#i want to know what chewie SAID!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mechaknight-98 · 2 months

Text

Caiju Clean-Up Crew (NSFW) Ft: Momo

When you first came to Earth you were surprised at how kind the Earthlings were, despite being in a constant war with the kaiju. It was endearing, to say the least, but that was two, or three no 5 years ago. Now you were fully integrated and couldn't leave all that cleanly, so you got a job at the Kaiju defense force clean-up team and lived with your friend Momo Hirai, a highly loved and popular anti-Kaiju fighter.

While at work a new employee approached you asking to go to lunch with you. You tell the lady politely that you already have plans to have lunch with your roommate and she sighs before leaving you alone. You finish cleaning up the pieces of Kero Kero, and check your watch,

“Okay, lunchtime,” you say. You wave your friends off and jaunt over to the office. Mono is waiting for you outside in her civilian clothes and mask. So she wouldn't be mobbed by adoring fans

“Ready?” she asked. You nod as you follow her.

The both of you go to the garden of the Anti-Kaiju Defense Force Headquarters. You open the lunch boxes you packed for the both of you. Momo smiled as you handed her food.

“You know what I love most about your cooking Dai-san?” Momo asks you

“The fact that I don't have to make it,” Momo said before taking out her chopsticks and digging in.

“Oh Daihouzan sensei.” you hear a voice come. You groan as if it were the new worker from earlier. She was pretty, too pretty she drew too much attention to herself and it didn't bode well for the flying under the radar you had been doing for the last year.

“Uh Yeah Mrs Chou.” How can I help you?” you asked Mrs Chou

“Oh so polite, but please call me Chewy everyone does.” you nod at Chae’s request

“Okay, Chewy how may I help you,” you respond

“ I heard you got the highest recorded score for the aptitude test in the history of the AKDF. I was wondering if you could help me as I'm retaking it in three weeks and I'd like to move from clean up to the frontlines and I figure who better to teach me than the prodigy himself.” Chewy says to you. You sigh seeing the optimism and hope in her eyes, but before you can dash little Chewy’s dreams Momo steps in.

“I'll work with you,” she says with a rare smile you recognize as a challenge. You cock an eyebrow at your roommate. “Besides you don't want Dai-san as a teacher, he will overload you with information you don't need.” Momo teased.

“Hey they had to change the test because of me,” you said defensively with pride.

Momo rolls her eyes and then faces Tzuyu. “We’ll get you in top shape regardless,” she says

Tzuyu smiles and then thanks the both of you before leaving. You turn to your roommate confused.

“Why are you getting her hopes up? You know how the AKDF are.”

“Because we need more lady front liners and you are too pessimistic,” she says

You tilt your head and reply, “Well if everything was not so engrossed in politics I would have helped her, but the higher-ups they'll eat her alive.”

“Good thing we're going to make sure that doesn't happen,” Momo stated matter of fact

“What do you mean we? You agreed to tutor her,” you called Ge

“Please Dai-san that big ole heart of yours is going help and you know it.”

You groan as the both of you finish up lunch and then head back to work.

The rest of the shift lacks considerable amounts of excitement so Momo and you are both able to head home rather easily and earlier than normal. You and Momo arrive home within seconds of each other. You sit on the stool by your shared countertop when she opens the door. She smiles at you seductively. She grabs you in a hug. You can feel the stress in her body intertwined with her body as much as her curves are.

“What happened today ?” You ask

“What?” Momo responded

“Your tension. It's like if someone injected cortisol into every part of you.” you follow up

“What?” Momo said

“The stress chemical,” you explain Momo nods.

“I always forget how smart you are because of how lazy you are,” Mom says.

“So you're just going to ignore my question? What's up? Is something wrong.”

“No big dog everything is fine. It's just I have been testing a new anti-kaiju weapon, and it's been quite…what's that word you use when something makes you tired tolling?”

“It's probably taxing. Or you could mean it taking a toll.”

Momo clapped and said “The first one.” you smiled at your roommate.

Momo yawns before looking to you for comfort

“I know it's my turn to do dinner and lunch but Dai-san can you do it? I am so tired Dai-san can you help me shower too? I'm too tired after today's fight,” she says with a teasing smile. You consider her words. Your roommate was gorgeous by both Hyperion and human standards so you couldn't complain seeing her body you were also drained from your work today so it was not as enticing a proposition, but when you saw her fall asleep standing you knew she was exhausted. You catch Momo luckily before she falls and she smiles at you. “Thanks Dai-San.”

you smile saying “Any time.” you pick up the slightly older woman and carry her to your apartment’s shared bathroom. You sit her on the toilet before readying the bath and boiling and grabbing all the ingredients for a quick 30-minute meal out. You head back to the bathroom where Momo is already asleep again. Her breathing is fatigued something you have seen before many nights when the two of you would study relentlessly during training camp for the AKDF. You smile as you get up and help her undress. As you leave her grasp to let her get into the tub she grabs you.

“Please stay,” she says.

“But.” You try to respond but Momo counters

“Please” You knew she had you when her eyes did that big pleading thing where she looked at you like a small animal. Helpless and vulnerable. So you relent. You undress as well which causes Momo to blush.

“What? I’m not wasting water if you want me to stay with you, we are showering together like old times.” Momo chuckled as you took your shirt off.

“Wow, you’ve let yourself go.” She teased.

You cock an eyebrow before saying, “Hey watch it. One more snippy comment and I’ll leave.”

Momo nods then shuffles slowly to the bath. As the two of you clean the other off she sighs and says, “I have been so tired lately.”

“Me too and going to sleep doesn’t help as well.” You agree

“Yeah, I keep having this dream of being chased by a giant kaiju.” Momo states

You turn to her, “Wait really? What kind?”

You ask her and she briefly describes the same Kaiju who had been chasing you as well in your dreams. You groan and get up. Momo looks at you confused.

“I’ll be right back.” You say

“Wait why?” Momo asks

“We might have an infestation.” You say. Momo snaps to attention and follows.

The two of you get dressed and head outside of your apartment. You notice every acting progressively more sluggish and tired. This serves as only more fuel for your theory. You walk out of the building grab a big rock and throw it at a window. When the window doesn’t break you turn to Momo. She nods and heads back to HQ. Not wanting to waste the time though you find a quiet place with no prying eyes and take out your rizer. You use it to transform into your Hyperion form where you see the leaching kaiju attached to your building. You grab the camouflaged kaiju and slam it safely away from your building. Without wasting any time you use your Special particle beam to kill it and fly away looking for a safe place to go. Change back into your human form. On the way back to your apartment you pick up one of Momo’s favorite sodas to allay suspicion.

When you arrive back at the complex Momo is there she turns at you.

“Where did you go.”

You hand her the soda and she takes it graciously.

“Hyperman showed up and killed the kaiju for us,” Momo says relaxed. You nod. “I know I was not a fan of his but I do appreciate his return. At least this once.”

You nod and say, “Well at least we can rest now.” Momo raises an eyebrow

“I’m feeling rejuvenated. We should spar.” Momo said shadowboxing your way. You smirked at her but eventually let her have her way. You follow her back to the HQ. The two of you badge to the surprise of the attendant waiting

“Oh, Mrs. Hirai good to see you.”

“Great to see you, Mina.” You wave at the attendant

“Good to see you Mrs Myuoi.” You say. The attendant who was also a frontline fighter on leave for mental health smiled

“Please Daihouzan you don’t have to call me that.”

“I do when you outrank me.” You tease

“Oh please we both know half our defense team wouldn’t be here without our “Friend-Father”” Mina fires back.

You shrug. “How’s Dahyun?” You ask.

“Oh, she’s good. She has been working hard for her next promotion so she can join us in the frontline fights. You should reach out she misses you.” You chuckle.

“She knows where my office is, and my open-door policy hasn’t changed.” Mina nodded and said that she’d tell Dahyun then. The two of you walk to a sparring room that should have been empty but was full with Drill Instructor Jihyo teaching a group of recruits. Jihyo’s stern facade instantly melts when she sees the two of you.

“Dai-San Momo Unnie.” Jihyo greets you and Momo with a smile. Momo and you hug Jihyo before she asks if you guys are looking to use this sparring room. Momo nods.

“Wow just like old times. I can’t believe it’s been 4 years since graduation.” Jihyo says. Momo and you have since reminded me of the slow creep of time never stops.

“Well I’m done with this class do the two of you have any advice for them?” You scratch your facial hair at the wide mix of students before saying “Learn Kaiju anatomy. It will increase your combat effectiveness with less expenditures of energy and resources. One well-timed hit at a Kaiju’s weak point will do more than 100 rounds of Arakami bullets.” Momo laughs at your correct statement.

“Stay well rested. Kaiju attacks can happen at any time and even though Hyperman has helped us with a lot of battles we can’t rely on him for every major battle.” Momo says Jihyo agrees with that more than your advice which stings a little since the two of you used to be so close. If you were the dad friend she was for sure the mom friend. but you didn’t hold it against her. As the class leaves Jihyo turns to the two of you and says, “Try not to tear the roof off this time.” You assure Jihyo that you’ll keep Momo in check

“Hey, it’s not my fault the new Kaiju weapon was so powerful,” Momo said defensively.

After that, it was just the two of you again. You get into a fighting stance. Momo looks at you surprised.

“That’s Hyperman’s fighting stance.” she says You shrug and Momo stops, “No you just can’t shrug that off,” Momo says. You worried your cover had been blown.

“Take this seriously. Hyperman’s style is sloppy and too showoffy.” Momo said. You stood there taken aback for a moment, not sure what was more surprising.

“Hey, he’s not lost a fight so he must be doing something right.” You challenge

Momo rolls her eyes again before saying “Fine have fun getting beat up.”

“You can try.” You say.

Her first attack is predictable. She opens with one of her famous kicks. You roll out of the way and trip her still-planted leg. She looks at you wide-eyed. You look at her and raise your hands. Momo's twin kicks to recover her footing. You back up and she does three flips to lead into a chop. You dodge and grab her arm before slamming her (gently) into the mat. You back up and retreat to your ready stance.

Momo was not lying when she was rejuvenated she came at you for 3 more hours of sparring. It went about the same as the beginning Momo would do an offensive move you’d block or dodge then gently reset to neutral. This frustrated Momo to no end making her sloppier and wilder as the match went on. Eventually, she grew tired of your guarded and defensive style. So she decided to adopt a mirror stance to yours instead of engaging she planted her two feet down. You smiled as she tried to taunt you into charging

“Come on make a move. You scared. See anyone can just durdle and play defensive.” She yelled. You smile and switch stances. Momo looks on in concern. You approach slowly. You make one strike which she guards but due to the sheer force, she still stumbles back. You give her time to recover. She makes a measured and calm strike. you block and make an open palm strike at her chest. She falls back. You wait for her to get up and change stances again. You begin to circle her slowly. She strikes at you with another powerful kick and you turn and return with a kick of your own, she received the hit and lands on her butt. She finally taps before you help her up. You turn back to see you have gained a crowd watching the two of you spar.

“Alright shows over,” Momo says as the two of you walk out.

The two of you arrive back at your apartment where you begin cooking again. Momo still having restless energy begins feeling you up while you cook.

“Ugh, I hate how good of a house husband you are,” she says

You turn to her confused

“It's an expression, don't they have those in America?” you hesitate as you nod as being “American” was your cover for the time being.

“It means you are good at doing stuff around the house. Considering how many times I haven't had to go hungry because of you looking out for me.

“So what's your point?”

“Oh come on. I'm not doing it for you. I have been practically throwing myself at you the last few months.”

“Oh well excuse me for remembering when you said. I like you but not like you as a friend.” You tease Momo. Momo smirks

“Can't a girl change her mind?” she cooks. You roll your eyes at her. Which causes her to smile before bringing you into a heavy kiss. What caused you to snap out of it was the burning sensation from the stove your hand was on.

“Ahhh. That hurts.” You grimace.

Mono smiles before saying, “I just wanted to give you a taste of what's to come.” to further her point she seductively puts her finger into the pan you are using where the food is and erotically takes a swipe before putting said finger in her mouth.

“Delicious as always.” Mom exaggerated before sashaying away. As her body moves you are mesmerized by the way her ass looks in her tight battle outfit. You feel the blood rush to your other head as try not to think about all of the less-than-virtuous things you'd do to her. You finish cooking without any disasters and set the table and food for Momo and you. “Momoring food is ready,” you say curious as to what she's doing.

Momo walks out of her room in her bra and underwear which isn't an uncommon occurrence. What she usually wears is a sports bra and boy shorts, but today she opted for a bold and brazen red and black lace lingerie set. You blink three times before your self-control shatters. You get up and kiss Momo with passion and emotional build-up you've had since you met her 4 years ago. When you break it her pupils have dilated so intensely there is hardly any brown left.

“Whoa someone is pent up.” Mom teases as she begins to caress your clothed erection.

“Shut up,” you say taking off your pants. Momo smiles. She even giggled when you picked her up, but that all changed when you put her in a mating press. She groans as do you as you penetrate her for the first time

“Ahh ugh.” she moans luridly

You begin to thrust and Momo yells “Oh god yes. This cock is filling my tight pussy so well.”

“Oh you like it?” you tease

Momo moans as you fill her, “God I love it. Why have you been hiding this cock from me for so long?” as you thrust her womanhood clenches your manhood with the clinginess of an anxious lover.

“You're so tight Momoring, why are you worried I'm going leave you.”

Mom turns to her face to you. Those gorgeous brown eyes glare fiery and passionate.

“I guarantee I gotcha.” she purrs before initiating a torrid kiss. She regains dominance over you by forcing her tongue down your mouth when you break the kiss she smiles caressing your face. “Cum for me honey.” she teases causing you to erupt violently within her walls. You scream from the intensity of the orgasm. When you regain your senses you set Momo down and you use the countertop to steady you. Mom stares you down as she dips a finger into her pussy where your cum is trailing out of her. She smiles and traces a line of semen with her finger before bringing it up to lick it.

“Hm, you taste good as well,” Momo says with a voice made husky by the overwhelming erotic pleasure she felt. You give her the time-out gesture which makes her laugh. She sits down to eat the food you made with a smug grin.

“Don't tell me you're all tuckered out,” Momo says with a mischievous tone.

“Listen when you have 4 years of emotional catharsis built up and then released by your unrequited lover then you can talk.” you fire back. Which causes Momo to take a step back,

“Wait we've known each other 4 years?” she says confused

“Yeah I know I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you, but how could I not? You came into my life like a battle angel, full combat gear the mecha suit wings. It was stunning.”

Mom smirks then smiles you sit down and begin eating with her.

“So you have liked me all this time?” she asks again. You nod before she gets up walks over to you and starts stroking you to hardness. When you're aching again she plants herself back on you. You groan still sensitive from the last time.

“Tell me what you love about me!” she demanded as she began to ride you with a tortuously glacial pace.

“I love your tenacity and enthusiasm for your craft. You work so hard and it just fills me with pride and admiration for you,” you respond. Momo speeds up

“More.” she moans

“You also aren't consumed by the job you still maintain your identity in all of this and it makes me ahh,” you say as you trail off her pussy is dripping wet but she is still oppressively tight if not tighter with each praise from your mouth.

“Come on I’m almost there.” she groans as she expertly grinds over your cock.

“You're such a good girl, you are so kind and helpful to all of those around you,” you say also nearing another climax as she continues to bounce on top of you. You do notice an intense string of tightness from Momo when you call her a good girl so you go all in

“Oh, you like being my good girl? (her pussy vice grips you driving you feral) well, I like you being my good girl too. (you squeeze her ass) My good girl has the nicest ass. My good girl has the prettiest brown eyes and the tightest pussy.” that last line sent her over the cliff and she exploded all over you.

“Oh god. Oh god, I'm cumming” she moaned as she came. You feel her squirt all over you and her pussy attempt to milk you for all its worth. As her orgasm raged on she continued riding you before saying “Come on baby cum for me I need it.” her words set off a cascading effect causing your second orgasm and pushing her into another one of hers. As the two of you cum for what feels like hours (it's actually like 7 minutes.) the two of you make out and paw at the other desperate to keep the high going.

When the two of your bodies finally calm down Momo asks, “Do you have any of your kaiju clean-up supplies? Because we made quite a mess.” you roll your eyes, and she gives a hearty laugh.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #hirai momo #twice momo #twice smut #momo smut

364 notes · View notes

ihavethedreamies · 25 days

Text

Peach | Jaemin

Na Jaemin - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.5k

Pairing: Jaemin x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving/Anal), Anal Play, Sex Toys (Butt Plug, Butterfly Vibrator), Deepthroating/Face-Fucking, Rough Sex, Squirting, Daddy Kink (he calls himself that once), Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: Jaemin isn't too happy his girlfriend doesn't like peaches…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, at least this is the longest.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"You really don't like peaches?" Your boyfriend looked at you, looked utterly dejected at this new information. You sighed, flapping the produce bag so it would open, holding it to him. He dumped the five peaches into the bag he had carefully cradled in his arms and then added two more for good measure. As you put the bag in the cart you shrugged.

