat your pussy.”

“Guy is truly eating it like a man starved—respect. ¿Están volando las vacas (Are the cows flying)?”

“No veo a Daphne ni a Velma en el cielo (I don’t see Daphne or Velma in the sky).” He rolled back to his desk. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor (What’s going on, my love)?”

“I talked to my mom…”

“…are you okay?”

“Um, sure.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He was starting to hang up the phone, and you quickly said, “Javi, no, no! Don’t leave!”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s really okay—I’m gonna see you at lunch.”

The plan was to eat the lunches you made together in his truck.

“Okay.” His tone went serious. “Tell me what happened.”

“I called her like she asked, and she confirmed my sister-in-law is with child and talk about the excitement over a fetus having male genitals.”

“Of course, they’re fucking excited it’s a boy, the misogynistic assholes,” he seethed.

“I am so unbelievably in love with you—I know you’d love having a baby girl and getting to dress her up in pretty dresses.”

“God, yeah.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “And giving her cute hairdos and I could paint her nails to match her dresses—wait, we’re getting distracted. Did the news upset you? I really feel like I should come down there...”

“I promise I’m fine, babe.”

“I don’t like that I’m not there for you in person…” He sighed. “Was that all your mother wanted to talk to you about?”

“This next part is really gonna piss you off, so please take a big breath for me, my love.”

You heard him inhale deeply.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“My parents, or father specifically, offered me a job that a person would be insane to turn down to get me to move back home—I didn’t even contemplate for a second about taking it and proceeded to inform her about us getting married and starting our family, then went off about how amazing you are and that this is my home and I wouldn’t be leaving it. I made it very clear that you are the most important person to me, and if they couldn’t accept you as my husband, then I wanted nothing to do with them.”

“…If you want the job, we can move there,” he said carefully.

You smiled. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I can’t fathom moving away from our family here, especially your dad. This is our home, and I’m happy with the life we have. So, I don’t care about some fancy schmancy job.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

He let out a relieved sigh before he started speaking again, his words soaked in anger, “They hate me so fucking much they tried to give you an offer you couldn’t refuse, so you’d leave me? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t fucking stand these people you share blood with—they don’t even fucking deserve to be called your family with how they disrespect you and don’t give a flying fuck about your happiness.” He had to take another big breath to try to calm his rage. “I might sound like an asshole, but I don’t want them around our kids, and this isn’t me putting my foot down or saying that’s how it has to be; I’m saying that our children’s well-being is my first priority, and these assholes are nothing but poison,” he spat. “I’ll support you if you decide to cut ties with them—hell, I’d love it since it makes me so fucking angry how they’ve treated you and continue to treat you. We’ve got our family here, anyway; Pop and all our tías, tíos, and primos, so you don’t even need those fuckers.” His tone shifted to something softer, hearing in it how much he cared for you. “Cielito, mi amor, all I want is for you to be happy and to feel loved, and I will do everything in my power to make that happen—please, for me, when you decide what to do, you choose what makes you happiest; not what would make me happy and definitely don’t even think about their feelings because they’ve never done the same for you. I’ll stand by you no matter what.”

What he said had your eyes getting misty. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

And you knew that was the truth.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” you said, “and this is where I get confused about the entire interaction.”

“What happened…?”

“So, I kinda bragged about how much of a hot shot you are in the drug enforcement community and that you make decent money, and I think I somehow made my mom like you? I know it sounds fake, but Javi, she wanted to hire us a wedding planner and pay for the whole event that she was going to invite a hundred and fifty people to…”

You left out the lawyer bit because you were going to nip that in the bud when she got around to talking to you about it.

“Uh, what…?”

“It was fucking weird, babe! She even told me to tell you hi when we were getting off the phone!”

“Me? Are you sure…?”

“Yeah! It makes zero fucking sense. Our conversation started with her basically telling me my life decisions were trash and that there’s nothing in Laredo worth staying for—she actually said she was happy I hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant. Like, that’s so fucking rude. Then her tone had completely changed by the end of the call, and she was pro-you and pro-us getting married.”

“Interesting…” You could picture him sitting at his desk, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip while we pieced together the information you’d given him and analyzed it for any indication of more going on.

“Are your Detective Peña senses tingling?” you asked. “Do you think they’re up to something?”

“I’m not sure… But I could just be paranoid about people trying to fuck with our relationship.”

“Oh god, what if we are being paranoid and overthinking this entire thing? We might be looking a gift horse in the mouth, and my family really has warmed up to you.”

He scoffed, “Tal vez cuando las vacas vuelen (Maybe when cows fly),” he muttered. “It seems too good to be true,” he said. “But, there’s a chance hell did freeze over, and Daphne and Velma grew wings.” He sighed. “My hopes aren’t very high, though; at this point, all we can do is see what happens.” He suddenly sounded panicked, “Cariño, ¿los invitaste a nuestra boda (Honey, did you invite them to our wedding)? ¿Tendré que conocerlos en persona (Will I have to meet them in person)?”

Javier Peña had a cute face, a cute face that naturally looked pissed off when it was resting and showed everything he was feeling. There was no doubt that in the presence of your family, his glares would be murderous, and he wouldn’t be able to hide his anger—which, honestly, delighted you. But you hated the idea of them coming to the place you called home and was your haven away from them, so you were never going to invite them to visit; if you had to, you’d go to them.

“Cálmate, mi amor (Calm down, my love),” you said. “No te preocupes (Don’t worry). I didn’t invite them, and I don’t even want them coming here. I did have to say we might visit them in a couple of months to keep them happy—I’m also gonna send my parents that blender my mother wants but refuses to buy because the one they have still works for Christmas. Hopefully, all that will tide them over for a while so we can figure out if their new attitude is legit or not.”

“Good idea.”

“Well, I better get back to work. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Yes, you will. If you need me to get your mind off all this shit, just let me know. It’d take us about the same amount of time to meet at home…”

His offer made you smile. “Javier, is this your way of saying you’d like a nooner?”

“Maybe… I’m on edge and need to calm my nerves, and the best ways to do that is either having a cigarette or fucking—I’m sure you can guess my preference, but it wouldn’t be a big deal if I bummed a smoke off someone.”

“You’re in need of a medicinal cream pie,” you said in understanding, nodding your head. “I am also on edge and could use a medicinal orgasm or two. I’ll see you at the apartment, handsome, and the suit stays on—I’m riding Detective Peña into the sunset.”

You could hear his smile when he spoke. “Is that so?”

“Yep—you’ve been staring at my tits a lot lately, and I thought you’d enjoy them bouncing in your face.”

His groan confirmed your suspicion. “Minimum of two orgasms, keep the suit on, and you’re riding me on the couch—anything I’m missing?”

“Yeah, you coming inside me so I can go back to work all nice and stuffed.”

“Marry me.”

“I am,” you giggled. “We need to figure out a date.”

“January 11. Under the big oak tree on Pop’s land at sunset—that’s when we should do it.”

“Why the eleventh?” you asked, curious about why that date specifically.

“You agreed to be my girlfriend on the eleventh. You agreed to be my fiancée on the eleventh. It only seems right that I vow to love you forever on the eleventh of the New Year and hope you agree to be my wife then—Cielito, mi amor, mi vida mi media naranja, mi todo, (Cielito, my love, my life, my soulmate, my everything), will you marry me in twenty-eight days on January 11?”

Tears brimmed your eyes. “Yes, Javi! Absolutely, yes—it’s perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you,” he smoothly replied.

“You’re a sap.”

“—and your perfect tits.”

“A horny sap,” you laughed.

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#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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alexsoenomel · 7 months

Text

Seven Minutes In Heaven Ruined (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Summary: You and Dean are horny and Sam doesn't know how to knock.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: oral female and male receiving

Word count: 1.2k

Note: This is an old one. I made it readable because teenage me didn't know how to words.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

After finishing the last case you realized two things.

One, you were tired as fuck.

And two, you were hungry as fuck.

After a warm shower you put on one of Dean’s flannels, and went to the kitchen to make yourself dinner. Your sweet tooth was craving blueberry pancakes. While you were making the pancake mix, you felt arms around your waist pulling you closer.

“Hey, sweetheart!” He said, and kissed your cheek.

“Hi handsome.” You smiled. You haven’t seen Dean in almost a week. He was pretty sick with a fever, so you and Sam went without him on a hunt in San Francisco – vampires, your favorite. He needed to sit this one out, even though he protested like a damn child saying he was fine while not being able to stand. When you got back he was asleep in his room so you didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was dreaming about.

“How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you are here.” He said leaving small kisses on your neck. You tilted your head giving him more access. His kisses would always make you shiver. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, handsome. Are you hungry? I’m making pancakes.”

“I am hungry.” Dean’s hand went on your inner thigh until it reached your panties slowly rubbing you, making you sigh. Cheeky bastard – you thought. “But I don’t want pancakes.” He whispered into your ear. "I love when you wear my clothes.”

“Sleeping.”

You tried to mix flour, eggs and whatever else that was in there but the urge for Dean’s touch grew and you suddenly had another need to fulfill. You turned around to face him, putting your arms around his neck.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked.

“Good.” He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him, making you blush. You pulled his shirt only craving the softness of his lips on yours. Seven long days without him felt like an eternity, especially at night – he was your home, your habit and your sanctuary. You kissed him softly and soon enough he deepened the kiss making you moan. When he stole the last breath from your lungs you broke away, resting your forehead on his.

“Bedroom?” You smiled.

“Hell yeah.”

His clothes hit the floor in seconds. Seven days without each other turned you into horny teenagers. He was only in his boxers laying on the bed looking at you, admiring the view and wondering how the hell he got so lucky. You climbed on top of him as he slowly started to undo your shirt – taking his sweet time savoring you. Infatuated by you, Dean’s eyes spoke louder than words and in that very moment you only existed for him. You kissed him like it was the end of the world, and funny thing was, at one point it was actually the end of the world, so nothing mattered anyways. The world could be burning and you wouldn’t care.

Once he exposed you completely, we flipped you over and you were now completely under his control. His hands could kill and yet he was so gentle with you, trying not to break you, even though you wouldn’t mind being broken by him from time to time.

“Dean, don’t tease.” You sigh.

Dean consumed you in every way there was. His lips needed to touch you, to feel you and you were desperate to feel him on your skin. Starting from your neck he kissed you, sucking and slightly biting, leaving light bruises all over. He then moved his lips lower and lower.

You became inpatient, needy and a little bit frustrated. His kisses had you under his spell but you wanted more. He kissed you through your black panties a few times, driving you mad.

You could feel him smirking while resting his lips on the fabric of your soaking underwear.

“Dean!” You blissfully moaned. “ Oh my god!”

“Just a little bit. “ He smirked and then took off your panties. You lifted your legs as he did it. His face went between your legs yet again and now you could only feel his warm tongue on your already wet cunt.

You closed your eyes, surrendering completely.

“Shhhh we don’t want to wake up my brother, don’t we sweetheart?”

“No, but you’re going to kill me.”

The wet sounds of your cunt filled the room as he added one finger first, pumping in and out slowly before adding another. He was aware you were addicted to his thick fingers, always so needy and desperate to have them in your pussy or in your mouth. You gripped the bed sheets as your breaths became heavy, feeling your climax deep in the lower part of your stomach. Before Dean it would take you ages to cum, and you always thought maybe the problem was you and not the other person you were sleeping with. After Dean, you realized that was bullshit and you just had a shitty taste in picking partners.

His name was like a prayer you were reciting over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. The orgasm took over your body completely as you screamed his name one last time before his hand violently covered your mouth.

He got up, face shining from your juices with a smile on his face.

“You’re crazy. Sam’s going to hear you!”

“You are so…” You said, trying to catch your breath.

“Amazing?” He laughed.

“And full of yourself Winchester.” You rolled your eyes, still painting.

“Oh well thank you.” Dean said moving next to you.

“Where is the damn condom?” Dean asked, searching through the drawer of his night stand. You giggled. The man never assumed or expected you to return the favor. Your pleasure was far more important than his own and taking care of you was his job and duty. You loved that about him, you loved being taken care of, but you also loved making him fall apart under you.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

He turned to face you. “Huh?”

You kissed him. “My turn.” Dean bit his lip as you rubbed him through his boxers.

“S-shit!” He moaned. “Baby!”

You placed light kisses all over his body before your lips reached the hem of his underwear. You took them off, drooling over his already hard cock. You licked the tip a few times as Dean groaned.

You smiled loving the effect you had on him and then took him in your mouth as much as you could.

His heaven didn’t last long because Sam decided to interrupt the pure bliss of having Dean’s cock in your mouth...yet again.

“Hey Dean can you- AH CRAP.” He said and immediately turned his back allowing you two to cover yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck not again.” You laughed.

You jumped under the covers with Dean. “SAMMY I SWEAR I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

“I’m sorry.” Sammy said awkwardly, still refusing to turn around. “But I found us a case.”

“I thought you were sleeping.” You said.

“I couldn’t….you were…a little bit…..loud.”

“So you heard her making happy noises IN MY ROOM and you still decided to come in?! WITHOUT KNOCKING? AGAIN?”

“After 10 minutes I thought…you were…finished.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I will wait in the living room.” He then slammed the door.

“I will kill him.” Dean said and got off the bed.

“Wait.” You said pulling his arm. “He can wait. I’m not done with you!”

“I love you. “ Dean said and kissed you again.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn drabble #spn fanfic #dean winchester #spn fluff #supernatural fluff #spn fic #dean spn #supernatural dean #dean #dean winchester x reader smut #dean Winchester smut #dean x reader #dean smut #dean Winchester fluff #sam

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risriswrites · 9 months

Text

Booze, Burgers, and Bartenders

summary: short love story involving rooster and penny's favorite bartender.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x fem reader

warnings: none really, just some mild language and minor angst (if you can even call it that)

author's note: wow!! thank you guys so much for all of the love on my second fic "just roommates". i don't have a lot to say about it because honestly i'm speechless! with that being said, this fic has been in the works for months now and i'm exhausted with it. i wanted to write this and get it out back in may but everything with college really held me back and then from there i've just been enjoying summer and have been putting it off. so i apologize for the wait, but i hope y'all enjoy it!! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

word count: 5.7k

“Penny! Where are the extra bottles of Budweiser?” you call out, body crouched just below the countertop of the bar in an effort to find a hidden Budweiser bottle behind all the Corona’s.

Somewhere in the bar, Penny shouts back to you, a muffled, “Just got a new shipment order in this morning! Check in the backroom, they’re probably still in their packaging!” reaches your ears.

Huffing, you force yourself back to a standing position, leaning your weight against the bar for a few seconds before pushing off and heading towards the backroom.

Flickering the light switch on once the door is fully open, you begin the tedious search for the famous beer the patrons preferred to order at Penny’s bar. Sighing to yourself, you grab a stool just in case the box was placed on one of the top shelves. Jaxson had a habit of doing that, he knew both yourself and Penny preferred the heavier boxes on the bottom shelves, but he somehow always managed to “forget” that important factor.

Crouching low you start with the bottom shelves before moving upwards. Luckily, Jaxson put the newest box of Budweiser’s one shelf above the middle. Lifting the box into your arms, you steady yourself before moving back out of the room and towards the bar.

Maneuvering around the tables and chairs scattered throughout the bar was easier said than done. It wasn’t until you were able to push the box onto the countertop that you could take a breath, leaning your body weight onto the bar again with a huff. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you notice Penny coming into your field of vision, a sly grin on her face.

“Jaxson leave the box on the top shelf again?” she questions, quirking a curious brow in the process.

Pinning her with a joking glare you smile, “Not this time, but it’s still heavy.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing it for ten years, trust me hon, it doesn’t get much easier” she chuckles.

Throwing your head back with a groan, you grip the edges of the bar, leaning back on your heels, “I’m sure I’ll get used to it soon,” straightening back up on your two feet, you turn to face Penny again, fixing her with your stare and point in her direction, “but, if Jaxson continues to put new, heavy, boxes on the top shelf, I can’t guarantee he’ll be around forever.”

Penny lets out a snort and nods her head in understanding, “I’m right there with you, but until then,” she gets up from her seat at the bar and pats the box of beer twice, “let’s get these in the fridge.”

With a forced laugh and a mock salute, you let out a “You got it Pen,” and resume struggling against the bottles of booze.

Nights at the Hard Deck fluctuated. Weekdays were a little slow, apart from Friday nights, with Saturdays being the busiest. Not that you’re complaining since that’s when you receive the most tips. And having the local aviators around as eye candy wasn’t so bad, plus, they’re generous tippers.

Tonight though, there had been an abundance of new faces floating around the bar. Mainly naval aviators, not to your surprise, but the sheer amount that had been crowding the bar was just a tad overwhelming.

Even Jaxson was flustered, his eyes flitting back and forth from you to Penny in search of some assistance. Unfortunately for everyone, you each were too busy struggling with keeping up with your own sides of the bar, and just when you thought you had a second to breathe, another patron would waltz up to your side and ask for a drink.

Glancing over towards Penny, you notice her interacting with a brunette clad in a leather jacket, an easygoing smile accompanying the glint in his eyes as he spoke with her. Smirking to yourself, you keep this interaction in mind and turn back to the guy in front of you, grabbing a bucket, loading it with ice and the six coronas he ordered, popping the tab off one before handing it to him with a smile, “Here ya go.”

The blond shoots you a smile, and pats a hand on the bar, shouting a “thanks” back in your direction. Moving around your section, you plucked empty bottles off the bar top and disposed of them in the large trash bin under the bar. And just as you were about to grab a clean washrag to tend to simpler tasks than dealing with the local riff raffs of the bar, another patron squeezes their way up to your side of the bar.

Flicking your gaze over to the guy you shoot him a small smile, “I’ll be with you in a second.” Snatching the wash rag, you tuck it into your jean shorts and take two strides back to the bar, leaning your forearms on the top, you shoot the mystery man a small smile, and pose the million-dollar question, “What can I get ya?”

After mixing the jack and coke your customer requested, you accept the twenty and continue working around the bar, popping bottle-tops off Corona’s, Heineken’s, and the bar favorite, Budweiser. All while simultaneously wiping any spills off the countertop.

A few hours later, the Hard Deck is looking less and less crowded, with all the civilians having cleared out. Which allows for you to sidle over to Penny and pester her for the next two hours before closing, sipping on your Coca-Cola in the meantime.

“Haven’t seen you all night, how’d it go?” Penny questions, permanent smile on her face and a light in her eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Quirking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows, “Clearly not as eventful as yours,” you smirk. Wiggling your eyebrows you throw out a second question, “Who’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Penny giggles at your playfulness, swatting at you with her dishrag, “No one special.”

“Now that, is a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” you point at her with the pinky finger that had been resting around the bright red can you’ve been holding.

Bringing the can back up to your lips, you smile, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that brunette with the brown leather jacket decorated in naval patches, would it?”

This earns you another swat from the dishrag.

Leaning away from her, your smirk grows wider, “I’m taking that as a yes.”

Penny playfully glares at you for the second time today, and peers around you, nodding her head in the direction of your side of the bar, “You’ve got another one.”

Giggling to yourself you turn your head in the direction Penny motioned to, the sight before you halting your giggling almost instantaneously.

Bradley Bradshaw.

Cussing under your breath, you take the last sip of your coke and turn to make your way towards him, receiving a swat from Penny’s dishrag in the process.

“Bradshaw.”

The man of the hour turns in his seat towards you, honey brown eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment before one side of his mouth quirks up into a half smile, “Hey.”

“What made the navy drag your ass back here for?” you ask, snorting at his attempt at remaining casual, folding your arms over each other, jutting your hip out in a stance that you hope comes across as vaguely threatening.

Bradley taps his thumb on the bar top and shoots you an award-winning smile, “I’m not really sure about that yet, sweets” he states, his voice coming out in a low rasp, while his eyes wander behind you towards the bottles of liquor.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you open your mouth to shoot him a smart-ass retort, but instead, choose to close it and offer up the same line you use on everyone else, “What can I get you to drink?”

Bradley refocuses his eyes back onto yours, lips forming into a frown at your lack of retaliation, “Bottle of Budweiser if you have any would be great.”

Moving on autopilot, you bend down and sort through the fridge for another Budweiser, gripping the bottle and popping the top off, before sliding it forward towards the tall hunk of muscle in front of you, “You opening up a tab?”

