#he's been in my family ten years and i barely know him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satorhime · 11 months

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. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

#little novels.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo angst

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reiderwriter · 7 months

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The One Thing You Can't Have

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)

Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.

Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception

A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!

With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.

When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.

You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.

"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.

The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.

"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.

He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.

The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.

"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.

"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.

"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.

You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.

After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.

Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.

There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.

After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.

He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.

It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.

He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.

You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.

“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.

It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.

You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.

“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.

He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.

Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.

To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.

“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.

“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.

“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.

“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”

“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.

Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.

Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.

So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.

Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.

So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.

“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.

“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.

“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.

“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”

“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.

Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.

“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.

He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.

“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”

And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.

You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.

It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.

He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.

When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.

You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.

The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.

You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.

"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.

Derek was going to give him hell.

"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."

"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.

"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.

His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.

He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.

It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.

The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.

Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.

Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.

The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.

The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.

"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.

"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.

"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.

"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"

"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.

"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.

"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."

"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.

"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.

He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.

And he had a third pair of your underwear.

He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.

He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.

Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.

It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.

In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.

The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.

You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.

They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.

"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.

You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.

"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.

Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.

"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."

"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.

You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.

"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.

Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.

He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.

You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.

You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.

"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."

"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.

By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.

Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.

Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.

Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.

You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.

This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.

Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.

You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.

He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.

But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.

Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.

You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.

Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.

The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.

With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.

Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.

His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.

He was screwed.

"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.

Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.

"What did I miss?"

"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."

"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.

"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.

"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.

But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.

But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.

He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.

"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.

You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.

He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.

"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.

"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."

"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.

"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.

For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.

“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.

“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”

You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.

Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.

When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.

“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.

“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”

“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”

The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.

“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.

He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.

Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.

“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.

“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.

“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.

“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.

“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.

“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”

“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”

“Was that a threat, Spencer?”

“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”

“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”

“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.

Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.

When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.

“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”

“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.

“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”

You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.

“Peace offering?”

He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.

“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”

He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.

Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.

“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”

“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.

“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”

“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.

His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.

Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.

You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.

You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.

“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.

“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.

When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up

You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.

“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.

You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.

You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.

“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.

“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.

You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.

“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”

You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.

Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.

Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.

“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.

“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.

There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.

“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.

“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.

“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.

“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.

“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.

“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”

“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.

“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.

“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”

“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”

“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.

“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”

“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.

“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.

You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.

“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.

“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”

“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.

“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.

“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.

“What?”

“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.

“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.

“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Spencer! What are you doing?”

“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”

“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.

“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #kinktober 23

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xxkissesforchanniexx · 1 month

Text

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Pairing: childhood bff!Chan x fem!reader (non-idol au) Word count: 3.4k Genre: Fluff 🥰💖, Smut 🔥❤️ (angst if you squint) Warning: Weddings... (lord help me), pro best friend chan, mentions of familial favoritism, semi rough sex? , soft dom!chan, sweet name calling(babygirl, princess), slightly jealous chan, comfort, lord someone teach me how to make better warnings, i think thats all? (someone needs to teach me to proof read.)

A/N: THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU <3 I'm working on improving the formating of my works so >.> bare with me if some of the stuff doesnt translate over well on different devices, especially the text message part >.>

When you were young, you often got compared to your sister, your sister who loved pink and poodles and tutu skirts. She was younger than you by a year and yet, she always out did you, always was a step ahead, always beating you in everything. Yeah, you loved her, but the pain of comparison drove a wedge between you two.

You were 5 when you met Chan. He was very silly, always playing games and smiling, you happened to attend the same school and after he stood up for you against an older boy at the park you two were inseparable.

Chan, who sang for you. Chan, who shared his food with you. Chan, who taught you how to dance. Chan, who teased you for acting like a nerd. Chan, who was your best friend.

Chan was sitting on the couch in your apartment, watching a cringey romantic comedy with you when your phone rang. You gave it a glance and cringed, your grandmother's name appeared on the screen with a image of the woman with an almost plastic smile.

"You should probably answer." Chan said, "Would make it worse if you didn't."

You gave your best friend a side eye. "Nah really?"

He laughed lightly as you answered the phone.

"Hi, honey, you are joining us this year for the whole family get-together aren't you?" The old woman's voice came through the speaker to your ear.

"Of course Grandma-" You started.

"That's what you said last year, and you didn't come."

You made a face, the reason you hadn't gone was because you were sick. "Things happen Grandma."

"And the year before that?"

You pursed your lips, glancing at Chan. You weren't avoiding your family really you were just... avoiding the conflict that ensued when you were with your family. And by conflict you meant the constant onslaught of questions and disappointed looks you got whenever your family asked about anything you were doing with your life.

"And anyway, it's been so long since we've heard from you, we want to see how you've been, keep the family together, bring new people in along the way." Your grandma sounded so happy.

"What do you mean?" You were confused by the "bring new people".

"Oh dear. Did your sister not tell you?" Your grandma sighed, "She has a surprise for us this year."

You sighed. Your little sister always was one better than you, or two, or ten...

"Y/n?" Your grandma's voice brought you out of your daze and Chan leaned forward looking at your face.

"I'll be there this year grandma, I promise."

"Alright. Bye bye honey."

"Bye..." You said in a small voice hanging up.

Chan smiled slightly at you. "So?"

"Help."

His eyes widened slightly before darting around. "You know I really would if I could read minds but it's awfully sad I cant."

You rolled your eyes at the man. "My family dislikes everything I do."

"And?" Chan leaned back, raising a brow.

"They don't dislike you."

"What are you trying to do here?"

You clasped your hands and gave your best friend the most innocent pure pleading gaze. "Come with me, so they won't hate on me."

Chan made a face. "No-"

"I'll pay for the wifi in your apartment for the next two- four months." You grabbed your friend's big hands in yours, "Please!"

"Just because they don't hate me doesn't mean they won't hate on you." Chan said exasperated.

"BUT they'll find someone to compare to you so I won't have to be put down by this." You give him a pleading look.

"Y/n. I've done a lot of dum shit before this is my limit."

"Channie!" You begged. "Come on! I'll pay your netflix subscription too!"

Chan groaned. "Fine! You're making me feel guilty."

"AH! You're the best Chan." You smiled hugging you friend.

He rolled his eyes and patted your hair. "You're lucky netflix is expensive."

So there you were dinner, with your family, your grandmother quick to jump and compliment Chan and compare your father and uncles to him when they were his age. Everyone complimenting your sister and asking her what the big news was. Your dad looked about ready to leave when your younger sister stood. tapping her spoon against her glass gently.

You looked at her, she smiled at you, a smile you couldn't read.

"I have a big announcement to make." She looked at her boyfriend. "Well.. we have a big announcement to make."

"What is it dear?" Your mother asked.

"We're getting married!" Your little sister jumped and smiled. Everyone started clapping.

The initial excitement and congratulations ended, leaving a gently chattering at the table.

Cue your grandmother.

"Y/n dear, what about you?"

Silence.

Everyone looked at you.

Your sister sighed slightly. "Granny, you can't pester her. Give her time, she might get married before 40."

A soft laugh rippled over the table, you stared at your little sister. She smiled innocently, your fist clenched under the table. So what if she was younger and prettier and more successful. You made a move to excuse yourself but Chan grabbed your fist under the table, you relaxed your grip and his fingers slipped between yours and squeezed gently. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked up at your best friend, smiling.

Her Majesty the Queen 01:53 She was obviously out to get you.

Butt Hunter 01:53 I agree

🐶 01:54 Go to the wedding in white.

Baby Chick 01:54 💀

. Me 01:54 I'm NOT going to my sister's wedding in white!

Beanie boy 01:54 He's giving real solutions here.

Squirrel 01:55 Just don't go?

Bread. 01:55 All you do is avoid conflict.

Squirrel 01:55 NO I DONT

Noodle Spirit Survivor. 01:56 shut up. it's 2 in the fucking morning.

. Me 01:56 Sorry Chan, we'll shut up now.

Beanie boy 01:56 Erm actually it's 1:56 AM

🐶 01:56 It's called silent old man.

Bread. 01:56 LMFAO

Baby Chick 01:56 LOL

Butt Hunter 01:56 I don't think his phone box has a silent button.

Squirrel 01:57 😭

Her Majesty the Queen 01:57 💀

You put your phone down and picked up the invitation to your sister's wedding, 4 months... all you had was 4 months to get someone to go to the wedding with. You sighed, going to the app store and downloaded for the nth time, tinder. Cringing.

You had four months to at least meet some expectations, get a nice guy for maybe a month or two, ask him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding then what? You shrugged to yourself and shoved your phone under your pillow before going to sleep.

Chan realized he was screwed, he watched you get ready for another date.

"Honestly." You sighed sitting down to put on your makeup. "I might just go with a random guy. Or maybe I could take Hyunjin or Jisung."

He pursed his lips. Was he even an option for you? What made this guy from tinder so important you had to doll yourself up to go see him. Chan bit his lip, you were his best friend, he could fix the problem, he could be your plus one, he could ask. but he didn't. He was too scared to.

He remembered his conversation with Changbin and Minho a few days earlier. Maybe he was being too much of a pussy. He'd known you for ages, he knew how you liked your coffee and the music that calmed you down, he knew what part in silly romance movies made you cry, he knew when you were uncomfortable and when you were too angry to speak.

"If you keep beating around the bush with how you feel you might never get a chance."

Changbin's words rang in his ears and he bit his lip.

"Y/n what if-" He started.

The doorbell rang as you finished applying your lip stick. "Oh, I gotta go Channie." You stood and hugged him. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck." Chan gave you a small smile and the moment you were out the door he was cursing himself for not stopping you. "Damnit."

Chan wished he hadn't wished you luck. You and Seokmin, your date, apparently hit it off. For the next two and a half weeks Chan felt like a third wheel in his own friendship with you, if you weren't on the phone with Seokmin, you were texting him, and if you weren't texting him, you were talking about him.

It really came to a head when Hyunjin invited the entirety of the group chat to go out for karaoke and you were busy with Seokmin the day off.

It hand't really been his intention to show up at your place angry, just the thought of you not just ghosting him but the whole friend group. He knocked a few times. no response.

Chan knocked again. he still got no response. Sure the key in the dirt of the potted plant hanging under the sign of your apartment number was for emergencies only, but this was an emergency. (to him anyway.)

Chan opened the door and entered your apartment, expecting to hear lewd sounds or... what else was he really expecting. But as he approached your door his heart ached. It wasn't a sound he heard often from you but it was one he could recognize any day. Chan pushed the door open slowly. You sat on your bed, hugging a pillow, eyes red and puffy, tears streaking your face, you didn't notice him until he closed the door gently behind himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

You quickly wiped your tears. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Chan sighed. "Come here." He sat on the bed and opened his arms.

You leaned into him muttering, "Seokmin is a dumass."

"What happened?" Chan asked, rubbing your shoulder gently.

"He blocked me." You sniffed. "Out of the fucking blue."

Chan hummed softly. "His loss."

You looked up at your friend, "You're so dum."

"Nuh uh, I think I'm pretty smart princess." Chan smiled gently.

"I don't think so." You laughed softly.

He looked down at you. "'M smart enough to stay your friend."

You nod slightly, "I stayed attached to you at the hip is more like it."

"Didn't have a problem with it."

"Chan." You rubbed your friend's arm.

"Hm?"

"Go with me."

"Where?" he asked dumbly.

You sat up and flicked his forehead. "You know where."

"I don't get anything out of it." He rubbed his forehead.

"I'll uh..."

"Worry about it later." He huffed and stood, smoothing your hair. "Should we get (comfort food)?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask." You punched him softly and led the way out of your room.

The day of the wedding you were wearing a long pastel blue dress, and Chan a matching suit, it wasn't the first time you'd matched with your best friend, but this felt more special. Your grandmother and parents gave you side ways glances during the wedding procession, and once the reception had started so did your grandma's vulture like flocking.

"Y/N i really thought you would've come with someone other than Chan, maybe your sister was right you just need time." the old woman sighed.

You sucked in a breathe but Chan grabbed your hand under the table, his words making you freeze, "Is there a problem with me attending as her boyfriend?"

You turned to Chan and he squeezed your hand as if urging you to play along.

Your grandmother looked at you stunned. "What? Since when?"

"The dinner really opened my eyes, maybe guys don't approacher because I'm around, I do look like her boyfriend don't I?" He glanced at you, "Why not give it a shot?"

Your family must have heard your grandmother's cry because your mother and father came over a few moments later and you watched as Chan worked his charm, a mask on his face the entirety of the time.

Your sister looked between you and Chan, blinking quite a bit. As your parents congratulated you on not being single for the first time, you felt like you out did your sister, you looked at Chan, he smiled gently at you and your heart jumped.

After a lot of drinks and cake you decided it was time to head home.(Chan had to drag you out.)

The ride back to your apartment was quiet, you were too buzzed to speak and Chan was focused on driving.

Chan smiled softly, glancing at you. "Wasn't so bad was it?"

You took a moment before you spoke. "Did you mean what you said?"

Chan's brows furrowed, "About what?"

"Did you actually think of me like that after the dinner?" You looked at him.

Chan sucked a breath, squeezing the wheel. "Would you believe me if I said yes."

"I don't have a reason not to."

Chan pulled off the highway onto the smaller road that lead through the city and to your apartment.

"Well?" You asked.

Chan bit his lip and nodded. "I meant what I said."

You remained quiet until he pulled into your apartment complex. And even after he got you into your apartment. You stood there, looking at... Chan. Chan who knew you better than you knew yourself, Chan who always calmed you down, Chan who got angry for you, Chan who bought you food when you were sad and held you until you grew tired of it(you never did you never could), Chan your...

"You meant it?" You were completely sober now, picking up the conversation as if you hadn't been silent for the past half hour.

Chan nodded.

"Is that all there is to it?"

"No." he breathed, stepping closer to you.

"Tell me. What else?" You asked quietly.

"How do I even begin?" He laughed slightly. "I'm sorry-"

"Why are you apologizing?" You looked at him confused.

"For not telling you how I felt from the get go." he smiled, "If there's anything that makes me sleep at night it's you, if there's any place I feel safe it's with you. You make me more happy than I can describe with words alone, there isn't another person I'd be with in any life." He reached and caressed your cheek. "I wanted to fight myself when I let you go out with Seokmin. I want you, I need you, I..." He paused, scanning your face for a signal, any sign to keep going.

"You're going to shut up now when you're at the climax of your speech?" You laughed slightly.

He smiled and rolled his eyes, "I love you. I always have."

"You're really an idiot." You kissed him gently.

Chan blinked in shock. "I-"

You smiled, proud of yourself. "Now-"

Chan grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours again, you stared for a moment before relaxing into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue fighting yours before he pushed into your mouth to taste you, biting your lip gently.

"Wanted to do that for so long." He breathed against your lips, pulling away slowly.

You grabbed his collar. "If you don't finish what you started I will."

Chan's eyes widened and a smirk grew on his face. He kissed you again and his hand moved to the back of your dress. "May I, princess?"

"You may." You giggled as he removed the dress and your made quick work of his buttons before he shrugged off the jacket and shirt, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

You squeaked as he threw you onto the bed and got on top you. "Nervous?" he asked laughing lightly.

"No... Of course not." You said looking away.

He smiled and turned your head to face him kissing you passionately before he moved to suck a dark mark just next to your jaw. "So pretty, just for me."

You gasped softly and nodded. "Just for you Channie." Chan continued his assault on your neck before removing your bra and smiling at your chest, he kissed your lips gently. "This is my favorite part of you," He moved to kiss your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and biting gently, relishing in the cry that escaped your lips, "But this is second best."

You blushed, "Stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" Chan chuckled against your right breast, pinching the left.

"You-"

"Huh?" He kissed down your belly and bit hard beside your belly button.

"Ow-" You gasped and grabbed his hair.

"Gotta make sure they know you're taken if you wear a crop top." he murmured and moved lower kissing your thigh and pulling your legs apart. "This is mine hm? I think I waited for it long enough." He kissed your thigh before pulling your pantie off. He tossed it haphazardly over his shoulder. He took amount to admire you and you shifted slightly.

"Channie. You're staring." You muttered.

"That a problem princess?"

"Pervert." You rolled your eyes as Chan tugged you to the edge fo the bed.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you moan, he smiled. "That feel good?"

You nodded, panting.

"Use your words." He said rubbing your clit a bit faster.

You moaned and tried to move away but his hand came to hold you down. "No, no."

You blushed, "Meanie."

He smirked kissing your belly before slipping a finger into you. You moan as your wall clenched around his digit, he moved it in and out slowly, thumb still working at your clit.

You gasped and bit your lip as he pushed another finger into you. He paused looking at you.

"What?" You tried to move for friction but he held you down.

"I want to hear you."

You blushed furiously, eyes wide.

Chan laughed lightly and started fingering you again, his middle and ring finger curling to find your g-spot.

You let out a loud cry and Chan smiled, he moved to kiss you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he started grinding his palm into your clit as his fingers moved deeper. You moaned into the kiss and squealed, legs kicking slightly. Chan slid a third finger into you and you squirmed.

"It's too much!" You whined.

"I think you can take it." He said kissing your neck, "Just a little bit more, princess, wanna feel you cum on my hand."

You moaned louder as he pinched your nipple, sucking on the other one. You gasped as he started grinding his tented crotch against your thigh.

"Are you going to cum for me?" he cooed into your ear. "Cum for me, please, princess."

You moaned loudly as you came hard on Chan's hand.

He hummed and lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean before leaning to kiss you. "You taste good babygirl." He stood to remove his pants letting them fall to the floor.

You moaned at the lewdness of the action as Chan moved between your legs, tapping his cock against your clit.

"I'm gonna make you feel good, make you mine." He said, his voice thick with lust.

You bit your lip and nodded. "Please. "

Chan smiled kissing you gently as he pushed into you.

A throaty moan erupted from your throat and Chan groaned. "Sound so pretty," He pulled out slowly and pushed in deeply, you cried out at the slight burn. "I'm sorry baby," He kissed your cheeks gently. "Can I move now?"

You nod and before you could ground yourself Chan was pistoning into you, fucking you as if he wouldn't get to again. You held onto him tightly, clawing at his broad shoulders. He moaned and squeezed your hips tightly. "You're so tight princess."

He moaned softly against your neck, kissing and biting, leaving marks that would surely become hickeys by morning, as he rutted into you over and over. You moaned louder, panting into the heated kisses he granted you. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall with the force of it all, the sound of sin slapping against skin filling your bedroom, you were positive the neighbors could hear but it wasn't like you had room to care.

Chan's hand slipped between your bodies and he began rubbing your clit. "C'mon baby. Cum for me again."

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began thrusting into you harder, hitting your g-spot.

"Cum for me princess." He said through grit teeth.

Another thrust sent you toppling over the edge and you came hard, vision going white as you let out a broken cry. Chan followed quickly, his thick length throbbing inside you as you milked him for everything he had. He kept thrusting his gaze distant and glassy.

You whimpered and trembled as he overstimulated you slightly. After a few more thrusts he finally slowed down and relaxed on top of you.

"Let me take you out on a date..." He muttered against your shoulder.

"I'd like that." You said running your fingers through his curly hair.

What da cringe ending 😭 I really want to thank everyone for 100 followers LOVE YALL <3 requests will reopen soon, I'm still busy with school but I hoped you liked this it took really long to make.

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mintmatcha · 3 months

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tw: implied abuse, no curses au

"Can I ask a question?" Yuuji digs his heel into the wood chips as he swings, digging a growing trench behind him. "You don't have to answer."

Ash falls from the end of Choso's cigarette. He leans against the anchor of the swing set, cheek against cold metal, and sighs. Twilight has passed and the streetlights have turned on, giving the playground a hazy, barely lit glow. Yuuji's guardian will start calling soon, but Choso decides the extra time together is worth the future ire.

"I already told you that I'm not giving you a tattoo."

"Aw, damn-" Yuuji clicks his tongue against his teeth. Ever since they met, he's been dying for a tattoo of his own, throwing out wild new ideas almost every day. One day, when he's eighteen and likes an idea for more than a month, Choso will bring him to his studio and comply.

But, not yet.

"That wasn't my question though," Yuuji says.

"Then go for it."

The younger boy takes a deep breath, then lets it out even slower, pulling the tension longer and longer until it snaps.

"Why weren't you... around? Like, when I was a kid and stuff."

Choso takes his own breath.

"Your mom-- our mom." The taste of that sits bitter on his tongue. He never called her mom, even back then. "She was different for me."

And for our other brothers, he adds silently. Yuuji doesn't need to carry that weight yet, the knowledge that he was the exception to it all.

"Why?" Yuuji pumps his legs a little softer, the back and forth motion of the swing slowly dying out.

"I dunno." Choso wishes he had the answer to that. "She was sixteen, did bad things. Don't worry about it."

Finding out about Yuuji wasn't a shock, somehow. Years after Ken had surrendered her children to the state, Choso had received noticed that she had died. The news felt overdue. No tears were shed, no love lost; the group chat of siblings had all agreed not to go to any service, but the day of, Choso had changed his mind.

He had put on his nicest outfit -some thrift store pants that didn't fit and a shirt he stole from foster dad three- and went expecting to be the only one there, the only one willing to say goodbye.

Choso hadn't known about her new family. They hadn't known about him either. It was typical of Ken to leave a mess in her wake.

Turns out, through a series of lucky breaks, the woman had clawed her way out of poverty and into the arms of a rich, but nice man. Her life was easy and sweet, filled with luxuries and love, including a son ten years younger than her eldest.

No one knows why Yuuji was different than the others, why she decided to be good to him and no one else. Mental illness is strange like that, picking and choosing how it pleases.

Yuuji huffs, gripping the metal chains tighter. "But-"

"Yuuji." Choso drops his cigarette and crushes it under his boot. Then, he thinks about the child that will play there tomorrow, shoveling wood chips into their mouths like idiots, and decides to pick it up. He jams it into his pocket. "You have good memories of her. Don't ruin that."

He used to resent how much Yuuji loved her. He was eight when she died, the same age Choso was when he first had to dial 911 for her. That anger had long faded, replaced with a strange amount of pity.

"But I want to know. What she did and stuff." Yuuji's voice jumps high with emotion. "I'm basically an adult, I can handle it."

"You're sixteen."

"Well, mom was doing this stuff at sixteen, so-" Yuuji is seething suddenly, brow furrowed and teeth grit.

"So?"

"So, she was old enough to be doing bad things and I'm not old enough to know about it?" He stands and the swing clatters behind him. He's stocky, yet tall, bunched with muscles that he's built from baseball. On one side of his cheek, there's a bit of chocolate stuck there, a remnant from the ice cream Choso bought him. Below it, there's a rosy hickey on his neck, a remnant of the boyfriend he hasn't told Nanami about yet. He thinks they're having sex, maybe, but doesn't know how to broach the topic without scaring his brother into never talking about it again.