"I will eat them sometimes. They just are…weird."

"Weird how?" Jaemin took the cart from your grasp so he could push it for you.

"Why are they fuzzy?" You were a bit ashamed to admit why you disliked them so much. The texture was just so odd, it was like velvet. And you hated velvet too, it was unnatural. You much preferred nectarines, of a similar vein but NOT fuzzy.

"But they are so sweet and juicy…" He stopped to send you a mischievous look, "like you." He booped your nose with his finger then continued on, leaving you staring after him in disgust.

"Why do I love you?" You mumbled, trudging after him.

"Because I'm sweet and juicy too." He replied way too casually. You rolled your eyes and you two continued to shop, eventually getting the canned food. You grabbed a couple of different things, and you watched him put a can of pre-cut peaches in.

"We're buying fresh ones." You took it back out so he would put it back.

"These aren't fuzzy, maybe you'll like these." Jaemin tipped the can back and forth in your face, putting it in the cart once again. They weren't expensive, so you just let it happen. In the candy isle, you looked for your favorite kind and he came over with some Japanese brand of chewy candies, and they were peach flavored.

"Seriously?"

"I will convince you to like something peach. Don't make me get the Crush soda!" He pointed at you, finger close but not touching your forehead. Sighing you dropped the issue, finishing shopping then going back home. You sat at the counter eating some chips as he put the rest of the groceries away, he wouldn't let you help. He said it was because you were too short to reach everything, but he really just liked spoiling you. When he was done, he brought over the bag of peaches, setting each one on the counter in a row, smallest to largest.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked, not sure you wanted to know the answer. He didn't answer, taking the can of peaches, opening it, and placing seven of the slices on a paper plate. In front of each peach, he put one of the candies.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" You reiterated and he held up his hand, telling you to wait.

"If you eat a certain number of each one, I will do different things for you."

"Like what?"

"What do you think, baby girl?" He leaned on the counter, smirking and you shuffled in your seat under his intense gaze. Clearing your throat, you closed the chip bag and shoved them to the side.

"Alright. What are they?"

"One candy equals one minute of making out." He pointed at each one. Jaemin moved to the slices on the plate.

"One is I'll let you ride my thigh." You nodded for him to continue.

"Two, I'll get you off with my fingers. Three, your vibrator. Four I'll let you suck me off at the same time. Six, I'll cum in your mouth, and all seven I'll fuck your face." He listed off, recognizing the look on your face with each level. He knew you too well. You swallowed hard and he flashed a devilish grin.

"Okay, what about those." You nodded toward the full fruits. He held one up.

"If you only eat one of these, I'll have you sit on my face. If you do all the other ones, plus one of these…" He drifted off, trying to keep his face flat, but he was still smirking. Your eyes followed his hand as he put the fruit down and pulled a bottle out of his pocket you had no idea was there. He set it down, the fluid inside was a peachy color…

"I'll use this." Jaemin leaned back against the counter opposite the island as you looked at the bottle.

"Real original. Peach flavored butt lube…" You sighed, but your cunt clenched at the thought. You had been talking about experimenting…

"Okay, deal." You agreed, holding your hand out to shake and he grinned.

"You sure, baby?"

"We'll see." You shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant. You were a little nervous, the last time you had canned peaches, you gagged at the slimy texture. The candies weren't too worrying, the artificial flavor was probably quite different from real peaches. He took you hand and shook it, leaning back again, nodding for you to start. Unwrapping the first gummy, you slid it into your mouth, the sugar decorating the outside rough on your tongue as your teeth sank in. It really wasn't too bad, though you wouldn't go out of your way to buy any.

"One minute." You started, unwrapping the next gummy. After you had chewed and eaten all seven, Jaemin smirked, coming around the island, and pulling off the stool to him. As he brought you to and settled on the couch, he set a timer for seven minutes, cracking some joke about seven minutes in heaven, then hauled you down onto his lap. He groaned exaggeratedly as he pulled you down to seal your lips with his, tongue already snaking its way into your mouth. Your head swam as Jaemin kissed you, he really was too good at it. You felt a bit of saliva drip down your chin, he was rough and noisy. You both were sucking air in harshly through your noses since you couldn't use you mouths, but not wanting to cut short the seven minutes in any way. When his phone alarm went off, his hand buried in your air and forced you to pull back from the kiss. You were both panting, but you were way more than him, with that stupid cocky grin on his ridiculously attractive face. With ease, he stood, you still on his lap. This forced you to wrap your legs and arms around him with a yipe and he went back to the kitchen, setting you on the island counter. He slid the plate over to you, grabbing a spare plastic fork and handing it over. This was more nerve wracking for you. You pondered if literally swallowing the slices whole would be less skeevy than chewing them since they got kind of rubbery in the can. Taking the first piece, you brought it to you lips, cringing at the taste of the syrup they put in the can to keep them the right texture. Sliding it in, the slippery texture made you gag slightly, so you just bit it in half, then swallowed both pieces. Thinking of it like a medication pill made it go down easier, since those weren't supposed to be appetizing.

"Thigh." He recited, stepping forward even further, standing between your legs where you sat on the counter. You swallowed again, making sure the pieces were done and then proceeded to do it again. The flavor wasn't too bad, but the texture was still unpleasant.

"Fingers." Another, swallowing both halves.

"Vibe."

"My cock." He placed his thumb over your lip, swiping a bit of the syrup away.

"My cum." You licked you lips that time, swallowing hard to get the rest of the sixth piece down. When you finally ate the last slice, he smiled deviously, running his index finger down your throat, as if following the fruit as you swallowed it. Before you could do anything yourself, he pulled away, dashing to the bedroom, coming back out with your butterfly vibrator. He came back over, pulling your butt to the edge, running his hand up your thigh and under your skirt. You shifted so he could flip it up, smiling at your pink panties. He pulled them to the side, your slick letting the silicone head of the small vibrator slide in easily. You shivered a bit as he got it all in and let your underwear settle back in place, the wings of the bottom of the toy cupping your whole cunt. He helped you off the counter, and you got on your knees in front of him. As you pulled his hard cock out of his sweat pants, you whined, lapping up the drop of precum beaded at his head. Jaemin smirked, holding the remote for you to see, then turning it on. Your breath hitched as he increased the intensity, you squatted further so the base of the toy hit the floor, allowing you to press it into your more. Opening your mouth wide, you sat like a good girl as he took his cock in his hand, leading it in. Listening to you breathe roughly through your nose, he kept going, filling your throat with his cock. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, loving the feeling of your throat trying to accommodate but not gag. Jaemin just held his cock there, your nose pressed to his groin, your hips rutting against your toy. When he could tell you needed to breathe, he pulled his hips back enough to allow you respite, then started to thrust his hips. Every fifth thrust, he shoved his cock as deep as he could, his palm laying over your throat feeling it stretch with his girth. He groaned loudly, he always did.

"Fuck, baby girl~" Your eyes were watering, tears flowing over your cheeks, breaths harsh through your nose and he knew you were close like him. His thumb hit the button the remote again and at the new intensity, you hit your climax, your moan around his cock helping him finish as well. You nearly sobbed as hot, thick spurts of his cum went straight down your throat. It seemed to never end, and your vision blurred from lack of air. Jaemin noticed and pulled halfway out, a few small spurts of cum still leaving his cock, then pulled out completely so you could suck in oxygen. His cock was a mess of saliva and release. Panting from where you squatted on the floor, you watched him shut the toy off, sighing in relief, and he picked up the full peach that time.

"Undress and get on the bed." He ordered and you scrambled to do so, sliding the toy out and throwing it in the bathroom sink. You slid your clothes off and sat at the end of the bed like a good girl, he came in not even a minute later, only in his pants and holding the peeled and cut fruit on a plate in his hand. Setting it down next to you, he went to the nightstand and got the plug you had bought last week.

"Start." You hadn’t made good on the deal yet, but he knew you would. When you picked up the first piece, you were relieved it wasn't nearly as slimy or sticky as the canned stuff, but you were kind of full from the previous parts, as well as what you swallowed of Jaemin's release. You were feeling impatient, so you scarfed it down, shocking him a bit, but you were licking the last of the juice off your fingers when he came to stand in front of you. He had given you the smaller one luckily, so you didn't have much to eat.

"Roll over, get on your knees." He smacked your ass lightly and you crawled up the bed, doing so, face on the sheets, butt in the air. He grinned, your slick folds had dripped down over your pucker. He opened the cap of the bottle, you shivered when the slightly cold fluid hit your rim. You had expected the tip of his finger, or even the end of the plug, but you gasped when instead, his tongue ran around your back entrance. It was peach flavored not just scented.

"Fuck, 'Min." It was an odd sensation, but not totally unwelcome. He noted that the lube had a very artificial taste, he much preferred the real thing, but if it was you he eating instead, that was fine. After a few minutes, he pulled his face away, licking his lips, then picked up the plug.

The toy was pretty small, but he still slathered it in lube, as well as your rim. He watched the muscle flutter around the silicone, and you whined a bit.

"Breathe." He coached and slid the plug into your ass. Your breath hitched, then you sighed and relaxed once it was in.

"How's that, baby girl?" Jaemin stroked the skin of your ass cheek with his thumb, your cunt visibly fluttering.

"W-weird." You admitted, and he hummed.

"Jaemin~" You practically squealed when the head of his dick ran through your slick folds, but he was taking his take actually starting to press in.

"Please!" You wanted to cry, needing him and so he relented, sliding home. You let out a slight choking noise, the burn of his cock stretching you so fast and hard, along with the plug in your ass, was overwhelming. He was nice enough to let you adjust to the new sensation of having something in both wholes, but it always took a while for you to get used to his cock. From behind he reached the deepest part of your cunt, and your tight gummy walls gripped to every ridge and vein of him. There was no verbal warning for him starting, but you saw his hands rest on and grip the head board, prompting you to do the same with the sheets.

"Fuck, princess!" He laughed in glee, not trying to be gentle in any sense, bullying his cock into your pussy as hard as he could, like he was rearranging your insides. Each thrust took your breath away, making you nearly hyperventilate. He was spewing the sweetest filth, praising you and your cute little cunt. How well you took his fat cock, and how much he loved fucking you stupid. You could barely babble in reply, tiny orgasms washing over you over and over.

"J-J-Jaemin-!" You dug your teeth into the pillow, the next wave coming was much stronger.

"Okay, baby girl, cum for daddy~" He chuckled as you whimpered, another hand thrust, and he was even taken away by your orgasm. Your cunt clenched even tighter around his cock than he thought possibly, spurts of slick spilling from your cunt, dripping and puddling onto the sheets. It was too much, too hot, that he made a few more shallow thrusts, then spilled inside you. You milked him dry, it felt like, and it made an even bigger mess. He sat inside you till he had nearly softened all the way, letting you calm down some and slowly pulling out. His finger circled the base of the plug, the end of it had a little emoji peach on it.

"You like peaches now, princess?”

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

Masterlist

195 notes · View notes

kiwisbell · 4 months

Text

darling, so it goes [javier peña]

She glows.

read las mañanas here! | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: pregnancy, pregnant sex, wife guy!javi, extremely protective!javi, girl dad!javi, javi is an overprotective dad and the baby isn't even born yet, fluff, married life, a sprinkle of texas!javi, smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), rough sex, unprotected piv (i mean she's not gonna get more pregnant), a bit of papi kink, slight degradation, she pronoun used throughout

word count: ~ 14k (i know, my bad)

read on ao3!

a/n: this is another re-upload from my ao3 account, and part of my siempre series! if you'd like to read the first instalment, las mañanas, it's linked above next to my masterlist!! ! i love you all so much, thank you for your patience 💋 xoxo kiwi

MONTH 3

She calls him crying.

Javier picks up the telephone and tucks it against his shoulder as he rushes to close the door. Feistl and Van Ness are taking respective phone calls, tossing a ball of wadded-up paper between them. “Peña.”

“Javi,” she sniffles, her sweet voice so weary. His heart beats a little faster, grows a little bigger in his chest. It's a swelling, heavy feeling, to hear someone’s voice and fall in love.

“You sad, baby?” he coos. “What can I do, huh?”

“I just miss you.” Another sniffle, and he knows she's curled up on her good side, clutching the receiver.

Javier can't help the grin that splits his face. “Company here isn't good, either, bonita. I’ll be home soon.” He knows that isn't the only reason she's calling. “Dime que está mal.”

“Everything hurts, I need to pee every ten minutes, and we're out of hot sauce.”

There it is.

Her third month of pregnancy has been riddled with emotion. A day rarely goes by when he doesn't see her cry at least twice. It'll be the question of what they'll eat for dinner, or it'll be the fact that there's a baby growing inside her and she doesn't know what to do with all the emotion she carries. Sometimes, it'll be both, and more.

On top of that, her cravings have been giving him whiplash. Two weeks ago, she would fall asleep with a jar of pickles on the bedside table, and now she can hardly stand to smell them before she’s rushing to the bathroom to heave into the toilet. Last week, Javier came home to her curled up on the floor in the kitchen, tear tracks on her face, digging a spoon into a plate of instant rice slathered in hot sauce.

“Hi, Javi,” she chirped.

“Hey, baby.” Javier lowered himself to the floor next to her and wiped the salty tears off her face with a washcloth nearby. Kissing her left his lips tingling. “This is new.”

She shrugged. “I really wanted hot sauce. Couldn’t really eat it by itself, so I put some rice in the microwave. But then I started to cry because the rice was taking a long time.” She lifted the spoon and lifted her brows. “Want some?”

Javier likes spicy food. He’s indifferent to rice. Together, they didn’t sound especially thrilling. But it was the way her eyes went wide and expecting, the way her brow furrowed in anticipation of sharing her new obsession with him. He took the spoonful into his mouth.

Although it was exactly how he expected—bland, chewy, and mostly tasting of hot sauce—she grinned, leaning in to put her lips to his cheek, and he wanted to eat the entire plate if it made her this happy. “I love you,” she said.

“There’s another bottle in the cupboard, querida,” he tells her. “You want me to run a bath when I get home?”

The happy little sigh that leaves her tells him she’s not crying anymore. “Will you join me?”

“You know I can’t say no to getting in the bath with you, baby. Estaré en casa pronto.”

“Javi?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a new round of sniffles on the other end of the line. “I’m gonna be a mom,” she cries.

This is the second time she’s called him today.

MONTH 4

“Más despacio, baby. Let me help you.”

“Javi, I love you, but if you don’t let me get out of this car by myself, I’m going to choke you out.”

Okay. He knows. He knows he's smothering. Javier waits for her to step down out of the truck (he demanded the DEA give him one after he found out how much they both hated the fucking Cooper they wanted him to drive). “See?” she says proudly. “Still spry.”

He splays a hand over her belly: already a force of habit. The bump there has only just begun to show, but he's been putting his hand to her abdomen, imagining he can feel his baby’s heartbeat, since the day they knew she was pregnant. Now that he can see the slight curve to her belly, it feels so real, so immediate.

Javier was a grump before. He’s become somewhat of a monster when it comes to his wife. His pregnant wife.

“¿Estás bien?” he asks her.

They’ve known each other for over a decade. The way Javier looks at her still knocks the breath out of her. He wields those wide brown eyes like a weapon, gentle but incisive, staring deep, past where words exist and into the very soul of her. He can pull her thoughts and her feelings from her head just by looking at her. Yes, he’s been smothering her with closeness since they found out about the baby. Yes, he’s a thorough grump. She’s never loved someone more in her entire life.

“Javier,” she says softly, lightly tugging on his belt loop.

His eyes search her face for discomfort, but he won’t find it. “Cielito.”

“Kiss me, please.”

He’s learned not to compromise, raise his voice, or oppose. So, he cradles the back of her head and ducks down to kiss her, his hand still firm at her swelling belly. Another new habit: he doesn't let her stand on her toes anymore to kiss him. He started to bring himself down to her level, and now he won't stop. It was unconscious, just another instinctual desire to make his wife do as little work as possible.

Javier nudges his nose against hers. “I’m about to ask again.”

She places her hand on his chest. “Javi, don’t—”

“Are you sure you want to go back?”

Reparations on the university are still underway, but most of the infrastructure of the peripheral buildings affected by the blast are intact. Classes resumed last week, but Javier’s been reluctant to let go of his wife’s hand and watch her disappear inside the building where she nearly died two months ago.

She bunches up the material of his suit jacket in her fist and giggles. “You're a fool, Agent Peña. You and your… your sexy suits and your sexy pout.”

“Did that bomb give you a concussion we didn't know about, baby?”

“I just love you.” She cups his face in her hands. She can't choose which eye to look at, so she searches between them for the answer. “I love you. So much. I’m gonna be okay, Javi. I am okay.”