Bradley looks over towards the pool tables where his friends were gathered around, no doubt betting on who was going to have to pay for the next round of beers. Turning his attention back to you, he stands from his seat, pulling his wallet out from his back jean pocket and holds his card out to you, “If you don’t mind, that’d be great sweets” sending you a small smile in the process.

Plucking the card from his grasp, you send a sarcastic smile his way before turning to the computer to input his information.

Bradley lets his gaze linger on you for a moment, then sets off back to his friends.

Hangman is the first to comment on Bradley’s singular beer and the sour look on his face, earning him a rough shove from Phoenix.

Nat turns to face Bradley, offering a sympathetic look, “Didn’t go well I take it?” she mumbles.

Hangman snorts and gestures with his beer towards the bar where you’re currently standing with Penny, “Judging by the way she’s standing,” sucking a breath through his teeth, “I’d say it went swimmingly.”

Jake goes to sip his beer with a smirk on his lips, satisfied with his dig, until Natasha forcefully bumps his elbow, forcing his beer to miss his mouth and instead spill down his shirt. Glancing towards her, scowl present on his face, Nat flutters her eyelashes and pouts, “Oops.”

Bradley covers his laugh with a sip of his beer, looking towards the dart board as a distraction.

“Maybe you should go get cleaned up.” Phoenix smiles, her words sickeningly sweet and not up for debate.

Grumbling to himself, Jake gets up from his seat and makes his way towards the bathroom of the Hard Deck. Once he’s out of sight, Nat fixes her gaze on Bradley, “Alright, tell me what’s going on.”

A huff slips past Bradley’s lips and he slumps into the seat adjacent to Phoenix, “That’s the thing Nat, it’s not really going anywhere.”

Nursing her own beer, Nat plays with the perspiration sliding down the bottle, “It’s probably gonna take some time Bradley. You can’t just show up after not talking to her for a year,” sparing you a brief glance she watches the way you smile and pop a cap off the bottle for a customer you’d been serving for the better half of the night, “stuff like that actually bothers a girl yaknow” emphasizing her words with a pointed look.

Bradley taps his thumb against the tabletop, a low groan leaving his throat, “I know Nat, I just didn’t know how to tell her I was being deployed for six months and then dealing with the Uranium mission on top of that,” he pauses briefly to sip on his beer, “It’s not fair to her.”

Natasha nods briefly, understanding where he’s coming from, “I get that, but that’s not your decision to make.” Pointing at him with her bottle briefly, she maneuvers it to gesture towards you, “She’s a big girl, she can make her own decisions.”

Bradley nods his head in understanding, moving his gaze to survey the room briefly, a red blush painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Sensing how flustered he was Nat slaps the table and shoots him a sympathetic smile, “I’m going to get us a few more beers from our favorite girl. When I get back, you’re going to be done with all that sulking and were going to kick Coyote and Hangman’s asses in eight ball.”

An, “In your dreams hot shot,” settling over both Natasha’s and Bradley’s ears, the pair rolling their eyes simultaneously at the overconfident voice of Jake Seresin.

“Ready to start cleaning up? It’s twenty minutes before we close.” Penny asks, the clinking of glass bottles ringing in your ears when she tosses them into the trash.

Peeking at her from over your shoulder you send an exhausted smile her way, “Definitely, tonight’s rush took a lot out of me.”

Biting her lower lip, Penny begins wiping down the counter, “That the only thing that took a lot out of you tonight? Or did a certain tall, mustached naval aviator have something to do with it?”

She doesn’t look over at you when you whip your head to glare at her, instead choosing to continue to innocently wipe at the sticky bar top.

“Don’t start.”

Moving away from her, you begin to collect the remaining empties and toss them in the trash.

Ignoring her for another ten minutes, you busy yourself by sweeping up around the front of the building, avoiding Bradley and his lingering group of friends.

Maneuvering back to the bar, you grab the remaining glasses and bring them to the dishwasher in the backroom. Once you’ve loaded it up, you put in the dishwasher detergent and start it on a regular cycle, heading back out to the bar to help Penny finish up.

Gripping the rag in your hand you begin wiping down any places Penny may have missed, hyper fixating on the task at hand to avoid looking over at the man who ghosted you a year ago.

Penny eases herself into the space you were occupying, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt at gaining your attention. Looking up to the ceiling you breathe out, turning your head to give her your full attention. An apologetic smile is what meets you and you instantly feel your resolve soften.

“I’m only going to say this once, and from now on I won’t mention it.” Nodding her head in Bradley’s direction she continued, “He’s a good guy Hon, but unfortunately, he’s still a guy. And guys make stupid mistakes. Trust me,” an eye roll from her ensuing shortly after.

“I’m not telling you that you need to forgive him, but maybe hear him out?” she coaxes.

Looking over towards him, you watch as his drunken form laughs with his friends, “I’ll think about it Pen.”

“Okay honey,” leaning away from you she squeezes your shoulder, “Oh and I’ve gotta go pick up Amelia, soo could you close up?” she pleads.

Throwing your head up, you laugh, “Oh I see, just trying to butter me up so you can sneak out to go be with that Naval officer.”

Penny bites her lip at the thought and begins heading for the door, “Not yet, but maybe eventually,” she vocalizes, shooting you a wink in the process. “Alright guys and gals, time to go!” she calls out to the last group lingering at the back of the bar.

The blond calls back to her, “You got it Pen!”

Giggling to yourself, you finish up a few more tasks as the remaining aviators file out. Going to the storage room to grab some beers to restock the fridges for the following day, it’s always easier on you guys the next day if you restock the night before.

Heading back out to the bar you notice the handsome aviator you’ve been avoiding all night, sitting right where he had been earlier that night.

“Heyyy” Bradley smiles, clearly drunk judging by the flush that’s blossomed over his cheeks, neck, and ears.

Chuckling to yourself, you let an amused smile crawl across your face, “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?”

Bradley hiccups and leans his head on the bar top, “I need to,” another hiccup interrupts him before he continues, “close out my tab” he rasps.

Nodding to yourself, you go over to the computer and close out his tab, printing his receipt and wrapping it around his card, you turn back to him and place the card on the bar top, sliding it towards his drunken form.

Bradley looks you over and smiles, “You’re really pretty.”

Choosing not to laugh at his words you fold your arms over each other and smile at him, “How are you getting home, Bradley?”

He hums, still looking you over in a daze, “I drove.”

Shifting a little in his seat, he uses one arm to reach into his back pocket, presenting you with the keys to his infamous blue bronco, jingling them in front of you with a goofy smile on his face.

Leaning towards him you grip your hand around his, easing the keys from his hand into yours. His eyes watching your hand as it encloses around his.

“I’ll be taking those big boy.”

Bradley groans, reaching his arms out towards you as you lean away from him, “Nooo, come back, I need those.” he whines out.

Shaking your head you muffle a chuckle at his drunkenness, “Bradshaw you can’t drive yourself home,” nibbling on your lower lip you spit the words out before you can take them back, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Bradley shoots his head up at your statement, “You’re taking me, where?” he questions.

Rounding the bar, you grab your purse in the process heading towards Bradley, “I am going to take you home.”

“How do you know where I live?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Cute.

Smirking at him, you quirk your own eyebrow, “I’m a witch.”

Bradley points at you lazily and whispers, “If you’re a witch, then tell me what I’m thinking about right now.” Promptly closing his eyes afterwards.

Looking up, you shake your head, smile growing wider on your face, “Burgers” you declare confidently, crossing your arms in the process. As if this motherfucker didn’t spend every waking minute with you for a year.

His eyes instantly open, mouth dropping in amazement, an emphasized “Yes” leaving his lips.

Offering your hand to him, you give him a small nod, “We can get some on the way home if you want?”

Bradley eyes you skeptically, “You promise?”

Smiling, you fold your fingers in, leaving your pinky out for him, “I promise.”

Slowly, Bradley wraps his own pinky around yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Alright, let’s get going. Joey’s Burgers sounds amazing right now.” Giving his hand a squeeze, you lead the way out of the bar, Bradley stumbling behind you, mumbling about some triple patty burger that they recently added to the menu.

Once the two of you managed to make it out the front door, you turned back to lock up, Bradley leaning his head on your shoulder as you did, making it a little more difficult to maneuver around in the process.

“Okay tiger, lets get you in the car.”

Leaning his weight on you some more, he scrunches up his face in confusion, “I’m not tiger, I’m rooster.”

Lugging his weight across the graveled parking lot and towards the bronco, you snicker at his words, “I know Bradley, it’s just a nickname.” Earning a low groan from Bradley in response.

Once you’ve made it to the bronco, you focus on getting Bradley’s passenger door open, all while he leans more and more of his weight on you, at this rate the navy should just hire you if you can lug a full-grown man around a dark gravel parking lot.

After you’ve managed to get the door open, you coax Bradley into the passenger seat with the promise of burgers and a movie once you got him home. Rounding the car after ensuring he’s buckled himself in and jumping into the driver's seat.

Looking over towards him, you note the way he’s leaned his head against the window, arms folded over each other, in what you could only guess is an attempt at staying warm. Mindful of his potentially cold state, you don’t bother with turning the air conditioning on, and keep the volume of the radio low, trying to allow Bradley to relax as much as possible. He’s lucky he’s cute when he’s drunk.

Pulling out of the parking lot of the Hard Deck, you make your way down the street to Joey’s Burgers, ordering two large fries, two medium soda’s, one triple patty burger for Bradley, and one regular cheeseburger (with only ketchup) for yourself. Then continuing your mission of getting Bradley back home for the night before he’s sobered enough to realize he’d not only let you drive him home, but also from the driver’s seat of his beloved bronco.

Parking Bradley’s bronco wasn’t an issue, however, getting Bradley to move out of his passenger seat was.

Pleadingly, you rushed out a whispered, “Bradley, please get out of the car, you can’t stay in there all night.”

Receiving only an annoyed grumble in response, you tried again in the form of bribery, “I got you your favorite burger from Joey’s, if you get out of the car you can eat it while we watch a movie.”

This gets his attention and before you know it, you’re lugging Bradley out of his seat and across the parking lot. Somehow, he’s gotten heavier in the past twenty minutes of your drive. Mumbling to no one in particular, you let out a low, “He’s got a lot of groveling to do after this.” Huffing out a breath, you manage to pull him up the steps of the cozy one-story house, forcing Bradley to lean against the wall while you unlock the door.

Once you’ve managed to get the door open, you pull the brunette aviator over the threshold and towards the couch, kicking the door closed once you’ve made it inside.

The grey couch that had been centered towards the edge of the living room absorbs a drunk Bradley Bradshaw into its cushions, earning a content hum from him in response.

Throwing yourself down next to him, an audible sigh slips past your lips, leaning your head against the cushions in an attempt at seeking a moment of comfort before you inevitably must help Bradley into bed.

Lolling his head to the side Bradley fixes his gaze on you, eyes trailing across the expanse of your face, when the question, “What happened to my burger?” comes tumbling out of his mouth.

A sharp laugh is what Bradley gets in response, along with a, “I swear you become more and more like a dog as the night goes on.” Bradley is too drunk to understand what that’s supposed to mean, so instead, he widens his eyes and tilts his head a little, a silent question in regard to the aforementioned burger.

Yep, definitely dog like.

Swiping the bag of burgers and fries from the table, you pull Bradley’s special burger; along with a few napkins, out and hand them over to the man of the hour, who immediately starts to gobble it down like he hasn’t eaten in days.

While the man who resembles a golden retriever consumes his food next to you, you start the venture of looking for a movie you wouldn’t mind focusing your attention on until Bradley falls asleep, settling on “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days”.

Settling into the couch again, you curl your legs up underneath you and proceed to snack on the fries you’d gotten.

Everything was calm, for a total of thirty seconds.

Your peace being ruined by an overgrown buffoon looming over you to steal one of your fries from its container.

“You know, I got you your own fries,” you snicker, side-eyeing the Topgun graduate who has resorted to looking like a kicked puppy from your scolding.

“Yours tastes better.”

Snorting at the remark, you shake your head in exasperation, “Finish your food and if you’re still hungry, you can have some of mine.”

Seemingly pleased with the compromise, Bradley gets comfortable on the couch once more, and continues with consuming the fried potato.

After some time has passed, Bradley satisfied with his food and no longer pestering you for yours, you make an attempt to clean up. Which is instantly foiled by a tipsy Bradley Bradshaw, “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you Bradley,” you wave him off, continuing your advances towards the kitchen.

Bradley forces himself off of the couch, stumbling after your composed form, “Sure seemed like it earlier.”

Tossing the leftover food in the trash, you grab a paper towel and the spray bottle of cleaner he always left under the sink, “And I don’t recall you being particularly sober within the past two hours.”

A small smirk graces Bradley’s lips while he leans his body weight against the doorframe of the kitchen arms folded over each other, “I had a triple patty burger from Joey’s an hour ago.”

Rolling your eyes at his retort, you push past him to get back to his living room, “You’re welcome then.”

Like a piece of gum on the bottom of your shoe, Bradley follows after you, “You don’t have to clean.”

Better than having to look at him while he’s sober and engage in this conversation.

Pulling your eyebrows together, you force yourself to concentrate on the coffee table littered with grease stains from the bag and a few misplaced French fries, completely ignoring Bradley’s piercing gaze.

Hearing him sigh, your gaze breaks from the table and flits to where he’s standing. Looks more like leaning to you since he’s clearly still feeling some of the effects of the alcohol. As your eyes roam over his figure, you take in his posture, his arms, and lastly his eyes, which are locked on yours and the way you’re examining him.

Looking up to the ceiling, you huff, bending to your full height. Abandoning the damp paper towel on the semi-clean coffee table before you address him.

“I don’t hate you.”

Bradley’s eyebrows lift, one side of his mouth quirking up in a half-hearted smirk, mustache following suit, “So you’ve said.”

Your eyebrows crease while your eyes pinch, fixing him with a glaring look, “But I don’t appreciate being led on for months either,” your tone heavy in the way you spoke to him.

Bradley visibly winces at the jab, “I know, not my proudest moment.”

Crossing your arms over each other, you jut your hip out, “Why’d you do it then?”

Bradley crosses the room slowly, moving closer to your defensive stance with a slowness that resembled someone afraid of spooking a baby deer, “I didn’t want you to get caught up in all my shit.”

“One mission for six months is bad enough,” he pauses, “Another mission with no guarantee of survival a month after the last isn’t something I wanted to put you through.”

Your frown that you’d adorned for majority of this conversation, deepens, “That’s not something you get to decide, Bradley.”

A forced chuckle slips past your lips, “I’m a big girl, I’ve been able to make my own decisions for myself, for years. I don’t need you and your hero complex thinking you can make those decisions for me.”

Your eyes roam his face scowl still prominent. Finally uncrossing your arms, you poke a finger into his chest, “You should be able to trust me enough to tell me those things, and allow me to decide if it’s too much,” you pause taking a step back, hand retreating back to your side, “or if I care about you enough to stick around.”

Bradley tenderly reaches for the hand you’d forced back to your side, threading his fingers through yours, “I know, trust me I do. I just thought I’d be protecting you,” he breathes out, using his hand to bring you closer to him.

Your hardened gaze softens at his words, he thought he could protect you from himself, from heartache.

Settling your other hand on his chest, you tilt your chin up, the height difference between the two of you showing in the close distance you’re in.

“Like I said before,” you whisper, “That kind of decision I can make on my own.”

Bradley’s eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you, processing your words and what to do next with them.

Silence falls over the two of you, the only noise emanating from the tv next to you.

Breaking his gaze, you look behind him to see the clock hanging from the wall that’s surrounded by framed pictures of his parents along with a few pictures of himself with some of his squadron, taking note of the time.

Glancing back to him, you mumble, “You should probably go to bed.”

Bradley huffs at your suggestion but makes no move to argue.

Instead, he grips your other hand in his and pulls you closer, tilting his head to the side, “Tuck me in?”

Laughing to yourself at his suggestion, you give him a small nod, taking the lead down the hall to his bedroom, “Sure, do you want some warm milk while were at it?” you tease.

Bradley hums from behind you, “Now that you mention it,” he trails off, biting his lower lip to contain his laughter.

“Keep dreaming aviator,” you chortle.

“Oh I intend to,” is the retort you get in return.

Turning into his bedroom you push him towards his closet and gesture for him to change, turning your back to him in an attempt to avoid being distracted by his charm and physique, reacquainting yourself with his bedroom instead.

Not much has changed apart from the bedding which had gone from a pale blue to a darker green.

A raspy, “I’m decent,” makes its way to your ears and you turn to look for the source. Intaking a sharp breath at the sight of Bradley Bradshaw in a plain white t-shirt, and boxers, eyes roaming the expanse of his body before deciding you’ve ogled him too much.

Moving your eyes away from his lower half, you make your way to the closet in search of your own shirt and boxer combo, cause if you’re staying there’s no way you’re staying in your “The Hard Deck” tank top and jean shorts.

Wordlessly, Bradley sidles up behind you and reaches for his old training tee from his first days at Topgun, handing you the shirt and a pair of gray boxers to match.

Mumbling a soft “Thanks”, you make sure he turns all the way around before stripping down to put the new garments on.

Once comfortable, you glance to the opposite side of the bed Bradley’s in, fiddling with your fingers as you fight yourself on whether or not you can trust yourself with him again.

Screw it.

Acting before fully thinking through your decision, you climb into bed beside him, hiding under the covers for some warmth, and maybe from Bradley.

It’s Bradley’s warm hands that bring you out of your thoughts, hooked around your waist and pulling you to him, “You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbles, one leg slotting between yours.

Reaching up with your right hand, you glide your fingers through his locks, earning a sigh of content from him, “I just don’t want to get hurt again,” you confess, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

The confession has Bradley propping himself up onto his elbow, his free hand finding your own, putting it square against his, measuring the sizes of your individual palms, slotting his fingers between your own once he’s satisfied.

“I can’t promise that being with me will never hurt,” he states, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Sighing, he continues, “I don’t know if something will happen to me when I’m in the air.”

You nod solemnly at his confession, running everything over in your head, the pros and cons of being with him, loving him. What that might do to you.

Bradley tilts his head toward yours, catching your eyes once more, “But,” he pauses, “I can promise that I’ll never voluntarily hurt you again, and I will do everything in my power to come home to you.” He finishes, voice shaky and his eyes displaying a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

Scanning his honey-colored irises, you search for any doubt he may have hidden, finding none, a soft smile graces your lips.

Leaning forward, you nudge your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed at the contact, “Okay” you whisper.

Opening your eyes to scan his face, trailing along the faint freckles that litter his cheeks, your smile widens, “but this is your last shot Bradshaw, don’t ruin it,” you tease.

Bradley grins back at you before closing the gap between the two of you, slotting his lips against yours in a kiss that had been a long time coming; by at least a year.

His tongue traces the bottom of your lip and without much coaxing, you open your mouth enough for him to slip his tongue in, maneuvering his body over yours for easier access. Bradley slides his hands down your frame to trace circles into your hip, while the other braces himself next to you.

Breaking the kiss, Bradley maneuvers his lips down towards your exposed neck, trailing open mouthed kisses lower each time before coming back to your lips, catching them with his over and over until the two of you have settled into a relaxed state, lazy open-mouthed kisses replacing the urgent ones you were enacting before.

Gently reaching your hand up, you slot your fingers into Bradley’s tousled locks, tugging ever so slightly, earning a low groan from him in response.

Smiling to yourself, you slot your lips against his one last time before leaning back, appraising him with a gentle smile adorning your lips, “I thought we agreed on sleep?”

Chuckling, Bradley moves a stray hair out of your face, “Sweets, will you please put me out of my misery and go on a date with me?”

Clicking your tongue, you drag him down closer to you, snuggling into his chest as you make yourself comfortable.

“Mmm, dating the bartender, huh? Hope it’s for more than free drinks,” you quiz, trailing a hand down to his abs, tracing each one with your fingers.

A tender kiss is placed to the crown of your head, while one large hand sneaks under the back of your shirt, tracing small circles across your skin, “Definitely.”

Humming, you close your eyes, content with the warmth emanating from Bradley and his tender touches, “That’s nice.”

Bradley chuckles at your drowsy state, “So is that a yes?”

He receives a chaste kiss that’s pressed to his shirt, right where his heart is as you mumble out, “It’s a yes Bradshaw.”

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #topgun maverick #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw imagines

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realisticfanfictions · 4 months

Text

Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress - Part 2.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader: Part One.