"And you had tattoos at my age, by the way!"

Choso lets him stew in it, huffing and puffing. The blown out edges of first tattoo peek from under his sleeve, the image barely legible now. An older woman gave it to him at fifteen, in the basement of her house. It became so insanely infected that he ended up in the ER a couple days later.

"I'm not a kid. I can handle it." Yuuji states, calm and clear. "I'm not a kid."

A car passes, it's headlights stretching and pulling the shadows across the park. In the changes, Choso can see his mother in his brother, those soft eyes and thin lips and the same slightly crooked nose that Choso has himself. He thinks, maybe, if time was kinder and his father was better, they'd look more alike each other, but then the moment is gone and they no longer even look like siblings.

"Okay."

Yuuji untenses a bit. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Like, okay, this conversation is done, or okay, I'll tell you?"

"I'll tell you," Choso says, jamming his hands in his pocket. The cigarette butt is there, mushed and still warm against his knuckles. "But not tonight."

"What?!"

"Next time, I promise."

Choso doesn't understand why Yuuji insists on rushing away from innocence, but he knows that he can't stop him. Yuuji will find out about the abuse, the neglect, the other brothers, and the other horrors in some way or another and then things will never be the same.

"Stay a kid just a little longer." Choso resists the urge to ruffle his hair. "For me?"

"Yeah, sure," Yuuji sighs. "One more day."

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daisynik7 · 10 months

Note

so first off all i wanted to say that i LOVE your writing.

but, if you don’t mind, could you make an NSFW fic about a dilf! toji with his babysitter. but like cheating.

so basically toji has a wife but he’s cheating on her with the babysitter(whose like 10 years younger than him).

i’d really love if you could do it

thanks bookie🫶🏽

Pairing: dilf!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Author’s Notes: Thank you for your kind words, you are too sweet! This is my very first Toji fic EVER, so I was very excited (and nervous!) to write it. I hope I did it justice, this is such a delicious idea for him. Also, I have never read the manga, so if the characterization is off, I’m so sorry! I really, really hope you like this one! Divider created by @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?”

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.”

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!”

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy.

Toji, on the other hand, is another story.

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you.

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas.

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby.

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence.

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad.

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time.

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with.

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho.

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.”

And apparently, so are you.

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job.

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working.

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.”

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen.

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking.

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #dilf toji #toji smut #toji x you #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #toji jjk #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jjk request #requests #toji request

2K notes · View notes

beary-rambles · 23 days

Text

Through it all, its still you

r.q: hellooo lovlieee omg i am so inlove with your newest fic with jacaerys, my jaw was on the ground. could I request a fic with jacaerys were it's during the war between blacks and greens and your his betrothed. He goes north and you stay in dragonstone, but then you get taken by the greens. Everyone thinks your dead but you manage to escape and bond with a dragon. then when jacaerys is fighting against the greens, you Show up with your dragon and fight this epic battle. omg I got so carried away sorryyy. maybe with some fluff at the end ?? anyways take care <3

w.c: 4.2k (god i love writing for jace)

c.w: tyrell!reader, written with f!reader in mind but i dont believe theres any mention of gender of reader if so barely, angst, FLUFF! happy ending though it takes awhile to get there, poorly written battle scene, blue fire breathing dragon :3, not proofread

masterlist

You had not known how long you were sitting in the silence of your room. Usually dragonstone, though you had not been there for very long, was booming with life, jacaerys and lucerys arguing with one another and joffrey laughing, the babies crying or laughing at nothing, baela and rhaena chatting together. But today there was nothing but somber silence. Lucerys was dead. Though you did not know him as well as everyone here did, your heart ached at the thought of the young boy being gone.

Daemon and rhaenyra had basically locked themselves in the council room after informing you of the news. You worried for them especially after seeing how angry and heartbroken they looked but the person you worried for most was jacaerys. He was off in the north oblivious to what had been happening here. You felt sick to your stomach as you imagined his face finding out the news. He had confided in you before he left. He worried for lucerys and how he would fare on his trip to storm's end and you helped assure him lucerys would be alright.

You sit in your nightgown clutching hard onto the necklace jacaerys had given you early on into your courtship.

You had been promised to jacaerys when you were very young much to the dismay of alicent and her father. You were your fathers only daughter and due to the fact he had no uncles, no cousins, no nephews and no direct other male family members you were to inherit everything in highgarden once he passed. You were immediately very fond of jacaerys as soon as the two of you met in the keep. Though the two of you did not get to spend as much time together as you were soon taken back to the highgarden after a couple moon cycles. Before you had left the keep however he had given you this necklace. It was a metal carving of a dragon painted in the colors of his dragon vermax. He had told you he hoped while you were apart you could feel protected by him with his dragon and you cried into his shoulder before you were soon dragged off and did not get to see him for many years.

Soon enough your name day came and you turned eight and ten and were granted the ability to go to Dragonstone to meet with jacaerys and begin wedding preparations with rhaenyra. What you nor your father had known is that soon war would strike. You knew tensions were high between the family especially after attending the families final dinner where you help jacaerys place ointment on his cheek after aemond had punched him but you did not think things would turn out so horrid for the family.

So deeply lost in your thoughts you do not notice the quiet footsteps entering your room through an opened window in your room until something a stab punctures your arm and a hand covers your scream before a heavy object slams into your head knocking you out cold. He allows you to sit out cold for a bit, letting your blood pool on the ground soaking your gown and your necklace. While you're passed out the mysterious man scoops you up into his arms, ripping the necklace from your neck and tosses it into the pool of blood before he carefully manages to carry you out through the window and down to an awaiting boat with a couple other masked men who help him chain you down and soon sail away, the image of dragonstone fading farther and farther away.

Only hours later does jacaerys land back on dragonstone hoping to be greeted by you. Happy that he had been able to secure all the alliances for his mother and felt full of pride when he imagined how happy you would be. What he did not expect when he entered the main room was a somber atmosphere, he notices rhaena has fresh tears sliding off her face and baela attempting to comfort her. Joffrey clung to his rhaenyra side also seeming to be crying. He quickly looks over at daemon who is staring right back at him. “What has happened? Where is lucerys? Where is my betrothed? Tell me at once.” rhaenyra makes her way over to him and clings to him, shoving her face in his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” he refuses to be true, it can't be true. But when daemon walks over to the pair and opens up his hand to show the necklace jacaerys had given you all those years ago, covered in your blood.

When you open your eyes the first thing you notice is how much your arm hurts, you groan and grab your arm. The sound of a screeching chair and the quick fleeing of the room meets your ears as you sit up and notice your sitting in a very familiar room. This is the room that you had stayed in during your time in the keep, looking exactly how you left it. A part of you is telling you this is a dream, you reach your hand up to wrap around your necklace your grow frantic as you realize it is not there. You feel around the bed and look upon the dresser next to you but there is nothing. In your haste the door opens and your head shoots up. “You are finally awake.”

“Where is my necklace?” alicent looks at criston next to her who shakes his head, “you did not come wearing a necklace miss.” you groan and immediately try to stand out from bed but immediately feel so dizzy you have to sit back down, your arm throbbing heavily. “What did you do to me?”

Alicent takes a hesitant step closer to you, her arms out as if to comfort you, “you should relax.” “asking me to relax after you kidnap me, are you insane?” you are unable to control your temper as you spit your words at her. Criston immediately clutches his sword and takes a step forward, “that is no way to-” alicent gives him a pointed look and he immediately deflates taking a step back. She hesitantly makes her way to the end of the bed and sits on it looking at you. “I simply wish to speak with you. “So you decide to kidnap me, that makes perfect sense.” you can tell she's irritated at you but does not let it show on her face as she takes a deep breath, a somber look on her face though you cannot tell if it is serious.

“With your fathers passing everything in highgarden has been left to you, we believe it is in your best interest to declare house tyrell for aegon-” “my father is dead?” you cannot handle the influx of emotions you feel as your hand clenches around the space where your hanging dragon should be craving the feeling of the cold metal and sharp edges on your skin. She nods, placing her hand on your knee and for some reason you let her, the look in her eyes tells you she feels sorry having to break this news to you herself. “Yesterday night in his sleep, his final wish was for you to have highgarden. He stated it to be so.” all you can do is look down, your eyes clouding and you begin to crave the presence of jacaerys. Taking you silence as an opportunity to continue alicent begins to speak, “I care, not only about you, but about the future of your house which is why you should declare for aegon-” “you are asking me to declare for him? I knew you were crazy but this is just insanity.”

Though your face is covered in tears it does not hide the furious look you have on your face as you push her hand away from you and hug your knees to your chest. “It is the best path for you and your house my dear you must believe me i only wish the best for you. And should you do this you will be a lovely addition to our family. I am looking for a wife for my son daeron.”

“I am already betrothed. You know this.” she shakes her head and stretches out further on the bed attempting to touch you once again, “you must understand-” “i would rather you kill me than marry your stupid hightower son and declare for that pig wearing a false crown on his head.”

The room goes silent and she sighs and stands, fixing her dress before moving to leave the room. As she stands by the door she turns back to you, “I hope you will one day change your mind.” “I will not.” you quickly spit at her before she and criston leave the room leaving you trapped in there. All you can do is sit and cry in your bed, you miss jacaerys, you miss your father, you even miss dragonstone. You spend that whole day and night in your room praying that jacaerys was alright, you knew it is foolish to wish he could climb though the window to save you but the childish part of you dreamed he would come to your rescue.

His foot taps on the floor in rapid succession. Jacaerys finds he can barely sit still these days. He cannot believe you were ripped from his hands so quickly. Though many expected him to lock himself in his room and cry for days mourning the loss of the love of his life and his younger brother he did not even shed a tear. Even at the funeral for the two of you the worst he got was glassy eyed as he clung onto his brother's robe and your necklace which he has begun wearing. It was as if he became a shell of himself, only speaking when spoken to and only truly wished to speak time planning out the moves of the war with daemon. Rhaenyra grew more and more concerned and distressed over her son as the days passed. Whenever she would go and try to talk to him she would only be greeted by his dead eyes and his emotionless words and she felt as though she lost two of her sons not just the one.

Due to his erratic emotions, Jacaerys could not decipher how he felt. Grief? Anger? Sadness? Spite? All of the above? He had no clue. But in his mind he had no time to feel anything. He had a duty to make sure his mother won this war and he could deal with his feelings later. He tried to ignore that heart clenching feeling everytime he wrapped his hand around the dragon necklace. The selfish part of him believes you are still alive, in his defense there was no body, just a large pool of blood soaking the floor, the room had been bare and mostly untouched which led daemon to conclude it happened without and fight and quickly. If you were truly dead it gave him a bit of piece you had not been put through any sort of torture or torment as daemon seemingly had put halenas kid through when he sent out blood and cheese.

He has many regrets and will hate himself for the rest of his life, he let his mother down, he was a bad brother and worst of all he failed to protect you, the one he had sworn to protect forever. He wont allow himself to mourn you, or mourn anyone for that matter. The only thing that mattered was the war and when daemon once again called him in the council room he soundlessly followed. He would at least avenge you in any way he would. He wanted them to feel the pain they had put him through, they put his mother through, he wanted to hurt them so badly he could barely contain himself but he must be rational despite how hard it is. Whenever he looked at the dragon on his neck he could only think of you and he grew angrier with himself. He had to avenge you. No matter what.

The days in the keep are boring. For the first few days all you do is sit on your bed crying. Whenever a guard entered your room to bring you food you never ate any of it. The only time anything happened all you could hear was screams and cries but they were so distant you did not know what was happening. You only found out when aemond had come to integrate you about the incident. Asking if you had somehow let this ‘blood and cheese’ into the keep so they could kill one of halenas kids. You were mortified and said you had no clue. After a bit of pushing and reports from the guards who were stationed outside your room there was no way you could have done anything and they promptly left. The rest of your days continued the same with you not if so barely eating until it became too much and alicent showed up to your room. “You must eat.” you scoff, you had finally gained your strength back and were sitting at one of the tables in the room with a book in your hands. “I don't need to do anything.” She sighs and looks around the room. You take notice of the box she holds in her hands along with a bowl of what looks like fruits in it. “What is that?”

She looks down at her hands and lets out an oh before looking back at you hopefully. “I.. was hoping you would play cyvasse with me..” she trails off and for a moment you notice how young she truly is. Much closer in age to not only yourself but her oldest son and all of her children forced into a role she is not fit for. A wave of sympathy falls upon you and she continues, “i have no one to play with, aemond is far too busy haelena cannot bring herself to get out bed and obviously aegon does not know how to play-” “ill play.”

She looks at you shocked as if she had been expecting you to turn her away and tell her no. “Though I should warn you that I have not lost a game in a very long time, I am a fierce competitor.” a smile graces her face and she nods quickly moving to sit down across from you and sets up the board. “I have not lost in forever either dear. I'm sure I will not lose to you.” you close your book and toss it towards the bed and shake your head at her. “I would like to see you try.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you two begin to play. So lost in the game you occasionally pop a piece of fruit in your mouth. She was right, she is very tough competition but you can hold your own against her causing her to sit and think for long periods at a time. “It's a bit stuffy in here don't you think?” you lift your gaze from the board and up at her as you shrug, “if it is i do not notice it.” as you look back down at the board she hums and stands to open up one of the windows before moving to sit back down. “I hope you have thought about what I told you.” you sit still for a moment before moving on of your pieces and leaning back to look at her. “I have.” a hopeful look crosses her face, “and i will continue to tell you no.” she sighs and stares down at the board. Many more silent moments pass before the door slams open and the two of you look at it alarmed.

“Ser Cole, what's wrong?” “You must come quickly with me, my queen, the prince has found something.” she stands alarmed and rushes towards him before looking back at you for a moment, “we will continue this later.” All you can do is nod at her and watch as the two of them rush out the room. You lean back on the chair and close your eyes and sigh. You wonder how long she planned to keep you here. You felt as though you made it rather obvious you never planned to submit to Aegon or marry her son but it seemed she still held on hope you would. In the midst of your thoughts a breeze brushes you and you jump out of your seat and look over to the window. It was still open. You walk over to the window and look out, this was your chance. You could escape, surely it could not be so hard to scale down the castle. You could die but so what? The longer you resist them the closer you get to one day just being executed and they put someone who would listen to their every whim in the high gardens. You look around the room and throw a spare cloak which had been in the room and look for anything valuable to sell before you say a small prayer to yourself before climbing out of the room and beginning to descend the castle.

It is not easy, if anything you would think this is impossible by the way your hands, knees and feet begin to bleed the way you continue to scrape along the harsh walls of the castle. You don't dare look down out of fear someone will notice you or you’ll realize you've made no progress and get so frustrated you cry. After what felt like hours you stumble and fall to the ground and struggle to pick yourself up. Looking around you, noticing you are in an empty alley. You had really escaped. You stand frozen for a moment unsure of what to do. You had not thought this far. Maybe you could try to make it to high garden but they would surely notice your absence before then and high garden would be the first place they look for you. You decide you’ll sell the stuff you had managed to take first and figure out the rest later. When you had made it to one of the stands the seller was shocked to see all the real gold items you had with you and was more than eager to offer you a large chunk of change for it. Now that you had the money you had no clue what to do but as you were walking you hear a group of people discuss that they planned to travel out of the city and decide you could try and hitch a ride with them.

“And why would we let you ride with us little girl?” you show him the large amount of gold you can just acquired and his eyes widen as he looks at it. “How much?” “I would give you all of it,” he looks alarmed, “you desperate to get out of the city?” “more than you know.” later that same day you were sitting in the back of their large carriage. One of the girls in the group offered you a change of clothes and fixed up your wounds for you question free. You watch the city fade away from you and let out a breath of relief as you finally pull down your hood allowing the group to see your face. “Hey aren't you that hightower girl?” you look over to your right at the man from earlier and shrug, “maybe.” If he wants to ask more questions he does and goes back to fiddling with his blade and you begin to pray once more for jacaerys and that the gods will be kind enough to allow the two of you to reunite.

You travel with them for a couple days. You find out they are actually a traveling circus who is struggling to make business right now due to the war. They are kind people who don't ask you unwanted questions and provide you with a ride and some food and that's all you can ask for. One day it's the middle of the night and you have all taken camp near a mountain. You grow more and more restless to get as close to dragonstone as possible to try and see jacaerys but you know these people are being more than kind to you so you must not push them. “I heard a rumor about this place,” jim, the guy you had talked to the first day he seemed to be the leader of this little group, says to jane, the woman who helped you fix your wounds takes a sip from her flasks and gives jim an unamused look. “Jim if this is one of your fairytales again,,,” “no no no seriously, apparently there's a dragon around these parts.'' This immediately catches your attention and you gaze at jim. “Seriously?” Jim nods confidently and Jane shakes her head tapping you on the shoulder, “don't believe him pumpkin he's always talking shit.” “i am being serious-”

A loud roar off in the distance causes the three of you and the rest of the camp to grow completely silent. Jim mouths a ‘told you’ in your direction and you watch as a dragon flies over your head and out to a field not too far away from where you all were camped. “We're gonna die.” you hear one of the other guys say and all you can do is admire the dragon. It's pure white with piercing blue eyes that seem to be looking directly at you. You feel completed to go towards it, its gaze luring you in as you stand at the alarm of Jane and Jim and begin to walk off. “Where the hell are you going?” you reach in your pocket and toss and large bag of coins you had at jim, “im going to claim a fucking dragon! Or die trying!”

The morning came and the blacks had finally managed to put a pin on where one of the large green camps were and we're currently stationed to ambush them. Jacaerys sat wordlessly on his dragon as baela sat on her next to him and called his name causing him to look over at her. “I hope you know she would not resent you. When you were gone you were all she could talk about. She couldn't hate you, it is not possible.'' He just stares at her and opens his mouth as if he wished to speak but he couldn't and all he could do was turn away so as to not get choked up. He hoped she was right, that you could not hate him because he fears if you did it would kill him. He clutches the necklace once more before the call is made to charge and he flys up with his dragon to fight. Despite the fact it had been an ambush the greens seemed way more prepared to fight than they had been expecting and the situation grew more and more dire as the fight went on.

As if it was a grace from the gods he heard a roar off in the distance and prayed it had not been aegon or aemond heading there way but when he turned his head and saw a white dragon? When close enough a wave of blue fire came out of its mouth to douse the greens. He could not see if the dragon had a rider due to its erratic movements but soon enough the dragon flew by him and he felt himself freeze. His betrothed. The one he feared he had lost. You. Y/n Tyrell. On a fucking dragon. Soon after your arrival the greens begin to retreat, unable to over power your dragon and its blue fire. Once the tides had settled and people began to cheer he quickly began to move towards where you were and you also rushed off your dragon and ran towards him, “jacaerys!” He grabs your face and kisses you with all his heart. He hopes you can feel the force of his love pouring into you with every move his lips make and with the grip he holds your face on, so gentle yet strong as if he knew he was holding the whole universe in his hands. It was not just any universe it was his universe and as you two pull away he can barely breathe. “You're alive?” you nod and peck him on the lips, “i will never leave you my love.” he finally feels all the emotions he's held back crash into him and he hugs you so tightly as if he fears you'll slip from his grasp should he let go. You feel him begin to cry and stroke his hair as you close your eyes and find yourself crying too. “I was so scared you had,,” “shh do not even speak it. I am here, I promise and I am not going anywhere.”

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ktsumu · 6 months

Text

A CHILDHOOD BEDROOM tw: allusions to divorce/his family dynamic, holiday comfort for the soul

Ushijima’s bedroom is nothing like the one you share.

His walls are bare, save for a few frames with pictures that are older than the two of you. There’s a bulletin above his desk that’s naked down to the cork, a few tacks littering it at random.

He has his dresser, a small mirror on the wall hanging above it. The room is nearly devoid of colour aside from beige and navy, but the Christmas lights from the house across the street give it some red and green. Not much, but it’s good enough.

You walk along the perimeter of the room, the floors cold, hands tracing over his desk and chair. He watches you from the doorway, the door closing softly behind him as he does. You hear the same floor creak beneath his feet as he crosses to his bed, the frame sighing under his weight.

A print-out picture of him and a redhead (Satori, he’s mentioned) standing side-by-side in school uniforms is framed on said desk, thumbs up on all four of their combined hands. A team in maroon stands tall beside it, and he’s dead center. A three-person family — father, mother, boy — takes up the space beside that, the frame much more sophisticated than the others. He looks about ten.

The clock on his wall tells the time wrong; it hasn’t been reset since he graduated and moved out at eighteen. It looks like it’s a few hours behind, but it’s really telling you time six years back.

“Your walls are so bare,” you comment, turning back to look at him where he’s sat. He offers an almost unnoticeable, lopsided smile. “Where are all the medals, huh? I’ve heard big things about Ushiwaka the Great, you know.”

You’re joking, but he answers, “In my drawer.”

(You check; it’s full of them.)

Ushijima watches you hold them, looking at all of the engravings before setting them back, the years stretching further back the deeper that you dig. It’s like your chest is swelling with pride over things he won before you knew him.

“What is it?” he asks, eyes following you as you cross over to his bed, sitting down to face him. His brows furrow, leaning his back against the headboard that looks so comically small; then his lips tug up at the sight of gold around your neck. His teenage pride rests on your chest.

There is something so invasive about a childhood bedroom, about wearing what once was his entire life as he looks at it — a whole life you didn’t have the chance to watch lays itself out in front of you. This childhood doesn’t exist anymore (maybe it never really did) and yet you see it around you all the same.

(It is invasive, but it is full of love. An empty room that feels so full.)

“Why doesn’t your mother display your medals in the house?” you ask, tilting your head. “Hell, my mom would’ve lined mine up in the window. And your desk is like a trophy factory.”

“It’s not practical, I suppose.”

“So they just sit in here?”

Ushijima looks at you like he’s in thought.

He shrugs. “Mostly,” he says, “my father has a few in California. My player portrait is on his office wall. My mother shows her affection in her own way.”

“Can we take some back home?”

“Why? They’re old.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging. “I’ll display them around the room for a bit, swap ‘em out when you rack some up this season.”

Ushijima just chuckles shortly, shaking his head as he moves down the bed, laying down flat. His feet hang off the end a bit, and the pillows are the same as they always were. “If you wish. You know I never stop you from anything.”

You hum. “God, does it echo in here?”

“Sometimes. It never used to.”

“When did it start?”

He knows when. “I’m not sure.”

You know, too. “That’s okay. Our room at home doesn’t echo, at least.”

“No, you won’t let it.”

“Never.”

Ushijima reaches out a hand, his left, and he twirls the medal you picked in his hand. You wear it still, and it looks like it gleams. His eyes flicker up to yours.