He wraps his hands around her forearms and strokes her skin with his thumbs. “You say something like that and expect me to let you go?” he grumbles.

“I know you worry,” she says, “but we've gotten this far. I'll be right here when you come to pick me up, and we’ll go home.”

He's still pouting when he presses his lips to her temple. “Have a good day at work, amor.”

“Don't work too hard,” she tells him, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose. “I have plans for you when you get home.”

“Yeah?” He lifts his brows behind those aviators. “What kinda plans?”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a gentle shove toward his truck. “You'll have to wait and see, vaquero.”

Javier steals one more kiss before he's backing away to his truck with his hands in the air like he's in a stickup. “Sure you don't want me to walk you up the stairs—”

“Go. To. Work.”

“Feistl.” Javier peeks his head out of his office. “You and Van Ness find the fucker who planted the bomb?”

Feistl tucks his pen between his teeth as he hurries toward Javier’s office with a stuffed manila folder in hand. “Think so,” he says, his voice garbled by the pen. He jerks it out of his mouth as if he forgot it was there. “Alvaro Diaz made a call to his girlfriend the morning of the… well, you know. Told her he had an important job to do.”

“Diaz works for Pacho Herrera.”

“Got that right. After the bombing, he disappeared. May have been him.”

“You're saying the president of the school was involved in something Cali didn't like?” Javier frowns. “We would've known about that.”

Feistl snorts, slapping the folder down on Javier’s desk. “Yeah. We're always one step ahead, sir.”

Javier lets the attitude slide when he opens the folder. “Puta.”

He doesn't love the smug look on Feistl’s face. “The president’s son partied with North Valley just before the attack.”

“Jesus. He transported coke for them?” Javier flips through the file, lingering on images of the president’s mangled body, then the recovered cocaine from the operation.

“All the way to Panama.”

“How dutiful.”

“Yeah, well, like a good little soldier, he lost one of the duffels on the trip. North Valley wanted money to compensate, and the president offered to pay it. Looks like Cali wanted the world to see what happens when you get in with the wrong cartel. Fucking over North Valley on some money might have helped Herrera sleep better, too, I guess.”

Javier only breaks his intensive eye contact with the folder to pin a glare on Feistl. “Do I wanna know how you got this intel?”

“I have informants, sir.” Feistl chews on his retort for a moment before he decides it's worth saying. “You used to have those, too.”

“As I so love being reminded,” grumbles Javier. “Okay. Fine. Thank you. Where’s the kid now?”

“Turn a couple pages and you'll see that the prodigal son decided to pay his dad a visit the day of the attack.”

Jesus. The kid’s bloodied body greets Javier, and he closes the folder. Something nips at him. “Cali’s M.O. isn't bombs. It's not public attacks. They get by on threats, not action.”

Feistl scrubs at his jaw with his hand. He looks like he hasn't shaved in a while. “My informant overheard a conversation between Pacho and one of Cali’s sicarios. He mentioned a lost bag of money.”

“And your informant is close to Herrera?”

“In a way.”

Javier’s getting a headache. He rubs two fingers over his lips, squinting faintly at the folder. He should've worn his glasses. “Okay. Keep looking. We know who was behind the bombing, right? So we raid manufacturing houses in Cali to get some of those bombs off the streets. And look for Diaz.”

Feistl slaps his hand on the doorframe—his typical way of saying roger that—and moves to leave. “Oh, shit. One more thing. Your wife called while you were out. I answered your phone for you.”

Javier grits his teeth and tries not to reach for a cigarette. “Keep looking for Diaz.”

Before Feistl can back out of his office all the way, Javier has the telephone to his ear. “Hey, cielito,” comes his boss’s gentle rasp. Chris doesn't hear much more than that, closing the door behind him, but it makes him smile a little. Peña’s got one hell of a heart; he just lets it beat louder for her.

When she finally appears through the front doors, Javier finally breathes. He doesn’t realise he's been holding his breath until he sees her take the steps down to meet him in the pickup zone.

“Bonita,” he murmurs, crowding and kissing her before he even bothers to open the door for her. She laughs into his mouth at his tenacity but kisses him back just as eagerly. Her back meets the truck door and it's the sound of a horn honking that forces him away from her. He glares at the car waiting for him to move out of the way even though he's in the wrong.

She waves at the driver in apology and climbs up into the truck. Javier turns out of the pickup zone and grabs her hand.

“Fucking…” He huffs, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Fuckin’ missed you. Jesus Christ, these assholes are trying to kill me.”

She beams at her grumpy husband and places their joined hands on her belly. “We missed you, too.”

Javier is lucky the drive home is so brief. His blood is humming with the need to be close to her, his bones weary with the weight of stress. He hoists her up and wraps her legs around his hips before they've even made it through their door. She buries her face in his neck and kisses everywhere she can reach. “Gotta give you your present, vaquero. Slow down.”

He pulls away and gives her a look that melts her. The fucking look. He’s staring up at her with those brown, begging eyes, a hopeful gleam in his smile. “Gonna tell me now?”

“Gonna set me down?”

He pats her thigh before he sets her on the floor. She wraps her hand around his tie and pulls him to the sofa. “Sit,” she says softly, kissing him on the cheek.

He's a little too eager when he obeys her command, adjusting himself on the sofa and spreading his thighs wide. She bites her lip, salivating at the sight of his strong body, so receptive to her. He's already hardening in his jeans, visibly straining against his zipper, and it only worsens when she hooks her thumbs in the waistline of her long skirt and pulls it down with her panties.

“Jesus.” Javier’s eyes are glued to her body as she reveals it to him, from her glistening cunt to her swelling breasts as she lifts her shirt over her head and unclips her bra. His hand flies to his length, squeezing it over his jeans. “Fuck, baby. Fuck, I wanna touch you.”

She steps closer, her legs bracketing one of his thighs, and removes his hand from his cock. She lifts it to her mouth and sucks on two of his fingers, swirling her tongue around them. His lips part, unconsciously, shifting in his seat and awaiting her permission to touch her. Her bump is more pronounced in this light: the shadows arch over it and bathe it in the soft orange low from the lamp beside the couch.

“You want to touch me?” she says, whisper-soft, bringing his wet fingers to her pussy and pressing them against her clit. Her eyes flutter, and Javier doesn't know if it's possible to be harder than he is right now.

“Fuck,” he rasps, swallowing hard. “Baby, please…”

She bends her knees until she's straddling his thigh on the cushions, her wet pussy darkening the fabric of his jeans. Her breath shudders out of her. “You can watch,” she says, gliding her hips experimentally, letting out a moan that makes his entire body convulse with shivers.

“Fuck!” His head tips back until he stops himself, desperate to watch her grind on him. He keeps his hands dutifully by his sides and fixated on her face as her brow furrows in pleasure, her eyes struggling to focus on him, her hands lifting to her tits and squeezing.

He's going to die. He cannot refrain from touching her. He needs her more than he needs air right now, and he'll suffocate happily inside her body. But Christ, he wants to watch her fall apart like this.

“Feels so good,” she gasps, rocking on his thigh, the friction against her clit sending jolts of pleasure ricocheting off each nerve. “Oh, fuck, yes. You're so good to me, Javi. So strong, always keeping me safe. Putting your baby in me.”

She's always been vocal during sex, but this is something else. This is making him leak precum into his pants, his mind going dizzy and lolling with lust. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, but it does nothing to help him clear his head. “Fuck. Fuck. You like that? Like getting yourself off?”

Her moan breaks into a whine as she picks up her pace, her hands clutching his broad shoulders to keep herself from listing. Javier can't hold back anymore, not when her tits press up against him in her desperation to come. He holds onto her hips, squeezing her soft flesh as she stiffens, crying out his name. She soaks his jeans, falling into him, her face buried in his neck. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, kissing her temple, his fingers gently tracing up and down her sides. “Fuckin’ great present.”

She giggles, drunkenly nipping at his throat. “Not done yet.”

He gently urges her away from him so he can look her in the eye, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “There’s more? Jesus, bonita, go easy on me.”

“You need to feel good,” she purrs, squeezing his cock over his jeans.

He hisses. “Fuck. I feel good. I feel real good already.”

Her lips chase his, and he ends it happily, cradling the back of her head as his tongue explores her mouth. She shifts so she's straddling his hips, sitting right atop his cock. “Tell me where you want me.”

He's so lightheaded he can barely process her words, let alone speak. Javier drops his face into her neck this time, breathing in her scent. She's fresh air and rippling water and hormones, and she's popping open the button of his jeans and pulling out his cock. It taps against his stomach as he makes his decision. “Turn around, baby. Sit on my cock; I’ll take care of you. ¿Claro?”

She does so with an excited smile, shuffling around so his cock rests between her asscheeks. Javier holds onto her and shifts down the couch so she can lift up and sink herself down perfectly on him. He works her open, gently guiding her to rest against his chest. She turns her head to meet his eyes, clouded with desire. Her laugh is breathless when he bottoms out inside her. “I'm supposed to be taking care of you,” she mutters, lazily nosing her way along his cheek until she finds his mouth.

“You are.” Javier rolls his hips, thick and heavy inside her, and nibbles her earlobe. His arm is around her belly like a seatbelt, keeping her snug against his chest as he drags his cock in and out, in and out—

“Javi!” she moans, her thighs trembling around a particularly deep stroke. It makes him feel good, really fucking good, making her clamp down on him like this, her changing body supple and seeking his touch. She's all his to hold this way. She's his to touch forever. Her hair drapes over his own shoulder, soft and rich with her shampoo, and Javier eases her thighs open to keep her firmly on his cock.

“Who makes you feel this good, hmm?” he coos into her ear. It wrecks her, her sweet drunken eyes trying to focus on him. He grunts when he prods at her cervix, so fucking deep inside her hot, wet body that he's having trouble seeing straight, too. “Who gets to give you a baby? Say it, sweetheart.” He nips her jaw. “Dime.”

She gasps, grasping at his wrists, her eyes rolling back in her head. It's the very picture of eroticism: she's writhing and frowning and trying to stave off her orgasm, make it last. She never wants to lift herself off his delicious cock.

“Ohhh, you. It's you, Ja—vi!” He presses two fingers to her clit and makes her squeal, hips rocking up against them. He soothes her back against him, keeping himself nice and warm with her body. “It's you, amor, it’s you. You're the one who fucks me this good. You gave me a baby. You're gonna be a daddy. Fuck, it feels so good, Javi, oh!”

“That's right, baby.” His balls draw up at the sound of her babbling for him, his fingers rubbing circles into her clit. Her orgasm is intense when it crashes down on her, but he's got her, he always does. “Easy, easy,” he whispers into her ear, watching her jerk and writhe on top of him, her cunt soaking his cock. “Fuck,” he grits out, tucking his cock all the way inside her warmth. “Jesus. I’m gonna—”

His words crumble to groans when he comes, the pleasure crackling up his spine. He bites down on her shoulder as her pussy milks him, his cock drowning her in hot cum. They both collapse backward on the sofa, Javier’s mouth still attached to her skin, pressing gentle kisses around the bite mark.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he grumbles. “Does it hurt?”

She just giggles, high-pitched and somewhat delirious. He loves her afterglow; she smells of sex and her, and she always laughs. It's never felt emasculating. “You could never hurt me, vampiro.”

“That…” He huffs his way back to her face, turning her face toward him with his finger, and kissing her softly. “… was a good surprise.”

“Mmm. Maybe I don't fuck you enough,” she says, kissing him back. “Shouldn't have been that big a surprise.”

“Honey. You fuck me plenty.” He laughs into her mouth this time. Her post-sex giggles have their way of infecting him. “I’m an old man, remember?”

She laces their fingers together and places their hands on her belly. “Our little baby,” she says softly, playing with his fingers, “is gonna be so safe and happy with their papá.”

Javier’s entire body feels like it's swelling with the choking, lurching feeling of love for this woman. He slants his mouth over hers, caressing her jaw with his thumb, taking his time with the kiss and relishing the sweetness of her mouth. He'll never forget the first time he tasted her. And here, draped in the body of his pregnant wife, inside their dim little orange-lit home, Javier wants to forget every day before her.

MONTH 5

Most days, his job is thankless. Not that he welcomes the praise; in fact, he'd rather sit at home and talk in whispers with his wife while they share dinner. She knows what to say. She knows when he doesn't need her to say anything. The world doesn't know, and they never seem to learn.

Javier likes his smoke breaks. He doesn't like the actual smoking. He feels like an asshole, a failure, every time he puts a cigarette between his lips, remembering his promise to her that he'd quit.

I had a smoke today. Hands on her body, caressing the smooth skin up and down her sides, the only tonic that exists. It was a confession he'd wanted to smother until he suppressed the urge again and quit, for real this time. But he knows what happens when he keeps things from her: he knows the self-hatred that festers, black flesh in a wound, when he lets the silence stretch between them. He knows how it feels to push her away. He never wants to feel that shit again.

I don't know if you know this about yourself, she said, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him in the darkness, but your job is stressful. And you've always been a smoker.

I tried, baby. It was an excuse. A shitty one. But he wanted her to know. He really did try.

She lifted her hand to his face and traced his lips with her fingers. I know you did. Do you think that makes me love you any less? She lowered her fingers only to grip his chin. Because you'd be real estúpido to think something like that.

Jesus, he doesn't know how she does it. How she loves him the way she does.

His fifteen-minute smoke break is the time he carves out for being alone. It's the bright, languid sky as the clouds roll across it. It's the whorls of smoke lifting to join them. It's the bustling of suits between buildings and the sheer lack of anyone approaching to pester him. He's found the perfect spot behind the wall to sequester himself. He manages to get half his cigarette smoked down before someone decides to fuck over his plan to be alone for a fraction of his day.

“Agente Peña. ¿Puedo decir algo? (May I have a word?)”

Javier glances over at the man who's intruded on his mandated fifteen minutes. Obviously a reporter, carrying a tiny tape recorder with a belt clip. Javier lifts a brow—does he carry that thing on his jeans in the off-chance he can ambush a DEA agent for a story?

“You can have two,” he grunts. “Smoke break.”

The reporter doesn't give up, which doesn't surprise Javier. “I’m from The Bogotá Post. Would you care to comment on the DEA’s failed raid in search of Miguel Rodríguez?”

He certainly would not fucking prefer to reminisce on that.

“No comment.”

“And the sicarios who planted the bomb in the attack against President Gomez? Have they been apprehended?”

Apprehended? No. They've done an impressive amount of guesswork into who's involved, sure, but Alvaro Diaz has fled the country, for all they know. As for Cali’s involvement… They haven't spoken a word about it, nor will they. They'll let some other small, hopeful cartel take the credit. It's not their way of doing things: planting bombs and killing civilians. But if their rivals in North Valley were involved, they may have thought it worth it just to fuck them over a little, send a message to potential allies.

Either way, someone planted a bomb at a school. And nearly killed Javier’s pregnant wife.

He takes his time puffing at his cigarette. “No comment.”

The reporter clears his throat. “Agent Peña, can you confirm the rumours of escalating rivalry between the Cali Cartel and North Valley?”

Javier taps out some ash. “No comment.”

“Your wife was a victim in the bombing, isn't that right?”

Javier grinds his teeth and almost bites through his cigarette. His wife isn't a fucking victim. She's alive. She's healthy and safe and he's going to break this asshole’s jaw if he keeps trying to toe his way into Javier’s personal life.

“I hear your wife is pregnant, Agent Peña.”

One… two… three…

“Did the incident harm the baby?”

The smoke stops curling from Javier’s cigarette. He plucks it from his mouth, turns slowly toward the reporter, and presses the butt of the smouldering cigarette to his chest.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The reporter backs away until his spine slams against the wall, smacking away the ash on his shirt. “I…”

Javier can't clear the red mist. “Ask me again,” he says, stalking toward the man and sizing him up. “You want an answer, right? So ask me again.”

“I won't print it,” he says frantically.

“No, you won’t.” Javier looks down his nose at the reporter. “You don’t ask questions about my life. You don't ask or say or print a fucking word about my wife. If you want a story, ask the guys in the mail room. They’ll pick something out of the trash for you.”

He turns and heads back inside, nostrils flaring, slamming doors and drawing worried glances. More than glances, he figures, when the whispers. What's angered the boss so much? That's just him. No, someone definitely pissed him off.

“Don't you all have work to do,” he grumbles under his breath, charging through the bullpen. “Where’s Ramirez?”

“On lunch, sir,” says Cindy.

“Tell him nobody in the fuckin’ building talks to a single reporter who wants to target my family for their stories.” Javier shuts the door behind him, locking himself inside his office before anyone else can make the choice to bother him. He loosens his tie and picks up his phone.

In the bullpen, Cindy and the others exchange brief, knowing glances.

He’s rushing up the stairs to their apartment, fumbling for the keys, nearly falling over himself to burst through the door, and searching for his wife through the tunnel that suffocates the edges of his vision.