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: I'm so glad the first one was well received! I'm pretty self-concious about my writing, but seeing everyone's hearts and reblogs has made me so happy! There's also been a ton of new people following this page, and I'm so appreciative you guys are liking my stuff enough to keep up to date with my writing <3.

Word Count is 5,427. Hope you enjoy!

"What the hell was that?" You knew that this made you look like a crazy girlfriend, dragging your significant other into the cold room and locking the door behind you. You'd gotten a few curious and slightly concerned glances from other staff, but by this point they knew better than to intervene. White fog spewed from your mouth as you spoke, giving you the appearance of a mighty dragon ready to burn down anyone who stood in her way.

Sanji, who hadn't fought you the entire way here, rubbed his face with his hand and shoved the other into his pocket. "I was just trying to be friendly." He shrugged.

A cold breeze caused you to flinch, but you refused to show any weakness. "Bullshit." You hissed and gritted your teeth, unable to fathom this man's arrogance. "I'm not dumb, Sanji-"

"And I never said you were." Both hands were now in his pockets and he finally met your gaze. He looked tired and you could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek - a habit you knew stemmed from his nicotine addiction. But his forced eye contact didn't last long and his gaze soon drifted to the corner of the cold room. He let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry. I can't help what I say to women-"

You held up a hand. "I don't care about you miserably failing at flirting. Well, I do care, but that's beside the point." You took a breath, counted to five and stared at your boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes. "I know that you're upset, and though I am very annoyed at you, I will say that I appreciate you telling me you're sorry."

"So it is about the-"

"Sanji." He slowly closed his mouth and subtly nodded. He was listening. "I know that you like women, and that you'll move heaven and earth for one to glance your way. I know that. I knew that when I started going out with you." You licked your suddenly dry lips. "What I get upset about, is that you went over my head and spoke to my customers in a rather vulgar way. I know you think it's beneath you, but I take a lot of pride in what I do. I'm good at it. And when-" God, your lips were so dry. "And when you go over my head, take over my table, insult the place that took me in when I had nowhere else to go-when we had nowhere else to go, and then ignore my discomfort and make a joke of it?" You met his eyes. "I am your girlfriend, Sanji. Something that you're meant to love and cherish- like how- I can't-"

Before you realised it, you found yourself slowly enveloped by the love of your life. "Hey," He shushed you gently as he cradled you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way." He murmured and placed a kiss against your temple. "My love, you're shaking. I didn't realise I made you this upset. Please, forgive me."

You couldn't help but laugh. "I'm just cold, dumbass. And still pissed at you." Despite what you said, you still buried your head in his chest and soaked up his warmth. It was then you realised how long it'd been since the two of you had been alone like this. Just soaking up each other's warmth and committing the other's smell, touch and the feel of their skin to memory. You're embarrassed to admit you forgot just how much you love his cologne. "Guess this is what happens when we don't have sex for a while."

He gave a breathy chuckle and leaned back enough just to press his lips against your forehead and stare into your eyes. "Well, I'd offer to remedy that, but I'm afraid the cold will affect my performance."

"Like you need an excuse for a bad performance."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

His usual, charming smile stretched across his face and he licked his lips, before hungrily diving in and punishing you with a particularly brutal kiss. He softly moaned into the kiss, and pulled back enough for you to see the devilish look in his eye as he bent down to press a kiss to your neck.

The door suddenly flung open and Pattie groaned. "I should've known." He exclaimed and threw his towel at the both of you. "Move. I'm trying to get some stuff for dessert."

Sanji grew a wicked grin. "What a coincidence. I'm trying to get me some dessert too." He chuckled and moved in to continue his assault, but was thwarted by an incoming barrage of hits from the disgruntled chef.

Backed by the sound of Pattie yelling in disgust, you laughed and shook your head, worming out of Sanji's hold and skipping out of the cold room with said blond on your heels. You both quickly ducked out of the kitchen and into a small hallway where you turned around to look at him once more. "Thank you for listening to me, Sanji. I may have blown my lid a bit too much back there." You fished around in your pocket and pulled out your lighter. "Go take a smoke break."

"Darling-"

You pushed it into his hand. "Take a break, and have a smoke. If not for you, for me. Because I honestly can't handle you when you're being all bitchy."

His shoulders dropped and a tired smile replaced his worried expression. He wrapped his hands around your own and placed a kiss against your knuckles. "Thank you, my love." He exclaimed and you waved him off with a smile.

"Whatever, you wallowing wag. While you're walking, watch the weather and water, and warn the workers if we're wayward. We don't want any wild winds, or another wreck this week."

He smiled. "You still don't realise you do that, do you?"

You blinked. "Do what?"

A hearty chuckle escapes him and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it." That damn smile of his made your heart flutter and while you were confused, you returned his kiss with a quick peak of his lips and watched as he walked off. You didn't understand why he was so weird, but you guess it's just part of dating someone.

Before you could go back to serving, a faintly familiar face poked his head around the corner. You squinted your eyes and watched as he walked around aimlessly. "Excuse me, are you lost?"

The boy in the straw hat turned his head in your direction and smiled when he noticed you. "Oh! You're (Y/N), our waitress!" He spun himself around and hastily walked up to you, almost tripping on the aging floorboards. "I didn't get to introduce myself," He tipped his hat. "My name is Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be King of the Pirates!"

That made you pause. "Oh." You dumbly said, not really sure how to respond. "That's... nice. But this is a staff only area-"

"You're a good fighter." The boy- Luffy you corrected yourself, interrupted and leaned in uncomfortably close. "Well, Sanji's a really good fighter, but you're pretty good too!" He made a pistol with his fingers and pretended to shoot. "You seem good with a gun. And the way you backed up Sanji and knocked that guy out? So good!"

Again, you weren't really sure how to respond. "I was only helping out, but thanks, I guess." You put your hands on your hips. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "No, I'm fine."

You blinked. "But you're in a staff only area."

He nodded. "I am."

"...And you know you're not a staff member?"

He shook his head. "I'm not."

You sighed and squeezed the bridge of your nose. "I mean, why are you here?"

A smile returned to his face. "Oh, why didn't you just say so!" He waved his hand around as if announcing something great. His eyes wandered around the room, as if searching for something in the distance. You were intrigued. "I'm trying to find..."

You leaned in. "You're trying to find...?"

"Yes, I am trying to find..." His eyes slowly drifted downward until they met yours. They sparkled with great mysteries waiting to be unveiled, a sense of adventure and bravery and fearlessness that you couldn't help but admire. He smiled. "A toilet!"

Before you could stop yourself, you smacked him upside the head. "Don't pretend like it's some big, life-altering explanation, you dumbass!" With each word, you brought your hand down to slap him on any part of his body you could touch. "Besides, there's three signs for the bathroom on the way here!"

He held up his hands, trying to block your attacks. "Ow! I'm sorry! Stop hitting me!"

You rolled your eyes and stepped back, crossing your arms and glaring at him. "You're such an idiot. Fine, come with me. You can use the staff bathroom, it's right down this hall."

Luffy slowly uncurled himself and nodded. "Thanks a lot! I was sure I was going to crap my pants, you're a life saver!"

"I didn't need to know that." You sighed and beckoned him to follow with a finger. "So, King of the Pirates, huh?"

He nodded, his straw hat bobbing with him as you both walked. "Yep! We have a map to the Grand Line, and we're going to find the One Piece."

You laughed. "Only idiots with a death wish go after that thing."

"Hm, not really. I don't have a death wish." He replied with a shrug.

With a dramatic sigh, you playfully shove him. "Sure you don't, straw boy. What's next? You're gonna tell me you don't plunder and raid villages wherever you go?"

He shook his head. "We don't."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Don't yet?"

He shook his head again. "No."

"Fine then, where are you going to get money?"

"Finding the One Piece will give us all the money we'll ever need."

"And until then?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure something out."

You scoffed. "They always say that."

He tilted his head. "Do you know?"

"I do. You can kidnap a princess and random her, rob an orphanage, maybe even take a business hostage and demand money or you'll start executing patrons."

Luffy stopped and stared at you. "That's really dark."

You shrugged and continued walking. "That's what you have to do if you want to find a crazy man's last fuck-you to the government."

His smile turned into a frown. "You don't think it's real?"

"I think that Gold Rodger wanted to bring about the age of pirates, and he did." You explained. "Doesn't matter if it's real or not. Its impact on the world is more valuable than any treasure he ever got his hands on."

Within a second, he was in front of you with a cheeky grin. "Ah ha! So you do think it's real!"

A sigh escaped you. "I honestly don't care enough to believe if it's real or not. What is real is the pain, and death it's caused. Nations tearing each other and themselves apart just to find a glimpse of a shred of evidence that horrid thing is real. And men setting sail and abandoning everything just because they think finding a gold chest is worth losing their family over. Then those same men kill other men with families just like theirs, spreading their filth and disease to every home, town and village just because they can't stand the thought of a man doing the right thing by taking care of his family."

Luffy tilted his head. "You sound like you care a lot."

A tense silence filled the air and you stared at this strange, but oddly charming character. So innocent, so naive. He had no idea of the world you knew, the one that you grew up in. It's rare to find someone this optimistic, or sheltered. You pointed behind him. "Bathroom's there. Leave when you're done."

To say that you were affected by his words would've been both an understatement, and a poor choice of phrasing. You weren't affected, per say. They rubbed you the wrong way, and brought up memories you would rather just forget. It didn't help that they ordered one of everything on the menu, and you were constantly bringing out dishes to a smiling, unbothered Luffy who just shoveled food into his mouth. It was actually really impressive, and you were glad that they didn't come last week when the Baratie did that eating competition. You're pretty sure you probably would've gone out of business.

With a perfectly manufactured smile, you set down the plate of ribs on the only available space between piles of plates and stacked glasses. "And this is the final dish - our limited-time French-Style Ribs braised in red wine and cranberry." You straightened up and the plate was instantly pulled towards the centre of the table. The man in the pirate attire groaned, but he shoved a rib in his mouth and moaned. "I hope everything's been to your satisfaction. Can I get anything else for you tonight? A refill perhaps?"

The orange-haired woman smiled. "We're fine for now, thanks." With a nod, you turned to leave. "When does the bar close?"

"It's open all night, but we do a deep clean around three to four in the morning. So you may not be able to get anything on tap, but prepackaged drinks are always available." The words flowed off your tongue like a rehearsed speech, probably because it was. She smiled and nodded her thanks, before turning back to the conversation they were in. As you walked away, you spotted a certain red-haired pig-tail wearing waitress near the till. "Macy."

Said waitress flinched and slowly turned to you. "Yes, Ma'am?"

More than a little annoyed, you walked up to her and lent against the counter. "Why are you at the till?" She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying and failing to start a proper sentence until you stopped her with a hand. "Macy, there was one rule; don't touch the till. What are you doing right now?"

She paused. "Touching the till?"

You nodded. "Good job, you got something right." With a small glare, you pushed past her and looked at the total that she was charging, then compared it to the bill laying on the countertop. "Unless they've agreed to add a ฿65 tip on top of your 10%, I guess we've just found out who's been messing with the till."

"I-"

"You're done for the night." Her shocked expression turned into a bitter snarl and she began to tug at her apron. "Macy, you've got the body of a used fucking tube of toothpaste. No one wants to see you undress here, get the fuck out. You'll make the customers sick." She gasped, but you dismissed her with a wave and she stormed out of the restaurant. You sighed and opened the drawer beneath the counter, pulling out the book of paid receipts and bookings. Both luckily and unluckily, it was getting close to end-of-shift which meant that you had time to fix Macy's mess, but that the mess was probably smeared dog shit on a window at this point.

Grabbing out your pen and a calculator, you mentally prepared yourself for the long night ahead, when you felt something touch your back. "Hello, my darling." Sanji greeted with a kiss to the back of your neck, then rested his chin on your shoulder to watch what you were doing while his hand lazily stroked your side.

With a sigh, you turned your head to kiss him. "Hey, jerkface. Glad to see someone with a shred of intelligence." You greeted, then scribbled down some notes. "Someone's fucked the till again, and screwed the customers' out of at least three-hundred berri from what I can see."

His smile dropped and he reached for the book, tilting it so that he can see it. "Closer to five-hundred than anything. This table didn't even order the Lobster Thermidor, what the hell's going on."

You slammed your pen down in frustration and leaned back against him. "No idea, but I'm going to have to make some calls and refund tables." He wrapped his arm around your stomach and kissed the back of your ear which made you sigh and rub your face. "I need to make a list and figure out how much we fucked people out of money." You happened to look over at Luffy's table. They looked like they were toasting. "Can you bill them? It'd help a lot."

He smiled and took the piece of paper you had offered him. "Of course, my love. And give me a list of the rich pricks you want me to call. We'll divide and conquer."

"What did I do to deserve you?" You asked as he picked up the golden dish used to store cash.

"You, my love, didn't need to do anything." He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your lips, before turning around and walking over to do as you asked.

Turning back to your mammoth task, now with a smile, you picked up your pen again and started to scribble down the sum total of every receipt that was put in by Macy. It was a good call by Zeff to bar everyone else but yourself from accessing the till. It was pretty easy to differentiate your neat and straightforward ones from Macy's abominations, but it still didn't make it any less painful. The Baratie didn't even serve quiches, so why would she even put that in there?

The telltale sound of Sanji's shoes smacking against the floorboards broke your concentration, and you looked up confused. "That was fast-" You were interrupted by him flashing you what was on the bill. You frowned at his abrupt interruption, but then squinted and jolted back slightly to look at your boyfriend. "What the shit is a 'treasure tab'?"

"We're going to find out." He said with a smile and walked past you to the kitchen. This was going to be interesting.

Just as you thought, the kitchen door slammed open and Zeff's wide, intimating frame appeared in the doorway. "Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Luffy, sweet and innocent Luffy, popped his head out of his booth and waved his milkshake. "Here!" Zeff locked onto him and marched toward the young boy.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house," You and Sanji, who had just come out of the kitchen, exchanged knowing glances and you placed down your pen. Led by your boyfriend, you grabbed a jug of water while he grabbed a tray of complimentary scones and he slowly walked around the scene that was unfolding. "But Baratie doesn't offer credit. You eat, you pay." You both stopped at a nearby empty table. You started to examine the glasses in detail, admiring the way the light hit the material, while Sanji wiped the table with a piece of lettuce someone forgot to clean up.

Setting down his glass, Luffy looked up at Zeff. "I think you're confused." Sanji and you shared a look. "The meal has already been paid for. I just haven't given you the money yet."

Pretending to look around the room, you caught the stern, no-shits-given look Zeff was offering the kid. "Yeah, and how's that?"

Luffy smiled. "You can add it to my treasure tab."

You and Sanji snickered at the tone in Zeff's voice. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

"A way to get your ass beat." You mumbled and Sanji quietly shushed you with a smile, trying to hear the rest of what was being said.

Still not realising what's happening, Luffy kept talking. "I may not look like a big deal yet, but you're talking with the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I'm gonna come back here, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

Zeff chuckled. "I got a better idea." And yanked Luffy out of his booth, dragging the confused pirate to the kitchen.

A sigh escaped you. "That certainly didn't disappoint." You commented and picked up Sanji's makeshift lettuce-rag, pocketing it to throw out later. "Guess we have a new busboy."

Sanji shook his head, but kept his eyes on the door. "Wouldn't be good at anything besides dishes." He said and paused for a second. You could see the metaphorical gears in his head turning, before he nodded toward the kitchen. "Hold on."

"Sanji, don't-" But it was too late, the love of your life had walked off, probably to rejoin the line. Your fists balled up and you let out a frustrated groan, your heels clicking as you followed after him. "Sanji! Don't piss him off. Sanji-"

The doors swung open as the blond barged in the kitchen with you on his heels. Your words fell on deaf ears and you rolled your eyes at Zeff who looked between you two confused. "Oy, oy. What do you think you're doing?"

You threw up your hands, but helped Sanji shrug off his coat. "I tried to stop him." You said as you wrapped his jacket around your arm and lent against the wall behind you.

The blond scoffed and held up a hand. "Com on, old man. Enough's enough-"

"Put the jacket back on, little Eggplant. You're not done with your shift yet." Zeff's face was tired and stern as always, and all you wanted to do was pull Sanji back and apologise for the extra stress. However, you knew that the two were stubborn and that would only cause more trouble than it's worth.

Sanji's tone suddenly sharpened. "Let me back on the line, or I walk." You almost said something, but considering you said something similar this afternoon, you settled for a glare.

"You can walk right back into the ocean for all I care. You cook another meal like that in my kitchen, it's going right where the last one did."

"You can kick me out of the kitchen all you like. I'll never be a waiter."

"Well that's fine by me, because you sure as hell are never gonna be a cook in my restaurant. Have you got that?"

Your heart broke seeing your boyfriend's face when he glanced over at you. He was so angry, and hurt, and upset. His hands were balled into fists, but you just shook your head. It wasn't worth it. His gaze shifted back to the man who had taken the both of you in, and then he turned heel, storming out of the kitchen via the hallway.

"So it was Macy, then?" When you nodded, Zeff sighed and held his face in his palm. The two of you were alone on the balcony overlooking the ocean. You were all on a thirty minute break before the next service, and you'd stumbled across the old man while trying to get some peace and quiet. The man you both admired and respected more than anyone was sat beside you tiredly rubbing his face. "And where is she now?"

You fought back what you really wanted to say, and simply shrugged, picking up your glass and taking a sip. "I sent her home for the night. Didn't want to see her fucking face, the red-haired bitch."

He shifted in his chair and leaned forward toward you, pointing a finger in your direction. "There is no talk like that in the Baratie."

You rolled your eyes and put your glass down. "It's not a big deal. Everyone here curses-"

"But you never use such vulgar language when talking about a woman." He said, his tone firm and leaving no room for arguing. "I always taught both you and that boyfriend of yours to never speak badly about, or to, a woman. Just because you're twenty-one now, doesn't mean a thing. Get that?" Ever since you were fifteen, he's drilled his way of life into your head. From scrubbing the decks every time you dropped food, to spending late nights learning the difference between the various cutlery the Baratie offered, it was almost like his life's mission to turn you into a mini-him. To this day, you couldn't eat salad with a table fork, even though the minute difference between a salad fork and a table fork were so inconsequential they were practically the same fucking thing.

You bit the inside of your lip. "Well that bitch-"

"Macy."

The condensation floating slowly down your glass seemed to be more interesting than his face. "Macy has ruined all the work I've done to make the Baratie a place where you can just sit down and enjoy a good meal with the best service around. You know, I've had to deal with so much shit. More than anyone in this goddamn place. All the harassment explained away as jokes and if I'm uncomfortable with it, I'm just 'not getting the joke'. And then having to spend hours listening to the most intolerable stories about slick, rich pricks with small dicks bitching about their toxic chicks with plastic tits. And expecting me to not spit or get sick when they talk about me like I'm some quick flick." You took a breath, counted to five, and licked your lips. "But it's not enough that she'll get away with it. You also won't let me complain about her."

He sighed. "She isn't going to get away with it." You scoffed and raised your glass to take another sip, but a hand under your chin guided your gaze to him. "Look at me." Hesitantly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. "She," He spoke slowly, his intense blue eyes piercing into mine in a way that made you feel small. "Is going to be dealt with." His hand released your chin and migrated upwards to rest atop your head, softly patting your head like he used to when you were younger. "You've done well, little Sprout." You sucked in a breath and nodded, but your pseudo-confidence wasn't fooling the old man. "And if any of these 'rich pricks with small dicks' ever bothers you again, tell me. Nothing is worth you being treated like a sack of shit over. Not the Baratie, not anything."

A fake chuckle wormed its way out of you, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Thanks, Dad."

A smile spread across his face and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in and pressing his lips to your forehead. Zeff smelled like a thousand scents, oregano, paprika, and a dash of vanilla extract, but his warm touch and the feeling of his scruffy beard against your scalp only felt like one thing: safe. You hadn't realised you closed your eyes until you felt him pull away. "Now then, I've got some calls to make."

With a groan, he got up to his feet. "Are you sure? My waitress, my mistake."

He shook his head. "My Baratie, my mistake." He walked past, patting you on the head as he left the balcony.

It was time to face your boyfriend, and you were dreading it. With his coat jacket wrapped over your arm, you slowly made your way down the hall to the kitchen. The doors were swinging slightly, so you knew that someone had just walked in, and you took a deep breath, walking over to the entrance - ready to go in.

"...banned from the line." You paused when you heard Sanji's voice float through the air.