“I love you,” you tell him. “You and your empty room.”

He sighs a laugh, one you taught him how to make, and he pulls you into his chest by the ribbon around your neck. He breathes, your head rises and falls with his chest, and the room comes alive; breathing with its maker, welcoming him home the best it can. You certainly help.

Ushijima looks at his bedroom walls, his broken clock; the house is not resetting, his parents’ old bed will always be half full and half made, but he thinks this is enough — coming back with you was enough. Now, when he leaves, he will remember a warm bed and leave to sleep in a warmer one.

“Love?”

“Mm?”

“When we find a home we like enough to live in,” When. Not if, when. “I’d like to paint the walls with you.”

“Ooh, what colour?”

“Not white — or beige.”

You grin, angling your head up to see him. Ushijima is looking up at his clock, six years behind like he just got home from training camp, his boxes packed for the city.

(He meets you two years later.)

“Pick a swatch, baby. Just no neons.”

“Oh. I was thinking of a traffic cone orange.”

“Ha-ha.”

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq ushijima #i just love him so much T^T #kit writes

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

cold nights // part four

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is your reminder to reblog and comment on fics you like!! it helps us writers out a TON the girlies who get it get it. thanks!!

series masterlist // playlist

"I just have to ask you a few questions... is that okay?" Coriolanus asks, sitting across from you at the small table you find yourself chained to.

"Please." You nod, grinning at him. You were so tired, the bags under your eyes were evidence enough of that. Screw getting you food- Coryo is worried if you don't sleep you'll be all but useless in the games, even if all he needs you to do is run and hide.

"It's just so people can get to know you a bit better. Okay, so..." He looks down at the sheet in front of him, tapping the pencil against the table as he tries to focus on reading. "First, nice and easy, what is your full name?"

"Y/N M/N L/N."

"Great... Okay, and where are you from?"

"District Twelve, born and raised."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen next week." You smile.

"Oh, really?" He asks, pausing mid-sentence as he starts writing it down.

"Yeah." You smile. "Hopefully I'll live to see the day."

"You will." He tries to be reassuring as he scribbles the finished answer on his sheet. God, you got unlucky. Not that his eighteenth was a big celebration like some of his classmates, but Tigris made him a cake with ingredients she'd been saving up for and she refit his school uniform for him. You wouldn't even have that- you would be spending the day fighting for your life, if you even made it that long.

"And who is in your family unit?" He reads directly from the slip as he forces himself to move on.

"Well, there's me, my brother, he's fifteen, and then my ma and pa." You nod. "Well, my pa isn't home much. Lots of work in the mines; usually has sixteen-hour days. I hardly ever see him." You admit, sadness laced into your tone. "Saw him, I mean."

"My father died in Twelve." Coryo says, catching you off guard. He doesn't even fully understand why he felt the need to tell you this. "About ten years ago, it was rebels."

"I remember that." You reply quietly, recalling the lockdown placed on the District after the murder of a peacekeeper general. "He was the general. Crassus Snow, I assume?"

"Yes."

Everyone was forced into their homes at gunpoint, and in search of the responsible parties everyone you knew had their home destroyed by peacekeepers. Yourself included. Your bed was torn apart, and your mattress shredded for any hidden weapons or plans. Since then, you have shared a bed with your brother. A new mattress was hard to make, and your ma never got the free time or materials again.

Up until this week, that was the scariest day of your life. Just before the peacekeepers kicked in your door, your mother had grabbed the two of you and shoved you into an opening under the floorboards- a crawlspace made from a faulty foundation. You were in there for what felt like hours, listening to shouting and your home being ruined as you held onto each other with a hand pressed over your brother's mouth to keep him from crying too loud. Your mother's cries that day never seemed to end.

"It's a small world." You say after a solid few moments of silence, and Coryo can see it in the way you're staring at his paper that you're not reading it. You're zoned out completely. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It must have been scary."

"The war was hard on all of us." He responds. "What... what do you remember?" He had never heard anything about it besides the bare bones of what happened, he had never considered that the people of Twelve would remember it as well. And judging by the look on your face, it wasn't a good memory.

"I was about six, maybe seven, and I was playing with my brother, and I didn't hear anything but my ma must have because she grabbed us and hid us under the floorboards so fast I could have got whiplash. Peacekeepers came into our home, tore the whole thing to shreds, hurt my ma, then took off. Onto the next house. I didn't find out until a while later that rebels killed the peacekeeper general, they were looking for any evidence of conspiracy, I guess. The people who did it."

"Sounds like it was scarier for you than for me."

"But I want you to know," You speak so quickly you almost cut him off. "My parents had nothing to do with it. My pa is an honest, good man. All he ever wanted was to keep us safe. We're not rebels, I promise you that."

Coriolanus almost wishes you were, so he wouldn't be so hurt by what his people were putting you through. "I know. I wouldn't blame you for that."

"Thank you." You whisper, picking at your nails now as you look down at your shaky hands.

Coryo clears his throat, forcing himself to look away from you. "Uh..." He chuckles at the next question, making you look up at him again. "Are you married?"

"No." You reply, having almost completely forgotten about the worksheet in front of him. "I'm not."

"It's just... I just, I have to ask." He says, clearing his throat as he writes it down.

"Of course." You nod in understanding.

"Boyfriend?" He asks, and as you squint at the sheet you can see it's not there, and he quickly covers the next lines with his palm, cheeks flushing pink.

"Yes." You giggle as he snaps his head up to look at you.

"You do?" He asks, voice catching as his curls fall back onto his forehead from the sudden movement.

"Yes, what is so wrong in that?" You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh.

"No, no, I mean, of course you do, you're beautiful, I just, you never mentioned-"

"Relax, Coriolanus. I'm kidding." You smile at the panic in his tone. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, right. Thanks, it's just for, yeah..." He mumbles, pretending to write something down behind his cupped hand so you couldn't see.

You shake your head at him while he's not paying attention, smiling to yourself.

"So, uh, do you have a job?"

"Not formally, but my ma is a seamstress. I help her lots with that. Fixing people's work clothes, stuff like that." You answer, getting back on topic.

"Did you make your dress?" He asks.

"Now I know that question's not on that form of yours." You laugh. "But yes, my ma made it for me when I was five. It's been my favourite ever since."

He looked the parts of it over that he could see above the table. It was well worn down, but well cared for. Similar to a lot of his own clothing.

"It used to be this big, flowing thing. Too big for a five year old- I would step on the bottom of it, just tore it right up." You recall. "So we trimmed the bottom, and as I grew, it grew right with me. I stitched up the bottom when I was old enough to enter the reaping, so now it's got shorts instead. But I still love it, lots of good memories held in the pockets of this old thing."

Shorts instead. So it's easier to run in. The thought haunts Coryo for a moment. The idea that you, at twelve years old, decided this is what you would want to run in, to die in, and took the liberty of sewing up the crotch in it yourself. Every stitch possibly sealing your fate.

"It's nice. I like it." He responds.

"Thank you." You smile, nodding proudly to yourself as you look down at the fabric. "It's real comfy, too."

"It looks it. Not very... restricting." He chooses his words wisely. No wonder you had kept it so many years. It still fit, so why not? Especially when it looked so good on you. The typically plain, neutral tone of the fabric complimented your skin tone so well. Even in bad lighting, it seemed as though you were glowing where the cloth met your skin. Glowing everywhere, now that he thought about it. Maybe you just lit up every room you walked into. Maybe it wasn't the clothing that was made just for you and hugged your form so flawlessly, maybe it was just you.

"Yes, it is not." You agree. "Now, our time is limited. Next question." You interrupt his thoughts, gesturing to the sheet of paper in between you.

"Yes, sorry." Coryo chuckles, shaking the distraction from his head. "Any hobbies?

"Reading."

"I did know that." He smiles to himself. "Anything else?"

"Well..." You think about it for a moment, chewing your lip. "I have a cat, and I like to play with him and take care of him, does that count?"

"I'll count it." He nods, quickly jotting it down. "What's your cat's name?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

"Tybalt." You giggle.

"Tybalt?" Coryo tilts his head at you and you nod, bottom lip drawn between your teeth.

He nods slightly, prompting you to explain. "He's named after a character from Romeo and Juliet."

"That's your favourite, I remember."

"Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives." You quote. "Mercutio calls Tybalt the king of the cats, so I named him after that."

"That's clever. Very funny."

"Thank you. I thought so." You smile proudly, watching him write down your cats name in his notes. "What is this for, if I can ask?"

"Uh, there's going to be an interview you'll have to do the night before the games. It'll be aired live on Capitol television, and people will be able to send in donations so I can send you things in the arena. Just like I told you." Coryo explains.

"An interview?" You ask. "What does that entail?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet." He answers honestly. "But we'll pass this sheet onto the host, Lucky, if you remember him, and he can ask you questions about your family, your life, any of this stuff. I think really whatever we want, though, so if there's anything in particular you want to say or talk about I can write that down for you."

"Oh, I'm really not sure." You reply. "Nothing in particular, but if you need me to talk I can talk about books for hours on end." You smile.

"Could you do a monologue?" He suggests. He had discussed this with Tigris before, and he was hoping you would, but knowing you, you would be dropping quotes in your interview anyway so you might as well commit to it and display how smart you are with something well-planned.

"Maybe, if you could find me a copy of Romeo and Juliet." You smile. "I think I know it, but it would be nice to have a refresher. Just to make sure I get it right. Would be awfully embarrassing if I made a mistake."

Coryo nods, quickly writing that down in the margins of the page. Considering he had never even heard of this book, it may be hard, but he would certainly try for you. "That would be great. Your goodbye was very moving, although quite confusing for most, but it had people talking about you and that's what we want."

"Okay. I'll practice."

"Thank you." Coryo smiles. "And I just have one more question on here to fill out... Do you have any special skills that you think will be helpful in the games?"

Your smile fades slightly and you just shake your head.

"That's okay. We'll figure it out."

That night, Coryo came to see you again. You were curled up with his blanket, draped half over yourself and half over Jessup as he lay next to you. It was a small blanket, obviously meant for a child, but it helped anyway. Maybe it was just a placebo, but for you, that was more than enough.

As you got up, hearing him call your name in a familiar tone, you draped the blanket more fully over Jessup before making your way over to the bars of the enclosure. "Good evening, Coryo. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I brought you some things." He whispers, digging in his bag.

"How kind." You smile, watching as he pulls things out, handing you a napkin with some bread wrapped inside and tucking whatever else he brought under his arm to give to you after you've eaten. "Can you sit for a few minutes?"

"Of course." He nods, sitting down with you as you cross your legs and unfold the fabric carefully as not to drop what's inside. "I was hoping to talk to you anyway."

"Let's talk; it is not day." You smile, leaning toward him more.

"Should I be asking what that's from?" He jokes, but is surprised when you shrug.

"You could, but I wouldn't want to bore you." You giggle, shaking your head. "Take a guess, though. I believe you'd know it."

He smiles, watching as you take a bite out of the bread. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes." You nod in confirmation, covering your mouth while you speak. "You're a real fan, now, aren't you?"

"I guess so." He chuckles. "The fact that I've never read it is unimportant."

"Completely irrelevant." You agree with a quiet laugh. His smile fades as his eyes land on something behind you, and you turn to follow his gaze over your shoulder. "What are you looking at?" You whisper, looking back at him again.

"Are you sharing everything I bring you with Jessup?" He asks, voice stern as his brow furrows at the question.

"I try to." You nod, taking another bite. "He's not well. I think something bit him the first night we were here."

"You can't." Coryo insists. Of course, he wants you to win, and you handing over every bit of sustenance or help you receive is only lessening your odds. Making Jessup stronger and you only weaker. "I know you're a good person, but once you get in that arena you won't have any friends. Not even him." Coryo explains, strategically skipping over the part where it makes him ill to see you sleeping with your head on the boy's shoulder and sharing the blanket that he gifted to you.

"Oh..." You say, so quietly he can hardly hear. "But-"

"Y/N." He cuts you off, a serious look on his face. "If you keep feeding him, keep helping him, and it comes down to you and him in the end, who do you think will win in that fight? If you had all the same nutrients and sleep, who do you think will win?"

"I- well..." You stutter, looking back at your friend. "It won't come to that. I think we both know that."

"We have to assume it will." He pleads, eyes now locked on yours. "Don't make it easier for him."

"Coryo, he's got a family, siblings, his ma to get home to. They need him." You protest, leaning closer so no one else could properly hear.

"So do you." He reminds you. The look of guilt that crosses your face indicates to him that even though you had your own family, something about Jessup makes you willing to give that up for him to get home. "What about Tybalt? He'll never know what happened to his own mother. Or your brother losing his sister. Y/N, please..."

Your eyes widen at the mention of your cat and your brother in particular. Clearly, Coryo is so desperate for you to listen that he's pulling strings he shouldn't. To make you hurt. To make you pay attention.

Tears fill your eyes as you speak. "I know." Your voice cracks, and the pit in Coryo's stomach tells him he's gone too far. "I'm sorry, I just- I don't want to be afraid anymore. It's selfish of me, I know, but I won't last long and I know that so I just want to get it over with." You cry quietly, reaching up to wipe your eyes on your wrist. You hadn't been so candid with him before, he almost doesn't recognize you without a smile on your face.

"Hey, no, don't be sorry. It's not selfish." He whispers, without hesitation reaching through the bars and resting his hand on your knee. Your skin is cold to the touch, even for him after he had just walked all the way here in the same air. "But it'll be over soon, and I'll get you home. I'll do everything I can."

You sniff and nod, hesitating before placing your hand over his. "I promise I'll do my best in the interview. I want you to win your prize."

Coryo's mouth gets dry at the insinuation. You didn't think you could win, you won't even consider it even with all the encouragement he tries to feed you every day, but you want him to win. "That's not important." He says, shocking himself with the sentiment. The Plinth Prize is his only hope at a viable future, at saving his family. But right now, he doesn't even care.

You don't respond right away, just sliding your hand under his to hold it. His skin on yours feels warm, comforting, the same way it did when he held it when you were first dumped in the zoo. You don't know if it's more comforting to you or him.

"I'm sorry to cry at you, I just sometimes realize what's going to happen to me and spiral over the possibilities and no matter how hard I try to accept it..." You shake your head, looking down at your hands. "I'm still fearful." Your voice drops below a whisper.

"Then don't accept it." Coryo grasps your hand tighter, leaning closer to you and looking at you through the bars. "Fight. Try to win."

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wardenparker · 8 months

Text

Private Dick

Tim Rockford x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.8k Warnings: Plus size female reader with anxiety and internalized fatphobia/dysphoria. Tim is divorced with a shitty ex. Food/alcohol. Biting, fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blink and you'll miss it vague reference to a pregnancy kink, brief mention of body shaming/bullying, a lot of talk about one character being vegan. SO MUCH FLUFF. Supportive love is a wonderful thing. Summary: Things are getting serious with your boyfriend, and that means that it's time for your anxiety to come out to play. But if there's one amazing thing about Tim, it's how much he cares. Notes: We just really needed some supportive fluff and hot smut this week, guys. I don't know what else to say ❤💛🧡

“So uh, there’s gonna be a get together at my mom’s house this weekend.” Tim fastens his watch and looks around for the toothpick that he had set down. He swears he has to lay off the pepper beef, the shit always gets trapped in his teeth, but every time they order from Happy Dumplings for the office, he gets the same thing. Standing up, he slides his boxers back up over his hips and looks over his shoulder. “I might have told her that I would bring you.”

"You told your mom about me?" You were halfway out of his bed and hunting around the floor of his bedroom for your panties when he said it and your head snaps up to look at him. God, the man really has a fantastic little ass.

“Well…yeah.” Tim frowns as he reaches for his pants. “She tried to set me up with some chick from her church, says I need a good woman to take care of me.” He snorts, remembering how his ex-wife used to say she would take care of him until the late nights and crushing pressure of the job had sent her into Tommy Litchfield’s bed. The divorce hadn’t been pretty and he had seen the kids four weeks out of the year. “Figured we had been…. seeing each other long enough, so I told her.”

It's been almost seven months since you and Tim started seeing each other, as he puts it, and you know the time right down to the day. Six months, three weeks, and one day. That was the best accidental first date of your life, and even though his job is demanding, you don't mind. You have hobbies and friends - your family and your own job - all to deal with. Time with him has been the icing on the proverbial cake. Hell, the first time he called you his girlfriend was barely a month ago and you had nearly giggled yourself silly, still in that first blush of happiness in your relationship. "So...what kind of get together is this?" Your panties had gotten hooked on his bedpost and you delicately pull them down with a smothered snort. "Should I be dressing up or are jeans okay?"

“Backyard party.” He tells you. “My brother-in-law pretends he can grill worth a shit, while he gets drunk off his ass.” Tim chuckles. “We eat burnt hamburgers that a dog wouldn’t touch while the kids play in the pool. Or just lounge around it and bitch now that they are older.”

"The kids...as in...your kids?" You know the rundown - the divorce, the custody negotiations, all the bullshit that he went through ten years ago. His ex-wife had been awarded primary custody of his then ten-year-old twins and she had barely allowed him to see them each year since. In fact, he had gotten to see his niece and nephew a hell of a lot more, and as such he has a pretty good relationship with them as adults.

“Yeah.” He shrugs into his shirt and starts to button it up. He has to go back to the office to go through witness statements. Barely getting enough time for lunch and a quickie, he hopes that you aren’t tired of him yet. “They are home for the weekend from college.”

"Okay." Your agreement is instant, although it's muffled somewhere inside your dress as you pull it back over your head. Both of your lunch breaks are almost over and you both have to get back to your offices. "Yeah. Count me in. Absolutely." Well...this is gonna be all you think about until the weekend...

“Good.” He flashes you a grin when your head pops through your dress and he reaches for the gun that’s on the nightstand to loop back through his belt. “Make sure you bring your bathing suit.”

"I don't—" Oh god...that's right...he mentioned a pool. A quiet panic wraps itself around your heart and squeezes your chest, and you duck down to find your shoes so he won't see it in your eyes. "Uh—right. Bathing suit. Got it." You'll just have to pretend you forgot when the day comes, that's all. No harm there. Just silly and forgetful old you.

“Fuck, we need a longer lunch break.” Tim grumbles, stepping over to zip up your dress and he kisses the back of your neck. “Want me to come over tonight if it’s not too late?”

"I always want you to come over," you admit softly. He really does have that effect on you - always reducing you to a puddle of a grown-ass-woman when he's sweet and affectionate like this. "Baked pasta for dinner? I can warm you up a plate if it's late when you get out." There are strains of real domesticity in your relationship and you like that it's stayed functional. You're separate people with separate lives, but they're starting to fuse together in little ways.

“I love your pasta.” He admits, reminding himself that you are far too good for him and despite the fact that he was often beaten up by his workload and the grim reality he deals with on a daily basis, you are becoming a safe haven for him. “But if it’s too late, I just want to slip into bed with you.” He admits. “Wrapping my arms around you and falling asleep.”

"Here..." Your purse is sitting on his bureau against the wall by the door, and you pad over to it to pull out your keys. It's a great big, giant gesture to make, but you unclip your house key from the ring and cross the room again to hold it out to him. "I think we're both adult enough to make this step, don't you?" There's a spare key in a little ceramic rock positioned specifically in your front garden that will make its way onto your key ring when you get home, but you want to make this step. You want to show Tim that you're serious about him – especially if he wants you to meet his family this weekend.

He frowns at the key as he looks down at it, noticing the logo of the manufacturer. “I’m going to change your locks this weekend too.” He decides with a grunt. “These locks are shit.”

Even as you’re rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile. His way of showing affection isn’t always obvious, but you’ve learned to see the signs. “Just take the key, baby. Accept the gesture and take the key.”

“Here.” He digs into his pocket for his own key ring. There’s already a spare on his other key ring, so he quickly works the key off and hands it to you. “You know, for when you plan to meet me and maybe you need to pee. Or you want to come over and jump me in the middle of the night.” He jokes with a small wink.

“So…for all the time?” It’s less sexy and more awkwardly charming when you throw a wink back at him, and you reach up to give him a kiss. “Come on, sexy. We have jobs to get back to.”

He chuckles and pats your ass he you turn around. “I’ll give you a call, m’kay babe? Let you know about what time I’ll be over.”

"Sounds good." As much as Tim always insists he likes your ass, you always have to bite back a small frown when he pats it - there's just too much of it. Too much of you in general. Nope...don't go down that road right now...just check your reflection in the mirror to make sure your hair is okay and reapply your lipstick before you get back to the office. You'll be fine. "See you tonight, baby."

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He promises, watching you walk towards your car with a small grin on his face. While he had made mistakes, been married to his job for too many years, he was trying to do right by you. Wanting this new relationship to work. He’s crazy about you and he can’t wait for you to meet his family.

******

It's four excruciating days of worry until the day of the get-together at Tim's mother's house is finally here. He came over late last night after an interrogation and climbed into your bed to wrap himself around you and fuck both of you into exhaustion. To that end, he is still asleep upstairs while you putter in the kitchen. Coffee made, a pan of apple cobbler in the oven and whipped cream made from coconut cream because he had told you months ago that one of his daughters is vegan. There's a great big container of cold peanut noodles with all kinds of veggies in your fridge, too. All that nervous energy you have has gone into cooking, and you frown behind your coffee cup when you remind yourself that habits like this are why you hate looking at yourself in the mirror.

Tim has gotten used to waking up in your bed, probably far faster than he should have, but there is a connection with you that he hasn't felt in a long time. So it doesn't take long for his hand to seek out your soft, warm skin in his sleep. He had pulled your nightgown off of you and tossed it on the floor, both of you staying naked after he had fucked you. His frown precedes his eyes opening when he finds nothing but the cool spot on the bed where you should have been. Where did you go?

Heavy footsteps on the stairs are your giveaway, and you pour a cup of black coffee for Tim after turning down the volume on your music yet again. “Morning, handsome.”

"Why didn't you wake me?" He squints at the bright light, your curtains and blinds already opened. He could kiss you when you offer the coffee and he does, reaching for you to pull you close for a quick kiss to thank you.

“It was early.” Even though you shrug apologetically, the kiss is welcome and so is the place in his arms. “And you work hard, so you deserve the sleep.”

He hums and rubs your back softly. "Would rather spend time with you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls back, taking a sip of his coffee. "It smells good in here." Standing in your kitchen in his boxers should look odd, but it feels normal. He's been here enough that he knows the layout pretty well.

“I made my apple cobbler that you like…” you admit with a sheepish shrug of your shoulders. “But I made it vegan so your daughter can have some. And…my peanut noodle recipe is vegan anyway, so that’s in the fridge.” He had insisted that you didn’t need to make anything to bring to his mother’s house today but here you are, cooking up a storm.