There she is, in the bedroom, shrugging out of her blouse and exposing her beautiful, soft, swelling belly to him. “Hi, baby,” she says, beaming up at him. “Sara drove me home. I hope things weren't too—mmmph!”

Javier cups her face in his hands and kisses her. She stumbles backward with the force of it, but he guides her toward the wall and gently balances her against it. He needs her. He needs this. Her blouse hangs off her shoulders, her swollen tits heavy against his chest, her body emanating hormones and jasmine and the perfume he bought for her birthday.

Javier presses closer, crowding her, her rounded belly an ever-present reminder against his abdomen. He gave her that. She's pregnant with his baby. Javier groans into her mouth, sliding his tongue across the seam of her lips for permission. She grants it, letting his tongue enter her mouth, letting him devour her the way he needs to. His hand slips down to her open shirt and squeezes her tits, then slides underneath the fabric, fingers splaying over her lower back.

She tastes so good, so sweet. There's citrus on her tongue from an orange she ate earlier. He tastes like smoke and wood fire. “You never… told me… what happened at… mmm, work,” she manages to gasp through his assault, winding her arms up around his neck.

“Need you,” he rasps. If he disconnects from her body now, if he loses the warmth of her skin, he'll die. He knows it.

“You have me. You have me.” She breathes it into him, telegraphs it onto his skin as her fingers fall to his chest, shoving off his jacket and trembling in their effort to unbutton his shirt. She pouts and it's so cute, so impatient, that he takes pity, trapping her hands in his and helping her shed his shirt.

“You next,” he says once he's shirtless, sliding the blouse off her shoulders and unclasping her bra. He growls at the sight of her tits and hoists her up onto his hips, lowering her gently onto the bed. She giggles at his overzealous attitude, but it pitches up into a whine when he lies over her and takes a nipple into his mouth, shucking down her skirt at the same time.

“Javi!” she gasps, her hand flying to his hair, fingers curling at the crown of his head. “Insaciable. What's gotten into you?”

He grunts, lavishing her nipple with his tongue, tugging it between his teeth and sucking hard. She moans, her head falling back against the mattress. He alternates between each nipple as his hand snakes between their bodies, dipping beneath the waistband of her panties to wet his fingers in her slit.

His eyes flicker up to meet hers, black pools that eclipse the sweet, rich brown, his lips still attached to her nipple. She whimpers at the sight: her husband so hungry for her, his tongue flicking and tasting her swollen tits like he’s the one that will be feeding from them. “Fuck,” she croaks, sparks of arousal crackling up and down her spine, a closed circuit.

He’s gone nonverbal, devoting all his body and mind to worshipping her body, sensitive and needy in her altered state. Javier wets her sternum with his tongue, her belly, pressing kisses to the little life growing in there, at last reaching her panties. He hums in satisfaction when he finds them soaked with arousal, peeling them away from her glistening cunt. His wife whimpers his name. “Please… Please, my love.”

He knows. He’s halfway to pleading, too. Javier flattens his tongue between her folds and grunts at the taste of her, bucking his hips into the mattress. He’s leaking into his fucking pants, looking up at her face, scrunched in pleasure, over the bump on her belly.

He laps at her clit, drenching his chin in her wetness as he buries his face deeper, licking and sucking at her clit, her hole, her entire fucking pussy until he’s making out with it. The sounds of his ministrations echo throughout the bedroom, mingled with the slick noises of her cunt and her soft moans.

Eating his wife out may be his favourite activity. The cacophony in his head quiets to a dull roar as he devours her, the hairs of his moustache creating the perfect friction against her clit, his groans of pleasure drowned by her cry as she bursts on his tongue.

He doesn’t relent while she rides out her high. If anything, he’s spurred on by it, swallowing down everything she gives him and spreading her cum around her pussy, lathering her clit with his soaking tongue.

“I… I can’t… papi…” She’s wrecked, her mascara dribbling down her cheeks in black tears. Javier moans at the nickname, his cock relentlessly twitching and beading precum into his briefs. He delves deeper, pressing his tongue into her hole. She screams his name but it comes out raw and used. “¡Papi! No puedo, no puedo—gonna come… gonna come again!”

And she does. Fuck, she soaks him, her thighs quivering around his head and her cunt pulsating around his tongue as she spills onto his tongue. Javier grunts, holding onto her thighs to keep her grounded, taking every drop she gives him and swallowing. For the first time since he got her naked, he speaks. “That’s it, bonita,” he coos, licking through her slit one last time and watching her twitch.

“Fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. “Fuck, Javi.”

Javier kisses his way back up her body until his clothed cock rests on her hip. “‘M sorry, baby,” he mumbles into her neck.

“For what?” she sighs, scratching her nails along his scalp. His cock twitches. He wonders if there’s anything she could do that wouldn’t make him horny. “For making me come twice? Malo.” She clicks her tongue. “You know that’s not allowed.”

She giggles when his pleading eyes meet hers, her handsome puppy dog, nipping at her jaw. “Can I fuck you?” he asks.

She pulls his face toward him and kisses him. “You’d better.”

Her eyes transcribe the meaning of her words. Fuck me until you can breathe again. Javier shuffles off the bed and almost trips over himself in his rush to get his pants off. His cock slaps up against his stomach, already dripping precum into his pubic hair, and he crawls over her body again. Keeping a hand on her bump, he slides inside her and bottoms out in one deep stroke.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to come like a fucking teenager, settling inside her even as she huffs and puffs like the hormonal, impatient siren she is. “I know, baby,” he says gruffly. “I need you, too. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Then fuck me,” she pleads, rolling her hips.

Javier bares his teeth when he picks up his rhythm, the one that gets her gushing around him. “Spoiled,” he groans. “You want my dick real bad, huh, honey?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, nodding frantically. “I'm spoiled, I love you too much, love your big cock.”

The praise makes him double over, twitching inside her. His thighs nudge hers until they're sitting up against his hips and his free hand locks around the crook of her knee. He keeps her spread open for him as he fucks her, giving it to his spoiled little wife exactly how she wants it.

She knows it, too: that he'll give her everything she wants even if he tells her to beg for it through a façade that he won't. Sometimes, though, he knows it's okay to beg himself.

“Say it like you mean it,” he grits out, thrusting deep and hard and making her eyes roll back in her skull. “Mírame,” he demands. Eyes glassy and ringed with black, she tries to focus on his face and mostly succeeds. “Say it for me, baby. Fuck, wanna hear you. Please.”

She knows exactly what he needs. Her hands slip around her thighs and pull them toward her chest as best as she can with the bump in her belly, opening herself up wider so Javier can watch his cock disappear repeatedly inside the tight seal of her cunt. It makes him a little more wild, his head spinning with desire, her slick clinging to his length and his thighs. Every slap of his hips against her thighs, every wet suck of her pussy, make obscene noises that echo throughout their bedroom.

“Fuck!” she moans. “You fuck me so good, Javi. You're so big. Baby, it feels so go—od!”

He moulds his hands to her hips and lifts them slightly, deepening the angle and making her sob with pleasure. Javier hisses, his cock twitching inside her. “Yeah? Like that?” he manages to say between breaths. “Taking me so well. Good fuckin’ girl. You close?”

She cries out when his thumb presses into her clit. “Ohhhhh, Jav, honey, I need to come. Wanna come on your cock.”

But he's not quite done yet. He pulls out of her and urges her gently onto her side, sidling up behind her as he plants sloppy kisses up her spine. Tasting her skin at her shoulder, Javier grasps his cock and slides it through her folds. He shudders at how soaking wet she is. “Muy hermosa,” he whispers into her body. “Too pretty for me. Gonna kill me someday.”

“I will if you don't put your dick inside me,” she huffs.

“Shh, bonita,” he coos, notching his leaking head at her hole. “Be patient.”

“Fuck patience,” she gasps, pushing her ass back against him. “Take me. Take me, Javi. I’m yours.”

He slips in easily, her walls sucking him in and squeezing his length without abandon. He grunts into her neck, and she gasps at the first short thrust, her hand flying backward to grab a handful of his hair. His hand snakes around to warm her belly while he nudges his leg between her thighs and keeps her spread wide. He can't reach her mouth like this, and he doesn't want to make her expend any more effort, so he sucks bruising kisses into her neck.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps. Her nails are scratching at his scalp, but it only makes him groan, and she knows it. He likes the delicious sparks of pain.

He fucks her hard but slow in this position, his cock pressing up against her front wall and making her lips part, her head collapsing into the pillow and foregoing her mission to kiss him. He guides her through it, nudging his nose against her cheek as he kisses her jawline, her throat, the corner of her mouth.

His fingers find her clit again, teasing the oversensitive bundle. She jerks in his grasp, pushing out soft whimpers. “Can’t… Can’t come again…”

“Please.” His voice sounds pathetic, his thrusts growing sloppy as his hips and stomach begin to pinch with his imminent orgasm. “Need to feel you come, baby. Please.”

“Javi, fuck, I can’t… need—” Her head turns, seeking his mouth, and he leans over her farther to slant his lips over hers. He slips his tongue along hers, tasting her, groaning into her mouth when he feels his balls pull up.

“C’mon, mamá. Give it to me.” He keeps rubbing her clit until he feels her body stiffen underneath him, losing control of her own movements, a telltale gush of warmth soaking his cock and thighs.

“Mmmm.” She keeps kissing him, getting messier, their noses bumping and his moustache tickling her upper lip. He fucks her hard, his cock throbbing with the need to fill her up with everything he has. “Dámelo, papi,” she whispers.

His grunts pitch up when he comes until they become whines. “Fuck. Fuck.” His mouth slips from hers, so he puts it on her shoulder instead, biting down. He pumps hot cum into her cunt with every twitch of his cock, puffing air over her skin and shuddering from his spine to his feet. He's pretty sure he whimpered a couple times when he came, but he doesn't care.

He keeps himself tucked inside her for longer than he should, her sweet body so warm, her scent so enticing. He rests his head next to hers and messily ties up her hair so he won't lie on it. She's immobile but smiling, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep pulls at her. Since her pregnancy, she's liable to fall asleep at any given moment—especially after three orgasms.

Still, she tangles her fingers with his, resting over her baby bump. “Tell me,” she says softly.

“What, baby?” He’s a little distracted by the soft skin of her throat, nosing his way to her ear and nibbling.

“What happened at work?”

He grunts unhappily. “Fucking reporter. Asking me questions.”

She giggles. “That's their job, Jav.”

“He was asking questions about you, mi amor.” He rubs their joined hands over her abdomen. “About our baby.”

That gets her attention. “What the fuck business does he think he has asking questions about our baby?”

Javier’s blood is thrilled by the beautiful, terrifying tone in the voice of the woman curled up in his arms. “Tranquila, mamá bear. I told him to fuck off. Nobody touches our baby.”

In fact, the thought alone is enough to summon the beast that lives in his bloodstream. It has claws and teeth and it dwarfs the sun. Nobody touches her. Nobody touches the baby inside her. He and the monster will ensure it.

“Javi. Javi, wake up.”

He's become a light sleeper since her pregnancy began, finely-tuned to any sounds of distress that come from her side of the bed. She's sitting up in bed, one hand on her belly and another grasping his wrist.

Panic strikes him like the chime of midnight. He sits bolt upright and places his hand over hers. “Baby, what's wrong?”

But her eyes are soft and buttery, still half-asleep. He feels wide awake, terror-stricken at the thought that something’s gone awry. “Feel,” she whispers, slipping her hand out from beneath his so his palm is flush with her belly.

He waits, watching her stomach with a frown, until the jolt happens. It's small, concentrated, the minuscule undulating movement that makes him blink up at her through the darkness. “Holy shit.”

She begins to laugh, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “Holy shit,” she sniffles.

Javier crawls up next to her, his hand still firm on her belly, feeling the flip and turn of his baby inside her. “Mi amor,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the salty tears on her face.

Their hands remain there well into the morning.

MONTH 6

They're both late for work today because Javier wanted to fuck his wife before breakfast.

It's not that he's any more insatiable than he was before her pregnancy: it just seems he likes to take his time with it, take his time with her. Kiss every square inch of her body and admire it from above or below as they connect, puzzle pieces in the darkness or the morning glow. Hold onto her afterward and soothe her. Make her feel worshipped. By the time he's through with the worship, though, it usually means they're scrambling not to get chewed out by their respective bosses. Thankfully, hers is a lot more forgiving.

He drives her to work and kisses her good-bye on the steps. He makes sure she gets inside safely and drives to the Embassy. He buries his nose in paperwork and wants to shred it all to scraps. He catches air of the word Stechner and sincerely hopes he isn't in the building. He takes a smoke break in his usual spot, thanks to Ramirez sending word to the reporters that like to linger around the Embassy about Agent Peña’s nasty attitude. It's nice and quiet.

He calls her at lunch and listens peacefully as she talks about her day, her coworkers, the excitable kicking of the baby inside her. She puts the phone to her belly and Javier whispers into the receiver.

“Te amo, pequeño. Take it easy on mamá. She's keeping you safe in there.”

She laughs. “Don't scold our baby before it’s born, gruñón. How's work?”

“A miracle I haven't gone blind.”

“Are you wearing your glasses?” she asks sweetly.

He isn't. “Are you?”

She clicks her tongue. “Answering a question with another question is an admission of guilt, my love.”

“Yeah? Who told you that?”

“You,” she says. “And I’m not the one who spends all day reading files in the dark. Put on your glasses, vaquero, and I’ll be real nice to you tonight.”

Javier scrambles to tuck the phone between his ear and shoulder, digging around in his jacket pocket. He slips his glasses onto his face.

“That's my boy,” she says teasingly. “Now take a look in your wallet. You’ll need your glasses to examine it properly.”

Javier frowns. “You put something in my wallet?”

“Just look, sweetheart.”

He flips open his wallet and finds the edge of a Polaroid picture peeking out. He plucks it out and nearly slips off his chair.

His eyes flick upward to make sure his door is locked before he fixes his eyes back on the image. Nobody else gets to see this: his wife, scantily-dressed in his favourite baby blue lace, taking the picture of herself from above as she displays her body on their bed. One leg is bent and the other stretching out, a hand resting just beneath the curve of the bump on her belly, her tits spilling out of the lacy bra. She's got that wicked smile on her face, and Javier drops the picture abruptly on the desk to frantically adjust his hardening cock in his trousers. The phone tips off his shoulder, and he has to scramble to pick it up.

“Jesus Christ, baby. Jesus.” He can hear her laughing as he fixes the phone back to his ear. “When did you take this?”

“You were working late a couple nights ago. Thought I’d make the next time a bit more enjoyable.”

There's rustling outside his door, and he swipes the picture off the desk. “Holy shit. You expect me to get back to work now? Fuckin’ fox.”

“Just think of it like motivation,” she says, oh-so innocently. He pictures her twirling the telephone cord around her finger, and it doesn't help his new erection. “It’ll make you want to come home that much faster.”

“Yeah. Got that right.” He winces as he squeezes his shaft over his pants again. “Playing with fire, bonita. I’ll have to shoot anyone who tries to take my wallet in the fucking head.”

“Aw, honey.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “You can take one next time.”

He huffs. She's trying to kill him. “Of me or you?”

“Why not both?”

“Sir, we've got a likely location for Alvaro Diaz.”

Javier’s head shoots up and his neck twinges. Feistl stands in his doorway. Apparently, Javier forgot to lock it. “Jesus, Feistl. Knock.”

He seems to recognise that he's intruded on what the bullpen has dubbed Agent Peña’s wife time and cringes. “Sorry, sir.”

He shakes his head and says into the phone: “I gotta go, baby.”

“Don't work too hard,” she purrs. “Say hi to Chris for me.”

Javier’s mood turns sour the second he hangs up. “Where’s Diaz?”

Feistl is smart not to apologise again or linger. “Safe house outside Cali. There aren't phones in the house, but he made a call to his girlfriend from a pay phone down the street. It was the only house nearby registered as abandoned, but satellite confirms they've been keeping up with the gardening.”

The news is thrilling. “Shit. Your informant was right.”

Feistl shakes his head. “That's the thing,” he says. “My informant is a male escort who Pacho paid pretty handsomely. They were seeing each other regularly, but apparently North Valley was paying him a lot more to approach a DEA agent and pin the bombing on Cali.”

Javier doesn't know if he can frown any deeper. His wife would probably insist that he's capable of anything.

“North Valley wanted the school president dead? What, because his kid fucked up the coke delivery?”

“They've been known to get violent when people don't pay their dues. It checks out.” Javier has to admit he agrees. Cali’s involvement in the bombing makes little sense given their dedication to politics for getting what they want. Feistl continues, “Seems likely they also paid Diaz to plant the bomb so it would look convincing.”

“Explains why he's on the run.”

“Bingo.” Feistl folds his arms over his chest and says, “My guy’s got a lot riding on my promise to get him out of the country.”