"But that meal you cooked was incredible!"

A smile graced your face and you lent against the wall just beside the doors. "The True Bluefin Sauté?"

"Yeah!"

"You tried it?"

"Yeah, of course I did! I couldn't help myself. I didn't think the food here could get any better. You know, you're a really good cook. Why is Zeff making you wait tables?"

"'Cause he's jealous. I should be running this place, but the old man's so stubborn it'll never happen."

"So, that's your dream. To be head chef of the Baratie."

A pause. "I guess-"

"No, it's not." Both men looked up at you when you entered the double doors.

The other voice who you now realised was Luffy looked at you confused. "It's not?"

Sanji laughed breathlessly and looked at the table he was sitting at, flicking open his lighter and closing it again. "It's not." He confirmed. You smiled and walked over to where your boyfriend sat, draping his coat over an empty chair.

"So you love to cook. You just don't want to cook here?"

The blond grabbed out a cigarette and looked to you where you had taken up residence next to him. When you nodded, he ignited the lighter you gave him earlier and lit the end of his cigarette. He took a drag and hummed. "There's... this place," He started and his eyes drifted to yours. You both shared a small smile. "Where you can find ingredients from all four seas. East Blue, West Blue, North and South - they call it the All Blue. Nobody knows where it is, but..." His gaze lifts heavenward. "There's fish there that have never been seen. You know, rare seaweeds, spices that have never been tasted. It's a cook's paradise, and I'm gonna find it one day." He looked back at you and placed his hand over yours. "That's my dream."

Luffy's gaze was soft, but also intense. "If you want to cook, you should cook. Don't let some stubborn old man stand in the way of your dream." He smiled. "Stand up to him! Tell him what you want."

"It's more..." Sanji looked over at you. "Complicated, than that."

The young boy shrugged. "I don't really do complicated either."

You scoffed. "For someone who claims to be a pirate, you don't like a lot of things that pirates are known for."

Luffy looked at you. "For someone who doesn't like pirates, you sure do act like one."

Before you could say anything, frantic banging on the staff exit caught you all off guard. Begging for help, a man tumbled in and fell to the floor, barely having the strength to cling onto the countertop. On instinct, you went to pull out your gun but stopped when your boyfriend raised a hand to you and marched toward the man. Being the good Samaritan you certainly weren't, Sanji and Luffy helped him up onto a chair. "Are you okay?"

The man's voice sounded croaky and scratchy. "I'm so hungry, please."

Sanji nodded and moved to the stove. "Okay, you got it, man. How does some corned-beef fried rice sound?"

Pattie, appearing from his break, quickly stood up and followed after him. "What do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

The blond didn't bother to look at him and you gave the pirate a warning look before moving to the fridge. "At Baratie, everyone eats." The love of your life explained as you rifled through the fridge for the ingredients he would need.

"And who's gonna pay for that? This is a business, we can't be giving handouts to every down-on-his-luck pirate that washes up."

"If a man is hungry, I feed him. Thank you, darling." He said when you handed him the beef.

Pattie looked at you for help, then back at him when you just shrugged. "Zeff kicked you off the line."

"Yeah, well, I don't see the old man here. Do you?"

The other chef looked at you once more, and you shrugged at him again. You both knew it was a losing battle, and so he waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, your funeral."

You couldn't keep your eyes off the strange pirate while he sat and ate, and explained what had happened to him. Sanji was way too nice a person for people like him to deserve. You knew pirates, and a part of you was tempted to hide the silverware.

"He's a good guy." Luffy, who was slowly becoming less and less of a pirate in your eyes, said and you nodded.

"Sanji's brilliant." The words came easily. "He's the kind of guy that only comes once a generation. He's a dumbass, sure, but he's a good dumbass."

He thought for a second, before turning to Sanji. "You know, if Zeff doesn't appreciate you, you should join my crew."

Your chair scraped as you stood and left the room.

A/N: I am genuinely loving writing this! As said above, I normally tend to leave the reader's backstory and personality ambiguous, but this character has just taken on a personality of her own! This one is a bit longer because I felt like there wasn't enough content in this upload to justify it. I wouldn't want to waste everyone's time with like, two conversations. I'm kinda happier with the longer/more in-depth parts because I get to spend more time building up characters and relationships, and I'm less tempted to accidentally write and spoil things that the OPLA fans haven't seen yet.

Also, I've grappled with the ages for a while now, and I've officially decided that this AU will have Sanji and (Y/N) be 21. Normally I'd leave the reader's age ambiguous, but since age is important to this story, it's needed to be put in there.

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captain-mj · 4 months

Note

I saw you reblogged the Pain God Soap x Ghost oneshot recently, and I don’t know if this means you still have interest in it, but if it does,

It’s one of my favorite pieces of writing you’ve done (what can I say, I’m a sucker for overwhelming someone with artificial pleasure ;) ) and if you ever wanted to do a sequel I’d treasure it too <3

I ended up finding it as I was trying to find another thing I had written and i reread all of it. It's also one of my favorites and I'd be more than happy to write a sequel!

(Also I have another thing with forced/artificial pleasure if you or anyone else is interested. Just haven’t decided if it’ll be to Soap or Ghost so if you send an ask specify)

Ghost felt Soap's hands tracing down his spine. Over the past few days he had adjusted more to everything. The improbabilities and broken laws of physics had become normal at some point. He buried his face in the pillows to pretend to be asleep a little longer.

Part of him had begun to crave Soap's touch. In life, he could never stand it but here, everything was so different with him.

"Simon." He purred at him. "I can hear your heartbeat."

Ghost groaned and turned to him. "I dislike that you can do that. Does my privacy mean nothing to you?"

"What privacy?"

Ghost scoffed and shook his head before rolling on his back. He smiled as Soap started to nip and bite at his throat. "You're like a dog."

"If you want, I can bark."

Ghost laughed softly before moaning softly when he got a particularly hard bite. Soap pulled back and looked down at him, bumping their noses together. "God your laugh is lovely."

"Stop it, Soap." He pushed him back before pulling him back down to kiss him. There was a certain power under Soap's skin. Hard muscles that hummed with something unnatural. "I have questions."

Soap whined and kissed down his chest. "So early? Does your mind ever stop working?"

Ghost almost let it slip that Soap was very good at turning his mind off, but instead he spread his legs a bit so Soap could work more comfortably. "Soap, I don't like being at a disadvantage. You're good in bed and a god and that's all I know."

"And I love you."

And you love me." Ghost added softly. His fingers tangled into the sheets as Soap peppered kisses against his stomach. "I deserve more than that."

Soap looked hesitant. "Simon... please can we put this off?"

"No."

"Ask away." He looked weary as he laid his head on Ghost's chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was so strong he could feel it in his fingertips.

Ghost tugged Soap's hair. "The haircut..."

"Past few decades. Saw it came back in style from the vikings."

"I see. And how old are you?"

Soap didn't answer for a while but soon the ceiling started to fade again. At first into Ghost's stars and then into something else. They spun around and around until they were were ancient stars. "I was born when humanity was still considered a different species. A child prayed to me."

Something grew around the edges of the roof, branches and leaves and dozens of things. "Their father was cruel. Had a habit of viciously beating them when he was upset."

"It must've been difficult for you." Ghost muttered.

"Aye. Though I wasn't always useless. Back then, with a child that believed in me so strongly, I hurt him. I hurt him badly. Until the entire forest had bits of flesh from him. Unfortunately I learned that seeing your father be brutally murdered by a mere concept is very damaging."

Ghost laughed and he could feel Soap's smile. "Yes. In retrospect, that should've been obvious but I was young. Just born technically." He sat up. "I am a monster. I know this. I hope you don't fear me, though I know you likely do. You're used to feeling powerless. It's something you hate."

Ghost winced as Soap pressed into those old wounds but he stayed silent as Soap continued.

"You wish you could overpower me. It scares you that I can. That you don't have a chance against me. I've never experienced that, but i can imagine it's terrible." Soap sighed. "I'm sure you also wish I couldn't control you so easily."

"You don't control me."

Soap stared at him. "I do. In a way. I wish there was something I could do. Some power I could give you. A way to hurt me and kill me. But there is none that I know of. You have to trust me."

Ghost swallowed. "I'm working on it. You have been very nice so far."

Soap grinned and kissed Ghost's hand, fluttering his eyes. "Now. May I please please service you?"

"You're horribly horny for a god of something so vile."

"Aye. I have to get my pleasure from somewhere. If I can't get it from my work..." His fingers trailed up his inner thigh. "That just leaves you."

"One more question."

"Simon..." Soap sighed but got settled back down to listen.

"What can I do to make it better for you? I don't like just laying here."

Soap paused at that, seeming genuinely surprised. "Well... I would... like to try something. You'd still be laying there, but I'd like to restrain you."

Ghost considered it. It didn't change much, did it? Soap had pinned him down and Ghost could move him about as much as he could open the door. "If that's what you'd like to do."

Soap looked excited as he moved Ghost how he wanted. He kissed his wrists as he wrapped rope around his wrists. The rope was the roughest thing he had touched since he'd been there. It felt... nice. A nice juxtaposition. Soap never let him feel any pain or discomfort and after so long of only feeling pleasure, it felt like his brain had been rewired.

Ghost didn't mention it, planning to talk later. Instead he felt his brain simply melt as Soap's fingers worked him open. He stopped being able to think. If he was a little more cognizant, he'd wonder if Soap was doing this to him. Or more, what exactly he was doing to him. It was like all that existed was the sensations of the rope and those fucking fingers.

He built up nice and slow and his orgasm washed over him, body trembling as he twisted his wrists hard to feel the rope burn against him.

"Soap. So-"

"Johnny." He whispered softly to him.

Simon sighed softly. "Johnny. Don't numb me. Let me feel it."

Johnny bit his lip but nodded and slowly pushed into him.

Big.

Fuck he felt so big.

The stretch, the burn, the entire feeling. It hurt, but it was so good that Ghost could barely stand it.

Embarrassingly, he started to babble about it. How Johnny really did know everything about him. How he could barely think when he was doing this.

He wailed when he started to fuck him hard, letting, no forcing, Ghost to just feel everything. Two giant extremes burning through him until he felt like he'd be ripped apart but he'd enjoy it.

Ghost came hard and tried desperately to get a kiss. Soap teases him for only a second before giving it to him. The overstimulation started to make it too much and Soap just... took it away. Suppressing the feeling but nothing else. The intensity and the realization it would end only when Soap allowed washed over him and Ghost had never felt more turned on.

There was no telling how long he sat there. He'd occasionally try to twist his hips or clench and, a bit like Soap was punishing him for the effort, he'd feel the overstimulation and how much this was wrecking him.

Eventually, Soap after an ungodly amount of orgasms decided he was done. Ghost felt utterly braindead as he laid there. The moment the suppression left him, he was a shaking, trembling mess. He tried to pull himself together but he couldn't.

Soap kissed him softly and held him close, letting Ghost fall to pieces for a while.

"Johnny"

"Simon."

Ghost groaned and closed his eyes tight. "I think that was the best you've ever done. It was so good." He leaned into him, feeling his legs shake. "Fucking hell."

Soap hummed softly and pulled him closer. "You're a good boy. I don't think I'll ever get tired of making love to you."

"Making love huh?"

"Only way I describe what I do with you."

Ghost huffed softly but sleep was clawing at him and he ended up falling asleep.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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sinkingnotsoslowly · 8 months

Text

Pairing: Bangchan x (f) Reader

Royal au

Warning: angst, forbidden love, reader referred to as princess

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

masterlist

Autumn's sighs- little soft thoughts about our favourite boys

note- inspired by @seo--changbin it is not exactly like the au but i tried

It was wrong. So very wrong. He knew it, the princess knew it, her brother knew it, if he told the street cat even the cat would know it. Love between a royal and a knight was wrong, forbidden. But did the heart ever listen? The heart had its own way of messing with people’s lives.

Christopher’s first thought when he wakes up is always “I am so glad to be in the same world as the dear princess”. He thought that no other job could be as rewarding as protecting and supporting his princess. Now, no one in the palace was as eager to wake up in the morning and follow a boring schedule as Christopher was and his eagerness (so he likes to call it) had put him on the receiving end of many weirded-out looks. And this “eagerness” of his was what got him to get caught by the prince with whom he had a very extraordinary friendship.

“Are you in love with my baby sister?” Felix asked incredulously.

It was almost impossible to catch the top-notch knight off-guard but from the wide eyes of Christopher, it was easy for the prince to decipher the answer.

“Oh my god, you actually are” Felix pretended to be angry at the revelation but his smirk gave it away, “But if you want it to be a secret you better stop looking at her like she hung the stars for you”.

It was easy for the prince to say that but how could Christopher stop? All his thoughts seemed to centre around the princess in question. At this point, he knew the princess’ habits, preferences and unconscious actions better than she did herself and he was proud of it.

❀ . * . *

“There is no reason for you to be nervous princess. You will do well”

“I am not nervous”, the princess was quick to deny.

“Yes, you are” Christopher retorted.

The princess was seconds away from stepping into a room full of power-hungry nobles, she had been tasked with the huge responsibility of representing the king, “And how would you know that, Chris?”

Christopher smiled fondly at her; he loved how she always kept their banter going. “Believe me I know”, he lightly patted her head, “No one knows you better than me princess. And so, I also know that you will do perfectly”

He let a smug smile take over his face seeing her looking away to her side, trying to hide her flaming cheeks.

❀ . * . *

But he was very subtly reminded that knowing everything about the princess and loving her with his all did not mean much to the world. Christopher was assigned to a mission to a neighbouring town for a few weeks. When he came back looking for his princess, skipping and giggling like a little girl in love, he found her in the garden having tea with a man he did not know. A royal from the looks of it, and if a royal then it was very much possible that he was a suitor. Christopher’s smile dropped, was he jealous? Maybe not, but upset? Possibly. He stood behind a pillar and took deep breaths so as to not stride up to the man and ruin his pretty face. He let them be, going to his quarters instead.

“Chris”

The sweet, crisp voice called out almost like a melody from the other side of the door of the guard’s quarters. Christopher would never not recognise the voice; the voice that he wished was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep and the first when he woke up. The only person who called him Chris.

He opened the door to his princess fiddling with her fingers and shifting from one foot to the other. Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw him, “Felix told me you’re back. Why didn’t you come to see me?”

Christopher melted a little inside to know that she was waiting for him, “I did but you were meeting with someone so I didn’t want to disturb you”

The princess gave a self-deprecating smile at that, “So you saw that. He is supposedly the man I will have to marry. This is my second time meeting him”

Christopher knew this day would come eventually, but he had ignored it choosing to be happy in the present moment instead. He looked away from her and let out a sigh, “Do you want to marry him, princess?”

“I don’t have a choice”

Christopher could see the dejected look in her eyes. She did not think there was any hope left for them anymore. Although unspoken, both were aware of the other’s feelings for them. Neither of them could remember any particular moment when their feelings were made known, it was as if they always knew, as if they were soulmates.

❀ . * . *

“I see you’ve been the talk of the town lately” the princess coyly said as she walked along the brick path of the garden, “Never took you for a Casanova”

She looked back to see Christopher confused, “All I hear from the maids is talks of you. Apparently, they are so madly in love with you Chris. Are you seducing them?”

She was trying to sound unbothered he knew. And that made him feel a little happy.

“Are you jealous princess?”, he smirked.

Realising that she had been caught, the princess quickly turned around to continue her walk, “I have no reason to be jealous”, she quipped, “But remember that you’re my knight. You are to remain with me always and my safety is your first priority”.

So she was jealous. How adorable!

“I am your knight. You are my only priority unless otherwise inevitable. So rest assured, I will be rejecting any love confessions I receive”, he grinned.

❀ . * . *

Every day Christopher woke up and went through an unbearable pain, watching his princess’ wedding preparations. Everyone in town was rejoicing, the maids were gossiping about it, and the guards took this as a cue to flirt with the maids, everyone seemed happy except for Christopher. He had never looked this dejected before. His world was being snatched away from him, the world that was never his. But he knew one thing for sure, no one in the whole world could love his princess like he did. Even when she would not be with him, he would keep loving her, keep thinking about her till his last breath.

A week before the wedding came the news of some unrest at the borders of the kingdom. Usually, a personal guard would not be assigned to such missions but there was a shortage of manpower at the borders so Christopher was ordered to go to provide support. Partly, he felt relieved that he would not have to see the wedding but then that would also mean that by the time he came back, his princess would not be his anymore. So he visited her quarters on the night before he left for the mission, his heart beating out of his chest.

❀ . * . *

“You won’t be at the wedding”

“No”

The princess did not look at Christopher’s eyes. She could not look, afraid that she would finally break down. She felt so vulnerable that even the smallest thing could trigger her to do something unspeakable, “Is there no happily ever after for us Chris?”

He did not answer.

“How about we run away?” the princess said in one last desperate attempt.

Christopher gave a sorrowful smile, “You can’t do that, my princess, you have too much of a sense of responsibility”

“You know me so well Chris”, She finally turned her head to meet his eyes. He could see the tears brimming in her eyes. If it were up to Christopher, he would have made sure that the only tears his princess shed were of joy.

A moment of silence passed with them savouring the presence of each other until Christopher broke the silence, “I-I should leave, it’s late-” “Kiss me”

Christopher paused, “What?”

“Kiss me Chris, please”, the princess grasped at his arm. She was begging Christopher for something that he always wished he could give her plentiful. With her permission, he did not wait another moment longer and brought his lips to hers. So passionate and yet so loving. He kissed her like he would die the moment he stopped. And she returned the fervour. Seconds? Minutes? Neither knew how long it was. They only stopped when their lungs were burning for air. Christopher rested his forehead on hers and soaked in her presence. His palms were holding her face and he felt the wetness of her tears, “I do not care if you marry someone else. I will always love you. My very last breath will be for you. My very last heartbeat will be for you. Nothing else matters. Even if you forget me, I will still love you. Because you are the meaning of my existence”. He could no longer hold back himself, he was sobbing, all his unexpressed love, heartbreak; he was putting everything out in the open for her.

“Call me yours Chris”

He sucked in a breath, “Mine, you’re mine”

She shook her head in his hold, “N-No, no, call me what you always call me. Call me your princess”

Christopher wrapped his arms around her and brought her close, leaving not even air between, “My princess, my princess always”. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent deeply so that it got engraved in his brain, “You will forever be my princess”.

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rintosei · 1 year

Text

ೃ blue lock boys as cliche scenarios

genre: fluff

pairing: nagi, reo, rin, and bachira x fem!reader (seperated)

note: honestly i think i got a bit carried away while writing this LMAO ; like, reblog, and follow for more!

NAGI SEISHIRO + teaching you the games he play:

we all know how much nagi loves his video games, but i think that he especially loves teaching you to play them. the first time you ever asked him to teach you, he was beyond ecstatic. he loves it when you sit in front of him, so he could wrap his arms around your shoulders while his hand stays on top of yours, helping you move your avatar.

he finds it cute when you fail on a level, because you would get all pouty and nagi can't help but kiss you.

"okay, this is how you dodge- no, it's this button. yes, there we go. you're getting the hang of it." nagi says with a small smile on his face, expressing his happiness pretty clearly.

"i honestly don't know how you are able to play this almost everyday. i can't even get past on level without giving up halfway." you stated, putting the phone down to rest your fingers.

"hm," nagi hummed, giving you a small squeeze on your shoulder. "i guess i just got into the habit of playing video games before reo asked me to play soccer. ever since that and blue lock, i rarely had any time to play so now that i'm on a holiday, i will play as much as i want to." he says that with such determination it made you laugh.

he gave you a confused look, tilting his head.

you quickly regained composure. "the determination you have is impressive. i can see why reo likes you."

he furrows his eyebrows. "hey, you're the one who's dating me."

you avoided his statement by picking up your phone again, shoving it in his hands. "here. you can play this level for me if you love this game so much then."

"huh? but i'm supposed to be teaching you, not playing it for you. this is a pain," nagi complains, looking down to see what level you're on after beating the previous one and he groans. "ugh, and this one is the one that took me days to beat, come on."

you could only laugh once more, seeing him pout while he plays the game.