It takes a moment for that to register and then he's sighing softly. "You are too good, you know that?" He asks, setting the coffee cup down again so he can pull you in for another kiss. "I – you are amazing and thoughtful." He knows he wouldn't have even thought about making something for Zara. Not because he's neglectful, but because he wouldn't even know where to begin making something vegan. "Everyone is going to love you."

“I hope so.” You’re not naive enough to think that his grown kids will automatically love their father’s girlfriend for any reason, and you’ve got just enough in the way of self-esteem issues to be worried. But you fully intend to make the best impression possible today.

"Do you want to shower?" He asks, smirking slightly. "I brought my overnight bag." He routinely keeps a bag in the trunk of his car in case of overnight cases and needing a change of clothes. "We can swing by my apartment to change into something more casual on the way."

"I keep telling you to put clothes in that overnight bag." The offer of a shower is tempting, though, and you glance at the timer on the oven. "The pan comes out of the oven in two minutes. Then I'm all yours."

"I do have clothes in the bag." He grumbles at you. "Work clothes." He watches as you move gracefully around your kitchen, admiring the way you work so efficiently. There's a small smile on your lips that he's pretty damn sure you aren't even aware that you have, but it makes you look even sexier in his eyes.

"Then we'll stop at your apartment on the way." His divide between work clothes and civilian clothes is stark, and you don't begrudge him that for one second. You certainly have two sections of your closet, and hardly ever wear work clothes on the weekends.

The timer goes off and he smiles, sipping his coffee as you rush over to pull the pan out. "Now it's my time." He growls playfully, setting down the cup and moving behind you as you set it down on the oven mitt.

Even as he hauls you backward you have the urge to remind him not to try to pick you up. Thick thighs and too much tummy and saggy arms that you hate are too much for his perpetually bad back and knees after decades on the force. "Come on, handsome," you laugh softly when he presses a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "Let's go take that shower."

The softness of your ass against his groin makes his cock start to harden. Making him groan as he pushes it into you with a suggestive thrust. "Mhmmmm, we could get dirty first." He chuckles and nips at your pulse. "Or would you rather I fuck you in the shower?"

"I thought that's what showers are for?" Your shower, anyway. The cramped space in his apartment is no good for anything but being functional. Your house, however, has a large shower stall with excellent water pressure and a separate overlarge tub in the master bath. It had been half the reason for buying the house in the first place.

"That's what should happen in every shower we take." He groans, smirking into your skin before he pulls away to take your hand. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think you're a menace," you tease, lacing your fingers through his. "And I am absolutely here for it."

He laughs as he walks a step behind you up the stairs, still holding onto your hand and cannot resist slapping your ass with his other when you move up an extra step and it's in his face. "Fuck, I love your ass." He grunts.

Too big, your dysphoria supplies immediately, and you're glad he can't see your face as you climb the stairs together. You've never been skinny but it seems like since you got past your thirtieth birthday, everything got a little bigger out of protest. Everything except your tits. "I'm glad you like it," you manage, hoping you sound bright and teasing.

"Next time I have you on your stomach, I'm going to bite it." He threatens playfully, slapping it again right as you reach the top of the stairs. His cock twitches at the thought and he’s halfway toying with the idea of seeing if you would let him fuck your ass. It's not been talked about, and he's not just going to ask.

"Wouldn't be the first time you left teeth marks in me." That actually makes you laugh, remembering the first time your best friend had noticed the imprint of Tim's pearly whites when you had gone to her house after leaving his place. It was how she found out you were seeing someone, and you hadn't lived it down for weeks.

His growl catches in his throat and his hand tugs you back, spinning you around and pressing you up against the wall so he can kiss you again. This thing with you has progressed to the point where those three little words dance in his head when he is thinking of you. Still not quite voiced, they are there. Making him crave you even more when he has you nearby and he transfers that into the pressing of your lips together.

It's a sigh and a muffled groan from you, and your arms come up around his neck easily to encourage him to take whatever he wants. He's fucking irresistible and while you still can't quite grasp why he seems to want you, you're not going to question it and ruin the best adult relationship you've ever had. You're almost grateful to the idiot that broke into your office building and caused all of you to have to make statements to the police.

You had seemed to think that you needed to wear fancy lingerie when he first started sleeping with you, but the loose nightgowns you wear now are just as sexy and far easier to access. Thankful that you had taken his word and started wearing them to bed at night. His hands plunging underneath so he can cup your tit, his other hand twisting to slide into your panties as he groans into your mouth.

Tim's fingers are thick and nimble, and you never would have thought gun callouses could be sexy until you felt them slide through your pussy the first time. The hand fully encompassing one of your tits squeezes in earnest and you groan, hips already rocking against his other hand. "Fuck, Tim."

“That’s it, baby.” He grunts, kissing down your jaw and biting your ear. “Fucking love how wet you get. Pussy is gushing for me.”

Broad shoulders, broad chest, thick fingers, quick tongue, a smile that can leave you in a daze. How would you not be absolutely gushing for him? "Always," you sigh out, breath catching when he curls his fingers against your g-spot expertly. "Need you so bad, baby."

“Just what I want to hear.” His cock pulses against your soft belly and he wants nothing more than to lift you up and fuck you against this wall. Except you would squawk the entire time to put you down. Instead, he pumps his fingers diligently, eager to make you cum so he can fuck you in the shower.

The press of those thick digits inside of you has you gasping and clinging to him as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, adding a third to make you squeal and shake even harder. His eagerness makes perfect sense considering you weren't in bed beside him when he woke up, and you let your forehead drop forward to his bicep as you ride his fingers closer and closer to cumming right there in the hallway of your little house.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks, always loving when you come apart for him. It’s a gorgeous sight. “Gonna soak my fingers? Squeeze them tight?”

"I—fuck—" Three fingers in your cunt and his thumb against your clit is too much all at once in the best way possible, and you're nodding against his arms as that tingling feeling at the base of your spine explodes and you start to shake apart. For a man who claims not to have dated a lot and have been rusty on intimacy when you had first gotten together, he never lost that muscle memory of how to be an amazing lover.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He coos in your ear, feeling your cunt sucking his fingers in deep and starting to squeeze them. “Cum for me baby.”

Your fingernails bite into his arms as you grasp him tightly, entire body tensing completely before falling apart completely – flooding his hand with cum and slumping backward against the wall so you aren't too heavy on his arm. "Goddamn, baby..." you pant with a small giggle when you can breathe again, the orgasm exploding like shooting stars behind your still closed eyes.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” He feels the slick coating his fingers and wants to sink inside your quivering cunt. “Shower?”

“Shower.” It doesn’t matter that your legs are jelly, you can make it ten more feet into the bathroom. Your nightgown is pulled off of you before you hit the door, and his own boxers pushed down and kicked off. Leaving you in your panties as he opens the glass door to turn the shower on.

“Just what I needed today.” You’re only half teasing as you strip off your panties and toss them in the nearby laundry basket. “To be freshly fucked when I meet your family.”

He grunts, crowding you into the shower when you climb in and turning you around to face the wall. “You want to talk to my mama with a load of my cum in your pussy?” He grins, biting your neck again. “I can make that happen.”

“You can’t just say shit like that to me.” It earns him another moan and you back your ass up against his hips eagerly. “It’s gonna be all I can think about all day.”

“Good.” He chuckles roughly as his hands grip your hips and he presses closer. His cock folding up against his body and pressing into the cleft of your ass insistently. “It’s gonna be all I think about too. Imagining you dripping. Licking you clean.”

“Gonna have to slip away to your old room to get handsy.” You tease, knowing that his mother still lives in the house he grew up in.

“Fucked my first girl in that bed.” He grunts, silently acknowledging that it would be fitting that he fucks his last girl there too.

“Gonna make me another notch on that bedpost, Rockford?” You grin over your shoulder at him as his hands knead your ass. “I bet it was some homecoming queen. Or cheerleader. Do baseball games have cheerleaders?”

“Sometimes.” He smirks and shakes his head. Aware that you have some notion that he was some kind of stud when he was younger. “But maybe that new notch will be fun.” He poses as he rocks his hips back to take his cock in his hand.

"Getting you all riled up until you fuck me is always fun." All of Tim is thick. From his muscled limbs and shoulders that test the limits of store-bought shirts, all the way to his cock. The feeling of his head pushing your pussy open makes you moan, and you brace yourself against the wall of the shower for him to take as much as he wants from you. There's a certain amount of bliss involved in being intimate with Tim and you can usually push away your insecurities in favour of seeing - and feeling - just how much he enjoys touching you. Right now, the thoughts drop away and the only thing left is yes and more and oh god.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He groans as he splits you in two. “I fucking love this pussy.” His breath is heavy in your ear and he rolls his hips until he is buried deep. “Perfect, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

Perfect. Nobody had ever called you that before, and you had instinctively laughed the first time Tim had used the word. Since then you've tried to be a little kinder with yourself, and accept that just because you don't think you're perfect doesn't mean that he can't think so. "Just for you," you groan happily, reaching back to squeeze his hip. "Only for you, baby."

His lips trail over your skin and he can’t help but continue to kiss you. Loving how you clutch him deep inside your body and the softness of you against him. Reaching for your hands, he laces his fingers with yours and lays them against the wall, sliding his feet closer.

The cold tile against your front and Tim's hot skin at your back is an intense combination that you love – an extra reason to moan with every thrust. His body seems to cover every inch of you, enveloping you in his presence, and it's almost hard to move except to grind back against him every time he fills you up. It's a gorgeous feeling that you so easily get lost in.

“Fuck, how does it get better?” He pants into your ear. “Every fucking time, you feel even better. Addicted to you.”

"Perfect." He is the perfect one, and you won't hear anything to the contrary, panting out words with every slap of his hips against your ass. "Perfect cock. Perfect fuck. Perfect man. I—" For a moment, in your rapture, the words almost slip. Thank god you manage to swallow them quickly. "So good, baby."

“I know you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” He asks, rocking his hips forward to slap against your ass as he picks up his pace.

“Just like that.” You know it won’t take long now, not if he goes just a tiny bit harder like he does when he gets close, and the begging in your voice always gets him, too. Every time. “So fucking perfect, baby. Please let me cum fo—oh fuck— so close!”

Tim hisses, squeezing your hands as he rocks up into the balls of his feet. Thrusting harder into you. “Yessss, fuck, cum for me baby.”

Bearing down on his length this time, you can practically feel his pulse through the prominent veins of his cock as they scrub against your walls. The pressure is just as perfect as the rest of him and before you know it there are stars erupting behind your eyes.

Tim groans your name when he feels you start to cum. Loving how you whine and whimper as he works you through it. Sex with you has been amazing and he hadn’t been lying when he said it just kept getting better. When that final thrust comes and you are pressed tight between Tim and the tile, the feeling of his pulsing cock filling you full of sticky cum scratches that very private, very secret dream you have of one day actually having a family with this man, and you shiver a little with personal satisfaction when he groans your name into your skin one last time.

“God.” He pants, knowing that while he’s fucking you isn’t the right time to say those words for the first time. “So good baby.”

Laughing under your breath, you groan happily and let your weight go against the wall just to feel him slump against you. “Hell of a way to start the day,” you tease.

“Should start the day this way every morning.” He laughs along with you. “Don’t you think so?”

“Why do you think I gave you a key?” Twisting around just enough to kiss him, you hum against his lips and sigh happily.

He snorts and kisses you again. “So I should just swing into the house every morning as I go into work?” He asks playfully.

The impulse is there. The invitation right on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too soon. Way too soon. He doesn’t even know how you really feel about him yet — so telling him he could just give up his tiny bachelor pad and move in with you would probably send him running for the hills. “So you can stay over whenever you want,” is how you phrase it instead, hoping that that doesn’t sound overbearing or overeager.

“Don’t tell me that.” He warns you. “Your bed is softer than mine and it has the added bonus of having you in it. You’ll get tired of me.”

“No, I won’t.” The answer is too quick. You know that, but you can’t help it. Slowly turning around, the unfortunate side effect of losing his warmth as his quickly softening cock slips out of you is replaced by the benefit of getting to look him in the eyes. “I—I won’t get sick of you, baby.”

He nudges his nose against yours gently and sighs softly. “I hoped that I would make it a little more romantic than this.” He grumbles quietly,

“A little more romantic than being snuggly after sex?” You ask incredulously. Sure you’re not wrapped up in the blankets right now, but it’s still the same feeling.

“Something more romantic than shower sex to tell you that I love you.” Tim tells you quietly. “I’m not good with words or romance.”

When you deflate in front of him it’s out of pure shock, but you push off from the wall instantly to drag him down for a kiss. “I love you, too,” you promise him in that same hushed voice. “I have for—for months.” Since the night that he braved taking you to an Indian restaurant and got through an entire dinner before you found yourselves in the middle of a music festival in the park and he tried to sneak grabbing a hot dog because he didn’t want to admit to you that he didn’t like the restaurant you said you love. “I love you so much.”

He sighs in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling with joy. “Good. I was afraid I was rushing things. Or reading too much into the amazing sex we have.”

“I don’t think seven months before the first mention of love is anybody’s definition of rushing, baby.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you can’t help the way you grin from ear to ear when you look up at him. “But you’re right about the sex being really fucking good.”

“Yes, it is.” He agrees with a roguish wink. “Now we just need to clean up.” The functional portion of the shower never takes long. You’re both well established in your habits and are clean again in under ten minutes, leaving you to towel off on the bathroom rug together in no time. “So I was thinking that after my mom’s, I could stay tonight?” He asks, keeping his tone casual. “Since I’ll be dropping you off and I have a full weekend off for once?”

“I’m gonna call up your captain and tell him I have you handcuffed to my bed,” you joke, careful to keep yourself covered even while you’re drying off from the shower. It's a habit, and even if he’s just been inside you that’s no reason to force him to look at your whole blob-like body. “He can’t have you back until Monday. Girlfriend’s orders.”

“Careful now.” He warns with a grin. “I might like be handcuffed to your bed.” He’s never really thought about using his handcuffs, despite the ribald jokes from other detectives, but if you wanted to, he would let you. He trusts you.

“You? Give up control?” Raising one eyebrow at him in the mirror, you scoff playfully. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I thought you like when I’m in control?” He asks with a smirk. “But for you? I’d do it.”

“The perfume I wear is literally called ‘Good Girl’,” you laugh, motioning to the stiletto-shaped bottle on your bathroom shelf. “Of course I like it when you’re in charge.”

“That’s the stuff I like?” He asks, intrigued by the name. He never knows that kind of stuff, just that you smell amazing and he always wants to rip your clothes off when he smells it.

“Yup. The little bottle shaped like a high heel.” It’s your treat to yourself. Designer perfume makes you feel a little less like a fat girl playing dress up when you get ready to see Tim or go out with friends, and a little bit more like a full-grown woman. It’s silly, but if that’s what does it, then you can’t be too mad about it.

“I will have to buy you another bottle of that when you get low.” He hums, making a mental note of it. “It smells incredible on you.”

You won’t quibble with him now over the fact that it’s pricey or anything like that. It’s the gesture that counts, and the fact that you’re getting a little bit closer each and every day. “I don’t know how well it goes with chlorine.” With one little joke, you seize the chance in front of you. “Maybe I’ll abstain from swimming today.” No swimming means no swimsuit, which means no having to be partially undressed in front of his family.

Tim sends you a pout. “Nooo, I’m looking forward to getting into the pool with you.” He huffs, eager to see you in your bathing suit and watch you bask in the sun.

“It’s okay,” you insist, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter at all. “Maybe next time.”

Tim frowns slightly when he realizes that you are serious and you will not be getting into the pool. “Yeah sure.” He nods. “Next time.” He agrees before he moves over to the sink to brush his teeth and shave.

“Okay.” He’s upset. He’s upset with you, and your mind goes straight to the worst possible scenario which is obviously that he’s going to break up with you over it. A lifetime of trying to deal with low self-esteem and self-worth issues but still you go straight to the worst-case scenario sometimes. “Gonna go get dressed,” you mumble quickly, retreating from the room still wrapped entirely in towels, as fast as your feet will carry you.

Tim sighs, wondering where he went wrong this morning. It had been going so well but Trina had continuously accused him of putting his foot in his mouth or being insensitive. He had been trying so hard with you and yet he can tell you’re upset. He looks in the mirror and shakes his head. “Don’t fuck this up.” He orders himself with a groan.

The warm Southern climate means swimming happens all the time, but it’s still October so you put on a light cardigan with your sundress and sandals and try to keep yourself from crying and making your eyes red before you leave the house. The last thing you need is to show up to meet his kids and his mother with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t fuck this up,” you chastise yourself, opening the dresser drawer that holds your one swimsuit just to stare at it for a minute in loathing.

“Baby?” Tim had retreated downstairs once he had dressed, sure that you needed some time to yourself. “Are you ready?” Are you still coming?

“Yeah! One second!” Out of some kind of masochistic instinct, you grab your bathing suit and cram it into your tote bag when you snag it off your dresser and rush downstairs. Clothes, jewelry, make up, all of it is in place to try to make the most positive first impression possible. “Sorry, I—” You immediately focus on getting the food packed up into a reusable shopping bag. “I almost forgot to put on perfume. Stupid, right? After we just were talking about it?”

“That’s okay.” Tim approaches you slowly from behind and he gently takes hold of your waist. “You still smell great even without it.” He promises, leaning in and kissing your shoulder. Offering a silent apology.

“Do I look okay?” It’s silly to be worried. You’re a grown woman and he’s a grown man. But you’re terrified and determined not to fuck up again today.

“You look stunning.” He promises you. “If I hadn’t promised my mother that we would be there, I would keep you here and take you back upstairs to show you how pretty you look.”

“Okay.” Nodding twice, your head hangs between your shoulders for a second before you force yourself to straighten up and take the bag full of food from the counter. “Ready when you are.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” He asks, concerned that he is pushing too fast. It seems like you’re forcing yourself to go.

“Of course I’m sure.” The brightness in your voice isn’t entirely forced. You do want to go, you’re just terrified and self-conscious. And from the look on his face, he knows something is wrong. “I’m just—” Your eyes drop and so do your shoulders. “I’m worried what they’ll think of me, that’s all.”

“Baby.” He shakes his head and sighs softly, happy that he can reassure you. “They are going to love you.” He promises. “Probably love you more than me.”

“They loved Trina.” You’ve seen plenty of his pictures of his ex-wife. Their wedding pictures, especially, and even how skinny she managed to get back to being after having their twins. She’s stunning, and successful, and smart. And you’re a dumpy little nobody who sits behind a desk and definitely never goes to the gym. “I’m not like her. At all.”

“That’s a good thing.” He promises, chuckling at how ridiculous it would be to date someone like his ex.

You let out a half-laugh, huffing at yourself, and shake your head slightly. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but here you are in the middle of your kitchen about to break apart at the seams over a first meeting. “She—she’s prettier than me.” In every sense, in your opinion. But especially, she’s skinnier.

Tim frowns and vehemently shakes his head. “That is not true.” He argues. “And it doesn’t matter how pretty she is, she is my ex-wife.” He reminds you. “She left me. Took my kids from me.”

“Right.” Blinking back the impending tears that will ruin your makeup and the mood, you nod your head and take a steadying, if shaky, breath. “Right. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m being stupid.”

“You aren’t being stupid.” He huffs, hating how you belittle yourself. You are kind and generous to everyone but yourself. “It is just nerves, right? This is a big step and I’m sure I’ll be shitting myself when I meet your folks.”

“It’s nerves.” You agree, nodding again and resisting the urge to press on your closed eyes to stop the water behind them. It would smudge the eye makeup you put on so carefully. All waterproof, ironically. But not touched-with-hands proof. “I just don’t—” It is stupid, and a part of you knows that. The part that pays fucking attention in therapy every other week. “I don’t want you to finally realize you’ve been dating a cow if I put on my swimsuit,” you admit quietly.

“A cow?” He growls the comment in surprise, rearing back and wondering where the hell that idea came from. “Who the fuck called you a cow?” He demands, furious and ready to punch someone if they’ve insulted you like that.

“Nobody had to.” Your sister. Your grade school bully. The woman at the department store. A girl at camp. A boy you had a crush on in high school. Your parents. Nobody. Everybody. “I’m just a little anxious. It’s fine. I just won’t have any caffeine the rest of the day and it won’t get worse. Please don’t be upset?”

Tim shakes his head and he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “Baby, put your bag down.” He orders you softly. He doesn’t want to leave this house until he’s truly talked to you, and if that means being late, then he will be late. “Please?”

It only takes a moment of silence between you before you swallow your protest and set your purse and the bag of food back on the counter. This is it. He’s going to dump you for being an idiot. At least you got to tell him you love him before that happened, right?

He guides you over to the chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of it and holding onto your hands. “Baby, I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself.” He starts softly. “But I want you to know how I see you.” He knows self-image is just that, your image of your own self, he can’t change your mind for you. “I see you right now, and you are gorgeous.” He nods, smiling as he looks at you. “Generous, pillowy curves that make my mouth water and my cock ache.” Licking his lips, he continues. “I love the way you feel, the way you taste. I love your heart, your kindness. Your thoughtfulness. Your patience.” He stresses. “You are beautiful, inside and out and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You say cow, I say stunning, voluptuous goddess that I love.”

“I know that the voice in my head that says these things is intentionally hurting me.” Holding onto his hands like a lifeline, you end up squeezing his fingers in yours. “I’ve been in therapy for enough years to know that. It’s a skewed perspective. But there really are sometimes that I cannot shut it off. It’s like a train going off the tracks,” you explain, hoping he can follow the line of what you’re saying. “I can see the disaster ten feet ahead of me, but it’s too late to stop it. I know I’m going to go headfirst into the worst kind of hating myself, but I can’t stop it from happening.”

“I know what you mean.” He does. He’s seen the department shrink enough times to understand that. It’s like when he blames himself for circumstances beyond his control. “I’m never going to tell you that you are stupid, or dumb for thinking that way.” He promises you. “But I am going to disagree with you, tell you that you are wrong. Because there isn’t one thing about you that I would change.”

"Really?" There's a second where you're too afraid to look up at him, but you can feel Tim's eyes on you and so you raise your head in some kind of silent moment of obedience and it makes you decide to crack a smile and go for a joke. "Not even my broken brain?"

“Not even that.” He smiles at you. “Because I love you, all of you. The good and the negative.” He squeezes your hands gently, “Love you, baby.”

"I love you, too." You lean over to kiss him, half in disbelief that he didn't ask for his key back and walk out your door. "Thank you. For...for listening. And not thinking I'm crazy for overreacting."

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your hand. “Baby, I think you are crazy for putting up with me, not for how you feel.”

"You're amazing, and it's never putting up with you. I love spending time with you." The sigh that comes out of you is deep and long, but you feel better. The weight on your shoulders has lifted, if only for now, and you manage an honest smile. "We should get going, baby. You don't get to see the twins that often and I don't want you to miss a minute of it today."