“So why come to you with the truth?” Javier points out. “He could run away with North Valley’s money.”

“Not if Herrera finds out. Cali’s not publicly violent, but that doesn't stop them from avenging betrayal in private.” Feistl shrugs. “He knows we're the only ones that can get him out—safely.”

Javier pins Feistl with a glare. “You gotta be sure about this, Chris. Dead fucking sure. Especially if you want to apply for a visa.”

“I’m sure,” he replies. “This guy’s scared for his life. He wants no more part of their money. He just wants to get out.”

Javier rubs his jaw. “Okay. Good.”

Feistl pats the doorframe. “Team’s setting up to raid Diaz’s safe house. He won't see it coming. If he's there, we’ll get him.”

“Feistl.” The agent turns around in the doorway, and Javier sets his jaw. “By the book.”

“You got it, sir.”

Javier looks down at the picture on his desk. It’s a rare occasion he allows a photograph of himself, but he's happy to get behind the camera to document his wife’s beauty. This one is a memory from their honeymoon. The sun makes her squint and there's sand in her wind-blown hair, and she's laughing at something he said, though he doesn't remember what it was. She's wearing a flowing dress and carrying a pair of sandals in one hand, the other shielding her face from the sunlight. It's his favourite picture of her.

Second favourite.

“One more thing.”

He's doing things by the book this time around. He won't get entangled in the spidery webs of conspiracy again. He's got a family to stay alive and healthy for… as healthy as one can be in a life like this. But he stops Feistl anyway.

“When you bring in Alvaro Diaz,” says Javier, “I want to be the first to talk to him.”

Feistl’s brows shoot up. “Just talk, sir?”

He remembers the terror of that day: the brief seconds he thought his wife was gone forever.

“What else?” says Javier.

Feistl leaves without another word.

When she slides into the passenger’s seat, Javier leans in, grabs her chin, and kisses her like usual. But she doesn't relent once he begins to drive. Her mouth travels from his lips to his jaw to his ear, where she sucks and nibbles. Javier grunts, his hand flying to her thigh.

“Baby,” he rasps. “Fuck. Más despacio.”

“Javi,” she whines into his ear, her hand on his chest, indulging in the strong body of her husband as she traces his pecs, his stomach, the hardness in his lap. “Wanna suck your cock. Want to make you feel good. Let me? Please?”

He inhales sharply. He wants to. So badly it makes his throbbing cock twitch in his pants. She sees it, fondly squeezing his length with a hum. But he blinks hard and focuses on driving. “We can't, baby,” he says, swallowing the pang of self-loathing in his chest for refusing her, even for something so small. “Too crowded in here. Don't want you to get hurt.”

“You never used to care about that,” she teases, licking a stripe up his throat.

“This—shit, this fuckin’ truck,” he grunts, hips bucking up into her hand. “Too small. You gotta be comfortable.”

“You'll take good care of me.” She caresses his thighs and nuzzles her face into his neck. “I'll take care of you, too, Javier. You know I will. Please let me, honey.”

She really is spoiled. And Javier is nothing if not accommodating to his girl. He pulls into their driveway after a short but agonising drive and swiftly parks in the garage between two empty cars. She sidles up next to him on the bench and pulls him toward her for a kiss.

He cradles the back of her head and she cups his cheek. It's slow to begin, bending to his own whims as he takes his time tasting her. Her mouth opens for him and he plunders her mouth with his tongue. “Did you… like my… mmm, present?” she asks when he gives her room to breathe.

“Are you kidding me?” He pushes his hips up into her wandering hand to let her feel his aching erection. “Been hard all fucking day.”

She grins wickedly. “Want to know something?” she says, pulling back and perching with her legs folded underneath her. Her fingers slip buttons out of each hole on her blouse, slowly revealing her blue lace bra to him. “I changed before we left for work. Thought you'd like it.”

Javier lurches toward her and places his hands on her swollen tits. “Love these,” he murmurs, tracing his fingertips over the lace at the swell of her breasts. “My beautiful girl. Take it off.”

She slips the blouse off her shoulders and he can see her protruding belly, her blue panties peeking out from the waistband of her skirt. She's a picture. Prettier than even the little thing he keeps in his wallet. “Are you going to stare,” she says, “or will you take those stupid pants off?”

He unzips his dress pants and she yanks them down to his thighs, taking his briefs with them. Her mouth waters at the sight of his leaking head tapping against the hairs on his stomach. She shuffles backward until she has enough room to bend over him, pressing a flutter of kisses down his belly, up his twitching length, to its tip.

Javier’s head thunks against the driver’s window. His wife is on her knees in the fucking parking garage, on the bench of his truck, her ass arching up in the air as she wraps her lips around the head of his cock. He chokes on his own tongue. “Jesus… fuck.” His hand finds the crown of her head, resting comfortably, grounding himself in her soft hair. She suckles on the tip for a while, taking her time with him, hungry and hormonal and fucking dripping for him. “Fuck. That’s it. Doing so well. Fucking love you.”

He speaks in broken sentences, but it’s all right, because she can only moan around him as she begins to take him deeper. The hand that isn’t supporting her own weight shifts to fondle his balls, and he goes blind, bucking up into her throat without warning. She gags, and he’s ready to pull out, already muttering apologies, but the gaze she pins on him tells him she’s okay. She wants this. They’ve known each other for so long that even a fleeting glance will tell a story.

She sinks down until her nose is buried in his pubic hair, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. Javier reaches out and swipes them away with his thumb.

When she swallows around him, he thinks he goes cross-eyed. Then she begins a rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, and it’s so overwhelming that he forgets to breathe for a moment, schooling himself to relax his tense muscles and just feel.

And he feels. Every slow drag of his length along the walls of her hot, wet throat shakes loose his very soul and makes all of him tremble. The song of it is filthy and obscene, and its melody clings to the ceiling of his brain. It’s a clawing, high feeling he cannot rein in. It’s cloying and hazy. The window fogs with his breath when his head lolls, unable to remember his fucking name. Where is he, what is he, it’s her on her knees and it’s all he knows—

He can't even speak when he comes, when her mouth seals tight around him and her tongue wiggles along the vein on his shaft and her hand squeezes his balls. He just feels his face screw up, his brows pinching, and he unleashes a vaguely pitchy grunt, only half of which is clear through the rasp in his voice. He can’t even remember a curse word.

When she slides off his cock and swipes a drop of cum off his length, bringing it to her lips, he’s still recovering his vision. “Told you I’d be extra nice to you,” she says with a grin, tucking him back inside his pants and kissing him so sweetly that he’s dizzy with the shift.

“Come here,” he croaks, tugging her gently onto his lap. His hand rests on her belly like it usually does. Her lips are swollen, her makeup smeared, and he tucks her into his chest, folding her precious heart up inside his ribs so nobody will ever touch it again.

“Javi.”

“Mmm.”

“I think it’s a girl.”

MONTH 7

She's been staring at the little picture in her hand since they got home. Actually, she stared at it throughout the whole drive back, too. When he closes the door behind them and sits with her at the kitchen table, he looks at the picture, too.

They’re both so busy fawning over the little square image that they forget to make dinner until ten o’clock. As they lounge on the couch, a record crackling out Vicente Fernández, Javier plays with her fingers as he rests his head on her lap, humming along to the music into her growing belly.

“She’s gonna need a name,” he murmurs.

She hums, using her free fingers to toy with his hair. She’s exhausted, slipping in and out of dreamland, their daughter having kicked up a storm inside her today. “Our little butterfly. Little star. I’m fresh out of ideas, Javi,” she says groggily.

“We’ll figure it out, amor.” Javier presses his lips to the bump peeking out from beneath his button-up. It’s all she’s wearing, so his head is nice and warm on her thighs.

She giggles, her head falling back against the sofa. “I’m gonna have a little baby girl. Is it bad that I can’t wait?”

“I wanna hold her so bad it’s killing me,” says Javier. “But I still get to hold you.” He squeezes her hand.

“Casanova,” she mumbles, her eyes fluttering. Sleep is pulling at her.

“C’mon,” he urges softly, standing up so he can help her off the couch. “Gotta get you to bed, cariño.”

She protests with her mouth only, but her body is pliant and willing to go. Once they’re in bed, it’s minutes before her breathing slows and her lips part in blissful sleep. He watches her for a moment. His best friend. He used to pine over her like a puppy and wish he was the one who got to marry her over her shitty ex-husband. Here she is, his ring on her finger, and here they both are. Older, maybe wiser, but happier than they both were the first day he slipped into that nondescript little café and befriended the pretty girl behind the counter.

The pretty girl who’s carrying his little star.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, placing his hand atop the bump on his wife’s belly. She remains asleep, content and warm in his arms. He's falling asleep, too, his eyelids dragging. But he feels compelled to say this. “Soy tu papá. You're inside your mamá right now, but we're gonna meet you soon.”

His eyes close, but he still faintly hears himself speak. “I'm gonna keep you safe, mi mariposa.”

On the bedside table lies the picture of the sonogram.

They round up Alvaro Diaz at the safe house, and he confesses to every crime. When Feistl and Van Ness escort him to the van, Javier is already inside it.

The kid is short, mousy, and won't meet Javier’s eye. “Alvaro Diaz,” he says. “You've got a real fuckin’ set on you, I’ll give you that. How much did they pay you, huh?”

“I…” Diaz shakes his head. “They didn't give me a choice. They threatened my girl.”

How very funny. Javier doesn't have a scrap of sympathy. The beast inside him is rearing up with its teeth snapping. “Yeah? Your girlfriend? She get away unscathed?”

Diaz nods meekly.

“How much did they pay you?”

“I… want a l—lawyer.”

Javier lifts a brow. “Did you enjoy it?”

“What?”

“Did you like it? Putting that bomb together and blowing up the president?”

Diaz’s hands are white-knuckling his own knees. “It wasn't personal,” he squeaks.

Even fucking funnier.

Javier leans forward and drowns Diaz in his black gaze. “You made it personal when your bomb almost killed my wife. You're lucky you're still alive to get a goddamn lawyer.”

“I'm resigning,” he tells her one night.

She lifts her head and frowns at him. “What? You're sure?”

“I’m sure.” He caresses her spine with his fingers. “I’m done, baby. I’m tired, I’m smoking, and I want to go home. Real home. I want to raise our baby somewhere safe and quiet, and I want you to be safe. I could never guarantee that here, and you still came with me.”

“You should know by now that I’ll follow you anywhere, Javier.” She smiles, kissing him deep and slow. And that's it. The end of it.

Next week, on a random Tuesday, a reporter presses a button on a tape recorder, and Javier throws his entire career away.

Crosby is furious, of course. On Javier’s desk sits an already-packed box of effects, a picture of her on top.

“Any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier thinks of his wife and the baby girl he gets to meet oh-so soon. This world, this building, and the people inside it seem so small in comparison.

“My aspirations have changed,” he tells Crosby. “I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

They're a little worried about getting to the airport only to get told she can't fly in her condition. But when the airline lets her on with no questions, Javier is a little worried about the lax security in this place. What kind of company lets a seven-month-pregnant woman fly cross-continent without so much as a medical once-over? She kisses his cheek as they settle in their seats and holds his hand. “I’m okay,” she tells him, because of course she knows what he's thinking.

When they touch down in Texas, Javier pulls along all the luggage until he notices her stop dead in her tracks. He's by her side immediately; he's been monitoring her Braxton Hicks contractions, they've both been counting the flutters and kicks to her belly, and nothing has been out of place. They see their doctor every two weeks, although now they'll need to consult a new physician in Laredo. If there's something wrong, he should be prepared to note it, take care of it. It doesn’t help the terror that strikes him.

But she's looking at a television inside the duty-free shop. BREAKING NEWS, it emblazons in red across the screen. He's seen so much breaking news in the past ten years that it hardly fazes him.

Then he reads it.

Universidad Nacional de Colombia bomber found dead in cell, suspected suicide.

Her hand flies to her belly and she sways a little on her feet. Javier steadies her, a hand steadfast on her back, guiding her to a nearby chair. “Baby,” he says softly, brushing her hair behind her ear and kneeling in front of her.

There are tears in her eyes. “I’m here,” she whispers. His hand covers hers: two thumbs rub circles on her belly, soothing the excitable baby inside. “We're here.”

He senses the conflict inside her. She's a loving soul, and a soul like that often aches for others more than herself. Sometimes she gets afraid to feel too happy. But they're home, together, so close to bringing their little butterfly into the world.

“I know, sweetheart.” Javier kisses her cheek. “I know.”

She smiles at him through her tears and brushes a knuckle across his chin. “Let's go home, Javi.”

MONTH 8

Javier has a problem.

It's two o’clock in the morning. They've left the window open for the past week because she complains about overheating in the night. Javier, who runs hot in his sleep, doesn't mind. That isn't his problem.

As his wife lies sleeping next to him, Javier stares up at the ceiling and tries to soothe his deep, thrumming arousal. It comes from the hormonal scent of her, belly round and lips parted in serenity, that banks off every wall in Javier’s head and rattles his brain against his skull. The hard line of his cock is visible, tenting the sheets, and he can't seem to conjure a single thought, no matter how dark or abhorrent, that will ease the ache of desire.

He can't wake her up. He won't. She's so peaceful in her sleep, the moon brushing her cheeks with silvery light, her lashes fluttering in the small movements of her eyes behind their lids. Her round belly peeks out beneath his button-up, which she insists on wearing to bed because it smells like him.

He wants to bury his body inside hers until they become one. He wants to possess her. He wants to sidle up right next to her and support her bump under his hands, breathe in the scent of her hair and the taste of her skin. He wants to slide his leaking cock inside her and fuck her deep, drawing those sleepy, buttery noises from her throat. But she's soft and still and he is certain he will become the world’s shittiest husband if he wakes his pregnant wife to take care of him.

He tries to shift slowly off the bed, but a little whine puffs out of her mouth. She's got one leg hitched up over one of his, her hand over his chest, and her calf flexes to keep him close. Javier’s heart is pounding wildly to keep pace with the love he has, the need he has. “I’m here,” he whispers to her, though he’s almost sure she’s still asleep. “I’m not leaving, baby. Just going to the bathroom.”

Her nose traces a lazy path from his collarbone to his jawline. “Can I go with you?” she mumbles. Her sleepy words ignite a candle in his chest, one that melts the wax of his sensibilities.

Is it possible to fall in love a million times with one person?

He puts his forehead to hers. Her eyes haven’t opened once. “You need to sleep, vaquera.”

“‘M pregnant,” is her nonsensical reply.

“That’s right, baby. Gotta get your sleep.”

“Mmm-mmm,” she protests. “Means I get what I want.”

Oh, she has him there. Javier chuckles, and her eyes finally peel open. Her sleepy grin makes him lean down and attack her lips for a kiss. She barely reciprocates, merely humming happily, but he doesn’t mind. She lets him slip out of bed and follows him, a little waddle in her step with her belly in the way. Her back has been aching so badly for the past month, and he can see her weary face pinch a little in pain when she first stands up. Since he sleeps naked, she spots his aggressive hardness instantly, tapping his stomach and leaking into his pubic hair. She bites her lip. “Oh, honey.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbles.

When he guides her to the bathroom, he crowds her up against the vanity and laces his fingers underneath her belly. When he lifts the weight of the bump, she audibly moans, her head falling back onto his shoulder. He nips her earlobe, certain she feels the hardness of him at her ass.

“Thought you had to pee,” she sighs, a little giggle slipping out from the sheer relief of him taking the weight of her baby in his arms.

He’s so busy burying his face in her neck and inhaling her scent that he forgets to respond for a moment. “Need to jerk off,” he groans. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

She hums. Every little noise she makes sends sparks crackling down his spine. “Thinking about me?” she asks, gazing at him in the mirror through her heavy-lidded eyes.

“Mmm. So soft.” He kisses her neck, her shoulders, toying with the collar of his shirt draped over her. “So beautiful. You smell so fucking good. Carrying my baby.”

“Don’t have to jerk off,” she says, turning her head and seeking his lips. He slots his mouth over hers and traps her in a soft kiss. He’s leaking onto the back of the shirt she wears, and she reaches backward to grasp his shaft. Her hands are warm and soft and so much gentler than he would be. He grits his teeth against her cheek. “Let me do it, Javi.”

He huffs. “You shouldn’t… fuck, shouldn’t have to—”

“I want to.” She squeezes the head of his cock and his chin falls onto her shoulder.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you.” He whispers it like a prayer into her ear as she swipes her thumb through the precum at his tip and begins to slowly jerk him off.

It’s slightly awkward in this position: his arms around her, holding up her belly, one of her hands twisted and tucked between their bodies. But it feels so fucking good to have some relief—for both of them. His mouth falls open and his brow furrows when she establishes a quick rhythm, his nose crushed in the crook of her neck. He needs to breathe air that's touched with her scent or he’ll suffocate and drop dead.