MIKAGE REO + buying whatever you're eyeing in a store:

reo loves taking you out on shopping dates, and even if you did try to object, he just would not take no as an answer. he especially loves to buy you literally anything you eye in a store, whether it was expensive or cheap, he would get it immediately.

this one time, you were eyeing a cute necklace you saw in a jewelry store while you and reo were on your way to a restaurant, and as someone who's quick to notice things, reo notices the way you were eyeing the necklace with a bright look on your eyes.

but, as soon as you saw the price, your mood instantly soured, mumbling about how expensive it was. you quickly smiled again when you see reo looking at you. "what is it, reo?"

he doesn't say anything and just drags you into the jewelry store, you being unable to say anything to him. one of the staff walks up to him. "hi, and welcome to our store! what can i do to help you today?"

reo points at the necklace. "we'll take that."

you choked on your spit. "wha- reo, you don't have to, come on!" your eyes moved from reo to the staff. "sorry, we don't-"

reo doesn't budge even when you pulled his hand. "we're getting that. how much?"

the staff laughs awkwardly, looking at you who could only look to your side, suddenly feeling interested in the potted plant that was next to the entrance. you felt like you were about to pass out when you heard the price once again and when reo bought it.

he hands you the bag with a small smile as you both walked out of the store, thanking the staff for helping.

"reo... you didn't have to buy this, you know? i was already happy with just seeing it." you said, peering inside the bag.

"i know," reo answers, squeezing your hand before stopping you, taking the necklace out of the box. he turns you around and places the necklace around your neck. "but when i saw the necklace, i knew that it would look really pretty on you."

your cheeks turned red, giving reo a push. "w-what are you talking about? don't say things like that so casually..." you mumbled, fumbling around with the pendant on the necklace.

reo smiles. "well, let's go, shall we? i'm starving."

ITOSHI RIN + teaching you how to play soccer:

i feel like rin would really love to teach you soccer. he just feels like playing soccer with you would give you the joy he once felt when he was playing with sae.

"do you want to play soccer with me?" rin asks, surprising you.

"huh? me?" you pointed at yourself, looking around (which was a stupid thing to do. you're at home, of course he's talking to you).

"yeah, who else would i be talking to?" rin states, making you laugh in embarrassment.

"um, but why? i suck at soccer, you know that right?" you questioned, and he shrugged in response.

"it's okay, i'll teach you." he murmurs, and your eyes brightened. you've always wanted to play soccer with rin, but was afraid because of your... bad skills in soccer. you've always thought that asking rin to teach you soccer was too burdensome for him, but here he was, offering to teach you.

"REALLY?" you exclaimed, almost jumping up and down. "hold on, okay? let me go change to my sport outfit!"

so this is why you and rin were currently on a small field where he used to practice soccer as a kid. honestly, you thought you would be tired after an hour, but you were feeling pretty fired up.

he taught you how to dribble, pass, ball control, and receiving, and you honestly think you're doing well already.

you were currently practicing on defending the goal, meaning not letting rin get past you. honestly, this was harder than you thought. you know how good rin is — you've seen how he plays — and yet you found it harder when you're the one to have to face him.

"ready?" rin asks, eyes trained on you like an eagle.

you shudder at the intensity of his stare. "yeah, i am."

he kicks the ball, not letting you breathe for even just a second.

"okay, i've seen him play, i can do it. just block the-" before you could even finish thinking, rin has already gotten past you, kicking the ball straight into the goal.

"why were you spacing out? you have to focus." rin grumbles, grabbing the ball.

you pout. "hey, you're supposed to go easy on a first-timer! and not to mention your girlfriend as well."

rin actually scoffs at that, and that made you annoyed for some reason. you got up and ran at him, stealing the ball from his hand. he lets out a sound of shock while you stick your tongue at him.

"catch me if you can!"

you may not play soccer, but you sure can run damn fast.

BACHIRA MEGURU + painting with him:

besides soccer, he's grown to love painting because of his mother. he especially loves it when you join him during one of his painting sessions. he finds this as an escape from reality, and having you there with him just makes it ten times better.

whatever he paints depends on his mood. it could be the clouds, flowers, trees, or even you.

well, mostly you, but you didn't know that.

when you found out about his passion for painting, you couldn't help but be excited.

you knocked on the door. "bachi, what are you painting this time? can i see?" you peeked your head in, and you see him sitting on a stool, his back facing yours. he didn't reply, making you call out to him once more. "bachi?"

he lets out a gasp, dropping the paintbrush he was holding. he quickly stood up, covering the canvas with his body. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, stepping closer to him.

"y-y/n! what's wrong?" bachira asks, giving you a sheepish smile.

"nothing's wrong... why're you covering the painting, hm?" you teased, trying to peer over his shoulder. "what did you paint?"

bachira's face turned red. "n-nothing! it's nothing special, i swear! it's not finished either, so i'd rather you see the finished product instead of the work in progress, m'kay?" he turns you around, pushing you out of the room. "i-i'll call you when it's done!"

before bachira was able to close the door, you saw a glimpse of the painting, and your heart fluttered.

it was a painting of you during one of your picnic dates with him, with you facing at the pretty sakura trees that were in bloom. bachira must have taken a picture of you without you knowing. you didn't say anything about it, because if you did, bachira would just deny and shut the door in embarrassment. so, you prompted to wait until he was willing to show you that painting, and until then, you'll just pretend you didn't see the painting.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

A New Life 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Steve Kemp

Summary: You have an unexpected encounter in the park.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

There’s a hint of dampness in the flow of spring air. The breeze stirs the leaves and the scent of dirt along with the sprouting leaves. The season of renewal has arrived. You hope there’s a fresh start for more than the foliage.

You sit on a bench along the winding path that leads from the nearby park. You have your journal on your leg, knee hook over the other as you sketch the thin branches of a barren bramble. You cross hatch the dulling end of the pencil, the skitter of unseen critters and winging of birds brushing around you.

Another twenty minutes and you’ll go. You can feel the rain, see it bulging in the clouds looming above. You can’t be very disappointed, at least you got out of the house. You need to do more of that.

You hear footfalls down the path. Heavy and quick. Another jogger passing through. You don’t look over, focusing on adding the patchy grass around the twigs.

They get closer, looming as they bounce up the path, coming around the curve. This leg of the path isn’t as busy as the others. Many are deterred by the incline. You bend your neck as you raise the notebook slightly, trying to get the angle of the blades just right.

A huff as a shadow hangs over you. Someone claims the empty space next to you on the bench. You make yourself smaller as the jogger sits and bends over their lap, loudly catching their breath. You don’t own the bench, you can’t stop them, but there’s another further up the path.

“Nice day,” he comments as he raises his head, elbows on his legs as he stays hunched over his lap, “spring’s coming.”

You glance over. He’s older. His gray hair has a few lingering streaks of brown and his blue eyes meet yours briefly before you retreat back into your journal. You shrug and hum, “mhmm.”

“Good running weather, not too hot,” he remarks as he sits up, bending his elbow over the back of the bench.

You wouldn’t know. You don’t run. You’re surprised someone his age keeps up the habit.

“You’re an artist,” he points lazily with his hand to your journal.

You nod, “just doodles.”

“I can’t draw at all. Chicken scratch,” he sighs.

Your wall of silence slips into place. You don’t mean to be rude but you’re not overly fond of strangers. You hope he gets the hint.

“Sorry, hope I’m not disturbing you,” he chuckles, “you know, ever since my wife died, I just… spill all over.” He sits up and clears his throat, “like right now.”

You fidget and rest the pencil between the pages, closing the journal. “I’m sorry about your wife,” you eke out, a tremor of guilt tugging at your heart.

“That’s life, I guess,” he says, his other hand twiddling on his thigh, “can’t all be sunshine,” he looks up, “gotta rain sometime.” He stands and puts his hands on his hips, facing you, “probably soon, ya know? Wouldn’t want that pretty art to get ruined.”

“Uh, yeah,” you hug the book to your stomach, “thanks.”

“Er,” he reaches to rub his neck then drops his hand again, the front of his light zip-up straining across his shoulders, “I guess it’s been a while for me, I’m Steve.”

He offers his hand. You look at it. It isn’t the strangest encounter you’ve had but unexpected nonetheless. You left the house for some alone time. To get away from the stomping and hollering above your basement unit. Now you’re being pestered by this lonely widower.

That last thought once more fills you with guilt. You shouldn’t think like that. It’s selfish. You have your issues but you’re not mourning someone you love.

You relent and give your name as you reach for your hand. As you clutch it, you feel a strange prick against the heel of your palm. He clings to you, shifting oddly as the stabbing deepens in your hand. He holds onto you a strange sensation flows into your veins.

He lets you go as you recoil and hold up your hand. There’s a tink against the brickwork below the bench. You look down at the syringe as your journal slips out of your grasp. What the heck?

Panic erupts from your stomach and you try to scream but your voice catches in your throat. You set your feet and push yourself up, thinking only of fleeing. Who is this man? Why would he do this? What did he inject you with?

The horror courses through you the mysterious serum. Your vision hazes at the edges as you stumble on your wobbly legs, teetering back and forth. The man puts his arms out as you stagger and he brings you against him, hushing you as your head lolls back. Your eyes widen as he pets your forehead.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he embraces you, “don’t fight it.”

You can only choke out a splintered moan. You hear more people. A group chattering as their footsteps echo up the path. He draws you into him, pushing your head forward to hide your face against his shoulder. He sways and coos as heaviness floods your limbs.

“Love you, baby,” he says loudly for the passing audience, kissing the top of your head.

You groan and try to fight him off. You only manage to lean harder into him. Your legs slacken as he’s the only thing holding you up. The group passes as they continue to talk about some party. You blink and your lashes stick together.

“Just breathe, it feels good once you let it happen,” he coaxes, “breathe, sweetheart.”

You take a breath, chest hammering, and let it out. Before you can expel all the air from your lungs, the world is black. You collapse into the void and the snare of this man.

#steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #fresh #au #silverfox au #a new life #series #drabble

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taylor-swift-bracket · 6 days

Text

🎇Please reblog!🎇

Notable bridges

(Under the cut)

1989 (Taylor’s Version)

Out of the woods

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon?

Twenty stitches in the hospital room

When you started crying, baby, I did too

But when the sun came up, I was looking at you

Remember when we couldn't take the heat?

I walked out, I said, "I'm setting you free"

But the monsters turned out to be just trees

When the sun came up, you were looking at me

You were looking at me, oh

You were looking at me

(Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?)

(Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods?)

I remember

(Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?)

(Are we in the clear yet, in the clear yet? Good)

Oh, I remember

Wildest Dreams

You'll see me in hindsight

Tangled up with you all night

Burnin' it down

Someday, when you leave me

I bet these memories

Follow you around

You'll see me in hindsight

Tangled up with you all night

Burnin' (Burnin') it (It) down (Down)

Someday, when you leave me

I bet these memories

Follow (Follow) you (You) around

(Follow you around)

Is It Over Now?

And did you think I didn't see you?

There were flashin' lights

At least I had the decency

To keep my nights out of sight

Only rumors 'bout my hips and thighs

And my whispered sighs

Oh, Lord, I think about jumpin'

Off of very tall somethings

Just to see you come runnin'

And say the one thing I've been wanting, but no

Clean

Ten months sober, I must admit

Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it

Ten months older, I won't give in

Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it

The drought was the very worst, ah-ah, ah-ah

When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst (Oh)

Wonderland

I reached for you, but you were gone

I knew I had to go back home

You searched the world for somethin' else

To make you feel like what we had

And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad

youtube

folklore

Illicit affairs

And you wanna scream

Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

the last great american dynasty

They say she was seen on occasion

Pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea

And in a feud with her neighbor

She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green

Fifty years is a long time

Holiday House sat quietly on that beach

Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits

And then it was bought by me

hoax

You know I left a part of me back in New York

You knew the hero died so what's the movie for?

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

You knew the password so I let you in the door

You knew you won so what's the point of keeping score?

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

But what you did was just as dark

(Ah, ah, ah)

Darling, this was just as hard

As when they pulled me apart

my tears ricochet

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

And I still talk to you (When I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (You hear my stolen lullabies)

august

Back when we were still changin' for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

And say, "Meet me behind the mall"

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

You weren't mine to lose, no

youtube

evermore

champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's f*cked in the head," they said

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

ivy

So yeah, it's a fire

It's a violent blaze in the dark

And you started it

You started it

So yeah, it's a war

It's the fiercest fight of my life

And you started it

You started it

tolerate it

While you were out buildin' other worlds, where was I?

Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I'm beggin' for footnotes in the story of your life

Drawin' hearts in the byline

Always takin' up too much space or time

You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I

marjorie

The autumn chill that wakes me up

You loved the amber skies so much

Long limbs and frozen swims

You'd always go past where our feet could touch

And I complained the whole way there

The car ride back and up the stairs

I should've asked you questions

I should've asked you how to be

Asked you to write it down for me

Should've kept every grocery store receipt

'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

Watched as you signed your name Marjorie

All your closets of backlogged dreams

And how you left them all to me

Right where you left me

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Breakups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy

And you're sitting in front of me

youtube

#taylor swift #taylor swift poll #poll #my polls #swifties #1989 tv #folklore #evermore #Youtube

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yourbucky084 · 1 year

Text

good girl

a professor matt murdock x reader fanfiction

description: professor murdock is the most attractive professor at your school. with his charm, cockiness, and sweet nature, you couldn't help but fall for him along with the rest of your classmates. what happens when he falls for you, too?

word count: 9.9k

a/n: HI HI SO SORRY LONG TIME NO SEE AGAIN. this took me so long to get up, but it's one of my all time faves. I re-edited a bunch of it, just adding some more details and juicy smut. the ending is a bit abrupt, I apologize! but I hope you all love it. any likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated, more soon babes. enjoy whores - shannon <3

“So, with that evidence, he would be….” Matt paused, waiting for someone in the class to chime in with the answer. They’d been working on this all week, someone had to know the answer.

But all he heard was silence.

“Anyone? C’mon guys, you know this.”

Matt hounded the class as he paced around the front of the lecture hall, waiting for someone to speak up. He listened for signs of people at least trying to figure out the answer. An uptick in heart rate, the fluttering of notes, anything. But he came up with nothing; just steady heartbeats and constant breaths. Just his luck to get the late lecture slot on Friday night. Half the class didn’t even bother to show up. The half that did was usually either on their phones, or half asleep.

Except for you, of course.

You were chewing on the end of your pen, something you tended to do when you were focused. He had gotten to know your little tics pretty well over the past few weeks. You fiddled with your rings when nervous, bounced your leg when taking notes, and, his personal favorite, you smiled when he said your name.

“Y/N?”

Matt heard the small intake of breath, the drop of a pen. Then, his favorite sound in the world: the slow rise of the muscles in your cheeks, the flush of blood to your face. Smiling and blushing; all for him. He bit his lip, slightly, in an attempt to hide his own smile.

He just couldn’t help it. Not when it came to you.

Matt was no stranger to the effect he had on people, particularly his students. He had been teaching a law class at Columbia for a few years now, and he was used to the way his students talked about him. He knew he was considered attractive, being dubbed the ‘hot professor’ a few years ago. By now he had come to expect the flirty comments and attempts to ‘earn a better grade.’ It was part of his job, at this point. He’d give them a small smile, and tell them he wasn’t interested in the nicest way possible. And he was telling the truth: he never was interested, especially not in a student.

Until it came to you.

The first day of class, you stumbled a few minutes late, muttering apologies under your breath as you found a seat in the front of the class. Matt was immediately enamored by your voice, the way you said his name that first day sent shivers down his spine. The sweet, soft spoken, “Professor Murdock” made him ache, ache for you. Which was something he was not expecting. He hadn’t been this attracted to someone at first ‘sight’ since Elektra, and he hadn’t even spoken to you yet. Yet your scent had already become one of his favorites, sweet and soft, just like you. This kind of attraction was… rare. Matt knew that. Over the coming weeks of class, he had become absolutely enamored by you: with your intellect, your kindness, your temperament, your habits, your… everything.

And he absolutely hated it.

University rules clearly stated students and professors could not engage in any type of relationship that wasn’t strictly professional. Until the student left the professor’s roster officially, anything was extremely off limits. Engaging in a relationship with a student, especially a sexual one, would cost him his job. It would cost him everything, his reputation, his tenure, everything. He’d have to wait until you weren’t in his class to tell you how he felt. And that was torture. There was still a month left in the semester, a month till he could do anything. It was a twisted form of purgatory, designed to make him suffer. He loved having you in class, loved hearing your voice, but absolutely hated that he couldn’t have more.

And God, forgive him, but he wanted more.

As much as he hated to admit it, he often found himself most nights in his office alone, thinking of you. With his hand down his pants, he’d picture you beneath him, writhing in pleasure. Pleasure he would create. He often regretted it right after he finished, the shame creeping in almost immediately. Having these thoughts for someone who was his student was wrong. He knew that, knew that his feelings for you were wrong. Not being able to get off unless he was thinking of you was wrong.

But at the same time, something about it felt oh so right.

The sound of flickering papers brought him back to the present. You were flustered while searching for the answer; he heard the uptick in rhythm of your heartbeat. Whatever you were focused on before had really captured your attention, probably the case you guys were studying. You always got so invested in class, it was one of the things he loved about you.

Little did he know, you hadn’t been paying attention all class. At least not to his words, or his content.

You were focused on him.

Before enrolling in Mr. Murdock’s class, you had heard whispers about the defense lawyer turned professor. All the rumors were about his good looks and charm, called by most by the most attractive faculty member yet. Someone had even told you on a whim that “the blind thing makes only him sexier,” which one, was offensive, and two, made no sense. Everyone seemed to be obsessed with him, and you didn’t understand why. You even heard your advisor make a comment about his charm when you registered for the class, and hell, your friend was taking the class just to stare at him. But you truly didn’t understand the appeal. He was just a professor, right? What could be so special about him?

You soon found that the answer was everything.

Professor Murdock was, by far, the most enchanting man you had ever met. The way he spoke, the cock of his head when he really got into an argument. That cocky, wide grinned smile, dimples constantly on full display. His rolled up sleeves, god, the way those muscles looked through those too tight shirts. His intellect; the way he lectured made your head spin. He brought up ideas you’d never thought of before, he really made you think. And of course, the way he said your name. Sweet and slow off his tongue, no expectation, simply admiration. You hadn’t been this enamored with a guy since… well, ever. And you weren’t alone in that feeling: almost every girl in your class was in love with him. How could they not be? Just one class with him and you were hooked. He didn’t pay any attention to anyone, though, curving every flirtatious comment or any attempt to get him alone.

It was clear to everyone: he wasn’t interested in any of his students.

The way he treated you, however, said otherwise.

Professor Murdock, for whatever reason, seemed to have a soft spot for you. At first, you thought it was all in your head. There was no way the hottest professor on campus had a soft spot for you. But as the weeks went by, the evidence was too much to deny. He always spoke to you in a slightly softer tone than the one he used with his classmates. He was never stern with you, only sweet. He smiled at you more, more than anyone else. He always said your name with a smile, making you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be feeling in the middle of class. He left the sweetest comments on all your papers, sent you the kindest email replies. You lingered after class most days with some stupid question, eager to spend more time with you. And he always obliged, always changed the conversation towards you; your other classes, your weekend plans, anything.

It was almost as if he wanted more time with you, too.

And that thought sent shivers down your spine.

“Y/N?”

He said your name again, calling you back to the present. You looked up from your notes to find him standing in front of you, smiling down at you. He leaned on his cane, head tilted, awaiting your answer.

Fuck, the answer!

“Guilty, professor. Definitely guilty.”

“Good! Good girl.”

He said the last part softly, only you could hear. He didn’t mean to, he swore he really didn’t mean to. It just… it slipped out. Maybe it was the fact your hair was down today, your scent engulfing him when he was this close. Maybe it was the fact you were wearing a skirt, a little fluffy cotton number that left your legs on full display. Images of soft, smooth skin flooded his brain, overpowered any restraint. He didn’t know what it was that made him say it, all he knew was that couldn’t resist. Not when it came to you. Not when he suspected it would turn you on. He was grateful at that moment, though the rest of the class was barely paying any attention.

Something like that could have cost him his job.

But, fuck, did your reaction make it worth that risk.

Goosebumps flooded across your entire body. He felt the blood rush to your cheeks of course, and to somewhere else. Somewhere lower. Your breath caught in your throat, caught off guard by the nickname, which could have been a negative response. But the growing arousal between your thighs told him you liked it. You really liked it. And you wanted more. You were so sensitive, so responsive just to two little words, his two little words. He turned you on, he was the one making you feel this way.