“Okay.” He waits another moment, searching your eyes and then he pats your thigh gently. “Let’s go. I can quickly change.”

It's a fast enough trip to stop by his apartment on your way to his mother's house, and once he's swapped his work clothes for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he slides back into the car beside you and you're off to the races again. At this rate you'll be no more than five minutes late, and that is nothing at all.

Driving the familiar route home, he points out places he used to go as a child and then a teenager. Sharing glimpses into his life. Holding his hand in yours as he pulls up to the two-story house that he had been raised in. “I'm right here with you.” He promises, kissing your hand again. “And they will love you.”

"As long as you love me, I'm okay." That's the pep talk you were giving yourself on the way over, and you're feeling a little more settled after the glimpses into his past. You didn't grow up around here so you can't do any such tour for yourself, but it's nice to see a slightly different side of the town you've lived in for years.

“Are you ready?” He asks after he cuts the engine, turning towards you slightly. “Or do you need a minute?”

"Let's do it." If you sit in the car and procrastinate you'll only give the negative thoughts time to come back, so you lean over to kiss him and buck yourself up. "I'm good, baby. I promise."

“You are always good.” He tells you with a wink before he climbs out of the car and hustles around to open your door for you. Taking the dishes you had protected on the way over so you can get out.

There is plenty of noise coming from the backyard of the beautiful little brick house, and the sound of splashing is already obvious along with music playing and people chatting at various volumes. This is definitely a family party, and it seems like the family is already here.

"Uncle Tim!" The call comes up from the pool first, as his nephew catches sight of him first and waves. "Holy shit! Y'all, Uncle Tim actually left his desk!" The teenager teases with a cackling laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim rolls his eyes in good fun as he waves back. His hand immediately goes back to the small of your back and he slowly guides you forward. “Come on baby, we’ll put up the food inside and then come back out.”

"Holy shit Uncle Tim brought a girl!" A teenage girl's voice calls after you, with as much excitement as shock, and you're in the middle of a fit of giggles when he opens the sliding door to let you into the kitchen from the back porch. "So that's your nephew and niece, huh?" You snort, smothering the sound with one hand even as you try to stop laughing.

“Brats.” He huffs, his sour look simply for show. “You would think I was a ball-less hermit.” He snorts, setting the travel bag for your dishes down and then opens the fridge to see if there’s room.

"Language." His mother's warning tone is playful from around the corner, but she still means it. Foul language stays outside, it doesn't come inside her house. "Timothy Alan, don't make me send you outside if you're going to be vulgar."

“Me?” He points at himself as he exclaims. “They are being vulgar. And I’m the one in trouble?” His question doesn’t stop him from immediately moving around the corner to engulf his mother in a hug. “Hey Ma.” He kisses her cheek and urges her to come into the kitchen. “I brought my girlfriend.”

"They're outside and I can't hear it," his mother teases, blissfully aware of her arbitrary rules and the fact that nobody is actually in any trouble whatsoever. "Honey." She reaches out both hands to you after giving Tim a hug. "He's been hiding you from me knowing I'm gonna steal you away to have a cooking friend again. It is so good to meet you, sweetheart."

"It's really nice to meet you too, Mrs. Rockford." Even as she envelopes you in the same tight hug that Tim got, you look over her shoulder to shoot Tim a surprised expression.

Suzanne Rockford is far from a petite woman. She is sturdy, hearty. Obviously heavier and he has never told you that, honestly believing that it didn’t matter, but now he wonders if he should have. Maybe you would have been less self-conscious if you had known. He shoots you a smile and a half shrug. “Where’s Vanessa?” He asks, looking around for his sister.

"Upstairs, looking for god knows what in the attic? Unless she’s found it already, and then who knows." Suzanne waves one hand and pays that no mind. "Did Tim offer you a drink yet honey?" She asks you, giving you her absolute full attention. "We've got a whole bar out on the back porch, and the fridge under the car port has beer and soda. But I keep the wine in here." Apparently that is a conspiratorial secret, because she waggles her eyebrows at you. "Whatever you want, I'll grab you a cup."

"I'll grab a soda when we go back out," you promise her, not wanting to start drinking too early in the day. According to Tim, his mother's parties are a strictly all-day affair.

“Ma, she brought an apple crisp and a noodle dish. Vegan, for Zara to enjoy.” He tells her, beaming proudly. “Where do you want me to put them?”

"In the fridge, honey. There's room on the bottom shelf." She looks just as proud as he does, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. "She's doing well with it, you know," she nods authoritatively. "Talked to her doctor about making sure she gets protein and all her vitamins. Doing some really creative cooking, that one. Once she's got her mind set on something, that's it. It's do or die." Suzanne smirks. "Gets that from her Dad."

“I tried some of that vegan cheese.” Tim tells his mom, shuddering slightly. “The sliced stuff is shit, but the shredded stuff actually melts pretty good.”

“What matters is that you tried.” Suzanne nods approvingly. “Have you two gotten to say hi yet?”

“Not yet, we wanted to get the food put up.” He explains, coming back over to kiss his mom’s cheek again. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Texting when we get a chance sucks.”

“Go introduce everybody,” she encourages, shooting a smile your way before shooing him off. “There’s things to snack on out there already. Lunch in an hour, or whenever Ricky gets that grill going.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles, knowing that Ricky will fight with the grill for at least ten minutes. He moves over to you and takes your hand. “Let’s go see the kids, baby.”

You let him usher you back out into the bright, late morning sun, and for the first time you get a good look at the backyard in its entirety. There are a lot of people here — more than a dozen for sure — and you can hear another car honk as it pulls up in front of the house. The mood is pure happiness and even a tinge of nostalgia, as people greet each other who haven’t seen each other in ages. The air of absolutely everything is positive, and you take a deep breath to bring some of that into you as well.

Tim sees the first one that he wants to introduce you to. “Vanessa!” He half cups his mouth with one hand to shout his sister’s name. “Get your ass over here!”

"Hi to you, too!" His younger sister rolls her eyes and kisses the woman she was talking to on the cheek before hustling across the lawn. She has a beer in her hand and sunglasses on top of her curls, and she has the same stout and strong figure as their mother but with a little bit more grace in her movements.

He lets go of your hand only so he can wrap his arms around his sister and hug her tight. Making her squeal when he squeezes too tight. “How have you been? It’s been a month or so.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy.” She raises both her eyebrows at you, waggling them for comedic effect, and then promptly nudges her brother away so she can shake your outstretched hand.

“Sorry if I’ve kept him away from you,” you apologize, not ever wanting her to think that you were intentionally keeping Tim away from his family.

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs, giving your hand a squeeze. “It’s fantastic. I’ve barely seen him sulk in months.”

“I don’t sulk.” His lips immediately form a pout as he glares at his sister. “I was gonna be happy to introduce you to my girlfriend, now you can fuck off.” Even though he says that, he immediately tells her your name before pointing at her. “This is Vanessa, the pain in my ass all my childhood.”

"It's really nice to meet you." He's told you a lot about his sister and you already knew she was a ball buster, but meeting her now feels like a relief. They're close and it's fun to see Tim relaxed like this with his family. "Believe it or not he's actually only told me great things about you."

“Oh, I’m sure.” Her tone is sarcastic and she’s rolling her eyes, but her grin gives her away as she transfers her attention from her brother to you. “I’m a hugger.” She warns you before she pulls you in for a less formal greeting than a handshake.

"It's okay, I am too." It's a far sweeter welcome than you expected to get, both from his mom and his sister, and you let yourself squeeze her back just for a second before letting go. "I'm just really excited to meet everyone."

“I was so excited that Tim told Mom he was bringing you.” She tells you with a smirk at her brother. “It’s been forever since he’s introduced us to someone, and she who shall not be named isn’t exactly ‘fun’.” She confides.

"Oh?" Having been under the impression that his family had liked his ex while they were together, you tilt your head curiously. "Well, uh...we figured it was time," you offer with a shrug. "It's been more than a few months, ya know? And...and things have been really good. Tim is just—" You glance back at him and end up grinning. "He's really amazing."

“He’s a good guy.” As much shit as she gives him, she would be the first to defend her brother and she knows he is much the same way. Siblings in the sense that she can tease him but she’ll kick anyone else’s ass who does. “And he talks about you a lot, so I think he likes you.”

"You talk about me?" Yes, sure, he told you he loves you less than two hours ago, but you still soften in surprise hearing that.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She insists, smirking wickedly at Tim who looks very interested in the top of his foot in his flip flops. “Asking if he should take you here, talking about your job. I feel like I know you.” She pats your arm. “He told me he didn’t want to fuck this up.”

"Did he tell you about the fundraiser he let me drag him to?" He's blushing and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen, so if you maybe pick out something to talk about that will make his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red then that's entirely on purpose.

“Nooooooo.” Vanessa lights up and is nearly about to bust for information. “My brother? At a fundraiser?” She sounds positively scandalized, as if she could never imagine such a thing.

"The nonprofit I work for has dinner dances and black-tie events during the year." You explain, feeling Tim shift self-consciously next to you in the grass even though he's smiling. "He's actually been to two of them now."

“You got my brother to wear something other than those horrible dress pants and button ups?” She gasps. “I swear the ties were from Christmas when the twins were four.”

“We rented him a tuxedo for one event.” The admission brings a dramatic sigh from Tim but you lean over to put your arm around his waist and smile broadly. “You look good no matter what, honey.” Did you climb him like a tree that night because he looked extra good in the tux? Absolutely. But he still looks delicious in his t-shirt and shorts.

“I should just buy one.” Tim grumbles. He hadn’t liked wearing it, although realistically, it wasn’t much different from a regular suit. And you had enjoyed him in it. The sex had been extremely hot once he had gotten you back to your place. “Since you want me to go to those things.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise at the offer, and she smirks mercilessly. Hearing her big brother make any kind of comment that trends toward commitment is practically worth celebrating. “Ya know,” She giggles evilly and takes a sip of her beer. “I hear that’s even the kind of shit guys get married in.”

Tim nearly chokes in his own tongue, wishing he had decided to take the crime scene call that had come over the radio on the way here. Even a blood bath would have been preferable to the way his sister is probing for information. He just said he loves you, if he starts talking about marriage, you might think he’s gone nuts.

“Oookay, maybe let’s not pick a topic that makes him want to implode?” You try to joke, squeezing his arm gently, and stifle a laugh. That’s exactly the kind of thing you would expect from a little sister but you don’t want Tim to think you’re crazy the way the idea may or may not have already crossed your mind in daydreams from time to time.

“Jesus, Ness.” Tim huffs. “First time you meet her and you’re picking out our wedding colors?” He rolls his eyes. “Booked the church already?”

“Mom did.” Vanessa laughs, and you can’t quite tell if she’s kidding or not as she blows Tim a kiss and scampers off to keep her husband from blowing the place up while he’s on the grill.

“Oh dear God.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make sure Ma didn’t actually reserve the church.”

“Baby, baby—” You grab both of his hands and let a laugh burst through as you pull him closer. “She’s teasing. It’s okay. I’m sure your mom didn’t do anything like that and even if she did, who cares? It’s a funny story we’ll tell someone in the future.” Honestly? It makes you pretty fucking comfortable here knowing that his family is full of ball busters with good senses of humor. And that they’re okay enough with you to include you in those jokes.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” He grumbles, although he’s leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Then it’s a really funny story we tell later on.” You promise him, happily taking that kiss that he offers you so easily. “I like that your sister is comfortable enough with me to tease.”

“They like you.” He points out with a grin. “Just like I told you they would.” He catches sight of the twins and lights up. “Come on, there they are.”

“This is going on the internet!” Tim’s twin girls are pulling out their phones as soon as they see their father, dramatically button smashing and pointing the devices at the two of you. “Red alert! Dad’s girlfriend is real! This is not a drill!”

“Hey!” Tim lunges forward, snatching for their phones playfully. “Don’t make me throw you in the pool!”

“You can’t.” They’re fraternal twins, and the taller one - Zara - reaches out to hug her dad first. “Your back couldn’t handle it if you tried.”

“I’d try.” He immediately wraps his arms around his firstborn daughter and hugs her tight to his chest. “Hey bug, how have you been?” He asks, kissing her head.

“I got a term paper kicking my ass, but I’m doing okay.” Zara shrugs. Her studies mean the world to her, next to her family, but she tries to stay realistic and avoid overreacting when school is difficult.

“She’s doing amazing, it’s annoying.” The slightly shorter of the twins has lighter hair and looks a bit more like their mother, but that hasn’t stopped Joey from growing up the opposite of Trina; well-adjusted and affectionate. “We need to ask you a favor, though,” she looks at both you and Tim seriously.

“What’s up?” Tim immediately frowns, sure that there is something wrong, something he needs to fix.

“We need you to throw Thanksgiving this year.” Both girls insist in unison, a habit leftover from childhood, before Joey continues to explain. “Gran said she wasn’t up to hosting on her own this year so Mom is trying to make us go to Derek’s parents’ house. But if we tell her you’re throwing Thanksgiving with your girlfriend we’ll be off the hook.” The idea that their grandmother doesn’t want to host anymore has been a bummer for everyone, but an even bigger bummer would be having to deal with their second step-dad’s snooty family.

“I—" he looks helpless towards you, hating that you’ve been put on the spot like this. Holidays haven’t even been discussed and he doesn’t know what you usually do. “Girls, look, even if—”

“No problem.” You cut in, knowing you might be overstepping a tiny bit but for the first favor you might be able to grant his kids, you’ll take that chance. “Even if your Dad gets tied up on a case, my house is big enough and I’m a pretty decent cook.” You do look to Zara though, knowing she can’t be too fond of the main event on Thanksgiving. “We’ll pick out some vegan things together, too.”

His oldest daughter immediately perks up at that idea. “Really?” She asks excitedly. “You wouldn’t mind? I know there’s like, a lot of negativity about vegans, some of them are real assholes.” She tells you. “But I just want to, you know, live pure. But I don’t blame people for eating meat, or if they can’t make me something.”

“I made a couple of things for today that are vegan, it’s really not a problem.” Her enthusiasm and her surprise at being accommodated just makes you want to reach out and hug her, but you look to her father instead. “Is this okay with you, hun? I mean my family’s Thanksgiving is clear across the country and it would be nice to…ya know…do something at home. Instead of being a pity invite at a coworker’s house.”

“What? Yeah.” He nods eagerly, both happy that the girls will be there and that you will be too. “Of course.” He looks over at the girls. “This year won’t be pizza because the turkey’s frozen.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Joey is the first to break the ice, reaching out to squeeze both of your shoulders. “Don’t get the wrong impression or anything, our Mom is great at some things, but hosting holidays is not one of them. Which is why it went to her mom for so long, and then whatever guy she’s married to, and—”

Zara practically elbows her sister in the ribs and smiles politely. “This is Joey,” she laughs, waving a hand at her sister. “She talks a lot when she’s nervous.”

“It’s okay.” With a wave of your own hand, you are offering both girls hugs if they want them. “I’m nervous, too. Your Dad loves the hell out of you girls and I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.”

Zara and Joey both hug you, smiling happily while Tim looks on. He’s relieved that you seem to like the girls. And while it might be unusual that he’s just now introducing you to his twenty-year-old twins, he hadn’t wanted to force things too early. They had resented Derek’s intrusion into their lives when their mom had immediately started dating him, and he hadn’t wanted to make the same mistakes.

Getting to know Tim’s girls is fantastic. They’re good kids, smart as hell, and enthusiastic about their dad being happy again. So enthusiastic, in fact, that it’s easily an hour later when lunch is being announced that you manage to make your way back to his side after being stolen away. You’re at the food table with Zara while she scoops out a plate of your vegan peanut noodles when you give her a squeeze and tell her you’re going to go grab something to eat — and immediately drift away to Tim’s side as he brings over a plate of burgers and hot dogs to the other end of the table.

“Well hey there stranger,” you laugh, slipping one arm around his waist and sighing in relief at having the solid, comforting bulk of him back again.

“Hey.” He grins at you as he sets down the plate. “Sorry, had to rescue the day.” His brother-in-law had actually caught the grill on fire because he hadn’t cleaned it. Tim had taken over and been in charge of the food.

“My hero.” The grin on your face speaks volumes. “Some damn good kids you’ve got there, Rockford. They kept me well entertained, and we’ve got a whole menu worked out for Thanksgiving already.”

“Oh really?” He chuckles. “Has Zara convinced you to make me fry a Tofurkey?” He asks, knowing she might have tried.

“We’re going to do a dish of roasted cauliflower, mushrooms, and butternut squash to add to the table. She got excited about trying out a spice mix in them and said she’d love it for her main dish.” Hell, it sounded good to you as a meat eater, it didn’t surprise you that it sounded good to a vegan. “And she gave me some tips on using alternative milks and vegan butter in recipes so that more of the traditional dishes could be vegan friendly.” Honestly? None of it sounded difficult, and you’re thrilled to be able to do something for his kids. “No exaggeration. I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good.” The fact that you are accommodating his daughter is something that makes him fall a little more in love with you. Trina had complained bitterly when Zara had announced becoming vegan.

“I know you were worried when it came out of nowhere, but you don’t need to be.” In fact, after actually getting here and meeting everyone, you’re feeling more relaxed than you had thought possible. “And I—I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” you admit quietly. “Now that I know how nice everyone is, it…how I acted feels even more ridiculous.”

“So you don’t think that I’m going to realize anything more than I’m going home with a hot chick tonight?” He asks, leaning in and nudging his nose against yours.

"As long as you think so, that's all that matters." You don't have to see it, you remind yourself, as long as he does. What had your therapist said to you ages ago? 'You're just not your own type'.

“I absolutely think so.” He winks and leans back to leer at you. “Especially when you look that pretty in your sundress.”

"Oh yeah?" That look is all too familiar to you, and you bite back a grin. It's the same appraising look he had given you at the fundraiser before stealing you away from the party and back to his apartment, which was much closer to the venue than your house.

“Very pretty.” Tim grunts, moving behind you and pressing up against you at the table. “Good enough to eat.”

"Is that a promise?" He has that hungry look in his eyes that you can never resist and you try to school your expression into something innocent.

“Ah ah ahaaaaaa.” Vanessa tuts as she picks up a plate. “Not around the food.”

"Busted," you smirk, pulling Tim away from the table and heading toward the house as subtly as possible.

“You wanna?” Tim groans happily, his shuffled steps quickening behind you. He has zero qualms with having sex in this house, but he had expected you to demure.

“I always want you.” You murmur, practically rolling your eyes at him as you disappear into the house together. “Like absolutely always. It’s a constant state of existence, baby.”

“Yeah?” It surprises him how much you want him. Delights him, but surprises him. He watches you walk towards the stairs. “Last room on the left, baby.”

The upstairs hallway is littered with family photos of many generations, and you quickly look through them as you walk, until one makes you stop dead and “Aww!” out loud. Elementary age Tim in a little policeman’s uniform shares a double frame with a photo of the same man fifteen or twenty years later on the day he graduated from the Police Academy. “This might be the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen,” you grin, pointing to the photos.

“Always knew I wanted to be a cop.” He feels his face burn and he shuffles slightly as he watches you examine the photos. “A little different now, don’t wear the uniform.”

“Nah, you don’t.” You grin up at him and hook your finger in his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. “I like the shoulder holster better anyway. Much sexier.”

“Sexier, huh?” He grins against your lips and leans in to press you against the wall. “Want me to wear it for you one day?”

“Maybe.” Your lips quirk against his in a way that absolutely means yes, and your hands wander up under his t-shirt to spread out over his muscles back. “Kinda curious how you would feel about interrogating me, actually…”

“Really?” He pulls back and arches a brow at you. “You want that? Maybe those handcuffs we were talking about? Giving you a pat down?”

The way you muffle a soft groan and briefly close your eyes should be plenty enough of a giveaway. “If I wasn’t wet before I certainly am now,” you grumble, enjoying the fantasy playing yet again in your mind.

“You concealing a weapon?” He asks gruffly, even though he is smiling. He won’t really roleplay with you right now, but you seem to love the idea.

“Maybe…” You can’t help but giggle, taking his hand that isn’t braced on the wall above your head and guiding it under the skirt of your sundress. “Guess you’re gonna have to find out.”

All he can feel is generous, warm flesh. Making him groan and his cock twitches against your hip. “When did you take your panties off?”

“I snuck inside about ten minutes ago.” Your soft little grin turns wicked. “I think I have a domesticity kink, cause I was enjoying watching you at the grill.”

“I’ll grill every night if you stop wearing panties.” He promises with a groan. “My sexy girl.”

“You wanna add another notch to that bedpost, baby?” The two of you are about three feet from the door to his childhood room and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught fucking in the hallway. Just for basic courtesy’s sake.

“Only notch that counts.” He promises, pulling away from you to drag you into the bedroom.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x you #Tim Rockford x female reader #Tim Rockford x f!reader #Detective Tim Rockford #fluff #plus size reader

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gubsbuubs · 2 months

Text

Hotch’s Daughter

(18+nsfw)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Hotch´sDaughter!reader

Word Count: ~ 6.5K

Warnings/Tags: Lots of teasing, BANTER, Hotch´s!Daughter,smut, Enemies to Lovers.

Request: This one-shot was inspired by a request for an enemies-to-lovers featuring Hotch's daughter and Spencer Reid -》 basically I've been having this thought for a few weeks now and I'm embarrassed to ask, I thought of something with a..I don't know if I can call it that enemies to (fuck) enemies, hate sex maybe (?) something like Hotch's oldest daughter It's somewhere between s9 and s12 Reid (whichever you think is best) and a difference of about 7 to 9 years. Reid just doesn't like Hotch's oldest daughter because he thinks she's maybe a little irresponsible (not that she's just a 20-something woman who's a hard-partying college student [that's not that important, so just extra info]) something like that also Y/N always teasing Reid in a passive-aggressive way (I have no idea what examples, sorry) when no one is around I don't know if you have a list of tips, but I would also like something like during sex "You've always wanted to fuck your boss's daughter, right Reid" and again LOTS of teasing during sex. I kind of thought of something like a college party where Y/N is like “competing at beerpong” or something (not drunk enough to be drunk) and for whatever reason Reid is at this party (a case or something or like Morgan dragging Spencer to a party with the excuse of "I know this guy and he's having a party and I feel like you need to relax Spencer", so he drags Reid to the party) and the rest (Y/ N and Reid) end up in a room alone. I know I've already asked for a lot, but I'd also like something like Morgan looking for Reid and hearing the “little noises” he and Y/N make through the door and the next day teasing him at work with it 🤭

Summary: Y/n, Hotch’s daughter, cleverly exploits Spencer’s boundaries by flirting to incite him. While Spencer remains resolute in maintaining distance, the tension between them escalates until one day, he finds himself unable to resist.