She rests her head against his, the tension in her back loosening, the coils that tighten between the knobs of her spine untying as her husband holds her swollen belly.

Even half-conscious, she knows she's making him feel good. His precum lubes him up enough that she can stroke him easily, and she whispers things into the darkness of the bathroom as his breathing warms her throat and his heaving chest pushes against her back.

So hard. Breathe, Javi, I’ve got you. You always take good care of me. Let me make you feel good.

She likes when he whines. It makes her feel strong, capable, sexy. Her mere touch sucks the breath out of him in fast, punching groans—ones that pitch upward into whimpering croaks of her name.

She coos at him through the din, the thick hazy air that tugs at her senses with the desire to sleep. It doesn’t take long for him to come. He really does huff out a whine when the pleasure racks his body, jerking his hips up into her hand and spilling hot cum all over her back, her ass, his own stomach. It’s a mess, and it isn’t the most earth-shattering orgasm he’s ever had—it certainly doesn’t compare to being inside her—but she’s oh-so tired, and sex with Javier is more often than not a doubly exertive sport. Besides, coming by her hand is infinitely more pleasurable than his own. He winds down by breathing into her skin, kissing her jaw and her cheek and her shoulders and murmuring soft thank-yous.

He cleans her up and brings her back to bed after they both use the bathroom, and Javier can sleep better. When he wakes up, his fingers are entangled with hers, and his mouth has somehow found his favourite spot on her back. Their wedding rings glimmer in the golden Texas sun.

She loves the barn cats.

Because she knows Javier won't let her lift a finger, not even to help carry a bucket of slop for the pigs, she's settled into a chair near the haylofts where the stray cats love to roll and lounge. She has a parenting book in her hand, but there's one particular calico who's taken a liking to her and keeps bumping his nose into the novel. She coos at the old, one-eyed feline and abandons her book to gather him up in her arms.

He settles in happily, nudging his furry forehead against her baby bump and curling on her lap. She introduces herself to the cat as if he can understand her, and Javier watches her with a surprising jolt of jealousy. Jealous of a goddamn cat. He huffs to himself and continues to saddle up the brown-and-white paint horse Cowboy.

“I wish I could ride,” she tells him while the calico licks her fingertips.

“You will, baby.” Javier saunters over once he’s got Cowboy in his saddle and she tips her head down to look at him over her sunglasses. He’s a different man in Texas. She rarely saw him out of a suit in Colombia, which was fine and dandy, but here, he wears those tight fucking jeans and those boots and those flannel button-ups. He keeps his moustache trimmed as usual, and he’s the same Javier she’s always been in love with, but there’s something about the way he carries himself here.

It makes her beam a little. Sometimes, she gets overwhelmed by the sheer joy she feels at having him in her life. Joy that he’s alive, safe, and healthy. Joy that she gets to wake up married to her best friend every day.

Javier lifts his eyebrows suggestively. “Just gonna have to ride a different cowboy in the meantime.”

She snorts. “My very own poet.”

They’ve taken up residence in the guest house on the ranch to make sure they don’t impede on Chucho’s territory, even though he’s repeatedly told them he’s overjoyed to have them back in Laredo. She loves Javier’s father, and he loves her like a daughter, but it’s nice not to share guilty looks when Chucho teases them about their late-night activities over breakfast.

He was ecstatic when they told him she was having a girl. I can’t wait to meet my first-ever nieta, he gushed. When they touched down in Texas, Chucho was waiting to pick them up at the airport with a surprise in the backseat: a tiny pink onesie. She burst into tears and wouldn’t release Chucho from their embrace, but he didn’t mind. Javier had to discreetly wipe a tear aside under his sunglasses.

The calico hops dutifully off her lap when she pats his bum to signal she needs to stand up. “He’s beautiful,” she remarks, accepting Javier’s hand. He holds onto it as they greet Cowboy once again. She lets him sniff her hand and he nuzzles into her palm. She grins up at him. “Hey, stud. You’re the one carrying my husband around here, huh?”

Cowboy snorts in accordance. Javier pats his snout. “C’mon, old man. Let’s round up those sheep before it gets dark.”

“Two real vaqueros,” she muses. “You gotta wear your hat, baby. Please.”

Javier reaches around a post and plucks a cowboy hat off a hook. She practically squeals in excitement, but he sets it on top of her head first. He assesses her, that cute little maternity dress underneath one of his flannel shirts, complete with his hat that dips down over her brows. “Yeah. Looks a hell of a lot better on you.”

She schools her face to look somewhat stern. “Stick ‘em up, partner.”

Javier pats her ass. He decides to make her wear that the next time she rides him. For now, he finds another hat and secures it on his own head, guiding Cowboy out of his pen and toward the sheep pens. Out in the sunshine, the horse bends his head and gently brushes his snout against her swollen belly, his ears flicking with curiosity. Javier clicks his tongue with a warning of, “Careful, boy,” but she smiles and rubs Cowboy’s snout.

“My baby girl is in here,” she tells the horse. “Can you feel her?”

Javier grins, and he looks good enough to eat in that hat, his moustache and his crooked smile and his dimples striking her deep in her gut. She hopes their little girl will get that smile, those dimples, those eyes. “He can. Animals are like that.”

“So many new friends.” She steps back and watches fondly as Javier swings himself up onto Cowboy’s back. “I like it here, Jav. I really do.”

Javier’s chest swells with a pride that fills him up all the way to his throat. He swallows. This is where he grew up. His childhood ranch. In the main house, Chucho cooks for their twice-weekly family dinner. The home runs over with memories, all the way from the front porch to the outskirts of the property where he would sneak out to watch the stars at night or drink beers with his friends. It’s where he watched his mother and father navigate their lives so deeply in love, and it’s where he now gets to live with the love of his life. The sun is beginning to set and he can’t help but wish his mother were here to meet the incredible woman next to him.

While he rounds up the sheep into their pens, his wife takes a walk around the property, never straying too far at his request. She greets the sheepdogs and bides her time cuddling up with another stray cat until Javier is hopping down from Cowboy’s back and heading across the field to join her.

A spark of panic rises in him when she turns toward the river.

Javier calls her name suddenly. “Don’t go near the water.”

She looks back over her shoulder with a frown. “Is it deep?”

There’s some tension in his jaw that he rubs away as he approaches her. “The boats,” he tells her.

She takes a step backward until she bumps into his chest. “Shit,” she mutters, reaching for his hand. “I’m sorry, Javi. Let’s go back.”

His gaze lingers a little on the river, void of a soul even as he pictures the motor churning up the water, and shakes his head. She squeezes his hand. “Whatever you’re about to say,” she says softly, “don’t. They’re still here, and they always will be. But you…” Her fingers at his temple, brushing aside stray hairs, soothe the erratic heartbeat in his chest. “… saved so many lives. Stopped so much evil. Don’t you dare say a word about it being for nothing. Those people that didn’t die because of you would disagree. Me included.”

Javier places his hand on her belly. “Mi mariposa,” he says, whisper-quiet. “Your mamá always knows what to say.”

There’s a little porch swing outside the Peña home. It’s a nice wraparound porch, the kind she wants when they find a place of their own. It’s long after dinnertime, and Chucho is in bed. Husband and wife swing idly on the bench.

“I can’t wait to look at her, Javi,” she tells him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He knows the feeling. He’s pictured her a hundred times: whether she’ll have her mother’s eyes or his, her nose or his. Nothing will compare to really knowing.

They stare up at the stars together. Of all the blinking lights in the galaxy and the planets that may or may not house life, he got to exist on this one, with the one person who erases that sensation of feeling so utterly small in such a big universe.

MONTH 9

She’s angry.

Javier senses it when he closes the door softly behind him. She’s sitting at the table with two plates of steaming food atop it. She meets his eye and stands up abruptly, despite the swaying she gets from the adjustment of her big belly. He rushes to steady her, but she smacks his hand away.

“You're late,” she says plainly, her eyes brimming with tears. It’s only five o’clock. An early finish on the ranch.

He knows his wife better than she does. She's his best friend. Her moods are like the lines on his palm, traceable and legible. It's how he knows what is wrong before he even says a word.

“Sit,” he says. “On the couch. Go on.”

She storms—well, waddles—toward the sofa without another word. When she settles slowly onto the cushions, her brow pinched with a permanent tension as she glares at him, Javier tilts his head to the side. “You got an attitude problem today, huh, baby?”

“Don’t call me sweet names,” she snaps. “I missed you.”

The vertigo from one statement to the next should be dizzying, but it’s been par for the course over the last few weeks. Javier pouts, sinking to his knees in front of her. “You don’t want me to be sweet?” he grunts, yanking down her panties and popping open all the buttons on the flannel she stole from his closet today. It’s rare he sees her in her own clothes nowadays. It awakens some sort of caveman inside him, prideful and beastly at the sight of his pregnant wife in his shirts.

She’s very, very pregnant. Pregnant and hormonal and so horny that it’s become an impediment in her day-to-day. She wants him all the time, more than he can keep up with, and she knows it no matter how much she pouts. Javier is right: she’s spoiled, but it isn’t her fault he gives her everything she wants.

“You gonna beg me for it, or are you gonna be mean?” Javier blows cool air straight onto her glistening cunt. She’s already wet and writhing; his poor girl must have been waiting for hours to get her fill of him.

“Fuck you,” she gasps.

It sends all his blood rushing to his cock. “Mean, then.” His fingers part her folds and his tongue flattens against her clit. She cries out, hand fisting in her hair. She’s not in the mood for sweet. She’s in pain from bearing the weight of her baby for so long, she’s slow and waddling and swollen, and she doesn’t want to think. She wants to feel, and she wants it rough.

Javier is eager to indulge, because he always is. Her commanding side thrills him, just as her whimpering, needy side does. It’s all her. His tongue wiggles against her clit before flicking at it, two fingers sinking into her hole until they’re knuckle-deep. One of her legs kicks out, so he wraps an arm around her thigh and spreads her open wider. If she wants to be demanding, so will he. He’ll take every drop of wetness he wants from her pussy and she’ll cry his name.

His fingers curl inside her and his mouth plunders her, his tongue lapping up her slick and his nose bumping against her clit. “Fuck,” she groans, “make me come. Please. Please.”

Javier smacks the thigh he’s holding onto and her head falls back against the couch. “Begging,” he says smugly.

“Cocky bastard—” When he takes her clit between his teeth, she does sob, letting her tension snap. “Fuck!”

He keeps suckling on her clit between his lips and his fingers inside her as she writhes under him, coming hard and fast. He doesn’t relent even as she pushes at his head, his tongue delving into her hole next to his fingers and tasting the slick she produces. It's fucking heaven. Sweet and tangy and just as warm as the rest of her. He will die buried inside her body, he decides.

He only allows one kiss to the bump on her belly before he pins her with a stare. “Hands and knees.”

Feeling defiant, she pouts down at him. Javier stands up and wraps his hand around a section of her hair. “You want to get fucked?” he asks.

“If you don't get inside me right now, I will—”

He clicks his tongue. “Kill me and you don't get fucked. Hands and knees, baby.”

She shifts, her swollen belly beneath her as she arches her ass up in the air and presses it back against his clothed cock once he’s positioned behind her. He hastily pulls himself from his jeans and slaps the head against her asscheek. “Gonna beg?”

“Fucking fuck me,” she huffs. “Fuck this baby out of me, Javier. Fuck me, please, just fuck me—”

It's easy to slip inside her with how wet she is. “Nngh, fuck,” she groans.

“You like me balls-deep,” he grunts, pulling out until only the tip throbs inside her, then thrusting hard and sure. It's what she needs: hard, rough, fast. “Don't you?”

“Mmmm.” Her lips part and drool clicks in her throat as he begins a punishing pace, his hips slapping against her ass. “Don't get fucking proud about it—shit, Javi, oh, shit!”

Christ, he likes to hear her get mad only to crumble when he fucks her this good. His hand fists her hair again, pulling her back up, flush against his chest, sitting back on his haunches so he can fuck her without mercy. She screams his name and he's never felt so fucking proud in his life.

“Such a fuckin’ slut for it.” His hand shifts from her belly to her clit. “So mean to the only man who can make you feel better.”

She mewls at the pressure of his fingers against her clit. “Javi… Fuck, it's so good, I—I need your cum. Please,” she whines. “I’ll be nice. I’ll be—”

“Say it.” He's grunting into her ear, unrestrained and wild. “Fucking say it. You want me so bad, then say it.”

“Papi,” she whines, her head falling back onto his shoulder.

He ruts into her harder, baring his teeth against her jaw. “Louder. Mean it, baby. Gotta mean it.”

A devastating thrust prods against her g-spot and she screams. “¡Papi! Fuck! Ohhhhh, my—”

She holds onto his wrist to ground herself as she gushes around him, moaning long and low and collapsing onto the cushions.

He does his best to make sure she doesn't hurt herself as her orgasm positively wrecks her, but it's difficult to see through the haze in eyes when he grinds deep and spills his cum inside her, puffing out her name and keeping her ass flush against his hips. He wants all of him to stay inside her and never drip out. It seems impossible with how much he seems to come whenever he's buried in her, but he makes a valiant effort.

He adjusts their positions so her back is nestled against his chest as they both catch their breath. “Javi,” she says weakly.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I'm sorry I’m so… pregnant.”

She sniffles, and it breaks his heart into halves. He hopes she can feel him give her the other piece when he shushes her, nudging her cheek with his nose. “Never,” he murmurs. “Never say that. Think I don’t like you mad as much as I like you happy? Mala.”

He can see the edges of a growing smile, and it makes him grin into her cheek. “I want another baby,” she tells him, toying with the ring on his left hand.

“Let's get this one out of you,” he says, “and I’ll give you all the babies you want.”

Her eyes flutter shut. “Okay.”

That's that.

“Javier.”

Her voice is a whisper in his ear, awakening him from a deep sleep, the kind he can only get when she's this close to him. It's a voice that's too soft, too restrained, to be anything but an attempt to keep him calm.

It doesn't work. The moment he hears, “My water just broke,” nothing will ease the terror, the excitement, the tremor in his fingers as he helps her out of bed.

From this moment, his life cleaves in two. Everything after this will change him.

He doesn't remember what he says to her. She doesn't remember her reply.

The nurses begin to urge her to push, push, push, and it occurs to them both that this eclipses any words language can give them.

Love like this isn't tangible. It flees from explanation and cowers behind the wall of reason. It's a love that erupts screaming and writhing into the world, unrestrained, beautiful.

It's all he can think when he takes her into his arms for the first time. She's beautiful.

follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifications if you want to be notified the next time i post a fic!

#kiwisbell's fics #siempre series #javier peña x you #javier peña fluff #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x f!reader #narcos #narcos fic

370 notes · View notes

saekkas · 8 months

Text

gojo satoru's day always starts with a cup of coffee and ends with those stupidly chewy strawberry mochi he can't get enough of. in the unpredictable life of a jujutsu sorcerer, he rarely gets to choose how he spends his days. it's a blessing enough that he gets to stick to his routine, no matter how boring it may seem to people.

lately, he's lost track of time. the mornings and nights blur into one, his thoughts hazy as if someone's filled his brain with cotton and insists on shaking his head non-stop.

as of today, he chooses to blame you for that fact.

"have i ever told you how pretty you look in your uniform?"

from the day he met you, satoru realizes that you've made him irrevocably yours. you make him disregard all rationality, melting any and every thought he has into a puddle of goo under his feet.

and every single time, you do it with such a sweet smile on your lips. like the way you're doing now.

"yes, you have." it's airy, the way you chuckle, the sound sweet and low in satoru's ear as if you're keeping what he said a secret from others. "you've told me plenty of time already."

"yeah?" he breaths out, almost breathless in the way he sighs out the word. "how about today? have i told you today?"

satoru's eyes have always been the gate to his soul— so bright and full of life, the whole ocean and seven seas put into orbs for him alone to possess.

"you have." you watch, enraptured, as they glow a startlingly clear blue. you hold the center of his attention, the full weight of his six eyes peering down at you. "you've told me multiple times actually, gojo."

and yet, what you've come to realize with startling clarity, is how his eyes soften at the edges when he's staring at you. as if he's looking at the one who's planted all the stars in the night sky just for him.

"it's satoru," he tsks after breaking out of his own stupor. satoru's cheeks redden, both enraptured and embarrassed at himself for staring so blatantly. "satoru. how many time have i told you to call me that?"

"multiple times too," you giggle, shaking your head at his adamance of using his first name. "i still don't think we're close enough to be on a first name basis. don't you?"

satoru gasps, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. he looks at you in mock hurt, his expression twisted into a pout that highlights his pretty features.

"and here i was, thinking that we were the best of friends." the way he says it makes it seem as if you've betrayed him— as if you've given the last piece of mochi in the whole world to his biggest enemy. "i'm hurt. i don't think i'll ever survive this pain."

you snort, patting his shoulder in response. "so sorry. anything i can do to make it up to you?"