He could only imagine how he’d make you feel with his tongue…

Or his cock-

A small shuffle from somewhere in the room broke his concentration, someone readjusting in their seat. It was meaningless, sure, but it was enough to make him snap back to reality. What was he doing? You were his student, he was your professor. This was wrong, you were young, innocent, whole life ahead of you. He really shouldn’t be flirting like this. He didn’t even know if you’d been in relationships before, for all he knew, you could have been a virgin. So why did that turn him on? Why was he feeling this way? Why were you so encaptivating? Matt heard the familiar shift of your facial muscles, the sure sign your lips were creeping into a smile, and then he remembered. It was you. Everything you did, everything you said, everything you were that made him act this way. You were driving him crazy, it seemed like nearly every thought these days was of you. It was wrong, sure, but what he felt was real.

Screw the rules.

He wanted you.

He got back to his lecture quickly, picking up right where he left off. That was the best way to avoid suspicion, he supposed. And to let you stew in the moment. He heard the signature scribble of a few pens as he described what comes after a verdict, one of those pens being yours. To unsuspecting eyes, you were simply listening to the lecture, taking notes, being a good student.

But Matt knew your heart was still racing.

You got back to your notes quickly, trying to ignore your rapidly beating heart. He didn’t mean it like that, right? He just wanted to commend you for getting the answer right. Right? Surely he didn’t mean to get you all hot and bothered; you could already feel the arousal pooling between your thighs. You tried to follow Mr. Murdock’s lecture, but you couldn’t focus on anything he was saying. Not when he had said that, and walked away like it was nothing. It was too intentional, too hushed, too on the nose for it to be a mistake, you decided. He meant to say it. He wanted to see how you’d react, he wanted to see if you wanted him too.

And, God, did you.

You just had to decide what you’d do next. He’d left the ball in your court, you got to decide where you wanted this to go. Ever the gentleman of him.You could do the obvious, and probably the most sensible: pretend it never happened and leave class as soon as it ended. That way, you’d keep your scholarship and Professor Murdock would keep his job. But, the riskier option would be to linger behind as you usually did, to wait until your classmates left. You’d get to see what Mr. Murdock meant by his little comment, to see if he wanted to say anything more.

Or do anything more.

It was a no brainer in your eyes. You’d be risking everything: your scholarship, your enrollment, his job, his tenure, ect. But you couldn’t take it anymore. How were you supposed to focus on anything when Matt was teasing you in the middle of class? You couldn’t take much more of the constant flirting, the never ending tension. You simply couldn’t stand another day of watching him walk across the classroom, sleeves folded up, chest hair peeking out of his dress shirt. You couldn’t take it anymore; knowing you could have him, but still holding yourself back. You wanted to, needed to see where he’d take it next, if he wanted to risk it too.

And you were almost certain that he did.

“Alright, everyone, I think that’s it for today. Check the syllabus for your homework, and have a great…weekend.”

Before Matt even finished his sentence, the majority of the class was already out of the room, on their way to their friday night plans. There were a few stragglers of course, as there always was. It didn’t slip his mind that one of those stragglers was you. You tended to linger back after class most days, more often than not in the last few weeks. It had started at first as just questions about class, but soon morphed into you two just chatting. You’d talk about your other classes and your career plans, he’d give you advice when needed, but mostly just listened. Every little thing you shared about yourself, about your life, Matt relished. It was domestic, like a date without the formality; he felt like he already knew everything about you. Tonight though, something told him your conversation would be different.

“Y/N, hang back a sec?” He asked, even though he knew you would stay. He just wanted to get rid of that last little bit of doubt in his mind.

He listened intently as your teeth caught on your bottom lip; your attempt at holding back a smile. These are some of the only times he wished he could see, to see your reaction, to see the happiness creep up on your face. He was lucky he had his abilities, otherwise he wouldn’t be so confident that you wanted him too. The blood rushing to your face, smile wide, alleviated all his doubts.

“Sure Professor,” Your joy was clear in your tone, and Matt felt no shame in the smile that crept up his own cheeks. He knew there were a few students left still packing up, but he wasn’t concerned. It was a well known fact you were his favorite student, you were the only one passionate about the class. Your dedication to law and his class only added to his attraction to you, Matt loved getting in debates with you about the day’s material. He was in awe of how invested you were, how much you believed that in the end, law would prevail. It was incredible, your unwavering belief. You wanted to do good, knew you could do good through the courts, just like him.

And god, was that attractive.

“You’re staying again to fuck him, aren’t you,” your friend blurted out, breaking his train of thought. Matt had to hold back a laugh as he sensed your face flushing red at your friend’s remark, your embarrassment clear. Normally, he’d be a little concerned at that comment. But he knew it was your friend, and had heard her encouraging you to fuck him openly at the end of every class.

Maybe tonight, you’d finally take her advice.

“For the last time, we aren’t fucking. I just like to talk to him.”

Matt listened closely to your body as you spoke. Your heart rate was steady, indicating you were telling the truth. You did like talking to him, and you guys weren’t fucking.

Not yet, at least.

“Talk. Mhm, sureeeee. Whatever you say. Text me when you’re done talking,” she said as she threw a wink your way.

She grabbed her bag and left immediately, not giving you a chance to respond. Now that she was gone, you and Matt were the only people left in the classroom. Completely alone. Tension filled the room like a thick fog, goosebumps covered your skin in anticipation of what was to come. Matt hated making you nervous, making you wait. He wanted you to break the silence, to have you decide where you wanted the evening to go. But you weren’t saying anything, Matt could hear you fiddling with your skirt. It was clear you wanted him to take the lead.

So lead he would.

“Y/N, that’s you right?” He knew it was you, of course, but you didn’t know about his abilities. He had to keep up appearances, of course. You wouldn't know that side of him. Not now. Not ever.

“Yes, Professor. Just me.”

God forgive him, but the way you said his title…

It made him feel things he shouldn’t be feeling. It was downright sinful, the way the word rolled off your tongue. He wanted to know what you would sound like begging for him, pleading for your professor to fuck you harder. He was half hard in his pants already at the thought. Hard in his classroom, who was he?

You emphasized those last two words, making it clear to him that you two were alone.

That he could do whatever he wanted.

His mind scrambled for an excuse to get you out of here, to his office. It was smaller, more intimate, and he had a couch there. A couch he hoped you two would get some use out of tonight. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, of course. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way, didn’t want to force you into doing something you’d regret. But the smell of your pheromones in the air, arousal very present, told him you were thinking about the same thing.

You shifted on your feet again, shuffling, reminding him you were waiting for him to make the next move.

“W-would you mind helping me move these books back to my office? It’s just a few doors down, I-I also have a paper of yours to give back. Unless, of course, you have other plans.”

His tone was slightly panicked, nervous. Like he didn’t know if you’d say yes. Professor Murdock was giving you an out, one last chance to stop whatever was going to happen. How sweet. You appreciated the gesture, sure, but your mind was made up. You knew what you wanted: you wanted him.

“I’d love to, Professor,” you said with a smile, relishing the way your words made him smile in response.

“Matt. My name’s Matt.”

Matt. A simple thing, just his name. But it felt like the final step into something larger. You had spent time with him outside of class for weeks now, but he had never told you his name. It was like he had been holding himself back, his true self, and he was finally ready to let go.

To give himself to you.

“Matt,” you said his name once, taking in the way the name tasted on your tongue.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

“Matt. Matthew, I presume? Maybe even Matty? I like it,” you’d adopted a teasing tone, not dissimilar to the one Matt had taken with you earlier, when those two little words slipped out. You figured if he wanted to tease, so would you.

You watched as Matt’s cheeks flushed pink, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. You imagined this was how he felt earlier, seeing you all hot and bothered. A fan of nicknames, you thought.

You’d keep that in mind for later.

“Either’s perfect, coming from you,” he said with a smile. Now it was your turn to blush again. Matt had made nice comments before in class, sure, even the occasional compliment. But now that he was openly flirting?

You didn’t know how to handle it.

“Umm… where are the books?” You decided it was best to just move on, ignore his outright flirting for now. If you flirted back right now, you were pretty sure you’d jump his bones right here in the middle of the classroom. And as much as you’d love to act out your late night fantasies, you knew that the building wasn’t empty.

And with Matt, you didn’t want to have to contain your moans.

“Oh! Yeah, right here,” he said as he felt around his desk, finding the edge and leaning down. He picked up two books, two he could easily carry himself, but it was clear the books were just an excuse to get you in his office. To get you alone. You grabbed your bag and walked down the lecture hall ramp, meeting Matt at his desk. You walked over to him, trailing your hands down his arms, before grabbing the books out of his hands.

“Ready?” You asked, as he grabbed his briefcase and cane from atop his desk. He balanced both items in one hand, stretching out the other to find your arm, wrapping his arm around it. He leaned in close, close enough so you could hear the contented hum he let out once you were flush against his side. His head turned toward you, as he smiled and said:

“Lead the way.”

You two spent the majority of the walk in silence, the only words between you two were Matt’s directions on how to get to his office. It consistently amazed you how Matt knew where you two were after every turn, effortlessly guiding you to his office door. You used the downtime to relish in Matt’s warmth at your side, how close he kept himself to you despite not needing a guide. You’d seen him get around the building plenty of times with just his cane, using the braille on the various door signs to navigate himself. So he was clearly just using the excuse of needing a guide to be close to you.

And that sent shivers down your spine.

“The door on your left. That’s my office. I just gotta get my keys,” he broke his grasp around your forearm, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his trousers. He unlocked the door, grabbing the books out of your arm and placing them on his desk. While he got settled, putting down his briefcase and collapsing his cane, you admired his office. There weren't many decorations, but you didn’t know why you’d thought he’d have any. The only decoration, of sorts, was a small metal sign hung above his desk, “Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law.” Must have been his practice before he started teaching, you thought. Other than the sign, he had a bookshelf in one corner, filled to the brim with various textbooks in braille. Against one wall was a couch, a smaller, love seat type deal, pillow and blanket stacked neatly in the corner. You smirked at the thought of Matt, typically all tough and no bullshit, cuddled up under a little penguin blanket.

“You sleep here?” You said with a chuckle, putting your own bag down on the floor.

“Sometimes. I like the occasional nap or two between classes,” Matt said as he fished something out of his briefcase, closing it with a snap. The room fell into silence for a second, and you didn’t know how to break it. Matt began to walk over, piece of paper in hand. Upon a closer look, you realized it was your paper, and your heart dropped. Did he really call you in here just to talk about your paper? Did you read everything wrong?

But then Matt took a seat on the almost-too-small-for-two-people couch, patting the cushion right next to him, and all your fears disappeared.

“Sit, please, sit.”

He heard your heart begin to race in your chest as you sat down next to him, close enough so that your legs were touching. It took everything in him to not pull you down atop him and bring your lips to his,to have you right now. But he knew he needed to take this slow. He didn’t know if this was going to be a one time thing, whatever it was. Regardless, you were young. He needed to be sure, to be confident you wanted him too. Taking things slow was part of that. But he also had selfish reasons. He wanted to be able to take his time, make sure you were enjoying it, to savor your reactions.

To savor you.

“I-Is that my paper?” You stuttered, Matt could hear the tension in your voice. You were fiddling with your rings as you always did when nervous, though this time, Matt could smell your arousal in the air. You weren’t anxious; you were anticipating what was to come, same as him. It was turning you on, this build up. So he decided to tease you a little more.

“Oh, yeah, here,” he held the paper out, letting his fingers brush yours as he handed it to you.

“Great job as always. You really nailed the final commentary piece, too. I’ll be using it as an example for the rest of the class, if that’s ok.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as he spoke. Matt knew you liked to hear how well you were doing, to be praised in the classroom setting. He had heard the steady uptick in your heart whenever he complimented your phrasing, or commended you for getting the answer right. But, due to his little slip up earlier, he knew that desire to be praised carried over into other parts of your life. More intimate settings. He couldn’t help himself as he continued to speak, eager to dive deeper into this part of you.

“You really like to hear how good you’re doing, huh?”

Matt heard the breath catch in your throat, sensed the way you clenched your thighs for some type of relief. His words had had the exact reaction he’d hoped for, going straight to your core. He knew he had you pegged, but it still felt good to see your reaction. He took another bold move, placing his hand atop your thigh, right where the skirt ended and your skin began to show. You physically shuttered, but didn’t move his hand away. In fact, he felt you move just a little closer, until you were flush against his side. If someone walked in and found you two like this, he’d lose his job. A small part of him kept reminding him you were his student, this was wrong. It wasn’t just taboo, it was illegal. He’d lose his job.

But he just couldn’t pull himself away from you.

“I-I just… I really like to please, Professor.”

Now it was his turn to shiver. He definitely wasn’t expecting that in response. You clearly had caught on to his little game, the teasing banter back and forth. Your tone was light, innocent, and unpresuming. But you knew exactly what you were doing, using his title like that. He adjusted in his seat a bit, trying to hide his growing erection beneath his pants. He had never gotten this turned on, this fast, but you had a hold on him he couldn’t explain. Just your words, the contact of your body heat against his, was enough to get him going.

And he wanted more.

“Matt, sweetheart. You can call me Matt.”

Sweetheart. You liked that. You really liked that. There was a whole new wave of arousal in the air, he could smell it. You must have been practically dripping, the way your scent crowded his senses. You shifted next to him, rubbing against the couch just the slightest bit, seeking some relief. He wouldn’t be able to keep composure, to tease you much longer. His hand had already started sliding up your thigh on instinct, sliding under the fabric of your skirt. He was seeking out your wanting arousal, seeking more of you.

He needed more of you.

“Matt…” You said, his name a breathy sigh on your lips. He leaned in ever so slightly in expectation, waiting for you to do the same. But you didn’t. You stood up abruptly, leaving Matt alone on the couch. What were you doing? He had never been more confused, he hadn’t sensed any indication that you didn’t want this as much as him. If anything, you were more aroused than before.

So what was going on?

“Why’d you call me in here?”

You asked with your hands on your hips, holding yourself steady. He searched your tone for any hint of hesitation, anything saying you didn’t want this. But your words were strong, clear, and concise. You knew what you were asking. You knew what he was going to say in response, and hell, you wanted him too. You were simply looking for confirmation, something to tell you that this was real, that it was happening. That it wasn’t a dream.And Matt could give you that.

After a little more teasing, of course.

He stood up from his spot on the couch, walking over to where you stood in the middle of the room. He took a bold move, placing both hands on your hips, keeping you both in place.c He pulled you flush against him, close enough so that he knew you could feel him rock hard against your stomach. He wanted you to know, to realize how much you turned him on. He leaned in, close, biting back a grin when he felt you lean in too. He paused before you two were touching, wanted to tease you just a little bit more, keep you on the edge.

“Oh I think you know, sweet girl,” Matt whispered, relishing in the feeling of your hips against his. The fabric of your skirt was soft, fluffy, and he was pretty sure pink; all he wanted to do was bury his head in it. Your hands moved from your side to Matt’s neck, one raking itself in his hair. He couldn’t help the small whine that escaped his lips, not when your fingers felt so good. You were so gentle, scratching ever so slightly, the tension disappearing from his shoulders almost entirely. You leaned in close as Matt licked his lips in anticipation, but you stopped just before you two connected.

“Wanna hear you say it, Matty,” you whispered in the darkness. He could feel your breath on your lips, could taste you in the air. You were teasing him back, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You weren’t as innocent as he originally thought, not as fragile as he had surmised. You could handle yourself.

And he loved it.

Without missing a beat, he whispered back.

“How about I show you instead?”

Matt’s lips finally connected with yours. A bit softer than you were expecting, but you weren’t one to complain. Not when you were finally here, kissing the man you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks. You grabbed onto the back of Matt’s neck tighter, trying to ground yourself in the moment. This was real, this wasn’t a dream.

You were kissing Professor Murdock.

Matt’s tongue slipped inside your mouth, eager to deepen the kiss. You obliged, eager to take as much as Matt wanted to give. He kissed you deeply, hands moving up your back to push you flush against him. His lips moved slowly, taking his time in devouring you. And devour he did. His lips against yours made you weak at the knees, your composure slipping. But you only leaned into it, leaned into him, eager for more you knew you wouldn’t get. You suspected that this moment wouldn’t last long, there was only so much you could do in his office without getting caught. You wanted to savor it for as long as the kiss lasted, for however long Matt was willing to risk it.

Almost as if he had read your mind, Matt broke the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a breathy sigh, reveling in the moment. You waited for him to speak, to break the contact and address the situation. Instead, Matt’s hands found your hips, gripping tight, and beginning to walk you backwards. Backwards until your back was against the door.

“Matt, what are you doing?” You giggled slightly, taken aback by the movement.

And then his mouth found your neck.

“Matt… not in t-the office…they’ll hear us, you’ll…oh fuck-” Your words faltered as he pressed you against the door. His fingers had somehow already found their way under your skirt, moving your underwear aside immediately as kissed down your neck. His touch was full of passion, fingertips already skimming your folds. Like he was getting ready to fuck you right here, against the door.

You were not expecting this.

You’d always found Matt to be a particularly level headed teacher, one fond of the rules. He turned down every advancement from his students, he never kept the class a minute past the end time. Assignments were organized, the syllabus was a word for word plan of the year. He was… put together, in every sense. You thought he liked his rules, liked to obey. But here you were: his mouth leaving marks on your neck, his fingers teasing your slick.

You were the exception to his rule, you guessed.

You couldn’t help but moan as his thumb brushed your clit, fingers already teasing your entrance. He was still kissing your neck, teeth scraping the soft skin every so often. And god, was it turning you on. What was happening? You certainly weren’t surprised when Matt leaned in for the kiss, but that’s all you thought it was going to be: a kiss. You didn’t think Matt was going to finger you in his office, or fuck you on his desk.

But right now, those seemed to be his only two intentions.

“Oh, they’ll hear us, huh? You think they’ll hear how wet you are for me? How desperate?”

Matt’s tone was rich against your neck, a low growl in your ear. He was teasing you; testing your limits to see how far you’d go right here. The building was mostly empty, as it was nine o’clock at night on a friday. But you were certain there’d be a few stragglers, just like Matt. And as much as you wanted, needed him, you didn’t want to risk him losing the job he loved so much.

Especially not for you.

“We’re gonna get c-cau-auh… ohhhhh.”

Matt cut you off by pushing two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that one spot on the first try. He kept pumping his fingers in and out, in and out, hitting that spot again and again and again. You couldn’t do anything but throw your head back in pleasure and wrap your hands around Matt’s neck to keep you afloat. Deep down, you knew this was wrong. He was your professor, you were his student, you couldn’t be doing this, especially not in his office.

But if this was so wrong, why did it feel so right?

Your mind was blank, covered in a fog of pleasure at Matt’s hand. His fingers felt divine, a godly gift from above. And hell, with the way he looked, maybe he was a god himself. Gone were your protests from seconds ago, long gone in fact. His hair was messy, glasses low on his face so you could see his eyes. A permanent smirk was etched on his face, telling you he was enjoying this just as much as you were. All you wanted to do, all you could do was moan and beg for more. Your hands clawed at his back, shoulders, desperate for something to ground you.

Because Matt was taking you higher than you’d ever been before.

You’d been fingered before, sure, but nothing could compare to this. Matt wasn’t just doing this for your pleasure, it was clear he was enjoying it too. Soft sighs against your skin, licking his lips every so often as if he was tasting you in the air. He leaned into your body; one hand holding the small of your back while the other worked its magic. His fingers were moving at a furious pace, but something about it felt oh so gentle. Matt was in charge, dominance clear. But he treated you as a treasure, each touch was intentional. No one had ever treated you with such kindness. His lips moved from their place on your neck, leaving small kisses along your jaw, stopping when he reached your ear.

“You’re being so good for me baby, so good. Wanna cum? I wanna make you cum. C’mon, wanna make you cum.”

You couldn’t form words to answer Matt’s question, only nod slightly while your head was thrown back in ecstasy. This was all too much, Matt’s fingers, his lips against your neck, the realization that it was him, your professor, bringing you this pleasure. He kept hitting that spot inside you again and again, curling his fingers just right with every thrust. With the feeling of his fingers, and the fact that it was his fingers, Matt’s fingers, you were going to cum faster than you ever had before.

“Matt, I’m g-gonna, I’m-” You began, trying to warn him of your impending release. Before you could reach your peak, however, he pulled away from you entirely. You whined in protest, upset at the lack of stimulation without any warning. But before you could chastise him, he grabbed your hips, moving you away from the door and guiding you to sit on his desk. He pushed your skirt up to your waist, leaving you and your underwear on full display. You expected him to fumble with his belt, to fuck you right then and there.