A/N: Hi my loves! This is just filthy and it´s ginormous, so sorry.

My requests are open! 🍒

English is not my first language- barely proof read this

As I strolled through the bustling bullpen, my sights set on the unit chief's office, I spotted Derek at his desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork as usual. With a mischievous grin, I called out to him, "D!! Party at my place Friday at ten p.m. You better show up."

Derek's head snapped up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Woah, woah, woah!" he exclaimed, rising from his chair and halting me in my tracks. "What do you mean a party at your place, young lady?"

I chuckled softly at Derek's protective tone, he was more than just a family friend; he was like a brother to me. Working alongside my dad for years, Derek was an integral part of our family, just like the rest of the team. When my mom passed away, Derek's support was invaluable. Having experienced the loss of his own parent, he understood the depth of my grief like no one else could. He became my rock, offering solace and guidance through those dark days. I owe a lot to him; without his help, I doubt I would have had the strength to finish high school. He turned my pain into strength, helping me navigate through the toughest moments with his unwavering support and understanding. Derek's presence in my life has been a blessing, shaping me into the person I am today.

As I approached Derek's desk, I leaned down slightly to meet his gaze, a familiar smile playing on my lips. "You know… Mr. Hotcher and Jack are away for the weekend, visiting Beth," I said, my voice filled with excitement. "So, I'm inviting my friends from college to come over to my place to throw a party."

Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "A college party? Really, Y/n?" he exclaimed with a hint of disbelief. "I'm way too old for all that."

I grinned, knowing Derek's idea of a good time might not align with the typical college scene. "Come on, Derek," I teased, nudging his arm gently. "You're never too old to let loose and have some fun. Plus, you'll fit right in with your timeless charm."

Derek chuckled again, his expression softening. "Alright, alright," he relented, a twinkle in his eye. "I'll make an appearance, but don't expect me to stay past my bedtime."

I gave him a playful wink and a grateful smile. "That's all I ask for," I told him as I made my way to my father´s office.

I knocked three times, as I always did, and without waiting for a response, I pushed the door open.

"Hi, sweetie," my father greeted me with a warm smile, his tone softening as he saw me enter. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just need some help before you leave," I replied as I gave him a hug, "I knew you would be leaving tonight, and I just need some advice. I'm having trouble with a paper. It´s constitutional law, and I have to submit it next Monday."

As I sat on the chair across from his, eagerly awaiting my father's assistance, he remained focused on his paperwork at his desk. After a moment, he glanced up at me with a regretful expression.

"Honey, I'm sorry," he began, his tone apologetic. "But I'm not going to be able to help you. I have to leave in a couple of hours." He checked his watch, a sense of urgency evident in his voice. "I'm sorry, but I would really love to help you, but I can't."

"Oh, no, Dad!" I exclaimed, feeling a surge of panic rise within me. "I really need your help. Where the hell am I going to find someone else who knows about constitutional law?"

The urgency in my voice seemed to catch my father's attention, his expression softening with concern. "I understand, sweetheart," he said gently, "But I really have to leave soon. Is there anyone else you can reach out to for help?"

I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed by the thought of finding someone else to assist me on such short notice. "I don't know, Dad you're the only one I trust to help me with this."

"Well, I know of someone who could help you," my dad suggested, his tone thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hint. "Who do you have in mind.

My dad hesitated for a moment before answering, "Spencer Reid."

Spencer and I had a history of butting heads, constantly at odds with each other. He seemed to harbor a deep-seated animosity towards me, viewing me as irresponsible and reckless. Our personalities clashed at every turn; he was the epitome of a straight-laced, by-the-book good boy, while I reveled in pushing boundaries and challenging authority.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I could get under his skin by flirting with him when no one else was around. It was like he was going crazy because I only did it when alone with him or when no one seemed to notice. And it wasn't like he could accuse me outright. After all, I was younger and his boss's daughter, so who would believe his crazy theories?

So what better way to annoy the brilliant, uptight Spencer Reid than to play with his emotions and disrupt his carefully controlled world? I knew it was a dangerous game, but I couldn't resist the thrill.

The only one who knew about my provocations and how annoyed Spencer got was Derek, and he always told Spencer he only got so mad because he knew he was attracted to me but couldn't lay a finger on me or Hotch would kill him. Spencer always denied it, but I share the same opinion as Derek.

With the passing years I noticed a subtle shift in Spencer's demeanor, while my flirtatious antics had initially left him flustered and embarrassed, over time, he seemed to grow more confident in his responses. No longer did he react with the same level of embarrassment as before.

Despite Spencer's growing confidence, the frustration I could provoke in him never truly dissipated. If anything, it seemed to intensify as he became more accustomed to my teasing. To an outsider, he appeared calm and composed, but beneath the surface, he was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

Asking Spencer for his help would be no easy task. I knew he would likely deny it, given our history of butting heads and the tension that simmered between us. Despite his expertise in constitutional law, I couldn't shake the feeling that he would refuse to assist me, simply out of spite or a desire to avoid any further interaction with me.

"Dad, I appreciate the suggestion, but I don't think Spencer would be willing to assist me," I said hesitantly, choosing my words carefully.

“What? No! Of course he is; I know you two aren't that close, but he is definitely more than happy to help," he asserted confidently.

Before I could protest, my dad immediately dialed the number on the phone. "Spencer, can you come by my office, please?" He spoke to the receiver with authority. I watched in disbelief as my dad took charge of the situation, seemingly unfazed by any potential reservations I had about seeking Spencer's assistance.

As the call went through, a knot formed in my stomach, uncertainty gnawing at me. I felt a sense of resignation wash over me, realizing that protesting now would only complicate things further. With a heavy sigh, I decided to stay silent, choosing instead to lay back on the chair and stare up at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts as I waited for the impending arrival of Spencer.

Shortly after, a knock was heard at the front door, and I could feel my heart race with anticipation. "Come on in," my father said.

"You called for me, sir?" Spencer's voice filled the room as he entered, his presence commanding attention. "Reid, hi. Please, sit down," my dad gestured towards a chair.

As Spencer's eyes immediately locked with mine, I rose from my seat to allow him to take it. With deliberate steps, I made my way to stand behind my father, positioning myself so that Spencer's gaze was met with my silent presence looming over him.

"Well, Spencer," my dad began, his tone measured as he addressed him, "I asked you to come here because Y/n has a paper to do for constitutional law, and she requested my help, but I have to leave. So, I was wondering if maybe you could help her."

As my dad spoke, I could sense Spencer's hesitation growing. His eyes darted up to me, and I gave him the smuggest grin I could have mastered, relishing the irony of the situation and how much I was enjoying it.

With a sense of satisfaction, I observed Spencer's struggle to hide his unease. He was caught between wanting to keep his cool and not wanting to help me. If I had asked him myself, he probably would've refused just out of spite. But now, with my dad asking so nicely, Spencer had no way out. He couldn't say no to my father.

"Yeah, um," Spencer cleared his throat, his discomfort palpable. "I could help her," he reluctantly conceded, his words laced with annoyance.

I couldn't help but smile widely at Spencer's visible frustration, reveling in the satisfaction of knowing he was forced to comply with my father's request. Meanwhile, my dad remained oblivious to the tension in the room, with his head down and his attention focused solely on the paperwork before him.

Spencer's gaze bore into mine, and his eyes narrowed with irritation. "Anything else, sir?" He inquired, his tone tinged with impatience.

"No, that's all. Thank you very much," my dad says, briefly looking up from the files and giving Spencer a slight smile. "But if you two need to schedule a time to work, please do it outside. I just really need to finish this," he adds, his tone slightly rushed.

I seize the moment to kiss my father's cheek, bidding him farewell with a soft, "Have a great trip, dad. Say hi to Beth for me" and with that, I stepped out of his office. Spencer was already making his way towards the break room as I closed the door.

As I entered the room, I found Spencer already brewing some coffee, so I stood by his side, leaning against the counter.

"That was so sweet of you, Spencer, agreeing to help me out," I remarked, my words dripping with irony as I playfully mocked him.

"Don't be difficult, Y/n," Spencer responded in a frustrated tone, still focused on the task at hand and not bothering to look at me.

With a sly grin, I spoke, "I have to admit, Spencer, the idea of having a taste of Professor Reid excites me very much." My words were casual but tinged with a hint of mischief, aimed at both teasing him and stoking his frustration.

Spencer paused in his task, his grip tightening on the handle of the coffee pot, as my words hung in the air between us. Slowly, he turned to face me, his expression unreadable as he met my gaze. "Y/n, you know I'm only helping because your father asked me to," he replied evenly, his voice tight with restraint.

"Oh, Professor, don't be so uptight," I purred, "After all, who wouldn't jump at the chance to learn from a man like you?"

I watched with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as Spencer's gaze shifted upwards to the ceiling, his breathing growing deeper as he fought to regain his composure.

His jaw clenched tightly, and the muscles in his neck were visibly tensing as he battled to suppress his rising frustration. Despite his efforts, I could see the simmering irritation beneath the surface, a testament to the effect my teasing was having on him.

Spencer's gaze flickered back down to meet mine, his expression a blend of annoyance and resignation. "Y/n, this is not the time or place for your... games," he replied, his voice firm and authoritative.

Undeterred by his stern tone, I leaned in closer, the corners of my lips curling into a playful smile. "Oh, Spencer, where's your sense of adventure?" I whispered huskily, my voice laced with mischief. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little excitement."

His gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes before he regained control. "I'm not afraid of anything," he retorted, his tone sharp. "But I have more important things to focus on than dealing with your incessant need for attention."

I couldn't help but chuckle softly, my amusement bubbling up as I continued to push his buttons. "Oh, Spencer," I teased, my voice dripping with mock sympathy. "It must be exhausting being so uptight all the time. Maybe you just need to loosen up a bit."

As Spencer's frustration simmered beneath the surface, I leaned in closer, the twinkle in my eyes daring him to retaliate. "Come on, don't tell me you're getting worked up over a little harmless banter," I continued, my tone laced with provocation. "Maybe you're just not up for the challenge."

Spencer's frustration reached its peak, evident in the sharpness of his tone. "You know what? Just email me the paper requirements. I'll write it for you," he said tersely, his patience worn thin. "I don't want to have to deal with you."

With that, the door swung open, revealing Rossi.

"Uncle Dave!" I exclaimed with excitement, unable to contain my joy at seeing him. I rushed forward and enveloped him in a warm hug.

Rossi raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't know you were here, kiddo," he remarked, returning the hug with a smile.

"Oh, I came to ask Dad to help me with a paper," I explained, my voice tinged with faux innocence, "but he couldn't help, so he asked Spencer." With a subtle smirk, I continued, "And uncle Dave, Spencer was so kind, he offered to write it for me; do you believe it?"

Rossi chuckled at my explanation, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Well, it looks like you've got yourself quite the helper," he remarked with a grin, nodding towards Spencer.

I glanced back at Spencer, noting the hint of annoyance still lingering in his expression as he poured his coffee. It was clear my teasing had gotten under his skin more than I'd anticipated, but the satisfaction of seeing him flustered outweighed any guilt I might have felt. His irritation was palpable as he begrudgingly accepted the task of writing my paper, his movements stiff with frustration.

"Well, anyway, thanks, Spencer," I said, a playful grin spreading across my lips. "You were a real sweetheart for agreeing to write it. I've got to run now, but I'll shoot you an email with all the details. Kinda need it ready by Monday, okay?" I added, punctuating my words with a playful wink. "You're the best, Spence."

With those words, I leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, a mischievous twinkle in my eye as I knew it would only leave him more annoyed. Ignoring his exasperated sigh, I waved my goodbyes at Rossi and made my exit.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how effortlessly I had turned the situation to my advantage, leaving Spencer to deal with the consequences of his reluctant agreement.

—x—

Friday came around, and I spent the afternoon hastily preparing my house for the party, rushing to stock up on booze and snacks. As the sun dipped below the horizon, my friends began to trickle in.

The party unfolded beneath the starlit sky, casting a dreamy glow over the backyard pool area. Colorful lights twinkled around the pool, illuminating the water in shades of blue and green. Laughter and chatter filled the air as guests mingled around the pool, their voices blending with the rhythmic beats of the music.

I had a full-on bar set up, stocked with all sorts of booze, beer, cocktails, you name it. Bottles of beer and liquor lined the counter, while colorful cocktails were expertly mixed and poured into plastic cups. The backyard was packed with all sorts of random people, just having a blast. Music was pumping, and bodies were moving everywhere. Everyone was enjoying themselves and letting loose.

In one corner, a game of beer pong was in full swing, and I was getting my pong on, sinking shots, and taking names like a boss.

Amidst the laughter and cheers, a random guy's voice cut through, calling out to someone nearby. "Yo, guys, the cops are here!" he exclaimed, his words sending a wave of panic through the crowd. The comment caught my attention, and I glanced up from the game, scanning the room until my gaze landed on Derek, who had just arrived.

"Guys, don't worry, it´s just my big brother!" I yelled, "And he is not a cop; he is actually FBI, but he is NOT A SNITCH!" I slurred my words as I rushed to hug Derek. "And ladies, he is singleeeeeeeeee! So feel free to shoot your shot!!"

Derek chuckled at my introduction, playfully rolling his eyes at my antics. With a grin, he accepted the attention, raising a hand in acknowledgment to the crowd.

"You came!" I exclaimed, my excitement bubbling over as I jumped up and down in front of him like I was a little kid meeting their idol for the first time.

"Of course I came; you invited me, so I had to come," he replied with a chuckle, his tone affectionate as I hugged by his side.

"I'm glad you're here. I have a great friend for you to meet," I said, eager to introduce him to someone new.

"I actually brought someone with me," he said, looking down at me.

"What? You dirty dog... Who's the lucky girl?" I asked, surprised by his unexpected response.

"Well," Derek chuckled, trying to contain a laugh, "his name is Spencer."

I playfully smacked his bicep, a grin spreading across my face. "What? Really? I thought you had a girlfriend for a moment."

Derek shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Nah, I just brought Pretty Boy with me." As he spoke, I couldn't help but glance around the lively crowd, searching for any sign of Spencer amidst the sea of partygoers.

"Well, where is he anyway?" I inquired.

"Oh, he said he had some files that he needed to drop," Derek replied nonchalantly, his gaze drifting over the house. "He's probably in your office."

I made my way inside the house, the sound of laughter and music fading away as the door closed behind me. Traversing through the familiar halls, I eventually entered the office. Spencer stood by the desk, his attention focused on a document as he scribbled away.

"Is that my paper?" I asked, my excitement evident as I quickly moved to stand by his side.

Spencer glanced up, a condescending smirk spreading across his face. "Yeah," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "I just needed to cut something out. It sounded too smart to be written by you."

"Well, I must say, Spencer, I'm impressed with how quickly you wrote the paper," I teased, my voice laced with faux innocence.

Spencer's jaw clenched tightly, his frustration evident as he fought to maintain his composure. "You know, Y/n, if you actually put in the effort, maybe you wouldn't need someone else to write your papers for you," he retorted, his tone sharp with irritation.

I sat on top of the desk, a mischievous glint in my eyes as I locked gazes with Spencer. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest for helping out a damsel in distress?" I teased, a playful smirk playing on my lips. "Guess I owe you one now, huh?"

He took a deep breath, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded me with a knowing look. "Don't you start, Y/n," he warned, his voice laced with annoyance.

I chuckled softly, enjoying the way I could always push his buttons with just a few words. "Start what, Spencer?" I replied innocently, batting my eyelashes exaggeratedly. "I'm just expressing my gratitude for your generous assistance."

Spencer shook his head, "You know exactly what you're doing," he countered.

I leaned in forward in his direction, my playful demeanor masking the underlying tension between us. "Do I, Spencer?" I asked, my voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Or are you just imagining things?"

Spencer's gaze held mine, a mixture of exasperation and something else flickering in his eyes. "You're impossible," he murmured.

A smirk played on my lips as I traced a finger along the edge of the desk, enjoying the way he couldn't tear his eyes away from me. "And yet, here you are, still falling for my tricks,".

Spencer's lips twitched with a hint of amusement, though he tried to maintain a facade of indifference. "I'm not falling for anything, Y/n”

I chuckled softly, "Sure, Spencer," I lightly patted his chest. "Keep telling yourself that."

As Spencer leaned forward, he rested his hands on the desk under me, his presence engulfing me. I felt a rush of anticipation course through my veins as his hands laid on either side of my thighs, sending a jolt of electricity through me as our skin touched.

"Is that a threat, Spencer?" I whispered, my voice laced with a mixture of challenge and intrigue.

His lips curled into a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly with amusement. "Not a threat, Y/n," he replied, his tone softening as he leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over my lips. "A promise."

"You know, Spencer," I murmured, "Sometimes I wonder if you've got what it takes to handle someone like me."

"Oh, really?" he replied, raising an eyebrow "And what makes you say that, Y/n?"

"Well, let's just say," I whispered, my voice filled with mischief, "I've seen the way you tiptoe around me, like I'm some delicate flower that might wilt at your touch."

Spencer's expression softened slightly, "Ah, yes," he conceded, his head fell back slightly as he sighed "the boss's daughter, untouchable and off-limits.

"Exactly," I replied, "And let's not forget, I'm also significantly younger than you. Double challenge, isn't it?

Spencer's amusement faded, replaced by a hint of seriousness as he regarded me. "You know, Y/n," he began, “playing this game, using your position as Hotch´s daughter to your advantage... It's risky."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Risky? How so, Spencer?" I asked, my voice carrying a hint of challenge.

His gaze hardened, and the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a steely decisiveness. "Because one day, you might push me too far," he replied, "One day, I might not be able to hold back anymore."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the seriousness of his tone, the underlying threat sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through me. Despite my playful facade, I couldn't deny the flicker of apprehension that sparked within me at the thought of what Spencer might be capable of if pushed to his limit. But instead of backing down, I met his gaze head-on, a defiant glint in my eyes.

"Is that a warning, Spencer?" I countered, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart. "Or a promise?"

"You always get what you want, don't you?" He remarked chuckling, his breath warm against my the skin of my neck.

I met his gaze with a sly smile, reveling in the tension that crackled between us. "Only when I set my mind to it,"

Spencer's lips quirked into a half-smile as he retorted, "No one likes a brat."

"But you seem to tolerate me just fine, Spencer," I teased, my voice dripping with mock innocence.

Toleration doesn't mean I actually like your attitude. Maybe you need to be taught some manners." Spencer's tone was firm.

"Oh, Spencer," I replied, "I didn't realize you were volunteering for the job."

Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he regained his composure. "Don't push your luck, Y/n," he warned.

But I couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him further and see just how far I could push him. Leaning in closer, I let my breath brush against his ear as I whispered, "Or what, Spencer? You'll finally lose your cool and show me what you're really made of."

His jaw clenched, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes as he resisted the urge to react. "You're playing with fire, Y/n," he murmured, his voice tinged with a mixture of warning and desire.

A thrill coursed through me at the knowledge that I was getting under his skin, that I had the power to unravel him with just a few carefully chosen words. Ignoring the warning bells ringing in the back of my mind, I leaned back with a smirk, my eyes alight with mischief. "Then let's see who gets burned first,"

I quipped, grabbing his tie and pulling him closer. Our faces were inches apart as our lips collided for the first time. Our kiss was hot and hungry, tongues clashing, our mouths grappling for dominance. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as his hand traveled down the small of my back. Our bodies pressed together tightly, the heat radiating from within only adding to the intensity of the moment.

My breath quickened as our lips pulled apart, and my fingers tangled in his hair as I slowly pulled away. My heart thumped in my chest, my body humming with a rush of pleasure. Spencer's eyes were glazed, his breath coming in sharp, shallow breaths as he stared at me.

With a sly grin, I pulled back slightly, "Careful, Spencer," I murmured, my voice low and teasing, "Are you sure you want to keep playing this game?"

Spencer was still breathing heavily, and his eyes focused on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. My body buzzed with pleasure, and I felt myself melting into his touch.

"Only if you can handle it," His voice was hoarse, as though he were gripping onto his composure by a thread. "And I think we're beyond the point of asking if I want this to keep going... don't you?"

I swallowed; my voice was as low as a whisper. "You tell me."

His hands traveled down my back, his thumb caressing my hip with slow, deliberate strokes. "Don't play games with me," he murmured, his voice trembling with desire.

My breath caught in my throat as Spencer's lips grazed my neck, and I could feel my body reacting to his touch. Spencer's words were hot as they hit near my ear, sending shivers down my spine as his hands continued their exploration of my body.

"I'm not playing games," I whispered, my body trembling as his hands traveled lower, slowly moving towards my thighs. I shivered but made no attempt to move away, knowing that he wanted me to stay right where I was.

"Then what are you doing?" Spencer asked, his voice low as he gripped my waist, pulling me closer. "Because to me, it seems like you're asking for more."

"I'm not asking for anything," I chuckled, "I'm letting you take what you want."

Now was his turn to let out a chuckle "And what exactly do I want?" his voice filled with amusement, as he lifted my dress up until it covered my hips, his hands still firmly gripping my bare ass.

I swallowed hard, my body trembling as he played with me, his fingers gripping me hard. My breath caught in my throat, and my head tilted back, my body yielding to his touch.

"I think I want to hear you say it," Spencer murmured, his voice low, his eyes burning into mine.

Spencer's gaze locked onto mine. I could see the conflict playing out in his mind—the struggle to reconcile his desires with the reality of our situation.

"You want to fuck me, Spencer; you always have," I asserted confidently, refusing to back down. "But you were just afraid of crossing that line, of stepping into forbidden territory. Afraid of what it would mean to want someone like me… Hotch´'s daughter,"

Spencer's lips curled into a faint smile, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. "You know what they say," he chuckled softly. "The forbidden fruit is always the most desired."

"So, what do you say, Spencer?" I tested him, "Are you ready to take a bite?"

"I think I'm ready for more than just a bite," Spencer replied, his words full of aggression as he leaned in closer. I shivered as his hand traveled down between us, stroking the lace of my panties with his fingertips. At an excruciatingly slow pace, his touch grazed the soft material that covered the skin. I couldn't help but squirm against him, my breath coming in short, as my body tightened in anticipation. I let out a light moan, and Spencer chuckled in response.

The anticipation was killing me; his fingers were slowly caressing my sensitive bud, just teasingly enough to send shivers down my spine. His touch was gentle but insistent, and his fingers were enough to drive me wild with desire.

I couldn't help but move against him, his breath in my ear and his fingertips grazing my covered skin. It was exquisite torture, leaving me desperate for more, and Spencer knew it.

I let out a soft moan, unable to contain myself anymore, as he moved the lacy fabric aside to gain full access to where I wanted him most. His touch was tender but firm, his finger tracing upward on my wet slit.