"i'd tell you to smile more often," he answers without missing a beat, the pout on his face already turning into a boyish grin. "you're so pretty when you smile but maybe you shouldn't."

you blink, taking in his smug expression with a quirked eyebrow. you watch the way he lowers his glasses, staying still when he pushes them onto your head with gentle fingers.

you know better than to fall for his tricks. "why's that? do you like my scowl better?"

"not at all," he giggles, his hand making contact with your face, moving to cup your cheek. he's always been like this, touchy and sweet in a way he isn't with other people. "i'd like to personally reserve it for me. i don't like sharing with other people."

you don't move, not when he takes his glasses from your head, nor when he moves to kiss your cheek. all you know is that your expression has automatically shifted into a lovestruck grin, one that perfectly mirrors his.

it's a shame really, how satoru's always failed to realize that your sweetest of smiles and giggles are reserved just for him. even if you make it seem like they aren't.

"i'll pick you up tonight if you still want to make it up to me!" he calls over his shoulder, already moving away from you towards the direction of his office.

satoru is nothing but a cheeky bastard— he knows the effect he has on people, especially when he winks, sending a flying kiss your way. "wear something pretty and remember! that smile is reserved only for me. for satoru!"

"i'll make sure to dress the prettiest i can. make sure you're not late! i'll be counting the hours, satoru."

you can only laugh when the strongest trips over his own feet, gaping like a fish out of water from his spot across the field.

614 notes · View notes

cerisereids · 1 month

Text

aaron hotchner struggles accepting the love he deserves.

that’s why he shuts down when you move in next door. you, with your flowy dresses and baked goods and shiny lips. he doesn’t dare go near you. how could he, when he has the exact opposite of a midas touch? he wouldn’t even dare to think of putting you in harm’s way, which is why he rejects the brownies you offer him the day after your move in. his heart cracks at the way your face falls, but his legendary poker face has gotten him this far, and it’ll get him out of this, too. or so he thinks.

you show up the next day, and the day after that. soon, his kitchen counter is laden with cookies, cakes, and pies. jack is in heaven, and hotch himself can’t help but indulge. as his teeth sink into the chewy goodness of a chocolate chip cookie, he chastises himself for wondering if your lips taste just as sweet. he imagines kissing you after you taste test one of your treats, maybe licking some frosting off your top lip.

guilt and shame creep up his spine, slithering around his body until his heart is constricted with it. he can’t think like this. not with you. not when you’re so good. you’re so good, and he’s been through so much bad, what if that’s all he is now? why on earth would someone so sweet and beautiful want a divorced widower with a child? it makes no sense to him, so he shakes off any possibility of it even happening. even if the looks you give him from your garden tell him otherwise.

he recalls the times this week he’s seen you out while he’s arriving home from work. the way your eyes would follow up and down his body, how you’d bite your lip as you said hello. the way your gaze lingered on his biceps that were stuffed into his button up is seared into his memory. he normally saves these memories for bed time, or during a cold shower, but you’re taking up his brain capacity at a rapid pace. he’s afraid there’s no pumping the brakes.

one day, after two weeks of you bringing him baked goods and eye fucking him from your yard, you appear on his front doorstep. only this time, there’s not a treat in your hand, but an entire picnic basket.

“hi!” you chirp, your beautiful smile etched onto your face, “sorry to bug, i hope you’re not busy! it’s such a beautiful day outside, i thought it’d be perfect for a picnic, and i’d love some company! maybe we could get to know each other some more!”

his heart completely stops. he’s surprised he doesn’t go comatose in that very moment.

“w-wow!” he stutters, clearing his throat. smooth, aaron, “that sounds great, but i don’t have a sitter for jack…” he hates to decline, but his son has always come first. any woman entering his life needs to know that. not that you’re entering his life, right?

“oh! that’s not a problem! he’s invited too, i packed a peanut butter and jelly, but then i thought he could be allergic to peanut butter, so there’s a ham and cheese one in there for him too!” he sees you grow bashful at your rambling, your cheeks heating even more under the warm july sun. he has to fight the urge to kiss that pretty face, one on each cheek.

“that sounds wonderful,” he says gently, a smile in kind forming on his face, “let me go grab him.”

jack is elated to spend the day in the park with the new nice neighbor, and aaron’s heart swells at how much his son already loves you. his heart nearly bursts in his chest, though, when you loop your arm through his and lean up to whisper in his ear, “maybe later, when you can get a sitter, we can do this again, just you and me,” your siren eyes rendering him nearly comatose, once again.

285 notes · View notes

madebyrolo · 3 months

Text

Placeholder - Jacob Black x reader

One shot

Inspired by the Radiohead song “India Rubber”

She/her

Y/n has had a crush on Jacob since middle school, entering high school they start to get closer but then Bella his longtime crush comes back to town.

comment Bella slander I love it but #teamedward #jacobishotter

*not proof read or edited*

┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐

Did it all for you to say, you never wanted me that way.

I’ve had the biggest crush on Jacob ever since middle school. We were at La push and him and his friends were playing soccer and 12 year me went crazy for some reason. We went to school together but it wasn’t easy being friends with your crush. It wasn’t until summer before freshmam year once we started getting closer. He got a car and he would give me rides to school. Those school rides turned into hangouts.

First he brought his friends along, we would go get pizza, go to the arcade, bowling or the beach. Though it wasn’t until the fall when it would he just us two. He called them friend dates although I would wanted it to be more.

Then came spring. The daughter of Chief Swan came back in town. Jacob and Bella were best friends when they were young cause of their dads. Bella was 2 years older than him. She was 17 now and he was 15 and a lot has changed since she’s was last here. Jacob had a crush on Bella it wasn’t hard to tell. As soon as he heard the news from his dad that Bella was back in town he started spending time with her, catching up and trying to be the best friends they used to be.

Now the dogs have had their meat, I think I’ll go plug in the mains.

He and the rest of the boys went back to school on the rez too so she hardly saw him and now she was forced to ride the bus. With that Jacob and y/n daily hangs out turned to after school only. But sometimes he would cancel cause and she quotes “reconnecting with Bella” so now it was weekend only.

Soon the summer came around and Bella got a boyfriend and basically kicked Jacob to the curb. Now y/n had her Jacob back. They caught up after her time was stolen by Bella and Jacob acted like nothing happened. The same cycle happened again. Hanging out as a group, then alone, then Bella. Everyday, after school, weeekend only, then cancelations.

It was fall and Bella broke up with Edward. Jacob was back to following her around like a lost puppy. Y/n noticed Bella was treating Jacob like a place holder and y/n didn’t like it. Even though it pains her that Jacob has feeling for Bella, doesn’t mean she can play with him all she wants. She know he’s wrapped around her finger and she takes advantage of that.

Jacob was blinded by love, although he knew that he was temporary to her, he loved that he was at least hers for while. Edward leaving Bella in emotional mess was the shitiest thing he’s done but Jacob took it as an opportunity to swoop in and take Bella for himself. So he went to the one person he knew for advice, y/n. He pulled up to her house and texted her he was outside.

Y/n excited that Jacob wanted to hang out because it’s been weeks since they’ve did. She excitedly put her shoes on and headed out her door. Once she got in the car she was ready to list some ideas for what they could do but before Jacob ask her what set her down an emotional spiral.

“Y/n I need help” he turned to her

“Yea what’s up.”

“I wanna make Bella a little basket because she’s been really upset with her breakup”

Of course it’s for Bella y/n thought

“Uh sure”

“Okay what would you if you were going though a heartbreak ?”

“Um well candy always a good one, you can put in her favorites. I love gummy worms-”

“Bella hates them, she thinks they’re too chewy” he cut her off

“Um well like I said her favorites. I candle and a nice soft cute blanket. Maybe something sentimental between you guys of some thing” y/n told him

“Yes the sentimental things that’s good!”

There was silence between them

“Y/n Im gonna be honest with you, I feel comfortable and trust you enough to say this” he said with a deep breath

“I have feelings for Bella and I want to ask her out” yup and there it is. Her heart sunk. Y/n always knew but now that she has the confirmation makes it worse.

“I never felt this way about anyone before. She’s perfect, everything I want in someone. She’s self preserved, she’s smart and-”

Y/n couldn’t keep listening to him. He was praising her. He was in love with her. Every word he said she could hear the “love” in his voice. It was soul crushing. The boy she loved was in love with someone els. She always thought she would’ve ended up with him, she was so positive. They were close, she finally had him all too herself once he stopped inviting his friends. But then a Bella came. Bella, Bella, Bella all about her.

She snapped out of her emotions trying not to tear up infront of him but once she heard the sentence she broke.

“ I love her y/n.”

With that she couldn’t stay silent anymore.

I tumble like a clown. Before your baying hounds. I suffocated myself into your hands.

“Enough Jake, I’ve had enough! Can’t you see she’s doesn’t care about you? She’s using you. She’s waiting for Edward to come back you’re just a placeholder, it’s been like this since last year?! Once she met him she left you. She’s in love with him not you, she loves the attention she gets not you, she loves the “security” she gets from you not you! She knows you won’t leave cause you’ve been obsessed with her ever since you were younger. she loves the idea of you not you. you know she’ll never stop loving Edward but you don’t wanna admit it!!” y/n yells at him.

Jacob has tears slowing filling up his eye, his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel out of anger. He knows it’s the truth.

“Get out.” he says calmly trying not to lose his temper.

“Just know with me you’ll never be a burden. You wouldn’t be 1 or 2 in my life, you’ll be my life.” y/n says as she slams the door. Jacob speeds off.

Time skip 2 years.

Who would’ve guess Edward came back. Bella and them are graduating and everyone in school got an invite to the Cullens graduation party. Even though Y/n somewhat resented Bella even though she’s with Edward. Her crush on Jacob died out but you never really get over your first love. She decided to go to the party because a party’s a party.

It was 8pm and y/n was the party. She was hanging out with her friends now and the newly seniors while she was a newly junior. They were drinking, singing terribly and playing truth or dare. Y/n gets up to get a refill feeling a bit tipsy but she’s not wasted. As shes in the kitchen she runs into an old friend. Jacob.

When you spare your make up smile, im instantly your biggest fan.

He looks at with the most innocent smile acting like they’re fall out never happened. It’s been 2 years. They’re 16 now and they grown into their more mature selfs (and body’s) Jacob obviously spoke up first

“You look nice” he said staring at her.

“Thanks you too” she replied sipping her drink.

How was I supposed to know that you’ve practice it before.

└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

#jacob black #team edward #bella swan #edward cullen #team jacob #twilight #twilight saga #fanfic #jacob black x reader #quileute #twilight imagine

185 notes · View notes

ghostandsoap · 1 year

Text

Beyond the Mask

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader

Tags: Minor injuries. Brief references of child abuse. Maskless Ghost.

Word Count: 5.5k

“You’re special to me.”

It wasn’t the first time that you had asked.

Every once in a while, you would make the same request to Ghost. It was a request that he always took with ease and understanding of your curiosity. It was a seemingly simple ask, but mutually understood that it was much more important than it seemed.

“Can you please take off the mask?”

But it was a request that he politely declined every time.

“No, love.”

You weren’t the only one who had poked at Ghost to show his face (and been turned down). Just about everyone that Ghost interacted with on a regular basis had asked at one point or another. Soap was the most persistent of the bunch, and he seemed to try harder each time.

So, it wasn’t lost on Ghost that it was a lingering mystery just asking to be solved. He was aware of the fact that it was maddening, which is why he was so patient whenever people asked.

Ghost would admit that as time went on, he felt more and more guilty for turning down something that you wanted. If you wanted something, Ghost would do everything in his power to get it or do it for you. You were deserving of that, and he never wanted you to forget it. But taking off the mask was one thing that he just couldn’t bring himself to do.

He knew that it couldn’t last forever. If he wanted to go steady with you and move into the long term future (which he most certainly did want to do), then the mask was going to have to come off at some point. He wouldn’t want you to commit to something like that without even knowing what he looked like. It was inevitably going to come up time and time again, and eventually he would have to give in.

“Easy, Gecko. Take a load off.” Ghost said, ushering you into the lone bedroom of the safe house.

The stifled groans and muffled whimpers were a sure sign of the discomfort you were in. Each little noise stung Ghost’s heart more and more each time.

“I look and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” You coughed, hobbling into the room quite pathetically.

“That’s because you were hit by a truck.” Ghost said, dropping all of your gear in the corner of the room that he had carried in for you.

“Good point.” You laughed, carefully lowering yourself onto the edge of the bed.

You found humor in the situation, but Ghost hardly found it amusing at all.

It felt like more of a…firm bump rather than an actual hard, physical collision. The truck hadn’t been going nearly as fast as it could’ve been, and the front bumper had really only grazed one side of your body. Still, getting hit by a moving vehicle was bound to cause some damage, and the ever growing bruise on your side was proving that to you.

Despite the aching soreness and the discomfort, you had been checked and cleared thoroughly of any broken bones or other injuries. You were expected to be moving slow for the next few days, but it was a small price to pay considering that it could’ve been much worse.

Ghost was livid when it happened.

It was a rookie mistake – quite literally because it was a rookie who had made the mistake of almost running you over. Ghost had no idea who had the bright idea of letting a newbie tag along for this mission. This mission was predicted to take a couple weeks, and he couldn’t fathom how it was a good idea to let fresh blood in on such an important job.

It had completely been an accident. The team was waiting around for a bit before making the next move of the day when it happened. He had been extremely apologetic (once he actually had the chance to apologize) and nearly came to tears over it.

Nonetheless, you literally almost became roadkill because the amateur soldier wasn’t paying attention.

Ghost nearly lost his mind. You had barely enough time to even comprehend what had even happened before the soldier in question had been yanked from the driver’s seat and dragged by his collar for the chewing out of a lifetime. Soap had rushed over to help you to your feet, letting Ghost do all the scolding.

You weren’t sure what choice words Ghost had used with the rookie, but you could only imagine that he was close to seeing the light of the beyond by the time Ghost had said his piece.

You managed to make it through the rest of the day without any major issues, although you were much slower and it took the remainder of the day to completely regain your composure.

Ghost didn’t leave your side after that. He was half convinced that you were going to keel over and die instantly from some unforeseen complication. The rookie definitely kept his distance in the event that Ghost changed his mind about not killing him.

Ghost felt a little bit better when you finally were able to call it a day. He felt relief knowing that you had the opportunity to get some rest and give your recently rattled body a break.

“I should’ve choked him out.” Ghost growled, standing over you like the giant that he was.

He knelt on the floor to untie each of your boots, sliding them off of your fatigued feet. He stood back up, one of his massive hands came to the zipper on your jacket, sliding it down the length of your torso until it separated the outer layer completely.

“Ghost, he didn’t mean to do it,” You said, but smirked when you realized what he was doing. “I can undress myself, you know.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. He manually moved each of your arms one at a time to slip the jacket off of your frame.

“I know, but I don’t want you moving around too much. I also want to get a look at your side where you were hit.” He explained, motioning for you to carefully raise your arms above your head.

“Why?” You asked, wincing at the sting in your side when you raised your arms.

“Because you’ll lie and say that it’s ‘not that bad’.” He tossed your shirt aside once it was off, revealing your chest and torso.

He took a glance at your affected side that had already served as a canvas for a painting of nasty red, black, and purple. All the way from underneath your armpit down to the top of your hip was visibly roughed up.

“Just don’t want you to worry.” You squeaked when Ghost ran his hand along the area to check for any broken ribs once more.

“I know, baby.” He sighed, giving you the green-light once again for no major issues.

His nerves were settled once again, and he was suddenly aware of how peaceful the room was, and that he had a moment alone with you. The bedroom was cozy and didn’t have much to it. It was tucked away in the back of the safe house, away from the main living space where everyone else was camping out. The moon was shining through the window, casting beams of gentle light all through the room – just enough to be able to see you clearly. His hand cupped the side of your face, your head instinctively cradling into his palm as you made eye contact with him.

“You’re still my pretty girl.” His thumb dragged across your cheek.

“Even when I’m all beat up?” You giggled.

“Absolutely,” He remarked. “You’re still feeling okay, yeah?”

“Yeah, honey. Just tired.”

“Poor baby.” He purred, taking a seat next to you on the bed.

He raised the bottom of his balaclava just enough to where he could kiss you. His skull mask had been stashed away a while ago when he was tired of wearing it. His kisses were so much slower and tender when he was feeling worried about you…which was most of the time. When it came to you, Ghost tended to sweat the small stuff.

His grin matched yours when he felt it on the kiss. He had to admit, it was so easy to make you smile. He shifted on the mattress to get situated, leaning his tall frame against the back wall at the head of the bed.

“Easy, baby. Careful.” He jumped in surprise when you pounced on him, straddling him with a blinding grin on your face.