But he did something unexpected.

He dropped to his knees.

“Changed my mind, sweetheart. Wanna taste you.”

You watched through hooded eyes as he removed his tie and glasses, allowing you to finally get a good look at those beautiful brown eyes. He always kept his glasses on in class, only taking them off once and a while to rub his eyes. He had told you once after class that people typically found his eyes uncomfortable. The unfocused stare, the lack of blinking turned people away. You had told him that wasn’t true, that you’d love to see his eyes. He had told you maybe someday he’d take his glasses off so you could see them for yourself.

You never would have guessed that moment would be now, with Matt kneeling beneath you like a man at the altar.

Ready to worship.

He tilted his face up towards you and smiled, giving you another glimpse of those sinfully warm eyes. He placed small kisses along your thighs, teasing you yet again. If you had learned anything about Matt Murdock today, it was that he liked to tease. It was becoming clear that was his favorite part of all this, he lived for the chase. The taboo nature of your positions was hot to you, sure, and you were only now realizing it must have been hot to him too. The praise, the nicknames, the desire to get caught. Matt Murdock was dirty, and you were loving it.

Despite your earlier fears, all you wanted now was to cum. You knew it was wrong, knew you could be caught at any moment. But you didn’t care. Matt clearly wanted this, to have you in this way. And you’d do anything he asked. He wanted to take his time, however, and you certainly did not. After your first ruined orgasm, you weren’t too keen on the idea of him drawing this out any longer. You huffed out loud in protest, causing Matt to chuckle against the soft skin of your thigh.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m getting there.”

His tone was soft, but he said everything with a shit eating grin. It was clear he was enjoying drawing this out, leaving one last hickey on your thigh. He licked his lips before moving in between your thighs, licking a broad stripe up your folds. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips when his tongue first made contact with your clit, raking your hands through his hair without thinking. You didn’t intend to tug as hard as you did, but you couldn’t help it. He felt too good, and you needed more, more, more.

And he was more than eager to oblige.

Matt had decided heaven wasn’t possible for him after everything he’d done. He had accepted his fate, faced the fact he’d never reach eternal pleasure.

Yet here he was, in heaven between your thighs.

He had never tasted something so sweet. Your taste was addicting; the more he got, the more he wanted. He couldn’t hold back his own moans, you were bringing him pleasure he’d never felt before. The way you used your hands to bring his face closer to you, grinding down on him, turned him on more than he’d care to admit. He was already close, just by tasting you. He loved the way you were taking what you wanted from him, and he was more than willing to give whatever you needed.

With another groan from his own mouth, he shifted up a little bit on his knees, just high enough so that his nose rubbed against your clit. You practically yelped at the contact, raking your hands in his hair even harder, hips grinding down on him. Matt tried to ignore his own arousal, his cock was painfully hard straining against the fabric of his pants. He wanted, needed to make you cum.

Before he came in his pants like a teenager.

“C’mon, sweetheart, need you to cum. Need you to cum, please.”

He mumbled between your folds, the vibration of his voice adding another level of pleasure. He could tell his words did something to you, your fingers gripping his hair even harder. He could feel your walls begin to contract, could hear the uptick in your heartbeat as you approached your end. You were close, almost over that wall.

And Matt was gonna give you one final push.

He took your clit between his lips and sucked, intent on bringing you to your end. You chanted his name, his real name, not his title. This was real, not some fantasy. Like a silent, soft prayer, “Matt, Matt, Matt,” left your lips over and over again. Finally, with another swirl of his tongue, your muscles contracted, and a new wave of your arousal coated his tongue. You had a death grip on his hair, pushing his face between your thighs and riding out your high. He could sense the relief in your body as your heart rate slowed and your thighs relaxed. He smiled to himself, still between your thighs. He listened as you shifted yourself up on your elbows, still panting slightly. He moved out from his place between your thighs, trying his best to meet your eyes. Your hands found his shoulders, then his face, as you spoke.

“Get the fuck up here and kiss me.”

You both chuckled at your words, but Matt obeyed, standing up and finding your lips once again. He heard you groan into the kiss, overwhelmed at his taste on your tongue. If it was up to him, he’d stay like this all day, his hands on your hips, your lips against his. This was what he had been waiting for all semester, all he had ever wanted.

To be with you.

Your hands shifted down to his belt, reminding him of his more pressing problem. He’d been so focused on your pleasure, so invested in you, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been hurting. He was painfully hard, the fabric of his boxers all too rough against his skin. But it seemed like you were intent on alleviating that. You fiddled with his belt, struggling, but he wasn’t keen on helping you just yet.

He wanted to feel you.

He moved his hands up to find the bottom of your shirt, teasing the soft skin of your stomach underneath. You huffed impatiently, lips pursed together in what he imagined was the cutest little pout. You broke the kiss, quickly removing your t-shirt and flinging it across the room.You went right back to his mouth wordlessly, and your attempt to remove his belt. He traced his fingers up your lower back, trying to memorize every little dip and curve he could find. He finally found the fabric of your bra, running his fingers under the elastic as he broke the kiss.

“Can I-” He began, intent on asking consent, but you cut him off.

“For God sakes, Matthew, pleaseee,” You whined, finally undoing his belt. He twisted the hooks of your bra, undoing them all at once, the fabric falling along your shoulders. You removed your hand from the button of his pants, shrugging the soft fabric off your chest, before returning to your original position. He slowly, carefully, traced his fingers from your back to your upper ribs, finally coming into contact with your breasts. Before he could explore them, savor them as you deserved, your hand began to palm his cock through the fabric.

“S-shit,” Matt exclaimed, and you bit your lip at his reaction, unable to hide your satisfaction at finally having him in your clutches. This whole night, you’d been at his mercy, under his spell.

But now it was his turn.

You undid the last button on his pants, tugging them down past his ass, as they fell to the floor. You found the waistband of his briefs, tugging those down too, letting his cock spring from its confines. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips at his size; he was huge. You’d expected big, sure. He carried himself with too much confidence to say otherwise. But this? You never would have thought. He was long, sure, probably around eight inches. But god, he was thick. You could barely wrap your hand around his as you moved to pump him, using the precum at his tip as lubricant. One flick of your wrist had him moaning, bucking up into your hand. You looked up to find his eyes closed, head thrown back in pleasure, mouth agape in ecstasy. He was beautiful like this: vulnerable, relaxed, finally letting go. You didn’t know what this was with Matt, whether it was a one time thing or something more. All you knew is you wanted to keep bringing him pleasure for as long as you got the chance.

Abruptly, he grabbed your wrist, pausing your movements. You pouted, frustrated at the fact he cut you off. You were intent on sucking him off, bringing him the same pleasure he brought you. But he clearly had other plans. He brought your hand up to his lips, giving it a small peck before dropping it entirely.

“Wanna fuck you now. Turn over.”

His tone was firm, low. Sure. Not unlike the tone he used in the classroom, when giving the class directions, orders on what to do next. He expected to be listened to in the bedroom, the same way he was listened to in the classroom. He expected to be in charge.

And god, did that turn you on.

You obliged, standing up to remove your skirt before leaning over on his desk. The scene was utterly pornographic, something out of your deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. You were about to fuck your professor, over his desk. You couldn’t believe it. Matt started unbuttoning the buttons on his dress shirt, slowly, muttering praises and promises as he went.

“Thought about this for weeks, you know. You, spread out over my desk. So fucking beautiful, so fucking good for me. You gonna be good for me now, huh? Let me make you cum on my cock?”

Matt was definitely dirtier than you were expecting, and you were loving it. He was a rule follower in the classroom to the utmost extent, but here was where his wild side was let loose. You didn’t expect him to be so vocal in the bedroom, so filthy, but it was more than welcome. You nodded in response to his question, to his praises, turning your head back to face him as you spoke.

“Please, Matty. Please fuck me.”

He growled in response, throwing his shirt somewhere on the floor. He grabbed your hips from behind, pressing his cock against the curve of your ass. The contact caused you to arch back up into him, silently begging for more.

And you knew Matt was gonna give you more.

He guided his erection to your folds, rubbing up and down a few times, coating himself in your slick. After a minute, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing just the tip in slowly. You yelped at the sudden intrusion, taken aback by the stretch despite Matt’s fingers earlier. He placed a kind hand on your lower back, rubbing his thumb across his skin. Comforting you to the utmost extent, encouraging you.

“I got you, sweetheart. I got you,” he said as he slowly pushed himself in, taking his time as he stretched you out. It had been a while since you’d had sex, and with Matt’s size, it was more than a little stretch. After a minute or so, he bottomed out entirely, causing you both to groan. He pulled back again slowly, causing you to groan loudly, not out of pain, but of pleasure. He brushed up against your g-spot as he thrusted out, already bringing you immense satisfaction on the first move. You cried out, loud and sudden, taken aback by the pleasure. He began to pull out all the way again, afraid he’d hurt you. But you reached your hands back, grasping for him.

For more.

“More, god, Matt please-” you began, but he cut you off with another thrust. He continuously hit that spot inside you with each thrust, grabbing your hips to help ensure he was getting the angle right. You grabbed the edge of his desk for support, desperate for some support as he began to thrust harder, now finally seeking out his own pleasure.

Finally taking you how he wanted.

“Fuck, Matt, sooo good,” You moaned, words slurring, unable to hold back your sounds of pleasure. Your moans were barely discernible from your words, but you had to let Matt know how good he was making you feel. How good he felt. You’d never had sex this good, fumblings in the backseat or lackluster frat men could never compare. Matt filling you, splitting you was overwhelming. You’d reach your peak soon.

Your words went straight to Matt’s cock, twitching inside of you. Fuck, you were hot. He’d know that before, of course. But having you writhing underneath him, pushing your hips back with each thrust to fill you even more… It may have been the most attractive thing Matt had ever experienced. You were tight, way tighter than he had expected. Between that, and the filthy fact of you being his student strewn out naked across his desk, he wasn’t going to last long.

He needed to make what he had left count.

“Turn over,” He ordered, slipping himself out and stepping back entirely. He listened as your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, but you listened anyway, laying back down on the desk. He grabbed your legs, placing them on his shoulders as he again found your entrance, and pushed inside. He didn’t give you any lead up, any grace period as he resumed his rapid pace, thrusting in and out of you. You lifted your hips up in pleasure as his thumb found your clit, rubbing it rapidly, with the intent of bringing you to orgasm as soon as possible. He leaned over, pressing a kiss against your collarbone, then your neck, as he finally reached your ear.

“You gotta cum for me, sweetheart. C’mon, baby, soak my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me. I know you can do it. Please, wanna feel you, need to feel you.”

He whispered softly against your neck, voice faltering as he continued to work your clit. As soon as he spoke, he heard the signature uptick in your heart rate, the tightening of your muscles around his cock. You tightened tenfold when you were about to cum; he couldn’t last much longer.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you came to your end, a desperate attempt to ground yourself as you went up. You moaned his name as you came, a high pitched “Matty” that claimed your orgasm as his. Something snapped within him as you came, something dark. He’d been holding himself back, afraid he’d hurt you, scare you away. He wanted to be sweet with you, to take care of you as you deserved. But his name on your lips as you came was too much to bear.

He needed to let the devil out.

As you began coming down from your orgasm haze, you heard Matt growl. His hand left your clit to immediately find your throat, wrapping his hands around the vulnerable skin. Your eyes widened, taken aback at the sudden gesture. He had been dominant before, sure, but never rough or too kinky. Choking? This was a new level. Despite the surprise, you weren’t scared. You should have been, though. The sight of Matt, teeth bared, hand around your neck, eyes dark as he thrusted, should have been terrifying.

But it wasn’t.

It was hot.

“Y-you’re fucking mine,” Matt mumbled as his thursts increased, chasing his own end at a rapid pace. You couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it, and you liked that. Matt was in control, Matt was taking control. If you hadn’t just come, you were sure those words would have made you reach your end on the spot.

“S-say it. Say you’re m-mine,” He ordered, his hand squeezing tighter around your throat.

“I’m yours, Matt. I’m yours.”

You whispered in the darkness, and that’s what did it. Hearing you claim yourself as his, after he’d wanted you for so long, was too much. He removed his hand from your throat, grabbing your hips rougher than he intended. But he couldn’t control himself when it came to you, the Devil was in charge. He thrusted himself deep inside as he came, coating your walls with his release.Your words brought him over the edge, the fact that you were telling the truth when you said it was too much to bear. He thrusted one more time, before forgoing his grip, and collapsing on top of you.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, one of your hands raking your way into his hair, as he came down from his own high. Without warning, Matt stood up fully, scoping you up from where you two laid and bringing you both to the couch. You sat on his lap as he pressed you against his chest, one of his hands finding its way to the top of your head. He seemed panicked, an expression of fear etched across his face as he spoke.

“ I’m so sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean,I don’t… I’m so sorry,” He stuttered out, raking his way through your hair as he held you close. His heart was beating rapidly, eyes flickering back and forth like he was scanning the room. You were confused by his apology and panic; couldn’t he tell that that was the best sex of your life?

“Why are you sorry?”

You whispered back, wrapping your hands around his neck to bring you closer to him. He shook his head in response, flinching slightly at the contact. He seemed scared to touch you, his hand around your shoulders all too soft. He’d gone a bit rough, sure, but nothing insane. But it was almost like you could hear his mind racing, his silence said enough. You finally figured it out: he was scared he hurt you. Matt Murdock, the man with the heart of gold, was terrified he’d been too much. He’d been vulnerable with you, using you as he wanted to reach his end. But he thought he’d been too much; he’d probably been told that before. You had to calm his fears, let him know it was the best you’d ever had. He needed reassurance, just like you always did in class.

And you’d be more than happy to oblige.

“Matthew,” you sighed, raking your fingers into the hair on the back of his neck. He softened slightly, but was still extremely tense to your touch. You kissed up his neck slowly, leaving a trail of red marks as you went. He still stayed silent, but relaxed just a bit more. Perfect.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had. Really. I loved every second, ok? I would have told you if something wasn’t right, I promise. ” You pressed a small kiss to his temple, an added layer of reassurance. He sighed, deeply, pressing you tighter into his chest.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I just snapped, and-”

“I liked it, Matt. All of it. I like you. A lot, actually.”

You didn’t mean for that last part to slip out, to confess your deep feelings so soon. But Matt smiled in response, using his arms to squeeze you against him again. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your cheek, causing you to giggle. He kissed his way down all the way to your lips, giving you a quick peck before responding.

“I like you too. I’ve liked you for a while, actually. If you want, if you want, I’d like to take you out on a real date. Show you your worth more than a quick fuck. You’re… you’re incredible sweetheart. Let me show you how much.”

Your lips were on his in a heartbeat, trying to put all your happiness into one kiss. Your professor liked you. He liked you. He wanted to date you.

When did you fall asleep and wake up in a dream?

You broke the kiss, smiling against his lips as he smiled against yours. You didn’t break contact as you spoke, your forehead still against his in pure bliss.

“I’d love nothing more.”

FIN

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @i-said-it-n-i-meant-itt-it @crazyxshit @peakyrogers @laura-palmer-del-rey @pettypartypooper @ferxaniti @m0chaminx @srquinnhexa @fairyofspring @mnxxlove @kayxvii @hisdoll107 @hellmoonsin @mattmurdock82 @zabblegrabble @leto-duke @baconmuffins1216 @laprvphette @flawssy227 @the-dragonsqueen @galaxysgal @leossmoonn @shakespeareanwannabe @dontsaypetertingle @iflostreturntobudcooper @aliceblisss @phantomkindalikejaiden @phoebe-danvers @sfr99 @twentyfirstcenturyfox @justlenastuff @btsforlif @optic-neenee @foxe @floof-butt @general-latino @tobyr68 @tatespillows @aimerriarkle @tooflef @trapped-in-this-love @wasicskosgirl @tiredpurpleee @sadgirlhours068 @imgonnaragnorockurshit @delmoyy @exhaustedfangirl @mylittlepimp @chvoswxtch @sapphicsong

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x you #professor matt murdock #professor matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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eclecticprincecollector · 7 months

Text

The real lives of the great seven + my flower

Chaos

That is what it is, pure unadulterated chaos.

The cradle, the house my yuu grows up in, is full of it.

Whether it be Grimhilde chasing yuu to give her a bath, or Mary Elizabeth ( queen of hearts), depending on the day. ( they have a rooster)

You, my flower are naturally at the center of this chaos, getting front row seats to every inane argument, that these so called god tier mages get into.

Now, the conflicts in this household are divided into the following categories: The silent wars, the raging rows, the arson inducing kind and lastly the conflicts of your parents(7) vs you (yuu).

The silent wars occur only between the great seven when you were younger and include you in your teenage ' none of you get me' era.

Maleficent and Grimhilde are the ones most likely to he these types of conflicts, they last up to one week or so, with conversations like: " humph" "hmm" and you are like: " why is mama fighting with grandma" and Jafar is like sipping tea and saying " Fashion, dearest, fashion.".

Sometimes Jafar himself can have this with either one of the queens stated above.

The raging rows most obviously include Mary Elizabeth, usually with Ursula and Hades pitching in: " what do you mean i cAnT LEt fLoWer-" " I MEANT WHAT I SAID YOU USELESS TORCH LIGHT" " HOW DARE YOU VERTICALLY CHALLENGED MORTAL" sighing you ask "whose going to remind him all of you are immortal now.", "most certainly not me little fry" answered Ursula.

Ursula often instigates these occurrences, and sometimes even has a row of her own with Scar.

Speaking of him, he and Maleficent have a nasty habit of working out there...differences through elaborate, illeagal, ways. Arson being the most popular: "Hmm, only a dozen, my royal lizard you are losing at your own game." Gulping you say " Grandmas about to lose it." Indeed her eyes were slits at this point.

The last type of conflict, happens often as soon as puberty hits, you lot will be seeing more about it in future parts.

In conclusion when they aren't about to rip eachother apart on what you are wearing or doing or whats best for you or petty stuff in general, the g7 and you(yuu) are a lovely family.

Only dysfunctional 85% of the time.

Also, if you want to know who is called what and who calls you what, vote on it.

taglist

@twistedcece

Im not able to tag the other person who asked sorry ghosty.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #octanivelle #twisted wonderland #twst x oc #savanaclaw #pomefiore #octavinelle #Scarabia #ignihyde #heartslabyul

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bbyquokka · 11 months

Note

Just saw Han’s star nails and idk why but I can imagine him letting you paint his nails and he can’t help but coo at how concentrated you are and he’s just admiring how excited you are trying out a new design 🥺

lazy days and painted nails

FLUFF BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

warnings: gn reader, idol jisung, established relationship words: 0.5k ~ (587)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“baby, it's time.” jisung looks up at you from his position on the bedroom floor. lay flat on his stomach in just a white vest and grey sweats pants with a manga in front of him.

it's stray kids comeback in a few weeks and jisung is taking this time to relax for a while before things start getting hectic again. he doesn't mind things being chaotic, he likes it, keeps him busy. but he hates being away from you so he wants to spend the free time he has now with you as much as possible.

“nails?” he asks as you sit down on a pillow in front of him. you nod as you put the nail polishes, file and clippers down.

“comeback is soon and i want to do your nails.”

“ok. be my guest baby.” jisung sits up, willingly giving you his right hand. you like painting his nails just as much as he likes watching you do his nails. it's like you're with him when he is away, in a weird yet beautiful way.

“what design are you thinking off?” he asks, watching you file his nails and get rid of the dead skin and cuticles.

“something to do with stars. was thinking stars on all your fingers because y'know, five star.” you giggle.

“clever. just like the album, i love it.” your cheeks turn a soft pink colour as you open the nail polishes. you start by painting his nails, careful not to flood his cuticles or get any on his skin.

jisung watches you, smiling to himself. he reaches out with his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear gently, which causes the tips of your ears to turn red and heart to thump like crazy against your rib cage.

“you're so beautiful, yn.”

“shh. don't make me lose focus.” you mumble.

“i can't help but speak my mind when it comes to you.” you give jisung a simple “mhm”, a sign that you're half listening. you stick your tongue out in concentration, one of the many habits jisung loves about you.

“even now you're acting so cute. with your tongue sticking out and the way your cheeks are so pink because of me.”

“ji!!” you whine, sticking out your bottom lip as you mess up one of the points of the star. “now i have to start all over again.”