"Please, Spencer," I moaned, my body shaking with desire.

"What's that? I couldn't hear you," he answered, his voice low and steady as he chuckled.

"You talk too much," I whispered, my voice husky with desire. My hands traveled between us, reaching for his, and I guided his fingertips to my entrance, pushing them inside. As his fingers filled me up, a soft moan escaped my lips, the sensation sending shivers down my spine.

Spencer's face was a mixture of surprise and desire at my bold actions, his eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored my own. My quiet cries of pleasure filled the room as he moved his fingers in and out.

His eyes fixed on mine as my face twisted in ecstasy, his grip solid yet delicate as he grabbed the back of my neck.

"Hey, hey, hey," Spencer warned, “Eyes on me," he gestured with his free hand for me to look him in the eyes. "I want to see your face when you cum on my fingers."

I felt both embarrassed and eager all at once, but I couldn't resist the lure of his challenge. His voice was low, and there was a hint of authority in his tone. Feeling a rush of heat flood my face, my gaze shifted between his face and watching his fingers move inside of me.

My eyes widened as I felt myself teetering on the brink of ecstasy, every nerve in my body alive with anticipation. The intensity of Spencer's gaze only fueled the fire within me, pushing me closer and closer to my breaking point.

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm... I'm gonna..." I struggled to form the sentence as waves of pleasure crashed over me, rendering me speechless.

"You're gonna cum, pretty girl?" he asked, a sweet look of anticipation in his eyes.

I could only nod my head before it fell back in pleasure, and a throaty moan escaped my lips. A look of satisfaction crossed his face, and I could feel the pleasure all over my body. I closed my eyes, just taking in the sensation.

"Yeah, just like that," he said as he withdrew his fingers, his gaze locked on mine, savoring the moment. He put his fingers into his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Oh, it's even better than I imagined," he said with a soft moan escaping his lips.

I captured his lips, still tasting the remnants of my desire, and pulled him into another heated kiss. With skill, my hands flew to his belt, swiftly undoing it as I eagerly wanted him inside of me.

He pulled his clothes down, freeing himself, breaking away from our kiss momentarily to look down as he stroked himself a few times. His breath hitched with a low groan. I watched him intently, my own desire mounting with each passing moment.

With a hunger that burned hotter than ever, I leaned forward, my lips trailing along his jawline as I whispered, "Don't keep me waiting, Spence."

And so he didn´t.

"Oh fuck..." I moaned as I watched him sink into me with ease, his head falling to the crook of my neck as his jaw clenched in pleasure. My walls gripped him tightly as he bottomed out, filling me completely. My eyes widened as he thrust for the first time with a force that left me breathless. His movements were primal, fueled by a raw passion that consumed us both. I could feel every inch of him as he thrust, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

Spencer's lips curled into a devilish smirk as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling my ear. "You like that, Y/n?" he whispered "You like feeling my cock inside of you.?”

I squirmed beneath him, unable to form a coherent response as his words sent shivers down my spine. "Spencer," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper, "shut up… just... keep going."

Spencer's lips curled into a sly grin as he leaned back slightly, his gaze locking with mine. "You always have to get what you want, don't you, Y/n?"

Spencer's lips curled into a sly grin as he leaned back slightly, his gaze locking with mine. "You always have to get what you want, don't you, Y/n?" He teased, “You wouldn't give up until I fucked you senseless."

"You're enjoying this as much as I am," I replied "Don't act like you're innocent in all of this."

Spencer's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, believe me, Y/n," he whispered huskily, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As Spencer's thrusts grew more forceful, I found myself succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that washed over me with each movement. The rhythm of our bodies colliding echoed in the room, filling the air with the sounds of our shared desire. My nails dug into his back, my fingers clutching onto him desperately.

Spencer's movements were primal, driven by a raw passion that ignited a fire within me. With each thrust, I felt myself spiraling closer to the edge, my body on the brink of ecstasy as he pushed me further and further. I couldn't help but lose myself in the intensity of the moment, my mind clouded by the overwhelming pleasure that consumed every fiber of my being.

“I need to cum, spence, please," I practically begged, my voice thick with desire.

Spencer's smirk widened. "You want to cum on my cock, baby?" he teased, his voice dripping with lust.

My answer was a breathless "Yes, please, yes," barely more than a whimper, as I surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me.

With one last, hard thrust, Spencer pushed me over the edge, and I rode the waves of ecstasy crashing over me.

"Fuck, yes!" He cried out as my body trembled with the force of my climax. And as I reached the peak of my pleasure, Spencer found his own release, his body tensing against mine. With a final, primal grunt, he pulled out, his hot release spilling over my thigh.

The room was filled with heavy, tense silence as we both caught our breath, the aftermath of our heated encounter hanging thick in the air. Spencer's hand moved gently, cleaning me up with tissues he picked from the box behind me on the desk.

"This can't happen again," he reiterated, as he threw away the tissues, his voice firm “It's risky. Hotch wouldn't hesitate to shoot me if he found out," he chuckled nervously.

I nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of his words. "I know," my gaze dropped to the floor.

"But God…" He approached me again, his hands cupped my face. "That was something else," he murmured, brushing his lips against mine. "It's going to be hard to stay away from you, now that I know how you taste, and how good you feel around me." Spencer's lips met mine once more, kissing me sweetly. "It's going to be hard to resist you."

I teased, my voice laced with a playful tone. "And you can bet I’ll make your job harder"

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Spencer's lips curled into a small smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But seriously, this… this can never happen, okay?" He emphasized, "We can't tell anyone about this. Not even Derek."

"I understand," I replied, my voice soft "Our secret stays just between us."

He nodded in agreement, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized I understood the importance of discretion. "Good," he murmured as he kissed my forehead.

—x—-

As Monday rolled around, Spencer arrived at the office and settled into his desk. Before he could even get started on his work, Derek immediately approached him, leaning in with a sly grin. "Hey there, pretty boy," he says, his voice low but teasing tone.

Spencer looked up, "Hey, what's up?"

Derek leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, what happened last Friday? You left the party early, man. Everything alright?"

Spencer hesitates, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "Uh, yeah, I wasn't feeling too well. I thought it was best to head home."

"Feeling under the weather, huh?” Derek chuckles, not buying it for a second.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as Derek's teasing hit a nerve. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he stammered awkwardly, "Yeah, I was just not feeling right."

"So, you didn't hear anything when you were inside the house?" Derek whispered.

Spencer's heart raced, realizing Derek might know more than he's letting on. "What would I even hear?"

Derek's grin widened as he leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "See... when I went inside to look for you, because Y/n went to look for you but you two never came out…. And then I heard a couple getting it on in Hotch's office, and I was just wondering if you knew who it was. I want to know all the juicy deets."

Spencer's face flushes crimson but he maintained a facade of innocence, refusing to betray any hint of guilt. He cleared his throat, “Ah, well, you know how it is at these gatherings," his tone was light but his pulse racing. "People can get carried away. But as for the identity of that mysterious couple, I'm afraid I'm just as clueless as you are, Derek."

Derek chuckles knowingly, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Sure, Spencer, whatever you say," Derek pats Spencer's back in a mockingly sympathetic gesture, "But next time, maybe find a quieter spot than Hotch's office. It's hard to keep things discreet when the walls are practically paper-thin."

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machiavellli · 5 months

Text

Some spicy Theodore Nott headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: this was like driving: I don't have a driver license. Seriously like, you absolutely hyped me up for writing this and now I feel like I need to go touch some grass and drink some holy water.

Btw we shouldn't feel ashamed, like the first people ever to write in a language that is more similar to ours, literally wrote about about two nun fuck1ng him 108 times (yes that's what he says) in a week bc they thought he was mute. Like women in the 700 were DYING bc of novels, bc they couldn't never have enough of it and the majority developed a masturbat1on add1ction. We can't be worse, that's just humanity at its core: we are h0rny creatures.

⚠️: The blue parts are from a poem, from the author Giacomo da Lentini and it's called "Meravigliosamente" (| put a translation at the end, because it's ancient Italian and you can't translate it with a normal translator). It's one of my favorites poems ever, it's one the best incarnation of what love feels like. Yeah now the poets are cursing at me from above.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+!!Breeding k1nk, p in v, ora1 f receiving, pregnant! reader description, nak3d people in general (idk what to put, BUT YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED). English is not my first language, therefore you could find some mistakes, please report them to me!

With all being said: enjoy<3

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Theodore Nott, your Italian Slytherin guy:

Theo loves to love as we already established.

He loves to give, he would let his blood dry for you.

Therefore he likes to take care of his dear ones, especially you, il suo tesoro.

I also already told you about how he will think about your future together, how he would love to have a proper family with you.

He just wants to have what his family wasn't capable of giving him.

So when the seventh year it's over, it also means that his only obstacle, the one that used to keep him away from his dream, is also over.

Something changes inside of him, un istinto primario prende il sopravvento. He knows that now it is actually possible.

«Meravigliosamente

un amor mi distringe

e soven ad ogn'ora.»

Maybe the first few months it wouldn't be so evident, he would probably keep it for himself.

He wouldn't like to put pressure on you, he couldn't.

But every time you get intimate, tutte le volte che fate l'amore, he can't help but think what it will feel like letting himself go completely.

Letting it happen.

Letting himself have a proper release.

Letting himself paint your inside white.

His warm finding the embrace of your core.

Planting a life, creating it with il suo tesoro, la sua diletta.

That's the ultimate dream e cazzo quanto lo vorrebbe.

«Com'omo che ten mente

in altro exemplo pinge

la simile pintura,

cosi, bella, facc'eo,

che’nfra lo core meo

porto la tua figura.»

But for now he still has to curse within himself, "cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.", imprisoning that release, that dream.

Simply wishing he could stay inside, saving every drop for you.

It's so hard for him to distract himself from the heavy daydreaming.

His mind as pregnant with thoughts as he wish you were.

You would just look so gorgeous round with his child.

And he would easily do everything under the sight of your new silhouette.

(As he wasn't already totally lost in this love, this passion per la sua bella)

This particular scene keeps repeating in his cursed mind:

You, full and completely bare before him sitting on your shared bed, nonchalantly putting cream on every inch of your skin after a shower.

He might be at the doorstep looking from afar or already on the bed

But it always ends with him interrupting you, taking your hands with devotion, already giving you passions with just his eyes, just for him to say: "dimmi quello che desideri e sarà tuo"

And he would literally do anything.

«Al cor m'ard'una doglia,

com'om che te lo foco

a lo suo seno ascoso,

e quanto più lo'nvoglia,

tanto arde più loco

e non po star incluso»

He would let you exploit his tongue in favor of your pleasure, savoring every drop coming from down there.

Growling just at your moist sight

And he would taste you like a starved man.

Over and over again.

On the bed,

On the Couch,

At the dinner table.

Sempre e ovunque.

Holding you still with one of his firm hands on your now round stomach.

Non è mai stato così facile inginocchiarsi e predicare da quando la sua religione, la sua donna angelo, sei diventata tu.

You look like a miracle to him.

And he would absolutely get lost in this strong trance filled with amore, passione e lussuria.

He would delicately lay your figure on the bed, like the most precious Greek statue of a goddess.

But the softness of your skin will make him realize that you are not a vision, but his blessed reality.

Your fullness getting in the way would quickly become the most delicious sight ever in his eyes.

His dead stare penetrating your soul along with his physical body.

He would tell you that his eyes look gone because he is convinced to be already dead and already in Paradise.

So lost in the haze, so convinced of the woman under him to be an angel.

And now, he is making her la madre dei suoi figli, sua moglie, la sua fiamma, da qui all'eternità.

Your legs, now afar from each other, looking like the most rare prophecy.

The softness of your skin feeling like the salvation from every sin.

Your swollen breast moving along his movements in you, rhythmically, like a fine melody.

And if by chance a single tear of your product falls from them, his eyes would shine like the sun during August.

He won't esitate to collect it with his mouth, tasting yet another one of your miracles. He wouldn't hold back the raw attitude taking over his mind, he simply couldn't.

«Assai v'aggio laudato,

madonna, in tutte parti

di bellezze ch'avete.»

When you two got together he thought he couldn't love you more, the same on your wedding day, but now he would simply let this love tear him apart he would still and always pray in your name.

In the morning he would wake you up gently, caressing you cheeks, watching as the eyes that caught his soul slowly open.

He would prepare breakfast for you, taking it directly in bed.

And every day will only be about you and you only.

Need a bath? Already prepped and warm amore.

You have swollen feet? A massage from him is mandatory.

Need to put the nursery together? Consider it done.

And don't get me started on the amount of stuff that he would buy for your unborn child.

He just wants to make sure everything will be ready for the big day.

But that's just a dream, playing tricks with his mind.

«Canzonetta novella,

va canta nova cosa;

lèvati da maitino

davanti a la più bella,

fiore d'ogn'amorosa,

bionda più ch'auro fino»

"Theo, darling, are you still here?" you ask him after two solid minutes of him staring at you, to the point that you were starting to feel suffocated by his gaze.

His pupils blown, and as his breathing increase, he finally snaps back from daydreaming.

But now, now it's been months of this agony, della sua mente completamente offuscata dal desiderio.

He just can't help himself anymore, he is a direct and honest person, he can't continue to keep this away from you.

And with the most serious expression known to mankind and his eyes firmly buried into yours, he doesn't hesitate anymore: "Facciamo un figlio amore, facciamolo adesso, non ne posso più d'aspettare, non posso più nemmeno aspettare che er mondo faccia n'altro giro" he would tell you in one breath.

You kiss him delicately, "Allora non esitare, non aspettare che la luna fugga Mr.Nott"

"Ai suoi ordini Signora Nott"

"Ti amo tantissimo" the last thing he would tell you before finally letting himself completely go, completamente perso in questo amore, si che possa ammirare te, te sospirare e te amare, te soltanto.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Okay so here's the translation of the poem, the canzonetta, which as I said it's called "Meravigliosamente", in English “Wonderfully":

My ask box is open!✨🥂

<- part II

-> part III?

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wheresarizona · 6 months

Text

Learning to Live Part 25

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

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

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.2k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not Olivia…”

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

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

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

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

“You wanna know a secret?” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“That’s an understatement, but yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The holiday cards had been your idea.

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

It was very cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice meeting you, too!”

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

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

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

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

“Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

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

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

What were they talking about?

“What does he want?” Javier asked.

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

Immediately, he held out his hand.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, she’s fucking incredible.”

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

“Daphne and Velma,” Javier interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

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

That didn’t sound too bad.

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

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

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

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

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

“I will. Bye, you asshole.”

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

“You’re a dork,” she said.

Turning toward her, amusement was clear on her face.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Meh, stick with business.”

“Okay. Window or aisle?”

“Window.”

“Good, ‘cause I like the aisle.”

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

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

Whiskey on the rocks.

“We’re soulmates.”

“We are.” He agreed with a nod.

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he answered.

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

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

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

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

“But I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The Laredo Airport wasn’t very big.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You a nervous flyer?” he whispered.

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

“Yeah? How can I help?”

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

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

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

“Did you fly in helicopters a lot?”

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

“The helicopter ride or the jungle?”

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

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

His eyes squinted. “No...”

The pilot came over the speaker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smart man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Javi?” Your eyes opened.

“Yes, Cielito?”

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

He audibly gulped. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

The idea caused your cunt to clench hard around nothing.

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

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

“Oh, yeah.” He smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

The employee went away.

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

Colombia never felt like home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shock of arousal shot through his belly.

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

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

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

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

“Excites you a lot, too.”

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

“About fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not too bad.”

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

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

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

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

“Promise?”

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

“Okay, we better get out,” he said.

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, your mom said after your nap.”

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

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

“Okay,” she replied.

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

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get married.

Hands landed on his shoulders from behind.

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

His eyebrows creased, frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The explanation mollified him.

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you mad at me?”

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

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

She looked at him like he was stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your fingers started working open the buttons on his shirt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p.’

“You don’t want to take a nap.”

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both,” you answered.

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

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

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

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

“God, yes,” you gasped. “I want it.”

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

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

You could feel him frowning before he broke away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sight before you had your mouth going dry.

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

A crooked smile appeared under his mustache.

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

The questions snapped you out of your reverie.

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

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

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

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

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

You broke away, his lips chasing yours.

“I need you,” you panted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sí (Yes),” you answered. “Sí, Papí (Yes, Papí).”

His chest rumbled under you from his groan, a hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap that made you clench around him.

“Monta me (Ride me),” he ordered, smacking your backside again. “Monta me duro, mi amor (Ride me hard, my love).”

Grabbing the hair at the back of his head, you pulled on it as you straightened your spine to make him look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded when they blinked open, while yours narrowed in a glare.

“Javier, stop smacking my ass,” you hissed. “We have to be quiet, and you better make sure I don’t get too loud.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Lo siento, cariño (I’m sorry, sweetheart).” His warm hands rubbed along the sides of your spine. “Prometo, estar más callado y evitar que hagas mucho ruido (I promise, I will be quieter and keep you from making too much noise).”

“Thank you,” you replied, pushing his hair back from his face. Leaning in close, you gave him a gentle peck on his lips and the tip of his nose. “If you come before me, it’s fine—it would probably take me with you, anyway.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling him twitch inside you. “With how you’re soaking my dick, I think you’ll get off pretty fucking fast.”

“Probably.” You shrugged and started rolling your hips, watching in delight as his mouth fell open in a moan and his body shuddered.

His arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your jaw, keeping his eyes locked on yours, your own arm over his shoulder, and free hand caressing the side of his face. Both of you were sharing in the pleasure, your bodies fitting together so perfectly like two puzzle pieces, breathing each other in, losing yourselves in this moment.

He wanted you to use him to make yourself feel good, so you did.

Standing made it easy to rise on your legs, sliding up his hard cock to leave only the head and fall back down, thrusting your hips forward on the downstroke to take him to the hilt and make him raggedly groan.

Heat was blooming in your belly, getting hotter with every second you worked yourself on his dick. He pulled you in for a kiss, and you slowed to a grind, the rough curls at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against the swollen bud of your clit, adding gasoline to the fire inside you.

Like this, he was in so deep you were sure you could probably feel him if you pressed on your stomach, and you knew if he knew that, he’d be a smug bastard about it, which was valid.

You started moving again, the kissing becoming sporadic as you rode him in earnest, your arousal spilling down his shaft to coat his balls. His fingers were digging into the cheeks of your ass, his arms flexing as he gave you momentum and helped you move.

The two of you were trying your best to stay quiet and hold back your sounds, Javi’s face flushed and forehead wet with sweat, both unable to keep some noise from slipping out. The loudest sound was between your legs, hearing the wet suck of your slick gushing around him when his dick pushed into your drenched hole.

Something about fucking in places where there was a chance of getting caught really turned you and him on. Add in, you were told without explicitly being told you weren’t allowed to have sex here, and the higher risk had you rocketing toward your orgasm—Javi was right; you were going to get off quick.

His hands went to your tits, his thick fingers zeroing in on your pebbled nipples, pinching and rolling them before his mouth's hot, wet heat pulled one stiff peak into his mouth.

“God, yes,” you moaned, pleasure shooting directly to your cunt as you bounced on his thick cock.

The muscles in your belly were tightening, adjusting your hips so every time you sunk down, he was pressing into that one spot that dotted your vision with stars, his mouth giving your other breast the same treatment.

This all felt amazing, but there was something you needed…

“Touch me,” you panted, rising and falling in his lap.

His head popped up, glazed over eyes looking at your face.

“Anywhere?” he breathily asked, and the question made you stifle a moan.

“Yes.”

“I’ll get you there.” And you had no doubt.

He started with tweaking your wet nipple, roughly pinching it, his other hand going between your bodies to rub his thumb against your sensitive clit, the sensations feeling like electricity arcing up your spine, making your rhythm stutter for a moment—the heat in your stomach was growing and getting hotter, the closer you were to your climax.

“Hang onto my neck,” he told you.

“What?”

“Lean forward and hold onto my neck.”

You did as he said, pressing into his front and hanging onto him.

His hand on your breast moved to cup your bottom, and he adjusted in the seat, grunting as he sat up, the chair creaking beneath him. Your tempo slowed while he continued circling your bundle of nerves with one hand, his other arm reaching around your thigh to spread two fingers around where his cock was impaling you, feeling how he was stretching you open.

“Your tight little pussy takes my dick so well,” he spoke into your breasts with how you were raised up on your feet, his cock halfway inside you. “I swear I was fucking made for you.”

A moan slipped from your lips unbidden when those same fingers slid through the abundance of your slick on his length and continued up, swiping along the edges of your puckered hole, causing sparks to dance in your center. One thick finger slowly pushed into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle, your eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling at the added fullness, biting your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. You worked yourself faster on his dick, tilting your pelvis so he was pressing into all of the right spots, his digit fucking in and out of you at the same pace, it all making you go dizzy with pleasure.

Your inner walls were fluttering.

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, not stopping what he was doing. “Once you come, I’m gonna fill you up.” His head lifted. “Gonna fuck you full of me.” He kissed your clavicle, maintaining your pace. “Stuff you so full of my come, I knock you up.” You whimpered and were almost there. “Isn’t that what you want?” His fingers were still circling your clit and pushing in and out of your asshole, your hips rolling on his cock. “For me to finally get you pregnant?” he asked. “I’ll fuck a baby into you, Cielito, all you have to do is ask.”

And you knew he meant it, the thought entering your mind that you could throw out your birth control today, and odds were he’d have you pregnant by next month—that was what made you crest, sitting all the way down in his lap as you came, your body tensing up tight as euphoria exploded out from your center, spreading through your system. His hand on your front was suddenly over your mouth to smother your loud cry, your body trembling as you slumped into him.

“Good girl,” his words came out thick and rough. “You’re so good to me.”

Your chest was heaving, enjoying the aftershocks and the feel of your cunt spasming around his dick that was still hard inside you.

His hand left your lips to ghost up and down your spine, and he removed the finger from your ass.

“This baby stuff is getting dangerous,” you sounded drunk, slurring your words, your face in the crook of his neck.

“What?”

“Our breeding kinks. You wanna know the thing that fucking got me?”

“Yeah.”

Leaning back to look him in the eyes, you told him, “The thought that if I tossed my birth control today, you’d probably have me pregnant by next month.” His cock jerked hard inside you. “I got off on you being fucking virile.”

His eyes were practically black, licking his lips before he spoke. “We, uh—” He cleared his throat. “—we, uh, could test your theory…?” The hope was there on his face, and it made you feel like utter shit to have to deny him of his dream. This man wanted to be a father so fucking bad, and you more than wanted to make him one. It just wasn’t feasible at this point in time.