You hardly even noticed the pain in your side at all now. This was way more important to you.

“Kiss me again.” You whispered playfully, and he laughed.

“I’m trying, but I can’t have you roughing yourself up for a couple of kisses.” He said, his hands running over your breasts through the material of your bra that was still on.

“A couple of your kisses. Not just any.” You corrected.

“Mm. I might give some other places some attention.” He teased.

“Is that a promise?” You gasped.

“Only if you’re good.” He kissed you again, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted on top of his lap.

He loved moments like this. When you were on a mission (particularly the long ones), it could be a challenge to get to be with you alone. When you had a team around all the time (and Soap’s constant need to know what you and Ghost were up to), finding privacy could be nearly impossible.

A bedroom with a door that actually locked was like a lottery win for Ghost.

He was loving every second of this. It made him think about the next time that the two of you were going to be on leave and you could stay tangled up in his bed for as long as you wanted, wearing nothing but clean bed sheets and each other’s presence.

He kept a firm, yet cautious grip on your hips to keep you from going anywhere. Ghost loved it when you were this close to him because he could savor every part of you. He never took you for granted, but he surely cared enough to use these moments wisely.

But it didn’t take long for a recurring problem to come to the surface – making out with Simon could be difficult. There was a major barrier that always, without fail, got in the way.

You huffed when his balaclava slipped back down his face, denying you access from his lips. It was annoying to have to hold the fabric up with one hand and try to roam his chest with the other. This was usually the process: kiss, move the mask, kiss again, repeat.

Ghost often found it funny how irritated you would get with it, but tonight it felt more like a nuisance to him rather than you. Eventually you stopped, pulling away and letting the balaclava fall back down. Ghost looked at you, his eyes shining with knowingness of what was coming next.

“Can you please take the mask off?”

The famous question. Ghost’s most popular request.

“No, love.”

Usually, you left it at that. If Ghost flat out said no, then you normally wouldn’t push it. Tonight was different though. There was a stronger determination than normal. The circumstances couldn’t have been more perfect. No one else was around to see, and Ghost knew that you would take the mystery of Ghost’s face to your grave.

“Please?” You tried again.

He chuckled, although it was more of a nervous laugh.

“I’m nothing special, doll. I’m just like everybody else.” He shrugged.

“You’re special to me.” You corrected him.

He released a heavy exhale that he didn’t even realize he was holding in. Ghost knew that your intentions weren’t anything malicious, and that they were based solely on pure curiosity. He didn’t blame you in the slightest. If he were in your shoes, he knew he would be the exact same way. The two of you spent so much time together, and the two of you shared many precious moments together. If he never got to see your face, then he would be itching to know what was underneath too.

Ghost was thankful that you hadn’t ever pushed him to show you his face. Upon meeting him, you knew the importance of the mask and the purpose that it served.

“You have seen my face before,” He grumbled. “If you so recall, you walked in on me.”

“That was an accident!” You wailed. “And it was literally for half a second because I turned away so fast. I don’t even remember what you look like.”

��Gecko…” He sighed, a hint of desperation in his tone. “You know I don’t show my face.”

“Ghosty.” You whined, using his nickname that always made his knees go weak.

“You’re really not missing anything.” He bantered, trying to hold his composure.

“Actually…” You hesitated for a moment, because you debated continuing. “I feel like I’m missing a lot.”

Making him feel guilty was never your intention. There was no excuse or good reason to make him feel bad about something that you knew was important to him. But that didn’t stop his stomach from rolling over inside of him the way that it did whenever he felt like he had done something to make you unhappy.

And he knew that you weren’t upset in the slightest, but he still couldn’t help but feel so, so terrible.

“I want to hold your face…I want to kiss you without the mask,” You went on, hoping that he would understand that you weren’t attacking him. “I want to see you.”

That tone in your voice. The whisper of someone that he adored so much was like hearing the song of the soul. He wouldn’t say no to that. How could he say no to that?

“Okay.” He gave a slow nod.

You withheld from making a shocked expression, but that didn’t stop your heart from hitting your shoes and recoiling into your throat.

“Okay…” You echoed, unsure of what he meant exactly.

“The mask can come off.”

Instant fireworks exploded in your nervous system. It was a premature celebration, but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

You had to admit – you were nervous. Certainly not as nervous as he was. You knew how important this was to him, and how strict he was about never, ever revealing his face to anybody. It was an urban legend in a way. The mysterious wonder of what the esteemed lieutenant looked like beneath the skull and the stone cold demeanor.

It was important for you to be conscious of the fact that your reaction was going to be critical. He was perfect to you already, and whatever he looked like certainly wouldn’t change that. But you knew how sensitive he was about this. Any kind of accidental twitch, blink, or show of a potentially sour expression would freak him out big time. You knew you needed to be as neutral as possible and be sure to be even more encouraging.

“Would you be more comfortable if I turn around while you take it off? Or do you want me to do it?” You asked, being absolutely sure that this went the way that he was most comfortable with.

He paused for a moment, his voice sounding even deeper than usual when he answered.

“You can do it.”

Chills rushed down your spine, translating into a physical shudder. This felt like you were about to discover the solution to world hunger. It felt surreal, as if this were breaking some foundational law of the universe.

Every motion felt overly voluntary. You tried your best to hide the slight tremble in your hands when you brought your hands to the area just below his chin. Your fingertips were nimble and careful when you slipped them underneath the fabric. Both sides of his lower jaw touched the pads of your fingers – it was a foreign feeling altogether.

This was the moment of truth. Should you whip it off quickly? Should you ease it off of him to give him some extra time to prepare? You didn’t want to ruin this for him because then he’d never show his face ever again. His hands didn’t dare move from your waist,

Slowly and carefully, you removed the mask from his face. Bit by bit was revealed to you – his lips, his nose, his cheeks. Each new feature that was shown was the next piece of putting the puzzle together. The rate of your heart grew quicker and quicker with each passing millisecond.

This wouldn’t change the way you felt about him. You had fallen for Ghost because of who he was, not what he looked like. In all honesty, you wanted Ghost to do this for himself rather than for you. You understood that Ghost didn’t quite see it this way, but this was your way of letting him know that he was safe with you. He didn’t need the mask to protect him from you.

When you made it to the space just below his eyes, you decided to do it like a band-aid. Get it off quick and lose the anticipation of it all. In a flash of a second, the mask was off and there was no turning back.

And there he was.

If it hadn’t been for your ribcage holding it in, you were sure that your heart would’ve exploded right out of your body.

He was looking at you with a fixed stare, terrified to look away or say a single word. He was reading and interpreting every minor, barely noticeable movement in your expression. His skin was glowing in the soft light casted from the moon outside. There was an anxious shine in his eyes, his dark irises were saying everything that his mouth couldn’t articulate. He was scared to death.

His balaclava was clutched in your hands as if it would disintegrate if you let go. His lifeline was in your hold, at your complete mercy. There wasn’t a thing that he could do. He couldn’t take this moment back even if he wanted to.

He needed you to say something. He couldn’t stand the feeling of all the focus being on him, and he couldn’t tell if he was correctly guessing at what you were thinking.

You were at a loss for words. This felt like a complete shift in the universe, like everything was different when it really wasn’t different at all. You were stuck trying to comprehend the fact that you were really looking at him – the real him.

And he was beautiful.

You weren’t surprised in the slightest. Even if you had no real way to know what he looked like, you knew from the moment you met him that he was good looking. Ghost himself had even made comments here and there that he considered himself to be rather attractive.

You didn’t understand it. How could someone so brave, strong, and (again) handsome want to shield himself away from the world? If there was anyone that could take on life with stride, it was Ghost. But there was a simple answer to that. It seemed to be the reason for all of the “odd” things and traits about him.

He wasn’t always like that.

He had to protect himself. There had never been anyone in his life at any point to do it for him. He never had the chance to be a kid. He had to grow up before he even had the chance to be excited about growing up.

His upbringing had everything to do with the mask and the reason that he wore it. It was his version of a security blanket. It was his protection from the evil of the outside world. Because he had learned at a young age that sometimes the worst evil that the world had to offer came from the ones right in front of you, and the ones that were supposed to love you the most.

“Simon…”

His name – his real name fell from your lips as a tender whisper. The words were laced with appreciation of his trust and absolute adoration for the revealed man standing in front of you. Of course you had said his name before. He had heard you say it plenty of times.

But he’d never heard you say it in this context, and he surely had never heard you say it when you were looking at the real him.

There was a moment of panic and discomfort for him. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was completely exposed. His most prized security measure had been stripped away – now useless due to its absence from his face. The air of the room felt cold on his skin, another reminder that he had given up his primary line of defense.

There were a million things that were running through his mind, but every single word was caught in his throat and released out into the air with each of his shaky exhales. There wasn’t a single thing that he knew to say. All he could do was watch you stare at him, raking over him and studying every aspect of his face.

“You’re so handsome, my love.” You spoke again, and the blood in his lower extremities ran boiling hot.

His heartbeat stalled for a beat or so when your hand came to his hair. The balaclava had rustled his hair when it brushed against it, but he hadn’t even noticed. Your fingers ran through his dark hair that was (admittedly) not as clean as it could’ve been. His hands were trembling against your hips, his fingertips drumming lightly against the waistband of your pants.

You seemed content to him, which eased his anxious nausea a little bit. The gentle, yet genuine smile on your face brought some comfort. Every sense of the feeling of you touching him felt heightened to the highest degree. He was aware of every strand of hair that ran through your fingers, every feather-like drag across his cheekbone with your knuckle.

It felt different for sure. He wasn’t used to someone touching that zone of his body. He definitely wasn’t accustomed to sharing it with someone, but he was thankful that you were being so considerate to how he was feeling.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” He finally spoke, his words coming out in a quavery way.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” You replied with a voice like silk, pressing a kiss to his forehead that sent a wave of electricity through his core. “I’m just looking at you.”

He almost laughed. That’s what made him so nervous.

This was definitely not something that he had counted on happening today. He always knew the moment would come, but he hadn’t expected it to happen quite like this. It was a weird feeling that he was having. Even though he was seeing you as the same as he always did, it still felt different. It felt more intimate, more authentic. The mask was resting in your lap, a place that he never expected his mask to end up.

“Pretty boy…” You drawled, cupping his face the same way that he had held yours just a few moments before.

His cheeks burned at that comment. A flush of hot crimson red infiltrated his face to the point where he was sure that you could feel it on your hand. He was exploding on the inside with a million emotions that he couldn’t pinpoint to save his life.

He was so beyond grateful for you. This was something that he had feared and dreaded for a long time, terrified that you would see him as something other than the image that he had worked so hard to create and maintain for himself. But he was beginning to realize the reality of the situation.

The truth was, you had always been able to see who he really was. That was something that was special about you. The mask only hid him from you in a physical way. There was never a time where you hadn’t seen the person inside of him, and never once had you held an ounce of resentment for who he really was.

He had always been Simon Riley to you.

So in reality, this wasn’t the first time that you were seeing him. This was just the first time that you were seeing the face that went with it.

“You think so?” He asked, his hands beginning to move from their cemented positions.

“Absolutely I do,” You answered, kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re just buttering me up.” Simon cracked a smile, and your eyes brightened immediately.

“Oh! Look at that smile,” The intensity of your grin matched his. “Happiness looks beautiful on you.”

The words rang in his head and echoed out through his ears. Happiness felt even better than it looked. His most consistent and worthwhile source of that happiness was right in front of him, loving on him as if she thought he was the most perfect person in the world.

He couldn’t fathom how anyone could feel that way about him. He tried his best not to question it, and instead tried to appreciate it and reflect it back to you. He was grateful for you, and he did everything he could to remind you of that.

“I’m glad you think I’m ‘pretty’ and all,” He tucked his fingertips into the front of your waistband. “But I’ll never be as pretty as you.”

“Now you’re buttering me up,” You giggled.

You kissed him then. The first real kiss with nothing in the way. Oh, it was a wonderful kiss – and Simon made a mental note that, yeah, kissing without the mask was so, so much better. He wrapped his arms completely around you, smothering your frame against his. His nose brushed against yours with every head movement, and every little happy whimper from you swelled his heart more and more.

Simon pushed you onto your back, keeping you pinned between the mattress and his body. He kissed all over your neck and face to the point where you were breathless from all the giggles and squeaks that he was bringing out of you. When you were close to getting lightheaded, he pulled his head back to give you a break.

He couldn’t get over how you were looking at him. That look of adoration and care was healing his soul in ways he never thought he’d be able to achieve. There were certain things in life that Simon had accepted long ago that he would never get to experience…being cared for in the way that you cared for him was one of them. This was a dream come true and something he never would’ve counted on in a million years.

“I know that wasn’t easy for you. I’m proud of you,” You brushed a stray hair from his forehead. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”

He felt a twinge of guilt. He really hadn’t done anything at all. You shouldn’t have to thank him for showing his face. The absolute bare minimum of existing as a human. But he knew that you understood why this was important, and that this really was something huge.

“I wouldn’t want to share it with anybody else.” He admitted.

He was so crazy about you. He wasn’t sure what he had done in his life to deserve you, but he would do it a million times over if it meant spending forever with you. If there was anyone in the world that he trusted enough to share this much of himself with, it was you.

“I think you need to get some sleep,” He remarked. “Need to rest that side.”

“I could stay right here all night.” You returned.

“I know,” He sat up, pulling you up with him. “But you need some sleep.”

Despite your protests, he arranged the bed to be most comfortable for you, encouraging you to properly get settled to get some shut eye. He grabbed his removed balaclava from the bed, keeping it ready to go when he returned to the front of the house where the rest of the team was.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed once you were all snuggled in.

“Yeah,” You yawned. “I’m good.”

“Alright, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed your forehead, standing to leave you be.

Just as he raised his hand to put the balaclava back on, he felt a force stop him in his tracks.

“No. Wait,” You grabbed his free hand, stopping him from walking away. “Please stay.”

The balaclava in his hand suddenly felt heavy, like an intuitive feeling telling him it wasn’t time to hide away again.

“Might I remind you that I’m nearly a giant,” He chuckled, referring to the bed that was just barely big enough. “You need rest, darling.”

“Please?”

That face. Those puppy eyes that he could never resist. In your defense, you did genuinely tend to sleep better when he was around — you felt more protected that way, and that was something he would never say no to.

So he obliged, setting the balaclava on the bedside table next to you, removing his boots and just his outer layers to make it at least semi-possible to fall asleep. He never really slept on missions (or at all), but if there was even the slightest chance that he could catch a few winks, then he would surely take it.

He was careful with his movements as he lowered into bed, being sure not to come down too hard with his giant frame and break something. The bed wasn’t the newest or the sturdiest in the world, and he already had reservations about how it would hold him. He chuckled when you snuggled up to him immediately, barely even giving him time to convince himself that the bed wouldn’t collapse underneath him.

As he had predicted, it was a bit of a squeeze, but that only gave you more reason to be all over him. He hadn’t realized how rundown he was until he was sunken into the mattress, his muscles and bones screaming with celebration when they were finally at rest. He was relaxed, he had you next to him, you were safe — he was all set. There were a few passing minutes of silence, but neither of you were trying to fall asleep just yet. You were still looking at him, admiring his features and paying attention to every little detail.

He was admiring you for admiring him, and even though he already knew every inch of you to perfection, he still loved to look at you.

“If you want to put it back on…” You reached for the balaclava that he had placed on the end table next to you. “I understand if you do.”

He stared at the black and stained white fabric covering. It was the idol of his personality, the foundation of what everyone knew about himself. It was a shield that he kept at all times, his highest form of protection and self-preservation.

But tonight? He could do without it.

“I don’t need it.” He answered.

A pause. Then a beat of disbelief. You weren’t sure if he meant it or if he was trying to satisfy what he thought that you wanted him to do. You never wanted him to do something he didn’t want to do on your behalf.

“Are you sure?” You clarified.

“I’m sure.” He gave a soft grin.

“Positive?” You made sure.

“Positive.”

He pulled you back into his chest once you had set the mask aside. He kissed the crown of your head, dragging his fingertips along the skin of your back. He listened to your breathing, paying attention to how it slowed to a consistent rhythm as you fell deeper and deeper into a slumber. He was still processing everything. He had taken his mask off with no preparation or planning. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He was beginning to turn into the man he never thought he’d be able to become.

For the longest time he had feared that he was too scarred and too frozen over to ever be anything other than a hardened man with nothing but distaste for the world. But he never knew there was a flame hot enough and bright enough to melt that frozen heart of his.

He was thankful for you.

You were the perfect combination of everything he ever needed and wanted. He was thankful for your kindness, patience, and support. He was thankful that you were strong enough to believe in him, yet soft enough to be sweet on him. He was thankful that you cared for him and showed him more love than anyone else had ever shown him before.

And he was always thankful that you had always been able to see beyond the mask.

1K notes · View notes