“don't” jisung stops you from grabbing the remover by grabbing your hand gently. he intertwines his fingers with yours, pulling you closer to him.

you stutter. your faces are getting dangerously closer and closer to each other.

he's so close. you can see the fine detail of his textured skin. the skin on his lips, the mole on his cheek. his long lashes and cute button nose.

“you don't want me to fix it up?” you whisper, as you close your eyes.

“no.”

“but why.” jisung pulls you onto his lap gently, holding your waist. his breath fans against your lips as he leans in, tilting his head to the side.

“because it shows that someone i love has done my nails. i don't want them to look perfect, i want people to know, to see that you did my nails. it feels like you're with me.”

you whimper softly as his lips press against yours in a gentle, sweet and delicate kiss. your lips move together in sync, creating a perfect rhythm that allows you both to get lost in.

“it's imperfectly perfect and i love that.”

note: anon, we must have the same mind because i too, also thought about painting his nails and just soft bf jisung. im so soft for him, more than usual and idk anymore. f u jisung /af

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @myprwttyhan ; @fairylouist ; @septicrebel ; @bbujiikseu ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer

#[ anon. ]#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz soft hours #skz soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #jisung #han jisung #jisung fluff #han jisung fluff #jisung x you #jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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neowinestainedress · 11 months

Text

𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 — 𝐂𝐇.𝟏

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee haechan x oc ; lee haechan x haechan's ex gf!oc 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, exes to lovers, lovers to exes | requested 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after a year of drying tears, and three of dating, haechan’s ex-girlfriend comes back in their life and hyejin’s biggest fears start growing again. But everything is fine because hyejin and haechan fit right into each other palm. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none 𝐖𝐂: 4k 𝐀/𝐍: can't believe the first chapter is finally out, i know it took me SO LONG but i hope the anon that requested it is still around to enjoy this. i have many mixed emotions about this series but i hope you will love it. feedback means the world, whether it's a comment, a reblog (it helps to boost the fic so more people can see it), or an ask, please send your thoughts! enjoy ♡

Haechan’s place was quiet; the only sounds that could be heard were the clicking of his fingers on the keyboard and some curse spilling from his lips. The place wasn’t big, and the walls weren’t thick either, even a small drop of water could be heard from another room if the house was filled with silence.

A smile curled Hyejin’s lips as she kept her focus on the food on the stoves and tried to don’t let herself get distracted by her boyfriend.

It was a typical Friday night in October. After the end of university, they dumbly believed they would’ve been freer, but real life proved them wrong swiftly, and between work and other things, finding a moment for each other seemed even harder than when their afternoons were filled with essays, books to study and projects to turn in before midnight. So, they tried to make up for some time together the best they could, slowly building their everyday life with small habits. They didn’t live together, not yet, at least. No matter how much they wanted to, especially her, they couldn’t afford a house together, not one that was big enough for the future.

While Haechan was more grounded and focused on the present — that alone was making him struggle to sleep at night — Hyejin dreamed a lot about the future. Even if in the last months her talks about it died down, too afraid she was scaring Haechan away with all her dreams of getting married and having kids, in her heart, those dreams didn’t die down. She could see it. The picture of their happy family was clear as the sky in her mind. After all, that was everything she ever dreamed of and with the person she loved since she was able to point out what feelings are.

And surely those evenings together weren’t like living together, but it was close. She spent more nights there than in her small, rented place with her best friends, especially at night, when that was the only time they could be together without having to do other things.

But none of this was different from their childhood. All the times they fell asleep in each other’s bedroom after running all day, or when they would hide because they refused to go back home. The only difference was the place; their houses in their small hometown now were a small apartment on the third floor of a building in Seoul.

When the timer rang, bringing Hyejin out of her thoughts, she shook her head and turned off the fire, careful not to burn herself while she placed the food on the plates she already took out from the shelf beforehand.

“Food’s ready,” she said, knocking on his door, opening it ajar, only seeing Haechan’s back at the desk, the light of the computer was almost blinding in the small dark room.

“Yeah, I’ll — fuck, Mark, can you look what you’re doing?” He yelled to the screen, letting out an annoyed puff of air before he waved her off, without drifting his gaze and addressing her dismissively, “I’ll be there soon, start without me.”

She chuckled, finding him endearing when he was so caught up. “Hi, Mark,” she greeted, raising her voice to make sure the boy would’ve heard from Haechan’s mic. A smile spread on her lips when their friend greeted her back, and then she talked to her boyfriend again, “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

October that year seemed a bit colder than usual, or maybe it was that place that felt off when Haechan wasn’t with her. And now that time was passing by as slowly as a drop rhythmically coming out of a broken sink, she could swear she never felt colder.

Hyejin had stopped manically staring at the clock, checking every two seconds as if two minutes could pass instead. She simply stared at the hot food in front of her, following the path of the smoke dispersing in the air and creating a grey cloud. It was like puffing air on the outside. But she didn’t want the food to go cold, she cooked it with so much love for Haechan, and she knew he must’ve been starving, so she put it in the microwave, hoping it was enough to keep it warm.

And time started weighing down on her again now that she had nothing to obsess herself with.

She sighed, slumping on the sofa and pulling out her phone.

hye♡ pls injunnie tell me they’re almost done

renjunnie bold of you to assume i understand anything about games

hye♡ sigh😔

renjunnie i’m sure they lost track of time. i can scold jeno if you want to!

hye♡ no it’s alright!!!

let them play they’ve been busy

and work is stressing hyuckie so I don’t want to bother him

renjunnie k

i’m sure he’ll make it up to you somehow 😉

hye♡ RENJUN!

renjunnie bye! you two were loud af so i can tease you all i want

hye♡ 🙄

She chuckled before locking the phone again and stretching, deciding to turn on the TV and let time pass by in some other way.

“You waited an hour?” When Haechan’s voice resonated in the living room she almost skipped a beat, not expecting him to come out of the room for at least another thirty minutes.

“Yeah, I told you,” she smiled, turning around and chuckling softly while her eyes ran on his body. He looked good with anything on, but those casual clothes were so dear to her. It reminded her of the most honest and real Haechan, the one that didn’t care about what people had to say, the one she spent hours watching trash movies or tv shows with, the one she rushed to the supermarket with after only putting a jacket and shoes on, or the one that was standing in front of her right now. “You look sexy like this,” she winked and he shook his head, hiding the light embarrassment before he walked into the kitchen.

“You cooked?”

“Yeah, prepared teobokki, but I think we have to reheat it now, unless you want to eat gum,” she commented, pulling the two dishes out of the microwave. “I’ll use the pan in the sink.”

“No, I’ll do it,” he said, grabbing the dishes from her hands, and coming face to face.

Her eyes lit up before she leaned in and left a peck on his lips. “Will you blow up the kitchen, Ramsey?”

Haechan playfully pushed her away with a swing of the hip before turning on the stove and flipping the teobokki in the pan. “I can reheat some food for five minutes. Go pick a movie or something you want to watch.”

“No complains?” She asked, pointing a finger at his chest.

Haechan nodded, “I owe it to you, I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“Alright, so you won’t complain about Clueless.”

“Damn, for the nth time?”

“It’s my comfort movie and it’s my pick, think about the food instead,” she said, rushing out of the kitchen to reach the sofa and select the movie.

When Haechan sat on the couch, placing the two plates on the table in front of it, he furrowed, not seeing the movie on the screen.

“What’s that?”

“Something we’ve never seen before,” she said. “I mean, we saw the first but not the sequel.”

“Oh,” he whispered, passing a pair of chopsticks in her hands, “are you sure? I was kidding before, you know?”

She hummed with her mouth already stuffed with teobboki, not even giving Haechan time to warn her about how hot they were. “I’m hungry,” she mumbled with her mouth closed and a sweet crease on her forehead.

“My fault, sorry,” he said, picking up the ceramic and starting to blow on the food to cool it. “But again, we can watch Clueless, I don’t mind that I know every dialogue by heart.”

“As you should, that’s a classic, it’s basic culture,” she joked, shifting closer to him until their legs brushed together and their shoulders touched. That was home to her, the physical contact, feeling him close even if they weren’t doing anything exciting, it was normal, it was calming, and it was what she always knew. Haechan was the only stable island of her life, the only land that wasn’t non-unexplored, and didn’t sink into the ocean. The only constant star that she could always look at to come home. She didn’t know how she would’ve survived without him, without this.

“And what’s this?”

“Knives out, remember? The detective and the spoiled rich people being put back in their place?”

“Oh,” Haechan laughed, “I love it.”

The weekend passed by too fast for Hyejin’s liking, two days and a half felt like two hours, and when the erratic mood of the week picked up again, the last thing she wanted to hear was about Haechan’s ex coming back to Korea.

The grunt that escaped from her lips couldn’t masquerade the fake, sweet tone of her voice when she accepted tonight’s dinner through the phone, but Haechan couldn’t see her, and she was glad for that so they could avoid another countless fight over her.

Hyejin couldn’t get it. She simply couldn’t see why after all the pain she put him through, Haechan still welcomed her with open arms. Did he forget about what he had been through, what they had been through? Because she surely didn’t delete the memories of their nights up, her being Haechan’s shoulder to cry on, constantly, before they dated, while they dated, and after.

Zoya was perennial tears sewed into Haechan’s eyes and Hyejin had spent precious hours unstitching them to put a smile on his face.

But what could she do now? If she knew about the tears, she also knew the reason why, and if she had to be honest, and leave the childish pettiness in the back of her heart, she had to admit that lots of those tears were caused by Haechan himself being too caught up in her, and being just a dumb, teenager boy that didn’t know how to balance his emotions.

And after all, if they decided to meet again, it could only mean they made it up, patched up the shredded tapestry she ripped away when she left without a word, and they could start again, as friends.

Because that was what they were.

Friends.

All of them.

That was how it started; when Hyejin and Haechan approached the new shy girl from New Dehili who would always sit alone in a corner during lunch in elementary school. When they invited her home and helped her learn Korean as they slowly started to spend more and more time together. When Haechan’s eyes started shining with a different light in middle school every time he looked at her, and how her eyes never reciprocated the same glint. When Hyejin would stare in silence, feeling her heart sink in her chest, hearing her friend’s voice talk about her so full of love. When their trio stopped being one and Zoya found better friends, but somehow still kept in touch with Haechan, and all of a sudden there were no more tears left to dry on his cheeks.

Friends.

Until they weren’t.

Until Zoya and Haechan started dating. And she was back at their bigger high school table with all their friends, happy. And Hyejin wasn’t so sure about her place anymore, it surely wasn’t the place she wanted, but it was still at Haechan’s side, and even at Zoya’s side, even if she couldn’t recognize her friend anymore.

And now there was this awkward tension in the air as the car sprinted down Seoul’s streets, and Haechan sang carelessly as a Shinee song passed by the radio. She felt numb, unsure about what to feel. A tiny, invisible, part of her was happy to see her again. Surely, they had stopped talking like when they were kids, but she still considered Zoya her friend, and when she ripped a part of Haechan’s heart, she also ripped a part of hers. Another was terrified, because she knew her, and she envied her. Because during all the nights she spent awake, caressing Haechan’s cheeks, she slowly got why Haechan was so enchanted by her, and tonight was going to be yet another painful reminder.

“Why are you pouting since we arrived?” Haechan asked as they silently walked to the restaurant, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, far away from her lingering hands begging to be taken into his.

Hyejin let out another bitter chuckle, rubbing her palms on her arms, trying to fight the cold and the nervousness. “I don’t get why she has to be here.”

“That’s literally for her, she’s finally coming back to Seoul after years, I think it’s only right to celebrate.”

Celebrate. What was to celebrate? Hyejin didn’t even know what she had come back for. “Yeah, whatever,” she whispered, so low under her breath that the cars passing by overshadowed her voice, not that Haechan would’ve given her an answer anyway. He was too caught up in what was about to happen, and even if he didn’t say it out loud, she knew he found her behaviour annoying and childish.

When they pushed the door of the restaurant Haechan picked for the occasion — a cosy, traditional place downtown — it didn’t take them long to spot Zoya at a table in the far corner of the room. She was eye-catching no matter where she was or what she wore, all eyes were on her so effortlessly.

“Hyuck!” She screamed, waving when they approached. Hyejin was standing right behind her boyfriend to shield herself from her because she knew that seeing her would’ve ruined her mood in a second.

“Zoya!” He greeted her back, pulling her into a tight hug. For Hyejin it lasted way too long but she couldn’t complain, it made sense; when she didn’t let jealousy take over her, it made sense.

“Hi,” Hyejin whispered, moving her hand shyly and feeling her heart drop when she finally, and bravely, took a look at her.

“Look at you, Hyejin,” Zoya cheered, perfect white teeth shining in a warm smile, unexpectedly bringing her close in a hug. “You got bangs? You look amazing.”

She found it hard to believe, especially when she looked like that. “Thanks,” she breathed out, shily tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling too conscious about her appearance. “The red strands? You always rock bold looks,” she commented, staring at Zoya’s hair and how unfairly gorgeous she looked. Zoya was a goddess, and it wasn’t surprising it took Haechan months to get over her. If she was him, she probably wouldn’t ever get over her.

“Yeah. Wanted to try something new,” she said, sitting and watching them do the same, taking their place in front of her on the bench. “I even tried blonde, never again,” she joked, handing them the menu.

“I bet you looked beautiful even like that,” Haechan commented, his eyes beaming while he stared at the girl facing him, and Hyejin forced a smile on her lips while she hid her face behind the menu. Maybe focusing on the food was better than this.

“Hyejin.” Only at what might have been the 50th call of her name, Hyejin turned around and was brought back from blankly spacing into her plate. “Are you okay?” Zoya asked and she hummed, realizing she didn’t pay attention to a single word they had said, by now for half an hour.

“Yeah, just, sorry, I zoned out,” she smiled, hoping it would’ve been enough to brush away the awkwardness, after looking at Haechan who was staring at her before bringing his attention back to his food.

The red-haired showed her teeth in a reassuring smile and then spoke again, “We were talking about college; how did it go?”

“Stressful,” Hyejin mumbled. Real life sucked in her opinion, while everyone around her seemed so hyped about new adventures and work and bills to pay, she just wanted to cry and go back in time, maybe even pick a different major because, who would’ve thought, art doesn’t pay the bills as much as being a doctor does. And now that Zoya was here, she wished even more that college didn’t end. Why was she even back? She flew back to India for who knows what reason, and now was back in Seoul. To work? Or to steal Haechan from her?

“I felt the same but look at us now. There are so many roads we can take from now on!” She exclaimed and Hyejin faintly made out Haechan cheering in agreement before their conversation drifted somewhere else and she slumped in her thoughts again.

She didn’t do it on purpose, it was a mechanism of defence since she was a child. She couldn’t bear staying at their side for long before her brain started to compare herself with her, and that would lead to a weird mix of self-hatred and Zoya-hatred thoughts she couldn’t bear.

Zoya was perfect, actually. She had no reason to hate her, if only it wasn’t for what had been between her and Haechan before. Zoya hurt Haechan so much when she broke up with him with no warning and flew to another country, and the one that dried all his tears was her. She could still remember the nights spent up, talking him through it, trying to calm him down and uselessly trying to make him see that she never deserved him. And all those talks and cries led to this, to them, to Haechan finally realizing the feelings he had for Hyejin for so long and simply never wanted to admit. The same feelings she cherished in her heart secretly for years while she watched in the distance — or closeness — him being in love with someone else.

And now that Zoya was back, just as casually as she left, Hyejin couldn’t believe how things were flowing between them, it was as if nothing happened, as if all those tears that scratched Haechan’s cheeks had never fallen from his eyes, as if all the bleeding didn’t happen. How could Haechan forgive so easily? How could they still fit so perfectly?

When the dinner ended and they exchanged the last greetings, the walk to the car was silent but not tense and awkward like the walk there. Hyejin searched for Haechan’s hand and held it tight, locking their fingers and finally feeling at ease again. It was as if all the pieces went back into place when they were together and all her nonsense paranoids disappeared in the sky, drifting away in the wind.

“Was it so terrible?” Haechan asked, pulling his hand away to wrap his arm around her shoulders and push her close to his body.

Hyejin shook her head, hiding a dumb smile at his action, reclining her head to hide the warmth on her face. She couldn’t grade that night, not in an honest way at least, but she didn’t want to vent about it with him, she frankly didn’t want to talk about her for the rest of the night.

“Can we grab ice cream before going back home?” She asked, hoping Haechan wouldn’t have changed the topic again.

“Sure,” he said, opening the door of the passenger seat. “Hop inside, I’m taking you to our favourite place.”

Sitting on a bench with the chill air of the night and eating ice cream wasn’t the smartest idea but something about it was soothing. The quiet of that part of town, the blue sky over them, and the shoes on the ground of the people passing by were a nice accompaniment.

“Don’t lean into me,” Haechan said when she shifted closer, softly pushing her away and glaring at her.

“Why?” She pouted, creating a deep crease on her forehead.

“We know how clumsy you are, you will make it all drop on me,” he said, pointing at the cone in her hand.

She rolled her eyes, huffing loudly because, even if that made sense, she still wanted to be closer to him, and he pushed her away.

“Can I sleep at your place, at least?” She stopped, licking the chocolate and squeezing her eyes when the cold got to her brain. “So we can cuddle.”

“Cuddle?” Haechan teased, voice coming out lower while his lips curled in a smirk.

“Yes, dumbass,” she screamed, slapping his arm away. “You took me out with your ex, you’re not getting laid for at least a month.”

Haechan gasped dramatically, shaking his head. “One month? Why are you so cruel? I even paid for your ice cream.”

She shrugged, waving him off with a move of the hand. “Don’t care, can’t care, won’t ever care about it.”

The black-haired snorted, “Yeah, we know that you won’t last a month.”

“Bet?” The challenging look she reserved for him was supposed to appear more threatening than it was, but it only made her boyfriend chuckle.

Haechan scoffed, staring at her in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah, if you’re so sure that I will be the first one to give up, what do you have to lose?”

He snorted and then nodded. “Fine, fine, what do we bet?” He asked. “No,” he said, watching her smile turn into a devilish smirk. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a big no.”

“I’ll think about it, maybe money, maybe edging you for hours, maybe something funnier,” she winked, after licking her lips sensually.

“You are evil,” he huffed before going back to his ice scream that was almost finished.

“You are worse.”

Haechan scoffed. “By the way, of course, you can sleep at mine. Oh, wait, I hope my girlfriend isn’t home, maybe we should take this somewhere else.”

Hyejin pushed him away with a harsh push and almost made him fall to the ground.

“What has taken over you tonight?” He yelled, staring at her with wide eyes.

“That’s what you get,” she smirked before standing up. “And let’s head to the car, I wanna go home.”

Haechan hummed, throwing in the bin the paper in his hand, and then they started walking to his car, this time with their arms intertwined.

The way back home was quieter, while they hummed some tunes on the radio, trying to fight off the sleep from their eyes until they made it home. Once inside, Haechan turned on the heater and Hyejin walked straight to the bathroom to get ready for the night. She walked the place as if it was hers, knowing where everything was, moving around so nonchalantly.

And exactly the way she was walking in the living room, brown hair pinned back, big soft pajamas taking her clothes place, bare feet with socks on the wooden floor, and toothbrush in her mouth as she turned on the tv, trying to find something interesting, made something pop up in Haechan’s mind.

“Oh, Hyejin,” he called, making her turn around, head tilted to the side and a small dimple on her cheek. “I forgot to tell you something. I’m sorry, I wanted to, but it slipped my mind.”

She frowned and then ran to the bathroom to clean her mouth.

“There will be quite a big change,” Haechan said, leaning against the bathroom frame, watching as she dried her face with a towel and applied moisturizer on her face.

“A big change?”

“Yeah, you know since Mark and Renjun moved out I can’t afford this place all alone, so a new friend of mine will move in.”

“Oh, that’s great, so maybe you can start saving again,” she smiled, feeling happiness fill her heart.

“Yeah, and also start breathing again. We can spend more time together if I can drop one of my two jobs.”

“That’s amazing,” she cheered, cupping his cheeks before pulling him down to kiss his lips. “Do I know him?”

“Nope, not yet. I’ll introduce you to him next Friday.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

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#nct fanfiction #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan smut #lee haechan fluff #lee haechan angst #lee haechan smut #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 127 angst #nct dream angst #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #fic: glimpse of us

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