You held his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Javi, I love you,” you started. “I want to have all of your babies, but as we both know, the apartment is too small for us and a baby. There’s also the whole I want us to be married thing, too.”

“Pop said we can move in with him while the house is being built, and we’ll be married before a baby is born.” He sounded very sure of himself.

Your eyebrow lifted. “How are you so positive we’ll be married in less than ten months?”

He smiled. “Because you pre-accepted my proposal and told me you didn’t want a big wedding.”

That was something you told him.

Standing in front of a giant room full of people you actually only knew a fraction of and being the center of attention sounded like a literal nightmare scenario. A tiny wedding with only close friends and family in attendance was something more your speed—hell, eloping seemed like a goddamn dream.

It hit you then the possibility of how soon the two of you could be married, and excitement bubbled up inside you, doing the first thing that came to mind and kissing him deeply, cradling his smooth cheeks in your palms. His lips were soft and plush, his tongue delving into your mouth with a moan, it turning into one of those kisses that drove you wild.

You needed to make him feel good. You needed him to feel your love and happiness.

His dick was still throbbing in your pussy, and you started rolling your hips, his hands cupping your backside, keeping you in charge of the rhythm while he assisted in your movements.

The way he liked it when you were on top was for you to go hard and fast, so you lifted and slammed back down in quick succession. It was slippery between your thighs, his cock sliding easily in and out of your wet heat, the kisses turning messy with how you were moving on him.

In this position with both of you sitting up, you could get him to come pretty quickly if you sloppily made out with him and occasionally clenched your cunt around his cock; he’d say that was playing dirty if this was a regular romp, but under current circumstances, they were legal maneuvers like how he toyed with your clit and put a finger in your ass. These were all finishing moves that generally only came into play during quickies, though, when he was in the mood to make you come multiple times, he was liberal in their usage—and every time you were about to utilize a move, the fatality screen from Mortal Kombat came to mind, hearing in your brain the announcer say, “Finish Him.”

His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were closed, the effort he was putting into being quiet causing pitiful whines to escape his throat. He was tense beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring close to snapping, and you knew he was almost there, clenching up around him on your downstrokes.

“‘M close,” he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your behind and spreading your cheeks while helping you rise and fall.

“Yeah?” you replied through heavy breaths. “I want you to come for me, Javi.” Your kiss landed on the side of his mouth. “I love you.” This kiss made it onto his lips. “I want to marry you, have your children, and spend the rest of my life with you.”

He pressed his face into your chest, kissing what he could while you moved up and down—over the tops of your breasts, along your collarbones, up the line of your throat; all the while, he was saying against your skin, “Te amo (I love you). Me voy a casar contigo (I’m going to marry you). Te voy a dar todos los hijos que quieras (I will give you as many children as you want). Voy a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you). Fuck, te sientes tan bien (you feel so good). Eres perfecta (You’re perfect). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).”

“Embarazada con tu bebé (Pregnant with your baby),” you panted.

A strangled noise came from him, shoving his face in your neck to mute it as he pulled you down to completely bury himself inside you. His teeth sunk into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, and you hissed at the pleasurable pain; his dick thickened, feeling it jerk, and the familiar wet pulse of spurts and spurts of his come gushing deep in your depths to fill you.

You ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, his heaving breaths hot against your skin as he soothed over the bite with kisses, your own chest rising and falling rapidly, his arms hugging you close to him.

The solutions he had so you could have a baby were rolling around in your head, and you wondered if it really would be that easy.

Chucho would be over the goddamn moon if you guys temporarily moved in with him, and then a baby on top of that? His first nieto (grandchild)? The thing he constantly brought up? Chucho wanted to be a grandfather just as bad as Javi wanted to be a dad, and you knew he’d do anything for you both.

Why were nerves fluttering around in your belly? You should be ecstatic, but there was a voice in your brain that sounded a lot like your mother pointing out you haven’t even been together a year. For all intents and purposes, you were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, and that’d have to end at some point. Would you both still feel the same after a year has passed? Two? Five? Ten? Would he still be as attracted to you after your body changed from pregnancy?

These questions were stressing you out.

“Javi?”

He hummed in reply.

“You know how you feel about me right now. Do you think you’ll still feel that way in a year?”

His head came up with his eyebrows pulled together.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“What about in two years?”

He was giving you a look like the answer was obvious.

“Cielito, I’m gonna love you like this for the rest of my fucking life.”

Your voice was small, “How can you be sure?”

His hands had started rubbing comforting circles on your hips, looking at you with a tender gaze.

“I’m my father’s kid,” he said, “and when we find the person meant for us, that’s it; it’s game over. We dedicate our lives to them, and we love them so fucking deeply we feel it in our souls—this is going to sound stupid, but Pop says we’re penguins.”

“Penguins?”

“Yeah, he watched some nature documentary and found out they mate for life—we’re penguins.”

It made you grin. “That is the absolute cutest shit I have ever heard.”

He smiled. “I knew you’d like it. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “We’re mated for life.”

“Yeah, we are, and I know it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. We’ll have our ups and downs like all couples do, but there’s no one else I’d rather go through the good and bad with.” The look on his face changed to something unsure. “Do you, uh, think your feelings will change?”

“I don’t think so. My love for you is so embedded inside me that it sometimes feels like you’ve always been with me, and I just didn’t know. So, I think I’m a penguin, too.”

He chuckled, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. When his lips left yours, he nuzzled your face.

“Anything else you need reassurance about?” he gently asked with his nose sliding along yours.

“Um, the other thing was if you’d still be attracted to my body post-pregnancy…”

A thing you loved about Javi was how you could basically tell what he was thinking from the expression on his face, and right this second, as he stared at you, he was trying to work out how to politely tell you it was stupid to think he’d find you unattractive after having his baby.

“Are you talking about the body that grew our baby and kept them safe for nine months?” he asked, and yeah, you realized now how dumb it was to think something so absurd. “Yeah, I’m still gonna be attracted to you,” he continued, “the woman I love, who made me a father. I’m not gonna care about stretch marks or if you put on weight or any of the other shit that’ll change. You did something fucking incredible, and honestly, it makes me hard thinking about you being pregnant, so if there are things to remind me of that, I’m probably gonna be all over you constantly. Feel better?”

That eased your worries.

“Much.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s go take a shower.” You started to move, and he stopped you.

Hope was swirling in his eyes. “Is this a yes to a baby?”

“This is a maybe on the baby, and we will need to have a long discussion with your father.”

The smile he gave you was so blinding, you were sure it outshined the sun, a joyous laugh coming from him as he hugged you into his arms and squeezed you tight.

“I’m so fucking happy.” The emotion was heavy in his voice. “Thank you so much.” He sniffled in your ear.

Your hands slid over his back. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not set in stone.”

He pulled back, his eyes rimmed red, tears falling down his cheeks.

“No,” he replied. “Thank you for loving me and being with me and wanting to have kids with me. I know it’s not a sure thing, but it’s the fact there’s a chance.” His voice cracked when he said the last word, his shoulders shaking.

“Oh, babe.” You wrapped your arms around him and held him close to your body.

This reaction for a maybe made you want to throw all caution to the wind and say fuck it, and just start trying, the rational part of your brain telling you to cool your jets. It was an angel and demon on your shoulders situation, with you leaning toward the baby, and it wasn’t going to help that the two of you would be around children for the next few days.

The way Javi interacted with Stevie? Almost killed you. He was so sweet, and the child clearly loved him so much it had your ovaries aching. Three days, you were going to have to watch him with the Murphy kids, and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive or keep from throwing your birth control in the trash.

You had to be strong.

Javier knew this trip would be important since he was bringing his wif-girlfriend to meet his best friend’s family. He just didn’t expect also to get the news they might be able to start trying for a baby sooner than they had planned.

Don’t get him wrong, he was excited about having their house built and getting to have a say in the design, but they were looking at twelve to fourteen months before it’d be ready to move into, and he did not want to wait that long to start their family—he was feeling… impatient. He’d already wasted enough of his life, and with him turning fucking forty on Sunday, he’d been plagued with thoughts of how many years he had left above ground.

A couple of weeks ago, his therapist told him he was having a mid-life crisis, which he scoffed at because he sure as hell wasn’t buying some expensive sports car or chasing women half his age—he outright owned his dependable truck and was more than happy in his amazing and healthy relationship with a woman slightly younger than him. Then the therapist went for his jugular over why he’d begun wrestling with feelings of his mortality and how it started with him planning their trip to Miami and thinking about the Murphys and Cielito. What it boiled down to was he regretted the time he lost to his job and now felt unfulfilled that, at his age, he didn’t have a family of his own like Steve.

The guy was right, and it annoyed him.

It gave him a swift kick in the ass to figure out some things, though.

Like how he went out to his dad’s last Tuesday after work to have a beer with him and ask if he was serious about them living with him if they were ever expecting and their home was still under construction—he said yes, and told Javier when Cielito eventually got pregnant he was planning to turn the guest bedroom into a nursery anyway.

There was also the ring box he rolled up in a pair of socks tucked away at the bottom of the duffle bag he brought.

He was ready to make some big changes, and by the end of this trip, he hoped more than anything he’d have a fiancée.

After he got all of his happy tears out, they kissed and got off of the chair to take a shower, stopping on the way for her to grab her toiletry bag from her luggage.

They washed each other and stole kisses, his hands wandering over her soapy skin with her giggles echoing in the stall. It didn’t take them very long to finish, going through their after-shower routines to get dry and do their hair. They changed into clean clothes, and he put on a lavender-colored button-up and some jeans, his eyes glued to her ass in the high-waisted denim shorts she was wearing as she bent over to put on her socks. He found himself closing the distance in two long strides to grab her hips, carefully bumping and rubbing the front of his pants against her backside.

“Are you seriously humping me while I put on my socks?”

He frowned. “I’m not humping you. You’d know if I was humping you.”

“Fine. Are you seriously grinding on me while I put on my socks?”

“Maybe…”

She finished what she was doing, her socked feet planted on the floor, standing back up and turning in his arms.

There was an exasperated look on her face as she smiled. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.” Her arms went around his neck.

“They’re nice shorts,” he replied, making her laugh when he grabbed handfuls of her ass.

“Well, you’ll be excited to know I only brought shorts and leggings.”

He smirked. “I’m very excited about that.”

“Good. Have we been in here long enough that they’ll believe we showered and napped?”

Checking his watch, he answered, “We’ve been in here about an hour, so I think we’re in the clear.”

The look on her face shifted to something nervous.

“Do you think we made too much noise?”

For her comfort, he slid his hands up and down her sides.

He’d never lie to her, so he told her the truth. “They’re on the opposite side of the house, and between them and us is their master bathroom that’s on the other side of that wall—” He pointed at the wall next to the door to the guest room’s en suite. “—then their walk-in closet, their big fucking bedroom, and finally you’d end up in the kitchen. Unless they used their bathroom or came down the hall to check on the boys, which I doubt because they have the baby monitors, I don’t think they heard anything.”

“You’re sure?”

The smile on his face was reassuring. “Yes. I’m not lying, Cielito.”

She let out a breath, and her body seemed to relax. “Okay, fingers crossed they didn’t hear anything. Let’s head out there.”

“Bésame antes de irnos, por favor (Kiss me before we go, please),” he said, puckering his lips.

“So polite.” She leaned in to kiss him.

When they separated, he took her hand, leading her out to find his friends.

They found Steve in the actual living room they used at the back of the house, having to walk through the kitchen and dining room to get to it. There was a massive brown leather sofa in the middle of the room, Steve’s recliner next to it, a coffee table, and a decent-sized television in their entertainment center against the wall in front of the couch that had an abundance of VHS movies aimed towards children, and it looked like Connie had cleaned up after the boys, all of their toys put away in their toy box or back in their designated spots in the part of space designated for the kids.

Walking in, they were behind the sofa, seeing Steve was watching ESPN and the highlights of a basketball game from the previous night between the Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic, a beer held in his hand.

His head turned toward them, his lips turning up in a shit-eating grin. “How’d y'all sleep on the bed?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “Like babies.”

Cielito moved to stand beside him in his friend’s view.

Steve sputtered into laughter, and Javier frowned at the sudden outburst. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” the other man finally said. “Matching shirts?” He looked over at his future wife and her V-neck that was the same lavender color as his, he matched out of habit—all the shirts he brought had counterparts to what she had in her luggage. It was their thing. His friend wiped at his eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my asshole of a best friend?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is about us matching,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So what if we like to look good together? Where’s Connie?”

“Doing laundry.” He nodded toward the door that led to the laundry room, and as if she were summoned, it opened, and she came in holding a large basket full of clothes against her hip with one arm.

“Oh, great!” she exclaimed. “You’re up!” She paused after shutting the door. “Be honest with me, how bad is the bed? If you can’t sleep on it, I’ll pull out the air mattress.”

Just the thought of sleeping on an air mattress made Javier’s body ache.

“It’s pretty squeaky,” Cielito answered. “But we’ll survive. It’s seriously okay.” She waved away the concern.

“If you’re sure.”

Sounds started coming from the baby monitors on the coffee table, Stevie and Nate both in their separate bedrooms calling for their mom.

“Oh,” Connie said. “Looks like the boys are up. I’ll go put the laundry in our bedroom and get them.”

“Don’t worry about it, Connie,” Javier told her. “I’ll get them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s not a problem.” His head turned to the woman next to him. “Do you want to come with me or stay out here?”

She smiled at him. “I’m sure you can use an extra set of hands—I’ll come with.”

He nodded with a matching look, taking her hand once more and guiding her back to the hallway where the bedrooms were located.

First, they stopped in Nate’s room, finding the tiny boy standing at the railing of his crib, crying for his mom.

“Oh, mi precioso (my precious),” Javier cooed, quickly making his way over and scooping the child up. He held him on his hip, bouncing a little while rubbing his back. “You’re okay, buddy. Shhh, you’re okay. We’ll go see your mom in just a minute.” Turning to look at Cielito, she had a soft expression on her face. “Baby?” She was just staring, and it made him grin. “Mi amor (My love)?”

She visibly jolted. “Sorry. Yes. Did you say something?”

“Was trying to get your attention. I need to change his diaper. Do you wanna go get Stevie?”

“I can get Stevie, yes,” she answered, nodding. “Be right back.” Immediately, she turned and left the room.

Nate had calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore, murmuring mom over and over again with his hand in his mouth.

“That was your tía (aunt),” he informed the little one as he walked him over to the changing table. “I know you can keep a secret,” he whispered, laying the child on the cushioned top. “I’m gonna propose to her tomorrow.” Grabbing a clean diaper and the wipes from the shelf underneath, he went about changing the toddler. “I figured out how I’m gonna do it last weekend,” he continued talking, his hands working. “So, she’s gonna be your tía, and hopefully soon you’ll have some primos (cousins).” He tossed the dirty diaper into the lidded bin he opened with the foot pedal, the kid now in a clean one as Javier buttoned back up his turquoise onesie with a sleeping long-eared, white, spotted dog on it.

“Who’s that?” Came his soon-to-be fiancée’s voice from the doorway. He turned his head to see her holding the other boy in her arm while she pointed at him with a smile.

“Tío!” Stevie shouted, grinning. “Tío and Nate!”

Javier picked up the younger of the two children and smiled.

“That’s right, buddy,” he said, turning toward them. “Who’s holding you?”

The three-year-old pressed his finger against Cielito’s chest. “Tía!”

“Good job!” He was close to them now, affectionately ruffling the kid’s dirty blonde hair with his hand and making him laugh. “You’re so smart.”

Stevie held out his arms to Javier, and he quickly took him in his free arm, both boys sitting comfortably on each of his hips.

“Oh, no,” his future wife breathed, staring at him with wide eyes.

Concern was etched on his brow. “What?”

“My ovaries feel like they’re gonna explode.”

“Is that a bad thing…?” He wasn’t sure.

“For my self-control? Yes. For you getting that thing you want really bad? No.”

“What thing do I want…?”

Her answer was to point at Nate, and his heartbeat stuttered, sucking in a breath.

This meant she really was contemplating them not waiting to have a baby, and it made hope swell in his chest. He didn’t want to be an asshole and deliberately wear down her resolve. Still, he also couldn’t control how he usually interacted with the Murphy kids, which apparently was getting to her—it made him happy that she was so affected by him being great with the children. He was beginning to think this trip was going to show her that he’d be a decent father.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, hearing from down the hall in the living room, Olivia shouting, “Is he here?!”

She must’ve just gotten home from school.

“Sissy’s home!” Stevie exclaimed.

“It sounds like she is,” Javier replied. “Let’s go see her.” He looked at Cielito. “Ready to meet the oldest?”

“Yep.”

Running footsteps could be heard as they made their way out of the room, his wif-girlfriend behind him on their journey toward the sound of voices. The young girl seemed to have run to where her father was in the living room because she came speeding back through the dining room that connected it to the front sitting area and finally found them.

“Tío!” Olivia had a big grin, missing a couple of baby teeth in the front, throwing her arms around his middle when she reached him, hugging him hard.

“Hola, mi sobrina (Hi, my niece). Lo siento, no tengo brazos para abrazarte en este momento (I’m sorry, I don’t have arms to hug you right now).”

Steve and Connie felt that Olivia should learn Spanish and had enrolled her in after-school classes for it since she first started going to school. Her dad’s Spanish was shit, and her mom’s wasn’t much better, so any time she needed help with homework she’d call Javier.

“Está bien (It’s okay). Estoy feliz que estás aquí (I’m happy you’re here).”

Connie was walking up, having come from the kitchen. Nate immediately reached toward her and chanted Mom.

“I’m here, baby,” she said, taking him from Javier and returning to where she’d been.

With a hand free, he patted Olivia’s back.

“Hi, Sissy!” Stevie greeted.

“Hi, Stevie,” she replied.

“¿Cómo te fue en la escuela (How was school)?” Javier asked the nine-year-old.

She let go of him to look up and meet his eyes.

“Bien (Good). Aprendí sobre (I learned about), ¿cómo se dice dinosaurs (how do you say dinosaurs)?”

“Los dinosaurios. ¿Qué te enseñaban sobre los dinosaurios (What did they teach you about dinosaurs)?”

“Oh, my teacher wasn’t teaching us about dinosaurs today,” she said, switching to English. “I don’t know what she was teaching.” The girl shrugged. “I was too busy reading this book I got in the library about dinosaurs.”

He smiled.

“Which dinosaur is your favorite?”

“Triceratops! They could take on T-Rexes. I want to look for dinosaur fossils when I’m older!”

“You want to be a paleontologist?”

She looked confused. “What’s a pale—a palien-tol-gist?”

“Paleontologist,” he said slower. “They’re scientists who study fossils.”

“Yes, I want to do that!” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Sissy!” Stevie loudly called, bouncing in Javier’s hold. “Sissy!”

“Yes, Stevie?”

“Tía’s gonna make cookies with me!”

Confusion was on her face again. “Tía?”

It made him realize he hadn’t introduced the young girl to his other half.

“Yes, your tía,” Javier told her and moved the toddler from one arm to the other so he could wrap the free one around Cielito’s waist. “Olivia, I want you to meet the woman I’ve told you about who I’m gonna marry.” He introduced her to Cielito.

“Oh! Cielito!” She looked over at the older woman. “Hi!” She waved.

Cielito was smiling. “Hi,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I wanna make cookies! What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“My favorite!”

“Mine, too.”

“Cookies!” Stevie shouted, making Javier snort and his future wife giggle.

“Better head to the kitchen,” Javier said.

“Yeah,” Cielito responded. “Let’s all go make cookies. You too, Olivia.”

“Yes!” The girl did little jumps of excitement.

In the kitchen, they found the ingredients for the cookies waiting for them on the counter, Connie having already gotten them out along with measuring cups and spoons, a large bowl, and an electric hand mixer. Hands were washed, including Stevie’s, who had a little stool to stand on so he could help as well as a toddler could.

Cielito entranced the children as she walked them through step by step how to make the cookie dough, and Javier left the room for only a minute to run to the bedroom and grab his camera.

She had Stevie in front of her on the stool, holding the toddler’s little hand to help him scoop the flour and sugar into the bowl, and Olivia next to her. She showed the young girl how to crack the eggs, and when they got to adding the chocolate chips, they all took handfuls to snack on—and through it all, Javier took pictures, getting candids of them laughing and others where he asked them to look and smile at him, Stevie always grinning big and saying cheese.

Baking with a three-year-old was chaotic with how he wanted to touch and get into everything, but Cielito handled it like a champ and had the patience of a saint.

It all had him thinking about their future, easily picturing her doing this same thing with their own kids. It reminded him of how some of his favorite memories growing up were cooking with his mom, and it made his eyes burn that his children would get to have similar experiences.

What he has known, and was being proven right, was he’s found his perfect match and the person he was supposed to spend his life with.

From the moment he met her, there was something about her, some kind of pull—he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and as he got to know her, she engulfed him, and he fell hard. After their first date, on his drive home, he experienced something new: he imagined what his future would look like with her in it. A lifetime played out in his mind of them dating, getting engaged, married, buying a house, getting a dog, and he’d never felt so much hope before.

He didn’t think he had a chance in hell to make it a reality. He was positive he’d fuck it up before the third date.

By some miracle, he didn’t.

When he thought about those first few dates, the second was when he fell in love with her—that was when he knew she was it. By the third date, he knew he was going to marry her.

A thing about Javier was when he put his mind to something, he got it done, and he didn’t like to waste time—this evidently also included relationships. He fucked up when he said he’d propose on their anniversary because there was no way he was going to be able to wait that long—and he cracked quicker than an egg hitting a wall.

How could he not when she was so perfect?

Life was dull before her, empty; he always felt like something was missing. She was what was missing, filling that space inside him, turning everything vibrant and lively. There were an infinite number of ways their lives could’ve played out, and he knew in every single one the path he chose would always lead him back to her—they were meant to find each other.

His love for her burned brighter than the brightest star in the night sky, and she was a part of him now—he could feel her burrowed deep down in his bones to the point there was no him without her any longer. She was his first and the only love of his life; there was no one before, and there wouldn’t be anyone after because she was the one for him.

And when he held her, he held the entire world in his arms.

She was his world.

She was everything.

And in less than twenty-four hours, she would hopefully say yes when he asked a particular question while holding a ring.

Until then, he’d try to stay calm while watching her interact with his friend’s kids and ignore how his chest was filled with so much happiness he thought it might burst. These glimpses of what she’ll be like as a mother were driving him crazy, and it was taking everything in him not to haul her back to the bedroom and show her how much he loved it—they couldn’t, anyway, with the kids wanting to spend time with them and the damn bed. Fucking Steve.

He didn’t want to rile himself up, so he’d do his best to avoid thinking about her being the mother of his children or how earlier she said maybe to a baby.

Who was he kidding? It was all he could think about, and he was dying to get her alone.

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